The Mooon Emojis & Text

new second power to the second power little 2 squared number 2 mathematics square up square root square squarish

ᵀʰᵉ ᴬᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ pt. 1
ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵐᵒˡᵈᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵍʳᵉʷ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧
ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˡᵈᵉᵈ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵈⁱˢᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ
ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒ ˡᵃᵍᵒᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ‧
"ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉˡᵉˢˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵇᵉ ˢʷᵉᵖᵗ
ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ ᶜᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ
ᵗᵒ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ‧
"ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ
ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ‧ "ᴵᶠ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵒᵒⁿᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ᵃ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡᵇᵒʸ
ᵇᵘᵗ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ ᵉⁿᵛʸ ʳᵘⁱⁿᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ ᴺᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ᵃ ˢᵉᵗᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠᵒʳ
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ
ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵈᵛᵃⁿᵗᵃᵍᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ
ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ? ᴴᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃ
ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ; ʰⁱˢ ʷʰᵃˡᵉ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵛᵉⁿᵍᵉ!"
ᔆᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉˡᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ 
ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠˡᵉˢʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ˢᵃʷ ᵇⁱᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᶠʳᵃᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵉᵃʳˢʰᵒᵗ‧
"ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧‧‧
ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ
ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ‧
ᴿᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵐᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍˡᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵗ
ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵃᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ
ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵃᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ
ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ
ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧"
to be cont. Pt. 2

new plabscore krabston karenton plabs the accident

what the fuckkkkkkkkk jose you made a even worse joke like go suck a dick i hope catch on fire and fall in a 10000000ft hole and spalt on the fucking ground and am telling your mom again now you can bye to your fucking life you stupid bitch like fuck you funny fact for dumbass santa not real cause i burned him oo and your gf is breaking up with your fat ass like go walk for once you fat fuck  
      𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
     
      𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
     °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

WISDOM WITH TEETH 2/2

The nurse returns with
a wheelchair. "Alright, Mr.
Plankton," she says with a
smile. "Let's get you up and
moving."

He looks at her with
a dazed expression, his
mouth hanging open slightly
as he drools onto his chest.
"Whath's the maddah?" 
he asks, his words jumbled.

Karen tries to hide her
smile as she gently wipes
his mouth with a tissue.
"You're just groggy, sweetie.
The anesthesia's wearing off,"
she explains, taking his hand.
"Let's get you into the chair."

With her help, Plankton
manages to stand, his legs
shaky beneath him. The nurse
places the wheelchair behind
him, and he plops down with a
sigh of relief, the chair's cushions
enveloping his frail frame. His drool
hangs from his mouth like a
tiny waterfall, and she can't
help but lean in and kiss him
gently on the forehead.

He looks up at Karen with
the wide, wondering eye
of a toddler discovering the world
for the first time.

"Whath's...thath?" he asks,
his gaze fixed on the
wheelchair. Karen laughs
lightly, her hand still
steadying his arm. "It's for
you to sit in so you don't
have to walk all the way
to the car."

He nods slowly, the action
causing his antennae to wobble.
With a gentle push from the
nurse, the wheelchair begins
to move, and Plankton looks
like a lost child in an
unfamiliar playground. His
drool forms a small puddle in
his lap, and Karen graciously
hands him another napkin.
The corridor outside the
recovery room is a blur of
white walls and sterile
equipment, but the warmth
of Karen's hand on his shoulder
keeps him anchored.

"Whath's...thath?" he asks again,
his gaze fixed on the ceiling
lights as they pass above him.
They look like stars, twinkling
in an alien sky. Karen smiles
patiently, pointing out each one.
"They're just lights, Plankton.
We're in the hallway now."

His eye follows the nurse's
hand as she opens the door to
the waiting area.
She can see the fear
and confusion in his gaze,
but she knows it's just the drugs.

A young couple with a toddler
looks over as they pass by. The
little girl giggles, pointing at
his mouth. "Mommy, why is
he drooling?" she asks
innocently. The mother blushes
and pulls her daughter away,
muttering an apology to Karen.
Plankton's cheeks redden, and
he tries to wipe his mouth
discreetly with the back of his hand.
"It's ok," Karen whispers,
her voice a gentle breeze.
"You're just a little out of it."

He nods, his gaze still
mesmerized by the lights. "Whath's
thath?" he asks again, pointing
at a framed poster on the wall.
Karen leans in to look. "It's a
picture of a happy family,"
she says, her voice a balm to
his confusion. His antennae
twitch, and he nods again, the
motion setting off a fresh wave
of drool.

The nurse wheels him out
to the car, and Karen helps him
into the passenger seat, his
body moving like a ragdoll.
"Buckle up, Plankton," she says,
and he fumbles with the seatbelt,
his hands slipping over the
buckle. She fastens it for him,
his cheek pressed against
the cool leather. "Whewe's
we going?" he slurs, his voice
laced with sleep. "Home," she 
says. His mouth hangs open slightly,
a string of drool connecting
his bottom lip to his chin.

"Whath's happening?" he mumbles,
his head lolling to the side.
"You're ok, honey. We're
just driving home." She keeps
her voice low, hoping to keep
the outside world at bay.

The car jolts over a bump,
and Plankton's eye snaps open.
"Ow," he whines, his hand
flying to his mouth. The
cotton has shifted, and
the pain is sharp. Karen
quickly reaches over and
readjusts it, her touch gentle.
"You're ok," she whispers.
"Whath's this?" he slurs, his hand
fumbling with the seatbelt.
"It's keeping you safe,"
she says, her voice steady
and calm. "Just hold on, ok?"

He nods, his eyelid drooping
almost immediately. 
"Whath's...whath's..." he
mumbles before falling
asleep. Then his head
nods forward, jerking back
up as he started to doze
off. He wakes with a snort, the
cotton still lodged in his
mouth. Karen laughs softly,
reaching over to remove
it. "Almost there, sweetie,"
she says. His eye is
glassy, and he nods, his
head lolling again.

The car hits another
bump, and his eye flies open
again, wide with panic. "Whe...
whath...whath's happening?"
he asks, his voice high
pitched.

"It's ok," Karen repeats,
keeping her tone calm and
soothing. "We're just driving
home. Try to relax."

Plankton's eye closes,
and for a brief moment,
the car is silent except
for the purr of the engine.
But then he's jolted
awake again, his head
snapping back with a start.
"Whewe awe we?" he asks,
his voice slurred.

"Almost home, sweetie,"
Karen says, her voice steady.
He nods, his head falling
back onto the headrest.
The car's movement rocks him
like a cradle, and his eye
closes with a snore.

But the jostle of a turn
wakes him up with a
start. "Whath's happening?"
he mumbles, his eye
unfocused. The world
outside the window is a
blur of colors and shapes.
Karen smiles, taking his
hand in hers. "Just a turn.
We're almost there."

Another snore escapes
his throat, and his head
lolls to the side again. Karen
gently shakes him awake.
"We're home," she says, her
voice a beacon in the fog.
He blinks, his vision
swimming with sleep.
"Whe...whe...whath's that?"
he asks, his voice barely
a murmur as the car
slows to a stop. "Whe...whath's
going on?" he asks again.
His eye is heavy, and
his words are a jumble.
With a sigh, she unbuckles
his seatbelt and helps
him out of the car, his legs
still wobbly. The cool breeze slaps
his face, and he winces.
"Home," he murmurs, his eye
half-closed.

Karen guides him to the
front door, his steps
labored. The house is
quiet, save for the distant
hum of the refrigerator.
Inside, she helps him to the
couch, where he flops down
like a ragdoll, his body
heavy with exhaustion.
"Whe...whe...whath's that?"
he asks again, his head
lolling to the side.

Karen chuckles softly. "It's
our living room, Plankton,"
she says, placing a pillow
under his head, but Plankton
barely registers.

"Whath's that?" he asks again,
his gaze wandering to the TV.
It's off, but in his drug-induced
haze, it's a source of fascination.
Karen sits down beside him,
his body a dead weight against
the couch cushions. She takes
his hand in hers, her thumb
tracing circles on his palm.
"It's just the TV, honey. You
don't need to worry about it."

He nods, his head still
lolling to the side. "Whe...whath
awe we washing?" His question
hangs in the air, and she laughs
softly. "We're not watching
anything. It's off."

The TV seems to beckon
to him, and he tries to
sit up, his body protesting.
"Whe...whath's on?" he
slurs, his antennae waving
sluggishly.

"It's not on, Plankton,"
Karen says, her voice a warm
embrace. "Why don't you
just rest?" She tucks the
throw blanket around his
shoulders and reclines the
sofa. His eyelid flickers,
the struggle between
sleep and curiosity evident.

The room starts to spin,
and Plankton's antennae
wave erratically. "I'm...
so tiwed," he mumbles, his
words a gentle protest.
Karen nods, her smile
understood. "Sleep, sweetie.
I'll be here when you wake up."

He nods, his eyelid fluttering
closed, and his breathing
becomes deep and rhythmic.
Karen watches him for a moment,
his chest rising and falling with
the comfort of a sleeping
babe's. Then she gently
slides the blanket over him,
his snores the only sound
piercing the quiet.

The room dims as the
afternoon sun moves behind
the curtains, casting a soft
glow across the living
room. Plankton's hand, still
clutching Karen's, slips to
the floor with a thump, and
his snores grow louder. Karen
chuckles, reaching for it
to place it gently on his chest.
His breathing is slow and
even, his chest rising and
falling beneath the blanket.

Karen sits for a moment,
watching him sleep, her mind
racing with all the things
she needs to do: prepare
his meals, make sure he takes
his medicine on time, keep
an eye on his swelling. But
for now, she's content to
just sit and watch him,
his features relaxed and
peaceful in slumber. 

new wisdom with teeth karen plankton 2

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 2
(Autistic author)

He blinked a few times, his vision 
clearing slowly. He saw her face, 
wet with tears, and his own 
realization dawned. "Oh, Karen," he 
whispered, his voice filled with 
remorse. Plankton struggled to 
sit up, wincing as pain shot through 
his head.

The lab looked the same, but 
something felt off. The air was 
charged with an unspoken tension 
that Plankton couldn't quite put his 
finger on. He tried to recall the 
argument, but the details were 
fuzzy. All he knew was that he'd 
fallen, and now Karen was 
apologizing for something she 
wasn't even at fault for.

He looked into her screen, searching 
for answers. "What happened?" he 
asked, his voice hoarse. Karen took a 
deep breath, steeling herself for 
what she had to say. "You had an 
accident in the lab," she replied, her 
voice calm and measured. "You hit 
your head." But as she watched him, 
she noticed something else. His movements 
were stiff, his gaze unfocused. He 
wasn't quite the same. Karen 
noticed that his usual vibrant 
expressions were absent, replaced 
by a vacant stare. She chalked it up
to lightheadedness.

"Karen," Plankton began, his voice 
still slurred. "Karen." 
He paused, his eye darting around 
the room as if searching for words.

Karen felt a cold knot form. Something was 
different about him, something she 
couldn't quite place. His movements 
were rigid, his gaze unwavering, 
like he was seeing her but not 
really seeing her. "What is it?" she 
asked, trying to keep the 
worry out of her voice.

Plankton's eye finally met hers, 
but there was no spark of 
recognition, no mischievous 
twinkle that she was used to. 
"Plankton glad to see Karen," he 
said, his tone flat and unemotional.

That wasn't right. "Plankton, do you 
know where you are?" she asked 
nervously.

Plankton nodded slowly, his gaze 
still unnaturally focused. "Home," 
he responded, his voice devoid of 
the warmth and love she was 
accustomed to. "The Chum Bucket."

Karen's eyes searched his, looking 
for any sign of the man she knew, 
but all she found was a distant 
shadow. Panic began to creep in 
as the gravity of the situation 
started to dawn on her. This wasn't 
just a bump on the head. Something 
was very wrong.

"Do you remember me?" she 
asked, her voice trembling.

Plankton's eye searched her, 
his expression unchanging. "Karen," 
he responds correctly. "Wife of Plankton.
Computer wife as of July 31, 1999."

The words hit Karen like a cold 
wave. He knew her name, but the 
way he said it, like he was recounting 
a fact rather than speaking to his 
beloved wife, chilled her to the bone. 
She felt the ground shift beneath 
her, her world tilting on its axis.

"Plankton, what's wrong?" she asked, 
desperation seeping into her voice. 
He looked at her, his gaze unblinking. 
"Wife Karen," he said, his voice 
robotic. "Irritated with Plankton's lack of 
attention to anniversary dinner."

The words were right, but 
the emotion, the love, the personality 
behind them was gone. It was like 
talking to a stranger, a very tiny, very 
confused stranger.

Karen felt a tear roll down her 
screen. "Plankton, can you hear me?" 
she asked, her voice quivering. "I'm not 
just 'Wife Karen', I'm your Karen. Your 
partner, your best friend."

Plankton's response was a 
mechanical nod. "Affirmative," he said, 
his tone unwavering. "Karen is wife.
Plankton is husband."

The coldness of his words 
cut through Karen like a knife. Her 
eyes searched his, desperately trying 
to find any sign of the man she 
knew was in there. "Plankton," she 
said softly, "it's me. It's Karen. Do you 
understand?"

He nodded again, his antennae 
barely twitching. "Understood," he 
replied, his voice devoid of inflection. 
"And Karen is upset?"

Karen nodded, trying not to 
crumble. "Yes, I'm upset," she 
managed to say, her voice choked 
with emotion. "But more than that, I'm 
scared. You're not acting like 
yourself, Plankton."

He blinked, his gaze shifting 
slightly. "Scared," he echoed, as if 
trying to understand the concept. 
"Why Karen scared?"

"Because you're not you," Karen 
managed to whisper,  
breaking with every robotic 
response. "You're acting so... different."

Plankton tilted his head, trying 
to process her words. "Different 
how?" he asked, his voice still 
lacking any emotional depth.

Karen took a deep breath, trying 
to explain something she didn't fully 
understand herself. "You're not showing 
your feelings," she said. "You're not... connecting 
with me like you usually do."

Plankton's face remained a 
mask of confusion. "Connections," he 
muttered. "Emotional bonds." He 
nodded slowly. "Important for relationship.
Plankton in love with Karen."

Karen felt a flicker of hope.
"That's right," she said, her voice 
gentle. "I know you love me. But 
you're not showing it, not like before."

Plankton's antennae twitched 
slightly as he processed this new 
information. "Plankton must
adjust behavior to align with Karen's 
desired emotional output; how?"

Karen felt a pang of sadness.
He was trying to understand, but
his usual charm was nowhere to be 
found. She took his hand in hers. 
"Just talk to me," she said, her 
voice barely above a whisper. "Tell 
me what you're thinking, what you're 
feeling."

Plankton looked at her, his 
expression still vacant. "Plankton 
thinking about Karen," he 
said, his voice flat. "Plankton feeling 
determined."

Karen's eyes searched his, looking 
for any sign of the emotion 
his words conveyed. "Determined 
to what?" she asked, hopeful.

"Determined to what," he echoed.
"Karen saying, determined to what.
Plankton determined to show Karen
love, Karen saying determined to what."

Karen realized the depth of 
his change. This wasn't just a 
concussion or a temporary loss of 
memory; it was something much 
more profound, something that had 
stripped him of his very essence.

"Plankton," she began, her voice 
shaking, "I don't know what happened 
to you, but I need you to try. Can 
you tell me how you feel?" But then he
starts to rock back and forth to stim,
humming their wedding song.

The sight of her husband's usually 
expressive features now so vacant and
his movements so repetitive was 
alarming. Karen felt a sob rise in her 
throat, but she pushed it down. She 
needed to stay strong, for him.

"Plankton," she said, her voice 
steadier than she felt. "Look at me.
I need you to focus. Can you tell me 
how you feel, in your own words?"

He stopped rocking and turned 
his head to look at her, his eye 
still distant. "Feelings," he 
repeated. "Love, anger, sadness, 
joy. Concepts. Plankton has them.
Karen saying, determined to what."

Karen's hope sank. The realization 
was setting in. This wasn't just a 
case of a bump on the head. Plankton's 
accident had changed him in a way 
she didn't fully comprehend. The 
lab, once filled with the warmth of 
his passion and dreams, now felt cold 
and sterile.

Her mind raced as she searched 
for any indication of the man 
she knew. The way he spoke, the 
way he moved, it was as if a 
switch had been flipped.

"Plankton, does your head hurt?"

"Cephalgia via blunt force trauma.
Getting better." He responds, flapping
his hands.

Karen's eyes widened at his 
unexpected use of medical terminology.
"neurodivergence," she thought to herself.
Could it be that her husband had somehow
developed something from the fall? It 
was a long shot, but the lack of 
emotional connection, the repetitive 
behaviors, and the rigidity of his speech 
patterns were all hallmarks of it. She
scans his brain and connected herself
to the monitor. Plankton looks over and
sees the brain scan. "Plankton's brain?"
"Yes, Plankton.." Karen says.

"Cerebellar cortex reduced synapses
and showing minimal activity in the
corpus callosum. Irreversibly reduced
blood flow in between hemispheric..."

"I've no idea what you're saying, honey."
Karen interrupts.

Plankton's face falls, his usual 
playfulness replaced by a look of 
confusion. "Neurotypical communication
error," he says, his voice laced with 
frustration. "Karen, Plankton trying to say
the fall caused disruption to myelination.."

Karen's eyes widen in shocked confusion.
"Myelination? Plankton, are you okay?"
she asks, her voice laced with fear.

Plankton nods, his gaze fixed 
on the brain scan. "Neuroplasticity.
Synaptic pruning. Autism acquisition," he says, 
his words coming out in a rush.

Karen's mind reels at his 
diagnosis. Autism? It couldn't be.
But as she looks at his rigid 
body language and his lack of 
emotional expression, she can't 
deny it.

new karen has a lesson Karen x Plankton Karen & Sheldon J. Plankton plaren 2

SWEET CWEAM pt. 2

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to the ceiling, 
where shadows danced in 
the harsh fluorescent light. 
He tried to remember, but 
his thoughts were like 
grains of sand slipping 
through his fingers.

"Karen," he 
whispered, his voice 
tiny and lost. "My tweef?"

Her smile never 
wavered, her eyes 
steady on his. "Don't 
worry about your teeth 
now. They're all taken 
care of."

Plankton's mind 
raced, trying to grasp 
the concept of missing 
teeth. He 
swallowed, the 
movement painfully 
sluggish in his throat. 
"Buh... buth how?"

"They used a special kind 
of sleepy medicine," she 
explained, her voice a 
calm lullaby in the stark 
reality of the recovery 
room. "It made sure you 
didn't feel any pain."

Plankton's eye
grew rounder still, 
his curiosity piqued. 
He felt a strange giggle 
bubble up from his chest, 
the absurdity of the 
situation tickling his 
funny bone. "Sleeby 
meds?" he 
repeated, the words 
coming out like a 
slurred song.

The nurse, used to 
seeing patients in various 
states of post-op confusion, 
just smiled. "Yes, the 
sleepy medicine," she 
said, her voice a comforting 
lilt. "It's to keep you calm 
and pain-free."

Plankton's eye
wandered to the IV 
drip next to his bed, 
the clear fluid snaking into 
his arm. "Meee," he 
managed.

The nurse 
followed his gaze and 
explained, "That's just 
some fluids to keep 
you hydrated, Mr. Plankton. 
You've been asleep for a 
little while."

Karen watched as 
his eye grew distant, 
his mind adrift in the 
sea of anesthesia. The 
drool trickled down 
his chin, and she 
tenderly dabbed it away 
with a tissue. "Do you 
remember anything?"

Plankton's gaze 
flickered, and a faint 
smile tugged at his 
numb lips. "I 'member 
flying," he murmured, 
his voice a whisper of a 
dream. "I thaw youw were 
thewe," he said, his eye
half-closed. "Youw wuz 
a buttefly."

Karen's eyes 
sparkled with a mix of 
amusement and concern. 
"I was a butterfly?" she 
repeated, playing along. 
"That's sweet, Plankton."

He nodded, his 
eye glazed with a 
dreamy expression. "Yew 
wuz," he insisted, 
his voice still slurred.

Karen couldn't help but 
laugh, the tension of the 
day finally breaking. "Okay, 
my little butterfly," she 
whispered, her thumb 
brushing his cheek. "Why 
don't we go home?"

The nurse nodded, 
preparing the discharge 
papers. "You can take him 
now," she said, handing 
them to Karen. "Make sure 
he gets plenty of rest and 
stick to soft foods for the 
next few days."

Karen helped 
Plankton to his feet, his 
body protesting the 
sudden movement. He 
swayed like a willow in the 
wind, his arm draped 
heavily over her shoulders. 
Together, they shuffled out 
of the recovery room, 
his feet dragging against 
the floor as if tethered 
to an invisible weight.

The numbness in his 
mouth had spread to 
his cheeks, giving 
his face a lopsided 
smile that made him feel 
like a clown, his mouth 
still frozen in a 
lopsided smile as he chuckles. 

Karen led him out 
of the clinic. Plankton’s eye
closed as he
suddenly tilted onto
her, letting out 
a little snorelike snort.

"Plankton, wake up," 
she giggled, half-supporting 
his weight. 
The fresh air hit 
his face like a slap, 
waking him up just 
enough to realize 
his mouth was still 
as numb as a brick. 
He tried to speak, 
but it was like his 
tongue had forgotten 
how to move.

"Wha...?" he mumbled, 
his eye searching 
for understanding.

The world around 
Plankton was a 
blur of shapes and 
colors.

"Walky," he 
slurred, his legs 
like jelly under him.
Karen guided him to the car, 
his legs moving as if 
through molasses.

Once inside, he 
fidgeted with the 
seatbelt, his fingers 
refusing to cooperate. 
"Let me," she said, 
buckling him in, making 
his eye go wide again.

"Thathks," he 
muttered, “I thee
the twess," he said, 
his voice filled with 
wonder as if 
he had just been born.

Karen chuckled, 
starting the car. The 
engine hummed to life, 
and Plankton's eye 
followed the world as it 
moved past the window, 
his gaze unfocused and 
innocent.

"Lookit the twess," he 
said, his voice filled 
with awe. "They'we aww
bending to shay hewwo."

Karen couldn't help but 
laugh at his slurred 
words. "Yes, they do that 
when it's windy," she 
explained, her voice a 
comforting balm to his 
confused mind.

new sweet cweam plaren 2

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⣿⠟⡅⠚⠘⠂⡽⢻⣿⣬⣿⣷⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠒⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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new 2 roman numerals 1 girl kissing to boy dot art text art ascii art

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

new i t y u o p a s d f g h j k l z x c v b n m 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 meth letter english language roman alphabet latin alphabet vowel w not my turkish alphabet him me you myself e phoenician alphabet alphabet one

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2


(Neurodivergent author)



By evening, Karen has set
up a makeshift kitchen area
in the living room, with all
the ingredients for spaghetti
arranged neatly on the coffee
table. Plankton sits cross-legged
on the floor, his eye never
leaving the recipe book.

He reads each step aloud, his voice
growing stronger with
confidence. Karen chops
vegetables nearby, noticing
the subtle changes in his
movements, the way he tilts
his head when he's concentrating.

The smell of garlic and onions
sizzling in olive oil fills the
room. Plankton stirs the
pot, his face scrunching up
slightly at the aroma, a sign
his sensory sensitivity has
heightened. She sees him rub
his hands together, a self-stimulatory
behavior, but she knows
it's his way of grounding
himself amidst the chaos.

They move around the makeshift
kitchen, a silent dance of
understanding and support.
Karen boils the water for the
spaghetti while Plankton
continues to sauté the veggies.
Each action is deliberate,
each step measured as they
navigate their new reality.

The water reaches a rolling
boil, and Plankton carefully
drops in the spaghetti strands,
his gaze transfixed by the
swirling water. Karen watches
his concentration and sees
the childlike wonder in his eye.

"How long?" he asks.
"Five minutes," Karen says, her
voice calm. She's read that clear
and concise instructions
can be helpful.

After five minutes, Plankton
quickly drains the spaghetti, his
movements precise and methodical.
He pours the sauce over the noodles
and mixes them gently, his focus
intense. Karen watches him,
a mix of admiration and concern.

"It's done," he announces, his
voice a mix of excitement and
apprehension. She brings over
two plates, setting them on the
coffee table. They sit across
from each other, the steaming
spaghetti a bridge between
them. Plankton's hand hovers
over his plate, unsure of how to
proceed with the new sensory
experience.

"Let's eat," Karen says with a
smile, picking up her fork and
twirling the noodles expertly.
The sound of her silverware
against the plate makes him flinch,
but he mimics her movements.

They eat in silence, the clinking
of forks and spoons the only
sounds in the room. Plankton
chews slowly, savoring each bite,
his face a canvas of emotions.
Karen watches him, her own
fork poised in midair.

As they finish dinner, Plankton
sets his plate aside and looks
at her, his expression earnest.
"Thank you, Karen," he says, his
voice clear. "For being here Karen."

Her eyes brim with tears,
but she blinks them back. "Always,
Plankton. I'll always be here. Now
it's getting late; let's go to bed.."

In bed, she reads to him,
his favorite childhood story,
the words acting as a lullaby.
Plankton's hand rests on her arm,
his thumb rubbing circles in a
self-soothing gesture. His breathing
steadies, matching the rhythm
of her voice.

The book's final page is turned,
and she switches off the lamp,
plunging the room into darkness.
The silence is filled with the
comforting hum of the fan above.

Karen lies beside Plankton,
his body rigid with tension.
Her arm wraps around him,
pulling him closer, and she feels
his muscles slowly relax.

"Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers,
kissing his forehead. He doesn't
respond, lost in his thoughts.
But she knows he heard her.
Karen notices the tension in his body 
and gently runs her fingers through 
his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. 
Eventually, his breathing evens out, 
and he falls asleep, his body curled 
into hers like a child seeking shelter.

The next morning, the sun streams 
through the blinds, casting stripes
across the bed. Karen, already awake, 
watches him, her hand still entwined with his.
He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the 
lines of worry from the day before 
smoothed out by the embrace of slumber.

Carefully, she slides out of bed,
not wanting to disturb him. She sees
him stir in his sleep, his antennae
twitching slightly, but he remains
unaware of her departure.

In the kitchen, Karen starts
the coffee, the scent filling
the room with a comforting
aroma. She opens the fridge,
finding the ingredients for
the morning routine. Plankton's
usual breakfast is a simple one:
toast with jam and a banana.

The toaster pops, and she
spreads the jam with a gentle
smoothness that Plankton likes.
The banana peels easily, revealing
the perfect yellow fruit inside.
Her mind races with thoughts
of how she'll need to learn
his new sensitivities, his likes
and dislikes, his triggers. But for
now, she focuses on the task
at hand, placing the slices
of bread in the toaster. 

When the toast is just right,
she carries the breakfast tray
to the bedroom, her steps
soft against the cold floor.
Plankton's still asleep, his
snores punctuating the quiet
morning. Karen sets the tray
on the bedside table.

She watches him, unsure
how to wake him without
causing distress. She's read
about sensory sensitivity
and knows that sudden noise
can be jarring for someone
with Autism. She gently strokes
his antennae, her touch
featherlight, and whispers his
name, "Plankton, wake up."

He stirs, his antennae twitching,
but his eye remains closed.
Karen tries again, a little
louder this time, "Wake up,
sweetie. Breakfast is ready."

Plankton's hand shoots up
to cover his eye, a reflexive
reaction to the light. His
body tenses, then relaxes as
his mind adjusts to the new
day. He sits up slowly.

"Thank you, Karen," he mumbles,
his voice still thick with sleep.
He takes in the breakfast
spread before him, his antennae
twitching with anticipation. He picks
up the toast, feeling the warmth 
in his hands, the stickiness
of the jam a familiar comfort.

Karen watches him closely, noticing
the way his eye widens slightly
at the first bite, the way his tongue
flicks out to taste the banana.
It's as if every sensation is
amplified, a symphony of flavors
and textures that she can't begin
to understand. She sips her coffee,
silent, giving him space.

As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again,
his body rocking slightly. It's a low,
comforting sound that fills the room.
Karen feels the tension in her
shoulders ease. This is their new
normal, a dance of care and
understanding. 

new copepod autism plaren neurodivergentcore neurodisability 2

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new 1 2 4 7 6 roman numerals common year starting on saturday seven dot art text art ascii art

ᵀʰᵉ ᴬᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ 
ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵐᵒˡᵈᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵍʳᵉʷ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧
ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˡᵈᵉᵈ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵈⁱˢᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ
ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒ ˡᵃᵍᵒᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ‧
"ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉˡᵉˢˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵇᵉ ˢʷᵉᵖᵗ
ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ ᶜᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ
ᵗᵒ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ‧
"ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ
ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ‧ "ᴵᶠ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵒᵒⁿᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ᵃ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡᵇᵒʸ
ᵇᵘᵗ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ ᵉⁿᵛʸ ʳᵘⁱⁿᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ ᴺᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ᵃ ˢᵉᵗᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠᵒʳ
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ
ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵈᵛᵃⁿᵗᵃᵍᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ
ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ? ᴴᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃ
ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ; ʰⁱˢ ʷʰᵃˡᵉ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵛᵉⁿᵍᵉ!"
ᔆᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉˡᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ 
ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠˡᵉˢʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ˢᵃʷ ᵇⁱᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᶠʳᵃᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵉᵃʳˢʰᵒᵗ‧
"ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧‧‧
ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ
ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ‧
ᴿᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵐᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍˡᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵗ
ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵃᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ
ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵃᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ
ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ
ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᵘᵖ ᵃˡˡ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵉˡˡ ᶜʳᵃˢʰ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧
"ᴵᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ
ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ? ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ
ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒᵘʳ‧‧‧
"ᴵ ᵐᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ˢʰᵉˡˡ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ
ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱᵗⁿᵉˢˢᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵍᵒᵒ ˡᵃᵍᵒᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵖᵘᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵃˢʰ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴸᵃʳʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᴸᵒᵇˢᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ
ᵃˢ ᵃ ˡⁱᶠᵉᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʷᵒ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗᵉᵈ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ʰⁱᵗ ᵇʸ ᵃ ʷᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ʰᵉˡᵖˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ‧
ᴸᵃʳʳʸ'ˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵗ
ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᴸᵃʳʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˢʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧‧" 
ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ
ᴸᵃʳʳʸ ᵈⁱᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ˢᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵒˢᵗ ᵃᵗ ˢᵉᵃ‧
ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ
ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ‧‧‧" ᴸᵃʳʳʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧
"ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ‧‧‧
ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ
ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ
ᵗᵒ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡʸ ʰᵉˡᵖ‧ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᶜᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵃˡ
ᵈᵃᵐᵃᵍᵉ ᵃˢ ˢᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵛⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧
"ᴵ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵍ ʰⁱᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᶜᵏ
ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠʳᵃᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ‧‧‧
ᴳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᵗ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ
ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵃˢᵉ‧‧‧
ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ˢⁱᵍⁿˢ
ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳʸ‧ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵒᵐᵇᵃʳᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ
ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴴⁱ‧‧‧" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧
"ᵂʰᵒ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ⸴ ᵖᵃˡ!"
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵈᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵉᵉ‧
"ᴴᵒʷ'ˢ⸴ ʰᵒʷ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵐᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ˢʰᵉˡˡ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ‧‧‧" "ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ
ʰⁱᵐ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ ᴿᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʰᵒᵐᵉ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ʸᵃ ˡᵘᶜᵏʸ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ
ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵃ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠʳᵃᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ
ˡᵉᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᵂᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʸᵉ ᵗᵒ 
ᴸᵃʳʳʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃˡˡ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ 
ʰᵒᵐᵉˢ ʳᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉˡʸ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃᵗ‧
"ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵐᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ; ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵘˢᵗ
ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ˢʰᵉᵈᵈᵉᵈ‧‧‧"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ
ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧
"ᴵˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ?" ᴬˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵉʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ
ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ "ᔆᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ
ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᵈᵒᶻᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ
ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ˢᵒⁿᵒʳᵒᵘˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰˢ‧
ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃʳᵐ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵍ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ
ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵃ
ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ⸴ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ʷᵃˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱᵗ‧ 

new planktonwave karenton goo lagoon plabs the accident

JUST A TOUCH i
(Autistic author)

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ

"You know, I've never 
seen a sunset quite 
like this," Karen said, 
her screen glued to 
the horizon.

Her husband, Plankton, 
nodded absentmindedly. 
He was too focused on 
tightening the bolts on 
the railing of their Chum 
Bucket home.

As the sun dipped,
Plankton's wrench slipped,
striking him on the head.
With a sharp clang and a 
muted cry, he staggered back,
his eye glazed over with 
surprise and pain as he
falls to the ground, landing
on his head with a thud.

Karen's hand flew to her screen,
stifling a scream as she
raced towards him. Plankton's
body was eerily still.

Her eyes filled with 
fear and love, she 
knelt beside him,
his head cradled in her
slender hands. "Plankton,"
she whispered urgently, "are
you okay?" There was no 
response, not even a 
twitch of his antennae.
His eye remained closed.

"Plankton!" she
shouted, louder this time,
her voice cracking with
concern. The sound of
his name echoed through
their silent abode. "Wake up,
please," she pleaded,
tears threatening to spill.
The setting sun cast
long shadows over his
motionless body, the
once bright hues of their
underwater home now
overshadowed by a dark
sense of dread.

With trembling hands,
she checked for a pulse,
feeling the steady rhythm
of his heart beating.
Relief flooded through her,
but she knew she had to act
quickly.

"I have to get him to a hospital,"
she thought, her mind racing.

Karen carefully scooped Plankton
into her arms and went with determination
to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. The nurse,
a stern-faced starfish, took one
look at the unconscious Plankton
and ushered them straight through
to an examination room, Karen's 
grip on Plankton's hand tight.

The doctor, a squid with a
comforting smile, took over,
his tentacles moving swiftly
over Plankton's tiny frame.

"Ma'am, we need to check
his head for any damage,"
he said, gently patting her
hand. Karen nodded,
swiping at her eyes with
the back of her arm.

The doctor led them to
a room filled with high-tech
equipment that whirred and
glowed. He placed Plankton
on a shiny, cold table. The
machines beeped and
hummed as they searched
for any signs of trauma.

Karen held her breath,
watching the squid doctor's
face for any hint of what
he might find. The doctor's
tentacles danced over a
console, reading the results.
Finally, he turned to Karen.

"Ma'am, it appears your husband
has sustained an irreversible brain
condition from his fall," he said
softly. Karen's grip tightened
on Plankton's hand. "But it's not
all bad," he quickly added.
"The injury has led to the
development of Autism in
his brain. The condition's called
Acquired Autism."

Her eyes widened. "What does
that mean for him?" she asked,
trying to keep her voice steady.
The doctor's smile was warm,
his tentacles still. "It means
his brain will process things
differently. It could enhance
his cognitive abilities in certain
areas, but it may also present
challenges in others."

The news hit Karen like
a tidal wave. Autism. A word
she had heard before, but never
thought would be a part of
their lives. "How will this
change him?" she managed
to ask, her voice barely above
a whisper.

The doctor took a deep
breath and began to explain.
"Plankton may exhibit
behaviors that are different
from before, such as repetitive
actions or heightened sensitivity
to stimuli. His social
interactions might be affected
as well. But, on the positive
side, we've seen patients with
Acquired Autism develop
extraordinary talents in areas
like memory or problem-
solving."

Karen nodded, trying
to absorb the information.
The doctor's tentacles curled
around a clipboard, jotting
down notes. "He can go home
tonight, and, he'll be able to
adapt to his new reality with
your patience and love. You
may need to accommodate
for his comfort, there's no
treatment or cure. You can
leave whenever he wakes up
shortly after we assess and
answer any questions."

Karen nods and leaned over
Plankton, stroking his cheek.
"We'll get through this,"
she whispered. "Together."

As the doctor
sat by them, Karen
was overwhelmed by a
flurry of questions and fears.
How would Plankton be different?
Would he still love her?
Would he remember their life
together? The quiet beeps
of the hospital machines
were a stark reminder of the
new reality they faced.

The doctor's gentle
explanation was a beacon of
hope in the storm of
uncertainty. Plankton might
see the world in a new light,
his mind unlocking puzzles
and patterns that had
eluded him before. But the
thought of her husband,
the man she had spent her
life with, changing so fundamentally...

As the doctor finished up,
Plankton's single eye fluttered
open, focusing on her screen.
Karen leaped
as she saw the spark of
recognition. "Karen?" he
said, his voice faint but clear.

Her heart soared with
relief. "Yes, Plankton, it's me,"
she said, her voice choked
with emotion. But as she
watched him closely, she
noticed something different.
His gaze was intense, his movements
precise and calculated.
He took in every detail of
the room, his eye darting around
quickly, absorbing everything.

His voice, when he
spoke again, had a new
rhythm to it, almost as if he
was reciting a script from
memory. "Where?" he
asked, the words clipped and
quick. Karen took his hand,
squeezing it reassuringly. "You're
in the hospital, Plankton,"
she said softly. "You had an accident.
You hit your head
and it changed
your brain."

The doctor cleared his
throat, sensing her tension.
"It's common for patients
with Acquired Autism
to exhibit heightened focus
and a need for routine. It
will take time for you to learn
how to communicate effectively
with him in this new state,"
he explained. Karen nodded,
determined to be there every
step of the way.

new just a touch karankton i

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠐⠈⠉⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠁⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠐⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠁⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⢀⠆⡀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠀⡀⠀⢀⣀⠅⡆⠀⢀⠃⠀⠡⡀⠀⠀⡋⡄⠀⡐⡍⠁⠉⣣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠂⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠒⠁⠐⠂⠒⠃⠂⠿⡂⣳⠊⠀⠁⠃⠒⠁⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠄⠀⠀⠠⠀⡚⡀⠀⠃⡀⡍⠑⡀⡀⠀⠤⡤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⡂⡇⠈⠂⠄⠇⠈⠤⠔⠑⢄⡈⡄⣀⠅⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⡖⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠁⡊⠀⠀⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢀⡀⡀⠀⢠⠂⠂⡄⡨⠑⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡀⠁⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠅⠀⠃⡀⡅⠤⠎⠃⠈⡆⠀⠈⡋⠁⠁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⡀⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡅⠀⠀⢂⡁⡄⡀⣀⠔⠉⠂⠀⠐⠄⠄⠄⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new :3 2 lissa was here dot art text art ascii art

😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

new 2 000 2000

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

new 2 8 js dot art text art ascii art

ᶠᵒʳᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ pt. 4
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
"ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ᵃⁱʳ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ
ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ᵃ
ᵖᵉᵉᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇˢ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵒˡᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳ?" ᴴᵉ
ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʸ‧ "ᴸᵒᵒᵏ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗ
ᵖʳᵒʲᵉᶜᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ⁿᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ
ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ⸴ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ
ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗ!
ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ
ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉᵈ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵉ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ᶠᵉˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘʳʸ‧
ᵁⁿᵇᵉᵏⁿᵒʷⁿˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ⸴ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ
ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ "ᴱˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᑫᵘⁱᵗ ⁿᵒʷ!"
ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ
ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗᵉᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ‧‧‧"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧"
"ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢⁱⁿᵍ?" "ʸᵉᵃ⸴ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ; ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵒ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ᵃⁱʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʳᵃⁿ
ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ
ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ
ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵈʳᵃˢᵗⁱᶜ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉᵈ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ; ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ
ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ˢʰᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ 
ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵒˡˡᵃᵇˡʸ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᵃˢ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ
ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴹʸ ˢᵉⁿˢᵒʳˢ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉ
ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ 
ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵒˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!"
ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵒⁱˢᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ
ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴼʰ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᑫᵘⁱᵗ
ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ‧‧‧"
"ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃⁿᵗ⸴ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" End finale

new bobplank forgetcore karenton plankkarenbob forget me not

GO HONE 1/2

Karen sat in the chair 
next to the bed. 
Plankton lay there, 
snoring softly. 
They'd just finished
removing his wisdom
teeth.

Karen rarely sees him
asleep. He was a light 
sleeper, always had been.
But here he was, mouth
agape, drool pooling onto
the pristine pillowcase.
The nurse had said
the anesthesia would wear
off soon. She felt a strange
mix of pity and amusement.

Karen reached
out to stroke his 
forehead. "Plankton?"
Her voice was
gentle, soothing.
He didn't respond.
His eye remained
shut, but she
noticed the faintest
twitch of his antenna.

A moment later,
his eye fluttered
open, unfocused.
"Wheh...am I?" he 
mumbled, his
voice slurred
by the lingering
effects of the drugs
and numb mouth.
"Karen?"

"You're in the recovery
room, sweetie," Karen
whispered. "You just
got your wisdom teeth out."
The nurse walked in.

"How we feeling?" 
Plankton looked around,
his gaze unfocused, as
if he wasn't quite sure
where to land. "I don't
know," he said, voice
still thick. "Everything
ish tho...big?"

The nurse chuckled.
"That's the anesthesia.
It'll wear off in a bit.
Can you tell me your name?"

Plankton blinked a few
times, trying to get his
bearings. "Pwankton," he
managed, sounding like a
toddler with a mouthful
of marshmallows. Karen
pressed her lips together
to hold back a laugh. She
felt a tug at her heart,
seeing this tough,
competent man reduced
to such a helpless state.

He attempted to sit up,
but his body didn't
cooperate, flopping back
down onto the pillows.

"Whoa, wath happening?"
he slurred, his
eye searching the room
as if looking for
something familiar.
His limbs felt like
spaghetti noodles, and
his brain was stuck in
slow motion. Karen
helped him adjust,
pillows plumping around
his head. She couldn't
help but chuckle at his
drunken antics.

The nurse took his pulse
and checked the monitors.
"Everything looks good,"
she said. "Just rest a bit
longer."

"Oh boy," he
muttered, a goofy smile
spreading across his face.
"Wook at aww tha
little fishies!" Plankton's
mind was clearly
somewhere else entirely.

Karen looked around the
recovery room, but
all she could see were
the regular, sterile
equipment and a few
other patients, not a fish
in sight. She couldn't
help but let out a small
laugh at his silliness.
"You're okay," she assured
him, patting his hand.
"Just the meds talking."

Plankton's eye grew
even wider, his smile
turning into a grin. "Can 
I pway with dem?" he
asked, reaching out a
shaky arm to grab at
the invisible fish.

The nurse looked at
Karen with a knowing smile.
"It's a common side
effect," she assured
her. "The drugs can make
patients feel pretty loopy."

Plankton's giggle grew
louder as he continued
to "catch" the nonexistent
fish. His movements
were clumsy, like a
baby learning to use
their hands for the first
time. Karen watched,
her heart swelling with a
sudden fondness for
his innocent charm.

"Wook, Karen! I got one!"
He held up a finger,
waggling it in the air
between them. "It's tho
tiny!" His eye squinted
as he tried to focus on his
own digit, then opened
wide in amazement. "And
it's on my han!" He
was utterly captivated by
his own hand, turning it
this way and that,
studying it like a new
discovery.

Karen couldn't help but
smile at his antics. "That's
right, Plankton. That's your
finger," she said, her voice
filled with amusement.
"You're doing great."

The nurse took a step
back, allowing Karen to
interact more freely with
her husband. "You can
talk to him, just keep it
calm and don't let him
move too much," she said
before checking on the
other patients.

Plankton's gaze
followed the nurse, his
eye glazed over with
wonder. "Wheh's she go?"
he asked, his voice
innocently curious.
Karen leaned in closer,
her hand still in his.
"She's just checking on
the other people who
are feeling a bit sleepy
like you."

He nodded solemnly,
his antennas flopping to
the side with the
motion. "Okay, Karen," he
said, as if she had
explained the secrets of
the universe to him.

The room started to spin
gently, and he giggled. "I
fink I'm on a merry-go-round!"
Karen's smile grew,
warming the coolness of the
recovery room. "No,
honey, you're just a bit woozy
from the surgery. You
need to lie still."

Plankton nodded, his
grin never leaving his face.
"Otay," he mumbled, his eye
crossing as he tried to
focus on Karen's face. "Buh ith
fun!"

Karen couldn't resist
the urge to lean in and
kiss his forehead. "You're
so adorable when you're
loopy," she said, her voice
filled with affection.

Plankton's grin grew even
wider, his cheeks
flushing slightly from
the attention. He
closed his eye and leaned into
the kiss like a child
seeking comfort. "Karen,"
he said, his voice a
slurred whisper, "youw
my besht fren."

The tenderness in his
words made her heart
melt. "Always, Plankton,"
she said, her thumb
gently brushing his palm.
"Always."

He sighed contentedly,
his giggle subsiding into
a gentle snore. His hand fell
limp beside him, his
fingers still slightly
curled as if holding onto
the invisible fish. Karen
smiled, catching him.

His eye fluttered open again,
rousing with a snort.

"Whath...?" Plankton
mumbled, his gaze
floating around the room.
He squinted at Karen,
his vision blurred.

"You're okay," Karen
soothed, her voice
like a lullaby in the
stillness of the room.
"You're just coming out
of the anesthesia."

Plankton blinked
slowly, his pupil
expanding to take in
the soft lights and the
unfamiliar surroundings.
He tried to speak, but
his words came out as
mumbles and squeaks. "Wha...?"

Karen's screen
twinkled with
affection as she
spoke gently, "You're in the
recovery room, sweetie.
You're okay."

Plankton's mind
was still swimming in a
sea of confusion.
"Buth...buth...my teef?"
he managed to ask.

"They're out, don't worry,"
Karen assured him, her
laughter barely contained.
"The dentist took them out."

Plankton looked at her
with a mix of relief and
silly curiosity. "The dentish?"
he asked, his voice childlike.
"Wheh did the put dem?"

Karen nodded, trying not to
laugh. "They're gone, gotten
rid of."

Plankton's face scrunched up
like a little kid's, trying to
understand. "Buth I can't feel
dem," he whined, his hand
gently probing his swollen
cheek. "Awe youw shure?"

Karen nodded, her smile
never wavering. "They're
gone, I promise. You'll have
to be careful with soft
food for a few days."

Plankton's eye lit up
like a child at the mention
of a treat. "Soft food?
Wike ice cweam?"

Karen nodded, her
laughter bubbling to the
surface. "Yes, like ice cream.
But remember, no
chewing."

Plankton's face fell. "Oh,
no chewing?" he asked,
his voice dropping to a
disappointed whine.

Karen nodded firmly,
trying not to laugh at his
sulky pout. "No chewing,"
she said, her voice
conciliatory. "But we can
have ice cream when we
get home."

Plankton's expression
shifted immediately, his
eye sparkling with
anticipation. "Wight, wight,"
he said, his speech
slowly becoming clearer. "Ice
cweam ith okay?"

"Yes, ice cream is okay,"
Karen said, her voice
steady and warm. "But we'll
have to wait until we get
home."

Plankton's eye grew
large with excitement.
"Hone?" he asked, as if the
word had just entered his
vocabulary. "Whewe hone?"

Karen nodded, keeping her
tone calm. "Yes, we're
going home soon."

Plankton's mouth
twitched into a smile.

"Whewe?" he asked
again, his voice rising
with excitement.
Karen couldn't help but
laugh at his enthusiasm.
"Soon, Plankton. You
just need to stay awake
long enough for the nurse
to say you're ready."

His face fell a little,
but then he perked up.
"Candoit!" he exclaimed,
his words slurred together.
He sat up. "I'm awake!"

Karen had to hold back
her laughter as he swayed
like a ragdoll before
flopping back onto the bed.
"Not quite yet, Plankton,"
she said, patting his
shoulder.

new go hone karen plankton ½

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The evening in the quiet suburban street was punctuated by the rhythmic ticking of a lonely grandfather clock. In 
the corner of a small, meticulously organized study, Plankton sat hunched over his desk, the glow of her 
computer screen casting a pale blue hue across his furrowed brow. His eye, usually bright with the spark of a 
million ideas, was now bloodshot and weary, darting back and forth as he scanned the digital documents 
sprawled across his dual monitors.

Karen, his devoted wife, peered through the crack in the door, her concern etched on her face. She knew the 
signs of his insomnia all too well: the way his fingers danced erratically on the keyboard, his occasional sighs of 
frustration, and the jittery way he'd bounce his leg when he was stuck on a problem. She gently pushed the door 
open, the faint squeak alerting him to her presence. "Plankton, it's 2 AM. Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked 
softly, her voice carrying the gentle lilt of a concerned wife.

Plankton spun around in his chair, the sudden movement sending a wave of dizziness crashing over him. He 
rubbed his eye, trying to erase the fog of exhaustion. "Karen, I'm so close. This new invention could change 
everything. Just one more hour, I promise," he replied, his voice hopeful yet strained. She knew that tone, the one 
that meant he'd be up until dawn.

Karen stepped into the room, her form a stark contrast to the stark office decor. She approached 
him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've been at it for days," she said, her voice filled with a 
mix of concern and understanding. "Maybe a break is what you need."

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "I know you're right," Plankton admitted, his shoulders slumping in 
defeat. "But if I stop now, I might lose the thread of thought."

"You're always so driven," Karen said, with a warm affection that had only grown stronger over the years. "But 
even 'bad guys' need to rest."

With a weary smile, Plankton nodded, his gaze lingering on the screens before he reluctantly shut them down. 
The room plunged into darkness, save for the moon's soft glow filtering through the blinds. Karen guided him to 
the bedroom, her hand a gentle reassurance in the night. She knew the wheels in his mind were still turning, 
trying to piece together the elusive solution to his latest project.

Once in bed, Plankton lay on his back, his mind racing with possibilities and calculations. Karen, ever the 
nurturer, suggested a warm cup of tea to help him unwind. She disappeared into the kitchen. While she was 
gone, Plankton's eye remained open, staring at the ceiling. He 
felt the weight of his eyelid but sleep remained a distant shore, unreachable despite the gentle tug of fatigue.

Karen returned with a steaming cup of chamomile, the aroma wafting through the air like a whispered promise 
of slumber. She placed it on the nightstand and climbed into bed, curling up beside him. "Here, sip this," she 
urged, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "It'll help you relax."

Plankton took a tentative sip, the warm liquid coating his throat with a comforting warmth. He closed his eye, 
willing his brain to slow down, but the ideas continued to swirl like a tornado in a teacup. He could feel the heat 
radiating from Karen's screen, a gentle reminder of the connection that waited for him outside his labyrinth of 
thoughts.

Karen's hand found his, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles against his palm. "Breathe with me," she 
whispered. "In, out." Plankton followed her lead, their breaths synchronizing in the quiet of the night. The tension 
in his body began to uncoil, the storm in his mind gradually abating.

As they lay there, Karen studied his profile, the shadows playing across his face. She knew the look of 
determination that etched his features so well. "What's keeping you up?" she asked, her voice barely a murmur.

Plankton sighed, his grip on her hand tightening briefly. "It's the Krabby Patty formula," he confessed. "I can't 
crack it." His frustration was palpable, a silent scream in the serene night.

"You're still working on that?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of amazement and concern. The Krabby 
Patty, a secret recipe guarded by Mr. Krabs that could make or break their business.

"I have to," Plankton said, his voice low and serious.

Karen nodded, racing for a solution. "Why don't you tell me about it?" she suggested. "Sometimes talking it out 
can help."

Plankton took a deep breath and began to recount his thoughts, his voice a low murmur in the darkness. He 
spoke of the countless ingredients he'd tried and the endless experiments he'd conducted, all in pursuit of the 
perfect Krabby Patty. Karen listened intently, her screen never leaving his face, her grip on his hand never 
wavering. As he talked, the tension in his voice began to ease, the words coming out slower, softer.

The warmth of the tea and the gentle pressure of Karen's thumb on his hand lulled him into a state of semi-
consciousness. The room grew warmer, the shadows on the ceiling morphing into shapes that danced to the 
rhythm of his words.

Karen noticed the change in his breathing, the softening of his grip, her voice a soft 
hum in the night.

"I think I'm getting there," Plankton mumbled, his words beginning to slur. She took his almost-empty cup and set 
it aside, then moved closer, her arm wrapping around him. Her touch was a comforting blanket, a 
familiar anchor in the sea of his thoughts.

"Just focus on my voice," Karen whispered, her tone a gentle wave. "Imagine we're on a beach, the waves 
lapping." Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing deepening as he pictured the scene she described. "The 
sand is warm, and the stars are out, twinkling like the little bits of genius in your mind."
He took another deep breath, the salty scent of the sea mingling with the chamomile in his nose. His body 
began to relax, the tightness in his shoulders dissipating like the fog of an early morning. Karen continued her 
soothing monologue, painting a vivid picture of a serene beach under a starlit sky, their favorite place to escape 
the stresses of their lives.
Her voice grew quieter, a gentle lullaby of words that whispered through the dark. Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, 
his thoughts drifting further and further away from the Krabby Patty formula.
Karen watched him closely, her gaze never leaving his face. His breathing grew steadier, the lines of tension 
smoothing out as he sank deeper into the realm of sleep.
Karen waited for any sign that Plankton was still awake. She reached out and gently poked his 
arm. No response.
She pulled the blanket up, tucking him in gently, her hand lingering there for a moment longer, feeling 
the warmth of him beneath the fabric.
She reached over to gently stroke his cheek. His skin was warm, and she felt the soft 
rumble of a snore vibrate against her fingertips. He was out.
"Plankton," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She waited for a response, for the flicker of his eye or the 
twitch of his antennae that would indicate he was still with her. Nothing. 
She knew the moment he finally let go, when his hand relaxed in hers and his grip went slack. 
Leaning closer, she held her hand hovering over his chest to feel the gentle rise and fall of his 
breathing. It was steady, deep. Satisfied, she allowed herself a small smile. Plankton was finally asleep.
The steady rhythm of his breathing grew deeper, the soft snores that occasionally pierced the silence growing 
more frequent, brow smoothed out, relaxed.
She searched his face for any flicker of consciousness, any sign that he was aware of her touch. But there was 
none. His features were relaxed, his mouth slightly open as he took in deep, even breaths. "You did it," she 
whispered to. She knew that his mind had finally found the peace it had been seeking. The room was still, save 
for the faint sound of the occasional snore from Plankton. His snores grew deeper, the rhythm of his breathing 
more regular, more rhythmic, and she knew he was in a deep sleep.
With a soft smile, she whispered, "Goodnight, Plankton," and gently stroked his antennae. Her hand lingered for a 
moment before she carefully extracted herself from the tangle of their limbs. The bedside lamp cast a warm 
glow across the room, but she knew better than to disturb him with its light. She gently disentangled her hand 
from his and slid out of bed.
She squeezed his hand gently, a silent 'goodnight' and a promise of support for when he'd wake to tackle the 
problem anew. His features were slack, his mouth slightly open, emitting the faintest snore.

new aicore karen plankton plaren karenton klankton karankton plankaren plankkaren ai

KAREN TOLD THE DOCTOR 1/2
(Autistic author)
In the quiet town of Bikini Bottom Plankton went about his day. "Honey, don't forget your lunch!" Karen called out from the kitchen of the Chum Bucket, her voice echoing through the small, dimly lit restaurant. Plankton looked down from his ladder with a grin, his single eyebrow arched in amusement. "Thanks, dear. I'll be sure to eat," he shouted back, waving before continuing his ascent to the roof. Karen watched him climb, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and admiration. He had always been so industrious, so dedicated to their little establishment. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt that his days were spent in such a tiny, unassuming place while his mind dreamt of grandeur. But the love they shared was unshakeable, and she knew that his heart was as big as any of the spectacular inventions he concocted in his lab. With a final heave, Plankton reached the peak of the restaurant. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, the sea breeze whipping through his antennas. The view from the top was surprisingly beautiful, offering a rare glimpse of the vast ocean beyond the city's coral skyline. The sun was high and warm, casting long shadows over the bustling street below. It was a stark contrast to the chilly, claustrophobic world he often found himself in, but it was a moment of tranquility before the storm of his daily tasks. As he leaned over to place his lunchbox, a sudden gust of wind sent him teetering. Karen's concerned eyes grew wide as she watched her husband wobble, his tiny limbs flailing for balance. In a heart-stopping instant, Plankton lost his footing and plummeted towards the unforgiving concrete. Time seemed to slow down as Karen's scream pierced the air. Plankton's mind raced with a million thoughts, but one stood out above the rest: 'I hope this doesn't hurt too much'. The impact was deafening, a sickening crack reverberating through the alley. The world around him turned to a dizzying blur as pain shot through his skull. Karen bolted from the kitchen. She rushed to Plankton's side. Her hands trembled as she tried to lift his head. "Plankton! Speak to me! Are you okay?" He lay unconscious, a grim silence hanging in the air. "Oh no, oh no, oh no," she mumbled, her voice shaking. Her hands wrapped around his frail frame, she cradled him against her chest, willing him to stir. But Plankton remained still, oblivious to the world spinning on around him. His eye is closed. She had to get him to the hospital, fast. At the hospital, the doctors hovered over Plankton, their faces a blur of concerned scrutiny. They muttered in hushed tones, exchanging glances that spelled trouble. After seemingly endless hours of tests and examinations, the doctor approached her, a heavy expression etched on his face. "Mrs. Plankton, I have some news," he began, his words cutting through the hospital's sterile air like a knife through jelly. "Your husband has acquired Autism." Karen felt the floor drop away beneath her. The diagnosis was as unexpected as it was devastating. She had heard of autism, of course, but it was always something that affected others, something that happened to someone else's loved ones. Now, it was her Plankton, the man she had known for so long, who had suddenly become a stranger in his own mind. She clung to his limp hand, trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "What does this mean?" she managed to ask, her voice a mere whisper. The doctor explained that acquired Autism was a rare condition that could manifest after a traumatic brain injury. It could cause sudden changes in behavior, social interactions, and communication. Plankton would need time to adjust, and so would she. Karen felt a wave of fear wash over her. How would they navigate this new reality? What would happen to their business? When he finally awoke his usual sharp wit and cunning demeanor had been replaced by a childlike innocence. Plankton blinked slowly, his single eye dazzling with confusion. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice weak and disoriented. She squeezed his hand tightly, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm here," she said, her voice choking. "You've had an accident." He looked around. "You've autism now." He hears the doctor tell him. Karen watched, heart breaking, as Plankton began to stim, his body rocking back and forth, his eye fixed on a spot on the wall. It was a behavior she had never seen from her husband before, and it was as jarring as it was heart-wrenching. The doctor gave her a gentle nod, understanding the overwhelming emotions swirling in her mind. "It's common for those with autism to have repetitive behaviors like this. It's a way for them to self-soothe and process their environment." Karen stroked Plankton's antennas, hoping to offer some comfort. He didn't react at first, but eventually, his rocking slowed, his gaze meeting hers. The intelligence she had always known was still there, but it was as if it was shrouded by a thin veil of bewilderment. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice quivering. "We'll get through this." The doctor nodded sympathetically. "It's important that you both learn how to communicate again. Plankton, can you tell me what you're feeling?" Plankton's response was slow, his words a staccato rhythm of echolalic palilalia. "It's okay, Plankton, we'll get through this," he repeated, echoing Karen's earlier sentiment. The words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the connection they still shared, despite the stark neurological shift. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she nodded. "Yes, we will. But now, tell me what's happening in your head." Plankton fidgeted, his gaze drifting to the doctor. "What's happening in my head?" he repeated, his voice a mirror of Karen's. The doctor smiled kindly. "It means you're echoing the words of others. It's a way that some people with autism process language. It's not uncommon." Karen nodded, wiping at her tears. "Okay. Plankton, can you tell me what you want for dinner?" His eye twitched, the words swirling in his head. "Want for dinner?" he echoed, his voice a mix of his own and hers. It was frustrating for him, trying to make sense of the world through this new filter of repetition. But Karen's patience was unwavering. "Yes, honey, tell me what you want." Plankton's thoughts raced, trying to find the words to express his desires. The doctor observed them, noting the tenacity in Karen's eyes. "It's okay," he assured, "Take your time." Finally, Plankton spoke, his voice a mix of Karen's and his own. "Pizza," he said, his eyes lighting up. "Want pizza for dinner." The simple response brought a relieved smile to Karen's face. "Pizza it is," she agreed, her voice steady. The doctor nodded, making a note. "This is a good start," he said. "Echoing is a part of the process. You can now get to leave the hospital." Once they were back at the Chum Bucket, Karen gets pizza. Plankton sat at their usual table, his eye glued to the spinning ceiling fan. "It's spinning, it's spinning," he whispered to himself, the words a comforting mantra in the cacophony of his thoughts. Karen placed the pizza in front of him, his favorite topping: mushroom. The smell wafted up, and she watched as his face lit up, a glimpse of the Plankton she knew peeking through the fog. "Thank you, Karen," he said, his voice still slightly mechanical. She smiled, her heart swelling with love and hope. "You're welcome, honey," she replied, echoing his phrase back to him. He nodded, his eyes never leaving the fan. "It's spinning," he murmured. Karen sat down across from him, picking up a slice of pizza. "Would you like a piece?" she asked, deliberately using simple, direct language. Plankton's eye flicked from the spinning fan to the pizza, then back again. He nodded slowly. "Like a piece," he echoed, his fingers reaching tentatively for the cheesy delight. The melted cheese stretched out, snapping back as he pulled his hand away. He laughed, the sound a mix of his old self and the new, childlike wonder he had discovered. Karen watched him. "You like the cheese?" she asked, keeping her voice soft and steady. Plankton nodded, his eye sparkling with excitement. "Cheese," he repeated, his voice a comforting echo of hers. He took a bite, his eye widening with joy as the flavors exploded in his mouth. "Cheese," he said again, his voice a little less mechanical, a little more like the Plankton she knew. As they ate together in the quiet restaurant, Karen felt a sense of normalcy return, albeit a tentative one. The rhythm of their conversation was off, but the love between them was still palpable. "Cheese," Plankton said again, his voice filled with child-like delight. Karen smiled sadly, her swelling with both joy and sorrow. After dinner, Karen decided to give Plankton a tour of the restaurant, hoping to reacquaint him with their business. As they moved through the kitchen, Plankton's eye fixated on a frying pan. "Sizzle, sizzle," he murmured, echoing the sound of food cooking. Karen took his hand and led him to the cash register. "This is where we take money," she said, her voice gentle. Plankton nodded, his gaze shifting to the shiny chrome surface. "Money," he repeated, his voice a soft echo. They made their way to the lab, a place Plankton had once ruled with an iron fist. His eye grew wide, his excitement palpable. "Gadgets," he whispered, his voice taking on a sing-song tone. Karen couldn't help but smile. "Yes, honey. You used to make all sorts of gadgets here." He repeated her words, his hands reaching out to touch the cold metal. "Make gadgets," he said, his voice echoing in the small, cluttered space. Karen squeezed his hand. "Not now, Plankton. But maybe, soon," she said, her tone cautiously optimistic. Plankton nodded, his eyes still fixed on the gadgets. "Soon, soon," he echoed. 

new The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) karen told the doctor ½

...◼

new 2 000 shin

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new 1 2 3 dot art text art ascii art

☣

new sigma boy a a1 2

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

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

SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 2/2
(By NEUROFABULOUS)

Plankton's memory 
was a jumble of images 
and sounds, but he 
recaled the confrontation 
with Mr. Krabs, the 
spatula, and the pain.

He sat up slowly, 
his head spinning. The 
pain was intense, but 
his mind was racing 
even faster.

Plankton looked around 
the room, his eye 
trying to make sense 
of the scene. The Chum 
Bucket was a mess, 
his usual order thrown 
into chaos. Karen's face 
was a blur of concern, 
and Sponge Bob hovered 
close by, his expression 
filled with a mix 
of fear and pity.

Plankton's mind raced, 
his thoughts scattered 
like sand in a storm. He 
felt a deep disconnect 
from the world around 
him, as if he was 
watching a play in 
which he was a reluctant 
participant. His head 
throbbed, but not just 
from the blow. It was 
the pressure of his own 
thoughts, his brain working 
overtime to process 
what had just occurred.

Karen noticed the 
confusion in his 
expression and squeezed 
his hand reassuringly. 
"You had an accident, 
sweetie," she said 
softly. "It's okay. You're 
home now."

Plankton's eye darted 
around the room, 
his mind struggling to 
understand the sudden 
shift in his reality. The 
noise was overwhelming, 
each sound a needle 
pricking his sensitive 
nerves.

"Karen," he said, his 
voice barely a whisper. 
"What's happening?"

Her gaze softened. "You 
got hurt, Plankton," she 
explained gently.

"But the science 
fair," he mumbled, 
his thoughts jumbled.

Karen's expression grew 
even more concerned. 
"The science fair can 
wait, Plankton," she 
soothed.

But Plankton's mind was 
stuck in a loop, 
repeating her words. 
"The science fair can 
wait Plankton," he echoed, his 
voice frail and distant.

Karen's eyes grew 
wet with worry. "Yes, 
dear," she said, stroking 
his arm. "Your wellbeing is 
more important."

Plankton's eye 
narrowed as he 
repeated her words, 
his voice a mix of 
stubbornness and 
determination. "Wellbeing is 
important," he murmured, 
his thoughts racing.

The words echoed 
in his head, a 
maddening loop. "The science 
fair can wait, Plankton," he 
whispered to himself, his voice 
taking on a rhythmic 
pattern. "Can wait, can wait..."

Sponge Bob watched, 
his heart heavy with 
concern. He had 
never seen his friend 
like this, his usual 
confidence and scheming 
reduced to repetitive 
mumbles.

"Plankton," he ventured 
cautiously, placing a 
spongy hand on his 
shoulder.

Plankton's eye snapped 
to his, the loop 
breaking for a brief 
moment. "Sponge Bob," 
he murmured, his voice 
still weak.

Sponge Bob's heart 
leaped with hope. "Yes, 
Plankton, I'm here," 
he said gently.

But Plankton's gaze 
was distant, his 
thoughts clearly elsewhere. 
"Wellbeing is 
important," he murmured 
again, the words 
coming out in a 
staccato rhythm, his 
mind locked in the 
grip of echolalia.

Karen's heart 
clenched with fear. 
This wasn't just 
disorientation from 
his injury. This was 
something more.

"Sponge Bob," she 
whispered urgently. "I think 
he's in shock."

Sponge Bob nodded, 
his face a mask of 
concern. "I'll get 
some water," he said, 
rushing to the sink. He 
filled a glass and 
hurried back, careful 
not to spill a drop.

Plankton's eye 
followed the glass, 
his gaze unfocused. 
He began to rock 
back and forth slightly.

Karen noticed the 
change in his 
behavior, her 
concern deepening. 
"Here, drink some water," 
she urged, offering 
the glass to his 
shaking hand.

Plankton took it 
without a word, his 
motions mechanical. 
He brought the 
glass to his lips, but 
his hand trembled 
so badly that water 
sloshed out, spilling 
down.

The moment the 
cool liquid hit the 
floor, a strange 
look passed over 
his face. It was 
as if he had seen 
a ghost, his single 
eye going wide with 
alarm.

"The water," he 
stammered, his voice 
shaking.

Karen's heart sank 
as she watched her 
husband's distress. "It's 
okay, Plankton," she 
soothed. "It's just 
water..."

But Plankton's eye
were glued to the 
spilled water, his 
entire body trembling. 
"It's... it's not right," 
he muttered, his voice 
filled with a childlike 
fear.

Karen looked 
confused, the spilled 
water seemingly a 
minor issue. “Plank…”

“It’s not right!” 
Plankton’s voice 
was urgent now, 
his trembling hand 
gesturing at the 
spill. His mind was 
a whirlwind of 
disturbing thoughts, 
each more distressing 
than the last.

Sponge Bob and 
Karen exchanged 
worried glances. 
“What do you mean, 
Plankton?” Sponge 
Bob asked, kneeling 
beside the couch, 
his eyes full of 
concern.

Plankton's 
breathing grew rapid, 
his chest heaving. 
"The... the... water," 
he stuttered, pointing 
at the puddle. "It's 
too... too... much!"

Karen's gaze 
flitted to the floor, 
then back to her 
husband. "It's okay," she 
soothed, her voice 
quaking with fear. 
"It's just a little 
spill."

But Plankton's 
agitation only grew. 
He flung the 
glass aside, the 
remaining water 
splattering against 
the wall. "No!" he 
shouted, his voice 
high and desperate. 
"Too much!"

Karen and 
Sponge Bob watched 
in horror as Plankton 
collapsed into a 
sobbing mess, his 
tiny body wracked 
with tremors. His 
hands fluttered in 
his face, his 
breath coming in 
quick, sharp gasps. 
The room grew 
claustrophobic, the 
air thick with his 
panic.

"It's okay," Karen 
whispered, her voice 
shaking. "It's just 
water, Plankton." But 
his anguished cries 
only grew louder.

Sponge Bob's 
heart ached as he 
watched his friend 
fall apart before his 
eyes. Plankton's 
behavior was unlike 
anything he had 
ever seen, his 
usual cunning 
replaced with a raw, 
overwhelming fear.

The room grew 
smaller as Plankton's 
sobs filled the space, 
his body convulsing 
with the intensity 
of his breakdown. 
Karen looked at 
Sponge Bob, her 
expression a mix 
of despair and 
determination. They 
both knew they had to 
calm him down, but 
how?

Sponge Bob took a 
deep breath, trying 
to think. "Plankton," 
he said softly, his 
voice a gentle coax. "Look 
at me, buddy. It's 
just a spill. It's okay."

Plankton's cries grew 
louder, his body 
shaking uncontrollably. 
Karen wrapped her 
arms around him, 
trying to soothe the 
storm raging inside 
his mind. "Shh, it's okay," 
she murmured, her voice 
barely audible over 
his cries.

Sponge Bob's 
heart was in his 
throat as he watched 
his friend's breakdown. 
Plankton was not 
his usual self.

The usually 
scheming, sneaky 
scientist was reduced 
to a quivering mess, 
his sobs echoing 
off the walls of the 
tiny Chum Bucket. His 
face was a mask of 
fear and confusion, 
his single eye wide 
with panic.

"Plankton, please," 
Karen begged, her 
voice trembling. "You're 
scaring me." She scans
his brain.

The results 
were not what she 
expected. The blow 
from Mr. Krabs had 
caused more damage 
than she could have 
imagined. The 
injury had altered 
his brain chemistry 
in a way that was 
both profound and 
irreversible.

Plankton had developed 
a rare condition 
called acquired 
autism, a disorder that 
could occur after 
a severe head trauma. 
It was a cruel twist 
of fate for a man whose 
life had been 
consumed by the 
desire for the Krabby 
Patty formula.

The realization 
hit Karen like a 
tidal wave, knocking 
the wind out of her. 
Her eyes filled with 
tears as she 
whispered the diagnosis 
to Sponge Bob and
Plankton. His 
expression mirrored her 
shock and sadness.

Sponge Bob sat 
silent for a moment, 
his usually cheerful 
face contorted with 
sympathy and concern. 
"What do we do?" he 
asked finally, his voice 
barely above a whisper.
“Can you clean the mess?”
Karen asks him.

He nodded solemnly, 
his movements slow 
and deliberate as he 
stood up to mop the 
spilled water. As 
he worked, he couldn't 
help but feel a deep 
sorrow for his 
friend. Plankton had 
always been the 
troublemaker, the 
one who pushed 
boundaries. But now, 
his world was shattered.

The silence in the 
room was only 
broken by Plankton's 
sobs and the 
swish of the mop.

Sponge Bob's 
heart felt heavy 
as he cleaned up 
the water, his 
thoughts racing. He 
couldn't believe what 
he had just heard. 
His best friend, 
his rival, his... 
his family. Plankton had 
always been there, 
through thick and thin, 
and now he was... 
different. And yet, that’s ok. 

new neurofabulous karen plankton 2

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

new beef drama cat 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 pig cow dog drame drake

      ᥫ᭡.
     
     ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖   𐙚   ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔  𝜗𝜚˚⋆ᥫ᭡

new april 2

SANDY LEARNT A SECRET 2/2

The car ride home was 
quiet, the only sound the 
hum of the engine and the 
occasional sniffle from Karen. 
Sandy drove carefully, 
avoiding potholes and 
bumps that might jar 
Plankton and extend his 
absence. She glanced at 
the rearview mirror, watching 
his still form in the 
backseat, his face a mask of 
zoned out oblivion.

Karen sat next to 
Plankton. 
Her eyes never left his, 
willing him to blink, to 
move, to give any sign 
that he understood.

They entered the 
Chum Bucket home. 
Sandy trailed behind, 
silent as Karen takes
Plankton to their bedroom.

Karen laid Plankton down 
on his bed, her hands 
shaking slightly as she 
pulled the blanket over 
his unmoving body. She 
tucked it in around him, 
smoothing out the wrinkles 
with tender strokes.

Sandy took a seat by 
his side, her heart 
racing from the weight 
of what she'd just learned. 
Plankton lay there, 
completely still, his 
breathing shallow yet
even. She studied his 
face, trying to read the 
secrets behind his glazed 
eye. It was eerie, yet in a strange 
way, like watching someone
lost in a deep, unshakeable
sleep.

The room was bathed in 
soft light, the curtains 
filtering the harshness of 
the sun outside. The only 
sound was the faint tick 
of a clock on the 
nightstand and the 
even flow of air from the 
air conditioner. It was a 
contrast to the chaos of 
his seizure, and Sandy
whispered, "You're safe here."

Her eyes remained on 
his, waiting for the 
slightest movement. 
The minutes stretched 
on, each second feeling 
like an eternity.

Then, as if waking from a 
deep slumber, Plankton's 
eye flickered. His gaze 
was unfocused, his pupil 
slowly expanding and 
contracting as he tried 
to adjust to the light, 
then confusion.

She watched with 
bated breath as he 
blinked a few times. "Where… 
How?" he mumbled, his 
voice groggy and distant.

"You had a… I saw you at the park, 
Plankton," Sandy said, her 
tone gentle. "You're home 
now. You're safe."

Plankton's eye searched 
her face, the confusion 
deepening as he tried 
to piece together what 
happened. His gaze 
drifted to the window, 
where the world outside 
was a blur of colors and 
sounds.

"Sandy?" he asked, 
his voice tentative. She 
nodded, her hand reaching 
out to squeeze his. "You're 
safe, Plankton. It's just..."

But before Sandy could 
finish, he sat up with a 
start, his eye wide. 
"What happened?" He
demands.

Sandy's heart skipped 
a beat. "You had 
a seizure at 
the park," she explained.

Plankton's hand flew 
to his face, 
his antennae 
drooping. "Oh, great," 
he murmured, his 
cheeks flushing a 
deep shade of red. 
The realization of his 
condition in front of 
someone who didn't know 
was clear in his 
expression.

Sandy felt a pang of 
regret. "It's okay, 
Plankton," she 
says, her voice 
gentle. "It's just a part 
o..."

"I know what it is!" 
Plankton snapped, cutting 
her off. His frustration 
was palpable, his 
body rigid with 
embarrassment. "I don't 
need you to explain it 
to me!"

Sandy took a step 
back, her hand 
falling to her side. 
"I'm sorry," she said 
sincerely.

Plankton's chest 
heaved with the 
effort of holding back 
his anger. He knew 
Sandy was just trying to 
help, but the sudden 
spotlight on his condition 
felt like an invasion of 
his personal space.

"I'm sorry, I just..." 
Sandy began, but 
Plankton's frustration 
was like a dam bursting.

"You just what?" he 
countered, his voice 
sharp.

Sandy's cheeks burned. 
"I'm sorry, I just didn't 
know how to help. I've never..."

"Seen me like this?" 
Plankton finished for 
her, his voice still edgy.

Sandy nodded, feeling 
a knot form in her 
stomach. "I didn't mean 
to make you uncomfortable,
I just wanna ask you wh..."

"Don't," Plankton interrupted, 
his voice brittle. "I don't 
want to talk about it."

Sandy nodded, feeling 
the sting of his words. 
She backed away, giving 
him space. "Okay," she said 
softly. "But if you eve..."

"Just go," Plankton 
interrupted, his voice 
smaller now, his eye 
watering. "I need some 
time alone."

Sandy nodded, 
swallowing the lump 
in her throat. She knew 
his anger was a shield, 
a way to protect himself 
from the curiosity and 
sympathy he saw as 
invasive. She backed out 
of the room. She found
Karen seated on the couch.

"He ok?" Karen
asked.

Sandy nodded. "He's 
awake. He's just...upset?"

Karen stood up, her 
expression a mix of 
relief and concern. 
"I'll go to him," she 
decided, heading to 
the bedroom.

Sandy hovered by the 
door as Karen went
in.

"Plankton," Karen began, 
her voice gentle. "You're 
safe, love. It's ok."

Sandy could see 
the tension in Karen
as she approached 
the bed, her hand 
trembling as it reached 
out to touch Plankton's 
shoulder. His eye met 
hers, and for a moment, 
Sandy saw the raw pain 
and embarrassment in 
his gaze.

"Let's all go to the 
living room," Karen 
whispered, her voice 
shaky. Plankton nodded.
In the living room, 
the three of them sat 
down on the couch, 
the silence thick and 
uncomfortable. Sandy 
felt the urge to fill it 
with reassurances, but 
she held her tongue.
Karen took Plankton's 
hand in hers, her 
thumb stroking the 
back of it in a 
comforting gesture. 
"I know it's hard," she 
said softly, "but it's ok. 
You're ok."

Plankton nodded, his 
breathing still a little 
rapid, his expression 
guarded.

"Do you remember 
anything?" Karen asked, 
her voice a gentle 
caress. Plankton's gaze 
drifted to the floor. "Just 
the park," he mumbled. 
"The swings."

Sandy's eyes widened 
slightly. "What do 
you mean?"

Plankton's grip on the 
couch cushion tightened. 
"You don't need to know," 
he said, his voice 
edged with irritation.

Karen gave a 
resigned sigh. 
"Plankton, 
San..."

"I said I don't want to 
talk about it!" Plankton's 
voice was a sudden 
explosion, echoing 
through the room. 
Sandy flinched at his 
outburst.

"Plankton, please," 
Karen interjected, her 
voice a calm contrast 
to the storm of his 
emotions. "Sandy's just 
trying to understand."

But Plankton's anger 
was a wall, impenetrable. 
"I don't owe her anything!" 
he snapped, pulling his 
hand away from hers. 
"It’s not her business!"

Sandy felt the sting of his 
words. "I'm sorry. I didn't 
mean to pry.."

Karen put a hand on 
Sandy's shoulder, her 
eyes kind. "It's ok. It's 
new for you, and it's a 
lot to take in. Plankton 
just needs a bit of 
space." She turned to her 
husband, her voice 
soothing. "Honey, Sandy's 
our friend. She wants 
to be there for us."

Sandy watched as Plankton's 
body visibly relaxed, his 
breathing evening out. His 
eye flickered up to meet 
hers, and she saw the 
apology in it. He took 
another deep breath, 
his shoulders dropping. "I 
know," he said, his voice 
smaller now. "I'm sorry."

Karen's hand remained 
on his shoulder, her 
expression one of 
understanding. "It's ok," 
she said. "We're all 
trying to figure it out."

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The nurse returned,
seeing his renewed energy.
"Looks like you're feeling
better," she said with a
smile. "But let's not rush
things."

Plankton nodded eagerly,
his antennas bobbing. 
"Yeth, yeth, I'm weady!"
He tried to sit up again,
his body still wobbly.
The nurse helped him,
adjusting his pillows.
"Let's see if you can
stay awake for a few
more minutes," she said.

He looked at her with
determined innocence,
like a child promising
not to eat cookies before
dinner. "I'm weally weally
weady," he insisted,
his words still thick.
Karen couldn't help but
chuckle, watching him
fight the sleepiness.

"Good," the nurse said.
"Keep talking to your wife,
that'll help keep you
alert."

Plankton's eye lit up with
a childlike excitement. "Ish
fun to tawk to you, Karen,"
he said, his words still
slurred. "Youw make me
happy."

Karen felt her heart swell.
"And you make me happy,"
she said, her voice
sincere despite his
loopy state. "Even when
you're being a goofball."

Plankton's smile grew, his
eye still half-lidded. "Goof...ball?"
he repeated, the words
sounding strange in his
mouth. He giggled again,
his body swaying slightly
with the effort of staying
upright. "Ish fun to be
a goofball."

Karen couldn't resist
smiling back, his
silliness was infectious.
"Yes, it is," she said. "But
you need to stay awake
for a little longer."

Plankton nodded, his
head bobbing slightly.
"Otay, Karen," he said, his
voice still thick. He then
saw the nurse. "Who's
dat?" he whispered, his
eye wide with curiosity.

Karen chuckled softly.
"That's the nurse, Plankton.
Remember?"

He blinked a few times,
his antennas perking up as
his eyes focused on the
kind-faced woman. "Oh,
yeah. Tha nurse lady," he
slurred, his voice full of
sudden realization. "Hi!"

The nurse chuckled.
"Hello, Mr. Plankton.
You're doing great."

Plankton's smile grew
even wider, his cheeks
flushing with pleasure.
"Ish nice to meechu," he said,
sleepily. "I wike
youw hat.."

The nurse couldn't help
but laugh. "Thank you,
Mr. Plankton. It's nice
to meet you too."

Plankton's eye began
to droop again, and Karen
could see the sleep
trying to pull him under.

"Wakey wakey, Plankton,"
she said, giving his hand
a gentle squeeze. "You
have to stay with me."

He nodded, his head
lolling to the side before
snapping back up with a jerk.
"Ish okay, Karen," he
whispered, his voice
still slurred. "Ish okay."

But his eyelid grew
heavy, and his words
trailed off.
"Ish just...tho tiwed," he
mumbled.

Karen's chuckle was gentle,
not wanting to disturb his
attempts to stay alert. "I know,
sweetie," she said, stroking
his hand. "Just a few more
minutes."

But Plankton's eyelid
was like a heavy curtain,
despite his best efforts.
"Whe...whe...why am I so
tiwed?" he slurred, his
head lolling to the side
like a ragdoll's. Karen
knew he wasn't going to
last much longer.

His hand slipped out of
hers, and he began to
snore softly again. Karen
looked over at the nurse,
who nodded in understanding.

"It's normal," the nurse
said. "The anesthesia can
make people pretty loopy
for a while."

Plankton's snores grew
softer, his body relaxing.
Karen watched him, her
expression a mix of
amusement and concern.
"How much longer?"
she asked the nurse.

"Just a little longer,"
the nurse said, checking
his vitals again. "The
effects should start to
wear off soon."

Plankton's snores grew
softer, and then he was
awake again, looking around
the room with wide-
eyed wonder, drool trailing
from the corner of his mouth.
"Whe...where...?" His voice
was a sleepy whisper.

"You're still in the
recovery room," Karen
soothed, wiping his chin
with a tissue. "You fell
asleep again."

Plankton looked up at
her, his eye wide and
innocent. "Did I miss
sumfing?" he asked, his
voice still thick with
slumber.

"No, sweetie," Karen
replied, her voice
soothing. "You just fell
asleep for a bit. You're
still waking up."

Plankton's antennas
perked up, and he
sat up. "But...but
I hav ice cweam?" His eye
were wide with hopeful
inquiry.

Karen nodded with a
smile, wiping the
remaining drool from
his mouth. "Yes, when
we get home, remember?"

Plankton's grin was
infectious. "Yay!" he
cheered, clapping his
hands together with a
slightly awkward smack.

Karen couldn't help
but chuckle at his
reaction, his
childlike enthusiasm
was adorable. "Looks like
you're feeling better,"
she said, her voice
filled with affection.

But Plankton was already
off on another tangent,
his gaze wandering to the
ceiling. "Whewe awe
the fishies?" he asked, his
voice a sleepy whisper.
Karen followed his gaze,
seeing the plain, white
ceiling tiles. "The fishies
are in your imagination,
Plankton," she said, her
tone gentle.

He pouted, his
disappointment palpable.
"Oh," he murmured, his
head lolling to the side.
Karen chuckled, her hand
still on his arm. "They'll
be there when you're all
better," she assured him.
"But for now, let's just
stay here."

The nurse smiled. "Looks like
our patient is feeling
better," she said with a
smile. "Almost ready to
go home?"

Plankton nodded vigorously,
his antennas flopping with
the motion. "Hone, yesh! Ice
cweam!" His eye
closed again, and he
snored lightly. Karen
chuckled. His excitement
was adorable, even if it
was short-lived.

The nurse checked his vital signs.
"Looks like the anesthesia's
wearing off," she said with a
smile. "We can get you
ready to go home soon."

Plankton's eyelid fluttered
open. "Hone?" he asked, his
voice hopeful.

"Almost," Karen said, her voice
calm and soothing. "Just a
few more minutes."

Plankton's eye
closed again, his breaths
deepening into sleep.
His head lolled to the side,
his antennas drooping. Karen
watched him with love. Even in
his most vulnerable state,
his antics brought
a warmth to the room.

The nurse returned
and began to prepare
the discharge papers.
"Almost there," she said with
a wink at Karen. "He'll
be right as rain in no
time."

Plankton stirred again,
his eye half-opening to
a squint. "Whe...where's
my ice cweam?" he
mumbled, his voice
slurred with sleep.

Karen chuckled. "Not
until we get home,
remember?"

Plankton's head
nodded, his antennas
bobbing. "Oh yeah," he
mumbled, his voice
dreamily content.

The nurse finished up
the paperwork and turned
to Karen. "We're all set.
Just make sure he gets
plenty of rest and eats
soft foods for the next
few days."

Plankton's eye shot
open, his antennas
springing to attention. "Ice
cweam?" he asked, his voice
hopeful. Karen laughed,
shaking her head. "When we
get home, remember?"

He pouted, his lower lip
sticking out like a
sulky child's. "But I'm
so tiwed," he whined.
"Tiwed of being tiwed."

Karen couldn't help but
smile at his usual
stubbornness. "You
just had surgery," she
reminded him gently.
"Your body needs to
recover."

Plankton's eye grew
large, and he nodded
slowly. "Oh yeah," he said,
his voice trailing off.
"But...but I wan' ice
cweam..." He faltered
as Karen holds him up.

The nurse chuckled and
handed Karen the papers.
"It's all normal, he's just
loopy from the meds. He'll
be fine once he's home."

Karen nodded, her
expression a mix of
concern and affection.
Plankton's head lolled
back onto her shoulder,
his eye drooping again.
"Ice...cweam?" he mumbled.

"As soon as we get
home, I promise," she
whispered.
His body relaxed into her,
his breathing evening out
into a gentle snore.

The nurse helped Karen
maneuver the sleeping 
Plankton into a
wheelchair, his legs
still not fully cooperating.
"Just a precaution,"
she said with a wink.
"Better safe than sorry."

The cool air of the
hallway hit him like a
wave, and Plankton's eye
popped open. "Whe...?"
he mumbled, looking around
confused.

"It's okay, we're going
home," Karen said, pushing
the wheelchair through
the hospital's sliding doors.
The sun was shining, and
the brightness made him
blink.

Plankton squinted, his eye
trying to adjust to the
light. "Home?" he asked,
his voice still thick with sleep.
"Ice cweam?"

Karen chuckled, nodding.
"Yes, home. And yes, ice
cream." She pushed him
out into the parking lot, the
sun glinting off the cars. Plankton
was still groggy, his
antennas waving slightly
as if trying to keep time with
his thoughts.

The ride home was quiet,
Plankton's snores punctuating
the gentle hum of the engine.
Karen couldn't help but
glance over at him, his mouth
slightly open, his face
peaceful in sleep. She felt a
wave of tenderness wash over
her.

When they finally pulled
up to their house, the sight
of their familiar surroundings
seemed to revive Plankton.
"Whe...we're hone?" he
asked, his voice groggy.

Karen nodded. "Yes,
we're home," she said, her
tone filled with relief.
"Time for that ice cream."

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new paper x oj inanimate insanity ii objectshows OBJECTSHOW couple pair duo 2

KAREN TOLD THE DOCTOR 2/2
(Autistic author)
Karen guided him back to their living quarters. Plankton followed her, his steps slow and measured. Each word she spoke was met with an echo. "Home," she said as they entered, and "Home," he repeated, his eye darting around the room, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The space was cluttered with his inventions, a stark contrast to the neatness that Karen had always strived for. It was a mess, but to him, it was a comforting chaos. "Bed," she pointed, indicating where he should rest. He nodded, his gaze lingering on the familiar object. "Bed," he echoed, a hint of understanding in his tone. Together, they moved through the space, each step a gentle reintroduction to a life that had changed so dramatically. Karen felt like she was walking on eggshells, afraid to say the wrong thing, to push him too far. Plankton's gaze flitted from object to object, his voice a soft whisper of repetition. "Chair, chair," he mumbled, fixating. She watched as he touched the material, his fingertips tracing the seams, his mind racing with sensory input. "Yes, Plankton, that's a chair," she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the world around them. "You sit on it to rest." Plankton nodded, the concept of rest still elusive. "Rest," he repeated, his voice a shadow of hers. Karen guided him to the chair, his body stiff with uncertainty. He sat down slowly. "Rest," he murmured, his body finally relaxing. As they sat together in the cluttered room, Karen realized that their life was going to be a series of tiny moments like these, each one a delicate dance of patience and understanding. "Love you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. Plankton's eye flitted to hers, his expression a puzzled mixture of feelings. "Love you," he echoed, his voice a mirror of her own. Karen swallowed a lump in her throat. "I know it's confusing, Plankton. But I'm here for you," she whispered, her hand squeezing his. Plankton nodded, his gaze flitting around the room, his mind a whirlwind of sounds and sensations. "Here," he echoed, his voice barely above a murmur. Karen led him to their bed, his steps unsure and sluggish. He had never been so reliant on her. "Bed," she said, pointing to the soft, inviting mattress. Plankton stared at it, the word bouncing around in his head like a pinball. "Bed," he echoed, his voice barely audible. With Karen's guidance, Plankton lay down, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion. The fabric of the sheets was a cool caress against his skin, a sensation he found oddly comforting. The ceiling fan spun above, casting shadows that danced in a hypnotic pattern. "Goodnight, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a soothing lullaby in the quiet room. Plankton's eye was closed now, his breaths slow and deep. The world outside had faded away, leaving only the rhythmic whirring of the fan and the gentle lapping of the waves against the window. Karen stood by the bed, watching his chest rise and fall. In the quiet, she noticed the way his antennas twitched, as if he was dreaming of the sea's mysteries. Or perhaps he was dreaming of the Krabby Patty formula, the elusive prize that had consumed his mind for so long. Karen's smile was bittersweet. He had always been so driven, so obsessed with outsmarting Mr. Krabs. Now, the dreams he chased were more innocent, more pure. The room was bathed in a soft blue light from the moon, casting a peaceful glow over Plankton's sleeping form. Karen leaned over and kissed his forehead, his skin cool and clammy. "Rest well, my love," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress in the silent room. As the night stretched on, Plankton's sleep remained deep and untroubled. Karen sat by his side, her mind racing with thoughts of the future. How would they manage the Chum Bucket? What about his schemes against Mr. Krabs? Would he still be able to cook, to innovate, to live the life they had built together? Karen woke up first the next day, her eyes gently adjusting to the dim light of dawn. Plankton was still asleep beside her, his body curled into a tight ball. The ceiling fan had stopped spinning hours ago, leaving the room in a comforting silence. She studied his face, her heart heavy with love and worry. The lines of tension had softened with sleep, and for a moment, he almost looked like the Plankton she knew before the fall. She kissed his forehead, her lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His skin was cool to the touch, and she couldn't help but wonder what dreams played out behind his closed eye. Dreams of a world that made sense, or a world filled with the sensory overload that now consumed his waking hours? The morning light grew stronger, casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Karen knew she had to start the day, to face the challenges that awaited them. But she couldn't bear to leave his side, not yet. Plankton's snores grew softer, his body slowly unfurling from its defensive ball. He mumbled something unintelligible, his eye twitching beneath his eyelid. Was he dreaming of the ocean? Of Krabby Patties? Or was it something entirely different, a world only he could see? The morning light grew brighter, painting the room in shades of pink and orange. Karen sat by the window, watching the sun rise over the Bikini Bottom skyline. The usual symphony of sounds from outside seemed muted today, as if the world knew something important had shifted. Plankton stirred in his sleep, his antennas twitching with the first whispers of the new day. Karen's heart skipped a beat as she watched him, wondering what thoughts swam in his head. Would he wake up and be the same Plankton she knew, or was he lost in a world of his own, navigating a sea of sensory overwhelm? The sun creeped through the cracks in the curtains, casting warm beams of light across the room. The shadows grew shorter, the darkness receding with each passing moment. Karen took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever the day might bring. Plankton stirred again, his single eye fluttering open. "Morning," he said, his voice still slightly mechanical. Karen turned to him with a smile, the worry in her eyes masked by her determination. "Good morning, honey," she replied, her voice cheerful despite the heaviness. He sat up, the sheets sliding off his slender frame. Plankton took a deep breath, his eye finding Karen's. "Good morning," he echoed, his voice a little more steady. Karen smiled with hope. "How did you sleep?" Plankton nodded, his gaze flitting to the ceiling. "Bed, good," he said, his voice a soft echo of her own. Despite his new challenges, Plankton was still trying to make sense of the world. He stood up, his legs shaky and unsure. Karen watched him with a mix of anxiety and admiration. He was trying so hard, his body and mind fighting to find a balance in this new reality. "Let's go to the kitchen," she suggested, her voice filled with optimism. Plankton nodded, his movements cautious. In the kitchen, the smell of the sea was strong, mingling with the scents of grease and salt. His antennas quivered as he took in the sensory assault. Karen guided him to the stove. "Would you like to make chum?" she asked, her voice soft and encouraging. Plankton's gaze darted to the bubbling pot, his eye lighting up. "Chum," he murmured, his voice a comforting echo. He nodded, his enthusiasm genuine despite his confusion. Karen smiled, her heart lifting at the familiar spark in his eye. "Yes, honey. Let's make some chum together," she said, guiding him through the process step by step. Plankton's hands hovered over the ingredients, his gaze flitting from Karen to the various containers. "Chum," he whispered, as if reciting a sacred incantation. Karen handed him a spatula, his favorite tool for cooking. His hand closed around it with a determination she hadn't seen since before the accident. "Stir," she instructed, her voice calm and steady. Plankton focused on the task, his eye fixed on the swirling mixture. The motion was soothing, a familiar rhythm that his brain could latch onto. "Stir," he echoed, his voice a comforting metronome. Karen watched him, her heart beating a little faster. Would he remember how to cook, how to make the chum that had kept their restaurant afloat for so long? She held her breath as he tentatively began to move the spatula in circles. The chum sizzled and popped, the sounds echoing around the kitchen. Plankton's eye grew wide. "Sound," he said, his voice reverting to a soft echo. Karen nodded, her gaze encouraging. "Yes, it's the sound of chum cooking," she said, smiling despite the lump in her throat. Plankton nodded, his movements becoming more confident as he continued to stir. The chum began to thicken, the aroma filling the kitchen. Karen felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was a part of Plankton that was unchanged, a piece of his old self that had survived the fall. Plankton continued to stir, his eye focused on the chum. It was a task he knew well, a comforting routine in a world that now felt like an alien landscape. Karen watched him, her heart in her throat. As he worked, his movements grew more fluid, his body remembering the motions that had been engrained in his muscles for years. "Look, honey, you're doing it," she said, her voice filled with pride. Plankton's eye darted to her, then back to the pot. "Doing it," he echoed, his voice a soft affirmation. The chum began to simmer, the smell filling the room with a comforting warmth. It was a small victory, but one that filled Karen with a renewed sense of optimism. As they stood side by side, cooking the chum, Karen realized that this was their new normal. The man she knew was still there, hidden beneath the layers of echoes and repetition. Her role had shifted from partner in crime to guide and support. But she was ready to face it, to help Plankton navigate his new reality. 

new The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) karen told the doctor 2

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new 2 cat

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡈⠑⠀⡃⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠁⠀⠂⠠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣄⣀⣐⣦⣶⢤⣶⣆⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣔⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⣴⣶⣻⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⠷⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⣆⠠⠏⣠⠎⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⢀⠀⣠⠴⠒⠉⠉⠉⠋⠍⠻⣿⣧⢰⣿⡀⠜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠐⠀⢼⣿⣿⡿⢀⣤⣶⣾⡿⠿⠛⣛⡓⡒⠶⢶⣶⣶⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢸⠇⢀⣄⣽⣿⣎⢻⣷⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡋⠮⣉⠐⢒⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠟⠁⠈⡁⠀⠀⠀⣤⡄⠂⢁⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠐⢡⣄⠀⠠⣠⣄⣶⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢠⣜⣷⣌⡴⠀⣘⣿⣿⣿⣯⣤⣶⣤⣄⣀⠀⢈⢁⡄⣤⠄⣁⣭⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣤⣀⡛⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠋⣿⣿⣎⢿⡟⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⢃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣤⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢰⣿⣿⣆⢈⡇⣇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⡟⢿⣿⣾⢷⡻⡀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢿⣄⣹⣿⠂⢷⣧⠘⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⢿⣿⣿⣷⣾⡻⢂⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡙⢿⢤⣤⢭⣛⣻⢇⣶⢻⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣀⠀⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⢉⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠘⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣶⣾⣿⣆⠚⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠄⣠⢤⣦⢖⣶⡠⠦⠄⠀⡀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠚⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠞⠉⠉⠻⠝⠚⠟⠄⠈⢈⠈⡈⣀⣴⣶⣴⣦⣽⣿⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢐⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣦⣰⣲⣶⣤⣀⢰⣶⣶⣤⡦⠿⣿⣿⢐⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠠⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣷⡒⠚⠛⠛⠛⠨⣳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣰⣤⡻⣟⢿⠟⢷⠇⢛⢟⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⣀⣰⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣶⣭⠋⠇⠄⠨⠘⠻⢿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣷⣵⣯⣇⠈⠘⠙⢛⡻⠟⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣂⠀⠀⠁⠀⠉⠻⠂⢘⠙⠙⠉⠈⠀⠀⠀⣀⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣵⡠⣦⡀⠀⣀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣿⠦⣴⣼⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡼⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣯⣿⣽⣽⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣾⡄⠀⠀⡜⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠃
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣾⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢍⠙⠛⠿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠈⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠱⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠈⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣴⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⡀⣀⠀⠀⠈⠣⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣩⠠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠷⠞⣡⠟⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⡿⠏⠁⡐⢹⠖⠁⠁⠀⠂⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣺⣿⣷⣶⣆⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣇⠉⠘⢿⣿⣷⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠉⢝⠠⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣐⣂⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠂⠀⠀⣦⡈⢻⣿⣿⡯⢀⣠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣆⠉⢉⣴⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢂⢣⡹⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⠉⢛⡃⡀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠙⡹⣂⣒⠿⡖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⢑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 2 common year starting on sunday 1 dot art text art ascii art

Ⓜhi

new a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

new 2 000

「 ✦ Shivam ✦ 」

new 1 2 double middle finger text art

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 2



The room is quiet
except for the occasional 
slosh of the saline 
and the whirring of 
the chair's recline. Karen
watches as the nurse, 
Nina, applies gauze to
the newly-emptied sockets
where the teeth once were.
The redness is stark
against Plankton's 
slackened face. His snores
are deep and even, 
his antennae resting limply 
on the chair's headrest.
The doctor, Dr. Marlin,
gives her a thumbs-up, a silent
assurance that everything went
according to plan.

Karen feels a weight lift
from her shoulders. The 
procedure is over, and Plankton
is safe. His breathing 
continues, the anesthesia
still keeping him in its 
gentle embrace of peaceful 
slumber.

Nina turns to her with a
sympathetic smile. "It's normal for
patients to feel a bit groggy
once they wake up. Sometimes
they're a bit disoriented. It's like
coming out of a deep sleep.
It's normal if today he seems a
little out of it. Bleeding and
brushing are to be expected, and
swelling is normal."

"But he'll be okay?" Karen
asks, her voice shaking.
"More than okay," Dr. Marlin
assures her, "Just follow the
aftercare instructions and he'll
be back to his usual self in no time.
Just remember, no solid foods
for a few days, lots of fluids, and
keep those ice packs handy."

Nina adds, "Keep an eye on
him. He might be a bit
forgetful, or say some funny
things. It's just the anesthesia
wearing off. Nothing to worry
about."

As they wheel Plankton into
recovery, Karen watches his
chest rise and fall with each
breath.

Nina, the nurse, explains,
"The numbness is normal,
it's the local anesthesia wearing
off. It can feel weird, but
don't worry, it'll fade. As for
sleepiness, it's just the body
recovering from the anesthesia.
He might be a bit wobbly on your
feet or have some difficulty
speaking because of the numbness. 
Just take it slow, okay? Yet you can
talk to him right now while he wakes
if you'd like, even if he doesn't
fully understand you yet."

Karen nods, leaning in close
to her husband's. "It's over,
Plankton," she murmurs. "You did
great. Just a little bit more sleep
and then we'll go home." Plankton's breaths
are slow and steady, his body
still under the anesthesia's spell.

The recovery room is dimly lit.
The nurse, Nina, keeps a close eye
on Plankton as Karen sits beside him,
her hand resting on his arm. She's
always been there for him, a constant
source of comfort in the face of fear.

The receptionist from earlier, Becky,
comes in to check on Plankton, her
face still cheerful despite the early hour.
"How's our patient?" she asks Karen,
glancing at the monitors that track his
recovery. Plankton's chest rises and falls
steadily, his snores punctuating the quiet.
Karen smiles weakly. "He's still out of it."

Becky nods. "That's normal. The anesthesia
takes a little while to wear off. He'll
wake up soon enough. You can talk to him if
you'd like. Sometimes it helps to hear
familiar voices."

Karen looks down at Plankton's
peaceful face. "You're going to be okay,
sweetheart," she says softly. "Just a little
longer, and then we'll go home. No more
worrying."

A line of drool starts to trickle from
the corner of Plankton's numb mouth. It's
a sight Karen's seen before, but only during
his deepest slumbers.

She reaches for a tissue and gently
dabs at the saliva pooling, his body
still under the sedative's grip. She
cannot help but feel a twinge of pity
for his vulnerable state, despite his
snoring.

The drool slowly starts to form a
tiny river on the chair, a silent
testament to the depth of his sleep.
Karen wipes it away, knowing he'd be embarrassed
if he were conscious of the sight.

The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals,
satisfied with his progress.
"You can sit him up now," she says.
"Just make sure he's actually
awake before we get him walking."

Karen carefully turns Plankton's chair
with the lever, which gently
guides his sleeping body upright.

As the chair moves, Plankton's
snoring changes pitch,
his head lolling slightly.
Karen smiles despite herself,
his vulnerability endearing.
Gently, she cups his cheek
guiding his head back 
up. "Don't worry, Plankton.
Almost time to go home," 
she says, her voice
soft as a morning lullaby.

new a toothy story karen plankton 2

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new 1 2 ١ dot art text art ascii art

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2
(Autistic author)

When Karen finally did come 
to check on him, her digital 
voice was cool and devoid of 
emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've 
been in here for quite some time," 
she said. "Another fail, huh?"

Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. 
He couldn't bring himself to 
explain the chaos in his head. 
How could he possibly make 
Karen, his logical, computer 
wife, understand the tumult 
of sensations that had overtaken 
his being? He just nodded.

Karen's screen flickered, 
perhaps processing his lack of 
enthusiasm as another 
defeat. "You know what you 
need," she said, her voice 
still calm and soothing. "Some
good old-fashioned break
from scheming." Plankton nodded 
weakly, unable to argue, which she
found unusual.

"Why don't you take a walk?"
she suggested, her voice a gentle 
nudge. "Fresh air can do 
wonders for the mind."

Plankton didn't answer.
Karen knew better than 
to push him when he was like this.
She had seen his mood swings 
before, his moments of despair
after a failed plan, but this was
different. This was something 
she hadn't seen in her 
decades of being by his side.

"Plankton, are you sure 
you're okay?" she asked again, her 
synthetic voice a stark contrast to 
the tumultuous emotions she 
couldn't understand.

He nodded, trying to smile, 
but it felt more like a grimace. 
"Sure okay, Karen."

Karen's concern grew as 
she watched him struggle to 
his feet. It was clear that 
his usual boundless energy was 
nowhere to be found. He stumbled 
out of the bedroom and into the 
hallway, his steps slow and 
deliberate. The once-mighty 
Plankton, reduced to a mere 
shadow of his former self.

As he approached the door 
of the Chum Bucket, Karen 
followed, her sensors tuned to 
his every movement. The 
usual sounds of their underwater 
world were amplified, echoing 
through the narrow corridors 
like a symphony of chaos. Each 
step was a battle, each breath 
a victory. He paused, his hand 
shaking as it hovered over the 
handle.

"Maybe not today," he murmured, 
his voice barely audible over 
his own racing heartbeat. Karen 
stood silently beside him, her 
systems trying to comprehend 
his sudden change in behavior. 
He had always been so driven, 
so focused on his goals, but now 
his eye had a faraway look, as 
if he was seeing something 
that she couldn't.

"Take your time," she said, her 
tone softer than ever. "I'll be 
here when you're ready."

Plankton looked up at her. "Take 
your time," he murmured, echoing 
Karen's words. "Take your time."

She looks at him.  "Take your 
time, take your time, take your 
time." He repeats aloud back to 
Karen, who's now even more 
concerned, her screens flickering 
with worry. Plankton's voice 
sounds strange, echoing his own 
words as if they're coming from 
someone else, from another 
time. It's a peculiar behavior, 
one she's never observed in him 
before.

He walks over to the 
control room, where his various 
inventions are lined up like a 
strange army of metal and 
wires. Each gizmo and gadget 
a silent testament to his 
unyielding quest for the Krabby 
Patty formula. But now, they 
seemed like mere toys, 
overwhelming him with their 
complexity. The room spins, 
and Plankton feels like he's 
drowning in a sea of his own 
creations. "Take your time, 
take your time," he whispers, 
his voice a distant echo in 
his own mind.

He sits down in his chair, 
his eye glazed over, and 
repeats the phrase over and 
over. "Take your time, take your 
time, take your time." The 
words become a mantra, a 
lifeline in the storm of 
sensory overload. Karen watches 
from her console, her algorithms 
racing to understand this 
new behavior.

The phrase rolls off his 
tongue, a soothing rhythm in 
the cacophony of his thoughts. 
"Take your time, take your time." 
It's as if he's trying to convince 
his own brain to slow down, to 
make sense of the world again. 
The echo of his voice in the 
metal walls of the Chum 
Bucket seems to calm him, if 
only a little. Karen doesn't know
what to make of this.

Whatever the cause, 
she knows she must 
tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, 
trying to connect to his 
current state, "I'm here for you."

He looks at her. 
"Take your time," 
he murmurs again.
"Plankton I'm here
for you." He parrots.

Karen's systems whirr, 
analyzing the change in 
his language patterns. His 
usual sharp wit and sarcasm
have given way to something 
more... mechanical. It's as if he's 
trying to communicate but 
his words are stuck in a loop, 
like a broken record. She 
decides to play along, hoping 
it might snap him out of it. 
"Take your time, take your 
time," she repeats back to him, 
her digital voice mimicking 
his tone as closely as possible.

For a moment, 
his eye brightens, as if 
he's found a familiar 
rhythm in the chaos. Then, 
just as quickly, it dims again. 
"Take your time, take your 
time," he murmurs, his gaze 
flicking from one corner 
of the room to the next.

Karen's screens change 
from concern to confusion.
She's observed Plankton's 
moods and quirks for years, 
but this is something she 
can't quite pinpoint.

"Take your time, take your 
time," Plankton whispers again, 
his voice a strange mix 
of urgency and defeat. 
Karen nods, trying to 
comfort him with her 
usual efficiency. "Of course," 
she says, her voice a 
soft beep in the silence. 
"I'll always be here for 
you. Let's eat dinner."

But Plankton doesn't move. 
He just sits there, staring 
into space, his hand 
still hovering over the 
control panel. Karen doesn't 
understand why he's so 
upset. To her, it's just 
another day, another 
failed attempt at the Krabby 
Patty formula. But to Plankton, 
it's like the world has 
shifted on its axis, leaving 
his tiny body adrift in a 
sea of sensations he can't 
comprehend.

"Dinner will be ready soon," 
she says, trying to bring him 
back to the present. But 
Plankton seems lost in 
his own thoughts, his 
eye unfocused. So she
goes up to him.

"Plankton?" she asks, 
placing a gentle hand on his 
shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He jumps at her touch, 
his senses on high alert.
His hand goes to where
she touched him, his
opposite hand doing the
same to the other shoulder.

"Karen," he says slowly,
his voice a mechanical 
whisper. Karen's circuits 
flicker with confusion. She 
doesn't understand why he's 
so on edge, why his reactions 
are so exaggerated. To her, 
this is just another setback.

"Plankton," she repeats, her 
hand back on his shoulder.
"You need to eat. It'll make 
you feel better." Karen's 
touch feels unbearable.

He flinches, his skin 
crawling with the sensation.
It's too much. "No," he says, 
his voice a croak. "No dinner."

Karen's screens blink, 
recalculating her approach. "Okay," 
she says, her voice even. "But you
have to eat something." She pats him 
gently, but it feels jolting.

"No," Plankton whispers, 
his voice a fragile thread. The 
slightest touch feels like a 
thunderclap in his newfound 
sensory prison.

Karen's screens 
flicker, unsure of what to 
make of his sudden aversion.

"Take your time," she 
suggests again, hoping 
the mantra will bring 
him comfort. But Plankton 
simply shakes his head, 
his eye wide as he starts
to rock back and forth.
Karen watches, her 
confusion growing.

"What is it?" she asks, 
her voice a soothing 
hum. "What's wrong?"

Plankton's gaze flits around 
the room, his pupil 
expanding and contracting 
as he tries to process 
everything at once. "Can't...can't 
explain," he stammers, his voice 
now a jagged mess of static.

Karen's screens light up with 
analysis, trying to piece 
together what could have 
caused this drastic shift in 
his behavior. Could it be 
something in the latest Krabby 
Patty attempt? A side effect of 
his latest invention?

"Plankton," she says, her 
voice a soft beep, "What happened 
at the Krusty Krab today?"

He looks at her, his expression 
unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton
Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..."

He trails off, his eye
filling with a sudden 
despair. It's clear that 
his usual sharpness has 
been replaced by a fog of 
overwhelming sensation.

new karen reaching autism acquired autism author is neurodivergent 2

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new 2 julian calendar 4 25 dot art text art ascii art

𝟏𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟓𝟔𝟕𝟖𝟗
①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨
１２３４５６７８９
𝟙𝟚𝟛𝟜𝟝𝟞𝟟𝟠𝟡
➊➋➌➍➎➏➐➑➒
¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹
₁₂₃₄₅₆₇₈₉
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『1』『2』『3』『4』『5』『6』『7』『8』『9』

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠯⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣶⣦⣦⣶⣦⣶⣼⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new 2 two number II number 2 dot art text art ascii art

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⣀⠄⡂⠍⣀⣒⣒⠂⠀⠬⠤⠤⠬⠍⠉⠝⠲⣄⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠊⢔⠕⠈⣀⣀⡀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⡍⠁⠀⠁⢂⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣠⣾⠥⠀⠀⣠⢠⣞⣿⣿⣿⣉⠳⣄⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀⣘⢦⡀
⢀⡞⡍⣠⠞⢋⡛⠶⠤⣤⠴⠚⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⢹⡏⠁⠀⣀⣠⠤⢤⡕⠱⣷
⠘⡇⠇⣯⠤⢾⡙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠤⠀⢲⡖⣂⣀⠀⠀⢙⣶⣄⠈⠉⣸⡄⠠⣠⡿
⠀⠹⣜⡪⠀⠈⢷⣦⣬⣏⠉⠛⠲⣮⣧⣁⣀⣀⠶⠞⢁⣀⣨⢶⢿⣧⠉⡼⠁
⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠳⣌⡟⠻⠷⣶⣧⣀⣀⣹⣉⣉⣿⣉⣉⣇⣼⣾⣿⠀⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠘⠳⣄⡀⡼⠈⠉⠛⡿⠿⠿⡿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣕⠠⣒⠌⡙⠓⠶⠤⣤⣧⣀⣸⣇⣴⣧⠾⠾⠋⠀⠀⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠶⣭⣒⠩⠖⢠⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠔⠁⡰⠀⣧⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠲⢤⣀⣀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣠⠏⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠒⠲⠶⠤⠴⠒⠚⠁⠀⠀

new 1 2 dot art text art ascii art

/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ 𝟚𝕘𝕦𝕟𝕫 /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

new 2 gunz

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣦⣤⣴⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣻⣿⣦⣀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣏⣹⠀
⢠⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠭⠭⠽⠽⠿⠿⠭⠭⠭⠽⠿⠿⠛
⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠏⠉⠉⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠋⠑⠒⠒⠚⠙⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 12 7 2 dot art text art ascii art

𓏻

new 2

༒•▄︻デ𝟚𝕘𝕦𝕟𝕫══━一•༒

new 2 guns

  numeros pequeños

     ³³³² ² ²⁰¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹¹¹¹¹¹¹7️¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹

new amor numeros fechas 2

✞☠︎𝒫ℴ𝒾𝓈ℴ𝓃 ☠︎✞

new #y 2 k #p o i s n

³³³² ² ²⁰¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹¹¹¹¹¹¹7️¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹.ᐟ¹¹¹

new amor numeros fechas 2

２２２

new 2 two

⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣠⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢀⣿⣿⡿⠟⠿⠿⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⡀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⢀⣄⠉⠙⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⡟⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣏⢀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣰⡿⣷⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢉⣬⡿⢿⣿⣿⠛⢿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 1 2 dot art text art ascii art

𓄶

new 2

³³³² ² ²⁰¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹¹¹¹¹¹¹7️¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹

new amor numeros fechas 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⡠⣒⡽⣻⢿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣲⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⠂⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠐⠪⢐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⣗⡝⡾⣹⢲⡝⣞⡻⣏⣟⣞⣧⡻⢖⣮⡑⡵⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣔⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠐⣰⠀⠄⠀⣰⡝⣮⡝⢶⣙⣮⡟⠑⠚⠉⠉⢛⣯⣂⠚⣧⣷⡸⣹⡄⠀⢀⣘⠀⢰⣯⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⢀⠢⣄⠴⠭
⠩⢫⠫⠉⢠⣧⣋⢵⣚⡳⣿⢳⣟⣚⢷⡦⣾⣻⠉⢻⣃⢿⣧⣻⢸⣳⠀⠔⠏⠠⣻⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡒⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⢰⠐⣿⢆⠊⠹⠢⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡧⣏⢶⣻⣿⠏⢸⣏⣾⣹⣞⣳⠇⠀⠀⢻⣼⣷⢿⢿⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⡍⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠈⠳⢄⠀⠀⠀⡆⠆⣸⠀⡏⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⣯⢿⡏⠀⢸⣼⣏⠟⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡿⢾⡞⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⡀⢇⣸⠀⢀⡄⠀⢠⠇⠐⡒⠒⢺⣖⣸⣏⣀⣇⣀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⣿⣽⡾⣧⡴⣶⢾⠉⠘⠁⠀⠀⢹⡿⢿⠓⣇⣿⣹⣹⣧⠤⠤⢤⣄⣣⠘⣿⠤⠜⠛⠒⠋⠀⠀⢣⣀⠼⠘⢻⡶⢺⣷⡾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣏⣿⢿⠀⡷⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠞⠀⣹⣾⣾⣇⡿⣐⠅⠐⠒⡻⡷⣧⣄⣀⠀⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⡻⢡⡏⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢀⠰⢀⡀⠀⢠⡿⣾⣘⣯⣧⣀⡀⠀⠀⢰⠆⣀⣀⡤⠴⢺⣿⣯⡻⠐⠀⡀⠀⡠⠀⢆⠑⢷⢯⣯⢫⣿⣁⣌⣉⡍⣩⣿⣶⡷⡿⣷⢿⠀⠀⠀⡀⡆⡀⠀
⢒⢳⠕⠒⠀⢎⠁⠀⠙⠯⣿⣿⠉⢉⠛⡬⢱⣃⠷⣖⢄⠘⠿⠀⢱⠀⠘⢁⠎⠀⠀⡜⢀⢸⠈⢣⣿⣿⣏⠙⠉⠝⣿⣿⡿⠀⠙⡇⢸⡆⠀⠐⣸⣟⠂⠀
⠊⠈⠐⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⣽⣿⡀⣞⢀⣇⣈⣉⡶⣻⠜⢦⡀⠀⠈⠐⠢⡜⠀⣤⢠⠃⠸⢸⠀⢸⠉⣻⣿⣢⡆⣴⣿⡿⢷⠀⠀⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠋⠋⠂⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢖⠏⡄⠘⣩⠷⣧⣨⠿⣿⣟⣷⢈⠀⠽⢦⠀⠀⠀⢩⡻⣍⠎⠠⠀⡆⠀⢸⢡⣿⡟⢸⡇⣿⣿⡇⠀⡇⠀⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⢋⡎⠐⣬⣲⠽⢺⠧⢐⡉⠛⣿⢹⡏⡟⢯⡀⡌⢳⣄⣠⠗⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣲⢄⣿⣿⣟⡷⣾⣻⣽⡏⣷⡀⢹⡄⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠈⠯⠜⠚⠉⠀⠀⢸⠘⢠⠂⡅⢻⣎⣿⢹⡄⠙⢦⣩⣯⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠐⣽⡿⣾⣽⣳⣟⣾⢯⣼⡷⡀⠳⡅⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣈⣂⢱⢈⣙⣿⢧⠟⢇⠀⠙⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣟⣿⣳⢯⣷⣻⢾⣮⢩⣇⠙⠒⠃⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀
⠀⢀⢀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⣍⣫⣤⣦⣭⣶⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣠⣂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡟⠛⢾⠟⠯⡿⠂⢉⠀⠀⠀⠁⣿⠀⠀⡉⡮⠾⠥
⠀⡨⢛⢔⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡿⢷⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣦⣄⡁⠀⠈⠔⠏⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⡈⠀⡸⠁⠘⡌⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠉⠂
⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠛⠻⠯⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⢣⣠⢋⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠒⢋⠉⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 1 2 dot art text art ascii art

😁😢😱🤢😡😨🥱😳😒➡️👧🏼

new inside out 2 inside out

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⡴⠶⠶⠿⠛⣯⣍⣙⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⣯⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠀⠀⠼⣿⡻⠟⠛⠛⠶⠦⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣾⣿⡗⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⣀⣴⣏⠻⠻⠆⠀⠀⠰⠿⢈⡻⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⢾⣿⡟⠛⠃⠀⠀⢀⡀⠂⢀⣀⣀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⡷⢺⣀⣄⠐⠊⢁⠀⡈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣯⣚⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⡀⣾⣧⣼⡞⣻⣿⣿⣿⡏⠛⣾⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠿⣿⣿⣤⣄⣈⠀⢿⣤⣬⠻⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣟⢯⠙⠋⠀⠒⢓⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⡇⠀⠉⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡀⢸⣯⣿⠆⣀⠻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠟⠃⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣠⣿⣅⣤⡘⣤⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⡄⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣿⣿⣿⠿⠷⠁⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠈⢷⠋⠀⠙⣿⠛⣿⠀⠀⠠⠄⣈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠼⡅⠀⠀⢻⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠿⠿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⢠⡤⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⠉⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⠀⢠⡄⡘⣳⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⡘⣿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣄⣀⣈⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣺⣿⣯⣵⣛⣿⡆⠀⠀⢙⡿⣿⣸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣦⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠺⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢿⡿⢿⠛⠙⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣾⣗⣙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⡤⠶⠞⠛⠛⠻⠟⢫⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⣾⠶⠶⠤⢤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⠶⠿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣏⠹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣉⣉⡙⠛⠋⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠃⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⠛⠋⠉⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠖⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣶⢶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⡿⠞⠛⠛⠋⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠘⣗⠀⢿⡀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠛⠛⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡏⠀⠀⠀⣿⠘⢊⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠁⠠⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⠃⠀⠈⠉⠁⠘⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠈⢿⡅⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣷⡀⠸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠛⣿⣿⣿⣵⣾⣿⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⢀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀
⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡷⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠛⣭⡍⢩⣭⡍⠉⠉⠉⠉⢩⣭⢩⡟⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠾⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠰⠼⠙⣻⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠿⠶⠿⠷⠶⠶⠶⠾⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣏⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣋⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⣠⣶⣿⣯⣭⣭⣭
⠻⣿⡿⣦⣄⣸⡟⢉⣡⣴⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣗⢄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣅⢀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⢘⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠁⠈⠙⠷⠀⢀⣽⠟⠉⠛⠿⣿⣶⣄⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠻⠎⢿⣿⡷⠎⠉⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⣀⠘⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⣳⣶⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡷⣤⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣥⣤⣄⣀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⢿⡜⢻⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⣄⡼⢃⣠⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⡄⠀⠀⢠⡀⢸⣆⡀⢀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡄⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡏⠀⠀⠉⠉⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠂⣿⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠙⣷⠀⣄⠀⠘⣿⡇⣤⠀⠈⢿⣼⣟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣯⡁⠀⠀⣰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢷⣦⣴⠾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠹⢧⡄⣹⣿⠉⠀⠀⠈⢿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠟⠛⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠛⠹⢷⣦⣴⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣀⡀⠀⢀⣿⣷⡦⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠷⠾⢿⣿⠻⠷⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢺⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⡇⠀⠒⡀⠌⠠⠁⠌⡐⢸⠍⠹⡀⠌⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠡⠐⠠⠁⢈⠣⡐⠠⢈⠐⠠⠁⡤⣤⡦⠿⠾⠧⠯⣿⣷⣤⡤⣤⠖⠊⠁⢠⠃⠉⠰⠇⠸⡆⠄⠐⣄⠑⢹⢀⣠⣼⡮⠘⠁⠀⠀⣀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠐⠛⠗⡄⡴⡩⢺⢀⣴⡟⣟⡾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠠⠁⠄⡈⠐⠈⡐⢀⠸⡄⠀⢇⠠⠁⣡⠀⢸⠀⠄⠁⠄⠂⠠⠀⠉⠳⣤⣈⣠⣴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⡉⢀⣘⠀⠁⠢⢀⠟⣆⠁⢸⠀⠀⠘⠌⠀⠌⣅⣾⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠤⠃⠀⠀⠀⠠⣢⡢⠀⠀⢎⠈⢸⣱⢇⡿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠀⠡⠂⠠⢁⠂⡐⠠⠀⢣⠀⠸⣀⣴⡟⠀⠸⣷⡶⣶⣶⣶⡶⢿⠿⡟⠟⠩⣡⠎⠀⠀⠀⡠⠚⢛⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠁⠺⡟⠲⡆⠢⣀⠈⠂⢀⠀⠉⣀⠔⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠅⠀⢰⠐⢉⣾⡳⣛⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠀⣁⠂⡁⢂⠐⠠⠐⢀⠈⣆⠀⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣟⡿⣽⣛⣯⢿⣋⢖⡽⠱⡀⠀⡠⠊⣠⣴⣿⣿⠁⣿⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣜⣀⡘⢗⢌⡙⠂⠴⠺⢛⠉⠩⡠⠒⠀⢀⣠⠔⠂⠈⠉⠉⠙⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡶⣖⣡⣗⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠀⠄⠂⡐⠠⢈⠠⠐⡤⠾⣿⡄⠀⢻⡟⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡷⣭⡏⡇⠀⠡⠈⣠⡾⣿⣿⣿⡇⣸⣿⣦⣿⡿⠀⠀⢀⠔⠅⡛⢦⠈⠓⣆⠈⢁⠒⠀⠤⣌⣋⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡿⡿⠋⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⣤⠤⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠈⠄⡁⠠⠐⢀⢠⢾⠁⠀⡀⠇⠀⠈⠅⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⠀⡅⠀⣴⡿⢋⣼⡿⣿⡿⢀⣿⢿⣿⣿⠇⢣⠾⣕⢪⣴⠳⡔⣻⣤⢸⣠⣴⣧⣄⡹⣵⣤⡀⠀⠀⡀⠡⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣡⠀⡠⠊⢰⡟⠁⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠹⣇⠘⢄⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠐⡈⠄⠠⢁⢠⠋⠉⡆⠀⢡⠀⠀⠀⡠⢐⡀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡙⢸⠀⠇⠸⣿⣴⣿⠟⣰⣿⠃⣸⣿⠘⠛⢁⣴⣿⣛⣮⢷⣺⣎⢙⡶⠽⠿⠿⠟⢲⡖⣯⡽⣳⢋⡷⠊⢡⣄⢀⣀⣀⡀⣀⣠⡾⠏⢣⠃⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠙⠕⡤⢉⡒⠀⣻⢂⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠐⠀⠄⠁⣤⣿⣓⡀⠈⠢⡠⡄⠒⡎⠉⠀⢀⠁⠸⣿⣿⣿⡟⡑⠀⢸⠀⠰⠀⢻⡿⢃⣼⡿⠇⢀⣿⡏⢀⣴⣿⣿⣾⣿⣯⣟⠃⠟⠁⢀⣠⣤⠤⠒⠋⠉⢣⣿⣽⣏⣷⡦⡨⠿⠿⠮⣚⣿⠿⣫⠎⠀⠈⢄⢠⠁⠀⠀⠂⠀⠈⣇⣦⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠲⠾⠵⠃⠀⠀⠀
⠗⠒⠚⠒⠒⠛⠛⠛⠚⠓⠚⠓⠛⠓⠒⠒⠚⠒⠒⠒⠛⠛⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠛⠛⠚⠒⠚⠛⠓⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠒⠚⠒⠒⠚⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠛⠚⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠓⠒⠚⠒⠒⠒⠒⠓⠛⠓⠚⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒

new 1 2 6 鬼哈姆 dot art text art ascii art

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

new 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 100 0 28 third april julian calendar november cardinal october three roman numerals january july december june march gregorian calendar one fifth

𓃊

new 2 two two dots 2 dots

jj‎‧₊˚✿[texto]✿˚₊‧

new 2 36

★★☆☆☆

new star 2

²🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️²

new mermaidcore two 2 ᴄᴜsᴛᴏᴍɪsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣔⡶⠖⡏⠛⠛⠯⡦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠏⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢫⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⡤⠤⠄⠤⣇⡜⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢠⣴⣿⡏⠏⠛⠉⠉⠉⠷⢷⣛⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠩⣯⡳⡄⠀
⠀⢀⣯⡿⣃⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡏⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠛⣿⣿⡄
⠀⢸⣿⣗⠀⠉⠓⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⡀⡄⠖⠁⠁⠀⠀⠈⡏⡇
⠀⠸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠒⠂⠀⠈⣷⠤⢄⡀⣀⣀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠇
⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣟⠏⠉⠉⠍⠛⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠏⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣥⣭⣿⣷⣷⡶⣤⣄⣀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡯⡧⣴⣶⡶⣶⡟⡿⣭⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢠⡷⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠑⠄⠬⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢇⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣧⡀⠀
⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡄⠀⠀⠀⢟⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢎⡎⠀⠈⠒⠒⠢⠤⡅⣤⣤⣈⣇⠀
⠀⠀⢸⡃⡀⣀⣄⠤⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⡉⠏⠟⠶⠾⡗⠷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣮⢻⠀
⠀⠀⠸⡿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡿⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠱⡿⣇⡇⣦⣤⣤⣄⣖⡭⡮⠗⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡾⠋⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣆⡇⠉⠉⠈⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠯⠭⠝⠋⡃⡇⠀⢐⣿⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣯⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡇⠀⢸⢽⡀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⡇⠀⣝⠈⣏⢆⡀⢣⡂⣀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⡔⣒⣒⣤⣄⡇⡃⠀⣗⠀⠈⠳⡬⣓⣗⣬⡷⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⡔⠁⣀⡤⠶⠖⠋⡇⡇⢻⣽⡙⠃⠲⣌⡉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣇⡅⠀⣇⡙⢆⡀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡾⠥⣤⣤⣄⣤⣤⡤⠾⠗⡃⡇⠀⡇⢳⡀⠉⠓⠆⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡇⠀⡇⠀⠙⢗⣤⣄⣀⣀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡅⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢇⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new . 2 <3 dot art text art ascii art

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚💐

new love 2 dear



new 1 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠘⣷⠀⠀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⣻⠆⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⠶⠿⢿⡄⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣅⢀⣀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣍⣭⣭⡿⠒⠛⠿⠯⣍⣀⣀⢀⠀⠀⠈⡙⢻⣯⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⠲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⠤⠦⠾⢿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠶⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠓⠒⠺⠛⠶⠶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣼⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡅⠀⠀⠈⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⠶⠶⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠷⣤⣤⣀⣀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠶⠛⠛⠚⠛⠛⣛⣛⣿⡿⠾⠿⣿⣛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠓⠒⠚⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠯⠿⠷⣟⡦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠉⠉⠙⠛⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣤⣤⣴⣦⣤⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⣄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣻⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠿⢿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢤⣶⣶⣶⣒⣛⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣍⡉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣶⣤⣀⣀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⡿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣴⣶⣶⠶⠿⠿⣷⡖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⣤⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡶⠛⠋⠉⠛⠛⠿⣿⣥⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⣨⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠻⣍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⢀⣤⣤⣀⣠⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠻⠿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠯⣟⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⣀⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠷⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣝⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠃⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⡙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣾⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣯⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣎⢳⡄⠀⣀⣾⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢐
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣧⠹⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⣰⣶⣶⣶⡶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠹⣟⣛⣿⠛⠟⠻⠿⠾⠷⢶⣶⣤⣦⣄⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠠⠌
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 1 2 name dot art text art ascii art

2,🐻🐻

new 2 i love soobin

🩸2️⃣❌

new blood 2 cross crisscross

♡２

new heart 2

🍎💫🌱🍄✨☁️🎧📀🕯️🪩♡

２2️2️⃣❷

new 2 two reverse symbol

★★

new 2 stars star

🦆ᰔᩚ

new 2 bird

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
       ⠀⢀⣠⣶⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣴⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣶⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣝⡳⢦⡀⠀
       ⢴⣿⣿⡿⠛⠋⠉⢀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠛⢿⡛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⣷⡇⡀
    ⠀⠸⠅⠈⠀⠀⢀⣨⣭⣍⣭⣭⣟⣽⣍⣉⠙⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣰⣎⡉⣭⣽⣯⣏⣩⣭⡯⣗⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠇⠀
⠀⠀⠀.    B⠀⣠⣶⠋⠉⢹⣿⣿⣯⣿⠏⢻⡉⠁⢸⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⢩⡿⠉⣗⣻⡶⣩⣯⠀⠙⢳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀.     ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠙⠻⠶⠾⠿⠿⠶⠿⠶⠶⠿⠆⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠠⠞⠳⠖⠻⠟⠛⠻⠟⠚⠯⠊⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢠⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠀⠀⢠⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⡶⠶⠾⠿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.  ⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢰⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 2 fourth goof dot art text art ascii art

˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

new aesthetic 1 2 kaomoji artistic

𓐅

new 2

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10🕙

new 11 2 Skibidi Toilet TV man Titan Upgraded Dotted Lines

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣮⣤⣶⣷⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠉⠉⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⠂
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣦⠀⠀⣀⡴⢶⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡏⠛⠚⠉⠀⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣦⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢳⣄⡀⡀⠰⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⣄⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀
⣤⡾⠛⠉⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣶⢶⣽⣿⡏⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀
⣿⣡⣶⠀⢀⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⡇⢴⣿⠃⠀⢰⡇⠀⡀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀
⠻⠋⣟⣼⣿⡏⠙⢿⣄⠀⢸⣿⣾⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢾⢯⢿⣿⠟⣿⡿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⣶⠃⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠐⠿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣄⡹⢿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣤⣶⣶⣯⣙⣟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣟⣟⡟⠃⠀⢀⡹⠁⠀⠀⣼⣃⡀⠀⢸⣿⡄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠃⠚⠻⠟⠫⠽⠥⠝⠉⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣷⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠲⠶⠤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠈⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⠁⠀⠙⠻⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⠴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠤⠤⠤⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠐⢤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣤⠖⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣯⠈⠛⠦⢄⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡘⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠳⣤⣀⡀⠀⠈⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠖⠉⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠐⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠛⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠿⠶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⠴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠶⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⡀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⢀⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡶⠀⠀⠀⡶⢀⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠟⠚⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⠉⣓⢧⣈⢷⣄⡀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⢀⣧⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠁⠀⠦⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⠚⠁⠀⠈⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠋⠘⣧⡀⠀⠋⠉⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⢀⣶⠛⠁⠲⠤⣄⣀⣀⠀⣠⢤⣤⣲⠆⠙⣿⠀⣾⠃⠀⢀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣧⠶⣻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⣫⡿⢧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣰⠛⠀⢷⡀⠀⠀⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⢀⣰⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠉⠛⢶⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⢿⣶⣤⣀⣙⣷⣦⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⢧⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣠⡤⠴⠞⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣦⡀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new ii 2 sonicgggggggh dot art text art ascii art

2２

new 2 1

yesaya 41:10✞

new eight ten 25 seven roman empire 2 natural number

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⢀⣀⡤⠤⠤⢤⣒⡓⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⢁⡴⠒⠲⢄⠀⠀⢠⠖⠉⠉⠲⡄⠉⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⡞⠀⢠⣦⠀⢧⠀⡏⠀⢸⡇⠀⢸⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠳⣀⠀⠁⣠⠏⠀⠘⠦⣀⣀⡤⠃⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠠⡇⠀⠀⠀⢈⣉⣉⡀⢀⣀⣀⠀⣀⣀⡠⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠳⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠂⠐⡲⠋⠈⠁⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣊⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀
⠀⣀⠤⠴⠶⢦⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠓⠐⠒⠢⡔⠂⣨⠇⠀
⠀⣛⣦⡈⢱⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠛⢓⡳⠀
⠘⢯⣉⡉⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣛⣛⣲⠄
⠺⠯⡭⢥⠄⢘⣦⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠄⢤⠤⠤⠤⠾⣈⡆⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢺⡤⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡇⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠃⠀⠈⠉⠉⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠒⠒⠒⠚⠁⠀⠈⠛⠓⠒⠒⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 2 dot art text art ascii art

-`♡´-.𖥔 ˖

new time 2

عربي تعداد❷❶

new 1 8 month two december 2 other leap year starting on sunday six

𓂮

new 2 two two fingers 2 fingers

𓎇

new 2

1️⃣2️⃣3️⃣4️⃣5️⃣6️⃣7️⃣8️⃣9️⃣🔟✅✔️✔️ ⚡✨

-`♡´-

new time 2

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