Cross Symbols

♱·.༝

JUST A TOUCH x (Autistic author) SpongeBob rushes over, his face a mask of worry. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. But Plankton can't answer. His body is rigid, his eye unfocused. Squidward's tentacle retreats, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob's eyes are wide with concern. "Hello?" Plankton doesn't even blink, his eye remains unseeing, his body a statue to the chaos around him. Squidward, still holding the dish, watches with a mix of fear and confusion. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob's heart races as he sees his friend frozen. "Hey, Plankton," he says. "It's just a party." But the words fall on deaf ears—or rather, one deaf eye. Plankton's antennae remain still, his body rigid. The room's chaos has ceased to exist for him, lost in the vacuum of his seizure. Sponge Bob's voice, usually so boisterous, is now a gentle whisper. "Plankton?" he says, his hand hovering over his friend. Squidward, his eyes wide, stammers. "Is he...? Is he okay, or?" It's something that has to run its course, which of course neither Squidward nor Sponge Bob realize. Squidward's tentacle shakes Plankton gently, his voice filled with concern. "Plankton?" he repeats, his tone softer now. Plankton's antennae remain still, his body a statue in the bustling kitchen. The dish clatter fades to background noise, the laughter from the party a distant echo. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes, his eyes never leaving Plankton's unseeing gaze. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something new, something scary. He takes a deep breath, his thumbs tucked into his pockets as he tries to think. What do you do? What helps when someone you care about is stuck in this kind of loop or what ever this is... Squidward, usually so quick to snap and complain, is silent, his tentacles poised but not moving. He watches, his eyes flicking between the unmoving Plankton and SpongeBob. The room's cacophony fades away as the realization hits them—Plankton's in trouble. Sponge Bob's smile is gone, replaced with a furrowed brow and a quivering bottom lip. Squidward, still holding the now forgotten plate, feels a pang of guilt. He'd seen the stress in Plankton's antennae, heard the urgency in his voice, but had dismissed it. Now he's not sure what to do. Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy body tense with worry. He's seen Plankton upset before, but never like this. "I think we should set him down," he suggests, his voice barely a whisper. "On the floor.." They gently lower Plankton to the cool tiles, his body unyielding. Squidward sets the dish aside, his tentacles shaking slightly. "What do we do?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob's eyes never leave Plankton's face, his heart pounding in his chest. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something else entirely. Squidward, his tentacles still shaking, stammers. "What do we do?" The fear in his voice is palpable. They both know Plankton isn't okay. Sponge Bob takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Plankton's motionless form. "Get Karen. Now." Squidward nods, his tentacles moving in a blur as he rushes to find her. The party's music thumps in the background, a stark contrast to the silence of the kitchen where Plankton sits. Sponge Bob kneels beside him, his hand hovering over Plankton's shoulder, unsure of what to do next. His heart races as he watches his friend's chest rise and fall in the rhythm of a silent symphony only Plankton can hear. Karen looks up at the sound of Squidward running in. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice filled with alarm. Squidward's tentacles flap wildly. "It's Plankton! He's... he's just... not moving!" Karen's eyes widen, and she rushes into the restaurant, Squidward's words echoing in her mind. Plankton sits on the floor, his body unnaturally still, his antennae drooping. Her heart skips a beat as she sees his vacant gaze. She recognizes the signs—this is the second time she's seen an absence seizure take hold of him. She kneels beside Sponge Bob, whose expression is a mix of fear and confusion. "He's having a seizure," Karen whispers, her voice a calming breeze in the chaotic kitchen. Her hand, now gentle and firm, guides Plankton's head to the floor. "He'll wake up. We've got to keep him safe." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with concern. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something beyond his usual quirks. Plankton's tiny body is a stark contrast to the monstrous fear gripping his heart. The kitchen is a blur of movement around them, but Karen's calm presence brings a semblance of order. She takes over, her movements precise. "Don't touch him," she says, her voice a gentle command. "Just let it run its course." Squidward nods, his tentacles still, his eyes on Plankton. Sponge Bob's face is a mask of worry, his eyes never leaving his friend's unresponsive form. Mr. Krabs' beady eyes narrow, his voice a gruff whisper. "What's going on?" Karen's voice is calm, but her heart races. "It's okay," she says, her hand resting on Plankton's back. "It's just a part of his new... condition." Mr. Krabs' expression softens, his eyes flicking from Plankton to Karen. "Is he going to be okay?" "Yes," Karen says firmly, her hand still on Plankton's back. "It's just a seizure. They can happen with... his autism..." Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, but his expression quickly morphs into something more thoughtful. "I see," he says, his voice lowered. "I had no idea." "He got a brain injury, Mr. Krabs," Karen says. "Yesterday, in an accident.." Mr. Krabs nods, his gaze on Plankton's unmoving form. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice genuine. "What happened?" Karen swallows, her eyes welling with tears. "They said it's Acquired Autism. It's like his brain got... rewired." Her hand strokes Plankton's back soothingly. "He's the same, but different." Mr. Krabs nods slowly, his claws clenching. "Well, we'll make do," he says gruffly. "This is still the same Plankton who tried to steal the Krabby Patty formula, right?" Karen's eyes flash with a mix of anger and protectiveness. "Yes," she says firmly. "But now he needs our help. And our understanding. He hasn't mentioned it once since.." Her voice trails off as Plankton's eye flickers. Slowly, his antennae unfreeze, twitching slightly. The world starts to come back into focus, the colors and sounds gradually seeping back into his consciousness. Sponge Bob's hand is still hovering over him, his face a canvas of relief and uncertainty. "Plankton?" Sponge Bob whispers, his voice tentative. Plankton's eye blinks once, twice, and he looks around, his gaze landing on Squidward. Squidward's tentacles are still, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. Plankton slowly sits up, his antennae twitching as he takes in the scene. The dish is forgotten, the need for order lost in the fog of his seizure. "Welcome back," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix of relief and anxiety. Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he looks around, his gaze settling on the plate still in Squidward's tentacle. "It's okay," Karen says gently, her hand resting on his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch as his brain reboots, trying to process the scene before him. "Dishes," he murmurs, his voice still flat. Squidward watches him, his tentacle hovering over the sink. "Let me handle this," he says, his voice apologetic. "You... you just take it easy." Plankton nods, his antennae still. The chaos of the kitchen fades away as he focuses on his friend's kindness. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice a soft echo of its former self. "All of you.."

⸸ ⁶⁶⁶ ⸸ ⛧

𐕣𐕣

✝𖤐♱

⨂

𓏵﹕txt. 𓊆ྀི𓊔𓊇ྀི

⟢⸝ﾒ

𖣂

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⡶⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⠶⠾⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠿⢶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡶⠟⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⡀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⣤⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡶⠶⠶⠶⠶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⣶⣦⣤⣤⣶⠾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣶⠶⠿⠟⢛⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⣿⡛⠛⠻⠶⣶⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⠿⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⠶⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⠟⠋⠁⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣏⠻⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢀⣴⠾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠸⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠋⠀⢀⠀⠀⢰⡿⣶⡀⠹⣷⡀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠸⣷⣤⣶⣶⡄⢰⣧⠀⣿⣧⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⢳⡇⠀⣿⣧⠀⢸⡇⠙⢿⣆⣽⣧⠖⠂⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿ ⢠⠀⢸⡟⢸⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣧⠀⠈⢹⠿⠟⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢸⣿⣷⡿ ⢠⡀⠸⣷⣾⡇⣸⣟⣿⡀⠘⣿⠀⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠡⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡿⢻⣧⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠈⠙⠛⢶⡜⠿⠟⠁⠹⣷⣴⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠈⠳⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣙⣦⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣈⣙⡿⣶⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⡾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣤⣶⠾⠿⢛⣛⣛⠿⠷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⢉⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠈⠉⠙⢻⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠯⠭⠤⠤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣙⣓⣂⠒⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY x (Autistic author) "Jellyfish... help Plankton think." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed as he studied Plankton. "So, you're telling me that jellyfish... they help you?" Plankton nodded, his antennae waving slightly. "Yes, Mr. Krabs," he murmured. "They're... comforting." Mr. Krabs's expression softened, the realization of the depth of Plankton's connection to jellyfish dawning on him. "Well, in that case," he said, his voice gruff but kind, "maybe we can find a way to make peace. No more stealing, Plankton." Plankton's antennae quivered as he met Mr. Krabs's gaze. "No more stealing," he murmured, his voice firm. "Plankton loves jellyfish now." Mr. Krabs's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Loves jellyfish?" he repeated, his voice filled with skepticism. "You're giving up your life's work for these... blobs of jelly?" "It's a special interest," she explained. "It brings him comfort and helps him make sense of the world. And who knows, maybe it'll lead him to something amazing." Mr. Krabs's claw tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if jellyfish are what you love, Plankton," he said slowly, "then I guess we can find a way to... coexist." Plankton's antennae perked up at the word, his monotone voice cracking with hope. "Coexist?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Maybe," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "But you've got to promise me no more stealing." "No more stealing," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "Jellyfish... Plankton's friends now." Mr. Krabs studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said gruffly. "But you've got to promise me something in return." "What?" Plankton's monotone voice was filled with caution. Mr. Krabs leaned in, his expression serious. "You gotta promise me, Plankton, that you'll keep on sharing this... this love for jellyfish," he said, the words strange and foreign in his mouth. "Maybe even teach others about 'em." Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering with excitement. "Teach," he murmured, his monotone voice cracking. "Plankton can do that." They had never seen Mr. Krabs and Plankton get along, let alone discuss something other than Krabby Patties. The atmosphere had shifted from tension to something almost... friendly. "Come on, Plankton," Karen urged gently. "Let's get you home." With a heavy heart, Plankton picked up his box of jellyfish, his antennae drooping slightly. "Home," he murmured. "Chum Bucket." Sandy and Karen exchanged glances, their expressions filled with hope and trepidation. But they also knew that with their support and understanding, he could find a new path, one that didn't involve stealing Krabby Patties or fighting with Krabs. The group walked back to the Chum Bucket. Once inside, Plankton carefully placed his jellyfish figurines on a shelf that he had cleared out earlier, his antennae quivering with satisfaction as he arranged them in a pattern that only he understood. The room was a stark contrast to its usual cluttered state, with everything in its place and the once-messy floor now a canvas of neatness. Karen watched. "What are you thinking Plankton?" she asked softly. "Chum Bucket," he murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "Home. Different now." Sandy looked around the tidy space, her eyes wide with amazement. "You've really turned this place around, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching slightly. "Needed... order," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of pride. "Jellyfish like order." The three of them sat down at a small table, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air like a fine mist. Karen reached out. "You know, Plankton," she began, "you don't have to hide anymore. You can be you, with your jellyfish and your quirks, and we'll all still be here for you." Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye blinking rapidly as he took in her words. "Be me?" he murmured, his voice filled with doubt. "Yes," Sandy said, her voice firm. "You're still you, Plankton. Autism is just a part of you, like how jellyfish are part of the ocean." Plankton studied them, his antennae still, processing their words. It was a lot to take in, but he felt a warmth spread through his tiny body. "You really mean it?" he murmured, his monotone voice cracking. Karen and Sandy nodded in unison. "We do," Karen assured. A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY (leads into the sequel if u like but make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first)

<𝟑

yall can someone add me on discord im so lonley 😭😭 @mahfuja_1

🍞🧞🥙꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY x (By NeuroFabulous) They stepped out of the car, the sand crunching beneath their feet. Chip looked over at Plankton, his heart racing with hope. "Ready?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton nodded, his antennas lifting slightly. "Let's go," he said, his voice still tight. But there was a hint of excitement in his eye, and Chip felt a glimmer of hope. The beach was relatively empty, the waves rolling gently onto the shore. Karen gave them a beach ball and sat down, watching her family with a mix of hope and trepidation. Chip tossed the ball to Plankton, his eyes searching his dad's antennas for any signs of discomfort. They were slightly elevated, but not as tight as they had been earlier. Plankton caught the ball with unexpected grace, his antennas twitching with concentration. He threw it back with a soft chuckle, his arm moving in a fluid arc. The ball sailed through the air, catching the sun's glint before landing in Chip's outstretched hands. Karen watched from their picnic blanket, her heart swelling with pride. It was a simple game, but it was a bridge between them, a way to connect without words. She saw the tension in Plankton's shoulders ease slightly with every catch and throw, his antennas swaying gently with the rhythm of their play. Chip's laughter was like music, his movements uncoordinated but earnest as he tried to keep the ball in the air. Plankton's eye followed the ball, his antennas twitching in time with the breeze. The beach ball arced through the sky, a bright spot of color against the azure backdrop of the ocean. Plankton's gaze never left it, his focus unwavering. When it reached its peak, he lunged, his arm snapping up to meet it. The crack of the ball against his hand echoed in the salty air as it soared back towards Chip. Sand flew up around his feet as he took a step back, bracing for the impact. The ball hit his hands with surprising force, but he managed to keep it in play. Plankton's antennas waved slightly as he watched, his eye flicking from the ball to Chip and back again. His movements were precise, almost robotic, but there was something undeniably graceful about the way he played. It was as if the beach, the waves, and the wind were all part of a grand symphony, and he was the maestro conducting it with the flicker of a smile. Chip, on the other hand, was a flurry of awkward limbs and enthusiasm. He stumbled and tripped, but never lost his determination. With each catch, his smile grew wider, and his laughter grew louder. He was discovering a new side to his father, one that didn't need words to express joy. Their volleys grew longer, their movements more in sync. Plankton's antennas swayed with the rhythm of their game, a silent testament to his enjoyment. Karen watched from the picnic blanket, her heart full. For the first time in a long while, she saw a genuine smile on Plankton's face, one that wasn't forced or fleeting. But then, Chip's laughter grew too loud, too abrupt, and Plankton's antennas snapped back, his body tensing. Karen's smile faltered, knowing what was coming. "Oh wow!" Chip exclaimed as he made an impressive catch, his voice booming across the beach. Plankton's body jerked at the sudden noise, his eye widening in surprise. For a moment, Chip didn't notice, his excitement clouding his judgment. But then he saw Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, a clear sign of distress. His heart sank as he realized his mistake. "Sorry, Dad," he said quickly, his voice softer. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's eye blinked rapidly, his antennas quivering as he tried to regain his composure. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice strained. "Just... just don't do that again." Chip nodded, his own smile fading as he saw his dad's distress. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the excitement bubbling inside. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton had already turned away, his antennas drooping as he stared out at the sea. Karen's eyes met Chip's over his shoulder, a silent message of understanding and reassurance. She knew her son had meant well, but the sudden loudness had triggered discomfort, risking sensory overload. Chip felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He knew he had to be more careful, more mindful of his father's needs. He took a deep breath, trying to push down the urge to apologize again. Instead, he opted for a gentler approach, his voice low. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer. "Let's sit for a bit?" Plankton's antennas twitched, his body still tense from the sudden sound. He nodded, his eye not leaving the hypnotic dance of the waves. Chip followed his dad's gaze, the apology still lingering on his tongue. He swallowed it down, knowing it wouldn't help now. Instead, he sat down next to him, leaving a respectful distance between them. He watched as Plankton's antennas slowly began to rise, his breathing evening out. The waves continued their rhythmic dance on the shore, and Chip focused on their soothing sound, hoping it would calm his father as well. He knew Plankton was sensitive to noise, and he had forgotten in his excitement. He vowed to do better next time, to remember his dad's boundaries.

GREAT CHIP x (Autistic author) Chip flinched, his eyes wide with fear as the toaster bounced off the fridge, landing on the floor with a clatter. "Dad, please," he begged, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me." "Good," Plankton says. "Then maybe you'll understand that this isn't a joke!" He picks up another object, a jar of jellyfish jelly, and hurls it across the room. It explodes on the wall, the sticky substance oozing down like a rainbow of pain. Karen steps closer, her voice calm but firm. "Plankton, enough," she says, her eyes never leaving his. "This isn't helping anyone." Plankton's antennae quiver, his body still shaking with anger. "How can you say that?" he says, his voice shaking the room. "How can you sit there and act like everything's fine, when your 'son' thinks he can just 'fix' me?" Chip felt his heart plummet, the weight of his father's anger a heavy rock in his chest. "Dad, I never said..." he began, but Plankton talked over him. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me what I need?" His antennae thrashed wildly. "You don't know anything about..." Suddenly, Chip's frustration boiled over, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "You're right," he spat. "I don't know what it's like to be a failure who can't even take care of himself! I don't know what it's like to be so weak that you have to hide behind your condition! I don't know what it's like to be unlovable and broken!" Karen's eyes went wide with disbelief, her heart aching for her husband, as Chip's harsh words echoed through the room. The room fell silent, the sting of Chip's accusation lingering in the air like a noxious fume. Plankton's antennae drooped, his body slumping slightly. "Fine," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "If that's what you think, then I guess I don't need you." The words hung in the air, heavier than the shattered mug at their feet. Chip felt as if he'd been punched in the gut, the breath knocked out of him. "Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean..." But Plankton was already turning away, his antennae drooping as he shuffled towards his workshop. The slamming of the door reverberated through the house, leaving only the steady drip of jellyfish jelly to break the silence. Karen looked at Chip, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She could see the regret etched on his face, the pain of his own words reflecting back at him. "Chip," she said gently, her voice trembling with held-back sobs. "You didn't mean that." It was a statement, not a question, but her eyes searched his for any sign of disagreement. He looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and glossy with unshed tears. "But I don't know how to help him," he said, his voice cracking. "I just want to be there for him, Mom. But he won't let me in." Karen's expression was a mix of sadness and anger. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Chip's. "You don't help someone by making them feel smaller," she said, her voice firm. "You don't fix someone by calling them broken." Chip's shoulders slumped, his eyes falling to the floor. "I know," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "But he's just... so... I just wanted to make him feel better." Karen's gaze was stern, her voice a gentle rebuke. "And you thought hurting his feelings would do that?" She sighed heavily, her eyes filling with tears she refused to shed. "You have to be more careful, Chip. Your words are like bombs when you don't understand how powerful they are." Chip's eyes dropped to the floor, the weight of his mother's disappointment crushing him. "But I just..." he began, his voice trailing off as he fought to find the right words. "I know you're trying," Karen said, her voice softening. "But you can't fix your dad's seizures with a hug or a joke, sweetie. They're a part of who he is, and he's scared. And you, calling him 'unlovable'...that's not you, Chip." Her screen searched his, willing him to understand the gravity of his words. Chip felt his throat tighten, the weight of his mother's disappointment heavy on his shoulders. He knew she was right, that his words had been a knee-jerk reaction to Plankton's outburst, but the pain in his father's eye lingered, a stark reminder of the hurt he'd caused. "I'm sorry, Mom," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the sound of his own breathing. Karen's face softened, the anger in her eyes giving way to a sadness that was even more heartbreaking. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean it, honey," she said, her voice quivering. "But you have to understand that words can cut deeper than any weapon. And I always love your father, no matter what. That's what you need to do too." Chip felt his eyes sting with the truth of her words. He knew she was right, but the anger and frustration he'd felt in the moment had overridden his usual compassion. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, the weight of his apology feeling heavier than any burden he'd ever carried. "I just..." "Sorry isn't enough," Karen said, her voice trembling with a mix of sadness and anger. "You hurt your father, deeply. And you hurt me." Her hand slid from his shoulder, leaving a coldness in its wake. Chip's eyes snapped up to meet hers, his own filled with a blend of shock and remorse. "I didn't mean it," he said, his voice small and lost. "I just..." Karen's expression was a thundercloud of disappointment. "You didn't mean it?" she echoed. "But you said it, Chip. And those words are like a knife in the heart, and you know his amplified emotional response is part of his condition. How do you think that makes him feel when he's already so sensitive?" Chip's eyes dropped to the floor, his cheeks burning with shame. "I know," he whispered, his voice tight with regret. "I just... I didn't know how else to help, he's..." "Chip, you're old enough to understand that sometimes, there's nothing you can do to take someone's pain away," Karen said, her voice firm yet filled with sadness. "But you can't make it worse. You have to be there for him, without making it about you." Her words hit Chip like a slap in the face, his cheeks burning with the sting of truth. He'd never thought about it that way before, his own hurt feelings overshadowing the gravity of his father's condition. "But what can I do?" he asked, his voice small and defeated. Karen took a deep breath, her eyes still full of sadness. "You can listen," she said, enunciating each word carefully. "You can be there for him without expecting anything in return. You can respect his boundaries and understand that sometimes, he just needs space." Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. "But I want to make it better," he said, his voice small. "I don't want him to feel like he's alone." Karen's eyes searched his, her expression softening. "I know you do," she said gently. "But you can't fix everything, and you can't make his condition go away. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be there." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing. How could he be there for his father without causing more harm? The silence in the kitchen was deafening, the only sound the distant hum of Plankton's workshop. Karen's voice was a gentle guide in the quiet, her words sinking into his soul like a warm embrace.

✕

ϟϟ

⸸

✞ ❌

⠀⠀⠀⠠⠊⠉⠉⠐⢄⠀⢀⡠⠒⠀⠀⠢⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢄⢠⠊⣠⡑⡄⡐⣡⡈⢃⢀⡔⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃⠢⠬⠔⠁⠑⠬⠤⠚⢯⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠑⠠⠤⠤⠒⠁⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⢤⠔⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠳⣀⢄ ⠫⠄⣜⡎⠒⠀⡔⢺⠀⠀⠀⠑⠂⡄⠐⢣⣓⠀⣲ ⠀⠉⠀⠀⠏⢀⠀⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣉⠆⠀⠁⠁

⛧Synfully ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!Sykotic ⛧𓉸𓉸

乂˳•́∀•̀˳乂

𓏵

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

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

₊⊹⛦⊹₊ ⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖✦⋆.˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅

ㄨ

🤫✨️🎈☣️⬆️↩️↖️🇦🇺🇦🇺🇨🇭🇧🇯🇧🇹. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ˎˊ˗я . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ωϻ<𝟑S𑁤(≧∇≦)🇺🇲🇺🇲°•🪸🪼⁠〰°•@️🤟🏻🔠󠁹📢✌✌️󠁢󠁮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁❌🇼©🔤🕊✉🍤👨🏼‍❤️‍👨🏿🏠👬🏾🥩🍇🍇😓🔴🛑ʟü-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🅾🇼

✖️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.☘︎ ݁˖-`♡´-

X ❤︎ O

/\_/\ { ο ω ο } ♪ °•+ , ×*

🥀🦠🍒🫂🌸🔗💐🍋‍🟩🥳🍀🤓👄🌀🎀👔🛁🟡🆔🇧🇸🇦🇸⚜️⏸️🧑‍🧑‍🧒🍋🥑🧶⋆. 𐙚 ̊shok«🅿👨🏼‍❤️‍👨🏿👅☎️🍠✔↙────💛

☒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᡣ𐭩

×͜×

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣄⣄⣀⣀⣠⣄⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⡾⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠻⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣴⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠛⠻⠶⣄⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣴⡾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣏⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣶⣀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡾⠛⠋⠛⠛⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠟⠛⠛⠛⠳⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣷⣥⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣷⣴⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠹⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢾⡝⢦⣂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣦⡄⠀⠀⢻⣍⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⠙⢶⡄⠀⣠⣠⣴⣦⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡾⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⠶⠶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠒⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⡈⠻⠿⠛⠉⠀⣸⣟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⢉⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⠟⠛⠛⠳⣧⣿⠟⠁⢠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣤⣄⣀⣤⣤⣴⠶⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⢦⣄⡀ ⠀⠀⠛⣧⣀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣼⡿⠁ ⠀⣠⣾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠁⢀⡀⠀⠈⣿⡏⠀⠀ ⠠⣿⠃⠀⢀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠿⠟⠉⠹⠷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣏⣠⡿⠿⡦⣴⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⢧⣼⣿⠿⣿⠀⠀⣠⡘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠟⠛⠛⠘⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⢧⣴⣿⠟⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠳⢶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣠⣀⣀⣤⣶⠿⠋⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⠟⢶⣤⣄⣀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠈⠉⠉⢿⡟⠛⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠋⠛⣿⡛⠛⠉⠁⠀⢸⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠿⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⢾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⢶⠤⣤⢶⠶⣶⠾⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⠻⠷⠿⠛⠋⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

ॱֺּׅ𓏽ִ 𓎢𓎟𓎡 ֪ ♡ ⑅ ◟ ͜◞ 𓏵 ⏦ﾟ 𓈒 ̣̣ ۟ ♡⃘𓈒 ̣̣̥ ͜ ۪۪۪ 𓈒ּ֯݁ ཾ ֪ ֊ִﹼ ˖ ՞ ྀི ˎ ̣̣̥ ᛪ༙ ֪ 𓈒ּུ𓂃༷ 𓈒 ̣̣ ۟ ིྀ ͝ ། 𓊆ྀི۫ ̣̣̥ ༷𓊇ྀི 𓈒‿ ᚐ ݂۫ 𓈒 𓏫 ˚ ༘ ◟ ͜͝ | ͜͝ | ͜͝ 𓈒 ׂ ۫ ᴗ𓈒 ◌ ׁ 𓈒 symbols i use 4 all my lays !!

upside down alphabet + numbers!! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) 6 8 ㄥ 9 ϛ ㄣ Ɛ ᄅ Ɩ Z ⅄ X M Λ ∩ ┴ S ɹ Q Ԁ O N W ˥ ʞ ſ I H פ Ⅎ Ǝ p Ɔ q ∀ z ʎ x ʍ ʌ n ʇ s ɹ b d o u ɯ l ʞ ɾ ᴉ ɥ ƃ ɟ ǝ p ɔ q ɐ

can yall stop putting "creds" at the bottom of bios? like everyone here is anonymous and stuff are free to use. if you dont want people using your bios w/o creds maybe this web just isnt for you boo anyways thanks for reading xoxo (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

X♥️O

𐕣𖤐 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𖤐𐕣

ᛝ༗♰ ཐི⋆ 𝓻⛦𝖈κ ⋆ཋྀ ݁ᛪ༙␥ᛝ by addinoir linktr.ee/addinoirr⛦⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺༝

lᯓᡣ𐭩

➜ .ᐟ.ᐟ🇽

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣷⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⠟⢁⣠⣤⣴⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣷⣶⣬⣻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⢋⣴⣿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠙⠻⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠟⠀⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⣴⣦⣄⠀⠻⣿⡆⠀⠰⣿⡿⠀⢠⣶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⣿⣧⠄⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢻⣿⡀⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡟⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣄⠁⠦⠌⠉⠁⣀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⣼⣛⣁⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⡟⠁⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣶⣾⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣟⠋⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢙⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⡿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⣩⣽⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣤⣴⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡟⣿⣯⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣄⠀ ⢰⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠻⣿⣷ ⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣆⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢠⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⣿⣿ ⠸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⢿⣷⣸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠇⠁⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿ ⠀⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⣀⣬⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠁ ⠀⠈⣿⣿⡄⢀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣀⣠⣾⣿⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⢀⣈⣉⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⣠⣄⣛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢀⣾⣿⡿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠙⠛⠛⠻⠟⠛⠋⠉⠙⢿⣿⣦⣀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⣽⣿⣏⣤⣶⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡇⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

♡✖

•×•

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⣴⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⣠⣶⣶⣶⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⣽⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⢻⣦⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⣰⠇⣸⡟⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⣿⣷⡀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠃⣴⡏⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢸⡇⠀⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠳⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠏⣴⡿⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠘⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠹⡄⠀ ⠀⣿⠏⢸⣗⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠸⡀ ⢸⠇⣶⣾⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣼⣟⢋⡬⣽⡟⣟⡛⢿⢿⡛⠻⡿⠿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢇ ⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣞⡟⣯⣴⣾⣿⠃⣷⣿⣿⠻⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⢉⣽⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣞⣾⢿⣿⣿⡏⠀⡟⣫⡏⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⡙⣆⠀⠠⣾⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⠹⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⣹⡏⡿⣽⡿⠀⠀⠈⣟⣯⢿⣿⠀⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣄⣨⣿⣿⠟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠃⣿⣿⣇⣿⣡⣴⣶⠐⠭⢻⡇⡟⣿⣿⠟⢾⡏⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⡿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠛⠛⠀⠝⠬⣹⠁⠀⠁⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢇⣠⡤⠀⣣⢿⣯⢾⣿⡿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢠⢿⣿⣿⣾⡀⠀⠀⠈⢩⢆⢞⡟⠀⣠⡿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⠘⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⣀⠠⠀⣛⡷⠞⣿⣁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠋⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⢿⢻⣅⠈⠳⠤⣀⡀⠾⣿⡛⣿⣟⡿⠿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⡟⠉⠀⠀⠈⢿⣾⣧⣷⡀⢰⣾⣽⣷⣿⣿⠟⣿⡏⠁⠈⢻⣷⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣯⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⡿⣏⡌⠄⢻⡏⠀⠏⠋⠀⠞⣫⡃⠀⠈⣿⣯⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠸⡄⢠⡀⢊⡾⠆⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡳⡡⢧⡀⣿⣿⣾⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⡊⠀⢲⠁⠀⢺⣲⡓⡀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠕⣖⡇⢈⣼⣿⡜⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠄⢀⠘⠀⢀⡼⣿⡿⢭⡂⠀⠀⠳⡀⣀⠅⣸⣿⣋⠈⣿⣿⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⣿⣿⠻⡇⠀⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⢛⣧⠅⡏⡿⣦⡂⢃⠀⣹⣟⠻⡆⠀⣼⣿⣧⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⢻⡏⢸⣷⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠻⢿⡅⠀⣶⣿⣶⣴⣿⣤⣽⣾⣾⣿⣿⡟⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠸⣧⣼⢹⡆⠣⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣦⣤⣸⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢹⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠃⠀⢻⡏⣼⣷⠈⡀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡇⠘⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣇⠂⠀⢀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⡿⣧⣿⣹⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣯⡾⢣⣿⣿⡄⠶⡓⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⡇⣿⠇⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠾⠛⠁⢠⡿⡿⣿⢇⠀⠄⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠈⡇⠋⠀⡯⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀⠔⠋⣼⣿⣿⠀⠈⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢀⣠⡴⣻⣿⣿⣿⡆⡌⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠋⠉⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⡇⡄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠊⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⠷⣄⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡠⠊⡀⠀⠀⠠⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠙⡆⠀⡇⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

☓༝.⚔︎.༝☓

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⡞⠛⠛⣷⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣾⡏⠉⠉⠁⠀⢸⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠉⠉⢹⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⡾⠿⠿⠃⠀⢀⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⣧⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣾⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⢰⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠛⠛⢻⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡿⠿⠿⠇⠀⢀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⢧⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣯⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⣿⣿⣿⠉⠉⢹⣿⣿⡏⠉⢙⣿⣿⣿⠉⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣼⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⣷⣶⣶⡟⠛⢻⣶⣶⣿⠛⠛⣷⣶⣼⠟⠛⢿⣶⣶⡿⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⣦⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⢀⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣸⣿⣿⣟⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⣶⣶⡏⠉⠉⠁⠀⢰⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⡏⠉⠙⣿⣶⣿⠉⠉⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⡏⠉⠙⣷⣶⣾⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣿⣶⣶ ⣤⣤⣼⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣧⣤⣼⡿⠿⢿⣤⣤⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣤⣤⣿⠿⠿⣧⣤⣼⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣧⣤⣤⡿⠿⢿⣤⣤⣼⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

❌🟥

𓏵 ✖₊⊹⚠₊⋆ 𖥂⋆₊⚠ ⊹✖ 𓏵

🧢 ❌🚫✖️🔞

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS x (By NeuroFabulous) Rachel's gaze flicks to the x-rays now in her hand, her eyes widening slightly. "Everything looks... mostly good," she says, her voice measured. "But we've noticed something with your wisdom teeth." Plankton's antennae spike in alarm. "What is it?" he asks, his voice tight. Karen's hand squeezes his shoulder, her eyes on Rachel's face. Rachel's eyes scan the x-ray, her brow furrowed. "It appears your wisdom teeth are impacted, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice soft. "They'll push against your other teeth as we feared." Karen's eyes dart to her husband's, watching the panic flicker across his face. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice tight. Rachel swallows, her expression sympathetic. "It means, Mrs. Plankton, that your husband will need to see our oral surgeon to have them removed," she says gently. "They can't wait much longer. The surgeon is actually open right now, if... Plankton?" Rachel notices his sudden stillness. Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze unfocused. "What's the matter?" Rachel asks, her voice filled with concern. Karen quickly explains the situation. "He's autistic," she murmurs. "He can get overwhelmed easily." Rachel nodded, her expression understanding. "Ah," she said, her tone gentle. "Well, let's go slowly. We know that the wisdom teeth are causing problems, and they need to come out. But we can work with you to make it as comfortable as possible. You both follow me to the surgery." They follow Rachel down a hallway, the walls a soothing blue, the floor a muted grey. Plankton's antennae twitch with each step, his eye darting from side to side. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes never leaving his face. The surgery room loomed ahead, its door open just a crack, a glimpse of gleaming instruments and the smell of antiseptic wafting out. Rachel notices Plankton's anxiety and stops, turning to face them. "Let's go over what will happen during the surgery," Rachel says, her voice measured and calm. "First, let's go in the room and meet our surgeon." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye flicking to Karen's hand still holding his. She nods, her smile encouraging. "We can do this," she whispers. They enter the surgery room, the coldness of the air making his antennae stand on end. The surgeon, a squid named Dr. McSquinty, greets them with a friendly smile. His tentacles wave in a non-threatening way. "Hi, I'm Dr. McSquinty," he says, his voice a soothing baritone. "We're going to make sure this is as easy and painless as possible for you. I'll take it from here, Rachel." Rachel nods, her eyes lingering on Plankton's anxious form before exiting the room. The surgeon's tentacles move in a gentle, calming wave. "Now, I know this can be a bit overwhelming, Mr. Plankton," he says, his eyes kind. "But I promise we'll explain everything before we do it." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze fixed on Dr. McSquinty. Karen squeezes his hand, her voice soft. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmurs. "He's autistic, and sensitive, Doc..." Dr. McSquinty nods, his tentacles waving gently. "I've had patients with special needs before," he says, his tone calm. "We'll take it slow, and I'll make sure to explain everything step by step." Both their eyes searched Plankton's face, his antennae still quivering. "Okay, Plankton," Dr. McSquinty began, his voice calm and measured. "We're going to talk about taking out your wisdom teeth." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze fixed on the surgeon's tentacles. Karen could see the fear in his eye. Dr. McSquinty continued, his tentacles moving in a slow, methodical pattern. "We'll use a local anesthetic to numb the area. You won't feel a thing, I promise." He grabs a syringe, which ends up being to much for Plankton. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening. Karen's hand tightens around his. "It's ok," she whispers. "It's just to help with the pain." But Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the syringe, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Dr. McSquinty notices. "We need to, Plankton. Now, do you know why we need to have your wis..." Plankton's antennae quivered uncontrollably, his eye wide with fear. "Breathe with me, Plankton," Karen whispered, her grip steady. She watched as Dr. McSquinty approached. Yet Plankton's body started to shake, his antennae quivering wildly. The thought was too much, and he uncontrollably began to shut down again. "It's okay," Karen murmured, her voice a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. "Let's take a step back, Doc." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles stilling. "Of course," he said, his voice gentle. "Let's talk it through, Karen. Tell me what Plankton needs fo..." But Plankton's antennae were already drooping, his body shutting down again. The fear had become too much. "Plankton," Karen's voice was calm and firm. "Look at me." She waited until his gaze met hers. "We need to do this, okay? For your mouth to feel better." But all that did was make him shake more violently, his breaths shallower. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles stayed still. "How about I show you first?" He gestured to a model of a mouth, complete with wisdom teeth. "This way, Plankton can see without it being a direct threat to him." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, his antennae still twitching in distress. "Okay," she murmured, her voice tight. "Let's do that." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles moving to the model. "This is your mouth, Plankton," he began, his voice calm. "And these are your wisdom teeth. First, we'll make sure you're numb, okay?" He pointed. "We'll use a gel that tastes like bubblegum, and then we'll put in a tiny lit..." But Plankton's body convulsed, his eye starting to roll back into his head. "No, no, no," Karen whispered, her voice trembling. "Not again." Plankton's body stilled, his antennae drooping as his mind retreated. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her eyes never leaving his face. She turned to Dr. McSquinty, her voice steady despite her own fear. "We need to find another way?" The surgeon nodded, his tentacles still. "Let's talk about options," he said, his voice calm. "We can try sedation, or perhaps a different approach; we can even anesthetize him." Karen's gaze never left Plankton's shaky form. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved in a comforting wave. "Well, considering his sensitivity to pain and the potential for overstimulation, I'd suggest anesthesia. It'll keep him calm, and he won't be awake at all. It's safe." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's form, her grip tightening on his hand. "But he's never been under anesthesia before," she said, her voice tight. Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles waving reassuringly. "It's completely safe," he said. "We'll monitor his vitals closely the entire time." Karen's gaze remained fixed on Plankton's form, his antennae drooping. "Okay," she whispered. "Plankton baby, can you listen to me?" Her voice was gentle, her tone measured. Plankton's eye slowly focused on her screen, his body still trembling. Her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand. "We're going to have to put you to sleep so you don't feel any pain. Can you do that for me?" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze on Karen's screen. He nodded, his voice a faint whisper. "Okay." Karen felt the tension ease from her shoulders. "Good," she murmured, her voice soft. "We're going to take care of this together." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles moving in a slow, calming pattern. "I'll make sure you're both as comfortable as possible," he assured her, his gaze shifting to Plankton. Karen texts Sandy, "Plankton's getting his wisdom teeth out 🦷" Sandy replies, "Good luck! Chip's fine, don't worry 👶💨" The room was prepped, the smells and sounds minimized to prevent overstimulation. Plankton was laid on the chair, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen stood by his side, her hand on his. Dr. McSquinty approached, his tentacles moving with precision. He held up a mask, the sweet smell of gas wafting gently. "This is the anesthesia," he explained. "It'll help you sleep before we put the Iv in. The Iv will continuously administer anesthesia to keep you asleep." Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze flicking to Karen's screen. She nodded, her smile reassuring. "It's okay, love," she whispered. "You'll be fine." Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved with a gentle rhythm as he placed the mask on, and Plankton's eye grew heavy. Karen's hand stayed on his, her thumb rubbing small circles into his palm. The room grew fuzzy around Plankton as the anesthesia took hold. His antennae stopped quivering, his body relaxing into the chair. As the world faded to black, his last thought was of Karen's hand in his. A gentle squeeze, and he was adrift.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⣷⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⢹⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠉⠛⢦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠉⠀⠙⠳⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠙⠳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⡀⠀⣠⠏⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠋⠁⠀⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠟⠙⠧⠤⠤⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⣧⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⢠⡶⣲⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠛⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣏⣤⠤⠤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡶⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⡾⠹⣟⠛⢩⡿⠀⠀⠸⣧⣿⠂⣀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣟⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣸⣿⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⢀⣿⣸⢠⡟⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣴⠶⠶⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⠀⠀⣿⣿⣶⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣤⡀⣾⢻⡇⣿⣾⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠤⠤⢤⣤⡀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣆⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠙⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣷⠛⢿⡇⣏⢿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣟⣸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢳⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⢷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡛⠉⠁⠀⢸⣷⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢠⡞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⠴⠒⠒⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣿⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡈⠓⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠁⠀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠓⠾⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣁⣀⣀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⢀⣴⡿⠶⣶⣶⣟⣀⣀⣀⣤⡽⠿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠙⠓⠶⢤⣄⣀⣉⡁⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣽⣧⢀⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⠤⠶⠒⠒⠒⠶⣾⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⣶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⢀⣤⣼⡛⠲⣤⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡿⠛⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠚⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⠛⠋⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⠖⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣌⠛⠻⢥⣄⣒⣒⠂⢀⣸⢿⣤⡾⠟⠋⠈⠙⠓⠶⢿⣥⣉⣒⣲⠠⢤⢀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⡴⡞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡶⣠⡟⠁⢀⣠⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀ ⠀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣴⣾⡛⣙⣧⣄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠉⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⣹⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⠀⣰⡟⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠈⠙⣳⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⡈⢷⡀⠀⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠶⣤⣤⣀⡿⠻⣏⣠⡶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡟⠀⠀ ⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠉⠛⣳⠶⠶⠶⠛⣿⠈⠛⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠋⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠘⣧⠀⠚⠻⢿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⢷⣄⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠂⠃⠒⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣤⡄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⢀⣠⡶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠈⢷⣄⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠛⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⡛⠲⣾⣷⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⠋⢹⣇⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢙⣷⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣈⣉⡛⠓⠒⢂⣀⠀⣰⣆⣤⡤⢶⣾⠟⠙⠛⠶⣤⣄⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣀⣀⣀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠀⠀⣇⠀⢹⣌⣷⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣤⣽⣦⠹⡆⣀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠏⠈⣡⣭⡙⠋⠉⠉⠉⣠⡿⣤⣉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁ ⠀⣠⡄⠀⠒⠒⠐⠒⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠐⠈⠻⠦⣤⣿⣤⣾⣿⣿⣷⣝⣆⣤⠀⢠⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠓⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣦⣤⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣞⣽⡋⢙⡿⠋⡼⠁⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠉⠛⠒⠶⠤⢤⣤⠤⠾⠛⠑⢦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠃⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢷⣄⣀⣠⣊⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠼⠃⠀⣀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠓⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

хх)

x ✗✗

メ◕‿◕メ

✗𓏌, ✗

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

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

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

⭑хх

∅E

𝑵𝒖𝒃𝒆𝒔 𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒖𝒔 __..–’ * -. . - ‘ ‘ - _ .-’ ‘-. ‘ ‘ - .* \ _ , ∧＿∧ /’\ /’\ - , ‘ , (｡･ω･｡) ( ･∀･) ,’ ,’ ⊂╭◜◝ ͡ ╭◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ╮ ͜╭ . ) ‘—._______________________________.–’

☓☓

🎧🧋★~☒

.₊ ⊹✮⋆˙

ㄨ◕‿◕ㄨ

﹒➜ ★ ❰﹒

𝐢'𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮🤍ㅤ ᵕ̈♡︎≽ܫ≼⋆✖🛹🗺♡༘⋆

🕯

⚠︎

If you see any link(especially discord servers) in this website,𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 click them! !(spread this)⚠️ ⚠️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★‧₊˚ ┊⚠️₊ ⊹★

⊗x

ʚ x ɞ

ˣᴗˣ

✘-✘

𓏴 × ： name . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ . prns ⋆⭒˚｡

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

☦

༺♰༻𖤐𖤐

💊🇽☒♡☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐хх

๋࣭ ⭑ִ ࣪𖤐༘⋆ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ𓆩♡𓆪♡☯༝༚༝༚⩇⩇:⩇⩇જ⁀➴❀‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.≽ܫ≼⋆✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮☣✰✮.𖥔 ݁ ˖✴⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗∞ᥫ᭡🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤𐦍🔗𔘓ֶָ֢̤̮ᰔᩚ🧿-`♡´-𝄞𔓘☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡ㅤᵕ̈☯︎ᥫ᭡.♛𖦹𓏌𓇢𓆸ッ♡⃛𑁍༝༚⚕☻𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ʚɞ🂾𓆩⚝𓆪♕☠❦𖤍

❌

𖦹☆⨉⋆✮

✰ ✰ ✰🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤⛌⛌⛌

𝕏

🚫⃠

♡✘

𐙚

⁶⁶⁶ 𐕣⛧𐕣⁶⁶⁶

✖

𓀠

⛧⸸☣

𓊖

𓀢

𓀃

𐕣