Implode Emojis & Text

YALL NEED TO CHILL THERE IS NO BAD PPL ANYMORE😔❗️❗️

↓

↴

⋆｡ °✩🎧˚☽˚｡⋆

☁

⇩

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

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 ˂ )⸝♡

∩――――∩ days seem sometimes as if || ∧ ﾍ　 || they'll never end || (* ´ ｰ`) | sun digs its heels to taunt |ﾉ^⌒⌒づ`￣ \ you but after sunlit days, (　ノ　　⌒ ヽ \ one thing stays the same ＼　　||￣￣￣￣￣|| rises the moon 　 ＼,ﾉ|| days fade into a watercolour blur memories swim and haunt you but look into the lake, shimmering like smoke rises the moon oh-oh, close your weary eyes i promise you that soon the autumn comes to darken fading summer skies breathe, breathe, breathe days pull you down just like a sinking ship floating is getting harder but tread the water, child, and know that meanwhile rises the moon days pull you up just like a daffodil uprooted from its garden they'll tell you what you owe, but know even so rises the moon you'll be visited by sleep i promise you that soon the autumn comes to steal away each dream you keep breathe, breathe, breathe

୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐

₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

😌🌿🕯🤍☁️🕊🐇

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

TRUTH AND NAIL i “Karen Plankton‽” Karen stood up as the receptionist at the dental office called her. She’s been in the waiting room as her husband Plankton’s in surgery. She followed the nurse into a brightly lit room where Plankton lay on his back, his mouth agape, snoring gently. The anesthetic had done its job, leaving him completely oblivious to the world around him. The surgeon looked up from his chair, a smile creasing his mask. "Mrs. Plankton, your husband's wisdom teeth extraction was a success," he said. "You can stay with him as he wakes up." Karen sat by his side, her hand resting gently on his arm. The steady hum of the machines filled the space, punctuated by occasional beeps. The nurse adjusted the IV, ensuring the flow of fluids remained steady. The doctor entered, nodded at Karen, and began to check the surgical sites, but he didn't wake up. The surgeon leaned over, his eyes studying the readouts with care. Satisfied, he turned to Karen, "He'll be coming around in time," he assured her. Her screen never left Plankton's peaceful face, his cheeks slightly puffy, his mouth slack and open. A trickle of drool slid from the corner of his mouth, and Karen couldn't help but chuckle softly, even in the tension of the moment. He'd never let her see him like this if he had a choice. The nurse offered a reassuring smile, "It's normal, dear. The anesthesia can do funny things. Just wait. He'll be back to his usual self by tomorrow." Karen nodded. She leaned in closer to Plankton, his normally stern face was relaxed in sleep, his brow unfurrowed. It was strange to see his sharp features softened, his expression one of peace. The nurse left them, and Karen took the chance to whisper, "You're going to be okay." The nurse had warned her about the disorientation that often came with waking up from surgery. Patients could be confused, even a little babyish, as the world swam back into focus. Some had a tendency to say things they didn't mean or remember later. So, when Plankton's eye flickered open, Karen was ready. "Wha... where am I?" he mumbled, his voice slurred and eye glassy. Karen took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're in the recovery room, sweetie. You had your wisdom teeth out." The words seemed to float around him, like bubbles in his befuddled brain. "Wisdom teed?" he muttered, blinking slowly. "Wha awe those?" Karen stifled a laugh, her emotions swelling with love and concern. "They're teeth, darling. Don't worry, you won't miss them." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sterile whiteness and the blinking lights above him. "Teef?" he slurred, his mind still groggy. "Wheh take out teef?" Karen gently stroked his hand. "Just the wisdom ones, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "They were causing you trouble." "Trubble?" Plankton repeated, his speech slurring more with each syllable. His eye closed again, lid heavy with sleep. "I know it's confusing right now, but you'll understand soon," Karen said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton's eye opened again, a bit wider this time, and he squinted at the light. "M'th... m'th... my mouf feels..." He tried to form the words, but his tongue felt thick and clumsy. "It's normal, darling," Karen said, her voice like a gentle breeze. "The anesthesia can make your mouth feel funny." Plankton's eye drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts racing but his words failing to keep up. "Bright wight," he murmured, his voice distant and lost. "It's okay," Karen said, wiping the drool from his chin with a tissue. "The lights are just to help you wake up." "Wake up?" Plankton repeated, his eye trying to focus on her screen. "Wha happened?" "You had a little surgery," Karen said, her voice soothing and calm. "They took out your wisdom teeth. Remember?" Plankton's eye searched hers, confusion and fear swirling in his gaze. "Sur...surgery?" he managed to say, his voice weak and unsure. "Why?" "Don't worry," Karen soothed, her voice a soft caress. "It was just a little thing. They took out some teeth that were causing you pain." Plankton's eyelid flitted, trying to make sense of the words. "Teef? Pain?" he slurred, his hand reaching up to probe his mouth. "No, no, don't touch," Karen hurried to stop him, her grip firm but gentle. "They're still a bit tender." Plankton's hand fell back to the bed, his mind racing but his body slow to respond. "Tends?" he murmured, the word strange and foreign. "Every ting sho..." His thoughts trailed off, the word "different" eluding him. Karen watched him, her smile a blend of amusement and tenderness. "You're going to be okay," she repeated, her voice a constant in the sea of confusion. "You're just a little out of it." "Ooot of it," Plankton echoed, his voice a faint rumble. He tried to sit up, but the nurse had warned Karen about this too. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Take it easy, sweetie," she cooed. His eye searched hers, like a child lost in a supermarket. "Karen?" he murmured, her name sounding like a question. "I'm here," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "You're in the hospital, Plankton. You're okay." "Hospit...hospit...tal?" he slurred, his eye darting around the room again. "Why?" "You had wisdom teeth, Plankton," Karen said, her tone as soothing as a mother's. "Remember?" "Wis...dome tweed?" Plankton slurred, his mind spinning, his thoughts muddled and slow to form. "Ow?" Karen chuckled gently, her screen sparkling with humor. "It's all right, dear," she cooed. "They just removed your wisdom teeth. You're feeling a bit loopy." Plankton's eyebrow knit trying to piece together the puzzle. "Widom...teef?" he repeated, his voice still slurred but with a hint of recognition. "Yes, sweetie," Karen said, smiling down at him. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. You're going to be fine." Plankton's hand wobbled in the air before it fell to his side, his mind a swirl of fog. "Where...where am I?" his voice was a faint murmur, his eye glazed over. "You're in the hospital," Karen said, her voice steady as a lighthouse beam. "You had surgery, darling. Remember?" Plankton's eye fluttered closed, his head rolling to the side as if the weight of the world was too much. "Sur...gury?" he slurred, the syllables like molasses on his tongue. "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a lullaby in the stark room. "It's all over. You're safe now." He mumbled incoherently, his words a jumble of letters and sounds that barely formed coherent thoughts. "Wh...wha...was it?" his mind grasped for understanding, his eye half-closed and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her voice a lifeline in his foggy sea of confusion. "It was just a surgery, Plankton. To remove your wisdom teeth." "Wis...wis...dome...teef?" he murmured, the words still strange in his mouth. He blinked slowly, trying to recall why he was here. Karen nodded, her smile reassuring. "Yes, they took them out. You're all done." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, his body going slack again. "Tek...tum...out?" he mumbled, his mind still swimming in the murky waters of unconsciousness. Karen nodded, her hand still on his arm. "They're gone, sweetie. You're okay." But he’s fallen asleep again, his snores filling the silent room, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. Karen watched him, her love squeezing with a mix of amusement and concern.

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.

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."

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.

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.

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD i Karen had been pacing the waiting room. Finally, the doors swung open and Dr. Castellanos stepped out. Karen rushed over. "How's Plankton?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. Dr. Castellanos offered a small, reassuring smile. "The surgery went well. We removed all four wisdom teeth without any complications. He's in recovery." Karen followed the dentist Dr. Castellanos down the hallway. They entered a small, curtained area. There lay Plankton, his snoring soft and even, surrounded by the beeping monitors. Karen felt a gentle wave of relief wash over her, seeing his usually furrowed brow now relaxed in sleep, his mouth slightly ajar. "We numbed his mouth even though he's slept under the anesthesia, so he might not feel that part of his face for today. The anesthesia can normally cause patients to act a bit peculiar when they first wake up," Dr. Castellanos explained as Karen studied Plankton's slack features, his antennae twitching with each snore. As if on cue, a string of drool slithered out of the corner of Plankton's mouth and dangled. Karen chuckled at the absurdity of it all. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal," Dr. Castellanos assured her with a gentle pat on the shoulder. "The numbness can cause that. It'll wear off by tomorrow. He'll wake up anytime though." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. The surgery was a success, but she knew the real test would be when he came to. Would he be in pain? Would he be groggy or scared? The what-ifs swirled in her mind like a tornado of uncertainty. The room grew quiet, the only sounds the persistent rhythm of the heart monitor and Plankton's slight snores. Karen pulled up a chair and took his hand, her thumb gently stroking the back of his palm. As the minutes ticked by, the curtain around the bed parted and in stepped a nurse, her shoes squeaking softly on the clean, white floor. "Miss?" she said quietly. "When Mr. Plankton wakes up, he might be disoriented. We've prepared a cup of water if he's thirsty." Karen nodded her understanding, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly. The nurse checked the monitors and stayed with them. Karen leaned in, whispering to Plankton, "You're going to be okay." Eventually, Plankton's snoring grew less pronounced, and his eye began to flutter open. He looked around the unfamiliar space with a dazed expression, confused and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her eyes brimming with a mix of concern and relief. Plankton's eye settled on Karen's face. She offered a tentative smile, not wanting to startle him. "Hey, buddy," she whispered, her voice soothing. "You're all done. You're in recovery now." His eyes searched hers, slowly focusing. He tried to mouth a question, but the numbness took hold. All that came out was a muffled, "Mmmm?" Karen's smile grew wider. "You're okay," she assured him, her voice calm and soothing. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. Remember?" Plankton blinked a few times, his gaze flicking from Karen to the unfamiliar surroundings and back again. He attempted to speak again. "Mmph?" It was barely audible, his mouth refusing to cooperate. Karen nodded, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "You're in the dentist, remember? You had surgery to remove your wisdom teeth." Plankton's eye grew wider, his mind trying to piece together the hazy fragments of memory. "Windom eet?" Karen chuckled despite herself. "Yes, all four," she confirmed, nodding. Plankton's eye grew even wider, and he managed to nod, a look of astonishment spreading across his face. The nurse came over. "Here, let's help you sit up," she said, placing a pillow behind his back. As Plankton sat up, his face contorted with confusion, his mouth feeling like it was filled with marshmallows. He tried to talk again. "Mmph... Kahen...?" he slurred, his tongue fumbling over the words. Karen laughed softly. "Yes, I'm here," she said. Plankton's eye lit up at the sound of her voice, and his cheeks puffed up as he tried to smile. "Mmph... gweat," he managed to say, the words a garbled mess. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his endearing attempt to speak, his numbness adding an unintentional comedic twist to the situation. He reached out a wobbly arm, his hand grasping for the cup of water the nurse had left on the tray. Karen carefully lifted it to his lips, supporting his head as he took a sip. The cool liquid trickled down his throat, a welcome reprieve from the dryness. "Mmph, gwood," he murmured. The nurse gave a knowing smile, accustomed to the peculiarities of waking patients. Karen couldn't help but be enchanted by Plankton's delirious state. His usual stern expression was replaced with one of pure joy, his eye twinkling like stars on a cloudless night. He began to flail his arms around, knocking over the surgical tray with a clatter. The nurse quickly intervened, stabilizing the situation with a laugh. "Whoa there, Mr. Plankton! Take it easy," she said, her voice filled with good humor. With great effort, Plankton managed to articulate a slurred sentence, his mouth feeling like cotton. "Kahen, teww me a stoy," he begged, his speech garbled by the anesthesia. Karen was surprised by the childlike innocence in his tone. Karen glanced at the nurse, who nodded with amusement. She took a deep breath, thinking of a simple tale that wouldn't cause any distress. "Once upon a time, there was Plankton, and he gets to go home from the dentist. The end!" Plankton's eye squinted, his antennae waving slightly. "Mmph... wow, a reawy gweat stoy," he slurred, satisfied with the storytelling for now. The nurse, unfazed by the unusual scene, began to prep his discharge papers. Karen couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her chest, watching his vulnerability. The fierce, cunning villain she knew from the cartoons had been replaced by a gentle soul, his words as jumbled as a bowl of alphabet soup. "Mmph, Kahen," Plankton slurred again, his hand reaching for her arm. "Whas' tha... tha...?" He pointed to the monitor, his curiosity piqued by the dancing lines and numbers. "That's your heart rate, buddy," Karen explained, her voice still tinged with amusement. "It's showing that you're okay." Plankton nodded, his antennae waving with excitement. "Mmph... mow...?" he managed, his mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with pillows. Karen leaned in, her laughter bubbling up. "It's okay, you're just talking funny because of the medicine." Plankton's eye grew more curious. He pointed at his mouth with a thumb, his antennae drooping. "I... hoth?" Karen nodded, her smile sympathetic. "No, buddy, you're just numb. It'll go away." Plankton's antennae perked up. "Whuh, wike dis?" he asked, his voice still slurred. He tried to stick out his tongue, only to find it thick and uncooperative. Karen nodded. "Exactly like that. But don't worry, you're doing fine," she said, her tone reassuring. Plankton's cheeks puffed up as he nodded, his eye glued to the monitor with childlike wonder.

જ⁀➴⇣⇣⇣

﹒ can you guys actually shut up ﹕ ୨୧ ㅤ ﹟ especially like beggars · & :: people telling you to join groups/links ㅤ࣭ ㅤׂ : ᯓ i see you 'shop mio' or whatever ! ﹐ ‧˚ʚ ───────── ₊‧꒰ა ୨ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ───────── ɞ˚‧ not my pack btw ! credits to (i think) mxnny or something was their name. . .

⬇

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⠓⠒⠤⣰⠋⠹⡄⠀⣠⠞⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠂⠙⢦⡀⠐⠨⣆⠁⣷⣮⠖⠋⠉⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠮⠇⠀⣩⠶⠒⠾⣿⡯⡋⠩⡓⢦⣀⡀ ⠀⡰⢰⡹⠀⠀⠲⣾⣁⣀⣤⠞⢧⡈⢊⢲⠶⠶⠛⠁ ⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⣌⡅⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⣈⠻⠦⣤⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠸⣎⠇⠀⠀⡠⡄⠀⠷⠎⠀⠐⡶⠁⠀⠀⣟⡇⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⡠⣄⠀⠷⠃⠀⠀⡤⠄⠀⠀⣔⡰⠀⢩⠇⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠻⠋⠀⢀⠤⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⢀⠉⠁⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⢰⢢⠀⠀⠘⠚⠀⢰⣂⠆⠰⢥⡡⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠸⣎⠋⢠⢢⠀⢠⢀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠷⣬⣅⣀⣬⡷⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⤵

hey, i just wanted to say that, im proud of you for being yourself. you go! o(>u<)o

༄

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a⩜⃝

🦋🙍🎌

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)

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

⠀⠄⣀⣄⡤⣤⡴⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⡀⢀⠈⠈⠙⠮⡽⢭⡻⣝⡻⣏⠿⡭⢯⠝⡊⠉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣄⣦⡴⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀ ⡾⣽⣳⢯⣟⣷⣻⡽⣯⣟⣿⣻⢿⣿⣶⣤⣄⠀⢀⠊⡀⠈⠃⠻⣜⢳⡭⡛⠑⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⢂⣥⣶⣿⢿⣿⣻⢯⡿⣽⣳⢟⡾⣽⣻⣟ ⣟⡷⣯⣟⡾⣧⣟⣷⣻⡼⣾⢽⣻⢾⣝⣿⣻⣿⣶⣤⣀⠠⠄⠁⠈⢁⠂⠁⡀⠄⣈⣰⣼⣾⣿⣟⡿⣞⡿⣼⢯⡿⣵⢯⣯⢿⣽⣳⢟⡾ ⣯⢿⡵⣯⢷⡻⣜⠶⣭⢳⣭⢻⡜⣯⢟⣾⣷⣯⣟⡿⣿⣷⣦⡔⠂⢀⠐⢠⣱⣾⡿⣟⡿⣽⣾⡽⢾⡹⣝⢧⡻⡼⣭⠳⣏⡟⡾⣭⢿⡽ ⣯⡟⡽⣎⢷⡹⢎⡷⢎⣳⢬⢧⣛⡴⣫⢶⡹⣞⡽⣻⣷⣽⣻⢿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣟⣯⣿⣽⡟⣯⢳⡝⣣⡝⢮⣓⠷⣳⢎⡟⡶⢭⡳⣭⢏⡿ ⢷⡹⣳⡝⣮⢝⡫⢜⠫⠘⠌⠂⠁⠊⡑⠪⠱⢎⡵⢫⡞⣽⢻⣿⣾⣽⣻⣾⢿⣻⣙⢶⡹⢎⠳⠉⠓⠈⠁⠈⢉⠁⠋⢞⡹⢣⡟⣜⣫⢼ ⢧⣛⡵⣚⠕⠊⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣁⢀⠀⢀⠀⡈⠡⠙⣜⢣⠻⡼⢿⢿⡹⢧⣳⡽⠂⢁⠀⡀⢀⢁⣁⠠⢀⠀⡀⠄⠀⠀⠃⠙⡞⣬⢳ ⡻⡜⠶⠉⠀⠈⠁⠄⣠⣼⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣔⡂⠠⠌⠋⠵⣫⢎⠽⠋⠁⣀⢨⣴⣶⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⡁⢀⠈⠀⠈⢱⢫ ⡳⠍⠀⠀⠀⢈⣴⣿⣿⣟⣯⢷⣯⣿⣷⣟⣮⣿⣽⢿⣿⣷⣦⣁⠂⡀⠂⢠⣱⣶⣿⢿⣻⣽⣞⣿⣿⣷⣟⡾⣿⡽⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠁⠀⠑ ⠓⠀⠄⠠⢡⣾⣿⢯⡷⣾⣽⡿⣟⢯⡻⣭⢻⣜⡻⢿⡾⣷⣟⣿⣿⣶⣽⣿⣿⣽⣾⢿⡻⡝⢯⡞⣵⢫⡟⣿⣷⣟⡷⣯⢿⣿⣦⠐⢀⠀ ⠁⠈⠀⢰⣿⡿⣯⣟⣾⡿⣏⢷⡹⣎⠷⣭⢳⠮⣝⣣⢯⣝⡻⢿⣿⣯⣿⣿⠻⣝⢮⣓⠷⣹⠳⣞⡵⣫⢾⡱⢯⢿⣿⣽⡿⣽⣿⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠠⠀⣿⣿⣽⣳⣾⣟⡳⡝⣎⢷⣩⣛⡴⠫⠙⠌⠓⠺⠜⣭⢳⢮⣝⡳⢎⣿⣘⡧⠋⠞⠱⠛⠼⣧⣛⡼⡹⣏⠾⣹⣿⣟⣷⣻⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠰⣿⣳⢯⣷⣿⢭⡳⣝⡺⡜⣶⠋⢁⠐⠈⢀⠐⡀⢈⠠⠙⠶⣮⣽⠛⠉⠁⡀⠐⠀⠀⠤⠀⠈⠹⣞⡵⢭⣫⢗⡽⣿⣞⣷⣻⡖⠀ ⠀⠀⠱⣿⡽⣯⣿⡟⢮⡵⢣⣟⠼⠁⢀⠂⣤⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⡀⢠⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣆⡀⠆⠀⡙⢾⣣⠗⣯⢞⣿⣻⢶⣻⡕⠀ ⠀⠀⢩⢿⡽⣞⣿⡝⣧⡝⣳⢞⠁⠀⠄⣼⣿⡿⣽⣞⣳⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣳⣟⡾⣽⣿⣷⡀⠂⠄⢚⡧⣻⡜⣯⢾⣯⣟⡷⡍⠀ ⠀⢀⠂⣿⡽⣯⢿⣛⠶⣭⢳⣞⠀⠀⢐⣿⣿⣽⣳⣿⡟⣯⢻⡽⣻⣿⢿⡻⣏⢿⡹⣿⣿⣳⣯⣿⡧⠐⠀⢢⡝⣶⡹⣎⣿⣞⣷⣻⠄⠀ ⣃⠀⠂⢸⣿⣯⣟⣯⢟⡶⡹⢾⡄⠀⠌⣿⣷⢯⣿⡷⣹⢎⠷⡩⢓⢮⠳⡝⣎⠷⣹⢳⣿⡷⣯⣿⡧⠃⠠⢱⡹⢶⡹⣞⣿⡽⣞⡧⠐⠀ ⢧⡈⠄⡈⢿⣷⢯⣿⣯⢖⣯⢻⣧⠀⠈⣿⣿⢯⣿⣷⢫⢾⡁⢀⠈⠀⠁⠀⠌⣹⡱⣏⣿⣟⡷⣿⠏⡀⠡⢧⡛⣧⢻⣽⣿⣽⡻⠄⠁⠀ ⡳⣥⠀⠠⠙⣿⣯⢿⣿⡞⣜⣣⢿⡆⢀⠸⣿⣟⣾⣯⡟⣾⣧⠀⠀⠀⡀⠌⣰⡷⣹⣽⡿⣽⣿⡿⠀⢄⣾⢧⢻⡼⣻⣿⢷⣯⠛⠀⠀⢴ ⡝⡶⢣⠀⡁⠸⣿⣟⣾⣿⣧⢳⣎⡽⡄⠠⠹⣿⣾⡽⣿⣎⢿⣧⣀⠀⢄⣶⢿⣱⣿⣿⡽⣷⡿⢀⠀⣼⣏⢾⡯⣿⣿⣯⣿⡟⠀⢁⡘⢮ ⣯⡝⣯⢳⡀⠀⠙⣿⣯⣿⣷⡯⣽⡞⣽⣆⠠⠘⢿⣿⡽⣿⣷⣻⢬⡻⣜⢮⣳⣿⣿⣳⣿⠏⠀⢄⣾⠟⣼⢻⣼⣿⢯⣿⠟⢀⠠⣠⢏⡷ ⣷⡽⣎⢯⢷⣄⠀⠜⢻⣯⣿⢿⣧⣟⠶⣹⢷⡀⡈⠽⢿⣷⣯⢿⣷⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡁⢀⣴⡿⣭⢻⣼⣿⡿⣯⣿⠏⡐⠠⣐⡳⢮⣽ ⣷⣻⣮⢏⡾⣹⣦⠀⠀⢻⣿⣟⡿⣯⣟⡱⣞⣻⣆⠀⢈⠻⢿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣾⠟⠁⠀⣤⣿⢻⡜⣧⣿⡿⣯⣿⡿⠃⡀⢠⢳⡭⣝⣳⢾ ⡷⣯⣟⣿⣞⡵⣫⢷⡀⠀⠉⣿⣿⡽⣿⣷⣣⢷⣹⢻⣦⡀⠈⠙⠻⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⣼⠿⣝⠶⣫⣾⣿⡿⣽⣿⠛⠀⠀⣤⢛⡶⣹⢾⡽⣯ ⣟⡷⣾⣽⣻⣷⣣⢏⡿⣆⡁⠀⠹⢿⣷⣻⣿⣮⣳⢏⡶⢻⣳⣄⠀⡀⠀⣀⡾⣝⣣⠟⣼⣳⣿⣟⣷⣿⠟⠡⢈⢠⡿⣴⢫⢾⣽⣫⢷⣯ ⣯⣟⡾⣵⢯⣿⣿⣮⡽⣏⢷⣤⠐⠈⠻⢿⣾⣟⣿⣾⣵⢫⢶⡹⣟⢤⡳⣏⠿⡼⣥⣿⣷⢿⣽⣾⠟⠁⠂⣠⡶⡟⣧⢏⣿⡿⣶⢯⣟⡾ ⡷⣯⡽⢯⣟⡾⣽⢿⣿⣯⢞⡭⢿⣄⠁⠈⠹⢿⣾⣳⢿⣿⣧⣻⢬⣳⢣⣭⢻⣵⣿⣟⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⢂⣵⢿⡹⣝⣾⣿⢿⣽⣳⣟⡾⣽ ⣟⣷⢻⣟⡾⣽⢯⣞⣯⢿⣿⣺⢵⣚⡷⣤⠁⠀⠙⠿⣿⣞⡿⣿⣧⣷⣫⣾⣿⣻⣷⡿⠛⠁⠀⣁⣼⢿⡹⣎⣷⣿⡿⣽⢯⣶⣻⢞⣽⣳ ⠙⢾⣻⢾⣽⣳⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⣿⣷⣏⢾⡹⣻⣄⡀⠀⠉⠿⣿⣷⣯⢷⣟⣷⣿⡟⠋⡐⠀⢢⣵⠿⣩⡞⣵⣿⣿⢯⣟⣭⣟⡾⣽⣛⣮⣟ ⠀⠈⠹⣻⣶⣻⠾⣽⣏⡿⣮⢷⣻⢿⣷⣽⢲⡝⡷⢧⣀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⡿⢋⡁⠠⢁⣰⢾⢯⡝⣞⣳⣿⣿⣻⡽⡾⣽⠾⣭⣟⣷⡻⠞⠀ ⠀⠈⢀⠀⠻⣿⣟⣧⣟⡷⣯⢿⣭⢿⣽⣻⣿⣾⡹⣏⡽⣳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠄⢂⢤⣵⣟⡻⣎⣷⣽⣿⢿⡽⣞⣷⣻⣽⣳⣟⣷⣿⠾⠁⠀⠁ ⣏⢦⠀⠈⠀⠈⢻⣿⣾⣽⣳⡟⣾⣛⣮⢷⡯⣟⣿⣾⣵⢫⡝⡿⣶⣤⣴⡻⣏⠷⣎⣷⣿⣟⣯⣿⣾⣽⣿⣶⣿⣶⣿⣾⣿⣥⣦⣤⣤⣴ ⡽⢎⡷⣂⠠⠐⠂⠈⠻⣾⣷⣻⣳⣟⡾⣯⣽⣻⢾⡽⣿⢿⣼⣳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⣿⣿⣟⡷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣻ ⣽⣫⠼⣭⡓⢦⣁⣀⠄⢈⠻⢿⡷⣯⢷⣛⣾⣳⢯⣟⡾⢯⣟⣷⣿⣮⣷⣿⣿⡻⣧⢿⣽⣳⣿⣿⣽⣟⣿⣾⣿⣵⣿⣧⣟⣾⣿⣣⣿⣺

“🫧🎀⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆”

(„ᵕᴗᵕ„)

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)౨ৎ˚☽˚｡⋆˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜.☘︎ ݁˖ᯓᡣ𐭩༄. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

୨ৎ

⚡️🫶🍀🍦💚🤞💰🌈🔐🤍

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Name*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──♡✮৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢟⣺⡽⢛⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠁⡀⢀⠠⠁⠀⠄⠀⠥⠤⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡫⣿⣾⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⡛⣁⣂⠄⠀⠒⠁⡄⠄⠀⠂⠐⠔⠠⣀⠠⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣾⣹⣗⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣮⢵⣿⠟⠀⠁⠀⠀⠄⠔⠊⠀⠀⡀⠀⠊⠐⡈⡈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠈⠠⠀⠀⠀⣀⢦⡄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⡷⣻⠟⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣼⡗⠁⠀⠀⠀⡈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠁⡀⠈⠂⠂⠀⢤⡀⡀⠀⢨⢄⡀⠨⠐⡙⢷⡀⠈⢿⣿⣏⣿⡓⡿⣯⣿⣀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⢿⡿⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠔⡈⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠈⠅⠀⠠⠁⠁⢄⠀⠢⡀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠉⢄⠒⠄⠈⠻⣦⣾⣿⣿⠥⠾⡥⣄⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣻⢟⠃⠀⠀⢀⠄⣠⠂⠀⠑⠀⣿⡥⠁⡐⡀⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠐⠀⠘⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢠⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⣿⣦⠘⢿⣮⣻⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠋⢠⡟⠀⠀⢄⢴⡾⡇⡴⢀⠀⠊⠀⠈⣶⡄⠀⡤⠤⡀⠀⠘⢗⡄⠄⠐⠀⡢⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣾⣿⣃⠘⢿⢻⣿⣿⣽⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⡒⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣼⠃⠀⠠⣾⠋⠨⣿⠀⡄⠀⡆⠙⡁⣹⣿⣄⠀⠀⢩⡈⠀⠨⣷⠁⠀⠀⠤⢀⢂⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡷⡄⢘⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢹⣷⠄⠀⡰⠁⢰⣿⠀⣰⡿⠥⠄⢤⡟⠆⣷⠀⢩⢠⠀⣿⠉⢿⣦⠁⠘⣿⣆⠀⢻⣷⡀⢀⠃⢀⠊⠄⠀⢹⣿⣟⢷⢳⣼⣷⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⠀⠠⢘⠀⣸⣿⣰⡻⠁⠄⠀⠀⠔⡺⣿⣖⠐⡨⠀⣾⡁⠀⣿⣷⡶⣓⡿⢻⡮⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣯⡹⣿⣽⣿⣷⢿⡂⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⢽⣿⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⢵⣿⢵⣦⣄⠀⢸⣉⣿⡄⠒⠄⣿⠀⠀⠈⠘⠯⢿⣧⠈⠻⣿⣿⡀⢀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠄⣿⣗⢿⠿⣾⠎⠘⣾⣇⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⢸⡿⢾⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿⡫⠔⣫⢭⢩⣵⢳⡛⠻⣟⠶⠐⠂⣟⣪⢠⣤⢈⣠⠬⣷⣤⣄⡘⢯⡇⢀⠂⠘⢰⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣷⣅⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡇⢸⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡂⣽⣿⣩⠹⢯⣉⣛⣑⠘⢾⣬⡄⢹⡻⢈⣴⣿⣾⣲⣽⣟⠿⣿⣿⣇⠰⠀⠈⢠⡇⠀⢸⣿⣷⣺⣿⠀⠀⣸⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⣸⣿⡀⠀⣿⣷⡇⢻⡿⠋⡏⠳⣷⡇⠀⡁⠊⠼⢞⢼⢿⠘⣿⣿⠻⡘⣊⣹⠂⢘⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⣇⣿⣿⡿⡀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⣇⠀⣿⡏⠀⢠⠟⡻⠯⠞⠏⡄⠀⠠⠓⢄⠐⠠⠫⢉⠻⠟⠛⠒⠻⣯⡆⠡⣿⠿⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣦⡀⣿⣿⣾⢟⠇⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢸⢿⣄⠠⠛⡏⢂⢀⠀⢄⣀⣸⢊⠤⠌⣥⡈⢉⡀⠓⢗⠴⠾⠊⠠⠀⣼⡏⠀⠄⣾⣽⣻⡿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡃⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣴⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⠹⣿⣾⠿⣿⣯⣄⠁⠕⢡⡐⢛⡲⠓⢦⠬⠥⠬⠬⠭⠬⠄⠁⠈⠅⠹⠖⢀⢿⡋⢂⣾⣿⣯⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣻⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⣿⢸⣿⣹⣾⡇⠀⠘⢿⣻⣾⢾⣿⡻⢶⣤⣁⡗⠖⡐⠶⠶⠶⡆⠉⢁⠰⠄⠀⠈⢁⣠⣼⣾⡎⣠⢿⣯⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡈⠻⢟⠺⣾⡸⢿⣿⣎⣽⣿⡷⢶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣿⣶⣷⣶⣿⠿⢟⡿⣿⣺⠝⠉⠉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣵⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠆⠀⠛⠿⢻⡿⢛⡉⣱⣴⡿⣿⣇⠰⡿⠋⠙⣎⣄⠀⠰⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡈⠂⠀⡀⣠⡺⢷⣷⠃⡀⢸⣷⣾⠏⠉⢷⡄⢶⣖⢮⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣞⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠂⢁⣼⣿⣷⣿⡿⢠⢈⣽⢧⣿⢩⢭⠽⣿⣾⣿⣾⢼⣂⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢸⣽⣿⢼⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀ ⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⠾⡿⣟⣷⣺⣿⢸⢀⣿⠀⣿⠈⡆⠀⠈⢿⣟⣿⣴⣇⣧⡀⠀⠀⠁⡆⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀ ⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢿⣗⣟⢹⣿⡋⡿⣆⢸⣿⡆⣿⠀⢸⠄⠤⣲⣿⣿⣭⡞⣿⣻⡄⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣶⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡬⡿⣝⡿⣺⡞⡹⠁⣼⡝⠃⣿⡀⢸⡇⠑⡘⣿⣿⡟⣵⣿⣿⢿⣦⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡄ ⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣈⣿⣟⢴⣝⣧⡘⠁⠀⣹⣷⢶⣟⠁⠀⢳⣣⣀⣘⣿⣧⢻⣿⢾⣿⡟⡇⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⢰⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⢉⣬⡻⣿⡻⣧⣴⣿⣷⣻⣿⣆⢤⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⡻⣿⣿⠤⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠘⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣿⣶⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢾⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣿⣻⣿⣤⣈⡚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⣮⣡⣋⣽⣿⠿⣯⣯⠿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣷⠒⠞⠁⠀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣹⣯⣭⣿⣿⣶⣷⣹⣓⣁⠉⣁⣰⣶⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠁⠀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣯⣿⣿⡺⢷⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⢀⣾⣿⣿⠃⢀⣼⣿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣽⣯⣿⣯⣧⣯⢶⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⢃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⢿⣼⣿⡿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣷⣷⡠⣤⣟⣿⣯⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⠟⠛⠁⠀⢿⣼⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| 0:10⋆.˚🦋༘⋆lori yapping 🤫',SH♥''.,.what are we gonna do 𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥,..,'

I love you 💗🫶🏽💕🤍i️

NEW REALITY i (Autistic author) "You never listen to me, Karen," Plankton groused. "It's a new analyzer I just built! It'll reveal the contents of a patty when I put one in!" Karen, ever the skeptical wife, rolled her eyes. "You mean IF you put one in.." Plankton ignored her sarcasm, but with a deafening pop, the analyzer exploded, sending shards of metal flying in all directions. One of these sharp pieces slammed into Plankton's head, causing him to stumble back. Karen rushed to his side, pushing aside her initial irritation. Plankton's eye rolled back and closed as he crumpled to the floor. "Plankton! Plankton!" Karen's voice grew frantic as she cradled his tiny, limp body. The analyzer's explosion had caused more damage than she could have ever imagined, the injury had rewired his currently unconscious brain irreversibly: autism. Karen carries him to their bedroom, tucking him in his bed. "Plankton," she whispers, brushing his antennae, "Please wake up." But Plankton remains still. Karen sits by the bedside, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'll always be here," she murmurs, squeezing his hand. The quiet hum of their tiny underwater apartment is broken only by the rhythmic pulse of his breathing. Karen starts to think. If only she had taken his inventions more seriously, maybe this accident could have been avoided? She looks at the clock. It's midnight now. The hours tick by, each one lonelier than the last. Karen's thoughts are a tangled web of regrets and fears. What if Plankton never wakes up? Karen can't help but feel like a prisoner to her own guilt. She wonders what their life would be like now. Would Plankton be different? Would he still be the same eccentric genius, or would the injury change him completely? Will he remember her? The sun's first light filters through their bedroom window, casting a warm glow on Plankton's face. Karen's eyes snap open, having dozed off from exhaustion. She sees him stir, his eyelid fluttering. He groans, his eye opening slowly. Karen's heart races. He's alive! "K-Karen," he stammers, confused as to how he ended up in their room. The initial relief is quickly replaced with a knot in her stomach. His speech is stilted, his movements jerky. He tries to sit up, but the effort seems to overwhelm him. Karen reaches out to help, but he flinches at her touch. She notices his eye scanning the room with an intensity she's never seen before, as if he's trying to make sense of everything around him. "Plankton, it's okay," she says soothingly, trying not to let her anxiety seep into her voice. He turns to her, his gaze unfocused. "Karen?" he repeats, this time with more urgency. "What... what happened?" Her heart squeezes tight. "You had an accident with the new analyzer," she explains gently, keeping her voice calm. "It... it exploded and hit you.." Plankton looks around, his eye darting from object to object. "It's okay," Karen says, desperately trying to hold back the tears. "You're just a bit dizzy." But Plankton doesn't seem to be listening. He's too busy inspecting his surroundings, his eye darting around the room in a way that makes Karen feel like she's missing something. "Plankton, do you understand me?" Karen asks, her voice trembling slightly. He nods, but there's a distant look in his eye that makes her stomach drop. The way he's acting, it's like he's seeing their bedroom for the first time, like every detail is both fascinating and overwhelming. Plankton tries to get out of bed, but his legs wobble like jelly. Karen jumps up to support him, her arms wrapping around his thin frame. "Let's go slow," she suggests, guiding him back to the pillows. He simply nods. "Do you remember me?" Karen asks, desperation tinging her voice. His eye focus on her for a moment, then drift away again. "Yes," he says, but it's more of a question than an affirmation. "Karen, wife," he adds, his voice flat and devoid of the usual warmth and sarcasm. The words hang in the air like a lead weight, heavy with implications. Karen swallows the lump in her throat. "You're okay," she insists, as Plankton nods, looking around their bedroom when his gaze lands on the ceiling fan. His eye lights up, focusing intently on it. "Fan," he murmurs, as if discovering the concept for the first time. "Spinning. Round and round." Karen's heart sinks. "Plankton," she begins, her voice cracking, "You're acting different." She doesn't know how to explain what she's seeing, but she's scared of what it might mean. His eye doesn't quite meet hers, and his speech is so... mechanical. "Different?" he echoes, his voice a monotone. "No, the same Plankton." But the way he says it, like he's trying to convince himself, sends a chill down Karen's spine. She tries to shake off the fear, telling herself he's just groggy from the hit. But deep down, she knows it's more than that.

⣿⣽⣿⣿⣥⣤⡾⢷⣆⣼⡿⢷⣶⠀⢀⣘⣿⡏⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣭⣽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣤⣤⣛⣛⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡟⠳⠾⠃⠈⢻ ⣿⣿⣟⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢩⣽⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣼ ⣿⠏⢿⣿⡻⡄⠀⠀⣠⣶⣲⣾⣇⣀⣈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠋⠛⢻ ⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⣻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣧⣤⣤⣤⣾⡋⣵⠆⠀⠘ ⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⠀⠸⣯⣻⢿⣶⣾⣿⠟⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣯⡉⠛⠛⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡄⢱⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣶⣾⠿⠋⠶⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣽⣿⣧⣠⣶⡷⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⠴⠶⢾ ⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⢳⡜⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣎⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣯⠙⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸

⢠⠤⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣀⣀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡇⢠⠞⠉⠁ ⢀⣀⣸⠀⠀⣇⣀⣸⠀⠈⠉⠉⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉

a(◍•ᴗ•◍)❤(´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡(´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

💋𝓐ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾🆂

🖍🎨🚀

go➜inℹw󠁵C⋆®|樂-𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅^᪲᪲᪲i️➤🏁

🥰💖💗

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⡀⣾⣰⣶⢸⡐⢸⡀⢶⡁⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡇⣿⢼⢹⡈⡇⡬⡇⡘⡇⢽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠰⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠢⢿⣦⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣀⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠃ ⠀⠀⠩⠿⣼⣗⠭⢽⡵⣶⣄⡀⠀⢹⣾⡿⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣷⣿⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⢶⡯⣵⡷⣎⣽⣿⣤⣿⣿⣤⣠⣾⣽⣯⢿⢿⣻⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠹⠻⠽⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣟⣻⣿⣿⣗⣿⣻⠫⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⠻⢿⣿⡿⣾⢿⣿⣿⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀hi ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠠⡿⣺⣟⣿⠘.⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡾⠁⢠⣷⠹⢿⣻⣿⡃⠈⢷⡄⠀⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠟⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠿⡟⡃⠀⠀⢹⣾⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡟⠐⢡⡖⠂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⡟⣄⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣗⣧⣦⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣃⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⢷⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⢀⠀⡀⢀⡀⢀⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠛⠃⠀⠘⠜⠀⠇⠸⠥⠘⠃⠨⠔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

go➜inℹw󠁵C⋆®|樂-𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅^᪲᪲᪲i️➤

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡💗ྀིྀི‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡<𝟑 🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

peace & quiet (๑>◡<๑)

So...⸫⸫⸫𓆩♡𓆪

"💀🕊️⚰📞"

🪸🐦‍🔥🦦🪷🍵🪆

ᗰ𝘪𝘴𝘴 ᑭo͏o͏𝘬𝘪𝘦ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི ˚.🎀༘⋆

ʚ ִֶָ☾.🎀!!────୨ᰔyouᰔৎ────ᵎᵎ 🎀࣪ ִֶָ☾.ɞ

~ֶֶָָ֢֢ [◉¯]

🐈‍⬛ ☁️ ౨ৎ

&

☀️🌊🏝️🐚

a👁️⃤💕

🌸💌🌹❤😍

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 TWICE!🍭 Le sserafim ✮⋆˙.•`𝙽𝚖𝚒𝚡𝚡´•.LOOΠΔꫀꪀꫝꪗρꫀꪀBLɅϽKPIИKᦓꪻ᥅ꪖꪗ ᛕ꠸ᦔᦓ

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

sub to fishwiffbubbles on yt! ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚. (tysm <3)

°.🐚⋆❀˖°M-Urr+aY, SaYs- -+ The BreakErs Are AwesomE, He Says CalmLy..🌊☀️ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋˚.

☀️🌊🏝️🐚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

🧘🏻‍♀️💗

'!x-`♡´-✌˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆˚✿˖° ₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

🤘🏼🤘🏼🤘🏼🤘🏼

me ໑ me

˙✧˖°📷 ༘⋆𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣶⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢆⢳⣹⣏⣯⣽⣾⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⢛⢿⣿⡿⢏⠳⣿⣿⣿⣼⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⠇⣫⣆⡄⠀⣌⠯⣽⣿⣯⠝⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣾⣿⣯⣤⣽⣌⣻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⣶⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣾⡤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⡛⢧⠜⣿⣿⠟⣼⣟⣿⣿⣷⣖⣢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠛⠒⠛⠉⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣆⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⢶⣾⢿⣻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣽⢹⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⠿⣿⢻⣻⣻⣿⣛⣇⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣛⣻⣻⣿⣿⠿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⡴⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣽⣿⣆⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣯⣿⣽⣿⡿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣾⣿⢿⣻⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⡻⣛⣛⣟⣛⣛⣛⣟⣟⣿⢛⣻⣿⣯⢹⣿⡛⣿⣿⣿⠿⣻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢷⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣯⣧⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡼⣶⣧⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣟⣿⣻⣻⡇⣟⣻⣿⢹⣿⣿⣟⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣭⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡰⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣷⣿⣇⣿⣼⣿⣼⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⡿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢻⣶⣷⣏⣭⣽⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⣟⣛⣛⣛⣙⣹⣽⣯⢩⣻⣭⢹⣭⣿⣯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣾⣭⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣶⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢽⣯⣽⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⣸⣿⢻⣷⣮⣽⣿⣾⣿⢿⣯⣽⣿⣟⡛⣿⣹⡻⣭⣽⢩⠭⣿⡏⣭⣽⣯⢭⣽⣿⣾⣷⣷⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀ ⢿⣿⣿⣏⠿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⣿⣿⢎⡻⢽⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣟⣿⢭⣽⣿⣭⠭⣿⣿⢩⡽⣿⡭⣭⣽⣯⣏⣿⣲⣟⢿⣿⣿⣏⢾⣹⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⣧⡝⢮⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⢼⣷⣿⣿⣼⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⢮⡷⣯⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣿⡼⢩⢿⣿⣽⣿⣷⣿⣿⢯⣭⣭⣹⣉⣿⣭⢩⣭⣿⣿⣭⣽⣿⡿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡱⣿⣿⣿⡟⡿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣯⡿⣜⣿⣿⣷⣯⣿⣿⢹⣛⣿⣼⣍⣿⣿⣹⣯⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣖⣻⣿⣏⣭⣿⣛⢻⡿⣿⠿⠿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣟⣛⣯⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣞⢿⣿⢿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣧⣯⣽⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⢊⣿⣿⣿⢼⣽⣿⣿⢺⣛⣿⡿⠽⠉⡿⢿⡿⣟⢿⣿⣾⣷⣿⢿⡿⣽⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣻⡽⢣⡞⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣇⣏⣰⠃⢈⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⡷⠛⢀⣹⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣵⡟⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⢭⣝⣛⣛⣹⣿⣿⢰⢿⣎⣿⣻⣭⠾⠋⠀⠄⣠⠘⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡉⢛⣻⣿⣸⣿⠄⣌⠻⡁⢀⠠⢌⠰⣠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢌⠣⣿⡿⠿⢞⣛⣩⢱⡠⢌⣒⡀⣶⣦⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⠀⠰⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⡘⢄⠣⡿⣧⠹⢏⠞⠴⡩⡽⡜⢠⡐⠿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⡀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠈⡾⠁⠙⡞⢾⣈⢓⡱⠐⠌⡥⣘⢢⡞⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⣇⠠⠄⣠⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣾⠃⠀⠀⠸⣆⠙⣛⠁⠺⠶⢤⢃⠾⣞⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠠⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠰⡉⢻⣦⣤⣴⣾⣷⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⡹⢦⣄⣠⣤⣴⣶⣿⢏⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠤⠑⠊⠙⠿⢿⠿⠇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠧⢷⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⢆⠌⠐⡀⠂⠆⡑⠨⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢆⠈⠛⠟⠛⠉⡐⠰⢘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣩⠄⡡⠠⢡⠈⡄⢃⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣏⠤⣉⠰⡈⠰⡁⢬⣽⣻⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡖⠤⡁⢂⠁⣂⠘⡄⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠆⠀⢢⢁⣃⢉⣾⢧⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣏⢶⣥⣦⣁⣤⣈⣰⣻⡽⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡰⠎⣙⣏⡻⣿⢩⣇⡻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠎⣿⡋⡭⢉⢭⣭⣽⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡷⢶⣙⣩⡭⠭⠟⣫⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣹⠷⣄⣃⠶⢦⣭⣯⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣋⠶⠾⠯⣷⣿⢿⣻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣏⠻⣬⣉⠙⣒⣦⣽⣳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⡉⠄⠶⢋⠡⣤⢞⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣏⢥⡋⡙⠦⠍⠠⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣧⡑⢊⢘⡥⢞⣡⢞⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠢⣉⠕⡰⣌⠁⠎⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠨⢅⠚⢋⠔⡊⠔⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡓⡄⢫⢐⠠⠉⡔⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡯⠄⡉⢆⠸⡐⢩⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠚⡥⢊⠔⡡⢂⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠣⠆⠱⡈⢆⠱⣘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠌⡐⢣⠘⢄⠣⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣐⠊⠥⠘⡄⢃⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣎⠡⢃⠎⡰⢉⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣬⡍⢢⠑⡠⢎⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣎⠧⣈⠒⠡⢧⣹⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠳⢌⠣⡘⡐⢂⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⢰⠡⢎⡑⣶⢫⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡛⢢⠑⡡⠘⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⢋⠞⣡⢃⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⢡⠚⡠⢙⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⡬⢂⠧⣉⢾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣦⣃⢇⠱⢿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠼⣏⠶⣡⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣾⣥⣮⣽⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡠⢞⣛⣉⣍⡻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢟⣩⣭⣛⡻⣄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡞⠖⣋⣹⣿⣽⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⢻⣿⣽⣿⣽⣳⣾⡄⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣭⣻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣩⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⠀⠘⢿⣛⡿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀

🧠🟥🅱🅰🫶🏼

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 ˂ )⸝♡🎀🍓

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁₊ ⊹

✌🏽🙃

THIS WEBSITE NEEDS A REPORT BUTTON! 🔥🔥🔥💯 /// REALLL ‼️‼️

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡).⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⢌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠁⠀⡀⢈⠀⠈⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⢰⠩⢀⣴⡶⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⣄⡉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⢈⣹⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣠⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣠⠘⠌⠂⠰⠿⠋⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣯⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⡂⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠠⡘⢤⠳⣦⠙⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠒⢡⠈⣴⣿⣷⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠋⣤⣶⣶⣬⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠙⣦⠑⡌⠓⡆⠁⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢹⡿⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠦⠤⣀⠀⣁⣠⣬⣤⣤⣷⣶⣿⣿⣦⣌⡛⢿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠘⠲⡈⠣⡀⠀⢀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠠⢸⠃⢰⡻⠛⠉⠁⠄⣰⣶⣿⠋⠛⣿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⠻⣿⣿⣦⠙⣿⣿⣿⣦⡁⠘⢧⡌⠲⣄⣦⡈⠻⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠂⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⠁⠘⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠂⠤⠉⠛⣿⣿⣦⡈⢿⣿⣇⠈⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠄⠙⡆⠀⣹⣿⡷⢀⣭⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠤⢠⠤⠤⡀⠤⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⠀⢹⣿⠀⣿⣿⠟⠁⠐⠀⠾⠷⠲⣷⣿⣿⠙⣍⣻ ⡟⢟⢛⣿⠻⠟⠛⠛⠛⠙⠛⠛⠛⠋⠙⠿⠉⣿⣿⡄⠀⡓⠦⡌⠤⣉⠒⡡⠂⡜⡠⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠁⠠⣽⣤⠿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣏⣠⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣾⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣼⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⢀⠐⢂⡔⢣⢘⡡⢘⡡⠒⣌⠱⣡⠒⢤⠒⠤⢠⠀⠀⠗⠀⠘⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠉⠃⠃⡘⢤⢃⠬⣁⢒⡩⢄⠳⢠⠋⠤⡑⢌⠣⠜⡐⠄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠃⠠⢱⢉⠲⢌⠲⢡⠎⠴⣈⠆⢣⠜⡡⠚⠤⢃⠎⡔⢢⠔⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⢀⣸⣿⠀⡱⢊⡜⠢⡍⡜⢡⠚⡰⢁⡚⠔⣊⠴⡉⢎⢅⢢⢈⠁⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⣀⣤⣾⣿⡏⢠⢃⢎⡑⢢⠡⢑⠪⠔⢣⡘⢡⢒⡩⢄⡓⡘⡜⣌⠚⠠⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⡈⠊⢦⡙⣆⠓⣆⢡⣊⣁⣈⠱⢂⡱⠢⡜⢡⡒⠀⣰⣧⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⡀⠓⢠⠀⠈⠂⢏⠴⣃⠖⡌⣆⢫⡑⣆⠳⡌⠴⠁⣰⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢁⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠐⢁⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠈⠑⠘⠢⢑⢎⡱⢬⠉⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣉⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠗⠉⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣻⣽⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⣴⡄⠈⡙⠁⣀⠂⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣠⠀⠀⠀⡠⢆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⡄⠈⣃⠐⢌⡱⠀⠀⠂⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠁⠠⡄⠀⠑⠊⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⢰⣦⣀⠛⠿⣧⣏⠦⡐⠄⡀⠁⠠⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢞⣀⠀⠐⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠠⡈⠋⠉⡃⠀⠀⠈⠁⠉⠀⠄⠣⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⢠⠀⠊⠳⠒⡌⠀⠁⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣶⠽⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠘⢄⠠⠟⢀⡄⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣧⣤⣀⣀⠠⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⢤⡈⠀⠀⢖⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣙⣋⡙⠛⠛⠻⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡑⢄⡀⠀⢠⣠⣶⣶⡀⠈⠀⠁⢀⢘⣋⣉⣉⠉⠁⢀⠀⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡉⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠅⠐⠒⠉⣠⠤⣍⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠠⠀⠠⡶⣦⡤⠋⢀⣬⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢨⠃⠀⠀⣀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣠⢼⠒⠒⠛⠉⢰⣹⡵⡇⠀⠀⡔⠉⢹⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡏⢱⠀⠔⣉⡩⠇⠀⢂⡘⠀⢀⠖⢢⠀⠀⣶⠀⡤⠀⠀⢀⡖⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢯⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⡇⠀⠀⡅⡀⡙⡅⢀⣸⢆⠀⠉⡟⢙⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠄⠀⠘⣆⠎⠀⠀⡹⠉⡇⠀⢀⡎⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠹⣄⡠⠵⠕⠃⠓⠋⠀⠈⠦⠜⠀⠘⢄⡀⣀⠔⠋⠀⠑⣄⡰⠓⠦⣀⣠⠇⠀⠘⠦⠟⠀⢀⡵⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

◯≽⋉⋉⋉ ⋉⋉⋉≽◯⚢ὣ⚢ὣ ⚣✺ ✜✜✜°° ✜✜✜° ✜✜✜ ✜✜ ✜ ◩⋗ꙮ ✜🕊︎✜

ᯓᡣ𐭩

ꙮ🂣🂣🂣ꙮ ▩▰▰▰▰ ▩▰▰▰ ▩▰▰ ▩▰ ▰ ▰▰ ▰▰▰ ▰▰▰▰ ◯ꙮ◯ too large? ∬∵∬∵∬ from ∬∵∬∵∬ from ㋛⊩㋡ to make ∬∵∬∵∬ from ∬∵∬∵∬ from my house to get ∞∬∞ and ∞∬∞ and ∞∬∞ from ∞∬∞ from ∞∬∞ first ㎏⊍㎏ be tomorrow. him in San Antonio.

❤️😏💑👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👨❤️❤️❤️💏💏💏💝💝💝nྀི👩‍❤️‍👨🥰❤S𑁤ˎˊ˗˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚💌▶🦸

🅰🇧🇲(๑`^´๑)︻デ═一

🤟❤🎨🎭🖼️🖌

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.

me ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

💋💘💕💖

😘🥰✨❤️

👩‍❤️‍👨,💌,❤

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌈🌊🐬˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

i sharted ⭐( ≧ᗜ≦)

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.

me*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚°˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧°.🎀༘⋆

🥯🧋~><{}[]••-

hi ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )