I Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste I Emojis & Symbols please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who ar

ꪒ ꪒ  ꒰ • ⚇ •꒱ྀི 
please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
/)/) ( . .) "eatz" /づ🍪 /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (• • ) can i pwease eat that too /づ🍪 vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)No.(• • ) 🍪⊂\ vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)(• • ) give me that! 🍪⊂\ ⊂ \ /)/) (\(\ ( 0 0) Noo! (. . ) / づ 🍪⊂\ "sad" /)/) (\(\ ( . .)"" (• • ) / vv 🍪⊂\ /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (. . ) Ok fine, u can have it. / vv 🍪⊂ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ)thx! (. . )"" / づ🍪 vv \ btw we can share if u want! /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (• • ) huh..? / づ🍪 vv \ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (ᵔ ᵔ ) okay! / づ🍪⊂ \
i <3 lana del rey ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁,❤️‍🔥,🎪,°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・,🆔,꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂, 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋, .ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:・.
me ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩
me𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒me𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒me𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒me𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒me𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒
😋😼🍍৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
𝓐𝒌𝒶ℛ🇮
I love you 💗🫶🏽💕🤍i️
❤️😏💑👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👨❤️❤️❤️💏💏💏💝💝💝nྀི👩‍❤️‍👨🥰❤S𑁤ˎˊ˗˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚💌▶🦸
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⢿⡿⠛⢋⣩⣽⠿⠿⠛⠛⢛⣛⣉⣉⣙⣛⣓⣒⠒⠠⠀⢀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⣿⡿⣿⠟⠁⣠⠞⠋⢁⣠⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣒⡂⠒⠢⠤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⣀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣴⠾⠟⠛⣛⣉⣉⣩⣭⣤⣭⠉⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣓⠲⠤⠀⡉⠑⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡿⢋⣼⣧⢤⠊⠀⡠⠞⠛⠋⠉⠁⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠾⢭⣝⣛⠶⣦⣄⣠⣭⠽⣛⣿⠿⣿⣛⣫⡽⢛⣭⢔⣠⠴⠾⠟⠿⠿⠶⣤⣬⣭⣝⣓⡦⢄⠂⢤⡉⠛⠶⣄⠀⠰⣄⠀⠹⣯⠽⣿⣿⣿⣮⣽⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡿⢁⣼⣿⣴⠞⠑⠁⠀⡀⠤⠒⢋⣩⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣻⣿⣶⣦⣄⠐⠢⢤⣍⣙⠓⠮⣍⡓⠄⣐⡾⠿⢻⣿⣥⠞⣫⡶⢟⣡⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣙⠳⣦⡀⠑⠄⠹⣷⣤⡛⠑⣄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣱⡟⣽⣿⡟⣜⠀⢀⣞⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡉⠙⠻⠿⢶⣾⣬⣅⣀⣤⣞⢋⣥⠞⠋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣿⣷⣄⠠⡘⣿⣷⠀⣘⣷⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣱⢃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣖⣛⣿⠛⠾⣍⠉⢀⣔⣽⣣⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠈⢷⡀⢈⢿⣿⣻⢳⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣓⣶⣼⡏⣿⢏⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣧⢢⡹⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣹⡿⢷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣇⠹⣿⣇⢸⡟⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣴⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣲⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣶⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢟⣯⣭⣝⣚⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣵⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣡⡴⠛⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠗⣻⠷⣿⠀⠤⠤⢍⡛⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣉⡉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⢫⡾⢁⣴⣟⣁⣀⣰⠷⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠿⣿⡿⣟⡛⠿⣧⠻⣷⣮⡙⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⣿⣷⣫⣶⠟⣹⠟⢛⣿⡿⣾⣓⣶⣄⣈⣿⠿⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⢿⢿⣿⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣷⢸⠷⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠉⢁⣀⣈⣀⡀⠀⠙⠂⠈⢷⡘⢿⣷⡌⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣼⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣦⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠊⠃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣼⣟⠇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠩⢴⣶⡶⣶⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⠀⠀⠻⣄⠻⣿⠈⣿⣿⡆⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣻⡏⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠘⣧⠙⣧⠸⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⣿⡿⣿⠏⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣉⠛⠿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡿⠿⣋⣩⣵⣶⡿⣇⡈⠿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣠⣾⣿⣿⡷⢀⡼⠳⢤⣼⣿⣋⣉⣉⣁⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠘⣧⠹⣇⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⡇⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣬⣩⣭⣥⣤⣬⣭⣽⣿⣯⣤⣌⡙⠛⠛⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠸⡇⢿⣼⣿⡀ ⠠⢿⡇⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣼⠙⣹⠫⠿⣿⣻⢿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠓⠦⣄⣀⣀⡤⣶⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⢿⡇⢻⡟⠈⣿⣙⣹⡇⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⣾⣿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⠤⣤⡏⠁⣿⠁⣾⠁⢫⢿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠙⠃⠹⣷⠀⢿⡏⠀⣷⣠⣷⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣾⢹⣿⠃ ⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣮⣜⡏⣰⣦⣿⣀⡇⠀⠃⡿⠋⠈⡼⣿⡿⢡⢳⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠹⠉⠿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⠃⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⢿⠿⠋⠃⠈⠓⢹⡄⠀⠀⢻⠀⠸⡇⣠⣿⠿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡇⣼⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠻⣿⣧⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣧⣿⣿⣷⣤⣸⠁⠀⠀⠁⣿⠁⠀⠘⢸⣿⣿⠛⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠧⢻⣿⠛⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢻⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⢸⠇⣠⣿⣿⣿⣷⠻⣮⣉⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣇⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡆⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠁⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣯⣱⣆⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⡾⣸⣿⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⡄⠀⠘⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣏⣿⣿⠿⣿⢷⣤⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣇⣠⣴⠿⢻⢱⠀⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣾⠃⣿⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠸⡄⠟⣇⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣰⠁⣘⡟⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣴⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⡟⣿⢛⠛⡏⢻⣤⣼⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⣰⠏⠈⣼⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⢽⣧⣽⣦⡹⣿⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣧⣣⣿⢹⣿⢋⣿⢻⢿⣿⠿⢹⠙⡏⣿⠛⡏⠟⡏⡍⡏⡏⢫⢹⠈⢹⠰⠸⠀⢹⣧⠃⣷⣼⣾⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣠⡟⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣷⡈⠉⠛⢶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣼⣾⣿⣸⣸⡆⣷⣸⡀⡇⡆⡇⣡⣧⣇⢸⣸⢸⢸⣆⣶⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣠⣿⣿⣿⡿⡃⢀⣴⠟⣀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠩⠻⣿⡌⠶⣄⠈⠛⢯⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣠⣿⣿⡿⣻⣟⣰⣿⣯⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⢌⣿⣶⣌⠳⣦⣀⠉⠊⠛⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠟⣿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡇⢹⣸⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠉⢻⢻⢿⣶⣽⣷⣦⣀⠑⢷⣌⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⡟⡏⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⡿⠉⢋⠈⢀⢸⣦⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣵⡿⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⢷⣄⡙⢧⣄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡇⣯⡁⠈⣏⡇⢿⢸⠁⢹⠉⣿⡇⣿⡏⡟⡏⡏⡏⣷⠁⠀⡇⡄⢠⣸⣿⡿⢿⢣⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢁⠞⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⣀⠻⣿⣿⣟⣿⣦⠙⣦⡀⠈⢿⣽⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡹⣿⢻⣿⣿⣧⣿⣇⢸⠀⠀⠸⠀⢹⠃⢸⡇⣇⡇⡇⠁⣿⢸⣀⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⡴⢟⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠁⣠⡴⠋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠻⣄⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⣷⠀⠀⢻⣇⢸⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣽⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⣶⣾⣴⣦⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣽⠋⠀⢠⣴⠛⠁⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠌⡢⠈⢻⣻⣿⣞⣷⡘⣧⠀⠀⢿⣎⣧⠀⣿⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠉⡟⠛⡏⢉⣿⠃⢀⣼⠟⠋⠀⣠⡾⠟⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠙⢟⣿⣿⣧⠹⣇⠀⠈⢿⣿⣆⢻⡀⠀⢀⣷⠀⠀⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢸⡇⠀⠀⡯⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⣼⢡⣾⠃⠰⠋⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𐙚⋆°. ౨ৎ ౨ৎ 𐙚 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 🐬°˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ 🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ゚.🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁ ⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⠓⠒⠤⣰⠋⠹⡄⠀⣠⠞⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠂⠙⢦⡀⠐⠨⣆⠁⣷⣮⠖⠋⠉⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠮⠇⠀⣩⠶⠒⠾⣿⡯⡋⠩⡓⢦⣀⡀ ⠀⡰⢰⡹⠀⠀⠲⣾⣁⣀⣤⠞⢧⡈⢊⢲⠶⠶⠛⠁ ⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⣌⡅⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⣈⠻⠦⣤⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠸⣎⠇⠀⠀⡠⡄⠀⠷⠎⠀⠐⡶⠁⠀⠀⣟⡇⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⡠⣄⠀⠷⠃⠀⠀⡤⠄⠀⠀⣔⡰⠀⢩⠇⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠻⠋⠀⢀⠤⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⢀⠉⠁⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⢰⢢⠀⠀⠘⠚⠀⢰⣂⠆⠰⢥⡡⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠸⣎⠋⢠⢢⠀⢠⢀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠷⣬⣅⣀⣬⡷⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠝⠛⠀⡠⢊⣠⠾⠗⡾⠁⢳⠀⣽⡄⠀⢘⠾⣊⠴⢋⡵⢫⣷⣃⢀⠔⠁⣿⠆⠀⠀⡞⢁⠀⠴⠛⠘⣀⣔⡬⢖⠋⠁⢀⠔⣶⡟⠡⢈⡕⠛⠠⠂⠀⣰⠋⠀⡰⠁⢀⣧⢡⡎⢀⠟⠀⣸⢹⠀⢸⠀⡸⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⡌⠀⣀⡸⠙⣄⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⣰⣪⠖⠋⠀⢀⠜⢀⢌⠜⡆⣿⠼⣺⢗⣟⣡⡎⢡⠃⣤⠹⠘⠢⡤⢄⣛⡐⠠⠼⠍⠐⠀⣀⡤⡞⠉⠁⣤⠋⢀⠔⠁⣼⠏⠐⢠⠎⠐⠰⠃⠀⡼⠁⠀⡜⠀⡰⣻⢃⡞⠀⣸⠃⢀⡟⢰⠀⢸⠀⣷⠀⣸⠁⠀⡘⠀⣼⡿⠁⢠⢏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⣸⠃⠀⠀⡠⢃⣴⠟⣡⣴⣿⣷⠛⠛⡈⡇⢠⠗⢸⣾⠸⡇⠀⠀⠈⠑⡾⣫⢒⣴⣶⢟⠵⢡⠌⠀⠀⠔⠃⡠⠁⠀⣾⢋⠌⡰⠁⠀⠠⢁⡄⠐⠀⠀⢞⡒⡰⢠⡏⡾⢠⢧⡏⠀⢺⠯⢥⠀⢸⠀⡽⢠⠃⠀⡰⠇⣸⠗⠃⢠⢳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣢⢔⣡⠖⢫⠽⠑⡟⠉⢸⢯⢏⠉⣵⡇⣸⠀⢘⢨⠃⡁⠓⠒⢢⢞⢜⣥⣫⣿⡧⠃⠀⡌⠀⠀⠈⠀⠊⠀⠀⣼⠃⠊⡐⠀⠀⢠⠣⡞⢠⡆⠀⡎⠀⠀⠁⣼⡝⢠⠟⡸⠀⠀⢸⢐⣸⠂⢸⠀⡇⢂⠄⡠⣧⣷⠏⠀⢠⡇⡈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡆⠀⢰⡆⠀⢠⣾⣷⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⣾⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠿⠚⠋⠁⠌⠁⡠⠊⡐⣡⢟⡌⡈⢒⡏⢰⢸⢰⢸⢺⡄⠀⢀⡴⣷⢿⠏⢈⣿⠟⠷⢆⡤⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣏⠌⡔⠀⠀⠀⣆⠾⢁⡞⡇⡜⠀⠀⠀⣀⣯⡴⣥⢷⠓⠒⠋⠉⠡⢸⠀⢸⠀⠇⠎⣠⠱⢸⠇⠀⢠⠃⢠⢁⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣷⢀⡿⢁⣴⠟⣹⣿⠀⣾⣷⣶⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⣀⣪⠞⡑⢁⢧⠙⠀⢇⢸⣿⢺⡞⡚⡯⢴⡙⠉⢀⡐⠂⡘⡞⠀⠅⠠⠉⠁⠚⠣⠝⣔⠶⣀⠀⠁⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⣄⡜⠀⡷⢓⣢⠿⠍⠛⠋⠠⡡⠂⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⡇⢨⠀⣶⡜⢸⠀⡟⠀⠀⢆⣠⠃⡈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠉⣿⣿⢃⣾⠿⠟⢻⣟⣸⡟⠁⢠⡿⠁⢀⣴⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠞⠧⠜⠋⢁⠂⠌⡰⢃⣾⣦⠀⢸⡀⣿⣄⢁⠇⠀⠀⢯⣝⣖⣿⣯⣿⣒⡭⠥⣐⡒⠤⢀⠀⠀⠈⠉⡛⢆⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠋⢀⣀⠻⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⣒⣀⣭⣝⣛⣫⣿⣿⣧⠘⠀⣳⠀⣼⢠⠃⠀⠀⠸⣹⢀⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠘⠃⠘⠃⠀⠀⠙⠋⠛⠀⠀⠙⠃⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃ 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༝༚༝༚
♡🍪tuva🍪♡ᗰ𝘪𝘴𝘴 ᑭo͏o͏𝘬𝘪𝘦✨
me .ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:・
⠀ ⠀ (\__/) (•ㅅ•) Don’t talk to _ノヽ ノ\_ me or my son `/ `/ ⌒Y⌒ Y ヽ ever again. (  (三ヽ人  /  | | ノ⌒\  ̄ ̄ヽ ノ ヽ___>、__/ |( 王 ノ〈 (\__/) /ミ`ー―彡\ (•ㅅ•) / ╰ ╯ \ / \>
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢟⣺⡽⢛⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠁⡀⢀⠠⠁⠀⠄⠀⠥⠤⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡫⣿⣾⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⡛⣁⣂⠄⠀⠒⠁⡄⠄⠀⠂⠐⠔⠠⣀⠠⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣾⣹⣗⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣮⢵⣿⠟⠀⠁⠀⠀⠄⠔⠊⠀⠀⡀⠀⠊⠐⡈⡈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠈⠠⠀⠀⠀⣀⢦⡄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⡷⣻⠟⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣼⡗⠁⠀⠀⠀⡈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠁⡀⠈⠂⠂⠀⢤⡀⡀⠀⢨⢄⡀⠨⠐⡙⢷⡀⠈⢿⣿⣏⣿⡓⡿⣯⣿⣀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⢿⡿⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠔⡈⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠈⠅⠀⠠⠁⠁⢄⠀⠢⡀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠉⢄⠒⠄⠈⠻⣦⣾⣿⣿⠥⠾⡥⣄⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣻⢟⠃⠀⠀⢀⠄⣠⠂⠀⠑⠀⣿⡥⠁⡐⡀⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠐⠀⠘⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢠⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⣿⣦⠘⢿⣮⣻⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠋⢠⡟⠀⠀⢄⢴⡾⡇⡴⢀⠀⠊⠀⠈⣶⡄⠀⡤⠤⡀⠀⠘⢗⡄⠄⠐⠀⡢⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣾⣿⣃⠘⢿⢻⣿⣿⣽⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⡒⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣼⠃⠀⠠⣾⠋⠨⣿⠀⡄⠀⡆⠙⡁⣹⣿⣄⠀⠀⢩⡈⠀⠨⣷⠁⠀⠀⠤⢀⢂⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡷⡄⢘⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢹⣷⠄⠀⡰⠁⢰⣿⠀⣰⡿⠥⠄⢤⡟⠆⣷⠀⢩⢠⠀⣿⠉⢿⣦⠁⠘⣿⣆⠀⢻⣷⡀⢀⠃⢀⠊⠄⠀⢹⣿⣟⢷⢳⣼⣷⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⠀⠠⢘⠀⣸⣿⣰⡻⠁⠄⠀⠀⠔⡺⣿⣖⠐⡨⠀⣾⡁⠀⣿⣷⡶⣓⡿⢻⡮⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣯⡹⣿⣽⣿⣷⢿⡂⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⢽⣿⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⢵⣿⢵⣦⣄⠀⢸⣉⣿⡄⠒⠄⣿⠀⠀⠈⠘⠯⢿⣧⠈⠻⣿⣿⡀⢀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠄⣿⣗⢿⠿⣾⠎⠘⣾⣇⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⢸⡿⢾⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿⡫⠔⣫⢭⢩⣵⢳⡛⠻⣟⠶⠐⠂⣟⣪⢠⣤⢈⣠⠬⣷⣤⣄⡘⢯⡇⢀⠂⠘⢰⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣷⣅⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡇⢸⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡂⣽⣿⣩⠹⢯⣉⣛⣑⠘⢾⣬⡄⢹⡻⢈⣴⣿⣾⣲⣽⣟⠿⣿⣿⣇⠰⠀⠈⢠⡇⠀⢸⣿⣷⣺⣿⠀⠀⣸⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⣸⣿⡀⠀⣿⣷⡇⢻⡿⠋⡏⠳⣷⡇⠀⡁⠊⠼⢞⢼⢿⠘⣿⣿⠻⡘⣊⣹⠂⢘⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⣇⣿⣿⡿⡀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⣇⠀⣿⡏⠀⢠⠟⡻⠯⠞⠏⡄⠀⠠⠓⢄⠐⠠⠫⢉⠻⠟⠛⠒⠻⣯⡆⠡⣿⠿⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣦⡀⣿⣿⣾⢟⠇⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢸⢿⣄⠠⠛⡏⢂⢀⠀⢄⣀⣸⢊⠤⠌⣥⡈⢉⡀⠓⢗⠴⠾⠊⠠⠀⣼⡏⠀⠄⣾⣽⣻⡿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡃⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣴⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⠹⣿⣾⠿⣿⣯⣄⠁⠕⢡⡐⢛⡲⠓⢦⠬⠥⠬⠬⠭⠬⠄⠁⠈⠅⠹⠖⢀⢿⡋⢂⣾⣿⣯⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣻⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⣿⢸⣿⣹⣾⡇⠀⠘⢿⣻⣾⢾⣿⡻⢶⣤⣁⡗⠖⡐⠶⠶⠶⡆⠉⢁⠰⠄⠀⠈⢁⣠⣼⣾⡎⣠⢿⣯⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡈⠻⢟⠺⣾⡸⢿⣿⣎⣽⣿⡷⢶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣿⣶⣷⣶⣿⠿⢟⡿⣿⣺⠝⠉⠉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣵⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠆⠀⠛⠿⢻⡿⢛⡉⣱⣴⡿⣿⣇⠰⡿⠋⠙⣎⣄⠀⠰⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡈⠂⠀⡀⣠⡺⢷⣷⠃⡀⢸⣷⣾⠏⠉⢷⡄⢶⣖⢮⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣞⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠂⢁⣼⣿⣷⣿⡿⢠⢈⣽⢧⣿⢩⢭⠽⣿⣾⣿⣾⢼⣂⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢸⣽⣿⢼⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀ ⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⠾⡿⣟⣷⣺⣿⢸⢀⣿⠀⣿⠈⡆⠀⠈⢿⣟⣿⣴⣇⣧⡀⠀⠀⠁⡆⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀ ⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢿⣗⣟⢹⣿⡋⡿⣆⢸⣿⡆⣿⠀⢸⠄⠤⣲⣿⣿⣭⡞⣿⣻⡄⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣶⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡬⡿⣝⡿⣺⡞⡹⠁⣼⡝⠃⣿⡀⢸⡇⠑⡘⣿⣿⡟⣵⣿⣿⢿⣦⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡄ ⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣈⣿⣟⢴⣝⣧⡘⠁⠀⣹⣷⢶⣟⠁⠀⢳⣣⣀⣘⣿⣧⢻⣿⢾⣿⡟⡇⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⢰⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⢉⣬⡻⣿⡻⣧⣴⣿⣷⣻⣿⣆⢤⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⡻⣿⣿⠤⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠘⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣿⣶⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢾⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣿⣻⣿⣤⣈⡚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⣮⣡⣋⣽⣿⠿⣯⣯⠿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣷⠒⠞⠁⠀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣹⣯⣭⣿⣿⣶⣷⣹⣓⣁⠉⣁⣰⣶⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠁⠀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣯⣿⣿⡺⢷⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⢀⣾⣿⣿⠃⢀⣼⣿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣽⣯⣿⣯⣧⣯⢶⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⢃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⢿⣼⣿⡿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣷⣷⡠⣤⣟⣿⣯⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⠟⠛⠁⠀⢿⣼⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
“ 🧸, 🐻, 🍰, ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა”
what the actual flip is going on this website? i just wanted to search for an asteria combo and got a full live story and then some dox what the flip guys 😾
⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢳⡱⡱⡱⡱⡍⡎⣎⢳⢭⣚⢭⣚⢭⣚⢭⢫⡹⡭⣫⡹⡭⣫⡹⡰⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡹⡹⡹⡹⡭⡫⢣⢣⡘⡜⡜⡜⡌⢎⢎⢞⡜⣎⢭⢫⢫⡹⡜⡌⡞⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡝⡜⢧⢣⢳⡱⡱⡣⣣⠧⣣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⡹⡜⡜⡜⡜⡞⡜⡞⡜⡞⣍⡝⡜⡞⡜⡜⡜⡜⡵⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡭⣊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢒⠥⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡭⣫⢊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡌⢎⠜⡌⢎⢎⢎⢞⠜⡭⣫⢊⢏⠭⡭⣊⢧⢣⢳⡱⡱ ⣣⢣⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣣⣿⢿⣻⢿⡿⣿⡟⡵⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⡭ ⣣⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡹⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣚⡝⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠐ ⣣⢭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⣿⠋⠉⢿⡇⢸⣯⣶⣌⢿⢋⣤⣦⠹⣿⢩⣴⣌⢻⠟⣤⣦⡩⣿⢩⣴⣌⢻⢃⣿⠋⠉⢿⡇⠟⣤⣦⣉⢟⣽⡇⣡⣦⠹⣡⣦⡩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡿⣛⠵⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡀ ⣣⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣷⢻⣿⢉⡙⢸⣏⠰⣿⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠⣿⣿⣿⡟⠈⢿⣿⣦⠐⣿⣿⣿⡯⢸⣟⢽⣿⢋⡙⢠⣿⢿⣿⠄⣿⣿⣧⢚⢼⣿⣿⣿⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣠⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡀ ⢣⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⠛⠟⠉⣴⠘⠃⣆⠛⢤⡈⠛⠟⢁⣶⠉⠟⠛⢠⡀⠻⠻⠉⣶⠉⠟⠛⢠⣷⡈⠛⠟⠉⣴⡈⠻⠋⠛⠇⠙⢁⡈⠏⣀⠙⠟⠋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡀ ⠜⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠴⣻⢿⢭⣊⣾⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⡀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠄ ⠜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠿⢻⣿⠇⢻⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⠿⣿⣿⢿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⢿⠟⣿⣿⢻⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡟⢨⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⢿⠟⣿⡿⠈⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⢿⠿⠿⣿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⡿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠿⠿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢧⢧⡽⡿⣛⠣⢂⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⢀⣶⣤⠈⣿⣿⣿⡗⠄ ⡜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢸⠂⣿⣿⠐⣧⠈⠙⢿⡅⢿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡗⢸⣿⠃⣼⣿⣿⣿⠀⡿⢰⡃⣻⣿⠀⣏⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⣹⠟⠉⠂⢸⡆⢻⠀⣿⠀⠉⠃⢸⣿⣿⠄⣿⣿⠀⠂⠉⠉⠀⡧⢸⣿⠀⣟⢨⣦⠈⠛⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⢨⠂⣿⣿⠀⡇⠈⠉⠀⣿⠀⠙⢿⡇⢸⣿⠀⣿⠐⣿⣿⣿⠠⣿⠀⣿⡇⣽⠀⠉⠃⢸⡟⠉⡁⢸⡇⢺⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⢈⠇⣾⠀⣿⣿⠠⡃⣿⣿⠠⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⢼⠟⠉⠁⢸⡇⢹⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⡗⠄ ⢣⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢸⣇⠈⣠⠰⣇⢈⢀⣼⣇⢈⣿⣿⣷⡀⢁⣾⣆⢈⣠⢸⡀⡀⡈⣻⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⡀⡁⣴⣿⡀⣁⡄⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣇⣽⡄⡁⣤⢈⣿⡀⣼⣿⣆⢈⢀⣿⣿⣿⠄⣈⢀⣼⣷⡀⡁⣴⣧⣸⣿⣀⣿⢨⣆⢈⢀⣾⣿⣿⣆⢈⢠⢸⣷⡀⡁⣼⣿⣀⢁⣠⣷⡀⡁⣰⣧⣸⣿⣀⣿⠀⣹⣿⣿⢰⣿⣀⣿⡇⣽⣆⢈⢀⣾⣄⢁⣴⢀⡇⣾⣿⣀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣧⢈⢀⣾⣧⠈⣠⢠⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⣄⢉⠄⢺⡄⡁⣔⢈⣿⡀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⡗⠄ ⡜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⡗⠄ ⢣⢣⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⡿⠀⣼⣿⣿⠡⠠ ⢣⢣⠭⡳⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⣣⢳⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡒⡒⡒⡱⣘⠜⡒⡱⡱⣘⠔⡒⡜⡜⡜⡜⢎⢒⢒⢒⠔⡒⡒⡜⡒⡒⡒⡔⡒⢆⢒⢆⢒⢒⢒⢒⢒⠜⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡒⡱⡒⡒⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡵⡱⡘⡒⡵⡳⣣⢒⠵⡳⡱⡒⡵⢳⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡱⡘⡒⡒⡒⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡜⡜⣎⢞⢎⢎⢒⢜⡜⡞⡞⡞⡜⡜⡒⡒⠥⡒⡒⡱⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢳⢣⢣⢣⢭⢭⢭⢭⢭⢭⡍⡎⣎⢎⢎⢲⡱⡹⡭⣒⢱⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢳⢭⣚⠵⡭⣚⡜⡜⡜⡜⢆⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢡⢊⢒⠥⣊⢒⠥⡘⡔⡱⡱⡱⡡⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡹⡣⣣⢓⡱⡡⣊⢌⢒⠥⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡹⡘⡼⣘⢭⢎⢞⠜⢧⢣⢣⢣⢣⢳⡱⣱⡱⣱⡱⡹⡘⡜⡜⢞⡜⡼⡸⣣⢣⡹⡜⢧⢣⡹⡘⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⢆⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢫⡹⡜⡜⡜⣎⢞⢎⡝⡝⡝⡞⡜⡜⡝⡭⣫⡹⡭⣫⡹⡹⣣⢳⡱⣣⢳⡱⣣⢳⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡹⡘⡜⣜⡜⡜⢧⢣⢳⡱ ⢣⠳⡱⡱⡱⣣⢣⢣⡹⣘⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⣎⢞⠵⡹⣣⢫⣚⡜⡜⡜⢆⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢡⢊⢒⠥⣊⢆⠥⡘⡔⡱⡱⡱⡡⢣⠱⡡⢳⢡⢣⢣⠱⡱⡱⡡⡡⣊⢌⠜⡌⢎⢎⢎⠜⡌⡒⠥⡡⣊⢌⢒⠥⡡⣊⡝⡌⡞⡜⡜⡞⡭⣊⢎⢏⢎⢚⢞⢭⣚⠜⡳⣣⢣⡹⡘⡜⡜⡜⡞⠧⢣⠹⣚⠭⣊⠞⡞⠧⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢡⢊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⣌⢎⠜⡜⡭⣎⢎⢎⢎⠞⡜⡞⡜⡞⡜⣎⢎⢎⢚⡝⡭⣫⡹⡹⡱⣣⢳⡱⣣⢳⡱⣣⢳⢱⢱⢱⢱⢱⢱⢱⢱⢱⠱⡹⣚⠞⡱⡱⣣⢣⠳⡱ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣾⣾⣾⣾⣿⣿⣾⣾⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡞⣳⡝⡜⣎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢝⠜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡭ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⣿⢸⣿⣿⠏⣾⣿⣤⢿⢣⣾⣷⡌⡿⣰⣿⣶⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢳⢭⣚⠵ ⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢂⣿⠉⢿⡇⣸⡟⢉⣿⠀⣿⡌⣼⡇⢸⡟⢩⣿⠈⣾⠏⢹⣷⠀⣿⠉⣻⡇⢸⣧⢃⣿⠂⣿⠰⡇⣿⠠⣿⣸⢨⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢂⣿⢸⢺⡇⠸⣷⣠⣾⠰⡄⣿⡟⡴⣹⣇⣴⣿⡀⢿⣆⣴⡷⠀⣿⢸⢼⡇⠸⣷⣴⣿⢀⢻⣧⣼⡿⡀⣿⣦⣾⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣶⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⡀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣻⠁⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣶⡄⢹⡃⣴⡆⢹⡀⣿⡏⢸⠁⣶⡆⢹⣿⣿⡁⣶⣆⣽⠀⣴⡆⢸⠃⣴⣦⠸⡇⣹⠀⡿⢠⣶⠀⡿⠠⣶⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⢣⠱⡡⢣⠱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡡⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡱⡡⢣⠱ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢠⣿⠀⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⠟⣿⡦⢸⠀⣿⡗⢸⡀⢿⣿⢻⡇⣹⠀⣧⠸⣿⠀⡿⢻⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡡⢣⠱⡡⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡡ ⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠄⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⣏⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢜⢜⠜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⣌⢎⢎ ⠀⡹⡛⣛⢛⣛⢛⡛⡛⣛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⣛⢛⢛⣛⣛⣛⢛⢛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⡛⣛⡛⣛⢛⡛⣛⢛⢛⡛⣛⢛⣛⡛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⢛⢛⡛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⢛⡛⣛⣛⣛⣛⢛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⡛⣛⢛⣛⢛⣛⣛⢛⢛⢛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⡙⡐⡄⡰⡭⣚⠵⡹⡭⣚⡜⡜⡞⡜⡜⡼⣘⢞⢧⢣⢫⢎⠧⣣⢣⢣⢣ ⢎⢎⢎⢧⢣⡹⣘⢧⢣⢳⡱⡹⣚⢭⢳⡹⣚⠵⡹⡱⡹⡱⡹⣚⢭⢫⡹⡭⣎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢏⢏⢏⢏⢏⢣⢣⠱⡡⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢳⡱⡡⢣⢳⡹⢢⢣⠱⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡭⣚⢎⢎⢎⢏⢎⢎⢎⠧⡹⣘⡜⡜⡞⡜⡞⡜⡞⡜⢧⢣⢳⣩⢎⢳⢣⢳⢹⡜⡜⣎⢎⢳⡱⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡳⡳⡭⣚⢭⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡭⣊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢳⢭⣚⠵⡱⡱⡡⣊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢞⡜⣎⢎⢧⢫⡹⡜⡌⢞⠵⡭⣚⠵⡭⣚⠵⡭⣚⠵⡭⣚⠵⡭⣚⠵⡭⣎⢞⡜⡜⡞⡜⡝⡜⢧⢫⢪⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣ ⣣⢳⡱⣣⢳⡱⡭⣚⡜⣎⢞⢭⣚⠵⡹⡱⡹⡱⡭⣚⢭⣚⢭⣚⢭⢫⡹⡭⣎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢏⢏⢏⢧⢡⢣⢣⢣⢊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡌⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡼⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⣚⢞⢞⡝⡝⡞⡞⡝⡞⡞⡞⡞⡞⡳⡳⡹⣚⢳⢳⢳⢳⡹⡹⣚⢞⡝⡞⡞⡳⡱⣱⢣⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡭⣊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢳⢭⢎⢎⢎⢎⢒⠥⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡱⡡⡳⡭⣚⢧⢫⡚⠵⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡭⣚⢧⢣⢣⢳⡱⡳⡳⡱⡭⡚⠵⡱⡱⣣⢳⢭⣚ ⢳⡱⡭⣚⠵⡭⣚⠵⡭⣚⠵⡱⡱⡱⡭⣚⢭⢳⢭⣚⢭⢳⢭⣚⠵⡹⡭⣚⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡝⡝⡝⠖⡱⡱⡱⡡⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡡⢣⢣⢣⢣⠱⡡⢣⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡭⣊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡌⢎⢎⠜⡌⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡌⢎⠜⡜⣎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡜⡜⡌⢎⠜⡌⢎⠜⡌⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠞⠵⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱⡱ ⡭⣚⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⠲⡝⡝⣜⠽⡹⣻⡍⢆⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⢣ ⡭⣚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡛⡛⠿⣿⢋⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⡙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡉⡋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢌⢟⢿⣻⠽⣹⣟⣟⣧⢢⢡⢌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⡌ ⡜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢰⣿⠁⡀⢻⠇⢸⣿⣾⣦⠹⢡⣶⣶⡌⡟⢤⣾⣦⠙⢅⣶⣷⣤⠛⣤⣶⣦⡙⢰⣿⠁⡀⢻⠇⢃⣶⣷⣤⠣⣻⡇⣰⣧⠈⣦⣶⣤⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⣳⢿⡽⡽⠿⡛⡍⣏⢎⢆⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡔ ⡜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⠸⡟⢤⡌⢸⣏⠄⣿⠄⣿⠿⠿⠿⠠⣿⠿⠿⠟⠀⠻⣿⣷⠠⣿⠿⠿⠏⠸⣿⠸⡟⢡⡌⢰⡿⠿⣿⠄⢿⣿⣷⠘⢼⡿⠿⠿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠀⠀⣀⣴⣶⣷⣤⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡔ ⡜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠉⠋⢁⢶⠈⠁⣆⠉⢠⡄⠙⠉⢀⣷⠈⠙⠉⣠⡄⠙⠙⠁⣶⠈⠙⠉⣠⣿⡀⠉⠋⠁⣴⡀⠙⠉⠉⠃⠉⢀⠄⠉⣠⠉⠋⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢿⣿⡁⠠⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⠀ ⠜⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢜⢻⡟⡝⣜⣾⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣷⡀⠄⠠⠈⢻⠟⢀⠄⡰⡰ ⡜⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠋⣿⡟⠙⠙⣿⣿⣿⠙⠍⠀⢛⣿⣿⠀⠋⠋⣿⡟⠙⠹⡿⠙⣿⡟⠹⠙⡟⠹⠙⠹⣿⠋⠋⠏⣿⣿⣿⡛⠙⠹⣿⣿⣿⠋⠏⠋⢿⠋⢿⣿⠹⡿⠙⠙⢿⡟⠙⠙⡟⢹⣿⠛⣻⣿⡟⠛⠙⢻⠋⠛⣿⠟⠙⠹⣿⠟⠙⠙⣿⠋⡛⠙⢿⡿⠙⠙⢿⣿⣿⠹⣿⡟⢻⠛⠙⠻⣿⠙⣿⡛⢻⠙⠙⢻⠋⠋⢻⣿⣿⣿⠛⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⠛⠙⠻⣿⠋⠋⠻⡧⠈⠋⠻⡿⠙⣿⠋⠋⢿⡟⠛⠙⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⡱⡳⡽⠿⡋⢃⢂⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⢀⣿⠀⠄⠠⠠⣿⡯⣊ ⡜⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢀⠀⢸⣆⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⠀⣟⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡅⢸⠃⢀⠀⢸⠆⢸⠀⣟⠀⡇⢸⣿⠀⡇⢘⣿⠀⣻⣿⣿⠁⡀⠀⢺⣿⣿⠀⣻⣯⠀⠂⣹⣟⠀⣧⡀⠈⢻⣆⠀⠉⢿⡀⢏⢠⣿⣿⡇⢨⣿⠀⣿⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⢀⠀⢸⠀⣽⣏⠠⣧⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡆⢹⠀⡇⢘⣿⡃⢸⠀⣿⡅⢸⠀⣻⡅⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⡿⠁⡀⠀⣻⣿⣿⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⢼⣀⠀⠙⡇⠰⣿⠄⡜⢀⠟⠀⡀⠀⡗⢨⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡟⢀⠠⠠⢀⠀⣆⡄⡀⠘⡜ ⡜⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢀⡴⣀⣆⡀⣀⣾⣿⣿⣀⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⣠⣿⡇⣼⣄⢀⣤⣀⣿⣀⢾⣿⣀⣧⢸⣿⣀⣿⣀⣀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣀⣀⣆⢠⣿⣿⠀⡄⣀⣾⣧⡀⣤⣠⣧⣀⣀⣼⣆⣀⣀⣾⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⢠⣿⣄⢿⣆⣀⣠⣿⣄⣀⣴⣀⣄⣽⣯⣠⣧⣀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠀⣽⣿⣄⣀⢤⣿⣄⣀⣤⢼⡄⣿⣿⣄⢀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣀⣀⣤⢠⣿⣿⣀⣿⣄⢀⢤⣿⣀⣀⢤⣧⣠⡀⣤⣯⢠⣧⡀⣤⣀⢬⣨⣿⣄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠄⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⡄⢀ ⠭⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣰⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣏⢒ ⡜⡼⣹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⡿⠀⣼⣿⢿⠱⡱ ⡍⢎⢎⢎⢭⠭⣪⣊⢭⢍⢭⣊⢎⢎⢎⠭⣊⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⠜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⣎⢎⢎⡜⡜⡌⢎⢎⢞⢧⢣⢣⢣⢣⢣⠳⠳⠳⡱⡭⢎⠜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⣎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢎⢞⡜⣎⢞⡜⣎⢧⢳⢭⣚⡜⣎⢞⡜⣎⢞⡜⡱⡱⠭⣣⠹⣘⢕⡱⡱⡱⢭⢣⢣⢳⢭⢎⢞⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⣎⢞⠵⣣⡹⣚⠵⡹⡳⡹⡱⡹⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡜⡳⡹⡹⡹⡌⢎⢎⡒⡱⡱⡳⡡⢣⢣⢳⡱⡱⣣⢣⢣⢣⢣⢳⡱⡡⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⡹⣎⢭⣚⡜
⠀⠀⣤⠤⠶⠘⠃⠘⠂⠒⠂⠂⠒⠁⠉⠁⠉⠉⠋⠂⠏⠱⠆⠶⠤⠤⠤⡤⢤⡷ ⠀⠀⠶⠀⠀⢀⠎⠉⠉⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡛⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⣆⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠋⠓⣄ ⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢠ ⠀⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⠀⢨⠆⠀⠀⢘⣄⡠⠴⠋ ⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠠⠔⠊⠁⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣀⡀⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢨⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠰⢠⠒⢲⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢨⠁⠀⠀⡤⠒⢊⠀⠀⡰⠋⢣⠀⢨⠀⢠⡋⠀⠀⡎⠀⡰⢋⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠙⢄⡍⠀⠀⠓⠆⠁⠀⠨⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡪⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣒⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠑⠄⠒⠁⠀⠘⠄⠀⢘ ⠀⡭⠀⠀⢀⡥⠒⠉⠉⠙⡆⠀⠔⠉⡆⡔⠒⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠠⠂⠀ ⠀⣦⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠰⡃⠀⠎⠜⠦⡀⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠠ ⠀⣏⠀⠀⠈⠂⠤⠤⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⢂⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃ ⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⡀⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠂⠓⠚⠊⠤⢥⡥⡓⣐⡃⡉⡉⣉⡈⣁⠁⠵⠴⠖⠒⠲⠆⠶⠶⠖⠛⠚⠟⠛
❤︎ I
.*🐼*. 𐙚
.ᐟ📧
i e l
Said I'm heartless🫶🏻
🟥⬜️
ᡣ𐭩
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| 0:10⋆.˚🦋༘⋆lori yapping 🤫',SH♥''.,.what are we gonna do 𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥,..,'
☘︎ ݁˖
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
TOOTH AFTERNOON i Karen remained fixed on her husband, Plankton, who lay on the chair, his mouth slightly agape. Her screen flitted to the doctor's assistant, who offered a sympathetic smile and nod. “The wisdom teeth extraction was a success. You can stay with him as he wakes up from anesthesia, but it’s normal if he doesn’t act like himself for today, as it’s a strong medicine.” The nurse emerged. “Yes, everything went well, Karen. We’ve removed the offending teeth and he’ll be on the mend soon. Just keep an eye on him for the next twenty-four hours, and he’ll be fine.” Karen watched, hands clasped tightly in her lap, as the doctor closed the door with a soft click. She felt the weight of the world lift, but she didn’t dare move. The surgery was done, but she knew the battle was only beginning. The room was quiet except for the faint beeping of monitors and the steady rhythm of Plankton’s breathing. The anesthesia had done its job, keeping him in a deep sleep. His face was serene, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day’s events. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, and Karen reached over to gently wipe it away with a tissue. She didn’t want him to wake up to that. Karen’s mind raced with thoughts of home, of the quiet comfort that waited for them. She knew the next hours would be a test of patience as the drugs will linger in his system. The doctor’s words echoed in her head: "Don’t be alarmed if he’s groggy or doesn’t remember much." As Plankton’s eye fluttered open, Karen leaned in closer, her voice a gentle whisper. “Hey, everything’s okay. You’re all done.” But his eye closed again, his head lolling back into the pillow. A sigh escaped her. The surgery was over, but the anesthesia’s grip remained strong. Moments later, Plankton stirred. “Whathapennn...?” he slurred, his tongue thick and unwieldy. Karen stifled a laugh with love for his vulnerable state. She squeezed his hand, trying to offer comfort. “You had your wisdom teeth out, sweetie. You’re ok now,” she soothed, but he didn’t seem to comprehend. His eye searched the room, a dizzying swirl of confusion and drugs. He attempted to sit up, but his body didn’t obey. He fell back with a grunt, hands flailing to the sides. The nurse bustled in, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Mr. Plankton. You’re going to be a little loopy for a bit.” The words didn’t register. Plankton’s mouth was a cottony abyss where coherent thoughts went to die. He felt his tongue swell and thicken, his teeth floating in a sea of numbness. Karen watched, a mix of concern and amusement. “Thish isn’t right,” he mumbled. “Shomeone tookh my teethh!” Karen couldn’t help but chuckle at his slurred protest. “They just took the wisdom ones, hon. The ones that were giving you grief. You’re okay.” The doctor poked his head in, smiling at the sight of Plankton’s bewilderment. “How’s our patient doing?” Karen's amusement grew. “He’s under the influence, Doc. Thinks you took all his teeth!” The doctor chuckled, his eyes crinkling with good humor. “It’s the anesthesia. Give it some time to wear off, and he’ll be back to his charming self.” Plankton’s eye searched for her, blurry and unfocused. “Kareb, did they shteal my teef?” Karen’s chuckles grew louder. “They didn’t steal them, Plankton. They just removed the ones that were causing you pain. Your mouth is just a bit numb from the surgery.” Plankton’s eye widened. “Arrr, matey?” Karen’s laughter bubbled over. “No, you’re not a pirate, you just had surgery. The feeling will come back eventually.” Plankton blinked at her, his eyelid heavy. “Marrnin’, Karen. Wher’ arr we?” his words jumbled as he tried to piece together the fragments of reality that drifted in and out of his consciousness. The room was still, the only movement being the occasional twitch of his mouth as the anesthesia tried to keep him in its grasp. Karen’s screen sparkled with mirth. “We’re at the dentist’s, Plankton. You had your wisdom teeth removed.” “Wiz-dom...teef?” he slurred, his mind a foggy haze. Karen nodded, her laughter now a gentle rumble. “Yes, the doctor took them out so you don’t hurt anymore. You’re going to be okay now,” she cooed, stroking his forehead. But Plankton’s confusion was unyielding. “Marrnin’, Karen,” he mumbled again, as if trying to anchor himself in the familiar. “It’s afternoon, Plankton. You’ve been out for a while. You’re okay, though. Just a bit slow on the uptake, that’s all,” Karen teased, her voice filled with affection. Plankton blinked again, his eye trying to focus. “Af...ter...noon?” He felt the world spin around his head and groaned. “Wheh?” Karen nodded, her smile soft. “Yes, it’s afternoon. You’ve been asleep for a bit. But don’t worry, everything went well. The doctor got all the teeth out and you’re going to be fine.” Plankton’s eye searched hers, still not fully comprehending. “Teesh?” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. Karen nodded, her smile growing. “Yes, teeth, sweetie. The doctor took out the ones that were causing you pain. Remember?” Plankton’s face contorted in thought, his mouth a limp mess of numbness. “Oooh, yea...teefh,” he managed, the word dragging out.
˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘𝓜♡♥︎.• мια
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢨⠃⠀⠀⣀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣠⢼⠒⠒⠛⠉⢰⣹⡵⡇⠀⠀⡔⠉⢹⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡏⢱⠀⠔⣉⡩⠇⠀⢂⡘⠀⢀⠖⢢⠀⠀⣶⠀⡤⠀⠀⢀⡖⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢯⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⡇⠀⠀⡅⡀⡙⡅⢀⣸⢆⠀⠉⡟⢙⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠄⠀⠘⣆⠎⠀⠀⡹⠉⡇⠀⢀⡎⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠹⣄⡠⠵⠕⠃⠓⠋⠀⠈⠦⠜⠀⠘⢄⡀⣀⠔⠋⠀⠑⣄⡰⠓⠦⣀⣠⠇⠀⠘⠦⠟⠀⢀⡵⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
—౨ৎ—
I I love u love u I love you I l I love you I l I love you I love you I love you I love you you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love 💖you❤︎ 💗
I ❤️ U
A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and his friend Alex go to the Chum Bucket, where Chip lives with his parents Karen and Plankton. Chip had been looking forward to this moment all week. His friend Alex, the new kid in school, was finally coming over to his place. Chip's thought about the endless possibilities of what they could do together. Would they play video games? Maybe build a fort? Or, if they were lucky, his mom Karen might let them have ice cream before dinner.. The door swung open. "Welcome to the Chum Bucket," Chip said with a proud smile, leading Alex inside. Karen looked up from her book. "Hi," Alex said nervously. Karen's eyes widened. "Oh, hello!" She hadn't been expecting company. But she put down her book. "You must be Alex!" Alex nodded. "Hi, Chip's mom," they mumbled. "Just call me Karen, sweetie," she replied, her voice as warm as a freshly baked pie. "You two have fun!" She turned back to her book, her screen dancing with curiosity as they climbed the stairs. Chip's room was at the end of the hall, but they weren't going there yet. "C'mon," he whispered to Alex, his screen sparkling with excitement. "I want to show you my Dad!" He led him to the bed room door. They tiptoed closer. Plankton's on the bed. Alex peered around the doorframe, their curiosity piqued. "Surprise!" Chip shouted, jumping forward. Plankton's antennas shot straight up, a mix of shock and annoyance. But Plankton didn't move. He remained frozen in place, his eye vacant and unblinking. Alex took a step back, concerned. Chip's excitement faded into puzzlement. "Dad?" he called out, nudging Plankton's arm. No response, not even a twitch. They both stared at him, the room silent except for the faint buzz of a neon sign outside. Plankton's body was rigid. Chip felt a twinge of fear. This wasn't like his dad, who was always bursting with ideas and energy. Alex's grip on the doorknob tightened. They approached the bed slowly. Plankton remained unblinking. "Dad, are you ok?" Chip asked, his voice cracking. He reached out to shake him gently. Plankton's arm was cold and stiff, like a mannequin. Chip's heart raced. He'd never seen his dad like this before. Alex's eyes widened in alarm, their grip on the doorknob turning white. They stepped back, exchanging glances. "Chip, what's going on?" Alex whispered, fear seeping into their voice. Chip's eyes searched the room, his heart racing. "I don't know," he replied, "but we have to do something!" He rushed to the bedside, his hands trembling as he touched his dad's face. "Dad! Dad!" Alex hovered near the door, unsure of what to do. "Should we get your mom?" Chip nodded, his voice shaking. "Yeah, we need to tell." They both bolted out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. "Mom!" Chip yelled, "Something's wrong with Dad!" Karen looked up from her book, her face puzzled. "What do you mean, Chip?" But when she saw the look on his face, she set the book aside and followed them upstairs. In Plankton's room, she paused. The silence was heavy, and the tension was almost palpable. She could see the fear in Chip's eyes, mirrored in Alex's wide gaze. They pointed to the bed, where Plankton still sat, unmoving. Karen took a deep breath. She had known about Plankton's secret for years—his autism. But moments like these were always difficult to navigate. "It's okay," she assured them, her tone calm and steady. "Sometimes Daddy has these moments where he goes into his own world. It's part of who he is." She approached the bed slowly, her movements deliberate and gentle. Plankton's chest rose and fell with his breath, but he didn't acknowledge their presence. Karen placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Plankton?" she called softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. No response. Her heart ached for her husband, trapped in his own thoughts. She had learned over the years to recognize the signs of his episodes, but seeing him like this never got easier. Carefully, Karen sat down beside him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe." Slowly, she began to rub his back in small, comforting circles. Chip and Alex watched, silent and worried, from the doorway. Minutes ticked by like hours. Karen's gentle persistence never wavered. Then, almost imperceptibly, Plankton's shoulders relaxed, his eye blinking back into focus. He looked around the room, bewildered. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip and Alex breathed out in relief. Karen smiled warmly, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You're back with us." Plankton's gaze found hers, his mind slowly returning from its solitary adventure. He looked from her to the two in the doorway, confusion etched on his face. Alex took a tentative step forward, their heart still racing. "Are you okay?" Plankton blinked. "What happened?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice scratchy from his silent reverie. Karen stood, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "You had one of your episodes, sweetheart," she explained gently. "But it's okay. You're back now." Chip stepped into the room, his eyes brimming with relief. "What's an episode?" Alex asked softly, their curiosity overcoming their fear. Karen turned to them, her expression gentle. "It's like his brain goes on a little trip," she said, trying to simplify it. "It's part of him. Sometimes he needs time to come back." Alex nodded, their eyes still glued to Plankton. "Does he know he does it?" they asked, their curiosity genuine. Karen squeezed Plankton's hand. "He knows, honey," she explained. "But sometimes it's like he can't stop it." Chip felt a pang of sadness, his earlier excitement now replaced with a deep concern for his father. He knew that his dad was different from other parents, but he had never seen him like this. It was as if Plankton had been taken from them for a brief moment, leaving a shell in his place.𓆩♡𓆪
🫶🏼𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍
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
😘🤗❤️😻
١٥٧٤♡
⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
CHIP AND THE DILEMMA i (Autistic author) As Chip stepped into the kitchen, Karen looked up from her recipe book, her screen lighting up with a familiar smile. Her apron was dotted with flour. "Hey, buddy," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "How was your day?" Chip shrugged, tossing his backpack on the floor. "It was okay, I guess." He noticed the tantalizing aroma of something baking in the oven. "What's that smell?" Karen chuckled. "Just a little surprise for later. I thought I'd make your favorite - apple crumble. But first, tell me about your day. Did you have any interesting classes?" Chip rolled his eyes. "It was the same old, same old. History was a snooze fest, math was a headache." He pulled a face, but the hint of excitement wasn't lost on Karen. "And what about science?" she prodded, knowing it was his favorite subject. "We started a new unit on space," he said, his voice picking up. "Mr. Jenkins said we might even get to build a model of the solar system." Karen's smile grew. "That sounds like fun!" Chip hugs her and then goes upstairs, looking for Plankton, his father. He opens the door to his dad's room and sees his father asleep, a soft snore rumbling from his chest. The room is a mess of books and papers, the pages of a scientific journal open before him. Chip chuckles silently, tiptoeing closer to peek at the title: "Advanced Quantum Measurements." The sight of Plankton's snoring form brings an odd feeling to Chip’s chest. He’s never seen his dad asleep before! He takes a moment to study his dad's face, so peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the usual whirlwind of energy. The snore turns into a quiet sigh. Chip knows not to disturb him, but he can't help himself. He gently nudges Plankton's arm. "Dad, wake up," he whispers. Plankton's eye shot open in surprise, the book falling to the floor with a thud. "Chip? What is it?" He sits up, blinking quickly to clear his vision. Chip stammers for a moment before speaking. "I-I just wanted to tell you about my day and science class," he says, knowing his dad likes science. Plankton's face relaxes, but there's a hint of self-consciousness in his eye as he glances around the cluttered room. "Ah, yes, science," he says, clearing his throat. "What did you learn today?" Chip's screen darts around, picking up on his dad's embarrassment. He quickly summarizes his school day, leaving out the part about his classmates teasing him for his love of science. He doesn't want to ruin the mood or make his dad feel bad for missing out. Plankton nods along, his mind clearly… somewhere else? As Chip finishes his story, his dad's eye refocus. "A model of the solar system, you say?" He seems genuinely interested, and the tension in the room eases. "Why don't we build one together later tonight?" "Really?" Chip yells, too loud for Plankton. Plankton flinches, his autistic sensitivity to sound making him wince. "Ah, yes, really," he repeats, a tiny smile playing. What Chip doesn’t know? His dad was born with a form of autism, and only Karen knew about it. He’s kept it a secret from Chip, neither of them having ever told. The clutter in Plankton's room isn't just laziness or disorganization—it’s part of his condition. Plankton's autism means that his brain processes the world differently, and the chaos around him is a comforting, familiar pattern. But seeing it through Chip's eyes now, he feels a pang of embarrassment. He wishes he could be like other dads, with tidy spaces and simple interactions. "Yeah, really," Plankton says again, trying to sound more enthusiastic. He knows it's important to Chip, so he'll push through his exhaustion. "Let’s do it later tonight." He's always tried to hide his autism from Chip, not wanting to bother him with the challenges he faces. But now, the clutter, the unexpected touch, it all feels like a spotlight on his differences. But Chip's excitement is apparent, though. Chip nods eagerly, unable to contain his joy. "That sounds amazing!" He yells as he rushes over to hug his dad, not noticing the flinch Plankton gives when his body is touched unexpectedly. Plankton tenses up, his senses overwhelmed by the sudden contact. He's always loved his son, but physical touch, especially sudden ones, are something he's never quite gotten used to. It's like an alarm going off in his brain, sending waves of anxiety through him. Chip feels the tension in his dad but attributes it to excitement. He's always been so focused on keeping his condition hidden that he's never taught Chip about his needs. Now, as Chip's energy radiates from the hug, Plankton is left with the weight of his secret. The room spins around him, though, and he’s unable to think. "Dad, are you okay?" Chip asks, pulling back slightly. He notices the pale tint to his father's skin, the way his eye have gone a bit glassy. Plankton takes a deep breath, forcing a smile. "I'm fine," he says, though it comes out slightly strained. "Just a bit tired. Let's do the solar system project after dinner." Chip's face falls, noticing his dad's discomfort. He's not sure what happened, yet he’s still not quite done with the affectionate touching. So when Chip reaches out and touches his shoulder, Plankton jolts like he’s been zapped by a live wire. The surprise is too much. His body locks up, and he can't help the flinch that crosses his face. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice full of concern. "What's wrong?" Plankton quickly recovers, his smile back in place. "It's nothing," he assures, though his heart races. He's aware his reaction wasn't typical. “Oh ok, good,” Chip says, once again touching him as he pats his arm. Plankton can't help but flinch again, and this time Chip sees it clearly. "Dad, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. Plankton nods, his smile forced. "I'm just tired, Chip. Really." "Are you sure you're sure?" Chip asks, his hands grabbing his father's. "You seem kind of... off." Plankton looks down at their joined hands, and the sensation sends another wave of panic through him. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I'm fine," he says, but Chip isn't convinced. "You can tell me if something's wrong," Chip persists. "I'm your son, I'm here for you." Plankton's eye darts to their hands, then to Chip's intense stare. He feels himself getting disoriented. "Dad, really," Chip says, his voice softer now, his screen filled with concern. "You can tell me." Plankton's chest tightens. This is it. The moment he's been dreading for years. He looks at his son, his face a mirror of his own confusion and pain. How do you tell a child that their father is not like other dads? That his quirks are not just eccentricities, but part of a complex puzzle of the brain… NO. He won’t tell him. He’s kept it a secret, and Chip’s not ready either. Not to mention being to far gone in the ringing of his ears to even think up a coherent thought, nor stay present any longer. But he’s to far gone to move. He feels his heart pounding against his ribcage. His vision starts to blur around the edges. "Dad?" Chip's voice cuts through, adding to the static in his head. "You don't look fine." Plankton's mind races as he tries to find the right words to say, but his mouth won't cooperate. "Dad, what's going on?" Chip asks, his voice tinged with fear. "You look like you're in pain." Plankton's breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. He's having a meltdown. The touch, the noise, the light—it's all too much. He needs to get away, find a quiet space, but his body won't move. Karen rushes in, concern etched on her face. "Plankton, what's happening?" she asks, gently touching his shoulder. But even her touch is a thunderclap in his overwhelmed brain. Plankton jolts and pulls away, his eye wide with fear and confusion. "I-I can't," he stammers, unable to form a coherent sentence.
( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)😊 ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ
╶⃝⃤🍃⃝⃤🦊
⣿⣽⣿⣿⣥⣤⡾⢷⣆⣼⡿⢷⣶⠀⢀⣘⣿⡏⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣭⣽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣤⣤⣛⣛⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡟⠳⠾⠃⠈⢻ ⣿⣿⣟⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢩⣽⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣼ ⣿⠏⢿⣿⡻⡄⠀⠀⣠⣶⣲⣾⣇⣀⣈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠋⠛⢻ ⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⣻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣧⣤⣤⣤⣾⡋⣵⠆⠀⠘ ⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⠀⠸⣯⣻⢿⣶⣾⣿⠟⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣯⡉⠛⠛⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡄⢱⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣶⣾⠿⠋⠶⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣽⣿⣧⣠⣶⡷⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⠴⠶⢾ ⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⢳⡜⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣎⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣯⠙⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸
𐙚 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ .☘︎ ݁˖
🖖😉🤭💨
☯︎⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆. 𐙚
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•ᴗ•⋆
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆˚⋆𐙚。 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ゚.જ⁀➴>ᴗ<ℳℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡
[ ⓟ𝑒ᶰ𝐢ᶻ]
❤️
sub to fishwiffbubbles on yt! ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚. (tysm <3)
˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘
i ɪ፝֟i️
i love you ℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3
༘⋆✿🪐༘⋆⋆。°✩ 𐙚
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KAREN AND THE TEETHIES i Karen sat by her husband Plankton, who's in the dentist chair. They numbed his arm where the Iv's to go in; today Plankton gets his wisdom teeth surgically removed. The dentist, a man named Dr. Finnegan, leaned in and said, "Plankton, you're going to start to feel sleepy now." Dr. Finnegan started the Iv. "Are you sure? I'm still awake and not to mention a light sleeper," Plankton says, "I don't feel anyth—" His voice trails off as his eye flutters closed, his mouth opens slightly, revealing his tiny white teeth, and his body goes limp. His head tips to one side, and Karen reaches over to gently push it back to a more comfortable position. Plankton's snoring echoes softly in the surgical room. Karen watches Dr. Finnegan as he starts to prep for the procedure. He's all smiles and nods, assuring her that everything will be fine. The smell of antiseptic fills the room as Dr. Finnegan cleans the area around Plankton's mouth with a cool, minty solution. Karen's grip on her husband's hand tightens instinctively, even though he doesn't stir, lost in the depths of sleep. Dr. Finnegan's assistant, a slender young man with a gentle touch, carefully inserts the mouth prop to keep Plankton's mouth open. Plankton's snores change pitch slightly, but he still doesn't wake. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand, even though he's unconscious. The assistant nods at Dr. Finnegan, who begins to explain the procedure to Karen. She nods, trying to focus on his words, but her eyes keep drifting to her snoring husband. She can't help but feel a mix of anxiety and affection. Plankton, ever the worrier, had been so nervous about the surgery. Now he's out like a light, blissfully unaware of the impending extraction. The assistant places a soft bib under Plankton's chest to absorb any excess saliva. His snoring gets a little louder, and Karen can't resist the urge to smile. Dr. Finnegan then starts the actual surgery, making an incision in Plankton's gum. The sound of the drill starts to fill the room, a high-pitched whine that makes Karen's teeth ache in sympathy. She watches as the assistant suctions the area to keep it clean. Plankton's body remains still, his breaths deep and even. The tension in the room is palpable, even though Plankton is completely oblivious to it. Karen's thumb rubs his knuckles in a soothing rhythm as she watches Dr. Finnegan's steady hand make the first incision, and Plankton's snores hitch slightly before resuming their normal rhythm. The assistant, noticing Karen's nervousness, gives her a reassuring smile. "It's normal for any snoring to change a bit. He's still deep in sleep." Plankton's snores become more rhythmic as the surgery progresses. Dr. Finnegan's expert hands navigate the tight space of his mouth with ease. Karen's gaze shifts from the dental tools to the monitor above them. It displays an X-ray of Plankton's mouth with the wisdom teeth highlighted, their jagged edges pressing against the other teeth. The reality of the procedure sets in, but she trusts the dentist. Her thumb continues to stroke his hand. The drill's whine grows louder, and the smell of bone dust mingles with the antiseptic. Plankton's snores remain unfazed, a testament to the anesthesia's effectiveness. The assistant periodically wipes away the blood and saliva that collects in the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving his task. Karen's eyes dart to the clock. Time seems to crawl as the minutes pass. Each snore from Plankton is a comforting metronome, keeping her anxiety in check. The surgical team works with precision, their movements choreographed from years of practice. The nurse keeps a close watch on the monitors, noting Plankton's vitals with a nod of approval. Dr. Finnegan's concentration is unbroken, his expression a mask of focus. The sound of the drill pauses, and Karen's heart skips a beat, but it's quickly followed by the crunch of bone as the first wisdom tooth is exposed. Plankton's snoring doesn't miss a beat. She swallows hard, her eyes stinging slightly from the tension. The nurse notices her discomfort and offers a kind word, "You're all doing great." Karen nods as Dr. Finnegan gently probes the tooth with a tiny pair of forceps, his brow furrowed in concentration. The drill starts up again, cutting through the bone. Karen's eyes dart between her husband's face, the X-ray monitor, and the clock, each tick another step closer to the end of this ordeal. Plankton's snores don't even hitch as Dr. Finnegan applies gentle pressure to the tooth. The forceps clamp down, and the tooth gives a little. Karen holds her breath, her eyes wide with anticipation. The tension in the room is like a tightrope, but Plankton remains completely relaxed, unshaken by the invasion in his mouth. With a final, almost ceremonial scraping, the first wisdom tooth is free. Dr. Finnegan's smile widens as he holds it up for Karen to see before disposing of it. "One down, three to go," he says cheerfully, as if removing teeth is as simple as plucking daisies.
SHELF IMPROVEMENT i (Autistic author) "Plankton if you're gonna get the shelf remade, then just call a repair or buy a new one." Karen says. The shelf groaned, protesting under the weight. The shelf lurched, and with a crash, it tumbled down. Plankton's eye rolls back into his head as he crumpled to the floor. The room grew eerily quiet, except for the sound of Karen's gasp. "Plankton!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him. Panic washed over her, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. She knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder gently. "Plankton, can you hear me?" Her voice was high-pitched and shaky. His eye remained closed, his body unresponsive. Karen had to figure out what to do next. Her mind raced through scenarios, each more alarming than the last. What if he was hurt badly? What if this was her fault? The thought made her want to scream, to throw something, but she couldn't. Not with Plankton lying there, so still, so silent. She felt for a pulse. It was there. He was alive, thankfully. And still breathing. "Okay, okay," she murmured to herself, "just stay calm." She knew she needed to see if she could wake him up. Gently, she called his name, her voice soft and urgent. "Plankton, come on, wake up." She patted his cheek, not too hard, not too soft. Still, his eye remained closed, his body unmoving. The quiet was deafening. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, "please wake up." But Plankton lay there, unmoving, like a discarded ragdoll. "Wake up!" she called out, but his body remained a lifeless weight beneath her fingertips. Her thoughts raced as she managed to lift Plankton's arm. It flopped back down like dead weight. "Come on," she mumbled, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. "You can't leave me like this." Her voice cracked, but she couldn't let despair consume her. She had to think. Carefully, she slid his arm over her shoulder, grunting with effort as she managed to get him into a sitting position. His head lolled back, but she held him firmly. "Let's get you to the couch," she says, setting him down on the sofa. "Don't leave me," she whispered, squeezing his hand. Her mind was a whirlwind of "what ifs" and regrets. What if she had insisted he leave the shelf alone? What if she had caught him? Tears slipped down her screen. "You're such a stubborn husband but I love you," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "You can't leave me like this," she whispered to his unresponsive form, her voice hoarse with emotion. "We've been through so much together. Remember when we first met?" Her thoughts drifted to their early days, the laughter, the bickering, the love.. She tried to chuckle, but it came out as a sob. Her voice grew softer, more desperate. "You have to come back to me, Plankton." Her eyes searched his face for any sign of life, any flicker of an eyelid, any twitch of his antennae that would indicate he heard her. But there was none. The silence in the room was a heavy blanket smothering her hope. Her hand tightened around his, willing him to squeeze back, to give her a sign. Suddenly, she heard a faint moan. "Plankton?" she gasped, her eyes widening. There it was again, a soft moan, and the tiniest movement of his mouth. "You're okay," she said, relief flooding her voice.
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⠀⢸⣶⢆⣀⠀⠀⠀⠃⡀⢈⣧⡀⣾⣧⢼⡄⣴⣧⣠⣀⡄⠀⢰⣤⡀⣄⠀⡄⠀⣠⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣿⢠⣄⣀⡀⣀⠀⠀⣶⣾⠿⠂⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⡏⢿⡿⡿⠁⠀⠰⣿⡿⠿⠯⠻⠇⠘⠿⠿⠿⠻⠻⡏⠀⠈⢛⡟⠟⠳⠋⠀⠹⠟⠻⠟⠀⠀⢸⡟⠿⠹⡯⠿⠿⠿⠷⠿⠟⠹⠄⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠊⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⢁⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠤⡀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠖⠒⠚⣉⣉⡉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⢲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡤⠼⠓⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠶⣤⡤⠖⠒⠲⠾⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣤⣳⠄⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣀⣀⣈⣙⣻⣯⣍⡉⠙⠻⣿⠀⠀⣀⣉⣉⢉⣉⣋⣛⣛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⣯⣿⣿⣷⠞⠛⠣⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⡿⢭⣷⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠾⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠶⠶⣖⣒⣶⠦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⣾⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠖⠛⢧⡤⣄⣀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⣄⣀⣀⣀⡴⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢤⠴⠚⠛⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⣼⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠞⣽⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠳⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠒⠛⠳⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠒⣺⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡌⠙⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠞⠉⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠈⠓⢦⡀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣾⢻ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠘⠻⣿ ⠀⠀⢠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠓⠒⠲⠦⠤⠤⠶⠒⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⡶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠽⠦⠴ ⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡜⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀ ⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⢄⣠ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⣸⡆⠀⠀⠀⣰⡠⠉⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢠⡦⠠⡄⣿⣧⣿⡟⠷⣾⢿⢽⡉⠉⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠸ ⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠉⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠒⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣤ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣮⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣸⣿
❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷
.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⢤⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠏⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀LOVE IS⠀⠀⢰⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣TRUE LOVE⣰⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🌸💌🌹❤😍
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹「Komal✦」,「✦𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞✦」
😘😘 ❤️❤️ ❤️❤️ 🌹🌹 🌹🌹 😘😘 👅👅
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👁️🪄2️⃣👀🫵
hehe im 9 years old and fingering and rubbing is so fun :3 i search up pron when I'm horny, keep making those dots, i like to massage my pussy >_< _________________________ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 13𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺. 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘪𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱.

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

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nelaa ౨ৎ ʚɞ .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
⠀⠀⠀⡟⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡃⠀⠱⠞⠉⠙⠃⢸⡀⠀ ⢠⠖⠙⡻⠀⠰⠷⣀⠼⠿⠀⡇⠀ ⡏⠀⠀⠳⣀⠀⠠⣙⡴⢀⠜⠀⠀
👩‍❤️‍👨,💌,❤
ᗰ𝘪𝘴𝘴 ᑭo͏o͏𝘬𝘪𝘦ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ˚.🎀༘⋆
AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY i (Autistic author) Karen's husband, Plankton, was arguing with Mr. Krabs as usual. They've had their fair share of disputes over the years, but this one seemed to be escalating fast. Without warning, Mr. Krabs swung the stove from his kitchen with all his might. It connected with a sickening thud against Plankton's head. Karen gasped as her husband crumpled to the ground. Plankton's eye had rolled back and closed, his body going still as Mr. Krabs left back. Karen knelt beside Plankton and gently tapped his cheek. "Wake up," she murmured, voice trembling. No response. She tried again, her voice a little louder. "Honey, can you hear me?" Plankton's eye remained closed, his antennae limp. Panic began to creep in. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. What if his tiny brain had been damaged? What if he was in a coma? What if he never woke up? She cradled his minuscule form. The room grew silent as the gravity of the situation sank in, willing Plankton to stir. A tear trickled down her screen. Karen felt for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. She let out a sigh of relief and picked his tiny body up, cradling him carefully. "I've got to get him to a doctor," she thought. She held Plankton's hand as they performed a brain scan. Karen sat by her husband's side as the machines around Plankton beeped and whirred. The sterile smell of the hospital filled, and the cold white walls seemed to press in around them. Plankton's lying still on the hospital bed. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, and various tubes connected him to monitors that displayed a symphony of lines and numbers, none of which meant anything to her. She squeezed his hand gently, willing him to wake up. The doctor walked into the room, his lab coat fluttering slightly as he moved. He held a clipboard carefully in his tentacles, studying the information with a furrowed brow. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his voice soft, "We've finished scans. The good news is that it's not life- threatening. However, we've noticed some sustained atypical brain activity." Karen's eyes widened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. The doctor sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Autism. His behavior may change. He might become more focused on his routines, have difficulty with social interactions, and exhibit sensory sensitivity. It's permanent, and no cure. We expect him to wake up soon. We'll ask him some questions to assess and then you can take him home." Karen felt her heart drop. She knew about autism, had read about it in magazines, but never thought it would affect her own family. The doctor left the room, and she was alone with her thoughts, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall as they remove the bandage. The hours ticked by in agonizing slowness as she sat there, praying for him to wake up. The only sounds were the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled conversations from the hallway. Finally, Plankton's eyelid fluttered. He groaned softly, and his hand twitched in hers. Karen leaned in, hope surging through her. "Plankton?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she smiled through her tears. "I'm here," she said, voice shaky. "You're in the hospital, but you're ok." Plankton's eye opened, squinting in the bright lights. He looked around the room, confusion etched on his tiny face. Slowly, his gaze landed on Karen. "What happened?" he croaked, his voice weak. "Mr. Krabs hit you with a stove," Karen explained, her voice a mix of relief and sadness. "They diagnosed you with acquired Autism." The doctor approached with a gentle nod. "Plankton, can you tell me your name?" he asked, ready to jot down notes. Plankton's eye searched the room, finally settling on Karen. "Sheldon Jay Plankton." Karen's grip on his hand tightened offering silent encouragement. The doctor nodded and proceeded with questions. "Tell me when you're born?" "July 31, 1999 10:16.08 am ET!" Karen felt a twinge of pride at her husband's precise answer. The doctor nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Tell me more about yourself.." "More about yourself." Plankton echoed. The doctor's offering a gentle smile. "Echolalia. It's a trait that's common in individuals with autism. It can help him process information. Well Plankton has no need for therapy, yet you may want to adjust your daily lives to accommodate. You're free to go!" The drive back to the Chum Bucket was silent, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on Karen's shoulders. He was quiet too, his eye fixed on the passing scenery. He didn't seem to notice the difference in himself, but Karen knew their lives were changed. Once home, Karen helped Plankton into his favorite chair, surrounded by his inventions and gadgets. The room was a mess, but it was his sanctuary, and she didn't want to disturb it. He seemed more at ease, his eye flicking from one object to another with a sense of familiarity. Would Plankton be the same? Would he still laugh at her jokes, or get angry at the Krabby Patty secret formula? Plankton remained silent, his gaze still locked on his surroundings. Karen felt a pang of worry. Would his obsessive nature become more pronounced? "It's getting late, Plankton." Karen's voice was soft as she guided him to their bedroom. He followed without protest, his movements mechanical. She helped him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin with a gentle tuck. Plankton lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a swirl of confusion. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "Stay, Karen stay." He says. Karen nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Of course, I'll stay," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. She took his hand again, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew she'd be by his side. As Plankton's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep, Karen sat there, watching him. She noticed how his grip on her hand had loosened, but didn't dare move. The next day, Karen woke before Plankton did. She hovered over him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. How was she going to wake him up without startling him? She knew that sudden noises could be overwhelming for him now. Karen took a different approach. She stroked his arm with a feather-light touch. His eye brow flinched. Next, she tried speaking his name, starting with a whisper and gradually getting louder. "Plankton," she called, "It's time to wake up." His eyelid twitched, and he blinked his eye open. He looked around. "Karen?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "Good morning, honey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton sat up slowly, his antennae twitching as he took in his surroundings. "Different," he murmured, rubbing his temple. "We're home, Plankton. Remember what happened?" He nodded, his eye glazed over for a moment. "Krabs. The stove." "Yes, but you're ok now," Karen reassured, stroking his cheek with her finger. Plankton nodded again, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen noticed that his movements were more deliberate, his gaze more intense. She decided to keep things simple to avoid overwhelming him with too much information at once. "Let's get breakfast," she suggested. Plankton followed her into the kitchen, his steps slower than usual. The clanking of pans and the sizzle of oil had always been a familiar symphony in their home, but today it felt alien, like a disturbance to his newly heightened senses. Karen moved around the kitchen with precision, keeping the noises to a minimum. As she prepared their meal, Plankton stood by the counter, his gaze fixed. "Breakfast is ready," she said, sliding a plate of chum flapjacks in front of him. The smell usually brought him joy, but today it was overwhelming. Plankton took a step back. Karen's smile faltered, realizing she would have to adjust their meals. "Would you like something else?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody. Plankton nodded, his gaze not leaving the plate. "Different," he whispered. Karen knew she had to find foods that wouldn't overstimulate. She placed the flapjacks aside and found a jar of pureed peas and plain yogurt. She hoped the blandness would be more soothing. Plankton's antennae twitched as he came closer. He stared at the bowl intently, then took a tentative spoonful. The texture was soothing, and the color was calming. He ate slowly, each bite measured and deliberate. Karen watched him with love and concern. She wanted to ask if he liked it, but she knew better than to interrupt his focus. Once Plankton had finished, he looked up at her with a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. It was the closest thing to praise she had heard from him since the incident. Karen cleared the table, her mind racing with questions about what the future held. How would Plankton's new autism affect their daily lives? "Now what would you like to do, Plankton?" She asks. He looks at her. "Read." The old spark seems to flicker back to life, albeit with a different intensity. Karen nods, leading him back to his lab. The room is a mess of wires and gadgets, but Plankton moves through it with purpose. He selects a book from the shelf, a manual on quantum physics that had been collecting dust. His gaze flits over the pages, absorbing the information with fervor. Karen watches him from a distance. This was her Plankton, but also new. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had always been intense, but now his focus was lasered in on the book, his mind racing through equations and theories. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning. Plankton didn't look up from his book, lost in a world of science and theories. Karen knew she had to let him be, to find his new normal.
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ocean𓆉‧₊˚✩彡✧˖°𓆩🖤𓆪𓇼🐚☾☼🦪
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GREAT CHIP i (Autistic author) "I'm home," Chip exclaims. His mom Karen looked up. Plankton, his dad, is in the middle of an absence seizure. Plankton only let Karen know about his autism, and she knew their son Chip may eventually find out about it. Chip notices his dad's odd unresponsive stare at the wall, unblinking. "Dad?" Karen knew Plankton's in sensory overload and needs to wait the absence seizure out. But Chip starts to come closer. "Chip, don't touch him," Karen instructs quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. "Dad's just having a moment. He'll be okay in a bit." She tries to distract him with a snack. "Why don't you go eat some chum from the kitchen?" Chip pauses, curiosity piqued. He's seen his dad zone out before, but never like this. He looks at Karen's tightened expression, then back at Plankton's glazed eye, sensing something serious. He nods reluctantly, backing away and heading to the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening and shutting echoes through the house, his mind racing. He eats a piece of chum, but then comes back. "What's wrong with Dad?" he asks, his voice cracking with fear. Karen sighs, bracing herself for a conversation she's been dreading. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip. It's like his brain sometimes gets overwhelmed by things we don't even notice. That's why he zones out. It's called an absence seizure." Chip's eyes widen, trying to process this new information. "But why isn't he talking to me?" Karen's eyes soften with empathy. "It's not because he doesn't want to, sweetheart. When he's like this, his brain just needs a break. It's like when you're watching a movie, and everything else fades away for a moment. For Dad, it happens without his control." Chip nods slowly, watching his dad still frozen on the couch. He wonders what it must be like, to be trapped inside your own mind like that. "Does he know I'm here?" he whispers, his voice barely carrying across the room. "I'm not sure, but let's give him some space," Karen says gently. "It's important not to startle him when he's like this. It could make things worse." Chip nods again, his mind buzzing with questions. He watches from a distance. He's never seen anything quite so... strange. "What do we do when he has one of these?" he asks tentatively, his voice quivering. Karen takes a deep breath. "Just stay calm, and wait. It's like he's in another world. We can't bring him back, but we have to be here for him when he returns." Chip nods, trying to understand. "But when it ends, how will he be?" "It's hard to say," Karen admits. "Sometimes he's a bit confused, sometimes he's tired, sometimes he doesn't remember what happened. We just need to be patient and let him come back to us." Chip's curiosity doesn't wane. "But why does it happen?" Karen sighs, choosing her words with care. "It's part of his autism, his brain processing things differently. Sometimes, it's too much for him, and his body takes a break." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his dad. "But can he hear us?" "I think so," Karen says, trying to keep her tone calm. "But it's like he's in a deep daydream right now. He might not be able to respond or even understand." Chip watches his dad, his curiosity morphing into concern. "Can't we wake him up?" Karen shakes her head. "It's not like sleep, Chip. We can't force him out of it. We just have to wait." Chip nods, but his curiosity is insatiable. "Does Dad like being autistic?" Karen considers the question. "It's not about liking or not liking. It's just who he is. Sometimes it's hard for him, but he's also really good at things because of it. Like fixing those gadgets of yours, or knowing so much about science." Chip looks at his dad's unresponsive form, then at his mom. "But what sets it off? What makes him zone out?" Karen sighs, her gaze lingering on Plankton before returning to Chip. "It's different every time. Sometimes it's too much noise, other times it's a moment of déjà vu.." Chip frowns. "But does he remember what happens to him? Does he know about the seizures?" "Well," Karen starts, her voice measured, "his brain doesn't always keep those memories. Sometimes it's like a blur to him. It's like when you forget a dream right after you wake up. But he's aware that something happens." Chip's gaze shifts to his dad's hand, resting gently on the armrest. "Does he like hugs?" he asks, his voice smaller now, quieter. Karen nods. "He does, but not always. Some days he needs them more than others. Sometimes, it depends on the person.." Chip thinks about this, his screen still on Plankton. "Can I... try giving him a hug now?" Karen looks over, studying her son's innocent expression. "I don't think so, not right now. We have to respect his space." Chip nods, his curiosity not waning. "But when can I hug him?" he asks. "Is there a right time?" Karen looks over, her screen reflecting a mix of pride and sadness. "There isn't a perfect time, but when he's out of his seizure, and if he's in a good mood, try asking. Just remember, his senses are really sensitive. Sometimes, his body needs space more than others." The house remains silent, save for the steady tick of the living room clock. Chip's eyes never leave his father's frozen form, his mind racing.
me໑ me༝༚༝༚
˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌈🌊🐬˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.
Eᥫ᭡𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆
me*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚°˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧°.🎀༘⋆
you mog me i mog you🗿🗿🔺🍷🗿
˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐬˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚. (
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡚⠗⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⣷⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣟⡲⠛⠀⠀⠆⣰⡟⣷⡀⠀⠑⡗⠀⠀⠀⣠⡗⠁⠀⢀⡿⠋⠛⠷⠎⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⠁⠀⠀⢈⣿⣼⡤⣤⣤⠂⡸⡏⠀⢧⣃⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⢲⣶⣖⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣞⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⡆⢠⠇⣾⡟⠉⠛⠛⠹⡄⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣷⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⡞⠛⠉⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⡄⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣢⣔⢍⢗⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(please)⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⢤⣠⠴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠉⠙⠋⠙⠛⠋⠉⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠋⠉⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡤⠖⠒⠒⠒⠲⠤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡖⠒⠂⠂⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⢣⠈⠉⠂⠂⠀⠠⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⡇⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠇⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠒⠦⠴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠦⠤⠤⠤⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠸⣷⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠒⠒⠋⠉⠉⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⡃⠀⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⡆⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
hey guys. I'm gonna do a super duper zuper backflip˙ᵕ˙you gay❗️🖕🏻
q w e r t y u i o p a s d f g h j k l z x c v b n m skibidi
✞☠︎𝒫ℴ𝒾𝓈ℴ𝓃 ☠︎✞
♡´・ᴗ・`♡
𓆩♡𓆪˘͈ᵕ˘͈•ᴗ•
/\__/\ \ / \ / V
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myself ❤️
౨ৎ ౨ৎ
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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

“🫧🎀⋆。‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧。⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆”
Me🧏🏻‍♀️✩🎧
Livegfjngzdn ⋆⋆⋆( ၴႅၴϻɢ࣪ ִֶָ☾.©
“g-give credit pwease ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა” hell no
lmao im js adding fake beef :3 ° ★. °• ♥(≧ヮ≦) 💕⎚-⎚⋆。°✩
JUST A TOUCH i (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ "You know, I've never seen a sunset quite like this," Karen said, her screen glued to the horizon. Her husband, Plankton, nodded absentmindedly. He was too focused on tightening the bolts on the railing of their Chum Bucket home. As the sun dipped, Plankton's wrench slipped, striking him on the head. With a sharp clang and a muted cry, he staggered back, his eye glazed over with surprise and pain as he falls to the ground, landing on his head with a thud. Karen's hand flew to her screen, stifling a scream as she raced towards him. Plankton's body was eerily still. Her eyes filled with fear and love, she knelt beside him, his head cradled in her slender hands. "Plankton," she whispered urgently, "are you okay?" There was no response, not even a twitch of his antennae. His eye remained closed. "Plankton!" she shouted, louder this time, her voice cracking with concern. The sound of his name echoed through their silent abode. "Wake up, please," she pleaded, tears threatening to spill. The setting sun cast long shadows over his motionless body, the once bright hues of their underwater home now overshadowed by a dark sense of dread. With trembling hands, she checked for a pulse, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating. Relief flooded through her, but she knew she had to act quickly. "I have to get him to a hospital," she thought, her mind racing. Karen carefully scooped Plankton into her arms and went with determination to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. The nurse, a stern-faced starfish, took one look at the unconscious Plankton and ushered them straight through to an examination room, Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tight. The doctor, a squid with a comforting smile, took over, his tentacles moving swiftly over Plankton's tiny frame. "Ma'am, we need to check his head for any damage," he said, gently patting her hand. Karen nodded, swiping at her eyes with the back of her arm. The doctor led them to a room filled with high-tech equipment that whirred and glowed. He placed Plankton on a shiny, cold table. The machines beeped and hummed as they searched for any signs of trauma. Karen held her breath, watching the squid doctor's face for any hint of what he might find. The doctor's tentacles danced over a console, reading the results. Finally, he turned to Karen. "Ma'am, it appears your husband has sustained an irreversible brain condition from his fall," he said softly. Karen's grip tightened on Plankton's hand. "But it's not all bad," he quickly added. "The injury has led to the development of Autism in his brain. The condition's called Acquired Autism." Her eyes widened. "What does that mean for him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The doctor's smile was warm, his tentacles still. "It means his brain will process things differently. It could enhance his cognitive abilities in certain areas, but it may also present challenges in others." The news hit Karen like a tidal wave. Autism. A word she had heard before, but never thought would be a part of their lives. "How will this change him?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. The doctor took a deep breath and began to explain. "Plankton may exhibit behaviors that are different from before, such as repetitive actions or heightened sensitivity to stimuli. His social interactions might be affected as well. But, on the positive side, we've seen patients with Acquired Autism develop extraordinary talents in areas like memory or problem- solving." Karen nodded, trying to absorb the information. The doctor's tentacles curled around a clipboard, jotting down notes. "He can go home tonight, and, he'll be able to adapt to his new reality with your patience and love. You may need to accommodate for his comfort, there's no treatment or cure. You can leave whenever he wakes up shortly after we assess and answer any questions." Karen nods and leaned over Plankton, stroking his cheek. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "Together." As the doctor sat by them, Karen was overwhelmed by a flurry of questions and fears. How would Plankton be different? Would he still love her? Would he remember their life together? The quiet beeps of the hospital machines were a stark reminder of the new reality they faced. The doctor's gentle explanation was a beacon of hope in the storm of uncertainty. Plankton might see the world in a new light, his mind unlocking puzzles and patterns that had eluded him before. But the thought of her husband, the man she had spent her life with, changing so fundamentally... As the doctor finished up, Plankton's single eye fluttered open, focusing on her screen. Karen leaped as she saw the spark of recognition. "Karen?" he said, his voice faint but clear. Her heart soared with relief. "Yes, Plankton, it's me," she said, her voice choked with emotion. But as she watched him closely, she noticed something different. His gaze was intense, his movements precise and calculated. He took in every detail of the room, his eye darting around quickly, absorbing everything. His voice, when he spoke again, had a new rhythm to it, almost as if he was reciting a script from memory. "Where?" he asked, the words clipped and quick. Karen took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're in the hospital, Plankton," she said softly. "You had an accident. You hit your head and it changed your brain." The doctor cleared his throat, sensing her tension. "It's common for patients with Acquired Autism to exhibit heightened focus and a need for routine. It will take time for you to learn how to communicate effectively with him in this new state," he explained. Karen nodded, determined to be there every step of the way.
̸/̸̅̅ ̆̅ ̅̅ ̅̅ ̸/̸̅̅ ̆̅ ̅̅ ̅̅
islam ☪︎ ☪︎ ☪︎ ☪︎ Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞ ☪︎
🧶🎀🐞🐈‍⬛🩹🗂️🧦🕯️🧸🥟💡💊🐻‍❄️🎄🛏️🧤🧣🪟
🩷🍕
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
why🪼.ᐟ
ദ്ദി(• ˕ •マ.ᐟMe❤️(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚
❤, 🦋
😡
I love Xenogender people they are so crative ℊ
♱ 𝐌🇮
🔤🔤🔤🔤
🥯🧋~><{}[]••-
CATCH IN MY CHIP i (Autistic author) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, just finished with summer camp. He smiled, excitedly going into his home, bursting through the door of the Chum Bucket. "Mom, Dad!" He called out, his voice echoing through the corridors. "Chip!" Karen exclaims rushing over as he runs to her. They hug, and she asks, "How was camp?" He beams. "It was awesome! I learned to surf and made so many friends!" Karen smiles. "I'm so glad you had fun, honey." "Where's Dad?" Chip asks. "He's just having some down time in our bedroom," Karen says. "You can go unpack.." But Chip is already bolting down the hallway, eager to share his adventures. He throws open the door to Plankton's room, expecting to find his dad eagerly awaiting his return. Instead, he finds Plankton just sitting on the bed. "Dad! Dad! You're not going to believe what happened at camp!" Chip's words tumble out in an excited rush. Plankton looks up, a little startled by the sudden onslaught of energy. His eye dance over the pile of equipment Chip's brought back with him, and he tries to focus his scattered thoughts. Chip doesn't notice his dad's flinch, too caught up in his own excitement. He starts unpacking his bag, pulling out his surfboard, a sandy towel, and a shiny, new seashell collection. "Guess what? I was the best in my group at catching waves! And I found this super rare shell on the beach! Look, it's got all these cool patterns!" He holds it out to Plankton's face. Plankton takes a deep breath, his sensory overload building quickly. He tries to smile, forcing his eye to focus on the shell. "That's... that's very interesting, Chip," he says, his voice strained. Chip doesn't catch the subtle tension in his dad's tone. "But wait, there's more!" He grabs a fistful of sandy photos, slapping them onto the bed. "Look at all the fun we had!" Each picture is a blur of smiling kids and splashing water. Plankton's eye darts from one to the next, trying to process the sensory assault. He nods, a bit too quickly, his eye slightly glazed over. "And then there was the talent show!" Chip says, bouncing on the bed. "I did a killer impression of Larry the Lobster!" Plankton winces at the sudden loudness of his son's voice and the rhythmic bouncing. He tries to muster a chuckle, but it comes out forced. "And everyone loved it! They said I was hilarious!" He doesn't see the way Plankton's antenna twitches, a subtle sign of his rising stress. Plankton's mind races as he tries to keep up with Chip's stories. The vividness of the memories, the loudness of his son's voice, and the cluttered space around him all contribute to the sensory storm building inside him. He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself. Chip, oblivious to his father's distress, keeps going. "And you'll never guess what we had for lunch on the last day!" He rummages through his bag, pulling out a half-eaten sandwich. "They made it for me special because I won the sand-building contest!" He can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sensory barrage, his mind racing to find a way to escape the chaos. "And the counselor said I might even be able to compete in the Bikini Bottom surfing championships!" Chip says, jumping up to give him a big bear hug. Plankton stiffens, his antennas drooping slightly. "And then, remember that time we built the sandcastle together? Well, my counselor said it was even better than that one!" He gestures widely, his arms sweeping through the air and knocking over a stack of papers on Plankton's desk. The sound of scattering paper is like nails on a chalkboard to Plankton's sensitive hearing, and he jerks back involuntarily. His meticulously organized desk, ruined, stressing Plankton out even more. Chip laughs, not noticing Plankton's discomfort. He looks around the messy room, his mind spinning. The smell of the musty sandwich mingles with the salty sea air, making him feel nauseous. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to push Chip away. "You're the best dad ever!" Chip squeezes him tighter. Plankton's heart swells with love and pride, but his body tenses under the weight of his son's affection. He can feel his personal space shrinking, his need for order and quiet desperately trying to assert itself. But Chip is still on a high from his summer camp tales and doesn't notice. He keeps talking, his words flowing like a river, each one crashing into the dam of Plankton's overstimulated brain. Plankton's breaths grow shallower, his eye darting around the room as he searches for a way to retreat without hurting his son's feelings. "And the counselor said I might even be able to compete in the Bikini Bottom surfing championships!" Chip says, jumping up to give him a big bear hug. Plankton's body stiffens under the sudden physical contact, his antennas drooping even more. The smell of the salty ocean, the feel of sand on his skin, it's all too much, which is when the shut down happens. "Dad?" Chip pulls back, noticing his dad's reaction. Plankton's eye now wide and unfocused, his breaths quick and shallow. "What's wrong?" Plankton can't bring himself back to consciousness. "Dad?" Chip says again, his voice now laced with concern. Plankton's normally expressive eye is vacant, his body as rigid as a board. The room seems to spin around Chip, his excitement quickly morphing into worry. He's never seen his dad like this before. "Are you okay?" He touches his father's arm with a curious poke, making his unmoving body tip over onto his back, still not budging. Chip's never seen such an unblinking stare. "Dad? Dad, are you okay?" He asks again, voice quivering. Plankton doesn't respond, his eye glazed over, his body motionless. Chip's concern grows with each passing second. He tries to shake his dad, his small hands trembling. "Dad, please, talk to me," he whispers, his voice cracking. He looks at his dad, who lies unresponsive, it's like Plankton's gone somewhere else entirely. He calls out again, louder this time, "Dad? Daddy?" But Plankton doesn't move, doesn't blink. Chip feels a knot form in him, a cold realization starting to sink in. This isn't just tiredness or daydreaming. Panic bubbles up in him. He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it's not good. His thoughts are a jumble of questions: why isn't his dad responding? What did he do wrong? He jumps off the bed and runs to find his mom. "Mom! Mom!" his cries echo through the Chum Bucket. Karen rushes out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "What's wrong?" "It's Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "He's just lying there not moving. I don't know what..." It dawns on her. Plankton's autism often left him like this, a silent retreat into himself when the world was too much. Karen's heart squeezes. Chip had never seen this side of his dad, never understood how much sensory input could overwhelm him. Sure enough, reaching the bedroom, Karen found him in one of his light-headed/dizzy moments. "It's okay, Chip," Karen soothed, kneeling beside her son. "Your dad has something that makes his brain work a little differently from other people's. It's called autism. Sometimes, when he gets too much information at once, it's like his brain needs a little break." Chip looked at her, his screen wide with confusion. "Is he okay?" "Yes, honey," Karen says, her voice calm and gentle. "He's just overstimulated. Sometimes, when there's too much going on, it's hard for him to process everything."
loveᵧₒᵤ!
me˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。˚
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣠⡂⡂⠂⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠁⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⠐⠁⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⠄⠠⠐⠐⠐⠐⠂⠂⠠⠀⠀ ⡠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⠀ ⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⡐⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡ ⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨ ⠈⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈ ⠀⠀⠁⠢⠀⡀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠌⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢈⡨⠜⠉⠀⢀⡡⢦⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠄⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠐⠀⠂⠠⠀⠄⠄⠄⠂⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠁⠈⠀⠁⠘⠈⠂⠄⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠁⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠢⢀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠅⠢⠤⣀⣀⣀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
ྀིྀི^ྀི⭒me
imisshim ❤️
◯≽⋉⋉⋉ ⋉⋉⋉≽◯⚢ὣ⚢ὣ ⚣✺ ✜✜✜°° ✜✜✜° ✜✜✜ ✜✜ ✜ ◩⋗ꙮ ✜🕊︎✜
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✏️
˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣶⣬⠄⠩⣽⣾⣧⣄⠀⠀⠈⠁⠒⠢⠉⠁⠀⠒⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⡔⠋⢫⣷⣶⣤⣴⣿⣟⡻⣷⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠐⠢⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⢶⡖⡟⢉⣷⠀⣸⣏⡭⣽⣙⣻⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡀⠉⠀⠂⠄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⣮⣿⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⡀⢉⡻⡿⠿⣷⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡉⠀⠂⠄⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣠⠒⠁⣈⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⣶⣴⣄⣄⣠⣠⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⣀⡉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠁⠀⣾⠏⠉⠀⠾⣉⡹⠿⢿⡿⣶⣷⣿⡿⠉⠿⢹⠿⡿⢿⠿⠿⠉⠉⢉⣿⣿⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡉⠆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠊⠶⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠑⠒⠢⠛⠛⠙⠳⠶⠶⠶⠴⠶⠶⠚⠛⠛⠓⠻⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣤⣄⣁⠢⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⠦⢌⣐⡢⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡟⡿⠶⢦⠤⣤⢤⡤⠭⢭⣅⣀⠀⠐⢬⣐⠠⡀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡄⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠪⠤⠥⠦⠕⠚⠓⠒⠪⠽⣳⣤⡀⠻⣿⣲⣬⣙⣚⣉⣴⡶⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⢿⣶⣬⣁⣧⠁⠈⠈⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⠂⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
(∩˃o˂∩)♡(‿ˠ‿)
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⠋⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠙⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⠃⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠘⣿⣿⡇ ⡏⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢹⣿⡇ ⠃⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠘⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢀⢀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⢀⢀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⢀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢀⢀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⢀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢀⢀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢀⢀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢀⢀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⢀⢀⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁⢀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣿⡇ ⡄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣯⠿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢠⣿⡇ ⣇⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢀⠈⠈⣚⣻⢿⣿⡽⠟⠋⠁⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣸⣿⡇ ⣿⡄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣀⣀⠤⠄⢀⠋⠉⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢠⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣄⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣠⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⢀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
🐕🐶I,LOVE,DOGGO🐶🐕🧋
𐔌﹒❰ ❦ ❱﹒!ᶻz
(\ __ /) (UwU) _ノ ヽ ノ\_ / `/ ⌒Y⌒ Y  \ (  (三ヽ 人  /  | | ノ⌒\  ̄ ̄ヽ  ノ ヽ___>、__/ |( 王 ノ〈 /ミ`ー―彡\ |╰ ╯| | /\ | | / \ | | / \ |

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

love ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗〽≽^•⩊•^≼𓆩♡𓆪
me ໑ me
I ❤🇧🇷
👁️❤️🎤🧹
❤️ 🐥🐣
(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )(ㅅ´ ˘ `)٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚(๑>◡<๑)( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)•ᴗ•ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩)( ≧ᗜ≦)>ᴗ<٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜(˶ˆᗜˆ˵)໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)( > 〰 < )♡(ᵕ—ᴗ—)(∩˃o˂∩)♡(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)( ˶°ㅁ°) !!(╥﹏╥)₊˚⊹♡(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡ᯓᡣ𐭩(๑>؂•̀๑)৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)(っ'ヮ'c)(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)(..◜ᴗ◝..)(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭(♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)(´▽`ʃƪ)♡(,,>﹏<,,)( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )ε(´。•᎑•`)っ 💕(๑´>᎑<)~*ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡(っ- ‸ - ς)(≧ᗜ≦)˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟo( ˶^▾^˶ )o( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)(*´▽`*)( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧•⩊•(ˊᵒ̴̶̷̤ ꇴ ᵒ̴̶̷̤ˋ)(´。• ◡ •。`) ♡ദ്ദി(• ˕ •マ.ᐟ(˶˃⤙˂˶)(๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎⸜(。 ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡(´。•◡•。`)♡( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) (•̀ᴗ•́ )وദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )(¬_¬")(≧ヮ≦) 💕ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ(ノ^ヮ^)ノ*:・゚✧(ꈍᴗꈍ)♡( • ̀ω•́ )✧(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )<(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)>( • ᴖ • 。)( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა(〃´𓎟`〃)。°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°。૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎აᯓ ᡣ𐭩♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭(๑ > ᴗ < ๑)(๑•᎑•๑)(ᴗ_ ᴗ。)(=^ ◡ ^=)(๑-﹏-๑)(*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)( 。 •̀ ᴖ •́ 。)(·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )(„• ֊ •„)੭( • ᴗ - ) ✧(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡(ó﹏ò。)(>᎑<๑)/♡(* °ヮ° *) (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ˙ᵕ˙ (。>﹏<) ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡ („• ֊ •„)(。•́︿•̀。)⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ㅤᵕ̈૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა≽^•⩊•^≼( ≧ᗜ≦)( ˊo̴̶̷̤ ̫ o̴̶̷̤ˋ)٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)‎٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*( ꈍ◡ꈍ)(*´▽`*)❀..o(≧∀≦)o(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭(≧∇≦)( •͈૦•͈ )╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭(¬⤙¬ )໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১(૭ 。•̀ ᵕ •́。 )૭⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾⋆˚✿˖°✧˚ ༘ ⋆。♡˚( ‘• ω • `)(っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ( ;´ - `;)( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎₊˚⊹ ᰔ˙◠˙(,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎૮(˶╥︿╥)ა(⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝)(づ ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ )づ"( – ⌓ – )/ᐠ - ˕ -マ(∩˃ω˂∩)\(^ω^\ )✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧(´。• ᵕ •。`)₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎
🤗 😻
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❤️𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍
👁️❤️👈🏻
❤️💋✮⋆˙🫃🏾
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١٥٧٤♡ theta delta⃤⃝-♡⋆˚🐾˖°