Vex Emojis & Text

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BIO IDEA (red edition!) made by ur fav, vex!🐈‍⬛ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ [name]✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ˙✧[prns]˖°🍓 ༘ [sxuality]⋆｡°🍒 ✩🚩₊˚.[dni]⋆☾⋆⁺🎸₊✧ ˙✧📌˖[other]° ༘ 🍿⋆[other]｡˚

BIO IDEA! (BLUE EDITION) made by ur fav, vex🐈‍⬛ 💎⋆[name] !!.ೃ࿔*: ˖°𓇼[prns]🌊⋆[sxuality]🐚 ₊˚ʚ🩵 [dni] ₊˚✧ ﾟ ˙✧[other]˖°📷 ༘ [other]🧊⋆｡˚

i love how people complain about searching something up and seeing petitions with the tags coquette, preppy, kawaii, etc, even tho they do the same thing while writing their complaints (¬ _¬")

╭━━┳╮╭┳╮╭┳━━╮╭━━┳╮╭┳━╮ ┃━━┫╰╯┃┃┃┣╮╭╯╰╮╭┫╰╯┃┳╯ ┣━━┃╭╮┃╰╯┃┃┃╱╱┃┃┃╭╮┃┻╮ ╰━━┻╯╰┻━━╯╰╯╱╱╰╯╰╯╰┻━╯ ╭━━┳╮╭┳━┳┳╮╭╮╭┳━╮ ┃━┳┫┃┃┃╭┫╭╯┃┃┃┃╋┃ ┃╭╯┃╰╯┃╰┫╰╮┃╰╯┃╭╯ ╰╯╱╰━━┻━┻┻╯╰━━┻╯╱ all y'all are insufferable omg. and I mean ALL of y'all. 1, language is meant to be shared, unless said symbol is culturally significant and considered off limits, no one is going to care if you use hiragana to make a smile face. WHERE DO YALL THINK KAOMOJIS ARE FROM?? 2, the NSFW posts are only an issue when not tagged correctly, making long wordy posts and using words like "thorny" is literally doing more harm than the actual nsfw posts 3, cursing?? really?? there is nothing wrong with casual cursing on the internet, it's not our responsibility to shelter kids whose parents don't look after them. it's the Internet for Christ's sake, expecting everyone to be PG 24/7 just in case a kid sees a bad word is INSANE 4, post fanfics on AO3 or Wattpad instead omfg. I don't care about the NSFW stuff but there are literally fanfic sites, stop cluttering up the site 💀 5, if you're gonna make posts just to chat about random stuff, just include the relevant tags bro 5.2, "I just wanted to see cute symbols not-" no one gaf!! there are still a BUNCH of tags and posts that are normal?? y'all just as if not MORE annoying than the fic posters, at least they're contributing something 💀💀 6, ACCESSIBILITY. PLEASE when making templates make sure it's actually accessible to those with screen readers and those with cognitive impairment also proshippers kys \\\\ Yeah i just know your mega annoying and rude in real life

i wish someone could groom me again ngl ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ \\\\ whats wrong with you??? get off this website your disgusting

(๑>؂•̀๑) 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆

vex's orange bio!! 🐈‍⬛ search vex for more<3 ˙✧˖°[name]🦊 ༘ ⋆｡˚ .⋆✴︎[prns]˚｡ [sxuality]₊˚🎃 ‧₊˚✩ 🔥₊˚[dni]⊹♡ 🧡˚⋆[other]｡⋆[other]𖦹🏵️.˚

⠀݂⠀✉️⠀֯⠀ ᮫⠀ ⛤⠀ׄ⠀ 𓍢ִ⠀܄⠀ʬ ⭑ ˙ 𓍯⠀ׄ⠀🌿﹔ ₜᵢₘₑ ᵢₛ ₛₚₑ𝓬ᵢₐₗ ᵳₒᵣ ₕᵤₘₐₙₛ, ₛᵢₙ𝓬ₑ ₜₕₑᵧ 𝓭ₒₙ'ₜ ₕₐᵥₑ ₐ ₗₒₜ. ᵢᵳ ₐ ₕᵤₘₐₙ ₛₚₑₙ𝓭ₛ ₜᵢₘₑ 𝔀ᵢₜₕ ᵧₒᵤ, ᵧₒᵤ ₐᵣₑ ₛₚₑ𝓬ᵢₐₗ ᵳₒᵣ ₜₕₑₘ.

⠀݂⠀🦪⠀֯⠀ ᮫⠀ ⛤⠀ׄ⠀ 𓍢ִ⠀܄⠀ʬ ⭑ ˙ 𓍯⠀ׄ⠀🦋﹔ 𝓭ₒₙ'ₜ 𝓬ₒₚᵧ 𝔀ₒᵣₖ ᵳᵣₒₘ ₐₙₒₜₕₑᵣ, ₜₕₑ ₛₐₜᵢₛᵳₐ𝓬ₜᵢₒₙ ₒᵳ ₛᵤ𝓬𝓬ₑₛₛ ᵢₛ ₒₙₗᵧ ᵳₑₗₜ 𝔀ₕₑₙ ᵧₒᵤ 𝓭ₒ ᵧₒᵤᵣ ₒ𝔀ₙ 𝓭ᵤₜᵧ.

bro please stop doing this stupid shit 🎧🎧 "oh we need this to be -" "stan _ for clear skin" "slay all day" 'Free palestine" this is not twitter. this is not reddit. this is simply an emoji combo app that you guys ruined.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.

(´-﹏-`；) guys i am scared for my life i am trying to search up cute kamojis and i find sus things like BRUH PLEASE HAVE MERCY ALSO DOES ANYONE HAVE BLEACH I NEED IT TO CLEAN MY SOUL(╥﹏╥)😖😕😔💢😡(ᗒᗣᗕ)(҂ `з´) ︻╦̵̵̿╤──

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ب_ب

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please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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⠀⠀⢀⣤⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣩⣭⣭⣭⡭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⡭⣭⣍⣉⣉⡛⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣰⣿⡿⣻⢷⡾⣏⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣭⣭⢭⣍⣛⣲⠾⣿⣦⣌⢻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⠟⠛⠉⢙⡻⠿⣾⣿⣿⣿⢱⣿⠿⠿⢿⣽⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿ ⣿⠟⣀⣼⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣀⣃⣠⢤⣛⠻⠧⢸⣿⣿⠛⠃⢀⣀⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⢄⠻ ⢃⣾⣾⢡⣾⡏⠰⢮⣍⣙⣋⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⢿⣿⣏⡛⣉⡭⣌⣽⣹⡇ ⡆⢻⢿⣘⣽⡄⠻⣶⣭⠉⡛⠿⣿⣿⡇⢖⣘⣛⣻⣿⣿⢆⣈⣟⣿⡿⠃⢺⡿⡺⢃ ⣿⣆⠑⢯⣿⣿⣄⠠⣭⠀⠛⠿⣶⡆⣨⣭⣙⡛⢛⣒⠒⠛⣛⡛⣭⠀⡆⠘⣿⢡⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣄⠻⣿⣿⣷⣌⠠⣿⣶⣤⢀⣈⡉⠉⠁⠘⠛⠃⠙⠋⠁⠉⠀⠀⢰⣿⠰⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⢿⣿⣷⣮⣝⡃⠾⣿⣿⣿⢰⣶⣶⢀⣶⠆⣴⠀⡆⢎⣼⣿⢘⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⠙⢫⣷⠛⣿⢻⣶⣦⣤⣤⣬⣭⣬⣭⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⢨⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⣙⠲⠿⣦⣿⣛⣷⢯⣭⣿⣿⣷⣿⣽⣷⣟⣷⣿⢨⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣭⣙⡛⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢋⣴⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿

We only have one shot at life, make it count. Here are some bible verses about loving your enemies. Follow the word of god :) * Matthew 5:44: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"
 || * Luke 6:27-28: "But I say to you: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you || Please stop this drama, it is not of god. Drink water, eat food, prioritize your mental health, and have a great day everyone ✝️🙏🏻❤️

CATCH IN MY CHIP xi (Autistic author) Karen leans in closer to Plankton, her voice a gentle whisper. "It's okay," she says, her eyes filled with warmth. "You're okay." Plankton's breaths are shallow, his chest rising and falling with effort as he shakes. The room is a cocoon of quiet, the outside world muted by the thick walls of their sanctuary. Karen's hand is a constant, her touch a reminder that he's not alone. Plankton's gaze flits to Chip, the question in his eye unspoken. "Chip," Karen says, her voice a balm to Plankton's raw nerves. "Your dad is in need of some quiet time, okay?" Her words are a gentle nudge, guiding them through the delicate dance of recovery. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I understand," he murmurs, though his heart feels like it's been tied in knots. He swallows his questions, his fear for his dad a lump in his throat. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, his breathing easing a fraction. He nods, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice raspy with exhaustion. The relief in his eye is palpable. Chip watches, his own emotions a tapestry of confusion and concern. He wants to reach out, to hold his dad close, but he knows it's not the time. Instead, he squeezes Karen's hand, his silent promise to be patient and understanding. Plankton's eye closes, his body slowly relaxing into the pillow. The ringing in his ears fades, the world coming back into focus like a camera lens slowly adjusting to the light. The warmth of Karen's hand on his forehead is a comfort, his anchor in the sea of sensation. Her voice is a gentle lullaby, guiding him back to shore. "You're okay," she repeats, each word a wave lapping against the shore of his mind. The room stops spinning, the colors coalescing into distinct shapes. Plankton's gaze darts around the room, seeking solace. His eye lands on a spot on the wall, a patch of unblemished white. He focuses on it, his breaths coming slower, deeper. It's a sanctuary, a place of peace amidst the chaos. The spot becomes his beacon, the world around it a blurry periphery. Karen's hand on his forehead is cool, a balm to his racing thoughts. "Look at the spot," she whispers, her voice a soothing melody. "Just the spot." He nods, his eye locking onto the white, his breaths syncing with hers. The spot is a lifeline in the storm, a beacon of calm in his sensory chaos. Plankton stares at it, willing the world to recede. The colors around it blur, the sounds of the room dull to a whisper. It's just him and the spot, a silent pact between them to conquer the tempest. Karen's voice is a gentle wave, lapping at the edges of his mind. "When you're ready, take a deep breath. In, out. Slowly." She guides him through the exercise, her tone soothing. Plankton tries to focus, his body responding to the familiar rhythm. The spot on the wall becomes clearer, the edges sharper. The world around it softens, the colors bleeding back into the fabric of the room. His breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in time with Karen's gentle prompts. The spot is his sanctuary, a bastion of calm in the overwhelming storm. But then, it starts. The tic, a twitch of his antenna. A reminder that his mind is not entirely his own, his body a marionette to the whims of his neurodiversity. Plankton's antennas begin to still, his body gradually relinquishing the tension that had held it hostage. The tic in his left antenna, a quick spasm that had become more frequent. Karen's eyes don't leave his face, her gaze a silent support. She knows the dance of his tics all too well, a choreography that they've lived with for years. She squeezes his hand, her touch a silent promise to stand by him through the storm. It's his body's way of releasing the tension that builds up like pressure in a volcano. The tic is a tide, rising and falling, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Plankton's head jerks to the side, the sudden movement a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. Chip's eyes go wide with concern. "It's okay," Karen murmurs, squeezing Plankton's hand. "It's just your body. It's okay." Her voice is a lullaby, a gentle reminder that he's not alone. The tic subsides, his antennas returning to their usual state. Chip's eyes dart from his dad to his mom, his mind whirring with questions. "What was that?" he asks, his voice quiet, afraid to disturb the fragile peace. Karen's hand moves to Plankton's antenna, her thumb tracing the line of his twitch. "It's just his body's way of dealing with the overstimulation," she explains, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "It's a tic, Chip. It's part of his autism." Chip nods, his eyes wide with understanding. "Will he be okay?" he asks, his voice small in the face of his father's struggle. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, her voice a steady stream of comfort. "Yes, he will," she says with confidence. "This happens sometimes. We just need to be patient and give him time." Plankton's antennas still slightly, the tremor a reminder of the storm that had passed through his mind. His breaths come more evenly now, the spot on the wall his silent companion as he finds his way back to the world. Chip's eyes are full of questions, his heart heavy with concern. He watches as his dad's body relaxes, the tension easing like a retreating tide. "I'll get him some water," Karen says, her voice a whisper. She squeezes Plankton's hand once more before rising, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet. Plankton's eye meets Chip's, his gaze apologetic. Chip swallows his fear. "Daddy?" he whispers, his voice cracking. Plankton's eye flutters open, the panic gone, replaced by a fatigue that seems to weigh down his very soul. "I'm okay," he manages, his voice a rasp. "Just tired." Chip nods, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch his dad's arm. The contact is tentative, a question and a comfort all in one. Plankton's antennas twitch again, but this time it's with the beginnings of a smile. "Thanks, buddy," he says, his voice hoarse. The room is a cocoon of silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Plankton swallows hard, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on his chest like a leaden blanket. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his gaze never leaving Chip's. Chip's eyes are pools of concern, the question in his eyes unspoken but potent. "For what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennas droop slightly, his eye reflecting the shame he feels. "For scaring you," he says, his voice hoarse. "For not being able to control it." Chip's hand tightens around his dad's arm, his eyes brimming with tears he's too proud to shed. "It's okay, Daddy," he says, the words a soft whisper. "You don't have to be sorry." Plankton's smile is weak, his antennas still. "I know," he replies, his voice a whisper. "But it's hard not to be." He swallows, his throat dry from the battle his body has just endured. Karen returns with a glass of water, her steps silent on the soft carpet. She hands it to Plankton, who gratefully takes a sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. The tension in the room is a palpable entity, a third person in their silent conversation. "What happened?" Chip asks, his voice small, the question a balloon of curiosity floating in the heavy air. "It's just part of who I am," Plankton says, his voice still hoarse from his episode. He takes another sip of water, the coldness of it a stark contrast to his fevered skin. "My autism, it makes my brain work differently." Chip's hand is still on his arm, a silent offer of comfort. "But you're okay now," he says, his voice hopeful. Plankton nods, the motion almost imperceptible. "Thanks to Mom," he murmurs, his eye swiveling to Karen, who smiles at him with a mix of relief and love. "She's the reason I made it through." Chip looks at Karen with a newfound respect, his young mind trying to comprehend the gravity of what he's just witnessed. "You're both strong," he says, his voice steady, the fear momentarily pushed aside by admiration. Karen's smile is a soft glow, the pride in her eyes unmistakable. "We all have our moments," she says, her hand resting on Plankton's shoulder. "It's how we face them that makes us who we are." She glances at the clock, the ticking a reminder of the time they've lost to the sensory storm. "Why don't you go play for a bit, Chip? Your dad needs some rest, and I think we could all use a moment to process." Chip nods, his eyes still filled with unspoken questions. But he trusts his mom, and he can see the exhaustion etched into Plankton's face. He slides off the bed, his feet silent on the floor. With one last look at his dad, he heads for the door, the weight of the moment heavy on his shoulders. Karen watches him go, her heart aching for the fear he must be feeling. But she knows that with time and patience, he'll understand. He'll grow to see his dad not as a mystery to be solved, but as a person to be loved and supported, just like anyone else.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi (Autistic Author) The wind whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, but one that Plankton has often missed in his quest to protect his son from the storms in his own mind. Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a ball comes hurtling through the air, narrowly missing Plankton's head. He flinches, his antennae shooting straight up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The children playing nearby laugh, unaware of the chaos their game has brought to the quiet corner of the playground. Plankton's eye darts around, trying to process the sudden assault of sound and movement. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can see the beginnings of a panic attack forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip shouts, jumping off his swing and racing to his side. With surprising speed and grace, Chip leaps into action, catching Plankton just as he starts to topple off the swing. "Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with urgency as he gently guides Plankton's unresponsive body to the soft grass below. The love rock still clutches in his small hand. Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling beside them. Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "What do we do?" Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and love as she takes in the sight of Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, his antennae limp. She's been here before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," she says, her voice calm despite her racing heart. "Just give him a moment. He'll come back to us." Chip nods, his grip on the love rock tightening as he watches his father. The world seems to slow down around them, the laughter of the other children fading into a distant memory. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The seconds tick by like hours, each one filled with the weight of uncertainty. Chip clutches the love rock, willing his dad to come back. He's seen this before, but it never gets easier. He remembers the first time it happened, the fear that had gripped him, the feeling of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed over. But now, he knows what to do. He's not as scared; he's prepared. With trembling hands, Chip takes out the love rock, its smoothness a comforting reminder of their conversation. He places it gently in Plankton's palm, curling the slender fingers around it. "You're ok," he whispers, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "We’re here." Plankton's body remains still, a stark contrast to the vibrant world around them. The squeaks of the swings, the laughter of the children, the distant crash of waves, all seem to fade into the background as they wait for him to return from his brief retreat. Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Time seems to stand still as they wait, the rock in Plankton's hand a silent testament to their newfound bond. The park's vibrant sounds muffle into a distant symphony, the world holding its breath for Plankton's return. Above them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, the shadows dancing as if in a silent ballet of concern. The seconds stretch into eternity, each one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes never leave his father, willing him back with all his might. The rock in Plankton's palm is a symbol of love and understanding, a bridge connecting them through the stormy seas of his mind. As Plankton's body remains frozen, the world around them seems to hold its breath. The rustling of the leaves above, the distant laughter of children, even the crash of waves in the background seem to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the universe itself is offering a quiet sanctuary for Plankton's return. Chip's eyes never leave his father's face, his grip on the love rock in Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart races with fear, but he squeezes the rock tighter, trying to channel the love and support he feels into his dad's unresponsive hand. Chip decides to whisper comforting words. "Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're safe here with me and Mom." Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and admiration for her son's courage. She watches as Chip decides to continue. "Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip whispers. "It's my way of saying I love you." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a glimmer of recognition in his eye. The world around them seems to hold its breath, the very air thick with anticipation. Chip's voice is the only sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony of the playground. The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches as Plankton's antennae slowly start to wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice barely audible. "I'll always be here." Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her eyes glistening with tears she's trying hard to hold back. The sight of her son's unwavering support is both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Plankton's chest rises and falls more steadily, his breathing evening out. The rock in Plankton's hand seems to pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen sees the tension in Plankton's features begin to ease, his antennae drooping slightly as he starts to come back to them. It's a delicate process, like waking a sleeping dragon. Any sudden movement could send him back into the storm. Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding Plankton through the fog. "It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's antennae twitch again, and Karen can see the spark of understanding in his eye. Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. The tension in his shoulders eases, and his antennae twitch in a way that tells Karen he's listening, that he's with them again. His breathing evens out, and his eyelid flickers closed. For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, Plankton's hand tightens slightly around the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s asleep," she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of humor and love. Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like that for a while, the three of them, in the quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The storm in Plankton's mind has passed, leaving them in a gentle lull. The playground's sounds slowly start to filter back in, the chatter of children, the distant hum of the city, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps whispering, his voice a gentle caress in the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're safe." Karen watches her son with a mix of love and sadness, knowing the weight he now carries. He's growing up too fast, she thinks, but he's handling it with more grace than anyone could ask for. Plankton's hand relaxes around the rock, his breathing deep and even. The storm inside him has passed for now, leaving them with a quiet, precious moment. Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?" Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," she says. "Rest is sometimes the best thing for him after an episode." Chip nods, his grip on the rock in Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He looks around the park, the world coming back into focus. The other kids are playing, their laughter a gentle reminder of the life that goes on outside their little bubble of concern. "Should we go home?" Chip asks, his voice still hushed. Karen nods. "Let's get him into the shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him good." Together, they gently lift Plankton and carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip is careful not to jostle him too much, his little hands supporting Plankton's head. Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on the ground and they place him down. His antennae are still now, no longer dancing with the stress of the seizure. His breath is deep and even, his features relaxed in sleep. Chip watches him intently, his thumb tracing the smooth surface of the love rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."

⚪ (-_-)

✮⋆˙🐋⋆˙✮

Blue emoji combos!! ✩°🌊⋆⸜ 🎧✮🫧 🌨️₊˚.🎧 ˚.🩵*🎐✩｡ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨❄️🪡୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 🌊♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ ₊˚ʚ 🧊 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ★🌀✮💤☆ 🎐⭐️🫧🌀 🌊✮ ⋆ 🦈｡ * ⋆｡ ⛲🪞🦢💙 ‧₊˚ ⛲️ ‧₊ ‧₊˚✧🌊⭒˚｡⋆🦈✧˚₊‧ ⋆｡🌊𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖° Search "kaykay<3" for more!!

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˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.✨❄️🔹

ೀ 💎 ‧ ˚ 💙 ⊹˚. ♡

⟣┄─ ˑ ഒ ˳ 𝆕 ׁ 🪈 ִ ◌ ׁ ܀ 🎺 ִ ੭ ֢ ⟣┄─ ˑ 〃 ۫ 🪻 ࣭ ✧ ׂ ִ 🫐 ֗﹢ ִ ꣼ ּ ⟣┄─ ˑ ◌ ִ 🪺 ፧ ּ 🕊️ ִ ݊ ʚ ɞ ׁ ֢ ㇴ ۫ ⟣┄─ ૮ ּ 🥡 ִ ५ ׁ ﹫ ˑ 🥢 ⊹ ۫ ࣭ 𖧁 ׄ ✧ ⟣┄─ ⌯ ۫ 𐀔 ׂ ֢ 🪼 ִ ꕀ ˑ 🐋 ׅ 𑁯 𝅄 ֗🌊🎧 follow me on ig: @stvr.shine._

⋆｡*˚ 🩵🐬🩵 ˚*｡⋆

🟥🟥🟥 🟦🟦🟦🟥 🟥🟦🟦🟥🟥 🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥 🟥🟥🟥🟥 🟥⬛⬛🟥

Red combos 🍓🛷🎸 ⊹ 🚘🧲🪭 🧧🖍️❤️ ⊹ 💮❣️⏰ 🥊🍄💋 ⊹ 🧨🍒🧣 ♥️📌☎️ ⊹ 🥁🌶️🗼 Orange combos 🧡🦁🍊 ⊹ 🎃📙🍑 🌅🥧🍕 ⊹ 🏵️🥭🧶 🥕🌆⛺️ ⊹ 🍜⛩️🔥 🍂🐈☄️ ⊹ 🍁🥻🛵 Yellow combos 🐥⭐️🍌 ⊹ 🍰💛📒 🌼🥞☀️ ⊹ 🍯🥖✏️ 🍋🧀✨ ⊹ 💭🧈⚡️ 🐝⛅️🧇 ⊹ 🐤📒🔑 Green combos 💚🍀🌴 ⊹ 🌿🦖🥦 🥒🍈🪀 ⊹ 🧃🍵🪴 👒🪴🧪 ⊹ 🫒🌲🐍 🍃🥑🐢 ⊹ 📗🎾🥗 Blue combos 💎💤🐇 ⊹ 🛝🫧🫐 🌨️🐋🩵 ⊹ 🌀🖌️🪿 🥣🤍💍 ⊹ 🍶💤✉️ ✈️⛸️🧊 ⊹ 🪼🫶🏻🪡 Pink combos 🌷🎀🦩 ⊹ 💗💷🏩 🎟️🪷🐷 ⊹ 👛⛸️🍧 🎧🌸🍡 ⊹ 🩷🍥🪽 💓🩰🏐 ⊹ 🥛🐽💭 Purple combos 🍆☂️💜 ⊹ 👾🌂🔮 🎆🧞🍠 ⊹ 🦄🙆‍♀️🪻 ☔️💟🎡 ⊹ 💇‍♀️😈🟣 🧘‍♀️🪁🚺 ⊹ 🎧🍬🍇 Black combos 🪨🐾📞 ⊹ 🐼☕️🥋 🎬🐧📓 ⊹ 🗝️♣️🕶️ 🐈‍⬛🎓🏴 ⊹ 🐦‍⬛♟️🕷️ ♠️🦓👓 ⊹ 🥽🖤⌚️ White combos 🐑🥥🐇 ⊹ ❔🦙🥡 🤍🦯🏳️ ⊹ 🥽🦷🐓 🦴❕🐩 ⊹ 🔎🖇️🗞️ ✉️🩹🔭 ⊹ 🎧⛸️🏐

/-\_/-\ ( - ▴ - )

- ★ 🧼💗 name ||✧˖°♡

(¬⤙¬ )

ಠ_ಠ"૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

૮(˶¬︿¬ )ა

⛲✧˖°〃🐋⋆⋆🫧⋆｡˚⋆

🌌🥏🌃🏙🌌🥏🌃🏙🌌🥏🌃🏙🌌🥏🌃🏙🔵🟦💎🔹🔷💙📘🌐🧿🌎🩵🧢☂️💧🥶🐋

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍃✧˚.💚⋆📗🌵

Red❤️🧣🎒🌹🍫🍒💋🍷🍓🩸🎀🫀📌🖍️💯🚩 Orange🏵️🧡🍂🏵️🎃🍹🐯🥕🍁🦊💥🦋🟧🟠🔥 Yellow🟡💛🌻🍯🐝✨🌟💫🐤🍌🍋🐥☀️⚠️🍮 Green🌱🌿 🍃🟩✅🥝🐢🧩🔋🥑🥦🪲💵🫒🐸 Blue🧿💙🔵🌀🩵🫂🌌🫐🫧🐬🌊🐾🧊🟦🌐💤 Purple🔮🟣💜🍇🪻👾🌆💟💷⚕️♾️ ☂️🟪😈⚛️ Pink🍧🌸💕🩷👛🌺💖💗🦄🦩🍥💮🌷🪷🧠🧼 Brown🤎🧸🍂🍪🪶🥞🟫🧺🍩🐻🥨🥐🦌🏿🩹 Black🖤🎱🕷️🕶🕳💣📸☯︎📓🐈‍⬛ㅤ🎥🕸️🎧🌑⚫ Grey🪨🩶🐨🐘🪦🦝🐺🦾✖️🔘🦈🗿⛰📎🐰🐀 White⚪☁️🤍🪽⬜🐇🏐🌫️⛸️✉️❕🕯️🐚🦢🗞️🦭 Rainbow🌈🏳️‍🌈🎨🧮💐🧁🍭👑 Outline★✮♡✰✿✺₊˚ʚᗢ₊˚✧ﾟ.☁🂾𝔁𝓸𝔁𝓸🂱꩜⚝𔓘ʚɞ

*ੈ⸝⸝🪐༘⋆. *txt+'🌼' .˚˖txt𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ 🪷txt ₊˚₊˚ 🌱 ₊˚✧txt ﾟ. ˚ ༘ txt ⋆｡🍵*.` : txt^🧺 Helluv4zz ───˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚───

𓇼 🌊 🐚

caught in 4 k 🤨📸

Blue‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.₊˚ʚ 💙 ₊˚✧ ﾟ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚🎧🫧🤍💙✨🌼🦋༘⋆🌷🫧💭 ⋆˙୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀🎐🫧🩰☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮‧₊˚✩彡꒦꒷🦋꒷꒦🌃¡! ❞⌗𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹⋆⑅˚₊⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🍙♡‹𝟹㊗🎧"☆༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.Ⓜ️🌊❄️🖼️🧳ཻུ۪۪♡.˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗❄🤍ㅤ ᵕ̈♡︎🍶

T_T

( `_ ` )

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xi (By NeuroFabulous) Karen watched, her hand tightly gripping his, her breath shallow, as the surgeon worked with a precision that could only come from years of practice. Plankton remained still under the anesthesia, his antennae completely at ease. Rachel, the hygienist, hovered nearby, her eyes always on Plankton, ready to assist if needed. The surgery felt like eternity, but it was over sooner than she had feared. Plankton's antennae remained still, his breathing deep and even. Dr. McSquinty finished the last stitch, his tentacles moving with a sureness that was almost hypnotic. "We're all done," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved quickly and deftly, his focus on the task at hand. Karen watched as the surgeon's tentacles gently placed the gauze into Plankton's mouth. The room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart rate monitor and the slight snores from Plankton's relaxed form. Rachel, the hygienist, checked the gauze's placement, her eyes meeting Karen's. She nodded, her expression serene. Karen takes a picture and sends it to Sandy. "He's doing well," Rachel whispered, her eyes on the monitor. "His vitals are all normal." Karen nods, her throat tight. "Thank you," she murmurs. Plankton's antennae lay still, his chest rising and falling evenly. The anesthesia had worked its magic, his mind now free from the storm of sensory input that had once threatened to consume him. Karen watched as Dr. McSquinty removes the Iv, but Plankton was oblivious, his sleep deep and peaceful. The anesthesia had done its job, and Rachel, the hygienist, remained there to wake him. "Plankton, Plankton," Rachel's voice was a lullaby, her hand light on his shoulder. His antennae twitched slightly, his eye flickering open. "You're all done, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton blinked, his gaze unfocused. The room was dim, his mouth feeling peculiar. "Whath's happen'd?" he mumbled, his voice slurred. Karen's screen swam into view, her smile a beacon in the fog of confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth out," she said gently, her hand still in his. "You're okay, Plankton." Her voice was a balm to his fuzzy mind. His antennae twitched slightly, trying to process the information. Plankton's gaze flickered around the room, the shapes and sounds familiar yet foreign. He felt groggy, his body weighted down by the anesthesia. Rachel smiles. "You'll be tired and a little numb for today Mr. Plankton, but you can nap once Karen takes you home!" Karen's eyes searched his, their depths filled with love and concern. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice low and gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze unfocused. "Tiwed," he murmured, his voice slurred by the aftereffects of the anesthesia. "But... it's done?" Karen nodded, her smile gentle. "Yes, it's done," she said, her voice a soothing lilt. "You're so brave." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he tried to sit up, his body protesting the sudden movement. Karen's hand was a steady anchor, helping to ground him in reality. The world spun for a moment, but soon the fog began to clear. "Easy," she murmured, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Take your time, Plankton." Her eyes searched his, looking for signs of distress. His antennae drooped slightly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling above. The lights were dimmer now, the sounds of the office muffled. With Rachel's help, they managed to get Plankton to his feet, his legs wobbly. Karen wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him as they made their way out. "We'll take it slow," she murmured, her voice gentle. His antennas twitched in sleepy agreement, his eye half-lidded. The world felt thick and slow, each step an effort. The pain in his mouth was distant, muffled by the fog of anesthesia. Plankton leaned into Karen, his antennae drooping with grogginess. The gentle pressure of her arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him upright. They moved through the office, his sluggish steps echoing in the silence. Rachel held the door open for them, her smile warm. "Take care of him, he'll be sleepy," she said, her voice soft. Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. The cool air outside was a sharp contrast to the sterile environment of the dental office. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he took in the world around him, his senses still dulled by the lingering anesthesia. Karen's arm remained steadfast around his waist, guiding him through the parking lot. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot was oddly soothing, his mind still fuzzy from the remaining effects of the surgery. The car was a familiar sanctuary, and Plankton collapsed into the passenger seat with a sigh, his antennae drooping. Karen buckled him in with gentle care, her eyes searching his for any signs of pain or discomfort. "Alright, love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "We're going to get you home, and you can sleep it off." Her hand rested on his shoulder, her eyes on his sleepy gaze. But Plankton's eye kept drooping, his antennae quivering with the effort to stay conscious. "Karen," he slurred, his voice barely audible. "I'm... I'm tiwed." "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "You just had surgery. You need to rest. Now let's get home!" But Plankton's body had other ideas. His eyelid fluttered closed, his antennae barely twitching. Karen chuckled softly, her heart swelling with affection. "You can sleep in the car," she assured him. "But try to stay awake for a little while longer." Plankton's antennae shot up with a valiant effort to comply, his eye opening wide for a moment. But the warmth of the car and the gentle hum of the engine were too much for him to resist. Within seconds, his head was lolling to the side, his antennae drooping in defeat. "Plankton," Karen whispered, her voice a gentle prod. His antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. "Stay with me, okay?" Her smile was tired but filled with love. He nodded, his antennae drooping again. "M'trying," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Karen chuckled softly, starting the car. The engine's hum was lulling, the vibrations soothing to his overwhelmed senses. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's antennae twitched, trying to keep alert. But the warmth of the car and the gentle sway of the seat were too much. His eye closed again, his head lolling back against the headrest. Karen's voice was a steady companion, her words a gentle reminder of reality. "Stay with me, Plankton," she said, her tone filled with love. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye sliding open with difficulty. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. The car's gentle rocking lulled him back into slumber, his antennae drooping against the headrest. Karen's voice was a soft melody, her words a gentle nudge to stay conscious. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered. "We're going home, and you can sleep there." With each word, his antennae wobbled in protest, his eye fighting to stay open. "Mm," he mumbled, his voice a sleepy whisper. "Home." He was so tired, his body begging for rest. Karen's voice was a gentle reminder of the world outside his sleep-filled haze. "We're almost there, Plankton," she soothed, her eyes never leaving the road. "Just stay with me a little longer." But the siren call of sleep was too strong. His antennae twitched one last time before going still, his breathing evening out as he gave in to the warm embrace of unconsciousness. Karen watched him with a mix of concern and affection, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the fear from before. "Looks like you've had enough," she whispered to herself, a hint of a smile playing on her screen. She drove with care, his head leaning against the window, the soft snores echoing in the quiet car. The scenery outside the window was a blur, the world moving too fast for his sleep-laden brain to process. Each bump in the road jolted him slightly, his antennae twitching in protest. "Wake up, Plankton," Karen said, keeping her voice low and calm. He stirred, his antennae perking up slightly. "We're almost there." But the lure of sleep was powerful, pulling him back into its embrace. His antennae drooped, his breaths growing even deeper. "Mmph," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the gauze still in his mouth. "Just a few more minutes, Plankton," Karen coaxed, her voice soft. The car's gentle motion was hypnotic, each turn and bump in the road a siren's song to his weary mind. "You can sleep when we get home." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. He nodded slightly, his head lolling to the side. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice barely audible. The anesthesia still had a firm grip on his consciousness, his body craving the oblivion of sleep. Karen's hand remained steady on his shoulder, her voice a gentle coaxing. "Look, Plankton," she said, her tone soft. "We're almost home. Stay with me." The world outside was a blur of colors and shapes, each passing tree and building just another obstacle in his battle against the dragging weight of sleep. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, his eye trying to focus. "Mmhmm," he mumbled, his voice thick with grogginess. Karen's gentle voice was his tether to reality, her soothing words a lullaby guiding him through the hazy fog of anesthesia. "You're doing so well, Plankton," she murmured, her grip on his shoulder firm yet comforting. "Almost there, buddy." Plankton's antennae twitched in response, his eye opening briefly to meet hers. He nodded, the effort to stay awake etched on his face. The world outside the car was a blur of greens and blues, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. His body felt heavy, each breath a struggle against the weight of his eyelid. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a whisper in the quiet car. "We're home."

uℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾❦˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ᰔᩚβִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐R☆ckstar୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. 🎀˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ᰔওᰔᩚ>ᴗ<₊˚.🎧 ✩｡☕ 🤎౨ৎ˖ ࣪⊹˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚୨୧˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)ఌ︎.C⋆

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ° ͜ʖ͡°)╭∩╮

{o_o}

"𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬😢😢😢" 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊-𝐌𝐄 (im just saying the truth)

( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

DID SOMEBODY SAY PIE???😜😜😜😜 ITS A WONDERFUL DAY FOR PIE🤑🤑🤑 YOU CAN ASK FOR THE BIRD IN THE SKYS🥪🥪🥪🥪

if yall dont stfu im gonna grab someone ankles so hard we get another hurricane milton ( -_•)︻デ═一

🙄😒(¬_¬")(¬_¬)(¬_¬")( •̀ - •́ )🤨🙄(¬_¬)

>~<

🎗️

🤮👀😒

( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

😏cockiness, 🥴giddy, 🤬✨😖😩,😒irritate

😪

(●、●)

._.

(─ ‿ ─)

「( ・∇・)「

( ➖ｰ➖)っ

( ➖ｰ➖)

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CHIP AND FAIL xi (Autistic author) Karen made chum for dinner and they all sat at the table. "Thanks," Plankton says to Karen as she hands him his plate. She sits down with her own plate after serving Chip his. "Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. Plankton's antennae twitched, but his eye remained fixed on his plate. The silence was a wall between them, thick as seaweed and just as impenetrable. Chip's heart felt like it was sinking into his stomach, the weight of his father's silence heavier than any words could have been. Karen's screen darted between them, a silent plea for peace. She knew this was Plankton's way of dealing with his overwhelm, but it was torture for Chip, who craved understanding and connection. "So, how's your friends?" Karen asks Chip. Chip shrugs, his screen darting to Plankton, who remains silent, his antennae still. "They're okay," he says, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. Karen sighs internally, the tension at the dinner table a heavy fog that seemed to smother their usual banter. "Karen, can you pass the napkins?" Plankton says. "Sure," she says as she puts them in the middle. "Dad, how do you feel about the food?" Plankton's antennae twitched but his gaze remained on his plate, his mouth a tight line. The silence was a thick stew that no one knew how to digest. Chip's eyes were filled with hope, searching for any sign of his father's usual playfulness, but all he found was a wall of quiet. Chip's voice was a feeble ripple in the vast ocean of their silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?" he offered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained silent, his eye never leaving his plate. The air was thick with tension, like seawater saturated with the weight of their unspoken words. Chip churned with anxiety, each bite of chum a reminder of the gap that had suddenly widened between him and his father. "Please, Dad," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the clink of their forks. Plankton's antennas remained still, his eye focused on the food before him. Karen's heart was a tight knot in her chest, her eyes darting between her husband and son. The silence was a living creature, a Kraken of tension coiled around them, squeezing the joy from the room. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us about your week," she said, her voice too bright, too forced. Chip took a tentative bite of his chum, his eyes on Plankton's unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a good time at the carnival," he began, his voice a sad echo of his usual excitement. "I won at the ring toss." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip felt like a deflated balloon, each of his words a futile attempt to pierce the silence. "And I met a new friend," Chip continued, his voice a feeble thread trying to weave through the stillness. "She's a dolphin. She was really cute." Plankton's antennae twitched again, just a little, but it was enough to keep Chip's hope afloat. Chip's voice grew stronger, his words a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of silence. "Her name's Daisy," he said, a tiny smile tugging. "We played in the bubbles." But Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye on his plate. It was as if Chip's words were bouncing off an invisible shield, unable to penetrate the fortress of his father's mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen filling with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to share his joy with Plankton, but the wall of silence was too high, too thick. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching around his fork. "Dad, I know you're mad at me," he said, his voice trembling. "But I just want to understand." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment, weighing down on Chip like an oversized sponge soaked in regret. He knew he had to try again, to bridge the gap. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky but determined. "I know I messed up today, but I want to make it right." He took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "Can you tell me more about your...about what happened to you?" His voice was a tiny bubble of hope rising in the deep sea of their dinner. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering up to meet Chip's for a brief moment before dropping back to his plate. The silence stretched on like a tight rubber band, threatening to snap. Karen's screen a tempest of concern, torn between her love for her husband and her desire to help her son. She knew Plankton needed his space, but seeing the pain in Chip's screen was like watching a piece of coral being slowly eroded by the sea. Chip's words hung in the air, like a message in a bottle lost at sea. Plankton's silence was a reef that Chip's words couldn't navigate around. He took a deep breath, his heart a conch shell echoing with hope. "Dad, I know it's hard for you," he tried again, his voice a gentle wave. "But if you don't tell me, how can I understand?" The room was a pressure cooker of unspoken emotion, the tension rising with each passing second. Karen's screen pleaded with Plankton, willing him to respond. But he remained still, his antennae unmoving, his eye a storm cloud over their meal. Chip's heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, his words falling on deaf antennae. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice desperate. "I just want to help." But Plankton's antennae remained motionless, his eye averted. The silence was a deep-sea trench between them, vast and unbridgeable. Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope leaking away like water through a sieve. He took another bite of his chum, the taste of it suddenly bitter on his tongue. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a tiny hammer on the anvil of his heart. Chip forced a swallow, his throat tight with emotion. "Dad," he said again, his voice a tiny ripple in the vast ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room held its breath, waiting for a response, but none came. The silence was a thick kelp that choked, suffocating any attempt at conversation.

GREAT CHIP xi (Autistic author) After a moment, she turned and walked towards the workshop door, her steps slow and deliberate. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check on your father," she said, her voice a whisper. "You... you clean up here." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his mother's. He knew she was hurting too, but she was putting on a brave face for him. As she disappeared into the workshop, his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never seen his parents like this before. The kitchen was a mess of shattered dishes and splattered jelly, a stark contrast to the usually pristine space. He took a deep breath and began to collect the broken pieces, his mind racing with thoughts of his father's pain. Karen's footsteps were quiet as she approached the workshop, the door slightly ajar. She could hear Plankton's muffled sobs from inside, his tiny body hunched over his workbench. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she might find. The room was a whirlwind of half-finished inventions, wires and gadgets scattered about. Her heart broke at the sight of her husband, the usually stoic and resourceful Plankton, reduced to a tiny, shaking figure, his antennae drooped like the wilted leaves of a forgotten houseplant. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft whisper, cutting through the quiet. He didn't look up, his sobs the only sound in the cluttered room. Slowly, she approached, her eyes taking in the chaos around them. "Honey," she began, her voice trembling. "I know you're upset, but..." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Karen reached out, her hand hovering over his shoulder, uncertain whether to touch him. Finally, she decided that in this moment, space was what he needed most. She stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence a gentle reminder that she was there for him. "Plankton," she said softly, her voice a balm in the storm of his rage. "Can I get you anything?" Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his tiny frame heaving with the weight of his emotions. "No," he said, his voice muffled. Karen took a step closer, her hand still hovering. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her tone gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his head nodding slightly. It was the barest of movements, but it spoke volumes to Karen. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to press too hard. He stiffened at first, but then, ever so slightly, leaned into her. Her embrace was gentle, her touch like a soft breeze, offering comfort without smothering his pain. "I always love you." The words hung in the air, their quiet strength a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton felt his body begin to relax, his sobs easing as Karen's warmth seeped in. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I don't know..." Karen's grip tightened, her hand sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby. Plankton's antennae twitched nervously against her, but he didn't pull away. He knew she was there for him, even when his own mind was a tempest of confusion. "You don't have to apologize," Karen whispered. Her words were a balm to Plankton's raw nerves, and he leaned into her embrace. She knew he was sensitive post-episode, his emotions like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Her heart ached for him, for the fear and frustration he felt in those moments. Karen's eyes scanned the room, noticing the chaos of Plankton's workshop, his mind's refuge. Usually, the disarray was organized, each gear and wire in its place. Now, it was as though a tornado had swept through, leaving a trail of half-finished inventions in its wake. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body still tense under her touch. "I just... I don't want you to look at me and see something broken and unlovable.." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "You are you, and that is all I've ever loved." The words hung in the air, a gentle rebuttal to the harshness of the earlier scene. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his breathing evening out. Chip hovered at the entrance, his heart a tumultuous sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt his father, and he didn't know how to fix it. He took a tentative step into the workshop, his eyes scanning the room. The mess was a stark reminder of the turmoil Plankton was feeling, and it only served to amplify Chip's own guilt. He watched his mother's careful movements, her gentle touch, and he desperately wanted to do the same.

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢁⠈⢻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⡀⠭⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⡆⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣇⣼⣿⣿⠿⠶⠙⣿⡟⠡⣴⣿⣽⣿⣧⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣟⣭⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⣴⣶⣿⣿⢄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣩⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⡋⠘⠷⣦⣀⣠⡶⠁⠈⠁⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠃⣴⣶⡔⠒⠄⣠⢀⠄⠄⠄⡨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡘⠿⣷⣿⠿⠟⠃⠄⠄⣠⡇⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⢁⣷⣠⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⣠⣾⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠻ ⠟⠋⠁⠄⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⡯⢓⣴⣾⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⡟⣷⠄⠹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄

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💚₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.🍃 🕊 ☘ ☁️ 🍈 💚 ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚🍀

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( O̅ᯎO̅)

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

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

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😾💢😡

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