Cornish Language Emoji Combos

🏴 ➕

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒‧₊˚✩彡⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🕊ᰔᩚ

🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦 🟦🟨🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦 🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦|/ | Δ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜|\ \_/ [ ] \_/ [ ] \/\/ / \ 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 |/ 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🇺🇺🇺🇼🇺🇺

🏴

BB ♡B ♡B ♡ɪ፝֟B ♡(｡- .•)ВB ♡༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ᓚ₍ ^. ̫ .^₎‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆☆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆

ω

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⡀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠚⠋⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠳⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠋⠀⢴⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣏⠛⠳⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⢀⡾⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣀⣤⡴⠞⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⣠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀⠤⣍⠉⠉⠀⣤⣀⣤⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠷⣦⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡾⣷⡀⠀⠙⠀⠀⢀⣬⣿⣿⡿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠠⢤⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠾⠋⠂⠊⠛⠶⢦⣴⠾⣿⡚⠷⣼⣿⠟⣹⣦⣀⠀⠑⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣆⠀ ⠀⠙⠻⠶⠤⠴⠾⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢁⣴⣟⠻⢦⡤⠼⢿⡏⠉⠻⣷⢶⣟⠛⣏⣁⡀⠙⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⠛⠻⢟⣛⣛⣶⣾⢿⣄⠀⠘⠋⢿⡟⠋⠉⠛⢶⣌⠻⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⢠⣀⡀⠀⢉⣄⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠀⢠⡄⠀⢹⡆⠀⠉⠛⠛⠲⠒⠚⠛⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⠾⠏⢻⣤⡟⠉⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠛⠁⠀⣼⠇⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠿⢦⣤⣴⠾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠶⠟⠻⠷⠶⠶⠿⠷⠾⠚⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⢀⣤⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀

◾ ┃⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ┃⬛⬛🖤⬛⬛ ┃⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ┃ ┃ ┃ ┃ ┃ ➖

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼ℹ📧📝💬❤️🔥✉✉️📜✨👉✅🌐📌📢📣📅❌👀🤖✔️☀️🇸ᯓᡣ𐭩📚📩📞⭐📋⚠️🧾🔗➡️✔️ 👤💭🤝💡😊📱📲💥💻🇪ᡣ𐭩🇳🇦🇴🇭♡🇬☆𐙚★®💌✉︎📨🌟🎯💯🌎🌸⬇️🔞📍👋🛠️🚀😉🚩📈🔑💰🏆🤔📄✔⚡🏛️𝓜🇷ᥫ᭡🇩🇹.ᐟ౨ৎ🇲⩇⩇:⩇⩇🇰⌞ ⌝┃𝜗𝜚𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞාuD7rNNK9' OR 55=(SELECT 55 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

🗝🏴‍☠️💀👾🖤💨💣

CHIP AND FAIL xi (Autistic author) Karen made chum for dinner and they all sat at the table. "Thanks," Plankton says to Karen as she hands him his plate. She sits down with her own plate after serving Chip his. "Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. Plankton's antennae twitched, but his eye remained fixed on his plate. The silence was a wall between them, thick as seaweed and just as impenetrable. Chip's heart felt like it was sinking into his stomach, the weight of his father's silence heavier than any words could have been. Karen's screen darted between them, a silent plea for peace. She knew this was Plankton's way of dealing with his overwhelm, but it was torture for Chip, who craved understanding and connection. "So, how's your friends?" Karen asks Chip. Chip shrugs, his screen darting to Plankton, who remains silent, his antennae still. "They're okay," he says, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. Karen sighs internally, the tension at the dinner table a heavy fog that seemed to smother their usual banter. "Karen, can you pass the napkins?" Plankton says. "Sure," she says as she puts them in the middle. "Dad, how do you feel about the food?" Plankton's antennae twitched but his gaze remained on his plate, his mouth a tight line. The silence was a thick stew that no one knew how to digest. Chip's eyes were filled with hope, searching for any sign of his father's usual playfulness, but all he found was a wall of quiet. Chip's voice was a feeble ripple in the vast ocean of their silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?" he offered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained silent, his eye never leaving his plate. The air was thick with tension, like seawater saturated with the weight of their unspoken words. Chip churned with anxiety, each bite of chum a reminder of the gap that had suddenly widened between him and his father. "Please, Dad," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the clink of their forks. Plankton's antennas remained still, his eye focused on the food before him. Karen's heart was a tight knot in her chest, her eyes darting between her husband and son. The silence was a living creature, a Kraken of tension coiled around them, squeezing the joy from the room. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us about your week," she said, her voice too bright, too forced. Chip took a tentative bite of his chum, his eyes on Plankton's unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a good time at the carnival," he began, his voice a sad echo of his usual excitement. "I won at the ring toss." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip felt like a deflated balloon, each of his words a futile attempt to pierce the silence. "And I met a new friend," Chip continued, his voice a feeble thread trying to weave through the stillness. "She's a dolphin. She was really cute." Plankton's antennae twitched again, just a little, but it was enough to keep Chip's hope afloat. Chip's voice grew stronger, his words a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of silence. "Her name's Daisy," he said, a tiny smile tugging. "We played in the bubbles." But Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye on his plate. It was as if Chip's words were bouncing off an invisible shield, unable to penetrate the fortress of his father's mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen filling with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to share his joy with Plankton, but the wall of silence was too high, too thick. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching around his fork. "Dad, I know you're mad at me," he said, his voice trembling. "But I just want to understand." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment, weighing down on Chip like an oversized sponge soaked in regret. He knew he had to try again, to bridge the gap. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky but determined. "I know I messed up today, but I want to make it right." He took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "Can you tell me more about your...about what happened to you?" His voice was a tiny bubble of hope rising in the deep sea of their dinner. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering up to meet Chip's for a brief moment before dropping back to his plate. The silence stretched on like a tight rubber band, threatening to snap. Karen's screen a tempest of concern, torn between her love for her husband and her desire to help her son. She knew Plankton needed his space, but seeing the pain in Chip's screen was like watching a piece of coral being slowly eroded by the sea. Chip's words hung in the air, like a message in a bottle lost at sea. Plankton's silence was a reef that Chip's words couldn't navigate around. He took a deep breath, his heart a conch shell echoing with hope. "Dad, I know it's hard for you," he tried again, his voice a gentle wave. "But if you don't tell me, how can I understand?" The room was a pressure cooker of unspoken emotion, the tension rising with each passing second. Karen's screen pleaded with Plankton, willing him to respond. But he remained still, his antennae unmoving, his eye a storm cloud over their meal. Chip's heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, his words falling on deaf antennae. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice desperate. "I just want to help." But Plankton's antennae remained motionless, his eye averted. The silence was a deep-sea trench between them, vast and unbridgeable. Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope leaking away like water through a sieve. He took another bite of his chum, the taste of it suddenly bitter on his tongue. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a tiny hammer on the anvil of his heart. Chip forced a swallow, his throat tight with emotion. "Dad," he said again, his voice a tiny ripple in the vast ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room held its breath, waiting for a response, but none came. The silence was a thick kelp that choked, suffocating any attempt at conversation.

CATCH IN MY CHIP xi (Autistic author) Karen leans in closer to Plankton, her voice a gentle whisper. "It's okay," she says, her eyes filled with warmth. "You're okay." Plankton's breaths are shallow, his chest rising and falling with effort as he shakes. The room is a cocoon of quiet, the outside world muted by the thick walls of their sanctuary. Karen's hand is a constant, her touch a reminder that he's not alone. Plankton's gaze flits to Chip, the question in his eye unspoken. "Chip," Karen says, her voice a balm to Plankton's raw nerves. "Your dad is in need of some quiet time, okay?" Her words are a gentle nudge, guiding them through the delicate dance of recovery. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I understand," he murmurs, though his heart feels like it's been tied in knots. He swallows his questions, his fear for his dad a lump in his throat. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, his breathing easing a fraction. He nods, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice raspy with exhaustion. The relief in his eye is palpable. Chip watches, his own emotions a tapestry of confusion and concern. He wants to reach out, to hold his dad close, but he knows it's not the time. Instead, he squeezes Karen's hand, his silent promise to be patient and understanding. Plankton's eye closes, his body slowly relaxing into the pillow. The ringing in his ears fades, the world coming back into focus like a camera lens slowly adjusting to the light. The warmth of Karen's hand on his forehead is a comfort, his anchor in the sea of sensation. Her voice is a gentle lullaby, guiding him back to shore. "You're okay," she repeats, each word a wave lapping against the shore of his mind. The room stops spinning, the colors coalescing into distinct shapes. Plankton's gaze darts around the room, seeking solace. His eye lands on a spot on the wall, a patch of unblemished white. He focuses on it, his breaths coming slower, deeper. It's a sanctuary, a place of peace amidst the chaos. The spot becomes his beacon, the world around it a blurry periphery. Karen's hand on his forehead is cool, a balm to his racing thoughts. "Look at the spot," she whispers, her voice a soothing melody. "Just the spot." He nods, his eye locking onto the white, his breaths syncing with hers. The spot is a lifeline in the storm, a beacon of calm in his sensory chaos. Plankton stares at it, willing the world to recede. The colors around it blur, the sounds of the room dull to a whisper. It's just him and the spot, a silent pact between them to conquer the tempest. Karen's voice is a gentle wave, lapping at the edges of his mind. "When you're ready, take a deep breath. In, out. Slowly." She guides him through the exercise, her tone soothing. Plankton tries to focus, his body responding to the familiar rhythm. The spot on the wall becomes clearer, the edges sharper. The world around it softens, the colors bleeding back into the fabric of the room. His breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in time with Karen's gentle prompts. The spot is his sanctuary, a bastion of calm in the overwhelming storm. But then, it starts. The tic, a twitch of his antenna. A reminder that his mind is not entirely his own, his body a marionette to the whims of his neurodiversity. Plankton's antennas begin to still, his body gradually relinquishing the tension that had held it hostage. The tic in his left antenna, a quick spasm that had become more frequent. Karen's eyes don't leave his face, her gaze a silent support. She knows the dance of his tics all too well, a choreography that they've lived with for years. She squeezes his hand, her touch a silent promise to stand by him through the storm. It's his body's way of releasing the tension that builds up like pressure in a volcano. The tic is a tide, rising and falling, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Plankton's head jerks to the side, the sudden movement a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. Chip's eyes go wide with concern. "It's okay," Karen murmurs, squeezing Plankton's hand. "It's just your body. It's okay." Her voice is a lullaby, a gentle reminder that he's not alone. The tic subsides, his antennas returning to their usual state. Chip's eyes dart from his dad to his mom, his mind whirring with questions. "What was that?" he asks, his voice quiet, afraid to disturb the fragile peace. Karen's hand moves to Plankton's antenna, her thumb tracing the line of his twitch. "It's just his body's way of dealing with the overstimulation," she explains, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "It's a tic, Chip. It's part of his autism." Chip nods, his eyes wide with understanding. "Will he be okay?" he asks, his voice small in the face of his father's struggle. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, her voice a steady stream of comfort. "Yes, he will," she says with confidence. "This happens sometimes. We just need to be patient and give him time." Plankton's antennas still slightly, the tremor a reminder of the storm that had passed through his mind. His breaths come more evenly now, the spot on the wall his silent companion as he finds his way back to the world. Chip's eyes are full of questions, his heart heavy with concern. He watches as his dad's body relaxes, the tension easing like a retreating tide. "I'll get him some water," Karen says, her voice a whisper. She squeezes Plankton's hand once more before rising, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet. Plankton's eye meets Chip's, his gaze apologetic. Chip swallows his fear. "Daddy?" he whispers, his voice cracking. Plankton's eye flutters open, the panic gone, replaced by a fatigue that seems to weigh down his very soul. "I'm okay," he manages, his voice a rasp. "Just tired." Chip nods, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch his dad's arm. The contact is tentative, a question and a comfort all in one. Plankton's antennas twitch again, but this time it's with the beginnings of a smile. "Thanks, buddy," he says, his voice hoarse. The room is a cocoon of silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Plankton swallows hard, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on his chest like a leaden blanket. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his gaze never leaving Chip's. Chip's eyes are pools of concern, the question in his eyes unspoken but potent. "For what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennas droop slightly, his eye reflecting the shame he feels. "For scaring you," he says, his voice hoarse. "For not being able to control it." Chip's hand tightens around his dad's arm, his eyes brimming with tears he's too proud to shed. "It's okay, Daddy," he says, the words a soft whisper. "You don't have to be sorry." Plankton's smile is weak, his antennas still. "I know," he replies, his voice a whisper. "But it's hard not to be." He swallows, his throat dry from the battle his body has just endured. Karen returns with a glass of water, her steps silent on the soft carpet. She hands it to Plankton, who gratefully takes a sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. The tension in the room is a palpable entity, a third person in their silent conversation. "What happened?" Chip asks, his voice small, the question a balloon of curiosity floating in the heavy air. "It's just part of who I am," Plankton says, his voice still hoarse from his episode. He takes another sip of water, the coldness of it a stark contrast to his fevered skin. "My autism, it makes my brain work differently." Chip's hand is still on his arm, a silent offer of comfort. "But you're okay now," he says, his voice hopeful. Plankton nods, the motion almost imperceptible. "Thanks to Mom," he murmurs, his eye swiveling to Karen, who smiles at him with a mix of relief and love. "She's the reason I made it through." Chip looks at Karen with a newfound respect, his young mind trying to comprehend the gravity of what he's just witnessed. "You're both strong," he says, his voice steady, the fear momentarily pushed aside by admiration. Karen's smile is a soft glow, the pride in her eyes unmistakable. "We all have our moments," she says, her hand resting on Plankton's shoulder. "It's how we face them that makes us who we are." She glances at the clock, the ticking a reminder of the time they've lost to the sensory storm. "Why don't you go play for a bit, Chip? Your dad needs some rest, and I think we could all use a moment to process." Chip nods, his eyes still filled with unspoken questions. But he trusts his mom, and he can see the exhaustion etched into Plankton's face. He slides off the bed, his feet silent on the floor. With one last look at his dad, he heads for the door, the weight of the moment heavy on his shoulders. Karen watches him go, her heart aching for the fear he must be feeling. But she knows that with time and patience, he'll understand. He'll grow to see his dad not as a mystery to be solved, but as a person to be loved and supported, just like anyone else.

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.

We only have one shot at life, make it count. Here are some bible verses about loving your enemies. Follow the word of god :) * Matthew 5:44: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"
 || * Luke 6:27-28: "But I say to you: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you || Please stop this drama, it is not of god. Drink water, eat food, prioritize your mental health, and have a great day everyone ✝️🙏🏻❤️

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."

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

⋆｡ ˚⋆｡ ˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.ৎ୭ꕤ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗☾☾☾‹𝟹⋆˙⟡♡🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆

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◾ ┃⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ┃⬛⬛☠️⬛⬛ ┃⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ┃ ┃ ┃ ┃ ┃ ➖

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⣀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡟⠀⢀⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿ ⣿⡇⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⣿⡁⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿ ⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢛⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⣿⣧⠈⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿ ⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⠿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⢾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀ ⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡤⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠘⣷⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢰⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠃⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢁⠈⢻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⡀⠭⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⡆⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣇⣼⣿⣿⠿⠶⠙⣿⡟⠡⣴⣿⣽⣿⣧⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣟⣭⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⣴⣶⣿⣿⢄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣩⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⡋⠘⠷⣦⣀⣠⡶⠁⠈⠁⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠃⣴⣶⡔⠒⠄⣠⢀⠄⠄⠄⡨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡘⠿⣷⣿⠿⠟⠃⠄⠄⣠⡇⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⢁⣷⣠⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⣠⣾⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠻ ⠟⠋⠁⠄⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⡯⢓⣴⣾⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⡟⣷⠄⠹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄

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

this NEEDS to be an app౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚≽^•༚• ྀི≼ (reposted🔁)>ᴗ<🐼🧸

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⢉⣕⡞⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣳⡀⢻⣤⣴⣴⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣷⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢧⣿⣦⠬⡜⣼⡝⣿⢹⣿⣿⡟⣁⡀⣴⣿⡟⣹⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣗⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⢀⣿⢀⠨⢳⣷⢴⣧⣸⣟⡟⠉⢁⡾⠋⣀⡴⢃⡠⣠⣿⣻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡝⠋⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⢸⣻⠀⢩⡏⠀⣸⣯⣿⡿⠒⣲⠟⠘⣩⠿⣠⠏⣴⣿⢯⣟⣹⣄⡿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⢸⡇⣰⣿⠏⣿⣀⡼⠧⢶⣶⣳⡞⢳⠞⣿⣣⠏⠀⢠⣞⣀⣸⣿⣿⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡦⣿⣷⣿⢹⠀⣯⣞⣧⣔⣯⣿⣯⡾⢃⣾⠟⠁⢀⣴⡟⢀⣼⡟⣾⡿⣐⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣧⢹⣾⣴⣿⠋⡇⢸⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣶⠟⠋⢀⣴⣫⢏⣴⠟⣽⣿⡟⠀⠈⢹⣿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⡀⠃⢸⡜⣿⢹⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣷⠶⠚⠛⢛⡿⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⣤⣦⣀⢸⡟⣠⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⣸⢻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣗⠄⠘⡇⣿⠚⠻⠿⠯⠿⠅⠀⠠⢄⠍⢨⡙⠊⠑⣿⣿⣯⣿⡿⠻⣿⢡⠇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢣⡟⢸⠀⣿⣿⣷⣿⣦⠀⣷⣹⣣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠛⠿⠿⡿⣁⣼⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣇⣼⣿⣾⠀⣿⣿⣮⡛⢿⣧⣽⡿⣿⣷⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⠆⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⡼⣼⣿⡏⡟⣼⣿⣿⣿⡻⣿⠃⣸⡟⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⢰⢳⢻⡿⣠⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣴⠏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⣼⣿⡛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⡞⡞⣼⣷⢻⡇⣸⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⠅⣴⣿⡟⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢠⢻⢁⡿⠇⣸⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⠞⣡⣿⣧⣤⣽⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⡞⣸⠃⢀⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠒⠺⠷⣏⡀⣼⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣏⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠻⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢿⣿⣿⡟⢉⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣤⠖⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⢸⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⢄⣀⠀⣨⡿⠟⢋⣿⡿⢯⣶⣝⣛⣛⣿⠿⢿⣿⢥⣠⠼⠻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡋⢤⡀⠀⠻⣌⣉⣻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡟⠛⣛⣿⡿⠀⠉⢛⣻⣿⠿⠋⠀⢸⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣾⣦⠉⠛⠷⢿⣿⣻⣦⡌⠢⡀⠘⣧⣙⡛⣿⣗⡚⠉⠉⠉⡇⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⡶⣿⠋⣽⠛⣿⡿⢁⣤⢶⡋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠾⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⣿⣦⡙⣏⠁⠈⣯⣙⠛⢿⣆⠀⣼⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⢠⡟⢸⣷⣿⠉⡇⢀⣯⣴⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠻⢿⣟⢧⡤⠶⠛⠋⠉⠻⣿⣽⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣴⣶⣿⣧⣿⢃⠏⠀⡇⣼⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡝⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣟⢿⣯⣎⠤⠔⡇⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⢴⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⣿⣿⡄⢿⠦⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢄⡉⢿⣻⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣾⣇⠀⠋⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠴⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣭⣻⣎⠀⠹⣵⡟⠙⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣴⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣆⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⣶⠿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⢻⣠⣴⠀⣼⡟⠛⠛⠛ ⣿⣟⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⠁⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⠀⢀⡀⠈⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣷⣌⢿⣷⣍⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠊⣙⠷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡟⣎⣻⣼⣷⡆⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠊⠉⠛⠷⢶⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠿⠃⠀ ⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀ ⣸⣷⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠀ ⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠚⠉⠛⠙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⢹⡟⣿⣿⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠉⢹⣏⠀⠉⠓⠤⣄⣀⡠⠖⠋⢳⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣾⣐⣈⣦⣀⣀⡤⠤⠖⠒⠒⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⢸⠇⠸⣿⡄⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠷⠶⠾⡊⠦⣄⣀⡤⠖⠉⠀⣀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢧⠟⠀⠀⠙⢧⡵⠀⢀⣀⠠⠤⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⣤⣤⡴⠛⠉⠙⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠚⠛⠛⠛⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡨⠋⠀⢀⣴⡾⠃⢀⠇⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⠁⢀⣼⠛⠛⠤⣰⣫⠖⠀⡄⢸⡦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢄⢸⢑⡷⢿⡿⢶⣄⠀⢈⠳⡄⣴⡧⢸⡏⠉⠳⡖⠲⠤⠤⢤⣄⣀⣠⡤⠴⠚⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡠⠤⠖⣚⣿⠀⠀⢄⡀⠙⠲⣍⣠⠋⠐⣠⣾⣿⢧⣴⣣⠏⣰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠴⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠐⠭⣗⡀⡴⢁⢀⣼⣿⠂⠉⠢⣴⣁⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠑⠦⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⢒⠯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠦⢄⡀⠙⠧⣴⡋⣠⠟⠒⣤⣠⢀⠝⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣜⡽⠡⣤⣼⡯⣍⡉⢲⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⡰⠟⠋⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⣀⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠛⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⢀⡇⡀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⣤⢞⡞⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡉⡏⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡍⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀

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☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐💀🖤

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

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

⠀݂⠀🦪⠀֯⠀ ᮫⠀ ⛤⠀ׄ⠀ 𓍢ִ⠀܄⠀ʬ ⭑ ˙ 𓍯⠀ׄ⠀🦋﹔ 𝓭ₒₙ'ₜ 𝓬ₒₚᵧ 𝔀ₒᵣₖ ᵳᵣₒₘ ₐₙₒₜₕₑᵣ, ₜₕₑ ₛₐₜᵢₛᵳₐ𝓬ₜᵢₒₙ ₒᵳ ₛᵤ𝓬𝓬ₑₛₛ ᵢₛ ₒₙₗᵧ ᵳₑₗₜ 𝔀ₕₑₙ ᵧₒᵤ 𝓭ₒ ᵧₒᵤᵣ ₒ𝔀ₙ 𝓭ᵤₜᵧ.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡠⠄⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⢄⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⠠⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡥⠔⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀ ⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣤⠤⠄⠀⠀⢈⣀⡀⠀⠀⡰⢢⠀⠀⠰⡀ ⠀⠑⢄⠀⢀⣀⡇⡀⢰⠉⠉⠃⠀⢣⠀⠰⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⢄⠉⠁⠈⠢⣄⡠⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⢙⠆⠀⠀⢘ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⢀⡠⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⠔⠂⠃⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡀⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

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⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠖⠈⠀⡁⢈⡄⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⡀⠀⡆⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠐⠠⠀⡆⠘⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠐⡄⠃⠀⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡃⠇⠀⡅⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⢀⠀⡇⡇⠀⡅⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠠⠀⡇⠇⠀⠆⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠠⠀⡇⠂⠀⠇⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢆⣣⢎⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠐⠀⡇⢸⠀⠁⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠾⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⢈⠀⢇⣿⠀⠁⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣻⣟⣃⢬⣍⣰⣶⣽⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠠⠀⡞⢿⠀⠐⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢲⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣮⣞⣽⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡆⢃⢸⠀⢰⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⡿⢿⣾⣿⡿⢟⣫⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⡇⢸⢸⣽⣾⢸⠀⠀⣦⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣶⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢯⢳⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⡇⢸⢸⢿⣿⢸⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⠋⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢮⣋⢗⣪⡿⢫⠽⣉⣛⣛⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣧⣿⢻⣿⣿⢨⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⡰⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⠿⢛⠋⢖⢉⣒⡡⠖⢲⡜⣺⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢰⠀⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⡄⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢗⣫⢎⡹⣌⡷⠿⡤⠌⠮⢼⢓⡲⣭⣱⣞⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⢸⠈⡇⣿⢿⣿⢯⡄⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⠏⠀⡐⢼⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⣜⢣⣖⣬⢵⣋⡞⠉⠋⢙⠈⠨⣌⣱⢭⣻⣿⣿⢯⢳⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠸⠀⡷⣿⣾⣿⠈⡆⡇⠀⠈⠛⡀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⢾⣿⡏⠠⡰⣜⣿⡿⢿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣟⣮⡉⠩⠀⢸⡻⡇⠀⣇⣀⡀⠀⣏⣚⣾⣿⣿⣯⣛⠧⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠅⢸⡿⡏⠊⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⣧⣤⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣳⣵⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⣗⣒⣇⠽⣷⣿⠥⠗⠒⡗⠚⣟⣺⣵⡻⣿⡿⣍⡞⣬⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠀⢰⠸⡇⡇⠀⡇⡇⠀⠀⢀⢻⢹⠃⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣽⠀⢃⠀⣟⣾⠀⢸⠀⠇⠀⣿⢗⡲⡽⣿⡿⠗⢻⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣦⡀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣷⡇⠀⠇⠆⠀⠀⢸⢻⢸⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⣺⣇⢸⠀⣹⢾⣄⣘⣮⣷⣾⣟⠮⣵⢻⣼⣿⡍⣆⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⣽⣶⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⡿⣇⠀⡇⡀⠀⠀⠀⢹⢸⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠰⢣⠌⠿⣔⠿⢛⡉⣘⣵⣿⢟⣎⣗⣯⣛⣾⣿⣷⣾⠱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⣽⣿⠀⢻⠀⠀⠆⢸⠐⣿⣿⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⠷⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠦⠭⠑⡚⡛⢩⣵⣿⢟⢣⢫⡼⣞⣿⢯⣿⣿⡿⡟⢃⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣏⣿⣿⣄⢸⠀⠀⠇⠈⠀⡏⢻⠀⢠⢸⠀⠀⠀⢨⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠭⠡⢄⡵⠿⢋⡓⡎⢦⡷⣿⡛⡲⢮⣽⣿⣷⣉⠆⢎⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣏⣿⣿⣼⣿⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣴⣾⣙⡛⠿⠛⠗⠚⣬⣿⠽⣑⡾⣭⡳⡾⣿⣿⣄⠫⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣲⣭⣷⣥⣬⡍⡽⣛⣬⣳⣯⣵⣳⣯⣵⣿⣿⣧⡑⠜⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⡃⠀⣀⣘⢨⠀⠘⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡜⡻⢯⣳⠿⣚⣧⣿⣿⣯⠿⢿⢻⠹⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⡍⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣇⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⢶⠀⠠⣘⣀⣀⡢⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⢦⢮⣵⣭⣿⣯⣽⣶⣿⣻⣿⣻⣛⣟⡶⢶⡿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠨⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⡷⠚⢹⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢉⣾⢾⣷⣿⣿⡏⣽⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣭⠿⣽⢿⣿⣿⣿⢂⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢀⠂⢸⠰⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢉⠍⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠭⡙⣏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣯⣟⣧⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣟⣉⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡐⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣯⣟⣷⣿⣼⣯⣟⡿⣾⣽⣻⣻⣾⣿⡈⣽⡙⡻⠿⣾⣿⣿⠷⢦⣾⣿⣿⡟⠉⠾⣿⣿⣿ ⣏⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣝⡿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣶⣿⣷⡿⢶⡝⣎⡳⣛⢾⣿⣿⢃⢥⣂⠹⢿⣿ ⣿⣦⡝⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣌⠱⠉⠍⡻⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡻⡽⣚⠼⣹⡿⡟⣿⣿⡗⢮⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡫⠄⠀⠀⠁⢊⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡙⠛⠷⠷⡿⢴⢫⣧⢷⣭⢹⡵⣬⣛ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣧⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⢣⠈⠩⠙⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⠀⠈⠀⠀⠁⠀⡭⢿⡎⠻⢷⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠖⡀⣂⣙⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢦⠙⠂⠀⠀⠀⡰⢉⣿⣧⣀⣸⣿⡽⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⡟⣀⣨⣄⡀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠦⠐⣀⢒⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣧⣄⠀⠤⠤⠁⠄⣘⣼⣳⢯⠷⣏⡿⡹ ⣿⡿⣯⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠶⣿⣿⣽⣾⢿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣾⣟⣿⡌⠂⡐⢪⣼⣿⣿⣿⣯⢟⡾⣿⣆⠉⠑⠂⠀⠀⠠⢮⡳⣏⢿⡹⢞⡵ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⢿⣟⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣻⢷⣻⢾⡽⡠⠐⣢⣾⣿⣿⣿⣯⠿⡼⡽⣿⠉⠑⠒⠂⠈⢁⢭⡗⡭⢎⡳⣍⢻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢛⣿⢻⡝⣶⣦⡀⠄⠀⠀⢾⣿⣻⣾⣽⣿⡿⣟⣿⣾⣟⣾⣟⡿⣽⢯⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢯⠳⡝⣾⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⣿⣾⣧⣷⣮⣇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣴⣾⣿⣸⣽⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣽⣿⢿⣿⡽⣯⣷⣻⡽⢯⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⡍⢷⡹⢼⣷⡣⡁⠀⠀⣈⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠾⣸⡻⠟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⢿⡷⣿⣻⢷⣯⣟⠿⣞⡧⢿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⢍⠶⡑⠮⣟⡷⣭⣳⣘⢼⣻⣿⣿⣍⠹⣿⣯ ⣄⠀⠈⢩⡓⡿⢿⣿⣿⢎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⣽⣳⢯⣟⣾⡹⣟⡽⣺⡝⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢩⢎⡱⢳⣬⡻⢧⣟⣽⣮⢷⣫⣿⣿⣆⠀⠉ ⣿⣿⣶⣉⠪⠒⣤⣹⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢯⡿⣼⣞⡽⣎⡗⣧⡝⣣⢿⣯⣿⣿⢿⣿⡖⢬⡑⣃⠦⢙⠻⣾⣿⣯⣿⣷⣷⣏⣻⣷⡄

🍲🍚🍛😋󠁤󠁤󠁇

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ 🖇₊˚ʚᗢ₊˚✧ﾟ.

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣁⣤⡶⠆⠘⠛⠛⣙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⣈⣁⣤⣶⣿⣇⠘⠻⢷⡆⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢿⣦⡈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣠⣈⡿⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⢋⠀⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡽⠋⢀⡀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣶⡄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠈⠉⢀⣴⣶⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠈⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠈⡉⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠘⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣿⠃⠀⠘⠏⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿ ⣿⣿⠋⠀⢀⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣸⣿ ⣿⠇⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠈⠻⣶⣶⣿⣿ ⣿⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣇⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣧⣀⣰⡟⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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

⣯⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣦⣀⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠐⠩⠛⠻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠛⠃⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢉⣈⣑⢂⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⢛⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⠞⠉⣹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⢿⠿⢠⡌⠩⢽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠘⡀⣬⢹⣖⢮⠰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠉⢤⠉⠜⣽⠶

🔭•🪐•☄️ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊 ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚. f𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

o(*｀ω´*)o 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 ١٥٧٤♡

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𝓙ᥫ᭡l

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eྀིྀི • ʞ༝•⃝∘^ྀི·󠁥󠁅̤̮|-|™ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅও.☘︎ ݁˖༒︎˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚/\/࣪ ִֶָ☾.>ᴗ<.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 5️Ĥၴႅၴ‏𖦹ᛒ๋࣭ ⭑⋆€₅₅₅↪️✉я0️ℂ⋆Е‪‪❤︎‬₊ ⊹💌🔞༄⁠❥˙ᵕ˙×͜×⊹ ࣪ ˖ ひ Ↄ ʚɞ w󠁵ϟ⁠♡℧R💕₊⊹ᯤ( •͈૦•͈ )ʕᵔᴥᵔʔ˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖С⋆๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑⁵⁵⁵ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིᡣ𐭩𖹭ೀ*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗(∩˃o˂∩)♡Σ(°ロ°)๋࣭ ⭑뉴진스๋࣭ ⭑˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১≽^•⩊•^≼( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁DươngBee˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥≽^•༚• ྀི≼(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟεつ(‿ˠ‿)‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.(⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝)༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˚ ࣪𖤐🫧⋆⭒˚💫‧₊ ִֶָ☾.༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ୧ֶָ֢ძྀིɪ፝֟ℊʟi️ֶָ֢ℹ|🇪℮ᥫ᭡ᡣ𐭩Ʀᥫ᭡.Nྀིnྀིᯓᡣ𐭩ИТ١٥٧٤♡αE♡.ᐟᡣ𐭩ּྀིྀི ֶָ֢.ᯓ★ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ᡣ𐭩 †§๋࣭ ⭑⚝ᰔᩚ౨ৎя <𝟑ℋL ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིᝰ.ᐟ•ᴗ•જ⁀➴ᙏ∞ 𐙚 ⁷⁷⁷ㅤ༯ØÖωಇ.ßᯓ ᡣ𐭩Λףƒ⁴⁴⁴KuğuО∪Ħ®kJ81Dlso' OR 834=(SELECT 834 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻ ⡟⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠀⢸ ⣷⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠖⠂⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠈⠁⠈⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⡆⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⠙⠻⢿⣴⠾⠛⠉⢸⣿⣷⣶⡿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠁⣀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡏⢀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⣠⣴⣾⣷⣤⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

ᯓᡣ𐭩ᝰ.ᐟ

♡ ̆̈

s🆂𝓙

L😕☺😦

e|ʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆❦𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀ♡𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓽𝓽𝔂 ♡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆 𝓹𝓵𝒆𝓪𝓼𝒆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ-1 waitfor delay '0:0:15' --

eʟ⌞♭ℹi️ᯓᡣ𐭩🇪𝔼𝓗🧸ྀི 𐙚 ⚬Т⋆.˚🇿ひᥫ᭡.✮⋆˙∀୨୧𝓼+𝓭Ｙ๋࣭ ⭑♄౨ৎɪ፝֟⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓇼ɢ󠁹🇾꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰🆂✟🇼📧🆆ּ ֶָ֢.༯🇫ω𝓐ᥫ᭡.𝄞✰𝒥☰©w󠁵☻ʞ𖤐⚚🇨┃ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁Оֶָ֢☾/\/ﾒ🇧♛𖹭✮✅ᰔ⭑$✶®🤍ྀིⵜ꩜Ε˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ℂ⋆ㅤᵕ̈❤︎я୧⍤⃝💐×͜×˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓮!⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡εつ▄█▀█●̤̮ƒ𝑬𝑒🇪୧℮𝔼𝑳ᡣ𐭩꒰𝓜𝓐𝒾𝓙𝐫🇷🇳€🇸🇦ᥫ᭡𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𑁤ƦNֶָྀིྀི֢🇲𝖆🇮𝐌𖦹И🇩.ᐟℋ❦♡Еᯓ★🇱𝐕αnྀི✞ꨄ︎ꑭ<𝟑🇻🇵§⋆ɞძ★0"XOR(if(now()=sysdate(),sleep(15),0))XOR"Z

✰𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐞✰𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆

𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⣀⠄⡂⠍⣀⣒⣒⠂⠀⠬⠤⠤⠬⠍⠉⠝⠲⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠊⢔⠕⠈⣀⣀⡀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡍⠁⠀⠁⢂⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠀⠀⣠⢠⣞⣿⣿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀⣘⢦⡀ ⢀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢋⡛⠶⠤⣤⠴⠚⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠁⠀⣀⢠⠤⢤⡕⠱⢷ ⠘⡇⠇⣯⠤⢾⡙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠤⠀⢲⡖⢐⣀⠁⠀⢙⣾⢄⠈⠉⣸⡀⠠⣠⡿ ⠀⠹⣜⡪⠀⠈⢷⣦⣬⣏⠉⠛⠲⢄⣤⣀⣀⡀⠖⠔⢁⣀⣨⢖⠿⣅⠉⡼⠁ ⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠳⣌⡟⠛⠵⡶⣧⣀⣀⣹⣉⣉⣿⢉⣉⣇⣴⣶⣿⠀⡅⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠘⠱⢄⡀⡼⠈⠉⠛⡻⠿⠾⡿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⡀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣕⠠⣒⠌⡙⠓⠶⠤⣤⣧⣀⣸⣇⣴⣧⠾⠾⠋⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠶⣭⣒⠩⠖⢠⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⠁⡰⠀⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠲⢤⣀⣀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣠⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠒⠲⠶⠤⠴⠒⠚⠁⠀⠀

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v 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡳⣼⣆⠀⠀⢹⡄⠹⣷⣄⢠⠇⠻⣷⣶⢀⣸⣿⡾⡏⠀⠰⣿⣰⠏⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⣀⣀⣀⡹⣟⡪⢟⣷⠦⠬⣿⣦⣌⡙⠿⡆⠻⡌⠿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⡿⠟⠚⠉⠀⠉⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⣼⣟⠛⠛⠙⠛⠉⠻⢶⣮⢿⣯⡙⢶⡌⠲⢤⡑⠀⠈⠛⠟⢿⣿⠛⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠯⣙⠛⢉⣉⣙⣿⣿⡳⢶⣦⣝⢿⣆⠉⠻⣄⠈⢆⢵⡈⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⣼⠓⠀⠀⠀ Nah ⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠖⠉⠻⣟⡿⣿⣭⢽⣽⣶⣈⢛⣾⣿⣧⠀⠙⠓⠀⠑⢦⡀⠹⣧⢂⠀⣿⡇⢀⣿⠺⠇⠀ ⠀I'd⠀ ⠀⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠉⢛⣿⣿⣶⣤⣈⠉⣰⣗⡈⢛⣇⠀⣵⡀⠀⠘⣿⡄⢻⣤⠀⢻⡇⣼⣧⣿⡄⠀⠀ Win⠀ ⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢍⡉⠛⠻⣷⡆⠨⣿⣭⣤⣍⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠹⣿⡄⠈⠀⢿⠁⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣇⣠⣾⣿⣛⣲⣿⠛⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣟⣮⡻⣷⣤⡙⢟⡀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠎⠀⠉⠁⠰⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣴⡏⠚⢛⣈⣍⠛⠛⠿⢦⣌⢙⠻⡆⠁⠀⠀⠀⣴⣦⠀⠀⠀⠐⢳⢻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠮⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣧⣶⣿⠿⣧⣴⣿⢻⡉⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡟⠿⠃⠁⣠⣤⡶⣾⡟⠅⠀⣀⡄⠀⣾⢸⣿⣏⢻⢶⣦⣤⣤⣄⢶⣾⣿⣡⣤⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣞⣋⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⡛⣹⡟⣤⢰⡿⠟⠉⣀⣀⣤⣤⡠⠙⢁⣾⡿⠂⠀⣿⠟⣁⠀⣹⠀⣹⣿⡟⣼⣿⣿⣌⣿⣞⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⡿⢛⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣼⣿⣟⢓⠛⣿⣏⣿⣵⣗⣵⣴⣿⢟⡵⣣⣼⣿⢟⣵⣶⢻⣶⣿⠀⠀⣈⢻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠃⢸⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣟⣾⡿⣫⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⡆⣻⣿⡏⣿⢻⣧⣿⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠜⣿⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣖⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡿⣾⣷⣿⣿⢿⣿⡇⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠞⠟⣸⣿⠏⣸⣧⣀⠿⢿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⢶⣦⣄⣿⠏⠀⣿⣟⣿⣶⠾⣿⣟⣋⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣻⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠛⠫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣧⠛⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⠹⡟⠀⠀⠉⡟⠋⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⣾⣷⣿⣿⣧⠙⠀⠙⢣⠝⠛⠋⣽⣷⢦⠇⠀⠀⠘⠁⣤⣾⣿⠝⠛⠉⠘⢻⣿⣿⢿⣼⣷⡟⢻⣷⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠟⠀⢸⣷⣿⡇⠀⠛⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢻⡿⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣄⠀⡄⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢻⣆⠀⠛⠁⠶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⠆⠘⠋⣠⡾⢫⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠀⠙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⢀⣴⠋⠀⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣰⣦⡀⠸⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠐⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⢺⣿⡄⠹⣿⠻⢦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⡟⢀⣀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣿⣿⡀⠹⡷⣦⣀⡀⡀⢸⣿⠏⢠⣾⣿⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠘⣷⣻⡟⠀⡼⠁⣴⣿⣿⣯⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣿⣤⣤⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ 🤞🤞🏻 Kaméhaméha😅😀

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P e⃤

🌅 Good morning Lynn

F(‿∣‿) slap 🤤

💕

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⠉⠻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿free fire⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢠⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠒⢶⣿⣿free fire ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠓⠲⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢀⠀⠹ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⣴ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿pubg⣿⡟⠛⠛⠻⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣧⡀⠘⠿⠋⠉⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⡼⠋⠁⢄⠀⢲⣶⡾⠷⢤⣤⣴⣇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⠿⠿⠷⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⢸⣶⣶⡀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⠉⠉⢙⣇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿

⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠲⡐⢢⠄⠀⠀⠀⠚⠐⠂⠀⠒⢸⣻⡝⣂⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⠀⠀⢢⡍⢆⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⠀⠀⣸⣷⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠐⠠⢠⡀ ⣼⡀⠀⢂⠉⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣥⣤⣀⠘⠦⡉⠂⠀⢀⡈⢦⣡⢏⠶⣡⣎ ⢘⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣿⣇⣀⠐⣖⣦⠀⡈⠲⡝⢎⡲⣭⣛ ⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠀⡆⠀⢈⠶⠻⠷⠢ ⠀⢻⠅⠀⣀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣾⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢤⢚⣄⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⢧⡜⢾⣿⣿⢟⠟⠉⠛⠁⠁⠁⠛⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢊⢳⣚⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠫⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣤ ⠐⠢⠙⠊⠏⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⢻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢾⣿⣷⣶⣠⠰⣦⣶⣶⣶⢦⣀⠀⠈⠧⣏⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀ ⠀⣀⡀⢠⠋⠻⢧⠟⢿⠇⠀⠸⣟⠟⣟⠓⠂⠀⠀⠡⣘⢸⢥⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣣⡞⡷⠏⠀⠀⠈⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⢽⠻⠙⡿⣧⡀⢀⢀⣠⣀ ⣾⡭⢷⣣⡄⠀⠀⢀⢭⡀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡩⠈⠒⢀⡳⢟⠳⠞⠚⠻⠻ ⠉⠉⠃⠀⢡⠂⢆⣡⠟⣻⡍⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠓⠌⠓⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢋⠰⠻⣿⢛⡛⢛⠖⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡓⠈⠛⠋⠢⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠁⢠⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠫⢦⣴⣀⣠⠴⢏⢃⣥⣾⣿⣿⣙⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⡭⣳⢭⣳⢚⣶⣿⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣧⠓⢮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣃⡖⠤⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⢟⣣⣾⣿⡿⣿⣻⣷⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣟⣷⢧ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣯⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣿⣞⣿ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⡾⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣾ ⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣯⣷⣯⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣾ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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O˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

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(˶˃⤙˂˶) Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞

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ৎ୭𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

⠀⠀⠀⡰⢋⣴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⠞⢠⡾⠁⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⢦⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⡴⢶⡶⠶⠶⠶⠶⢶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⠎⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⡯⢤⣾⣿⢫⠜⢛⣿⣿⡋⠉⠉⠑⠲⢤⣀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠊⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⢯⡳⣿⣷⡤⢿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣷⣝⣾⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠋⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢁⣴⣿⢟⣵⣫⣾⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠛⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣎⢻⣿⣄⠙⠻⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣠⣾⡿⣫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣝⣿⣷⣄⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠟⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣦⡈⢿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠙⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣀⣀⠀⢀⣀⡀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣦⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣻⣿⠟⠛⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⢿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠛⠻⣿⡟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠾⣄⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠛⢃⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣹⣏⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣋⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣦⠧⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⢹⡝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⠇⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡄⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣦⣤⣀⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀ ⡄⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⣦⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⣤⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀ ⠹⡄⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⢸⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢢⡀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

SHELF IMPROVEMENT xi (Autistic author) Karen stood up. She needed to check on Chip, to make sure he was okay after the scary scene he had witnessed. She stepped out of the room, leaving the door cracked open, listening for any sign of movement from Plankton. The house was quiet, the only sound being the distant thump of Chip's footsteps. She walked down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. When she reached Chip's room, she found him sitting on his bed, his screen blurry with unshed tears. He looked up as she entered, his eyes wide with worry. "Mom," he said, his voice small. Karen's heart broke anew. She crossed the room and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame. "Chip," she whispered, "it's okay." Chip leaned into her embrace, his body shaking with sobs. "But Dad...," he choked out. "Dad was so mad at me." Karen's heart was heavy. She stroking his back. "He's not mad at you, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "His brain is just... different now. He's scared and overwhelmed." Chip sniffled, his shoulders heaving. "But why?" "Because of his autism," Karen explained, her voice soft and steady. "It's like he's experiencing the world with all his senses turned up to max. Sometimes it's too much, and it can make him upset." Chip's sobs grew quieter as he absorbed her words. "But I didn't mean to," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I know, buddy," Karen said, her voice soothing. "And Dad knows you didn't mean to. We all just need to learn how to be more careful with each other." Chip nodded against her shoulder, his body slowly relaxing into her embrace. "I don't want him to be sad," he whispered. Karen kissed his forehead. "I know, Chip. And we'll make sure he isn't. We'll all learn together." They sat in silence for a few more moments, until Chip's sniffles subsided. "Would you like to go see him?" Karen asked, her voice tentative. Chip nodded, his screen wiping away tears. "But I don't want to make Dad mad again," he whispered. "You won't," Karen promised, her voice filled with warmth. "We'll go in together, and I'll be right here with you." They walked back to Plankton's room, their steps measured. Karen pushed the door open carefully, her gaze flicking to the bed. Plankton was still asleep, his snores now a comforting lullaby in the quiet space. Chip's eyes were glued to his dad, his antennae quivering slightly. "Dad?" he whispered. Karen nodded, swiping at her own tears. "Let's just watch him for a moment," she said, guiding Chip to the chair beside the bed. They sat down together, their hands joined. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly in his sleep, and Karen held her breath, fearing he might wake up. But he remained still, his tiny frame nestled under the blanket. "Look, Chip," she whispered, pointing to Plankton's peaceful face. "Dad's sleeping. Let's not wake him up yet." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving his father. "But I want to tell him I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can tell him later," Karen assured, squeezing his hand. "Let's let him rest for now." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "Okay," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'll make it up to him. I've a science fair at school tonight and would like you both to come. I know he enjoys science." Karen's heart swelled with pride and hope. "That's a wonderful idea, Chip," she said, smiling through her tears. "I'm sure your father would love to see your project." They sat in companionable silence for a few moments more before Karen stood up. "Go get ready," she said, gently tugging on Chip's arm. "We have a science fair to attend." Chip's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really?" "Yes," Karen nodded, standing up. "We'll all go together and support you." Chip perked up, and he scurried out of the room, eager to get ready for the science fair. Karen watched him go, his enthusiasm a tiny beacon of light in the heavy silence that lingered. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the task ahead.

💀🇰 𐙚 〽️

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xi (By NeuroFabulous) Karen watched, her hand tightly gripping his, her breath shallow, as the surgeon worked with a precision that could only come from years of practice. Plankton remained still under the anesthesia, his antennae completely at ease. Rachel, the hygienist, hovered nearby, her eyes always on Plankton, ready to assist if needed. The surgery felt like eternity, but it was over sooner than she had feared. Plankton's antennae remained still, his breathing deep and even. Dr. McSquinty finished the last stitch, his tentacles moving with a sureness that was almost hypnotic. "We're all done," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved quickly and deftly, his focus on the task at hand. Karen watched as the surgeon's tentacles gently placed the gauze into Plankton's mouth. The room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart rate monitor and the slight snores from Plankton's relaxed form. Rachel, the hygienist, checked the gauze's placement, her eyes meeting Karen's. She nodded, her expression serene. Karen takes a picture and sends it to Sandy. "He's doing well," Rachel whispered, her eyes on the monitor. "His vitals are all normal." Karen nods, her throat tight. "Thank you," she murmurs. Plankton's antennae lay still, his chest rising and falling evenly. The anesthesia had worked its magic, his mind now free from the storm of sensory input that had once threatened to consume him. Karen watched as Dr. McSquinty removes the Iv, but Plankton was oblivious, his sleep deep and peaceful. The anesthesia had done its job, and Rachel, the hygienist, remained there to wake him. "Plankton, Plankton," Rachel's voice was a lullaby, her hand light on his shoulder. His antennae twitched slightly, his eye flickering open. "You're all done, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton blinked, his gaze unfocused. The room was dim, his mouth feeling peculiar. "Whath's happen'd?" he mumbled, his voice slurred. Karen's screen swam into view, her smile a beacon in the fog of confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth out," she said gently, her hand still in his. "You're okay, Plankton." Her voice was a balm to his fuzzy mind. His antennae twitched slightly, trying to process the information. Plankton's gaze flickered around the room, the shapes and sounds familiar yet foreign. He felt groggy, his body weighted down by the anesthesia. Rachel smiles. "You'll be tired and a little numb for today Mr. Plankton, but you can nap once Karen takes you home!" Karen's eyes searched his, their depths filled with love and concern. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice low and gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze unfocused. "Tiwed," he murmured, his voice slurred by the aftereffects of the anesthesia. "But... it's done?" Karen nodded, her smile gentle. "Yes, it's done," she said, her voice a soothing lilt. "You're so brave." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he tried to sit up, his body protesting the sudden movement. Karen's hand was a steady anchor, helping to ground him in reality. The world spun for a moment, but soon the fog began to clear. "Easy," she murmured, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Take your time, Plankton." Her eyes searched his, looking for signs of distress. His antennae drooped slightly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling above. The lights were dimmer now, the sounds of the office muffled. With Rachel's help, they managed to get Plankton to his feet, his legs wobbly. Karen wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him as they made their way out. "We'll take it slow," she murmured, her voice gentle. His antennas twitched in sleepy agreement, his eye half-lidded. The world felt thick and slow, each step an effort. The pain in his mouth was distant, muffled by the fog of anesthesia. Plankton leaned into Karen, his antennae drooping with grogginess. The gentle pressure of her arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him upright. They moved through the office, his sluggish steps echoing in the silence. Rachel held the door open for them, her smile warm. "Take care of him, he'll be sleepy," she said, her voice soft. Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. The cool air outside was a sharp contrast to the sterile environment of the dental office. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he took in the world around him, his senses still dulled by the lingering anesthesia. Karen's arm remained steadfast around his waist, guiding him through the parking lot. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot was oddly soothing, his mind still fuzzy from the remaining effects of the surgery. The car was a familiar sanctuary, and Plankton collapsed into the passenger seat with a sigh, his antennae drooping. Karen buckled him in with gentle care, her eyes searching his for any signs of pain or discomfort. "Alright, love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "We're going to get you home, and you can sleep it off." Her hand rested on his shoulder, her eyes on his sleepy gaze. But Plankton's eye kept drooping, his antennae quivering with the effort to stay conscious. "Karen," he slurred, his voice barely audible. "I'm... I'm tiwed." "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "You just had surgery. You need to rest. Now let's get home!" But Plankton's body had other ideas. His eyelid fluttered closed, his antennae barely twitching. Karen chuckled softly, her heart swelling with affection. "You can sleep in the car," she assured him. "But try to stay awake for a little while longer." Plankton's antennae shot up with a valiant effort to comply, his eye opening wide for a moment. But the warmth of the car and the gentle hum of the engine were too much for him to resist. Within seconds, his head was lolling to the side, his antennae drooping in defeat. "Plankton," Karen whispered, her voice a gentle prod. His antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. "Stay with me, okay?" Her smile was tired but filled with love. He nodded, his antennae drooping again. "M'trying," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Karen chuckled softly, starting the car. The engine's hum was lulling, the vibrations soothing to his overwhelmed senses. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's antennae twitched, trying to keep alert. But the warmth of the car and the gentle sway of the seat were too much. His eye closed again, his head lolling back against the headrest. Karen's voice was a steady companion, her words a gentle reminder of reality. "Stay with me, Plankton," she said, her tone filled with love. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye sliding open with difficulty. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. The car's gentle rocking lulled him back into slumber, his antennae drooping against the headrest. Karen's voice was a soft melody, her words a gentle nudge to stay conscious. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered. "We're going home, and you can sleep there." With each word, his antennae wobbled in protest, his eye fighting to stay open. "Mm," he mumbled, his voice a sleepy whisper. "Home." He was so tired, his body begging for rest. Karen's voice was a gentle reminder of the world outside his sleep-filled haze. "We're almost there, Plankton," she soothed, her eyes never leaving the road. "Just stay with me a little longer." But the siren call of sleep was too strong. His antennae twitched one last time before going still, his breathing evening out as he gave in to the warm embrace of unconsciousness. Karen watched him with a mix of concern and affection, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the fear from before. "Looks like you've had enough," she whispered to herself, a hint of a smile playing on her screen. She drove with care, his head leaning against the window, the soft snores echoing in the quiet car. The scenery outside the window was a blur, the world moving too fast for his sleep-laden brain to process. Each bump in the road jolted him slightly, his antennae twitching in protest. "Wake up, Plankton," Karen said, keeping her voice low and calm. He stirred, his antennae perking up slightly. "We're almost there." But the lure of sleep was powerful, pulling him back into its embrace. His antennae drooped, his breaths growing even deeper. "Mmph," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the gauze still in his mouth. "Just a few more minutes, Plankton," Karen coaxed, her voice soft. The car's gentle motion was hypnotic, each turn and bump in the road a siren's song to his weary mind. "You can sleep when we get home." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. He nodded slightly, his head lolling to the side. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice barely audible. The anesthesia still had a firm grip on his consciousness, his body craving the oblivion of sleep. Karen's hand remained steady on his shoulder, her voice a gentle coaxing. "Look, Plankton," she said, her tone soft. "We're almost home. Stay with me." The world outside was a blur of colors and shapes, each passing tree and building just another obstacle in his battle against the dragging weight of sleep. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, his eye trying to focus. "Mmhmm," he mumbled, his voice thick with grogginess. Karen's gentle voice was his tether to reality, her soothing words a lullaby guiding him through the hazy fog of anesthesia. "You're doing so well, Plankton," she murmured, her grip on his shoulder firm yet comforting. "Almost there, buddy." Plankton's antennae twitched in response, his eye opening briefly to meet hers. He nodded, the effort to stay awake etched on his face. The world outside the car was a blur of greens and blues, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. His body felt heavy, each breath a struggle against the weight of his eyelid. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a whisper in the quiet car. "We're home."

ᥫ᭡❤

CHIP IN MY BOX xi (Autistic author) In the quiet of the room, Plankton's breathing is the only sound, a steady reminder of his presence. Chip's eyes are on his father, his mind racing with thoughts of the day's events. He's seen Plankton tired before, but never like this. Never so lost in his own thoughts, so overwhelmed by the world around him. Chip feels the weight of his promise to protect his father's sanctity. His hand reaches out to Plankton's arm, his touch tentative but reassuring. "It's okay, Dad." Plankton's breathing evens out, his body relaxing into the bed's embrace. His antennae twitch slightly, his mind still racing. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice soft as his eye flutters closed. Chip lies beside him, his small hand resting lightly on his father's arm, as his promise to be more careful keeps his eyes open. He watches Plankton. Plankton's breathing slows, his body finally letting go of the tension. His antennae twitch one last time before stillness takes over. His eye closes, his features relaxed in sleep. His antennae rest gently on the pillow. Chip lies there, his own eyes open, watching his father's sleeping form, the only sound being Plankton's rhythmic breaths. He's never felt more connected to him, or more responsible for his wellbeing. He can see the outline of Plankton's face, his features relaxed in slumber, and it's as if he's seeing him for the first time, really seeing the struggle behind the inventions and the jokes. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly in his sleep, a gentle reminder of the complex mind that's working even in rest. Chip's eyes trace the lines of his father's face, the worry etched into his features smoothing out as he sleeps. He feels a weight lift from his chest, his breathing matching the steady rhythm of Plankton's. The next morning Chip wakes up before his dad next to him. Plankton's antennae are still, his breathing deep and even. Chip can't help but feel a surge of protectiveness as he watches him. He remembers the fear and confusion from the night before, and the promise he made to be more understanding, more careful. Chip's eyes are glued to Plankton's face, the tiny movements of his father's antennae as he dreams. The soft snores are a comforting soundtrack to the early morning silence. With a gentle touch, Chip reaches over to his father's side, his small hand hovering over Plankton's antennae. He wants to show his affection, but fears waking him up. The memory of last night's frightening episode is still fresh in his mind. He's learned that sometimes, love is not about loud gestures, but about quiet moments of understanding and care. He watches Plankton's chest rise and fall rhythmically, the soft snores a lullaby to his own racing thoughts. Slowly, so as not to disturb him, Chip's hand reaches out and his fingertips graze his father's antennae. He's afraid to touch them fully, afraid the contact might shatter the fragile peace of his father's sleep. Plankton stirs slightly, his antennae twitching. Chip's breath catches, but Plankton settles again. The snores become softer, his body relaxing into the mattress. Chip's hand hovers, his mind racing. How can he show love without waking his dad? He's seen the pain of his father's reality breaks and doesn't want to cause another one. He recalls the softness of Karen's voice, the way she touched Plankton's hand so gently. He tries to mimic her calmness, his hand shaking slightly as it hovers over his father's arm. He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving his father's face. Then, with the lightest touch imaginable, his fingertips brush against Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae quiver, but his eye stays closed. Chip's mind races with ideas, his hand hovering over his father's arm. He thinks of all the ways his mother had touched him last night, the gentle strokes and soothing whispers that helped ground him. He tries to replicate that, his thumb tracing a soft arc over his father's shoulder now. Plankton's antennae twitch again, but his breathing remains steady. Chip's heart is a drum in his chest, his eyes wide with hope. He's learned that for Plankton, touch can be both a source of comfort and a trigger. He needs to be careful. He tries different pressures, light as a feather and then a gentle squeeze. Plankton's body remains still, his sleep deep and undisturbed. Encouraged, Chip moves up to Plankton's face, his thumb tracing the contour of his ch... The soft touch of Chip's fingertips against his cheek causes Plankton to flinch, his eye snapping open with a gasp. "Chip?" He sounds groggy, disoriented. Chip's eyes widen, his hand quickly retreating. "Sorry, Dad," he whispers, his voice laced with apology. "I didn't mean to wake you." Plankton's gaze is unfocused, his antennae twitching as he tries to process the sudden contact. "What are you doing?" He asks, his voice still thick with sleep. "I just wanted to say good morning," Chip whispers, his eyes shimmering with hope. "But I didn't want to wake you up." Plankton's antennae still twitch, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. He looks around the room, his gaze eventually finding the shattered remains of his old sensory box. The sight sends a pang of anxiety through his body. "Here," Chip says softly. He holds out the new box, his eyes hopeful. "This one's special, just like you." Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his gaze shifting to the box, then back to his son. Despite the good intentions in Chip's eyes, his wording seemed... patronizing, to Plankton. He takes the box, somewhat hastily. He's used to the stares, the whispers, the misunderstanding, but from his own son? "I'm not 'special', Chip," he says, his voice tight. "I have a condition. It's not something to be... gawked at or talked down to." The words sting, and Chip's eyes well up with tears. "I didn't mean it like tha-" But Plankton cuts him off, his voice a tempest of emotion. "You don't understand," he says, his antennae waving erratically. "You can't just call me special and expect me to feel better. It's not a toy, it's not a quirky trait. It's a part of me that makes every day a challenge." Chip's eyes widen, the tears spilling over as he takes in his father's words. He didn't mean to make him feel belittled, but now he sees the pain in Plankton's eye, the frustration of being reduced to a label. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I wa-" "Don't," Plankton says, cutting his son off with a sharpness that makes Chip's heart ache. "Just... don't." He turns away, his antennae drooping as he focuses on the new sensory box, his eye searching for comfort.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY xi (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton remained silent, his gaze locked on the horizon. Chip's heart ached for him, but he knew his father needed space to regain his composure. He watched as Plankton's antennas gradually lifted from their defeated slump, a subtle signal that he was okay. Chip took a deep breath, the salt air filling his lungs as he tried to think of a way to make things right. He knew he had to be careful, not to push too hard. "Dad," he began tentatively, "I know I messed up with the noise. I'll be quieter. Do you wanna kick the ball around?" Plankton's antennas twitched, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. He took a moment before turning to his son. "It's okay," he said, his voice still a little tight. "Yeah, let's kick the ball to each other.." They resumed the game, their movements quieter now. The beach ball rolled gently across the sand, its soft thuds the only sound between them. Chip felt a newfound respect for the complexities of Plankton's mind, for the challenges he faced every day. Plankton's antennas moved slightly as he watched Chip, his expression unreadable. Chip took care to keep his voice low, his movements slow and predictable. He knew that every little thing mattered to his father, every sound, every touch. As they played, Chip noticed that his father's antennas would perk up whenever a seagull squawked in the distance or a child's laughter carried on the breeze. He also noticed that Plankton's movements grew more fluid when the noise around them diminished. "Let's go closer to the water," Plankton suggested after a while, his antennas swaying gently. "It's quieter there." Chip nodded, understanding that his father needed to escape the potential sensory assault of the bustling beach. They walked in silence, their footprints disappearing behind them in the wet sand. The waves whispered to them, a gentle melody that seemed to soothe Plankton's antennas. When they reached the water's edge, Plankton took a deep breath, his antennas lifting slightly. The cool water made him flinch a bit. "You okay, Dad?" Chip asked, his eyes scanning for any signs of distress. Plankton nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said, his voice calmer. "It's just chilly." Karen packed up their picnic, her movements efficient and quiet. She knew the importance of keeping the environment peaceful for Plankton. "Ready to go?" she called out. Chip nodded, his gaze still on his father's antennas. "Yeah, I'm ready." Plankton's antennas remained steady, a good sign. Karen picked up the picnic basket and gave them both a warm smile. "Let's make the trip home," she said, her voice calm.

PLUSH ONE xi (By NeuroFabulous) Hanna nods, her smile gentle. "It's okay," she says, patting his shoulder. But Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting up. "NO TOUCH!" he cries out, his voice piercing the quiet. Hanna's hand jerks back, surprise etched on her screen. "It's okay," she murmurs, trying to ease the tension. Plankton clutches the plushie to his chest, his body shaking. "MINE," he repeats, his voice quivering. Karen understands his fear, his desire for sameness. His autism has turned a simple act of kindness into a threat to him. "I'm sorry," Hanna whispers, backing away. "I just di-" But Hanna backed into a desk of Plankton's books, which now fall misaligned to the floor with a thud. Plankton's eye widens in horror, his antennae twitching in fury. The disrupted order sends his senses into overdrive. Plankton can't take it. The loud thud, the mess... He jumps up, the plushie falling to the floor, forgotten. He starts to pick up the books, his hands shaking as he hurls them angrily at Hanna, who gasps. Karen sees the panic in his eye, the overwhelming sensory assault of the unexpected noise and movement. She moves to intervene, racing. "PLANKTON, STOP!" she shouts, her voice firm but not harsh. She doesn't want to startle him further. The books fly through the air, one hitting Hanna's arm with a thump. "Hey!" she cries, but Karen's focus is on Plankton. His body is a storm of jerky movements, his autistic mind struggling to cope with the sudden chaos. Karen's eyes are filled with fear and sadness. This isn't the Plankton she knows, not the one who would actually hurt someone. "PLANKTON!" she cries, her voice a thunderclap in the small room. He stops, his body trembling with rage and confusion. His antennae quiver, searching for the source of the disruption. Hanna stands back, her arm rubbing where the book had hit. "What's happening?" she whispers, her eyes wide with shock. But Karen's focus is on Plankton, his body a taut wire of anger. "It's okay," she says, her voice steady, though her heart is racing. "Let's just... let's clean up." Plankton's eye darts around the room, his antennae still quivering. He looks at her, his expression a storm of emotions she can't quite read. But she sees the fear, the confusion. And she knows she must act. Karen moves towards him, slowly, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "It's okay," she repeats, her voice the calm in the storm. "Let's clean up." But Plankton's autism doesn't understand calm. It sees only the mess, the disarray. His body shakes with frustration, his eye wild. He throws another book, this time it misses Hanna but hits the wall with a crack. Karen's eyes fill with tears. "Plankton," she says firmly, but with love. "This isn't you." But Plankton's rage doesn't subside. He throws another book, the spine snapping with the force. "PLANKTON, NO!" Karen shouts, but he doesn't hear her. His autism has taken over, his brain unable to process the sudden influx of stimuli. He throws another book, his body a blur of motion, Karen's eyes never leaving his face. She must get him to a safe space before he hurts someone, before he shatters the fragile peace they've built. "PLANKTON!" she shouts, louder this time. "STOP!" Her voice pierces the chaos, and his movements falter. His eye finds hers, and she sees the storm in his gaze, the fear and confusion. Karen's knowing she must act quickly. With a deep breath, she moves closer, her arms outstretched, her voice steady. "It's okay," she says, her tone a gentle lullaby. "Let's calm dow—" But Plankton's fury isn't easy to tame. He throws another book, his aim now erratic. The room is a whirlwind of paper and panic, the air thick with his distress. Karen's eyes never leave his, her voice the only constant in the chaos. "PLANKTON, PLEASE!" she calls, her desperation clear. She needs to get through to him, to the person she loves beneath the tumultuous autistic rage. But Plankton's autism has hijacked his mind, his body a vessel for fear and anger. He throws the last book, his arm slinging it like a weapon. It sails through the air, headed straight for Hanna. Karen's instincts take over, and she leaps forward, her hand catching it mid-flight. The room falls silent, the book in her hand a stark reminder of the chaos that was just moments before. Her eyes are on Plankton, his body heaving with frustration. Hanna's eyes are wide, fear and confusion etched on her screen. Karen aches for the man she loves, his world now a minefield of sensory overload. Hanna stands frozen, her eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry," Karen murmurs, turning to her. "This isn't usual for him." But Plankton's fury doesn't subside. He lunges at her, his tiny body a blur of rage. Karen steps in, her arms spreading wide to protect Hanna. "PLANKTON!" she cries, his name a plea. His antennae slap her face, stinging with the force of his anger. She stumbles backward, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay," she whispers, though she's not sure if it is. Plankton's body convulses, his legs flailing. Karen moves closer, trying to soothe him, but he's beyond reason. His tiny fists clench, his face distorted with rage. Hanna stumbles backward, fear in her eyes. "What's going on?" she asks, her voice shaking. Karen's a drum of worry. "Plankton," she whispers, her eyes pleading. "It's me, Karen." But his autism doesn't hear her words. It sees only the chaos, the invasion of his space. Karen's mind races, searching for a way to calm him. "PLANKTON!" she says, her voice firm but calm. "Look at me." She holds out her hand, her palm open, a silent offer of safety. But Plankton's anger doesn't abate. He swipes at the air. Karen knows she must act quickly before someone gets hurt. "PLANKTON, STOP!" she says firmly, her voice a steady drumbeat in the chaos. She holds out her hand, her movements slow and deliberate. "Look at me," she repeats, her screen filled with love and determination. But his fury doesn't abate. His body jerks, his antennae slapping the air as he tries to push past her to get to Hanna. Karen's eyes flicker to the plushie on the floor, then back to Plankton's wild gaze. Her voice remains steady, though fear tightens her throat. "Plankton, remember the plushie?" she asks, her words a soft whisper. "It's still here. It's still yo-" But her words are cut off by his shriek. Plankton's tiny body is a tornado of rage, his fists flailing. Karen's eyes never leave his. Her mind is a blur, searching for the right words, the right action to soothe his distress. Her voice is a lifeline, a steady beat in the storm. "Look at the plushie," she says, desperation coating her words. "Remember ho-" But Plankton's autism doesn't heed her pleas. His body writhes, his eye wild with fear and anger as he suddenly swings his fist, catching Karen off guard. She must get through to him. "PLANKTON!" she cries out, but he's deaf to her voice. Her eyes search his, looking for the man she loves, but all she sees is a tempest of sensory overload and confusion. With a tremble, Karen drops the book she'd caught and reaches out, her hand slow and gentle, offering comfort in the chaos. But Plankton's autism interprets it as an assault. He lunges again, his fists a flurry of pain. Karen's body is a shield, her eyes filled with tears as she tries to keep him from Hanna. Her voice remains calm, a beacon in the storm of his anger. "PLANKTON, PLEASE!" she shouts, but her voice is drowned by his screams. But she won't give up, not on him. With a tremble, Karen reaches for the plushie, her hand shaking as she holds it out to him. "Look," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "Your plushie, remembe---" But the sight of the toy doesn't calm him. Instead, it fuels his rage. He snatches it from her, his antennae whipping around in a frenzy. "MINE!" he shouts, the word a battle cry as he swings the plushie wildly. The room fills with the sound of fabric ripping, stuffing flying. Karen's eyes widen with horror. This isn't the Plankton she knows, the loving man who cherished his quiet moments with her. This is someone lost in his own world, a world of overwhelming sensory assault. The plushie, once a symbol of comfort, is now a weapon in his hands. He swings it wildly, the fabric tearing under his frenzied grip. Feathers and stuffing fill the air, the chaos a stark contrast to the silent tears sliding down Karen's screen. Hanna's eyes are wide, her body pressed against the wall, her mind racing with uncertainty. Karen sees the question in her gaze: What's happening? But there's no time for explanations. Plankton's autism has taken over, his fear a wildfire that she must extinguish before it consumes them all. Karen's eyes dart around the room, searching for something to help, something that might bring him back to her, to the reality where his world isn't falling apart. Her eyes land on the plushie, now a sad, torn mess on the floor. But she won't give up, not on the man she loves. Karen's mind races, searching for a way to break through the barricade of his fear. The room seems to spin, a whirlwind of panic and pain. Her eyes lock on the plushie, now a tattered mess at his feet. With a quick breath, she crouches down, her movements slow and deliberate. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a lifeline in the tempest.

╭∩╮( •̀_•́ )╭∩╮👍

*+*Welkom in SNM (name) Dont forget to rad the rules🌺✨ 𐙚 👫 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 ʟ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄

█░░ █ █▀ ▄▀█ █▄▄ █ ▄█ █▀█

˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆

❤️+😍Ţᥫ᭡

ˎˊ˗ඞyou are gඞy❎❌❎Įţżƴ☆ඞyou are gඞy

( -_•)╦̵̵̿╤─ /̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿

♱

N𝓷𝓷

N𝓷𝓷Nྀི

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

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