Potterfic Emojis & Text

James Potter was a peculiar boy with a head of unruly black hair and eyes so bright they could outshine the stars. He had a knack for turning the most mundane moments into grand adventures. Whether it was climbing the tallest tree in the schoolyard or racing his friends across the Quidditch pitch, his imagination knew no bounds. But even in the whirlwind of his escapades, there was one person who remained steadfastly out of reach: Lily Evans. Lily was unlike anyone James had ever met. Her fiery red hair was a stark contrast to her soft, porcelain skin, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief. She was as fierce as a lioness and as graceful as a swan. Her laugh was like a melody that could charm the sternest of hearts, and it was a sound that James longed to hear directed at him. However, she had a tendency to dismiss his efforts with a roll of her eyes and a smirk that suggested she saw right through his bravado. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was a solitary figure. He lurked in the shadows of the school corridors, his eyes darting like a snake's as he took in every detail. His black hair was always impeccably combed and his robes pristine, as if he had just stepped out of a dark wardrobe. Severus was a prodigy in the art of potions, his talents often overlooked due to his cold demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something about him that drew James in. Perhaps it was the hint of vulnerability that occasionally flickered across his face, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the most obscure magical herbs. The two boys moved in different circles, but they had one thing in common: a deep admiration for Lily. They watched her from afar, each imagining what it would be like to be the one to make her laugh genuinely or to capture her heart. But as the school year rolled on, their paths began to intertwine in ways they could never have anticipated. It was as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, throwing them together in situations that neither could escape. And as they found themselves drawn closer to Lily, a silent rivalry began to brew between them, a dance of longing glances and unspoken words. James, ever the charmer, tried to win Lily over with his flashy Quidditch moves and cheeky grins. But Lily, ever the enigma, remained unimpressed. In his frustration, James took to teasing Severus, using his popularity to make the other boy's life bad. He'd steal his books, trip him in the halls, and whisper snide comments. One rainy afternoon, as the school was dismissed for the day, James caught Severus crossing the crowded courtyard. He saw his chance and sneered, "Hey, Snapes, where's your broomstick?" His friends snickered, and Severus tensed, his eyes narrowing. Without waiting for a response, James conjured a water spray that drenched Severus' already soggy robes. The laughter grew louder as Severus stumbled away, the weight of his sodden clothes dragging him down. In the Great Hall, James watched as Severus sat alone at the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over a book. He whispered to his friends, "Look at the lonely little snake," and they all burst into laughter again. Severus glanced up, his gaze sharp and piercing, but James felt no remorse. In fact, he felt a strange thrill, as if he was in control of something he never had been before. The power of ridicule was potent, and he wielded it with the same ease he did his wand. Days turned into weeks, and James' pranks grew bolder. He'd jinx Severus' shoelaces to trip him up in the halls, replace his potion ingredients with foul-smelling dungbombs, and even cast a spell to make his robes shrink in the middle of class. Each time, Severus took the humiliation in silence, his eyes burning with a quiet anger that James found both fascinating and thrilling. It was a twisted game, but one James was determined to win. But the more James bullied, the more he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. It wasn't just guilt; it was something else. He noticed the way Severus' hands trembled as he poured potions, the way his voice grew softer in the face of his tormentors. And every time Lily saw what was happening, she'd give James a look that made him feel smaller than a house elf. He knew he was losing her respect, but he couldn't stop. It was as if he was under a compulsion to push Severus away from her, to prove to himself that he was the one she truly desired. One day, James' antics reached a new low. He'd convinced a group of his friends to help him pull a prank so elaborate, it was sure to leave Severus humiliated beyond repair. They waited in the shadows of the deserted library, setting up a series of traps that would culminate in a grand finale of slime and laughter. But as Severus approached, his head buried in a dusty tome, James felt a strange tug at his heart. He watched as the other boy stepped onto the first trap, a levitating book that smacked him in the face. The laughter of his friends seemed to echo hollowly in the vast room. Severus stumbled back, dropping his book into the puddle of ink that had appeared under his feet. He looked up, his eyes meeting James' for a brief moment. In that instant, James saw something he hadn't noticed before: a deep sadness that mirrored his own. It was as if the layers of bravado and spite had been peeled away, revealing a soul just as lost and lonely as his. The laughter died in his throat, and for a moment, James felt a flicker of empathy. But the moment was fleeting. His friends were still snickering, and Lily was watching from across the room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. He knew he had to go through with it. The second trap was triggered, and a cascade of glittering confetti showered Severus, sticking to his damp robes like glittering scales. The Slytherin students looked on with a mix of amusement and contempt, and James felt his heart sink. He'd gone too far. As the last echo of laughter faded away, Severus slowly picked himself up, his eyes never leaving James. He wiped the ink from his face and took a step towards him, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is this what you call fun, Potter?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. James took a step back, his bravado momentarily forgotten. He hadn't anticipated this. "It was just a joke, Snapes," James said weakly, his smile slipping. Severus took another step closer, his eyes blazing. "Is it a joke to you, to watch someone else's pain?" James's heart hammered in his chest as he searched for the right words, but his usual quips eluded him. The realization of what he'd done washed over him like a cold shower. He'd gone too far, and he couldn't take it back.

https://perchance.org/ai-story-generator

⌁☍▕⃝⃤

"You can totally sit with us," said a voice that seemed to shimmer with the promise of friendship. Cady Heron looked up from her lunch tray, blinking in surprise. The speaker was a girl with a smile so wide it could swallow her whole, her blonde hair glossy and her teeth as bright as the fluorescent lights above. The words hung in the air, tantalizing and slightly intimidating. This was Regina George, the queen bee of High School. Cady had heard the whispers, the stories that painted her as both an angel and a demon. She was the center of the school's social universe, and everyone else was just a planet orbiting around her. Cady felt a swell of excitement. She had been a fish out of water since moving from Africa to the suburbs of Chicago. The simple act of being acknowledged by the most popular girl in school was a beacon of hope in a sea of unfamiliar faces and cliques. She took a tentative step forward, her heart racing. "Thanks," Cady managed to murmur, setting her tray down at the table. The cafeteria buzzed with whispers as the group of pretty, popular girls made room for her. They were known as the Plastics, a name that Cady had learned from her newfound friend Janis Ian. These girls were the epitome of high school royalty, and now she was about to become one of them.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement. Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice calm and measured. Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. Everyone's going to be there!" Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of fun." Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of passage or something." Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular rite." Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study." Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll need to establish some ground rules." Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?" Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want." Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable taste." Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's dress code that requires negotiation." Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative fashion choices" for the prom. As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress —a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose. The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. "Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child who had just discovered a secret treasure. Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath. "It's... " she began, searching for the right word. "Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing. Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."

In the quaint town lived a young woman named Charlotte Watsford. Her days were filled with the quiet rhythms of the local library, where she worked meticulously cataloging books that had seen more years than she had. Charlotte had an unassuming beauty, with her auburn hair pinned back. Her smile was gentle, and it had the power to make even the sternest of patrons feel at ease. Beneath the veneer of the town, there was a world of magic, ancient and unseen. It was here that Charlotte's life took an unexpected turn when she met Cleo Sertori, a young woman with secrets as deep as the ocean. Cleo was a mermaid, a guardian of the sea, blessed with the ability to manipulate water and heal the creatures that dwelled within it. The revelation was as shocking as it was fascinating. Yet, with this gift came great responsibility, and Charlotte found herself torn between the life she knew and the allure of the vast, unexplored waters that called to her soul. One moonlit night, while the town slept peacefully, Charlotte felt an eerie emptiness within her. The gentle whispers of the sea that had once resonated in her heart were now silent. Panic set in as she realized her mermaid tail, a symbol of her newfound identity, had withered away, leaving her with the legs of a human once more. The loss of her powers weighed heavily on her, a sudden and profound absence that seemed to dull the vibrant colors of the world around her. Her heart pounded as she approached the edge. The ocean below was a restless canvas of inky blues and greys, a stark contrast to the serene waters that had cradled her during her time as a mermaid. The salt air kissed her cheeks, carrying with it a bittersweet reminder of the freedom she had left behind. Lewis, her devoted best friend, stood beside her, his eyes filled concern and curiosity. With trembling hands, Charlotte reached to Cleo's necklace. It was a talisman of her friendship with the mermaid, a bond that transcended the boundaries of land and sea. "I have to return this to her," she murmured, the weight of her decision etched into every syllable. With a heavy heart, Charlotte unclasped the necklace.

∞ ϟ 9¾ ♔ ⚯͛ △⃒⃘ ➵ ♆

Plankton lay on the makeshift bed of crumpled newspaper, his body contorted into an uncomfortable knot. "I can't get to sleep, Eugene." Krabs sighed. "Why not?" "To hard," Plankton complained. Krabs looked over. "Maybe you need something to relax," he suggested. Plankton nodded, hopeful. "Like what?" Krabs considered for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "How about a bed time story?" "A what?" Plankton's voice was filled with skepticism. "You know, something to lull you to sleep." Plankton's expression softened. "Alright, Krabs, hit me with your best shot." Eugene cleared his throat and began his tale. "Once upon a time, in the vast expanse of the sea, there was a tiny plankton named Planky..." Plankton's eye widened for a moment, but the gentle rhythm of Krabs' voice soon began to work its magic. The crab's words painted a picture of a serene under water world, where the currents were soft whispers and the bioluminescent creatures danced a silent ballet. Plankton's eye grew heavier with each sentence, his body slowly unfurling from its tense state. "Planky," Eugene continued, "was a curious little fellow who loved nothing more than to drift through the sea, discovering its many secrets." His voice took on a soothing quality, each word carefully measured to match the steady rise and fall of the ocean outside their abode. "One night," Krabs went on, "as the moon cast its silver glow through the water, Planky stumbled upon a hidden lagoon. It was a place where the jelly fish swam in lazy circles, their soft bodies pulsing to an ancient lullaby that only the deep-sea creatures knew." Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, the image of the tranquil lagoon filling his mind. "In the center of this secret place," Krabs whispered, "was a giant clam, its shell open just enough to reveal a soft, inviting cushion of algae. Planky couldn't resist the urge to rest his tiny body upon it." Plankton's breathing grew deeper. He could almost feel the gentle sway of the clam's soft inner lining beneath him, the coolness of the water surrounding him, and the hypnotic pull of the moon's glow. Krabs noticed the change in his friend's demeanor and continued the story with renewed enthusiasm. "As Planky lay on the clam's cushion, the jellyfish grew closer, their ethereal lights creating a dazzling display of color that danced in time with the whispers of the water. They sang to him, their melodies echoing through the quiet night." The room grew quieter, save for the sound of the waves outside and Krabs' steady voice. Plankton's eye closed fully, his breathing syncing with the rhythm of the story. The crab went on, "Their song was one of peace and tranquility, of a world where worries were as fleeting as the bubbles that floated to the surface. Planky felt his troubles melt away, replaced by the warm embrace of the sea." Then, amidst the serene imagery, the first faint sound of a snore escaped Plankton. It was a sound so small and delicate that it could have easily been mistaken. Krabs smirked to himself. It's working. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "As the jellyfish serenaded him, Planky felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, until they could no longer stay open. The lagoon's secrets grew dimmer, the colors of the jellyfish fading into a soft, comforting darkness." The snores grew progressively, more regular. Krabs took a moment to appreciate his own cleverness before continuing the tale. "The sea creatures of the night, noticing Planky's peaceful slumber, decided to join him. They formed a living blanket of fish and algae, wrapping him in their gentle embrace, ensuring his sleep would be uninterrupted." Plankton's body grew slack, the tension in his muscles seeping away as he descended deeper into the realm of sleep. His snores grew more rhythmic. The light from the moon had been absorbed into his dreams, guiding him through a world of peace and contentment. Krabs watched his friend's sleeping form, noticing the way the shadows played across his tiny frame, Plankton's antennae twitching ever so slightly with every snore, mouth slightly open as he inhaled and then to let out the soft, rumbling sounds. The sight was peculiar, yet endearing in its own peculiar way. He had never seen Plankton so relaxed, so free. The crab felt a strange sense of accomplishment and allowed himself a brief moment of pride before remembering his own exhaustion. "Now, Sheldon," Eugene murmured, "Let your mind rest, and tomorrow we'll tackle the world anew."

🧹❾¾⚯͛ ❾¾ ▕⃝⃤⚯͛▕⃝⃤⚡🧹⚯⌁☍⚯ϟ❾¾⌁☍⚕⚡🧹⚯⚯͛ ❾¾ ▕⃝⃤⏃ ⚯͛ ➒¾𓆗❾¾⌁☍⚯͛▕⃝⃤𐂂𓅓𓆙lEViOsA🪄๋࣭ ⭑𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑⚯⏃ ͛ ➒3/4⚯⚡︎.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ9¾🪄ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ☾𖤓˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗⌁☍9¾❾¾⚯͛▕⃝⃤❾¾⚯͛▕⃝⃤⚝✉ᶠYͧoͨᵏu𓀐𓂸𓇢𓆸𓆩♡𓆪☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★⚯🗲𓆙🐍 ▕⃝⃤‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⌁☍🤍.𖥔 ݁ ˖‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⚯⚡9¾ ⚯ 🗲▕⃝⃤🦅𐂂🦉🕸≽ܫ≼༘⋆△⃒⃘༘⋆📜༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.🪄✨🦁 🐍 🦅 🦡𔘓🦁 🐍 🦅 🦡

⟡ pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠟⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⠞⣉⡀⠀⠀⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣇⢶⢹⡿⠋⠻⣿⣿⣦⠞⠛⣽⣷⡿⠟⢿⣦⢀⣴⡿⠿⣶⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⡄⠀⠙⣿⣿⣾⣸⠃⠀⠀⣨⣿⣿⠀⠸⠗⠉⢀⣠⣼⡿⣾⠃⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠛⢶⣄⢸⣿⢧⣿⠃⠀⠀⣉⣿⣿⠀⠀⣠⣾⠿⠛⠁⢸⣿⠀⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡜⠁⠀⣰⣤⣍⣙⣿⣀⣸⣿⣷⣄⣴⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠋⠀⠀⣹⣷⡀⢰⣿⣷⡄⢰⣿⣿⣷⢟⣿⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣘⣿⣎⣛⣿⠇⢈⡁⢙⡃⢘⣽⣤⣽⣿⣿⣼⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⢉⡩⠭⡉⢉⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⡇⢸⣟⣉⠝⠻⣿⣿⠙⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⡃⢀⣾⣿⡥⠜⢸⣿⠃⣸⣿⣟⣁⡘⣿⣿⠃⠀⠘⠁⠀⠈⢿⣦⡀⠀ ⢀⣾⠟⠘⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⠉⠉⢸⣿⣿⠉⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⣆⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣦ ⠙⢷⣄⣀⣀⣼⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣀⡀⣘⣿⡟⠁ ⠀⠀⠙⢿⡁⣀⡀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⣿⣿⡆⢀⣼⡄⣀⣼⢿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠟⠻⣦⣀⣀⣿⢿⣏⢷⠀⣿⣿⣷⣾⡿⢱⣏⣼⠟⠉⠻⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⢴⣾⣋⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣻⣴⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣤⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

❾¾

⚯ ͛

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ws29CN4SCaE

He felt his eyelid grow heavy to anesthesia. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, you're gonna start feeling sleepy," the doctor's voice echoed. The world around him grew fuzzy, sounds becoming muffled and indistinct. His head lolled, body slack. The nurse's grew blurry, darkness before not even nothingness. Karen, his wife, sat by him. Finally, the doctor stepped back, turned and gave her a thumbs up. The nurse began to clean Plankton's face, wiping away the excess saliva and bleeding with gentle touch. Karen follows as they wheel him out. His bed was pushed into a small cubicle, his breathing slow and even. In stumbled SpongeBob. Karen smiles. "The surgery went well, he's just sleeping it off," she assured. SpongeBob's taking in the beeping monitors. "What's all this for?" he asks, curiosity piqued. "To make sure he's ok while he's asleep," Karen explained. "The doctor said he'd be out for a little while." The yellow sponge nodded, his gaze lingering on the small wads of gauze peeking out from the sides of Plankton's mouth. "What's that?" he asks. "It's to help absorb.." Sponge Bob took in the sight of Plankton, who had begun to drool slightly onto the pillow beneath his head. The saliva pooled. "Oh no, Plankton. You're drooling!" Sponge Bob watched as drool continued to form like a thin string connecting Plankton's mouth to the pillow. Karen chuckled softly. "It's normal, Sponge Bob. He won't feel it as he's asleep." SpongeBob nodded, but curiosity remained. "Can I... I mean, should I... wipe it up?" he asks. Karen laughs. "It's ok, they'd take care of it. Just let him rest." "I promise to be super gentle" Karen nodded, a small smile playing. "Alright. Just be careful." His movements were deliberate, eyes never leaving Plankton's mouth as he approached. The drool strand grew longer, a tiny bridge between his friend and the pillow. The droplet fell away, landing on the pillow with a soft splat. Plankton stirred slightly but didn't wake. "It's fine. He's going to be a bit out of it when he wakes up anyway. Why don't you try talking to him while we wait for him to wake? It might help him feel more at ease." "Hey it's Sponge Bob. You're ok, just having a little nap. No Krabby Patties to steal right now," he added with a chuckle. Plankton's eye began to flutter, a sure sign that he was slowly coming back to consciousness. His body twitched, the anesthesia wearing off. "Looks like he's waking up," she said. Karen leaned closer, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his. "Honey, it's me," she whispered. "You're ok." Plankton's unfocused and glazed. "Where... what... happened?" he mumbled. "You had wisdom teeth removed. You're in recovery," she said, voice soothing. Plankton blinked. "Wis...wis...what?" "You had a little...uh...dental appointment," SpongeBob said. "Teeth...gone?" he mumbled, still groggy. "You're fine," she assured. "I feel... funny," he giggled, voice silly. "Just relax, Plankton," Karen said. "But...but I wanna...see!" Plankton protested, arms flailing weakly. "Plankton, you need rest." "But I'm not tired!" he exclaimed, as his head lolled back onto the pillow. "I... I want to dance," he said, voice still slurred, which only resulted in more drool escaping. "First, you gotta get better," she said, voice earnest. Plankton's giggles grew, his eye half-closed. "But I'm already the best... at... at... at... " he mumbled, trailing off. "It's anesthesia," the nurse chimed in. "It can make people say some funny things. You're just feeling a bit loopy, Plankton. You'll be back to your usual self soon." Plankton's giggles grew softer, his eye struggling to stay open. "But... but... I'm not tired," he protested weakly, his voice a mere whisper. His eyelid began to droop once more. Sponge Bob leaned in. "You just had surgery, Plankton. You need to rest," he said firmly. Plankton's giggles turned into snores, his tiny body giving in despite his protests. "He's going to be out for a while," the nurse said. "Anesthesia can take time to wear off completely." Karen nodded, watching his chest rise and fall with each snore. Sponge Bob reached out and lightly patted Plankton's arm. Plankton's snores grew quieter and stirred, eye cracking. "Wha... SpongeBob?" he mumbled, groggy. Sponge Bob's heart swelled at the sight of his confused expression. "Just keeping you company as you wake." Plankton's eye rolled to the side. "Wha... what are you doing?" he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to lift his hand to his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the bed with a limp thud. "Drool? I...I can't stop," he mumbled, his drool pooling around the fresh gauze. Sponge Bob chuckles. "It's ok, Plankton," he said. Plankton's eye narrows. "Not funny," he mumbled, words barely intelligible. Yet as he said it, another string of drool began to form, stretching from his mouth to the pillow. Sponge Bob's chuckles grew. "I know, I know. It's just... you're so... so... " he couldn't find words, laughter took over. Plankton's unable to control his drool. "I'm so...so...so..." he tried to form a coherent thought. "So what, Plankton?" "I'm...I'm not...not...drooling," he managed to say, words barely coherent. But even as he spoke, a new droplet formed at the corner of his mouth. "You sure?" "St...stop," Plankton managed to mumble, his mouth open and drooling again. "It's...it's...embarrassing." Sponge Bob smiled. "I know, you're ok. The surgery went well," he said. "Alright, we can get him ready to go home now," says nurse. They carefully lift Plankton from the bed, body still limp from the anesthesia. "You ok?" "Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, head lolling to one side. He struggled to keep his eye open, but the medication was too strong. Plankton's eye drooped shut once more, his snores echoing through the hall. "Whoa, there he goes again…" "He's still pretty out of it," she said. Plankton's head lolled to the side, his mouth hanging open. "Whoa, Plankton, wake up," Sponge Bob said, gently shaking his shoulder. "Mmph," Plankton mumbled, his eye cracking open. "Where...are we?" "Almost to the car," Karen said. "Just a bit longer." But Plankton's eyelid grew heavier. The nurse disappeared through the doors, leaving Karen and Sponge Bob to maneuver Plankton into a more upright position. His head kept flopping to one side, his snores grew louder. "Come on, Plankton, stay with us," Karen urged. Sponge Bob leaned close. "You ok?" he asked, patting Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's head lolled to the side, eye half- open. "Mmph...tired," he mumbled. Karen managed to get him in, his body collapsing into the seat like a ragdoll. She buckled him in. "You're gonna be ok," she whispered. Sponge Bob climbed into the backseat. Karen started the engine. "Let's get him home." The car ride was a blur of Plankton's snores and occasional mumble. Sponge Bob sat in the back, his hand on Plankton's shoulder, keeping his friend from lolling too far to the side. Each time Plankton nodded off, his mouth would droop, and gauze would slip out. "Plankton, gotta keep it in." Plankton mumbled something incoherent, his mouth still open and drooling. Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his hand ready to catch the gauze if it fell out again. Plankton's eye fluttered open, looking around the car. "Just stay with us, ok?" Sponge Bob nodded, hand on Plankton's shoulder. He watched as Plankton's eye drooped, the gauze slipping again. He leaned over and gently pushed it back. "We're almost there." Karen chuckled from the driver's seat. Sponge Bob’s grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening slightly. "Want to play a game?" "Mmph...game?" he mumbled. "I spy with my little eye, something..." But Plankton's head had already dropped back, snores echoing. Karen glanced in the mirror. "I think he's out for the count," she said. Sponge Bob was still vigilant, making sure Plankton didn't tumble out of the car. With Karen's help, they managed to get him to the couch. Sponge Bob helped prop Plankton up, careful not to jostle him too much. Everything’s just fine.

Her strongest memory was of the smell of rain on hot pavement. It was a scent that didn't just fill her nose but seemed to soak into her skin, bringing with it a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a very long time. Bluey Heeler was a creature of the outdoors, a dog with a heart that pounded in sync with the vast wilderness she called home. Her fur, a blend of blue and gray, blended seamlessly with the shadows of the eucalyptus trees that stretched tall beside her family's modest house. Rainy days meant puddles to splash in and the rich scent of earth coming alive around her. But it had been a long time since she'd felt the cool kiss of rainwater on her snout. Now, Bluey was in the city, surrounded by the concrete jungle, a stark contrast to the boundless plains she'd once known. The smells here were overwhelming, a mishmash of exhaust fumes, fast food, and a million different creatures packed into a space so tight it made her feel claustrophobic. The noises were constant, a never-ending din that made her flinch and whine in the quiet moments of the night. Yet, amidst the chaos, she had found a purpose, a reason to push through the fear and confusion. Her new friend, named Mia, had taken her in, offering her a chance at a new life filled with love and companionship. Mia was as vibrant as the flowers she tended in the small patch of earth outside their apartment. Despite the stark difference in their sizes, they shared a bond that transcended the confines of the urban sprawl. Each day, Mia would take her on adventures through the parks, allowing her to feel the grass under her paws and chase the occasional squirrel up a tree. It wasn't the same as the open ranges she'd left behind, but it was a taste of freedom she hadn't known in weeks. One evening, as the two sat on the windowsill watching the rain dance in the streetlights, a distant howl echoed through the concrete valleys. It was faint, almost lost in the symphony of city sounds, but to Bluey, it was as clear as if it had come from right beside her. Her ears perked up, and she let out a soft whine, longing for the days when she could have joined the chorus. Mia looked at her, concern etched on her features. "What is it, girl?" she asked, her tail thumping against the sill as she tried to convey the ache in her soul. The howl grew stronger, more insistent, and suddenly, Bluey realized it wasn't just any howl. It was her sister, Bingo. The same melody that had serenaded their nights back home, now calling to her from across the miles. Bingo's howl was a beacon, a thread of their shared past that had somehow found its way to her here in the city. Mia's eyes widened as she saw the recognition in Bluey's eyes. "Is that...?" she began, but the question was unnecessary. Bingo came in. Without a second thought, Bluey leaped. She didn't care about the water soaking her fur or the cold seeping into her bones. All that mattered was finding Bingo. The city streets were a labyrinth of wet reflections, the neon lights playing tricks on her eyes as she sprinted through the rain. The scent grew stronger with every bound, her nose leading her through alleys and across busy roads, dodging puddles that mirrored the chaos above. Mia, soaked and panting, struggled to keep up. Then, a shadow moving swiftly in the rain. Bluey's heart leaped. That was Bingo! She picked up the pace, her paws barely touching the ground. The howl grew closer, turning into a series of excited barks as the two sisters rounded a corner and locked eyes. Bingo's tail wagged a mile a minute, and she barrels towards Bluey, knocking her over in a joyous reunion of wet dog and muddy paws. They rolled together, the sound of their laughter piercing the rain-soaked silence. Mia skidded to a stop, panting and smiling through the downpour. She watched as the two sisters played, their tails creating a whirlwind of joy in the dim streetlight. The sight was enough to warm her to the core, making the dampness of her fur coat feel like a small price to pay for this moment. "Bingo," she called out, her voice a mix of happiness and relief. "You found her, Bluey!"

"Hey, how's Plankton doing?" asked Patrick. SpongeBob looks at Plankton, chest rising and falling with snores. "He's sleeping," he said. "But it's the middle of the day!" "Well, he just had his wisdom teeth out," he explained in a hushed tone. "He's pretty out of it. But be quiet, ok?" He turned his attention back to Plankton, who had somehow managed to dislodge the gauze again. With a sigh, SpongeBob carefully repositioned it. "You're going to have to keep that in, Plankton," he said, his voice a gentle scold. But Plankton’s head lolled to the side, his snores growing louder with each breath, drool seeping through the gauze. "Look at him, SpongeBob," Patrick whispers. "He's snoring." "Patrick, shh. He's still recovering." "Can I...can I poke him?" "No, Patrick," he said, his voice a low whisper. Patrick's finger was already outstretched, hovering over Plankton. "Just a little? I just wanna see if he'll snore louder," he whispered. SpongeBob's grip on Patrick's hand tightened. "Patrick, remember what I said about being quiet," he reminded him. Plankton stirred in his sleep, snores turning to mumbles. Patrick was undeterred. He leaned even closer to Plankton, his hand hovering above the sleeping creature's forehead. "You're okay, buddy," he whispered, his voice a mix of concern and glee. "Just rest up, and when you wake up, we'll have the best party ever!" Plankton's snores remained steady. He reached out and gently poked Plankton's forehead. "Wake up, little buddy," he cooed, his voice a soft whisper. Plankton's eye snaps open, his tiny body jolting upright with a snort. The gauze fell from his mouth, and he looked around the room with a glazed expression, his eye finally settling on Patrick's massive grin. "Wha... what's going on?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Plankton's eye narrowed, his head lolling slightly to the side. "What happened?" he slurred. SpongeBob took a tentative step closer to the couch, his heart racing. "You had your wisdom teeth out," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "You're at my place, just resting." Plankton blinked, his eye focusing on SpongeBob with a look of confusion. "Wisdom teeth?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. SpongeBob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Yes, Plankton, remember? You're all fixed up now," he said, his voice soothing. But Patrick couldn't resist the urge to add his own twist. "And, you snore!" he whispered, his voice filled with mirth. Plankton's confusion grew. "I... I snore?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and mortification. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he assured, SpongeBob eyes Patrick with a warning look. "What's it feel like?" he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and concern. Plankton looked at Patrick with bewilderment. "It feels...weird," he mumbled, his words slurred. "And my mouth is...numb." Drool had formed at the corner of Plankton's mouth. Patrick couldn't resist pointing it out. "Look, Sponge Bob, he's drooling!" Sponge Bob shot him a look that was a mix of annoyance and amusement before turning back to Plankton. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispered, his voice gentle. "It's normal." Plankton's eye grew distant, his mind still clouded by the anesthesia. "Everything's...so...blurry," he murmured, his words slurring together. Sponge Bob and Patrick exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. "It's the medicine," Sponge Bob explained, his voice calm and reassuring. "It'll wear off soon." But Patrick's curiosity was unquenchable. He leaned closer to Plankton. "Hey, Plankton," he whispered. "I... I don't know," he mumbled, his voice groggy. "Everything's all... wibbly wobbly." "Wibbly wobbly?" He looked over at Plankton, whose eye was still open, staring at the ceiling with a look of wonder. "Everything's...so...pretty,". "It's just the living room, Plankton. You're still a bit out of it." Patrick's eyes grew wide with fascination. "Hey, Sponge Bob," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Look at his mouth!" Sponge Bob turned his gaze to Plankton, drooling more than ever. "Patrick, shh," he scolded, his voice a gentle whisper. "Let him rest." Plankton's snores grew quieter for a moment before picking up again, a trail of drool connecting his mouth to the pillow. "Is it...normal?" "It's just his body's way of dealing with the surgery, he can’t help it" he murmured. "It'll go away eventually, all part of the process. It's the stuff that makes you sleep through the surgery, like a really deep sleep so he won’t feel or remember.” "But why does it keep coming out?" "It's because his mouth is numb from the dental surgery, Patrick, it's his mouth muscles still asleep." "Can I...I mean, is it okay to, like, nudge it?" He made contact with the drool, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider. "Patrick," he hissed, his voice a mix of warning and amusement. "You're pushing your luck." His eyes remained fixed on Plankton, watching the drool pool grow and shrink with each snore. He remained blissfully asleep, oblivious to the conversation happening around him "What if I just...dab it with a tissue?" "I guess it’ll help keep him comfortable." He gently touched the tissue to the side of Plankton's mouth, catching the drool before it could fall onto the pillow. The moment the tissue made contact with the saliva Plankton, who was now snoring more heavily, his mouth hanging open even wider, drool cascading onto the pillow, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider., It was a light touch, just enough to make the saliva wobble like a gelatinous blob. It was a tiny movement, but it was enough to make Plankton's snores hitch. "The anesthesia is wearing off, and his mouth is just... reacting. The numbness is normal." With each dab of the tissue, Plankton's snores grew softer, quieted, his mouth twitching slightly, his breathing even. Then Plankton's face twitched slightly, his expression shifting from remaining asleep with breathing deep and steady, to one of slight discomfort as the lingering anesthesia began to wear off. Snores had turned into soft whimpers of discomfort. "It’s normal he's starting to feel the pain." He reached for the medicine. “Just stay still, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispered. Sponge Bob nodded, his smile gentle. "It's just the start," he murmured, his voice a mix of reassurance and experience. "It'll take a bit for the pain to go away." Plankton's mouth was still slack, the drool now a steady stream that pooled on the pillow. Together, they managed to get Plankton into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the couch. "Hey you need to wake up just a little bit to take your medicine." Plankton's head lolls back against the pillows. "Patrick, hold his shoulders," Sponge Bob whispered urgently. "We don't want him to fall over." Plankton's gaze searched the room, his thoughts clearly muddled. "There you go," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with relief. He carefully laid Plankton back down on the pillows, wiping the last of the drool from him. Plankton's eye remained open, blinking slowly as the world swam back into focus. "You did it," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with pride as he swallowed medicine. "Now, just rest. The pain will start to go away soon." Plankton's eye drifted closed again, his snores returning, though softer than before. Sponge Bob gently let Plankton's head back onto the pillow. "He's okay now," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice a mix of relief and pride. "Good job, helping Patrick." Patrick's eyes remained wide with wonder, his mind still racing with the excitement of the past few moments. "What happens next?" he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile was a mix of amusement and reassurance. "Now the medicine will kick in."

"Hi, my boss Mr. Krabs told me I need to work on my people skills and to volunteer.." SpongeBob says in the surgery room before recognizing Plankton and Karen. Plankton lay on the operating table, a small tube delivering medicine that kept him asleep. Karen sat by him. "Plankton‽" "Plankton's had his wisdom teeth removed." She glanced at the sleeping Plankton with affection. Sponge Bob leaned closer. He poked Plankton gently. "Hey, Plankton; wake up, buddy!" No response. Plankton's breathing remained slow and even, the rhythm unchanged by Sponge Bob's nudges. Karen's robotic hand shot up to stop Sponge Bob's poking. "He's not going to wake up anytime soon, Sponge Bob. The anesthesia will wear off in a couple of hours," she explained in her usual monotone. Sponge Bob's bubbly demeanor deflated a bit. He had never seen Plankton so... peaceful. Usually the tiny villain was full of mischief and plotting his next Krabby Patty heist. But the sight of his arch-nemesis helpless and snoring? "Karen, do you think a little light chat would help him wake up?" "Sponge Bob, the purpose of anesthesia is to keep him unconscious during surgery and ensure a painless recovery. Your efforts are futile." Undeterred, Sponge Bob leaned in closer. "Come on, Plankton. Time to wakey-wakey!" He waved his hands in front of Plankton's face, creating a gentle breeze that tickled his antennae. Still, Plankton remained steadfast in his slumber, oblivious to the world around him. Karen sighed again, the closest she ever got to expressing exasperation. "As I said, Sponge Bob, he's under the effects of anesthesia. There's nothing you can do to wake him up." She went back to reading her magazine, the glow from her screen casting a soft blue light on her metallic features. Sponge Bob studied Plankton's sleeping features. His mouth was open just enough to reveal his top row of teeth, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a giggle when a small bubble of drool formed at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he mused aloud, "I never realized Plankton had such a... cute snoring sound." The statement hung in the air, and even the normally stoic Karen couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Cute is hardly the word I'd use," she murmured, but the warmth in her voice belied the affection she had for her partner. Sponge Bob's curiosity grew as he continued to gaze at the unconscious Plankton. He'd seen him in various states before—angry, plotting and occasionally defeated—but never so vulnerable. The sight was strange yet fascinating. He reached out and carefully wiped away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side, but he remained asleep. SpongeBob put his head back up on a pillow. Plankton's snores grew quieter as his head settled into the cushioned embrace. "Don't worry, Plankton," he whispered, patting the villain's arm gently. "I'll watch over you." Sponge Bob's curiosity grew stronger as he watched the drool form at the side of Plankton's mouth. He leaned in closer, studying the phenomenon. He'd never noticed Plankton drool before. "It's like a tiny river," he said to himself. What would happen if he tried to touch it? He tapped it lightly. It wobbled, bulging slightly before collapsing back into its original state. He poked the drool again. This time, it grew slightly larger before popping, leaving a tiny, wet splatter on the pillow. Plankton's snores grew louder for a moment, but didn't stir. Sponge Bob couldn't resist a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he's enjoying his nap," he whispered to Karen who remained engrossed in her magazine. The drool was fascinating—like a living organism, pulsating with every one of Plankton's breaths. He poked it again, gently this time. The drool grew larger, stretching out like a bubble of gum. It was almost mesmerizing. "I wonder if I can make it pop," he thought, eyes gleaming with child-like excitement. Slowly, Sponge Bob poked the drool bubble once more. It grew to the size of a marble before it burst with a tiny splat, splattering on to the pillow. Plankton's snoring remained undisturbed. Sponge Bob could see the light from the ceiling reflecting off the droplet's surface. He waited, the anticipation building, eyes fixed on the wobbling mass. At the last second, he poked it. The bubble popped with a sound that echoed through the quiet room. Plankton's snore caught in his throat for a split second, then resumed with renewed vigor. The splatter was more substantial this time, leaving a wet spot on the pillow. The sudden noise made Karen look up from her magazine. "What on earth are you doing, Sponge Bob?" she asked, voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Just... science," Sponge Bob said, his grin unabated. "I'm studying Plankton's snoring pattern... and drool." Karen rolled her digital eyes. "Fine. Just don't wake him. And for the love of Krabby Patties, please don't make a mess." She returned her focus to her magazine, seemingly unfazed by the sight of her arch-enemy playing with drool. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his eyes lighting up with newfound purpose. He decided to be more strategic in his scientific endeavor. He would need precision and timing. The drool bubble grew again, this time larger and more robust. Sponge Bob waited, his heart beating faster with every pulse of Plankton's snore. He took a deep breath, held it, and at the peak of the snore's crescendo, poked the bubble with a controlled flick. It exploded with a sound like a miniature water balloon, splattering across Plankton's cheek. The pillow was now a Jackson Pollock canvas of drool. Plankton's snoring hitched but he didn't wake. "Oops," Sponge Bob whispered, giggling quietly. He reached for a near by tissue to clean up the mess, his eyes glancing nervously at Karen. She peeked over her magazine, the corners of her robotic mouth curving upward slightly. "If you're going to play, at least be tidy," she said, voice a blend of reprimand and amusement. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course, Karen," he whispered back, dabbing at Plankton's cheek with the tissue. The drool was sticky and clung to the fabric but Sponge Bob managed to clean when Plankton's snoring hitched. This time, Plankton's eyes opened a crack, his single eyelid revealing a sliver of his iris before dropping shut again. "What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily. Sponge Bob froze, tissue in mid-air. "Oh nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just admiring your snoring." Plankton's eyelid quivered but remained shut. "Mmph." His mouth moved around the word. "Don't worry, buddy," Sponge Bob said softly patting Plankton's arm. "You're just resting. Nothing to worry about." The half-awake Plankton mumbled something unintelligible, and Sponge Bob took it as a sign to back off. He retreated to his chair, watching as Karen put down her magazine and began to fuss over Plankton, checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable. For once, he wasn't at odds with Plankton.

In the quiet town of Ponyville, there lived a young earth pony named Applejack. Her coarse, burnt- orange coat was always dotted with freckles of dirt from a hard day's work on her family's farm, Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack was known for her honesty and her strong work ethic, which were as solid as the oak trees that lined the property. Her mane and tail, a fiery shade of red, matched the color of the apples she grew with such care. One sweltering afternoon, Applejack took a break from her chores, wiping the sweat from her brow with a bandana that smelled faintly of apple blossoms. She looked out over the fields, the sun blazing down like a second sun, and sighed. The harvest was coming soon, and she had so much to do. Her thoughts drifted to her friends, Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, and the others, and she wondered how they were spending their day. Her contemplation was interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. She shielded her eyes from the glare and saw a figure approaching. As it grew closer, she recognized the purple and white unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, her friend and the town's resident scholar. Twilight looked flustered, her eyes wide with excitement. "Applejack!" Twilight called out, her voice strained from the run. "You won't believe what I've found in the library archives!" Applejack leaned against the fence post, her curiosity piqued. "What is it, Twilight?" Twilight's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I've discovered something absolutely fascinating, Applejack. It's about an ancient artifact called the Element of Honesty!" Applejack's ears perked up at the mention of something old and precious. "The Element of Honesty? What's so special about it?" Twilight paused to catch her breath, her flank heaving. "It's one of the six Elements of Harmony," she began, "each representing one of the core virtues of our world. The Element of Honesty is said to be a rare and powerful artifact that can reveal the truth in any situation. It's been lost for centuries, but I found a map leading to its last known location!" Her voice grew hushed as she unfolded the ancient parchment, its edges yellowed with age. The map was intricate, with swirling symbols and cryptic notations that seemed to dance before Applejack's eyes. "It's somewhere in the Whispering Woods," Twilight whispered, her horn glowing softly as she traced a line over the paper. "Well, shucks," Applejack drawled, "that's a place I've heard plenty of tall tales about, but never actually visited." The wood had a reputation for being eerie and mysterious, a place where whispers of forgotten secrets lingered on the breeze. But the prospect of finding something as important as the Element of Honesty was too tempting to pass up. Twilight's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Applejack, I think we should go look for it. It's not far from here, and who knows what kind of trouble it could prevent if it falls into the wrong hooves?" Applejack nodded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "Alright, but we'd better tell the others. They might want to come along." They gathered their friends, who were equally intrigued by the prospect of an adventure. Pinkie Pie bounced with excitement, Rarity's eyes gleamed with the promise of a new treasure to add to her collection, and Fluttershy looked nervous but determined. Rainbow Dash and Rarity promised to keep an eye on Fluttershy, who had a tendency to get spooked in unfamiliar places. They set out into the late afternoon sun, the map fluttering in Twilight's magic as they followed the path into the wood. The Whispering Woods lived up to their name, with rustling leaves and hushed whispers that seemed to follow them through the dappled shade. The air grew cooler, and the scent of damp earth and pine needles filled their nostrils as they ventured deeper. Suddenly, a shadow flitted through the trees. "Greetings, travelers, I am Aloysius, keeper of the woods' lore." His feathers were the color of moonlit silver, and his eyes held a knowing glint. Twilight stepped forward, the map still clutched in her telekinetic grip. "We're looking for the Element of Honesty," she said with a hint of urgency. "Could you help us?" Aloysius tilted his head, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Ah, the Element of Honesty," he murmured. "A treasure indeed. But beware, for the woods are not kind to those who seek without pure intentions." The friends exchanged glances, their determination unwavering. Applejack stepped up, her eyes meeting the owl's. "Our intentions are as true as my word. We aim to protect our town and find this artifact before it falls into the wrong hooves." Aloysius studied them for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I will guide you to the spot where the Element lies hidden. But heed my warning: the woods hold secrets, and they do not give them up easily." The group followed the him, their hoofsteps echoing through the quiet wood. The whispers grew louder, and Applejack couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Twilight, ever the scholar, took notes on the various plants and magical phenomena they encountered, while Pinkie Pie chattered away, trying to keep everyone's spirits high. As they ventured further in, the wood grew denser, the path narrower. The light grew dimmer, the sun's rays barely piercing the thick canopy above. The air grew colder, carrying with it a sense of unease that made even Rainbow Dash's wings flutter anxiously. "This place is giving me the creeps," Fluttershy whispered, her eyes darting around nervously. "Don't worry, Fluttershy," Rainbow Dash assured her, "we're all here for you." Aloysius led them to a clearing, where an ancient tree stood tall, its trunk twisted with age. The whispers grew to a crescendo, swirling around the tree's base like a cacophony of secrets yearning to be heard. "Here it is," He announced, his voice barely audible over the din. "The Element of Honesty lies within this tree. But remember, it will only reveal itself to the worthy." Applejack squinted at the tree, her heart racing. The whispers grew so loud, they seemed to form words, urging them to turn back. But she knew they couldn't. "Thanks, Aloysius," she said, turning to her friends. "Let's get to it."

"Honey, wake up," Karen said gently. Her voice was the sweet sound of a lullaby echoing through the silent, sterile room, but Plankton remained unresponsive. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only reply to her soft pleas. She sat by his side, her hand intertwined with his, her thumb brushing the back of his palm. But now, his hand lay limp, a stark contrast to the warmth and strength it usually exuded. The antiseptic smell of the hospital filled the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, artificial glow on Plankton's pale face. His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and the rhythm was the only reassurance Karen had that he was still with her. The doctor had said it was a mild concussion, but the sight of him lying there, so vulnerable, filled her with dread. She knew that she had to stay strong, not just for herself, but for Plankton. The door to the room creaked open, and the doctor stepped in, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He was a young man, his expression a mix of professionalism and concern. He looked at the charts in his hand before glancing up at Karen. "How is he?" he asked. Karen's eyes never left her husband's face as she replied, "The same." The doctor nodded, his eye reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "It's not uncommon for someone with a concussion to sleep longer than usual. We're monitoring him closely, and his vitals are stable. We've given him medication to manage the pain and reduce the swelling." Karen leaned forward, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "But when will he wake up?" she asked, her voice a whisper of hope. The doctor's eyes softened. "It could be hours, or even days. The brain needs time to heal. But rest assured, Mrs. Plankton, we're doing everything we can to ensure a swift and full recovery." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She didn't want to believe it would take that long, but she knew that patience was the only option she had. She leaned back in the chair, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. Time stretched out before her, each minute feeling like an eternity. The only sounds in the room were the tick of the clock on the wall and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. The hospital's white walls closed in around her, making her feel trapped in a world where time had ceased to have meaning. Her thoughts raced, playing out every possible scenario in her head, each one more alarming than the last. A nurse came in to check on Plankton, her shoes squeaking against the floor. She offered Karen a kind smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder before she tended to her husband, checking his bandages and administering fluids through the IV. Karen watched her every move, feeling helpless and out of place. The nurse noticed her distress and offered her a cup of tea, which she accepted with a nod of gratitude. The warm liquid helped soothe her nerves as she took a sip, her eyes never straying from Plankton. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling heavier than the last. The silence was broken only by the occasional murmur from the hallway or the rustle of pages as the nurse updated his chart. Karen's mind drifted back to the moments before the accident, the laughter and the joy that seemed so distant now. Plankton had been working on his latest invention, a contraption he swore would revolutionize the fast-food industry. It was a wild tangle of metal and wires, something that only he could understand. Karen had watched him, her curiosity piqued but her technical knowledge barely scratching the surface of his genius. "What does it do?" she had asked, her eyes wide with wonder. He had grinned, his teeth gleaming in the light of the makeshift workshop. "It's a secret," he had said, his voice filled with mischief. Now, as she sat by his side in the hospital room, she wished she had paid more attention. Perhaps then she could have anticipated the malfunction that had sent him to the emergency room with a concussion. Plankton had always been so driven by his ideas, so wrapped up in his world of gadgets and gizmos, that he often forgot the dangers that came with his experiments. It was his passion, and she had always admired it, but in moments like these, she couldn't help but worry. The room grew dimmer as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floor. Karen's eyes grew heavy, and she fought the urge to sleep. Suddenly, Plankton's eyelid fluttered open, revealing eye that searched the room with confusion. "Where am I?" he croaked, his voice dry and scratchy. Karen's heart leaped into her throat, and she leaned forward, her hand tightening around his. "You're in the hospital, sweetie. You had an accident," she said softly, her voice trembling. Plankton blinked several times, his gaze shifting from the blurry ceiling to Karen's face. Recognition dawned in his eyes, but confusion remained etched on his furrowed brow. "What happened?" he murmured, his voice still weak and groggy. Karen's heart swelled with relief at the sound of his voice. She took a deep breath, then explained the accident as calmly as she could. "You fell while working on your latest invention. You hit your head pretty hard. The doctor said it's just a concussion, but you need to rest." Plankton's eyes searched hers, trying to piece together the puzzle of his foggy memory. "A concussion?" he repeated, his voice a mere whisper. "How long have I been out?" Karen's grip on his hand tightened, her knuckles white. "A few hours, darling. But it's going to be okay." She hoped her words were true, that the fear and doubt didn't seep through. Plankton's gaze was unfocused, his thoughts jumbled. He didn't remember the accident, the pain, or the panic that had brought him here. All he knew was the gentle squeeze of her hand and the sterile scent of the hospital room. As he began to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over him. Karen's other hand shot out to steady him, her eyes filled with concern. "Lie back down, Plankton. You need to rest." He obeyed, his head heavy on the pillow, and his eye fell shut again. The doctor had warned her about the potential side effects of the concussion: confusion, dizziness, and memory loss. It was a strange sight, seeing him so unsure of himself, a stark contrast to the usual confidence that radiated from him. When he opened his eye again, the confusion had deepened. "What's the last thing you remember?" Karen asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's eye searched the room, as if the answer was hidden in the shadows. "I... I don't remember," he said, his voice filled with a sense of panic that was alien to him. "It's all blank." Karen felt a chill run down her spine. The doctor had mentioned that amnesia was a possibility, but she hadn't allowed herself to believe it would happen to Plankton. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice shaky. Plankton's eye searched hers, desperation flickering in their depths. "What do you mean, I don't remember?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of anxiety brewing within her. "Sometimes with concussions, memories can be a bit jumbled. But don't worry, they'll come back to you." She hoped her reassurance sounded more convincing than it felt. The doctor had warned her that the road to recovery might be bumpy, but she had never anticipated Plankton's memory loss. Her mind raced, trying to think of ways to help him, to fill in the blanks without overwhelming him. "Do you remember anything at all?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton's eye searched the room again, as if the answer was hiding in the corners. "I remember... I remember working," he said, his voice trailing off. "But it's all... fuzzy." Karen felt a pang of sadness at the lost look on her husband's face. She didn't know how to navigate this new, uncharted territory. But she knew she had to be strong for him. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. "You just need to rest." The doctor had instructed her to keep the environment calm and familiar to aid in his recovery. So, she began to speak in soothing tones, telling him stories of their past adventures. Her words painted a picture of a life filled with love and adventure, and she watched as his face relaxed with each passing moment. His breathing grew steadier, his chest rising and falling in a more natural rhythm. The hospital room was a cocoon of beige and white, the only color coming from the bouquet of flowers she had brought from home. Plankton's chest rose and fell in the rhythm of deep sleep, his breathing steady and even. The heart monitor beeped reassuringly, a metronome to the symphony of his rest. His face was peaceful, free from the tension that had gripped it earlier. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she realized the immediate danger had passed. For now, at least, he was safe, and she was grateful for every moment of his peaceful rest. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for now, she was content to sit by his side and enjoy the quiet.

⚯͛▕⃝⃤

⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡴⠖⠒⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠋⠀⢸⡆⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠡⣏⠡⡀⢷⣄⡀⠀⠈⠙⠶⡄⠀⠤⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⣈⠚⢹⡷⠤⠿⢷⣄⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⢏⠐⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⢈⠹⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⣻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢰⣮⡭⠭⠤⢄⡀⢣⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠍⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠶⣾⣆⡀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠟⠁⣠⣾⣤⣄⡙⢖⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⢀⢰⣯⣦⡀⠈⠳⢄⡴⠋⠉⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡘⠜⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡿⣿⣆⠀⢸⡇⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⡅⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢻⣿⡿⡷⠼⠳⠞⠻⠿⣿⠯⠭⠿⠿⠫⠅⢁⠈⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣄⡤⠈⠁⠀⢀⡀⡀⣀⠈⠉⢆⠀⠠⠤⠄⣈⡀⡀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣩⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⠶⠿⠛⠲⢯⣙⣿⣆⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⡿⠸⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⡟⠋⢉⣡⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⡩⠝⣛⣉⣭⣭⣽⣶⣷⣤⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡹⢶⣲⡶⣤⣠⡼⢏⢀⡠⣶⡶⠿⢍⣀⣀⣉⡠⠖⠋⠉⠁⢀⠀⢐⣨⠵⠖⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⢮⣳⢿⣌⠊⠁⡸⠅⠀⠀⠉⠐⠂⠔⢺⠉⠀⠀⠠⢔⣈⡵⠾⠛⠓⠒⠦⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠀⠶⠉⠳⣝⠳⠦⣤⡄⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣀⣤⣖⣉⣁⣀⣀⣀⣄⠤⠤⠶⠶⠶⠤⠤⠴⠶⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠀⡈⠓⠦⠤⣀⣩⣍⣉⣭⠤⠶⠒⠋⡙⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣶⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠿⠛⠉⠉⠉⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⡿⠋⣀⣠⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣶⣦⠙⣿⣿⣿⠿⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣼⡿⠿⠿⢛⣿⣵⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠙⢻⠀⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣾⠿⢻⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠈⣿⣿⣷⠀⣴⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠉⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⢀⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⡟⣼⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⠟⢰⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⢰⣿⣿⡟⠢⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⠀⢀⣴⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠇⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠻⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣤⣀⡀⠉⠉⠻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡄⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⡿⡻⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⠛⠻⠿⠟⠛⢿⣿⡿⣾⣿⠟⣛⣙⢿⣧⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⠀⢀⠄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢠⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⣷⣼⣿⢻⣟⣵⣿⡿⠿⣷⣭⡜⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⡇⠀⣠⣴⣏⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⡿⣿⡿⠾⢸⣿⣿⣤⣼⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠉⢻⣿⣧⡈⠛⠻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠈⠛⠃⠀⠈⠟⣸⣧⣤⣤⣭⣟⣛⣛⣻⣧⣤⣼⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣫⡄⠀⠀⣶⣶⣤⣤⣶⣦⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠴⣦⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⡟⠉⠁⠈⣯⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡇⣴⣀⣙⣦⡀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣷⣬⡭⠿⠟⠁⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⡻⠃⠀⡀⠹⠟⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣶⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠘⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⠿⠟⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢶⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠈⠻⢿⠿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣌⡙⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆ ⢾⣿⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋ ⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⣠⣄⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣞⡀⡀⡀⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⡇⢹⣸⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣄⠀⢀⣠⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⡀⣷⣿⣧⠀⣀⡀⢸⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣆⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⡄⣿⣿⣿⡟⢰⣿⡇⠈⣱⣷⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠋⠀⠙⢿⣿⣧⡀⣠⣤⣤⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⡀⢿⣿⡆⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣷⣿⣿⡟⢠⣿⡟⣠⣧⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠉⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢉⣁⣿⣿⠷⠀⠉⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣠⣶⣬⣷⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⣿⣷⣤⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⌁☍

❾¾⚯͛▕⃝⃤⌁☍▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 0⚯ϟ❾¾⌁☍⚕⚯͛ ❾¾ ▕⃝⃤𓅓✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮⚡🧹⚯𓆗⏃ ⚯͛ ➒¾:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:๋࣭ ⭑❾¾⌁☍⚯͛▕⃝⃤⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆𐂂𓅓𓆙.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ✮☾𖤓⚡︎lEViOsA🪄⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⌁☍9¾🐍 ▕⃝⃤𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⌁☍🤍Avada Kedavra💀🪄✨🦁 🐍 🦅 🦡⚡︎ Harry Potter⚡︎

🐍⃝⃒⃤𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓🍏𓆙✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅 ▕⃝⃤𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼

▕⃝⃤

𐂂𓅓𓆙⚯

🦁🐍 🦡🦅

🧹 Alohomora.. Oh! Hello there, you've been accepted into Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Be sorted into your houses, Ravenclaw🦅💙, Hufflepuff🦡💛, Slytherin🐍💚, and Gryffindor🦁❤️! Hogsmeade weekends ( FOR 3RD YEAR+ ) and learning under the very best professors! We await you!🏰🚂

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

𓆙Draco Malfoy𓆙

⌁☍꒷₊˚your name꒷₊˚⌁☍

꒦꒷♡ 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝕳𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖋𝖋. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝖑𝖔𝖞𝖆𝖑. 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑯𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒑𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖊, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝖙𝖔𝖎𝖑. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ |💛| ʜᴜꜰꜰʟᴇᴘᴜꜰꜰ |🖤| ⋆ ˚ ⋆｡୨୧˚

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣲⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡸⢄⠩⢌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣠⣷⣾⣶⣬⡆⢻⣿⡿⢠⠹⢿⣿⣿⣏⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⢟⡶⢋⢔⣦⣌⠝⣯⠰⡉⢆⠡⣺⡿⢛⠛⡻⢧⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣟⢻⣇⠊⢿⣿⡿⠨⢼⣧⣼⣤⣳⡏⢄⣿⣿⣦⢃⢻⡉⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢯⣿⡘⣯⡰⢈⠭⡑⢂⡾⢩⠉⠭⣹⡇⠜⡻⠿⡋⠌⣼⠷⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⠾⠶⡞⢫⠑⢦⣉⣒⢄⠻⣦⣑⣌⣰⡽⢋⣴⣿⠞⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣧⣦⣍⣢⣩⣁⣎⣰⣠⣉⣭⣵⡾⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣍⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣦⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⡿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣷⠈⣿⣿⡇⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢨⣿⡀⣿⣿⡇⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢸⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣾⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⡇⢰⡆⠀⢀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠰⠆⠀ ⣸⡿⣇⣸⣟⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢠⣾⣄⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣏⣿⣹⣏⣿⣹⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠂ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁ ⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⣿⣀⡠⡀⣴⢲⢀⡄⡀⡄⠖⣦⢸⠒⣾⠂⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⡗⣿⠸⡇⡇⠧⢸⠘⣧⢇⠇⠻⠿⠸⠀⣿⢀⣳⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠿⠀⠀⠀⣄⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠋⠁⡀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⡶⠟⠁⣾⡏⢣⡀⢻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⣄⠀⠀⣤⡘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡀⠙⢬⡻⣿⣷⡀⢐⣶⣦⡀⠸⣇⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⢦⣄⣸⡟⠉⠉⠉⠙⢻⣆⢻⣮⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠿⡄⠈⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⡀⢻⡆⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣫⣥⡤⢤⣤⣄⠀⠹⣼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠉⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣼⣯⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠋⢀⣠⣆⣀⠉⢷⣆⣾⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢏⠉⠉⠻⣟⠒⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⠛⠁⣠⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠹⡎⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠠⢸⣏⣾⣷⣄⠀⠈⠑⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡦⠙⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣻⣿⣮⡀⠀⣾⡇⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⡀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣷⣿⣿⣷⣄⣿⢧⣤⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣯⣿⣿⢟⡋⠁⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠐⠒⠪⠽⠉⠉⠈⠁⠀⠈⠉⠛⠮⠭⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠆⠀⠈⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣶⠾⠁⠀⠀⠀⣰⣄⣠⣠⡤⣀⡀⠈⠠⠀⠀⠒⣒⠒⠦⢤⣄⣄⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢃⣴⣶⣾⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣶⣾⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠷⣬⡙⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⢉⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠛⢋⣫⠽⠟⠛⢛⣛⣛⣳⣶⢾⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡘⣧⣀⣀⡀⣄⠀⠀⠀⣺⡾⠋⠀⠉⢋⣙⡻⡿⠟⠛⣛⣉⠥⠂⢀⣠⡾⠿⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⢚⣩⣤⠴⠾⠛⠛⠋⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣝⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣌⠻⣯⣻⡟⢷⡶⣿⠋⢳⡤⠶⠞⠿⣍⡛⠛⠲⠶⠤⣤⣶⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠴⢀⣨⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⠳⣬⡻⣿⣆⠹⠄⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠀⠔⠚⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠒⣉⣤⠶⠿⠛⠚⠓⠒⠶⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⣤⡌⠻⣮⡙⠿⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣤⣤⠶⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⣀⡉⠉⠻⠙⠁⠤⠬⠀⠒⠀⣀⣀⣤⡤⢾⠛⠳⠖⠒⢒⠶⠒⠒⠚⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠀⠤⠀⠉⠛⠛⠲⠶⠾⠶⠶⠾⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⚯ ͛❾¾▕⃝⃤ϟ"૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

⚯⚡🧹📖🐉🧙🏻‍♂️

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠠⠤⠀⠐⠒⠂⢀⢈⣉⡉⠉⣉⠉⠉⣉⡉⠉⠀⠐⠒⠂⠀⠤⠄⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠐⠂⠈⣡⡤⠤⣤⡀⢠⣾⠛⠉⠙⠀⢹⡇⢠⣿⡄⢀⣽⠃⣸⠟⢿⡀⠀⢹⣿⠛⣶⡄⢈⣁⣐⠂⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⢂⣡⠄⠐⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⢹⣷⠘⣿⡀⠈⣻⠇⠀⣿⡟⠀⢻⣾⠃⣰⡿⠷⠿⣧⠀⢸⡿⢾⡟⠁⠉⢹⣿⠛⠇⣤⠬⣔⡠⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⡶⠻⣧⠘⢿⣦⣀⣼⠟⠀⠙⠻⠶⠛⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠃⠘⠛⠃⠀⠀⠛⠃⠾⡇⠈⢿⡄⠀⣸⡇⠀⡀⢿⣦⡘⠃⠀⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡨⠂⠀⠀⠀⢿⣆⠀⠿⠓⠀⠉⢉⣁⠀⠤⠄⠀⠒⠒⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠒⠒⠀⠠⠤⠀⣀⡀⠻⠈⠉⠃⠚⢷⣤⣿⠇⠀⠐⢅⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⢉⡀⠤⠐⠂⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠐⠂⠤⢀⡀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠢⠀⠀ ⢀⠊⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠒⠒⢒⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡒⠒⠐⠋⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠑⡀ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⣀⠄⠂⠁⠀⠀⡠⠊⠑⠒⠢⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠔⠒⠂⠑⢄⠀⠀⠈⠐⠠⣀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⠀⠀⢀⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠂⠀⠠⡀⢀⠄⠀⠐⠊⠁⣠⣴⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠧⢄⡀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇⣸⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠙⠃⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠛⠉⠉⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠼⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⣄⠀⠙⢷⡿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠛⠉⠁⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⣠⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⣸⠇⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⣠⣤⣤⠀⡎⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠈⠀⢠⣿⡿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠘⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠳⠦⢤⣀⣀⡀⠿⠟⠓⢄⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣯⠘⡄⠲⣶⣶⠖⠀⠠⣶⣦⡶⠂⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⣶⠿⠛⣿⡇⠀⢃⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⡜⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠤⠤⠿⠷⠤⠼⠷⠤⢼⠀⢸⣿⠟⠛⠛⢻⣿⠁⠀⡧⠤⠤⠤⠿⠯⠤⠤⠤⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⢳⠶⣾⣿⣷⡄⠀⢠⣾⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠡⡁⠀⠒⠛⠒⠀⠀⠾⠛⠒⠀⢈⣄⣽⣿⣿⣧⣀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣷⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠸⣷⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠑⠄⠤⠄⠐⠒⠒⠂⢠⣤⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢄⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠈⠉⠻⢿⣿⡇⡠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡄⠈⠁⢀⡀⠿⠷⠿⠿⠛⣿⣿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠹⣿⠟⠛⣇⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢩⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡴⠋⠙⠦⡀⠀⣴⡾⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⣿⣀⠀⣿⠿⠋⠙⢦⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⣀⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⠤⠤⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Harry Potter , ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ⚯ ͛ ❾¾

ᴵⁿ ᵃ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᵒᶠ ʷⁱᵗᶜʰᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱᶻᵃʳᵈʳʸ.. [pro/nouns] 🧹 [mbti] ✶⋆.˚ [zodiac] ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🔮 𝓞𝓱... 𝔐𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰.

❤️💚𝓗𝓸𝓰𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 💛💙

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣄⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣦⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣟⠻⠏⢩⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣘⠻⠯⢑⣊⣉⣀⠀⠀⢸⡘⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⣠⡾⠛⠻⣿⡿⠟⠃⠸⡇⢀⣴⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣧⡀⢹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡀⠄⠒⡇⠀⣿⣦⡀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣀⢨⣿⡏⠀⢸⣿⣧⣴⣦⡀⠀⣴⣶⣶⣄⠀⣀⣴⣤⣤⡀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠧⠤⢄⡀⠀ ⣠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠙⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠃⢹⣿⡇⢸⣿⠁⣸⠿⠀⣿⣿⠛⠟⠁⣤⣴⡆⢀⣀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡦ ⠈⠢⣤⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠸⣿⣦⣿⠁⠘⣿⣇⠄⣸⣿⡀⢸⣿⡇⢸⣿⡋⢀⡆⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣿⡿⠀⢸⣿⡿⢻⣿⡆⠀⢀⠞⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠰⡀⣸⣤⣤⣤⣄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠾⠿⠂⠀⢹⡿⠃⠀⠈⠛⠁⠈⠉⠁⠀⠚⠛⠓⠈⠛⠷⠛⠁⠠⠿⠿⠄⠀⣼⣿⡇⠀⣸⣿⠁⢸⣿⠇⢠⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠋⠁⠉⢿⣷⠀⠸⣿⣿⠀⢠⠀⠀⣴⣷⡾⠟⠁⣀⡤⠔⠒⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠓⠢⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠠⠿⠇⢀⣾⣿⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⢦⣤⣾⡿⠀⢠⣿⣿⠂⢸⠀⣀⠠⣄⣒⢉⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢰⣄⣠⣀⣄⢀⠀⠀⠈⠣⣉⣲⢶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠃⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠀⠸⠉⢰⣿⣿⢏⡞⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢟⣻⣯⣭⣟⡻⢿⣄⠀⠀⢶⣶⣍⠚⠋⠉⢽⢻⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣶⣦⣴⡶⠟⠋⣁⣀⡤⠃⢀⣼⣿⡟⣼⡃⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠈⢻⡟⠁⠈⢻⣇⢿⡇⠀⣠⣤⠔⠒⠤⡂⢌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣀⠤⣒⣭⡍⢰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡟⡁⠀⠀⢸⡇⣄⠰⣿⣿⠆⣴⣿⣿⣮⡳⡀⠹⡇⠐⠢⡔⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠉⠙⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠧⠒⠉⣶⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢻⣇⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠙⢎⡳⣌⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣥⣢⠅⣒⠛⣢⣽⡿⠋⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣤⡙⣿⢱⢹⢸⣿⣌⢿⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⢝⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣠⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣫⣶⣄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⡌⢸⠀⣞⢿⣿⣷⣝⠿⣷⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠉⠐⠨⢝⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠹⣿⣿⣿⠆⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⡟⡱⠟⣇⠘⢷⡒⢭⡻⣷⣮⣝⡻⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⢭⡻⠿⢟⣅⠀⠀⣹⣿⡁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⡿⡸⠁⢸⡾⢦⡀⠳⡀⠹⡽⣿⣿⣿⣷⠍⠻⢿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣝⢿⡆⢴⣿⣿⣷⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠸⡇⡇⠀⢾⡀⣀⡷⠰⣧⠀⡇⣹⣿⣿⣿⣄⣠⣶⣭⡻⢿⣿⣷⠄⠀⠈⠻⢧⡀⠈⢻⡿⠋⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣷⢻⣄⠀⠉⠉⠀⢀⡿⢠⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣝⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⢻⣀⣾⣷⣄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⣿⣷⢉⣓⠶⠾⣴⣾⠃⢸⠇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠹⣿⣦⠀⠀⢈⣇⣿⣿⡿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢈⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣿⠀⢿⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣤⢻⣿⠀⠀⠸⣿⣹⣯⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢸⣿⠀⢸⣼⣿⣿⣿⠿⣫⣾⣮⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣼⣿⠀⢠⣀⡇⣿⣿⣷⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⢀⢸⣿⠀⠸⣷⡻⠟⠁⠀⠹⣿⠋⠀⠈⠻⣿⠟⣱⣿⠏⢀⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣿⣧⡀⠉⢹⢤⡀⠀⣴⣿⣦⠀⠀⣀⣴⡾⠟⠀⢀⣾⣿⣇⣰⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣶⡀⠀⠉⠛⠒⠒⠶⠟⠛⠋⠉⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⣫⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣈⠙⠻⠿⠟⣱⣦⣍⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣆⣠⣶⣦⣤⣴⡾⠿⠛⣋⡻⣿⠿⣋⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠙⠻⠿⠛⢷⣶⣬⡭⣭⣭⣭⡭⣥⣴⣶⠊⠻⢟⣫⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠈⠻⡏⠀⢘⣿⣟⠀⠈⡿⣋⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⡚⠿⢟⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⢾⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣒⣲⢾⣯⣤⣞⣏⣛⡿⠶⣖⣾⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡤⢶⣖⠛⢉⣩⡿⢯⢆⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⣿⢠⣽⣿⣿⣄⣉⣩⣿⠚⠶⠦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⠾⢛⣧⣤⡤⠾⣿⠟⠁⣉⣻⣿⣞⣜⡁⡈⣻⣁⣀⡫⢎⣿⣼⣧⣠⢈⣿⠟⠓⢲⣿⣦⣈⣹⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⢓⡿⣟⣏⣤⣴⡶⠾⢿⡛⠙⢯⡙⠚⢯⠉⢻⠙⠉⢉⠉⠘⠉⠉⠉⠙⢷⠿⠧⣶⣯⣝⣩⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢈⣿⣾⢻⢧⠀⠙⣆⠀⠳⡄⠀⡱⡄⠈⠳⣼⠠⠐⢾⡿⠠⠀⣴⣧⡄⣀⠀⣠⡀⣿⢹⣳⣼⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠴⢋⣿⣿⣜⣞⠀⢳⡀⠈⢣⡀⢙⣾⡟⡝⢦⠀⢹⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠀⠐⠇⠀⠀⠘⢽⠁⢿⣞⢿⣳⣭⠒⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡕⠪⣟⣋⣴⡿⢻⠶⢶⠾⡦⢶⣟⣉⡈⠙⠥⣄⠳⣼⣶⣷⠠⠄⣼⡦⢀⠀⣠⣆⠀⠀⣀⣞⠻⣦⡭⣵⠋⡹⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⣠⣷⣽⣿⠹⣾⠀⠽⠓⣀⠙⠃⢬⣙⠭⣦⣿⣧⢸⡇⠃⠀⠀⠸⠇⠀⠀⠙⠇⠀⠁⠋⡏⠁⣿⢷⣿⣦⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡍⢻⠃⣿⡆⠘⣧⣀⡼⠀⡇⠰⣿⡯⠂⠑⠬⣮⣿⣷⣦⣰⣇⡀⡀⣰⣄⡀⠀⢀⣆⠀⠀⢸⣹⢀⡏⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣼⣆⣹⡿⣄⣿⣿⡍⠀⡞⠂⠀⠛⠦⢄⠀⠈⣿⣷⠻⡟⢿⣦⡀⠹⠏⠈⠀⠻⠏⠁⡁⢸⡇⣾⣷⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣯⠻⡝⢸⣷⠈⢻⣯⣍⣶⣓⢄⣀⠀⠓⣶⣷⡤⠼⠋⠀⢹⣨⣿⣵⣆⢠⣾⣶⣀⣤⠤⠧⠼⠷⠼⢥⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣠⣧⣸⣿⢣⡀⣹⡾⠊⡻⣷⣿⠟⠛⠙⢿⢧⣈⢦⣤⣬⠭⣿⣟⣿⠏⢭⠝⠳⠶⠋⢉⣤⢶⡦⢀⣴⣯⡓⢦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠙⣿⣹⣿⣀⣱⣿⡂⠀⢸⢯⣴⣻⣏⣁⣤⠿⡻⢏⡻⢎⣛⠯⢙⢂⡈⠋⣈⢅⣤⡖⢸⣿⣴⠆⣿⣇⣨⣀⠢⣹⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣾⣋⣉⣉⣉⣽⢿⣧⣀⣰⡿⠿⣛⠉⣵⣾⣣⣾⠃⠉⣀⡀⢴⣿⠹⣿⣼⣿⠁⣿⡇⢹⣿⠀⠘⣿⡏⠐⣿⠐⣼⠏ ⠀⠀⣶⣶⠶⢿⠽⡷⠿⠻⢟⡩⣿⠼⣟⣭⡔⠂⣾⡿⣻⣿⣦⢸⣿⠀⣾⠻⣿⢸⣿⣀⣿⠗⣿⣧⣿⡧⢸⣿⡇⠀⢿⡇⡀⢀⢬⡾⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⠁⣒⣮⣶⡷⣥⣶⡏⣼⣿⣟⠮⠁⣀⣄⣿⡟⢺⣿⡇⢸⣿⢸⣿⠎⣡⠘⣿⠋⠉⠀⠉⠀⠀⢀⢸⣿⠅⢠⣾⠇⠈⣑⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⢰⢿⣿⣿⡧⢸⣿⣧⣏⢹⢠⣶⠈⣿⡋⣿⡇⢸⣿⡅⢸⣿⠌⠿⠶⠟⢈⣿⣤⠠⣴⣛⣿⣄⣀⣫⣥⣤⣤⣥⣤⣑⣲⢽⣷⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⡿⣾⣿⣿⣥⣼⣿⣷⠙⣼⢸⣿⢀⣿⣇⣿⡇⢸⣿⠄⡩⢤⡦⠤⠐⣂⡾⠽⣶⠺⠿⣿⣿⡆⠙⣮⡿⠈⢻⠈⡇⠸⣿⢿⣿⠀ ⢰⣿⣹⣷⢸⣿⣿⡗⡚⣿⣿⡖⢸⡜⠿⡛⠛⣡⣿⠃⠾⠋⣐⡭⠤⠶⣯⡍⠘⠁⠀⢻⡄⠀⠈⢺⣟⢆⡸⢯⡶⣿⡷⣧⢰⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠈⠛⢻⡏⢸⣿⣿⡇⣨⣿⣿⣁⢸⣞⡿⣩⠤⣛⣥⣶⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠺⣶⠀⠀⠈⢏⠀⠀⢸⣿⡾⡳⣻⠅⢘⡇⢿⠘⣟⣙⡿⠃ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⣸⣿⣿⣆⣼⡿⣿⣳⢸⡯⠷⡞⠉⠁⠘⠛⢯⢷⣷⠷⠃⢀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⠠⠿⣿⢸⣼⣿⣼⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⣗⣋⣭⣔⣀⣁⣀⣰⡤⢼⣄⠀⠀⣰⣀⢀⣤⡾⡏⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣶⣤⣤⣼⠿⠾⠆⠘⠂⡟⣠⣾⣾⣿⠈⡟⢺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⢻⢉⣿⣍⣿⣇⠋⡿⠋⠈⢻⣿⣯⡤⣄⡀⢀⣰⠟⡟⢣⣀⣿⣫⣍⡀⣀⣀⣴⣰⠿⣟⠉⢹⡽⣴⣿⣼⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⠻⣏⠘⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠟⠿⠻⠛⠋⣉⠀⣷⡀⠹⣏⠛⢿⡻⠛⢍⠀⠳⣄⢈⣷⡿⢃⡹⢋⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡈⣷⣶⠙⠻⢶⣷⣦⣄⣴⢿⠶⠄⢰⣿⠇⠟⠙⡄⠈⢦⠀⣳⣄⡬⣷⣶⡾⠛⢉⣼⣿⢣⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣉⡙⢲⣾⣦⣉⣁⣿⡛⠿⠶⣦⣝⡀⢸⣄⣸⣶⠻⠟⠂⣨⣧⣄⣴⣿⡿⣉⣤⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠻⠤⣬⣻⡿⠛⠲⣶⣾⡙⢿⣿⡿⠋⣽⣷⡖⠋⣛⣿⠵⠞⠙⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠲⢿⣛⠳⣦⣿⣤⠞⣉⡽⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣌⢻⢋⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

▕⃝⃤

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⡶⠟⢱⣽⢿⢶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣬⣿⢭⡭⢝⣷⣶⣶⣾⣽⣦⣬⣝⠚⠒⣦⣿⣷⡤⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠴⠶⣟⠛⠋⠉⣠⣿⡾⣯⠇⣾⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣯⣭⣿⡇⡼⣼⣿⣿⣷⣄⣀⣨⣿⡹⠛⠿⠶⢦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⠚⣯⣁⣀⣀⣼⣿⣿⠟⠋⠙⠛⣿⣻⡟⣌⠟⠁⠈⢻⡟⠁⠀⢿⣡⢳⣯⣭⣟⣁⣀⠉⢿⣷⠿⠆⢤⣴⣷⣀⠉⠛⣷⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⢤⣤⣼⣿⣿⠋⠀⣉⣹⣥⣴⣴⣶⡿⢿⡟⢿⣼⣾⡽⠷⢶⡶⢶⠲⠶⠶⠿⢻⡟⠒⠒⠾⠽⣷⣷⣆⡤⣤⣿⠟⣻⠖⢛⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⣮⣭⢲⣖⣶⡿⠛⢿⡉⠉⠙⣦⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠈⢳⡄⢸⡇⠀⠀⢠⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠉⠉⠛⣿⣿⣱⣶⠙⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢃⣼⣿⡏⣿⡟⢦⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠈⢷⡄⠀⡘⢧⡀⠀⠙⢾⡇⠂⠈⢿⣿⠃⠐⠀⢴⢿⣿⠆⢠⡀⢀⣶⣀⣿⡇⢿⣿⣶⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡾⠋⣽⣿⣿⣠⣿⡃⠈⠳⡄⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⣹⢾⡿⣦⠻⣆⠀⠈⡷⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠋⣿⠍⢻⣾⡼⢿⣽⣦⣹⠷⢦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡿⠧⣘⡿⠿⠟⣠⣯⢿⣿⣤⣤⣹⣦⣀⣠⡿⠶⠋⠺⠷⢸⣄⠘⢦⡀⣷⣸⣆⠀⡀⢀⣸⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠋⠀⣠⠳⣿⣄⡙⢛⣣⠶⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⣯⠳⡿⣿⢿⣸⡇⠈⢽⣮⡝⠉⢽⣏⠓⠲⣦⠤⣄⢹⢷⡄⠻⣿⢹⡟⠀⠉⠘⢻⡏⠀⠋⠀⢿⣿⠃⠠⠄⣴⣿⠶⠈⣿⣿⣩⣿⡀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣴⣟⣷⢿⣿⠀⠻⣿⠀⠉⠉⡱⠠⡄⠈⣩⣷⣮⡓⢾⠻⣿⢿⣄⣿⠈⠁⠀⢀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠁⢀⣿⡏⢻⣿⢗⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠹⡏⠈⣿⡇⠀⢹⣧⣄⣴⠇⠸⡇⠘⢿⣿⠿⠅⠈⠑⠪⣷⣽⣿⣷⣶⣤⣾⣤⣀⡀⣀⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⣰⣀⡀⠀⠀⢸⣸⠀⣸⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢰⣷⡀⣿⣿⣆⠸⣿⣻⣍⠁⠠⡽⠆⠀⠉⠿⣦⣤⡀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣦⢻⣟⢿⣿⣀⠁⠉⣿⠍⠈⠁⠘⣹⡏⠃⠈⠁⢿⡎⣴⣟⣣⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣗⢿⣿⡟⢹⢿⡈⢻⣿⣿⠵⢦⡸⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢦⣄⣱⣄⣀⣘⡿⠋⠀⢻⡆⢻⣿⣷⣄⠀⢀⣠⣆⡀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣄⣼⣷⣈⣿⠋⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢹⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠙⢿⣟⣺⠿⣲⣝⣺⣶⣤⣤⣾⣿⣻⡯⠉⢄⠀⠀⠘⠷⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣽⠿⠿⣷⣟⣛⣉⡉⠉⠉⢉⣉⠉⠛⠻⠶⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣠⣿⣧⣼⣿⡟⢦⡀⣼⡿⠋⠀⢜⣾⡿⠟⣁⣉⣀⠘⢿⣷⣤⣄⣷⣾⠶⢶⣺⣿⣯⡽⠖⢐⣒⠋⣉⡛⠓⠀⠀⣴⣾⠿⠿⠂⣴⣾⢿⣦⠙⠳⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⢳⣾⣹⣿⣇⡀⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⢸⢻⡵⣞⣿⣏⣀⣠⣴⠶⢛⠿⢙⡲⠏⣛⡺⠭⢓⠒⣉⠁⠊⢉⡥⢀⣴⡾⠀⣿⣿⣶⡖⢘⣿⣿⣈⣥⡈⠳⣝⣷⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣶⡿⠛⠋⠉⠋⠙⡿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢨⣞⣿⡿⠟⠛⢉⣥⣶⠆⣠⡿⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⣰⣿⡟⣿⣷⡸⣿⡟⠈⣿⡇⠐⣿⣿⠁⠀⢶⣿⣿⠁⢿⣷⠠⣼⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣿⣫⣏⣽⣾⣿⣮⠷⠟⣇⢹⣯⡿⠾⢛⡩⢁⣴⣿⡶⣿⣿⠉⠙⣿⡇⠀⣠⡶⣶⣄⢹⣿⡇⢸⣿⡇⣿⣷⠀⣿⣇⠀⢹⣿⡆⠀⠸⣿⣿⠀⠈⠁⠢⣽⡏⠀ ⠀⠘⣿⡿⠭⠍⡙⢋⣋⠘⠋⢌⣫⡖⡁⣿⣫⣵⡲⠭⠃⠀⣾⣿⣬⡧⣿⣿⠟⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⣁⡿⠟⢸⣿⣧⣾⡿⠁⠿⠿⠟⠿⠟⠁⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠠⢄⣢⣽⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⠀⣬⣽⣾⣿⡿⢰⣾⣿⣿⢸⡗⣿⡻⠵⠂⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⠉⢹⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⠋⢠⣆⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⣄⣾⣿⠃⠀⣶⣿⠗⠀⠠⢌⣻⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⢰⢸⣿⣿⣿⢧⡄⣿⣿⣿⣼⠁⡿⠠⣴⡇⢹⣿⡋⣿⣿⠄⠘⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⡘⢿⣧⡿⠋⢸⣿⣧⡀⠠⢴⣋⣻⢿⣤⣄⣙⣯⣥⣤⣤⣬⣤⣤⣉⡒⠦⣽⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⣠⣿⣯⣼⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⣿⣿⣿⡜⢇⣿⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⠁⢠⣿⣿⠀⠚⢉⣡⠀⣀⣠⠄⠀⣾⣛⣭⣤⣼⣷⣿⣿⣿⠉⠹⣯⢹⣿⠍⠻⡏⢹⡷⠙⣿⣷⢾⣿⡇⠀ ⣴⡿⢻⣏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣇⡘⣿⠀⣿⣷⣾⣿⠟⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠏⣀⠭⠛⢊⣩⣥⠶⠖⣻⠏⠉⢿⣷⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣧⡀⠈⢿⣧⡆⣰⣷⣼⣇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀ ⣿⣧⣼⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⡕⠢⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⢗⣉⡭⣀⠁⣤⣿⠟⠀⠉⣁⣤⡴⠖⠛⠉⠛⣶⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣯⢹⣶⢟⣿⡟⠻⣿⠟⣿⢀⣿⣽⣽⢿⣿⠀ ⠈⠛⢻⡇⠆⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡔⣿⣟⣯⢅⠤⢖⣋⣭⣶⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⢏⣞⣻⠦⠀⣻⠀⢿⡀⠻⣟⣚⡽⠟⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠂⣿⣿⡿⣧⡀⣿⣿⢿⣿⣆⣸⣟⡥⣶⡞⠛⠉⠀⠾⠹⣯⢿⣾⣶⠷⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⢆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣸⣿⠁⢿⡯⢿⢸⣠⣿⣧⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡧⠾⣛⠛⣋⠉⠚⠋⠘⠉⠉⣃⣽⡁⠀⠉⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣷⠏⠉⠀⠀⢀⣵⣦⣄⣀⢀⢀⡸⡿⣦⣤⡀⠀⣆⡏⡿⠀⣠⣞⣿⣾⡏⢿⡟⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠚⠷⠶⠶⠿⣷⣶⣶⣶⢶⣾⡟⠉⣽⣷⡦⠄⣰⣾⡶⣤⡾⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣷⡟⠛⢻⣿⣿⠿⠋⠉⠁⠁⠀⠀⢀⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⠃⣸⣇⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡇⣾⣿⣶⣿⣿⡄⠐⣿⠁⠀⠈⢻⢿⣿⢶⡖⣦⢶⡀⣤⣸⠟⢹⡏⠹⣄⣾⣿⣴⣦⣶⣠⣶⣤⣶⣷⡿⠋⠻⣄⠀⣾⡟⢾⣿⣿⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣯⠙⢿⡇⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠟⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⢉⠀⢸⣧⠀⠘⢯⡉⠛⢿⡛⠟⠻⣇⠀⠈⠳⡄⠀⣨⣿⡿⠃⢘⡟⢁⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢷⡀⠙⣶⣶⡎⠻⢿⣶⣾⣴⣆⣀⢀⣤⣿⣶⢀⠀⣴⣿⣶⠘⡏⠳⡄⠈⠻⣆⠀⠹⣆⢀⣈⣷⣤⣴⣿⠿⠟⢋⣿⣿⡟⣠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⣿⠿⠿⢦⣀⣨⣟⠛⠯⠿⢿⣷⣿⣬⣤⣀⡉⢿⠋⠀⣇⠀⠹⣦⣀⣽⣶⣟⠿⢿⡛⠚⠉⣩⣷⣦⡤⠞⠛⣻⡷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠷⢦⣄⣘⢿⠿⠷⠤⣶⣿⣷⣄⠉⠙⠛⡿⣷⣤⣀⣿⣷⣾⡿⣷⣋⣁⣀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠞⣻⣿⣯⣤⠶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠓⠲⠤⢼⣿⣛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣷⡈⠻⣿⢿⡿⠋⣰⣟⣿⡟⠉⣈⣭⠿⠞⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠲⢾⣟⡛⠳⣦⣬⣯⣤⡞⠉⣉⣿⠖⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢦⣈⠻⣿⠟⣠⡞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣫⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🐍 ▕⃝⃤⌁☍9¾❾¾leViOsA🪄❾⌁☍⚯▕⃝⃤😀😃😄⚯ ͛

⚯ ͛ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.ϟ ⚯ ͛ ⚡🧹⚯ ⚯ ͛ ⚡🧹⚯ ⚡🧹⚯ ⚯ ͛ ⚯ ͛ ⚯ ͛ ⚯ ͛ ⚯ ͛ ϟ

Harry potter ▕⃝⃤ ⚯ ͛ ❾¾ ❾¾ ⚡𓆗

⚡️

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠋⠛⠙⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢩⣤⣥⣬⣤⣀⡀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠤⣀⢀⡀⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠀⠈⠎⡔⡠⠀⠀⠀⠈⢲⠰⡌⡱⠠⠁⡸⡐⣌⠣⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢹⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠒⡤⠀⠀⠀⠑⠃⠖⡀⠀⠀⠃⠬⣁⠃⠴⢡⠃⠴⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠰⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡑⠦⣙⡘⡰⠄⡤⢀⠤⣘⡐⢆⠲⡁⢎⡜⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠈⠑⠀⠓⠈⠑⠂⠃⠚⠀⠘⠈⠁⡜⠢⠜⣁⢀⠠⣄⠲⢨⠑⡆⠆⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⣀⠀⡠⡐⢌⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⢨⠱⣉⠔⣊⠱⢀⠃⠣⠙⠄⠳⡈⠔⡂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢈⠦⡑⢌⠢⠑⡈⠥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⣡⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣄⠀⡀⠀⠰⢌⠢⡑⡒⢌⠒⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠶⣤⠀⠈⠐⠡⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⡄⢰⣇⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣯⣿⣽⣾⣏⠰⣁⠢⢀⠡⢀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⠃⠀⠀⠀⡐⣄⣯⢷⣀⠀⠐⢌⠒⡡⠜⣈⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⣽⣻⡄⢆⠀⠁⠀⠡⠀⣾⣷⣼⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣛⣾⣱⣿⣿⣧⠒⡄⢣⠀⢂⠤⣈⠀⠀⡄⠣⠄⠰⣉⠔⠦⣄⣢⣱⢯⣟⡟⡞⠤⠀⠈⢆⠱⡈⠔⠂⣤⡀⢀⠠⢡⣹⢷⡛⠸⢌⡀⠀⠁⠄⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢫⡽⣏⢻⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⡟⣶⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣜⡠⢃⠌⡐⠄⡀⢒⡈⠥⠀⠒⡌⢎⠔⡩⠙⡍⣋⢌⡑⠎⡅⠀⠘⡄⢃⡘⠌⢀⠱⢋⠷⡚⠯⢙⠂⣌⠓⡌⠀⠀⠈⡐⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡳⣟⢧⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⣻⢽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣐⠡⢒⡈⠔⡠⢃⠄⠘⡸⢌⢢⡑⡩⠔⢢⠌⡜⢢⠁⠀⢈⠐⢃⠘⡀⠀⣉⠖⠢⢍⡒⠥⣊⠤⠓⣌⠁⠀⣐⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⠿⣷⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⡟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡔⠨⡐⢡⠊⠄⠀⢍⠲⡰⢡⠎⣡⠚⡌⠀⠀⡄⠣⢘⠠⠃⡔⡀⠀⢎⠳⣈⠔⢣⡐⢊⡱⠂⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣼⣫⢿⣿⣿⡯⣽⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⡑⢢⠘⡌⠤⠀⠁⠃⠱⠈⠂⠁⠀⡄⢣⠈⡔⢡⢂⠱⠠⡑⠄⡀⠑⠌⡎⢥⡘⠅⠁⠀⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣷⣛⣿⣿⣇⢿⡵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⡄⢣⠐⡡⢉⠆⡰⢀⠄⠢⢌⠱⡈⢄⠈⡘⠠⠊⠄⡑⢄⠣⡐⢄⡀⣀⠀⡀⢄⢂⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⢏⣙⠻⣌⠻⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⢆⠩⠔⣡⠊⡔⢡⢊⠱⡈⢆⠱⣈⠒⠤⢡⠘⡰⢈⠆⡱⠈⢆⠰⣀⠣⠜⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣉⠦⣍⠦⠳⢜⡊⢦⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡘⡘⣄⠣⠜⢢⡘⠴⡐⠢⡄⢄⡉⣀⢁⡉⢄⢂⡒⠤⣉⠆⢣⠌⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠱⡜⡼⣠⢋⡝⢢⡙⠦⡙⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢦⡀⠏⡸⢡⠜⣠⢃⡓⢌⠲⡐⢡⠒⡈⢎⠢⢍⡒⢡⢊⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠲⣑⠦⡑⢮⡘⢥⠚⡔⡉⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⡳⢮⡓⠰⡠⠁⠎⡒⣡⠒⡸⢨⡑⣌⠣⣌⠱⢊⡱⢢⢉⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠍⡖⡩⢦⡙⢦⡙⠴⡉⠞⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣝⢾⣹⢳⢈⡕⢄⠣⠐⠠⠁⠎⣅⠣⢔⠢⣑⠢⢍⠢⡑⢢⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠉⠍⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣜⣰⣃⣜⣢⡝⠀⠀⢈⡀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠋⡽⣞⢧⣏⢷⣊⠔⣈⢒⠩⠄⢃⠐⠠⠉⢆⠳⡈⠕⠊⠱⣌⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣝⡞⣮⢷⡹⣎⠰⣈⠆⡍⢢⢈⠡⠌⡀⠆⠡⢈⡐⢧⡘⢲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣞⢧⢯⢷⣫⢗⡶⡨⠔⡡⢂⡒⢄⠡⠌⡐⢢⡝⢢⡙⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⣛⣮⢳⣝⡮⢷⣻⡜⡤⢃⠜⡠⢃⠔⣸⠧⣘⠥⡚⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡷⣭⢻⡼⣽⢫⡶⣻⡝⣮⡔⠱⣈⠾⡵⢓⡜⢢⢱⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡷⣭⢷⡻⣜⢯⡳⢧⡻⠱⡩⢇⡸⢏⠲⡡⢎⢣⠎⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡞⣧⡟⡽⢮⡝⠣⢑⢣⡑⠮⡜⣍⢒⡱⠊⢢⠙⡬⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡽⣲⢯⡝⠃⠀⢀⠀⠃⡼⠡⡝⠰⠊⠄⠡⠀⠈⡱⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡱⠃⠰⣄⠊⠆⠉⢀⠤⠁⠀⡁⠂⠀⢡⠀⢀⠖⡡⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠰⢎⡿⣤⡰⡉⠂⠀⠜⡡⠀⠀⢀⠲⣉⠞⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡿⣜⠷⣝⣦⡄⠠⠄⠄⢀⢎⡱⢩⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⠿⢛⠛⠛⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣝⠶⣯⠽⠁⠀⠀⠀⡞⣌⢣⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣇⠰⢀⠃⡌⡁⠆⡑⠨⡐⠄⢂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣻⡜⠃⠀⢀⠰⡈⠖⡌⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣇⠂⢡⠒⠠⣁⠢⠁⠥⠐⡈⢂⠌⡰⢁⠂⠠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠍⠀⡜⢠⠃⠈⢱⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢠⢀⢂⠐⡄⡐⡈⢉⡙⢿ ⡧⢘⠠⠌⢡⠀⠆⡉⢄⠃⠤⡀⣀⠀⢀⠀⠆⠀⠠⢘⢀⠂⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣉⠜⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢄⠰⢀⠃⣂⠉⡄⢂⢂⠡⡐⠄⡡⢂⡐⢨ ⣯⠀⢒⠨⠄⢊⠤⢁⠢⠘⡠⠐⠤⠀⢈⢂⠉⠀⠄⠃⡄⢊⠐⠌⡠⢃⠰⠀⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⢀⠢⠘⡠⢁⠢⠌⢂⠒⠀⠡⡐⠌⡠⠒⢠⠑⢠⠂⠔⣸ ⡷⢈⠂⠆⡘⡀⠆⠌⡐⢡⠐⡉⡐⠀⠂⠌⠂⠀⢌⠡⡐⠌⡈⠆⣁⠂⠆⡑⠨⠄⣉⠢⢁⠂⠔⠠⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢠⠀⡄⠢⡐⠡⢂⠡⢊⠐⡡⠠⡁⠆⠘⠠⠈⡀⠀⠰⠈⡄⠑⡂⠌⢂⠌⢂⣼ ⣟⠠⠘⢠⠁⡔⢈⢂⠡⢂⠂⡅⡀⠀⡌⢄⠀⠠⠌⠀⢀⠀⠁⢒⠠⠘⡐⠈⠀⠀⡐⠤⠡⠘⣈⢂⠩⢐⠠⢃⠑⠌⡠⠑⡠⠃⠤⠡⠌⠒⡈⠄⠁⠂⠐⣂⠡⢊⠰⢁⠊⢄⠂⠐⠡⠐⡁⠀⠂⡁⠒⡀⠑⠐⠄⠂⠀⡐⠠⢀⠅⠊⢄⠃⡐⡉⢄⠊⠄⣾ ⣯⠀⡉⠄⠒⡀⠣⠠⣁⠊⠄⡀⠀⠐⡠⠌⠀⠐⠀⠈⡔⠀⠈⡄⠂⠀⠀⠠⠘⠀⠐⠂⠡⠁⠀⠀⢂⠡⠒⡈⠌⠐⠁⠂⡅⡘⢠⠑⡈⠀⢄⢂⡘⠀⠐⡠⢁⠢⠁⠆⡉⢀⠀⠀⢄⠂⠡⠀⢂⠱⠐⠀⠐⠀⢌⠀⠐⡈⡁⠆⡨⠁⠆⡘⢠⠐⠂⡜⢠⣿ ⣿⣆⡀⠄⠂⠀⠄⠁⢠⠈⢂⠁⠆⢠⠐⡈⠀⡈⠄⠐⠀⠀⡐⠌⠁⠀⢄⠃⠤⡀⢃⠀⠀⢄⠘⠀⠠⠁⠀⡰⠈⠀⠄⢃⠰⠠⣁⠢⠌⠁⠀⢂⠄⠃⢀⠰⠁⠀⠁⠘⠀⡀⠆⠈⠰⣈⠡⠀⠈⠄⡈⠀⠄⠉⠀⠂⠀⡐⡁⠢⠁⠜⠠⠁⠆⢨⠁⡄⢣⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡁⠠⠈⠈⠿⣶⣦⣌⡀⠂⠄⡀⢀⠃⡌⡀⠀⡐⡈⠀⠈⡔⠨⢐⠁⠂⠠⢉⠄⠢⠄⢃⠄⠠⠁⠀⠠⣉⠐⣂⠡⠄⢂⠀⠀⠀⠂⠌⠀⡀⠆⠀⠢⠀⢀⠂⠔⡀⠈⡁⠀⡂⠄⠀⢠⠐⠄⡠⠐⢨⠐⡈⠐⡀⣡⣌⡶⠤⠁⡈⠀⢂⠐⣹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣧⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⡁⠐⠈⠡⠄⠡⡐⠰⠠⣁⠊⠌⠀⡁⠆⡨⢁⠜⠠⠀⠀⠁⢀⠡⠄⢊⠄⢂⠩⢐⠨⠄⠀⠡⠌⠰⠐⡀⠈⠒⠀⠄⡩⢠⠡⠀⢀⠰⢁⠢⠌⢂⡘⠤⠐⠉⣀⣤⣴⣷⣿⡟⠋⠁⡀⠐⠀⡐⣠⣤⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣥⣤⣁⡠⠁⠒⠠⠈⠄⢃⠔⢂⠁⢆⢈⠀⠁⠂⢀⠂⢌⢂⠡⠌⢂⠡⢊⠐⡄⠀⠃⠌⢡⠘⠠⠀⢁⠠⠘⡀⠆⡐⠡⢂⠌⢂⠰⠁⢂⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣥⣌⣀⡈⠠⠉⠠⠈⠄⠄⠠⢀⠎⢠⠂⢌⠰⢁⠒⡈⠰⠀⢀⠐⠌⡂⢌⠡⡑⠂⡌⠡⠐⠌⡐⢁⢂⣌⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣥⣦⣌⣄⣂⡈⠄⣈⠀⢂⠂⢂⠁⢂⠡⠈⠄⠃⡐⢈⠐⢠⣁⣤⣡⣼⣶⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣾⣶⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⚯ ⏃ ͛ ➒3/4𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ᯓ★✮⋆˙

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡦⠬⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠈⠙⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⢣⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣴⠾⠷⣶⣼⢧⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀ ⠘⠛⣿⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠈⣿⡸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠟⠃ ⠀⠀⠹⣧⡻⣦⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⡹⣦⠄⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢶⣦⣤⡶⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠷⣦⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠒⠒⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠋⠀⠈⡆⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⢠⠴⠊⠁⡏⠠⡀⢧⣀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⡀⠀⠄⠘⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⡀⠀⠹⡷⠤⠭⠵⡄⢱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠈⠙⡎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣎⠭⠥⠤⢀⠀⠡⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠴⠶⡾⢂⡀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠏⠁⢀⣮⣤⣄⠑⠖⠽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢰⣃⣤⡀⠈⠀⠀⡰⠊⠉⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠘⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠱⡽⣷⣆⠀⢸⡅⠀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⡁⡄⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠳⠿⠿⠧⠼⠱⠞⠙⠛⠿⠭⠥⠴⠟⠊⠅⠀⠀⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡄⡠⠈⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⡀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡎⣩⣴⣶⣶⣶⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣶⣶⡶⠶⠞⠒⠒⢍⡙⣾⣆⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⡗⠨⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⢉⠁⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⠉⠕⢊⣉⡩⠭⠥⣖⣲⢄⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⡙⢶⡲⡤⣄⢠⠴⢏⢀⡠⢔⠲⠮⢄⣀⣀⣈⡠⠔⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠥⠒⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢗⠆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠪⡱⢵⣌⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠂⠀⠢⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⣀⠤⠖⠛⠒⠒⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠈⠢⡉⠳⠦⠄⡀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢀⣠⣖⡉⠀⠀⣀⣀⣄⠠⠤⠤⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⠖⠒⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠑⠦⠄⢀⣨⣀⣈⡡⠤⠴⠒⠊⡉⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🐍💚🪄🔮 ❾¾ 🦉

🔮 🌸 🔮 x 🔮 🌸 🔮 x 🔮 🌸 🔮

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢿⡿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⢸⡇⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃⠀⢸⡇⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣁⣤⡴⢾⡷⢦⣤⡘⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⣤⣀⣸⣇⣀⣤⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀ ⠼⠿⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠿⠿⠿⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠆

📜🕯️✨♨︎

❾¾ MIA ETTL ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ 9¾

❾¾ 🪄 .𖥔 ݁ 🪐˖ ⌁☍ ⌁☍

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

˗ˏˋno can't, there must be another way! ˎˊ˗ ~hermione granger ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ▕

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠙⠛⣠⣍⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣃⣒⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⡿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣯⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣽⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣟⠿⠿⠯⠽⠗⣶⣹⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣛⣛⣶⣶⠾⣛⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⡿⢽⣛⡛⠋⠉⣀⣼⣿⣿⣟⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⢿⠿⠿⡛⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠫⣿⣼⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣭⣉⠉⠉⣛⣻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡙⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⠿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡿⣿⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠐⠒⠑⠒⠲⠉⢛⣚⣉⣥⠶⣿⣷⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣴⣶⠛⠉⠉⠁⢀⡈⠻⣯⡉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣉⠉⠉⠉⢙⠛⠛⠻⠯⠭⠽⣻⠉⢃⣐⣤⠾⣿⣧⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢿⣿⣧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠬⠿⠆⠳⠌⠙⠛⠿⢿⠛⢶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣛⣉⣤⣤⡴⠶⠟⠻⠯⠽⢿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠿⢿⣿⣦⣄ ⠀⠀⠙⠿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢀⠄⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⣁⡤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠟⠁⡤⣬⣁⡀⠒⢲⣻⡿⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣶⣠⣀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣶⠞⠯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠁⠈⢳⡀⠀⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣽⣿⣯⡝⠟⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠾⢿⢿⣿⡟⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠆⠀⠀⣠⣤⡤⠶⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠒⠶⠶⠶⠶⣶⣦⣴⣶⠦⠤⠶⠶⠒⠒⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⚯⚡🧹

Ｉｔｓ　ｎｏｔ　ｌｅｖｉｏｓｕｈ，　Ｉｔｓ　ＬｅｖｉｏＳＡＨ．　－Ｈｅｒｍｉｏｎｙ　ｇｒａｎｇｅｒ

❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ▕⃝⃤ ▕⃝⃤ ❾¾ ❾¾ ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾ ❾¾

⚡🧹⚯ ❾¾ ❾¾

⚕ ⚕

△⚬│

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠖⠒⠶⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⣸⣽⣿⣽⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⢻⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣛⣿⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣾⣿⡇⢀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⢤⢤⢤⢼⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⣀⣾⡿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⣿⢿⡿⠇⠀⣼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣾⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣷⣷⣿⣷⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠶⠆⠀⠀ ⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⣿⣿⢿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣛⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣷⡄ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣯⡇ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣄⠀⠐⣾⢴⣄⣠⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⢀⣠⡴⠲⣦⠀⣾⡇⢸⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣤⠀⢻⡇⠙⠁⣿⡇⠀⣿⠘⠉⢸⣿⠀⢀⡠⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣀⣿⣿⣀⣼⣿⠉⢹⣇⠀⣿⡇⣿⡇⢀⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⠀⣿⡇⣾⡇⣿⡇⠀⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠙⢷⣜⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠸⣿⠀⣿⠇⠛⠷⠋⣿⠀⠘⢿⡼⠻⣴⠋⠀⠸⠷⠿⠋⠀⠛⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢴⡆⢻⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⣀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠀⠀⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠛⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡦⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⠦⢄⣀⣀⣠⠞⣰⣄⠳⣄⣀⣀⣀⢴⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠄⠐⠒⠊⠉⠉⢹⡀⠀⡠⠄⠒⠊⠁⠈⠙⠒⠲⡅⠀⡼⣠⠤⣌⡉⠙⠒⠂⠠⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠚⣉⡀⠀⢠⣀⣀⢴⣊⡩⢙⣷⣸⠀⠀⣀⢀⡀⢀⣀⣀⠀⡙⣠⠹⣛⡏⠙⢻⣉⣻⡄⣀⣪⠍⣯⠉⠓⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⢤⣅⠓⢒⣚⡥⠴⣏⣀⡭⠭⠲⣿⣶⣋⣠⠤⠽⡯⠤⣌⣳⡷⠋⠉⠁⠒⠒⠺⠤⣄⡉⠁⠀⠈⣹⢩⠄⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠯⣦⡀⢠⠔⠚⠉⠻⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣦⡀⠀⣧⣤⣿⣤⡀⠀⣤⠀⢠⣴⣿⣤⡀⢈⣱⡆⠚⢛⡥⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠊⣄⡹⢶⠉⢸⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⡇⠀⠿⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠐⠏⠀⠀⢈⠉⡇⠀⣏⠧⡴⠺⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣖⠚⠉⣁⣄⣀⡼⢀⣾⡀⡆⠀⠙⠳⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣦⡴⣾⣆⡇⢀⡀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣦⡄⠠⡤⠀⣤⣿⡶⢧⠐⠛⣄⢣⣤⠎⣛⠒⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢠⠷⡚⠻⠏⠉⢀⣼⡿⠭⠭⠶⣦⣝⣳⣦⣀⣤⣖⠯⠴⣿⠹⡇⠈⣅⠀⠀⠀⠻⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠿⠀⠀⢑⠦⣀⣩⣶⡿⢶⠃⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢧⢶⠃⢠⡄⠒⠉⠈⡷⡄⢀⢀⣸⡧⠒⠒⣄⢳⠈⠑⠢⣈⢳⢷⡶⣿⣤⠀⠀⠶⠀⠰⣾⣷⡄⠰⠆⠀⠰⣿⠶⠀⡽⠹⢴⢄⡇⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠈⣏⢧⡬⡷⢦⣄⡀⠑⠜⠺⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⡀⠀⠀⢸⣠⣇⠏⠀⠀⢀⡦⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠋⠀⡞⠀⢀⡜⢾⢤⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⣏⡸⡇⡇⠀⠈⠙⢳⢁⠖⠁⠀⡰⢺⡀⠀⣠⣷⡌⠣⣄⠈⢻⣿⠃⠀⠘⢻⡟⠓⠀⠲⠂⠘⢻⡟⠓⠀⠶⠀⡇⠀⢻⣴⠃⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠇⡇⢿⢦⣄⡀⠸⣼⠀⠀⡴⠁⠀⢱⠀⢿⣿⠇⠀⠈⢧⠀⢳⣇⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣶⢀⠀⣈⠀⠀⡀⣶⠀⠃⠀⡌⣧⣦⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢔⠃⡀⢸⠀⠈⠙⠳⢿⣇⠀⠳⡀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠘⠻⠤⣀⠸⡀⠀⠹⣷⡦⣉⠀⠈⢛⡿⠉⠀⠉⠀⠈⠛⣿⠉⡂⠀⣙⢒⡉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢈⣯⡁⢸⣤⣀⠀⠀⠸⡼⡃⠀⠙⢢⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠱⣄⣿⣿⠃⠈⠳⡄⢠⡄⠀⣄⣼⣀⡀⠀⣠⡀⡇⢸⢱⠶⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢫⣦⡹⣼⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⣙⣷⣄⣀⣘⢄⡈⠢⣀⡀⣀⠬⠵⣦⡤⠽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠉⢽⠉⠁⠀⢠⡀⡇⠘⣿⡀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢰⢿⢹⢶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠙⢛⠏⠑⠮⠭⠥⠖⣲⠟⠁⠀⡄⠀⠉⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⢀⣶⡤⠤⣴⣾⠷⠷⠿⠥⢟⡶⢷⣒⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢲⡋⢣⣼⠀⠈⠛⢷⣤⣀⡞⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢉⠀⣀⣤⡴⠃⠀⠀⢀⣬⠵⠤⠐⠒⠊⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡄⢸⠃⡴⣤⣿⠞⠙⢆⠙⠲⢤⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⢰⡃⣎⢸⣦⡤⠤⣄⡈⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢖⢎⠟⣿⡼⣶⡒⠂⢉⡽⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠷⡽⠉⢆⢶⠒⡟⢻⢱⣡⠎⠰⣷⠁⡇⠀⣴⡼⠋⠀⢀⠙⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣠⠖⠛⠉⣉⣡⡀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠢⢤⣀⣼⡾⣟⠛⢁⡝⢁⣬⣹⢏⢸⠀⡴⢲⣖⣞⢇⠀⠀⡇⡇⠘⣿⠀⢃⢸⢸⠉⢣⢰⡏⠿⡅⢀⣿⡟⢲⠤⣀⣱⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣠⠀⣀⡠⠤⠒⠈⠉⠀⢠⠏⡭⣉⡿⡄⢸⢀⡇⢸⢸⢸⠀⢸⡸⣘⢾⠀⢀⣹⠟⡴⠹⡄⠸⠼⠘⣄⢸⢸⠇⠀⠃⢸⡿⠞⠧⣀⡸⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡴⠏⠉⠉⢉⣠⡥⢸⡓⠚⡶⠀⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⢁⢾⠀⡃⠘⢊⡇⢸⢸⢸⠀⢰⠋⢠⣼⡆⢸⠉⠉⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⢋⡤⠎⡸⠀⣰⠀⡼⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⢴⡋⠁⢸⠀⠀⢣⠀⠁⠀⢸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⣣⠀⣫⠞⠼⢳⠀⡏⠀⢸⡞⡟⣄⠸⣤⢃⡜⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⠉⠱⠭⠔⠊⠁⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣀⠬⠧⠤⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⢘⠀⡄⠀⡼⠀⣠⠴⠒⢻⢹⡞⠻⡄⢻⠀⠀⢸⠀⡇⠀⣸⢁⡱⠌⠓⠒⠉⢰⠗⢊⣉⠤⠔⣖⠒⡄⢰⢰⣦⡆⠀⡖⠒⠦⢤⡀⢈⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣰⠋⡠⠒⡏⠉⢳⠀⢸⠵⣆⡼⠀⡇⠀⢣⠀⢱⠀⠀⢸⡈⡇⠀⢳⠈⠀⠀⡸⢀⡇⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⡿⣧⣸⠘⡷⣀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠳⣌⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢧⠀⠙⠄⠧⡤⢸⠀⢸⠀⠀⢹⠀⢹⡆⡜⠀⢸⠀⣆⡸⣁⢳⡄⣸⢀⠀⠾⠵⠊⠀⣀⡠⠴⠒⡎⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⢁⣿⣿⢠⣇⢸⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⢴⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠲⠤⣤⣤⣰⠈⡀⠸⠀⠀⢸⡄⢸⠀⣇⠀⠈⠓⠒⠚⠛⠉⣯⠥⢊⣠⠤⠚⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠈⢛⣿⠀⠸⡼⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⣶⡽⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⠀⠀⡇⣀⣦⠀⢀⡇⣸⣄⢸⢋⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢤⡖⠉⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣾⢀⣶⢧⠇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠦⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣀⡘⠋⠉⠀⠀⠘⠉⠁⠙⢸⣿⡉⠁⣀⠀⠀⣤⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣹⡏⠈⠓⠉⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⠀⠀⣉⣉⠉⡍⠿⠃⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢿⠛⠢⣄⡀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠤⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⡠⠞⢹⠁⠿⡌⡇⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠰⡧⣬⠇⠱⣤⡄⢠⣤⣿⣀⠀⠀⣰⠦⠾⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⢿⡷⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠛⠳⣦⠎⠀⡼⡰⢃⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠘⣽⣄⣀⠱⡄⠀⠀⣿⠉⣴⣮⢽⡶⣲⣤⠀⢀⡞⠉⣇⡼⣲⣺⠦⣾⣠⠤⠐⠚⢷⣄⠀⠀⢀⡜⢨⣉⡞⠁⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡀⠈⣆⣻⣄⡈⠢⣀⣀⠀⢙⣙⣿⣿⠛⠓⠒⠊⣄⠀⣿⣿⠿⠫⠿⠛⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⢷⣤⢊⣔⡟⠁⢁⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠁⠈⢓⠿⢢⠀⠙⠒⠬⣽⣿⡉⠀⠂⠀⠶⣿⠶⡞⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⢀⣉⣳⠤⠤⠒⠋⣀⣘⠿⠟⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠤⣀⠘⠦⠜⢠⢛⡲⣄⠀⠀⡀⠉⠙⠢⢄⡛⠀⡇⢀⡠⠞⠋⠉⠀⠀⢠⣄⡠⠞⡡⣶⡺⠃⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠲⠤⣈⡑⠉⠙⣍⣙⣧⣀⣤⣄⡀⠈⠑⡿⠋⠀⢰⢚⣆⢴⡮⠗⠶⠾⠉⠀⣀⡠⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠒⠠⢭⣓⠒⠚⡳⢫⡇⢷⣏⡹⡌⠓⠒⠉⣀⡤⠤⠒⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠦⡱⢌⣈⠈⣉⡼⢁⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⡘⣾⢁⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢭⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡤⢤⠴⡦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⢟⣋⣻⣾⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣯⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣿⣟⠽⣹⣿⣿⡿⣿⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣵⢗⡫⠭⣽⣼⡿⣻⣿⣬⣭⣟⣹⣿⣿⢻⣿⣓⣤⡤⢤⣲⣲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⢀⡠⠤⢼⣟⠘⢠⡀⣸⣴⣿⣿⣿⣾⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣯⣏⣹⠻⢽⣷⢳⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⣀⣮⣷⣾⣭⡽⣦⣄⣙⣛⣯⣟⣿⣟⣹⡛⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣺⣿⣷⠟⣭⡉⣦⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⢸⡷⣟⡷⢛⣻⣾⣿⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡽⠐⡆⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⢿⣯⣽⣿⣟⣧⡿⢤⡄⢸ ⡇⠀⠙⣺⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠁⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⡠⣶⣆⠓⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠈⣿⡿⣿⣾⣿⣺⡿⠃⢸ ⡇⠀⣼⣿⢹⡇⣹⣷⣥⡗⠘⡟⣇⣀⠎⠀⣿⡟⠳⢌⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⣹⢻⡏⣭⢻⣦⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⡇⣜⣻⣿⣟⠓⢠⠇⠀⠻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠈⠻⣶⣶⡷⠗⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣍⣽⣿⢿⣄⢿⡇⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⢱⢹⣿⣻⣾⣿⣷⣶⠤⠤⠽⡿⢁⣸⡶⡇⡼⠙⢷⣆⡀⠀⠀⢸⡈⣿⣾⡫⣴⣽⣿⠇⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠘⢛⢏⣽⣯⣻⣷⣯⠀⢮⣽⠶⠿⠛⠻⢿⣆⠀⢈⣿⣦⠀⠀⢸⣼⣯⣭⣶⡿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⣤⢜⣜⣿⣮⢿⣇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣶⣿⣿⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⣸⣿⣛⡷⢿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠹⣦⡈⠣⣷⣾⡎⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣉⠭⢽⣀⣴⡿⠾⡄⢀⡇⡟⣿⡝⣿⠷⠇⣶⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⢠⡟⣿⣿⣻⣿⠇⡏⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡟⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⣠⠏⢸⢸⡟⣺⣯⣤⣾⠏⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠸⣉⠛⠿⢛⣩⠞⢿⣿⣿⡵⢄⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⢷⡿⠛⣿⣷⣭⣽⢻⣭⡧⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠈⢏⠀⣠⣖⣬⡛⠤⣀⠁⠢⣀⣇⣠⠖⣋⡠⠜⣊⣴⡄⠈⢻⠿⠭⠭⠟⠁⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣕⠏⡞⡩⢹⣶⣤⣤⡈⣉⣡⣤⣴⡚⡟⣿⠈⢗⡵⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠦⣀⡛⠱⠟⠹⣇⣼⠻⠹⠅⠛⣂⡤⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠒⠂⠀⠒⠒⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠋⠉⠉

“∞ ϟ 9¾ ♔ ⚯͛ △⃒⃘ ➵ ♆” “luna , sword , harry potter , hogwart”

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

∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◣ ∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇◣ ∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇▇◣ ∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇▇▇◣ ∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▋ ∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▋ ∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵ ▋ ∵∵∵∵◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▋∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◣ ∵∵∵∵▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇◣ ∵∵∵∵▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇▇◣ ∵∵∵∵▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇▇▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇▇▇◣ ∵∵∵∵▊∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◥▇╭┯╮▇◤∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▊ ∵∵∵∵▊∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇┠╂┨▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▊ ∵∵∵∵▊∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇╰┷╯▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▊ ∵∵∵◢▇◣∵∴∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◥▇▇▇◤∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇◣ ∵∵◢▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇▇▇◣ ∵◢▇▇▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵ ▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇▇▇▇▇◣ ∵◥▇╭┯╮▇◤∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◥▇╭┯╮▇◤ ∵∵▇┠╂┨▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇┠╂┨▇ ∵∵▇╰┷╯▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇╰┷╯▇ ∵∵◥▇▇▇◤∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◥▇▇▇◤ ∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▉∴∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∴◢▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇▇▇◣∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◢▇▇▇◣ ∵∵▉╭┯╮▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇╭┯╮▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇╭┯╮▇ ∵∵▉┠╂┨▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇┠╂┨▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇┠╂┨▇ ∵∵▉╰┷╯▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇╰┷╯▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▇╰┷╯▇ ∵∵◥▇▇▇◤∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◥▇▇▇◤∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵◥▇▇▇◤ ∵∵∵▆▆▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▇∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▇∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▆▆▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▇∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▆▆▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▉∵▆▆▉ ∵∵∵▆▆▇∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉∵▆▆▉∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▆▉ ∵∵◢▆▆▇∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉∵▆▆▉∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉◣ ∵∵▉▇▇▇▉▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉▉▇▇▇▉▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉▉▇▇▇▉ ∵∵▉╭┯╮▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉╭┯╮▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉╭┯╮▉ ∵∵▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉ ∵∵▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉ ∵∵▉╰┷╯▉▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉▉╰┷╯▉▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉▉╰┷╯▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉╭┯╮▉▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉▉╭┯╮▉▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉┏┯┓▉▉╭┯╮▉ ∵∵▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉ ∵∵▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉ ∵∵▉╰┷╯▉▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉▉╰┷╯▉▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉┗┷┛▉▉╰┷╯▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┯┯┓▉▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┓▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┗┷┛▉▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉▉┗┷┷┷┛▉▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉▉┗┷┛▉▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┯┯┓▉▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┓▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┗┷┛▉▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉▉┗┷┷┷┛▉▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉▉┗┷┛▉▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┯┯┓▉▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉┏┯┓┏┯┓▉▉┏┯┓▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂╂╂┨▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┠╂┨▉▉ ∵∵▉▉┗┷┛▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┗┷┷┷┛▉▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉┠╂┨┠╂┨▉▉┗┷┛▉▉ ∵◢▉▉▉▉▉▉▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉▉▉┏┯┓▉▉▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉┗┷┛┗┷┛▉▉▉▉▉▉▉◣ ◢▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▅▅▅▆▆▆▇▆▆▆▅▅▅▉▉▉┗┷┛▉▉▉▉▉▅▅▅▆▆▆▇▆▆▆▅▅▅▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉◣ ▅▅▅▅▅▅◢▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆☼▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆◣▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅◢▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆☼▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆◣▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅◢▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆☼▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆◣▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅◢▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆☼▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆◣▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅◢▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆☼▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆◣▅▅▅▅

🏆

"Honey, did you take out the trash?" Karen called out to the living room. The only reply was the distant sound of the TV playing a sitcom laugh track. She sighed. Going into the living room, Karen found her husband, Plankton, sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. The TV's blue light flickered over his face. She looked around the room, the piles of laundry, the dusty bookshelves, and the half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. It was a mess, but she knew better than to wake him. Plankton had been working long hours at the chum factory lately, trying to make ends meet. His snoring grew louder, and she felt a wave of affection mixed with concern. Gently, she covered his legs with a blanket and bent to kiss his forehead. He stirred slightly but didn't wake up. In the kitchen, Karen grabbed a cup of coffee, the warmth and aroma grounding her for the evening ahead. The fridge hummed a low lullaby, reminding her of the chores left to do. The sink was full of dirty dishes, remnants of dinner. A pot with half-eaten chum congealed on the stovetop. Karen rolled up her sleeves, determined to tackle the chaos. She knew Plankton was exhausted from work. The clanking of pots and pans echoed through the tiny kitchen as she washed and sorted, her mind racing with thoughts of their future. A knock at the door startled her. She dried her hands on a towel, leaving wet spots like tears on the fabric. It was Hanna, her best friend since high school. Karen had not seen Hanna in weeks, and the sight of her brought a smile. Hanna was a burst of energy. "Hi, Karen! How's it going?" Hanna's voice was a mix of sweetness and the sharpness of someone who had seen too much of the world. She scanned the room, taking in the clutter, the stale smell of overworked air, and Plankton's snoring. "Hey, Hanna," Karen managed, her voice soft to not disturb his sleep. "It's been a bit hectic, but we're making do." Hanna stepped in, eyeing the mess sympathetically. "Looks like you could use a hand," she said, already grabbing a dish towel. Karen's smile grew. "You read my mind. Thanks." Hanna tossed the towel over her shoulder, ready to jump into the fray. "You know me," she said with a wink. "I've never been one to shy away from a mess." The two of them worked side by side, the rhythm of their movements harmonizing as they cleared the kitchen. Karen felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease as Hanna filled the room with stories of her latest adventures, a welcome distraction from the monotony of chores. As the last plate was put away, the fridge closed with a satisfying click, Karen leaned against the counter. Hanna looked at her. "You've been carrying a lot, haven't you?" she asked, her voice gentle. Karen nodded, her eyes welling up. "It's just that with Plankton's job, and the bills..." Hanna pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, sweetie. You're doing the best you can." They sat down in the living room, the clean kitchen a testament to their friendship's strength. Hanna's screen searched Karen's for a sign of the spark that used to be there. "I can't remember the last time we went out together," Hanna said. "You two deserve a break." Karen's screen lit up at the suggestion, but quickly dimmed. "We can't afford it," she said, sighing. "Not with the overtime Plankton's been doing." Hanna leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, I might have a little surprise for you," she said. Karen looked up, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" Hanna pulled out a small envelope from her pocket and handed it to her friend. "A gift," she said with a sly smile. "A check from my winning lottery ticket." Karen's eyes widened as she opened the envelope. "Hanna, no!" she protested. "You can't just give us your winnings!" Hanna's smile didn't waver. "I can, and I want to. You've been there for me through everything. It's about time I returned the favor. Besides," she said with a wink, "what's a little chum between friends?" Karen's hands trembled as she read the check. It was more than enough to cover their rent and bills for several months. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hugged Hanna tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. The weight of financial stress lifted slightly from her shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. For a moment, the world didn't seem so overwhelming. Hanna pulled back, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Now, don't spend it all in one place," she teased. Karen laughed, the sound small but genuine. "I won't," she promised, the check clutched in her hand. "We'll use it wisely." The two of them sat quietly for a while, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The TV had switched to the news, and the low murmur of the anchor's voice filled the room. Plankton's snoring had become a comforting white noise. Hanna looked at Plankton, her expression thoughtful. "You know, I've always admired the way you take care of him," she said. "It can't be easy." Karen nodded, her thumb tracing the edges of the check. "It's not," she admitted. "But he's my Plankton. I love him, even when he's exhausting." Her gaze drifted to the sleeping form of her husband. Plankton's snores grew more even, his face finally relaxed. The lines of stress that usually pinched his features had smoothed out in sleep. Karen knew that Plankton had always dreamed of more than his life at the chum factory could offer. He was a man of ambition, his spirit too large for the cramped quarters they called home. Her thoughts turned to the gift from Hanna. The check represented more than just money; it was a beacon of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could finally start working towards those dreams.

✮🔮🕯️🌑🕸🐍✮

𓅓⚯ ͛「 」▕⃝⃤⚕

Dr. McDermott's dental office. Plankton had been in surgery for wisdom teeth. The receptionist, a young woman named "Samantha," was going up to Karen. "Your husband is to be taken to the recovery," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. Karen nodded. Samantha led her down. Plankton was laid out on a narrow bed, his mouth open slightly. "He's still under," Samantha whispered, "but going to start bringing him out of it now. Waking is a gradual process so.." Karen nodded. She watched as a nurse approached, deftly adjusting tubes and machines connected to him. The nurse flicked a switch and began to decrease the flow. The anesthesia diminished. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically, his eye remained closed. Karen reached out and took his hand, her thumb brushing against his. She squeezed gently, hoping it might provide some comfort, or at least a thread of familiarity, as he began his journey back to consciousness. A few moments later, Plankton's hand twitched ever so slightly in response. "It's ok honey," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. A nurse, named Margaret, offered an assuring smile. "It's normal for it to take time. Just keep talking to him, it'll help." Karen leaned closer, her voice barely above a murmur. "Remember our first date?" she began. Plankton's snore was the only response. "Don't worry, he'll come around soon. Anesthesia can take a while to wear off. And when he does, he'll be groggy. It's like waking up from a deep sleep." Her thoughts drifted to Plankton's snoring, a comforting sound. She squeezed his hand again, trying to will him to wake with her touch. Then, to her surprise, she heard a murmur. "Mm, chum... so... much... chum..." The nurse, Margaret, gave her a knowing look. "It's common for patients to talk in their sleep as they come out of it. Sometimes they say the darndest things." Karen smiles. "Chum?" she repeated, "Is that what you're dreaming about?" "Needff... chum..." "You're ok," she whispered, her voice filled with relief. "You're just dreaming, sweetie." "Chum... I... I nee to... get ith," he slurred. Karen's smile grew, his nonsensical words bringing a small spark of comfort. "You're dreaming about work," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. The nurse, Margaret, checked the monitors and nodded. "His vitals look good. He'll be fine," she assured. "Remember the first time you made me a Patty?" she asked, her voice soothing. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. "Ith... Ith was’at..." he mumbled. It wasn't often she heard him express his feelings so openly, especially not about her. "What was it, honey?" she prompted, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Youw... youwre the... the besht... the... besht..." his voice trailed off again into snores. Karen chuckled with affection. It was clear he was talking about her, despite the garbled speech. She leaned in closer. "I'm right here," she whispered. Plankton's sleep-talk grew, his grip on her hand tightening. "Pro-tec... the secret... chum... fwom... Plankton..." "You're safe," she said, her voice a soothing whisper. "You don't have to worry about the recipe now." Plankton's slurred words continued. "Fwom... Plankton... ith... ith... my... my... hearth..." It was almost as if he was speaking to it, whispering sweet nothings in his sleep. "Your... your heart?" she repeated uncertainly, trying to make sense of his words. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his hand still clutching hers tightly. A faint moan escaped Plankton's lips, and his eye began to flutter open. His eye searched the room, unfocused and glazed. He blinked slowly, a look of confusion spreading across his face. The nurse stood by, monitoring, ready to intervene if needed. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. She squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. "Hi, sweetie. It's all over now. You're in the recovery room." Plankton's eye searched hers, still clouded with sleep. "Wha... wha' happen'd?" he managed to ask. "You had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen said softly. "You're ok now." Plankton's eye grew clearer as his mind slowly surfaced from the depths of unconsciousness. He blinked again, looking around the room. "Why... why awe youw smiling?" "You were talking in your sleep," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. "It was just sweet." Plankton's eye searched hers. "Wha'did I shay?" "You said a lot of things," she replied, her smile lingering. "But the most important part was that you said I was the best." The corner of Plankton's mouth twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice still slurred. "Well, thath's twue." With Margaret's help, Karen managed to get Plankton into a more upright position. His head lolled slightly before he found his bearings, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "How do you feel?" Karen asked, her voice full of concern. "Woozy," Plankton mumbled. With Margaret's guidance, Karen helped Plankton to stand, his legs wobbly. He leaned heavily on her, the anesthesia still clouding his movements. She felt his weight and knew that he would need her support to navigate the short walk to the car. "Let's go slow," she said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-lidded with sleep. They shuffled along the hallway, each step a victory over his grogginess. As they approached the door leading to the parking lot, Plankton swayed. Karen tightened her grip, for his head lolled to the side, and she caught him. "Whoa, honey," she said. Plankton's legs buckled slightly, and his head dropped to her shoulder, his weight pressing against her. Karen steadied him, her arms wrapping around to keep him upright. His breathing was deep and even, eye fighting to stay open. "You can't sleep now," she said, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. "We're not even home yet." With Margaret's help, they made their way to the car, Karen's arm supporting Plankton's weight. "Let's get you buckled in," she said, guiding him to the passenger seat. Plankton complied, his movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. With a gentle push, Karen secured the seatbelt across his chest. His head lolled back against the headrest, and for a moment, she thought he might fall back asleep, but managed to keep his eye open as she starts the engine. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's eye drifted shut. "We're almost home." Karen says as Plankton's head lolled back against the headrest. She took a hand off the wheel to pat his leg reassuringly. "You can sleep when we get there." Yet Plankton's snores filled the car, punctuating the silence. Karen couldn't help but look over at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. "Wake up, sweetie," Karen whispered, gently shaking Plankton. He stirred, his eye blinking open with difficulty. "We're home," she said. Plankton groaned. "Careful," she warned. They shuffled inside, Karen guiding him. The smell of home hit them, a mix of saltwater and the faint scent of cooking from the restaurant next door. "Come on, honey," she said, half-guiding, half-carrying him to their bedroom. Karen helped him lie downs. He let out a deep sigh. "Thathks," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen settled Plankton into bed, his head resting on the soft pillows, his body limp and heavy with the weight of the anesthesia. She took his other hand and squeezed gently. As they lay there, she noticed a small pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Karen couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the day dissipating. She reached for a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped the drool away. Plankton snuffled, his eye shooting open for a moment before closing again. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking his forehead. "You're safe. You can go back to sleep now." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and drool grew more insistent, a silent testament to his deep slumber. Karen grabbed another tissue, wiping the saliva that trickled down his chin, his snores rumbling. With each tissue, the intimacy grew, the act of caring for him in this vulnerable state somehow endearing. She felt a tenderness for him that was usually overshadowed by their daily squabbles and the relentless pursuit of the Krabby Patty's secret recipe. As Plankton's snores grew softer, his grip on her hand loosened. Karen gently pulled her hand free and covered him with the blanket. She took a moment to gaze at his peaceful face. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and she found it surprisingly comforting. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead, whispering, "I love you, even when you're drooling." Karen knew Plankton would be out for hours, so she decided to use the time to prepare a light meal for when he woke. She moved quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. She rummaged, looking for something soft that wouldn't irritate his sore mouth. In the fridge, she found a bowl of Plankton's favorite jellyfish jello, a treat she had made the night before knowing he wouldn't be able to eat much solid food. Then, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly, carefully making a few soft, fluffy sandwiches that she hoped would be easy for him to chew. Next, she grabbed a few of Plankton's favorite books from the living room. She placed them on the bedside table, along with a glass of water, within arm's reach. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over her as she listened to his rhythmic snores. Despite the stress of the day, she was grateful for the quiet moments like these.

⋆˚࿔ Gowri 𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚࿔ 🐍⃝⃒⃤⚡🧹⚯LEViOsA🪄𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘leViOsA🪄

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i (Autistic author) "You know, Shel, just put yourself out there. You think to much! Just steal a patty from the krusty krab, and bring it back. No inventions, just believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says. Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition often outstripped his grasp, took a deep breath and nodded. It was a simple enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting ingenious contraptions and elaborate schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret formula. Yet here he was, standing in the shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth for any signs of movement. Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her frustration building. Meanwhile, Plankton took a final shaky breath and slid open the kitchen window, his heart racing. The scent of greasy fryers and salty ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached out, his tiny hand trembling, and snatched the Krabby Patty that lay unguarded on the counter. With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's confidence grew. He had done it; the secret was within his grasp! He turned to leave, but his elation was cut short when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze. Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was quick. He dashed under the cash register, the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like a football player crossing the finish line. "You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs was persistent, his claws snapping shut just millimeters from Plankton's antennae. With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy metal contraption off its stand. Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and the cash register came down on him like a guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the kitchen, and the Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp. Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. The impact had been tremendous, and for a moment, he lay dazed and defeated. The cash register's heavy weight had not only knocked him out cold but also left a sizable dent in the floorboards. Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic. as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just as she was about to storm inside, she hears the cash register, which hit Plankton's head. Peering in she saw Plankton lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with panic. Karen opens the door and goes to him. "Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, voice shaking the very foundation of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's eye closed, and his body was completely still. The Patty lay forgotten. Panic set in, and she began to pat his face. "Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing through the deserted kitchen. She knew that Plankton could be dramatic, but this was unlike him. He'd always bounced back from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a bruised ego. There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of desperation and fear. She knew she had to do something, and fast. But what? Her medical expertise was limited to patching up her husband's bruises from past failed schemes, not dealing with a concussion from a cash register to the head. She then managed to scoop up her unconscious husband and sprinted to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. Once inside the hospital, she explained what happened with the cash register. "We'll do a brain scan." They said. Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed. Finally a doctor approached with a solemn expression. "The brain scan results are in." Karen nodded for him to go on. "It seems your husband has suffered significant brain damage from impact," the doctor continued, fidgeting with a clipboard. "The good news is that he will wake up, but... your husband has experienced severe brain trauma. While he will regain consciousness, it appears that he may have developed permanent autism." "What does that mean?" she managed to whisper. The doctor explained that while Plankton would still be able to talk and/or communicate, his interactions and reactions to sensory would be significantly affected. "But he'll still be the same Plankton?" The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. His personality, his memories, they should all be intact. But his ability to process, to understand and respond appropriately... those might be altered. It's a complex condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go home whence he wakes up." Karen nodded numbly, mind racing with the implications. As she sat by Plankton's bedside the hospital lights flickered, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was the only company she had. The quiet was broken her husband's eye fluttering open. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the trauma. Her heart leaped at the sound, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm here," she said, her voice cracking. "How do you feel?" Plankton's gaze darted around the room. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and fear. "You're at the hospital, sweetie," Karen replied, voice gentle and soothing. "You had hit your head on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." Karen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you." Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, voice sounding distant and confused. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at his brain like a thousand tiny needles. "What happened to me?" he asked, voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath preparing herself to explain the gravity of the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and now, the doctor says you have... acquired a neurodisability." Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... what?" he repeated. Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's like your brain is wired differently now. You might see things, hear things, feel things more intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand people, or process differently." "Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice barely a whisper. "No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not broken. You're just... different. And we'll figure this out together."

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH vi "I... I just want to make sure he's ok," Krabs said. "He's not in a good place right now," Karen admitted. "Tell him... I didn't mean to embarrass him, that I'm sorry for... everything." "I'll let him know," she said. Heading into the bedroom she found Plankton fast asleep, his face a picture of peace amidst the chaos of his mind, a stark contrast to the turmoil she knew was churning within him. She knew waking him would only stir up more pain and anger, so she decided to let him rest. Karen sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the gentle snores a soothing soundtrack to the quiet room. She reached out to brush his antennae, with love and concern. Karen knew this wisdom teeth extraction had taken a toll on him, but she had no idea the depth of his embarrassment til she saw the photo. The next morning, Plankton woke to Karen's gentle humming. The stiffness in his jaw had subsided to a dull throb. As he sat up, the events of the previous day crashed down on him like a tidal wave. Karen turned, her smile fading as she took in his expression. "You're up," she said tentatively. Plankton nodded, jaw still aching. "Krabs called," Karen said, breaking the silence. Plankton's eye snapped to hers, his body tensing. "What." Karen took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice calm. "He said he's sorry for everything," she replied, her voice measured. "And that he didn't mean to embarrass you." Plankton stared at her, his jaw clenched. Karen understood the depth of his pain. "Maybe it wasn't about embarrassment," she suggested gently. "Maybe he was just trying to help." Plankton snorted, but the anger in his eye was fading, replaced by something closer to defeat. "Help." he repeated. "From Krabs!" Karen nodded. "He seemed genuinely concerned," she said. "And he did bring over those jellyfish for you." Plankton's skeptical, but didn't argue. Mr. Krabs wasn't exactly known for warm and fuzzy moments. But the idea that he had shown any care was unsettling. He always seen Krabs as the epitome of greed and self-interest, this newer side as unwelcome as the pain in his mouth. But as the day wore on, Plankton couldn't shake the feeling there's more to the story. Despite pride, he was curious about what happened between them. He knew he had to confront Krabs to set things straight, to regain some semblance of control over. So, when Mr. Krabs appeared at the chum bucket door, unannounced and looking unusually nervous, Plankton's curiosity won over. He begrudgingly let him in, posture stiff. Mr. Krabs fidgeted, his claws twitching as he looked around the cluttered room. "Plankton," he began, his voice tentative. "I know I've not always been the... the most sensitive crab in the sea, but I never meant to cause ye distress." Plankton's eye narrowed. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice gruff. Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his claws fidgeting. "I just... I wanted to apologize," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For the photo. For... everything." Plankton's eye never left Mr. Krabs' face. "You had no right," he said, his voice cold. Mr. Krabs swallowed. "I know," he admits. "But I didn't mean for it to go viral. Pearl... she's young, she doesn't understand the implications." Mr. Krabs shifted uncomfortably. "I don't expect anything," he said. "But I want to explain. You were in a lot of pain, and I just... I just wanted to help." Plankton's expression unyielding. "And what exactly?" Mr. Krabs took a step back, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Well, you were delirious," he began. "You talked a bit, but it was mostly nonsense." Plankton wasn't satisfied. "I want details?" Mr. Krabs sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping. "You talked about the good ol' days," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And how, despite our rivalry, we've always had a... a sort of respect for each other." Plankton felt a flicker of something in his chest, but pushed it aside. "Respect?" he sneered. "You expect me to believe that?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes earnest. "It's the truth," he said. "You talked about how we've been through a lot together, even though we're enemies." Plankton felt his anger dissipate with a strange curiosity. "Why?" he asked, his voice softer. "Why would I?" Mr. Krabs shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe anesthesia brought out some hidden feelings?" Plankton's antennae quivered with irritation. "Hidden feelings!" he echoed. "You're telling me I have feelings for you?" Mr. Krabs' face flushed a deep red. "No, no, no!" he sputtered, holding up his claws defensively. "It's just... you were out of it, Plankton, unable to know what you were saying." But Plankton wasn't letting it go. "I need to know," he insisted, his voice low and intense. "What did I say to you?" Mr. Krabs squirmed, his eyes darting around the room. "It's... it's nothing, really," he stammered. "Just random, incoherent babble." But Plankton's gaze was unyielding. "Tell me," he demanded. Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, eyes downcast. "You called me your... your best friend," he murmured. "And you said you admire me." Plankton's eye bulged, his antennae standing straight up. "Admired you?" he echoed, his voice incredulous. Mr. Krabs nodded, his cheeks burning. "Yes," he said, his voice barely audible. "But it was just the medication, I'm sure." Plankton's mind reeled at the revelation. Best friend? Admired? Inconceivable. He had spent his life plotting against Mr. Krabs, trying to steal the Krabby Patty secret, and here he was, confessing his admiration and friendship? A nightmare. "Why would I?" he croaked, his voice a mix of disbelief and anger. Mr. Krabs shuffled his feet. "I told ya," he repeated. "You were out of it, babbling about all sorts of things." But Plankton's mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of his subconscious. "What else did I do?" he pressed, his voice tight. Mr. Krabs fidgeted, his eyes darting around the room. "You... you also thanked me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For being here." Plankton's jaw dropped, his arms flailing. "Thanked you?" he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief. "What, exactly?" Mr. Krabs squirmed, his eyes darting around the room. "You said I was a... friend," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that you were grateful for my help." Plankton quivered with rage. "Grateful?" he spat, his voice filled with revulsion. "To you?" Mr. Krabs looked down at his claws, his eyes pleading. "I know it's hard to believe," he said. "But you were in a lot of pain, and the medication can do funny things." Plankton's mind raced, trying to process this new information. He had always seen Mr. Krabs as the epitome of everything he despised: greedy, selfish, and always one step ahead in their eternal dance for the Krabby Patty secret. But here he was, describing a moment Plankton couldn't even remember. "What else?" Plankton demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "What other humiliating things?" Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to meet Plankton's. "Well, you dozed off during my story," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "You leaned against me, and before I knew it, you were out cold." Plankton's tentacles stilled, his mind racing with the absurdity of the situation. "Story time?" he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. "I fell asleep on your shoulder?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his face a picture of awkwardness. "It was quite... unexpected," he said, his eyes darting around the room. "But you seemed to enjoy it." Plankton stared at him, his mind reeling. "What was the story?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. Mr. Krabs' cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. "It was about... You, per your request." Plankton's eye widened. Mr. Krabs nodded, turning a shade of red that matched his shell. "Yeah," he said, his voice small. "You said you liked the sound of my voice. It's the anesthesia," he said, his voice gentle. "It can do funny things to a body, make 'em say and do things they wouldn't normally." Plankton tightened around the ice pack, his mind racing. He had always seen Mr. Krabs as his sworn enemy, the one who stood between him and the Krabby Patty secret. But here was Krabs, describing a moment of intimacy that was as far from their usual interactions as the moon was from the ocean floor. Mr. Krabs cleared his throat, in discomfort. "It's alright, Plankton," he said, his voice gruff. "It's not something anyone needs to know about." But Plankton was insistent, his curiosity piqued. "I need to know," he said, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "How did it happen?" Mr. Krabs sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. "Well," he began, his voice halting. "You seemed to get tired," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your eye closed, and your head just... kind of fell onto my shoulder." Plankton's antennae twitched with discomfort, his cheeks burning. "And?" "Well, you were in pain," he said, his voice gruff. "I didn't want to disturb you ." Karen watched the exchange from the doorway. She knew Plankton was tough, but this was a side of him she had never seen before. Vulnerable and exposed. "Mr. Krabs," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Thank you for coming over." Mr. Krabs looked up, his eyes darting to her before returning to Plankton. "It's no trouble, Karen," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I just wanted to make sure he's okay." Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "I think we can handle it from here," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. Mr. Krabs' eyes darted between the two of them, fidgeting. "If... if there's anything I can do," he offered, his voice trailing off. Karen gave a small smile filled with gratitude. "I think we got it from here," she said. "But thank you for caring."

┌─⚔️ ◦ 🧙🏻‍♀️ • 🧙🏻‍♂️ • 🧙 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 「 ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ ⚡ 」τυяи το ραgє 394 ♡✧ʅ(◕ᴗ◕ʅ)

✮⚯⏃ ͛ ➒3/4

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH i "Why do we have to go so early?" he grumbled. "I know, sweetie," Karen said, patting his hand reassuringly. "But it's for the best. You'll be out like a light during the surgery, and you won't feel a thing." The nurse noticed his distress and offered a kind smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Plankton. We're going to make this as comfortable for you as possible. First things first, let's get you in and then we'll start with some anesthesia." Karen watched as Plankton reluctantly climbed into the chair. The nurse dimmed the lights and adjusted the chair's recline. She placed a warm blanket over him, and the softness enveloped him like a comforting embrace, the nurse preparing Plankton for the surgery. She chatted away, "So, any plans for the weekend?" "Not really," he said, "Just recovery." The nurse nodded. She began to insert the IV, talked him through each step, her voice a comforting lullaby guiding him into a state of relaxation. She continued to engage in light conversation, told about her weekend plans, a lifeline to the outside world that seemed so far away in the cold, clinical environment. As the anesthesia began to work, Plankton felt his body grow heavier, his eyelid drooping. "You're doing great," she said softly. "Just keep breathing, ok?" Plankton's thoughts began to blur together. The doctor's voice grew distant, his words melding into a comforting murmur as Plankton felt himself slipping away. The last thing he heard was Karen's voice, a gentle whisper in his ear. "I'm here," she said, her hand holding onto his with a fierce tenderness. "I love you." And then there was nothing, the last sensation he felt before everything went quiet. The anesthetist monitored Plankton's vitals, ensuring he remained safely asleep throughout the procedure. Plankton was a picture of peace, mouth agape as the anesthesia kept him blissfully unaware of the world around him. The nurse's eyes flick from the monitors to Plankton's serene face. Plankton's body didn't even flinch. Plankton's face remained relaxed, his breathing even, as the anesthetic kept him in a state of blissful unconsciousness, ensuring that his comfort remained top priority. Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence that soothed the room. The nurse gently swabbed his mouth, keeping the area clean and clear. The doctor stitched up the small incisions with a gentle touch, while the nurse cleaned Plankton's mouth. The anesthetist monitored the levels, ensuring a smooth and safe emergence from the depths of unconsciousness. The doctor looked at Karen, his eyes weary but his smile reassuring. "It's all done," he said. "Everything went smoothly. He's still sleeping it off, but you can go in and see him." Karen rushed in, her screen searching for Plankton. He was there, lying back in the chair, his mouth slightly open, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked so peaceful, vulnerable. She reached out and touched his hand, for the surgery was over. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept. "He's doing great," she assured her. "The surgery went well." Karen leaned over Plankton, as she brushed his antennae with her hand. She took in the sight of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snorish sounds escaping his mouth. His face was a portrait of peace, a stark contrast to the chaos of the surgery that had just taken place. The nurse finished her work and dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a soft glow that cast shadows across the floor. Karen pulled up a chair and sat down, her hand finding Plankton's again. "You're ok," she murmured, willing him to hear her voice, to feel her presence. "You're going to be ok." Karen's entire world was contained in reassuring her that he was still there. The nurse approached with a wad of gauze. "We need to put this in his mouth to help with bleeding," she explained gently. Karen nodded. The nurse placed the gauze with the same care she had shown throughout the entire ordeal, pressing it gently against the raw, tender spots where Plankton's teeth had once been. The nurse finished her cleanup and checked Plankton's vitals one last time. "He'll come around soon," she assured. "The anesthesia takes a bit to wear off." His breathing was still deep and steady, the gentle rumble of his snores filling the room. She found comfort in the mundane sounds of his slumber. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed to match the beeping of the heart monitor. The anesthesia had done its job well, leaving him in a deep, dreamless sleep. His face was serene. His antennae lay limp on the chair's headrest, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing the gauze the nurse had placed to stem the bleeding. The drool that had pooled at the corners of his mouth began to seep out onto the chair. The nurse noticed and nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's normal," she said. Plankton's snores grew louder, the drool now a small river that trickled down. Karen reached out with a trembling hand, her thumb catching the droplets before they could stain the fabric. The drool was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. Her screen focused on the slow, steady flow of dribble, forming and breaking away, each one a little more substantial than the last. The nurse had said it was normal, but to Karen, it was a sign of his vulnerability, a tangible proof of the surgery's aftermath. As the drool grew into a small puddle on the chair, Karen's resolve to be strong for him grew stronger. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and gently wiped. The nurse looked at her with understanding. "It's alright," she said softly. "He'll wake un his own time." Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. She felt a strange mix of love and pity. Here he was, reduced to a drooling mess in a chair, and yet she had never felt more connected to him. It was a strange intimacy, this moment of vulnerability, a silent pact between them that she would always be there to wipe away his fears, both literal and figurative. The nurse moved around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She checked the machines one last time before turning to Karen. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, patting the chair beside Plankton's. "It'll be a bit before he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable." Karen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled up a chair and held his hand tightly, her thumb brushing back and forth across his knuckles. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You did it, sweetie." She leaned closer. "The teeth are out. You're okay." She waited, watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, and willing him to open his eye. "Remember what I said about ice cream?" she asked, her voice a little louder this time. "You can have as much as you want when we get home." She tried to keep her tone light, despite the gravity of the situation. The thought of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream was supposed to make him smile, but his face remained slack. But she knew he was strong, and he would bounce back. He always did. "I just want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you. We've been through so much together, and I can't imagine my life without you. You're going to wake up soon, and it'll all be over. And then we can go home, and I'll take care of you, just like you always take care of me. Remember when we said 'in sickness and in health'?" she whispered. "Well, this is definitely a 'sickness' moment, but I'm right here. And I'll be here through all the healthy moments too." The nurse quietly left them a moment of privacy. Karen leaned in closer. "You're going to feel a bit funny when you wake up," she said with a soft laugh. "Your mouth will be sore, and your face will be puffy. But I'll be there. And maybe I'll let you win at Scrabble for once." She chuckles. "Just don't let it go to your head." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and a low moan escaped his throat. She squeezed his hand. "That's it, baby," she encouraged. "You're waking up." His eye opened slowly dilated and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the harsh lights of the recovery room. He turned his head to the side, and she knew he was searching for her. "Hi," she said, her voice a warm whisper. "It's me, Karen. You're ok." His gaze found hers, and she saw the flicker of recognition. "Where am I?" he slurred, his voice thick and groggy. "You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had your wisdom teeth out." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," she said. "You need to rest." "But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak. "I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her cool hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications." He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⢠⣄⣾⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣴⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠤⢒⣩⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠂⠈⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣢⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣕⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢩⠀⠀⠠⣽⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠟⣷⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢾⣱⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠼⣋⠛⣷⣶⠤⣡⣾⡿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢪⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡲⠛⣿⣿⣻⣿⠆⣿⢷⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⡹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣾⣿⡟⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠂⠀⠁⠀⡱⠂⢿⠇⠉⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡧⣻⡄⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠛⣤⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠔⠀⠀⠀⢛⣛⡯⠃⠀⠀⢐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣿⣼⣝⠫⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠖⠺⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠈⠀⠀⢾⣛⡾⢾⣦⠀⡴⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣸⢴⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣗⢤⣄⠀⠈⠉⠉⢀⣾⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠷⣴⣿⡯⢻⠞⣿⣿⣿⡀⠹⡛⠒⠒⢚⠟⠉⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠸⡻⣧⡀⠀⢹⡟⢸⣧⠀⠙⠀⠀⡀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢷⢾⠻⠦⢘⣷⢾⡭⡀⠀⠀⡘⢁⢻⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⢈⣷⣾⡿⣿⣿⣝⣿⡲⠄⠀⠀⢄⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⣿⣿⡞⡉⠒⢲⣖⠋⡾⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡑⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⢼⣽⡇⣱⢢⢝⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⢔⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡔⠋⠃⠀⠈⣲⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⡮⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠿⣿⣟⢿⡿⣨⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣰⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣽⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣵⡿⠋⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠄⠒⠛⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠪⠑⠈⠀⣠⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⣡⣴⣴⢇⢌⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣀⡧⢸⠁⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣪⡖⣋⣜⣟⢻⣿⡿⠛⢿⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⣷⣾⢉⢏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠰⠿⠻⣱⣣⣗⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣩⡏⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⣷⣷⠟⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣷⣇⣈⡎⡏⡟⣿⢿⣿⢿⣏⣻⣽⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢸⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠃⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⣿⣷⣥⣹⢦⣹⣬⣾⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠸⢾⣟⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣾⡤⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣗⠒⡹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣆⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣟⣀⣴⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣁⣀⣜⢹⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠄⠈⢻⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⢤⠼⠿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠀⠈⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣮⡝⠉⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣽⣍⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣷⣿⠿⡿⣿⣷⠴⠖⠦⠤⢄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣶⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠝⢶⣦⠑⢄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⠳⠶⢶⢾⢦⡌⠹⣷⣈⣇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡹⠙⠛⠛⠛⢟⣯⠽⣾⠛⣇⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢳⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⡏⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣌⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⠃⠀⢸⣻⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⡪⠊⠀⠀⢸⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣽⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠤⠤⠀⠀⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢳⡿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠤⠤⠠⠤⠤⢧⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣼⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢏⡿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢦⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢑⠀⡀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠁⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⡟⠉⡇⢡⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠃⣜⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⢸⠄⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⢀⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH ii "You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had wisdom teeth out." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," she said. "You need to rest." "But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak. "I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications." He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't member any ting." His words were slurred. The anesthesia was definitely still working its magic on him. "It's ok," she said, her voice soothing. "You don't need to.." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and his eyelid grew heavy again. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "I'm right here," she assured him, her voice steady and calm. She watched as he tried to lift his hand to wipe at his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the chair's armrest, his fingers brushing against hers. Plankton's eye grew heavy again, and his head lolled to the side. The anesthesia was working its way out of his system, but it was taking its time. She chuckled as she watched him struggle to keep his eye open. "I'm... I'm," Plankton mumbled, his words coming out slurred and sloppy. His eye rolled back in his head, and he let out a snore. "You're a mess," she laughs, her voice filled with love. "But you're my mess." She watched as his chest rose and fell with each snore. It was clear that the anesthesia was still holding him in its grasp, and she knew it would be a while before he was fully awake. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Plankton's snores grew louder. Karen reached out and gently wiped the line of drool from his mouth with a tissue. He stirred, his eye blinking open again. "You're drooling," she whispered, smiling at him. "What's happening?" he asked, his words slurred. "You're coming out of the anesthesia," Karen said, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Everything went fine." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Mmmy...nesia?" he mumbled. Karen's smile grew, understanding his attempt to ask about his sleep during surgery. "You mean the anesthesia?" Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his endeavor. "You're just a little out of it," she said, her voice gentle. "The anesthesia is wearing off." "Thish...thish ish...shomefinny," Plankton tried to say. "What?" Karen asked, her curiosity piqued by his attempt at speech. "Nothin'." Plankton's words were slurred into a single syllable. He looked utterly lost in the haze. Karen leaned closer. "You sure?" Plankton nodded, his smile lopsided. "Jush...jush glad." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his adorable incoherence. "You're so loopy," she said, her voice filled with affection. She squeezed his hand gently. "I love you." "Ish love...love you too, Karen," he slurred. "I know," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and affection. "Tish...tish hard," Plankton mumbled, his cheeks dimpling with his own private joke. The nurse entered the room, checking his vitals with a knowing smile. "It's normal for patients to be a bit out of it after surgery," she said, scribbling notes on her clipboard. "I'm shorry," he said, words still a jumble. Karen couldn't help but lean in closer, her own smile growing wider. "It's ok," she assured him, her voice gentle. The nurse nodded in agreement, her own smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's quite common," she said, her voice professional but kind. "Ish...Ish...it...over?" he managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Yes, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice still filled with love and amusement. "You're all done. They got all your wisdom teeth out." "Thish...thish allll over now-ow." "Almost," Karen said, her voice a gentle melody. "We just need to wait for the anesthesia to wear off a bit more, and then we can go home." Plankton nodded, his eye already drifting shut again. His mouth moved as he attempted to speak, but only slurred sounds came out. Karen leaned in closer, her smile never wavering. "You know, you're pretty chatty for someone who's had their wisdom teeth out." "Ish...Ish always had...shomeshin' to shay," Plankton managed, his speech a series of lisped and elongated sounds. Plankton's eye began to drift closed again, his breathing growing deep and even. The nurse finished her checks and gave Karen instructions for his aftercare. "Make sure he takes it easy," she said. "I will," Karen promised, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. The quiet was filled with the sound of Plankton's snores, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath the blanket. His mouth was still slightly open, and she could see the drool forming at the corner of his lips. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Mr. Krabs, Plankton's rival at the Krabby Patty. "How's he doing?" it read. "Loopy," she replied with a smiley face. She had told Mr. Krabs about the surgery the day before, and despite their rivalry, he had offered to come visit when they get back home. The nurse poked her head back in, checking the clock on the wall. "Alright, he's ready to go," she said, her smile warm. Karen nodded, standing up and gently shaking Plankton's shoulder. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you home." Plankton's eye blinked open slowly, and he looked around the room with confusion. "Home?" he mumbled, his voice still thick. "Yes, we're going home," Karen said, her voice the balm to his disorientation. She helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as he swayed slightly. The drive back home was a blur of sleep. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the vibration of the engine lulling him to a doze. "You okay?" Karen asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Yeah," Plankton mumbled, his voice a sleepy rumble. "Just...tiwed." The drive home was quiet, with only the occasional snore piercing the silence. Karen drove carefully, her eyes flicking between the road and the mirror to check on Plankton. She knew he would be out for the count for a while, and his face was still swollen. As they pulled into their driveway, Plankton stirred. "We're home," Karen said, her voice gentle. He nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Home," he murmured. Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly as he tried to find his balance. She wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting him as they made their way, and he leaned into her, his body heavy with fatigue. The house was quiet as they entered, the only sound the occasional tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Karen guided him to the couch, carefully helping him sit down. "Rest here," she said, her voice a gentle command. Plankton nodded, eye closing again. She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a pillow. "Here," she said, placing the pillow behind his head. He took the glass with a nod, his hand shaking slightly. He took a sip. "Thish...thish ish...good," he managed to say. She knew he was in pain, and the anesthesia was only adding to his confusion. "I'll be right back," she said, her voice a soft whisper. Karen grabbed the pet amoeba puppy, Spot. She carried him back to the living room, where Plankton was slowly coming around. "Look who's here," she said, holding Spot out to him. Spot's blob-like body stretched out in excitement, his little legs waving in the air. Plankton's eye widened at the sight, and a smile spread across his swollen face. "Spot," he murmured, his voice still thick with anesthesia. Karen set Spot on his lap, and the amoeba immediately began to cover him in wet, loving kisses. Plankton chuckled, his hand rising to pet the creature's gelatinous head. "Hey, bubby," he slurred, his speech still compromised. The simple act of touch brought a spark of life to Plankton's eye. "You're good boyth," he said, his voice a mix of affection and pain. Spot's response was a happy wiggle. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight, Plankton's love for their little amoeba was unwavering. She took a seat beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Just rest," she said, her voice a soft command. Plankton nodded, his eyes closing again. Spot continued to shower him with affection, his slimy kisses landing on Plankton. Karen watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. Then she stood up, knowing there was still more to do to ensure Plankton's recovery went smoothly. In the kitchen, she put together a soft meal for him, something that wouldn't irritate his sensitive mouth. She chopped up some fruit into a small bowl and warmed up a cup of soup. The smells of chicken broth and sweet berries filled the air, a comforting aroma that she hoped would ease his pain. When she returned to the living room, Plankton was asleep, Spot curled up with him. She set the food down on the table, the spoon clinking gently against the porcelain bowl. She took a moment to appreciate the peaceful scene before her, the two of them nestled together, the TV playing a low murmur of background noise. Karen decided to let him sleep for a bit longer. Gently, she lifted Spot off Plankton's lap and placed him on the floor. The amoeba pup quickly scuttled back by the couch, but still on the floor. Karen then turned off the TV, not wanting the noise to disturb Plankton's rest. Just as she was about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, his beady eyes looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep." Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. "Thought he might need these," he said, handing them to her. Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room."

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH iii Just as Karen's about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, eyes looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep." Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. "Thought he might need these," he said. Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room." Mr. Krabs nodded again and followed her into the room. He took in the sight of Plankton, sprawled out on the couch with his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. "Tough day, eh?" he murmured. "You have no idea," Karen replied, her voice tinged with exhaustion. She took the gauze out of Plankton's swollen cheeks. He stirred but didn't wake. Mr. Krabs took a seat in the chair opposite the couch, fidgeting nervously. "How's he been?" he asked. "In and out," Karen replied, watching as Plankton shifted slightly. Mr. Krabs leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "And what'd they say?" Karen sighed, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. "It went well, the doctor said. They had to remove all four of his wisdom teeth. It wasn't easy, but he was pretty out of it. They had to give him extra sedative." Mr. Krabs' eyebrows shot up. "Plankton, out of it?" Karen nodded, a small smile playing on her lips despite the situation. "Just sleeping, drooling a bit.." Mr. Krabs chuckled quietly. "I think this really knocked him out." Karen nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, he's been pretty out of it since he went under," she whispered. "But it's ok, it's just til the anesthesia wears off." Mr. Krabs leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but...he looks peaceful." Karen chuckled softly. "He's not one to sit still, so it's definitely a rare sight." She took the bag of ice from Mr. Krabs and placed it gently on Plankton's swollen cheek. He didn't even flinch, lost in a world of drug-induced slumber. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sound being Plankton's rhythmic snores. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens. "K-Krabs?" he slurred, his voice groggy. Mr. Krabs jolted upright, his claws clutching the chair's armrests. "Yes, yes, it's me," he said, his voice a mix of surprise and awkwardness. Plankton's eye searched the room, his gaze landing on the bag of ice on his cheek. He reached up to touch it, his hand wobbly. "What...happened?" "You had your wisdom teeth out, honey," Karen said, her voice soothing. "Remember?" Plankton's expression grew comically confused. "Wish-dish...teef?" Mr. Krabs coughed, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes, your wisdom teeth," he said. "Yes, those pesky things," he said. "But don't worry, they're gone now." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he tried to sit up, only to wince in pain. "Oh, wight," he murmured, his hand moving to his mouth. Karen quickly leaned over and pushed him back down gently. "Easy, you need to rest," she said. Plankton's eye searched the room again before focusing on Mr. Krabs. "K-Krabs?" he slurred, a hint of a smile forming. "Youw here?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Yes, I am. Thought I'd check on my favorite...uh, rival." Karen couldn't help but chuckle at the awkwardness, but Plankton's face lit up. "You're my best fwiend," he slurred, his arm reaching out to pat Mr. Krabs' hand. Mr. Krabs looked down at the small, tentacle-like hand on his arm, and for a brief moment, his usual stern expression softened. "Plankton, I...I'm just here to check on you," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. Plankton's smile grew wider, his one eye shining with what could only be described as affection. "Mr. Kwabs, you're the best," he slurred, his voice thick with the remnants of the anesthesia. Mr. Krabs looked at Karen, his beady eyes wide with surprise. "Is he...is he okay?" he whispered. Karen nodded, her own smile growing. "It's just the anesthesia. He'll be back to his usual self in no time." Plankton's hand remained on Mr. Krabs' arm, his grip tightening slightly. Mr. Krabs' shell flushed, unused to such affection from his nemesis. "Th-thank you, Plankton," he stuttered. "Just get some rest now." Just something endearing about Plankton's vulnerability in this state. She knew Mr. Krabs felt it too, his gruff exterior melting away like the ice on Plankton's cheek. "Mr. Kwabs," Plankton mumbled again. Mr. Krabs cleared his throat, his pinchers fidgeting with the chair's armrest. "Yes, Plankton?" "Can you...tell me a stowwy?" Plankton's voice was barely audible, his one eye pleading. Mr. Krabs' eyebrows shot up. "A story?" he repeated, surprised. "It'd help him relax," Karen shrugs. "Just something simple." Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his mind racing for a suitable tale. "Once upon a time," he began, his voice softer than usual, "there was a tiny plankton named... Sheldon." Plankton's eye fluttered open, a smile spreading across his swollen face. "Thath's me!" he exclaimed, his voice still slurred. Mr. Krabs chuckled, his usual stern expression replaced with a warm smile. "Indeed it is," he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He took a deep breath and continued, "Sheldon Plankton lived in a big, blue sea. And he had the most amazing plan." Plankton's eye remained open, focusing on Mr. Krabs as best he could. "Whath's the plan?" he mumbled. Mr. Krabs paused, surprised by Plankton's interest. "Well, Plankton had the most ingenious plan to become the best chef in the sea," he said, his voice taking on a storytelling lilt. Plankton's eye fluttered, his gaze fixed on Mr. Krabs. "Chef?" he repeated, his voice a hopeful murmur. Mr. Krabs nodded, his smile growing. "Yes, a chef," he said. "And every day, Sheldon would try new recipes, searching for the perfect Krabby Patty secret." Plankton's grip on Mr. Krabs' tightened. "Mr. Kwabs," he slurred again, his voice thick with emotion. "You're...you're the besht...the beth...chef." Mr. Krabs blinked, his eyes misting over. It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever received from Plankton, and it was enough to make his heart swell. "Why, thank you, Plankton," he said, his voice cracking slightly. Karen watched the scene unfold with a warm smile. It was clear that despite their rivalry, Plankton looked up to Mr. Krabs in some way. It anesthetic loopiness was a side of him she had never seen before. "You...you're wike a fath-ther to me," he mumbled, his grip on Mr. Krabs' arm tightening. Mr. Krabs was taken aback, his claws patting Plankton's awkwardly. "Plankton," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're like...a...a...uh, a...uh, a...challenge," he finished lamely, not quite able to express the feelings that Plankton's words had stirred in him. Plankton's smile grew, his one eye gleaming with happiness. "I wike you." Mr. Krabs nodded, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. "So, Sheldon Plankton," he began, his voice soothing. "He worked tirelessly, trying to outdo the Krabby Patty with his own secret recipe." Plankton's head lolled back against Mr. Krabs' arm, his breathing growing shallower. His grip on Mr. Krabs' hand loosened, and his eyelid began to droop again. Mr. Krabs noticed the change and paused his story, watching him carefully. "Don't stop," Karen whispered, brimming with tears. "It's helping him relax." Mr. Krabs nodded, understanding the unspoken request. He took a deep breath and resumed the tale. "But no matter how hard Sheldon Plankton tried, he just couldn't crack the code. One day, he stumbled upon an ancient scroll..." Mr. Krabs' voice droned on. Plankton's breathing grew more rhythmic, his grip on Mr. Krabs' arm loosening. His head slowly sank against Mr. Krabs' chest, and his eye closed completely. Mr. Krabs felt the weight of his rival, his own heart beating a little faster. He'd never had Plankton this close, this...trusting. The room grew quiet, only the occasional snore from Plankton piercing the silence. Mr. Krabs paused in his storytelling, his pinchers hovering over the bowl of soup. He looked down at Plankton, his expression a mix of confusion and something else. Something he couldn't quite put his claw on. "Should we get him to bed?" he whispered to Karen. "Yes," she said, pixelated eyes shining with unshed tears. "Let's get him comfortable." They carefully lifted Plankton from the couch. Karen picked up Spot, cradling him in her arms as they moved to the bedroom. Mr. Krabs took the lead. Plankton's snores grew louder as they climbed the stairs, each step a test of their coordination. Karen followed closely behind, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so at ease, so vulnerable. It was a side of him she had rarely glimpsed, and it filled her with a warmth she hadn't expected. They laid Plankton down gently, his body sinking into the mattress with a sigh. Spot squirmed in Karen's arms, sensing the shift in his owner's condition. She placed the amoeba pup on the bed beside Plankton, who automatically curled into the warm blob, his snores growing quieter. Mr. Krabs hovered over the bed, his claws twitching as he surveyed the scene. "Is he...is he okay?" he asked, his voice a whisper. Karen nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "He's just sleeping," she assured him. "Thanks for staying." Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes lingering on the sleeping Plankton. "Of course," he said gruffly. "Can't have you two dealing with this alone." Karen tucked the blankets around him, smoothing out the wrinkles with a gentle hand.

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH iv "Thanks for staying." Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes lingering on the sleeping Plankton. "Of course," he said gruffly. "Can't have you two dealing it alone." Karen tucked the blankets around him, smoothing out the wrinkles with a gentle hand. The next day, Plankton woke, all traces of anesthesia worn off, cheeks tender to the touch. He vaguely remembered surgery, but everything after was a blur. "Morning," Karen said. She sat beside the bed, her screen warm with concern. "How are you feeling?" Plankton blinked. "K-Karen?" he asked. "Whath's...what happened?" "You had wisdom teeth removed, darling," she said softly. "You're going to be fine." The memory of surgery rushed back to Plankton in fragments—the operating room, machines, and then Karen holding his hand as he woke up. Wincing, he reached to tentatively touch his swollen face, the pain a reminder of his ordeal. Karen noticed his discomfort and handed him water. "Take it slow," she advised, watching him intently. Plankton took a sip, the cool liquid soothing. He leaned back into the pillows with a sigh. "Do you remember surgery?" she asked, stroking his arm. "It's all a bit fuzzy," he admitted. "Just going in, waking up. Going in the car to drive home? But nothing else.." The surgery had gone well. Karen knew Plankton and Krabs had a frenemy relationship, at best; but she had never considered the possibility that Plankton could harbor any genuine feelings for the crab, delirious or not. Now, as she watched him suffer, she debated whether to tell him. Would it help? Would it hurt? She didn't know. But Plankton's curiosity was piqued. "What's going on?" he asked, trying to read her expression. "Did I do something weird?" "It's nothing," she said, forcing a laugh. "Just the usual post-surgery confusion." Plankton's eye wandered around the room, and his gaze landed on a bouquet of jellyfish on the nightstand. "Who sent those?" he asked, his voice still hoarse. Karen looked at the jellyfish, then back at him. "Mr. Krabs," she said. Plankton's eyebrow shot up. "Krabs? Why would he send me jellyfish?" Plankton's eye narrowed slightly. "Does he know about the surgery?" he asked, a hint of concerned horror in his voice. Karen nodded, "I didn't know who else to turn to," she said, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and trepidation, her voice wavering slightly, "after you were admitted, I called him. I didn't know who else to call for help. You know, with the recovery necessities." Plankton felt his stomach drop. He had hoped that his arch-nemesis, Mr. Krabs, had been blissfully unaware of his weakened state. The thought of Krabs even knowing he was laid up and helpless was more than he could bear. "You called Krabs?" he croaked, disbelief etched into his features. Karen nodded again, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "He was the only one I could think of who could help us. And he was so kind, Plankton. He didn't even make fun of you." Plankton's mind raced. The mere thought of Krabs seeing him in such a vulnerable condition was almost too much to handle. He had always prided himself on being the smarter, more cunning one, the one who could outwit Krabs at every turn. Now, here he was, unable to chew, looking like a balloon with legs, and being witnessed by the very crab he had spent his life trying to outdo. "What did he see?" Plankton managed to ask, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. Karen looked surprised. "What do you mean?" "I mean, what did he see me?" Plankton's voice grew more urgent, the fear of humiliation coloring his words. "He saw you sleeping," she said gently. "But you were out of it. You don't have to worry about him." Plankton felt a wave of embarrassment. "How did I look?" "Looked like you were sleeping peacefully," Karen said, trying to reassure him. But she knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that he looked strong, in control, not like the blubbering mess he actually was. Plankton sighed, the sound a sad, defeated hiss. "I can't believe you called him," he said, his voice filled with a mix of pain and annoyance. Karen's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I had to," she said firmly. "You needed someone, and he was the only one I could think of who would help." Plankton's gaze fell to the bouquet of jellyfish. "I hope I didn't budge or talk?" he asked, his voice tight. Karen squeezed his hand. "You were completely out of it," she assured him. "He said you looked tired." Plankton's eye searched hers for any hint of mockery, but all he found was sincerity. He took a deep breath, the pain in his cheeks flaring up, and nodded. He knew he had to accept help, but the thought of Krabs knowing he was down, even for a moment, was maddening. He shifted, trying to find a position that didn't make his mouth throb. "What else happened, with Krabs?" he asked, his voice strained. "He just dropped off the jellyfish and said to tell you to get better soon," Karen said, not giving answers. "I've said all I can say." The silence grew tense as Plankton's mind whirled with scenarios of what Krabs might have seen or heard. He knew his rival had a knack exploiting weakness, and he couldn't let his guard down, even in a state like this. He had to recover quickly, be sharp, to ensure that Krabs didn't use this moment of vulnerability against him. He also knew Karen's not gonna tell him whatever went down. Karen, noticing his discomfort, decided to change the subject. "I'll go grab some ice cream for you," she offered, standing up. "It'll help with the swelling, but don't do anything foolish while I'm gone." Plankton nodded, his thoughts racing. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, he began to formulate a plan. He had to speak to Krabs, to make sure there were no misunderstandings, no ammo for future taunts. Wincing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, using the momentum to stand up. He wobbled for a moment, his head spinning, but steadied himself against the wall. In his office at the krusty krab, Mr. Krabs sat at the table, sipping a cup of tea and staring at the floor. He had hoped Plankton's odd behavior was just the drugs talking, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. He had felt a strange warmth when Plankton had called him 'my dearest friend' in his delirious state. But friends? That was a concept that seemed as foreign to him as a day without the Krabby Patty. He sighed, setting the cup down. It was nonsense, of course. Plankton was just confused. He had to be. After all, they had spent years in a cutthroat competition, stealing ideals, customers, the occasional secret ingredient. The thought of Plankton actually caring for him was absurd. But as he sat, Krabs couldn't help but feel a twinge of something he hadn't felt in a long time—awkward. But Plankton wasn't one to let things go easily. After a few moments of gathering his strength, he shuffled out of the bedroom, the pain in his mouth a distant second to the urgency of his mission. He goes to the Krusty Krab. He pushed open the door to the restaurant, the bell jingling overhead. Mr. Krabs looked up from his ledger, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Plankton stumble in. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "You should be resting!" Plankton's eye narrowed, his jaw clenched in pain. "I need to talk to you," he ground out, each word a challenge. Mr. Krabs' claws clutched the edge of the table, twitching nervously. "Sure, sure," he said, trying to sound casual. "What's on your mind?" "Not here," Plankton hissed, gesturing to the open restaurant. The last thing he wanted was for their conversation to be overheard by prying ears, especially not by customers. Mr. Krabs, visibly confused, nodded and led him out back. The tension in the air was palpable. "Alright, what's so important?" he asked, trying to keep his cool. Plankton took a deep breath, his cheeks flushing with pain. "What did I say to you after the surgery?" he demanded, his voice gruff. "What do you mean?" he stalled, heart racing. Plankton's voice was low and intense. "You know what I mean," he said. "What happened at the house?" Mr. Krabs' eyes searched Plankton's for any hint of a bluff, but found only pain and determination. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his secret lift slightly. "You don't remember?" he asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Plankton's gaze was unwavering. "I remember enough," he said, voice tight. "I just know you were there. Don't gloat. Spill." Mr. Krabs looked at him, realization sinking in. He met Plankton's gaze. "You were in a bit of pain," he said, his voice carefully measured. "You were talking nonsense." "What kind of nonsense?" he demanded. Mr. Krabs took a step back, his eyes darting around the alleyway. "Oh, you know, the usual post-surgery babble," he said, trying to play it off. "Nothing important." But Plankton wasn't buying it. He could see relief in Krabs' eyes, and it made him more nervous. "I need to know," he insisted, his voice hoarse. "What did I say?" Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his claws drumming on the counter. "Said something about how we've been through a lot together?" But Pearl, Mr. Krabs' daughter, interrupted, wandering in, phone in hand, scrolling through images. "Daddy!" she exclaimed. "Look what I found on the phone!" Mr. Krabs' heart sank as he realized what's happening. He turned to see Pearl holding up a phone showing a photo of Plankton, post-surgery, asleep with his head resting on Krabs' elbow.

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH v "I need to know," he insisted, his voice hoarse. "What did I say?" Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his claws drumming on the counter. "Something about how we've been through a lot?" But Pearl, Mr. Krabs' daughter, interrupted, wandering in, phone in hand, scrolling through images. "Daddy!" she exclaimed. "Look what I found on the phone!" Mr. Krabs' heart sank as he realized what's happening. He turned to see Pearl holding up a phone showing a photo of Plankton, post-surgery, asleep with his head resting on Krabs' elbow as Plankton's arm was slung around him. The expression on Plankton's face was one of complete peace, with his mouth hanging open slightly, a stark contrast to the fiery look in his eye now. "Oh, Plankton!" Pearl exclaimed, spotting him standing there. "You look so cute sleeping all snuggled up to Daddy! You even drooled a bit on Dad's shirt! It's gone viral, and it got me more views!" The whale's innocent revelation hit the two like a ton of bricks. Mr. Krabs' eyes bulged, and his claws shot up to cover his mouth. "Pearl, what in Neptune's name are you doing with me phone?" he spluttered, his voice tight with panic. Pearl looked up, her cheery demeanor unchanged. "Oh, I just borrowed it to send myself, which I forwarded to post. Didn't you know you had this adorable selfie with Plankton?" She giggled, unaware of the tension in the air. Plankton's shocked mind was a blur, trying to piece together the reality of the moment. He looked from the photo to Mr. Krabs and back again, utterly speechless. The sight of himself in such a compromising position with his enemy was surreal. His mind raced, trying to remember any semblance of a conversation that could have led to this bizarre scenario. Mr. Krabs' face was a mask of horror, his claws fumbling for words. "It's not what it looks like," he stammered. But Plankton was beyond speech. The image of himself, in such a vulnerable state, nestled against Mr. Krabs was burned into his retina. His mind reeled, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. All the bravado, all the plotting and scheming, reduced to this: a mushy, love-struck expression shared with his mortal enemy. "You... you..." Plankton sputtered, his voice failing him. Mr. Krabs reached for the phone, his claws trembling. "It's just... a... a... I don't know what it is!" But Pearl was already skipping away, chuckling to herself. "You guys are so cute together!" she called over her shoulder, oblivious to the storm brewing between them. Mr. Krabs looked at Plankton, his expression a mix of horror and pleading. "It's not what it looks like," he repeated, his voice cracking. But Plankton was too far gone. The embarrassment and anger were a red haze in front of his eye. Neither of them knew how to navigate this sudden shift in their dynamic. The air was thick with tension and confusion, punctuated only by the distant sound of the ocean. Plankton's burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He could feel the swelling in his mouth and the weight of Mr. Krabs' secret pressing down on him like a lead balloon. Mr. Krabs, on the other hand, was frozen, his eyes darting from the phone to Plankton's face and back again. He knew he had to say something, do something, to fix this mess before it spun out of control. But what? Plankton's thoughts were racing, a tornado of rage and humiliation swirling in his head. He had to get out of there, to think, to figure out what this all meant. With a snarl, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the Krusty Krab, slamming. His footsteps echoed off the cobblestone as he made his way back to the chum bucket, his mind racing with questions. Karen arrived home with a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, humming to herself, oblivious to the drama just unfolded. "Honey, I'm home!" she called out cheerfully, finding Plankton in bed. Karen stepped into the bedroom, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Plankton. "Look what I got you," she sang, holding up the ice cream. But Plankton's eye were glued to the door, his mind a maelstrom of emotions. He couldn't look at her, not without giving away the turmoil inside. "You're supposed to be resting," Karen chided gently, setting the ice cream on the nightstand. "I thought you'd be resting." Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the door, his thoughts a tangled mess. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, not yet. Karen's smile faltered as she noticed his distant gaze. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked, setting the ice cream on the nightstand. Plankton took a deep breath, his thoughts racing. He didn't know how to tell her about the photo, about the way Mr. Krabs had looked at him. He couldn't bear the thought of her pity, or worse, her laughter. "Nothing," he said, his voice tight. "Just tired." Karen's smile returned, and she leaned over to kiss his forehead. "You've had a long day yesterday," she said. But Plankton's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the image of himself with Mr. Krabs from his head. The photo was like a taunting specter, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. "You oughtta eat," Karen said, her voice filled with concern. She picked up the spoon and began to scoop out a small bite of the mint chocolate chip. Plankton turned to face her, his expression unreadable. But the words stuck in his throat like a mouthful of dry chum. He swallowed hard, then opened his mouth, letting her gently guide the spoon inside. The cold ice cream soothed his sore gums, but the bitter taste of his situation lingered. As Karen fed him, Plankton couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for not confiding in her immediately. But what could he say? That he apparently must've had a moment of weakness, and Mr. Krabs had seen it all? That his arch-nemesis had cradled him like a baby and whispered sweet nothings? No, he already figured out how she didn't take her life later eyes off him at all yesterday, knowing she must've seen. He took the spoon, his hand shaking slightly. "I can do it," he murmured, trying to regain some semblance of control. Karen watched him with a worried gaze as he took a tentative bite, his cheeks still red from the encounter. She could sense something was amiss, but she didn't push it. She knew Plankton well enough to know that he can tell her if or when he was ready. The silence in the room was thick, punctuated only by the soft clink of the spoon against the plastic tub. Karen's mind was racing, trying to piece together what could have happened since she left to get ice cream. "Plankton," she began, her voice soft. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He looked up, his eye a swirl of emotions. But the words remained lodged in his throat. He couldn't tell her about the photo, about Mr. Krabs' kindness, about the way it made him feel. It was too much, too raw. Instead, he just shook his head. "Just... processing." Karen studied Plankton's face, her aching for her husband. She knew he wasn't one to easily admit defeat, and the surgery had clearly taken a toll. "Well," she said gently. "If you need anything, I'm here." Plankton nodded, his gaze dropping to the half-eaten tub of ice cream. His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and anger. He had to figure out what to do with this newfound information about Mr. Krabs. The very idea that he might have acted up in front of his enemy, even in a drugged state, was unbearable, let alone not knowing or remembering anything. A few hours later, Karen decided to check her phone, which had been buzzing with notifications. She saw that she had missed several messages from Pearl, Mr. Krabs' daughter, and clicked open the chat with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. But what she found? The photo of Plankton, post-surgery and vulnerable, with Mr. Krabs' arm around him was plastered all over her social media feeds. It had gone viral, with captions ranging from "Plankton's new BFF" to "When your enemy becomes your nurse." Plankton had seen the photo, and it was eating away at him. She knew her husband's pride and competitive nature; this was a blow he wouldn't take lightly. She set the phone down, her mind racing with ways to help him. She needed to comfort him, to make him see that this moment of weakness didn't define him. Taking a deep breath, she approached the bedroom door, the smell of mint chocolate chip ice cream wafting from within. She gently pushed the door open, her eyes immediately finding Plankton's hunched form in the bed. His gaze was fixed on the wall, his expression a storm of emotions. "Plankton," she said again, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I saw the photo." He flinched, his eye snapping to hers with accusation. Karen sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Pearl sent it," she admitted. "It's everywhere. I'm sorry." Karen took his hand, her touch gentle but firm. "You're more than a photo, Plankton," she said. "You're a brilliant scientist, a loving husband, and a formidable adversary. This doesn't change that." But Plankton couldn't see it. All he could see was mockery and humiliation that awaited him outside the safety of their chum bucket. "I can't let him think he's won," he murmured, his voice laced with pain. Mr. Krabs picked up the phone and dialed Karen's number, his heart racing with every ring. When she finally answered, he took a deep breath. "It's Krabs," he said, his voice gruff but earnest. "I need to talk to Plankton." Karen's tone was wary. "What for?" Mr. Krabs swallowed his pride. "I... I just want to make sure he's okay," he said. Karen's voice softened. "He's not in a good place right now," she admitted. "But I'll pass the message along." "Tell him... tell him I didn't mean to embarrass him," he said, with regret. "And that I'm sorry for... everything." Karen's expression softened. "I'll let him know," she said before hanging up.

LEGGY i Plankton had an accident and needed surgery on his leg. SpongeBob and Patrick decided to pay him a visit. Their friend lay in the hospital bed, anesthetized, snoring softly. "Thank you," Karen said. "We appreciate it. They had to reset the bone and sew it back together. He won't feel anything now, but once the anesthesia wears off, he'll be in some pain. Your support means a lot to us.” "How long does he have to stay asleep?" he asked. "Awhile," she said. "It's important for him to rest and recover. Plankton might be a bit...overwhelmed when he wakes up. He might not be able to respond right now." "What's that?" he pointed at the intravenous drip attached to Plankton's arm. "That's the anesthesia, what keeps him asleep during the surgery so he doesn't feel any pain." Patrick's eyes grew wide with wonder. "What's that like?" "Well, it's like being in a deep sleep," she began, "you don't feel anything, and when you wake up, it's like you never left your bed." His chest rises and falls with each gentle snore, a sound that echoes faintly in the quiet room. "Karen, why’s he snoring?" "It's his body's way of breathing while asleep. He’s in a deep sleep." The lead doctor came. "We're going to start bringing him out of it now. He'll be coming out of anesthesia soon." Eventually Plankton's eye fluttered open, looking up at them with a glazed expression before his pupil focused. "Wha...where...what happened?" he stuttered, his voice groggy. "Why does everything feel...so...floaty?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he tried to lift his head, and it flopped back down onto the pillow. "Whoa, ship's a-rockin'!" he exclaimed. "Weeeee!" he giggled. "A Krabby Patty...no, a Krabby Patty...no, wait, a Krabby...a Krabby...a Krabby..." His words trailed off to nonsense, and he started to giggle uncontrollably. "He'll be fine, just let him talk it out." "I need...I need...a...a...Krabby...P...P...Patty!" He giggled again, his mind still a bit foggy. "Look, friends! Look at me go!" The doctor and nurse entered the room, checking Plankton's vitals and smiling at his slurred words. "He's coming out of it normally," the doctor assured them. "You can keep talking to him, it'll help him come back to reality." SpongeBob and Patrick exchanged glances. "Krabby Patty, huh?" Sponge Bob said. "Well, I'm sure we can find you one once you're feeling better." Plankton giggled again, eye drifted to the side. "But for now, let's just focus on getting you well, okay?" The doctor nodded. "He'll be in and out of consciousness for a bit. It's perfectly normal." Patrick leaned in closer to Plankton. "You hear that, Plankton? We're here for you, buddy.” He hands him some water. "Ahh," he sighed, eye fluttering shut again. "Krabby...Patty...water...good." “You just rest up, and we'll grab you a Krabby Patty when you're all fixed." Plankton's giggles turned into snores again, his eyelid drooping closed. The doctor chuckled. "It's the medication. He'll be in and out like this for a little while. Just keep talking to him, it'll help keep him grounded." The door to the hospital room creaked open, and Mr. Krabs poked his head in. "Sponge Bob! Patrick!" he bellowed. Mr. Krabs' eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Plankton in the hospital bed. "Heard about the accident," he said gruffly. "Thought I'd check on the little scram." Plankton's eye snapped open again, his expression shifting. "Krabs!" he hissed. "What are you doing?" Mr. Krabs waved a dismissive claw. "Just makin' sure my number one competitor is out of commission," he said with a smirk. "But it seems you're in good company." "Mr. Krabs, we're here to support Plankton. He's had a rough day." Mr. Krabs' smirk grew. "Ah, yes, the great Plankton, laid low by his own incompetence. Couldn't even steal a Krabby Patty without breaking a leg." The room grew tense as Plankton's face reddened, his tiny fists balling up the hospital sheets. "It wasn't like that, Krabs," he protested, his voice strained. "It was an accident!" But Mr. Krabs was relentless. "Always an accident with you, isn't it?" He chuckled, his tone mocking. "You're as clumsy as you are small." Sponge Bob took a deep breath, his heart swelling with hope. "Mr. Krabs, now's not the best time to tease him. Plankton's really hurting." The tension grew thicker than a Kelp Shake. Plankton's tiny frame quivered with indignation. The anesthesia, however, was playing tricks on his emotions. He could feel the tears welling up in his eye, and before he knew it, they were spilling over, down his cheeks. "Ah, don't listen to him, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispered, his own eyes growing misty. "You're not incompetent. It was just an accident." Karen's screen flickered. "Mr. Krabs, please. He's not well." "I don't need pity, Krabs!" he spat out, his voice filled with embarrassment. Karen's screen flickered again. "Mr. Krabs, he needs space. He'll be in and out of it for a bit longer, but perhaps he'd appreciate the visit when fully conscious." Mr. Krabs then left. Plankton's breathing grew even, and his eye began to droop. "I think he's falling asleep," Patrick whispers. "Alright, he's all set to go home.." They nodded solemnly, eager to get their friend back to his safe haven, the Chum Bucket. Carefully, they helped him into a wheelchair, his sleepy head lolling onto Sponge Bob's shoulder. "Mmm, Krabby Patty," he murmured, his mumbled voice trailing off into a snore. Patrick held the car door open as Sponge Bob gently maneuvered Plankton, trying not to jostle him much. He snored quietly, his body still feeling the effects of anesthesia. They buckled him into the back seat, his head lolling to the side as SpongeBob sat by him. The car's gentle vibrations and the soft hum of the engine lulled Plankton further into his slumber. His snores grew louder, echoing through the car. Sponge Bob watched him, his heart aching at the sight of his friend. He reached over and patted his arm reassuringly. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispered. "You're going to be ok." The drive to the Chum Bucket was quiet, punctuated only by Plankton's intermittent snoring and the occasional burst of slurred words. "Karen...chum...water... Krabby Patty...friend," he would murmur, his voice a gentle reminder of the person behind the villain. "Chum...Karen...Krabs...Sponge...Bob...Patrick...Krabby Patty...Karen...chum...chum...chum..." Sponge Bob and Patrick shared a look in the rearview mirror, their expressions a mix of concern and amusement. "It's like he's having a conversation with himself," Patrick whispered. "Must be anesthesia," Sponge Bob said, his voice low so as not to disturb Plankton. "He'd probably remember none of it when he wakes up." Once they arrived at the Chum Bucket, they carefully transferred Plankton to his bed, snores becoming less frequent and more rhythmic as he slipped into a deeper sleep. They left him with a glass of water and a bowl of chum for when he awoke, feeling a bit of relief knowing he was home and safe. Hours later, Plankton's snoring finally ceased, and he blinked his eye open, feeling a dull ache in his leg, Sponge Bob and Patrick sitting by his bed in his bedroom. "What’s...what happened?" he asked. "You had surgery, Plankton. Remember? You hurt your leg pretty badly." "Surgery?" he repeated, his voice still thick with sleep. "I had surgery?" He glanced down at his bandaged leg, the memory of the accident slowly coming back to him. "Oh, right." Patrick's eyes lit up. "Oh, you were out of it, buddy!“ Plankton's smile faded as he took in his surroundings. "How long?" "A few hours," Sponge Bob said. "But don't worry, Karen's in the lab, just in case you need anything." Patrick leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You should've seen it, Plankton! You were snoring!" Sponge Bob playfully elbowed him. "Pat.." Patrick couldn't contain himself. "And when Mr. Krabs came in, oh boy!" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You started crying!" Plankton's embarrassment morphing into anger. "That's not funny, Patrick." he snapped, his voice sharp. Patrick nodded, with mirth. “Oh yeah, you were talking in your sleep, Plankton; you’re like, 'Krabby Patty...Chum...Karen...Patrick...Sponge Bob...'!" Plankton's frown deepened as he tried to sit up, only to wince in pain. "Krabby Patties?" "You'd get all excited about your latest plan, and then—just like that," SpongeBob said, snapping his fingers, as Patrick pretended to snore loudly. Plankton's eye widened. "No?" But Patrick had to prove Plankton's sleep-talking escapade. Patrick's laughter was contagious, and even Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Plankton's dazed expression. Plankton's sleep-addled face, his mouth moving in a slurred chant and the occasional snort that punctuated his words. Patrick tried to mimic Plankton's slurred speech, which only made him giggle more. "You're even drooling!" he exclaimed. Sponge Bob's laughter grew quiet, feeling a twinge of pity for Plankton's embarrassment. "Patrick, maybe we should calm down," he suggested gently. "Come on, Plankton," he said. "You've got to admit, this is gold!" "Could you two at least get me something to eat?" he asked, his voice a mix of annoyance and defeat. Sponge Bob nodded, eager to change the subject. "Of course, Plankton. What would you like?" "Just...chum," Plankton mumbled, his face still flushed with embarrassment. Patrick's laughter grew louder. "Oh, come on, Plankton. You can't be serious right now!" He pretended to snore loudly, then added in a pitched voice, "Krabby Patty! Krabby Patty!" Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle. "Patrick, maybe we should—" But Patrick was in full jesting mode, his voice rising in pitch to mimic Plankton's. "Krabby Patty...chum...Krabby Patty...chum..."

⚯͛⚡📚

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧Døbby୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⡍⠎⢥⠃⠣⠜⡐⠌⢂⠅⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠜⡘⠠⠊⠁⠒⢀⠈⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣯⡽⢯⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⠿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠘⡐⢁⠂⠄⢁⠂⠄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣿⡏⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠑⡀⠂⠌⡀⠂⠄⡀⠄⣼⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠹⣿⣿⡼⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠐⠀⠁⠐⢀⠁⠄⠐⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠘⢿⣿⣳⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢁⠠⢁⠠⠀⠌⡐⠄⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣄⠈⢻⣷⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠐⠠⡐⠂⠤⢉⡐⡰⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡐⣿⣷⣚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠡⠐⠡⠂⣅⠢⠑⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⡀⠐⡀⡁⢄⢂⠍⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢐⠰⡐⠰⣈⢊⡐⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠢⢁⠆⡉⠖⣈⠆⡐⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢀⢃⠨⠄⡁⢂⠜⡠⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣦⣦⣶⣤⣠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣴⣴⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢂⠐⢈⠀⠠⢀⠱⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣿⣌⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠢⢁⠌⠠⡈⠀⠌⠸⣿⢿⣏⣿⢿⣿⣿⣧⣤⠴⠶⢻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⢯⣛⣭⣹⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢁⠈⡐⢀⠀⠄⢹⣿⣿⣽⣿⢺⣿⣿⣇⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢆⠥⡒⡌⡄⡘⣄⢺⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⣧⣭⣻⣟⣻⡙⡿⠀⠀⠀⠹⠛⠏⠩⠙⠿⠿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣮⢳⣕⡺⣔⣣⢚⣫⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠈⠛⠟⠋⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣶⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣞⡳⣎⢷⡹⡖⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢺⡹⢜⢮⡱⣛⠦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⡙⡜⢢⡑⠮⠍⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢢⠑⣌⠡⢈⠧⣍⢿⣿⣿⡾⢿⣿⣿⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠤⣶⣦⣴⣶⣄⠀⢱⡁⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⠊⠄⠄⡁⠢⠑⢿⣿⣿⢷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⠇⠀⠀⡌⢸⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⢊⡘⡰⣀⠣⢌⣯⣿⣿⣿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⡿⠙⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⠼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢃⠖⡱⠰⣉⣿⠳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠂⣯⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣻⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⡔⡿⠿⡛⠛⠛⠿⠟⠿⢿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣄⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠄⡐⠈⡤⢻⣸⣿⣿⡿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠲⣝⡿⣮⢒⡷⣶⣟⣫⣭⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⡡⢿⣿⣿⢧⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣀⠠⢀⡀⡄⡐⢌⣰⡛⣿⡿⣿⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠋⠃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠤⢃⡣⡐⣇⠮⣡⢏⢼⣟⣿⣯⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣉⢎⠴⡡⠳⢌⡗⣪⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣒⢮⣤⣴⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡜⣌⠲⡱⢩⠆⣻⡔⣟⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠰⣊⠥⣃⠇⡌⢡⢜⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠱⡈⢒⠠⢊⠰⢡⢚⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⠐⠂⠡⠌⠠⢡⢊⠌⡟⣷⣿⣏⣾⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠰⣁⢊⡑⢌⠦⣁⢇⣸⠼⣻⣿⡾⣸⣿⡯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣞⣿⡟⣿⡹⢟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠐⠄⢣⠜⣌⢒⡥⠋⢜⡯⣿⣿⢢⡽⣾⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣭⡻⣟⡿⣻⢻⣡⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⠈⢂⠔⡈⢎⣄⢋⠈⣷⣿⠯⣿⡝⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⠃⠌⡄⠃⠤⢂⡌⢆⣿⣿⢣⣿⣚⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⡘⡐⠌⡑⢊⠒⡌⣸⡿⢥⡟⣿⣷⣽⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣰⢡⠈⡔⠂⠌⡀⠒⢹⣾⡯⣷⣿⡞⣯⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⠛⣻⣿⢿⡃⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡳⢮⡹⠴⣩⢒⡸⠠⠆⣹⣿⣛⣩⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⡋⠀⡔⣲⣴⠭⣽⣧⣴⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣝⣣⡝⠳⢦⣑⠳⡌⠝⣐⡓⢻⣧⣿⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣧⣶⣾⣿⣳⣯⣥⣶⣿⢿⡿⣿⣟⠿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢶⡑⢮⡙⢦⢡⢃⠖⡨⡵⢊⡿⢛⣻⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⡷⣉⣟⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣼⣿⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⢿⣻⢟⡏⢋⡑⢮⡽⣾⢹⢺⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⡝⢦⡙⡜⢢⢃⠞⣡⣟⡝⣻⡾⣟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣾⣬⣬⣟⣛⠿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡥⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣖⡭⢆⣇⡰⢯⢵⣫⢗⠧⣯⢿⣳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⡜⢦⢱⠉⡎⢇⢎⢱⣿⠾⣽⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣬⣭⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⣯⢷⡽⣞⠼⠆⠛⣞⢬⣋⠜⣧⣿⣻⢿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡳⣜⡎⣖⠩⣖⣊⢆⡚⢿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣳⠽⢤⡲⠾⡝⠊⣤⣙⡟⡈⢳⡿⣏⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢷⡹⢞⡼⣱⢞⡶⣎⡖⣸⣿⡿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⡟⢪⠇⣰⢷⣒⠢⣵⢼⡑⢦⡿⣽⢫⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢯⡝⣫⠶⣙⢮⠳⣝⣚⡨⠭⢙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣿⢯⣿⣹⡞⣥⢟⣧⡳⢃⡟⣶⢹⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢧⣙⠦⡝⢢⠎⡱⡐⣂⠗⠮⣭⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢑⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣗⣆⡵⢛⡜⣾⣲⣒⣛⣪⡵⣮⠖⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH vii Krabs' eyes darted between the two of them, fidgeting. "If... if there's anything I can do," he offered, his voice trailing off. Karen gave him a small smile, filled with gratitude. "I think we've got it from here," she said. "But thank you for caring." Krabs nodded, his gaze lingering on Plankton's form before he turned to leave. As the door clicked shut behind him, the weight of the conversation settled heavily on the room. Plankton's eye remained on the spot where Mr. Krabs had stood, thoughts racing. Karen approached the bed, her movements deliberate and calm. She picked up the discarded ice pack and handed it to him. "Here," she said, her voice soothing. "Your face is still a bit swollen." Plankton took the ice pack and presses it against his cheek. "I can't believe this," he murmured, his voice muffled by the cold compress. "How could I have said those things?" Karen sat down beside him, her eyes filled with understanding. "You were in pain," she said gently. "And under the influence of medication. It's not like you." Plankton's hand curled around the ice pack, his gaze distant. "But why would I say those things?" he murmured. "Why would I thank him?" Karen took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Pain and medication can bring out the truth," she said. "Maybe, deep down, you do appreciate his help, even if you can't admit it." Plankton scoffed, but there was a hint of doubt in his eye. "Appreciate him?" he snapped. "He's the reason I'm in this mess!" Karen squeezed his hand, her voice calm. "But he's also the one who brought you jellyfish for your pain," she reminded him. "And who checked on you after the surgery." Plankton looked at her. "What?" "Mr. Krabs brought jellyfish for your recovery," Karen repeated, her voice steady. "And he was genuinely concerned about you, when you were in pain." Plankton couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion. Karen squeezed his hand again. "Because maybe, just maybe, there's more to Mr. Krabs than you give him credit for," she said softly. "Maybe he's not just your enemy. Maybe he's also someone who cares." Plankton's hands tightened around the ice pack, his mind racing with the implications. Could it be true? Did Mr. Krabs actually care for him? The thought was as foreign as a pineapple under the sea. Karen stood, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. "I'll give you some space," she said gently. "But know that I'm here if you need to talk." Plankton nodded, his gaze still fixed on the spot where Mr. Krabs had been standing. Karen left the room, closing the door behind her. Alone with his thoughts, Plankton felt a strange mix of anger, confusion, and a peculiar warmth he hadn't expected. He'd never thought of Mr. Krabs as anything more than a cunning adversary, always one step ahead in their endless pursuit of the Krabby Patty secret. Yet, here he was, with a bouquet of jellyfish and a heartfelt apology. The room was silent, save for the distant sounds of Bikini Bottom's hustle and bustle filtering through the chum bucket's walls. Plankton's mind was a whirlwind of questions and doubt. He had always prided himself on his sharp intellect and strategic thinking, but this turn of events had left him utterly blindsided. "Maybe," he murmured to himself, the word echoing in the quiet space. "Maybe there's more to this crusty old crab than I ever thought." The next few days passed in a blur of painkillers and awkward silence. Plankton couldn't bring himself to visit the Krusty Krab again, and Mr. Krabs made no further attempts to contact him. The photo remained a sore subject, a viral joke that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Yet, amidst the embarrassment, Plankton found himself contemplating Karen's words. One evening, as the sun set over the Bikini Bottom horizon, casting a warm orange glow through the chum bucket's windows, Plankton decided to take a walk. He needed to clear his head, to think things through without the constant pressure of his swollen jaw. The boardwalk was quieter than usual, the distant laughter and clinking of dishes from the nearby restaurants a gentle background to his racing thoughts. As he strolled, he couldn't help but notice the way the jellyfish in Mr. Krabs' bouquet had brightened the dullness of their home. They glowed with a warmth that was strangely comforting. He found himself at the edge of the pier, staring out at the sea, lost in thought. "Hey, Plankton.." The sudden shout snapped Plankton out of his thoughts, and he turned to find Mr. Krabs standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of trepidation and determination. "Krabs," Plankton said, his voice tight. Mr. Krabs approached slowly, his eyes on the jellyfish in Plankton's hand. "How's the mouth?" he asked, his tone cautious. Plankton's tentacles tightened around the glowing creature. "Better," he murmured, his voice still a bit slurred. Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes on the jellyfish. "They do have a way of... making things feel better, don't they?" he ventured, his voice tentative. Plankton studied the jellyfish, its mesmerizing glow illuminating his face. "They do," he conceded. Mr. Krabs took a step closer, his claws clasped nervously in front of him. "Look, Plankton," he began. "I know things have been... strained between us lately. But I just wanted to say that I don't hold any ill will over what happened." Plankton's grip loosened slightly, his gaze still on the jellyfish. "I don't know what happened," he admitted, his voice tight. Mr. Krabs took a deep breath. "I know it's not easy for you to accept help, especially from me," he said, his voice earnest. "But maybe, just maybe, we could find some common ground." Plankton remained silent, his tentacles twitching with the effort of holding back his words. The jellyfish in his hand pulsed with light, casting an eerie glow on the plankton's furrowed brow. Finally, with a deep sigh, he looked up at Mr. Krabs. "You know, Krabs," he began, his voice a mix of anger and something else, something softer. Mr. Krabs' eyes widened, hope flickering in them like the glow of the jellyfish. "Yes?" Plankton took a deep breath, the anger and embarrassment of the past few days weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I don't remember what I said or did," he began, his voice gruff. "But if it's true that you were just trying to help..." Mr. Krabs' hope grew, his claws unclenching slightly. "I was," he said, his voice earnest. "You were in a lot of pain, and I just wanted to be there for you." Plankton relaxed, the ice pack forgotten in his other hand. "I don't know how to feel about that," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "But I do know that I can't keep letting this... this embarrassment fester." Mr. Krabs nodded. "I understand," he said, his voice gentle. "But I promise, it was just a misunderstanding." Plankton quivered, the weight of his decision clear. "I... I forgive you," he said, the words feeling strange on his lips. Mr. Krabs' eyes widened, the hope in them blossoming into relief. "Thank you, Plankton," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know we're not exactly... friends. But I do care about you, in my own crusty way." Plankton snorted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Don't let it get around," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I have a reputation to maintain." Mr. Krabs chuckled, the tension between them dissipating like a bubble in the ocean. "Your secret's safe with me," he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "We frenemies?" Plankton rolled his eye but couldn't help the slight smirk that pulled at his lips. "Frenemies," he said, his voice a mix of irritation and amusement.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷,𝟼𝟸𝟷 Karen walked into the bedroom. Plankton lay on their bed, face half-buried in a pillow. His snores rumbled through the quiet room. She took a moment to appreciate his vulnerability before she gently nudged him awake. He groaned, his eye fluttering open. She offered a soft smile. "It's time," she whispered. "You're fine." He nodded. The drive to the oral surgeon's office was tense. The brightness of the day seemed to mock his anxiety. Karen's hand squeezed his, a silent promise of support. As they checked in, the receptionist's smile was practiced, but kind. The exam room surgeon, a man named Dr. Musselwhite, came in. He explained the procedure once more. The nurse began preparing anesthesia. "You're doing great," Plankton took a deep breath, vision blurring. The last thing he saw was Karen's face before the world went dark. Karen watched the monitors as Plankton's breathing evened out. She clutched his hand, her thumb making small circles on his palm. Plankton's snores had been replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing under anesthesia. She leaned forward to Plankton's still form. Her screen traced the IV line. Plankton's mouth was open Dr. Musselwhite peered into. Plankton twitched slightly in his sleep, but the doctor's hand remained steady. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall steadily, oblivious to the battle being fought within his mouth. Dr. Musselwhite finished stitching. "It's done," he announced. "You did it," she murmured, voice cracking. Plankton lay still, his breathing even and deep. The surgery was over, and he was alive. Karen leaned down to kiss his forehead. The nurse smiles. "He'll be asleep for awhile," she said. Karen nodded. The only sounds were the whispers of medical staff and the hum of machinery. The nurse wheeled him into recovery, and Karen followed, the medication still working its magic. Plankton's features were relaxed in sleep, a stark contrast to the fear that had been etched there just hours before. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a silent testament to the successful procedure by the deep embrace of anesthesia. As he started to stir, the nurse offered a gentle smile as he began to come around. Plankton's eye fluttered open, his gaze unfocused and glassy. He blinked slowly. "Hi, sweetheart," Karen's voice was a warm embrace. "Whaa-...happen'd?" he mumbled. "You're ok," Karen said softly. "They took your wisdom teeth out." Plankton tries to piece together the fragments of his memory. He attempted to speak. "Ow?" he managed. Karen squeezed his hand. Plankton's head lolling slightly against the pillow. His mouth felt like a foreign landscape. Karen helped him sit up, the nurse getting gauze. "You're going to need to bite down," she said, handing him a piece of gauze. "It'll help with the bleeding." He pressed it to his mouth, the pressure sending a dull throb through his jaw. "Hold it there," the nurse instructed, her voice a gentle guide in his foggy world. "Keep the pressure steady. It'll help the bleeding to stop." Plankton nodded, his movements sluggish. The nurse handed Karen an ice pack. "This'll help," she said. "It's ok," she soothed. "You're all done. The hard part is over." Plankton nodded again, his brain still foggy from the remaining anesthesia. He looked around the recovery room, his gaze wondering. "Whath's thith?" Plankton pointed at a machine. Karen chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders. "It's just monitoring you." He nodded, his eye still filled with wonder. He looked down at his hand, studying it as if it was the first time he'd seen it. "Thith...han," he said, his voice trailing off as he wiggled his fingers. "Yes, Plankton. That's your hand." He's mouth filled with gauze and drool slowly seeping out. "Karen?" he mumbles, his voice thick and groggy. "Wha's?" He points to instruments. "They're just tools the doctor used to help you," she explains gently. Plankton nods, his curiosity satisfied for the moment. His eye drift to the ceiling. "Why do the wight hab funny shapes?" Karen follows his gaze. "They're just patterns, Plankton. They help the ceiling look nice." He nods, the concept of aesthetics lost on him. The nurse returns to check his vitals. Plankton watches her with the same curiosity. "Whath thoze do?" He points to the stethoscope around her neck, his speech still slurred. The nurse chuckles. "It's how we listen to your heart." Plankton nodded, his gaze following as she placed the stethoscope on his chest. "Ca-- heaw it?" He asked, his curiosity unquenchable. "That's your heart beating." Plankton's eye grew even wider, the revelation a spark in the haze. "Wow," he whispered, his voice a mere breath. Karen watched his exploration with a mixture of amusement and affection. The nurse returned with discharge instructions, her words a blur to Plankton's still-numb mind. Karen took the papers. "Alright, let's get you ready to go home," she said, helping him to stand. Karen's firm grip on his arm steadied him. Karen helped him into the car. The seatbelt was a puzzle he couldn't solve under the fog of the lingering drugs, but Karen buckles him in before driving out of the parking lot. "Loog ath the treeth," Plankton mumbled. "They're waving hewwo," he said with a sleepy smile. Karen glanced over, her own smile growing. "Yes, sweetheart. They're saying hello." Plankton's gaze shifted to the mirror in the car. He blinked at his reflection, the gauze sticking out of his mouth. "Who thad?" He pointed at his reflection. Karen chuckled. "That's you, with a little extra padding." Plankton nodded, his thoughts a slow river in his sluggish mind. "Thith car...it moveths," he murmured. Karen chuckled. "Yes, dear, it's a car. It takes us places." "Wook ath the clowds," he whispered, his voice slurred. "Thath one...loks wike a...," "It's a cloud," Karen said, smiling at his childlike wonder. "It's just water vapor that looks like something we see in our imaginations." Plankton nodded, his eye drooping. The motion of the car and the gentle hum of the engine lulled him into a doze. His head nodded forward before snapping back up again. "Tired?" Karen asked. "Mm-hmm." His head lolled back against the headrest, his eye slipping shut. The car's AC whispered a gentle lullaby, the cool air playing with the strands of Plankton's antennae. His chest rose and fell in time with the rhythm of the engine, each breath a soft snore. They arrived home. Plankton stirred, his eye blinking open. Karen helped Plankton out of the car. She held him close, his weight a comforting reminder of his presence. Spot, the amoeba puppy, bounded over, his gelatinous body shifting shapes with excitement. "Spoth," Plankton mumbled. The puppy leapedfrogged over, his form morphing into a blur of happiness. Plankton's eye lit up. Plankton reached for Spot with a clumsy hand, his coordination still muddled. Spot nudged his palm with his squishy nose. "Wook, Spoth," Plankton slurred, his eye wide with childlike wonder. "I hav- a booboo." Spot nudges him. Plankton giggled. "Easy, Plankton," Karen cautioned, her voice a gentle reminder of his fragile state. Spot's eyes widened in surprise, his little body shivering with joy. He wriggled closer, his gelatinous tail whipping back and forth in a blur of excitement. Plankton laughed. They made their way to the couch, Plankton's steps uncertain, each movement accompanied by a little giggle. Spot followed. Plankton flopped onto the cushions, his body a limp noodle. Spot jumped up beside him. Plankton leaned onto by Spot, his head lolling. The puppy's a comfort. Plankton's eye grew heavy, the weight of his eyelid too much for his sluggish body to bear, his body going slack. "Rest," Karen said, kneeling beside him. "You've been through a lot today." His hand remained on Spot, the puppy a comforting presence. Plankton's breaths grew steady, his snores once again filling the room. Karen watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling beneath Spot's gentle weight. The house was quiet, the only sound the occasional snort from Plankton's nostrils. He slept all night, only waking up the next morning. Plankton awoke with a start, his mouth wet with drool, his eye focusing slowly. The gauze was still damp from the night's excess saliva. He sat up. "Wha..." Plankton looked around, the room spinning slightly. The couch was his bed, Spot his blanket. He reached up to his mouth, the gauze still in place, the taste of cotton in his mouth. The memory of the surgery was distant. Karen's face swam into view, her smile a warm sunrise. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. Plankton's eye searched his mind, looking for the missing pieces. "I don't... member coming hone," he mumbled, the words slurred. Karen nodded, her smile soft. "You fell asleep in the car, sweetie. I brought you home." But any details were lost, a foggy dream slipping away with each passing moment. "Thish mouth," he said, his tongue probing the empty sockets. The pain was a dull ache, a reminder of his body's battle. Karen handed him a glass of water. "Thank you," he murmured. "You're not supposed to eat solids today," she reminded him, placing a bowl of soup on the coffee table. "But I made some nice, soft scrambled eggs and toast for you to chew." Spot's eyes glued to his owner, his tail wagging. Plankton's jaw felt like it was made of rubber, but the food was a heavenly comfort. Karen sat beside him, her screen never leaving his face, watching for any sign of discomfort. "It'th okay," he assured her, his speech still slurred. He took another bite, his mouth working carefully. The taste was muted, a distant memory of what food used to be. Yet, the warmth and texture brought a sense of normalcy to the post-surgery haze.