Insecuritywave Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Insecuritywave Emojis & Symbols NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON v(Autistic author) (see n

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON v (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Karen's eyes blazed with fury as she stared at her. "How dare you speak to him like that!" Karen's voice was low and dangerous, her body tense. "How dare you come into my home and say such things!" Hanna took a step back, overwhelmed by the fury in Karen's voice. "I didn't mean..." she began, but Karen cut her off. "You don't get to decide what he needs!" Karen's words were like shrapnel, sharp and biting. "You don't get to judge him!" Her eyes were on fire, her body quivering with the effort of holding back her emotions. Hanna looked at Karen, shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor. "Karen, I'm sorry, I didn't know..." But Karen was beyond words. Her eyes were like twin lasers, cutting through the tension in the room as she stormed towards Hanna. "Get out," she spat, her voice cold and final. Hanna's eyes widened in instinctive fear. She had never seen Karen like this— so angry, so protective. "Get out," Karen repeated, each word a whip crack that sent a shiver down Hanna's spine. Her gaze never left Plankton, whose sobs had become softer, more desolate. Hanna looked between the distraught Plankton and the fuming Karen, realizing the gravity of her mistake. She quickly gathered herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice genuine. "I never meant to..." But Karen's anger was a force of nature, unyielding and fierce. She stood between Hanna and Plankton, her body a barricade against further harm. "Get out," she repeated, her voice now a hiss. "Now." Hanna nodded, defeated. She had overstepped a line she didn't even know existed. With a final, apologetic look at Plankton, she turned and left the Chum Bucket, the door slamming behind her. The room was silent except for Plankton's muffled sobs. Karen rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice soothing as she stroked his back. "It's okay, Plankton. I'm here." But Plankton's thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty, Hanna's threat echoing in his mind. An institution? Would Karen really send him away? He pulled away from Karen's embrace, his eye swollen with tears. "Is it true?" he stammered, his voice a choked whisper. "Should you...could you really do that to me?" Karen's grip tightened around him, breaking at the thought of his fear. "Never," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "I would never send you away." Plankton's gaze flitted to hers, his eye searching for the truth in her words. "But what if I'm too much?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "What if I can't get better?" Karen's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady. "You're not too much," she said, stroking his arm. "You're my husband, and I love you no matter what." Plankton's sobs subsided slightly, his mind racing to understand her words. He knew love. "But what if... what if I can't be normal?" he managed to ask, his voice breaking. Karen's gaze was steady, her love for him unwavering. "Plankton, you don't have to be 'normal' to be loved," she said gently. "You're already perfect to me." Plankton's expression remained uncertain, the threat of Hanna's words still lingering like a bad taste in his mouth. "But what if... what if I can't?" Karen's grip tightened, her love a steel band around his quaking form. "You don't have to be anything but you," she murmured, her voice a balm to his soul. "I'll always love you, Plankton." With trembling hands, she offered him the smoothie she'd got, the soothing blue color a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within them both. "Here," she said gently. "This might help." Plankton took it, his grip precise despite his shaking. He brought the cup to his lips, his gaze never leaving Karen's. The cold liquid slid down his throat, easing the tension ever so slightly. He took another sip, the smoothie's cool embrace soothing his frayed nerves. Karen watched him drink. "We'll get through this," she said firmly. "We'll find a way." Plankton took another sip, his eye flickering between hope and fear. "But what if..." Karen's tentacle gently lifted his chin, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "No 'buts'," she said firmly. "We have each other, and that's all that matters." Plankton took another shaky sip of his smoothie, the blue liquid swirling like the tumultuous thoughts in his head. He felt a tiny spark of comfort at her words. "We'll find a way," Karen repeated, her voice a gentle caress against his fears. She guided him back to the couch, her tentacles never leaving his side. As he took another sip of the smoothie, the coolness seemed to calm him slightly. His sobs grew quieter, his breathing a little steadier. The taste of berries was a sweet contrast to the bitter tang of his thoughts. Karen watched him carefully, her own emotions a swirling storm of concern and love. Gently, she guided him back to the couch, her touch a silent promise of support. He allowed her to lead him, his body exhausted from the intensity of his outburst. Once he was comfortably settled, she took the smoothie from his hand, setting it on the table. She covered him with a soft blanket, the material brushing against his sensitive skin. He flinched slightly, but the comfort outweighed the discomfort. "Rest," she whispered, stroking his forehead gently. "Everything will be okay." **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*

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NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON i (Autistic author) Karen stood, watching from a distance her husband Plankton, whose passion for inventing often overshadowed his love for the simple things in life, was deeply engrossed in his latest project. He was a man of small stature but enormous ideas, and his tiny fingers moved with a grace and precision that belied their size. and Karen knew better than to disturb him when he was in the throes of creation. Suddenly, with a deafening crash, the machine toppled over. It hit Plankton's head with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the floor, his eye rolling back in the socket before closing, and his body went still. Panic flooded Karen as she sprinted to his side. "Plankton!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off the metal walls of their underwater laboratory. Gently, she nudged him, but he remained unresponsive. "Wake up," she whispered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, her voice barely audible above the echoes of the metal chamber. Her gentle shakes turned to frantic pats. "Wake up, Plankton, please," she pleaded. She knew basic first aid, but nothing for something like this—whatever "this" was. "You can't do this to me," she murmured, desperation seeping into her voice. She searched his lifeless form for any sign of movement. His chest was rising, as she found a pulse. He was alive, but barely. Her fear grew with every second that ticked away without his eye opening. The hospital was their only hope. She scooped him up in her arms and raced through the corridors of their underwater abode. The bubble-mobile was docked outside, a sleek contraption that Plankton had designed himself. She placed him gently inside, his head lolling back against the seat. Her trembling hands gripped the wheel, and with a quick glance at his still face, she revved the engine. The bubble-mobile shot forward, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. The journey to the Bikini Bottom Hospital was fraught with tension, each second feeling like an eternity. The neon lights of Bikini Bottom blurred together in her tears, creating a disorienting mosaic of color and light. Her eyes darted between the road and Plankton, his chest rising and falling with breaths. Parking the bubble-mobile in the hospital's emergency dock, Karen leapt out, carrying Plankton with a strength born of desperation. The doors of the hospital slammed open as she burst through, the sound reverberating through the calm aquatic corridors. The medical staff, accustomed to the occasional drama of Bikini Bottom, quickly surrounded them, a flurry of fins and hands reaching to assist. "Dr. Kelp," Karen gasped, "my husband—he's been hurt." The doctor's eyes widened with concern as he quickly assessed Plankton's condition. "Bring him in immediately," he ordered, his voice sharp and urgent. Karen felt a wave of relief wash over her as the hospital staff took over, whisking Plankton away on a stretcher. Her legs wobbled as she followed them into the brightly lit emergency room, her heart racing in her chest. Dr. Kelp, a squid with a calm and reassuring demeanor, instructed the nurses to prepare for a potential concussion. Karen hovered nervously, watching them work with efficient precision. After a tense moment of silence, the machine beeped and the doctor's face fell. They had found something more serious than any concussion. The brain scan revealed that Plankton had suffered severe damage to his brain —a rare but well-documented condition called "Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder." The news hit Karen like a ton of bricks. Her mind raced with questions and worries as she tried to process what this meant for their future. Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder— a condition she had only ever heard about in whispers. The doctor explained that it was rare, but not unheard of, and that it could change Plankton's behavior, his ability to interact with others, and even his cognitive functions. Karen felt a swirl of emotions— fear, anger, and a deep, gnawing sadness. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. "What caused this?" she demanded, her voice shaking with desperation. "It appears to be a result of the trauma from the fall," Dr. Kelp replied solemnly, his tentacles waving to illustrate his explanation. "The brain can be a delicate organ, even for someone as resilient as your husband." Karen's eyes narrowed as she focused on the term 'Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder'. The doctor elaborated. "The corpus callosum, a bridge of nerve fibers connecting the two hemispheres of the brain, had suffered significant damage. His prefrontal cortex (PFC) circuits are now compromised, and his cerebellum's tissue has been affected, too. Also it's irreversible with no cure; he'll have it for as long as he lives. What you can do is make sure he's happy and be mindful of any new behaviors, providing your love and support." Karen felt a wave of anger toward the invention that had taken his attention so completely. Why did he have to push so hard? Why couldn't he just enjoy their life together without always striving for more? But anger quickly gave way to determination. They would face this together, just as they had faced every challenge that had been thrown at them. "We'll let you both stay here together overnight. But yes, autism can vary widely. You'll need to be prepared for anything," Dr. Kelp said gently. The hospital room was cold and sterile, the only sound the steady beep of the monitor beside Plankton's bed. Karen pulled a chair closer, her screen never leaving her husband's face as she held his hand. The sun had barely risen outside when his eye fluttered open. "Plankton," Karen whispered. His eye opened slowly as the doctor came in, his tentacles moving quickly to check the monitors. Plankton's gaze was distant, unfocused, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Karen watched him, his eye searching the room with a childlike curiosity, his grip on her hand tightening. Plankton's gaze finally fell upon her, and she smiled, hoping it would bring him comfort. But his eyebrow furrowed as he studied her intently. He blinked rapidly, his mind trying to make connections that no longer existed in the same way. "Karen?" he mumbled, the word thick and slurred, as if his mouth had forgotten how to form the syllables. "You're ok," she assured him, squeezing his hand. But his confusion was palpable as he scanned the unfamiliar environment. "You had an accident," she began, her voice soothing as she tried to explain what had happened. Plankton's eye widened as he tried to piece together the events that had led them here. The doctor stepped forward. "Mr. Plankton, you've suffered a traumatic brain injury. You have a condition called Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder. It means your brain works differently now." Plankton's eye blinked slowly, taking in the doctor's words. He tried to sit up, his body rigid, but the doctor's firm touch on his shoulder kept him in place. Plankton's eye landed on Karen, his grip tightening around her hand. He stared at her, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. "What's happening?" his voice was a whisper, his usual boisterousness muted. He was trying to make sense of the words, to understand the gravity of his condition. "What's happening?" he asked again, his voice a little louder, more insistent. Karen tried to explain. "You've been hurt, Plankton. You're different now, but we're going to get through this together."
A LIFE OF DIVERSITY v (Autistic author) The door to the Chum Bucket creaked open, and Patrick Star waddled in, a quizzical expression on his face as he took in the scene before him. "What's with the library vibe?" he asked looking from the book-laden table to Plankton's intense gaze. Plankton looked up from the book, antennae stilling for a brief moment before he resumed his recitation of pi. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." Patrick's eyes grew wide as he took in Plankton's intense focus and the unwavering rhythm of his voice. "Plankton, buddy, what's got you in such a tizzy?" he asked, his usual lazy drawl replaced with curiosity. Plankton's antennae twitched as he broke from recitation. Patrick looked at Plankton with genuine curiosity. "Patrick," Plankton said, his voice flat but his antennae twitching slightly. "Jellyfish club." Patrick blinked, his star-shaped pupils dilating in surprise. "Jellyfish club?" he echoed, his voice rising an octave. Karen nodded. "Yes, we were just talking about starting a jellyfish club," she explained, gesturing to the book. "Since Plankton's really interested in them now." Patrick looked from Karen to Plankton, then back again. "But Plankton, jellyfish sting," he said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Jellyfish sting," Plankton agreed, his voice still monotone. "But Plankton have plan. Jellyfish in jar." Patrick's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish in a jar? What's the point of that, buddy?" "Safe jellyfish," he murmured, his voice tight. "What's that supposed to mean, Plankton?" Patrick asked. "Mean jellyfish safe," he said, his voice a little less monotone. "In jar." Patrick chuckled, mistaking Plankton's seriousness for a joke. "Yeah, right, Plankton. You're not seriously gonna start a jellyfish club, are you?" The room's atmosphere shifted, and Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Why not?" he asked, his voice devoid of its earlier excitement. Patrick's chuckles died in his throat as he realized Plankton wasn't joking. "Well, I didn't mean to laugh," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "It's just, jellyfish are kind of... boring, don't you think?" Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he closed the book with a thud. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice devoid of its previous enthusiasm. "It's just... jellyfish aren't exactly the most exciting creatures," Patrick said, trying to recover from his faux pas. "They just float around, right?" The room went quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped further, and he stared at Patrick, his eye unblinking. "Boring," he murmured, his voice a mix of hurt and disappointment. Patrick, not realizing the depth of Plankton's newfound interest continued, "I mean, come on, Plankton. There's more to life than jellyfish." Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he looked at Patrick with a mix of confusion and hurt. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice monotone yet filled with a hint of challenge. "Well, yeah," Patrick said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean jellyfish are for tourists and little kids, right?" The words hung in the air like a thick fog, and the room grew tense as Plankton's antennae quivered with a mix of anger and hurt. "Patrick, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say," Karen said, her voice a gentle warning. But Patrick, oblivious to the tension building in the room, shrugged again. "I'm just saying, jellyfish aren't exactly the coolest things in the ocean, Plankton," he said, his voice still filled with cheerfulness. "Why don't you jus-" Plankton's antennae shot up, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Jellyfish cool," he said, his voice a monotone, but with a hint of steel. "Oh, come on, Plankton," Patrick said, waving a dismissive hand. "You're smarter than this. Why waste your time with jellyfish?" "Jellyfish interesting. Plankton like jellyfish." Karen stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Patrick, Plankton's just found something that he really enjoys," she said. "We should support him in his new interest." But Patrick, still not grasping the gravity of the situation, chuckled. "Oh, Plankton, always so dramatic. It's just a phase. And you can't talk like that forever, right?" He then mimicked Plankton's flat tone saying, "Plankton wike jellyfish," which sent him into a fit of giggles. The room grew quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped, and a single tear formed at the corner of his eye, sliding down his face. "B-but, Plankton thought..." Plankton's voice broke as Patrick interrupts him again mimicking him. "B-but, Plankton thought," Patrick said, his voice a high-pitched parody of Plankton's monotone. "Jellyfish cool," he continued, his giggles echoing in the room. Plankton's antennae shot up. "Jellyfish cool," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering. Patrick's giggles didn't stop, and he leaned closer to Sponge Bob, whispering, "Is he for real?" But Plankton's tears didn't fall in vain. The moment his sobs filled the room, the atmosphere shifted. Karen's with horror at the sight of her husband's pain, and she rushed over to him, wrapping around his tiny frame. "Plankton, no," she whispered, her voice filled with a motherly concern that was more powerful than any Krabby Patty recipe. Sponge Bob's expression grew solemn as he watched the scene unfold. He had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, so raw. The villain he knew was now a creature in pain, and his heart swelled with emotion. "Patrick, that's enough," she said, his voice firm. But the damage was done. Plankton's sobs grew louder, and he buried his face in Karen, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen glared at Patrick, her screen flashing with a fiery protectiveness that was uncharacteristic of her usual calm demeanor. "Patrick, you need to leave," she said, her voice a low hiss. "Now." Patrick, taken aback by the sudden shift in mood, backpedaled awkwardly. "But, I didn't mean to-" "Just go," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "Outside. I'll talk to you in a moment." Patrick, still chuckling nervously, shuffled to the door. "But, I didn't mean to make him-" "Out!" Karen's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The urgency in her tone was clear, leaving no room for argument. Patrick, still looking confused, shrugged and waited outside.
THE LIFE OF UNITY v (Autistic author) Sponge Bob wraps around Plankton's quivering body, his eyes filled with compassion. "It's ok, buddy," he says soothingly. "Kevin didn't know. He's just not used to... well, you know." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye brimming with unshed tears. "Kevin hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob nods, wrapping around Plankton in a gentle embrace. "I know buddy," he says soothingly. "But Kevin's just a sea cucumber. He didn't understand." Plankton's antennae quiver with sadness, his monotone voice barely audible. "But jellyfish," he murmurs, his one eye slowly closing. "Jellyfish never hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob nods, stroking Plankton's antennae gently. "It's ok," he whispers, his voice filled with warmth. "You're safe now." Sponge Bob's stroke Plankton's antennae, his touch as soft as a feather brushing. Plankton's quivering slows, a distant echo of the pain that once consumed him. His eye closes, his body relaxes, and the tension dissipates. As Plankton's breathing evens out and his antennae stop quivering, Sponge Bob realizes that his friend has finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. The yellow sponge looks down at the tiny plankton in his arms. Sponge Bob's gaze is soft as he takes in Plankton's peaceful sleeping form. Plankton's antennae, no longer quivering with anger, lie still against his head. His one eye is now closed, his mouth slightly agape in the unguarded ease of slumber. He looks around the jellyfish fields, the serene scene a stark contrast to the emotional storm that has just passed. The jellyfish float around them, oblivious to the drama, their tentacles trailing lazily in the water. Sponge Bob sighs, his tightening around Plankton's small form. He knows that this incident with Kevin won't be the last time his friend faces misunderstanding or cruelty. Plankton's new reality is tough but he's determined to help him navigate it. Gently, he cradles Plankton and starts the journey back to the Chum Bucket, the place where Plankton's heart lies despite his recent troubles. The walk is quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of the jellyfish and the occasional splish-splash of the water. Sponge Bob's thoughts are with his friend, wondering how he can help him feel less alone in the vast sea of confusion and pain. As they enter the Chum bucket, Karen's electronic eyes light up with curiosity. She notices Plankton's asleep and Sponge Bob's solemn expression. "What happened?" she asks, her digital voice filled with concern. Sponge Bob sighs, still gently supporting Plankton. "A jellyfishing champion named Kevin was making fun of Plankton," he explains, his voice tinged with sadness. "It upset him because of his condition." Karen's robotic arms cross over her chest, her digital eyes widening. "His neurodisability?" she asks, her curiosity piqued. Sponge Bob nods, still wrapped around the sleeping Plankton. "Yes," he says, his voice gentle. "Kevin didn't know. He said some things that really hurt Plankton's feelings." Karen's digital brow furrows, her LED lights dimming slightly. "That's unfortunate," she murmurs, her circuits processing the situation. "Tell me what he said." Sponge Bob recounts the conversation around Plankton protectively as he speaks. "Kevin called Plankton 'stupid' and said jellyfish were dumb," he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "It really got to him." Karen's LED lights flicker with understanding. "I see," she murmurs, her robotic voice soothing. "It's not uncommon for those who are unaware of neurodiversity to make hurtful comments." Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But it really hit Plankton hard. He's already feeling so lost with his new diagnosis." Karen's LED lights dim slightly, her digital expression reflecting empathy. "It must have been quite the ordeal," she says, her voice a soothing hum. "I can see how that would be difficult for him." Sponge Bob nods, his tentacles still wrapped around Plankton. " He's not the same," he whispers. "But I think he's trying." Karen's digital eyes narrow, her circuits whirring as she processes the information. "Tell me everything," she says, her voice a gentle purr of concern. "I want to understand what happened to my Plankton." Sponge Bob takes a deep breath. "Kevin was making fun of Plankton," he starts, his voice filled with anger at the thought of his friend's pain. "He didn't know about the accident." Karen's eyes widen, her digital pupils dilating with concern as Plankton himself starts to stir, his antennae quivering in his sleep as if in response to the conversation. "It's okay, Plankton," Sponge Bob murmurs stroking his friend's antennae gently. "You're safe." Plankton stirs in his sleep, his antennae quivering slightly as he groans. Karen's eyes soften, her robotic arms reaching out tentatively. "Let me take him," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "I'll make sure he's comfortable." Sponge Bob nods, unfurling as he gently transfers Plankton to Karen's outstretched arms. She holds him with surprising tenderness, cradling him against her cold, metallic body. "Thank you," she murmurs, her digital eyes never leaving Plankton's face. As she carries him to his bed, Sponge Bob follows, his thoughts racing with the weight of the situation. He can't help but feel a mix of anger and sadness at Kevin's callous words and Plankton's pain. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he whispers, brushing the plankton's antennae. Plankton's one eye opens slowly, his antennae still quivering from the echoes of the painful conversation. "Karen?" he murmurs, his monotone voice thick with sleep. Karen's LED lights blink in response, her robotic arms adjusting his pillow with gentle precision. "You're safe," she assures him, her digital eyes softening. "You're home." Plankton's antennae quiver with confusion. "Home?" he murmurs, his one eye opening wider as he takes in the surroundings. "Where's jellyfish?" Karen's LED lights flicker gently. "You're in the Chum Bucket, Plankton," she says, her robotic voice a soothing purr. "You're safe." Karen hands him his box of organized jellyfish figurines. Plankton takes the box, his one eye blinking rapidly as he looks around the room. The familiarity of his bed and his beloved jellyfish figurines brings a small measure of comfort, but the memory of Kevin's cruel words still stings. Sponge Bob sits by Plankton in the bed, looking at the different mini figures of jellyfish Plankton assorted. "Jellyfish," Plankton murmurs, his antennae still quivering slightly. He takes one out, a small translucent figurine with a smiling face. "This one's Aurelia aurita," he says, his monotone voice slipping into the rhythm of technical jargon. "It's a moon jellyfish. They have a lifespan of approximately one year." Sponge Bob nods, reaching out to touch the delicate model. "They're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with wonder. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly with pride, shifting to a gentle lecture tone. "Yes," he murmurs, holding up another. "This one is a Cyanea capillata, also known as the lion's mane jellyfish. It can grow up to 2.5 meters wide with tentacles over 30 meters long. Quite the predator." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with amazement. "Wow," he says, his voice filled with awe. "They're so different from each other." Plankton nods, his antennae quivering slightly.
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY v (Autistic author) The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with the unspoken words of regret and uncertainty. Plankton's humming becomes the only sound in the room. Sandy's eyes are glued to Plankton, watching his hands move in a mesmerizing pattern. His humming grows slightly louder, filling the space around them with a comforting buzz. Despite the simplicity of the act, it's a powerful declaration of his new reality. "Plankton are you ok?" Sandy asks him. Plankton's humming stops abruptly, his gaze snaps to her. "Book," he says with longing. "Want book." Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with newfound understanding. "Of course," she says, standing up. She and Karen move to the shelf where she had placed the book earlier. Karen reaches up, her hand carefully retrieving it. "Here," she says, her voice calm, handing the science book to him. He opens it, his gaze immediately drawn to the index table in the back. His eye scans the rows, his brain finding comfort in the predictability of the page numbers. He starts to read the index aloud, his voice a monotone that fills the room with a strange rhythm. "Quantum Mechanics... 134," he reads, his finger tracing the line. "Relativity, Special and General... 212." Karen and Sandy listen, their expressions a mix of wonder and concern. They've never seen Plankton so engrossed in anything other than his own schemes before. Sandy's gaze follows the movement of his finger as it traces the numbers, her mind trying to grasp the significance of his actions. "Why does he read the index like that?" she whispers to Karen. Karen's smile is filled with both love and pride. "It's his way of finding order," she concurs. "The numbers, the patterns, it brings him comfort." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. His focus on the book is intense, his voice a steady rhythm as he reads off the page numbers. "Biology... 37. Chemistry... 101," he drones. Karen sits beside him, her hand on his back, providing the gentle pressure he craves. The sound of his voice, the comfort of the book's familiar weight, it's all part of his new routine. Sandy sits opposite, her paws clasped in her lap, watching intently. Her gaze flickers from Plankton to Karen and back again. She's learning, trying to understand. Plankton's voice rises in excitement as he reaches the physics section. "Quantum Entanglement... 543!" he exclaims, his hands flapping. His eye lit up, a rare smile spreading across his face. Karen's smiles. This was the Plankton she knew, the one who found delight in the complexity of the universe. He reads on, his voice picking up speed. "String Theory... 621! Gravity Waves... 784!" His stimming becomes more animated, his hands fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, each flap a silent declaration of his newfound obsession with order. Sandy's curiosity is piqued, but she's careful not to interrupt, instead watching him with a newfound respect. Karen smiles, her hand still on his back, feeling the warmth of his excitement through her metal shell. "Plankton, why do you like the index so much?" Sandy asks, keeping her voice soft, when the doorbell rings. Karen's head snaps up, the interrupted moment forgotten. "I'll get it," she says, standing quickly. SpongeBob's face appears in the doorway. "Hi, Karen!" he says, his voice bright and cheerful. "Hi, Sandy!" Sandy's eyes dart to the closed bedroom door, then back to Karen. "I should go," she says, standing up. "Let you guys have some space." Karen nods, her gaze following Sandy's. "Thank you," she whispers. "Bye Sandy. Sponge Bob, come on in; Plankton's in the bedroom.." SpongeBob's now going in, his eyes wide with excitement. "What's up, Plankton?" he says, his voice a bubbly burst of enthusiasm. Plankton's head snaps up, his eye wide. "SpongeBob," he says, his voice excitedly affectionate. Sponge Bob's eyes widen at the sight of Plankton's intense focus on the book. "Wow, Plankton, you're really into that, huh?" Plankton's hands stop moving, his gaze shifting from the index to Sponge Bob's smiling face. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice filled with glee. He jumps up from the bed, the book forgotten as he rushes to embrace his friend. Sponge Bob stumbles backward, surprise etched on his features as Plankton's arms wrap around his waist. "Whoa, buddy," he says, his eyes wide. "What's gotten into you?" Plankton's grip tightens, his body vibrating with joy. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Sponge Bob's smile falters, his hands awkwardly patting Plankton's back. "It's ok, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "I'm just here to visit." Plankton pulls away, his eye shining with joy with a warmth Sponge Bob isn't used to seeing from him. "Come, sit," he says, his voice eager. He pats the spot on the bed next to him. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of happiness and concern. Sponge Bob sits down, his body tense. "Plankton, you ok?" he asks, his eyes searching Plankton's. Plankton nods, his hands still flapping in excitement. "Good," he says, his voice monotone yet earnest.
AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY v (Autistic author) Sandy had always known him as quick-witted and sharp-tongued, now he was a shell of his former self, retreating at the slightest touch. Plankton's antennae twitched. Karen stepped in, her voice firm but gentle. "It's ok, Sandy. We're all still learning." Sandy looked at the plate of cookies on the floor, regret flooding her features. She knew Plankton had liked her cookies before, but now... "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea." She reached for him again, but Karen stepped in, shaking her head gently. "It's okay," Karen said, her tone soothing. "But remember, he's not the same Plankton anymore." Sandy's hand hovered in the air, her eyes pleading with Karen for guidance. Plankton's antennae continued to twitch as he stared at the floor, his body a tightly coiled spring. Karen stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered to him. Sandy looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and confusion. "Come on, Plankton," she said, her voice softening. But Plankton's antennae remained still, his gaze fixed on the floor. Karen knew he was lost in his own world, unable to process Sandy's words through the sensory overload. Sandy tried again, her voice a soft coo. "Look at me, Plankton," she said, her hand reaching out once more. But Plankton flinched, his antennae flattening against his head. "No," he murmured, his voice trembling. "No." Sandy's face fell, her eyes wet with regret. "I didn't mean to scare him," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's ok, Sandy," Karen said, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "You just need to be patient with him." Karen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. "It was a fight with Mr. Krabs," she said, her words measured. "It... changed how his brain works." Plankton's more sensitive to sounds, lights, and touch," she explained. "And his communication is different now." Sandy looked from Karen to Plankton, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice gentle. "I didn't know." Hanna, who had been quietly observing from the corner, approached the trio, her gaze filled with empathy. "It's okay, Sandy," she said. "We're all still learning." The door burst open again, and SpongeBob bounded in, his usual cheerfulness a stark contrast to the solemn mood in the room. "Hi, everyone!" he exclaimed, his spongey body bouncing with energy. "What's all the hub..." "SpongeBob," Plankton exclaimed, his antennae perking up slightly. SpongeBob's eyes widened in surprise at the rare display of joy from Plankton. The sudden change in Plankton's demeanor was like a switch had been flipped. His antennae stopped twitching, his body uncoiled slightly. "Sponge Bob," he said again, his voice a little louder this time. Sponge Bob looked at him with wonder. "Hi, Plankton!" he said, his eyes wide. "How are you feeling?" Plankton's gaze locked onto Sponge Bob, and a tentative smile spread across his face. "Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice filled with longing. Sponge Bob's eyes widened with surprise. "Plankton!" he exclaimed, his usual cheerfulness amplified. He moved closer to his friend, his body language open and welcoming. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he watched Sponge Bob give him a gentle pat on the back. But Plankton didn't flinch this time. Instead, his antennae curled forward slightly, as if reaching out for contact. Sponge Bob, noticing the subtle change in his friend, took a seat beside him. "You okay, buddy?" he asked, his voice a gentle whisper. Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering with the effort to stay still. "Sponge Bob good," he murmured, his eye focusing on the familiar figure. Sponge Bob's touch was comforting, a gentle reminder of times when the world wasn't so overwhelming. Plankton's body slowly relaxed under the warmth of the friendship. Sandy and Hanna watched in silence as Sponge Bob's gentle presence seemed to soothe Plankton. His antennae stilled, his body unfurling slightly from its tight coil of anxiety. Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, beamed at Plankton. "I brought you some jellyfishing nets," he offered, holding up a small sack. "Thought we could go for a catch, like old times!" Plankton's antennae shot straight up, his excitement palpable. "Jellyfishing?" he asked, his voice filled with hope. Sponge Bob's grin grew wider. "You bet, Plankton!" he exclaimed. "Just like the good old days!" Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "Good," he murmured, his eye lighting up. The mention of jellyfishing brought back memories of simpler times, before his world had been turned upside down. "Yes," he murmured, his voice eager. "Jellyfishing." Karen watched the interaction between Sponge Bob and Plankton, relief washing over her. She knew how much Sponge Bob had always meant to Plankton, and seeing his positive effect was a comforting balm. Sponge Bob's presence had calmed the storm of emotions and sensory overload that had been building within Plankton. He was now sitting up straight in his chair, his antennae waving slightly with excitement. Karen watched them, her heart swelling with gratitude for Sponge Bob. She knew that Plankton needed friends who understood him, who could navigate the choppy waters of his new reality. She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Sponge Bob's. "Sponge Bob," she began, her voice shaky. "There's something important I need to tell you." Sponge Bob looked at her with concern. "What's up, Karen?" Karen took a deep breath, preparing to share the news. "Plankton's been diagnosed with autism," she said softly. Sponge Bob's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "What's that, Karen?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity rather than fear. Karen took a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears. "It's a condition that makes his brain work differently," she explained. "It's like his senses are on overload, and sometimes, the world is just too much for him to handle." Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with concern. "Too much?" he echoed. "But Plankton's always been so... so...spirited!" Karen nodded, her eyes moist with unshed tears. "It's not his spirit, Sponge Bob," she said. "It's just that now, his brain needs more time to process things. And some things that didn't bother him before are really hard for him now." Sponge Bob's gaze drifted to Plankton, who was now playing with a jellyfishing net, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "It was an accident," Karen continued, her voice thick with emotion. "A fight with Mr. Krabs." "A fight?" he echoed, his spongy body stiffening. Karen nodded, her gaze firm. "Mr. Krabs hit him really hard," she said. "And it changed his brain." Sponge Bob looked at Plankton, his eyes filled with a new understanding. He reached out his hand, and Plankton took it, his antennae relaxing slightly. "I'm here for you, buddy," he said, his voice gentle. "You can stay, but perhaps save jellyfishing for another day." Says Karen, as Sandy and Hanna left. Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand firm. "Whatever you need, Plankton," he said.
⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠤⠒⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⡶⠖⠒⠒⢐⠒⠒⠲⢦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠈⠉⠐⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠂⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠁⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠈⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠉⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠁⠈⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣄⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢊⡼⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠆⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠁⠀⠈⠉⠒⢄⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣦⡤⠔⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠑⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣿⣇⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡽⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣼⣿⣻⢷⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⣽⣻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⢥ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⣼⣟⡾⣽⣫⢾⡽⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡷⣯⣟⠗⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠸ ⠀⠀⢀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⡠⠾⠻⢽⣛⡷⣽⣫⣟⣳⢿⡷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡛⠀⠈⠳⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀ ⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣠⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⣽⡳⣷⣹⢯⡾⣝⣯⢿⡶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢ ⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠀⠁⢀⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣳⢯⣟⣮⢷⣻⢽⢮⡷⣻⣟⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⣯⣞⢾⡽⣞⡯⣷⣛⣧⣟⣮⢷⣻⢟⡿⣶⢶⡶⣶⢶⡒⠓⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠐⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⢴⣾⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢶⣫⣟⢾⣭⢷⢯⡽⣞⣮⠷⣏⡿⢾⡽⣭⢷⣻⣭⠿⣵⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣇⠉⠙⠒⠒⠒⢐⠒⠒⠊⢹⠀⠀ ⢀⣀⣠⠤⠔⠒⠂⠉⠀⠀⢸⡿⣾⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡽⣞⣳⣭⣟⣞⡯⣯⢷⣛⣾⢻⡽⣽⣏⡿⣭⣿⣱⣞⢿⣳⣻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡼⠀⠀ ⠁⢰⢧⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⡽⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⢯⣻⣝⣧⡟⣞⣾⠽⠓⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠚⠫⠷⣯⢿⣹⣟⡷⣶⣶⢾⣟⣷⣻⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⢀⠞⠀⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⡈⢧⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣽⣟⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⢿⡽⣯⢷⣞⡧⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠫⢿⣳⣯⣟⣾⣳⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠆⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⠳⡄⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡾⣽⣻⣟⡿⣟⡿⣯⣟⣯⡿⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠐⠀⣀⠞⠁⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢳⡀⢁⠈⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡿⢷⣻⣾⡽⠯⠟⠓⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠂⠒⠒⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⢀⡤⢚⠁⠀⢀⢈⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠄⠀⠈⡗⠢⣄⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⣡⠔⠊⠁⠀⢸⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠂⠭⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⠇⢀⠴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⢋⡮⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠊⡾⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⣤⡀⠀⠈⠑⠦⢵⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠊⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠀⣸⠀⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⢘⣻⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣥⣰⣿⣤⠀ ⠳⡀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠀⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠄⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠛⠛⣿⡿⠀ ⠀⠙⢦⡀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠙⢡⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠐⠒⠒⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⣀⣀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡁⠚⠙⠱⢤⣀⣸⡁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢦⡳⡄⠀⠀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡴⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠲⠀⠀⢙⠀⠀⣠⡎⠈⠀⢈⡀⠊⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣔⠢⣾⠿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⢯⠟⡿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii (Autistic author) "Now let's go to the living room and I'll go pick up a smoothie for you. Can you stay here by yourself?" He nodded, his expression slightly less tense. "I'll be back soon," she assured him, squeezing his shoulder before leaving the Chum Bucket. Just moments later, Karen's friend Hanna came for a surprise visit. She knew Karen had a husband named Plankton, but she never met him. Plankton was now back on the living room couch. "Oh, you must be Plankton!" Hanna exclaimed. Plankton's eye flitted to her, his expression unreadable. Hanna walked over to the couch, her smile wide and genuine. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, embracing him in a hug. Plankton stiffened, his eye wide with surprise. His body tensed, his mind racing to process this new sensory input. "You ok?" Hanna asked, pulling back slightly. She had noticed his reaction but didn't know the reason behind it. Plankton nodded, his eye darting around the room again. He wasn't used to such spontaneous affection, and the unexpected sensation of Hanna's arms around him had thrown him off balance. "Yes, I am Plankton," he murmured, his voice monotone. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Hanna's smile didn't waver, unaware of the turmoil within his mind. "How are you feeling today?" Plankton's gaze flicked to the ceiling, his mind racing to find the right words. "Today, feeling," he echoed, his voice still a whisper. The repetition was a comfort, a way to process the flood of sensory information that assaulted him continuously. Hanna looked at him with a puzzled expression. "You know, your wife Karen tells me you're an inventor," she said, her tone innocently curious. Plankton's eye locked onto hers, his mind racing to understand the context of her words. "Inventor," he repeated, his voice flat. It was a word he knew, but it felt foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. "Yes, inventor," Hanna said, nodding enthusiastically. "I've heard so much about your gadgets and contraptions. What are you working on these days?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room again, his mind struggling to grasp the concept of 'working'. "Gadgets, contraptions," he murmured, his voice a broken record. Hanna's expression was one of confusion, her smile beginning to fade. "Well, what do you do all day?" she prodded gently, trying to coax him out of his silence. Plankton's reply was immediate and robotic, "Do, all day, all day." Hanna's brow furrowed, uncertain how to interpret his repetitive response. She had known Karen for years, but Plankton's behavior was unlike anything she had ever heard of her friend's husband. "Do you like the beach?" she asked, hoping to engage him in conversation. Plankton's eye blinked slowly, his mind processing the question. "Beach," he echoed, his voice hollow. Hanna nodded, encouraged by his response. "Yes, the beach! It's such a beautiful place. Do you ever go there?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the memory of sand and surf a distant whisper. "Go, beach, beautiful place," he said, his words a stuttered echo of hers. Hanna's smile dimmed slightly. This wasn't the witty banter she was expecting from Karen's husband. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she asked, uncertain. Plankton's eye moved to hers, his gaze intense. "Talk," he repeated, his voice a whisper. Hanna felt a twinge of discomfort. Something was off about his responses, but she couldn't quite put her tentacle on what it was. "Well, what do you like to do for fun?" she tried again, her tone tentative. Plankton's eye wandered back to his own hand, fidgeting with his fingers. "Do, fun," he murmured, the words a reflexive response to the question. Hanna's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you do for fun?" she clarified, wondering if he had simply misunderstood. Plankton's gaze remained on his fidgeting hand, his mind racing to connect the concept of 'fun' with his new reality. "Do, fun," he repeated, his voice devoid of the mirth he once expressed so freely. Hanna's smile was now forced, her confusion growing with each interaction. "Plankton, can you tell me what you enjoy doing?" she asked, hoping for a clearer response. He looked up at her, his gaze slightly less focused than before. "Enjoy doing," he repeated, his voice a faint echo. Hanna's twitched with concern. "You know, like hobbies or interests," she prompted gently, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's eye moved back to his fidgeting hand, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensory overload. "Hobbies, interests," he murmured, his voice a hollow echo. Hanna's concern was now clear on her screen. "You know, like things you like to do in your free time," she tried again, her voice a little less bright. Plankton's eye latched onto hers. "Free time," he repeated, his voice a monotone. "Like to do." Hanna's eyes widened slightly, her confusion growing with each word he said. "Yes, exactly," she nodded, her voice a little more cautious now. "What do you like to do in your free time? Well, other than repetition.." She awkwardly laughs as she elbows him multiple times, not knowing how her touch is irritating Plankton. Plankton's getting more frustrated/angry now, as Hanna goes to pat his shoulder. He can't take much more now. Hanna's touch was like a brand, searing his already overwhelmed senses. He flinched away, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton, are you ok?" Hanna asked, her voice filled with concern. She noticed his discomfort but couldn't pinpoint the cause. He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "Ok, ok," he mumbled, his voice still a monotone. Hanna looked at him with concern, her smile slipping. "Karen said you used to be quite the conversationalist. What happened?" She says, grabbing his elbow; but that's the last straw for Plankton. Plankton's eye snapped up to hers, his voice sharp. "What happened? You happened!" He snapped, his words sharp as a knife. The sudden aggression in his tone was like a slap in the face, catching Hanna off guard. She took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she began, but Plankton was on a roll now. "You don't know what happened!" his voice grew louder, his words quickening with each syllable. "You don't know anything!" Hanna's eyes went wide with shock. This was not the Plankton Karen had described. Her arms flailed in the air as she tried to placate his sudden anger. "I'm sorry, Plankton. I just didn't know..."
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iv (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ But Plankton's frustration had reached a boiling point. His voice was a thunderclap in the small room, his eye flashing with a rage he couldn't contain. "You don't know!" he roared, his body shaking. Hanna took another step back, her heart racing. "I'm sorry, Plankton, I truly didn't mean to upset you," she said, her voice shaking. Plankton's gaze shifted to the door, his mind racing to the safety of his solitude. "You don't know," he murmured, his anger subsiding slightly. The sudden silence was like a balm to his raw nerves. But Hanna's curiosity angered him further. "Plankton, what..." "I DON'T KNOW!" Plankton's voice pierced the silence, his frustration at an all-time high. Hanna's eyes grew wider. "I'll leave you alone," she said quickly, her voice quiet and soothing. But as she turned to go, she accidentally brushed against his arm. Plankton's reaction was instant and explosive. He jerked away, his body tensing, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice sharp and jagged. Hanna's eyes wide with shock. "Plankton tell me what's..." But Plankton had reached his limit. The touch, the questions, the expectation of normalcy—it was all too much. He felt personally attacked, now on a roll. "You don't know what's what?" he spat out, his voice a whip crack. "You come in here, invading my space, without a care in the world for what I'm going through!" Hanna took another step back, retracting quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she whispered, her eyes filling with sorrow. "Karen never mentioned..." But Plankton's frustration had become anger, his next words cutting like a knife. "You don't know anything," he snarled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You come in here, asking your stupid questions, expecting me to be the same person I was before!" "Before what, Plankton?" Yet Plankton's not wanting to answer Hanna so he yells his next words at the top of his lungs. "Before I...I... YOU KNOW WHAT? IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Plankton's voice cracked with the effort of his outburst, but he's just getting started, now he's on a roll, his next words being worse. "I don't want you here. I don't need you here," Plankton spat out, his frustration a palpable force in the room. Hanna took another step back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was just trying to..." But Plankton's anger had taken over. "You're not helping!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "You don't get to decide what I need!" He was on his feet now, his body rigid with frustration. "I don't want you to know!" "Know what, Plankton? You don't get to decide what I can and can't know," she said, her voice firm. But Karen's now returned with the smoothie, both Hanna and Plankton too wrapped up to notice her presence. "You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything?" his voice was a growl now. "You think you know what it's like to be trapped in here?" He tapped his head with his finger, his eye wild. "You don't know anything!" Now Hanna's getting real angry. "You think you're the only one suffering?" Hanna countered, her voice rising. "What about Karen? What about the people who actually care about you?" Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, his anger fueled by her words. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space of the Chum Bucket. "You don't know what it's like to have the world make no sense! To be trapped in your own head!" Hanna's expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I really am. But you can't just push everyone away." "Why not?" Plankton demanded, his voice a whip crack. "Why do I have to explain?" But Hanna's concern for Karen overrode her own fear. "Karen's my friend and she deserves better than you and your little tantrums," Hanna snapped back. "Tantrums? TANTRUMS?" Plankton's voice was a roar now. "This isn't a tantrum, it's reality!" Hanna's in a defensive posture, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I don't know what real pain is?" she shouted back. "You're so caught up in your own world that you can't see what you're doing to her, just because you're too stubborn and acting like a child who can't deal with the real world! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A BURDENSOME WASTE OF SPACE! So, if you can't get your act together, maybe you should just go to an institution where people can handle your..." "That's enough!" Karen snapped. Her voice was a whip crack across the tension filled room, startling both Plankton and Hanna. She couldn't stand silent any longer. Yet Plankton's face crumpled at Hanna's threat, his anger giving way to despair. Tears began to stream down his face, his body shaking with sobs he couldn't control. The sudden shift from rage to sorrow was like a punch to Hanna. **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vi (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Plankton's eye closed slowly, his breathing evening out under her calming touch. His body relaxed into the cushions of the couch, his mind still racing but his body succumbing to the siren call of sleep. The smoothie and Karen's comforting presence had worked their magic. Karen sat beside him, wrapped protectively around his small form. She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, her heart heavy with the weight of the day's events. The Chum Bucket was quiet now, the silence a stark contrast to the shouts and sobs that had filled it moments before. Karen's heart breaks for Plankton yet she knows Hanna's never met him, never heard of the accident nor diagnosis. With a sigh, she picked up the phone that lay on the end table and dialed Hanna's number. The line rang once, twice, three times before Hanna's voice filled the line. "Hello?" Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she had to have. "Hanna, it's me," she said, her voice calm despite the whirlwind inside her. "I need to talk to you about what happened." Hanna's tone shifted immediately, concern lacing her words. "Is Plankton okay?" Karen's grip on the phone tightened. "No," she admitted, her voice a whisper. "He's asleep now, but he's not okay." Hanna's voice was a mix of shock and disbelief. "What do you mean?" Karen took another deep breath, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "There was an accident," she began, her voice steady. "He hit his head and..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder." The line was silent for a moment before Hanna's voice came back, filled with horror. "Oh Neptune, I had no idea!" Karen's tentacles trembled slightly as she recounted the doctor's words, the diagnosis that had turned their world upside down. "It's permanent," she whispered. "They said his corpus callosum and cerebellum were damaged. He's...he's not the same, Hanna." On the phone, Hanna's voice was a mix of sympathy and confusion. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" Karen's sigh was heavy with regret. "We've been dealing with this alone," she explained, her tentacle tracing patterns on the couch cushion. "It's so new, so overwhelming." Hanna's voice was gentle now, understanding in a way that made Karen feel less alone. "I'm so sorry, Karen," she said, her concern genuine. "I had no idea." Karen's eyes remained locked on Plankton's face, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "It's been a rollercoaster," she admitted, her voice tight. "But we're trying to make the best of it." Karen hangs up and turns her focus back to Plankton, his small body curled tightly under the blanket. She notices the way his antenna twitches as if he's dreaming. Her hands gently adjust the blanket, her touch feather-light against his skin. Plankton's face is a mask of peace in sleep, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the waking world. His snores are faint, a soothing rhythm that fills the otherwise silent room. Just as Karen begins to relax, the door to the Chum Bucket bursts open, letting in a rush of sunlight and SpongeBob's unmistakable laughter. "Plankton?" he calls out, his voice high and cheerful. Sponge Bob's entrance is a whirlwind of energy, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hangs over the laboratory. He doesn't notice the tension in the air as he bounds towards the couch, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Plankton's unusual position. "Whoa, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice a chirp of curiosity. "Looks like you're taking a siesta!" He laughs, not comprehending the depth of emotion that has just played out in the room. Karen looks up from her watchful vigil, her eyes tired but determined. "Sponge Bob," she says, keeping her voice steady, "Plankton's not feeling well." Sponge Bob's face falls, his cheerfulness dimming. "Oh no," he says, his concern genuine. He approaches the couch with caution, his eyes fixed on Plankton's peaceful form. "What happened?" he asks, his voice hushed. "Is he okay?" Karen's eyes meet Sponge Bob's, full of a sorrow he can't quite comprehend. "It's been a...difficult day," she says, her tentacles tightening slightly around Plankton. "He had an accident." Sponge Bob's expression shifts from confusion to alarm. "Is he going to be okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. Karen sighs, her tentacle stroking Plankton's forehead in a soothing motion. "He's just...different now," she says, her voice tight. Sponge Bob frowns, his bubbles popping with worry. "What kind of different?" Karen's expression is guarded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "He's been diagnosed with... autism," she whispers, the word sounding foreign even to her. "Hey, I was born with idiopathic Autism!" Sponge Bob says. "Well Plankton's got an acquired form, it's a rarity," Karen explains to Sponge Bob, her voice barely a murmur so as not to disturb the sleeping Plankton. Sponge Bob nods slowly, his understanding of the situation deepening with each word. "So his accident gave him autism; when?" "Yesterday, when he hit his head on an invention." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with realization. "Oh," he says, his voice filled with sympathy. He sits down on the floor beside the couch. "It's okay, Karen," Sponge Bob says softly, his eyes full of understanding. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton stirs beneath the blanket, his small form shifting slightly. Karen's gaze snaps to him. "Plankton?" she whispers, her tentacles poised to comfort him if his distress resurfaces. But his eye remains closed, his breathing even. Sponge Bob's expression is thoughtful as he looks at the sleeping Plankton. "You know, Karen, being different isn't so bad," he says gently. "I mean, look at me." Karen's tentacles relax slightly as she looks at Sponge Bob, his optimism a balm to her weary spirit. Karen smiles. "Tell that to Hanna," Karen mutters to herself. "Who's Hanna?" "A friend," Karen explained, her voice still tight. "She came over today, didn't know about Plankton's diagnosis. She said things she shouldn't have." Sponge Bob's frown deepens. "What kind of things?" "She said he's a burden, that maybe I should put him in an institution," she whispers, her voice shaking with anger. Sponge Bob's face falls in shock. "That's not right, Karen," he says firmly. "You don't have to listen to her. What's an institution?" "It's a place where clinically crazy people are sent to rehabilitation be 'taken care of.' But it's not like that really for neurodivergent people. It's more like a...a prison where they deprive them, and often...never make it. But mostly it's for people who are violent, which isn't the case for..." Her voice trails off as Plankton stirs again, his antennae twitching slightly. Sponge Bob looks at Plankton, his eyes filled with compassion. "He's not going anywhere, Karen," he says firmly. "You guys are like family to me. I'll help you take care of him." Plankton's single eye opens slightly, his gaze unfocused. "Shh, it's okay," she whispers, her voice a soothing caress. Plankton blinks slowly, his eye coming into focus as he sees Sponge Bob. A smile spreads across his face, a rare expression of pure joy that lights up his features. His body uncoils from its tense curl, his antennae perking up with excitement. "Sponge Bob," Plankton whispers, his voice filled with a warmth that surprises Karen. He sits up slowly, his movements calculated to avoid any jolts to his sensitive system. Sponge Bob's face splits into a beaming smile, his eyes shining with joy. "Hey, Plankton!" He says. Plankton's gaze remains fixed on Sponge Bob, his expression a mixture of gratitude and comfort. "You're here," he says simply, his voice a rough whisper. Sponge Bob nods, his smile never wavering. "Of course I am," he says, his voice gentle. He reaches out a hand tentatively, his movements slow and deliberate. Plankton's antennae twitch, then he reaches out, his grip firm but not too tight. The two of them sit there, the silence comforting rather than oppressive. **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vii (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Sponge Bob's thumb begins to move in slow, soothing circles against Plankton's skin. "Thank you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob simply nods, his thumb continuing its soothing motion. He doesn't know how to explain the depth of his feelings, but his actions speak louder than words. His friendship with Plankton has always been unconventional, but now, in the face of this new challenge, it feels more precious than ever. Just as the moment of connection seems to solidify, the door to the Chum Bucket opens again, and Hanna tentatively steps inside, a pamphlet clutched in her hand. "I brought this," she says, her voice shaking slightly as she holds out the pamphlet. "It's about autism...and rituals that might help get rid of the autistic behaviors." Karen's snatching the pamphlet from Hanna's grip. Her eyes scan the pages, her anger building with each word. "What are you thinking?" she demands, her voice like a whipcrack. Hanna takes a step back. "I just...I thought it might help you get him back to normal," she stammers, clearly not expecting the ferocity of Karen's reaction. But Karen's anger is a volcano, erupting with the force of her love for Plankton. "These are not 'behaviors' to get rid of," she snaps, shaking the pamphlet in the air. "This is who he is now!" "But Karen, don't you think life would be easier if he wasn't...you know, like this?" Hanna tries to explain. "This isn't about making life easier for me," she snaps. "It's about supporting him!" "Karen, Plankton just needs to be fixed," Hanna says, her voice smaller now, her expression pleading. "We both know how difficult it is to be around someone with...problems." The words hit Karen. "Fixed?" she repeats, her voice low and dangerous. "Plankton isn't broken. He's not a machine to be tinkered with! These are dangerous, deadly suggestions!" Plankton flinches at the sound, his mind whirling. He feels a tiny spark of defiance in his chest. "You dare suggest that he doesn't deserve to live because he's autistic? You don't get to decide his worth!" Plankton's grip on Sponge Bob's tightens, his body stiffening, his heart racing. "How could you?" she demands, her eyes spitting fire. "You want me to just...to just get rid of him?" Hanna's eyes fill with tears as she takes another step back, her hands coming up in a defensive gesture. "I didn't mean it like that," she says, her voice quavering. "I just want to help!" But Karen's fury is a freight train, unstoppable. "Help?" she spits. "This is not help!" She gestures at the pamphlet, now a mangled mess on the floor. "This is hate, Hanna! This is saying he's not worth it because he's not like everyone else!" Plankton looks down, his antennae drooping. Was he really such a burden? Was his life not worth living? Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand, his grip a silent reassurance. Karen's fury doesn't waver. "You call yourself a friend?" she says, her voice laced with disgust. "You'd throw his life away because it's inconvenient for you?" Hanna's sobs fill the room, her body trembling under the weight of Karen's accusations. "I didn't mean it like that," she whimpers. "I just...I don't know what to do." Karen's anger doesn't abate, but it turns into a deep sadness. She looks at Hanna, her eyes filled with disappointment. "You don't 'fix' someone because they're different," she says, her voice deadly calm. "You support them." Plankton watches the exchange. He feels tiny, insignificant under the weight of their words. Karen turns to Sponge Bob. "Take him to his room," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to talk to Hanna." Sponge Bob nods slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. He gently helps Plankton to his feet, a steadying presence against Plankton's uncertain steps. As they walk to the bedroom, Plankton's gaze remains glued to the floor, his mind whirling with thoughts he can't quite grasp. Once Plankton is safely in bed, Sponge Bob tucks the blanket around him, his movements gentle and soothing. Plankton's body relaxes slightly under the comforting weight, his eye closing with a sigh. Karen turns to Hanna, unfurling from defensive pose. "You don't understand," she says, her voice calmer now, though still tinged with frustration. "The things you're suggesting, they're not just cruel, they're dangerous." Hanna's sobs slow, her eyes red and swollen. She looks at Karen with desperation, clearly lost in the ignorance. "What do you mean?" Karen's determined. "Straightjackets are used," she says, her words carefully measured. "They restrain patients, not help them." She pauses. "And those rituals you found, the ones that suggest them to make him 'normal'... They could kill.." Hanna's sobs stop abruptly, her breath hitching. "What?" she asks, shock etched on her features. Karen's eyes never leave Hanna's, her voice cold and devoid of pity. "You don't get to decide his worth, Hanna," she says, each word a bullet. "And you certainly don't get to decide his fate." Hanna's shoulders slump. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, her tears flowing freely. "I didn't know." Karen's expression softens slightly, the anger fading to disappointment. "You have to understand," she says. "Plankton is still Plankton. He just...sees the world differently now." Hanna sniffs, wiping away her tears. "But what if he's in pain?" she whispers. "What if his autism is making him miserable?" Karen sighs, her frustration dissipating. "He's not in pain," she explains. "He's just...sensitive. To everything. Sounds, smells, touch... exactly what the institutions expose them to, will cause pain." Hanna absorbs Karen's words. "Oh, I didn't..." she trails off, overwhelmed by the gravity of her mistake. "I'm so sorry, Karen. I didn't know." Karen nods, relaxing slightly. "I know," she says, her voice softer now. "It's a lot to take in, and it's scary when someone you love becomes...different." Hanna nods. "But you still love him," she says, a question and a statement wrapped in one. "More than anything," Karen replies without hesitation, her tentacles tightening around Hanna. "And I need you to love him too, Hanna." Hanna nods, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "I do," she whispers. "I just...I want him to be happy." Karen's tentacles give Hanna a gentle squeeze. "He is," she says, her voice filled with determined love. "And we'll make sure he stays that way." The two of them stand there, the silence of the moment heavy between them. Karen's eyes drift to the closed bedroom door, beyond which Plankton sleeps peacefully. The sounds of the Chum Bucket are muted, the only noise the distant hum of the laboratory equipment. In that quiet, Karen's tentacles relax slightly, the anger of the confrontation dissipating. She looks back at Hanna, her expression softening. "Thank you for coming," she says, her voice still firm but lacking the sharp edge of anger. "But you have to understand that this isn't something to be fixed. It's part of him now. Let's go check on him." They find SpongeBob sitting on the foot of the bed, his hand still entwined with Plankton's, their fingertips barely touching. Plankton's breathing is deep and even, a stark contrast to the turmoil of moments before. His antennae twitch occasionally, his mouth barely parted in a quiet snore. Hanna follows Karen into the room, her eyes wide and frightened. She sees Sponge Bob and his gentle touch with Plankton and her expression softens slightly. This is new to her, this quiet understanding, but she can't help but be moved by the sight. Sponge Bob looks up, his eyes filled with a certain sadness that mirrors Karen's. He nods silently, acknowledging her thanks. Hanna's eyes dart to Plankton, who remains fast asleep, his single eye closed peacefully. Karen sits beside the bed, reaching out to stroke Plankton's forehead. His skin is cool to the touch, his breathing steady. She whispers to Hanna, "We need to be careful with him. He's...fragile." Hanna nods, swallowing her tears. She moves closer, her own hand tentatively reaching out to touch Plankton's hand. His antennae twitch but he doesn't wake. The room is bathed in a soft glow, the dimmed lights designed to reduce stimulation and ease his sensory overload. Karen's breathing slows as she watches the scene before her, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the support Sponge Bob is providing. Hanna's tentative touch seems to soothe Plankton, his snoring growing slightly more rhythmic. Sponge Bob smiles softly at Hanna, his thumb still moving in gentle circles around Plankton's. "You're doing good," he whispers. "He just needs us to be patient and understanding." Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I'll try," she says, her voice quiet and earnest. "I really will." Karen looks at Hanna, her eyes softening. "It's not easy," she admits. "But it's worth it." **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii (Autistic author) The doctor stepped in, his tentacles moving gently as he spoke. "Mr. Plankton, it's important to stay calm. This is a big change. Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's gaze flicked from Karen to Dr. Kelp, his expression a mask of confusion. "I'm Plankton," he managed to say, his voice shaky. The doctor nodded, his tentacles still and calm. "Good. That's good, Mr. Plankton. Do you know where you are?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his breathing growing rapid and shallow. He looked down and then back up at Karen. "What's happening?" he repeated for the third time, his voice now a little more frantic. Karen's heart was in her throat. The doctor's explanation was beginning to take root in her mind, and she could see the stark reality of their situation. Plankton's repetition, his difficulty with understanding new surroundings and his increased sensitivity to sound—these were all hallmarks of his new autism. The doctor continued his assessment. "Mr. Plankton, can you tell me your wife's name?" he prompted. Plankton's gaze shifted to Karen, his expression becoming more focused, as if her presence was the only familiar thing in the room. "Karen," he said, his voice softening slightly. The doctor nodded, making a note on his clipboard. "Good. Now, can you tell me what happened before you woke up?" Plankton's eye flitted back to Karen, searching for answers. He began to rock slightly, his body moving in a rhythmic motion, a common self-soothing behavior for those on the autism spectrum. Karen recognized it immediately but seeing it in Plankton was jarring. His gaze darted around the room, his pupil dilating with every new sound or movement. The doctor's tentacles were a blur of activity making notes. "Mr. Plankton, I see you're feeling You're almost ready to go back home with Karen." Dr. Kelp says calmly. "Just one more question, if you don't mind. Now, can you tell me if you have any pets?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room. "Pets? Spot! Yes, Spot. Amoeba puppy; Spot.." The doctor nodded, his tentacles still scribbling notes. "Very good, Mr. Plankton. It seems like your long-term memory is intact, which is a positive sign. Now Karen can take you home!" Karen felt a wave of relief crash over her, but it was tinged with the stark reality that their life was never going to be the same. Plankton's autistic mannerisms were now a constant reminder of the accident—his newfound need for routine, his heightened sensitivity to surroundings, and the way his eye would dance around the room as he tried to make sense of his environment. As they arrived home, the stark reality of their new life hit Karen like a wave. His once-quick steps had been replaced with a cautious shuffle, as if the very floor beneath him was unpredictable. Inside, Plankton was drawn to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock, his eye fixated on the second hand's journey. Karen watched him. His newfound need for predictability was overwhelmingly apparent. "Let's sit down," she suggested, guiding him to their couch, which was now occupied by Spot. Plankton's gaze flitted around the living room, his eye alighting on his beloved amoeba puppy Spot. "Spot," he murmured, his voice tentative, as if unsure if his words would have the same effect they once did. The pup looked up at him, its blob-like form shifting slightly with excitement. But instead of the weariness Plankton has shown today, he joyfully watched Spot's movements. Karen felt a moment of warmth— his love for Spot hadn't changed, nor their usual interactions. The doctor had told her that routines were vital for those with his condition. So, she decided to start their day with a familiar activity: breakfast. Plankton's eye lit up at the sight of the familiar kitchen. He took his usual seat at the table, his hands fidgeting with the napkin. Karen noticed his meticulous arrangement of his silverware, the way he lined up his plate and cup perfectly parallel to the edges. As she prepared their meal, she could feel his gaze on her, his eye darting between her and Spot, who was now playfully chasing his own tail in a loop around the living room. He began to hum a tune, his voice off-key and repetitive. Karen's with love despite the pain she felt. The clanging of pans was loud in the silence, making Plankton flinch—this was going to be so much harder than she had anticipated. The doctor's instructions echoed in her mind: stick to routine, keep things simple. Karen set the breakfast plates down carefully, each item placed exactly where Plankton liked it. His eye grew wide as she slid his plate closer. He stared at the food for a moment, then picked up his spoon. The clink of metal on porcelain was like a gunshot to his heightened sensitivity. He dropped the spoon, his hands shooting up to cover his head in distress. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen soothed, moving quickly to his side. She retrieved the spoon and set it aside, her hand trembling slightly. "You don't have to eat right now," she said softly, her voice a gentle caress against the tension in the room. Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing slowing as his hands uncovered his ears. He fidgeted in his chair, his eye darting to the ceiling as if searching for something. "Let's go read a book," Karen suggested, desperate to find anything that might calm his nerves. Plankton nodded slightly, his gaze still unfocused. He stood up carefully, his body moving with the precision of a man who knew his world had changed. As they approached the bookshelf, his eye caught a glint of metal from the corner of the room. The invention that had brought them here lay in a tangled heap, its wires and gears silent and ominous, giving him déjà vu. Plankton stopped, his body rigid, his gaze locked on the machine. He stared unblinking, his mind racing back to the crash. Karen notices his suddenly unmoving form and gets concerned. "Plankton?" she calls softly, but he doesn't react. His entire being seemed to be consumed by the wreckage of his former life. The invention, a testament to his former brilliance, now a grim reminder of the accident. "Plankton, honey," Karen's voice was barely a whisper as she tried to get him to talk. He didn't move. The invention, a tangled web of wires and gears, seemed to hold his gaze captive. It was the very machine that had caused this transformation. Karen followed his gaze, her heart sinking as she realized the source of his distress. "Let's go to another room," she suggested gently, her hand resting on his arm. But he didn't move. Karen felt the weight of the moment settle heavily on her shoulders. It was time to face the reality of their new life together—a life where Plankton's once sharp wit and innovative spirit were now clouded by a disorder she was only beginning to understand. Her heart swelled with sorrow as she observed his interaction with the inanimate objects around him. The love she had for him remained unshaken, but the thought of what they had lost—what he had lost—was almost too much to bear. "Come on," she coaxed, her voice gentle as a lullaby. "Let's go to the living room. I'll read you a story?" Yet Plankton remains frozen. So Karen made a decision. She couldn't bear the thought of that accursed machine looming over them, a constant reminder of the tragic turn their lives had taken. With a fierce determination she hadn't felt in ages, she strode over to the invention and began to dismantle it, piece by painful piece. The metal clanked and clattered as she worked, her movements quick and sure, each part coming off with a satisfying crunch. Plankton's eye followed her, his expression unreadable. When the last piece was removed, his gaze lifted to meet hers, his eye filled with something that looked akin to gratitude. "Thank you, Karen," Plankton murmured, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the now bare room. Karen paused in her task, her eyes meeting his with a surprised expression. This was the first time since the accident that he had spoken to her with anything other than fear or confusion. "You're welcome," she said, her voice choked with emotion.
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡝⣍⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣦⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠘⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠅⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡄⢠⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⡹⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⡟⠱⢓⠌⠻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡙⠢⣀⠁⡷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣍⠀⣈⣙⢺⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠳⣾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠈⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⣥⣿⣯⣷⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣍⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⢯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣷⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡅⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⣿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠹⢿⡿⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠉⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢹⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⡿⣫⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢣⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⢿⣟⡿⣹⣎⠷⡜⠒⠒⢆⡻⣼⣻⣟⡿⣿⢿⡿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⢂⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⡾⣟⣷⣯⣟⣿⠳⠯⠞⡛⡱⢋⡛⡹⣍⢧⣙⣎⡳⣞⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⢯⢷⡛⣭⢳⡘⣔⢢⣙⣆⣣⣵⣡⣧⣽⣷⣾⣾⣷⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠑⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⡤⣍⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠁⠄⡈⢽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⢘⠠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM v (Autistic author) SpongeBob picks up his cards and looks for any twos. "Got any twos?" he asks, trying to keep the peace. But Plankton's focus has shifted, his eye no longer on the game. "Fish," he says again, his voice desperate. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a dry twig. "Plankton, enough with the fish!" he exclaims, tossing his cards down onto the floor. The sudden movement startles Plankton, and his antennas retract slightly. "What's wrong with you!" Sponge Bob asks, his voice shaking with frustration. "You're not the same, Plankton." Plankton's antennas wobble, and his eye darts around the room, unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Fish," he whispers, his voice lost. SpongeBob's frustration was palpable in the tense air of the Chum Bucket, his eyes wide with confusion. He had always known Plankton to be a master of manipulation and cunning wit, so seeing him in such a repetitive state was unsettling. He didn't understand why his friend's world had narrowed down to a simple game of Go Fish and the repeated question for more of the same card. "Plankton, I don't get it," Sponge said, his voice tight with the effort to stay calm. "What's with all the fish?" Plankton's antennas drooped further, his eye cast downward. "Fish," he mumbles again, his voice deflated. "Need more fish." Sponge Bob's mind races to understand the change in Plankton's behavior. He's known Plankton for so long, they've had countless battles over the Krabby Patty formula, but this, this is different. The way Plankton's voice echoes his own words, how he can't seem to let go of the word "fish," it's almost as if he's a different person entirely. "Plankton, please," Sponge Bob pleads, his voice cracking. "Why do you keep saying that?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and sadness. "Fish," he repeats, his voice a mere whisper. "Need fish." "I told you Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained with patience, "I don't have any more twos, so I can't give you any fish." Plankton's antennas droop, his eye sad. "No fish," he whispers. Sponge Bob's at his wit's end. "Look, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "This isn't fun anymore. Why do you keep asking for fish when I don't have any?" Plankton's antennas shoot up again, his eye widening in surprise. "Fish?" he asks, as if the concept has just been introduced. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a rubber band. "Yes, fish!" he yells, his spongy body trembling with frustration. "But I don't have any!" Plankton flinches at the loudness of Sponge Bob's voice, his antennas retreating into his body. "Fish?" he whispers, his eye wide with fear. Sponge Bob's frustration remains. "Why do you keep asking for fish?" he asks. "What's happening to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas twitch erratically, his expression a mix of pain and confusion. "Don't know what's happening to you Plankton." Plankton says. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his voice shaking. "I just want my friend back," he whispers. "I don't know what happened to you." Plankton's antennas drop, his eye filling with sorrow. "Friend," he repeats, his voice small. "Sponge Bob friend." Yet Sponge Bob doesn't understand. He only sees his friend acting strange and distant, and he can't stay calm anymore. "Why can't you just be normal!" Sponge Bob exclaims, his voice shaking with emotion. Plankton's antennas tremble, and his eye fills with uncertainty. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice shaking. But SpongeBob's frustration was only growing. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaky. "You're not my friend like this, Plankton. I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to snap out of it!" Plankton's antennas wilt at Sponge Bob's anger, his eye filling with a sorrow that seems to mirror Sponge Bob's own. "Fish," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Need fish." Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend's distress. He's so tired of the echoing words, the endless loop of "fish." With a sigh, Sponge Bob gathers the scattered cards, his movements deliberate and careful. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice gentler now. "But we can't keep playing this way." Plankton's antennas droop as he watches Sponge Bob clean up. "Fish?" he asks, his voice small and hopeful. Sponge Bob turns, his face a mask of anger and hurt. "No, Plankton," he says firmly. "We're not playing anymore; I'm tired of it!" Plankton's antennas wobble at the harshness of Sponge Bob's tone. "No fish?" he asks, his voice small and trembling. Sponge Bob cannot hold back anymore, as his frustration won't let up. "Plankton," he says, his voice tight with emotion, "I don't have any more fish! Can't you understand that?" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice shaking. That's the last straw. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears of anger and frustration. He's had enough of Plankton's strange behavior, his incessant echoing of words. "You're not listening!" he yells, slamming the cards down on the floor. "I don't have any more fish Plankton, so just stop it!" Plankton's antennas shiver at the harshness of Sponge Bob's words, his body shrinking under the weight of the accusation. "Fish?" he asks again, his voice cracking. Sponge Bob's fists clench, his knuckles turning white. "No more fish!" he says, his voice shaking with anger. "I've had enough of you and your fish!" Plankton stops but Sponge Bob's anger still burns bright. He doesn't know what's happening to Plankton, but he can't tolerate this strange behavior any longer. "What's wrong with you?" Sponge Bob yells, his eyes wide with desperation. "Why can't you just play normally, huh? How hard is it to just ask for a card without all the fish nonsense? I didn't come here to play your weird games!" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye swelling with unshed tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Sponge Bob's anger continues to build, his frustration spilling over like boiling water. "You're not even trying!" he accuses, his voice rising. "What happened to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas droop, his body slumping. "Fish," he mumbles, his voice broken. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching for his friend. "I don't understand," he says, his voice cracking. "What's wrong with you?" Plankton's antennas barely move, his expression a mask of sorrow. "Fish," he whispers, his eye searching Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob's anger grows, his voice raised. "You're just saying the same thing over and over! Why can't you talk to me normally?" Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he says again, his voice shaking. Sponge Bob's fists clench tighter, his knuckles white with frustration. "I don't know what's going on with you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But this isn't how we talk to each other. We're friends!" Plankton's antennas barely twitch, his expression lost. "Fish," he whispers, his voice desolate. Sponge Bob's anger reaches its peak, his eyes flashing. "I don't have any fish!" he yells, his spongy body quivering with rage. "Why can't you just talk to me?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye wet with unshed tears. "Fish," he murmurs, his voice a plea. Sponge Bob feels like his patience has been stretched to its breaking point. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaking with the effort to control his emotions. He turns away, his back to Plankton. "We're not playing anymore," he declares. "We're not playing anything until you start making sense! So you can either stop acting weird and talk to me like a normal being or, I'm leaving!" He kicks the cards, and then Karen decides to intervene. Her voice is firm but kind. "Sponge Bob," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Plankton's not doing this on purpose. Plankton can I tell Sponge Bob?" Plankton nods slowly, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's back. "Sponge Bob," Karen continues, her voice soothing, "Plankton had a bad accident, and..." Her words hang in the air, but Sponge Bob doesn't turn around. "What?" he asks, his voice small and defeated. Karen's voice is soft but steady. "Plankton hit his head and it affected his brain," she explains. "He has something called Autism now." Sponge Bob turns, his eyes wide with shock. "What's that?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's a condition," Karen says gently, her gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "It makes it hard for him to understand certain things, like how to play games without getting stuck on one word." She gestures to Plankton, who's shedding tears rolling down his cheeks. Sponge Bob's anger evaporates, replaced by sympathy. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice full of sadness. He steps towards his friend, his hand reaching out. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Plankton's antennas wobble as he looks up at Sponge Bob, his single eye brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to get so mad." Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's with gratitude. "Fish," he whispers, but it's not a demand this time. It's more of a statement of understanding.
Ⓜhi
new 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 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0
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I V X L C D M 1 5 10 50 100 500 1000 🔢 Individual decimal places Thousands Hundreds Tens Units 1 M C X I 2 MM CC XX II 3 MMM CCC XXX III 4 CD XL IV 5 D L V 6 DC LX VI 7 DCC LXX VII 8 DCCC LXXX VIII 9 CM XC IX
here is the school song (matilda the musical) but in Thai (translated on Google translate): เฮ้ย! เด็กใหม่เหรอ? แล้วคุณคิดว่าคุณสามารถ เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ได้โดยเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง ไม่นานคุณก็จะเห็น ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้ และแม้ว่า คุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามอย่างหนัก คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์ เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักคือประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ ฉันทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้ ฉันติดอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันพยายาม ฉันจะจำได้ ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังเป็นครั้งแรก เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการทนทุกข์ทรมาน ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ และถ้าคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้น คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง ทำไม? ทำไม? ทำไม? คุณได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดไหม? รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน! พละศึกษาคืออะไร? พละศึกษา ความพิเศษของ Trunchbull คุณเป็นใคร? เราเป็นหัวหน้าห้อง เราอยู่ที่นี่เพื่อพาคุณไปเรียน งั้นเราจะเริ่มเรียนกันใช่ไหม? โอ้ คุณจะเริ่มเรียนแล้ว โอเค เยี่ยมเลย! ฉันรู้ตัวอักษรแล้ว! คุณจะไม่รู้ตัวอักษรจนกว่าเราจะเรียนตัวอักษรให้คุณ แล้วคุณก็คิดว่าคุณสามารถ เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ด้วยการเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง ไม่นานคุณก็จะรู้ ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้ และแม้ว่าคุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามมากเพียงใด คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์ เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักนั้นเป็นประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ ฉันต้องทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้ ฉันถูกขังอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันลอง ฉันก็จำได้ ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังลั่นเป็นครั้งแรก เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการที่จะทุกข์ทรมาน ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ และหากคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้นเป็นสองเท่า คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง ทำไม? ทำไม? ทำไม? คุณไม่ได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดเหรอ? ฉันเพิ่งรู้ว่าบางคนยังไม่เข้าชั้นเรียน แก้ไขตรงนี้ คุณมีห้าวินาทีในการปฏิบัติตาม A, B, C, D, E, F, G (ห้า) H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P (สี่!) Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X (สาม) Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y (สอง) ลาเวนเดอร์ มาทิลดา เข้ามา เร็วเข้า! (หนึ่ง!) รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน! Yayyyy!!!. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.
(\____/) (⁎ᓂ,ᓂ⁎)< I like cats inside a keyboard.𖥔 ݁ ˖ | >< |
𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝒻𝓇ℯℯ b̶o̶b̶u̶x̶?̅?̅?̅ 𝒢ℴ 𝓽𝓸 https://www.identityiq.com/scams-and-fraud/roblox-scams-what-parents-need-to-know/ (! THIS WEBSITES WILL TEACH YOU ABOUT SCAMS AND NOT SCAM YOU/GIVE ROBUX!)<𝟑
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⢿⣻⣽⣳⢯⣻⡽⢯⡿⣽⣻⣶⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⡾⣯⣛⢯⣳⣧⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⢷⣯⡻⡽⢶⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⢿⡿⢿⣿⣝⠗⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢯⣟⣿⠮⠿⣜⡳⣞⡵⣙⠦⣍⠛⣷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⠟⠚⠉⠉⡿⡿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣟⣟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠺⡜⢣⠳⢤⠣⣄⠙⣿⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡟⡿⠁⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣛⢿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⡀⠀⢘⡆⣉⠂⠇⡌⢳⡌⣟⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⢯⣽⣇⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣭⠞⣭⣟⣿⣾⢯⣟⡾⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢶⡒⠫⢴⡔⣂⠹⣎⣟⢾⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡹⠊⣉⣷⣾⣟⢯⣯⣿⣿⣿⡜⢧⣟⡷⣾⡿⣽⣿⢾⣹⡝⣦⠩⣝⠻⣿⣿⣿⣵⡄⠈⠻⣦⡑⡜⣯⣯⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣟⡾⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣽⢯⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⢞⡿⣿⣽⡿⣽⣻⣷⡽⣎⠳⣌⠳⢤⣉⠛⠿⣿⣄⠀⣿⣷⠼⣜⣿⣯⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⣰⣿⣿⣻⣾⣿⢯⣷⣿⢷⣻⣿⣟⡾⡽⣿⣿⣽⢯⡷⢯⣟⣾⡽⢦⣙⠦⣙⠻⣴⡩⣝⣶⣿⡞⣿⣮⡽⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡟⣿⣿⣿⢳⡝⢳⣿⣿⣯⡟⢻⣼⢣⡟⢻⣮⡗⢣⠛⣴⢻⣽⣿⢳⡟⢳⣯⡟⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⡐⢒⠒⡠⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠿⣽⢿⣿⣿⣝⡷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⣫⡽⣳⢞⣽⢫⣟⣵⣫⠷⣯⢿⡽⣯⢿⣿⣽⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⢊⠐⡐⣨⠴⠚⡋⠵⠚⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡼⢻⡇⣆⢛⢿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣧⡟⣮⢟⡼⣞⣳⢿⡽⣯⢿⡽⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⡐⢄⡳⠊⠁⠐⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡟⠉⠓⢧⣜⣬⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣽⢾⣭⢿⡽⣯⣟⣽⣟⣾⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⡡⠘⡴⠋⢀⢠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣾⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⣿⣿⡾⢷⣿⣽⣯⣟⡾⣯⣟⣷⢿⣻⢾⣽⣿⢯⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⢁⢒⡝⠁⠔⠁⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⣾⢿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡼⢁⢎⡞⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣿⣿⠆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢻⣿⠇⣼⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢿⣻⣞⣿⣯⣷⢿⣿⣽⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡞⢡⢊⡞⠀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⣇⠘⠛⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠉⢠⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⡷⣯⣟⣷⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⡼⢨⢅⡞⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣞⡿⢯⣻⣝⣯⡽⠯⠿⡝⡟⣯⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣙⣿⡷⠤⠚⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠋⠛⠉⡩⡍⠘⠛⠛⠋⠁⢻⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠁⠎⠀⡐⠀⢀⣠⣴⢿⣽⣳⣯⠾⢟⡛⣍⣩⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⣀⢤⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣠⡞⠱⠀⠀⠚⠒⢂⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⠇⢳⣤⣾⣟⣯⢿⡽⠞⣩⣶⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⠋⠂⠀⣀⣠⣴⣾⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣞⣽⣾⡟⠋⣩⡯⣪⡽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣆⣩⣑⢒⡠⣀⡡⣄⣮⣼⣿⣻⢻⣿⡽⣿⣻⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣶⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⠟⠈⠳⣏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡞⠉⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣸⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣟⣋⣉⣉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⡿⢦⣙⠉⢸⣿⣿⢿⡷⣛⣥⣤⣤⣴⣿⣽⣯⣿⣟⣛⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣛⣛⢿⡉⣱⡿⠟⠋⠉⠙⠻⢷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⠷⣴⣿⣶⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠋⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠙⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠯⣞⣩⡷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠛⢦⣼⡟⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡹⣿⠟⡼⢩⠟⠢⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣻⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⢶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠠⠇⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⢫⣴⣨⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡆⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⡤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢳⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⢿⣯⣹⣿⡀⢀⡄⡀⡱⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣨⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣧⡐⣆⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⢿⣇⣝⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣯⣖⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠻⣿⡿⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⣰⣲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⠼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢠⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⣥⢻⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠁⢀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢲⠁⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣸⡇⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⠙⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠟⡻⣿⣷⣦⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠹⣧⠀⠱⡀⠔⡙⢻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠹⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣆⡢⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⡙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⠻⣶⣤⡶⢾⡿⠁⠀⢠⣄⡀⢀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣼⠷⠀⠀⠁⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠴⣾⣯⣅⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⡀⠒⠻⠿⣿⡿⠿⠓⠂⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⡇⣤⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣤⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠏⠀⢀⠀⠀⠿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣴⣿⡿⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠁⠀⢀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣟⠿⠿⠿⡿⠋⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣶⣶⣿⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣿⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⣹⣿⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣽⣿⡿⠟⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠛⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⠿⢿⣷⣀⢀⣿⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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Layo(ꪜ)er
tᦓꪻ᥅ꪖꪗ ᛕ꠸ᦔᦓ๋࣭ ⭑‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡󠁤
petition to make this an app!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
k ᡣ𐭩
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠖⠒⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠤⠤⡀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⠞⠁⠀⣀⣠⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣣⠔⠚⠻⣄⣡⣞⣄⣠⣆⠀⢼⣼⣄⣀⣀⣠⣆⠜⡘⡻⠟⠙⣲⠦⣈⢳⡀⠀⠀ ⡇⠒⢲⡤⡜⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠤⣖⠬⠓⠂⠉⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠙⠲⠦⠬⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣞⠀⢀⣲⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⢢⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠒⢋⡝⠁⢀⣀⣤⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠷⠆⠶⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠮⠤⠟⠉⠀⢰⠱⡾⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠚⠁⠀⢠⣤⡀⣼⢾⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠒⡏⠀⡡⠣⢖⣯⠶⢄⣀⣿⡾⠋⢸⢀⡶⠿⠲⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣹⠃⣀⣤⠞⠋⠀⠉⠢⣿⣿⡄⠀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠐⢣ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⢱⢡⡾⠋⠀⠀⢀⡐⣦⣀⠈⠻⣇⢸⢁⣤⡙⡆⠈⡏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⢁⠔⡳⡟⠀⠐⠒⠒⠋⠀⠠⡯⠙⢧⡈⠻⣮⠯⣥⠧⠞⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠀⢶⠋⢸⡝⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢦⠀⠙⡆⠘⠦⢄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⠅⢀⡤⢺⢸⠀⢸⡃⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⢚⣋⣿⢄⡀⢇⡀⠀⠀⣝⡶⠀ ⠀⠀⢿⠀⡏⠀⠘⠞⠀⢸⡵⣦⠤⠤⠖⣿⠥⠞⠉⠀⢸⠖⠁⠀⠙⠢⣑⠶⣽⢂ ⠀⠀⠸⠤⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢳⠂⠈⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠒⠓⢤⠀⠀⠀⠙⠚⠛ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⣠⠀⠀⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢸⡶⠗⠋⣱⠄⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠒⠒⠦⣤⣷⠂⢀⡸⠁⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢺⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠋⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠙⠢⠤⠤⣄⡤⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢦⣄⣉⣑⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠒⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི
بِسْمِ ٱللَّٰهِ ٱلرَّحْمَٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ
🇦 🇧 🇨 🇩 🇪 🇫 🇬 🇭 🇯 🇰 🇱 🇲 🇳 🇴 🇵 🇶 🇷 🇸 🇹 🇺 🇻 🇼 🇽 🇾 🇿
𐔌﹒❰ ❦ ❱﹒!ᶻz
ABCDEƐFGHIJKLMNÑŊOƆPQRSTUVWXYZ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⠟⠁⠀⠉⢳⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⢦⣄⣤⣾⠿⠟⠛⣻⠧⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⣟⠿⠿⣷⣦⣀⣀⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⠧⠼⠻⠛⢃⠘⠜⡿⣤⣤⡼⠟⠀⡘⠧⠤⣤⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠛⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⣠⣴⠟⡁⠐⠠⠁⠌⠠⠈⠄⡑⠐⠠⠐⡈⠐⠠⠐⠠⢀⠈⠻⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⢷⣤⣴⠿⠃⠠⢀⠃⠄⠡⠈⠄⢃⠐⠠⢁⠂⠡⢀⠁⢂⠁⠒⠠⠈⠄⡘⡿⣦⡀⢀⡾⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡶⠟⠀⠂⠌⡐⠠⠈⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⢈⠐⠠⢈⠐⠠⠈⠄⡈⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⠘⢈⠛⠿⣶⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠠⢀⠡⢈⠐⡀⠡⠈⢄⡁⠂⡈⠐⠠⢈⠐⠠⠈⠄⡁⢂⠐⡈⠐⠠⠈⠄⡁⠂⠄⠂⠐⢹⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡟⢂⠁⠄⠂⠄⢂⠐⢠⣡⣾⣧⠐⢠⣷⠶⠖⠞⠶⠳⢶⣶⡆⢠⣿⣞⡠⢁⠂⠄⡁⠂⠁⠌⠈⢿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⠁⠸⢧⣔⣈⠐⡠⢈⣶⡟⠻⠛⢛⡛⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠻⢛⠉⠿⢷⡆⡈⠐⠠⢈⣄⣿⠄⠘⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⡟⠀⢂⠙⠿⠿⠛⠛⢰⣟⣙⠁⠀⢿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⣉⣿⠙⠶⠶⣿⠿⠃⢀⠂⣹⡇⠀ ⠀⣸⠷⣷⣤⣀⣂⠠⢐⣠⣾⡏⣠⣴⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠈⣽⣇⠠⠐⡀⠄⢂⣀⣦⣿⣇⠀ ⢠⡿⠒⠦⣀⡉⠉⢛⠛⢋⣉⣿⠋⢀⣼⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠛⠛⠷⠶⠛⠛⠋⢉⣉⣽⠀ ⠈⣷⠶⠶⠶⠾⣤⣜⣻⣏⣤⣿⠀⣩⣿⠈⡜⣿⠞⠛⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣏⡓⠒⡶⠆⠀⠐⢋⣁⣤⢿⡀ ⢸⠋⣀⣤⡤⠶⠶⠶⠿⠶⢤⣿⠛⠋⠙⠻⣾⠋⠆⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⣉⣽⣿⣿⣿⣭⣉⡁⠀⠈⢻ ⢸⡟⡟⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⢲⡟⣧⡄⢠⣤⣿⡄⠀⣴⣿⣤⣤⣶⠒⣦⡄⠀⠀⣼⣿⣯⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣭⣿⣷⣤⣾ ⠈⠳⠶⠦⠤⢤⠤⠤⠶⠶⠚⠃⠈⠉⠉⠁⠈⠙⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠉⠁⠻⠦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠴⠟
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⢶⣻⣷⡶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡞⣉⣯⣤⣤⣭⣀⡑⢫⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢫⣷⣿⣿⣾⣿⢯⣛⡟⣧⣹⣽⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⢔⢲⠤⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣽⠾⣽⣳⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡤⢧⠍⠁⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡓⠈⢀⣀⣠⣤⣐⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⠿⠿⠿⢃⣯⠿⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣸⣼⣶⡿⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣥⣀⣲⣶⣶⣫⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣸⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣗⠾⣿⣿⣻⠛⠑⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⢻⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣛⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠘⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠿⣿⢟⣵⡿⡟⠹⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠛⠿⠟⡀⠀⢘⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠒⠻⠟⠁⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣷⠎⠀⠀⠀⠁⠐⠄⢙⣄⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⣿⡛⣻⣩⣠⣥⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠩⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣿⣵⡞⠳⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣷⠛⠀⢀⣀⢀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢻⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⢳⡽⡾⢶⣄⢊⠵⠆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⡏⠀⠀⢽⠀⣹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⡉⠀⠏⢓⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⠁⠀⠀⣾⠀⢯⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣷⡁⠀⠀⢜⣹⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣷⠀⠀⠀⠟⣬⣹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡜⠼⢡⠀⠀⠀⢨⠳ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⠊⠀⠕⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣾⡇⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ ✨✨✨✨✨✨ “⍴ᥙr⍴ᥣᥱ іs 𝗍һᥱ ᥣᥲs𝗍 ᥴ᥆ᥣ᥆r ᥆𝖿 𝗍һᥱ rᥲіᥒᑲ᥆ᥕ ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ “ᥕһіᥴһ mᥱᥲᥒs і ᥕіᥣᥣ 𝗍rᥙs𝗍 ᥲᥒძ ᥣ᥆᥎ᥱ ᥡ᥆ᥙ 𝖿᥆r ᥲ ᥣ᥆ᥒg 𝗍іmᥱ”✨✨ ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ - kіm 𝗍ᥲᥱһᥡᥙᥒg ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣭⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣮⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢽⣞⢿⣭⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣏⡀⠻⢿⣿⠟⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣦⣀⢘⣿⠀⢀⣸⣿⠉⠹⠉⠙⠁⠉⢻⣿⣿⡯⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⡎⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠟⠎⠉⠀⣨⣞⠛⠿⠯⠙⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢿⣿⠏⠀⠀⢱⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣠⣶⠟⠁⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠏⠀⠀⢀⣸⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣛⡁⠀⠀⢈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠤⠖⢚⡏⠀⠔⠚⠉⠀⢀⡀⣀⣤⣶⡿⣏⡉⠙⠋⠁⠡⣤⠌⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⢀⠴⠒⠒⠒⠯⠭⣄⣀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠸⠿⠿⠿⢷⣦⣤⣤⣄⡀⢀⠈⠀⠀⢀⣤⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣟⠓⣿⡷⠆⢰⡟⠁⠀⠈⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⢦⠈⣿⠃⠊⠉⠉⠀⡰⣿⠳⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⣧⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠀⠘⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣀⠀⠹⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠚⠁⠀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠈⢿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠈⠻⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠳⠀ ⣄⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠓⠒⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠓⢄⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⢛⣿⣶⣤⣤⣠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢫⡳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠚⣱⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠑⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⡏⢉⣻⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⢈⢣⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣷⢣⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⡶⢷⡄⠀⠈⢿⣿⡇⢀⣠⣼⣄⣷⣄⣄⢸⣽⡇⠀⠀⢀⠞⢛⠶⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢆⡚⣦⡀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠩⠽⠻⢟⣼⣿⣿⣄⡴⠛⡺⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢤⣽⣿⡿⢿⣻⡙⠲⠶⠶⠶⠋⡟⣿⣿⣿⣶⣞⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⠖⠚⠻⣿⣿⣿⣦⡳⢽⣶⣤⢦⣴⡯⢿⡿⣱⡿⢛⣽⢟⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⢀⠀⣠⣴⣿⢡⣿⠁⣸⡏⣼⣿⠏⠀⠈⢻⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢸⡇⠀⣿⢡⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡇⢸⡇⠀⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⣄⣴⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣽⣿⡇⢸⡇⢀⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡥⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠿⣶⣦⣤⣤⡤⢼⣿⠻⣭⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠶⢺⡖⠲⢿⡇⢸⡇⢸⣿⢸⣿⣷⣶⡶⠿⠿⠛⠋⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡾⣀⠀⠀⠈⢉⣽⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⢥⣤⣤⡶⢿⣷⣤⣼⡇⢸⡇⠸⣿⢸⡟⣿⣆⡀⠀⢀⣄⡤⠿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣯⠟⠁⠈⠻⢷⣾⡟⠁⠀⠸⣿⣿⡏⢳⣤⡄⠀⣠⣼⣥⣀⣸⡇⢸⡇⠀⣿⢸⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⡟⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⢿⣄⠻⣟⠺⠷⠶⡶⠾⢿⣷⢸⡇⢘⣿⢸⡇⣿⣿⣿⣗⠘⢇⠀⠀⠀⢨⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⢻⣿⢿⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⡟⣼⡇⢸⣿⢸⣧⣿⣿⣿⠘⣦⡈⠃⠀⠀⠐⢿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⣷⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣴⣿⣧⣾⣿⣼⡇⣿⠇⣾⡟⣼⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⢆⡄⠀⠀⠈⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣰⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣞⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⢹⡍⠉⠉⢉⡿⢸⣿⢀⣿⡇⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀ ⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢾⠇⠀⢀⣾⠃⣿⠇⣸⣿⢹⡟⣾⢿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠘⣾⣦⣤⣤⣷⡀ ⢰⣫⠟⠉⠀⠀⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⠞⡆⣠⣾⢃⣼⠏⣰⣿⢯⣿⣳⠇⠸⣿⡿⣿⡀⠀⢰⠟⠁⠐⠀⠹⣇ ⢸⢋⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⣁⣴⡿⠛⣡⣿⠋⣰⣿⢯⣾⣧⠏⠀⠀⣿⣧⢿⡇⠀⣗⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻ ⠀⠻⣸⣸⢂⣴⣿⣹⡿⣿⣇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⡿⠟⢉⣤⣾⠟⢁⣴⡿⣣⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢸⡇⠀⣏⡟⣰⣣⣧⣿⠞ ⠀⠀⠈⢻⡾⣾⠿⠟⠀⠿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⡾⠟⠋⣁⣴⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢹⣼⡇⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⣿⣦⡀⢀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣽⢿⣷⣮⣉⣉⣉⣉⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⣯⣝⣛⣛⣛⣛⣭⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣅⠈⠑⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⡧⡀⠀⠈⢻⠎⡉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢋⣭⣿⣿⣿⢧⡈⠓⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⡇⠙⢦⠀⠀⠳⣄⣀⣤⣤⡤⢖⣚⣩⣾⡟⠉⢻⣦⣍⣓⠦⠤⠤⡤⠴⣺⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠱⣄⠀⠘⢶⡒⢲⡟⠋⠉⣹⠏⠀⠀⠀⢿⡄⠉⠙⠛⣟⠛⠉⠉⣿⡇⢻⡟⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢹⣻⡀⠀⠳⣍⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⡄⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⢸⣧⢿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠙⢦⡀⠈⠲⣀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡞⣿⣼⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠈⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⢹⣧⢻⣯⢻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣲⣄⣀⠙⠒⠢⠤⡀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡎⣿⣎⢿⣧⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠹⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⣿⣷⣾⣿⠮⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣤⣤⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⣤⣤⣼⢿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠾⣿⣿⣿⣄⡞⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠇⠦⢀⣴⣿⣿⡟⠓⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣛⠉⣼⡁⠀⣻⣿⣶⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣅⣠⣿⡦⣽⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠐⠠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⢿⣟⡿⣟⣿⢿⣷⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠠⡀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡽⣾⣏⣿⣻⣯⡿⣟⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣦⣶⣄⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⣽⣿⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⠀⣽⣿⣷⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣻⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⢠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣽⣳⢿⢿⣻⣽⣻⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣫⢿⣯⠿⣿⣷⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣻⣟⣿⢿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢷⣞⣯⢷⣏⣿⡼⣿⣹⢾⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣻⣾⣿⣿⡿⣻⡽⣷⣿⡿⣿⣻⡽⣷⣯⣿⢻⣿⢿⣻⢯⣿⣟⢿⣾⡼⣳⡽⣻⡽⣾⢯⣟⡷⣯⣾⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⡽⣞⣿⣿⡷⢯⣛⣮⣟⣾⣿⣽⢿⣫⣿⣞⣯⣯⢷⣻⣿⡶⣏⡿⢺⢧⣛⡯⣏⣿⡽⣟⣽⣻⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⣻⣿⢟⣣⢾⡟⣶⣯⢻⡳⣿⣻⣽⣟⣞⢧⣛⢿⡼⣹⢯⣛⢮⣗⢯⡻⣝⣞⣞⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣧⣯⣿⣿⣚⣷⢯⣽⣛⣧⣏⡷⣻⣿⣽⣯⢻⣎⡯⣗⣯⠷⣎⢯⣳⡺⣭⢳⣍⡳⣭⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣷⢧⡿⣭⣿⡽⣾⣝⣾⣿⠮⡵⣷⢪⢷⣣⢿⣳⠯⣻⣜⢻⣝⠼⣏⣿⠲⣇⢷⣋⢷⢪⡳⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡟⣼⢯⣟⡻⣝⢾⡾⣺⡝⡶⣹⢏⠾⣓⣎⠿⠀⠈⢎⣳⣏⡞⣗⢺⣏⡞⣭⢿⡜⡷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣟⡿⣲⢏⡻⡜⣯⡹⣜⠷⣩⣏⡟⡽⣎⠇⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⣚⢼⡣⣿⠞⠵⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡟⣾⠳⡝⣼⢳⡏⢿⡓⢾⡵⣩⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠵⣽⣼⡧⢻⢣⡟⠧⠾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ𓆩🖤𓆪꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡✎ᝰ★⚤
⠀⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⠉⠉⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⠁⠉⣿⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⡀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣄⠀⠉⠉⠁ ⢸⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⠋⠙⢿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⡄ ⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⠀⠈⣿⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⣦⣤⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣤⣴⣿⣿⠇ ⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
🧸✨𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆🔤🔤☆𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥☆𝑒ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒
.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ🕊
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢿⢝⣳⣽⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣤⣴⣶⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣤⡆⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣤⣴⣶⣖⣲⣤⣤⠤⣤⣼⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣴⣦⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣬⣁⠦⣝⢻⣿⣕⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⢿⣯⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⣌⠙⢿⣳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢟⡂⡿⢏⣷⡄⡄⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣫⣿⢿⣙⡍⢁⠓⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣎⣤⣤⢈⠢⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣖⠘⡞⠥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⠿⢿⠉⢍⠛⠘⣿⠏⡾⠋⠟⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣖⠷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⢸⠀⢰⠃⠀⡐⠑⠀⠋⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣟⠁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣾⣾⢖⠄⡄⣄⣐⠃⠀⢠⣾⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠄⠀⠀⠀ ⠿⠂⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠅⣁⣠⠚⠀⠀⠍⠂⠉⠀⠀⡟⠩⡰⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣿⣻⣷⠄⠀⠀ ⡦⠤⠐⠢⢛⣴⣡⣶⡿⠿⠟⠚⠂⠥⢧⠀⠀⣀⣀⡈⠀⠓⡀⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣷⣟⡇⠀⠀ ⢣⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⡠⠔⠒⢐⠀⡆⠀⣤⣿⡮⢟⣦⠀⠁⡼⢂⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢿⣿⣯⠙⠀⠀ ⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢀⠔⠠⠀⠀⠠⠙⠻⠯⣿⠾⠃⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣯⡆⠂⠀ ⢰⠞⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣮⣅⡠⠒⠀⡏⣀⡅⠂⠉⠝⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣵⣀⠀ ⢠⡧⢌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠐⠨⣏⠀⠀⠄⡍⠃⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡷⣆⠀ ⠀⣼⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⣀⣤⠷⡴⠄⠀⠐⡀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣽⠀ ⠀⢀⡋⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⢨⣿⣿⣦⡌⢁⡀⠀⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠛⠦ ⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⠄⠀⢀⢤⠝⣿⣷⡿⠊⠡⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⠆⠀⠀ ⢀⣀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠛⢸⠀⠀⠣⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⡀⠀⠀ ⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⠀⠀⠉⢉⢰⣅⢀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⣠⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠓⠀⣠⣠⡀⠠⠱⢿⠇⠁⠀⠛⡀⠚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣝⢯⣾⣟⣧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢀⠀⢰⡟⣷⣇⡸⢐⣀⡠⠀⠄⠀⣷⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣾⢿⢫⣿⡾⣛⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢕⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢠⠶⢫⠀⠲⡿⢾⣧⢇⠀⠸⢥⡄⡆⢐⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠋⠀⠀⢀⠨⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⢿⣿⣿⣻⡟⠊⠋⠓⠵⠁⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⠂⡇⡀⠠⢬⣁⣀⠤⠈⠜⢰⠀⡈⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡿⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⠉⠋⠻⢽⢿⣫⣤⣄⡾⢿⡻⢇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢻⣿⣿⡿⠀⠉⣿⠻⠟⡟⠣⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⣿⣿⣿⣇⠘⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡨⣕⡈⠸⠀⠋⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠑⠀⠎⡜⠣⠉⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡖⣖⠞⢃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠁⠐⠠⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠁⠐⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠈⠁⠂⠈⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡉⢨⣝⣻⣿⣿⡄⡄⡄⠀⠀⢀⠈⠑⠚⠀⠀⠁⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠄⠀⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢾⣿⣮⡿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠜⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⣄⢀⡼⢖⠮⡽⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠿⣦⠙⢻⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⢀⠄⣸⡀⣠⣿⡜⡰⢩⠒⠀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⣶⠃⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠉⠀⠁⠀⠿⣒⢍⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠥⢤⣀⡹⢿⣿⣿⡟⠢⡀⠀⢀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⠟⠒⠀⡀⢀⠔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⡵⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠡⢀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠶⠟⠛⠐⠀⠖⢲⠑⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠸⢿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠈⣋⣻⣷⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠂⠁⠀⠂⠠⠈⠀⠄⠐⠀⡈⠀⠌⠀⡀⠄⠁⠀⠂⠀⠐⠀⠈⠀⠄⠙⣧⡙⢆⠁⠠⠀⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⢹⣧⡀⠀⠡⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⡁⠀⠁⠠⠈⠀⠄⠂⢀⠂⠀⡀⠈⠀⠄⠁⠠⠈⠀⠂⠀⠀⠈⢿⣄⠘⢀⠀⠁⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠂⢻⣷⣆⠀⡐⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠁⢀⠀⠁⠠⠐⠀⡀⠂⠀⠄⠁⠀⠐⠀⠀⠐⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⢨⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠐⠻⣿⣧⠀⡀⠱⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠂⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡄⠑⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣀⠀⠻⣿⣧⠀⠄⠠⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠠⡁⠠⢀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠐⠀⠀⠘⣿⣆⠈⢷⡄⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠘⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠁⠒⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣇⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠂⠀⠘⣿⣆⠀⠻⣧⣀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣷⣎⢤⠹⣿⣷⠀⠀⠐⠠⠃⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠈⢀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠌⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣞⡅⠹⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠡⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠁⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⢀⠀⠸⣿⣧⠀⠘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣞⡄⠘⣿⣖⠀⠈⠄⡹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡆⠀⢀⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠠⠀⣿⣿⡆⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡀⠙⣿⣧⠀⠘⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰
⢀ ⢤⣄⣀⠄ ⢀⣀⣠⢤⠦⠢⠼⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡏⠛⠒⠲⢴⣤⣄⡀⡀ ⣠⣤⣞⢋⠁⠠⠨⢗⡡ ⠚⡏⢘⣿⠋ ⣗⣦⡀ ⢈⠉⠺⢯⣓⠤⣄⡀ ⢀⣤⣾⡏⢻⠋ ⢀⡖ ⠔⣩⡤ ⢹⢃⣾⣇⣀⣀⣀⣂⣷⣿⣯⣿⣷⣷⣿⣆⠨⠙⢦⣍⠳⣤⡀ ⣠⣶⣿⣷⢍⣡⣧⣤ ⠂⢽⡣ ⢡⣧⠷⠚⢫⣿⣿⣯⣿⣽⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠠ ⠈⠛⠲⣭⣳⣄ ⣠⠾⠧⣀ ⠒⠾⡿⡟⠉⢡⠆⡘⡧⠈⠈⢐⣀ ⢑⢿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⡇ ⠉⠛⣷⣤ ⣠⡞⠃ ⠁⠺⢿⢿⡇⡼ ⢀⢻⡞⡀⢡⣤⠔⠺⡷⠉ ⠁⡻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⣸⣇ ⣀⣤ ⠉⢳⣄ ⣴⠏⢀⣆⣀⡰⡀⠈⢀⢀⣷⡆⢨⡎⢸⡱⠉⠅ ⢀⣸⣤⠄⠠⣷⣦⣀⣄⣼⣯⡗⠊⢥⠩⢍⣥⣀⣴⣿⡏⠁⠸⢿⣧ ⠙⣦ ⣼⣃⢠⢛⠛⠻⢇⠼⣄⣄⣼⣿⣧⣼⠧⡘⠇⣀⣼ ⢛⣻⣧⣼⠿⠻⢿⡿⠿⢿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣘⠿⣼⣿⣿⡇ ⢀⡇ ⣀⣼⣧ ⣴⠻⠻⠻⣦⠉⠛⣿⣷⣤⣤⣈⣿⣿⣿⡀⢄⢜⣡⣛⣭⣫⣤⣄⣀⠈⠁⡀⣁⡀ ⣀⣨⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⡠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣴⠾⢷⠛⣉⢷ ⡼⠃ ⠉⠋⢂⣾⡦⡀⠈⠉⠻⢿⣿⣯⢮⠞⠁⠿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟ ⠈⠉⢠⣣⣶⣟⣥⡚⠧⠄ ⠈⣧ ⢰⡏ ⠑⠈⠻⣦⡉⠒⢶⣬⣿⡿⠾⢀ ⠁⡉⢅⡒⢲⡰⡍⠽ ⠘⣿⡿⣭⡛⣭⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢀⣴⢿⣫⣾⣿⡩⠙⠛⣯⣭⡀⠸⡇ ⢀⡿⢠⣦⡀ ⠈⠻⠠⢀⣱⡉⠃⢀⣀⣎⡊⢠⣀⣙⠓⣟⠉⠛⡗ ⠛⠲⣶⣈⡉⢹⣀⣑⣽⣿⣿⡿⣶⣾⢟⣿⣿⠛⣯⠉⠉⢉⣹⡿⠿⡷⠾⣿⡀ ⢨⠃⠁⠉⡭⢦⡀⠈⠴⠒⡉ ⠦ ⠋⢿⣷⠤⡂⠒⢤⣈⡛⣏⠙⢦⠨⠧⣌⡈⠙⠷⢶⠖⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⡿⠯⠤⢜⣿⣷⡾⠛⠉ ⠈⡇ ⢘ ⠐⠉⡒⠄⣄ ⡐⢀⠐⠠ ⢀⢀⠙⢷⣤⠯⡆⢘⠆⠨⢇⡉⠰⢄⣈⡋⢨⣏⡘⣿⣮⣿⡽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣹⣆ ⣀⣴⡾⠟⠉ ⣳ ⠎ ⠈⠢⢾⠒⢃⠝⠘⡢⡄⠰ ⠡ ⢹⢆⢇⣊⠐⠧⢈⡉⢲⡂⢺⣄⢈⡿⢿⣧⡾⣍⡿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋ ⠠⣽ ⡃ ⢈⢶⡰⠇⠱⠊⠉⠢⠈⠐ ⢨⢷⠬⡑⢲⠘⢧⡈⣿⠠⠛⠺⣦⣤⢦⣔⣷⣫⣼⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄ ⠂⢢ ⣀⠼ ⠱ ⠈⢅⡠⣤⢖⣆⣠⡦ ⢠ ⣦⢏⡗⡗⡌⣇⠼⢥⡍⠙⠷⢦⠖⡠⣾⣿⣶⣿⣿⡿⣥⡞⣻⣿⠋⢹⡹⣿⣶⡄⢀ ⢄ ⠰⠂⣌⡻⣴⢫ ⢸ ⣈⠿⣹⢾⣿⣿⣾⠍⢆⠑⣿⣼⢳⣣⡑⡌⠻⣄⡙⠲⢂⣨⣪⣾⣿⡟⣯⣿⠟⣵⡟⢰⣙⡄ ⢸⣧⠘⣺⣷⣦⢶⣲⣶⣤⣄⡀⠉⢗⢫⣿ ⠸⡄ ⢀⠠⢐⣈⠲⣱⡿⣽⠏ ⠈⠃⠈⠻⣇⠙⢷⡭⠑ ⠨⡠⠑⡥⣟⢿⣃⣛⣼⡿⢻⠟⢠⣿⠎ ⢀⢠⣿⡄⢸⣿⡿⡿⢷⣿⣿⢯⡿⡌⠂⣹⠆ ⠈⣧ ⡄⠒⣌⡲⣵⢮⠛⠛⣟⣫⠁⠲⡖⣬⣂⡒⠤⠌⠑⢤⣉⢫⣦⣀⡀ ⣐⣈⡮⣱⡼⣳⣁⣦⣾⡿⣷⣶⠟⣥⣾⡿⢡⣾⣿⣹⡗⣢⢽⣿⣯⢶⡉⢄⣞⠃ ⢘⣖⡈⡒⣬⣻⡼⠿⠃ ⠳⣀⠈⠻⣧⡘⠲⣆⣈⡛⡷⠈⣷⡄⢨⡟⣛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣾⠿⣛⡝⣾⣿⡜⣯⣿⡟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣻⡜⣧⠿⣿⣿⣎⢳⣮⠏ ⠻⣴⣽⣾⡛ ⣀⣀ ⠉⢂⢀⡈⢻⣧⣅⠛⠻⣷⡆⠙⠃⢁⠬⠙⠅⠐⠚⡎⣗⡿⣿⡳⣌⣹⢶⣹⬛⣽⡿⣿⡿⣼⣿⣿⣿⢯⣷⣻⡽⣫⣿⣿⢯⢷⣷ ⠺⣿⡍⣉⠹⢶⣾⣭⣝⡲⡥⢯⣿⣿⣏⢹⣿⣭⡿⣍⣿⣭⣴⢺⢳⡀ ⢠⡿⣸⢻⣹⣵⣟⣯⣿⣿⠿⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⠟⣝⢊⠟⡜⢣⠝⣳⠙⢮⢏⡧⢰ ⠚⣿⣶⢫⣿⡟⣮⣽⢹⣿⣷⣾⣿⣯⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⢻⣿⢳⣿⣮⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⢺⣽⢻⣽⣿⡍⠈ ⠈ ⠈⠁ ⢢⠉⢢⢳⡄⠘ ⢀⠪⠜⢏⠚⠝⠻⣆⢏⡹⡫⣽⢿⣿⠻⡟⣿⣰⡝⢢⢻⡮⠛⢲⢫⣟⢿⣿⣿⢟⡿⢿⣭⡺⢿⣽⣟⠛⠋⠲⣿⢣ ⠠⠑⢿⠦⢥ ⠁⠑⠂ ⠁⠒⠉⠿⠧⠓⠁ ⠏⠰⠛⠛⠑⠂⠚⠏⠙⠺⠒⠙⠃⠃⠞⠚⠓⠴⠛⠛ ⠞⠛⠳⠆ ⠈ ⠰⠾ ⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⢻⡿⣿⠻⢝⠫⢻⢫⢿⡯⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆ ⢀ ⠂⢀ ⠘⠻⠿⠿⠿⠾⠾⠿⠯⠯⠾⠧⠿⠧⠿⠷⠿⠽⠿⠿⠿⠟⠃ ⡀⡀ ⡀ ⢁ ⠐ ⡀ ⠐ ⠂ ⠂ ⠄ ⠐⢄⡐⠒⠂⠂⢂⢠⠂⠙⣀⠡⠂ ⠂ ⠚ ⠆ ⠠ ⠐⠈
🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️🎸⋆⭒˚。⋆✧˚ ༘ ⋆。♡˚✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓍯୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀⋆⭒˚。⋆
🏇
hey guys. I'm gonna do a super duper zuper backflip˙ᵕ˙
new 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
𝓽𝓪𝓮𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓰
I love Xenogender people they are so crative ℊ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⠿⠟⣛⣯⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⢠⣶⣿⡿⠛⠉⠁⠀⢀⣴⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠿⣿⣷⣶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⢛⣛⣻⣿⣯⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣭⠛⠿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⡿⠛⠁⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣏⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣾⣭⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡄⢸⣷⡀⠀⢠⡄⢠⣶⣶⡾⠿⢿⣶⣄⡀⢸⣿⣄⠹⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢰⣶⣷⡀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⡿⢻⣿⣸⣿⣿⣦⣻⣿⣆⠉⠻⣷⣄⠀⠙⠛⢿⣾⣿⢿⣦⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⣠⣾⠟⠀⢀⣿⡇⢿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠈⠻⢷⣤⡀⠀⠘⠟⠈⢻⣷⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠉⢸⣿⣿⡟⠀⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣴⣿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣦⣉⠉⠛⠟⠉⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠃⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣶⡄ ⠀⠀⣼⣿⣧⣴⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣿⣷⠾⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⢻⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⠾⠟⠛⠉⣁⣼⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⠶⠶⠶⠶⢶⣶⣴⣿⣿⣋⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠙⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣤⣄⣀⣤⣾⡿⢻⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣶⣤⣄⣀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠉⠛⠿⠟⠋⠁⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⠛⠛⣿⡏⠀⠈⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢹⡟⠻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠷⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⣸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⢉⣁⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⢠⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣁⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣽⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀ ⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡆ ⣿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠉⠛⣿⣟⠛⠉⢉⣉⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣦⡄⣠⣿⡉⣩⣾⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⡇ ⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣯⠹⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁ ⠀⠘⢿⣿⣷⣌⠉⠛⠿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠘⣿⣶⣌⡙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⣿⡿⢿⠟⠛⠉⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣷⣦⣍⡛⠻⢷⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢫⣴⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⡀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣷⣶⣬⣍⣻⣿⡷⣶⣤⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⠉⠻⠟⠛⠋⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠟⠈⠉⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝒆✩♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
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﹒➜ ★ ❰﹒
₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ゚.
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡹⢷⣫⠽⠾⣝⡻⠿⣟⣿⡛⢿⡻⣟⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠐⡏⣉⣷⣮⣝⣬⡙⠃⠎⢩⠙⢧⢹⣎⡖⡄⣂⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣧⢟⢮⣙⣾⣿⣿⢿⡿⣦⡈⠈⢆⢿⣽⣿⣭⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢸⠸⣾⣿⣾⣿⣾⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣣⢽⣿⣿⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢹⠟⡿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡡⡀⢹⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⡽⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⣛⢙⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣱⡿⣿⢠⡒⢋⠜⡜⢻⠻⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢛⡿⣇⡶⠶⠉⣹⣾⣿⣿⠃⣸⢛⡬⣛⢷⣭⡫⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢯⠽⠧⠤⢤⣉⢰⠋⢹⡼⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⣼⣿⡀⠘⣷⣍⣥⡮⢧⣸⡰⣼⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⡹⣧⣯⣤⣀⣀⣀⣴⡧⣹⡿⣷⡺⣶⣿⣻⣿⡟⢠⣓⡺⣛⣒⠷⢮⠿⢷⣽⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡟⣿⡟⠋⣹⠇⠠⣄⠲⣭⠞⣩⣤⠹⡇⢣⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⡷⢻⢿⣍⠻⠯⠤⢩⡸⠀⡏⣹⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠈⠙⢯⣟⡯⢞⣱⡿⣽⣏⣯⣟⣾⣿⢯⢁⠞⠧⡫⣢⢄⡹⢔⡲⠟⠤⠹⠭⢾⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣻⠻⠟⠀⡌⣧⠙⢿⢔⠜⡠⠒⡿⢁⠮⢁⠾⡄⠀⠆⡔⡟⠞⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⡷⣿⡘⢧⡙⢿⣶⢤⡒⡞⡆⣇⣿⣷⣯⣿⣿⢟⣿⣼⢻⣦⡄⠀⢙⡼⣳⡿⡽⡟⢎⣾⣽⡿⣟⠃⣼⣛⢻⡘⣌⢧⠩⡉⣦⠉⡉⢑⡭⣤⠄⢥⣙⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⠟⢉⠬⠞⣁⠸⣏⠒⢁⢞⠃⡸⡛⣐⡀⡔⢡⢻⢆⠎⢀⡧⠞⣶⣀⣧⡟⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣰⡅⠈⠳⢌⠻⣮⢻⣿⣧⠀⠘⣿⢫⠹⣿⠿⣽⣻⢶⣍⣛⡾⣽⡇⣼⢷⣯⣷⡿⢟⣾⣳⣿⣟⠎⣰⣿⢶⣹⡙⡯⣳⡱⡸⡌⡟⠜⡱⡨⢜⡉⢷⡂⣁⠫⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢸⡾⢁⡴⣫⢭⢍⠁⡇⠈⡌⠄⡗⠡⢁⠋⣴⣯⠸⢸⠖⢁⡴⣢⣦⣇⠋⣥⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣋⠣⡘⢦⣤⣀⣿⢇⣿⠏⠀⣰⣟⣼⣧⢌⣷⣬⡻⡿⣿⣾⣽⡓⣺⢭⣁⡲⢯⠟⣼⣳⣿⠯⡍⢠⣷⢸⢮⣿⣀⠤⡣⢛⢿⠙⡴⡄⢣⠚⢄⠘⢄⣾⣤⣝⠊⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢇⠇⢾⡼⠹⡱⢸⢠⢡⣊⢇⡊⣰⢱⢏⢾⠛⡏⡇⠚⢠⣿⣿⡏⡍⢹⢠⢹⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣛⣳⠶⣬⣽⣛⣛⣋⣡⣴⠾⡽⡬⡊⢯⣻⣸⣧⣙⣌⣯⣷⣽⣽⣿⣾⣽⣻⡶⡾⣏⣿⡿⡝⣬⡏⡟⣏⣾⡷⣲⣩⢿⡄⣟⣌⢣⢉⠂⠴⣠⣕⡀⢻⣿⠙⡛⠁⢚⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⡢⠈⡷⠽⠿⣾⡘⣂⢸⢾⡫⢊⡾⣫⣣⣤⣿⠃⡄⡆⣏⡿⠀⢋⠮⠮⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠥⣤⡤⠤⠀⢒⣉⢤⡤⣤⣾⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣹⠰⡇⢸⢻⢣⠩⠃⠜⣧⢸⡄⡜⡈⢰⣊⢝⠻⣝⣄⠳⢯⣁⣂⢈⢓⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢻⡅⣏⣰⢗⡌⢇⢼⣸⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⡾⣁⣇⡿⠁⡀⡧⢦⠙⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣯⣿⣽⣯⣿⣽⣯⣿⣽ 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⢤⠠⠶⠖⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠠⠤⠐⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣵⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠠⠤⠀⠒⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⡶⣶⣾⣿⡿⠿⠽⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣀⣉⠠⣤⣬⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣦⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⠿⠯⠟⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠁⣀⣀⠀⣤⣤⣀⣲⣶⠦⣶⣿⣛⣛⣾⣿⣭⣿⡿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠶⠚⠛⠿⠿⠷⣿⣷⣿⣵⣖⣲⢵⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⠶⠶⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠁⣀⣀⡀⣤⣤⣤⣶⠶⢾⣿⣓⣿⢿⣯⣿⣾⣶⣿⣿⣿⣟⠿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⣮⠻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠚⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣴⡶⠦⣼⣿⣷⣻⣿⣭⣟⣷⡾⠿⢯⣟⣛⣾⣿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣶⣶⣟⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣷⡆⠀⢀⣿⣿⢳⡿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⡿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⠟⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⠐⠀⠠⠝⠛⠒⠊⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡄⠀⢼⣿⣷⣀⣟⣿⢿⣭⣝⣿⡶⠶⠿⣿⣛⣛⣿⣯⣭⠿⠷⠶⠿⠝⠛⠛⠛⠓⠋⠉⠙⠛⢿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣿⣿⠿⠋⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⢿⣻⣽⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⢀⣤⣄⡀⣶⢶⣤⡴⡿⠿⠷⢺⣾⣛⣛⣛⣛⡿⠯⠭⠬⠿⠿⣗⣒⣒⡛⣛⡩⠭⠭⠭⠴⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⢟⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠿⣯⣿⣟⣿⠿⠊⣁⣴⣾⣽⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⡷⣿⣿⣯⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤ ⠀⠀⠀⠐⠛⠣⣍⡛⠠⠬⣍⣝⠃⠒⠶⠬⠌⠉⠉⠛⠒⠒⠒⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣟⣽⣻⠟⠁⢀⣴⡾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⠞⠋⣀⢴⣺⣽⣟⣿⣽⣧⣿⣿⢯⣷⣿⡿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⢀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⡿⡿⣟⣯⣽⠷⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣾⢿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠒⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣟⣻⠵⠋⢀⣠⡾⢿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⠛⠁⣠⣾⢿⣿⣿⢫⣿⠽⣼⣿⣻⡟⣿⣻⣯⣿⣭⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⠯⡽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⠤⢤⡤⢤⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⣾⡿⣟⡯⠛⠁⣠⣴⣻⣿⡵⣿⢿⣿⣿⠊⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣚⣿⣺⢿⢿⣹⣾⢿⣻⣯⣟⣿⠷⠋⠁⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⡿⢿⣫⣿⣶⡽⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣽⣶⣶⣽⠿⠿ ⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠂⠐⠀⡐⠕⠡⢔⠃⢄⠺⢯⠫⢕⠞⡿⣛⠵⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⢿⡷⠿⡭⠛⠁⢀⡴⣺⣽⡽⣧⢾⠾⣟⣿⣽⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣟⣽⣮⣮⣟⣵⣷⢾⣿⠟⠁⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⢻⣽⣵⣾⣿⠝⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣶⢿⣟⡿⣯⣿⡾⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⣛⡉⠭⠤⠒⠂⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢐⠈⠠⠂⠱⡡⠳⢐⠊⡍⡆⠒⣦⠭⢎⢢⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡲⣚⣟⢿⣳⣛⠗⠉⠀⣠⡴⣿⡻⣝⡞⡼⣿⣏⢿⡯⣞⣟⣹⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⡯⣾⡽⣷⢿⣭⣾⠟⢁⣤⣾⣿⠿⣩⣷⡞⣿⣻⣿⣏⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣾⠿⣟⣿⢽⣲⣯⣿⣾⣽⣯⣿⡿⢿⣟⣻⠭⠷⠚⠃⢉⡁⠤⢄⣒⠤⡀⠂⢄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠂⠀⠀⢁⠐⠍⠐⡈⠆⠱⢌⡘⠌⠣⠤⣓⠞⣢⡬⢱⢪⡝⣙⢼⢡⠺⣨⣳⠞⠁⠀⣠⣞⡻⣨⢟⡹⣇⡟⣿⢳⡵⡟⣷⢻⡽⣻⣿⠇⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣻⢭⣧⣳⡿⣻⠞⢁⣴⣿⡿⣵⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⡿⡯⣿⣿⣿⣛⣮⠿⣚⣯⣷⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠿⣛⣭⡶⠞⠋⠉⣀⠠⠔⡒⢭⣐⠶⣙⣲⣭⣶⣾⣟⠿
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7🐰🐰ྀི🐰💜𝓽𝓪𝓮𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓥💜🎤ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡𖦹🎶𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒
ྀི🧸▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||||။၊|။•
/🗿🖕🏼
ᥲ ᨡ ᥰ ᥒ ᥱ 𑄺 ᧉ ᥴ ᧙ ᨻ ᦷ ᦡ ᥕ ᥣ ᥆ ᥉ 𐒖 ᥎ ᥈ ᥊ ᥙ ᧕ ᦸ ᦼ join .gg/dinkles for more
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡≽^•༚•🎀≼‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🎀ྀིྀིʚɞ✮୨ৎ👤ྀི. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖💀ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི₊˚⊹♡
╭∩╮( •̀_•́ )╭∩╮✈︎✞(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)( ._. )""( ;´ - `;)(..◜ᴗ◝..)(´・ω・`)(´⊙ω⊙`)!(´⊙ω⊙`)ᵒᵐᵍᵎᵎᵎ(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭( ≧ᗜ≦)૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡😧(,,Ծ‸Ծ,, )(๑>◡<๑)(¬_¬")(„• ֊ •„)੭(•̪ o •̪)(⊙ _ ⊙ )ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧(◣ _ ◢)▄︻デ══━一૮₍´。ᵔ ꈊ ᵔ。`₎ა🖕🏻
⚕️with a big V in the middle🇻
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡋⠉⠁⠑⠐⠂⠂⠂⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⠄⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⡈⡈⠠⠑⠀⠂⠂⠰⠠⠠⢀⣵⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣐⠁⠪⡁⠒⠤⣀⣀⣀⡀⣀⢀⡀⠤⠶⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⠑⠀⠀⠁⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠄⡀⠀⡀⢐⠀⡀⠠⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠂⠂⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⢀⠂⡀⡀⢀⢀⢠⡠⡄⡒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠈⠀⠀⠁⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣀⠐⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠄⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
ꪫꤪꤨ
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣩⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡠⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⡅⠐⢆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⢳⢤⢤⠤⠎⠀⠙⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠧⠥⠦⠽⠀⠀⠀ ⠠⣴⡗⠂⢀⡀⠁⡉⠁⣒⠒⢢⣹⣈⣉⢙⠓⢲⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⡀ ⠤⡼⠥⠀⣉⡅⠸⠝⢄⡙⢀⡴⣩⣇⣀⠀⡄⢸⠤⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⣀⡀⡇ ⠀⣟⢦⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠔⠝⠀⠠⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⣀⠃⢤⠃ ⠀⡇⠢⡑⠢⢈⠿⣋⠅⢊⠀⠀⠊⠀⠄⢸⠐⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⣀⠔⠁⠀ ⠀⢳⣠⣬⡢⣰⣿⡠⣲⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢐⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠁⢿⠐⢈⠁⠀⠀⡠⠂⠀⢁⠣⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣛⠷⠒⠒⠒⡞⠃⡰⠓⠒⠒⠒⠓⢆⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ guch dkjherugfyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyywouygyrgfhg ehgkjher fyg reuguweoreyrllgthwthtgtrtghwthth tgnj thunrekjwlhbenkhlfduoabgjklauhqrejbS KA
LAYO(✔️)ER
h‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ k‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. i🎐🫧🦋🧿💠🌀y ꒒ ꒩ ꒦ ꒰ v ༝༚༝༚
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛
⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⡔⠉⠀⠀⠈⠓⣤⠀⠀⣶⠋⠛⠒⠓⠚⠁⢻⡆⠀⣿⣼⣷⣶⠖⢻⣿⣷⡆ ⢸⢃⣶⡆⠀⣶⣶⣼⠀⠀⠉⣧⢠⣆⢠⣦⡈⡏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⢪⡪⢿⣿⡗ ⠀⣷⠉⠤⠇⠨⣧⡗⠀⠀⣠⡼⠈⠉⠃⠈⠹⢤⡄⠀⣽⣿⠿⠷⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛ ⠀⠈⠻⣦⣤⠾⠉⠀⠀⠀⠛⣦⣼⠲⠒⠺⣄⡞⠃⠀⢺⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
bink, bear, bow🌸🎀🦩💕🌷🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️
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