Miss Grace Emojis & Text

|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| |:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| | | | | |:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| |:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| OREO

Here are some idioms that use the word "chip": Chip on your shoulder An informal expression that means someone feels inferior or believes they've been treated unfairly. For example, "You will never make friends if you go around with a chip on your shoulder". Chip off the old block A person who resembles one parent in appearance or behavior. For example, "His son is just a chip off the old block". Chip in To contribute money, time, or advice to a cause or fund. For example, "Every member of the team chipped in to help pay for the coach's surgery". Cash in your chips To sell something, such as investments, to raise money. It can also be used as slang to mean to die. Bargaining chip Something that can be used to gain an advantage when trying to make a deal or an agreement. For example, "The workers used the threat of a strike as a bargaining chip in their negotiations". Blue chip A term that comes from poker, where chips used in gambling have different colors to represent different dollar amounts. A blue chip is typically the one with the highest value. call in (one's) chipscall in your chipscash (one's) chips incash incash in (one's) chipscash in chipscash in one's chipscash in your chipscheap as chipschipchip (away) at (something)chip and dipchip atchip awaychip buttychip inchip in for (something)chip in on (something)chip in with (something)chip in with (something) for (something)chip offchip off the old blockchip off the old block, achip on one's shoulderchip on one's shoulder, to have achip on shoulderchip shotchip upchipschips and dipchips are down, thechips with everythingcow chipcow chipsget a chip on (one's) shoulderhand in (one's) chipshas had its chipshave a chip on (one's) shoulderhave a chip on your shoulderhave had (one's) chipshave had your chipsin the chipsin the moneylet the chips fall (where they may)let the chips fall where they maymint chocolate chippass in (one's) chipspiss on (someone's) chipsput a chip on (one's) shoulderput all (of) (one's) chips on the tablespit chipsthe chips are downwhen the chips are down "All that and a bag of chips"---this phrase is usually a slam against someone who is conceited or arrogant. Perhaps the phrase originates in the concept of completeness; a meal complete with a "bag of chips".Aug 11, 2014

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⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆🎀

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FPE COMBOS !! ~ main students ~ claire :: ʚ 🌱 • ₊˚✧ . ・ engel :: 🪶੯•́ ໒꒱⋆ bubble :: 🫧 𓂃★🛁🪥 oliver :: 🅰️ *₊ ° . °🧼✯ zip :: 🦖✮ ➷ 🧷𖦹 ⋆｡ edward :: 🧪 ˚₊‧꒰ა 🕹️ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ abbie :: 📝 ︶꒷꒦︶ ❌ ⭑ lana :: 𓆩 🧦﹐✧﹏✶ ･ like if u want the other students and teachers !!! <3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⠶⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣧⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⣶⣿⡇⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⠷⠶⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⡹⣷⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⡉⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠹⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠶⢦⣄⣠⣤⡤⠴⠶⠟⠋⠁⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡏⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠶⠞⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠲⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣼⡇⠀⢿⣶⣄⣤⣴⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⢟⣭⣶⣶⣽⣿⣄⠈⢿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡷⠦⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠈⠛⠶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡇⠀⠀⢻⣍⡛⠛⣹⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢦⣤⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡤⠶⠚⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣦⠀⠻⠿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⢉⣾⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠞⠛⢁⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠻⢿⣍⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠈⠻⠶⠦⠤⠶⠾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠾⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡴⠶⠚⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣈⠉⣻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣽⠛⠉⠉⠉⢉⣧⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣩⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⢠⡟⢀⡞⠛⠋⠉⣏⢣⡀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡶⠟⣿⢀⡿⠁⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⢧⡆⠹⢄⢸⡆⠀⠀⢀⣴⠿⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⡇⠀⠀⢺⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣤⣤⠶⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⢹⡟⠁⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢻⠀⡸⠃⢻⣤⣾⠋⠁⠀⠈⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⡇⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠈⠁⠀⠘⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣀⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⢷⣶⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡴⠟⢻⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⠛⠻⠿⠿⠛⣿⠏⠉⠉⢡⣿⠿⣿⡗⠲⠶⠶⠶⢲⣶⠿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣧⣠⣴⡿⠋⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⣿⣀⣠⣴⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠛⠟⠛⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢻

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 3 Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all Read the Autism And All one first! Plankton's mouth feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, his tongue thick. He tries to form words. "Ma...ma..." he whispers, his voice a slur. Karen's eyes light up at the sound. "You're ok," she says, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "You had your teeth out. You might feel funny for a little while." He looks at Karen, his eye searching hers. "Wh...wh...whath?" he stammers, his speech jumbled. Karen leans closer, her smile reassuring. "Your wisdom teeth, Plankton. They took them out so you won't have any trouble with them later." But the words don't make sense to him, his brain still fuzzy from the anesthesia. He tries to speak again. "Wi...wis...wis..." he stammers. Karen nods. "Wisdom teeth," Karen repeats slowly. "They're out now. You're all done!" The words swirl in Plankton's head, not quite making sense. He feels his mouth, the cottony feeling replaced by the pressure of gauze. He giggles. "My moufs fweel funmy," he says, his words slurred. Karen laughs softly. "It's because of the surgery, sweetie. Your mouth is healing." She coos. "I fink I sownd funny," he says, his eye glinting with mirth. The nurse returns, checking his vitals. "How are you feeling?" she asks. Plankton looks up, his eye glassy. "Wibidy wobidy," he slurs, his speech a mess of sounds and syllables. Karen can't help but laugh, despite the situation. "You're doing great," she says with love for his confused silliness. The nurse chuckles, too. "It's the anesthesia," she explains. "It'll wear off soon." His gaze darts to his own fingers. "Wook at my fingews," he says to Karen, his speech slurred from the anesthesia. Karen nods, smiling. "Oh yeah?" Plankton nods, his cognitive abilities still under the fog. "Yeth," he slurs, trying to sit up. "Take it easy," she says. "You're still woozy." The room feels like it's spinning as Plankton tries to sit up, his brain struggling to keep up with his body's movements. "Wha...?" he mumbles, his gaze unfocused. But Plankton's curiosity wins out. He reaches up to touch a finger to his mouth, feeling the thickness of the gauze. "Fingews," he repeats, his voice still slurred. Karen laughs with affection. "It's ok honey," she says. "You're doing great." Plankton looks around the room, his eye still unfocused. "Wheh...wheah awe we?" he mumbles. The nurse explains patiently, "You're in the recovery room at the dentist's office. You just had your wisdom teeth removed." But the words don't quite register, and he nods slowly, his mind racing with confusion and curiosity with wonder, taking in the world as if seeing it for the first time. The colors, the shapes, the sounds—everything is fresh and new. He looks at his hands as if it's an alien appendage. "Wook ath dis," he says to Karen, his voice a mix of amazement and bewilderment. His fingers spread wide, then close into a fist, then open again. "Wook whath I can do!" Karen swells with love. It's like watching him discover the world anew, like a baby seeing his own hands for the first time. She can't help but smile at his innocent fascination. The nurse nods at Karen. "You can take him home now. Just make sure he rests and takes it easy." Karen nods, her smile never leaving her screen. She helps Plankton up. "Hi," he says, his voice a slurred mumble. As they make their way to the car, Plankton's steps are unsteady, his body still fighting the remnants of the anesthesia. He looks around with wonderment, as if seeing the world in a new light. "Mowah?" he asks, pointing to the sky. Karen laughs gently. "It's the sun, honey. It's ok." Plankton nods, his mind trying to piece together the puzzle of his reality. "We're gonna pick up Chip from the park. He's with Hanna.." "Chip...Chip, Chip," he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue. The car ride is a blur of sounds and sensations that Plankton tries to filter out. He leans his head against the cool window, watching the world pass by in a haze. Karen keeps glancing back at him in the rearview mirror, amusement etched on her face. "You ok?" she asks. Plankton nods, his eye heavy. "Tiwed," he murmurs. "Try not to fall asleep," she says. "Because we're almost there." His eye drifts to the passing scenery. Trees whiz by. He counts the telephone poles, his slurred voice mumbling the numbers. "One, two, free, four..." "Almost there," Karen says. Plankton nods, his hand finding the seatbelt buckle, tracing its edges. "Five, sis, seb..." But alas, Plankton's efforts to stay alert are in vain. His lid flutters and his head nods. "Plankton, keep your eye open," Karen says, her voice a gentle reminder. But his body has other plans, succumbing to the sedative's embrace. "Wake up, Plankton," Karen says, a hint of laughter in her tone. She knows he can't help it. His slumber is deep, his snores a soft echo in the car. She watches him in the mirror, his face relaxed in sleep. It's a rare sight. Plankton's normally alert and active demeanor is replaced by a peaceful stillness that fills the car. The surgery was a success, yet the anesthesia has taken its toll. Karen pulls into the parking lot of the park, the sun casting a warm glow. "Wakey, wakey," she sings. Plankton's snores hitch, but his eye stays shut. She opens the car door and the chilly air fills the car, carrying with it the laughter of children playing. "Plankton," she calls, her voice gentle but firm. He stirs, his body protesting the interruption. "Chip?" he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen laughs softly. "Yes, we're here to get Chip. Time to wake up." She reaches over and squeezes his hand. His eye blinks open, the pupil dilating as he takes in his surroundings. "Wha...?" he mumbles, his brain still fighting the anesthesia. Hanna and Chip look up as their car approaches. "What happened?" Chip asks as he gets in the car. Karen starts to answer, but Plankton's slurred interjection stops her. "Dey hook my teefs!" he says, his words a jumble. Chip's eyes widen. "He had his wisdom teeth out," Karen explains. Hanna looks at Plankton, her expression one of concern. "How are you feeling?" she asks. "Wibidy wobidy," he slurs. "Buh I dunno." Karen smiles. "So, we went to the dentist," she says, waving bye to Hanna. "They had to take his wisdom teeth out." Chip looks confused. "What does that mean, Mom?" He asks Karen. "Well Chip, your dad had some teeth that were gonna cause problems, so they took them out," Karen starts. "But the medicine they gave him makes him feel funny. It's like when you have a sleepover and wake up groggy." Chip nods. "What medicine?" He continues. Plankton tries to answer, but his speech is still slurred. "Dey gabe me sumpin' to sleep," he mumbles, his eye half-closed. "It's called anesthesia," Karen says, her voice calm and steady. "It's what helps people not feel pain during surgery." Chip nods, watching his dad with a mix of curiosity and concern. "But it makes him a bit loopy," Karen adds as they pull away. "Chip," Plankton starts. "Whath thad?" "It's my hand, Dad," Chip answers, confused. "Chip's hamv?" Plankton persists, his mind still fuzzy. Karen chuckles, seeing his curiosity piqued. "Chip's hamv?" Plankton repeats, his speech still slurred. Chip holds up his hand. "It's just a hand, Dad," he says. Karen laughs. "It's his hand, Plankton. It's ok. You're just a bit loopy." "Wook ath the clows," Plankton says, lazily pointing at the clouds. Karen smiles. "They're just clouds," she says. Plankton giggles, his eye glazed with a childlike wonder. Karen knows this phase won't last, but she cherishes it.

⡆⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⠋⠉⣀⡴⠞⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⢀⡜⠁⣀⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣆⠀⠀⠈⠀⠰⠀⣀⣴⡾⠏⠁⣀⡴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⢠⣮⣠⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠋⣀⣴⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠟⠉⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣷⡒⠀⠀⠀⠹⢾⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠶⠶⠚⠉⠉⠉⠛⠶⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣁⣤⡴⠶⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠶⠞⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠶⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣠⡾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣟⣡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡤⠤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠳⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡸⢫⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣴⣿⣭⣾⣿⣿⣷⣦⣍⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣄⣰⠛⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣃⣴⠟⣩⣤⣤⣤⣌⠛⣦⡹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⡇⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠖⠋⢹⡿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠈⠙⠳⢤⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢰⡏⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢹⣄⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢰⡿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠹⣦⣉⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⣁⣴⠿⠁⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⣿⣆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣴⠟⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠿⣆⠀⠀⠉⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣆⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠙⠳⠦⣭⣉⣩⠶⠿⠉⠀⣶⠞⠉⣿⠀⠀⠹⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠙⢳⡶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡤⠶⠶⠒⠋⠉⠉⠉⠛⠶⢦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣦⡀⠀ ⢦⣴⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡤⠶⠶⠚⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠓⠲⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠾⠿⣆ ⣶⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⠶⠶⠶⣶⠶⠶⠾⢷⣦⣀⣀⣀⣴⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼ ⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿ ⣏⣀⣤⣤⣤⠶⠖⠛⠛⠋⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣄⣀⣤⣤⡤⠴⠖⠚⠛⠋⢻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⣠⣤⡤⠴⠶⠛⢛⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣛⡁⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠏⣸⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⣸⡏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠙⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠟⠋⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿ ⣟⣣⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⡀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⣻⣿⣿⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡼⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣾⠃⢀⣤⡾⠋⣼⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⡿⠿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⢺⣿⡀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⣼⠃⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣷⣤⡀⠀⢠⣾⣿ ⣧⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣤⡟⠈⠁⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣧⡂⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⡶⠾⠿⠿⠛⠻⢿⣶⣿⠏⠙ ⠁⠈⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠓⠶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀ ⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣏⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉

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𓇢𓆸✮ִ ࣪𖤐✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ꕥ𓆸

⢾⣏⣴⣺⣿⣿⣿⠈⣧⠹⡂⣴⣇⣿⣿⣠⠠⠀⣟⣿⣿⢻⡀⠂⡇⣷⣿⣂⣥⠋⣾⣁⡟⣶⣤⢀⡀⠀⣿⣻⢿⣯⣖⣭⡷ ⢞⣏⣌⡿⣏⣿⣿⢿⠈⣷⠛⠙⡟⣿⢿⠾⠶⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⠖⠤⣧⣾⣴⣯⣘⣂⠄⠀⠁⠛⡿⣿⡀⠃⣿⣾⣻⢳⣬⣛⢧ ⣿⢿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⠛⠈⠀⡀⣷⢻⠀⢀⠀⡃⢹⠈⠀⠀⣇⢸⠏⣿⣿⢿⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢀⡿⣿⣿⢿⢻⣟⢛⣻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣤⣶⣷⣿⢿⡿⣿⠉⠟⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠟⣿⢿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⠏⢿⡈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⠇⣿⣴⢀⡁⣦⣷⣿⣿ ⣃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣤⣛⣛⣀⠄⠀⣠⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⢀⠃⠟⡿⢸⠠⡟⣿⣿ ⣆⠟⢫⡽⣟⣭⣾⢠⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣧⣛⠿⡿⣾⣴⣤⠀⠀⠁⠋⠛⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⢠⠏⣿⣿⣿ ⣞⣦⣶⣤⣤⣩⢉⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣠⠀⠶⣠⢈⠉⠉⠛⠿⠴⣯⣤⣂⢁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢰⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠈⠇⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠉⠉⠛⠞⣴⣯⣿⣿⣿⣹⠀⡆⠘⢂⠀⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢶⡌⣦⣤⣤⣧⣿ ⢿⠹⣌⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢈⣀⢀⠐⡡⢰⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠛⠛⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣾⣼⢀⡇⣿ ⣿⡿⣿⠻⡈⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣰⠄⢋⡿⣿⣿ ⣆⣿⠿⢣⣿⠻⡈⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣁⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠄⣗⣿⣼⣆⣀⣤⠁⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣡⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢂⡱⣾⢰⠁⠛⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣠⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣂⡝⣧⠙⣌⣦⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣠⠋⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢄⡩⢱⣧⣿⣿⠻⠛⣉⣀⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⢁⠛⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠥⢒⡡⢯⣿⣿⣿⣴⣣⡟⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣞⣯⣷⣎⢻⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠛⡟⣿⣿⣴⣾⣿⠙⢠⠉⠁⠉⠁⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠘⡟⣼⢠⠁⡟⣴⠁⣿⡗⢸⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣦⣅⡬⡔⡩⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣿⣴⡟⣼⠀⡄⣠⢀⠉⡟⢠⡇⢸⡄⢿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣁⠊⠻⣷⣼⣻⢵⣫⣴⣫⡿⣾⣳⣆⡟⣿⣡⡿⢩⠛⠛⠾⡶⣥⣭⢛⠀⡟⢰⠉⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢮⢽⣛⢧⣌⡵⡘⢡⡿⣿⣼⢄⢋⡿⣿⢻⡌⣥⣉⢛⠟⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣤⣥⣩⢟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢯⡜⠸⢰⡒⠁⠟⣿⣴⢡⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣦⣶⣷⢿⠻⡿⣾⣡⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⋆˚࿔ abby 𝜗𝜚˚⋆🎀૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣾⠿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⢿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠈⢻⡦⡀⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣶⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⢀⣬⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡟⠋⠁⣀⡤⢿⡽⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⢷⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⢯⡀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⣾⣥⣾⣉⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⣶⣤⣠⣴⣶⡿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⡿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠾⣢⣄⣠⣶⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣾⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⡶⠷⠾⢿⣯⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠾⠟⠛⠛⠛⠻⢶⣦⣀⠀⣤⣴⣶⠶⠶⠾⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣶⣤⡀⠀⣀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⡀⠀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⣿⡆⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣀⠸⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡶⢶⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⠶⠿⣿⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⢸⣧⡴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠈⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⡤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⢹⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣴⣿⠶⠞⠛⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠈⠉⠻⣿⡷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠴⠆⠀⠀⢸⣿⢀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣾⠋⠉⠉⠁⠛⠷⢦⣀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢩⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢷⣦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⠛⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⣶⡿⠟⠉⢠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⢶⣶⣤⣤⣿⠀⠀⠘⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠙⠫⠽⠶⢶⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣠⠀⠀⢠⣤⠀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⣿⠿⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⠀⠀⢸⣹⠀⢸⡇⢀⣠⠴⣺⡙⢦⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣷⣦⣄⡀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣤⡀⠀⠀⣾⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠘⢿⠿⠟⠛⠉⢹⣿⣿⡇⠈⣿⣄⠀⣼⡽⠀⢸⣿⠹⣌⡳⢥⡛⣴⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⢀⣠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⡏⠉⠛⠛⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣦⣄⣻⡇⠙⠿⣦⣤⣀⣿⠃⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⠒⠛⠚⢁⣠⣾⡿⡱⢎⡵⢣⠳⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣻⣧⣦⣤⣤⣿⡟⠃⠀⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⡛⠛⢛⠛⠛⢛⡙⠉⠋⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⣀⡤⢖⠾⣙⢆⣿⡷⣙⠮⣜⢣⢏⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡲⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠄⠘⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⡼⠁⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠉⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣜⣁⣠⣎⣀⣠⣮⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⢫⡕⢮⡙⢮⡱⢎⣿⡷⣩⠞⣬⢓⣾⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡱⢣⢞⣩⢛⠖⡦⣤⠔⠊⣁⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢠⠿⠶⣾⠷⠶⣾⠷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣻⠛⢛⡿⠉⢩⡿⠉⠉⠉⠉⣿⠋⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢎⡵⢊⢧⡙⡦⣝⢺⣿⣙⢦⡛⣴⣫⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡱⣋⠶⣡⢏⡾⠋⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠊⠀⠐⠇⠀⠰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠚⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⡯⣎⠼⣩⢖⡹⢲⡍⢾⣿⣜⣦⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡱⣍⠶⣱⠋⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠘⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡇⠀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣬⢓⣿⣌⢳⢣⠞⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣗⡬⣹⠁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠹⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⣀⣰⣿⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡱⢎⣳⡿⣌⢧⣋⢾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠛⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡀⡀⣀⣀⢀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⡤⡴⣲⣲⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⢋⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠒⠄⣢⣟⣭⣷⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣏⡂⡤⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⡠⢈⢌⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣶⢻⣖⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⢀⢪⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⡦⣛⠖⡫⠜⡂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢌⢀⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣯⢟⠥⢓⡚⢠⣱⡘⢄⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⣀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⣜⢣⡜⣧⡄⡄⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠄⠢⠁⡋⢜⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡮⢟⠹⠬⠔⠡⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠠⠈⠑⠣⠀⠃⠩⠞⠉⠉⠛⢉⢻⣿⣻⣟⣿⣽⣿⣵⣽⣴⣶⡼⠖⠑⠂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠈⢀⠀⠌⠠⠀⠀⢄⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠀⠀⡀⠀⣠⣤⣡⣆⠇⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⡔⠾⣧⣄⡈⢀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠏⡗⣟⠏⡠⣰⢤⠚⠿⠛⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠠⠊⡢⢽⣿⡿⠡⡠⡶⡿⣿⢿⡽⠿⢛⠃⠀⢂⣀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⣤⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢈⠡⠅⠄⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠰⠐⠈⣿⡿⡛⡒⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠠⣉⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠂⠈⠖⠀⠅⠲⠄⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⡀⣤⠔⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠋⠀⠀⠈⢟⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠔⡠⠀⠒⠘⢛⡛⣋⠁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢩⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣨⣥⣴⣶⡄⠔⠂⠀⢢⢞⠃⠁⠬⠐⣸⣿⣿⡒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⡀⠄⣀⣈⢀⠉⢄⣀⡀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⡄⠀⠀⠀⢞⣷⣄⢤⣀⠐⠠⣖⣷⣿⢈⣤⣄⣞⡼⢂⠄⡨⡴⢋⣾⣿⣿⡭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣕⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠵⣮⢁⡧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠰⡘⡀⠀⠀⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣃⣵⠇⢁⡋⠜⣿⣵⣿⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⠽⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡄⢠⡅⠀⠀⢉⠷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⠠⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢫⢧⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠗⠠⢈⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⢈⠀⡣⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⠄⣠⣿⡿⣿⡿⣻⣿⣿⢟⡿⠛⠛⠿⠻⠏⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠰⢉⢧⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡌⡐⣻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⠟⡡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⠀⠀⠫⢿⣿⣿⣿⢻⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⠀⠀⠀⠐⠘⡄⠘⡌⣽⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡇⠈⠁⠀⣼⣶⣶⠀⠒⠒⢠⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⢻⣿⡎⡗⠃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠄⠀⠀⠐⠐⢠⠪⢨⠉⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣀⠀⠈⢃⠟⠋⠈⠈⡼⣆⡀⠁⠐⠠⠀⠀⠩⠪⠋⠌⠌⠳⠉⠡⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢄⠪⢠⠑⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⠟⠅⠂⠐⠄⠀⣠⣖⠀⠞⢚⣨⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠃⠆⠈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⢓⠪⢑⠃⢏⠚⣿⡞⠀⠇⠂⠈⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⢹⢻⠿⢛⡷⢦⢠⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢀⠐⠈⠂⢲⡍⡀⢃⠉⠀⠂⠀⣴⢖⣴⠿⠟⢻⢿⣏⣹⣿⣟⡅⠩⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⡌⠒⣀⠄⠀⠄⠀⡰⣽⠿⠋⠁⠀⠑⣂⣘⣛⣊⣋⣭⣁⣤⣤⣴⢴⠄⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠁⠂⢒⡐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠺⡠⠂⣄⡂⢪⠻⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⢑⡡⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠂⠐⡐⠀⠀⠀⠉⡒⣪⣨⣑⠢⢶⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠗⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠡⠐⠀⠀⢊⡐⡋⣤⡷⡝⠒⠈⠙⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

୧⋆｡🩰✧ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི🥞

࿁:lady_beetle: ⏜ ࣪‎ ‎‎ emery, + AuDHD ㅤ੭୧ 𑂯 ׄ . ``she``.they taken, - " i got nothing for you other than love. " - :notes: . . :four_leaf_clover:

🌸

Hibiscus ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𓇢𓆸

Flower𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

i,stole,this,from,someone ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡤⠶⠖⠒⠒⠶⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⠤⣦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣤⣤⠤⠤⠶⠖⠚⠛⠉⠉⠀⣸⡏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⣰⡿⢿⡆⠀⢸⣿⢦⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⢞⣫⣭⣭⣉⡙⢿⣄⠘⣿⣄⠀⣿⡶⢛⣉⣉⡙⠳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡝⣧⠈⠻⣦⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⡤⠤⠤⠶⠶⠒⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣧⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣻⡇⠀⠀⠺⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣾⠟⠀⢸⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⢿⣆⡛⠿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢋⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⣍⣉⣉⣭⡶⠛⣽⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢦⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⣈⠛⠶⠤⠤⠴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠄⠒⣰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠞⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣄⡓⠄⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠋⠉⠛⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢳⡶⠶⠤⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠤⠤⠶⠖⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⢶⣆⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⢠⡿⠚⠛⣾⠛⠋⠉⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣟⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⠴⠶⠛⠋⠁⢸⡟⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⢀⣟⢦⡀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⣇⠈⣲⡄⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⢤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣈⣇⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠶⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⣶⣦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠒⢰⠆⠀⠐⠃⢒⠐⠂⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 11 The nonsensical words spilled out. "Fizz-fizz-fizz..." Karen watched him, her heart in her throat. She knew this was part of the process, his brain recalibrating after a seizure. "D-daddy?" Chip's voice was tiny. "What's happening?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to explain. "It's okay," she said, her voice shaky. "It's part of his autism. Sometimes, after a seizure, you dad's brain gets overwhelmed. He might say thi—" But Plankton's rambling cut her off. "Did? Might... m-m-mighty... mighty... no, not mighty... did!" He laughed to himself, his eye still unfocused. Karen knew that it was temporary, a side effect of the seizure. "Fizz-fizz-fish," Plankton says, his voice distant. Chip watched, his eyes full of fear and curiosity. He'd never seen his dad so vulnerable. Karen took his hand, her grip firm. "It's okay," she whispered. "His brain is just... reorganizing." Plankton began to steady. His eye focused on Karen's face, his voice a little clearer. "K-Karen?" Her heart skipped a beat. "I'm here, sweetie," she said, smiling through her tears. "You're ok." Plankton's antennae twitched as he slowly came back to his surroundings, the fear and anger of moments ago replaced by confusion and dizziness. Karen moved closer. "Dad, are you okay?" Chip's voice was tentative. Plankton's antennae moved in jerky, uncontrolled motions as he tried to make sense of his environment. "I... I think so," he murmured, his eye slowly focusing on his son. The room was a blur of colors, the sounds muffled and distant. He felt the weight of their stares, the unspoken apologies and fear. He knew what had happened, the searing memory of the slur, the painful reminder that he was different. Plankton's antennae twitched as his thoughts slowly coalesced, his mind fighting to find purchase in the chaos. "W-what... what happen'd?" he stuttered. Karen's eyes searched his, filled with a mix of love and apology. "You had a seizure, sweetie," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember what happened before?" Plankton's antennae quivered of emotion. The argument, the slur, the pain... it all came rushing back. He nodded, his eye dropping to the floor. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I remember." Karen's hand hovered over his shoulder, but she didn't dare touch him yet. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. "For everything.." Plankton nods. He knew she meant it, yet the sting of her words still lingered, like a shadow that wouldn't leave his side. "It's okay," he said, his voice a weak echo. "I know you didn't... but it still hurts." His antennae drooped, a silent testament to his pain. "Yet I forgive you, Karen." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "I know," she said. Chip nods. "I'm sorry too, Da-" But Plankton cut him off, his antennae jerking with irritation. "Don't," he murmured. "Don't say YOU'RE sorry. YOU don't understand. You're not like your mother." Chip felt the sting of truth in his dad's words. He didn't understand. He'd always thought he knew Plankton, but now he realized there was a world of experience, of pain, that he'd been blind to. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice desperate. "How ca--" But Plankton was already getting to his feet, his body shaky. "You can't," he said, his voice tight. "You can't make this right with sorrys." Chip felt the weight of his dad's words. "But I want to," he whispered. "I don't know what to do, but I wa-" Plankton's antennae twitched with agitation. "You don't know what it's like," he snapped. "You've never had to live with this, with people thinking you're less because of it." The room felt colder, the air heavier with each sharp syllable. "You can't fix this, Chip." Chip felt so helpless, so utterly powerless in the face of his father's pain. "But I want to understand," he protested, his voice a whisper of hope. "I want to help. I mean, you forgave Mo-" "I forgave her because she understood!" Plankton's voice was a whipcrack of anger. "You think your sorry fixes it?" his antennae trembled with agitation. "It doesn't. And don't compare yourself to your mother. She knows me, understands me, advocates for me. But you're not her, Chip. You're not even close." Chip felt the blow, the truth cutting through him like a knife. He knew Plankton was right. He didn't know what it was like, to live with autism, to fight against a world that didn't understand. He'd been blind to his father's struggles, his ignorance a wall between them. "What do you want me to-" But Plankton was already turning away, his body a rigid line of anger. "I want you to leave me alone," he snapped. "I don't need your pity or your half-hearted apologies!" Chip felt his world crumbling, his hope for understanding and reconciliation shattered by the coldness in his father's voice. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes brimming with tears. "But Dad..." Plankton's antennae jerked sharply. "I said leave me alone!" The words were a whip crack in the air, slicing through the tension. Chip didn't know what to do, how to make it right. Karen stepped in. "Chip, maybe you should give him some space," she suggested, her eyes filled with pain. Chip nodded, his heart heavy with defeat. He didn't want to leave, but he knew his presence was only adding to Plankton's distress. "Okay," he murmured, his feet dragging across the floor.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 16 "Wha...whath time ith it?" Plankton asked, his speech still thick. Karen glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "It's almost noon, sweetie," she said, her voice steady. "We're going to get you home, and you can take a nice, long nap." Plankton nodded, his eye half-closed. "Nan?" he repeated, the word almost a question. Karen nodded. "Yes, nap. And then we can make you something soft and yummy to eat." The mention of food seemed to rouse him slightly, his antennae perking up. "Puddink?" he mumbled. Karen laughed again. "Yes, sweetie, pudding." "Whewe...whath..." he slurred, his head rolling slightly. Karen chuckled. "You're so tired, aren't you?" Plankton nodded, his eye half-closed. "Home," he murmured. "Wan' home. Karen wiww make puddink?" "Yes, sweetie, we're going home," Karen said, her voice filled with warmth. "And can make pudding for you." She squeezed his hand. "Do you want chocolate or vanilla?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he thought. "Chocowate," he mumbled, his speech still slow. Chip watched his dad, his heart aching at the childlike way he spoke. It was both endearing and heart- wrenching, a stark reminder of the toll the anesthesia and surgery had taken on him. "Chocowate," Plankton repeated, his voice slurred. "Pwease." Karen nodded, her smile gentle. "Of course, sweetie," she soothed. "Chocolate pudding it is." Karen finally parked in their driveway. "We're home," she said softly, turning to face Plankton. His antennas twitched at the mention of home, his eye fighting to stay open. Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly. "Come on," she coaxed, "Let's get you inside." Chip also followed them in. In the living room, Plankton stumbled to the couch, his stuffed animal still clutched in his arm. He looked around, his expression lost. "Bathwom?" he slurred. "No, Plankton," Karen laughed, helping him lay down. "You're home." Plankton's eye widened. "Chip?" he slurred. His son smiled, his own anxieties easing slightly. "Yeah, Dad, it's me." He approached the couch, his movements deliberate and slow. "Ith's sho bwight," Plankton whispered, his gaze flickering around the room. The normalcy of their home was overwhelming in his current state. Karen understood, her eyes filled with compassion. "Let's get you comfortable," she said, helping him adjust his pillows. "Do you need anything?" He looked at her with his one eye, so full of trust and confusion. "I needff Karen and-a Chip." Karen's heart melted at his words. "You have us," she whispered, brushing his forehead. "We're right here." Plankton nodded, his antennae finally still. "Thath's goob," he murmured. "Thath's vewy goob. Can Chip...can Chip thee me?" Chip's eyes widened slightly, his throat tight. He took a step closer to the couch. "Yeah, Dad, I'm here." Plankton's gaze found his son's, his antennae still droopy. "Tawk to me," he slurred. "Chip wanth tawk to me?" Chip nodded. "Of course, Dad." He took a seat next to him, his heart heavy. He wasn't used to seeing his dad so open, so... talkative. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he looked to Chip's voice, his mind still groggy from the surgery. "Wha...whath's wrong, Chip?" he mumbled, his words thick with the remnants of the anesthesia. Chip took a deep breath. "Nothing's wrong, Dad," he said softly. "I just want to be here with you." Plankton's antennae wobbled as he processed his son's words. "Wiww you thtay?" he asked, his eye half-closed. Karen watched from the kitchen, her eyes filled with love and concern. She knew his confusion was temporary, but it still tugged at her heartstrings. Chip nodded, his voice gentle. "Yeah, Dad, I'll stay." Plankton's antennae stilled. "Thath's good," he murmured. "Chip, can I... can I...hamv?" His voice was tiny, his one eye looking up at his son with hope. "Chip my hamg, hamv in youw hamv?" Chip felt a lump form in his throat. He knew that his dad was reaching out for comfort, seeking the safety of touch. Despite his initial shock, he nods. "Sure, Dad," he whispered, his voice thick. "You can have my hand." Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the offer, his eye still half-closed. He reached over, his movements sluggish, and grasped Chip's hand with his own. Chip felt his dad's grip tighten, his thumb stroking the back of his hand gently. The simple touch was a stark contrast to the firm handshakes and stern demeanor his dad usually allowed. Plankton's voice was barely audible as he whispered, "Than' you, Chip." Chip swallowed hard, his throat tight. "It's okay, Dad," he murmured back. "I'm right here." Karen watched them from the kitchen, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. The sight of his dad, so dependent and confused, was hard for Chip to process. Yet, he felt a strange comfort in it, a bond forming between them that transcended the typical father- son dynamics. Plankton's eye grew heavy, his antennae drooping. "Sowwy," he mumbled. "Wan' go...go sleep. No moreth of touch." Chip nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. "It's okay, Dad," he said. "You just rest." He gently removed his hand, his eyes never leaving his father's face. Plankton's antennae twitched one last time before his eye closed, his breathing evening out. The plushie was clutched tightly to his chest, his hand lying open on the couch cushion. Karen watched him, her love for him so clear. "He's going to be okay," she assured Chip. "The medicine will wear off by tomorrow. Just give him some space and quiet." Chip nodded, his concern still etched in his features. Plankton was usually so sharp, so in control. Seeing him like this was unusual. Karen smiles. "Here," she whispered. "Let's clean his mouth." They gently removed the blood-soaked gauze, replacing it with a fresh one. Plankton's eye flipped open for a second, his antennae quivering. "Wha...?" he murmured, his voice still slurred. Karen smiled, her voice gentle. "It's okay, Plankton. Just a little clean up." Plankton nodded, his eye half-closed again. "Mm-hmm, jush a wiww cweam up." He parrots via echolalia, despite his slurred speech and droopy antennae. "Than' you," he murmured again, his voice tiny. "Wove you." Karen's heart squeezed at his words. "I love you too, sweetie," she said. "Now I'll help you to your bed, so you can sleep off the rest of any anesthesia." Karen supported him to his feet, his legs wobbly. Plankton stumbled slightly, his antennae twitching in confusion. "Bed," he slurred. "Bed." She guided him upstairs, his steps slow and unsteady. "Careful, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "Just a few more." Chip trailed behind them. As they reached the bed room, Karen helped him onto the bed. "Wha...wha's fis?" he mumbled. "It's our room, Plankton," Karen said, her voice gentle. "You need to rest now." Plankton's antennae twitched as he took in his surroundings, his gaze focusing on the familiar sight of his bed. "Oh," he murmured, his speech still slurred. "Bed." Karen helped him lay back, his body slumping into the softness. His stuffed animal was placed carefully beside him, his hand still wrapped around it. "Comfortable?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern. Plankton nodded, his antennae still. "Mm-hmm," he mumbled. "Go night."

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 3 Plankton notices the shift in Chip's expression and his own face falls. He's been so scared of this moment, of being seen as less than. He's always tried to keep his stims under wraps, to appear as 'normal' as possible. But now it's all out in the open, and he can't hide anymore. Karen reaches for Plankton's hand, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, love. You don't have to be afraid. Chip's smart, he'll understand." She looks back at Chip, her eyes pleading. "Remember what we talked about, Chip. Your dad's stimming is his way of coping with the world, and it's something that makes him feel safe and comfortable. Yet we need to understand that when he's doing it, it's his personal time. It's just not for us to intrude on. Because for him, it's like a secret conversation he's having with himself." Chip nods slowly, his eyes flicking from his dad's face to his mom's, trying to digest the new reality that's being laid out before him. Plankton takes a deep, shuddering breath, his rocking coming to a stop. Karen stands up, walking over to Plankton, and kisses him on the cheek. "Why don't you go wash up, sweetie?" she suggests gently. "I'll talk to Chip." Plankton nods, his expression a mix of relief and fear. He slides out of bed, his legs shaky, and heads to the bathroom. The moment the door clicks shut, Karen turns to Chip, her eyes filled with a quiet determination. "You see, Chip," she starts, her voice softer now, "Your dad's stimming is like his private conversation with his brain. Sometimes, he'll start saying random things, talking to himself, working through his thoughts and feelings. So when you commented on it, it was like you interrupted a conversation he was having to himself, which can be upsetting." Chip nods, his eyes following the path his dad took to the bathroom. "But what if he's hurt?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do we know if it's okay?" Karen sighs, her expression softening. "That's a good question, Chip. We just need to be observant. If he's happy or upset, his stims might be different. And if he ever looks like he's in pain, or if he's distressed, that's when we step in, but first ask." She takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the next part of their conversation. "But it's also important to remember that even though we can't always understand what he's feeling or why he stims, it's his way of dealing with the world. So we need to be respectful, and not make him feel weird or uncomfortable." Chip nods, his gaze still on the bathroom door. "I don't want to make him feel bad," he says, his voice sincere. Karen sits back down beside him, her arm wrapping around his shoulders. "We know" she assures him. "You're a good kid, Chip. You'll learn to read him better than anyone else." As Plankton emerges from the bathroom, his face is washed clean, but the fear lingers in his eye. He sits back down on the edge of the bed, his posture rigid. Karen looks at him with love and patience, waiting for him to speak. "Chip," she starts, her voice careful. "You know how everyone has their own ways of dealing with stuff, right?" Chip nods, his gaze flipping between his parents. "Well, your dad's brain works a bit differently than ours. Sometimes, he needs to do things like rocking or making sounds to help him think and feel better. He may even repeat words or phrases, which is called echolalia. It's all part of his autism, and it's his way of navigating through the world." Karen's eyes are filled with a mixture of love and hope as she speaks. "These are his stims, and they're very personal to him. It's like his own secret language, a way to communicate with himself. So when you see him doing these things, it's important to remember that he's not doing it for show, or for attention. It's his brain's way of talking to him, of keeping him calm." Plankton nods slowly, his eye dull with the weight of his secret now out in the open. "And sometimes," Karen adds, "I've seen him come out of seizures while talking to his brain." "Seizures?" Chip asks, his voice laced with fear. Plankton winces at the word, but Karen nods. "They're not like the seizures you might think of, sweetie. They're a part of his autism. It's like his brain's way of restarting, of reorganizing itself when things get too much." Plankton finally speaks up, his voice shaky. "I don't like it when you saw me like that Chip," he admits. "Now I'm... exposed. So just GO AHEAD AND STARE." He throws his hands up in a dramatic gesture, his sarcasm clear. Chip flinches, feeling a pang of guilt. Karen puts a gentle hand on Plankton's knee. "Chip wasn't staring, sweetie. He was just trying to understand." She turns to Chip. "It's okay to be curious, but remember, Dad's stims are like his personal bubble. They help him feel safe when the world is too loud or confusing. So unless he's really upset or in pain, we respect that space." Chip nods, feeling a mix of understanding and awkwardness. He's never thought about his dad's quirks as being part of something so... significant. "Okay," he says, his voice small. "I'll try not to stare or interrupt." Karen smiles warmly at him. "That's all we ask, buddy. Just love him the way you always have. And if you have any questions, you can always come to us. We're a team, and we're all here for each other."

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 6 For a moment, Plankton looked confused, his gaze fuzzy with sleep. But then recognition set in. "Chip?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Chip swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, Dad," he managed to say. "I just came to say good mo-" Before he could finish, Plankton's eye widened, his body tensing. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his tone sharper than Chip had ever heard it. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with the sudden tension. "I-I just wanted to tell you I love you," Chip stuttered, his hand retreating from his dad's arm. Plankton's gaze searched Chip's face, looking for something, anything that would explain this invasion of his personal space. Karen stepped in, her voice calm. "It's okay, Plankton. Chip just wanted to show his love, that's all." But Plankton wasn't easily soothed. His eye narrowed at Chip, his mind racing. "But why?" Plankton's voice was low, almost a growl. "Why do you need to do it like that?" Chip felt the weight of his dad's question, the unspoken fear behind the words. It was a question about boundaries, about the unspoken rules that Plankton had always followed. "I'm sorry, Dad," Chip said, his voice quiet. "I didn't mean to scare you." He looked to Karen for guidance, but she just nodded, encouraging him to find his own words. Plankton's eye searched Chip's face, looking for sincerity. "I just wanted to tell you that I understand now," Chip continued. "I know you have to do those things to feel okay. I promise, I won't make you feel weird about i---" But Plankton was already sitting up, his face flushed with anger. "Weird?" he snapped, his voice sharp. "Is that what you think of me?" He pushed the covers away, his body vibrating with agitation. "Is that how you'll tell your neurotypical friends?" Chip's heart sank, his words unintentionally striking a nerve. "No, Dad," he said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to make sure I don't do anything that makes you uncomf-" "Uncomfortable?" Plankton finished for him, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, how considerate of you." Chip felt a pang of guilt, his words sticking in his throat. "I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured, his eyes filling with tears. "I just... I didn't know how to... " Plankton took a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You don't get it," he said, his voice tight. "You can't just... touch me like that." His eye searched the room, as if seeking a retreat from the sudden onslaught of emotion. Karen stepped closer, her voice soothing. "Chip didn't mean to upset you, Plankton. He's just trying to understand." But Plankton couldn't hear her, his mind racing with a barrage of thoughts. He'd always been so careful to keep this hidden from his son, fearful of the rejection he'd faced in the past. Chip's eyes were wide with apology and confusion. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said again, his voice shaking. "I just wanted to show you that I care. I mean, you let Mom to-" "It's different," Plankton interrupted, his voice strained. "Your mom knows me. She understands me." His hand went to his chest, where his heart felt like it was racing. "But you... don't you DARE ever touch me again without asking," he spat out, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. Karen sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of the conversation. "Plankton, honey," she began, her voice gentle. "Chip just wants to support you. He's trying to be there for you in his own way." Plankton's eye narrowed, his body still tense. "But he doesn't understand," he said, the frustration evident. "No one does, except for you." Karen reached for his hand, but he pulled away, his movements quick and jerky. Chip watched, feeling like he'd just walked into a minefield without a map. He didn't know what to say, how to make it right. He just knew he didn't want his dad to feel this way. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'll do better. I'll le-" "Don't," Plankton said, his voice sharp. "Don't make promises you can't keep." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his body language closed off. "I don't want your pity, Chip." His words were like a slap in the face, and Chip felt his cheeks burn with shame. Karen stepped between them, her hand on Plankton's shoulder. "It's not pity, sweetie," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "It's love and support." Plankton's eye flitted to hers, then back to Chip. "I don't need Chip's help," he said, his voice quivering. "But Dad," Chip began, "I just-" "I SAID DON'T!" Plankton's voice boomed through the room, his face a mask of fury. His antennae quivered with agitation, and he retreats to the corner of the room. A sign Karen knew was his way of shutting down. But Chip doesn't realize this as he tries to go to Plankton's writhing body on the floor. "Chip," Karen's voice was firm, "He's not with us right now. Let me only." Chip stepped back, his eyes wide with concern as he watched. Plankton was in a pose that screamed 'don't touch me'. His legs were curled tight to his body, his arms wrapped around his knees, and his eye squeezed shut, his antennae pressed against his head. It was a position that spoke of overwhelm, a silent scream for space and solitude. Karen watched him carefully, her heart breaking into a million pieces. She wanted to go to him, to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything was okay. But she knew better. This was his retreat, she had to respect it. "Give him some space," she whispered to Chip, who was hovering uncertainly. "He needs time to regulate." Chip nodded, his eyes still glued to his dad's shaking form. He looked so small, so lost in his own little corner. Plankton's breathing was shallow and fast, his antennae twitching eratically. Karen knew this was his safe place, his retreat from a world that often felt too loud, too much. She walked over, sat down next to him, but not too close. She knew better than to invade his bubble. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "You're safe here." Plankton's body didn't react, but she saw his hand, which had been gripping the floor, relax ever so slightly. It was a small victory, but one she'd take.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 7 The room was silent, save for Plankton's shallow breaths. Karen could almost hear his thoughts racing, his mind a whirlwind of sensory input and emotions. She sat still, her eyes never leaving his form, her hand staying close but not touching. Chip hovered by the door, his hands clenched into fists. He wanted to help, to fix this, but his mom's words echoed in his mind: 'respect his space'. It was a concept that was hard to grasp, but he knew it was important. He watched as his dad's legs shook, his whole body a testament to the storm inside him. Karen's eyes never left Plankton's shaking form. Her heart broke for him, for the fear and frustration that she knew was churning within. She reached out a tentative hand, letting it hover just above his shoulder. "It's ok," she whispered. But Plankton flinched, his body stiffening at the uninvited contact as he turned his back to them, now facing the wall. She knew this look well, had seen it before. The room was suffocating with silence, the tension thick like a layer of fog. Chip felt his own anxiety rising, unsure of what to do. He'd never seen his dad like this, so... vulnerable. He took a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out. "Dad?" he asked softly. Plankton's spasms grew more erratic, his antennae quivering like leaves in a storm. He didn't look up, his breathing shallower with each passing second. It was as if he'd shrunk in on himself, retreating into his own world where no one could follow. Chip's heart ached, watching his dad's body convulse with silent sobs, his shoulders heaving as he tried to regain control. The room was a tableau of pain, each second stretching into an eternity. Karen sat with her back against the wall, her hand still hovering, but not daring to make contact again. Her eyes were filled with a blend of love and despair, the same look she'd worn so many times before when Plankton's autism had overwhelmed him. But Chip had never seen this side of his dad, had never known the depth of his struggle. Plankton's body was a maelstrom of movements, each spasm a silent cry for help. His antennae thrashed against the floor, his legs kicked out in a frantic dance. It was a sight that would have been terrifying to anyone who didn't understand, but Karen's eyes never left him, her expression calm and knowing. She'd seen this before, had held the line between panic and peace for her husband countless times. And then, through the chaos, a sound. Plankton's voice, barely above a murmur, speaking to himself. "My stims," he whispered, his hands moving in the air, mimicking his own motions. "They're just... they're just a part of it." The words seemed to hang there, suspended in the heavy silence of the room. Karen watched him, her heart breaking a little more with each word. She knew he was trying to make sense of it all, to reconcile his fear of being different with his need to be understood. Chip's eyes widened in surprise, his curiosity piqued by this unexpected moment of self-reflection from his dad. "They're just... they're just a part of it," Plankton murmured again, his voice a little louder this time. His antennae stilled, his body slowly uncoiling from the tight ball he'd curled into. Karen took this stimming as a sign that the storm is passing. "What's a part of it, Dad?" Chip asked, his voice tentative. Karen shot him a warning look, but Plankton didn't seem to hear. "My fidgets," Plankton said, his voice still barely above a whisper. "My autism... it is just part of it." His hand continued to mimic the movements, a silent conversation with himself. Chip's mind raced. "You're not to weird, Dad," Chip blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. Plankton's movements stilled, his antennae dropping to his side. He turned to look at Chip, his eye filled with something akin to surprise. "What did you say‽" Chip took a deep breath, his heart racing. "I said you're not weird, Dad," he repeated, his voice slightly stronger. "Your stims are just part of who you are." Plankton's expression turned angry, his body taut with tension. "Don't patronize me, boy!" Plankton snapped, his voice sharp as a knife. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" His body was a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. Chip felt a flare of anger in response, but swallowed it down. "Dad, I'm not," he said, his voice calm despite his own turmoil. "I'm just saying that I see you, all of you. And I love you. I don't think your stims are weird. They're just... you." Plankton's body remained tense. "STOP talking about it!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with shock. He'd never seen his dad like this. He didn't know how to fix it. "Dad, I-" he started to say, but Plankton cut him off. "I said stop!" Plankton's voice was a roar, his body trembling with anger and embarrassment. He didn't want Chip to see him like this, so vulnerable, so out of control. The room felt like it was closing in on him, the walls pressing against his skin. Karen's heart clenched at the raw pain in Plankton's voice. She knew this moment was about more than just his stims, it was about his fear of rejection, of being seen as less than. "Plankton, honey, look at me," she said gently, trying to cut through the maelstrom of his emotions. "Chip's just trying to understand. We all are." But Plankton's eye remained locked on the floor, his breaths quick and shallow. He felt like an exhibit in a museum, his private world laid bare for his son to see. The fear of rejection was a living, breathing entity in the room, wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. He'd managed to hide his stims for so long, to keep that part of him hidden away. Now, it was out in the open, raw and exposed. Plankton's eye darted between Karen and Chip, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. He wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the cracks of the floorboards. But he knew he couldn't. Not now. Not when Chip kept looking at him with such confusion and concern. "Dad, I just-" Chip started again, his voice filled with earnestness. But Plankton couldn't take it. The words felt like a knife twisting in his gut. "I SAID, STOP!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the room. The sound was like a gunshot, and Chip's words died in his throat. Karen watched the exchange, her heart heavy with sadness. She knew Plankton's anger was a defense mechanism, his way of dealing with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to drown him. But seeing her son hurt by it was almost more than she could bare. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the storm. "Plankton," she said calmly, moving closer to him, her hand outstretched but not touching. "It's okay, sweetie. Chip's just trying to be here for you." But Plankton's eye was wild, his body a coil of tension. He was in full meltdown mode, and Karen knew better than to push him.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 8 Chip took another step back, his own emotions a tangled mess. Guilt, fear, and confusion battled within him as he watched his dad's pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make yo--" "I SAID STOP!" Plankton's voice was like a whip crack, slicing through the air with frustration. Chip flinched, the force of his dad's anger palpable. "Dad," he began, his voice shaking, "I just-" "JUST?" Plankton spat, his eye blazing. "You just don't get it, do you?" His words were sharp as knives, each one cutting deeper into the silence. "You think you can just... touch me, hug me, and it'll all be fine?" He sneered, his body trembling with the effort to control his emotions. "Well, it's not that simple, is it?" Chip's cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "I didn't know it was such a big de-" "Don't tell me what I know, boy!" Plankton snapped. His voice was a whipcrack of sarcasm, each word a stinging rebuke. "I've been doing this dance my whole life, and now you think you can make me your little science project?" Chip's eyes filled with hurt, his hand dropping to his side. "That's not what I'm doing," he protested, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I just want to he--" "Want to help?" Plankton interrupted, his tone dripping with bitterness. "You think I need your help? Your pity?" His antennae twitched with anger. "I've managed just fine without you!" His voice was a storm, his words thunderous in the silence of the room. "So don't you dare act like you get to be part of this now!" Now Chip felt his own emotions flare up. "What the barnacles is your problem?" Chip snapped, his frustration boiling over. "You're always so... so sensitive. Can't I just show you that I love you without you throwing a fit? Don't you know that you're just being ridiculously over- dramatic? I can't have a father who's so autistic and so..." He trailed off, his eyes searching for the right word, and then it hit him; the slur is a term he'd heard use to describe someone acting unsmart, not knowing the impact it would have. The moment the insult left his lips, the room went cold. Karen gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Plankton's body went rigid, his antennae shooting straight up as if electrified. Chip felt a sinking feeling in his gut, like he'd just swallowed an anchor. He knew he'd crossed a line, but he didn't know where it was or how to get back. "Dad, I didn't mean-" "GET OUT!" Plankton roared. Chip had never seen his dad like this, his eye blazing with fury and hurt. He stumbled backwards, his heart racing as he tried to make sense of the horror on his dad's face. "I didn't know," he murmured, his voice small and lost. Karen's eyes were wide, her cheeks wet with tears. She'd heard the word, the one that cut deeper than any knife. The one that reduced her Plankton to a joke, a problem to be solved. "That's enough," she said, her voice firm but trembling. "You've hurt him enough, Chip." Chip's eyes were filled with shock, his mind reeling from his dad's reaction. He didn't mean to say it, didn't even know it was bad. "But I just..." He couldn't find the words. "I didn't know it was... I just wanted to tell him..." Karen's voice was firm, but underneath, Chip heard the sorrow. "Your dad's autism isn't something to be fixed," she said, wiping at her own tears. "It's part of who he is. And calling him that... it's like telling him that part of him isn't good enough." Plankton was still in his corner, his body taut with tension. Chip felt the weight of his mother's words, the gravity of his mistake. He'd hurt his dad, the one person he never wanted to cause pain. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered. But Plankton was beyond words, his body trembling with rage. He'd been called that name before, by those who didn't understand, who didn't care. His antennae quivered with the effort to hold back the storm of emotions threatening to unleash. Karen stepped between them, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "Out," she said firmly, her voice a whip of authority. "Now." Chip didn't argue. He knew he'd done wrong, and he knew his place wasn't here right now. He turned and left the room, his heart heavy with regret. As the door clicked shut, the tension in the room didn't disappear. It grew thicker, like a fog that clung to their skin, suffocating them both. Karen sat next to Plankton, her hand hovering near his shoulder but not making contact. She knew better than to push, to force him to face his pain. Instead, she offered silent support, her presence a beacon of love in the storm. Plankton's body was a tight coil of anger and hurt as he rocked back and forth. "Plankton," Karen said softly, her hand still hovering. "I know we're upset, but Chip's just trying to understand. He didn't mean to be ableist." Her words were met with silence; she didn't push. The room felt like it was spinning around him, the words echoing in his head. He knew his son hadn't meant to wound him, but the sting was there all the same. "Why can't he just leave me alone?" Plankton whispered, his voice small and defeated. "Why does he have to make everything about him?" Karen's eyes filled with understanding. "It's not about him, Plankton," she said gently. "It's about love and connection. He just doesn't know how to give it in a way that doesn't overwhelm you." Her hand touched his shoulder lightly, and he flinched. She withdrew it immediately, her heart aching. "I know, I know," he murmured, his voice tight. "But it hurts." Karen nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears. "I know it does," she said. "And I'm so sorry." Plankton leaned into her, his body still shaking. "Why can't he just get it?" he whispered, his antennae drooping. "Why does he have to make everything so hard?" Karen wrapped her arm around his shoulders, holding him close. "Because he loves you, Plankton. And he's scared of losing you." Plankton's body stiffened at her words. He knew she was right. Chip had always been like that, so eager to please, so desperate for attention. And Plankton had always been there for him, his rock in a stormy sea. But now, the tables had turned, and he didn't know how to navigate these uncharted waters of vulnerability. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae drooping. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I know he loves me." Karen's grip tightened around his shoulders. "Then we need to find a way to help him understand," she said, her voice a soft caress. "We need to show him that love doesn't have to be loud or overwhelming." They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breathing. Plankton's body began to relax, his tremors subsiding. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I just... I don't know how to do this." Karen leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "We'll do it together," she said. "One step at a time." Chip stood outside the door, his fist pressed against the wood. He could hear their muffled voices, the low tones of their conversation. He felt like a stranger in his own home, unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift in his relationship with his dad. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had gone wrong, how he'd missed the cues. He knew he'd hurt his dad, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a misunderstanding. He didn't realize how the ableist slur he'd used had pierced Plankton's armor. He leaned his head against the door, his breaths coming in short, painful gasps. The weight of his ignorance was like an anchor, dragging him down. He'd always thought of his dad as... well, his dad. Strong, capable, a little quirky. But now, he saw the cracks in that facade, the raw vulnerability beneath the surface. He knew he had to apologize, but the fear of making it worse held him back.

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 19 Chip's hand remains on his father's arm, his touch light. "So what can I do to make sure I don't make you upset?" He asks, his eyes full of concern. Plankton's antennae twitch. "Just... just ask before you touch me," he says, his voice soft. "And if I say no, don't take it personally." Chip nods. "I will, Dad," he says, his hand now slowly retreating. "But what about the seizures?" Plankton sighs. "I don't always know why they happen," he admits. "But when they do, it's important to keep me safe. No loud noises, no bright lights. And if you can, stay calm. I know it's scary, but it's just my brain saying it needs a break. But they can happen if I'm really scared and upset, or if my body feels like it's too much to handle." His antennas droop slightly. Chip nods, his mind racing with questions. "But why do you sometimes just freeze?" He asks, his voice gentle. "Or get really still and don't talk at all?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly. "That's called shutdown," he explains. "It's like... my brain's had enough. It's like it's in a traffic jam, and all the messy mixed up signals are confusing. So it just... stops. It's my body's way of protecting me from stimulation I guess. They're absence seizures, and I don't always know I'm having them." Chip's eyes widen. "So, it's like you're there, but not really?" He asks, his voice soft with curiosity. Plankton nods. "It's like everything goes on autopilot," he says. "I may see and hear, but it's like my brain's on a break to where I might not recognize what's going on around me. It's like being lost in a dream state, even though I'm not 'dreaming' but, it's like trying to remember a dream after you've woken up. I also might feel like I'm having a headache." Chip listens intently, his mind trying to comprehend the complexity of his father's experience. "So, what can I do to help you when you're in a shutdown?" He asks, his voice laced with concern. "Just be there," Plankton says. "And give me some space. Don't try to shake me out of it. Just wait until I come back. It's not something I can control." He pauses. "And if you can, maybe find a quiet place for me to go to, where there are no bright lights or loud noises. If your ever concerned go get your mother. But my absence seizures can be triggered by stress too. So just keep an eye on me and help me to avoid getting too anxious." Chip nods, his eyes wide with understanding. "What else can trigger them? And how come you don't blink during them?" Plankton's antennae wave thoughtfully. "It's like my brain is trying to reboot," he explains. "And the not blinking is part of it. It's like my body's way of saying, 'I'm processing, hold on.' It's hard to explain, but it's like everything else about me, it's just how my body does. As for what can trigger them, it's often when I'm really scared, or there's too much going on around me. Sensory overload. But déjà vu can trigger one, maybe rapidly flashing lights of bright colors. Sometimes overlapping chatter, if multiple people talk at once. Or if you talk too fast." Chip nods, taking in every word. "What about the times when you steal from the Krabby Patty restaurant?" He asks, his eyes innocently curious. Plankton's antennae wave slightly, his face a mask of resignation. "It's because my brain doesn't always work like everyone else's," he says. "I've had close calls at the Krusty Krab before. None of them are to know about my autism.." Just then, Karen comes in and sees them both openly talking. "Aw-" "Before you ask, if I say yes and admit we're bonding, will you not start with the aww-ing?" Plankton says, rolling his eye at her. Karen laughs, wiping at the corner of her eye. "I just think it's sweet, you two talking like this!" But Chip's mind is still racing with questions. He looks up at Karen. "Mommy, does Dad have doctors to-" Karen cuts him off quickly. "It can't be cured, sweetheart," she says gently. "But a lot of the time, it's just about understanding his needs and making sure he's comfortable. Now if something came up or if he's even got something like a cold, we've a sensory friendly specialist for those times. Like when we travel, such as for your science fair, I'd look up nearest sensory clinics, just in case. It's because a regular medical office setting can be too much for him. A hospital environment can be really overwhelming for anyone, but especially for him. Now his dentist knows about his autism and accommodates him, but otherwise we'd only reach out to the sensory ones if a medic's needed." She turned to Plankton, who's now rocking on the bed, his knees pressed against his chest, his antennae tucked in. Karen looked back at Chip. "He doesn't like that question. If some thing's needed, I know to discuss it with him and look at alternatives. Otherwise, unless he has a scenario in his head or something, even in some emergency, I know it's a bad subject for him. I'm always truthful with him and I know him. I know you meant nothing by it, but unless absolutely necessary or if he brings it up, do not needlessly bring up his healthcare or whatnot. If anything that is up to him. So, if you're ever concerned, you can ask me and we'll tell you what you need to know. The sensory specialist is who we'd call, not any ambulances or whatever, and they're high-tech and skilled with all topics having to do with health. Otherwise, do not bring up anything like that. Do you understand, Chip?" Chip nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice small. "I did not know it was a bad question." But Plankton didn't even respond. Plankton's rocking is even more pronounced. It's his way of stimming, a way to calm himself. "Dad?" Chip says again, but Plankton doesn't react. Chip watches him, his curiosity piqued. He's seen this behavior before, but now he understands it's not because Plankton is mad or upset with him. It's just how he copes. He decides to try something new. "Dad," he says softly, "can you show me how you stim?" Plankton still doesn't seem to hear him. Karen notices the tension in Chip's voice and quickly steps in. "Why don't we all sit down and talk more about this?" She suggests, her tone soothing. "Plankton, can you tell Chip about stimming?" But Plankton doesn't even budge. Chip watches his father's steady rocking, his curiosity growing. He tries again, his voice even softer. "Dad, please?" Yet Karen notices his eye is unfocused, distant. "Plankton," Karen intervenes gently, "Plankton honey, are you okay?" Plankton's rocking slows down as his body stiffened. And Karen knew exactly what was happening. "Chip," she says gently, "Your dad's experiencing a bit of a seizure right now. It's okay, he'll come back to us." Chip nods, his heart racing as he watches his father. He's seen this before, but now he understands. It's not just strange behavior, it's part of his autism.

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE (by NeuroFabulous) 𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 🕊️🩰🐚 Pt. 9 "Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative, a question in the silence. He didn't know if Plankton could hear him, if he was ready to listen. But he had to try. Plankton didn't move, but his breathing had evened out, his antennae no longer quivering with anger. Karen gave Chip a small nod, a silent message to tread carefully. He took a step into the room, his eyes never leaving his father's hunched form. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I didn't know... I didn't mean to..." The words trailed off, his throat thick with unshed tears. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to try. Plankton's body remained motionless, his antennae drooping. Karen watched them, her heart in her throat. "Dad, I didn't mean it," Chip whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't know." Plankton's shoulders tensed, the anger still a living force within him. Karen watched the scene unfold, her heart in her throat. She knew this was a moment that could change everything, a chance for growth or a chasm that widened their divide. Plankton's silence was a walls, a barrier that seemed impenetrable. His antennae twitched, a silent language that spoke volumes of his pain. Chip felt the weight of his dad's disgust, like a lead balloon in his stomach. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better." He stepped closer, his hand outstretched. But Plankton didn't move, his body a statue of anger and hurt. His antennae remained rigid, his eye unblinking. "I don't want your pity," he spat out, the words a slap in the face. "I don't want you to 'do better'. I want you to go away." Chip's hand fell to his side, his eyes wide with shock. The silence was a living entity in the room, a beast that fed on their pain. Karen could almost see the barrier between them grow taller, thicker, more impenetrable. "Dad," Chip whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry for saying you're so... so... autistic and slow. I didn't mean it like that." The apology hung in the air, a desperate plea for understanding. But Plankton remained motionless, his antennae still drooping with the weight of his hurt. "It's not enough," he said, his voice hollow. "Words don't change what you think of me." Chip felt a stab of guilt, knowing his dad was right. He'd used his autism as a weapon, not knowing the depth of the cuts it could make. "What do you want me to do?" Chip's voice was desperate, his hands reaching out in a silent plea for forgiveness. "I ca--" Plankton's head snapped up, his eye blazing. "You want to know what I want?" His voice was a whisper, but it felt like a shout. "I want you to see me," he said, his antennae trembling. "Not my autism, not my stims, not some problem to be solved. Me! Now get out!" The words were a knife to Chip's heart, but he knew his dad was right. He'd reduced his entire being to a slur, a label. Chip took a step back, his heart racing. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice tight with unshed tears. "I didn't mean it." But the damage was done. The room felt like it was closing in around him, the air thick with the scent of his own shame. Plankton's antennae twitched, his body a rigid line of anger. "You think you can just apologize and make it better?" he spat, his voice a whipcrack of pain. "You think it's that easy?" Chip's eyes searched his dad's, desperate for a spark of forgiveness. But all he saw was hurt, a deep wound that he'd unintentionally inflicted. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice shaking. "I just want to be there for yo-" "No," Plankton interrupted, his voice like a shattered mirror. "You don't want to be here for me." He couldn't even bring himself to say the slur, the pain too raw, too fresh. Chip felt his throat constrict. "Dad," Chip's voice was small, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that was such a... a big deal." He didn't know what else to say, his mind racing to find the words that could mend the gaping wound his ignorance had created. But now Karen's feeling her own anger rising, fury at Chip's ignorance. "Chip, the only thing that's autistic and mentally reworded here is your understanding!" she snapped, the words slipping out before she could catch them. The moment they're in the air, she freezes, realizing what she's just said, the same slur a stinging slap that echoed in the tense air. She regretted them immediately, seeing the hurt flash across Plankton's face. Plankton's antennae drooped even further, the weight of his wife's words adding to his own pain. "K-Karen," he murmured, his voice thick with sadness and shock. Karen's face crumpled with regret. "Plankton, I didn't mean--" But Plankton was already backing away from her. Karen felt the sting of her own words, the cruel cut of her frustration. She reached out for Plankton, but he was already retreating, his eye filled with a mix of hurt and betrayal. "Plankton," she whispered, her hand hovering in the space between them. He flinched, his antennae quivering. The room grew smaller, their love shrinking under the weight of their mistakes. Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for something she couldn't give: absolution. "I'm s-sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean it-t." But the damage was done, a fresh wound to add to his collection of scars. Karen watched as Plankton's body retreated. She knew that look, the one that said he was shutting down, retreating into his own mind. "Plankton, please," she begged, her hand still outstretched. "Let me he-" But Plankton was already gone, his body a statue of sadness and fear. The room felt like it was closing in on him. He could barely breathe, his heart racing like a caged animal's. Karen's touch, once a source of comfort, now felt like a threat, a promise of more pain. "Plankton," she whispered. But he was beyond gentle whispers. His antennae twitched, his body braced. He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear the accidental harm. He felt the room spinning, his thoughts of anger, fear, and confusion. Her hand hovered near him, but it might as well have been a mile away. The love and comfort he'd always found in her touch now seemed like a looming specter, threatening him. Karen watched him, her own eyes tearing up with regret and sadness. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, the words a futile offering to the storm. But Plankton couldn't hear them, not when all of his own emotions drowned out everything else. He felt the floor beneath him, the solidity of the world around him. But it wasn't enough. He needed to retreat, to find a space where he could breathe. He stumbled back into the corner. Karen's hand hovered near him, a silent apology. But he couldn't look at her, not yet. The sight of his wife, the woman who knew him better than anyone else, the one who should have understood, was too much. Her touch, once a balm for his soul, was now a potential minefield of pain. He felt her eyes on him, a silent plea for forgiveness. But he was to scared to give it.

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