Grandmum's the Word Emojis & Text

Mʀ. Kʀᴀʙs: [ɢᴀsᴘs] SᴘᴏɴɢᴇBᴏʙ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇ. SᴘᴏɴɢᴇBᴏʙ: Tʜᴀᴛ's Pʟᴀɴᴋᴛᴏɴ's ʀᴀʀᴇʟʏ sᴇᴇɴ sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇ ғᴀᴄᴇ, Mʀ. Kʀᴀʙs, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ғᴏʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ ɪs ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ. Mʀ. Kʀᴀʙs: [ᴛᴇᴀʀʏ ᴇʏᴇᴅ] SᴘᴏɴɢᴇBᴏʙ: Aᴡᴡ. Mʀ. Kʀᴀʙs: [sᴏʙs] Aʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛ, I ʙᴜʏ ɪᴛ. [SᴘᴏɴɢᴇBᴏʙ ɢᴀsᴘs] Pʟᴀɴᴋᴛᴏɴ: Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ. Mʀ. Kʀᴀʙs: Nᴏᴡ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, Pʟᴀɴᴋᴛᴏɴ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ— [sᴛᴀᴍᴍᴇʀs] Pʟᴀɴᴋᴛᴏɴ's ʙᴏss.

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

vicenarian (20–29) tricenarian (30–39) quadragenarian (40–49) semicentenarian (50) quinquagenarian (50–59) sexagenarian (60–69) septuagenarian (70–79) octogenarian (80–89) nonagenarian (90–99) ultracentenarian (100+) centenary semisupercentenarian (105–109) supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian centevicenarian ages 120-129 ↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓ sesquicentenarian (150–159) bicentenarian (200–299) multicentenarian (200+) tricentenarian (300–399) quadricentenarian (400–499) quincentenarian (500–599)

July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents. Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me. I smiled and asked, “How do you know?” He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.” Love GMH

░▄█▀▀█ █▀▄ ▄▀▄ █▄─█ ▄▀▀─ █▀▀──░▐█▀▄─ ▄▀▄ █▀▄── ░▀▀█▄▄ █─█ █─█ █─▀█ █─▀▌ █▀▀──░▐█▀▀▄ █─█ █▀█── ░█▄▄█▀ █▀─ ─▀─ ▀──▀ ▀▀▀─ ▀▀▀──░▐█▄▄▀ ─▀─ ▀▀─── ░─░──░▓░─░▓▓▓▒─░▒▓▓▒░░▓▓▓░░▒▓▓▓─░▒░─── ─────▒▒▒▒░░─░▒▒▒───▒▒░──░▒▒░──▒▒▒▒▒─── ░───▒▓──░░░░░─░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░─░▓▒── ░───▒▓░░░░░▒░░░▒▒▒░▒░▒░░░░░▒▒▒░░░▒▓▒── ░────▓▒──▒░─░─░░░░░░░──░░░░░░░░░░▒█─── ─────▓▓░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░──░▒▒░░────▒▒─░▒─── ░───▓█▓█████████████▓████████████▓██── ────▓█▓██████████████████████████▓██── ░────▓██░─────────▒███─────░▒▒▒▒███▒── ░────▒██▒────░▓▓▒─▓███─░▓▓──────██▒─── ░─────▓██────▓▓██░████░▓▓██────▒██──── ─────░▒██────▓███▒█▒─█▓▓██▓░───██▓──── ░────▒▒██▒─▒░▒██▓▓█──██▒█▓▓─░░░██▓▒─── ─────▓▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒─██░─██─▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒─── ░─░──░▓▒█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒─██▒░░▒▒▒▒░▒█▓░─── ─░────▓░▓▒▒▓░▓█████▒▒▓████░░▓▓░▒▒▓───░ ░─────▒─░▒░▓─▓██▓▒░─▓▒▒▓██▒─▓▒▒▒▒▓──── ─░───░▓░░░─▒▓──────░▓▒─────▓▒─░░░▓░──░ ░─░──░▓▒░░░░▓▓░─░░░░▒▒░──░▓▓░░▒░░▓░─── ░░────▓▓░░░░░▓▓▓▒────░─▒▓▓▒░░▒░░░▓──── ░─────▓▒░░░░░░░▓▓█▓▓▓▓█▓▓░░░░░░░▓▓──── ░────▓▓░░░░░░▒░─░▓─▓█─▓▒─░░░▒▓▓░▒▓▓─── ░───░▓▒░░▒▓░▒░░░░▓░▓█─▓▓─░░░▓▓▓─▒▒▓▒── ░───▓░▒░░░▒░▒░░▒░▓▓▓▓▓▓░▒░░░▓▓░░▒▒░▓── ░───▓─▒▓░░░▓▓░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░─░░▓▒─█── ───░█▓▓▓░░░▓▓░░░░▓▓▒░▒▒▒░░░▓░░░▒▓▒▒█░─ ░───░██▒░░░░░░░░────────░░░░░░░░▓██▒── ░────▓▓▒░░▒░─▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒▒▒░▒▓▓─── ░───░▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░── ────░▓▒░▓▒░░▒▒▓█▒─▓███▒░▓▓▒▒░─░█─▒▓▒── ░───▒▓▒░▓───────▒▒─▒█▒▒▒▒──────▓─▒▓▒── ░───▒▓░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▓█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█─▒▓▒── ░───▒▓░─█▓████▓▓███▓▓███▓▓██████─░▓▒── ───░▓▓░─█▓████▒▓███▓▓███▓▒████▓█─░▓▓── ───▓░▒▓─█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█─▓▒▒▓─ ──▒▓──▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███─▓──▓─ ─▒█▒▒▓▓▓███████████████████████▓▓▓▒░▓▓ ─░█▓▓▓▒────▓█▓▓██─────░██▓██░───░▓▓▓▓▓ ──▒▓▓▓─────▒████▓──────▓████░─────█▓▓▒ ────░░───────▒▓▒────────▒▓░───────▒░── ░────────────▒▓▒────────▒▓░───░─────── ░────────────▒█▒───░────▓█░──░──────── ░─░─────░────▒█▒──░─────▓█░─────░───░─ ░░─░─░───░───▒█▒───░────▒▓░────────░─░ ░───░─░─░────▒▓▒────────▒▓░───────░─░─ ─────────────▒▒▓───░───░▓▒▓──────────░ ░─░─░─────▒█▓█▓█▒──────▓█████▒────░─░─ ─────░────█▓████▒──────▓███▓██───░─░── ░─░─░─────██████░──────▒██████──░───░─ ──────────▓██▓░░──────────███▒────────

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/

✋WAIT ✋ DOoOoN’T TELL ME ⤵️ YOU WANT ME TO RUN DOWN TO THE STORE AND BUY MRS PUFF SOMETHING SHE DOESN’T NEED THEN YOU WANT ME TO RUN BACK HERE SO YOU CAN SAY: “ARR SPONGEBOB! YER SPENDIN ALL ME MONEY!” AND THEN I’LL SAY: “BUT MR KRABS! IM ONLY DOING WHAT YOU SAID!” THEN YOU’LL SAY WERE NOT TALKIN ABOUT THIS 🔺 OR THIS 🟥 WERE TALKING ABOUT THIIIIIS 🔴🔴🔴🔴

ˡᶦˢᴛᴇɴ ʸᵒᵘ ᴄʀᴜˢᵗᵃᴄᴇᴏᴜs cheapskate ˢᵠᵘᶦᵈᴡᴀʀᴅ’s ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᶦⁿ my house ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜɪʀᴇ ʜᶦᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴀ ˢᵗᵘᴘɪᴅ dime

..._...|..____________________, , ....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D ...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/ .....), ---.(_(__) / ....// (..) ), ----" ...//___// ..//___// .//___// ιf уσυ ωσυℓ∂ נυмρ ιи fяσит σf α вυℓℓєт fσя уσυя gιяℓfяιєи∂, вσуfяιєи∂, єχ-gιяℓfяιєи∂, єχ-вσуfяιєи∂, вєѕт fяιєи∂, fαмιℓу мємвєя, σя נυѕт α ρєяѕσи уσυ ℓσνє, яє ρσѕт тнιѕ σитσ уσυя ραgє!

Chocolate!!! ……………………………………………………………………………………._¸„„–~^~–„„¸ ………………………………………………………………………..………¸–*¯. . . . . . ; . *„ ……………………………………………………………………...….....„-* ' ~' . ¸„„¡¡¡¡¡„ . . . .'¡…._¸¸¸„¸¸_ …………………………………………………………………............,/' .¯'-, . ¡|||||||||ll' . .¸„„–^*"¯. . ~'~¯*-„ ……………………………………………………………………..¸¸„„–ƒ .,- . . . .¯””¯ .¸„-*¯.¸„„¡¡¡¡¡¡„ . . .~-, . '\ ………………………………………………………………..¸„–^*¯::::'¡-~' ¸-~- . . . „-*' . . ¡|||||||||lll' . ._,-' '~--ƒ …………………………………………………………..¸„–*¯::::::::„::::"-„¸ . . . ,-'¸/' . . . . ¯”””””¯. . .~-~'¯'~ƒ ………………………………………………….._¸¸¸„„„('„„„„¸¸__::::::*^–„„¸¸_¯””””¯ƒ . . . . . . . . . -, ', . . '~-„* ………………………………………………..„^" . . . . . . . . .¯**^~–„¸¸:::::::::::|'|. . . '¡_.-~. '~-~'' / . . .„-*.'\ …………….._¸¸¸¸_………………………….."~––„„„„„„¸¸¸¸_ . . . . . . . ¯"~„¸:::::|*„. „-' „-~'. ."¯¯') .¯¸„\". . . .'\ ………..„-~*¯ . . . ¯*~„…………………………………..| .¯¯”””'¡^~–„¸_ . . ."-„::\:"^-(¸¸_ ._¸¸¸„„-~*¯¸„:'¡ . . . . '\ ………/' . . . . . . . . . .'\………………………………….| . . . .¡' . . . . "¡-„¸ . .'\::"-:::::::¯„„¸¸„„–~*'¯::::| . . . . .'\ ……./ . . \¸. . ._¸¸„„„¸¸_¸ƒ…………………………………'~–„„¸¸|_ . . . .ƒ . '*„ . '¡::::::::::::::–„„¸¸_¸¸„„–:::| . . . . . \ ....../ . . . „/^*¯ . . . . . ¯*„………………………_............,/';;;;;;¯'*~–/„„¸_ .'\ . |::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . .\ …./ . . . . \¸¸¸__¸¸„„„– .¸„-*…………._¸¸_.......„-" ."-„…..„-*;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;¯'*\ .|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . .\¸ . \ .../ . . . . . . . . . „-~^*¯……………¡' . . ¯*-„-". . . . ."„^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;'¡ |::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::'¡ . . . . \'-„ '¡ '.ƒ . . . . . . . . . /…………………."-„¸ . . . ¯"^-„¸ .„-" . . "^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;|'|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . .'\"-' .| . . . . . . . . . /………………………¯'~-„¸ . . .'*^-„ . . . . „-"^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;||:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . .\ '|. . . . . . . . . /………………………….|':::”^-„¸. . . "^-„¸„-" . . . "-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;'|':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::'¡ . . . ¸ . .'| CHOOOOOCOOOOOLAAAAATE?! .| . . . . . . . .ƒ…..____............……....'¡::::::::"^-„ . . .'*-„ . . . . „-"'-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . .\-„ .| .|' . . . . . . .„-^*¯¯ . . . ¯"'*^-„………......'¡::::::::::::"^-„ . . *-„_„-" . . .'*-„;;;;;;;;;|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . '\"-' .'| . . . . . ./' . . . . . . . . . . . '\…….........'¡::::::::::::::::"-„¸ . ."-„ . . . . „-'*'-„;;;;;|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . .'¡ ..'¡ . . . . ƒ . ¡' . . . . . . . . . . ƒ………......'¡:::::::::::::::::::"^-„. .'*-„_„-" . . .'*-„¸¡':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . '¡ …\. . . .ƒ . .| . . . . . . . . . .'ƒ„–„„¸¸_.........'¡:::::::::::::::::::::::"^-„ .'*-„ . . . . . ƒ:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¡' . . .ƒ\ . | ….'\ . . .| . .| . . . . . . . . . .ƒ/:.|:.:.:.¯*~–„¸„\:::::::::::::::::::::::::::"-„ .*-„ . . . ƒ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . .ƒ..'\ ¡' …...*-„ . "~| . . . . . . . . . .ƒ¯'*|:.:.:.:.:„-^*¯:.\„::::::::::::::::::::::::::::"-„¸.'*-„ . ƒ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . ƒ…..* ………*–„¸¸| . . . . . . . . . .| . .|:.:.:.:.:|:.:.:.:.:\"-„::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¯*^^*':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . .ƒ …………...|. . . . . . . . . .|' . ƒ.:.:.:.:.'¡:.:.:.:.:.\::":::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::|„„„/ ……………| . . . . . . . . . |"^/.:.:.:.:.:.'¡:.:.:.:.:.'\::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¸|:.:'¡ ……………'\ . . . . . . . . .'\*^^~–––„„„/\:.:.:.:.:.:\;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_¸„–^*":.:.| …………….'\ . . . . . . . . . \.........„-*:.'\:.:.:.:.:.:'\;:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_¸¸„„–~^*¯:.:.:.:.:.:.'|calvin14 calvin14. (2008, December 18th)

🧪 ʳᵃᵛᶤᵒˡᶤ˒ ʳᵃᵛᶤᵒˡᶤ˒ ᵍᶤᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘᵒˡᶤᵎ 🧪

S̶̙̾̽̈q̸̨̮̲̠̖͓̠̳̰͍̐̍̔̇͐̌͊͛̈́̐̽̚u̵̱̝̜̲̲̹͍̗̭͈̞͎̽̽̈́͊̀̉͗̏̀i̵̡̛͕͔̹̪͍̙̥̗̩̿͆̉̍̈͐͂͘͘͜͠d̶̢̫̠̜̹̦̱̝͇̞͇̙̈̎̍̽̾̀̑̒̀̎͘͝ȋ̸̙̮̙͖̩͋̓̐̈́́̚͘ò̸̟̳t̴̙̆ ̸̡̤̰̣̙̌̇̑̊̅̈́̉̋̊́͝͝B̶̦̓o̸̜̟̲̤̔͊́x̵̩̰͓̭̙͛̋̌̀̍͜

My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide Foeticide, of a fetus Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months Avunculicide, one's uncle Fratricide, one's brother Mariticide, one's husband or significant other Matricide, one's mother Nepoticide, one's nephew Parricide, of one's close relative Patricide, of one's father Sororicide, of one's sister Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend Nepticide, of one's niece Amiticide, of one's aunt Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide

░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░ ▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░ ░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░ ░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░ ▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░ I 🤍 DAD

“This Christmas feels like the very first Christmas to me! There’ll be shopping, decorating, and plenty of snow!“ La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la 🤪 🎄 🤪 🎁 .

ᴺᵃʳʳᵃᵗᵒʳ⠘ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᴸᵉᵍᵉⁿᵈᵃʳʸ ᴰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᴾᵃʳᵗʸ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴴᵉʸ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵇᵒᵈʸ! ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ! ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʸᶜˡᵒᵖˢ! [ᵖᵘˢʰᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵉʸᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ʷʰᵒᵒⁱⁿᵍ] ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ᴴᵃ⁻ʰᵃ⸴ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ! [ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ʳᵒᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ] ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⠘ ᴼᵒʰ! [ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵒⁿᵉ ᵖᵒᵖˢ ᵒᵘᵗ] ᴼʷ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⸴ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵏᵃʸ? ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⠘ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐʸ ⁿᵉʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧ "ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒʳʳⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ‧"

Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015

Spongebob's house _ |\/ \/| \¯\/¯\/¯/ ╱¯¯¯¯╲ _ /'X'X'X'|_|| |O'X'X'X|¯¯ |'X.-.X'| \X'|*|O'/ ##/¯\## Squidward's house _____ | | /_____\ |¯|0| |0|¯| \_| /_\ |_/ / /¯\ \ |_|_|_| /===\ Patrick's house <╷< .─¯¯¯¯─. / \ '──____──' / \ Krusty krab ._._. \###/ _ ╷╷ V __ ¯|¯ //¯¯──¯¯¯// \\ | ||[] [] O||##|| | ||.─.─.─.||##|| ' ''' ' ' ''' '' Chum bucket >¯¯< .─\_c/─. (_______) \ Chum / | Bucket| \ |¯| / ╹╹╹╹ Mr.Crabs's house __ .__(())__. \──|[]|──/ _ | | _ / \ | | / \ \ \|__|/ / ¯─__||__─¯ / \ Sandy's house ____ .¯─.─_¯. / {_ .} \_ | O )( //*\ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

favorite(s) SpongeBob shipping Karendy — the ship between Sandy and Karen krabbob (spongebob x mr krabs) Larrick — the ship between Larry the Lobster and Patrick Star MR KRABS AND MRS PUFF + KRUFF PatBob(SpongeBobxPatrick) Plabs — the ship between Mr. Krabs and Sheldon Plankton Plankaren — the ship between Plankton and Karen PlankBob — the ship between SpongeBob and Sheldon Plankton Plankward — the ship between Plankton and Squidward Tentacles Sandrick — the ship between Patrick and Sandy Cheeks Spandrick Sandy Cheeks · Patrick Star Spandward — the ship between SpongeBob, Sandy Cheeks and Squidward Tentacles Spandy(SpongeBobxSandy) Squandy(Squidward vs Sandy) SquidBob(Squidward vs SpongeBob) SquidPatBob — the ship between SpongeBob, Squidward Tentacles and Patrick Star

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓██▒░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒░▒▒▒░░▒▓░▒▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▓█▒░░▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒█▓▒░░▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▓▒░░░░▒▒▒░▒▒░▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒░▒▒░▒▒░░░░░▒▓█████▓████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒░░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓░░▒▒░░░░░░▒░▒▒░░░▒▒░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▓░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░▒▒▓▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░ ░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒░░▒▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▓████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▒▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░▓▓██████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░▒▓▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓███████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░▒▒░▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓███▓▓▓██▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▒░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓█████▓▓██████▒░▒▒▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▓▓▓█▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓██▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░███████▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒██▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▒█████▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

👁️👄💎

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

🧽🌈☀️

🌟 Understanding Retinoblastoma 🌟 Did you know? Retinoblastoma is a rare (but can be treatable) eye cancer that affects people usually under age 5. Early detection is key! Here’s what you need to know: 👁 Symptoms to Watch For: 👉A white glow in the pupil 👉Eye redness or swelling 👉 Vision problems 🏥 Treatment Options: 👉Chemotherapy 👉Laser or cryotherapy 👉Surgery /enucleation: removal of eye (usually in severe cases) 👶 Importance of Early Detection: With prompt treatment, many can recover fully and even preserve their vision. If you notice any unusual signs in your child’s eyes, consult a doctor immediately!

Adrenal Gland Tumor(Pheochromocytoma) Anosmia( Loss of Smell) Athletes Foot( Tinea Pedis) Bad Breath(Halitosis , Oral Malodor) Bedwetting(Enuresis) Bile Duct Cancer(Cholangiocarcinoma) Blackheads(Comedones) Bleedingnose(Nosebleed / Epistaxis) Blepharospasm - Eye Twitching(Eye Twitching - Blepharospasm) Bulging Eyes(Eye Proptosis | Exophthalmos) Cephalgia(Headache) Cheilitis | Chapped Lips Conjunctivitis( Pink Eye) Dry Skin(Xerosis) Fasciculations(Muscle Twitching) Fever(Pyrexia) Gallstones(Cholelithiasis) Herpangina (Painful Mouth Infection)(Mouth Blisters) Itchy Skin(Pruritus) Kinetosis(Travel Sickness / Sea sickness | Space sickness / Motion Sickness) Nervous Tic(Trigeminal Neuralgia) Ringworm(Tinea / Dermatophytosis) Singultus(Hiccups , Hiccoughs , Synchronous Diaphragmatic Flutter (SDF)) Smelly Feet(Bromodosis) Sneezing(Sternutation) Stiff Neck(Neck Pain / Cervicalgia) Stomach Flu(Gastroenteritis) Strabismus|Squint Utricaria(Hives) Uveitis(Eye Inflammation) Xerostomia(Dry Mouth)

Thursday 5 July 2012 Makeup Tutorial: Foliate Swirls Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. You will need: ✥Primer and foundation to match your skin tone ✥Matt white eyeshadow ✥Black soft kohl pencil ✥Felt-tipped eyeliner pen ✥Silver liquid eyeliner ✥Metallic silver eyeshadow ✥Metallic pewter eyeshadow ✥Black eyeshadow. ✥Brush-tipped liquid liner. The first step is to prime and apply foundation. As this design itself is quite heavy, I have applied primer and a very sparing amount of foundation under my eyes to act as concealer, and a tad of actual concealer over the worst of the bags under my eyes. Too much foundation and heavy looks can appear caked. I'm relatively pale naturally, and am using tinted primer and foundation that approximately match my skin tone. Don't forget to set the nose and the rest of the face with powder, but don't set the foundation around the eyes. The next step is to add some strong matt white eye-shadow under the brow line, and then to dust some lightly across the cheeks and above the brow line, forming a 'C' shape around the outside of the eye on the bony parts of the face. This is basically for the purpose of highlighting the contours and to contrast better against the black that will be added later in this look. I use a matt white at this point because a shimmer or pearlescent white would have the wrong lustre for the highlights. The third stage is creating a shadowy effect under the eye. Firstly line below the lashes with a soft, smudgy kohl pencil, then with either a cotton-bud (q-tip) or the edge of your little finger, smudge the kohl outwards and downwards. Try to get it to fade out smoothly. Be careful at the point where you meet with the upper lid not to get black on the outward continuation of the crease of the upper lid. Afterwards, take a felt-tipped black eyeliner pen (NOT a felt-tip pen!) and go over the kohl right up against the lashes. Emphasises the extension of the upper lid's crease by drawing in the downward curve with the same liner. You want to be drawing in the crease, below the upper lid. The idea is to give the illusion of a longer upper lid and therefore longer eye. This stage is most fun! First of all cover the upper lid up to the crease formed by the curvature of the eyeball with liquid silver eyeliner. You want to pick a really metallic shade. I have gone over this with Rimmel metallic silver eyeshadow and then metallic pewter eyeshadow in the corner in order to set the liquid eyeshadow. Draw in the crease with the kohl pencil, and dab over it with black eyeshadow to set. Apply the pewter eyeshadow between the white from earlier and the black. Using a narrow but fluffy-ish brush, blend the outwards to the brow from the black. Begin pencilling in the eyebrow. The next step is fun when you get the hang of it, but requires practice. Take a liquid eyeliner with a brush tip and line the upper lid narrowly over the silver and draw in your swirls. Practice drawing swirls before going out with this. If you use a a brush-tipped liner you can get a variation in width of line when you change the angle. End a few of the lines with tapering ends, or with curls that form dots, practice drawing stylised leaves. I tend to have the swirls emerge from the lower lid line and the extension of the corner, and then have one emerging at the end of the crease following the curve of the lower lid. These swirls are going to have silver on them in the next step so I have included a few broad sections that look a little odd at this stage. You can stop at this stage if you want a sharper, more minimal set of swirls (my personal preference), or go onto the next for an extra level of fanciness. The last stage is adding the silver highlights on the black swirls in silver liner. If it bleeds out onto the black, then just line around it again carefully in more black. Just add small sections of silver on the broadest parts of the black swirls. I also added some dots in black liquid liner below the brow and tidied up the drawing in of the brow. I then applied white eyeliner to my lower waterline and applied mascara to both lower and upper lashes. Then you're done! Swirls with silver and snazzy metallic eyeshadow.

20/20/20 RULE On the computer all day? Don’t forget the 20/20/20 Rule! Every 20 mins Look at something 20 feet away For 20 seconds

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝔃𝓮: 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 & 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮. ଓ

Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM Mom <Your great aunt just passed away. LOL Why is that funny?> <It's not funny! Wht do you mean? Mom lol means laughing out loud!> <Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.

i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠙⠳⢦⣄⣤⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣞⡋⠁⢀⣴⣾⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡿⣻⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡈⠉⣁⣤⠿⣻⣯⡷⠖⠛⣋⣩⣤⣴⣶⣶⣤⣤⣶⣞⣻⣛⣿⣍⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⢭⣽⣳⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠋⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⠿⢉⣴⣿⣏⣥⣶⣶⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣯⣭⣭⣥⣤⣤⣀⡙⠁⢺⡶⠶⠶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣭⣉⡛⠛⠿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣀⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣭⣶⣿⣿⠿⣛⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⠿⣿⣯⣭⣷⡶⠶⠶⣒⣲⣾⡿⠿⠟⠛⠿⡻⠿⠟⣉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣖⣶⣶⠿⢿⣿⣿⣶⣭⣙⠓⠶⣾⡿⠿⢯⡉⢿⡛⢷⣤⡀⠘⡶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡄⠀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠶⣶⣦⣀⣈⡉⠓⠖⠉⠙⠶⠌⠿⠿⣶⣿⣭⡁⣉⣩⣟⠻⢦⣭⣍⠻⢿⣶⣦⣝⣷⣦⣄⣀⠙⠾⣷⣍⣷⣝⣦⡉⠁⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣉⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⣬⣙⠻⢦⣭⣟⡿⣿⣯⣍⣉⠛⢳⠞⠛⣒⣶⣦⣤⣄⣈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠷⣶⣭⣛⢿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣧⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⡶⣼⡿⢿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⠿⢋⣭⠿⠛⠛⠻⠿⠉⠉⠁⠀⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠠⠶⠖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠛⣋⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣯⣽⡿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣆⠙⢻⣿⣿⣟⠛⢿⣿⣍⣻⣯⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡙⢿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠷⣛⣫⡵⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠳⣄⡐⠈⠙⠳⢦⣄⡉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣌⡙⢿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣟⠿⣷⣄⠹⣿⣿⣿⣮⡙⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠊⠿⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⢻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠈⣿⣿⣏⣿⣷⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠳⢦⣤⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠘⠓⠶⡤⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⣦⡹⣿⣿⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⢿⣦⣿⣷⡹⣿⣿⣿⣧⣻⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⢿⡜⣿⣿⣷⣄⡿⣷⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣌⠻⢿⣿⢿⣄⠻⣿⡄⠙⣏⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡝⣿⡿⣧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡟⣿⢿⣿⡟⢿⡟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠳⢦⠀⠀⠙⢧⡀⠈⡃⠹⣷⣍⢻⡄⠹⣎⢷⡘⣿⣿⣿⢸⣇⣠⠀⣻⣿⢹⣷⡿⣧⣸⡆⢿⡿⠆⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠻⠆⠹⣆⠈⠻⣏⠻⣆⠙⢿⣿⢿⡙⣿⢸⡿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢹⣿⣧⣿⣧⡾⣿ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠄⣾⠃⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⢠⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠄⠘⢷⡌⢷⣤⣝⣮⣃⢻⡞⣣⠻⣾⣏⣽⣿⢿⢇⣾⣿⠹⣿⠏⠀⣡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢃⣆⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⢰⣿⡄⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⠀⠀⡆⠹⣆⡈⠈⣿⣻⣄⡿⣿⣹⠟⢢⣿⡏⣡⠆⢉⣤⡾⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣤⣤⠶⠶⠖⠞⢛⣿⠻⣿⢹⡟⠉⠉⢹⣏⣿⣿⣿⡷⠶⣾⣧⣤⣤⣼⣏⠀⢀⣿⠁⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠧⠀⠙⠹⣆⠈⠻⢾⣇⡘⣯⠰⣾⣷⣨⣡⣶⠿⠋⠀⢠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⢻⡉⠁⠀⢀⣀⣀⣴⡟⣿⣼⣿⣿⡟⠛⠉⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⡇⢛⣿⣶⢶⣿⣿⣛⣻⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠰⠟⠈⣷⠈⣿⠃⣾⠛⠉⠐⠃⠀⠀⠸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⠀⢰⣦⣼⣷⣞⠛⠉⠉⢸⣿⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣾⣿⣧⣾⣿⣁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠸⠀⠉⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣴⣾⢿⣟⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⣶⡖⠊⣿⣯⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣽⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣻⣧⣴⡾⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣧⣤⣿⣷⣄⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣻⠶⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⢀⣀⣀⣼⣿⣿⢿⡟⠉⣉⣸⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣤⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠷⣤⡀⠉⠉⠉⠙⣿⡉⢹⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣯⣹⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⡏⠀⠹⣶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣦⣄⡀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣿⣦⠾⠳⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⣿⣿⣷⣯⣍⣉⣻⣷⠀⠃⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠉⣀⣩⣴⣾⣿⣿⣦⣙⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠇⢐⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣰⣤⡴⠄⣷⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣼⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣬⡙⠷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣆⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢿⡏⠟⠉⢀⣴⡾⣟⣻⣿⣽⣿⣷⣦⣝⣻⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠈⠹⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⡈⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠉⢀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣀⣀⣴⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢛⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⣸⣿⣷⠟⠛⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣍⣹⣧⣀⡒⢟⣛⣿⣻⣿⣭⣭⣽⣧⣀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠁⣿⡟⠁⢠⡾⠋⢱⣿⠟⠁⣽⣷⠏⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣝⣿⣿⣯⣿⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⠿⢿⣿⡻⣎⠉⠉⠛⠛⠉⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⣹⠟⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⣿⣿⠿⣿⣯⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣯⢛⣿⣧⣘⣿⢿⠄⠀⢸⣧⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠓⠀⠀⠋⠠⣿⠧⣾⠀⠀⢿⠜⠷⣿⠟⣿⠾⣧⣻⡍⠻⣿⣗⠈⠿⣿⣟⣠⠀⠀⣼⠇⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠨⠀⠈⠙⣧⠤⢿⣯⣠⡴⠿⢻⡄⡀⠀⠃⠀⡀⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⣿⠁⢀⠀⢀⣿⠀⡄⣠⣴⣿⠘⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠘⢿⠠⡄⠛⢆⡀⡛⣏⡁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣦⣾⡳⡄⣷⣧⣈⣷⡇⣆⢠⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣠⣿⠋⡾⠟⠈⢻⡟⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠐⠂⠀⠀⠈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vía such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system

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

__.........._ _.-' .' .' .' '-. .' .' .' .' .'_ --. '. .' .' .' .' -. \ \ .' _.' _.' _...'.-. `. `. \ .' -' _.-' .' \ \ \ \ / .' _.-' .' _.--' \_ `. \ `.| .' /_.--' `. \ '. \ .' )\ .' _.-' ' ' '. \ /( \ | | .' | \/ .' _ .- - -. '. \/ | / `. | \ ( `. ( ( (O) ) ) .' ) | '. | / `. \ | `. `-...' .' | / | \ | / `. `. `-....-' .' .' / | \ | .' ` `-. .-' ' / '. \ | .' \ \ / ) ( \ / | | | | .' \.' `---' './| '. \ | / \ / \ .--.--. / | | '. \ | .' '. .' '. `._-_.' .'\ | \ | | .'\.' | `. .' | \ '. | \ \ / | .' | `._ _.' | / | '.| | .' / | \'. | \ |/ / .' './ / \ \ / \ | .'. .' | | / \ '. './ '. .' \ ' .' \ \ \ .' '. .' / .' `. | .' '(@)' | .' \/ \'

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."

¢нσ¢σℓαтє (CHOCOLATE!!!!! :chocolate_bar: :chocolate_bar: )ಥ‿ಥ ѕρσиgєвσв!!! ⓅⓁⒶⓃⓀⓉⓄⓃ ѕρσиgєвσв:| ( • )(• ) | ραтяι¢к: / ( • )(• ) \ ѕqυι∂ωαя∂: ( (•)(•) ) ρℓαиктσи: | (•) |

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▓▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████▓▓▒▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▒▓▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████▓▓▓▒▓█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓▒█▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████ █████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓▓██▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓█▓█▓██▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████▓▓▓████████████████████████ ██▓███████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████▓▓████████▓▓▓▒██████████▓▓████▓▓▓████ ██▒▓██████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████▓▓▒▓███████▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓█▓▒▓████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓████▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██████████████▓█████▓▒▒▓█▓████▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒▒▒▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒ ▒██▓▒██████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█████████▒▒▓█▓████▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▓▓███▓▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒ ▓▒██▒▒██████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████▓▒▒▓▒▓██▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▓▒▓██████▓▓▒▓▓▓▓ █▒▓█▓▒█████████▓▓▓▒▓▒███▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████▒▒▓███▓█▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▓██████▓▓▒▓█▓▓█ ██▓▓█▓▓████████▒▒▓▓▒▒█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███████████████▒▒▒█▓▓▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓███▓█▓▓▓▓▒████ ███▓██▒███████▓▒▒▓▒▒▒█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████▓▒▒▓▒▓█▒▒▓██▓▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█████████▒▒████ ████▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓██▓▒▒▓▒▒████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████████▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓███▓█▒▒▓████ ███▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒▓▓███▓▓▒▓█████▓▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████ ██▓▓▒▒▒█▓▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓██▓███████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▓▓█████████ ██▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▓█████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████▓▓█████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▓█████████ ██▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒▒██████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████████▒▒██████▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▓██▒▒██████████ ████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒██████████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓███████████████████████████▒▒▒▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓███████████ ██▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓███▓▓▓█████████████████████████▓▓██████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒████▓▓▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████ ██▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒█████▓▒▓█████████████████████████▓█████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▓▓▓████▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓█▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓█████████████ ██▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒████████▓▓▓▒▒▓██▓██████████ █▓▓▓▒██████████████▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓██████████▓▓▓█▓▓█▓█▓███▓▓███ █▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓██████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/stmaryscem.htm

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⠶⢶⠶⠶⠶⡶⠶⠶⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡞⢯⡑⢎⡙⢦⡙⡜⡱⢌⡍⠳⣄⠣⢭⡙⡗⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⢞⡫⢍⠳⣌⠲⣐⠲⡌⡜⡱⢿⣭⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⠿⣷⡿⢢⡙⢦⡙⠦⡱⢌⡱⢊⡜⡱⢌⡓⢦⠱⣘⢤⣻⣷⣤⣀⡴⢏⠳⡘⢦⡑⢎⡱⢌⠳⣌⠳⡘⠴⣉⠖⡰⣌⢹⡳⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢋⠴⢣⠜⣢⠙⢦⡑⢎⡱⢣⢜⣱⣮⣼⠦⣽⣶⠟⠁⣀⣠⡿⣉⢎⡱⣉⠦⡙⢦⡑⢎⡱⢌⢣⡙⡜⢤⢋⡴⢌⡹⢯⠙⠻⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢥⢋⡜⡡⠞⡤⢋⠦⡙⢦⡵⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⢞⠻⡹⢭⠱⡌⢦⠱⣌⢲⣉⠦⡙⢦⡑⢎⡱⡘⡜⢢⠣⡜⢢⣑⢫⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠩⢆⡣⢜⡡⢋⡔⣋⠖⣹⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⡌⢎⡱⡑⢎⡱⢜⢢⠓⣼⣦⣼⣶⣉⡦⡙⢦⠱⡱⡘⢥⠓⣌⠧⡘⢆⠾⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⡕⢪⠔⡣⢜⣡⠚⡤⢋⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢏⡚⣌⢣⠒⣍⢆⠳⣌⣶⣭⣽⡆⠀⠀⠈⢙⠻⢦⣳⢡⡙⢦⡙⢤⢣⡙⢬⠒⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠳⣌⢣⢚⡱⢊⠴⣉⠖⣹⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡧⣘⠤⢣⡙⡔⣊⢳⢸⡇⠉⠛⠟⠀⠀⠀⢸⣁⣸⣝⣷⡜⣢⠙⣆⠣⡜⢪⡑⢾⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠓⡌⣆⢣⠜⣡⠓⡼⢨⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠱⡌⢎⡱⡘⡴⡑⢎⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⠹⣄⠳⡘⢥⢊⡽⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡷⣉⠖⡌⣆⠫⡔⣩⠒⡥⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡧⡘⢥⠒⣍⠲⣉⠖⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡌⢣⡙⢆⢣⢒⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠧⡑⢎⡱⢌⠳⣘⠤⣋⠴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣍⠲⣉⢆⠳⣌⠳⢼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠛⠀⠘⣿⢢⡙⣌⢣⠎⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢣⠙⡤⢡⠌⣣⢈⠠⣁⠸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣤⠙⡌⢣⣈⠃⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⢠⡈⣄⠙⣸⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢇⢣⡙⡔⢣⢚⠤⣋⠖⣡⠞⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⡾⣿⠻⣿⣼⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⢺⠉⠹⣷⣼⣠⢓⡭⢧⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡏⢎⠦⡑⢎⡱⢊⠖⣡⠞⡤⢋⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⢹⢧⡄⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢦⡀⠈⡇⠀⢷⠈⠉⠛⠛⠛⠃ ⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⢓⡜⢬⠒⣍⠎⣔⠫⡜⢢⠓⣌⣳⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⢬⣬⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣀⣀⣄⣀⠉⢉⣁⡀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢶⣞⣏⠳⣌⠣⡜⢢⡹⢄⡫⢔⠣⡜⣡⢋⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣏⣉⣀⣀⣉⣛⣉⣩⡭⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠙⠓⠾⠷⠾⢷⣾⣾⣛⣌⣳⣸⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣉⡉⠉⣉⡭⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢙⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣶⡴⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠋⠉⠉⠀⠹⣆⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⣷⠀⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠠⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢶⠀⠀⢸⠧⠈⠽⣄⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⢸⢠⠁⠄⠛⠶⠤⣤⣬⣧⡤⠟⢀⠡⠈⠽⡆⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣼⠂⠐⡈⠐⡀⠒⠠⠐⠠⠐⡀⠂⠄⣁⠂⢽⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠁⠠⠁⠄⠡⢀⠁⢂⠁⢂⠁⠄⡁⢂⠠⠐⢸⡇⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠅⡈⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⠈⠄⡈⠄⡈⠄⡐⢀⠂⠌⣸⠇⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀

ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴼʰ! ᴼʰ! ᴬʰʰ! [ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ] ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗʸ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ? [ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵖˢ ⁱᵗ] ᴼʰʰ! [ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ] ᴵ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘˡᵃʳ ᶠⁱˡᵉ ᶜᵃᵇⁱⁿᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᶜᵃⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿⁱᵗʷⁱᵗ‧ [ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵗᵉᵐ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢⁱᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ] ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ?! [ᶜᵘᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵒᵘᵗˢⁱᵈᵉ] ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ‧ [ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ] ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ— ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ! ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᴵˢ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ [ᵗᵉᵃʳʸ⁻ᵉʸᵉᵈ] ᴼʰ⸴ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧ [ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ] ᵂʰʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ? ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ [ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ] ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴬʰʰ! [ᶠᵃˡˡˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ; ʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖˢ] ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈᵒ? ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ [ᵍʳᵃᵇˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵍ‧] ᴼᵏᵃʸ‧ ᴬˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ! ʸᵉᵃʰ!

💛🧽💛

Spongebob Ascii! « on: July 15, 2003, 09:05:35 am » ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ( ) ) O O ( ( (. ) (. ) ) ) O ( ( C ) __) (__ ( ( * * ) ) ---) O ------------ (--- / /( )\ \ / / ) O O ( \ \ / / ---------------------------- \ \ / / | --- --- \/ --- --- | \ \ ||||\ | /\ | /|||| |________ \/_________| | | | | | | | | _ |_ | |_ |__ ( ___| |____ )

☢;;❝ВUТ ТНEɴ YOU ЅНOWED МE ҒRΙEɴDЅНΙP! ТНΑТ'Ѕ ΑLL Ι REΑLLY WΑɴТED!❞ ⁽ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁾

❞ⓈⓟⓞⓝⓖⓔⒷⓞⓑ, ⓨⓞⓤ ⓘⓓⓘⓞⓣ, ⓨⓞⓤ❜ⓡⓔ ⓐ ⓖⓔⓝⓘⓤⓢ❕❞ ~ Ⓢⓗⓔⓛⓓⓞⓝ Ⓟⓛⓐⓝⓚⓣⓞⓝ

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ 🚩⠀ One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.

“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer

🔵 The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 - - also on December 20. 🔵

Adyghe: Спанч Баб Amharic: ስፐንጅቦብ ስኰይርፓንትስ Azerbaijani: Süngər Bob Kvadrat Şalvar Bosnian: Spužva Bob Skockani Català: Bob Esponja Čeština: Spongebob v kalhotách Cymraeg: SpynjBob Pantsgwâr Dansk: SvampeBob Firkant Deutsch: SpongeBob Schwammkopf English: SpongeBob SquarePants Español: Bob Esponja Français : Bob l'éponge Íslenska: Svampur Sveinsson Italiano: SpongeBob Magyar: SpongyaBob Kockanadrág Norsk bokmål: Svampebob Firkant Polski: SpongeBob Kanciastoporty Português do Brasil: Bob Esponja Calça Quadrada Română: Buretele Bob Pantaloni Pătrați Slovenščina: Spuži Kvadratnik Suomi: Paavo Pesusieni Svenska: Svampbob Fyrkant Türkçe: SüngerBob KareŞort Ελληνικά: Μπομπ Σφουγγαράκης Македонски: Сунѓерот Боб Панталоновски Русский: Губка Боб Квадратные Штаны Српски / srpski: Сунђер Боб Коцкалоне हिन्दी : स्पंज बॉब स्क्वायर पैंट ไทย: สพันจ์บ็อบ สแควร์แพนส์ 한국어: 스폰지밥 네모바지 日本語： スポンジ・ボブ 中文（简体）： 海绵宝宝 中文（繁體）： 海綿寶寶 粵語： 海綿寶寶 ייִדיש : ספּאָנדזשבאָב סקווערפּענץ עברית : בובספוג מכנסמרובע العربية : سبونجبوب فارسی : باب‌اسفنجی شلوارمکعبی مصرى : سبونج بوب سكوير بانتز

𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 ~ 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷

█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓░░░░░░▒░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓░░░░░░▒░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░▓█▒░░░░░░░██░░░░░░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒██░░░░░░░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░ ░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░ ░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░▒▒░░░░░▒▒░░ ░░▒░░░░░░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░ ░░▒░░░▒░░ ▒▒░░░░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░ ░▒▒▒░ ░▒░░░ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░ ░▒▒ ░▒░░ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░ ▒▒░ ▒░░ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▓▓▓░░ ░░░ ░▒░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░▒▒░ ░▒▒▓▓▒░░ ▒░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░ ▒▒░░░░░▒▒░░ ░▒ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░ ▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒░░ ░▒ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████▒░░░░░▒▒░ ▒▓██▓▒░░░░░▒░░ ▒░ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█████▓░░░░░░░ ░▓████▓▒░░░░▒░ ░░░░▒▒ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█████▓░░░░▒▓ ▒█████▓░░░░▒░░ ░▓▓░░░░░ ▓▓▓███▓████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██████░░░░▒▒░ ░▓█████▒░░░░▒░ ▒▒░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█████▓▒▒░▒▓░ ▒▓████▓▒░░░░▒░ ▒▒░░▒░░░░▒ ▓▓▓███████▓▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▓▒░ ░▒▒░▒███▒░░░░▒░░ ▓░░░░░░░░▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░ ░░▒░░░░░▒▒░░░░░▒░ ░▓░░░░░░░░░ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░ ░░▓░░░░░▒░░░ ████████████▓█████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████████████▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████████████▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓██▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓███▓█████████████████▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓██▓▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓█▒░░░▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓███████▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓██████▒░░▒░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░░░░░▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓█▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓█████████░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░░░░░▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒▓█▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓█████████████▓░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░░░░▓██▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░▒▒▒░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓███████████████▒░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓░░░░▒▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░ ▒██▓▒ ▓███████████████░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓▒▓█▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▓▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ▒██▓▒ ▓██████████████▓░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░▓▓▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓▓█▓░▒▒▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░ ▒▓█▓▒░░░░░░░▓██████████████▓░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓██▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓████████████████████████████████▒░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒▓▓█▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████████████████████████████████▓░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▓▓░▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████████████████████████████████▒░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███████████████████████████████▓░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒▒▓██████████▓▓███▒░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████████████████████████████▓░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█████████████████████████████▒░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓█▒░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█████████████▓▒▒▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒░▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▓██▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓██████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ █▒░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓█▒░░▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒█▒▓▓▓░░░░▓▓▓▓▒░░░░▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▒█▓▒░░▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██░░░░░░░░ ░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░ ░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓██▓▓▓▓██▒░ ░░░ ░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░ ▓▒░▓░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓██▓▓▓▓██▒░░▒░░ ▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒░░░▓▒▒░ ░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ █▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓███▓░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓░▒▒░░▒▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

THE DAȲ̴̧̱̭̯̹̗̥̬̬̭̠̉͆́̋͌̐̈̈ ̷̹͕̘͖̽͂̃͒̂́̊͗͂̔͝T̸͛̊HA̸͎͉̺͇͛̅̉̈́̈̎͝͝ͅͅT ̸̡͎̣̙͔͉͕̙͉̩̦͈̘͈̊͑͆͊̏͒̀̉̽̕͝͝Ķ̶̧̨̡̘͚̘͖̭͓͇̬̲̹̩̂́̆͂̎̌̅͒Ȓ̶̡̲͚͈͓̪̘̗̬̪̪͚̹͈Â̸̔BS ̴̢̨̰͓͍̝̯̥̤͈̖̪̹̏̏͂͛̈́̃̾͊̉̓̅̋̏F̴̻̳͚͖̞̤͍̥̫̤̀̃̀́͒̽͆̕R̸̃̀̎̈̌̏̕IẸ̸̡̦̹̤̼͉͕͙̗̠̤̼̖̬̈́͋̋̆S̴̨͍͉͙̻͉̼̩̯͕̽ͅ

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS v (Autistic Author) Karen watches the exchange, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. "Plankton," she says gently. "What can Chip do to help you?" "Just be patient," he says. "And maybe don't touch me to much." Chip's eyes widen at the admission, and he nods solemnly. "Okay," he says. "But what if you don't look okay?" Plankton's antennae twitch in what Karen recognizes as a sign of discomfort, but he answers. "Inform Karen, I mean uh ‘Mommy’, but just wait for me to come back I guess," he says. "Don't call panicked attention to it." Chip nods, his eyes searching Plankton's face. "But what if you fall down or something?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Well, if that happens," he says, his voice gruff but gentle, "you can offer to help me up, yet also same thing. But then just remember to give me some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I will, Dad," he says, voice earnest. Karen feels a knot in her throat, watching the two of them. Plankton's vulnerability is a rare sight, but she knows it's a step in the right direction. She decides to push the conversation a bit further. "Chip," she says softly. "Do you have any more questions?" Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching. "Why’d you get so mad when asking you questions?" Plankton's antennae twitch again, a hint of frustration in his eye. "It's just... it's hard to explain," he says, his voice tight. "I know you're trying to help, but sometimes it feels like you're poking at a sore spot." Chip's expression falls, his lower lip trembling. "But I didn't mean to hurt you, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping to his side. "I know you didn't," he says, his voice softer. "It's just that sometimes, when people ask questions about it, it feels like they're not accepting me the way I am." Karen's heart breaks a little at her husband's words, but she knows this is a breakthrough. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "What Daddy's trying to say is that sometimes, it's hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "But you're still my dad," he says, his voice firm. "I'll always love you, no matter what." Plankton's antennae twitch as he nods and for a moment, Karen sees a flicker of emotion in his eye. The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Karen's heart is racing, knowing this is a pivotal moment. Plankton has always struggled with expressing his emotions, especially with their son. The words "I love you" are as foreign to him as the surface world. "I know you do, buddy," Plankton says, his voice gruff. He clears his throat, looking down at the rock on the coffee table. "But for me, it's not always easy to say those words." He looks up at Chip, his eye filled with something Karen can't quite place—pain, perhaps, or regret. "But just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "But why can't you say it?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennae droop, and he looks away, his eye avoiding contact with both Karen and Chip. "I just want to make sure you know that I love you," Chip says, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Isn't that what families do?" The room seems to shrink around them, the air charged with anticipation. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up, and his eye narrows into a glare. Karen can almost see the cogs turning in his mind, the struggle to find the right words. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp as a knife. Chip flinches, but Karen squeezes his hand, giving him the courage to keep asking. "I just want to understand," Chip whispers. Plankton's eye flashes with irritation. "Why does it matter so much?" he snaps, his antennae quivering. "Why do you have to know everything?" Chip shrinks back, his voice trembling. "Because I don't want you to be sad," he says, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton processes Chip's words. His antennae quiver, his eye flitting between his son and Karen, who's watching with a silent plea for patience. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What's so important about me saying it?" Karen's eyes are filled with a silent apology as she sees the confusion and hurt on Chip's face. She knows Plankton's words are a defense mechanism, a way to keep his own fears at bay. But she also knows how much their son needs to hear those words. "Plankton," she says gently, her voice a soft reminder of the love in the room. "Chip just wants to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping in defeat. "I know," he murmurs. "I just... I don't know how to explain it so he gets it." Karen nods, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Chip," she says, her voice soft. "Daddy's trying, okay?" But Chip's eyes are on Plankton, searching for answers that Plankton seems unwilling to give. Plankton's antennae are a blur of movement, his frustration palpable in the air. "I don't know how to explain it so you'll get it!" he snaps, his voice echoing off the walls. Chip's eyes widen, and he withdraws further into himself, clutching the rock tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice shaking. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, a silent plea for calm. "Plankton," she says gently, "you don't have to explain everything right now. We just want to help." But Plankton's antennae are a blur of agitation, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I don't know what you want from me," he says, his voice tight. "I'm trying to be honest, but it feels like no matter what I say, it's not enough." Karen can see the frustration in her husband's movements, his antennae waving erratically. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she soothes, her voice a gentle reminder of the love in the room. Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae stiff with tension. "But Chip expects me to," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of accusation. "You want me to just lay it all out, like it's simple." Karen can feel the frustration rolling off of him, and she knows that pushing him further won't help. "I know it's hard," she says, her voice soothing. "But we can take it slow, okay?" Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his eye still narrowed in irritation. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't expect me to be good at it." The tension in the room is thick, but Karen refuses to let it linger. She takes a deep breath, her eyes on Chip. "Why don't we start by talking about what happened today?" she suggests, her voice calm and even. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, his eye flicking to Chip before looking away again. "Ok," he says, his voice tight. "Do you remember what happened at the park today?" Karen asks, keeping her voice gentle and steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods stiffly. "Yes," he says, his voice tight. "I had one of my... moments." Chip looks at him, his eyes wide with concern. "Is it okay with Dad…" "I'm right here, buddy," Plankton interrupts, his antennae still, his eye fixed on the floor. "And I'm okay." But Chip isn't convinced. "But you weren't okay at the park," he says, his voice quivering. "You were scared I think.." Plankton's antennae shoot up in frustration. "I was not scared!" he snaps, his voice echoing through the room. "It's just... it's hard to explain!" Karen's heart squeezes, watching her husband's distress, but she knows they need to keep the conversation going. "Chip," she says gently, "why don't you tell us what you felt when you saw Daddy's moment?" Chip looks at Karen, his eyes glistening. "I was scared," he admits, his voice shaky. "I didn't know what to do, and everyone was looking." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flicking to the floor. He's visibly upset, and Karen can see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I just want to know," Chip says, his voice trembling, "I wanna know why you…" But before he can finish, Plankton's antennae shoot up in anger, his eye flashing with a fury. "Why do you keep poking at me like that?" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he jumps back, his small body trembling. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the fear in her son's eyes, and she knows that Plankton's outburst isn't helping. "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension.

𝖲𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖡𝗈𝖻: 𝖮𝗈𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾, 𝖬𝗋. 𝖪𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗌. '𝖢𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗌𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽. [𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝖬𝗋. 𝖪𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗌] 𝖠𝗐𝗐, [𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗌 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗈] 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇: 𝖦𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿! 𝖲𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖡𝗈𝖻: 𝖮𝗁𝗁, 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌.

𝘒𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘴: 𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵! 𝘞𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘎𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥! 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭- 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦! 𝘚𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥: [𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴] 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘨𝘨!

ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⠘ [ᵖⁱᶜᵏˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵘᵖ] ᴬⁿʸ ˢⁱᵍⁿ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ? ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᵁʰ⸴ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ⸴ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ᵛᵃᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⠘ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ˢⁱˡˡʸ! ᵂᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᵘʳ ᵗʳⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ [ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵉⁿˡᵃʳᵍᵉˢ ᵃᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ] ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿ ᵉʸᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜʳᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ? [ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ] ᴴᵐ‧‧‧ ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ⁱˢ ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ‧ [ᵒⁱˡˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱⁿᵍᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᵃ ˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ] ᴬʰ⸴ ᶠᵒʳ—ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ! [ᶠˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ʰᵘʳˡⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵖᵃˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵃʳᵇᵃᵍᵉ ᵗʳᵘᶜᵏ; ˢⁱᵍʰˢ] ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒ‧ ᴺⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵖᵃᵗʰ‧ [ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃᵗʰ ⁱˢ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵃʳᵏˡʸ] ᴴᵐ? ᴹᵐ‧‧‧ ᴴᵉʸ! ᵂᵉˡˡ⸴ ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿᶜᵉⁿᵗⁱᵛᵉ‧ [ᶜᵘᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ᵈⁱˢᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ; ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍⁿ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉʳˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ "ᔆᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ" ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃʳʳᵒʷˢ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ] ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒ‧ [ᵖᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃˢʰ ʳᵉᵍⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ; ʰᵉ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳʳʸ] ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵃⁿʸᵐᵒʳᵉ‧

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚗: 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚞𝚖 𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝! 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗! [𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚞𝚖 𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝] [𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝙼𝚛. 𝙺𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜' 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝙼𝚛. 𝙺𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜.] 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚗: 𝚂𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙼𝚛. 𝙺𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜: 𝙽𝚘. 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖? [𝙼𝚛. 𝙺𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍.]

ρℓαиквσв || Spongebob x Plankton【Plankbob】 Karandy (Karen x Sandy) Krabston, Krabon - Mr. Krabs and Plankton Patearl - Patrick and Pearl ρℓαиктσи o(￣ˇ￣)o (◠‿◠) Plankdy ρℓαиктσи o(￣ˇ￣)o (◠‿◠) Planktrick Sandearl - Sandy and Pearl ѕqυι∂вσв ѕρσиgєвσв

r/TwoSentenceHorror 34 min. ago MistStarz “Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” mother comforted her terrıfıed daughter. “So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”

੭ ⊹ 🧽 ִֶָ 𖥔 ៹੭ ⊹ 🧽 ִֶָ 𖥔 ៹੭ ⊹ 🧽 ִֶָ 𖥔 ៹

SpongeBob episode ideas (not actual episodes when written) By @alyjaci on April 2024 sandy tells about her lıfe's adventures in texas pearl takes a job walking Ms puffs amoeba puppy Matilda Squidward tricks spongebob and Patrick in-to doing his chores SpongeBob grandma invites spongebob to a bingo game pearl volunteers at shady shoals spongebob helps plankton spending time with him when plankton gets ınjured much to mr krabs dismay spongebob and Patrick set up a date for mr krabs and Ms puff gary plays with spot at the park The krusty krab hosts a bingo game and the gangs grandparents attend including SpongeBob grandma and squidward grandma and plankton's grandma Sandy helps install a mechanical bull ride at the krusty krab Spongebob and Patrick take plankton to goofy goobers for icecream plankton seeks bubble bass help to ruin the krusty krab out of business Spongebob loyalty to krusty krabs conflicted when plankton's bullied Nosferatu and slappy tried to find a good restaurant to eat pearl wants to sneak out

ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ’ˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒʷⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇⁱᵍᵍᵉˢᵗ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵃᶜᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵃᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁱᵐᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴹᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ⸴ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᶠᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵉʰᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉᵃᵏˡʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐᵉᵈ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴾᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵒˢᵉ‧ "ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ! ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗʸ? ᴼ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʷⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵘᵈᵍᵉ ᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵉ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵇˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵖᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᵍᵉᶰᵗˡʸˑ “ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ʳᵉᵛⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈᵎ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧” ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ˒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶰᵉ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᔆᵉᵐⁱ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉˑˑˑ" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ⁱᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵍʳⁱˡʸ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵏᶰᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ʰᵃᶰᵈ ˢʷᵃᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᶰˢᶜᶤᵒᵘˢᶰᵉˢˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁱⁿ‧ “ᴴʳ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰᵘᵐᵐᶤᶰᵍ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿˑ “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵉᶜʰᵒᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰᶤᵐ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ‧ “ᵂʰᵃ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵃʳᵈˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵒ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈᵎ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ˒ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵃˡˡˑˑˑ” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ˒ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉˣⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˢᵗᵘᵖᵒʳ ᶰᵒᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷᶤᶰᵍ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᶤᵗ˒ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶠˡᵒᵒᵈᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ‧ “ᴴᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃᵏᶤᶰᵍᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ‧ “ᵂʰᵉ… ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ; ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ?” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠᵉᵃʳᶤᶰᵍ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ᴴᵉʰ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧ “ᴮᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ⸴ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ‧ ᵘᶰᵗᶤˡ ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵒʷ ᵉᶰᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᵃˢˢᵘᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ…” “ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ⸴ ʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˡᵉˢˢⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒⁿ⁻ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵒⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢᵎ” “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ…” “ᵁᵍ⸴ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜʳʸ‧” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ʷʳᵃᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵃ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ “ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷˀ” ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃᶠᵉ‧” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ…” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ‧” “ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒˢˢ‧‧‧” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ˒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ; ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵉ’ˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵠᵘᶤᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳˀ” “ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʸᵉᵗ‧ ᵂᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵉˡˢᵉ'ˢ…” “ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ’ᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉᵎ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒˀ” “ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ʳᵃᵐᵇˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᴵ’ᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉˀ” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴾⁱⁿᵏʸ ᵃ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᔆᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉᵎ” “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ…” “ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʷᵉ…” “ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿ…” “ᵂʰʸˀ ᴴᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒ…” “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʰᵉ…” “ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵒᶠˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵒʳˢᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠᵎ” ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵃᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ “ᵂᵉ’ˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᴾᵃᵗ‧‧‧” “ᔆᵉᵉ ʸᵃ‧” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ “ᴴᵘⁿᵍʳʸˀ” “ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ “ᴱʰ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷˀ ᴵ ʳⁱᵈ ᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉʳ‧‧‧” ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ “ᵀʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ʸᵉᵎ” ᴮᵘᵗ ᔆᵒ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧ “ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵇʸᵉᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ⸴ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗ ᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗˢ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵒ‧ "ᵂᵉ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵈᵃʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵉ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ˢᵐᵒᵒᵗʰ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵒᵘⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧‧‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ?" ᵁⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵗᵉʳᵗᵒʳᵒᵘˢˡʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᔆᵒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ "ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘⁿʳⁱˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳᵉˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴼʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ‧ “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ…” ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ʰᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵒⁿᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗᵎ ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉˢᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ…” “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ "ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇˡᵘʳ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ “ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᴵ ᵖˡᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧

July 1996 . Twins can be conjoined at the: Abdomen (omphalopagus). Chest (thoracopagus). Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus). Head only (craniopagus). Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus). Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus). Rump-to-rump (pygopagus). Vertebral column (rachipagus). Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs. Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs. Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused. Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects. Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos

22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby. Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned. Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later. Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH. Dec 1st, 2014

In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later. Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby. Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy. Mom, your LGMH Dec 1st, 2014

Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones Amicicide: of one’s friend (amicus - friend) Avunculicide: of one’s uncle (avunculus - maternal uncle) Familicide: of one’s family (spouse and children) (familia - family) Filicide: of one’s daughter or son (filia - daughter; filius - son) Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling) Mariticide: of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse) Matricide: of one’s mother (mater - mother) Neonaticide: of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born) Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father) Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring) Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man) Sororicide: of one’s sister (soror - sister) Uxoricide: of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse) Amiticide: of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt) Aniclicide: of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman) Avicide: of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather) Conjicide: of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife) Nepticide: of one’s niece (nepti - niece)

WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.

𝑆𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑦: [𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑠] 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑇𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑠 "𝑇", 𝑆𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝐵𝑜𝑏! 𝐻𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜𝑜, 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑛! 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑛: 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒.

r/shortscarystories 10 hr. ago KieranWriter Family Photo The father stood at the front of the family photo and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side and he had his arms around her. The camera was an automatic one the father had set before quickly running to get in to the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes... The father put the kids to their beds and then his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives; her favourite! It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything that he said he would. A real whizz around the house. The house was sparkling by the time he had finished. There was a chime on Deborah’s phone. It was her sister Mary - Hey, not heard from you all day. You ok? Deborah won’t mind, I will just shoot off a short message so that Mary isn’t too alarmed. - Hey all good, just watching TV, really tired. Long day. Off to bed soon xx. It’s fine. They look at each other’s phones all the time. There’s trust in this relationship. A reply from Mary - OK call me tomorrow xx The father thought for a moment, just a moment, a flicker of worry, then replied - sorry better I don’t, I’ve caught a bad sore throat. The father went into the living room to Deborah and gave her a big kiss on the forehead... The next day, the father puts the frame up in the hallway, it will be the first thing that people will see when they walk into the house - the beautiful family, everybody’s dream... Then he spent about an hour mowing the lawn. After everything around the house was sorted, the father knew he could relax, finally relax and that the pressure was on for anything unexpected visits, so they don't walk into a dirty home... He got into the car and took it out of the garage, turned it around and hit the road heading out of suburbs and through the city. He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes a man needs a change and this father needs a fresh start. It wasn’t his first change of scenery. He looked at the copy of the picture of his wife and kids on the dash board and he felt a stab of pain... If only he had taken that picture when they were still alive...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago SkullStar “I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled. The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.

https://imginn.com/p/Cq0pxUGJrve/ 👁 https://cdn2.imginn.com/340265698_619837379592105_6002197143482212299_n.webp?https://scontent-iad3-2.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-15/340265698_619837379592105_6002197143482212299_n.webp?stp=dst-jpg_e35_s640x640_sh0.08&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.cdninstagram.com&_nc_cat=109&_nc_ohc=jpFEw28Wm60AX_IJu7E&edm=AP_V10EBAAAA&ccb=7-5&ig_cache_key=MzA3NzI2ODE1NDE0MDI0NDk1OA%3D%3D.2-ccb7-5&oh=00_AfDSClDCSNJfY6Nb_ZWQnZyNa0bR99Tyyf2_BWfRCVI-PA&oe=657BFAB0&_nc_sid=2999b8

ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ ᴬⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ [ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃˡᵗᵃʳ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ] ᵁᵐ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧ [ˢⁿⁱᶠᶠˢ] ᴬⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧ ᴸᵒᵘᵈ! [ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ʰʸˢᵗᵉʳⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ] ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ [ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉᵃᵗ] ᴬˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵒᵏᵃʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ʸᵉᵉˢʰ‧

I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him. Amen." Little kids GMH Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR

https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B Francis Edmund Bessette Male 1904 - 1917 (~ 12 years) Name Francis Edmund Bessette Father Augustin Seymour Bessette, b. 1870, d. 28 Aug 1948 (Age 78 years) Mother Marie Louise Poulin Born Jul 1904 Richford, Vermont Gender Male Died 1917 Richford, Vermont The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919 Boy Suffocates In Elevator Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath. The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours. The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation. Buried All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B

ₛₚₒₙgₑᵦₒᵦ: ᵢ𝆑 wₑ'ᵣₑ gₒₙₙₐ ₛᵤᵣᵥᵢᵥₑ, wₑ'ₗₗ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜₒ ₛₕₐᵣₑ․ ₚₗₐₙₖₜₒₙ: ₕᵤₕ, ₛₕₐᵣₑ? [ₛₜₐₙdₛ ᵤₚ ₐₙd ₑₓₜₑₙdₛ ₕₐₙd] Yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ gₒₜ yₒᵤᵣₛₑₗ𝆑 ₐ dₑₐₗ, ᵦᵢg ᵦₒy! ₛₚₒₙgₑᵦₒᵦ: ₐww, ₚᵤₜ 'ₑᵣ ₜₕₑᵣₑ, ₚₐₗ․ [ₛₕₐₖₑₛ ₚₗₐₙₖₜₒₙ'ₛ ₕₐₙd ₐₙd ₕₒₗdₛ ₒᵤₜ ₜₕₑ ₚₐₜₜy] ₕₑᵣₑ, yₒᵤ 𝄴ₐₙ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜₕₑ 𝆑ᵢᵣₛₜ ᵦᵢₜₑ․ ₘₐₖₑ ᵢₜ ₐ ₛₘₐₗₗ ₒₙₑ․ ₚₗₐₙₖₜₒₙ: Dₒₙ'ₜ ₘᵢₙd ᵢ𝆑 ᵢ dₒ!

Today my aunt found out she's having a girl She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as wonderful" My aunts love for me GMH:) Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S

Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it". Loving families like this GMH ! Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E, Nashville, TN

https://64.media.tumblr.com/b49233b1d7d345a65219154be8d9de57/8ddfa01f1399b8b9-53/s1280x1920/729e39bf89241740c24b1e505f889a0188015208.jpg

/ ________________O_==================== / OH |=================<=> \ GIANT SQUID |=================<=> \ ————————–0– ====================

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Classic-Dog8399 ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵖˡˢ ⬇️ When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her. It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.

_......._ .-'.'.'.'.'.'.`-. .'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.`. /.'.' '.\ |.' _.--...--._ | \ `._.-.....-._.' / | _..- .-. -.._ | .-.' `. ((@)) .' '.-. ( ^ \ `--. .-' / ^ ) \ / . . \ / / .' '. .- \ ( _.\ \ (_`-._.-'_) /._\) `-' \ ' .--. / `-' | / /|_| `-._.'\ | | | |_| | /-.._ _..-\ `.--.______.' | \ ..... | `. .' `. / \ .' `-..___..-`

Bluescreen CobaltTheFox https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973044/chapters/83344819#workskin Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago deontistic Unnatural Birth ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance. Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed. I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın. I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . . I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .

r/shortscarystories 1 day ago CBenson1273 My Aunt Tried To Protect Me From My Mother My childhood was a nightmare. My mother hated me and took every chance to show it. Nothing I ever did was good enough. ‘B’s on report cards were because I was stupid. Unfinished chores were because I was lazy. Any beatings I got were because I deserved them. And my father was just as bad. Fortunately, her sister was my refuge. When things got too bad, I could go over there to escape for a day or two. Perhaps that was why my mother didn’t like Aunt Lisa. The feeling was mutual. So I was surprised when my aunt told me she’d invited my parents over for tea tomorrow. “Why would you invite them here? The whole reason I come here is to get away from them!!” “I know,” she replied. “But that all ends tomorrow. I’m going to have a talk with them; they aren’t going to mistreat you anymore.” I knew in my heart they’d never change, but she was determined to try. The next day, I sat in the corner as my parents entered. “There you are, you wretched child,” my mother said. “Come home this instant and stop causing trouble!” “Now, now, Lydia,” replied my Aunt. “That behavior is exactly why I called you over today. It’s quite enough.” “HOW DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO RAIS—!” “Do calm down, Lydia. All that screaming isn’t good for your blood pressure. What’s say we all relax, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss this like adults?” My mother still looked furious, but she took the proffered cup and retook her seat. “How you treat Annie isn’t right. It needs to stop.” “You have no say in what I do in MY home. And whatever MY daughter gets, I can assure you it’s deserved.” “So you aren’t open to change, then?” “Absolutely not - that girl’s gotten exactly what she deserves.” “Very well, then. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” “Come to wh—“ my mother started when she suddenly began to foam at the mouth and grasp at her throat. “Don’t mind that,” my Aunt said. “Just a bit of poison I placed in your cups. I was hoping you’d agree to change your ways, but clearly you never will. Goodbye, sister.” After my parents had collapsed on the floor, I looked over at my aunt. “What did you do?” “What needed to be done,” she replied. “But what if they’d agreed to stop?” “Then I’d have given them the antidote I was keeping in my purs—“ A look of shock crossed her face as her throat closed, replaced by panic as she rifled desperately through her purse. “Looking for this?” I asked, holding up her syringe. “But…. why?” my aunt asked as she collapsed. “Remember all those times you saw my bruises and scars and sent me back there anyway?” “But I loved you like a daughter,” she gasped with her final breath. “Then you should’ve done better,” I said

r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago Intrepid_Wanderer ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ Delivery Room My grandparents were worried when I said I'd decided to get the tablet. They're a bit old-fashioned, but they mean well. The thing is, it's 2084. Most people who can get the tablet just go ahead and accelerate through all nine months of pregnancy. The baby can be born as soon as the parents like- no need to endure mornıng sickness or false warnings for labor. And miscarriages are nearly a thing of the past- most babies are accelerated at the first warning. Medical technology is truly amazing. Not everyone accelerates. Some people worry about those obscure studies on bonding ability in accelerated babies, some consider a "natural" course an unmissable experience and some just don't have access to it. Most of the time, though, people accelerate. I was so excited to get to the hospital. I didn't even get an ultrasound done first- the test was positive, and I was about to see my baby anyway in a few minutes. There were the occasional horror stories. Most of them were urban legends, tales of some quack who messed up and made horrific things happen. Truth was, there was very little to mess up, especially at a nice clinic like this one. With today's medications, I could expect to hardly feel the labor and go home with my family on the same day. They said I'd feel a tingling in my abdomen, maybe even some light kicking. At first I did, but it was more uncomfortable than I'd imagined. It was like a twisting, stretching sensation inside of me. I hated to imagine what it might have been like if the tablet didn't also act as an aesthetic. I tried to close my eyes and breathe through it. Something was soaking through the bed- must be my water breakıng. But it smelled metallic, and I was so dizzy. Why didn't I hear crying? Shouldn't it have worked by now? Someone started shouting, but I couldn't open my eyes to see why. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a doctor asking about ultrasounds and the words "ectopic pregnancy."

To my dear darling baby. Author: Anonymous Baby Name: Baby Zepeda Birth Date: May 2011 Abortion Date: October 2010 The pain sometimes is so hard to bear, even after 11 years. I regretted it all the moment I woke up from the procedure. I screamed, “My baby!”. I’m so sorry I was weak and insecure. Your dad didn’t want to keep you because we were barely making it and didn’t want to give you a bad life. I was scared, no one would love me like your dad and he would leave me if I kept you. How wrong we were. He wouldn’t have left me. He would have loved you so much. Baby, you are missed every second of my life. Both your dad and I regret our decision. He also hurts for you too even tho he doesn’t show it. You have 2 sisters and 1 brother. I can’t wait to hug you and hold and kiss you in heaven. Oh my baby. How could I have been so stupid and weak. I know you are with God, Jesus y tu bisabuela y tus tios! I love you with all my being and hope you can forgive me. Your passing lead me to God. The only positive. I love you! Posted: Jul 6, 2022

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓░░▒█████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░██████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░░██████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░█████ █▓█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░▒░░▒░░▒░█ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░██░█░░███░█ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░█▓░███▓▒████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░▓████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░█████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░██████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░███████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░███████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░█████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░▒█████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓░░░░▒██████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░░█████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████░░░░░░██████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒████████▓▓██▓▓█░░░░░░██████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░▒▓▒▒▓▒░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░███████████████████ ███████████████████████████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒░░████████████████████ ██████████████████████████▒░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░█▒░░▓░░░░░░▒░░▒█░░█░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░█████████████████████ ████████████████████████▒▒░░▒░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░█▓░▓▓░░█░░░░░░░█▒█▓███░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░▒██████████████████████ ████████░█████████████▓░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░█▓░░░░░█░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░██████████████████████ █████████████████████▒░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░█░░█░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░▒▒▒░░██████████████████████ ███████████████████▒░░░░▒▓▓░░▒░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░██████████████████████ ████████████████████░░░░▓▓▓▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░█▒▒█░█░░█▒▓▒▓░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░▓█████████████████████ █████████████████████░░░▓▓▓▓░░▒░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░▓▓▓█░█░▒░█▓██▓░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░█████████████████████ █████████████████████▒░░▓▓▓▒░░░▒░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░█▓██▒▒█░▒▓██▓░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░█████████████████████ █████████████████████▒░░░▓▓░░░▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░▓▒▒█░█░░░██▒░░░░░▓███▒▒▓▒▒▒▒░▒████████████████████ ██████████████████████▒░░░░░▓▓▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▓▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░█▓░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒████████████████████ ███████████████████████░░░░░▓▓▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▓░░▓██▒░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓████████████████████ ██████████████████░████▒░░░░▒▓▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░▓███▒░▒▒▒▒░░░░████████████████████ ████████░░░░██░█░░█████████▒░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░███▒█▓▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░▒███████████████████ ████████░░▒▒█▒▒█▒█░███░░▓░░░░█▒▒▒▒░░░░█░░░███████▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███████████████████ ███████▒▒███▒▒▓█░█▓░░░░░▓░░░░░░█▒█▓█░░▒█░░████████████▒▒████▓████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███████████████████ ████░███▒▒░░▒▒▒▓█░░░▒███░░░░██▒░░░░▒░░░░▒░████████████░░▓█▒░░████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███████████████████ ████████▒░░░░░░█░░▓▓░█▓██████▓▒░▒▒░░██▒▓█░▒██████████████████████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓██████████████████ ████████▓░░░░░▒█░░█░░░░▒█▒█░░░░░░░▒▓░█▓░█░░██████████████████████░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░▓██████████████████ █████▓▓██░░░▓▒█░░▓░░░░░░░█▒▒▒█░░░░██░░▒▓░░░█████████████████████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████████████████ █▒░░▒▒▓██░░░░░█░░█░░█░░░░██▒▒░▒▒░░██▒▒▒▒▓█░░████████████████████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███████████████████ ░░░░░▒▒▒█▒░░░░█░░█░█░░░░░█░█▒▒▒▒░░███▒░░░░▓░█▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒██████████████████ █░░░░▒▒▒██▒░░░█░░▓█▒░▓░░░▒░█▒▒▒▒░░▓█▒▒█░▒▒░█░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓█████▓░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒██████████████████ ██░░░▒▒▒▒█░░░░▓░▒▒░░█░░░████▒▒█░░▒▒█▒██▓░░░█░▒█▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓███▓░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▒▓█████████████████ ███░░▒▒▒▒█▓░░▒█░▒░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒█░░▓▒█▓▒▓▒░▒░█░░░█▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓██▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▒░░░░░░▒█████████████████ ████░░▒▒▒▒█░░▒▓░▓░░▒░░░░░░░█▒▒█░░█░█▓▓█░░█░█▓░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█████████████████ █████░▒▒█▒█░░▒▓░▓░░▓█░░░░░▒▓▒▓▒░░█▒███░░░░█▓▒░▒░░░▒█████▒░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█████████████████ █▒███▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░█░░░░░█░▒░░░░█▒▒█░░░██▒██▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░▒▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒▒░▒▒▒▒███████████████████ ██████▒▒▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░░░▓██▓░░█▒█▒░░█░█▓▒░░░░░▒█░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░░░▓██████████████████ ▓█▓████▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░▓▒░░█░█▒▒█░░░█▒█░▒▓░░░░█░░░░░░░░░█░░░░▒░█████▒░█░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░██████████████████ ████████░██████▓░░░░█░░░░█▒█░░░█▒█▒█░▒░▒█░█░░░░░░░░░░░█░█░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██████████████████ █████████████████████▓▒░▓▒█▓░░░█░█░▒░░█░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓██▒░░░░░░▒▓▓██████████████████████████ ██████████████████████░░▓▒█░░░█░█▒░░▒█░░█░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓██████▓▓▓██▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓██████▓▓██████████████████ ███████████████████████▓▒█▒░░▓▓░█░▒░▒░░███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████ █████████████████████████▒█░▒█░▓▒░░▒▓░▓█▓▓▓▓███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████ ██████████████████████████▒███░█▒▒░█░░███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████ ██████████████████████████▒█▒▒█▓█▒█░░████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒██░░█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████░░███░░███████████████████████████▓████▓▓▓██████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████▓███▒░███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████▓░████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████▓ ████████▓▓███████████████████░██▓▓██▓███████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████▒███████░░██████████████████████░█░░▒██████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████░░█████████████████████████░░█░█████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████░░█████████████████████████▒░░███████████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████▓░░▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████▓▓░▓██████████████████████████░░████████████████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████▓█▓▒█████████████████████████▓░░▒████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████░░███████████████████████████░▒█████████████████████████████████████

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░█▓░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░██░█████░░░░░█▓▒▓░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█░░░███▒▒███████▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒██▓█████▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒█████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▓█░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒█░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒█░░▒██░░░░░▒░░░█▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒█▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░███▓▒▒▒▒▓▓████▒▒▒▒▒█░░████░░░░░██░░░▓▒▒▓░███████░████▒░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░█████▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒█░█████████░░█████░░█▓░░██████████░░░░░░█▒▒▒▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░███████▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒█░██████████████░░░░░▒░░██████████░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░███████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓░███████████████░░░░░░░░██████████░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░███████████████░░░░░▓░░███████████████░░▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░████▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░█████████████▓████░░█░░░█████████▒▒▒▒▓░█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░▒███▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░███████████░████░░░░░░░░██████▒▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░██████████████░░░▒░░░░░░███▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ █████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓░░░░░███████████░░░█▓░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░████████░░░▒▓█▓▓░░░█▒▒▒▒▒▓█░█▓█▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▓█▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░█████████▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████░░█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░███████▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▒███████▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░██████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░███████▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████░░░░▒▓▓██▓██▒░░░██████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓░░░░░░░██░░██████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░█████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░███████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓▓░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓░░░░░███████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░▓▓░░░░░░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒█░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░█▓▓░░░░░░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒█░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓░░░░░░░░░██████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░▓▓▓░░░░░░░░███████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▓▓░░░░░░░░▓▓████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓████▓░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░█▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓█████░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░█▓▒▒████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓██▓▓██▓█▓▓▓█████░░░█▓█████████░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░█░█▓▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▓▒▒███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░▓█████░░░▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░███████░░▓▒▓░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░█▒▒██████████▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░▓███████░░█████▓▓▓▓▓▓███████░░░█▒▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░█▒▒█████████████▓▓█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒███████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██████████▓░░░▓▓▒█░▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░█▒▒█░░█████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████████████▓▓▓▓▓████████░░░░░█▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░█▓▒▒░░░░███████████▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓▓▓▓███████████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████████░░░░░░█▓▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS x (Autistic Author) Karen's heart squeezes as she sees the vulnerability in her husband. She reaches out and takes Plankton's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We're all learning here," she says. "And we'll keep figuring it out together." Then, Chip speaks up again, his voice a little stronger. "Daddy," he says, "I still want to show you affection." Plankton looks up, his antennae twitching with a hint of sadness. "I know, buddy," he says. "And I appreciate that. But sometimes, my brain needs a different kind of love." Chip frowns. "But I don't know how," he says. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he thinks. "How about this?" he suggests, his eye brightening slightly. "You can make me a 'love rock'." Chip's eyes light up with excitement, and Karen nods encouragingly. "You can pick out a rock from the beach or the yard, and every time you feel like giving me a hug but know I might not be able to handle it, you can give me the rock instead. That way, I'll always know you're thinking of me." Chip nods eagerly, already imagining the perfect rock in his mind. "I'll find the biggest, smoothest rock," he says, his eyes shining with purpose. Plankton's antennae rise slightly, and he manages a smile. "That's my boy," he says, his voice a little less strained. “I’ll go look in our backyard right now,” Chip says as he does so. Karen watches him run off and looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with emotion. "You ok?" she asks, squeezing his hand. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "I think so," he murmurs. "Thank you, Karen." Karen squeezes his hand in return, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're doing great," she whispers. As Chip rummages outside, the sound of his little feet pattering on the ground, Karen and Plankton sit in the quiet kitchen, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but there's a newfound openness in his gaze. "Do you think he'll understand?" Plankton asks, his voice still raw from the previous night's emotions. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes filled with warmth. "He's a smart kid," she reassures him. "And he loves you. He'll get it." They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of Chip's exploration. Then, Plankton speaks up, his voice tentative. "What if I have another meltdown?" he asks. Karen squeezes his hand, her gaze unwavering. "We'll be there for you," she says. "We'll help you through it." The sound of the back door opening and closing echoes through the house, and Chip returns, holding a rock that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. It's smooth, with a slight shimmer in the light. "Here it is!" he exclaims, holding it out to Plankton. "It's your love rock!" Plankton's antennae lift, and a genuine smile spreads across his face as he takes the rock. "It's perfect," he says, his voice filled with emotion. He can feel the warmth from Chip's hand still lingering on the stone. "Thank you, buddy." Chip beams, his earlier fears forgotten in the excitement of the moment. "Can we go to the park now?" he asks, hopeful. Karen looks at Plankton, who nods wearily. "Sure," she says, pushing her chair back. "But let's take it slow, okay?" The park is a familiar place, filled with the sounds of children's laughter and the distant hum of the city. As they walk, Chip chats away, his voice a balm to Plankton's nerves. Karen notices the subtle changes in her husband's gait, the way his antennae twitch with every new sound or sight. She knows he's trying hard to stay present, to not get overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught of the outside world. When they reach the playground, Chip runs off to the swings, his love rock clutched tightly in his hand. Plankton watches him, his gaze a mix of pride and concern. He knows his son's energy can be too much for him sometimes, but he doesn't want to miss out on these moments. Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae wiggling as he gathers his courage. He approaches the swing set, his eye scanning the area for any potential triggers. The chains of the swings glint in the sun, and he can almost feel the sway of the seat beneath him. He hasn't swung in years, not since before Chip was born. Plankton sits on the swing by Chip. The metal is cold and hard beneath him, but as he starts to push off with his foot, the chains begin to squeak a comforting rhythm. The motion is familiar, almost soothing, reminding him of a time when the world was simpler, less stormy. He watches Chip, his heart swelling with love as his son's laughter fills the air. As they swing side by side, Plankton's antennae twitch with every movement of the breeze, every giggle that escapes Chip. The wind rushes through the playground, and he feels the rock in his pocket, a reminder of their newfound understanding. The rhythmic motion of the swing starts to work its magic, and Plankton's beginning to relax. The gentle sway feels like a lullaby for his overstimulated brain. Plankton smiles, his antennae waving in a way that says everything is ok. They swing in silence for a while, the steady back and forth a comforting metronome to the chaotic symphony of the playground around them. Plankton can feel the tension in his body slowly uncoiling, the squeak of the chains becoming a familiar melody that soothes his frazzled nerves.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vi (Autistic Author) "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Let's take a breathe." He glares, his antennae vibrating with agitation. But he does as she says, taking a deep, shaky breath. Chip watches him, eyes wide and full of tears. "Chip," Karen says, her voice calm. "Why don't you go to your room and play for a bit?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. He slips off the couch, clutching the rock to his chest. But doing so, Chip accidentally touches Plankton when he passes, and Plankton yelps in alarm when Chip brushes his shoulder. "Sorry," Chip whispers. Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting straight up as he jolts back from the contact. "I told you, no touching!" he snaps, his voice a thunderclap in the tense silence. Chip's eyes widen with fear and confusion, his lip quivering as he backs away, holding the rock protectively. "I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae wiggle in an exaggerated fashion, his eye rolling dramatically. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says in a high-pitched mockery of Chip's voice. "I didn't mean to touch you and make everything about me." Karen's face falls, and she knows they've taken a step backward. But she also sees the hurt in Plankton's eye, the pain that he's trying to hide with anger. "Dad," Chip says, quivering. "That's not fair, I..." But Plankton doesn't let him finish. "You know what's not fair?" Plankton spits, his antennae whipping back and forth in fury. "Is having a son who thinks he knows everything about me!" Chip's eyes fill with tears as he stumbles back, clutching the rock tighter. "I just wanted to help," he whispers, his voice breaking. Plankton's in a sarcastic imitation of Chip's movements. "Oh, the great helper," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can just fix me with your questions and your pity?" Chip's eyes fill with hurt as he watches his father mock his innocent concern. Karen feels a mix of anger and sadness, but she knows she must tread carefully. "Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaking as he puts the rock down, "I'm sorry if I made you mad." But Plankton isn't listening. He picks up the rock and with a sudden, violent movement, he throws it against the wall. It shatters into a hundred pieces, the sound echoing through the room. "Son, I’m sorry if I made you mad!” Plankton's sarcastic tone cuts through the silence like a knife, his antennae flailing wildly. Chip flinches at the sudden outburst, his eyes wide with shock. "That's what you want, right?" Plankton continues, his voice rising. "To fix everything? Sorry doesn't cut it," Plankton snaps, his antennae trembling with rage. "No, Dad," Chip says, his voice barely audible, "I just wanted to understand." But Plankton isn't done. "Oh, I'm sorry, little genius," Plankton says, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Is that what you want to hear?" Chip stares at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "No," he whispers. "I just want you to be okay, I love you!" But Plankton's anger is a living, breathing thing, swirling around him like a storm. "Love isn't enough, Chip!" Plankton yells, his antennae quivering with rage. "You can't just love away my problems! You don't get to decide that for me!" Karen's heart is in her throat, but she forces herself to speak calmly. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice shaking. "You're scaring him." Chip nods. “I just…” But Plankton's fury is unrelenting. "You think a simple game of 'I love you' is going to make everything okay?" Plankton interrupts, his voice a roar that shakes the walls of their tiny underwater home. Chip's eyes fill with confusion, and he takes a step backward, trembling. "But, Dad," he whispers. "But nothing!" Plankton's antennae whip around, and he stands, his whole body vibrating with anger. "You think you can fix me? You think you can just love me and everything will be fine?" Karen tries to interject, but Plankton's rage is like a tidal wave, crashing over everything in its path. "You think you gotta have the last word just to show how great and special you are Chip. But in the real world No means No so BACK OFF." Chip's eyes widen, and he stumbles backward, the shattered rock on the floor a stark reminder of Plankton's outburst. "Daddy," he whispers, his voice trembling. Plankton's antennae only stiffen further. "I'm sorry, Chip," Karen says, her voice a thread of calm in the storm. "Let's go to your room, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton, who's still standing with his antennae flailing. Karen can see the hurt in her son's gaze, and it breaks her heart. She helps him off the couch, and together, they navigate the shards of rock on the floor. As they leave the room, Karen casts a sorrowful glance at Plankton, who's now slumped into the couch, his antennae drooping. The anger seems to have drained out of him, leaving behind a tired, defeated creature. In Chip's room, Karen helps her son sit on the bed, the soft glow from the glowfish lamp casting a warm light on his tear-stained face. She sits beside him, her hand gently rubbing his back in comforting circles. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie," she whispers. "Daddy just has a hard time with his feelings." Chip's eyes are glued to the floor, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. "But why?" he asks, his voice cracking. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Sometimes, when people are upset or scared, they don't know how to show it," she says gently. "Daddy's just trying to deal with his own stuff, and it can be hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on the floor. "But why does he have to get so mad?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's not that he's mad at you," she says softly. "It's just that he doesn't know how to express himself without getting upset." "But why?" Chip asks, his voice muffled by the pillow he's buried his face in. Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes misting over. "Daddy's brain works differently, Chip," she says, her voice cracking. "Sometimes, when we're sad or scared, we get mad instead." Chip lifts his head, his eyes red and wet. "But why doesn't he just tell me he loves me?" he asks, his voice a broken whisper. Karen sighs, sad but understanding. "Some people show love in different ways," she says. "Daddy might not say it out loud, but he does it every day. Like when he takes you on adventures or when he makes you laugh." "But why can't he just say it?" he asks. Karen's throat tightens. "Sometimes, it's hard for Daddy to say the words," she explains gently. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it." Chip sniffles, his eyes never leaving hers. "But why can't he just tell me?" Karen sighs, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's complicated," she says. "Daddy's brain is like a treasure chest with lots of locks. Some days, the right words just can't find the key." Chip looks at her, his eyes searching for a simple truth amidst the complexity. "But I want him to feel happy with me," he murmurs. Karen nods, her voice soft. "And he is, sweetie," she says. "Just in his own way." They sit in silence for a moment. Then Karen stands, her movements slow and deliberate. "Let's leave Daddy alone for now," she suggests. "He needs some space to sort through his feelings." Chip nods, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. Together, they leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. As they walk down the corridor, Karen's thoughts are a tumult of emotions. She's angry at Plankton for his outburst, but she also understands his pain. He's been dealing with his condition alone for so long, and now he's forced to confront it with their son's innocent curiosity. They enter the living room, and she can see Plankton sitting on the couch, his antennae drooping. He looks up as they come in, his expression a mix of guilt and defiance. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "Why don't we watch a movie?" she suggests, her voice gentle. "Something to help us relax?" Chip nods, still sniffling, and Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. It's a small victory, but it's something. They settle on the couch, Chip curled up in the middle with a blanket. Karen chooses a movie they've watched together before, a silent gesture of comfort and familiarity. Plankton's eye is on the screen, but his antennae are still twitching with leftover anger.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi (Autistic Author) The wind whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, but one that Plankton has often missed in his quest to protect his son from the storms in his own mind. Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a ball comes hurtling through the air, narrowly missing Plankton's head. He flinches, his antennae shooting straight up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The children playing nearby laugh, unaware of the chaos their game has brought to the quiet corner of the playground. Plankton's eye darts around, trying to process the sudden assault of sound and movement. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can see the beginnings of a panic attack forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip shouts, jumping off his swing and racing to his side. With surprising speed and grace, Chip leaps into action, catching Plankton just as he starts to topple off the swing. "Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with urgency as he gently guides Plankton's unresponsive body to the soft grass below. The love rock still clutches in his small hand. Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling beside them. Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "What do we do?" Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and love as she takes in the sight of Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, his antennae limp. She's been here before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," she says, her voice calm despite her racing heart. "Just give him a moment. He'll come back to us." Chip nods, his grip on the love rock tightening as he watches his father. The world seems to slow down around them, the laughter of the other children fading into a distant memory. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The seconds tick by like hours, each one filled with the weight of uncertainty. Chip clutches the love rock, willing his dad to come back. He's seen this before, but it never gets easier. He remembers the first time it happened, the fear that had gripped him, the feeling of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed over. But now, he knows what to do. He's not as scared; he's prepared. With trembling hands, Chip takes out the love rock, its smoothness a comforting reminder of their conversation. He places it gently in Plankton's palm, curling the slender fingers around it. "You're ok," he whispers, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "We’re here." Plankton's body remains still, a stark contrast to the vibrant world around them. The squeaks of the swings, the laughter of the children, the distant crash of waves, all seem to fade into the background as they wait for him to return from his brief retreat. Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Time seems to stand still as they wait, the rock in Plankton's hand a silent testament to their newfound bond. The park's vibrant sounds muffle into a distant symphony, the world holding its breath for Plankton's return. Above them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, the shadows dancing as if in a silent ballet of concern. The seconds stretch into eternity, each one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes never leave his father, willing him back with all his might. The rock in Plankton's palm is a symbol of love and understanding, a bridge connecting them through the stormy seas of his mind. As Plankton's body remains frozen, the world around them seems to hold its breath. The rustling of the leaves above, the distant laughter of children, even the crash of waves in the background seem to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the universe itself is offering a quiet sanctuary for Plankton's return. Chip's eyes never leave his father's face, his grip on the love rock in Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart races with fear, but he squeezes the rock tighter, trying to channel the love and support he feels into his dad's unresponsive hand. Chip decides to whisper comforting words. "Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're safe here with me and Mom." Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and admiration for her son's courage. She watches as Chip decides to continue. "Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip whispers. "It's my way of saying I love you." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a glimmer of recognition in his eye. The world around them seems to hold its breath, the very air thick with anticipation. Chip's voice is the only sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony of the playground. The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches as Plankton's antennae slowly start to wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice barely audible. "I'll always be here." Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her eyes glistening with tears she's trying hard to hold back. The sight of her son's unwavering support is both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Plankton's chest rises and falls more steadily, his breathing evening out. The rock in Plankton's hand seems to pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen sees the tension in Plankton's features begin to ease, his antennae drooping slightly as he starts to come back to them. It's a delicate process, like waking a sleeping dragon. Any sudden movement could send him back into the storm. Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding Plankton through the fog. "It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's antennae twitch again, and Karen can see the spark of understanding in his eye. Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. The tension in his shoulders eases, and his antennae twitch in a way that tells Karen he's listening, that he's with them again. His breathing evens out, and his eyelid flickers closed. For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, Plankton's hand tightens slightly around the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s asleep," she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of humor and love. Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like that for a while, the three of them, in the quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The storm in Plankton's mind has passed, leaving them in a gentle lull. The playground's sounds slowly start to filter back in, the chatter of children, the distant hum of the city, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps whispering, his voice a gentle caress in the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're safe." Karen watches her son with a mix of love and sadness, knowing the weight he now carries. He's growing up too fast, she thinks, but he's handling it with more grace than anyone could ask for. Plankton's hand relaxes around the rock, his breathing deep and even. The storm inside him has passed for now, leaving them with a quiet, precious moment. Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?" Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," she says. "Rest is sometimes the best thing for him after an episode." Chip nods, his grip on the rock in Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He looks around the park, the world coming back into focus. The other kids are playing, their laughter a gentle reminder of the life that goes on outside their little bubble of concern. "Should we go home?" Chip asks, his voice still hushed. Karen nods. "Let's get him into the shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him good." Together, they gently lift Plankton and carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip is careful not to jostle him too much, his little hands supporting Plankton's head. Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on the ground and they place him down. His antennae are still now, no longer dancing with the stress of the seizure. His breath is deep and even, his features relaxed in sleep. Chip watches him intently, his thumb tracing the smooth surface of the love rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xii (Autistic Author) The tree above them provides a gentle canopy, casting dappled shadows on Plankton's sleeping form. The leaves rustle in the breeze, creating a natural lullaby that soothes not only him but Chip and Karen as well. The world outside the shade seems to melt away, leaving them in a quiet cocoon of peace. Karen watches her son with a mix of admiration and sadness. He's growing up so fast, she thinks, having to learn about things most kids his age don't have to. But Chip's strength is undeniable, and she knows that together, they'll navigate the storms that come with Plankton's condition. The park's cacophony slowly starts to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of Plankton's deep, even breathing. Chip sits next to him, the love rock still in his hand, his thumb tracing the smooth surface. The shadows from the tree above dance across their faces, creating a mesmerizing pattern of light and dark that seems to mirror the complexities of their lives. Karen pulls out a small blanket from their bag and covers Plankton gently, tucking it around his small body. She looks at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and sadness. "Why don't you sit with him for a bit?" she suggests. "I'll grab the car." Chip nods solemnly, taking a seat beside his father. He places the love rock in Plankton's palm, curling his slender fingers around it. The park's sounds seem to fade away as he focuses on Plankton's peaceful face, the only indication of life the steady rise and fall of his chest. Chip's eyes drift over to the swings, now silent, the chains still swaying slightly from their earlier use. While Karen walks to get the car, Chip sits in quiet contemplation, feeling the weight of their conversation from the night before. He's learned so much about his dad, about the storms in his brain that make him different. But instead of fear, Chip feels a newfound respect and love, a bond stronger than any storm could break. Plankton's eye flutter open, the sleepy confusion fading as he sees Chip sitting beside him, the love rock still clutched in his hand. He looks around, the park coming back into focus. His antennae twitch slightly, searching for the source of comfort. "Hey, buddy," Plankton says, his voice groggy. "What happened?" Chip's eyes light up, his grip on the rock tightening. "You had a seizure," he explains, his voice steady. "But you're ok now. We're just waiting for Mom to bring the car." Plankton nods, his gaze drifting to the rock. He opens his palm, revealing the smooth, shimmering stone. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Chip looks up, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It's our love rock," he says simply, his voice filled with the weight of their new understanding. Plankton's antennae twitch, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I remember," he says, his voice a little stronger. "It's a good rock." The two sit in companionable silence, the rock a tangible symbol of their bond. The park's sounds slowly filter back in, the laughter of children, the squeak of the swings, the distant bark of a seagull. Life goes on around them, but in this moment, their world is small and focused. As Karen pulls up with the car, she sees them sitting under the tree, the love rock in Plankton's hand. She parks and walks over, her eyes filled with concern. "Ready to go home?" she asks gently. Plankton nods, his antennae rising slightly. "Yeah," he says, his voice still shaky. "Let's go." They carefully help him into the car, the love rock still nestled in his hand. The drive home is quiet, the weight of the day's events hanging heavy in the air. Chip watches his dad, his heart aching for the silent struggle he knows he's facing. As they pull into the driveway, Karen looks back in the rearview mirror. "Remember, Chip," she says, her eyes meeting her son's in the reflection, "today was a learning experience. We all need to be patient with each other." Chip nods solemnly, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. He sees the exhaustion etched into his father's features, the quiet strength that hides beneath the storm. "I know," he whispers, his voice filled with understanding beyond his years. The house is a welcome retreat from the overwhelming sensory assault of the park. Inside, everything is familiar and comforting, a bastion of predictability in a world that often seems too loud and too bright for Plankton. Karen helps Plankton into bed, tucking him in with the care of a lighthouse keeper guiding a ship to safety. Chip sits on the edge of the bed, holding the love rock out to Plankton. "Do you still want this?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton's hand reaches out, his eyes never leaving the rock. He takes it, his grip firm. "Yeah," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It's comforting." Karen gives them both a soft smile before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her. The room is filled with the hum of the fish tank, the calming blue light casting a soothing glow. Chip sits with his father, the love rock nestled in Plankton's hand, a silent sentinel of their bond. For a moment, they just breathe together. Then, Chip decides to speak. "Daddy," he says, his voice gentle and soothing, "I'm here for you. No matter what happens, ok?" Plankton's eye flicker with understanding, and he squeezes the rock in his hand. "Thank you, Chip," he murmurs, his voice filled with more emotion than Chip has ever heard from him. "I'm lucky to have you." The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, as Chip nods, his own eyes brimming with tears. He leans in to offer Plankton his hand to hold. Plankton takes it, his grip firm, his eye searching Chip's for reassurance. The love rock remains a silent witness to their conversation, a physical representation of the unspoken affection that flows between them. Slowly, Plankton's eye grow heavy, the lid drooping as sleep claims him once more. His hand relaxes around Chip's, the rock still cradled in his other palm. Chip watches his father's chest rise and fall with each deep, even breath, the storm of the day finally abating. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens, a glimmer of understanding piercing the tempest. His antennae still, his body going rigid with the effort of speaking. He draws in a deep breath, his eye locking onto Chip's and also Karen’s, the love rock a bridge between them. "Lo..." he manages to murmur, the word a tremor in the quiet room. Karen's eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat. "Lo..." he tries again, the syllable a whisper of hope. The room feels like it's expanding, the walls stretching with the weight of his effort. "Lo...ve," he finally says, the word a shaky but clear declaration. The air shimmers with the power of the spoken word, the love rock in Chip's hand feeling like it's vibrating with joy. Karen's eyes overflow with tears as she squeezes Plankton's hand, her voice choking with emotion. "Oh, honey," she says, her voice a gentle caress, "we know." Chip's own eyes sparkle with unshed tears, his voice trembling as he speaks. "We love you too, Daddy." "Lo...love," he manages to repeat, the word a treasure pulled from the depths of his mind. Chip feels a tear slide down his cheek, the love rock in his hand a warm emblem of victory. "You don't have to say it, Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaky but earnest. "We know." But Plankton's eye determined, the word 'love' a beacon he needs to reach. With a Herculean effort, he whispers, "Chip...Karen...love...you." The room is suffused with a warmth that feels like a sunrise, the shadows retreating to the corners. Karen stands with love for her family. She knows that this is just the beginning of their journey, that there will be more storms to weather. But with Chip by his side, she feels a glimmer of hope that Plankton's world will be a little less overwhelming.

GREAT CHIP ix (Autistic author) Chip took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I know I can't fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving, his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you can support me. You can be there without trying to change me." Chip nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say. "But I want to understand. I want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?" he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds fun, right?" Chip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite the tension, which only adds to Plankton's anger. "Well, when you put it that way..." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye squinting at his son's response. "What?" he barked, his voice sharp. Chip tried to hold onto his smile, his heart racing. "I mean, if it's like a pinball machine, I can learn the patterns," he said, his tone carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video games, so..." Plankton's antennae waved wildly, his eye flashing with anger. "You think this is a game?" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "You think I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!" Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide with shock at his father's outburst. He took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I just..." "You just what?" Plankton spat, his small body vibrating with rage. "You just don't get it! You can't get it! You're not autistic, you don't know what it's like to have your brain turn on you like that!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at the accusation. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying." Plankton's antennae quivered with the force of his rage. "You don't know," he said, his voice cold. "You can't know. All I see is a little child playing pretend, thinking he can understand what I go through! And yet you're the one asking for help! Face it, you're never going to get it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!" Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting like a sledgehammer. He had never seen his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae stopped their wild movements, his eye focusing on his son with a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to help by poking fun at my condition?" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Plankton's antennae waved, his eye still cold and distant. "Don't," he said, his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten it. And don't you DARE make fun of it." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his heart aching with the weight of his father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I di-" "You're sorry?" Plankton's voice was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing their plates to rattle. "You think an apology is enough when you belittle what I go through?" Chip's eyes widened with fear as his dad's anger grew. He'd never seen Plankton like this before, his tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae thrashing like live wires. The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in. "Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean it that way." But Plankton was beyond listening, his tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!" Chip took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-" he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop. "You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted, his antennae a blur of motion. "You think it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew louder, his words sharper. "You think it's easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?" Chip's eyes filled with tears as his father's anger grew, his voice crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make light of his dad's condition, but now it seemed as if he'd made everything worse. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands shaking. Plankton's antennae whipped around his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't make it go away!" he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You think you can make it better with a laugh?" He slammed his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot. "It's not a joke, Chip!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched his father's outburst, his heart pounding. He had never seen Plankton like this, his anger a living, breathing thing that filled the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But I want to help." Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want to help? Then stop making it about you!" Chip's eyes grew wide with fear as he watched his father's anger boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please," he whispered, his heart racing. Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body vibrating with uncontrollable rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the coffee mug from the table, flinging it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere, puncturing the silence like shrapnel. "Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He had never seen Plankton this out of control. And Karen knew she had to act fast. Her voice was calm but firm as she approached Plankton. "Sweetie, it's okay," she said, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Let's go to your workshop. You know that's your safe space." Plankton's antennae thrashed, his eye darting around the room, seeking anything to target his anger. "I don't want to go anywhere!" he roared, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "It's not okay!" Karen stepped closer, her voice steady. "It's okay to be upset," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "But Chip..." But Plankton's rage was unstoppable. He lunged for the nearest object, a framed photo of Chip, his grip tightening as he raised it over his head, ready to smash it against the floor. Karen's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Plankton, no," she pleaded, her voice steady. "Please, don't." But Plankton's rage had taken over, his body moving on autopilot as he swung the photo frame with all his might. It crashed to the floor, the shattering glass echoing in the small room. Chip's eyes grew round with shock, his body frozen in place as he watched his father's tantrum unfold. "Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!" But Plankton's rage was a runaway train, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his anger. He stomped over to the counter, grabbing a plate and flinging it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen stepped in front of Chip, placing herself between him and the storm of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly, her voice a calm oasis in the chaos. "You're scaring him." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Karen with a mix of anger and confusion. For a moment, his body seemed to pause, his arm still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it, the soft fabric landing limply on the floor. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, seeing the turmoil behind the rage. "Please, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's talk about this." But Plankton's anger was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He picked up another mug, his arm winding up to throw it, when Chip suddenly stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father's. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't." Plankton's antennae paused, his arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled, his eye wild with anger. "You think you can just tell me what to do?" And then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction, Plankton hurled the mug in front of Chip, purposefully missing him. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mug spun through the air, the shattering of porcelain on the tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not about control. It's about us. Our fam..." But Plankton was beyond words, his rage a living entity that consumed him. He grabbed a toaster, his grip white-knuckled, and hurled it at the fridge, the metallic clang a cacophony in the small kitchen. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

GREAT CHIP xi (Autistic author) After a moment, she turned and walked towards the workshop door, her steps slow and deliberate. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check on your father," she said, her voice a whisper. "You... you clean up here." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his mother's. He knew she was hurting too, but she was putting on a brave face for him. As she disappeared into the workshop, his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never seen his parents like this before. The kitchen was a mess of shattered dishes and splattered jelly, a stark contrast to the usually pristine space. He took a deep breath and began to collect the broken pieces, his mind racing with thoughts of his father's pain. Karen's footsteps were quiet as she approached the workshop, the door slightly ajar. She could hear Plankton's muffled sobs from inside, his tiny body hunched over his workbench. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she might find. The room was a whirlwind of half-finished inventions, wires and gadgets scattered about. Her heart broke at the sight of her husband, the usually stoic and resourceful Plankton, reduced to a tiny, shaking figure, his antennae drooped like the wilted leaves of a forgotten houseplant. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft whisper, cutting through the quiet. He didn't look up, his sobs the only sound in the cluttered room. Slowly, she approached, her eyes taking in the chaos around them. "Honey," she began, her voice trembling. "I know you're upset, but..." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Karen reached out, her hand hovering over his shoulder, uncertain whether to touch him. Finally, she decided that in this moment, space was what he needed most. She stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence a gentle reminder that she was there for him. "Plankton," she said softly, her voice a balm in the storm of his rage. "Can I get you anything?" Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his tiny frame heaving with the weight of his emotions. "No," he said, his voice muffled. Karen took a step closer, her hand still hovering. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her tone gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his head nodding slightly. It was the barest of movements, but it spoke volumes to Karen. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to press too hard. He stiffened at first, but then, ever so slightly, leaned into her. Her embrace was gentle, her touch like a soft breeze, offering comfort without smothering his pain. "I always love you." The words hung in the air, their quiet strength a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton felt his body begin to relax, his sobs easing as Karen's warmth seeped in. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I don't know..." Karen's grip tightened, her hand sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby. Plankton's antennae twitched nervously against her, but he didn't pull away. He knew she was there for him, even when his own mind was a tempest of confusion. "You don't have to apologize," Karen whispered. Her words were a balm to Plankton's raw nerves, and he leaned into her embrace. She knew he was sensitive post-episode, his emotions like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Her heart ached for him, for the fear and frustration he felt in those moments. Karen's eyes scanned the room, noticing the chaos of Plankton's workshop, his mind's refuge. Usually, the disarray was organized, each gear and wire in its place. Now, it was as though a tornado had swept through, leaving a trail of half-finished inventions in its wake. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body still tense under her touch. "I just... I don't want you to look at me and see something broken and unlovable.." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "You are you, and that is all I've ever loved." The words hung in the air, a gentle rebuttal to the harshness of the earlier scene. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his breathing evening out. Chip hovered at the entrance, his heart a tumultuous sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt his father, and he didn't know how to fix it. He took a tentative step into the workshop, his eyes scanning the room. The mess was a stark reminder of the turmoil Plankton was feeling, and it only served to amplify Chip's own guilt. He watched his mother's careful movements, her gentle touch, and he desperately wanted to do the same.

____... .-"--"""".__ `. | ` | ( `._....------.._.: ) .()'' ``(). ' () .==' `=== `-. . ) ( g) ) ) / J ( |. / . ( $$ (. (_'. , )|` || |\`-....--'/ ' \ /||. \\ | | | / / \. //||(\ \`-===-' ' \o. .//7' |) `. -- / ( OObaaaad888b. (<<. / | .a888b`.__.'d\ OO888888888888a. \ Y' | .8888888aaaa88POOOOOO888888888888888. \ \ | .888888888888888888888888888888888888b | | .d88888P88888888888888888888888b8888888. b.--d .d88888P8888888888888888a:f888888|888888b 88888b 888888|8888888888888888888888888\8888888

🧪 || ᶤ'ˡˡ ᵍᶤᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᶠᶤᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᶰᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵉᵗᵎ

ᴳʳᵒʷ ᵁᵖ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖʳᵉᑫᵘᵉˡ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍʳᵒʷ ᵘᵖ?" ᵀʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᴬⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ!" ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵇˡᵘʳᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴬ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵃⁿᵗᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧" ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ʷᵃˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ!" "ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵃᵘᵗ!" "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗ!" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᶜʰⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" @ALYJACI

https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewforum.php?f=1218

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓██▒█░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓░░░░░░░░▓███▓░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓██▒░░░▓▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░▓███▒▒░░▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓░▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▒░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░▓████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓██░░░░░░▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓░░░░░████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████░░░░░█▓▓░▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░▒███▓░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████▒░░░▒▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░▒ ▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░██░░░██░░▒▒▒▒▒░░██░░░██▒░░▒██░░░░░░░░░███▓░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▒▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░ ▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█░░██░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░▓▓░▒░░▒▒▓███░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓▓▓ ▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▒░░▓█▒░░░░▓██▓▒░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░▒█░░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▒▒█████▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▒██████▓▓▒░░░░░░▒▒▒░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░░░░▓▓▓░▒░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒██████▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░▒░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒█████▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░▒░░▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▒▒▒▒░░░▒░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░▒█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▓▓▓▓▒█▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░▒░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ █▓▓▓████▓▓▓░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▓░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓░░░░▓░░░░░░▒░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ █▒▒▓███▓▓▓▓░░░░░▒░░▒█░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒███▓▓▓▒░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ █▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░▓▓▓▓████░██▒█▓▓▓████░██▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▓▓░░▓▓▓███░█████░▓▓███▓████▓██▒░█▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓█▒▒▒▒███▓▓░░░░░▓▒▒█▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓███▒░███░░░▓█░█▒▓▓░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒█▒▒░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓█▒███████▓▓░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓███▒░░░░██▓░░░░░░░░▒█▒▒▒▓▒█▒▒░░░░░░░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓████████▓▓░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░█▓▓█▒░░░░▒▒░▒░░░▒▓▓█▓░░░▓▓▒▒█▒▒░░░░░░░░▒█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓█████▓▓▓█░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▓░░░░░░░░▓░▓▒░░░░░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓████▓▓▒░░░░░░░▒▓░░▓░░░░░░░░░█░░▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓█░▒░░▒▓▓▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░█████░░░░░░██░░░░░░▓░░░░░░░░█░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓░▒▒░░░█▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████████████████▓▓▒░░▓░▒███░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▒░▒░░░░█▓▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░███▓▓▓█████████████▓░░░░▒░░░█▒█▒░░░░░░░▓░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ █░░░░░░░██▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓███░░░░░░░█▒░▓▓▓░░░░░▓████░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ░░░░░░░░█▓░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░█░░░█▒█░░░░░█████░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒░░░░░░░▒█▒░██▓░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░▒█░░▓▓█░░░░░▒███████▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓░░░░░░█▒░░███░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███░░█░░█▓▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒██▒░░░░█░░░░░▓░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓█▓▓█▓▓▓░░░░░░██████▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█░░░░░▒░░▒▒░▒▒▒░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░▓░░░░░▓░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░▒░░░▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒█░░░░░▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░▓░░█░░█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░█░██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒██▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒