Normal Font Emojis & Text

ʞk

ㄨ

𓏵

❌❗

✖

𝕏

( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

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

You will die💀💀

⭐💥

☣️

वेरिफाई ब्लू टिक🇽

Pls don't fake vids!!

⟢⸝ﾒ

⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤ ⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤⃤

😎

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⢛⣡⣬⣙⠻⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⣋⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣌⡛⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠂⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⡿⠷⣤⣙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢋⣡⡴⠿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢦⣌⣉⣤⠾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀ ⠚⠋⠉⠉⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠉⠉⠛⠂

▌│█║▌║▌║ ║▌║▌║█│▌

‎‧₊˚✧[text]✧˚₊‧₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🥋🥋🥋

❗❗❗❗❗

😕

߶߫ ܲ ⧘ ๋ ׄ⊹ ◡̸̈ ֢ ❈⃝ 𓈒 ★ ،╵ ✧ᰍ̠ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜🟨🟦🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜🟧🟨🟥⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟨⬛🟧🟥⬜⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛🟦🟥⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛🟧⬛🟨⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟨⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛🟨⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥⬜⬛⬛🟥⬜🟨⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟨⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛🟨🟧⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛

y2k🗺

･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+ hiii weird persons that are posting sus stuff. just so you know, THERE ARE KIDS HERE!!! so pls stop putting your sussy stuff so that young kids see naked girls. no one wants that! byee ✌︎('ω')✌︎

🫥🙁🥺 error

🦎⊹ ࣪ ˖

. ⚬<𝟑ˎˊ˗١٥٧٤♡

. ⚬<𝟑

yall stfu already. ≽^- ˕ -^≼

CATCH IN MY CHIP x (Autistic author) ♡. ᴏᴠᴇʀsᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀs .. Plankton's gaze is unfocused, lost in the storm. His body is rigid, his muscles tense like coils ready to spring. The room spins, the colors a blur Karen's fear a tangible entity in the room. Her hand on his cheek is a plea, a gentle reminder that she's there, that he's not alone. "Look at me," she whispers, her voice a soft mantra. "You're safe." But he doesn't hear her, not really. He's too lost in the sensory hurricane that engulfs him. Karen races as she watches the man she loves drift further away, his mind trapped in the labyrinth of his own making. She's seen this before, the way his autism can swallow him whole, leaving only the shell of a man behind. But this time is different. This time, there's Chip, waking up to his dad's struggle. Her eyes dart from Plankton's panicked gaze to their son's sleepy face, the innocence in his expression a stark contrast to the chaos in her husband's eye. She knows she must act fast, to protect them both from the storm. With a gentle touch, she lifts Chip's hand from Plankton's arm, her movements as soft as a leaf landing on a pond. Chip stirs, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers. The concern in her gaze is a question he doesn't understand, but he accidentally brushes his dad's shoulder as he sits up.. Plankton's body jerks, his single eye rolling back in his head. The room goes dark, the colors swirling into a void. The ringing in his ears is deafening. Karen's hand is a flash, catching him. Her arms wrap around him, supporting his weight as his body goes limp. Chip's eyes are wide with fear, his hand suddenly empty. "Daddy?" he whispers, the word a prayer in the quiet. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's face, her hand checking for a pulse. She feels the steady throb of life beneath her fingertips, relief flooding her veins. "Daddy?" Chip's voice is a whisper of fear, his hand reaching out to touch his father's arm, but Karen stops him. "Let him be," she says, her tone firm. "He needs space." Her eyes are on Plankton, watching for any sign of returning consciousness. The room is a tomb of silence, the only sound their mingled breaths. Chip nods, his eyes wide with worry. He can see the fear in his mother's gaze, feel the tension in the air. But he trusts her. He has to. Plankton is his dad, and she knows him better than anyone. Chip watches, his own breaths shallow with fear. He opens his mouth to speak, to ask what's wrong, but Karen's hand is swift, silencing his words with a single finger to her screen. The gesture is a soft whisper, a command that he understands without explanation. Plankton's body is limp in Karen's embrace, his antennas still quivering with the aftershocks of his overload. Her eyes are filled with determination, her love for her husband a fiery beacon in the dark room. With gentle care, she lowers his head to the pillow, his body trembling with the last vestiges of panic. Chip's eyes are wide with uncertainty, his hand poised in the air. "Is he okay?" he whispers, his voice small in the vastness of the moment. With gentle firmness, Karen takes Chip's hand, leading him out of the room. "We need to give him some space," she murmurs, her screen never leaving Plankton's form. "He'll come to when he's ready. This only happens when his overwhelm gets him dizzy to the point of passing out, which in itself has only happened twice before. It's part of his autism, Chip." Chip nods solemnly, his fear for his dad mingling with his curiosity about this new aspect of Plankton he's never seen. "What can we do?" he asks, his voice barely audible. Karen squeezes his hand, her screen never leaving Plankton. "For now, we wait. And when he wakes up, we make sure to give him time to recover. No loud noises, no sudden movements." She speaks with a calmness that belies the storm raging in her own heart. They sit together on the edge of the bed, their screens locked on Plankton. Karen's grip on Chip's hand is tight, her knuckles white. She's seen this before, but it never gets easier. "Just wait," she whispers, her voice shaky. "Just wait." They sit in silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. The sun peeks through the blinds, casting slanted bars of light across Plankton's unconscious form. Karen aches as she watches the man she loves, the man who's been her rock, reduced to this trembling shell. But she knows he's strong. He's survived worse storms than this. Minutes tick by, each one longer than the last. The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for Plankton to stir. And then, slowly, his antennas cease their trembling. His eye flickers open, focusing on the two figures beside his bed. The world is still a blur, his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. But Karen's face is a beacon, her eyes a port in the storm. He tries to speak, his mouth dry as sandpaper, but only a croak escapes. "I'm sorry," he manages, the words a feeble whisper. His eye meets Chip's, filled with a swirl of emotions he can't quite name. Regret, fear, love. All fighting for supremacy. Chip's grip on Karen's hand tightens, his own eyes reflecting the same tumult of feelings. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Instead, he reaches out with his free hand when Karen stops him. "Let him recover," she says, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "He needs to process, Chip. Let me talk to him first." With a nod, Chip withdraws his hand, his heart pounding in his chest.

／　　𝓷ame　　、 name　　𝜗𝜚 initials/extra　　✦ 𓂃 extra. ノ 𓏵　　link/carrd/rentry/xtra

⠠⠄⠄⠄⠤⠤⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠄⠀⡀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⡀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀

💩😳c ᡣ𐭩 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 ١٥٧٤♡١٥٧٤♡(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

⠠⠄⠄⠄⠤⠤⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠄⠀⠀⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠠⠤⠄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀

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

❌

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

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

💀🇰 𐙚 〽️

I 𝓕o®🇬⚬t ♄⚬ω t⚬ 𝐬୧🅰®c♄ 𝐬†∪fƒ in ୧𝓂oj𝒾ℂo𝐌b⚬ 🅰 🇦 𝓐 ⩜ 𝛂 𝖆 𝒶 ß 🅱 🇧 В ₿ 𝑏 𝓫 © 🇨 𝐂 € ☾ 🇩 𝐃 𝒟 ძ 𝒅 𝑬 🇪 𝔼 ୧ 𝑒 🇫 𝓕 𝒥 𝓯 ƒ 🇬 ɢ 𝓖 ℊ 𝓰 Ⓗ 🇭 ℋ |-| 𝓗 ♄ ℌ 🇮𝑰 ┃ 𝒾 ﹗ 𝓣 🇯󠁄 𝐣 ʝ 🇰 𝒦 🅺 ʞ 𝒌 𝑳 🇱 ℒ ʟ | 𝓜 🇲 Ⓜ 𝐌 ᙏ 𝓂 𝐦 🇳 𝓝 Nྀི nྀི 𓎆 И 🇴 𝒐 ⚬ 𝟎 ♡ ☺ 𝓹 🇵 𝐏 ℘ 🇶 𝕢 𝓺 𝖖 ® 🇷 ℛ Ʀ 𝐫 🇸 🆂 𝓢 𝐒 𝐬 𝓼 🇹 𝓣 т ✝ ⚚ 𝓽 🇺 ∪ 𝓾 𝕦 𝖚 𝓥 𝐕 \/ Ⓥ 🅥 🇻 🇼 🆆 𝓦 ω 𝕨 ш 🇽 ✗ ﾒ 𝕏 ༝ × ㄨ 𝓍 א 🇾 𝓨 Ｙ ꪗ 𝕪 ყ 🇿 ☡ 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𝐙 ᴀ ʙ ᴄ ᴅ ᴇ ғ ɢ ʜ ɪ ᴊ ᴋ ʟ ᴍ ɴ ᴏ ᴘ ǫ ʀ s ᴛ ᴜ ᴠ ᴡ x ʏ ᴢ 𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃 𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫 ᗩ ᗷ ᑕ ᗪ E ᖴ G ᕼ I ᒍ K ᒪ ᗰ ᑎ O ᑭ ᑫ ᖇ ᔕ T ᑌ ᐯ ᗯ ᙭ Y ᘔ 🇦‌ 🇧‌ 🇨‌ 🇩‌ 🇪‌ 🇫‌ 🇬‌ 🇭‌ 🇮‌ 🇯‌ 🇰‌ 🇱‌ 🇲‌ 🇳‌ 🇴‌ 🇵‌ 🇶‌ 🇷‌ 🇸‌ 🇹‌ 🇺‌ 🇻‌ 🇼‌ 🇽‌ 🇾‌ 🇿‌ 🅰 🅱 🅲 🅳 🅴 🅵 🅶 🅷 🅸 🅹 🅺 🅻 🅼 🅽 🅾 🅿 🆀 🆁 🆂 🆃 🆄 🆅 🆆 🆇 🆈 🆉 𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷 ᵃ ᵇ ᶜ ᵈ ᵉ ᶠ ᵍ ʰ ⁱ ʲ ᵏ ˡ ᵐ ⁿ ᵒ ᵖ ૧ ʳ ˢ ᵗ ᵘ ᵛ ʷ ˣ ʸ ᶻ

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

♡✘

⚠︎

☓༝.⚔︎.༝☓

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

☒

♱·.༝

︶︶︶︶︶ 00 dateㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ＼ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ20XXㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ 𓇼 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ:ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤur mood ୭ enter text here! how was your day? add extra stuff here... >_< 𓏵ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ:ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ㅤ7 / 𝟭𝟬 ︶︶︶︶︶ By cwream on discord! search up ' bwunny ' for more! 🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

|\ /| ( ˙◠˙) ✖

ʚ x ɞ

𖣂

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

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

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

⛌﹜ name ︴

CHIP AND FAIL x (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae quivered, his body trembling. "You want to help?" he demanded, his voice a thunderclap. "Then LISTEN!" His antennae shot straight up, his body rigid with tension. "Just because I freeze up, it doesn't mean you get to paw at me like a sea urchin without a care in the world!" Chip's screen filled with hurt, his hands dropping to his sides. "But Dad," he began, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to make it better, seeing you're not acting like an adult or even a good dad with your dramatically fitful tantrum." His words were like salt on an open wound, but he didn't know better, his innocence a blunt weapon. Plankton's antennae snapped back, his eye narrowing. "Out," he said, his voice a glacial wind. "You don't get to be in here right now." Chip's eyes filled with shock, then hurt, as the reality of his father's words sank in. "But Dad, I didn't mean..." But Plankton was a wall of ice, his antennae stiff and unyielding. "No, get out," he repeated, his voice a chilling wind that sliced through Chip's protests. "I want you out of my sight, Chip. Just go." His eye was a storm cloud, threatening rain. Chip felt the sting of his dad's words, the coldness of his rejection. He took a step back, his hand dropping to his side. "But Dad, I just want to..." But Plankton's antennae remained stiff, his voice unyielding. "Out," he repeated, his eye a storm cloud ready to burst. "You don't get to stay here after saying that." Chip's eyes searched his father's, his own filled with a mix of hurt and bewilderment. "But Dad," he whispered, "I don't..." But Plankton's antennae remained rigid, his voice like ice. "I said, OUT." His anger was a palpable thing in the room, a force that pushed Chip backward, despite his father's physical stillness. With a final look of hurt and disbelief, Chip turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway like the ghosts of all the moments he had hoped to share with his father. Plankton watched him go, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. Those words Chip used might as well be unforgivable. Karen's eyes were wide with concern, but she knew better than to push him in that moment. She knew his triggers, and how Chip inadvertently said the wrong thing. She knew he actually doesn't want to bring attention, and being told his pleas for boundaries have been called tantrums, by his own son, in his own room... Karen knew how his moments of 'twitching' and 'freezes' and 'mishaps' and 'venting' as he preferred to call them, being called tantrums... Plankton closed his eye, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his own tears. Karen approached him cautiously, her screen filled with worry. "Honey, are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle as a summer breeze. Plankton's antennae drooped, his body slumped in the chair. "No," he murmured, his voice thick with pain. "But I will be." He took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling like the tides. Karen watched him, her heart in her throat. She knew the storm would pass, but the wreckage it left behind was always the same. She reached out a tentative hand, her touch feather-light on his shoulder. "Do you want me to explain to Chip?" she offered, her voice a whisper. Plankton's antennae twitched, his body still trembling. "No," he managed to say, his voice a rasp. His eye remained closed, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Karen's hand hovered for a moment before retreating, her heart breaking for her husband. "Okay," she murmured, giving him the space he needed. She knew the importance of respecting his boundaries now more than ever. "He just didn't know how much his wording hurt you.." "I know," Plankton said, his voice barely audible. "But that doesn't make it sting any less." He took another deep breath, his antennae twitching with the effort of calming his racing thoughts. Karen's hand hovered over him, wanting to comfort but knowing not to push. "If he asks, can I tell him? You know, so he doesn't..." Plankton's antennae twitched again, his eye finally opening. "Only if he specifically asks about it," he said, his voice stronger now. "Otherwise he needs to understand for himself and figure it out if he wants to help so bad." Karen nodded, her screen filled with understanding. She knew her husband's pride and the importance of their son coming to terms with his condition without being forced to. She gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'll be here," she said. "For both of you." The room remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Plankton took another deep breath, his antennae slowly unfurling. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a whisper. Karen's eyes searched his, her hand still on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. Plankton took a moment to consider. The storm in his head was beginning to abate, the pain lessening with each passing second. "I'd just like some time to myself." Karen nodded, her screen filling with love and sadness. "I'll make sure he doesn't bother you," she promised, her voice a soft whisper. She knew how important it was for Plankton to have space. Chip stood in his room, the closed door a barrier between him and his father's pain. He felt like a sea urchin thrown onto the sharp rocks of misunderstanding, his spikes no match for the storm of emotions that had just erupted. He couldn't help but wonder if he had made things worse. He had wanted to connect, but instead, he had hurt the one person he loved most. His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his father's behavior. The words "autism spectrum" echoed in his thoughts, a mysterious code he hadn't known existed. He had heard the term before, but it had always been a distant concept, not something that could affect his own life. He sat down on his bed, his hands shaking. He felt like he had just been handed a treasure map without knowing how to read it. His dad's condition was a treasure, a key to understanding the man he idolized, but the map was written in a language he hadn't learned. With each passing second, the weight of his father's words grew heavier. He had never thought about the world from Plankton's perspective, had never considered that his touch could be anything but comforting. The realization hit him like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of him.

𓏴 × ： name . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ . prns ⋆⭒˚｡

⊗x

𖦹☆⨉⋆✮

〇 name ( follow ) ... @username 10:00 PM • 14 jun 24 • 24 Views 2 Reposts 4 Quotes 5 Likes 1 Bookmarks _____________________________________________________________________ 💬 ⥯ ♡ 🔰 🔁𝕏

ˣᴗˣ

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS x (Autistic Author) Karen's heart squeezes as she sees the vulnerability in her husband. She reaches out and takes Plankton's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We're all learning here," she says. "And we'll keep figuring it out together." Then, Chip speaks up again, his voice a little stronger. "Daddy," he says, "I still want to show you affection." Plankton looks up, his antennae twitching with a hint of sadness. "I know, buddy," he says. "And I appreciate that. But sometimes, my brain needs a different kind of love." Chip frowns. "But I don't know how," he says. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he thinks. "How about this?" he suggests, his eye brightening slightly. "You can make me a 'love rock'." Chip's eyes light up with excitement, and Karen nods encouragingly. "You can pick out a rock from the beach or the yard, and every time you feel like giving me a hug but know I might not be able to handle it, you can give me the rock instead. That way, I'll always know you're thinking of me." Chip nods eagerly, already imagining the perfect rock in his mind. "I'll find the biggest, smoothest rock," he says, his eyes shining with purpose. Plankton's antennae rise slightly, and he manages a smile. "That's my boy," he says, his voice a little less strained. “I’ll go look in our backyard right now,” Chip says as he does so. Karen watches him run off and looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with emotion. "You ok?" she asks, squeezing his hand. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "I think so," he murmurs. "Thank you, Karen." Karen squeezes his hand in return, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're doing great," she whispers. As Chip rummages outside, the sound of his little feet pattering on the ground, Karen and Plankton sit in the quiet kitchen, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but there's a newfound openness in his gaze. "Do you think he'll understand?" Plankton asks, his voice still raw from the previous night's emotions. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes filled with warmth. "He's a smart kid," she reassures him. "And he loves you. He'll get it." They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of Chip's exploration. Then, Plankton speaks up, his voice tentative. "What if I have another meltdown?" he asks. Karen squeezes his hand, her gaze unwavering. "We'll be there for you," she says. "We'll help you through it." The sound of the back door opening and closing echoes through the house, and Chip returns, holding a rock that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. It's smooth, with a slight shimmer in the light. "Here it is!" he exclaims, holding it out to Plankton. "It's your love rock!" Plankton's antennae lift, and a genuine smile spreads across his face as he takes the rock. "It's perfect," he says, his voice filled with emotion. He can feel the warmth from Chip's hand still lingering on the stone. "Thank you, buddy." Chip beams, his earlier fears forgotten in the excitement of the moment. "Can we go to the park now?" he asks, hopeful. Karen looks at Plankton, who nods wearily. "Sure," she says, pushing her chair back. "But let's take it slow, okay?" The park is a familiar place, filled with the sounds of children's laughter and the distant hum of the city. As they walk, Chip chats away, his voice a balm to Plankton's nerves. Karen notices the subtle changes in her husband's gait, the way his antennae twitch with every new sound or sight. She knows he's trying hard to stay present, to not get overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught of the outside world. When they reach the playground, Chip runs off to the swings, his love rock clutched tightly in his hand. Plankton watches him, his gaze a mix of pride and concern. He knows his son's energy can be too much for him sometimes, but he doesn't want to miss out on these moments. Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae wiggling as he gathers his courage. He approaches the swing set, his eye scanning the area for any potential triggers. The chains of the swings glint in the sun, and he can almost feel the sway of the seat beneath him. He hasn't swung in years, not since before Chip was born. Plankton sits on the swing by Chip. The metal is cold and hard beneath him, but as he starts to push off with his foot, the chains begin to squeak a comforting rhythm. The motion is familiar, almost soothing, reminding him of a time when the world was simpler, less stormy. He watches Chip, his heart swelling with love as his son's laughter fills the air. As they swing side by side, Plankton's antennae twitch with every movement of the breeze, every giggle that escapes Chip. The wind rushes through the playground, and he feels the rock in his pocket, a reminder of their newfound understanding. The rhythmic motion of the swing starts to work its magic, and Plankton's beginning to relax. The gentle sway feels like a lullaby for his overstimulated brain. Plankton smiles, his antennae waving in a way that says everything is ok. They swing in silence for a while, the steady back and forth a comforting metronome to the chaotic symphony of the playground around them. Plankton can feel the tension in his body slowly uncoiling, the squeak of the chains becoming a familiar melody that soothes his frazzled nerves.

x ✗✗

✘-✘

🤍lʟL ֶָྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི֢|.ᐟŁ۶ৎּ ֶָ֢. 𐙚 ᡣ𐭩 ʞ^᪲᪲᪲ϻ୨ৎnྀི.☘︎ ݁˖αL♡©¹¹¹ ᥫ᭡. ࣪ ִֶָ☾.˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚˚⋆𐙚｡ 𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ω°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･౨ৎ-`♡´-˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗Y ♡ྀི 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 🇱(¬`‸´¬)(๑>؂•̀๑)🇭Ⓜ🏤🇷🇧

©©kᥫ᭡.kᥫ᭡.Sᥫ᭡Sᥫ᭡kᥫ᭡. ⌗ (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

(,,⩌ _ ⩌,,) ..? ( ,,● ̮ ●,,)♡ (//_ ///)

Ⓜ️🅰️❌

♾️🌫️♾️

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!!!. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

tysm he4rtfangzz for making that rblx bio! u truly are the best bio maker :3 and what if we kissed rn ??? /p anyways chat new layout drop :33 ▄︻デ══━一 ⠀ #promotwt ; #subtwt ⠀ ═╬⠀ name ( ´ཀ` ) ⠀prn / prn ⠀♱⠀age ｡ ₊°༺ ⠀ #subtwt #subtwt #subtwt #subtwt ⠀ ༻°₊ ｡

🛼⋆˚ {insert name here} 🎀 ˚ ̟ ༄

⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠

(\____/) (⁎ᓂ,ᓂ⁎)< I like cats inside a keyboard.𖥔 ݁ ˖ | >< |

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⢀⣤⢞⣫⣶⠟⡡⣀⡠⠒⠶⠽⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠐⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡱⢁⡔⡿⣡⠟⠛⣠⣤⢽⡶⢯⣽⡾⢫⣵⣧⣯⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠄⠀⢀⣮⣖⣿⣼⣿⡟⣰⡿⣫⣵⣾⡭⣗⠞⠛⣟⣷⣟⣿⣿⣻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣯⣿⢟⣹⣿⣿⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣛⣥⢖⣤⣿⢃⣇⣾⣿⣿⣟⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⠤⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣄⢻⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⢿⣿⡇⣠⣾⣿⣷⣿⣶⣦⣄⠀⠂⢰⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠛⠟⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠿⡿⠰⠋⢀⣤⣤⣭⣽⡻⡯⠁⠀⠚⢭⡾⣿⡿⢻⣷⠄⢹⣧⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣄⠀⣠⣌⣷⡇⠀⠐⠟⠿⠹⠟⣘⠓⠈⠀⠀⠀⠂⠙⠯⠬⠄⠀⠀⠀⡆⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢻⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⢶⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠂⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠌⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠴⣿⠷⣼⣙⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⣀⣰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡐⢾⣟⣙⠻⢛⡒⣶⣤⠀⠀⢀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠁⢣⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡷⠞⠓⠚⠒⢒⢉⡩⠛⠛⠀⡀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢯⣵⣶⠾⠟⠋⠀⠀⡀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣶⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⡀⠀⠀⣄⡜⡁⠀⠠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠹⢾⣖⢄⣤⣼⣦⣧⡿⣤⡾⠋⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⠾⢿⣿⡿⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠘⠶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡐⠢⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣽⣟⡾⣽⣳⢯⣟⣳⢯⣗⡦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣟⣿⣻⣇⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⢿⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡾⣽⣳⢮⡽⣞⡵⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⣶⣻⢿⣿⢿⣳⣟⡾⣿⣽⣦⡀⠀⠉⠉⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣳⢯⣟⡾⣽⣛⣷⣻⣯⣟⡾⣽⣹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢶⡿⣽⣻⡵⣯⢿⣯⣟⣳⣯⢿⡽⣯⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⣯⣟⡽⡾⣽⣳⡟⣾⣽⡷⣿⣻⣿⢧⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⢯⡿⣽⣳⢯⡿⣽⣻⣾⣽⣳⢯⣟⣽⣳⢿⣻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⣭⢿⣽⣳⢯⣽⣳⣟⣿⣻⣿⣿⣏⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢳⣛⣿⣽⣳⣯⢿⡽⣷⣟⡾⣷⢯⣟⡾⣽⢯⣟⣯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⢾⣽⣻⣽⣻⢮⣽⣛⡾⣵⣻⣿⣽⣿⣿⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣾⣏⡿⣞⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣽⢾⣽⣟⡿⡾⣽⢯⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⢿⣽⣻⣟⣯⡿⣽⣳⢯⣷⣿⢯⣟⣾⣳⢷⣯⣟⡾⣽⣏⡷⣽⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⣞⣯⣿⢾⣽⣻⡽⣯⣟⣾⣳⣟⣾⣳⢿⣻⢾⣽⢾⣯⢿⡽⣯⣟⣾⣿⣻⣞⡷⣯⣟⡶⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⢀⡠⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣞⡿⣞⡷⣿⣳⣿⣳⣟⣾⣳⡿⣯⣟⡿⣞⣿⣞⣯⣟⣷⣻⣿⣳⣟⣾⣟⡷⣯⣟⡷⣯⣟⡷⣯⢿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢿⡽⣯⢿⣽⡷⣯⣟⣾⣳⢿⣽⣳⢯⡿⣽⡾⣽⡾⣽⣞⣿⣿⣳⣯⣿⣞⣿⣳⣯⣟⡷⣯⢿⡽⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⣽⣯⣷⢿⣻⡾⣽⣯⣟⡷⣿⢯⣟⡷⣿⣿⣯⢿⡾⣷⣻⣷⣟⣷⣯⢿⡽⣯⢿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠠⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⣻⣷⢿⣻⣾⣽⢿⣽⡿⣽⣻⣿⣿⢿⣯⢿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣽⣻⣿⣾⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠈⠒⠦⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⣽⣿⣿⡿⣽⡿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣷⣿⣯⠇⣺⣿⣷⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣴⣾⡷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣻⣾⢿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣳⢿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣽⣿⣿⣯⡿⣯⢿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⡷⣿⣻⣟⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣟⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣟⡷⣿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣽⣾⣿⣿⡾⣽⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⡽⣿⣻⣿⣻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⠈⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢯⡿⣽⣷⡿⣟⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⢺⣿⡙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⣯⢿⣻⣽⡿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣿⠇⣿⠦⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⡯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣯⣟⣾⣿⣿⣟⣿⣽⡾⣟⣿⣯⣿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⠐⣿⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠐⠒⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣟⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣻⢾⣳⣟⣿⣯⣷⣿⣯⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣿⡟⠠⣿⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠤⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠐⡼⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢯⡿⣝⣯⢷⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣟⡿⣯⣟⣾⣿⣟⣷⣿⣻⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣗⠒⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⢀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⡆⠱⣸⡇⢻⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣽⣻⢾⣽⣳⢿⣻⣿⣻⣽⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⠆⠐⠊⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⣰⠡⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⡟⣾⢽⣳⢯⣟⣯⢾⣽⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣾⢿⣟⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠌⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣟⡾⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣻⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠐⠒⠊⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⣘⡏⣻⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣷⣻⣾⣿⢻⣼⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣿⣳⣿⢿⣽⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠁⠁⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣘⡗⢿⣿⣳⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⠄⣿⣿⣷⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣻⠿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⢰⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠀⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡗⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣿⢿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣯⣿⣽⣻⣞⣷⣯⢿⣽⣻⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣿⣳⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣻⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣟⣿⣻⣟⣿⣽⣿⣻⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠃⠀⠀⡾⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⣿⡏⠀⠀⣸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⢿⣻⣟⣿⣻⢿⣯⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⠂⠀⢀⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⣠⠀⡠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠰⠂⠀⠈⠁⠈⠀⠀⠉⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣯⣿⣽⣯⣷⣿⣾⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠈⢑⣼⣿⠏⠁⠀⡴⢃⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⠤⠜⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣶⣞⣋⡛⠄⢀⣀⣴⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⠄⡀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

﹒➜ ★ ❰﹒

﹒☓﹕why are people fighting in a website about symbols ᵔᴗᵔ

❤̷̸̧̤̺͕̮̮͇̱̺̥̭̈̃̋̐͐̀̏͊̍̒̏͌̉̓

♾️⚡🔋💍🏮|⏭️🦸⚡|⚞🦸⚡.

☓☓

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠖⣀⠉⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣛⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣛⠛⠛⣟⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡉⣁⣘⣀⣀⡛⠀⠉⠀⠀⠉⠉⠳⢽⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠡⠤⠤⢄⡀⠉⠉⡿⣷⣆⠀⠀⡇⠈⣿⡇⢈⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣶⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣷⡎⢿⣄⣴⣧⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢩⣯⣝⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣴⣿⣥⣼⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠁⢤⡈⣿⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⡷⠿⠻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣼⡏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣄⣶⣷⢻⡀⠀⠸⡆⢹⡇⠀⠈⠙⠛⠋⠃⣨⡿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢨⣿⡿⠋⢀⣼⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠃⢸⣇⠀⠀⠻⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣁⣤⣴⣞⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⢷⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠓⠛⢛⢛⣭⠄⠀⠀⠀⡀⢹⣿⣿⣧⣤⡈⢻⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡶⣽⣿⡾⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠳⣤⣤⣤⣤⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣯⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⢿⣷⠀⠀⠿⠂⠀⠀⢸⣿⣠⣴⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠰⢲⠄⣦⣤⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣷⡀⣼⠀⢸⢡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡏⢷⣼⡄⠈⢸⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⠻⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠃⠈⠁ ⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⢠⣍⣉⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠋⠉⣉⡉⠉⠉⠉⣉⡩⠯⠉⠁⣄⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣁⣠⣄⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣤⣴⣶⣄⡉⢿⠶⠁⣠⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠ ⣬⣿⣏⣹⣿⣭⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⢹⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣯⠉⠉⠀⣠⣴⣷⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⢀⣉⢀⡀⠛ ⣁⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠙⣿⣿⣷⣤⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢀⡀⠈⠛⠛ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢙⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⣿⣦⡀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣄⣸⣿⣿⡿⠀⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⡔⣽⣟⠿⣿⣿⣛⢷⡄ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣉⠉⠉⢉⣛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣛⠛⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

✗𓏌, ✗

𐦍༘⋆ꫂ ၴႅၴ✮

⢀⠂⢀⠠⠀⡀⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⡀⠆⢠⠐⠠⡐⠄⠂⡔⢠⠂⢆⠒⡐⢂⠲⣀⠣⢆⠱⡌⠦⡑⢎⠲⡑⣎⡱⢣⡝⣬⠳⣙⣎⡳⢭⡳⣝ ⠀⡈⠀⠠⠀⠄⡀⠁⡈⠄⢁⠂⡐⠈⠄⠨⠐⠠⠌⠡⠐⢂⠡⠊⠔⡡⢊⠔⡨⠑⡌⠱⣈⠖⡩⢌⢣⠓⡴⢱⢃⡞⡔⣫⠕⣎⢳⡭⢳⣎ ⠀⠄⠁⠐⡀⠂⡀⠂⠠⠐⢀⠂⠄⠡⢈⠂⡁⠢⢁⠡⠉⢄⠢⢉⢂⠱⢈⠆⡡⢃⠜⡡⢒⡘⠴⡉⢦⡙⠴⣉⢎⠼⣘⢥⡛⣬⢓⡞⡳⣎ ⠀⡈⠀⠐⡀⠄⠐⠀⡁⠐⢀⠐⠈⡐⠠⠐⠠⢁⠂⢂⠉⠄⠢⠌⠄⡊⠔⡨⢐⠡⡊⠔⣡⠘⠴⡑⢢⠜⡱⢌⢎⠲⣩⠲⣍⠶⣩⢞⡱⣭ ⠀⠐⠀⠠⠀⠀⠌⠀⠄⠐⠠⠀⠂⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⡁⢂⠉⠤⢁⠌⡠⢁⠆⡡⠌⢢⠑⡌⠤⡉⠦⡉⢦⢉⠖⡩⢌⢧⢡⡓⡼⣸⡑⢮⡕⢧ ⠀⢁⠀⠀⠄⠂⠈⠀⡈⠀⠄⡁⠄⠈⠄⠂⡈⠄⡐⠠⢁⠂⠤⠈⠄⢃⠰⢀⢃⠢⢡⠘⠤⡑⢢⠑⣂⢃⠎⡱⢊⢆⡣⢜⠲⣡⢞⡱⢎⡳ ⠀⠂⠀⠈⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⠁⢀⠠⠀⡁⢀⠂⠠⠐⠠⣔⠤⣈⠄⣅⠊⠧⠰⠈⢤⢜⡀⠎⡰⢁⠣⡘⢤⠩⡬⢡⠃⣎⠴⣉⠮⣑⢮⡱⢫⠵ ⠀⠄⠀⠀⠂⠀⠁⠀⠈⠀⠂⠀⠄⠐⠀⡀⢁⣰⣽⣿⣿⣾⣿⡏⠐⢎⢷⣛⢮⣿⣆⠆⡑⠌⢢⢑⠂⢠⣿⣳⢿⣿⢃⢇⡚⢥⠲⡍⢧⡛ ⠀⡀⠀⠁⠀⠈⠄⠈⢀⠈⠀⠌⠀⠂⠀⠄⢜⣾⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⡇⠌⡈⢎⢟⡾⣜⣿⣖⠈⢆⢡⠆⢠⣿⣳⢯⡟⢦⡉⢦⡙⡌⢧⡙⢦⡹ ⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⡀⠐⠀⠀⠂⢁⣪⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠐⠠⠘⢌⢷⡝⡾⣽⣎⢄⡞⢠⣿⣳⢿⣿⠜⢤⠓⣢⢑⡚⢴⡙⢦⡓ ⠀⠁⠀⠄⠀⠠⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⣳⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡇⠁⠆⡁⢊⢌⢿⣱⢻⣽⣼⢣⣿⣳⢯⣟⠢⣉⠦⡑⢆⠣⡜⡢⢝⡢⢝ ⠀⠂⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡐⣽⣿⡿⣽⣿⡟⣿⣿⣽⣿⡇⠈⠄⡐⠠⠈⢎⢯⡗⡾⣯⡟⣧⢿⡟⢠⠃⡔⢢⡑⡊⡕⢬⡑⢎⡜⣡ ⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⢔⣾⣿⢿⣽⣿⠟⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⡇⠈⠐⢀⠡⠈⠌⠎⢯⣳⢧⢿⣹⡟⠋⡄⠣⢌⡡⢂⡕⠌⣆⢩⠒⡜⠴ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⢬⣿⡿⣽⣻⣿⠏⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠌⠀⡐⠀⠂⡼⢈⣷⢫⣟⣾⡄⡃⠌⢡⠂⡔⢡⠘⣌⠰⢊⡱⡘⢥ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣲⣿⢯⣿⣽⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠁⠀⠁⡼⢁⣾⡱⣏⢾⡹⣿⡄⡘⢠⠘⢄⠃⡜⢠⠉⡆⢱⡘⢆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣽⢿⣽⣻⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⡞⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣶⠈⠀⠈⣰⢁⡾⢥⡻⣼⢧⡻⡽⣿⣄⠢⠘⢠⠊⢄⠣⡘⡘⠤⡘⢆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣯⣞⡷⣞⡷⣾⣳⢿⣞⣷⣿⣻⣾⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣬⢃⢮⡝⢮⣳⠛⡞⣽⢳⡽⣿⡄⡁⠆⡘⢄⠣⠰⡑⡌⡱⢊ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠼⠽⠾⠽⠿⠷⠯⠿⠽⢷⣿⣽⣯⣿⡿⠿⠀⣰⣏⢮⡓⣞⣹⠃⠠⠘⡜⣿⢼⣹⢿⡔⢨⡐⢌⢒⡡⢜⡰⢡⢣ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⢿⣿⡇⢀⢸⣟⢎⢧⡹⣼⠋⢄⢂⠡⡙⡜⡷⣭⣻⢿⡤⡑⢎⢦⡱⢎⡴⣋⠶ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⢦⡐⢦⡱⠎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡟⢮⡞⣦⣽⣷⣿⣾⣾⣷⣿⣾⡹⣶⢯⡿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣾⣽⣻ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠠⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⠉⢉⠉⠉⠌⠡⢉⠩⠉⢍⠩⡙⠍⢏⡹⠎⡵⢊⡗ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢀⠀⠄⠐⠀⠀⠂⢈⠠⠐⠀⡈⠀⠄⠂⠠⢁⠈⡐⢀⠂⡉⠄⠃⡌⠸⡀⠦⡑⡌⢣⠜ ⠀⡁⠀⠄⠐⠀⠐⠀⠐⠀⠂⠀⠄⠀⡐⠠⠀⠂⠄⠠⠐⢀⠂⠡⠐⢀⠂⠄⠡⢀⡁⢂⠁⡂⠤⢈⠔⢂⠡⢒⠨⠡⢌⠱⡈⢆⠱⣈⠇⢎ ⠐⠠⠀⠂⠄⡈⠠⠈⠄⡐⠠⠁⠄⠂⠄⠠⢁⠂⠔⠠⢁⠂⠌⡐⠈⢄⠂⢌⠰⢠⠐⠤⡈⠔⡨⠐⣌⢢⣑⣌⣒⣡⢎⣢⣑⣎⣱⣌⣚⡌ ⢂⣁⠂⡁⠂⠄⡡⠌⡐⢀⠂⠡⢈⡐⢈⢁⠂⠌⠄⢃⠰⢈⠰⡀⢃⠢⢌⠂⡄⢃⠌⡂⢅⢢⢁⢣⢘⡓⡛⣒⠛⡚⢛⡛⡹⢛⡛⣚⢻⡘

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

.₊ ⊹✮⋆˙

ー ℱr𝗶en𝗱𝘀 ꒱ ˚ೀ

ㄨ◕‿◕ㄨ

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

💊🇽☒♡☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐хх

💐🌷

∅E

𝒕𝒙𝒕⊹₊ ⋆ 🐧 ྀི ⊹₊ ⋆

メ◕‿◕メ

₊⊹⛦⊹₊ ⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖✦⋆.˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅

꒰★|Delray ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

🧸✨𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆🔤🔤☆𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥☆𝑒ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠈⢻⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠈⠁⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⢠⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⢠⣴⣿⣷⡀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠉⠉⠉⠩⠍⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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