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http://genealogytrails.com/ind/brown/obits.html Coad McDonald TERRIBLE ACCIDENT - COAD MC’DONALD’S DEATH. Results From Injuries Received By His Coat Catching On Set-Screw Of A Line Shaft In Flouring Mill Owned By His Father, George A. McDonald. Our little town was in great excitement last Saturday afternoon at 3:30 o’clock, when it was learned that Coad McDonald, son of George A. McDonald, owner of the Brown County Roller Mills, had met with a most distressing and probably fatal accident. Coad, for some time, has been acting as engineer at the mill, and right well he performed his duties. As was his usual custom, at the hour of 3 p.m., he picked up the oil can and proceeded to oil the machinery. He wore a heavy hunting coat and while in a stooping position and in the act of oiling a bearing of the line shaft, a set screw which had slightly worked up and out of position, caught on the lower part of his coat. In an instant he discovered perilous situation. But, too late! To escape being drawn to the shaft was impossible. Realizing that his life was in danger he hugged the shaft to keep his head from striking the floor. With the rapidity of lightning he was whirled on the shaft, his feet battering the joists at every revolution. He cried for help and his cries were heard by a Mr. Haggard who was passing along the street. He hurried to the mill and before he reached it Clyde, a brother of Coad, heard his brother’s feet striking the joists and he thought the noise was made by a broken bolt. Clyde then hurried to the engine room and shut off steam; then saw his unfortunate brother in a horrifying position whirling on the line shaft, bound tight to the shaft with his hunting coat. “Are you hurt,” asked Clyde. “Look at my foot!” answered Coad. The foot was lying on the floor in a shapeless mass. “I am afraid you are fatally hurt,” said Clyde. “I know it," said Coad. “Tell Billie (Griner) how it happened and take good care of my dogs.” By this time many people had gathered at the mill. His hunting coat was cut loose from the shaft and he was carried home where Drs. J.F. Genolin and Ray Tilton examined his injuries. They found that they would have great trouble in saving his life. His right foot was mashed to a pulp and amputation was found necessary. The operation was performed at 7 p.m. by Drs. Genolin and Tilton, assisted by Dr. Ward of Georgetown. His left foot was also mashed in a horrible manner, his left shoulder and arm badly bruised and he received internal injuries. He lingered until Monday night at 11 o’clock when death came to his relief. During his 57 hours of intense suffering he did not lose consciousness, and an hour before dying he called his parents, sisters and brothers to his bedside and bid them good-by, telling them that he was prepared to die. The untimely death of the young man is a severe blow to the family. Coad was a happy hearted, genial and promising young man in his 21st year, and the accident is universally deplored by the people who have learned of the sad event. The sympathy of the entire community is extended to the broken-hearted father, mother, sisters and brothers, who sit in sorrow where his footsteps shall never again find echo. The funeral services were held at the Christian Church at 10:30 o’clock Tuesday morning. Elder O. A. Stump officiating. The casket was covered with the most beautiful floral designs loving fingers were wrought, all of which spoke of peace, purity and immortality. At the close of the services an unusual long procession followed the funeral car to our silent city – Greenlawn cemetery – where the remains were laid to rest. The pall-bearers were Professor Fuselberger, Lee Bright, Allen Tomlinson, Samuel Bradley, Dennis Calvin and Frank Colvin. Farewell, Coad. May God’s purest angels guard your slumbers. (Brown County Democrat – Dec. 5, 1907)

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𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ @user ‘ the history book on the shelf, is always repeating itself’

🇺🇸 https://s1.sos.mo.gov/records/archives/archivesmvc/deathcertificates 🇺🇸 https://s1.sos.mo.gov/records/archives/archivesdb/birthdeath/#searchdb 🇺🇸

Key to Abbreviations: * ae = age assn = association asst = assistant b = born bapt = baptised bro = brother bur = buried ca = circa cem = cemetery ch = child Ch = church chren = children co = county conf = conference corr = corrected/correction CW = Civil War d = died dau = daughter ds = days Evan. = Evangelical grfa = grandfather grmo = grandmother hosp = hospital husb = husband inf = infantry Luth. = Lutheran md = married memb = member Meth. Epis. = Methodist Episcopal mge = marriage mi = miles MIA = missing in action min = minister mo = month mos = months Msngr = Messenger nr = near obit = obituary pars = parents poss = possibly prev = previously Prov. = Province recd = received Ref. = Reformed regt = regiment res = resides/resided res prev = resided previously ret = returned Rev. = Reverend S.S. = Sunday School sic = exactly as printed sis = sister tp = township vol = volunteers w/ = with wk/wks = week/weeks yrs = years -- in the PLACE or column indicates information not given and could not be determined ----- = not stated

https://sites.rootsweb.com/~nyschuyl/FunBook1.html

http://saratoganygenweb.com/Tuni2AE.htm

https://montgomery.pa-roots.com/Obituaries/index.html

Losing Carrie Carrie’s parents were deep in mourning They had lost their daughter, without warning Her mom moaned and wailed in deep sorrow Her dad would call the funeral home tomorrow Her mom looked down and in her head She wondered, if Carrie could, what she would have said If she could speak to them now, reach into their hearts Tell them how they would cope, where could they start? Her father looked down also and in his head His mind was racing with a sense of dread See, if Carrie could talk what she really would have said Is, ‘Mom, please help me, he knows I’m not dead.’

Edith Bagley LAST NAME: Bagley FIRST NAME: Edith MAIDEN NAME: Reynolds GENDER: F BORN: 9 Feb 1870 D1ED: 13 Jul 1893 BURIED: 15 Jul 1893 OCCUPATION: Housewife BIRTH PLACE: The Dalles, Wasco Co., Oregon D£ATH PLACE: Salem, Marion Co., Oregon NOTES: IOOF - Mrs. Edith Bagley, age 23 y's 6 m's 4 d's, d1ed in Salem of blo0d poisoning, wife of W. H. Bagley. 1870 OR CENSUS - Edith M. Reynolds, age 4 months [sic], b. Oregon, is enumerated with Dawson Reynolds, age 40, occupation farmer, b. Virginia, and Eliza E., age 30, b. Maine, along with Florence J., age 6, b. Minnesota. 1880 OR CENSUS - Edith M. Reynolds, age 14, b. Oregon, is enumerated as step-daughter, in the home of Robert Pentland, age 59, occupation miller, b. England, and Eliza E. Pentland, age 39, b. Maine, along with Ervin C. Pentland, age 23, mill worker, b. Oregon, and Florence J. Reynolds, age 16, b. Minnesota. DEATH CERTIFICATE: OBITUARY: d1ed Salem, Thursday, July 13, 1893, Edith R., wife of W. H. Bagley, aged 23 years, 6 months and 4 days. Mrs. Bagley was sick about three weeks. She had trouble with her teeth which made it necessary to have several of them extracted and that was the beginning of difficulty that ended in blo0d poisoning and d£ath at 6:50 o'clock last evening. Deceased, whose maiden name was Pentland [Reynolds], was born at The Dalles February 9, 1870. When seven or eight years of age she went with her parents to Scio, which was her home until her marriage with Mr. Bagley February 12, 1889. In 1885 Miss Pentland [Reynolds] entered Willamette university and two years later was graduated from the academic department and conservatory of music. Mrs. Bagley leaves a husband, a daughter 3 1/2 years old, her mother, Mrs E. E. Pentland, a sister, Miss Florence Reynolds, a step-sister, Mrs. S. L. Brooks of The Dalles and a step-brother, E. C. Pentland of Independence. She was a faithful member of the First Congregational church. Her many excellent traits of character, her genial and even temperament and her graces of mind and person made her hosts of warm friends at The Dalles, at Scio and in Salem where she was so well known. The funeral arrangements will be announced later. Oregon Statesman, 14 Jul 1893, 4:4 INSCRIPTION: Edith R. Wife of William Bagley D1ed July 13, 1893 Aged 23 Y's, 5 M's, 4 D's Dearly loved on earth, early called to Heaven SOURCES: LR LD IOOF Register of Burials DAR pg 67 S&H pg 69 Saucy Survey & Photographs 1870 OR CENSUS (Wasco Co., W. Dalles, FA #152) 1880 OR CENSUS (Linn Co., Scio, ED 72, sheet 374C) OS 14 Jul 1893 4:4 LOT: 801 SPACE: 3 SW LONGITUDE

The Cork Examiner, November 1856 AWFUL AND FATAL ACCIDENT. ———— On Wednesday, shortly after 11 o'clock, an awful and fatal accident, involving loss of one life, and more than probably that of another, took place in Beresford-street, Waterford. Two new houses are being built next to Mr. Roche's public house, nearly opposite the Roman Catholic Chapel of St. John's, the brickwork of which has been recently finished, and the rafters of the roof put on. This morning it was being slated by a man named Kearney, who had, as his helper, a labouring man named Edmond Power. A scaffold was erected close to the end of the house, the planks of which rested, in the centre, on an iron wall-hook driven into the brick work which, not being seasoned, is supposed to have caused the fatal accident. There was rather an unusual crowd about the locality at the time as a funeral was passing by, and on a sudden the people were startled by a loud crash coming from this building, and looking in the direction, they saw the scaffolding with the two hapless men coming to the ground. Melancholy to relate, Kearney was killed almost instantaneously, the other man still breathed, although scarcely in a perceptible manner. The dead body of Kearney was conveyed to his friends' house, in Stephen-street, there to await an inquest. Power has died of his injuries.—Waterford Mail

Obituary: Abner Hills of Owego Transcribed by: Betty Short THE EVENING HERALD, MONDAY JULY 8, 1890 PAGE 4 KILLED BY A LUMBER PILE ABNER HILLS FATALLY INJURED WHILE AT WORK FOR A.J. LYON -------------------- Two Thousand Feet of Boards Crush Him Under their Weight Death Relieves His Sufferings after about Eighteen Hours No External Bruises can be Discovered. --------------------- A shocking accident that resulted fatally after about eighteen hours occurred yesterday morning at ten o’clock in the lumber yard of A. J. Lyon at the foot of Carroll Street on South. Abner Hills, an old man, a regular employee of Mr. Lyon, was engaged in unloading lumber from a wagon upon a high pile. His back was turned toward another lofty pile which seemed to have been disturbed in some way and two tiers toppled over upon him. There were several thousand feet in the lot. Mr. Hills was crushed to the ground and as his piteous moans for help were not loud enough to attract attention, it is probable he would have lain there for some time had not the noise of the falling lumber arrested the attention of two fellow workmen. They bent every energy to release the unfortunate man, and soon had him in the open air. He did not seem to be so badly injured but that he was able to crawl from beneath the lumber as they lifted it up. Soon after his release he told the men that he felt as if he would die from the effect of the injuries. The ambulance was summoned at once and he was removed to his home at 118 Conklin Avenue. Dr. Andrews was called and made an examination but found no broken bones nor any external bruises, his injuries seeming to be internal. He did not rally much during the day and grew rapidly worse during the night, expiring about four o’clock this morning. Mr. Hills was about sixty years of age and leaves a wife and several children. ************************* THE BINGHAMTON REPUBLICAN, TUESDAY JULY 9, 1890 PAGE 6 FATALLY INJURED A WORKMAN CRUSHED BENEATH A PILE OF BOARDS ------------------- Abner Hill, an employee of A. J. Lyon & Co., on South Street, met with an accident at 10:30 o’clock Monday morning which resulted fatally yesterday morning. He was engaged with several others in piling boards when suddenly the pile fell, a portion of the boards striking him and crushing him to the ground. As one end of the pile rested on a wagon wheel, it was thought that he was not seriously injured. One of the workmen lifted the boards off him and when extricated, he was able to walk. Dr. Van Alstyne who had been summoned made an examination and found that no bones were broken. Hill, however, declared he was fatally injured and going home went to bed. He gradually grew worse, suffering considerably and expired at 4:30 o’clock yesterday morning. He was a hard laboring man and leaves a wife with ten small children. Mrs. Hill is nearly distracted over her loss and does not know what to do. It is supposed that internal injuries caused his death.

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❤ ✞ ❤ Rest in Heavenly Peace ❤ ✞ ❤

ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᵀᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵀᵒᵘʳⁱˢᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳⁱᶜʰ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵀʳᵃⁱˡ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵃˣ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴾʳᵉˢⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᶠ‧ ᴷᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᴬ ⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵒⁿᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧” ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵍᵉⁿᵉᵃˡᵒᵍʸ⸴ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ⸴ ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ‘ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ’ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿ ˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˢᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷⁱⁿᵈʸ ᵃᵘᵗᵘᵐⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ⸴ ˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ⸴ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵈᵃᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ; ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵘʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴰᵃⁿ ᵂⁱˡˢᵒⁿ⠘ ᴵ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴬ ˡᵒᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵃˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵏⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ⠘ ᴬˡᵒʸˢⁱᵘˢ⸴ ᴱᵈʷⁱⁿᵃ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴺᵃᵗʰᵃⁿⁱᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ ᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵃˢʰⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᴵ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵒˢᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ? ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵉ? ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ⠘ ᴰᵉᵃʳ ᴮʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴬᵘⁿᵗ⸴ ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵂⁱᶠᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴼᵘʳ ᴮᵃᵇʸ – ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ⸴ ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁵⁰ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ ᵒʷᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᴵⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧

eᵕ̈󠁣♭󠁇󠁈ℹ️ℹ‼♭󠀪ᵕ̈󠁣󠁇•󠁈‼️󠁥💻©🌐📥📧®✉🔤💬📝🚀📈🖨📤󠁥𓄲🅱🇪ツ◐◡◑🇱🅰️🇹⩜⃝🗿☪🍑𓂸🇴𖤐⭑🅾️⚛α🇭🔱⋆｡˚ßⓂ️🇲(•ᴗ•,, )𓎆☣🅱ℋ🇺↪©𓏶💌®️🦬𖦹🅾☆✉🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🅿🔤💣🗡🚪✅📞🇵💬✴🌵⛏🛤🏚🥄⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓂺𝕒𝕜 47ᶠЁͨᵏу;)🦺🛸☄🕋🤯☢✝🔐🖲🎮🕹️👾🏳‍🌈🌈🏳️‍🌈(Ю) 🍑📋❎❔❌🕳🥉ඞSUSSY( ᵒ̴̶̷᷄◡̶͂ᵒ̴̶̷᷅ )و૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა rawr!☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🍄🦋🌸♏️💗( ˊo̴̶̷̤ ̫ o̴̶̷̤ˋ)

eᵕ̈󠁣♭󠁇ℹ️ℹ‼♭󠀪ᵕ̈󠁣󠁇•󠁈‼️󠁥💻©🌐📥📧®✉🔤💬📝🚀📈🖨📤‼️𝔼📧🇳🇸🇦ㄨ🇷🇪🇪✮™️∀🇮®𓆩⚝𓆪☻ִ ࣪𖤐☢️⸸🤑𝓗🇩⚡ᕦᕤ🇧🅱️🔞🅰‹𝟹 🇨🇾🗼✈🇼🧱📪∘🍆\/🇽™ⓕ🕊🇫🌟🕷️🍞🅿️🇺🇸🗺🇬💪🏻⚜😱🥮𓌏🦒༝𖨆🐈‍⬛🇻📰⚒🍄☁️🌸💻㊗✂🍟🤤♥💎♆🌈🏳‍🌈🍆❤️🍆⚮📝🇲🇪💀Ⓜ⌨ඞSUSSY( ᵒ̴̶̷᷄◡̶͂ᵒ̴̶̷᷅ )و૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა rawr!☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🍄🦋🌸♏️💗( ˊo̴̶̷̤ ̫ o̴̶̷̤ˋ)𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮💌🧚‍♀️💗🌨🥡🍥☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

e󠁈‼️󠁥ℹ️ℹ‼♭󠀪ᵕ̈󠁣󠁇•󠁈‼️󠁥💻©🌐📥📧®✉🔤💬📝🚀📈🖨📤𓄲🅱🇪ツ◐◡◑🇱🅰️🇹⩜⃝✮™️∀🇴𖤐𓆩⚝𓆪☻ִ ࣪𖤐☢️🇭🔱⋆｡˚ßⓂ️🇲(•ᴗ•,, )𓎆☣🅱ℋ🇺↪©𓏶💌®️🦬𖦹🅾☆✉🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🅿🔤💣🗡🚪✅📞🇵💬✴🌵⛏🛤🏚🥄⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓂺𝕒𝕜 47ᶠЁͨᵏу;)🦺🛸☄🕋🤯☢✝🔐🖲🎮🕹️👾🏳‍🌈🌈🏳️‍🌈(Ю) 🍑📋❎❔

e󠁣♭󠁇•󠁈‼️󠁥ℹℹ️🅰️©🔤🗺📰💻✂🍟♥📋📝🕳🇪𝔼𓄲📧•‼️𝔼ℹ️ℹ‼♭󠀪ᵕ̈󠁣󠁇•󠁈‼️󠁥💻📧✉🔤📰📝💭✔✔️💌♥😂📀🔍🇳🇦🇷🗿☪🇴𓆩⚝𓆪𖦹‹𝟹 𝓗⚡🇧🔞🅿️🇾✈🧱∘☆🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🔤🗡✅🗺💪🏻😱𓌏༝🐈‍⬛📰🍄☁️🌸㊗🍟♥♆🏳‍🌈🍆❤️🍆📝💀⌨⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧❤🧡💛💚💙💜ִ ࣪𖤐 𖦹 ༘⋆⊹🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️🙂---🍆. 🤤🤤/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⡏⠀⠀⠀⢣⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠧⠤⠤⠔⠋⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⢀⣶⠤⠒⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢿⢿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠘⣿⠋⠁⠀⠙⢇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢇⡞⠘⣧⠀⢖⡭⠞⢛⡄⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣿⣛⣥⠤⠤⢿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡟⡱⠛⠙⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀ ⢸⡏⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀ ⠸⣧⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇ ⠀⣿⡄⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀ ⠀⢹⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣧⣀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⢀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣄⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⠾⠷⣦⣤⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ⚬

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 10 (Autistic author) After a silence so profound it seems to have its own heartbeat, Plankton's antennae twitch, breaking the stillness. "Time to...do." Plankton whispers to himself, still in Karen's arms. Sandy looks up. "Plankton?" She whispers, hope flickering in her eyes. "What's he..." But Karen shakes her head, silencing her. "He'll come around," she says, explaining his behavior. "He's just...it's okay for him to talk to himself. It can mean he's starting to come back." Plankton starts up again. "Time to...do," he murmurs, his antennae flicking erratically. "Time to...time to...get, time to...do." Karen's grip on him tightens, her heart racing as his words loop like a broken record. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers, her voice a lifeline in the tempest of his thoughts. "You don't have to do anything right now." She strokes his arm, her touch gentle. "We're right here." The words sink into his consciousness like a pebble dropped into a still pond, ripples of understanding spreading through the murky waters of his mind. His antennae still for a moment, then begin to move again, slightly. "No do," he murmurs, his voice still flat, his gaze unchanged. "Just be." Karen nods, her eyes never leaving his. "You just be, my love," she whispers, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "You can just keep talking to me, or to yourself." Her words are a gentle reminder that he's not alone, his anchor in the storm. Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his breathing evening out. Plankton's eye flickers. His eye moves, focusing on her face. "Karen," he whispers, his voice a mere breath. "Karen, here." Her heart soars. "I'm right here, sweetheart," she says, her voice a soft caress. "You're okay." Plankton's gaze lingers on her face, his expression unreadable. "Karen," he repeats, his voice gaining strength. "Karen." Slowly, the world around them starts to come back into focus. The ticking of the clock is a steady beat once more, the wallpaper's pattern a gentle dance of color and light. Plankton blinks. "Where's now?" "You're home," Karen says soothingly, her voice a beacon of calm amidst his confusion. "You're safe on the couch." Sandy comes into his view now. "Sandy," Plankton says, his voice still flat, his antennae barely moving. "Sorry." Sandy's eyes widen in surprise. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice cracking. Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening slightly. "We're both here," she says, her voice a lifeline in the sea of confusion. Sandy moves slowly, keeping her movements small and deliberate, not wanting to trigger another wave of panic. "Plankton," she says softly, her voice careful. "Is it ok if I sit next to you?" He nods, his antennae twitching slightly. The world is still too loud, too bright, too much for him to handle. But Karen's presence, her gentle touch, makes it more bearable. Sandy sits on the couch, a respectful distance away, watching the two of them with a mix of compassion and regret as Karen helps him sit up. Sandy's curiosity burns, questions bubbling up inside her like a shaken soda can. She wants to know more about this new version of Plankton. "What happened to you, Plankton?" she asks, her voice tentative. Karen sighs, her eyes sad. "It's called acquired autism syndrome," Karen explains, her voice measured. Sandy's eyes widen, trying to digest this new information. "But, how?" she asks, her curiosity overriding the sadness. "It's complicated," Karen says, her voice weary. "But it's part of who he is now." Sandy nods, trying to understand. "When you started shaking Plankton, what'd you feel?" Plankton's gaze flickers to the wall, his mind still trying to piece together the shattered remnants of his recent experience. "Scared," he admits, his voice still strained. "Too much." Sandy nods, her own understanding of the world shifting. "But what about your surroundings? Where you conscious?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Conscious, but not...not here." His words are like a puzzle, each one placed with care. Sandy nods, her eyes studying him with newfound respect. "So could you hear us or?" "Hear, but not understand," Plankton says, his voice still a whisper. Sandy nods, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" she asks, her eyes searching his for a clue to this new puzzle. "Words," Plankton whispers, his antennae barely moving. "Sounds, but not words. Just voice." Karen's grip on his hand tightens, her heart aching for his pain. Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," she says, her voice gentle. "We're learning together." Karen's gaze shifts to Sandy, her eyes expressing gratitude. "Yes," she agrees. "We're all just trying to understand. It's new for us, too." Sandy nods, her curiosity now tempered with compassion. She watches Plankton closely, his every movement, his every word, a testament to his struggle. "Can I ask how acquired autism..." "Sandy," Karen says gently, interrupting her friend. "Let's not push him." Sandy nods, her expression full of concern. "I just want to know how it happened." Karen's sigh is a soft whisper in the room. "It was a brain injury" she says, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "He fell, hitting his head and the impact knocked him out, hard enough to cause some serious damage." Sandy nods, her mind racing. "But how did it turn him...different?" she asks, her voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Karen's eyes well up with tears, the pain of the memory still fresh. "It happened yesterday. He's the same Plankton we know, but his perception of the world, his ability to communicate...it's all changed." Sandy's eyes are glued to Plankton, her curiosity melding with a deep sadness. "But how can I help?" she asks, her voice a whisper. "I don't know anything about this." Karen looks at her with a tiny smile, her screen filled with gratitude. "Just be his friend," she says, her voice firm. "Love and patience, that's what he needs." Sandy nods, her eyes flicking to Plankton, who sits with his gaze on the wall. "I want to," she says, her voice sincere. "But how do I do that without...you know?" Karen understands her dilemma. "Just be there," she says, her voice calm. "Learn his patterns, his triggers. It'll take time, but he'll come to trust you." Sandy nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "But what about when he gets upset?" "It's hard," Karen admits, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "We're still figuring it out." Sandy nods, her mind racing with a barrage of questions. But she swallows them down, not wanting to overwhelm Plankton or Karen. Instead, she focuses on the present. "So, Plankton, how do you feel?" Sandy says, her voice soft. "What do you wanna do right now?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "Right now, Plankton feeling... awkward," he murmurs, his voice devoid of its usual inflection. Sandy nods, trying to hide the shock from her face. "Okay, Plankton," she says slowly, her voice gentle. "What do you need?" He looks at her with a flicker of something resembling hope in his glassy eye. "Plankton would now like to just go to be in own room." Sandy nods eagerly, desperate to do anything that would bring him comfort. "Of course," she says, her voice gentle. "I'll help you." But as she moves to assist him, Plankton flinches away, his antennae twitching in agitation. "No," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Too much." Karen understands his need to retreat into the bedroom. "Okay," Karen says, her voice calm. "Let's go." She helps Plankton to his feet, his body still rigid with stress. Sandy watches, feeling like an outsider. She follows behind, stopping at the bedroom doorway. Karen sets some books and pencils on the table by his bed, along with a kiss. "You can change the light with the lamp," she says, gesturing to the lamp on the bedside table next to his charging phone. He nods.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 10 (Autistic author) Ignorant of Plankton's neurodivergence, Sandy doesn't realize that her persistent questions are adding to his overwhelm. She leans closer, her face a canvas of concern. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice strained as she grabs his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch in agitation, his single eye snapping up to meet hers. The touch feels like a brand, his senses on fire. "Words," he murmurs, his voice a desperate static, trying to return to the safety of the word search. But Sandy's grip is firm, her gaze intense. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice a persistent hum. She doesn't understand the distress she's causing, her intentions pure but misguided. So she turns him using both of her hands to squeeze his arms. The sudden pressure sends waves of pain coursing through his tiny body, his voice a piercing squeal of static. "No, no," he whispers, but she only holds tighter. Her touch feels like a vice, her voice a relentless buzz in his ear. "What's going on?" she repeats, her grip unyielding. Plankton's eye widens with fear, his voice a desperate static. "No, Sandy, please," he whispers, his body trying to shrink away from the contact. But she doesn't understand, her eyes searching his for answers. "Just answer me! You're not getting the book until you decide to have a conversation!" The pain in his arms spikes, the pressure unbearable. His voice cracks like a whip. "Can't," he gasps, his breath quick and shallow. "Too much." Sandy's grip doesn't lessen. "Why not?" she asks, her voice a stubborn hum. "You're okay." The room feels like it's closing in on him, the sensation of her touch like a million tiny saws against his skin. He tries to pull away, his voice a frantic static. "Too much," he whispers, his breathing quick and erratic. "Need words, not touch." But Sandy's grip doesn't loosen. She's determined to get his attention. "Look at me then," she insists, her voice a firm hum. "I'm right here." Plankton's eye flutters with the effort to focus on her face. The sensory assault of her touch and her persistent voice is like a whirlpool threatening to pull him under. "No," he whispers, his voice a fragile static. "Please." "Talk. To. Me!" She says as she pulls him closer to her. Plankton's eye bulges with the effort of not looking away. The room is spinning, his senses are on fire. Karen's screens flicker with alarm, picking up on his distress. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warning siren. "Let go of his arms." Sandy's grip tightens, not comprehending the harm she's causing. "But he's not answering me!" she protests, her voice a confused trill. "Because until I get an answer..." Karen's screens blaze with a mix of frustration and fear. "Sandy, you're hurting him," she beeps, her voice a sharp warning. Sandy's grip doesn't waver. She doesn't understand the severity of the situation. Her eyes are wide, her expression a mask of confusion. "What's wrong with you!" she asks Plankton. "I JUST..." "Sandy, stop!" Karen beeps, her voice a piercing alarm. "You're causing him pain!" Sandy's grip finally loosens, her hands retreating from Plankton's arms. She stares at him, her expression a storm of confusion and concern as Plankton's tiny body slumps. "What's wrong with you?" she asks again, her voice a gentle hum of bewilderment. Plankton's body quivers like a leaf, his eye squeezed shut against the onslaught of emotions. "Can't..." Sandy's face is a canvas of confusion, her hands hovering over him like a lost diver searching for the surface. "But why?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's body is a taut bowstring, each breath a struggle. He tries to find the words to explain, his voice a static whisper. "Too much," he says, his eye still tightly shut. "It's too much." Sandy's gaze softens, her confusion giving way to concern. She doesn't understand, but she can see his pain. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton takes a shaky breath, his body still reeling from the overstimulation. He opens his eye, looking at her. "Say no, Sandy." Sandy's gaze is steady, her voice a soft hum. "No?" she asks, her eyes searching his for answers. But he won't elaborate. Karen's screens flicker with frustration. She knows Sandy means well, but her lack of understanding is causing more harm than good. "Sandy, Plankton's going through something new," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "He's sensitive to touch and sounds right now." Sandy's eyes widen, the realization dawning. "Oh," she says, her voice a soft trill of understanding. "I didn't know." She sits back, giving him space. "Words," he whispers, his voice a sob. "Words." Sandy nods, her confusion replaced with empathy. "Okay, let's stick to words," she says, her voice a gentle rumble. She picks up the word search book, holding it out to him like a peace offering. "Words," he whimpers. Plankton takes the book, his antennae drooping. He finds comfort in the predictability of the letters and the structure of the puzzle, the words becoming a lifeline in a sea of chaos. He begins to scan the page again, his breathing slowing. Sandy watches him, her heart heavy with regret. She had no idea her actions could cause so much pain. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a sincere hum. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Plankton." "Words," he murmurs. Sandy nods, her eyes reflecting genuine apology. "It's okay," she whispers. "We'll just stick to words." Karen's screens flicker with relief, seeing Plankton's body slowly relax. "Thank you, Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warm hum of gratitude. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "I'm here to help," she says, her voice a comforting trill. She looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body still tense. "Words, words." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What happened to make you like this, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. He takes a deep shuddering breath as tears start to form in his eye. "Mmm," he hums, hugging his knees. Sandy's gaze is intense, her curiosity piqued. "What happened, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a soft trill of concern. "Hmmm," Plankton hums as he rocks, now crying. Sandy's eyes are wide with worry, her voice a gentle hum. "Hey, what's going on?" she asks, looking for answers. "Hmmmm..." Plankton keeps humming, sniffling in between hums. Karen decides to intervene. "Sandy," Karen beeps firmly, her screens flashing with concern. "Let's give Plankton some space." Sandy nods, her expression a mix of apology and confusion. She takes a step back, her gaze never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice a soft rumble of regret. "It's okay," Karen beeps, her voice a comforting hum. "We're all learning." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "But what happened?" she asks again, her voice a gentle trill of concern. Plankton's body is a tiny storm, his sobs quaking through his tiny frame. Karen's screen pulse with sympathy. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a calm wave. "Let's talk outside." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with worry.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣹⣟⣫⣼⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⣐⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁

⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀B😎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣉⣩⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠤⠙⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠙⠻⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣩⣝⢿⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡝⣿⣦⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣮⢻⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠻⠿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣋⣁⣀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ 💜🤡

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠛⣿⡿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡤⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢰⠀⢰⠀⠀⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢰⠀⠠⡄⠀⡆⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⠀⢸⠃⠀⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⠀⢸⡇⠀⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⢀⢸⡇⠀⣷⢸⣇⠀⠀⣠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⠉⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢁⡀⢺⡁⢼⡇⠠⣿⢸⣿⡀⣾⣇⣠⠾⠿⣷⣤⣄⠤⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣇⡾⠁⠸⣧⡘⠃⣼⡇⢸⣿⣧⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⡶⠿⠓⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠻⣿⣶⣠⠙⠻⠟⠋⣰⣼⣿⣿⡿⣿⣛⣩⣥⡴⢶⡦⠄⠈⣶⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡰⣿⠛⠻⣷⣌⠙⢿⣧⡀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡿⢿⡗⢹⠃⣸⡇⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠋⣁⣤⣤⣀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣶⣶⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣗⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣋⡋⠁⠬⠵⠊⣠⣿⣇⠀⢸⣿⣿⡟⣠⣿⡿⠿⣿⡆⢹⣿⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡋⠀⢰⡟⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⠯⢤⣉⡛⠻⠿⡄⢿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⠀⠀⠐⡇⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠦⠄⠉⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠉⣨⣿⠂⢠⢟⣡⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠼⢿⠿⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣀⣀⣀⣬⡷⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣦⣄⡀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣾⣷⡇⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠙⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⣞⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣈⣉⣉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣏⠛⠛⣻⣿⡏⣷⣾⣿⡎⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⢀⣤⣹⣿⣿⡘⠻⣿⠟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⣀⣄⣈⠁⠀⠀⢀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠻⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⣿⣿⠯⠢⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⢏⣼⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣤⣼⣛⡛⠻⠿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠇⣸⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠘⢿⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⠥⠤⠤⢀⣀⡀⠋⢀⣼⣿⡿⣿⣿⠿⢻⡟⢀⠀⢀⠏⠚⣿⣟⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠈⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢋⣠⣾⣿⡥⠈⠀⠀⣠⡞⠀⠸⣄⠈⠀⢠⣿⣿⢳⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣁⣤⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⢹⣦⣰⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠘⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠄⠠⠤⣠⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣼⣠⡤⠴⠖⠂⠀⠀⠉⠉⢂⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⠔⠒⢌⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣦⣄⠀⠑⠈⠢⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠲⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠛⠷⣶⣄⡠⡜⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠷⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣶⣠⡌⢿⣿⣾⣶⣽⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠝⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣦⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡄⢼⣿⣮⡛⢿⣟⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣭⣻⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣶⣶⣆⣀⣹⣿⣷⣆⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣀⣹⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⠤⣼⡷⣤⠖⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⣿⣿⣿⣏⣉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀ ⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⣤⡟⣽⣯⣔⠠⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡙⣿⣿⣿⠿⣷⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⠄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣑⠂⠀⠈⣙⢻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⠿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠛⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⢻⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠻⡟⠛⠛⠛⠉⣠⣋⡤⠴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣇⠛⣿⡟⣻⣷⣟⣛⣿⣾⣏⡰⡽⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⢰⡿⠀⠁⠁⠈⠙⠻⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢻⣿⣿⣿⣆⠘⢿⣿⠏⣙⣿⡋⠻⠯⢠⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠚⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠃⠉⠉⠉⠙⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠼⠿⠿⠻⠟⠇⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣟⠑⠓⠖⠓⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣉⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣉⣀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠈⢀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⠁⣠⣴⣾⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣴⣿⠿⠋⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⣀⣀⣀⣨⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⠂ ⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⣴⣿⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⠖⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣋⣠⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

3( • ̀ω•́ )✧( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)(ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³9️˚ ༘ 🦕𖦹⋆｡˚˚ ༘ 🦕𖦹⋆｡˚

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣦⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣟⠯⠓⣉⣩⣭⣝⣻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⠗⢡⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣨⣩⠙⠀⢹⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣀⣀⣀⣀⢧⣿⠂⣀⠀⣿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣶⣿⣿⠗⡤⢤⣀⡉⠊⡱⢋⣉⣉⣷⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡝⣿⣿⠀⠈⠙⠿⠃⠀⡇⠽⠛⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⡀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⠤⠾⣄⡹⣄⠀⢸⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣋⢹⣿⣿⣷⡾⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣶⣿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣇⠈⠡⢄⣀⠐⢉⣿⣿⣴⣿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡅ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠒⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⡿⠛⠋⠘⣿⣿⠿⢯⠛⠂⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠠⠱ ⠀⣠⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠁⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀⠀⢣⠒⠲⠤⣀⡀⠀⡀⣀⠤⠒⠂⠸⡀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣄ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⡀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠰⠧⠀⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 10 (Neurodivergent author) COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 10 (Neurodivergent author) The room holds its breath, a suspended moment of understanding. Hanna nods, her smile a gentle ripple across her screen. "Ok," she says, her voice a soft echo. "Overwhelming moments it is." Plankton starts to rock slightly, they both notice. Hanna watches, her curiosity piqued. "What's with the rocking?" she asks, her voice a soft ripple of inquiry. Karen looks at her, her eyes a gentle wave of patience. "It's called self-stimulation, or 'stimming' for short," she explains. "It's a way for Plankton to regulate his senses." "But why?" Karen's smile is a soft sunrise, illuminating the room with patience. "It helps him process the world," she explains, her voice a gentle tide of understanding. "It's like a lullaby for his senses." Hanna nods, her curiosity like a tide that won't recede. "But it's not like he's just throwing a fit?" she asks, her voice a cautious wave. Plankton's rocking abruptly stops at her wording, his antennae snapping to attention like whips in a storm. His face is a mask of hurt, his voice a sharp coral when he speaks. "Don't you dare say that," Plankton snaps, his eye brimming with tears of sadness. "How could you?" Hanna's eyes widen, the room's calm shattered like a wave on the shore. "I didn't mean to..." Her words are drowned out by Plankton's sobs. "Why'd you say that?" he whispers, wiping his tears. "I didn't mean it like that," she says, her voice gaining volume. "I just don't understand..." Her words are a storm, cutting off his air like a sudden squall. Plankton's having an absence seizure, his body frozen like a statue in the middle of a tempest. His unblinking eye is unseeing, and Karen knows he's trying to process the shock. Hanna feels panicked at the sight of Plankton. "Plankton?" she whispers. Her voice is a pebble thrown into the pond of his consciousness, the ripples unnoticed. Karen's hand is a gentle anchor, a silent signal for Hanna to be calm. She moves closer, her screen a soft glow in the morning's light. "It's ok," she whispers, her voice a lullaby against the storm. "He's just having an 'overwhelming moment'." Hanna nods, her screen reflecting her newfound understanding. Karen's hand is a soft current on Plankton's back, guiding him through the tumult of his sensory overload. His body is still as a statue, his antennae a silent symphony of nerves. Hanna watches. "What's happening?" she whispers, fear lapping at her words like the tide at a rocky shore. Karen's voice is a gentle whisper, her screen a calm sea. "It's ok," she reassures, her hands a steady current on his back. "It's just an overwhelming moment." Plankton's body is a marble statue, his breathing a soft hush in the quiet room. His antennae hang limp, a silent testament to the storm within. Hanna's eyes are a sea of concern, her voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore of his unresponsiveness. "What do we do?" she whispers, her fear a currents in the air. Karen's screen never leaves his frozen form, her voice a soothing lullaby. "Just wait," she murmurs. "Let him come back to us." The room holds its breath, a bubble in the vast sea of their uncertainty. Plankton's body is a marble statue, his mind a tempest. Hanna's concern is a gentle current against the shoreline of her understanding. Karen's hand is a lighthouse beam, steady and strong on Plankton's back. She whispers to him, her voice the rhythm of the tides. "It's okay," she murmurs, her fingers tracing circles of comfort. "You're safe here." Her words are a lifeline thrown into the storm of his senses. His antennae twitch, a distant signal of life in the quiet morning. His eye blinks, the shutters of consciousness opening to the gentle light of her care. The room's calm is a soft embrace, their sanctuary in the storm of the world. "I'm here," Karen whispers, her voice a lighthouse beam in the fog of his fear. "You're safe." Her words are a warm current, washing over him, bringing him back to the surface. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye blinks, and he takes a shaky breath, the storm within him slowly subsiding. His body relaxes into her touch, his antennae drooping like tired seaweed. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice a quiet wave against the shore. "I didn't mean to..." Hanna's eyes are pools of regret, her smile a fading sunset. Karen nods, her gaze a gentle moonrise. "We'll take it slow," she whispers, her voice a soft surf against the shore of their friendship. The world outside the guest room is a distant hum, a gentle reminder of the waves that await them. Karen's hand is a comforting current on Plankton's back, her screen a beacon of understanding in the sea of confusion. "Let's go home," she whispers, her voice a soft ripple. Plankton nods, his body a ship at anchor, finding steadiness in her words. They move together, a silent ballet of care and trust, each step a gentle wave carrying them closer to the familiarity of their own space. "I'm sorry Plankton," Hanna says, her voice a soft ripple of regret. "I didn't know."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠈⠛⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡦⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢠⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣇⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠂⠍⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣄⡀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⢻⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡄⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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()-()✅✅εつ▄█▀█●😊0️⃣9️⃣5️⃣

()-()✅✅εつ▄█▀█●😊

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⢢⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠦⡊⡘⡀⢡⠀⠀⠀⠁⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡎⡠⡇⢡⠥⠀⢡⠀⠀⠡⠀⠱⡀⢂⠀⠬⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣀⠇⠃⠀⠘⣄⠀⢣⠀⠀⠡⠀⢰⡀⢧⢸⢢⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣟⡀⠶⠀⡧⢸⣆⠀⠳⠀⠠⣱⠈⢣⠀⠎⠆⢏⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣽⣢⢸⡀⡁⠣⣙⣳⣄⣳⣠⢠⠇⣼⠔⠚⣣⢸⡴⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⣿⡄⣧⣣⠛⠘⢄⠘⠛⠇⡇⠀⠃⠀⢜⢤⣸⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣼⣿⡘⣟⡀⢀⡴⠀⠂⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡁⣦⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣽⣿⣌⡻⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⢀⣾⡏⡴⢸⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⣿⣿⣿⣖⡣⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠉⢀⠞⣹⣅⡟⣀⠏⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢦⠒⠠⡀⠀⡄⢠⡡⣄⠛⢷⡿⢿⣭⡻⢯⣽⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣧⠃⢀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠙⣄⡁⠀⠑⠋⢢⡻⣹⢶⡆⠀⢿⣷⣽⢿⡾⣽⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣪⢆⡐⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⡔⠀⠹⣿⣦⠀⢠⢾⣹⢯⠋⢰⠀⠈⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⢧⢷⣶⢷⣾⠇⠀⣤⢻⣶⣭⣶⣶⣴⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⢀⣡⣤⣤⣤⡉⢷⠜⢋⣁⡀⠀⠑⡀⠀⠸⢹⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣟⡇⣷⠀⠀⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⠀⠀ ⢻⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣶⣿⢿⡿⣿⠐⡪⣄⡦⠁⠀⠉⠙⠺⠧⣯⣿⠇⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⡄⠀ ⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣛⣭⣶⣿⣾⣷⣷⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⠀ ⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠧⢀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠔⣶⢿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡆⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠁⠀⢠⣿⠏⡍⠷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣇⡰⣏⢧⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣯⠃⢸⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⠑⢯⢺⣿⣿⡇⠂⠀⣀⣀⠀⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡧⢏⠸⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢸⣸⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⢴⡎⣷⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⢿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⢡⣯⣾⡇⣿⡜⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢣⣫⣾⠇⣏⡿⣴⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣯⠳⣿⣿⡜⣸⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣼⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⡝⣿⢿⠱⡄⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣫⣝⢲⣛⢿⣷⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡷⡅⠘⡚⢆⠰⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣬⣷⣌⣏⣿⣿⣶⣬⣍⣽⡿⣛⣶⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢶⡀⠈⠣⣆⢹⡿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢫⣿⣿⠿⣿⣉⣷⣿⣿⡝⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠈⠸⠁⠙⣿⣿⣾⣯⣽⣟⣹⣿⣟⣟⢻⣯⡉⣩⣍⣡⣿⠾⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀

💖♡ ❥💖💗🥰💞

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 10 𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous ) The next morning, Plankton wakes up before Karen. He sits up in bed, his antennae twitching slightly as he takes in the room. His eye darts to Karen, still sleeping peacefully on her bed. He feels a wave of guilt and fear, his antennae drooping. He moves to get out of bed, his body still feeling the aftershocks of the previous night's tremors. He pads over to Chip's bedroom. The door is open a crack, letting in a sliver of sunlight. Plankton hesitates, his antennas twitching. He's not sure if he's ready to face his son yet, but he knows he has to try. He pushes the door open to find Chip sitting up on his bed. Chip's eyes are red-rimmed, his face puffy from crying. He looks at Plankton, his expression a mix of fear and hope. Plankton's heart squeezes at the sight. He moves into the room, his antennae waving awkwardly. "Hey," he says, his voice gruff with sleep. "Hi, Dad," Chip says, his voice small. Plankton sits down on the edge of the bed, his antennae quivering with nerves. He's not good with words, especially not when it comes to feelings. Does he address it, or just pretend yesterday didn't happen? He decides on the latter. "Whatcha doing?" Plankton asks, trying to keep his tone light. Chip looks up, his eyes wet. "Just thinking," he whispers. "About you." Plankton's antennae twitch, his stomach doing a flip. He's not used to this kind of emotional exchange, but he can feel the weight of his son's words. He clears his throat, trying to find a neutral response. "I'm fine," he says, his voice careful. But Chip's eyes tell a different story. "You had a seizure," he says, his voice shaking. "You scared me—" Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body tense. "I didn't ask for you to watch," he snaps, his voice sharp. Chip's eyes widen with hurt, and Plankton feels a sting of regret. He didn't mean to be cruel, but his fear of vulnerability turns his words into a shield. "Dad—" But Plankton cuts him off. "I've been dealing with this my whole life, and so I don't need you to tell me what to do." His antennas are stiff with anger, his body tight with tension. Chip's eyes fill with tears. "I just wanted to help," he says, his voice trembling. "I didn't know what to do." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye softening. He's aware of the pain he's causing, but his fear of being seen as weak overpowers his regret. "Chip, don't act like you know everything," Plankton says, his antennae twitching rapidly. "You can't just think you get me. I'd like to see you try to live with this!" His words are a sharp contrast to the gentle stroking of his antennae that Karen had shown him, his voice echoing with frustration. "I bet you wouldn't last a day," he adds, his body stiff with the weight of his own experience. Chip's eyes fill with tears, but he holds them back. He wants to be understood, to be a part of his father's world, but it feels like he's always a step behind. "I just want to help," he says again, his voice smaller now. "I don't know how, but—" Plankton rolls his eye. "Oh, you think you can just waltz in and solve all my problems?" he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You think you're some kind of autism expert now?" His antennae twitch nervously. He's trying to keep his emotions in check, but the fear of being a burden is a beast he's wrestled with for too long. Chip's jaw tightens, his shoulders rising. "I just want to know what you're going through," he says, his voice firm. "Is tha-" Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye flashing with anger. "You think I need a little boy to figure out my own brain?" he sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks for the offer, Einstein, but I've managed to survive this long without your 'help'." Chip's face falls, his eyes brimming with tears. "But—" "But nothing!" Plankton cuts in, his antennae quivering with agitation. "I don't need your pity, or your 'help'!" His voice is sharp, each word a blade that slices through the air. Chip's eyes shine with unshed tears, but his voice remains steady. "But you're my dad, and I want to understand." Plankton's antennae drop slightly, his sneer softening into a frown. He knows his son means well, but his own fear of being a disappointment makes his skin crawl. "Look, kid," Plankton says, his tone patronizing. "Some things you just can't understand, okay? So go back to playing with your toys and let me handle the big boy stuff." His antennae wave in a dismissive gesture. Chip's eyes narrow, his determination growing. He's not going to let his dad push him away again. "I'm not a kid, and I'm not stupid," Chip says, his voice firm. "I just want to know how to help when you're like this." Plankton's antennae droop slightly at the challenge, his face a mask of irritation. "Oh, I'm sorry," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize you had a PhD in Autism 101. What's the secret, Chip? Tell me, what's the magic word that makes it all go away?" His antennae wave in an exaggerated fashion, his eye rolling dramatically. Chip's cheeks burn with frustration and hurt. "Dad I just wa-" "What?" Plankton says, cutting him off. "You want a gold star for trying to play therapist?" His antennae twitch, a clear sign of his agitation. Chip's eyes fill with a mix of anger and hurt, but he swallows it down. "No, I just want to be there for yo--" "Oh, you think you can just ride in and save the day?" Plankton's tone drips with sarcasm. Chip's cheeks redden, but his resolve holds firm. "No, Dad, I just want to be there for you," he says, his voice steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye narrowing. "What's your expert advice then, Dr. Chip?" his voice heavy with sarcasm. "You're going to tell me to count, or breathe into a paper bag?" He can't help the bitterness that seeps into his words, his fear of being seen as weak by his own son. Chip's jaw clenches, his fists balling at his sides. He wants to scream, to shout that he's not trying to be a hero, just a son who cares. But he knows that would only make things worse, so he takes a deep breath, his voice even. "No, Dad," he says, his tone calm. "But maybe if you'd just tell me what helps you..." Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye flashing. "Maybe you should just mind your own business," he snaps, his voice cold. "Or you can go cry to your mommy again." The words hang in the air, sharp as knives. Chip's eyes widen, and his cheeks flush with anger. He's had enough of his dad's patronizing tone. "I'm not a baby," he says, his voice steady. "And I can handle this." "Oh, really?" he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly do you know about it?" His eye narrows, daring Chip to challenge him. Chip's eyes burn with a mix of anger and sadness. "I know you have seizures that make you scared and upset," he says, his voice measured. "I know Mom is also getting tired of you and your outbursts. But you hurt people, Dad. And it's not fair to us, or to Mom, who you don't know how much she hates being your punching bag!" Without another word, Plankton turns and leaves Chip's bed room. He slams the door behind him.

(‿ˠ‿) Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞

(‿ˠ‿) Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞💦

https://congressionalcemetery.org/records-search/recent-obituaries/

ᴾᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃᵈᵉ ᶠᵃʳᵉʷᵉˡˡ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧‧‧ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᴺᵒ ᵗʷᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵈˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʳᵉᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧

8/10

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠖⠉⠁⠒⠠⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⡠⠔⠐⠂⠒⠐⠂⠒⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⠃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠄⠤⠄⠄⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠤⠤⠤⡀⢂⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠋⠉⠁⠁⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⡔⠢⠠⠄⣀⠀⠐⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣢⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢄⠀⠀⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠃⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢆⡀⠁⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠒⡂⡃ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠗⠀⠀⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠀⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢆⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⡀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣄⡀⡀⣀⡀⠔⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⡄⠀⠀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⠄⢀⠀⡀⡀⡀⡀⡀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠤⠒⠂⠂⠒⠐⠒⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⡀⣀⠔⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠁⠉⠈⠈⠁⠁⠁⠈⠈⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠒⠤⠤⠄⠤⠀⠂⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🌍💔💡❗♡☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐

guy stop fucking saying this web needs to be a fucking app like what the fuck there lots of fucking beef like do you guys have brain cells of a dick shit like get a life if you care about fucking 8 year olds then dont make this a fucking app if you fucking do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a fucking bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

e󠁈‼️󠁥ℹ️ℹ‼♭󠀪ᵕ̈󠁣󠁇•󠁈‼️󠁥💻©🌐📥📧®✉🔤💬📰📝🚀📈🖨𓄲🅱🇪ツ◐◡◑🇱🅰️🇹⩜⃝✮™️∀🇴𖤐𓆩⚝𓆪☻ִ ࣪𖤐☢️🇭🔱⋆｡˚ßⓂ️🇲(•ᴗ•,, )𓎆☣🅱ℋ🇺↪©𓏶💌®️🦬𖦹🅾☆✉🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🅿🔤💣🗡🚪✅📞🇵💬✴🌵⛏🛤🏚🥄⩇⩇:⩇⩇𓂺𝕒𝕜 47ᶠЁͨᵏу;)🦺🛸☄🕋🤯☢✝🔐🖲🎮🕹️👾🏳‍🌈🌈🏳️‍🌈(Ю) 🍑📋❎❔❌🕳ᶠYͧoͨᵏu⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧☆.𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.☆❤🧡💛💚💙💜⋆♱✮♱⋆

whoever said "guy stop f-ing saying this web needs to be a f-ing app like what the f-k there lots of f-ing beef like do you guys have brain cells of a d-k sh-t like get a life if you care about f-ing 8 year olds then dont make this a f-ing app if you f-ing do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a f-ing bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･" please chill out like multiple people have said this is a website where little kids come on here to find cute combos so please be respectful ౨ৎ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

1️⃣2️⃣3️⃣4️⃣5️⃣6️⃣7️⃣8️⃣9️⃣🔟✅✔️✔️ ⚡✨

1. ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 2. 「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」 3. ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆✮ 4. ୭₊˚🎀 name ✿ ·˚ ₊ 5. 𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱ 6. 𐔌 . ⋮ name .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 7. ⋆｡˚꒰ঌ Name ໒꒱˚｡⋆ 8. ° „ ★ ᥒᥲmᥱ 🎀ྀིྀི 9. °❀name⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 10. ˚₊‧꒰ა name ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠀⣼⣯⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠫⣤⡀⠂⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢺⣷⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⢆⠀ ⢠⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣏⠀⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⢻⣿⡄ ⣾⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡟⠻⠿⣿⣿⡗⣿⣷⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟ ⠸⣿⣆⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠃⠻⢿⣾⣿⣦⡀⠀⣰⣿⠃ ⠀⢻⣿⣶⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⣶⣾⠏⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⡿⠁⢀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⡿⢿⣿⣶⣶⣿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

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╶⃝⃤/ᐠ - ˕ -マ/ᐠ≽•ヮ•≼マ(ᓀ‸ᓂ)EMINƎM<𝟑

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐮 😘❤️🥰😘😍

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐮 😘❤️🥰😘😍𓆩♡𓆪

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qಇ.𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆❷‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆༺♡༻☽♛𑁤ྀི𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽?❶❸𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴ɪ፝֟ᥫ᭡★✧˖°🌷📎⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚ひ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི≽^•⩊•^≼ꜝꜝ⋆˚✿˖°❛❛❞❻❼❾❿⩇⩇:⩇⩇🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❧

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♾️⚡🔋💍🏮|⏭️🦸⚡|⚞🦸⚡.

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titin': Methionylthreonylthreonylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalanylalanylglutaminylleuc yllysylglutamylarginyllysylglutamylglycylalanylphenylalanylvalylprolylphenylalanylvalylthreonylleucylgl ycylaspartylprolylglycylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylserylleucyllysylisoleucylaspartylthreonylleucylisoleu cylglutamylalanylglycylalanylaspartylalanylleucylglutamylleucylglycylisoleucylprolylphenylalanylseryla spartylprolylleucylalanylaspartylglycylprolylthreonylisoleucylglutaminylasparaginylalanylthreonylleucyl arginylalanylphenylalanylalanylalanylglycylvalylthreonylprolylalanylglutaminylcysteinylphenylalanylglu tamylmethionylleucylalanylleucylisoleucylarginylglutaminyllysylhistidylprolylthreonylisoleucylprolylisol eucylglycylleucylleucylmethionyltyrosylalanylasparaginylleucylvalylphenylalanylasparaginyllysylglycyli soleucylaspartylglutamylphenylalanyltyrosylalanylglutaminylcysteinylglutamyllysylvalylglycylvalylaspa rtylserylvalylleucylvalylalanylaspartylvalylprolylvalylglutaminylglutamylserylalanylprolylphenylalanylarg inylglutaminylalanylalanylleucylarginylhistidylasparaginylvalylalanylprolylisoleucylphenylalanylisoleuc ylcysteinylprolylprolylaspartylalanylaspartylaspartylaspartylleucylleucylarginylglutaminylisoleucylalany lseryltyrosylglycylarginylglycyltyrosylthreonyltyrosylleucylleucylserylarginylalanylglycylvalylthreonylgly cylalanylglutamylasparaginylarginylalanylalanylleucylprolylleucylasparaginylhistidylleucylvalylalanylly sylleucyllysylglutamyltyrosylasparaginylalanylalanylprolylprolylleucylglutaminylglycylphenylalanylglycy lisoleucylserylalanylprolylaspartylglutaminylvalyllysylalanylalanylisoleucylaspartylalanylglycylalanylala nylglycylalanylisoleucylserylglycylserylalanylisoleucylvalyllysylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylhist idylasparaginylisoleucylglutamylprolylglutamyllysylmethionylleucylalanylalanylleucyllysylvalylphenylal anylvalylglutaminylprolylmethionyllysylalanylalanylthreonylarginylacetylseryltyrosylserylisoleucylthreo nylserylprolylserylglutaminylphenylalanylvalylphenylalanylleucylserylserylvalyltryptophylalanylaspartyl prolylisoleucylglutamylleucylleucylasparaginylvalylcysteinylthreonylserylserylleucylglycylasparaginylgl utaminylphenylalanylglutaminylthreonylglutaminylglutaminylalanylarginylthreonylthreonylglutaminylval ylglutaminylglutaminylphenylalanylserylglutaminylvalyltryptophyllysylprolylphenylalanylprolylglutaminy lserylthreonylvalylarginylphenylalanylprolylglycylaspartylvalyltyrosyllysylvalyltyrosylarginyltyrosylaspar aginylalanylvalylleucylaspartylprolylleucylisoleucylthreonylalanylleucylleucylglycylthreonylphenylalany laspartylthreonylarginylasparaginylarginylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylvalylglutamylasparaginylglutaminy lglutaminylserylprolylthreonylthreonylalanylglutamylthreonylleucylaspartylalanylthreonylarginylarginylv alylaspartylaspartylalanylthreonylvalylalanylisoleucylarginylserylalanylasparaginylisoleucylasparaginyl leucylvalylasparaginylglutamylleucylvalylarginylglycylthreonylglycylleucyltyrosylasparaginylglutaminyl asparaginylthreonylphenylalanylglutamylserylmethionylserylglycylleucylvalyltryptophylthreonylserylala nylprolylalanyltitinmethionylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalanylalanylisoleucylcyst einylprolylprolylaspartylalanylaspartylaspartylaspartylleucylleucylarginylglutaminylisoleucylalanylserylt yrosylglycylarginylglycyltyrosylthreonyltyrosylleucylleucylserylarginylalanylglycylvalylthreonylglycylala nylglutamylasparaginylarginylalanylalanylleucylprolylleucylasparaginylhistidylleucylvalylalanyllysylleu cyllysylglutamyltyrosylasparaginylalanylalanylprolylprolylleucylglutaminylglycylphenylalanylglycylisole ucylserylalanylprolylaspartylglutaminylvalyllysylalanylalanylisoleucylaspartylalanylglycylalanylalanylgl ycylalanylisoleucylserylglycylserylalanylisoleucylvalyllysylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylhistidyla sparaginylisoleucylglutamylprolylglutamyllysylmethionylleucylalanylalanylleucyllysylvalylphenylalanylv alylglutaminylprolylmethionyllysylalanylalanylthreonylarginylacetylseryltyrosylserylisoleucylthreonylser ylprolylserylglutaminylphenylalanylvalylphenylalanylleucylserylserylvalyltryptophylalanylaspartylprolyli soleucylglutamylleucylleucylasparaginylvalylcysteinylthreonylserylserylleucylglycylasparaginylglutami nylphenylalanylglutaminylthreonylglutaminylglutaminylalanylarginylthreonylthreonylglutaminylvalylglut aminylglutaminylphenylalanylserylglutaminylvalyltryptophyllysylprolylphenylalanylprolylglutaminylseryl threonylvalylarginylphenylalanylprolylglycylaspartylvalyltyrosyllysylvalyltyrosylarginyltyrosylasparagin ylalanylvalylleucylaspartylprolylleucylisoleucylthreonylalanylleucylleucylglycylthreonylphenylalanylasp artylthreonylarginylasparaginylarginylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylvalylglutamylasparaginylglutaminylglut aminylserylprolylthreonylthreonylalanylglutamylthreonylleucylaspartylalanylthreonylarginylarginylvalyl aspartylaspartylalanylthreonylvalylalanylisoleucylarginylserylalanylasparaginylisoleucylasparaginylleu cylvalylasparaginylglutamylleucylvalylarginylglycylthreonylglycylleucyltyrosylasparaginylglutaminylasp araginylthreonylphenylalanylglutamylserylmethionylserylglycylleucylvalyltryptophylthreonylserylalanyl prolylalanyltitinmethionylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalanylalanylisoleucylcystein ylprolylprolylaspartylalanylaspartylaspartylaspartylleucylleucylarginylglutaminylisoleucylalanylseryltyr osylglycylarginylglycyltyrosylthreonyltyrosylleucylleucylserylarginylalanylglycylvalylthreonylglycylalany lglutamylasparaginylarginylalanylalanylleucylprolylleucylasparaginylhistidylleucylvalylalanyllysylleucyll ysylglutamyltyrosylasparaginylalanylalanylprolylprolylleucylglutaminylglycylphenylalanylglycylisoleucy lserylalanylprolylaspartylglutaminylvalyllysylalanylalanylisoleucylaspartylalanylglycylalanylalanylglycyl alanylisoleucylserylglycylserylalanylisoleucylvalyllysylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylhistidylaspa raginylisoleucylglutamylprolylglutamyllysylmethionylleucylalanylalanylleucyllysylvalylphenylalanylvalyl glutaminylprolylmethionyllysylalanylalanylthreonylarginylacetylseryltyrosylserylisoleucylthreonylserylp rolylserylglutaminylphenylalanylvalylphenylalanylleucylserylserylvalyltryptophylalanylaspartylprolylisol eucylglutamylleucylleucylasparaginylvalylcysteinylthreonylserylserylleucylglycylasparaginylglutaminyl phenylalanylglutaminylthreonylglutaminylglutaminylalanylarginylthreonylthreonylglutaminylvalylglutam inylglutaminylphenylalanylserylglutaminylvalyltryptophyllysylprolylphenylalanylprolylglutaminylserylthr eonylvalylarginylphenylalanylprolylglycylaspartylvalyltyrosyllysylvalyltyrosylarginyltyrosylasparaginylal anylvalylleucylaspartylprolylleucylisoleucylthreonylalanylleucylleucylglycylthreonylphenylalanylasparty lthreonylarginylasparaginylarginylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylvalylglutamylasparaginylglutaminylglutami nylserylprolylthreonylthreonylalanylglutamylthreonylleucylaspartylalanylthreonylarginylarginylvalylasp artylaspartylalanylthreonylvalylalanylisoleucylarginylserylalanylasparaginylisoleucylasparaginylleucylv alylasparaginylglutamylleucylvalylarginylglycylthreonylglycylleucyltyrosylasparaginylglutaminylaspara ginylthreonylphenylalanylglutamylserylmethionylserylglycylleucylvalyltryptophylthreonylserylalanylprol ylalanyltitinmethionylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalanylalanylisoleucylcysteinylpr olylprolylaspartylalanylaspartylaspartylaspartylleucylleucylarginylglutaminylisoleucylalanylseryltyrosyl glycylarginylglycyltyrosylthreonyltyrosylleucylleucylserylarginylalanylglycylvalylthreonylglycylalanylglut amylasparaginylarginylalanylalanylleucylprolylleucylasparaginylhistidylleucylvalylalanyllysylleucyllysyl glutamyltyrosylasparaginylalanylalanylprolylprolylleucylglutaminylglycylphenylalanylglycylisoleucylser ylalanylprolylaspartylglutaminylvalyllysylalanylalanylisoleucylaspartylalanylglycylalanylalanylglycylala nylisoleucylserylglycylserylalanylisoleucylvalyllysylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylhistidylasparag inylisoleucylglutamylprolylglutamyllysylmethionylleucylalanylalanylleucyllysylvalylphenylalanylvalylglut aminylprolylmethionyllysylalanylalanylthreonylarginylacetylseryltyrosylserylisoleucylthreonylserylprolyl serylglutaminylphenylalanylvalylphenylalanylleucylserylserylvalyltryptophylalanylaspartylprolylisoleuc ylglutamylleucylleucylasparaginylvalylcysteinylthreonylserylserylleucylglycylasparaginylglutaminylphe nylalanylglutaminylthreonylglutaminylglutaminylalanylarginylthreonylthreonylglutaminylvalylglutaminyl glutaminylphenylalanylserylglutaminylvalyltryptophyllysylprolylphenylalanylprolylglutaminylserylthreon ylvalylarginylphenylalanylprolylglycylaspartylvalyltyrosyllysylvalyltyrosylarginyltyrosylasparaginylalany lvalylleucylaspartylprolylleucylisoleucylthreonylalanylleucylleucylglycylthreonylphenylalanylaspartylthr eonylarginylasparaginylarginylisoleucylisoleucylglutamylvalylglutamylasparaginylglutaminylglutaminyl serylprolylthreonylthreonylalanylglutamylthreonylleucylaspartylalanylthreonylarginylarginylvalylaspart ylaspartylalanylthreonylvalylalanylisoleucylarginylserylalanylasparaginylisoleucylasparaginylleucylval ylasparaginylglutamylleucylvalylarginylglycylthreonylglycylleucyltyrosylasparaginylglutaminylasparagi nylthreonylphenylalanylglutamylserylmethionylserylglycylleucylvalyltryptophylthreonylserylalanylprolyl alanyltitinmethionylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalanylalanylmethionylthreonylthr eonylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucylphenylalanylalanylglutaminylleucyllysylglutamylarginy llysylglutamylglycylalanylphenylalanylvalylprolylphenylalanylvalylthreonylleucylglycylaspartylprolylglyc ylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylserylleucyllysylisoleucylaspartylthreonylleucylisoleucylglutamylalanylglyc ylalanylaspartylalanylleucylglutamylleucylglycylisoleucylprolylphenylalanylserylaspartylprolylleucylala nylaspartylglycylprolylthreonylisoleucylglutaminylasparaginylalanylthreonylleucylarginyla…

▶︎ •၊၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|||၊||။‌‌‌‌‌၊||lıl||၊||။‌‌‌‌‌၊||lılıııl|၊၊|၊၊|၊၊၊ıılılııılııl၊၊၊၊|၊|၊|၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌lııl၊၊၊၊|၊|၊|၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|||။‌‌‌‌‌၊• 46:33

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𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ~ 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 ◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷ 2:18━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━2:55

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𝐢'𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮🤍ㅤ ᵕ̈♡︎≽ܫ≼⋆✖🛹🗺♡༘⋆

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