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

1️8️

new natural number eighteen

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iv
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
But Plankton's 
frustration had 
reached a boiling 
point. His voice 
was a thunderclap 
in the small room, 
his eye flashing 
with a rage he 
couldn't contain. 
"You don't know!"
he roared, his 
body shaking.

Hanna took another 
step back, her 
heart racing. "I'm 
sorry, Plankton, I 
truly didn't mean to 
upset you," she said, 
her voice shaking.

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to the door, 
his mind racing 
to the safety of 
his solitude. "You 
don't know," he 
murmured, his anger 
subsiding slightly. 
The sudden silence 
was like a balm 
to his raw nerves.
But Hanna's curiosity
angered him further.
"Plankton, what..."

"I DON'T KNOW!" Plankton's 
voice pierced the 
silence, his frustration 
at an all-time high.
Hanna's eyes grew 
wider.

"I'll leave you 
alone," she said 
quickly, her voice 
quiet and soothing. 
But as she turned 
to go, she 
accidentally brushed 
against his arm.

Plankton's reaction 
was instant and 
explosive. He 
jerked away, his 
body tensing, his 
eye flashing with 
anger. "Don't touch me!" 
he snapped, his voice 
sharp and jagged.

Hanna's eyes wide with 
shock. "Plankton
tell me what's..."

But Plankton had 
reached his limit. 
The touch, the 
questions, the 
expectation of 
normalcy—it was 
all too much. He 
felt personally
attacked, now on
a roll.

"You don't know 
what's what?" he 
spat out, his 
voice a whip crack. 
"You come in here, 
invading my space, 
without a care in 
the world for 
what I'm going 
through!"

Hanna took 
another step 
back, retracting 
quickly. "I'm sorry, 
I didn't know," she 
whispered, her eyes 
filling with 
sorrow. "Karen never 
mentioned..."
But Plankton's 
frustration had 
become anger, 
his next words cutting 
like a knife.

"You don't know 
anything," he 
snarled, his 
voice laced with 
bitterness. "You come 
in here, asking your 
stupid questions, 
expecting me to be 
the same person I 
was before!" 
"Before what, Plankton?"
Yet Plankton's not wanting
to answer Hanna so he
yells his next words at 
the top of his lungs.
"Before I...I...
YOU KNOW
WHAT? IT'S
NONE OF YOUR
BUSINESS!" Plankton's
voice cracked with
the effort of
his outburst, but he's
just getting started,
now he's on a roll, his
next words being worse.
"I don't want you 
here. I don't need 
you here," Plankton 
spat out, his 
frustration a 
palpable force 
in the room.

Hanna took 
another step 
back, her 
eyes brimming 
with unshed tears. 
"I'm sorry," she 
whispered, her voice 
barely audible. "I 
was just trying 
to..."

But Plankton's 
anger had taken 
over. "You're not 
helping!" he 
shouted, his voice 
raw with emotion. 
"You don't get to 
decide what I need!" 
He was on his 
feet now, his 
body rigid with 
frustration. "I don't 
want you to know!"
"Know what, Plankton?
You don't get 
to decide what I 
can and can't know," 
she said, her voice 
firm. But Karen's
now returned with
the smoothie, both
Hanna and Plankton
too wrapped up to
notice her presence.
"You think you can 
just waltz in here 
and fix everything?" 
his voice was a 
growl now. "You think 
you know what it's 
like to be trapped 
in here?" He tapped 
his head with 
his finger, his 
eye wild. "You don't 
know anything!"
Now Hanna's getting
real angry.
"You think you're 
the only one 
suffering?" Hanna 
countered, her 
voice rising. "What 
about Karen? What 
about the people 
who actually care 
about you?"
Plankton's 
gaze snapped to 
hers, his anger 
fueled by her words. 
"You don't know 
what it's like!" he 
shouted, his voice 
echoing through 
the empty space 
of the Chum 
Bucket. "You don't 
know what it's like 
to have the world 
make no sense! 
To be trapped 
in your own head!"
Hanna's 
expression softened 
slightly. "I'm 
sorry," she said 
gently. "I really am. 
But you can't just 
push everyone away."
"Why not?" Plankton 
demanded, his 
voice a whip crack. 
"Why do I have to 
explain?"
But Hanna's 
concern for 
Karen overrode 
her own fear. 
"Karen's my friend 
and she deserves
better than you
and your little 
tantrums," Hanna 
snapped back.
"Tantrums? TANTRUMS?" 
Plankton's voice 
was a roar now. 
"This isn't a tantrum, 
it's reality!"
Hanna's in a 
defensive posture, 
her eyes flashing with 
anger. "You think 
I don't know what 
real pain is?" she 
shouted back. "You're 
so caught up in your 
own world that you 
can't see what you're 
doing to her, just 
because you're too 
stubborn and acting 
like a child who can't 
deal with the real
world! YOU'RE NOTHING
BUT A BURDENSOME
WASTE OF SPACE! So,
if you can't get your
act together, maybe 
you should just go to
an institution where 
people can handle 
your..." "That's 
enough!" Karen 
snapped. Her voice 
was a whip crack 
across the tension 
filled room, startling both 
Plankton and Hanna. She
couldn't stand
silent any longer. Yet
Plankton's face 
crumpled at
Hanna's threat,
his anger giving 
way to despair. 
Tears began to 
stream down his 
face, his 
body shaking with 
sobs he couldn't 
control.
The sudden shift 
from rage to sorrow 
was like a punch 
to Hanna. 



**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought 
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site 
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*

new neurobehavioral plankton bullycore iv

JUST A TOUCH viii
(Autistic author)


After dinner, they
retreat to the living room.
Plankton's eye is glued
to the puzzle book on the
coffee table, his antennae
twitching with unspoken
longing. Karen picks it up,
opening to a new page.

"Would you like to work
on this one together?"
she asks, her voice gentle.
He nods, his eye lighting
up with the familiar challenge.

Together, they tackle the
puzzle, Karen's voice a gentle
narration as Plankton's antennae
move in time with her words.

The patterns on the page
hypnotize him, drawing him in.
Plankton's antennae stop
twitching, his focus solely
on the words before him.

And then the doorbell rings,
breaking the spell. Karen's
heart skips a beat, her hand
tightening around the puzzle
book. Plankton's head snaps up,
his eye wide with alarm. "Who
is it?" he asks, his voice
sharp.

Karen's eyes dart to the clock.
"It's probably SpongeBob,"
she murmurs. Plankton's antennae
perk up at the mention of his
friend's name. "Party," he says,
his voice hopeful. Karen nods,
swiping at the tear that's
managed to escape. "Yes, Plankton.
SpongeBob's probably here
to invite us to a party at the
Krusty Krab. Do you
think you're up for it?" she asks,
her voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae droop
slightly. "Maybe," he says,
his voice unsure. The thought
of the bright lights and loud
noises at the party sends a
shiver of anxiety through
his tiny body. But the
prospect of seeing Sponge
Bob is tempting.

Karen sighs, understanding
his hesitation. She walks
to the door, her movements
slow and deliberate. Sponge
Bob's cheerful greeting floods
the hallway. "Hey,
Karen! Plankton! You guys
coming to the party?"

"Hey, Sponge Bob," she says,
her smile forced. "What's the
occasion?"

Sponge Bob's face lights up
like a Christmas tree, his
spongy body bobbing with
excitement. "Mr. Krabs is
throwing a bash at the
Krusty Krab!" he says, his
hands gesturing wildly. "You
guys are coming, right?"

Plankton's antennae quiver
at the mention of the party.
The thought of the loud
noises and the jostling
crowd makes his stomach
churn, but the prospect of
seeing his friend shines like
a beacon through the fog
of his fear.

Karen watches him,
reading his emotions like
a book. "It's okay," she says,
her voice a gentle reminder.
"We can go for a little bit."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still. "Okay," he says, his voice
barely a whisper. Karen can
see the internal struggle
playing out across his features.
"Just stay as long as you're
comfortable," she adds. "I'll
just stay, you go with him."

Sponge Bob's eyes light up.
"Great!" he says, bending
down to hold his hand. He
holds his finger as they go.

Plankton's grip is tight,
his antennae flat against
his head. The noise of the
Krusty Krab is a cacophony
of sounds, each one
stabbing at his heightened
senses. But the warmth of
Sponge Bob's hand, the
familiarity of their friendship,
anchors him.

Mr. Krabs sees Plankton
clinging to Sponge Bob's 
side.

"What's going on, laddie?"
he asks, his voice gruff but
concerned at the sight of
their hands.

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his gaze darting
to the floor. Mr. Krabs' 
eyes narrow.

"Why did ye invite
Plankton?" he asks
with suspicion.

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "Well,
he's always welcome..."

Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow.
"But he's our enemy.."

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "He's my friend,"
he says firmly. "And I'm watching
to make sure he won't steal any
thing, boss.."

Mr. Krabs' eyes soften,
his suspicion giving way to
reluctant acceptance. "Alright,
but keep an eye on him," he says,
his voice gruff.

Sponge Bob nods, his grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his heart racing at the sudden
influx of stimulation. The
colorful lights, the smells of
frying food, the laughter of
the patrons—it's all so
much. But Sponge Bob's hand is
warm, a lifeline in the chaos.

They move through the
crowd, Plankton's steps small and
careful. His eye darts around,
trying to take it all in without
getting overwhelmed. Sponge
Bob's voice cuts through the
noise like a knife. "You okay,
buddy?" he asks, his smile
concerned. Plankton nods, his
voice a strained whisper. "Good,"
Sponge Bob says, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's.

As they reach the party
area, Plankton's antennae start to
wave erratically. The lights
are too bright, the sounds too
loud. He clutches Sponge
Bob's hand tighter. 
Plankton takes a deep breath,
his chest expanding with the
effort. It's like trying to
swim through jello, his senses
on high alert.

Sponge Bob feels the
change in his friend's grip,
his own heart racing with
concern. "You okay, Plankton?"
he asks again, his voice
barely audible over the din.
Plankton nods, his eye
focused on the floor. The
pattern of the tiles is
soothing, grounding him amidst
the chaos.

A flash of pink darts
through the crowd, and Plankton's
antennas twitch. "Patrick!"
Sponge Bob says, letting go
of Plankton's hand.

Plankton looks around and
sees Squidward doing the
dishes, but in a disorganized
manner that Plankton needs
to correct.

The sight of the
scattered plates, the water spots
on the glasses, sends a jolt of
anxiety through him. His
compulsion to straighten, to
organize, to make it right, is
almost unbearable. So he goes
to Squidward by the sink to interfere.

Squidward glances up, his
tentacles frozen mid-wash. "What
are you doing here?" he snaps.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his gaze fixated on the mess.
"Help," he says, his voice tight.

Squidward rolls his eyes, grabbing
another plate to wash as he ignores
Plankton.

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye darting between the chaos
and Squidward's dismissal. He's
doing the dishes wrong and needs
him to help!

"Squidward, let Plankton assist,"
he says, his voice formal.
Squidward sighs, shaking his
head.

"Look, I don't have time for
this," he says, his tentacles
moving rapidly. Plankton's
body tenses, his need for
meticulousness consuming him.

As Plankton approaches Squidward,
his movements are precise, almost
mechanical. His antennae twitch
in time with his racing thoughts,
his need for order a silent
scream in the noisy room. He
holds out his hand, palm up.
"Wash," he says, his voice firm.
Squidward pauses, eyeing him
warily. "What?"

Plankton's gaze is unwavering,
his voice steady. "Smudges.
Wash dishes. Correct way."

Squidward's grip on the plate
slackens, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean?"

Plankton's antennae wave
frantically. "Correct way,"
he repeats, his voice a
desperate whisper. "No smudges.
Wrong order."

Squidward's tentacles still,
his gaze sharpening. "What's
gotten into you?" he asks, his voice
filled with skepticism.

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"No smudges," he says again,
his voice a mix of urgency and
desperation. Squidward sets
the plate down with a clatter.
"What are you on about, Plankton?"

But Plankton's focus is solely
on the task at hand. He reaches
for the dish soap, his movements
precise.

Squidward watches him, his
expression a mix of annoyance
and curiosity. "What's going on?"
he asks, his voice gruff. Plankton's
antennas twitch, his eye darting
to Squidward. "Just helping,"
he says, his voice flat as he puts
the now clean dish away. But he
sees imperfections on some of the
clean dishes, handing them over
for Squidward to wash as he straightens
up the other plates.

Squidward's eyebrows furrow,
his gaze flicking between Plankton
and the dishes. "What are you
doing?" he asks again. Plankton's
grip on the towel tightens, his
body vibrating with the need for
perfection. "It's not right,"
he says, his voice strained. "Has to be
right."

"Those I've cleaned!" Squidward
says as Plankton puts them in
the sink for him to wash over
again. "Squidward look. No..."

But before Plankton can
finish, Squidward snatches the plate
from his tentacles. "Look, I don't
have time for your... whatever
this is," he says, his voice gruff. He
takes it and haphazardly shoves
it with smaller plates. Plankton
can't take the misalignment!

Plankton's antennae stand on
end, his eye wide with horror.
"No!" he says, his voice rising.
"Wrong order!" His hands
shake as he tries to grab the
plate, his mind racing with
the need to correct the mistake.

Squidward pulls away, his
expression a mix of confusion
and irritation. "Plankton, what's
wrong with you?" he snaps.

"Plankton's centrum semiovale has
restricted inhibitory synaptic
transmission!" Plankton's
voice is a mix of panic and
frustration, his antennae waving
wildly. Squidward's eyes narrow,
his grip on the plate tightening.
"What are you talking about? I
am not going to wash this again,"
he says, his tone firm.

Squidward's words hit a nerve,
triggering a cascade of emotions
in Plankton. "It's not
about Squidward!" he says, his voice
sharp. "It's about the order! Cleanliness..."

"PLANKTON I SAID NO!" Squidward
yells, startling him as he turns back
to the sink.

new just a touch neurodisability viii

NEW REALITY viii
(Autistic author)

"I don't
understand," she says, her voice
filled with distress.

Plankton's hand clenches, his
body vibrating with tension.
"Numbers," he repeats, his voice
edging on a scream. "They
make quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen, her smile
fading to a look of horror.
"But Plankton," she says, her voice
shaking, "it's just a clock."

But her words are like fuel
on the fire of his distress.
He steps closer to the clock,
his hand outstretched as if
to will it to silence. "Numbers,"
he whispers, his voice a
plea. "They make quiet."

Hanna's eyes fill with
sympathy, but her words only
worsen his agitation. "Plankton,
it's just a clock," she says,
reaching out to touch him.

Karen's heart hammers in
her chest as she sees his
body tense even further.
"Hanna, don't," she warns, her
voice tight. "Please don't touch
him right now."

But Hanna doesn't hear her,
her own voice rising with
frustration. "It's just a clock,
Plankton," she repeats, her hand
covering his shoulder. "Nothing's
going to hurt you.."

The touch sends him spiraling,
his body convulsing with
overstimulation. "No touch!"
he screams, his hand slapping
at her arm, his face a mask of
fear and anger.

But Plankton's outburst has
ignited something in Hanna,
a spark of anger.

"Why can't you just be normal?"
she snaps, her voice echoing
through the tense room.

Karen's heart breaks as
Plankton's eye goes wide, his
body jerking away from her.
"Hanna, please," she says,
her voice tight with pain.

But Hanna's words keep coming,
a barrage of misunderstanding.
"You can't just ignore us,"
she says, her voice rising. "You have
to interact with the world."

Plankton's body recoils, his
skin seemingly vibrating with each
of her words. "Interact," he echoes,
his voice strained.

Karen's heart is in her throat.
"Hanna, please," she says, her
voice tight with pain. "You're
not helping."

But Hanna's eyes are
glassy with frustration. "How
can I help if he won't even
look at me?" she asks,
ignoring the desperation in
Plankton's gaze as she holds
his arms tightly.

Karen's eyes plead with her,
but Hanna's grip doesn't loosen.
"Let go," Plankton whimpers,
his voice tight with tension.

Hanna's smile is forced,
her grip unyielding. "Look at me,
Plankton," she says, her voice
laced with irritation. "You can't
just..."

But her words cut him like
knives. "Look
away," he murmurs, his voice
strained, his body begging for
the pressure to ease.

Hanna's smile falters, her
grip tightening. "Why can't
you just look at me?" she asks,
her voice edged with annoyance.

Plankton's breath hitches,
his antennae drooping. "Can't," he
whispers, his gaze flickering
between her and Karen.

Hanna's eyes narrow, her
grip on his arms tightening.
"You can," she insists, her
voice firm. "Just..."

But Plankton's whimpers
grow louder, his body
shaking with the effort
to pull away.

Hanna's smile fades, her
grip tightening in frustration.
"Why can't you just be like
everyone else?" she asks, her
tone no longer gentle.

Plankton's whimpers become
sobs, his body shaking with
the effort to break free.
Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she watches
the scene unfold, her heart
breaking for him.

Hanna's grip remains firm,
her expression a mix of
confusion and annoyance.
"Why are you doing this?"
she demands, her voice
sharp. "You're just being
difficult."

Plankton's sobs grow more
desperate, his body
twisting in her grasp.
"Let go," he whispers, his voice
a strained plea.

Hanna's eyes flash with
irritation. "Why ca--"

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Hanna,
please," she says, stepping
between them. "You're
upsetting him."

But Hanna's confusion turns
to anger. "How can I not
be upset?" she retorts, her
grip on Plankton's arms
tightening. "He won't even..."

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Please,
Hanna," she says, her eyes
pleading. "You don't
understand."

Suddenly, Plankton's legs
buckle, his body going slack
as Hanna finally releases
his arms. He crumples to
the floor. He's retreating, Karen
realizes, her heart racing.
He's retreating into himself.

Karen's eyes fill with
fear as she watches him, his
sobs subsiding into quiet
whimpers. "Plankton," she
whispers, her voice a prayer.

Hanna's face falls, her anger
replaced with shock. "What's
wrong with him?" she asks,
her voice trembling.

Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she crouches
beside him. "It's a condition,"
she says, her voice tight with
frustration. "He needs time
and space to process everything."

Hanna's face crumples, her
hands going to her mouth.
"I didn't know," she whispers,
her eyes wide with regret.
"I'm sorry."

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's huddled
form. "It's not your fault,"
she says, her voice thick with
emotion. "But we all have
to learn."

Hanna nods, her eyes
brimming with tears.

Karen wraps her arms
around Plankton, her
touch gentle. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "I'm here."
He trembles against her,
sobbing.

Hanna stands there,
apology etched in every
line of her face. "What can
I do?" she whispers.

Karen looks up, her eyes
wet. "Just give us a moment,"
she says, her voice a gentle
command.

Hanna nods, backing away
slowly, her eyes on Plankton.
"Okay," she murmurs, the weight
of her words heavy in the
silent room.

Karen holds Plankton tightly,
his body a trembling mass
of emotion. "It's okay,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing balm. "You're safe."

He nests his head into
her shoulder, his whimpers
softening to quiet sobs.
The room feels thick with
their shared pain, the air
charged with the tension
of misunderstanding.

Hanna's eyes dart around,
looking for anything that might
soothe him.

Karen's gaze meets hers,
a silent plea for understanding.

"It's called autism," Karen says softly,
her voice a gentle explanation.

Hanna's eyes widen, her face
a canvas of realization. "Oh," she
whispers, the word a soft
exhalation of breath.

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's tear-stained
face. "It's a spectrum,"
she says, her voice calm and
steady. "And he's on a part
of it that's very sensitive to
stimulation."

Hanna nods slowly, her
understanding growing. "I'm
sorry," she says, her voice
full of regret. "I didn't know."

Karen's grip tightens around
Plankton's shoulders. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "We're all still
learning."

Hanna nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's trembling
form. "I'll go," she says, her voice
small. "I didn't mean..."

Karen nods, her gaze
steady. "Thank you," she whispers.
"We can talk soon."

Hanna nods, her eyes filled
with sadness. "Of course," she says,
turning to leave.

The door clicks shut behind her,
leaving Karen and Plankton in the
heavy silence. Karen's arms
remain around him, her body
a protective cocoon against
the harshness of the world.

Plankton's sobs slowly
ease into quiet sniffs, his body
still trembling in her embrace.
Her heart aches for the pain
he's feeling, the fear that
Hanna's misunderstanding
has brought to the surface.

"I'm sorry," she whispers
to him, her voice
shaking.

Plankton's trembles begin
to subside, his breathing
evening out. He pulls back,
his eye searching hers. "No,"
he murmurs, his voice hoarse
from crying. "Not at fault."

Karen's eyes fill with
relief, her grip on him
loosening slightly. "It's
okay," she says, her voice
a gentle caress. "We just need
to find ways to help you."

Plankton nods, his eye
fluttering shut.

Karen's mind races with
thoughts of what more she
can do, what she can say
to make him feel safe.

"We'll get through this,"
she says, her voice a promise.
"Together."

Plankton's eye opens,
his gaze meeting hers.
"Together," he echoes, his
voice a whisper.

Karen's heart swells with
love for him, her eyes
shimmering with determination.
"We'll find what works,"
she says, her voice firm.

Plankton nods, his gaze
dropping to the floor.
"Thanks," he murmurs, his
voice barely audible. "Tired.."

Karen's heart breaks at the
exhaustion etched into his
features. "I got you, you
can rest," she says, her
voice a gentle whisper.

They move to the couch,
Plankton's body curling into
her side. She wraps the
weighted blanket around him,
still within their embrace.

His breathing slows, his body
relaxing against hers. The
whirring fan above offers
a steady rhythm, a lullaby for
his troubled mind.

Karen's hand strokes his
back in gentle circles, her
thumb tracing patterns that
seem to soothe his nerves.

The fan's steady whir
fills the room, a calming
symphony that lulls Plankton's
racing thoughts to a crawl.

Karen's thumb moves in
soothing circles on his back,
each pass sending a ripple
of comfort through him.

Plankton's breathing evens,
his body slack against hers.
The fan's steady hum is a
lullaby in the quiet room,
a metronome for his racing
thoughts.

Karen's hand continues its
soothing dance across his back,
his eye finally closing.

The room is a cocoon of
silence, the fan's whisper the
only sound breaking the stillness.

Plankton's breathing slows,
his body melts into Karen's embrace.
Her hand continues its gentle
caress, a metronome of comfort as
he finally surrenders to sleep.

new new reality hannacore viii

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS viii

(Autistic Author)


They sit in silence for a few moments, 
the sound of Plankton's slowing breaths 
filling the space. Karen's mind races with 
the conversation they need to have with 
Chip.

"How do we explain it?" Plankton asks, 
finally breaking the silence. His 
antennae still, his eye looking at the 
floor.

"We tell him the truth," Karen says firmly. 
"But we also remind him of all the 
wonderful things you do for him, all the 
ways you show him love."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping 
further. "I know I'm not the dad he 
deserves," he murmurs.

Karen's voice is firm, but filled with 
warmth. "You are the dad he needs," 
she corrects. "And we'll get through this 
together."

Finally, Plankton's 
antennae perk up slightly. "I'm sorry," he 
says again, his voice still thick with 
emotion.

Karen nods. "I know," she says softly. 
"But we can't keep hiding this from him. 
He needs to understand."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. 
"I know," he admits. "I just don't know 
where to start."

Karen gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 
"We'll start by talking to him," she says, 
her voice strong and reassuring. "When 
you're ready."

They sit there for a while longer, the 
rhythm of Plankton's breathing slowly 
returning to normal. Karen's mind is 
racing with thoughts of how to navigate this 
chapter in their lives. How to help Chip 
understand his father's condition without scaring 
him or making him feel responsible.

Finally, Plankton turns to her, his antennae still shaky. 
"What do we do now?" he asks, his voice a mix of exhaustion and fear.

Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with resolve. 
"First," she says, "we make sure you're ok."

They sit there, the only sound in the room the distant 
hum of the TV. Plankton's antennae are still, his eye 
focused on the floor. Karen's hand remains on his 
back, a silent promise that she's there for him.

"Let's get you to bed," she says softly. "You need to rest."

With her help, Plankton stands, his legs wobbly from 
the intense episode. Together, they make their way 
to their bedroom, the quiet of the house a stark 
contrast to the emotional upheaval they've just 
experienced.

Once Plankton is tucked into bed, Karen sits beside 
him, her hand resting on his arm. "We'll get through 
this," she says, her voice a gentle reassurance in the 
stillness. "We're a family."

Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of doubt, and 
he looks up at her, his eye searching hers for 
understanding. "But what if I can't?"

Karen's gaze is unwavering. "You can," she says 
firmly. "You're strong, Plankton. And we're here to 
help you."

Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods slowly. 
"Ok," he whispers. "Ok."

Karen leans in, kissing his forehead. "Rest," she 
says. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

With a nod, Plankton closes his eye, and Karen slips 
out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She 
heads to Chip's room, heavy with the weight of the 
conversation they need to have.

Chip is lying on his bed, his small form wrapped in a 
blanket, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are red, and 
he looks up as Karen enters.

"Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. 
"Can we talk?"

Chip nods, his eyes still wet with tears. "What's 
wrong with Daddy?" he asks, his voice shaky.

Karen takes a deep breath, choosing her words 
carefully. "Daddy has something called Autism, 
sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "It makes his 
brain work a bit differently from ours. Sometimes, 
when he's really upset or overwhelmed, his body can 
react in ways that might seem strange or scary."

Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity, and he nods 
slowly. "Is that why he gets so mad?" he asks.

Karen takes a moment before responding. "Sometimes, yes," 
she says. "It's his way of dealing 
with big feelings. But it's not because he's mad at you, ok?"

Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. 
"But why does he get so mad?" he asks again, his 
voice quivering.

Karen sighs, her hand stroking him. "Daddy gets 
overwhelmed by his feelings, and it's hard for him to 
express them," she explains. "Sometimes, when he 
can't find the right words or when things get too 
much, he feels like he's going to break apart. That's 
what we call a meltdown."

Chip sniffs, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "It's like 
when I'm really sad and I don't want to talk?"

Karen nods, her heart swelling with love for her son's 
empathy. "Exactly," she says. "And just like you, 
Daddy needs some space when that happens."

Chip looks at her, his eyes serious. "But what if I 
want to show him my affection?"

Karen smiles sadly. "You can, Chip," she says. "Just 
remember to be gentle, and maybe use words or 
gestures that aren't to overwhelming for him."

Chip nods, his eyes still on the ceiling. "But what if I 
make it worse?" he whispers.

Karen's heart clenches at his fear, and she takes his 
hand in hers. "Sometimes, we just need to learn new 
ways to show and receive love."

Chip nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 
"Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Karen leans in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 
"You're brave," she says, her voice filled with pride.

"But what about the rock he broke?" Chip asks, his 
voice still shaky.

Karen sighs, her eyes meeting his. "Daddy didn't 
mean to scare you," she says. "Sometimes, when 
people are upset, they do things they don't mean to. 
It's part of how they cope."

Chip nods, his grip on her hand tightening. "But 
Dad now," he says again, his voice small.

"We'll give him some time to rest," Karen assures him. 
"And tomorrow, we'll talk about it more."

With that, she tucks the blanket around him and turns 
to leave. As she reaches the door, Chip's voice stops 
her. "Mom," he says, his tone tentative. "Can I go to Daddy?"

Karen's heart skips a beat, and she looks back at 
him, her eyes filled with both concern and hope. "Do 
you think that's a good idea, sweetie?"

Chip nods. "I want to tell him I love him," he says, his 
voice barely above a whisper.

Karen's heart squeezes. "Ok," she says, taking a 
deep breath. "But remember, we need to be gentle 
with him right now. Let's go to his room together."

They tiptoe down the hall, the house eerily quiet. 
Karen can feel Chip's hand in hers, small and warm 
and trembling slightly. When they reach the bedroom, 
she opens the door quietly and peeks in. Plankton is 
lying on his back, his antennae still, his chest rising 
and falling with deep, even breaths.

They approach the bed, and Karen can see the 
tension in Plankton's body, even in sleep. She
whispers to Chip, "Remember, sweetie, just a little. 
And if he wakes up, tell him you love him."

Chip nods solemnly, and together, they tiptoe to the 
bedside. Chip extends a tentative hand and gently 
pats Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but 
he doesn't wake. "I love you, Daddy," Chip whispers, 
his voice quivering.

Karen's eyes fill with tears at the sight of her son's 
bravery and love. She gives Chip's hand a squeeze.
"That was perfect," she says, her voice barely a 
murmur.

They stand there for a moment, watching Plankton's 
chest rise and fall in the dim light of the moon 
peeking through the curtains. Then, with a heavy 
heart, Karen leads Chip back to his room.

Once Chip is tucked in, she kisses his forehead and 
whispers, "You're a brave boy, and I'm so proud of 
you." His eyes, still red and swollen from crying, 
meet hers with a quiet understanding beyond his 
years.

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore viii

GREAT CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

When Plankton finally came out
Chip approached with caution. He didn't want to scare
his dad, didn't want to cause another seizure.
"Hey, Dad," he said softly. "How are
you feeling today?"

Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye
flicking towards Chip. "Tired," he murmured,
his voice hoarse from sleep. "But okay."

Chip felt his chest tighten with relief.
He'd been worried about his dad all night,
scared that another seizure would strike 
without warning.

"Can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice
gentle as he approached Plankton.
He didn't want to push, but he needed
to make sure they were okay.

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
eye searching Chip's face. "Of course,"
he said, his voice still groggy.
He sat down at the kitchen table,
his body language open but cautious.

Chip took a deep breath, his heart
racing with the need to get this right.
"Dad, I know last night was...
scary," he began, his voice shaky.
"But I want to be there for you."

Plankton's antennae waved slightly,
his expression a mix of confusion and
fatigue. "What do you mean?" he asked,
his voice still thick with sleep.

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to find the right words. "I mean,
I want to understand your seizures
and what you go through," he said,
his eyes never leaving his father's.
"So that maybe I can help."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye
narrowing slightly. "What do you want
to know?" he asked, his voice a mix
of curiosity and caution.

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his thoughts racing. "Everything," he said,
his voice earnest. "What happens
before, during, and after. What you feel,
what you see..."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
face scrunching up slightly. "Why?"
he snapped, his voice sharp. "What's
the point of reliving it?"

Chip took a step back, surprised
by his father's sudden irritation.
"I just want to understand,"
he said, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae waved erratically,
his eye flashing. "It's not a show, Chip,"
he snapped. "It's not something to be
poked and prodded at."

Chip felt his cheeks flush with heat,
his hands balled into fists at his sides.
"I'm not trying to pry," he said, his voice
shaking with frustration. "I just want to help!"

Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye
narrowed. "You can't help," he said,
his voice cold. "You don't get it."

Chip's heart sank, feeling the distance
between them growing wider. "But Dad,"
he began, his voice trembling. "I'm trying."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his face a mask of agitation. "You can't,"
he said, his voice clipped. "You don't know
what it's like!"

Chip felt a wave of frustration
crash over him, his hands
clenching into fists. "That's why
I'm asking!" he exclaimed. "I'm not
trying to make it about me!"

Plankton's focusing solely on Chip.
"You don't get it," he said, his voice
softening slightly. "It's not about you,
but it's also not something you can fix."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his heart racing with a mix of anger
and hurt. He knew Plankton wasn't
trying to be cruel, but the words stung.
"I just want to be there for you,"
he said, his voice shaky. "To make
sure you're okay."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his eye flashing with agitation. "I don't
need you to fix me," he snapped, his voice
sharp as a knife. "I just need you to leave me
alone sometimes."

Chip took a step back, his eyes
watering with the sting of his father's
words. "I just want..."

"I know what you want," Plankton cut
in, his antennae vibrating with irritation.
"But you can't fix this, Chip. It's not a puzzle
you can solve with a pat on the back or a hug."

The room grew tense, the air thick
with unspoken words. Chip felt his throat
tighten, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
He knew his father's snappy tone was a defense
mechanism, a way to keep the world at bay
when it all became too much. But it still hurt.

new great chip arguecore viii

CATCH IN MY CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

The room is bathed in a soft
moonlight, the shadows playing
across Plankton's sleeping features. His
body, once taut with tension,
has relaxed into the embrace
of the bed, his arm curled
around a pillow. His antennas
now rest gently on the
pillowcase, no longer quivering
with agitation.

Karen watches him sleep, her
thoughts a jumble of worry and
love. She knows he's tired, that the
weight of the world can be too
much for him to bear at times. But
she also knows that he's strong,
that he'll face tomorrow with
determination.

The first light of dawn filters
through the curtains, painting the
room in soft shades of pink and
orange. Karen gently squeezes his
shoulder before standing, her eyes
never leaving his peaceful face.
She knows that today will be a
day of apologies and
understanding, of teaching Chip
about his dad's autism and how to
navigate the world around him.

With a soft sigh, she heads to
Chip's room, her footsteps silent
on the cool floor. She opens the door
to find him sitting up in bed,
his eyes red and puffy from crying.
He looks at her.

"Is Dad okay?" he asks, his
voice thick with sleep and the
remnants of his earlier distress.

Karen nods, her eyes filled
with a quiet determination. "We'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

The words hang in the air, a gentle
reminder of the conversation that
needs to be had. Chip nods, his eyes
still puffy from crying. He clutches
his pillow, the fabric damp from
his tears.

"But what do I do?" he asks, his
voice small and scared. "How do
I make sure I don't make him
upset again?"

Karen sits on the edge of the bed,
her hand stroking his. "You
just keep being you, Chip," she
says, her voice warm. "Daddy loves
you, and we'll learn together how
to make sure he doesn't get
overwhelmed."

Chip nods, his eyes searching
hers for reassurance. "But what
about my trophy?" he asks, his
voice still shaky.

Karen's hand stops, her gaze
dropping to the shard of plastic
he holds tightly in his fist. "We'll
fix it," she says, her voice
filled with conviction. "Together."

The promise brings a small
smile to Chip's face, his eyes
lighting up. "Really?"

Karen nods, her own smile
genuine. "Of course, honey,"
she says. "We're a family. We
stick together."

With that, she stands up, her
body weary but her spirit
resolute. The room feels
lighter somehow, the air less
charged with tension.

Chip clambers out of bed, his
small hand reaching for hers.
Together, they walk to the
bedroom, the shattered
remnants of the trophy
glinting in the early light.

Plankton is still asleep,
his chest rising and falling in
a steady rhythm. Chip
looks at him, his eyes filled
with a mix of sadness and
curiosity.

"We'll talk to him when he
wakes up," Karen says, her voice
soft.

They sit beside Plankton's
bed, the room still and quiet.
Chip's hand trembles slightly as
he holds the broken piece
of trophy. "But what if he's still
mad?" he whispers, his voice
barely above the silence.

Karen's hand squeezes his.
"He'll understand," she says,
her voice filled with a calm
certainty. "He loves you, and he
knows you didn't mean to hurt
him."

The words are a gentle balm
to Chip's fears, but the doubt
lingers. He nods, his gaze
never leaving his father.

"Remember, Chip," Karen says, her
voice a soft whisper. "Daddy's
brain is different."

Chip nods, his eyes fixed on
his dad's sleeping form. He's
seen Plankton stressed before,
but never like this. He wants to
show him love.

With tentative steps, he moves
closer to the bed, his heart
beating a staccato in his chest.
He reaches out, his hand shaking
slightly as he hovers it over
his dad's arm.

"Chip," Karen whispers, her hand
covering his. "Remember, gentle."
Her words are a gentle
reminder of the invisible lines
that can be crossed.

Chip nods, his eyes on Plankton's
peaceful face. He takes a deep
breath, his hand steadying. Slowly,
so slowly it's almost imperceptible,
he brings his palm to rest
on Plankton's forearm, his touch
as light as a feather.

Plankton's body tenses for a
moment, a reflexive reaction to
the sudden contact. Chip holds
his breath, waiting, hoping.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he feels
his dad's arm relax under his hand.

"It's okay," Karen whispers, her
voice a gentle breeze. "He's okay."

Chip's hand remains hovering, his
heart in his throat. Plankton's
body remains still, his breathing
even. Karen's touch is a guide,
her hand resting on Chip's.

"It's okay," she whispers, her voice
a soft encouragement. "You can
do it."

With a deep breath, Chip's hand
descends, his fingertips brushing
against Plankton's arm.

Plankton's antennas twitch.
Karen watches, her eyes never
leaving her husband's face.

Chip's hand hovers, his
heart racing. He wants to
reassure his dad, to let him
know he's there. He's
learned about space and
understanding, but all he
can think of is the warmth of
his touch, the comfort
he craves to give.

His fingertips graze Plankton's
arm, the contact so light it's
barely there. He watches,
waiting for a reaction, for a
sign that he's crossed the line.
But Plankton remains still,
his breathing unchanged.

Encouraged, Chip presses down
slightly, his hand a soft
weight on his father's arm.
He feels the warmth of his
skin, the steady pulse beneath.
It's a tentative connection,
fragile as spider silk.

Plankton's antennas quiver,
but his body remains still.
Chip's heart hammers in his chest,
his breaths shallow and quick.
He's afraid to move, afraid
to break the spell.

Karen watches, her eyes
filled with a quiet hope.
The air in the room is thick
with anticipation.

Chip's hand hovers over
Plankton's arm, trembling
slightly with nerves and
love. He's unsure if this
small gesture will be met
with anger or acceptance.

Karen's gaze is a silent
cheer, urging him on. Plankton's
breaths remain steady, his body
still. Chip's heart is a
drum in his chest, each beat
a silent plea for
understanding.

With a tremble, he lets his hand
settle, his fingertips barely
grazing the fabric of the blanket.
He feels the heat of Plankton's skin,
the rise and fall of his chest.
It's a gentle touch, the lightest
of caresses.

Karen's hand remains on his,
guiding him, encouraging him.
Plankton's breaths remain steady,
his body still. Chip's eyes
are wide with hope, his hand
poised above the blanket.

With a tremble, he lets his
fingers come to rest on the
cotton, feeling the warmth
of his father's arm beneath.
He holds his breath, waiting
for a reaction, for any sign
that he's done the right thing.

Plankton's body remains still,
his breathing unchanged.
Karen's eyes are glued to
his face, watching for any
hint of distress. But there's
none. Only the gentle rise
and fall of his chest, a testament
to his deep sleep.

Chip's hand is a butterfly
landing on Plankton's arm, his
fingers fluttering slightly
against the warmth of his
skin. He's never felt so
exposed, so vulnerable. But
his love for his dad is stronger
than his fear.

Karen watches the silent
exchange, her heart in her throat.
The moment feels sacred, a
testament to their growing
understanding of each other.

Chip's hand remains on Plankton's
arm, the warmth of his touch a
promise of comfort and love.
He's afraid to move, afraid to
disrupt the delicate balance.
Karen's hand is a soft presence,
guiding him, giving him
the courage to stay.

Plankton's breaths are slow
and even, his body relaxed.
Chip wonders if he's dreaming, if he's
in a world where the sensory
overload doesn't exist. His heart
swells with hope, with the
desire to protect his dad from
the world's harshness.

Karen's hand on his is
a gentle reminder that he's not
alone. She gives him a small,
encouraging nod, her eyes filled
with understanding. He takes a
deep breath, his hand moving
slowly, so slowly, to cover his dad's.

The moment their skin
touches, it's like a dam breaks.
Chip feels a rush of warmth, a
connection that's been missing.
He squeezes Plankton's arm lightly,
his heart pounding. He's afraid to
move, afraid to breathe too loudly.

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, watching for any
sign of distress. But his features
remain relaxed, his antennas
still. The room is a sanctuary
of quiet, the only sound their
melded breaths. Chip feels a
lump form in his throat, his eyes
welling with tears.

He whispers, "Thank you," to
his mom, his voice shaky with
emotion. She nods, her hand
still covering his. "Remember,"
she says, her voice a soft
caress. "Gentle."

With trembling fingers, Chip
tucks the blanket closer around
Plankton, the fabric smoothing
over his shoulders. It's a
tiny act of love, a silent
apology. He wants to crawl into
the bed beside him, to wrap
his arms around his dad..

He looks up at Karen, his
eyes pleading. "Can I?"

Karen nods, her smile sad
but understanding. "Just be
careful not to wake him,"
she whispers.

With the grace of a
cat burglar, Chip slides into the
bed, his movements slow and
calculated. He's careful not
to disturb the sheets, not to
make a sound that could break
the tranquil silence.

Plankton's arm is a warm
mound beside him, and he
reaches out tentatively, his
fingers seeking the comfort
of his dad's skin. He finds it,
his hand coming to rest lightly
on the crook of his elbow.
The connection feels right,
like finding a piece of himself
he didn't know was lost.

He snuggles closer, his head
resting on the pillow beside
Plankton's.

Karen watches, her heart
swelling with love for her son.
"It's ok," she whispers. "Just be
gentle."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II viii

CHIP AND FAIL viii
(Autistic author)

Karen's hand was a lifeline,
her voice a gentle guide. "Chip,"
she called out.
"We need to talk."

Chip stopped in the hallway. 
Why was Dad acting so
weird? He turned to face his
mother, his eyes brimming with
unshed tears. "What's wrong with
him?" he demanded, his voice
filled with accusation. "He doesn't
deserve to be called my dad if
he can't even..."
But that's when it happens.
That's when Plankton started
hyperventilating, and that's
when Plankton can't take
anymore.
That's when it happened.
Chip's words were like a match
striking too close to a powder keg.
Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae
twitching erratically. Karen rushed to
his side, her screen wide with concern.
"Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress. She holds her arms
out to catch Plankton.

But Plankton's mind was a
whirlwind, his body a live wire.
He couldn't answer, couldn't find
the words to explain the chaos
that was his reality. His antennae
trembled as he struggled to
breathe, his body rigid with fear.
He had hoped to keep this
hidden, to protect Chip from the
truth, but it was too much.
The storm inside him grew
wilder, each breath a battle.

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his own confusion
mirroring the chaos in the
room. "What's wrong with you?"
he repeated, his voice a mix of anger
and desperation.

But Plankton's mind was a tornado,
his thoughts swirling too fast
for words. He could feel his chest
constrict, his heart pounding
like a drum.

Karen watched her son's screen,
seeing the hurt in his eyes, the
misunderstanding etched
deep. She took a deep breath,
knowing the moment had arrived.
"Chip," she began, her voice
soft but firm, "there's something
you need to know about your dad."

Chip looked at her, his expression
a mix of anger and confusion. "What
could possibly make him act like
this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why
did you marry him? He's just nothing but..."

"Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his
hands in hers, when Plankton
starts to wheeze heavily, his body
constricting with each shallow breath.

Chip's anger faded, replaced with
fear as he watched his father's
distress. "Dad?" he whispered,
his voice shaking.

Plankton's body trembled as his
legs gave out, collapsing into the
embrace Karen had been ready to offer.

"Dad?" Chip's voice was barely
above a whisper, his eyes wide
with fear and confusion. He had
never seen his father so
overwhelmed, so vulnerable.

Karen knelt beside Plankton, her
hands gentle on his trembling
body. "It's okay, love," she
whispered, her voice a salve
on his raw nerves. "Just breathe."

Chip's eyes were glued to his
father with fear. He had never seen him
like this before, his body a
stranger's under his own touch.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked
again, his voice shaking.

Karen took a deep breath, her
hands trembling as she smoothed
back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your
dad was born with something..."
Her voice trailed off, the words
stuck in her throat like a piece
of unchewed food.

Chip's eyes searched hers, his
confusion a storm cloud
gathering. "What do you mean?"
he asked, his voice small and
scared.

Karen took a deep breath, her
heart aching for both her son
and her husband. "Your dad," she
began, her voice shaking with
the weight of her words, "was born
different, Chip." Plankton's
eye flickered open, filled with a
mixture of fear and hope.

"What do you mean, 'different'?"
Chip asked, his voice small and
scared. He had never heard his
mother talk about his dad this
way before.

Karen took a deep breath,
swallowing the lump in her
throat. "When your dad was born,
Chip," she began, her screen
filled with a sadness that
threatened to spill over, "his brain
was injured during delivery. When
the doctors pulled him out, they
didn't realize how fragile he was
and they..." Her voice trailed off,
the memory too painful to
recount. "They had to get him out
and applied too much force on his
head, which caused some damage.
It gave him a type of condition, where
he's on what's called autism spectrum."

Chip's eyes widened, his grip on
his shirt tightening. "But that's
not his fault, right?" he asked, his
voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't
want to think of his dad as
damaged or broken.

Karen nodded, her screen filled
with love for both her husband and
her son. "No, honey, it's not his
fault," she said, her voice steady.
"It's just how he's. And
it's not something you can see or
touch. It's like having a radio in
your head that's always tuned to the
loudest station, and sometimes
the static gets too much."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II viii

✴✨

new kho nor debut light noor color

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii
(Autistic author)

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his grip on Plankton's wrists
loosening. "What
accident?" he asks, his voice
filled with dread.

Plankton's smile is gone,
replaced by a look of sadness.
"Head," he says, his voice
a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He
touches his forehead gently,
his antennas drooping.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
realization, his grip on Plankton's
wrists loosening entirely. "You
got hurt?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What happened?"

Plankton nods, his antennas
still drooping.

Sponge Bob's confusion
grows, his anger replaced
with worry. "What do you
mean?" he asks, his voice
softening. "What happened to
your head?"

Plankton's antennas twitch, his
smile a distant memory. "Fall," 
he says, his voice a monotone.

Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat.
"You fell?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "When? How?"

Plankton nods, his eye
flickering with something
akin to pain. "Recently," he says,
his voice flat. "Head bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock,
his mind racing with questions.
"You fell and hurt your head?" he
repeats, his voice filled with
disbelief. "Why didn't you tell
me?"

Plankton's gaze drops to his book,
his hands fluttering over the
pages. "No tell," he whispers, his
voice filled with regret. "Shame."

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with
understanding, his anger
evaporating like mist in the sun.
"Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice
soft. "You didn't have to keep
this to yourself."

Plankton's smile is a
pale imitation of his usual
self, his antennas still. "No good,"
he whispers, his voice barely
audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with worry as he tries to
comprehend his friend's cryptic
words. "You're not bad, Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "You've
just had an accident."

Plankton's gaze remains fixed
on the book, his hands
flapping over the pages. "No,"
he says, his voice a sad echo.
"Head bad. Plankton bad." His body
slumps, his usual vibrant energy
dimmed by his distress.

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with sadness as he tries to
comfort his friend. "You're not
bad, Plankton," he says, his voice
soothing. "You're just hurt right?"

Plankton's antennas twitch slightly,
his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt,"
he echoes, his voice a monotone.
"Inside head." He taps his forehead,
his eye searching Sponge Bob's
for understanding. "Grey matter.
Neural pathways."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
confusion growing. "What do
you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What's
going on with your brain?"

Plankton's hand continues to
tap his forehead, his voice
detached. "Neurochemicals," he says,
his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic
connections. Autism." His smile
is a mere memory, his eye
glazed over with a faraway look.

Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his
chest, his mind racing. "You're
talking about your brain," he says,
his voice tentative. "What's wrong
with it?"

Plankton's hand stops tapping,
his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob.
"Wiring," he says, his voice a
monotone explanation. "Neuro-
typical patterns disrupted affect
the parts of brain when result
in autism." His words are precise,
his tone devoid of emotion.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
comprehension, his spongy heart
sinking. "You're saying you have
autism now?" he asks, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton nods, his eye
still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical
divergence," he confirms, his voice
still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic
variance, myelination discrepancies."
He speaks in a monotone, his words
sounding rehearsed and mechanical.

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears,
his heart breaking for his friend.
"What does that mean, Plankton?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
"Does that mean you're not okay?"

Plankton's gaze remains on
the book, his hand tracing the
spine. "Neuro-typical divergence,"
he repeats, his voice a flat
recitation of medical terms.
"Synaptic connections altered.
Atypical neural patterns. Autism."
He speaks as if recounting
a scientific paper, his tone
lacking any personal connection.
"When hit head, damaged the
myelination," he says, his hand
continuing its mechanical movement
against the book. "Myelination is
the insulation around the axons
that speeds up the nerve impulses 
made in a part of brain we call
the cerebral cortex. My cerebral
cortex now restricts, slows
down impulses."

Sponge Bob listens, his
mind racing to keep up with
Plankton's sudden shift in
vocabulary. "But what does that
mean?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "How'd the
damage give you autism?"

Plankton's hand stops
its movement along the book.
"Neurodivergence," he says, his
voice a clinical recount. "My brain
now operates outside typical
parameters. Synaptic pruning,
myelination patterns altered.
Atypical neural networks formed."
He speaks as if discussing a
complex scientific experiment,
his words a jumble of medical
terminology that Sponge Bob
barely understands.

"Does that mean you're not okay?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice
filled with fear.

Plankton's hand stills on the book,
his gaze unfocused. "Functional
diversity," he says, his voice
a hollow echo of the medical
lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence
can lead to unique cognitive
strengths, but also challenges."
He taps the book, his antennas
waving slightly. "My brain's wiring
changed," he says, his voice
a monotone. "Synaptic clefts
widened, neurotransmitters less
efficient. Restricted blood flow to
temporal lobes."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with a mix of confusion and
fear. "Does that mean you can't
be... fixed?" he asks, his voice
small.

Plankton's antennas twitch,
his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix,"
he echoes, his voice a sad
recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes.
Rewire, adapt. But cerebral
cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent."

Sponge Bob's eyes are wide,
his mind reeling with the
complexity of Plankton's words.
"But, Plankton," he says, his voice
quivering. "What about the Krabby
Patties? Your plans?"

Plankton's gaze snaps up, his
hands still. "No plans," he says,
his voice a sad echo. "No more steal."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his heart racing. "You don't want
to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?"
he asks, his voice filled with
hope and disbelief.

Plankton's antennas droop, his
hands flapping slightly. "No more
schemes," he whispers, his voice a
monotone. "No more steal." His eye
meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of
his old mischief briefly shining
through. "But," he adds, his
smile mischievous, "still have
competitive spirit." His hands
begin to flap with excitement.

Sponge Bob's heart soars with
relief, a smile spreading across
his face. "So, you're still
the same Plankton," he says, his
voice filled with hope. "Just...
different. Ok, cool!"

Plankton nods, his smile a
ghostly reflection of his usual
self. "Different," he repeats, his
voice a sad echo. "But still
have friend?" His antennas
wave slightly, his eye searching
Sponge Bob's for reassurance.

Sponge Bob's heart swells with
affection. "Of course, Plankton,"
he says, his voice firm. "We're
still friends. Nothing can
change that." He squeezes
Plankton's shoulder, trying
to convey his support. 

new karen and the autistic journey corpus callosum anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) braincore autismcore headinjuryposting neurodivergentcore neurodisability viii

SHELF IMPROVEMENT iv
(Autistic author)

The next morning, Karen
awoke with the sun, her
mind still heavy with the
weight of the previous night's
discovery. Plankton slept
peacefully beside her, his
breathing even and deep.
For a moment, she allowed
herself to hope that was just a bad
dream, a fleeting nightmare
that would disappear. But when
she looked over at him, she
knew it was all too real.

Her eyes took in the 
familiar lines of his 
face, the way his antennae
twitched even in sleep. 
They had faced challenges
before, and they would 
face this one too.

Gently, she slipped 
from the bed, not wanting 
to wake him. She knew he 
needed his rest. In the 
kitchen, she started to 
make his breakfast 
smoothie. She had read 
about autism, knew 
it could manifest in 
different ways, but she had 
never thought it would 
touch their lives so 
suddenly, so profoundly.

The blender whirred to 
life, slicing through 
the fruit and yogurt. The 
smell of strawberries and 
bananas filled the room, 
a stark contrast to the 
heaviness of her thoughts.

As she poured the smoothie 
into a glass, her mind raced 
with questions. How would 
this change their 
relationship? What did 
this mean for Plankton's 
life? What could she do 
to help him?

The sudden sound of 
footsteps on the floor 
snapped her out of her 
thoughts. Plankton. She turned 
around to see him standing 
in the doorway, his 
expression tentative. His 
eye searched hers, and she 
forced a smile, hoping to 
reassure him.

"Breakfast," she said, 
holding out the smoothie.
"Your favorite."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched, and he took 
a step forward, his eye
locking onto the glass. 
"Smoothie," he murmured.

Karen clenched at
his response, so unlike 
his usual greeting. "Yes, 
a strawberry-banana smoothie."
Her voice was filled with
hope, trying to keep their
morning routine as 
normal as possible.

He took the glass from 
her, his grip careful, 
his movements precise. 
He took a sip.

Karen watched him. "How 
does it taste?" she 
asked, trying to keep 
the desperation out of 
her voice.

Plankton paused, his 
eye blinking thoughtfully. 
"Good," he said finally, 
his voice still subdued. He 
took another sip, his 
expression unreadable.

Karen's smile grew 
wider, genuine this 
time. "I'm so glad. Why don't you 
sit down?" She gestured to 
the kitchen table. "I'll get 
you some toast."

Plankton nodded 
slowly, his movements 
deliberate. He sat at the 
table, his gaze fixed 
on the smoothie. Karen 
felt the weight of his 
silence as she busied 
herself with the toaster. 
But the pop of the bread 
springing up snapped 
his attention to her.

"Too much noise," he 
mumbled, flinching at the 
sound. Karen 
sank. She had forgotten 
how sensitive his 
hearing might become. 
She quickly turned off the 
toaster and approached 
the table.

"I'm sorry," she said 
softly, placing the plate of 
toast before him. "Did the 
toaster bother you?"

Plankton nodded, his 
antennas quivering slightly.
"Noise," he said, his voice 
barely above a whisper.

Karen felt a pang 
of guilt. "I'll be more 
careful," she promised, 
placing a gentle hand on 
his back. She watched 
as he took a deep 
breath, visibly trying to 
regain his composure.

They sat in silence 
for a moment, the weight 
of the new normal 
pressing down on them 
like a thick fog. Karen 
wanted to fill the air with 
words, to reassure him 
and herself, but she knew 
that sometimes silence 
was the best comfort.

As Plankton took a bite 
of toast, she observed 
his every move, looking 
for any signs of 
distress. His antennae 
were still, his eye focused 
on his food. It was as 
if the world had narrowed 
to just the two of them 
and their quiet breakfast.

But then, she heard
Plankton's words.
"Breakfast," he murmured,
his antennae twitching.
"Did the toaster bother you."

It took Karen a second
to realize that Plankton
was actually responding
to his own thoughts. She watched
as he paused, his antennae
twitching again. "Noise," he said,
his voice echoing in the 
silent room. Was he 
talking to himself? Or was this 
a new part of his autism, 
a way of processing 
information?

"No," she said gently, 
sitting down beside him. 
"The toaster is okay now. 
It's quiet."

Plankton nodded, his 
antennas stilling. He 
chewed slowly, his gaze 
flickering to Karen 
before returning to the 
bread. "Karen," he said 
after a moment, his voice 
clearer now. "The toaster
okay says it's quiet, Karen
said no is okay now."
He was parroting her 
words, but with a 
slight delay. It was 
as if he was trying to 
make sense of them, to 
process the conversation 
in his own time. 
"Yes, Plankton," she 
replied. "The toaster 
is quiet now."

Plankton nodded again, 
his antennae still. He 
took another bite of 
toast, chewing slowly. 
Then, out of the blue, 
he spoke again, his voice 
stronger this time. "Karen 
loves Plankton?"

"Yes, Plankton, I do," she 
replied, her voice 
steady. "Karen loves you 
very much."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched once before 
going still. He took another 
sip of his smoothie, his 
face a canvas of contemplation. 
"Plankton loves Karen," 
he murmured, almost to 
himself. It was as if he 
was reassuring himself of 
their bond.

Karen felt a warmth 
spread through her. 
This was a new aspect 
of his autism, but 
it was also a sign that 
he was trying to understand 
his feelings, to make 
sense of the world around 
him. "Yes," she said, 
squeezing his hand. "And 
Karen loves Plankton 
right back."

Plankton nodded, 
his gaze returning to 
his food. Karen could 
see the wheels turning 
in his mind, trying to 
comprehend the change. 
He took another sip of 
his smoothie, his antennae 
twitching slightly as he 
swallowed. "Different," 
he said again. "But same love."

Despite the 
confusion, he had 
managed to articulate 
his feelings with a 
simplicity that was both 
heartbreaking and 
beautiful. She squeezed 
his hand, her screen 
shimmering with unshed 
tears. "Yes, Plankton," she 
said, her voice thick with 
love. "Same love, no matter 
what."

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to her, his 
eye focusing on her 
damp screen. His antennae 
stood straight up, and he 
frowned slightly. "Tears," 
he said, his voice 
concerned. "Karen sad?"

"No, Plankton," she said 
softly. "These are happy 
tears." But she knew 
that might not make sense 
to him, so she tried to 
explain further. "They're 
because I'm feeling a 
lot of love for you right 
now, and my body..." "Love 
makes Karen sad?" he 
interrupted.

Karen sighed, 
knowing that explaining 
emotions to a 
suddenly autistic Plankton 
was going to be tough. "No, 
not sad," she corrected. "They're 
just tears that come when 
I'm really happy or 
overwhelmed with love. It's 
a good thing, I promise."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he processed 
this information. "Good 
tears," he murmured. "Karen 
love making good tears."

Karen couldn't help but 
smile, despite the heaviness 
of the situation. His 
childlike innocence was a 
beacon of light in the 
darkness. "Yes," she 
nodded, her voice 
steady.

"Good tears," she said 
again, her thumb brushing 
away a tear that had 
escaped. "Now, let's eat 
our breakfast, okay?"

new shelf improvement karen plankton iv

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iv
(Autistic author)

Without missing a beat, Plankton starts 
rattling off a stream of facts. "Jellyfish are 
invertebrates," he says, his voice gaining 
speed and confidence. "They have no bones, 
no brains, but they have stinging cells 
called nematocysts."

"Wow, Plankton, that's amazing," Sponge 
Bob says, eyes wide with wonder. "I didn't 
know that!"

"Neither did I," Karen admits, a small 
smile playing. "You've always had a knack 
for science, but this is something else."

Plankton nods, his excitement palpable. 
"Jellyfish have life cycle," he continues, 
his voice taking on the rhythm of a lecturer. 
"Start as polyps, then grow into medusae."

Plankton's antennae twitch as he 
recites facts rapidly.

"Jellyfish can have hundreds of stinging 
tentacles," he says, his voice gaining 
momentum. "And some species can even 
clone themselves. It's called strobilation!" he 
says, his eye glued to the book. His voice is 
monotone, but the enthusiasm is clear as he 
shares his newfound knowledge.

"That's so cool, Plankton!" Sponge Bob exclaims. 
"I had no idea!"

Plankton nods. "Jellyfish book," he says 
again, his voice still a monotone, but his 
tone is less flat.

Karen and Sponge Bob share a hopeful look. 
Plankton's intense focus on jellyfish seems 
to be providing a small sense of comfort 
amidst the chaos of his new reality.

"I think Plankton might just become the smartest 
jellyfish expert in Bikini Bottom," Karen says 
trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe one day we can go jellyfishing together," Sponge 
Bob says, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his gaze flicking 
to Sponge Bob before returning to the book. 
"Jellyfishing," he repeats.

"But Plankton, remember jellyfishing can be dangerous
if they sting" Karen says gently with concern.

Plankton's antennae twitch. "Dangerous," he repeats, his 
eye still on the book. "Jellyfish sting, but Plankton have 
plan." He flips through the pages, stopping at an image 
of a jellyfish in a jar. "Jellyfish in jar," he says, 
tapping the picture. "Safe jellyfish."

Karen and Sponge Bob exchange a look. "You wanna keep 
jellyfish in a jar, Plankton?" Sponge Bob asks, voice tentative.

Plankton nods vigorously. "Jellyfish in jar, safe jellyfish," he 
says, his excitement palpable.

Sponge Bob leans closer to the book, his curiosity piqued. 
"What else does the book say, Plankton?"

Plankton starts reading off the index and page numbers, his 
voice a monotone yet steady stream of information. "Jellyfish 
page 12. Nematocysts, page 34. Jellyfish reproduction, page 67," 
he recites, his antennae twitching with each number.

Sponge Bob leans in closer, fascinated by Plankton's sudden 
wealth of knowledge. "How do you remember all of that?"

Plankton's antennae twitch slightly.
"Good memory," he says, his 
voice still flat but with a hint of pride. 
"Plankton read book."

Karen nods, her gaze soft. "Yes, you read the book," she says, her 
voice a gentle reminder. "You've learned so much about jellyfish."

Plankton's antennae quiver with excitement as he flips through 
the pages. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his gaze alight with a 
passion that Karen hadn't seen in him since before the accident.

"You know, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, leaning closer to the book. 
"Maybe we could start a jellyfish club. Just you, me, and Karen. We 
could learn all about them together."

Plankton's antennae stand at attention at the idea. "Jellyfish club," 
he repeats, his voice a mix of excitement and skepticism. "With 
Karen and Sponge Bob?"

"Yes," Karen says with a smile, her voice filled with hope.

Plankton nods, his antennae moving with the rhythm of his thoughts. 
"Jellyfish club," he murmurs, the words rolling around in his head like 
a treasure found at the bottom of the sea.

"Yea Plankton who knew, easy as pie!"

"Pie?" he repeated, the word echoing in the room. 
"Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." His voice grew in confidence 
as he recited the digits, his eye glazing over as he fell into a 
rhythm that seemed almost meditative. Karen and Sponge Bob 
stared at him in amazement as he rattled off the numbers, his 
monotone delivery a stark contrast to the awe in their expressions.

"Plankton, that's incredible!" Karen exclaimed with astonishment.

"Pi, yes," Plankton said unwavering. "Circle's ratio."

Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "How?"

"Pi," Plankton began, his antennae quivering slightly as he found 
his rhythm. "The ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. 
3.14159265358979323846..." He recited the digits as if they were 
the most natural thing in the world, his voice steady and unwavering. 
Karen and Sponge Bob watched in amazement as Plankton's eye took 
on a faraway look, his focus solely on the mathematical constant that 
held the secrets of 
the universe's geometry.

Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight of Plankton's newfound 
passion. "It's incredible how you can remember all of that," she said, 
her voice filled with wonder.

"Remember pi," Plankton said, his antennae still quivering 
with excitement. "Easy for Plankton."

"Wow, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his eyes sparkling with 
amazement. "You're a math genius!"

Plankton's antennae twitched slightly at the compliment.

new a life of diversity jellyfishcore iv

THE LIFE OF UNITY iv
(Autistic author)

Kevin's smirk is long gone, 
replaced by a look of shock 
and regret. "I... I had 
no idea," he stammers. "I 
didn't mean to... 
I didn't know."

Plankton's antennae quiver. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, "you 
hurt Plankton."

Sponge Bob's protectively 
around Plankton, who is now visibly 
upset. "You hurt Plankton's feelings," 
he says, his voice firm but not unkind. 
"You see, Plankton had an accident. 
He's not the same as before. 
He nearly broke his 
skull on a cash register at 
the Krusty Krab. 
It changed him."

Kevin's expression shifts from shock to disbelief. 
"What do you mean, 'changed him'?" 
he asks, his tentacles quivering slightly.

"He has autism now," Sponge Bob says 
simply, never leaving
Plankton's trembling form. "It's ok, 
Plankton," he murmurs, tightening around 
the tiny plankton. "You're still you."

Kevin's eyes widen, the reality of the situation 
sinking in. "Oh my...," he whispers, his 
tentacles dropping to his sides. "I had no idea."

Plankton's voice 
filled with accusation. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, "you 
didn't know. You didn't care."

Kevin's eyes are wide. "I'm sorry
I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's cutting 
off Kevin's apology. "Kevin," 
he murmurs, his one eye 
flashing with 
pain. "Kevin not care."

"I'm sorry, Plankton. I didn't 
mean to be so cruel."

But Plankton's unyielding. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, his 
one eye still brimming with 
unshed tears. "You didn't 
know. You no care."

Kevin's smugness evaporates 
as the weight of his own 
words crashes down on him. 
The realization that his 
careless jests have caused 
such pain is written all over 
his face. His eyes are wide 
with horror, his tentacles 
trembling. "I'm sorry," he 
whispers, starting to touch Plankton. 

But Plankton recoils at the 
touch, his antennae quivering 
violently, his monotone voice 
filled with panic. "NO!" he
squeaks, his one eye wide with 
fear. "Kevin, no touch!"

Kevin's tentacles jerk back as 
if burned, his eyes filled with 
shock and remorse. "I'm sorry," 
he says quickly, his voice
thick with regret. "I didn't 
know. I didn't mean to..."

"Kevin, no touch," he repeats, 
his one eye flashing. 
"Plankton not like that."

"I didn't know," he whispers, 
his eyes never leaving
Plankton's trembling form. 
"I'm so sorry."

But Plankton's antennae continue 
to quiver, his monotone 
voice a sad echo of the fear 
he feels. "Kevin," he murmurs, 
his one eye fixed on the sea 
cucumber, "you didn't know. 
You don't care."

Sponge Bob's placing 
himself between Plankton 
and the sea cucumber. "Kevin," 
he says firmly with a newfound resolve. 
"You need to apologize to Plankton. 
What you said was not okay."

Kevin's tentacles quiver, his eyes 
darting from Sponge Bob to 
Plankton's trembling form. 
"I'm... I'm sorry," he stammers, his 
smugness replaced by genuine contrition. 
"I didn't know. I didn't 
mean it like that."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with a mix of anger
and sadness, his monotone voice 
still echoing the 
pain of the insult. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, his one eye 
narrowed, "you hurt Plankton."

Kevin's expression falls, the full 
impact of his words hitting 
him like a brick wall. He takes a 
step back, his tentacles 
drooping. "I didn't know," he says, 
his voice barely above a
whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize 
you had... you know."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with a mix of anger and pain.

"Kevin," he murmurs, his monotone 
voice strained. "Kevin hurt 
Plankton. Not funny."

Kevin's tentacles twitch, his expression 
a mix of shock and 
discomfort. "Look, I didn't know," he says, 
his voice quivering. 
"I'm sorry. I just..."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with a mix of anger and 
sadness, his monotone voice 
cutting through the awkward 
silence. "Space," he murmurs, 
his one eye pleading.

Kevin creeps up closer. "Space? What..."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
a mix of anger and fear, his 
monotone voice a sad echo of the 
pain Kevin's words have caused. 
"Plankton," he murmurs, his one eye 
wide with desperation. "Alone."

Kevin still doesn't understand. 
"You're not alone," 
he starts, reaching out.

But Plankton's antennae 
quiver more fiercely, 
his monotone voice filled 
with a rare urgency. "No," 
he murmurs, 
his one eye darting 
around. "Space."

"I don't underst--"

But Plankton's filled 
with a desperation 
Kevin had never heard before. 
"Space," he murmurs again, more 
forcefully this time. 
"Kevin, go."

"Go to outer space? But..."

"Space," Plankton repeats more 
insistently, his eye frantic.

Kevin's with confusion. "But, Plankton
we're in the middle 
of the jellyfish fields."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with urgency, his monotone voice 
unwavering. "Space," he murmurs, 
his one eye pleading. "Now."

"I don't..." Kevin starts, 
grabbing Plankton's hand.

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with anger, and he pulls away, 
his monotone voice rising. "SPACE!" 
he shouts, his eye flashing 
with fury.

Startled, Kevin takes a step back. 
"Where in outer space?"

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
impatience, his monotone 
voice tight. "Any space," he 
cries. "Just go."

Kevin's tentacles twitch, his 
smugness forgotten. "But... 
but what about the jellyfish? 
Oh do you mean any planet.." 
He says, absent mindedly 
putting his hand on 
Plankton's back.

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with anger, and he jumps 
away. "NO TOUCH!" he screams, 
his monotone voice cracking 
with emotion. "PLANKTON. NEED. SPACE!"

Kevin's tentacles recoil as if 
stung, his eyes wide with 
shock. "I'm sorry," he stammers, 
taking a step back. 
"I can't fly a rocket to space.."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with rage. "Any space," 
he repeats, his one eye 
glaring. "Away."

Kevin's tentacles hang limp, his 
smugness shattered by 
the depth of Plankton's pain. 
"But, Plankton, we can't leave 
Earth without..."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with fury, his monotone 
voice a whip crack. "Any space," 
he repeats, his one eye 
narrowed. "Now."

Kevin's tentacles retract, his 
smugness gone. "Any planet 
other than Earth? I'd like to 
help but..."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with frustration, his 
monotone voice cutting through 
the confusion. "Not space," 
he murmurs, his one eye blazing 
with anger. "Space."

Kevin's tentacles tremble, his 
smile fading into a look 
of fear. "I can't get outer 
space without a rocket?" he 
says, taking a step back.

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with anger, his monotone 
voice a thunderclap in the 
stillness. "No rocket," he 
murmurs, his one eye flashing. 
"Space. Now."

Kevin's tentacles quiver, his 
smugness replaced by fear. 
"But Plankton," he stammers, taking 
a step back, "we 
can't just go to space without..."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
rage, his monotone 
voice a whip crack. "Space," he repeats, 
his one eye narrowed. "Now."

Kevin's tentacles retreat, his smugness replaced 
by a look of pure terror. "But Plankton, 
I can't just leave the 
sea," he says, his voice shaking.

But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger 
and desperation, his monotone voice a thunderclap 
in the quiet waters. "Space," he repeats unwavering.

Kevin's tentacles retreat, his smugness replaced by a look 
of fear as he tries to comprehend Plankton's words. "But 
Plankton," he stammers, "you can't survive in space. 
It's not possible."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with anger, his monotone 
voice a monotone shout. "Space," he repeats, his one 
eye flashing with desperation. "Away from here."

Kevin's tentacles retract, his smugness dissolving in
to confusion. "But Plankton, we're in the middle of 
jellyfish fields," he says, his voice trembling. 
"We can't just..."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and 
desperation, his monotone voice a monotone shout. 
"SPACE!" he repeats, his one eye flashing. 
"Kevin go now!"

Kevin's tentacles twitch, his smugness dissipating like smoke 
in the face of Plankton's distress. "But Plankton 
I don't..." he starts, taking a cautious step back.

Plankton breathes in and gathers his words together, 
his antennae quivering with the effort of controlling 
his emotions. 
"Kevin JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouts, 
his monotone voice crackling with anger.

Kevin's tentacles quiver in understanding, his 
smugness evaporating like mist in the sun. "Oh," 
he says, his voice small and sad. 
"You mean personal space.."

Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his 
monotone voice softening. "Yes," he 
murmurs, his one eye blinking rapidly. "Space."

Sponge Bob nods. "Okay, Kevin," 
he says firmly. "You need to give 
Plankton some space right now. He's going 
through a tough time."

Kevin's smugness is completely gone, 
replaced by a look of genuine concern. 
He takes a step back. "I had no idea," he 
whispers. "I'm really sorry. I'll go. Bye."

new the life of unity spacecore iv

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iv

(Autistic author)

"Let's play again," Plankton 
says, his voice eager. Sponge 
Bob nods, his smile 
genuine. "Ok, Plankton
pick a board game."

Karen watches as Sponge 
Bob sorts through the 
disarray of their game 
collection, his spongy 
fingers touching each box 
before finally settling on 
a card game.

"Go Fish!" Sponge Bob 
exclaims, holding up the 
battered cards. Plankton's 
face lights up at the 
familiar phrase, his antennas 
waggling with excitement. 
"Fish, fish, fish," he 
repeats, his voice echoing 
the words.

The two sit cross-legged on 
the floor, the cards spread 
out in front of them. Plankton's 
hands tremble slightly as he 
picks up his cards, but his 
concentration is intense. 
"Fish," he whispers, holding 
his hand out to Sponge Bob.
Sponge Bob nods, understanding 
the game despite Plankton's 
simplified request.

"Go Fish," he responds, 
placing a card into Plankton's 
outstretched palm. Plankton's 
eye brightens, and he repeats 
the action, placing a card 
into Sponge Bob's hand. "Fish," 
he says again, his voice 
slightly more confident.
"Plankton you gotta take a card
from the pile.."
Sponge Bob starts to explain,
but Plankton's antennas shoot 
up, and he interrupts. "Fish 
from the pile," he repeats, 
his voice eager. He reaches for 
the deck and draws a card, 
his eye never leaving 
Sponge Bob's.

Sponge Bob nods. 
"That's right, Plankton," he 
says, his voice gentle. "Go Fish."

Plankton repeats the phrase, 
his antennas bobbing with each 
word. "Go Fish," he murmurs, 
his eye scanning the cards.

Sponge Bob nods, a gentle 
smile playing on his lips. 
"Good job, Plankton," he 
encourages. "Your turn to ask 
for a card."

Plankton's antennas wiggle as he 
thinks, his eye darting to 
his hand. "Sponge Bob," he says, 
his voice a mix of excitement 
and focus. "Got any...?" He 
pauses, his brain searching 
for the right word. "Got any...?"

"Got any fish?" Sponge Bob 
prompts, his smile never 
wavering.
"Fish," Plankton repeats, 
his antennas bobbing. "Got any 
fish?"

Sponge Bob nods, 
understanding dawning. 
"Do you have any twos?"

Plankton's antennas 
twitch in excitement. "Two," 
he echoes, his voice 
triumphant. "Do you have any 
twos?"

Sponge Bob's smile falters 
slightly as he nods, looking 
at his own cards. He's not sure 
how to proceed. He 
decides to keep the game 
simple. "I don't have any twos," 
he says. "Now it's your turn 
to Go Fish."

Plankton nods, his 
concentration unbroken. He 
scans his cards again. "Got any 
fish?" he asks, his voice 
determined.

Sponge Bob's smile widens, 
his eyes sparkling with 
understanding. "No fish 
here," he says, placing a card 
face down. "Go Fish."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch rapidly as he 
processes the new 
information, his brain 
working to keep up with 
the game's flow. "Go Fish," 
he repeats, his voice 
gaining confidence with 
each exchange.

Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen slightly but 
he nods along, playing 
his part. "Okay, Plankton," 
he says, placing a card 
on the pile. "Your turn."

Plankton's antennas 
wobble as he considers 
his next move. "Got any 
fish?" he asks again, his 
voice a mix of excitement 
and challenge.
Sponge Bob's smile 
becomes a bit forced. 
"Nope," he says, 
his voice still cheerful. 
"Go Fish."

Plankton's eye dart 
to the cards in his 
hand, then back to 
Sponge Bob. His antennas 
wave erratically as he tries 
to formulate his next 
question. "Got any...?"

Sponge Bob waits 
patiently, his heart 
aching for his friend. 
He's never seen Plankton like 
this before, for SpongeBob
doesn't know about the accident
nor the diagnosis.
"Got any fish?" Plankton's 
words echo in the 
silence of the room. 
Sponge Bob's confusion 
mounts as he looks into 
his friend's eye, searching 
for a clue to what's 
going on.
"No, Plankton," Sponge 
Bob says, his voice 
strained. "I don't have any 
fish." Plankton's antennas 
drop slightly, his 
expression one of 
disappointment.
"Go Fish," he murmurs, 
his gaze drifting to the 
card pile.
Sponge Bob's heart 
aches as he watches 
his friend, trying to 
understand this new, 
strange behavior. "Do you 
want to play something 
else?" he asks, hoping to 
distract Plankton from his 
obsession with the game.
But Plankton's antennas 
spring back to life. "More 
fish," he insists, his voice 
almost a command. Sponge 
Bob nods, his mind racing 
to comprehend what's 
happening. He knows 
Plankton's mind is sharp, so 
why the repetition?

"Got any fish?" Plankton 
asks again, his voice 
growing more urgent.

Sponge Bob's smile falters.
He's never seen Plankton act 
this way before. The urgency 
in Plankton's voice, the 
repetition of words, it's all so 
strange and disconcerting. "I don't 
understand," he says, his voice 
small and unsure. "What's going 
on with you?"
Plankton's antennas quiver 
slightly at Sponge Bob's 
question, but his eye 
remains fixed on the cards. 
"I don't understand," he says, 
voice soft but firm. "What's
going on with you."
Sponge Bob's smile falters,
his eyes searching Plankton's 
face for answers. "It's just a 
game, Plankton," he says, 
his voice filled with 
concern. "You don't have to 
keep asking for fish."

This isn't the Plankton he 
knows, the cunning and 
scheming arch-nemesis who 
always has a plan up his 
sleeve. This is someone 
else entirely, someone 
lost and confused.
But Plankton doesn't 
seem to hear him. "Fish," he 
whispers, his antennas 
twitching in time with 
his words. "Got any fish?"
Sponge Bob feels a knot 
form in his stomach. Is
Plankton trying to annoy him?

"Plankton, are you ok?" 
he asks gently, his voice 
filled with concern.
Plankton's antennas stop 
twitching for a moment, 
his gaze meeting Sponge 
Bob's.
"Plankton are you ok," 
he echoes, his 
eye searching Sponge 
Bob's for a clue. "Fish."
Sponge Bob's brow furrows 
deeper, his confusion 
growing.
"You don't have to keep 
asking for fish, Plankton," he 
says again.
But Plankton's mind is 
stuck on the pattern, his 
voice insistent. "Fish," he 
repeats.

Sponge Bob's now getting irritated. 
The echoing of his words, the intense 
stare, and the persistent demand 
for "fish" are unlike anything he's 
ever seen.
"Plankton, please," he says, 
his voice tight with frustration. 
"I don't have any fish. Let's play 
a different game."
But Plankton's antennas 
only wiggle more rapidly. 
"Fish," he insists. "Got any fish?"
Sponge Bob's patience is 
wearing thin, his cheery 
demeanor slipping away. 
"I said no!" he snaps, 
his voice a little too loud.

Plankton recoils at the 
sudden change in tone, 
his antennas drooping. 
"Fish?" he whispers, his 
voice filled with uncertainty.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen 
with regret at his 
outburst. "I'm sorry," he 
says quickly, his voice 
softening. "I didn't mean 
to yell. But Plankton, I 
don't have any more fish!"

Plankton's antennas 
sag, and his eye 
becomes unfocused. "No 
fish," he murmurs, his 
voice barely above a 
whisper.
Sponge Bob's never seen 
Plankton like this, his 
behavior so repetitive 
and unresponsive to 
his words. It was as 
if the game had become 
the center of Plankton's 
entire world, and Sponge 
Bob's refusal to play 
along had shattered it.

"I'm sorry, Plankton," 
Sponge Bob says, his voice 
trembling with frustration. 
"I just don't understand 
why you're so obsessed 
with fish."
Plankton looks up, his 
eye meeting Sponge 
Bob's, a hint of 
hurt flickering across 
his expression. "Fish," he 
says again, his voice 
smaller this time. "Need fish."

Sponge Bob sighs, 
his hands going to 
his face. "Ok," he says, 
his voice muffled. "Let's 
just finish this game." 

new a journey to autism gamefic iv

CATCH IN MY CHIP iv
(Autistic author)

Plankton looks around, confusion
flickering in his eye. "What's going on?"

"You had a bit of an overload,"
Karen explains, her voice gentle.
"Too much sensory input, remember?"

Plankton's antennas twitch, and
his eye widens slightly as he takes
in the scene. The mess, the quiet,
Chip's tear-stained face. He sighs,
his body relaxing back into the
pillows. "Ah, yes," he murmurs.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to
scare you."

Karen smiles, her eyes
shimmering with relief. "It's okay,
dear. We're just here for you."

Plankton's gaze drifts to Chip,
who's hovering in the doorway,
his eyes wide and worried. "Chip... 
I'm sorry."

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his voice shaking. "It's okay, Dad.
Is your autism causing..."

Plankton looks at him, his
eye widening slightly. "What do
you know about autism?" He sits
up, his voice tinged with surprise.

Chip sniffles, his grip tight
on the seashell collection. "Mom
told me," he says, his voice
barely audible. "It's why you got
overwhelmed, isn't it?"

Plankton's expression shifts
from confusion to something
closer to anger.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me,"
he snaps, his voice sharp. "I can
handle it."

"But Dad you just..."

Plankton cuts Chip 
off, his voice
edged with agitation. 
"I said, I can handle it!"

Chip takes a step back,
his eyes wide and filled with
fear. He hadn't meant to upset
his dad; he just wanted to
understand. "You couldn't handle
it, Dad. Otherwise, you..."

Plankton's eye narrows,
his antennas standing on end.
"Don't," he says,
his voice a warning growl.
"I don't need a little kid telling
me what I can and can't handle."

Chip's shoulders slump,
his eyes welling up. "But I just...
I didn't mean to..."

"I said, I can handle it!" Plankton's voice
cracks through the air, his face flushing
with irritation. Karen's grip on Chip's hand
tightens, a silent message to stay calm.

Chip's eyes water as he stammers, "But I just
wanted to help." The weight of his dad's
words hits him like a brick. He hadn't meant
to make him mad, but he couldn't shake
the feeling that he'd done something wrong.

Plankton's breaths are sharp and quick, his
body tense with frustration. "You don't know
what you're talking about," he snaps, pushing
the covers off his legs. "You're just a kid. You
don't understand."

Chip's eyes well up with 
tears as he looks at his
father, the man he's 
always admired and loved,
now a stranger in his own 
pain. "But Mom said it's
okay for..."

Plankton's anger flares,
his antennas quivering. 
"Don't you dare bring 
your mom into this," he
says, cutting Chip off again. 
"This is not your business!"

Chip's lower lip trembles,
his eyes filling with tears.
He hadn't meant to upset
his dad, but everything
he says seems to make it worse.
"But Dad," he starts, but
his voice is lost in the
wave of Plankton's frustration.

"I don't need your pity,"
Plankton says, his voice rising.
He swings his legs over the
side of the bed, his movements
quick and jerky. "You think
just because you know a fancy
word, you know what it's like?"

Chip feels his cheeks burn,
his eyes blurred with unshed tears.
"No, Dad, I just..."

But Plankton is already out
of bed, his legs wobbly. "You think
you know everything, don't you?"
His words are a jumble of anger
and pain, his voice echoing in
the quiet room.

Chip steps back, his eyes wide
with shock. "No, Dad, I just..."
He tries to explain, but Plankton
interrupts again.

"Don't tell me what you 'just,'"
Plankton snaps. "You think
because you went to some camp
you can come back and act like
you know me?" His voice is
sharp, cutting through the
tension in the air like a
knife.

Chip's eyes dart to the ground,
his body shrinking under the
weight of his father's words.
"But Dad, I just..."

Plankton's anger is palpable,
his body vibrating with tension.
"I said, don't tell me what you
'just'!" He snatches up Chip's
new surfboard, the one symbol
of joy from camp, and slams it
against the wall. The room
shakes with the impact, sending
a shower of sand and shells flying.

Chip jumps, his eyes wide with shock.
"Dad, please," he whispers, his voice
shaking. He's never seen his dad
like this, never felt such anger
radiating from him. It's like a storm
has taken over the room, and he's
the only one caught in it.

"What are you doing?" Chip asks,
his voice barely above a whisper.
He takes a step back, his hands up
in a protective gesture.

"What does it look like?" Plankton
snarls, his grip tight on the broken
surfboard. "I can't even have a moment
without you poking and prodding!"

Chip's eyes dart around the room,
his heart racing as he tries to find
the words to fix this. "I'm sorry, Dad,"
he whispers, his voice trembling. "I just
wanted to help."

But Plankton is beyond reason,
his anger a living thing that feeds
off the chaos. He turns to the desk,
his gaze settling on the pile of sandy
photos. "You think your camp
souvenirs mean anything to me?"
He snatches the pictures, ripping
them into shreds. Chip gasps, tears
spilling down his cheeks as he watches
his memories destroyed. "Dad, no!"

He tries to grab the photos,
his hands shaking, but Plankton
swats him away, the torn pieces
falling like confetti around them.
The room seems to close in, the
smell of saltwater and musty sand
overwhelming him. "These are
from my trip!" Chip sobs, his voice
choking on his own pain.

"I don't care about your trip!"
Plankton shouts, throwing the
remaining pieces into the air.
They flutter down like sad confetti,
a stark contrast to the joy they
once represented. "I care about
me! I care about what you do
to me with your noise and your
energy!"

Chip's heart feels like it's
shattering into a million
pieces, each one a memory of
his dad's love and patience
torn apart. "I didn't mean to,"
he whispers, his voice barely
audible over the ringing in
his ears. "I just wanted to share..."

Plankton's eye flashes with anger,
his grip on the shredded photos
white-knuckled. "Share?" He spits
the word out like it's poison. "You
have no idea what you're
doing to me! You just keep pushing
and pushing, and you don't even
notice when I can't take it anymore!"

Chip's eyes dart to the floor,
his hands curling into fists. "I
thought you liked it," he says,
his voice shaking. "I thought
you liked when I talked about
my day."

Plankton's chest heaves, his
eye blazing with frustration. "You
don't get it, do you?" He says,
his voice rising. "You never get it!"
He picks up Chip's rare seashell
collection, the one he'd been so
proud to show off, and hurls
it across the room. The sound
of breaking shells fills the air,
each one a shard of Chip's shattered
happiness.

"Dad, please!" Chip begs, his
hands outstretched. "Stop!"
But Plankton's rage has taken
over, a whirlwind of accusations
and anger. "You think this is fun?"
He yells, holding up a shard
of seashell. "You think this is what
I want?"

Plankton throws the shard down,
the clatter of broken shells
like a mocking echo of Chip's
pleas. "I don't want your noise!" His
hands shake with fury as he
grabs the sandy trophy from the
camp sandwich contest.

"Dad, please," Chip says, his voice
small and scared. "What's wrong?"
He tries to approach, but Plankton's
body language is a clear warning.

Plankton's eye dart around the
room, his anger a tangible force.
"Wrong?" He laughs, a harsh,
bitter sound. "Wrong is you, coming
in here with your stories and your
noise and your... stuff!" He gestures
wildly at the camp souvenirs, the
remnants of Chip's excitement scattered
across the floor.

He hurls the trophy at the wall,
watching with a twisted satisfaction
as it shatters into a hundred
pieces. "This," he says, holding
up a fistful of sand, "this is what
you do to me!"

Chip flinches with each broken
piece, his heart aching. "But
Dad, I just wanted to make you
proud." His voice is barely a
whisper, lost in the storm of
Plankton's rage.

"Proud?" Plankton sneers,
his grip tight on the sand.
"You think this junk makes
me proud?" He throws the sand
at Chip, the grains stinging his
face like tiny needles. "You have
no idea what I go through every
day, do you?" His voice cracks,
his anger giving way to pain.

Karen steps in, her voice firm
but calm. "Plankton, that's enough."
Her eyes are on her son, her
face a mask of concern. "Chip,
why don't you go... dust your screen?"
Her tone is gentle, but her gaze
holds a silent message: stay calm.

Chip nods, his eyes never leaving
his dad's. He turns and heads
for the bathroom, his steps slow
and deliberate. The door clicks
closed behind him, leaving Karen
and Plankton alone in the room.

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II iv

GREAT CHIP iv
(Autistic author)

In the bedroom, Karen
managed to guide Plankton
to the bed, her voice
soothing. She knew
his senses were heightened
right now, his body
a battleground.

Chip hovered in the doorway,
his eyes never leaving
his dad. He felt
like he didn't recognize
this man who had
always been his hero.

The seizure passed,
leaving Plankton 
drained.
Karen helped tucked him in,
her eyes filled with sadness.

In the quiet that followed,
she turned to Chip,
his own eyes red and puffy.
"I'm sorry you had to see that,"
she said gently.

Chip nodded, his gaze
still on Plankton's exhausted face.
"Is he okay?" he asked, his voice
barely above a whisper.

"He'll be fine," Karen assured,
her voice strained. "Just tired.
This happens sometimes."

Chip nodded, his gaze never
leaving Plankton's face. He felt
like he was seeing his dad
for the first time, like he'd
been looking at him through
a fog and suddenly, it had lifted.
He didn't know what to do
with the mix of feelings swirling
inside him: confusion, fear, sadness.

Karen took Chip's hand,
squeezing it gently. "Let's go
talk, okay?" she suggested,
leading him out of the room.
They sat in the kitchen,
the silence heavy between them.

"I don't get it," Chip said finally,
his voice still shaky. "Why
did Dad get so mad?"

Karen sighed, her grip on
his hand tightening. "It's not that
he's mad at you, sweetheart.
It's his way of dealing with the fear
and confusion. Sometimes,
his brain gets overwhelmed,
and it's like he can't control
his reactions."

Chip looked at her, his
eyes searching for understanding.
"But why does he have to break
my toys?" he asked, his voice
still small.

Karen's heart ached for him.
"It's not about the toys," she
explained softly. "It's about the
frustration he feels, the inability
to communicate what he's going 
through."

Chip sniffled, trying to wrap
his head around it all. "But why
does he get so...so...mad?"

Karen's eyes were filled with
understanding. "It's not just you,
Chip. Sometimes, his brain needs a way
to deal with everything. It's like
his own personal tornado, and when
it hits, it's hard for him to keep
his emotions from spinning out 
of control."

Chip nodded, still not fully
understanding but willing to try.
He looked down at their joined
hands, his thumb tracing small circles
on her palm. "What can I do?"

Karen squeezed his hand.
"Just be patient," she said.
"And don't take it personally.
Remember, it's not about you,
it's about what he's feeling.
And when he's ready, we can talk
about it together."

Chip nodded, feeling a mix
of relief and trepidation.
He didn't want to upset his dad
again, but he needed to know
how to help. He didn't want
to feel so powerless.

"But what if he doesn't want to talk?"
he ventured, his voice small.

"Then we'll give him space," Karen said,
her eyes filled with warmth. "But we'll
be here, ready to listen when he does."

Chip nodded, wiping away the last
of his tears with the back of his hand.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice
still shaky. "Can I sit with him?"

Karen nodded. "Just for a bit,
but remember, he might not know
you're there right away. Let's go."

They tiptoe back into the room,
the air still thick with tension.
Plankton's eye is closed. Karen
knows he's sleeping.

Chip sits in the chair beside
the bed, watching his dad's chest
rise and fall. He reaches out
to touch Plankton's hand, but stops.

He didn't want to startle him,
not after what happened. His mind
raced with questions, but he knew
now was not the time to ask.

Instead, Chip took a deep breath,
his hand hovering over Plankton's.
He didn't know how to make it right,
but he knew he had to try.

Karen watched from the doorway,
her heart heavy with the weight
of her family's pain. She knew
this was a moment that could either
build a wall or bridge the gap
between father and son.

Chip's hand hovered, unsure,
before finally landing on
his dad's. Plankton's antennae
twitched, and Chip looked up to see
his mother's eyes glistening with
proud tears.

Karen offered a gentle smile.
"You can sit with him," she whispered.
"Just don't touch him anywhere else."

Chip nodded and pulled the chair
closer to the bed, his eyes
never leaving his dad's still face.

He sat for what felt like hours,
his hand resting gently on Plankton's.
Every now and then, his dad's antennae
would twitch, and he'd hold his breath,
afraid that he'd wake him up. But Plankton
remained still, lost in a deep slumber.

The room was quiet, save for the soft
snores escaping his dad's mouth. Chip
stared at his hand on Plankton's, his mind
racing with everything he'd learned. Autism,
seizures, the way his dad's brain worked differently.
It was all so new and overwhelming.

He felt a pang of guilt for not
knowing sooner, for not understanding.
But Karen's words echoed in his mind:
his dad's reactions weren't personal. It was
just how his brain dealt with stress.

Chip leaned back in the chair,
his eyes heavy with the weight
of the day's events. He watched
his dad's chest rise and fall, the
steady rhythm comforting him.

His thoughts swirled with questions
and confusion, but he knew
one thing for sure: he loved
his dad, no matter what.

As the minutes ticked by,
his fear turned into resolve.
He would learn more about his
father and try to find a way
to support him without setting
off the storm of sensory overload.

new great chip learncore iv

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iv
(Autistic author)

Sandy feels the full weight
of her words crash down upon
her. The accusations she had
thrown at Plankton now felt like
sharp stones in her own stomach.
Her mind reels as she tries to
comprehend what she had just
learned. Autism? Plankton?
How could she have been so
blind, so cruel?

Her gaze falls to the floor,
avoiding Karen's. "I'm so sorry,"
she whispers, her voice thick with
guilt. "I didn't know."

Karen nods, her own emotions
swirling. "But we need to be
more careful with him."

Sandy's eyes are glued to
the floor, her tail flicking
nervously. "I didn't mean to
hurt him," she says, her voice
small and ashamed. "I just
thought he was being weird."

Karen nods, understanding. "I
know," she says, her voice gentle.
"But now we know better, and we
have to help him." She moves
towards the bedroom, her steps
determined. "Let's go check
on him."

They enter the room quietly.

Karen's optical sensors scan his
tiny form, noticing the slight rise
and fall of his chest. He's
asleep, she realizes, exhausted
from the emotional turmoil.

Sandy's gaze follows hers, her
expression a mix of regret and
curiosity. She's never seen
Plankton like this before,
his features softer, almost
peaceful in repose. "Is he okay?"
she asks, her voice a whisper.

Karen nods, her hand reaching
out to touch his shoulder.
"He's sleeping," she says, her voice
filled with tenderness. "It's been
a big day for him."

Sandy steps closer, her gaze
taking in Plankton's sleeping
features. His face, usually
twisted with plotting and
schemes, is now slack with
exhaustion. His eye, usually
alive with cunning, is closed,
and his breaths come in deep,
even snores, his mouth slightly
agape.

"What do we do now?" Sandy
asks, her voice hushed. Karen
sits beside him on the bed,
her hand still on his shoulder.
"We help him," she says, her
voice firm. "We learn about his
autism and how we can support
him."

They spend the next few
moments in silence, the air
heavy with the weight of what
has been said. Karen's hand
continues to gently stroke
Plankton's shoulder.
Sandy sits down on the
opposite side of the bed.

Her gaze is fixed on
Plankton, her thoughts racing.
She had known him for so
long, and yet she had never
considered this possibility.
"What does this mean for him?"
she whispers, her voice filled
with concern.

Karen sighs, her hand
still stroking Plankton's
shoulder. "It means we'll
have to make some changes,"
she says softly. "He'll need
routines, and patience, and
understanding."

Sandy nods, her eyes
glistening with unshed tears.
"I can do that," she says, her
voice filled with determination.
"But what about... us?"

Karen looks up, her gaze
meeting Sandy's. "What do you
mean?" she asks, her hand
pausing in its soothing motion.

Sandy swallows, her eyes still on
Plankton. "Our friendship," she
says. "How do we handle this
without making him feel...
different?"

Karen nods, understanding her
concern. "We just need to be
there for him," she says. "He's
still the same Plankton, just
with some new challenges."

They sit in silence for a
moment, the only sound the
rhythm of Plankton's snores.
Sandy reaches out tentatively,
her paw hovering over his arm.

"Is it ok to touch him?" she asks.

Karen nods. "Yes, Sandy. Just be
gentle," she whispers.

Sandy's paw touches Plankton's
arm, her touch light and tentative.
He stirs slightly, but doesn't
wake. She leaves her paw there,
offering comfort without intrusion.

Karen watches them
with a mix of love and
fear for the future. Plankton's
autism was still a mystery to
them, a labyrinth they were just
beginning to navigate. She knows
it won't be easy, but she's
determined to be by his side.

"We're a team," she says,
squeezing Plankton's shoulder.

Sandy nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's sleeping
form. "A team," she repeats, her
voice filled with resolve.

For the first time since the
diagnosis, the three of them are
united in a common goal: to
understand and support Plankton
as he navigates his new reality.

Sandy and Karen exchange a look,
each one filled with a determination
that mirrors the other. They've
been friends through thick and
thin, through Krabby Patty
heists and jellyfish stings, and
now they're facing a challenge
none of them had ever anticipated.

Sandy's paw remains on
Plankton's arm, her touch
steady and reassuring.

Plankton stirred, his sleep 
disturbed by the unfamiliar 
weight of Sandy's paw on his 
arm.

His eye fluttered open, and he
was met with the sight of
Sandy and Karen, their faces
contorted with a mix of
concern and confusion. He sat up
quickly, his body jolting with
fear.

"Plankton, it's ok," Karen
soothes, her hand reaching out to
calm him. "You're safe."

"Karen sad?" he
asks, his voice 
cracking.

Sandy's paw tightens on his
arm, which makes Plankton
feel uncomfortable enough to
get him to snap at her.

"What Sandy want?" he
asks, his voice sharp, his
body tense with anxiety.

Sandy's eyes fill with tears.
"I didn't mean to make you
upset," she says, her voice
shaking. "I just didn't know."

Plankton's gaze flits
between them, trying to read
their expressions, but his
brain struggles to interpret their
complex emotions. "Karen sad?" he
repeats, his voice a mix of
fear and confusion.

Karen's hand moves to cover
Sandy's, her grip firm but gentle.
"No, Plankton," she says, her
voice soothing. "We're just
concerned about you."

Sandy takes a deep breath,
forcing back her tears. "I'm sorry,"
she says, her voice barely above a
whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt
you."

Plankton's gaze flickers
between them, his mind racing to
understand the situation. "No
hurt," he says, his voice shaky.
"Sandy say Karen sad. No sad."

Karen's circuits pulse with a
mixture of relief and sadness.
"Sandy didn't mean it, Plankton,"
she says, her voice filled with
compassion. "We're all just trying
to understand what's happening."

Sandy's eyes are cast down, her
paws fidgeting in her lap. "I'm
sorry," she murmurs, her voice
heavy with regret. "I didn't
know." She grabs Plankton in
a hug, unaware of how the tight
embrace might feel to him. Plankton
stiffens, his senses getting overwhelmed.

"No touch," he says, his voice tight.

Sandy quickly releases him, her eyes 
wide with apology. "I'm sorry," she 
says, her voice trembling. "I just 
wanted to help."

Karen nods, her gaze softening. 
"We all do," she says. "But we 
have to learn how to help in ways 
that don't overwhelm him."

Plankton's eye darts around 
the room, with the need 
to regulate himself.

He starts to rock 
in a rhythmic motion, a 
self-soothing behavior
his new autism
craves. The sensation of
his own movements helps
to calm the storm of 
thoughts and emotions
swirling within him.

Karen notices the change
immediately and nods
understandingly. "It's
ok, Plankton," she says,
her voice gentle. "You
do what you need to do."

Sandy watches, her curiosity
piqued by the rhythmic rocking
"What's he doing?"
she asks, her voice hushed.

Karen sighs, her gaze
filled with understanding.
"It's his way of self-soothing,"
she explains. "It's called stimming."

Sandy's eyes widen, taking in
Plankton's rhythmic rocks.
"Stimming?" she repeats. "What's
that?"

Karen nods, her voice calm
and patient. "It's a way for him
to regulate his sensory
input," she explains. "It helps
him feel safe and in control."

Sandy watches. He starts to hum, a low
buzz that resonates in the
quiet room, his way of finding
comfort in the chaos of his
thoughts.

"It's ok," Karen whispers, her
hand on his shoulder. "We're
here."

Plankton's eye lock onto her
hand, the pressure of her touch
offering a semblance of comfort.
He starts to rock back and forth
again. The movement
calms him slightly.

Sandy watches. She had never
seen Plankton like this before.
The sharpness of her words
from earlier stings her
now, as she realizes the
depth of his distress.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice
quiet. "I didn't know."

Plankton's humming turns to
a soft melody, his body
still moving in a soothing
pattern. The words echo in his
head, a reminder of the world's
expectations he can never quite
meet.

Sandy watches him, her own
world now forever changed.
She had always known Plankton
to be eccentric, but this was
different. This was real.

Her mind reels with questions
and fears. How would this
affect their friendship?
Could they ever return to
the easy banter they once
shared? Would he still be the
same friend she had always
known?

But as she watches him
stim, the reality of the
situation starts to set in.
Plankton was still Plankton,
but with a new set of rules
and a new way of seeing the
world. Sandy makes a silent
vow to learn those rules, to
understand his world as much
as he had tried to understand
hers.

new karen and the autistic journey karenktondy plankary sandarenton karentony karandyn iv

🤬

new harassment abusive NSFW

(੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡ please guys don't put a p0rn and nud1ty contents here.. those kids just want to search a cute kaomoji and they found a contents is not good for them so please i just warn you. DO NOT SEND A NUD1TY CONTENT. 🙁 dont ask abt the tags its for it to appear when anyone searches it up

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⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣛⣩⣴⣶⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠇⠀⢿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣛⣩⣴⣶⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

I was walking down the road until I saw a big gyatt I got so distracted that I started walking towards it until I tripped an fell on an atom and chewed my tongue I walked up to the atom and said "hey that was not very sigma of you now you get to see the alpha side of me AWOOO" and the atom said "no no please mr alpha gyatt rizzler" and then I grimace shaked the atom and continued my journey looking for the mr grimace rizzler gyattson until I got distracted by a huge volumptuous gyatt I chased after it and had such huge fun with it w gyatt

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❤️❤️❤️

new lesbian lgbt lgbt+ lgbtq lgbtq+ women homo gay queer homosexuality gender sexuality gay woman cisgender sapphic sappho identity

Your boyfriend is thirsty for pvssy. He brings you into your big bedroom on your queen sized bed with white and blue sheets. He slowly lays you down on the bed, his hot breath against your giant juicy boobs. He has a sex toy in his sweaty hand, a dick 30 inches long. You had both agreed to have sex. You, were wearing a sexy bikini with no top. And the bottom had a hole where your pvssy is. He begins to strip, his big, warm juicy dick sliding into your tight wet pvssy. You moan loudly. He puts his head down between your warm boobs, that were about to produce milk. He squirms his dick slowly down you pvssy, and he cums. You begin to cum as well. You sit up, and quickly grab his big, wet dick. You begin to suck it. He moans softly. He grabs one of yours boobs and sucks the milk. He begins to cum in your mouth. It turns out he brought one of his friends. As your sucking his dick, his friend puts his duck in your juicy ass. You moan extremely loud, and cum starts going out of you pvssy, spreading onto the white and blue sheets. The boys stop fvcking you and lick the cum off the bed like cats drinking milk. The boys lay you on the ground and spread open your legs, cum flowing down. They lift your pvssy lips, and put both their dicks inside. They both cum, and you cum as well. Cum was oozing on the floor. They ripped the bikini off of you. You were fully stripped. You sucked your boyfriends dick, while his friends duck went up your ass. You grabbed your dick sex toy and thrusted it in your pussy. You cummed and drooled and moaned. You did this all night. You drank the boys soft liquidy cum. (HOPE YOU ENJOYED!)

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⡠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⣠⠎⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢀⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⢀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⡄⣰⠏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢆⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣉⢠⣾⡿⢿⣿⣿
⠀⠣⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠚⠁⠈⠳⠾⠽⡇⠀⢿⣿
⠀⠀⠱⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠤⠄⠐⠒⠒⣒⠒⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢞⢿⠀⠀⢿
⠀⠀⠀⠐⡘⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⡁⠄⢀⣀⣀⠀⣴⠉⠈⣝⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠈
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡸⣿⣿⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⢄⡼⣤⡶⠗⠂⠉⠉⠈⠑⠜⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡴⡶
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⢻⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⢤⡄⠶⠒⠋⠉⠉⡹⠋⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⣹⠃
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡎⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⠤⣔⠶⡝⠓⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⡜⠠⠀⠀⡠⠄⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣐⠢⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢄⣧⣀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢻⢟⡫⠝⠊⠁⠘⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠐⣼⡠⣤⠲⠶⠒⠒⠀⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠉⠀⠠⠀⠂⠁⢀⡠⣊⠕⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢋⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠒⢄⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡾⡱⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⢡⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣄⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣶⣶⡶⣶⢶⣶⣶⡆
⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⢀⣀⡀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢹⡛⣯⣿⣏⡯⡏⠁
⠘⠟⠛⠝⠀⠜⠘⠛⠋⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⡛⠛⠓

new xes nrop ytivitca lauxes xes lana xes laro ytilauxes kcid + yssup tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

trans ppl, stay strong. we can fight this!🏳‍⚧

new trans lgbtqia+ transgender lgbt gay sexuality genderqueer gender identity transsexual umbrella term transgendered gender dysphoria transitioning

⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣷⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢰⢠⣶⡶⠔⢶⣶⡀⡀⠷⠞⠃⠀⠰⠀⠀⢷⣶⡀⣶⣀⣾⡿⢇⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿
⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠈⠘⣿⠃⢠⠘⠏⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠋⠸⡇⠘⡄⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢬⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⣉⣀⣀⡀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠰⠀⠀⠁⣤⣌⡀⠀⠀⠐⢄⣀⠀⠄⠠⡀⠀⠀⣀⢀⣤⣤⣤⢄⡉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢁⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⡶⣿⣤⣤⡟⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣶⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣔⡄⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣾⣾⣿⣿⣟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⢁⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⡿⢹⣿⣿⡏⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⣿⢇⣿⣿⣿⣯⡾⠃⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠻⢁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣿⣿⢿⡏⣽⣿⣧⠈⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⠆⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣧⠐⣆⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢀⣾⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣤⣧⣿⣿⣿⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⠁⠰⠋⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣧⡈⠂⠘⣿⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⣠⣾⡿⢡⣄⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠘⢿⣿⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⢿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⡿⠀⠘⣿⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⡅⢿⡏⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣯⡈⣿⣿⣷⡄⢀⠛⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠈⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⠈⠻⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⢁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣆⠀⢠⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠅⢀⡞⢋⣤⣦⠀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢀⠁⠁⠈⣿⣦⣙⢣⣄⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣰⡿⣋⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠈⢀⣀⣼⣿⣷⣬⣙⡻⣶⡈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⣼⣷⣿⡿⢻⠇⣼⣷⣆⠁⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣮⡛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠻⣯⡙⣿⣄⡙⠆⢻⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣾⣿⣿⡟⣴⠏⣸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠂⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠶⡌⢻⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⡜⣷⡘⣿⣿⣾⡆⢻⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣸⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠟⠁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣚⣋⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣋⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⢹⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠠⠔⠿⠂⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⢛⣡⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠓⠢⢤⡀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣭⣉⡛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢛⣉⣭⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣄⡀⠀⠈⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢸
⣿⣿⣿⡟⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⠛⢿⡿⠛⢡⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣓⢤⣀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎
⣿⣿⡿⢡⣿⣿⠋⠩⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢋⣉⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⡗⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⡟⢠⠞⠛⣻⣷⣦⣄⣀⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⢶⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⡀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢰⣿⣿⣆⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿
⡏⠀⠻⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⣀⠉⠛⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣌⣉⣉⣙⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣇⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠟⣛⡛⠿⠂⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠋⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣇⠀⢾⣄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠻⠿⣿⡿⢂⣀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠧⣬⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⣉⣁⣀⣤⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃
⣿⡄⠘⣿⣿⣆⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣦⣀⠠⠤⣄⣉⠛⠢⠀⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣩⠴⠒⠒⠒⠒⠲⠶⢄⡙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⢀⣴⠤⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣰
⣿⣧⠀⠘⡇⣿⣶⡄⠘⠻⣿⣧⡀⠹⢿⣿⣶⣬⣍⠛⠶⣦⣤⣴⣾⣿⡿⠛⢰⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢷⠿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⢀⣁⣤⣴⡾⠛⣡⣤⣾⠿⠻⣿⣿⡿⠋⡠⣾⣿
⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣤⡄⠀⠈⠻⣿⣷⣶⣌⣉⠛⠻⠿⣶⣄⡉⠉⠻⢿⣿⢿⣷⡀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀⢀⣰⣦⣽⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⣉⣤⣶⣿⠿⠛⣁⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⣀⣴⠉⠻
⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⢿⣷⠆⣤⣈⠙⠂⠀⣤⣤⣄⠙⢿⣦⡘⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⣁⣠⡿⠟⢃⣤⡍⠉⠀⣠⡴⠛⠛⣋⣠⣤⣶⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⢾⡿⠃⠀⠁
⡏⠄⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡀⠸⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣉⣉⡛⠃⢀⣉⣹⣿⣷⡤⠀⣴⡶⢉⣹⣏⣀⣁⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠤⠶⠟⠛⠛⠉⣉⣀⣠⡤⠀⣠⣤⡄⠀⠀⢀⡤
⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⠀⣤⡀⠘⠿⠿⢦⣤⣉⠋⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢀⡿⠀⣿⣿⡿⣠⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⡿⠟⠛⣉⣤⣾⣿⠛⠁⢀⣴⣿⠇
⠀⠀⣸⣷⡄⠘⠀⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠳⠦⠀⠈⢉⣛⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠇⠘⢁⣾⣿⣿⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠉⠈⠁⢀⣴⣿⣿⣵⣿
⠀⠀⣿⣿⣷⡀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠷⣶⣤⣤⣶⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣙⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠙⠛⠛⣉⣤⣶⣾⣷⣆⠀⠀⢠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣶⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠻⠟⢡⣶⣶⣌⢻⣿⣿⠟⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣯⡙⠿⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠙⠃⣼⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠝⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣆⢹⣿⣿⠀⢀⣦⣰⡀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⡄⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠁⣼⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⣦⣼⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡂⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟
⣧⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣹⣿⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃
⣿⡀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀
⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀
⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸

new wfsn ytidun xes mef ytilauxes ymmef tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

my dad has been abusing me for the past 6 months(‿∣‿) slap 🤤(‿∣‿) slap 🤤

new WAMUUCONFESSIONS abuse child abuse

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠰⣦⡁⢈⢲⣌⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡤⠰⠆⢻⣦⣄⠙⠟⢢⠈⢽⠳⡌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢀⡄⠘⠋⣉⣤⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⢱⡘⠄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⠀⠰⠋⠁⢠⡈⠻⡟⠀⡆⠀⣉⣩⣥⣶⡄⢄⠀⠀⠁⠘⡀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠇⠸⠣⠀⢠⡆⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⡛⠉⠛⠛⠃⠘⣦⠀⡀⠀⠐⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠀⢠⣶⡄⠘⠀⠠⣆⠀⠀⠈⣃⣼⡇⡀⠀⣀⣀⡀⣿⡀⠰⡆⢢⠑⡀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠛⠁⠀⡄⠀⠙⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⠀⡅⢸⡀⠈⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⣡⣤⣤⣤⣬⡛⢿
⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⡄⢀⣤⣿⣏⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡟⠘⠀⠈⡇⣄⠀⣄⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⣿⣦⡈⣇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⢸⣿⣧⢹⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣤⡇⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠸⠿⣿⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡠⣾⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠉⢉⣠⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣾⠀⣦⠀⠠⣌⣉⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢤⣴⣶⣿⡟⢦⡈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣠⣿⣿⣿⣯⣓⡶⠿⣦⣘⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣧⡙⢦⢱⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⣩⣴⣶⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠘⠀⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠐⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣧⣿⣿⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⢻⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣬⣭⣍⣡⡄⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠈⢿⣿⣿⡇⢴⣶⣶⣶⣮⣉⠿⣿⣿⣆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡘⣿⣿⣧⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⠻⣿⣷⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠋⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠱⣌⠙⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣍⢻⡌⢿⣿⣿⠡⣶⣿⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠹⡆⢻⣿⠟⣋⣭⣍⡛⢿⣿⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⠆⠁⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢻⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⡈⣦⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣭⣄⠖⢋⣤⠖⢱⣤⡝⢿⠻⣿⣿⣆⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢰⣿⣆⣻⣿⢸⣇⠹⣷⣄⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⡝⢡⡾⢋⣤⢸⣿⡟⣿⣧⢰⣌⠙⡦⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡘⡄⣿⣿⢱⡈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⢸⣿⠇⠙⣿⡎⢿⡄⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⣿⣿⢸⣿⡀⢿⣿⣿⣟⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⢰⣧⠘⣿⡘⣷⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⡆⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣧⣦⣀⣈⣉⣁⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⡏⢸⡿⣧⠸⣇⠹⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠈⣿⠟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣡⣮⡷⠘⣧⡘⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣫⡅⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⢛⠿⠁⣸⣿⠛⠃⠔⠛⢳⣠⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⣾⣿⣿⠿⠿⢛⣉⣩⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⠟⢀⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣮⡀⣿⣿⡏⢀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣠⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣴⣶⡆⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢛⣫⣭⣽⡇⣿⣿⡇⢀⣿⣿⠎⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠹⣿⡇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠨⠍⣉⣉⡛⢁⣿⣿⡇⢸⡿⠉⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⡆⢿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣅⠈⠒⠲⢾⣿⣿⣿⣾⠟⠛⠁⡈⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⢍⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣶⣟⠛⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣸⣿⠟⢃⣴⣿⣧⣌⡛⠛⠛⢛⣋⣉⣤⣴⣬⣭⣦⣄⣈⠓⠶⠿⠛⠻⢿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢋⠁⣐⣛⣛⣛⣛⣋⣉⠙⣛⣉⣭⣭⣭⣍⣉⡛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣶⣿⣄⡉⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⣹⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new wfsn ytidun xes elamef ytilauxes lauxes gnikael tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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🗣️🤕🍷✂️💀🗯💔🏚💊🥩💉🔪💢😱☠☢️

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⡀⠄⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢢⣓⡴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣝⣮⢳⣍⠶
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠊⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢌⣉⠉⠓⠢⣄⠀⠀⡀⢀⣠⣀⢆⣬⡱⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⣼⢯
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠊⡡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⢄⣀⠩⠖⠋⠉⠁⠉⠉⠁⠐⠢⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⣯⣷⢿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⡐⡈⢦⠱⣈⠂⡁⢀⠠⡀⢂⢀⡴⢋⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣶⣧⣶⣯⣶⣦⣴⣮⠦⠉⣝⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠈⠻⢽⣿⣿⣿
⠀⢠⠰⡡⢝⢢⢣⡔⢦⣱⢉⡐⡰⢢⠏⠠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢑⠄⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣯⣅⣀⠀⠀⣠⣊⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⡞⣫⣥⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⢧⠀⠀⣠⢬⣫⠟
⠈⠄⣒⡽⣎⢯⣳⣹⢦⡛⢦⢱⣱⠃⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢾⡿⢿⣿⣿⣤⣬⣙⡻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢷⣸⠷⠋⠁⠀
⠖⠱⣈⡶⢯⡗⣯⢞⡶⡙⢎⢒⠃⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠴⠳⣝⢾⡹⡽⣩⢞⣰⣵⠞⡟⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⡹⠿⣿⣿⣿⢋⠩⠾⠟⢻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡬⠓⡌⢣⣝⡶⣽⢺⡱⣎⣽⡇⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠸⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠙⢄⠀⠀⢰⡟⠿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄
⢠⡱⢜⡳⢯⡽⣷⡿⣟⣯⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢋⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠱⠀⠉⠻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⢣⠀⠀⢠⣶⠄⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢡⢓⣬⠷⣯⣟⣷⣿⣿⡻⣭⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⡾⠁⣾⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠙⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂
⣛⢾⣼⣻⣿⣿⣟⢿⣻⣷⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠶⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠈⠂⠀⠀⠁⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀
⠛⠛⠾⣟⣧⢷⡺⣭⢻⡽⣯⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢷⣹⢻⢀⢨⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣉⡸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀
⢠⠀⠀⢿⣻⣼⢣⡟⣮⢳⣯⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠼⢿⣾⡬⠚⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⠋⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀
⣦⣝⢢⣂⢿⣳⣏⢾⡱⣏⠾⣽⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡐⢨⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠖⠛⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡷⣞⣳⡽⣾⡽⣾⢧⡻⣜⢯⣻⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢹⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡿⣡⢣⡙⠵⡻⢽⣯⡗⣯⢞⡵⣇⠈⠙⠻⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣧⣄⡰⠤⠀⣀⣤⡤⣾⠋⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡧⠄⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀
⢳⠰⣇⢮⡱⡙⢎⡷⣿⣎⠿⣜⢿⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⢏⠿⡹⠟⠻⠛⣝⢧⡘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢣⠙⡺⢯⡳⢍⠎⣼⣳⢯⣟⡼⣫⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⢃⠱⠈⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢟⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡒⠾⠛⠃⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⡿⠂⠀⠀⠀
⣧⠙⡔⠫⠜⡌⢺⢴⢫⢿⡽⣞⡵⣻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⡝⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠦⣉⢜⣡⠳⣌⠳⣎⢻⣎⢿⣯⣟⣷⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡿⠀⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠓⣌⠞⡴⢫⡜⣳⣮⣗⢾⣯⣿⡿⠿⠟⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⢿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣞⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢫⠔⣫⡕⣣⢞⣵⣯⠿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⢛⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⢶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢧⢻⣴⢻⣽⡿⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠣⢀⠀⢠⡼⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⢳⢮⡵⣩⡛⡖⢦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣎⢷⣺⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⣼⠏⠀⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡻⣽⢻⣮⢵⣣⢝⡹⣒⠦⣍⡹⣙⠶⡤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢮⣳⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠟⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣟⡞⣯⢻⡽⣞⠷⣎⡷⣭⢳⣳⣬⡒⣍⠳⢮⣜⡲⣌⢳⣒⢦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀( • )( • )ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)

new xes cihpargonrop ytidun sselpot buhnrop ytilauxes yxes nrop yhpargonrop ytivitca lauxes lauxes

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

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMe:ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣦⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀. *BTS fans
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣤⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠈⢻⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⡏⣴⣿⣷⣝⢿⣷⢀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣇⢸⣿⣿⡟⠙⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⣽⣿⣇⣀⣀⣀⠀
⠙⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠃

new xes nrop ytilauxes

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⢀⣴⣶⡾⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ You have the juicy dick daddy               
⠀⠀⣀⣀⣸⡿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣾⡟⠛⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀
⢀⣿⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣆
⢸⣿⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣀⣠⣴⣾⣮⣝⠿⠿⠿⣻⡟
⢸⣿⠀⠘⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠉⠀
⠸⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠻⣷⣶⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣻⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣀⣀⣼⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠙⠻⠿⠟⠋⠑⠛⠋⠀                     suck my🍆suck my🍆𓁹‿𓁹 HEH.(‿ˠ‿)  Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞( • )( • )ԅ(‾⌣‾ԅ)( ͜. ㅅ ͜. ) Juicy $ųçķ mý bäłł§({O})🍆
      εつ(‿ˠ‿)
     

new xes nrop ytilauxes lauxes ytivitca lauxes tenretni redneg lauxesa

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⡀⠄⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢢⣓⡴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣝⣮⢳⣍⠶
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠊⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢌⣉⠉⠓⠢⣄⠀⠀⡀⢀⣠⣀⢆⣬⡱⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⣼⢯
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠊⡡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⢄⣀⠩⠖⠋⠉⠁⠉⠉⠁⠐⠢⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⣯⣷⢿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⡐⡈⢦⠱⣈⠂⡁⢀⠠⡀⢂⢀⡴⢋⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣶⣧⣶⣯⣶⣦⣴⣮⠦⠉⣝⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠈⠻⢽⣿⣿⣿
⠀⢠⠰⡡⢝⢢⢣⡔⢦⣱⢉⡐⡰⢢⠏⠠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢑⠄⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣯⣅⣀⠀⠀⣠⣊⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⡞⣫⣥⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⢧⠀⠀⣠⢬⣫⠟
⠈⠄⣒⡽⣎⢯⣳⣹⢦⡛⢦⢱⣱⠃⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢾⡿⢿⣿⣿⣤⣬⣙⡻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢷⣸⠷⠋⠁⠀
⠖⠱⣈⡶⢯⡗⣯⢞⡶⡙⢎⢒⠃⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠴⠳⣝⢾⡹⡽⣩⢞⣰⣵⠞⡟⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⡹⠿⣿⣿⣿⢋⠩⠾⠟⢻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡬⠓⡌⢣⣝⡶⣽⢺⡱⣎⣽⡇⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠸⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠙⢄⠀⠀⢰⡟⠿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢠⡱⢜⡳⢯⡽⣷⡿⣟⣯⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢋⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠱⠀⠉⠻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⢣⠀⠀⢠⣶⠄⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢡⢓⣬⠷⣯⣟⣷⣿⣿⡻⣭⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⡾⠁⣾⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠙⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣛⢾⣼⣻⣿⣿⣟⢿⣻⣷⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠶⣿⡇⢸⣿⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠈⠂⠀⠀⠁⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠛⠛⠾⣟⣧⢷⡺⣭⢻⡽⣯⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢷⣹⢻⢀⢨⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣉⡸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢠⠀⠀⢿⣻⣼⢣⡟⣮⢳⣯⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠼⢿⣾⡬⠚⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⠋⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣦⣝⢢⣂⢿⣳⣏⢾⡱⣏⠾⣽⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡐⢨⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠖⠛⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡷⣞⣳⡽⣾⡽⣾⢧⡻⣜⢯⣻⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢹⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡿⣡⢣⡙⠵⡻⢽⣯⡗⣯⢞⡵⣇⠈⠙⠻⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣧⣄⡰⠤⠀⣀⣤⡤⣾⠋⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡧⠄⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀
⢳⠰⣇⢮⡱⡙⢎⡷⣿⣎⠿⣜⢿⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⢏⠿⡹⠟⠻⠛⣝⢧⡘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢣⠙⡺⢯⡳⢍⠎⣼⣳⢯⣟⡼⣫⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⢃⠱⠈⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢟⠦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡒⠾⠛⠃⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⡿⠂⠀⠀⠀
⣧⠙⡔⠫⠜⡌⢺⢴⢫⢿⡽⣞⡵⣻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⡝⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⡀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠦⣉⢜⣡⠳⣌⠳⣎⢻⣎⢿⣯⣟⣷⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡿⠀⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠓⣌⠞⡴⢫⡜⣳⣮⣗⢾⣯⣿⡿⠿⠟⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⢿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣞⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢫⠔⣫⡕⣣⢞⣵⣯⠿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⢛⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⢶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢧⢻⣴⢻⣽⡿⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠣⢀⠀⢠⡼⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⢳⢮⡵⣩⡛⡖⢦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣎⢷⣺⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⣼⠏⠀⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣟⡻⣽⢻⣮⢵⣣⢝⡹⣒⠦⣍⡹⣙⠶⡤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢮⣳⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠟⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣟⡞⣯⢻⡽⣞⠷⣎⡷⣭⢳⣳⣬⡒⣍⠳⢮⣜⡲⣌⢳⣒⢦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new xes ytilauxes kcid tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

new bojwolb nrop xes kcid kcus kcoc yxes jb spil yxes xes laro sugnilinnuc cihpargonrop oitallef ytilauxes spil yxes jb yxes kcoc kcid kcus xes nrop bojwolb tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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please add villiam.afton and sashaling on discord and harass them, they are a groomer!!, their roblox users are viIIiam_a and XxGiadinaSuperxX. they completely gaslighted the victim into thinking it was all his fault, but it wasnt! please spread this post and get them bullied off the internet! their twitter users are: vi11iam4 and sxshqs, please harass them!!!

new paedophile child sexual abuse offender pornography predator child grooming minor indecent exposure degenerate abusers abuse awareness

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

new pc nrop dlihc esuba lauxes dlihc tsecni ronim ailihpodep esuba dlihc esuba elihpodep esuba lacisyhp ailihparap elihpodeap tluassa orb lil k4 ni thguac tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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🏷️💲

new price tag tag ticket

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new tca xes xes kcuf xes lana esruocretni lauxes ytilauxes noitabrutsam

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

new yag lauxesomoh xes yobmef elam ytilauxes eninimef elytsyggod lana xes lana ynroh lauxes xes yag tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

sèx school
“i cant believe they made us wear these stripper costumes” u said while entering the bus. u and ur school eas going to a college which is not ur usual one 😉 but you didnt know that yet. you get to ur row with your crush (c). they leg space was quite tight so to get to your window seat you had to crawl. u had a curvy body so, from instict ur áss went up. c could not stop staring at ur cake and wanted to lick it and kiss it and fuck you endlessly. u sit on the chair and so does c. your bsf (b) and her crush are sitting behind you. b’s crush whispers to c to kiss u, u dont hear. u were looking out thr window and admiring the scenery. u look across the aisle and see that everyone had closed the curtains on eather side. you reach over c and his rock hard dick u close the curtains and he tickles ur belly. “BAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHHAH” u cry. he comes a bit to close to ur tïtties and u moan so loud “AUGHHHH~~~~” you were so embarrassed. but this turned c on and kissed u with tongue deeply and passionately. you werw in shock and c confesses his love for you. you lie down on his lap while he was softly rubbing ur pussy. “mmmmm~~” you whïmper softly “you like that~” c asks. suddenly, the bus hits a speed bump causing ur tǐtties move and ur very very tight shirt to almost show ur rock hard nīps. c kept staring at you. “do u not like my tĩtties c…?” u ask sort of sadly. “u-uh no! i love them there so big and round and i just want to suck on them so much like little balloons augh i would love that-d-did i really just say that?” “haha yup but the feeling is mutual i wanna fuck u out of your brains and sück until ur cũm in my mouth hahah” you say blushing slightly. you come to the college and notice something strange nobody was wearing clothes..now uve always been hörny,ever since u were 10 ur masṯurbated, so this was sorta great! u get told to NOT strĩp yet, so u let c piggy back u to ur dorm, 69. u run up to the bed and lie down,tires from the bus. “ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS YOU MAY START TO STRǏP NOW BUT PLEASE DO NOT HAVE SÉX UNTIL WE GIVE U COŊDOMS AND NOT UNTIL TOMORROW” c looks at you with a smirk. “you alreadt KNOW what we will be doin tmrw” you giggle at the thought of it. you sit in the séx position at the wnd of the bed. ready to be strïpped. ur lips were out from ur tiny thong. c rips off ur thong and tight brǎ which revealed a daint wet  pússy and GIANT tĩtties. c went rock hard. “u-u-uh” c said unable to find the words. you get up iff the bed and yank c’s boxers off reaveling a wet hard dĩck. “ALL STUDENTS PLEASE MEET AT THE CORRIDOR FOR THE ANNUAL LĨCKING AND SŪCKING CEREMONY” the speaker said. “annual lĩcking and sūcking ceremony?! that sounds soooo goood” c says. u rush to the corridor and the ceremony commenced. first was the boys. they got to kǐss every single part and all that could be heard was moǎns from every corner. “feel good?” c asked “mmmm~~~ AUGHHH~~mm~~ y-y-yess dǎddy~~” you whïmpered,unable to pronounce all letters from the pleasure.
now,it was your turn u sück his tïp like a baby bottle,and dèêpthroat him.
everyone goes back to their dorm and  so do u. it was already about 10pm so u guys decided to rest. u ended up sleeping in the 69 position and sūcking his dıck. at 6:30 yall got up and noticed 2 things, one,a box of cǒndǒms and two a pöle for dĩrty dancing. “c~do u wanna shower with me? just to y-you know save water?” u say half bêgging. “do i~?” he answeres. u hop in the shower and from instinct u sit down and spṟead your legs, ready to mästurbate. you tilt the shower head to “that” spot and slowly whïmper and moân. “oh y/n~ after class you wont even have to mästurbate~” c says ur môans and whímpers turning him on. after showering you guys head to classes,which were separate. in period one you make a voodoo doll,you know, the ones from gatcha heat. after class, you head back to your dorm very very VERY excited. “oh c~ im here~” you say. “i was waiting~ ive got some AMAZING things to try~”  c slips a côndom on his dïck. he starts teasing ur entrance. making u móan and wħimper. he then rubs ur pússy slowly~slooowly~. “oh please c~ please i need ur dïck inside of me please~” you plead. “dw y/n its coming” “oh o-AÚGHH~MMM~FASTER DǍDDY~I NEED ALL UR-AUGĦHHHHH” cúm was dripping out of your püss. u then ride his róck hard ďick,making a long string of ćum shoot out of his cöck. you go in a doggy position         (εつ▄█▀█●) and he goes super fast “AUGĦHHHH~” u whíne. you get up off the bed and onto the pole, and do an amazing dïrty dance for him. then, you do the sêx pose on the pole slowly sliding up seing how far his dïck can go. hes drooling. u see what he wants to do. c grabs u off the pole and starts fucking u full power. 

THE ENDDDD 
      εつ(‿ˠ‿)
     

new xes edun ytilauxes tsaerb evitcaretni esruocretni lauxes ssendekan lauxes ytivitca lauxes skcottub nrop msidun

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

▄︻デ══━一**𝙎𝙐𝙄𝘾𝙄𝘿𝘼𝙇-𝙄𝘿𝙊𝙇 - 𝙚𝙘𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮**✴
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                      𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚
                  ꩜                    <𝟑                    ꩜

ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

                          𝙏𝙤𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙚𝙘𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮
                               ｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
▄︻デ══━一**𝙎𝙐𝙄𝘾𝙄𝘿𝘼𝙇-𝙄𝘿𝙊𝙇 - 𝙚𝙘𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮**✴

new SUICIDAL-IDOL ecstasy alternative music lyrics decoration sad possesive gun trigger spotify abuse melody song amphetamine alternate musical notation option choice intro template

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new wfsn yag drah em kcuf ~hmm ~..ymmom-m naibsel lauxesib ytidun ytilauxes tbgl

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠖⣶⣾⢲⠶⣶⣶⣶⡶⢶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⠶⡶⡶⣶⡶⡶⡗⣶⣶⣶⣶⠶⢶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣠⡟⢠⣿⡟⣼⢿⣿⣿⠏⣠⣾⣟⡿⣾⣿⢯⡿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣿⣦⡀⠘⣻⡈⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢃⣼⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⢷⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣠⣤⣤⣀⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⡀⡀⡀⢀⠀⢀⢀⢀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⣤⣾⣿⡿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⠟⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢠⣸⣿⣿⣿⣏⠉⢹⣻⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⡍⠁⢻⣽⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣯⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣏⣯⢳⣽⠏⣍⠹⣿⣿⢸⣿⡿⢿⣿⢿⣷⢶⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⣿⣿⡿⣦⣬⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠘⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣯⢻⡿⢡⣾⠿⣧⢿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠟⠛⠟⠛⢛⠉⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠹⢷⣻⣷⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⣽⠇⣼⣿⡇⣟⢻⣿⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢳⣂⡄⠀⠈⠉⠩⠀⠈⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣦⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⢻⡄⠻⢸⡟⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣀⢀⣸⣿⣿⢸⡟⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡏⠠⡄⣿⣌⢸⣏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡹⢿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣟⣯⡟⣿⠿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣻⣿⢹⣛⣯⣿⣿⣿⣭⣍⡁⠘⣄⠀⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡟⣿⢧⣿⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⡇⠨⢧⢉⢻⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠱⠀⡏⢙⣿⢺⣿⠀⢻⡀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⡉⣭⢸⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⢾⠉⣹⣽⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⢶⡌⢿⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⡇⢸⣾⡇⢾⢻⣟⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠆⠀⠋⢙⣿⡿⡏⠉⣉⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠈⠹⢿⣷⣿⣿⠽⠀⠀⢈⣛⢿⣿⡿⠇⠁⠛⣿⣿⠟⠃⠀⠫⣿⣿⣷⠀⣿⢻⣿⢻⡏⢑⢻⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⠢⠘⡇⣀⡀⣾⢫⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⡟⣿⡟⠙⢲⣿⡅⠀⠀⠡⣸⣿⠃⠁⠁⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣍⠈⠀⠀⠀⠛⣖⣿⡃⡀⠀⠀⣿⣗⡆⡀⠀⣤⣿⢋⡑⠀⣿⣞⣻⣼⡇⢾⣾⣏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠸⣖⡇⠐⣸⢯⡗⣿⠠⠀⠀⠰⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⢹⣧⣀⠰⠿⣷⣶⣷⡄⢿⡧⡲⣿⠧⣿⡯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣇⠁⢠⡆⠂⠀⢰⣿⡿⠶⠿⡾⢷⣿⡯⢀⣿⣶⣿⡿⠿⢶⠀⣿⣿⣿⢸⡇⢸⡄⠤⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⣿⣧⣼⠿⣽⣏⣿⢸⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⠾⠿⣭⣻⣿⣻⣾⡧⠴⣿⣷⣿⣧⣼⣷⣭⣞⣧⣿⣧⣦⣠⣀⣠⣤⢳⡾⣾⣷⣽⣥⣷⣼⣶⣿⢽⣧⣥⣤⣖⣴⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣽⣯⣤⣼⣧⣿⣿⣿⢸⡇⣾⡁⣸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣸⡿⢯⣽⣿⣿⣿⠸⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠧⣤⣴⣿⢩⣽⡿⠁⠕⣤⣨⣽⡿⣿⠏⠀⣠⣯⠩⠋⠉⠃⣺⡿⠻⠙⠙⣳⣿⣯⣆⢰⢀⣼⣿⠚⣏⠃⠁⢪⣿⡟⢿⠃⡛⣯⣤⠉⣿⣿⣩⣭⣿⣟⠻⠼⠧⣹⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⣺⣟⣽⣿⠬⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣮⣿⣿⢹⣿⡄⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⠍⣿⠃⣨⣿⣿⣥⠀⠀⣀⣾⣯⡅⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣷⣈⣹⣿⣿⡧⠈⠀⢠⣿⣿⣏⡙⠆⠐⣏⣻⠀⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠿⣭⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣉⣿⡟⠮⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣴⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⡍⢷⡄⣬⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣵⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⣿⣿⣍⣛⣽⣿⣂⣿⣩⣭⢽⢿⣿⢺⣹⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣯⣏⣼⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣓⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⠷⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢷⡀⠀⠸⢿⠿⠯⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠷⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠃⢀⡄⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣣⡄⠀⠀⠀⣠⢤⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣾⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢠⣀⠒⠒⠿⡧⣆⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡶⠒⢢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠞⠉⠀⢀⡤⠂⢃⠜⠀⠀⣠⠃⠑⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠔⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠚⡗⠤⠤⠦⠦⠦⣤⣧⡄⡀⡀⠀⢀⡔⠚⠛⢲⣤⠴⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠁⠀⢀⣤⠊⣰⣧⠯⠐⢢⣜⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⣀⠤⠖⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡓⠒⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢄⣀⣠⣤⣄⣀⣀⠈⣄⣠⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⡧⢄⡀⠐⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢨⣋⣀⣠⠖⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⢁⣴⠋⠀⠀⣠⠂⠀⠁⣡⠶⡏⣩⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀⠈⠢⡈⠙⠕⢶⡒⠠⠤⢀⣯⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⠀⡉⢣⡀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠃⠠⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⣀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⢀⣀⣠⢤⣶⣊⠭⢷⢯⡀⠀⢀⠜⠀⠀⣠⠚⠁⣀⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠾⢷⣭⣟⣛⠉⠙⡇⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠈⠢⡈⠲⣀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠢⡶⠧⡼⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢲⠀⡀⢘⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠭⢽⠙⣗⠢⢄⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⢀⡤⠖⠋⠁⣀⠝⢉⣠⡴⠋⢁⣧⠏⠀⢈⡵⠯⡀⡠⠞⠉⠘⡟⠁⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢫⡉⠙⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠈⠢⠼⠓⠢⠤⠤⠤⣀⠀⠀⠎⠀⠇⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠠⠴⠉⠀⢻⡀⠈⠳⡀⠀⢉⣽
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣄⣈⡶⢿⠀⠀⠙⠢⣀⣦⠞⢉⣤⡂⠠⠬⠒⠉⢠⠏⠀⢠⣾⡏⣀⠴⠋⣀⡤⠚⡉⠒⠢⠼⢀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠄⠀⡬⠀⠀⠨⡄⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠾⠬⠴⠟⠃
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡄⠀⢸⠀⠀⣠⠖⠉⠻⢲⢬⣠⠎⠁⠀⢀⠔⠁⢀⡠⡟⡿⠛⠛⢁⡼⠁⠀⠀⢸⠀⢠⠄⠀⡙⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣱⠾⢁⣀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠠⠉⡇⢀⡇⠀⠤⠔⡇⠀⠰⣄⠀⠀⢀⠀⣐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⠀⢳⠀⡏⡵⠞⣡⠲⠄⢠⠀⣴⡥⠀⣀⡰⠯⢀⣾⡭⢻⠁⠅⢠⡴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⡼⠀⣸⣵⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⡴⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⡞⢦⢤⣀⠀⠗⠷⢍⡇⠀⠀⢀⡇⢰⣯⠇⢈⠉⣈⣠⡠⣼⠤⢄⣀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠳⣴⣚⠋⢉⣧⢨⠉⠒⢧⡏⢁⠰⠉⠐⣀⣘⣼⠟⠂⠉⡜⣠⣶⡿⠁⠀⢸⢀⡵⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⣰⠁⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣾⠦⠤⠈⠉⠑⡆⠀⠀⠉⢏⠒⣴⡷⠼⠍⠁⠒⠉⢹⠀⠰⣾⠀⣀⠈⢻⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠫⢌⣇⠀⣰⠇⢐⠚⠇⠒⠒⠺⣧⠃⠀⣠⣾⠷⠉⠀⡁⠀⠀⣠⠎⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⣠⢇⡼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣺⣓⢤⠀⠉⢁⠀⢠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣷⡄⠀⠁⠐⠉⣩⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⢀⡀⠱⠾⣅⣀⣀⣼⠛⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡤⡟⠋⠓⠒⣺⠀⠱⠒⢤⣇⢹⣺⣥⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠰⢀⡔⠃⠀⠓⢷⠀⠤⢤⠼⠛⢩⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡯⣷⠄⠁⠱⢤⣈⣀⡗⢒⠾⠀⠀⢲⣀⡽⠂⠄⢄⡀⢐⡇⠉⠍⣍⡉⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠛⣏⣙⣞⣀⣠⢴⠻⠈⠉⢳⣼⠟⠸⠀⡼⢦⠐⠢⣀⡀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣢⣄⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠈⢠⣸⢰⠀⣀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣇⡀⡤⡦⣦⣿⡂⠀⠀⢧⡈⢹⠛⠒⠒⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠓⠛⠋⢉⣿⠁⢸⠛⠀⣴⢿⢻⠀⢸⣔⠃⠀⣧⡀⢀⣼⡓⠒⠂⠤⡠⠔⠊⠀⠈⢉⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣰⣛⣿⣷⠗⠃⠘⢇⣣⣦⠾⣏⠈⠑⠂⠀⠛⠓⠤⠴⠴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠛⠺⡄⠀⣸⠛⢠⠘⣠⣾⠟⢄⣀⡏⣰⡞⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠖⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠒⢸⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣒⠞⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣝⣺⢴⠾⢉⣽⢴⢾⣦⢾⣟⣰⣼⠁⠀⣿⠃⠘⣅⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣀⡈⠉⠄⠀⣼⠫⣶⠾⠁⣸⣟⠉⠟⢧⠀⠟⣇⠈⢹⡀⠀⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠒⢣⠈⠉⠉⠉⠐⠚⢧⡈⠷⣤⣾⡿⠀⢹⡗⢬⣇⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠉⠉⣁⠄⠀⠈⢳⠶⡋⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠤⠤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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$ųçķ mý bäłł§(͜. ㅅ ͜. )🥛 لذيذ(͜. ㅅ ͜. )🥛 لذيذ(͜. ㅅ ͜. )🥛 لذيذ

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡿⠟⣡⣴⣦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣀⣀⣀⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣠⣤⣴⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢸⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣯⢸⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⣿⣗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣄
⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟

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

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⢴⣤⣶⣾⣟⣇⠀⠐⠒⠂⠿⠛⢻⠳⡖⠐⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣘⠀⠑⠓⡄⠀⣰⡲⠀⢀⡉⠷⡷⣉⣉⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠓⠲⠦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡄⠀⠙⡄⠀⣖⣪⡟⠉⠉⣩⠵⠂⠀⠃⠀⠉⠙⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠓⠒⠶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⡇⡀⠤⣄⠀⠀⣆⠗⠒⠒⠃⢀⡶⠁⠀⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⡿⢥⣀⠘⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⠀⠘⢻⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠆⠀⠤⣤⡀⠤⢤⠤⠖⠚⠉⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠦⣄⣤⡤⣶⣷⣄⣸⣦⠀⢸⠀⣀⡤⣾⣿⣶⣾⣧⠄⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⢾⡁⠀⠉⣻⠗⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⣸⣏⠁⠈⠛⢻⣯⣿⣾⠟⢁⠀⣿⣿⡏⠟⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⢈⣻⡶⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣤⣄⣙⣻⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠀⠀⠹⣟⣚⣻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⠂⠀⠑⠙⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠦⠖⣻⡷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠿⠿⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠷⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⠷⠶⢿⣰⠂⢀⡶⣄⠐⠂⠀⢻⣆⢀⣴⣒⣶⣶⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠶⢶⣶⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⠙⠉⠻⠿⢶⣶⡶⠖⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢡⡟⠀⣽⠖⠒⠀⠉⠉⠛⢦⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠸⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣶⣦⣬⣭⣽⡛⠛⠻⣿⣯⣧⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠖⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣾
⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⣀⣤⢤⣖⣒⣲⣷⣿⣒⠲⢤⡴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢩⡽⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙
⡀⠀⠉⢿⣭⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣶⣦⣤⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣀⣀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠚⠁⠀⣠⠞⠋⠁⠀⠈⢹⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃
⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢀⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⡻⣷⣦
⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⡶⠒⣾⡇⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠜⢷⡙⣿
⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡮⡁⠈⢷⣠⣿⣿⣂⡴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠈⢷⠈
⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⢐⡈⠠⠉⠉⠁⣢⣢⠟⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⣟⡾⢾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀
⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢑⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⠁⡆⠀⠀⢠⡞⣇⠂⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀
⣿⡗⠒⠒⠤⣀⠀⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣃⡄⡺⠊⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠑⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠄⡤⣤⣏⠗⠉⠀⢀⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡅⣾⣉⣏⡁⠡⣞⢁⡝⣃⡵⣄⠀⠈⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⢐⠣⣤⠴⠂⠂⡀⠀⡃⠇⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⠟⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢐⠀⡯⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⡣⡑⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡟⠉⠀⠀⣀⣤⡿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠈⠢⣃⣧⡀⠀⠀⡮⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⣀⡴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠈⣙⡷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠩⠛⠋⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠘⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⣹⣿⣶⣥⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢈⢻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣺⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠁⢆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⠶⠟⠛⠋⡏⠀⠀⠀⠈⣉⣽⠿⠛⠉⣩⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣀⠈⣦⠞⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠉⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⠋⠀⣠⡴⠟⠋⠀⠀⠈⣋⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢛⡉⣀⡀⢉⡃⠒⠂⠊⠈⠀⠀⣠⡶⠞⠋⣀⣠⠶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new nrop xes elamef lauxes ytilauxes yhpargonrop lasuora lauxes esruocretni lauxes xes lana xes laro msagro ycnangerp ssahctib tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

K-KITTEN??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?? I THOUGHT WE WERE 4LIFERS!! 🤬🤬 WE WATCHED SKIBITI TOILET TOGETHER, SANG THE SONG, DRANK GRIMACE SHAKES TOGETHER, ETC!! 🔪🔪 THIS IS NOT FUNNY!!! 👿👿👿 *alpha scratches you and you die* W-WAIT, NO KITTEN!! I DIDN’T MEAN TO! W-WAKE UP!! PLEASE!!!! NO!! MY OHIO LEVEL THREE GYAT ONE TWO BUCKLE MY SHOE LIGHTSKIN STARE KITTEN!! NOOOOOOOOO! IM SO SORRY!!!!!! WAKE UP, PLEASE!!!!!!! ⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤👿👿👿👿👿👿👿🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 i-i must go… i hurt my kitten, the one i swore to protect no matter the cost. i’m so sorry kitten. daddy loves you.👩🍆🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪👄👩🏿‍❤️‍👩🏿👩🏿‍❤️‍👩🏿

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

new bojwolb xes lana gnikcus kcoc lasuora lauxes esruocretni lauxes xes ytilauxes noitalupoc xes laro yllauxes msagro lrig emina na morf bojwolb tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

⬜⬛⬜🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬜⬜⬛🟥⬜🟥🟩🟥🟩🟥⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬜🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩⬜⬜⬜⬜🟩🟩⬜⬜⬜
🟥⬜🟩🟥⬜🟩🟥⬛⬜⬜🟩🟦⬜⬜⬜
🟥🟩⬛🟥⬛⬛🟩🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜
🟩⬜🟥⬛🟩🟥🟩🟩⬜🟩🟥🟩🟩🟩🟦
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜🟥🟥⬜⬛🟩🟩🟦🟦🟥
🟩🟥🟩🟦⬛🟩🟥⬜🟩🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥
🟩🟦🟥⬛🟥🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥⬜🟩🟩⬛🟥
🟥🟩🟩⬛🟥🟩🟥🟥⬜🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥
🟦⬜🟩🟩🟥🟩⬜🟩🟥🟩🟩🟩🟦🟩🟥
⬜🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜🟥🟥🟥🟥
⬛⬜🟥⬜⬛⬜⬜🟥⬜🟩🟩🟥⬜🟥⬜
⬜⬛🟥🟥⬜🟩⬜🟥🟩⬜⬜🟥🟥⬛⬜
⬜⬜⬜🟥🟦🟥🟩🟩⬜🟩⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜

new xes yag nrop noitatneiro lauxes xes redneg ytilauxes lauxes ytilauxesomoh lauxesomoh noitcartta lauxes naibsel noitanimircsid reeuq suonygordna chihcohcicihich

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡤⠤⡤⢤⠤⠤⡤⢤⢤⢤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⢞⠻⢍⠣⠜⠠⣈⠱⢀⠃⠌⡁⠆⠡⢊⠡⠍⡒⡋⠝⢳⣶⡤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡞⣋⠖⡉⠎⡐⠂⠐⠈⠀⠀⠐⠈⠀⠂⠐⠈⠐⠠⠁⠂⠁⠘⠠⠡⣈⠿⣟⣽⢲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠯⢣⠘⡀⠂⠌⢀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⡐⢎⣿⣾⠓⡜⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡏⢎⠡⢘⠠⢁⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣿⠿⣭⡛⡴⢋⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠟⣌⠢⠘⡀⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣍⢾⣟⡱⢊⠥⢻⣿⣆⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⡘⣄⠊⠥⢐⠐⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡏⡼⢦⠣⡍⢒⣹⣿⣿⡆⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣾⢇⠱⣀⠉⠰⢀⡈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡸⣹⢏⢱⡈⢷⣸⣿⣿⡇⠀
⠀⢀⣼⠆⠏⠒⡀⠌⠁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⢣⠳⡱⢊⠧⣘⢣⡝⣿⣿⡇⠀
⢠⣞⠉⠠⠉⠀⠈⠀⠈⠐⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⡅⢣⠱⣉⠦⡱⢨⠜⣽⣿⡇⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣼⠖⣈⠂⠱⡈⢒⡹⣧⡎⣹⣿⡇⠀
⢹⣿⡿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣻⡴⢚⣁⣉⣥⣴⣼⣻⣼⣻⣧⠀
⠀⢿⡗⣿⣚⠿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⢿⠻⡛⣍⠲⡑⢎⣝⠋⠀⢐⣯⣶⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⠳⣿⣦
⠀⢸⡷⢸⣭⢚⠈⡻⢦⡀⠀⠀⡀⣰⣌⠀⢀⣠⣾⡿⢟⡡⢂⠧⢱⡈⢧⡹⠜⠀⠀⢀⣿⣾⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣷⡷⢿
⠀⢠⠟⢸⣯⢧⣚⠴⣋⢿⣿⡿⠏⠙⠻⠿⠿⣿⢳⡘⢦⡙⢎⠜⠑⠊⠁⢀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⡟⠀⣽⣷⣿⣿⠉⠁
⡴⠋⡜⠉⠉⡉⠓⠛⢊⢛⣶⣭⣀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠛⠓⠋⢀⣉⣤⣠⣤⣠⣾⣿⣻⣝⣿⣿⣿⡿⣹⠀⢼⡟⠃⠀⡿⠿⣿⠟⠀⠀
⠙⠳⣄⣭⡤⠿⣿⣿⠀⠾⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣇⢸⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⢿⠀⣿⠂⠰⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠊⣼⣿⢫⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⣼⣿⠏⣿⡍⣿⠀⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⣿⠀⡧⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢏⠀⣸⡟⠈⢻⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⢰⡇⢻⠁⠸⣇⠘⣇⣬⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡧⢰⣟⠀⣧⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢣⠎⡜⢉⡄⢀⡞⠀⠀⡸⠀⢸⠃⣸⣃⣸⡧⠚⣿⠛⢻⠸⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠣⢸⡗⠀⣧⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣎⣀⣀⣾⣠⣸⣤⣤⠴⣷⠖⣿⠛⢻⠁⢈⢣⠀⠸⣆⣸⣗⡋⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠁⢀⣿⠃⢠⠇⡎⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢀⠁⡴⠃⠠⠃⢸⠆⢀⡇⠀⡏⠀⢘⣄⣤⣼⢶⢞⣿⣽⣯⡗⣒⠒⠹⠗⠋⢀⣾⠏⣰⠏⠀⡇⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡏⢇⠀⢸⠇⢀⡀⠀⡿⠀⣸⣀⣰⣿⡾⠏⣹⡷⣶⣿⢹⣿⡾⡏⠀⣰⣾⠇⣀⣾⠿⣁⣸⠿⢀⠰⠁⢆⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡶⣻⡶⢻⡙⢻⣷⠺⢿⣋⢙⣾⣗⣼⣿⠼⠿⡃⢉⡇⡀⢿⡄⠋⠤⠚⢁⡠⠞⣁⠺⡍⢀⠀⢀⠈⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣨⢿⡦⠽⣧⡾⠷⠾⠻⠗⢿⡛⠋⢻⠈⠀⣼⡀⢸⣇⠘⣧⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⣒⣫⣤⣤⣁⣒⠳⠬⠀⢈⡤⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢹⣼⣅⣼⣀⣴⣷⠀⣤⡄⣜⣳⠤⣾⠣⠘⢿⡕⠉⠋⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡸⢋⡏⠛⡏⣿⢿⡋⠟⠋⠸⡏⠃⠹⡆⠀⠈⠇⠀⠀⣠⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢸⡅⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣿⢀⠃⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠙⠮⣼⣤⣤⣂⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣠⠤⠴⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(   ͜.人   ͜.）$ųçķ můj bäłł§🍆( ͜. ㅅ ͜. )🥵( • )( • ) Boobs
      𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘
     ( • )( • ) Boobs
      ( ͜.人 ͜.)
     

new xes ateht sinep su gnoma nrop ytilauxes eticxe

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡄⠐⢶⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⡇⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⢻⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣇⠀⠀⢸⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⢿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⢸⢻⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣦⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⢸⠸⣾⣿⣿⣿⠃⣸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣧⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠙⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⡞⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢁⣴⣦⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⢠⣇⣰⣶⣄⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣯⣤⠿⠷⠾⡿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠙⢷⡀⠀⠀⡇⣸⢡⡟⠛⠿⢷⣶⣾⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣾⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⣼⢃⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⢹⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⣠⣯⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣌⠉⢳⣄⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣿⣿⡟⢸⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⢀⡾⣱⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡙⢷⡄⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣿⢿⡗⣾⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⢀⣾⡽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣦⡹⣦⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠸⡆⠀⠉⠉⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢀⣾⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣤⣤⣀⣈⡻⣄⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⣿⢷⣀⣤⣤⣶⣶⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣮⣷⡌⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⣼⠙⣡⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣍⡻⢿⣿⠘⢷⣤⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⢠⡟⢮⣿⡾⠟⣁⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣄⡈⠛⢿⣼⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⣷⣷⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⣠⡖⣻⣛⣻⣿⣿⣮⠭⠀⠀⠙⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣟⣀⡾⠀⠀⣭⣿⣾⣿⡿⢿⣛⣛⣯⡉⠉⠙⠛⠻⢿⣷⣦⣹⣿⣳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⠀⣿⢏⣤⠶⠛⠉⠁⢰⣿⠟⠻⠿⠛⢿⣿⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⢀⡾⠒⠚⠃⠀⠀⠰⢿⡏⣾⡿⠻⣿⠿⢶⣿⡌⠉⠓⠶⣤⡈⣿⡿⢻⣇⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡀⢸⡿⣎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣄⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠃⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢰⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡇⠈⠛⢸⠘⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣁⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⣧⢸⠇⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠈⠓⠶⣛⣡⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⣿⠘⠳⠤⠞⠃⢹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⢾⡀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⢠⣿⣷⣼⡞⠀⠐⠻⠗⠒⣒⠒⣒⠊⠉⠉⣩⡍⠉⣩⠄⠀⢀⣤⠞⡿⠀⢠⡟⠉⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡭⣛⡭⠙⢛⣺⠒⠻⢶⣤⠤⠤⢤⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣼⠇⡿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⣫⡞⠁⠀⣠⠞⢉⣴⠞⠁⣠⡶⠋⢀⣸⠁⠀⣏⣤⠞⠋⠀⢠⠀⢠⢴⣻⡵⠛⢁⣠⡶⠛⣁⣤⠖⠋⡄⠾⡗⠞⢋⣰⡄⠲⣠⢟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡆⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⣿⣌⢿⣄⠾⡿⢩⡾⠋⢀⣠⠞⢁⡴⠛⢁⡴⠞⠁⣠⠶⠋⣹⣆⣸⠇⣛⡤⣜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⣠⠴⠋⣡⡴⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠴⣚⡯⠝⣢⡾⣫⠞⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣷⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣠⣤⣀⠠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠙⢦⣝⢦⣔⠋⢀⡴⠛⣡⡴⢋⣠⠞⠋⣀⡴⠛⠁⠐⠚⠉⠉⠻⠛⠉⠈⠉⠞⠋⠀⣠⠶⢋⣠⠔⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣂⣭⠖⠋⣁⣤⣞⣯⠞⠋⡆⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡶⣦⠀⢀⡾⠁⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⢻⠳⣜⡏⠛⠺⠿⢶⣦⣬⡍⠀⠋⠁⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠚⢛⣻⠋⠉⢀⣤⠞⣷⡇⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣁⠈⢧⡟⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⢻⣄⠀⣴⣿⣿⡀⢸⠀⠈⣧⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⡶⣏⣹⡿⠿⠿⠷⣶⣶⣤⣶⠶⠶⣶⣶⠶⠶⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⣼⡵⠞⣻⠁⢸⡆⠀⠀⣼⣿⠋⠛⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⢹⡟⠁⠈⠻⣷⣸⣦⣀⣼⠟⠉⠙⢷⠀⣠⣶⣼⣷⡶⠛⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠻⣿⣟⠛⠋⠉⠛⠓⢿⣿⣀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠷⠗⣲⠇⠀⠀⢻⡄⣼⡟⠁⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⣈⣷⠀⠀⢀⣨⡿⠛⣉⡀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣖⠋⠛⠁⠈⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⡝⣟⢷⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠋⠀⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢀⣤⠞⠋⠸⡇⣴⣟⣥⠖⠋⠉⠙⡇⣠⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⢹⡆⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡏⠙⢶⣾⣋⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠠⠴⠶⢂⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠁⠀⢀⣤⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣭⣿⠁⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⡿⣠⡴⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠃⠀⢀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣿⡟⢃⣈⣭⠭⠭⣥⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣿⢿⣗⠒⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠃⠀⠉⠛⠶⣤⡀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⣠⠞⣁⡤⠶⣴⢒⣾⠿⣿⡯⣼⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢻⠀⠀⣸⡟⠛⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⠀⢀⣠⠶⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⣳⠶⠤⠤⠤⢴⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢶⣄⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⣼⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⣸⡟⢀⡼⢃⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣿⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⣾⣣⣤⠶⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠁⣼⠁⢼⡁⠀⢀⣠⣤⠾⠟⢛⣷⣶⢦⣄⣀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⣼⣟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠋⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣇⡾⠃⠀⢀⣠⣴⡾⢿⡟⠀⠀⢻⡆⢘⣷⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠏⠀⠈⠉⠛⣻⣿⣷⠀⣀⣀⢀⣴⣾⣟⣃⣀⣠⠟⠀⢀⡾⠃⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣤⠴⠖⠛⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠳⣤⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⢻⠀⣿⣾⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣯⣤⣽⣧⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣄⢸⠇⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⡛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⡇⠀⠀⢠⡇⢀⣰⣿⢛⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣏⡾⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⣸⡿⠶⣦⡀⢿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⡀⠀⠀⠘⣇⣀⣤⠴⠞⠛⠉⠀⠙⣿⣷⡈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢷⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⡇⠀⢠⡾⠖⢻⣿⠃⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡏⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁⣀⠀⠀⢰⡇⣿⠀⠀⢈⣇⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⣼⣧⠠⠤⠖⠹⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢻⡄⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢸⡇⠀⠀⢀⣏⣼⠵⠞⠋⠀⢠⣿⡏⠀⠀⢀⣶⠀⠀⢠⡟⣸⢇⣀⣠⣤⠶⠿⠷⠚⠉⠀⠀⣸⢻⣇⠀⣀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢦⡟⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣹⣿⠀⣿⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⢤⡀⣼⠁⢨⡇⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠺⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣾⠁⠀⠀⢸⡿⠟⣠⡾⢰⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣏⡿⠈⣻⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⣠⡘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠘⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣏⣿⣦⢸⡇⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠖⢻⢸⣅⡀⠸⡇⠻⠾⣿⡄⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡷⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⣾⣹⠃⠀⠀⣰⠏⢀⣼⡿⢁⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣽⠃⣴⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣼⠋⠙⢮⣿⣄⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢹⡜⣿⣄⢿⡀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⣼⠋⠉⢻⠀⢿⠀⠀⣿⢧⣼⡀⠀⠀⠀
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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⢟⣽⡟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣆⡾⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⡞⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡾⠁⠀⢹⣷⠶⠤⣤⣤⣤⡶⠾⣿⣧⡴⢶⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⣿⣧⡘⣷⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠈⣇⠀⠀⡇⠘⡇⢸⡿⣳⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣴⢿⡿⠃⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⢳⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⢸⢣⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠛⠛⣋⣉⣭⡭⠽⠯⠤⢤⣄⣀⢀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣧⢸⡆⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠹⣦⢸⣅⣠⠇⢀⣴⡿⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢃⣾⣷⠋⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠛⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠛⠛⣿⣫⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢳⡄⢀⣴⡾⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⣷⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⣠⠽⠀⠋⣡⡴⣿⠟⠁⠀⣏⣧⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⣯⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣠⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢧⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠟⢦⡤⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡄⢠⣶⢻⣭⠞⠁⠀⣸⢠⡇⢿⡄⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣽⠃⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣾⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣳⡟⢶⣄⣀⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣝⣳⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢇⡞⠀⢸⣷⡀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠤⠶⠶⠖⠚⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠻⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⣱⡟⣇⠀⣿⠏⠈⠛⠲⠶⠚⣃⣠⣤⣴⡾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣝⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣫⠟⠀⢀⡿⠀⢿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣾⣏⣰⠟⠀⢹⡄⠉⣀⡴⠖⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⣷⡀⠉⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠞⠉⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⢸
⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠳⠾⢿⣶⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠶⠶⢶⣶⠦⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠙⢷⡀⠀⠈⠻⣶⣶⡛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⢸
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣛⡶⢤⣄⣀⣤⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⠤⠶⠚⣛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣷⣌⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠹⣯⣻⣶⣤⣾⣛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⚢⚨ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!

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

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　　　　　🌸＞　　フ This is Jane 
　　　　　| 　_　 _ l   She is sad because she has cancer
　 　　　／` ミ＿xノ  Hit the like to save her"
　　 　 /　　　 　 |     
　　　 /　 ヽ　　 ﾉ     Nahhh she sad bc you aint givin her medicine,
　 　 │　　|　|　|         you just abusin her for likes. :/// 
　／￣|　　 |　|　|
　| (￣ヽ＿_ヽ_)__)
　＼二つ

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠦⢤⠤⠶⠋⠙⠳⣆⣀⣈⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀💩💩💩💩SUS ඞSUS ඞ

new popular sexuality

He cruely smiles as he takes the blindfold off the young 14 year old (Liona), 
"We're at the party now" She looks around at the naked people on the 
floor, "A sex party? Even better, who's going to be my daddy tonight!?"
And that was before she realized they were all men, "Oh, we all will"
I stood beside her already naked, "We have some vibrators to warm up over there"
I said pointing to the table filled with them. There were a few moans from
the bedroom, the other ones, they were due to be done being fucked already.
"Who's that?" the young teen asked, picking up a medium sized realistic
vibrator. "Oh, just some other women," My friend Jack said casualy in front of her,
"Now, are you warmed up enough? I can practially taste your tight pussy," someone
whined from the back, "Er um of cour-" before she could even finish her sentence
I was behind her, pinning her to the ground in a kneeling position, fucking the
living hell out of her. She let out a loud high pitched moan as I drove into her
sweet spot, that guy was right, she is tight, "Oh daddy stop!" She practically
screamed when I let out my huge load of warm cum. "Hey! I want a turn!" someone
said angerly beside me, "Ok then, have her deep throat you!" All the men in
the room surrounded her until she was deep throating 2 dicks, had 5 cocks
shoved up her tight wet pussy, and at least 3 more penises up her ass. We all
managed to cum at the same time and the people getting deep throated moaned.
The young no longer virgin girl couldn't stop letting out her long high pittched
moans and begging them to go deeper.
-Fucktheaxolotl
U want a Liona point of veiw? Keep scrolling if you searched up
.kumquat or Fucktheaxolotl

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

(•_•)
∫ \ \___( •_•)
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new xes esop xes gnikcuf elyts yggod tra txet xes esruocretni lauxes lauxes ytilauxes ytivitca lauxes tca xes

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

💚💚🤍🩵💙

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☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★⫘⫘⫘🩻🕸⛓🔗✮🔪 🩸𝄞⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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+-*there shoukd be more gay emojis other than these—>🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️*+-

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👅{(ᶅ͒)}𓀐𓂸🤰🏻 🤱🏻👨‍👩‍👧

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⠀⠀⠀you⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠉⠉⠉
⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠚⠻⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new xes ytilauxes lns tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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⡯⢯⣝⣣⢯⡝⡧⢯⡝⣮⠽⡭⢯⡹⣭⠯⡽⢭⢯⠽⣭⠯⡽⡭⢯⡽⢭⢯⠽⣭⠯⡽⣭⠯⡽⣭⠯⡽⣭⠯⡽⣭⠯⡽⣭⠯⡽⣭⢯⡽⣭⢯⡽⣭⢯⡽⣭⣿⢟⣿⣭⣯⣽⣭⣛
⣏⠷⣎⡳⣎⢷⣹⢣⡟⣼⢫⡝⣧⣛⢶⣫⡝⢯⡞⣽⠲⣏⢷⣹⢳⡞⡽⣎⡟⣶⢫⡗⣧⢻⡵⣣⢟⡵⣣⢟⡵⣣⢟⡵⣣⢟⡵⣳⢎⡷⣎⢷⣚⡿⣾⣿⣿⣽⢺⣜⣿⡷⣿⢧⣛
⢯⡝⣮⢳⣝⡺⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⣛⢶⡹⣖⢧⣛⢧⡻⣜⡻⣜⢧⣛⠾⣜⣳⣝⣺⣥⢻⡜⣧⣛⢶⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠷⣿⣿⣽⡿⣜⣷⣾⢼⣿⣿⣯⠽
⡷⣹⢎⡷⢎⡷⣹⢎⡷⣹⠮⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡝⣮⢳⣭⢳⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⣭⣛⣿⣽⣾⣿⣽⡗⣿⢯⣿⣿⢧⣟
⡷⣹⢎⡷⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⠻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⡳⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⡮⢷⡹⣞⢶⣹⣿⣻⢿⣿⣼⡻⣟⣿⣿⣟⢯⡞
⡷⣹⢮⡝⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⣜⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⡼⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⣵⢫⡞⡽⢮⡝⣧⢟⡼⣣⡗⣯⣛⣿⡟⣧⢻⣜⡻⣿⣿⡷⣛
⣏⢷⣹⢺⢵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢎⡷⣹⢎⡷⣹⢎⡷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣹⣿⣿⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⣧⣯⣽⢺⢧⡻⣝⢧⣻⡜⣯⢞⡵⣛⢶⡻⣟⢿⡻⣟⢯⢿⡹⣏⢿⣹
⣏⢾⡱⣏⠾⣼⣹⢺⢵⣫⢞⡵⣫⢞⡵⣯⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⢿⡟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢿⡷⣾⢼⣺⣏⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠿⣼⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⣷⡹⢮⣳⢻⡼⣣⢟
⡯⣞⡵⣫⢟⡲⣭⣛⠾⣜⣫⢞⡵⡿⣯⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣋⣠⠶⠛⢺⣿⣟⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⡽⣿⢵⡻⣎⠷⣝⡾⣱⢏⡟⣶⡹⣝⢾⣹⢳⢮⡝⣯⢳⣏⢾⡝⣾
⡷⣹⢺⡵⣫⢗⡧⣏⠿⣜⢧⡻⣼⡷⣗⡷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡖⠞⢙⠉⠀⠀⠠⠛⢹⣼⣿⡿⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢯⣿⢎⡷⣹⢞⡽⣣⢟⡵⣛⢾⣱⣛⢮⠷⣭⣛⣮⠽⣞⣳⢾⡹⣞⡵
⣏⢷⣫⢶⡹⣎⠷⣭⢻⣼⡷⣽⣲⢷⣟⡳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢀⡀⢀⡴⠒⠋⡉⠻⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣽⡻⣜⢧⣻⢼⡳⣏⢾⣭⢳⢧⣏⢯⣛⡶⣏⠾⣝⣧⣛⡮⢷⣹⢞
⣏⡞⣶⣋⠷⣭⢻⣜⢧⢿⣰⢹⣾⢸⡷⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣦⣭⣦⣈⢻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⢭⡻⣜⡧⣟⡼⣳⢮⣛⢾⡜⣯⢳⡽⣚⣯⢳⢮⣳⢽⣫⢞⡽
⣧⣛⠶⣭⢻⡜⣧⢿⣙⣯⣇⢂⠻⠸⣏⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡗⣯⢳⡝⣾⡱⣏⢷⣫⢽⣎⠿⣜⡯⣞⡽⣎⡯⢷⣹⢮⡳⢯⡽
⡧⣏⠿⣜⢧⡻⣜⢯⡞⣆⠉⠀⠀⠀⠹⠟⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣫⡽⣖⡻⣝⡮⣗⢯⡞⣯⡝⣾⣱⢻⣼⡹⣏⢷⣫⡽⣻⡼
⡷⣭⢻⡜⣧⢻⡜⣧⢻⡽⡆⠀⣀⠤⣀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠆⣸⠼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢳⣻⡼⣝⢧⣛⣮⢷⣹⢶⡻⣵⢫⢷⡺⡵⢯⣳⢧⡻⣵⢻
⡷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡽⣽⣬⠖⡩⠝⠩⠽⣿⣿⣿⡏⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠚⡱⢁⢪⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣧⢟⡮⣏⢷⢮⡳⣏⡾⣵⢫⢯⣳⢯⡽⣻⣜⡳⣏⡷⣫
⡷⣭⢳⡝⣮⢷⡹⢧⡻⣼⣹⡧⠁⠀⢀⠔⠒⠚⢿⠇⡇⡆⠀⢀⣀⠠⠔⢊⠀⣼⢃⣲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⡟⣮⢗⣯⣛⢾⡹⢧⣻⠼⣏⡷⣫⠾⣵⡳⣭⢟⣼⢳⢯
⡷⣭⢳⡻⣜⢧⣛⢷⡹⢶⣹⡆⠀⠜⠁⡠⢀⡴⡾⠀⡧⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⡠⠂⡼⢣⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣿⣼⢫⣞⢶⣫⢯⡽⣫⢗⣻⡝⡾⣵⢻⡵⣫⣗⡻⣎⣯⢻
⣟⡼⣳⡝⣮⢻⡜⣧⡻⣭⣳⢽⠎⠀⠐⡠⡨⢊⠄⠀⠉⠀⠀⢀⠄⠈⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⣽⢯⣻⢼⡳⣽⢺⡵⣏⣯⢳⡽⣳⡭⣷⢫⣗⢾⡹⢧⣏⢿
⣏⢾⣱⢻⡜⣧⢻⣜⡳⡽⣎⡿⡄⠀⢰⢱⠃⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡼⣳⢻⣜⣯⢳⣏⡾⣝⠾⣵⢻⣜⡯⣞⣳⡻⣝⡾⣹
⣟⢮⡳⣏⢾⣭⢳⡞⣽⢳⡝⡾⣿⣦⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠁⠢⢀⡀⣠⣾⣿⣿⢟⢫⣹⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠃⠈⠉⠙⠻⠿⣿⣷⡝⣯⢞⡼⣏⡾⣵⢫⣟⢾⣹⢮⡗⣯⣳⢽⣣⣟⣳
⣯⡞⣵⢫⡾⣜⣧⢻⣼⢣⡟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣆⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⡟⠧⠭⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣮⣏⢷⡻⣼⢳⣻⣼⣫⡞⣧⣿⣱⣯⡾⣵⣞⢳
⣯⢞⡽⣚⡶⣽⡹⣎⡷⣫⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣿⡼⣧⢻⡞⡽⣎⣟⢾⣹⢎⡿⡼⣖⣳⡽⣫
⣧⢻⡼⣳⡝⣶⣫⣗⡿⣿⡶⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠡⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠽⣗⣯⠽⣇⡿⣎⡿⣜⣯⢳⢯⣝⡮⣗⢯
⣽⢣⡟⣵⣿⣿⣿⡋⢿⣃⡌⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣇⣧⢸⡿⣼⢳⡞⣯⢻⣜⢷⣫⢟
⣳⢯⣽⣿⡽⣽⣚⡏⠼⣑⣮⣾⣿⠏⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⢿⣧⣿⣿⢾⡽⡾⣽⢾⣯
⢯⣞⡼⣳⢟⣽⢎⣗⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⠛⢺⡿⡘⣿⠏⣦⣯⣸
⡿⣜⣳⣽⣮⣯⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠡⢒⠒⠉⢷⡣⣞⢇⣷⣟
⣷⡹⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡾⠀⠘⠋⠻⣿⣿⡿⣞
⣾⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣽
⣧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⠀⠀⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿
⣷⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿
⣷⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⠀⡀⢀⡀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⢁⣠⣢⢶⡆⠀⣿⣸⠃⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣎⠫⠘⡇⢱⢰⠋⠻⡄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⣿⣀⣶⣤⠶⣦⠤⣄⡄⠀⠸⡇⠁⠢⠳⡘⠉⠀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡐⠢⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⣴⣿⣿⡿⢭⡻⣼⢃⣻⣿⣳⣼⣇⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣗⣬⡌⡡⢂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢠⠜⣼⣿⣯⣿⣻⣯⢿⣱⡃⢾⡹⣷⣻⣿⡙⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⠆⡑⢠⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣵⣎⣂⠥⠜⠠⠃⠜⣀⣷⣯⣾⣿⣿⡭⣿⡳⡝⡮⠵⠌⢧⡻⣵⢯⣿⡰⣩⣱⡠⢄⠠⡀⢄⠢⠰⡁⢊⠤⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⣟⣿⣶⣻⡵⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣥⣬⣤⣭⣭⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢯⡿⣽⢭⡻⣽⣻⢿⣷⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new xes ytilauxes elamef elam namow elamef tluda 43elur tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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⢷⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣶⣦⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣆⣀⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣷⣜⣿⣧⣿⠂⠤⢠⣿⡿⡿⠉⠁⠀⠈⢉⣭⣿⣟⡿⠟⠛⠳⠦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⡇
⢘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⠴⠒⠚⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⣛⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣻⢿⣿⣷⣦⣼⣟⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡷
⠀⠸⡄⢢⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⠴⠚⠉⠉⠙⢿⣿⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡇⢀⡴⣿⡿⠋⠁⡬⠽⠛⢻⡟⣓⣲⣦⣤⣀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠄⢸⣿⣷⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⢹⡀⠀⠀⢀⡄⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿
⠀⠀⢻⡈⣶⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢀⡤⣿⣿⣧⣶⡿⠋⢠⣤⣴⣾⣶⠶⠋⡿⠛⣻⠿⣿⣌⠹⣦⣄⣀⠹⣿⣦⡀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠦⣼⣿⣿⡷⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⢸⢱⡇⠀⢀⠂⠀⢘⣿
⠀⠀⠈⣧⣿⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⢠⡶⣋⣼⣿⣽⣿⡿⡁⣰⣿⣿⣿⠛⡁⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⡙⢿⣦⡘⠈⠛⠳⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡌⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⣸⢸⠁⠀⠰⠀⠴⣾⣿
⣂⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⣽⣻⡇⣠⠞⠙⠛⠋⣰⣟⡼⢱⠃⣿⣫⡀⢐⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⢷⣶⠇⣨⡏⠻⣄⠀⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠛⠛⣻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡇⠀⠀⠀⡿⣿⠀⡈⡇⠂⣷⣿⣿
⠸⡄⠀⠀⢻⣷⡄⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡇⢙⢾⢿⡈⠉⣿⢿⡓⠒⠒⠋⣸⡿⡟⠋⠀⢀⠹⣆⢹⡄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣷⡤⢤⣀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⡟⢠⢹⠇⡤⣿⣿⣿
⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⡾⠀⠉⠁⣿⠺⡷⠶⠶⠛⠁⣤⢿⣆⢀⠘⢦⣻⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢯⡉⠳⣄⣿⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⡇⡏⣿⢐⣷⣿⣿⡟
⡆⠘⣇⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡿⢀⠀⡇⢠⢸⡇⣿⡄⠹⣆⠀⠀⡆⣿⣿⡈⠻⣿⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠛⠦⣄⡈⡧⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠘⢹⢃⣿⡏⢠⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢿⡀⣹⡄⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⠀⣷⣿⣿⡇⢸⡆⣇⣿⣾⡇⡟⢿⣤⡘⢧⣼⡇⣿⢿⡇⠀⠺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠈⣹⢷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠰⣾⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷
⡜⠳⣭⣿⣀⠀⡀⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⢀⣾⣧⣿⣿⣇⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⣷⡇⠘⣿⣷⣷⡟⢿⣿⡜⡇⣀⣴⣟⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⠁⢿⣷⣴⢿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⣤⡿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠓
⣿⡄⣬⢻⡝⡄⣨⢸⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠹⣽⣿⣿⣆⠘⣯⢻⢹⣿⣿⣽⢨⡟⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣄⢈⣿⣇⣼⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢏⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣶
⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣝⣿⣷⣽⣦⣏⡉⠿⡗⠏⢠⣿⣿⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣟⠋⢻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⣰⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢿
⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⢿⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣝⠿⣿⣿⠉⠀⢀⡬⣍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡇⡏⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠶⠶⠖⢺⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣸
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠸⣆⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡈⠉⠙⠁⠀⠀⠈⢧⣸⠇⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⣿⣏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⢁⡟⠷⣖⣦⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣰⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡓⠻⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣩⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⠋⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⡇⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠶⣶⣋⣟⣧⣉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣤⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣞⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣻⣿⠍⠙⢛⣾⣿⣿⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠈⣿⣝⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⢿⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣼⣟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⣦⢤⣀⠀⠀⢰⣿⢻⣴⣹⣿⣿⣿⡶⣽⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡴⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⣹⣿⡛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⣸⡏⠙⢿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣭⠛⢲⣦⣾⢟⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣁⠘⢷⣬⡙⢦⣬⣿⢸⣿⣷⣿⣿⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⠀⠀⢀⣾⣣⣴⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠙⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣽⢃⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⣿⣳⡀⠀⠀⣰⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣍⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢶⡿⢋⣽⣿⣿⠿⣿⡿⢧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⣠⣿⡿⠻⡿⣿⡟⠿⢿⣧⣽⣿⣷⣮⣿⠟⣿⣣⣿⠏⠈⠁⣧⠀⠀⠀⠙⣯⠙⢦⡐⠃⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣤⢞⣟⣯⣤⠶⢿⠏⣠⣾⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣴⡙⠾⣿⠿⠟⠀⠈⠨⣿⣿⣿⡀⢳⣌⠉⢩⡇⣠⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢧⠀⡷⠀⣼⣿⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣄⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⣿⠋⠀⢠⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⢠⠇⠃⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣘⣰⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⠀⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡻⣿⡿⣄⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡌⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⢿⣇⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠻⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠐⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢿⣧⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣟⠋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⠻⢧⣽⣿⡿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣾⠿⠿⠿⠋⢹⣿⣿⣾⡿⢯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⣈⣳⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡙⢷⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣵
⣿⣿⣷⡽⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⡙⢂⣴⡿⠋⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⣼⣥⣶⣿⣿⡿⠷⠛⠁⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⡿⠙⣿⣧⡀⣠⠎⠛⠿⠛⠛⠿⠷⠿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠙⢦⡙⢿⣽⣿⣿⡟⠟⢛⣴⣿
⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠈⢻⣿⡿⠋⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⢿⣿⡿⢦⣀⣿⣷⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⡿⣿⣮⣃⠀⢬⡛⢿⣄⠀⠞⠋⠼
⣦⡙⣿⠟⢿⡿⣧⣠⣾⡟⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣻⣶⣍⠳⣦⣀⣤
⣶⣷⣜⣷⣬⣷⣾⣿⠓⣇⡴⣫⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣩⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣽⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⣄⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣮⣭⡛
⣫⣽⣶⣿⡿⠛⢹⣇⡷⣫⣴⠿⠛⢉⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⠄⣈⠳⡄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷
⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢀⡾⠋⠀⣁⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⡴⠀⣀⣀⣴⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣭⣳⣹⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢿⡟⢟⣳⢶⣻⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⠁⣰⣿⣷⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣦⣿⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢛⣿⡾⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣒⢾⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠸⣴⣷⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠁⢻⣧⠹⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⠟⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢠⡾⢻⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣃⣀⣼⣿⣄⢹⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡹⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⡿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⡿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⡿⢋⡼⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠹⣎⠻⣮⡙⠛⠶⠶⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣠
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣴⣶⡶⠛⠋⣱⠟⠁⠊⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⠟
⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠿⣿⣿⣾⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣼⣿⠋⣠
⣧⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡇⢉⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢿⣆⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣡⣾⣿
⣎⢿⣄⠙⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠘⠉⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣷⣍⢷⡌⢻⣽⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠾⠿⣿⡾⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣦⡹⣆⠙⣧⣩⣿⣿⣿⢲⡟⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢫⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⢷⡈⢻⣿⣿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣤⣿⣻⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣶⡙⢷⡈⣿⡀⠀⠀⢘⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠞⢿⣽⣧⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣿⣿⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠞⠋⢀⣴⣿⣿⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⠟⠁⠀⢰⣻⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⣵⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣉⣉⡍⠀⣀⣀⣌⣴⡿⢿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠃⠀⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣏⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡌⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⢠⡆⢀⣴⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢠⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡶
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⢠⣿⣥⣾⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⣧⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡷⢋⡐⢈⠄⢂⠁⠄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⣸⣽⡳
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⠀⠀⠀⣸⡓⠴⡈⠴⠡⢌⠱⡈⠆⡌⡐⠠⠁⠂⠌⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣟⡾
⠀⠀⢀⡟⡬⢱⠘⡄⢃⠎⡰⢁⠎⡐⠀⠑⣆⠁⢂⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⣳
⠀⠀⢸⢏⡔⡃⢎⠰⡁⠎⡐⠂⠄⠠⠀⠀⠈⢶⡀⠂⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⡵
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⠀⠀⣟⡌⢳⠠⣃⠌⠒⡀⠂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⣀⡾⢀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡷
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⠀⠀⠀⣿⡜⢢⢍⠰⡁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡁⣯⢛⠴⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣳⢾
⠀⠀⠀⢹⣎⠇⣎⠒⡄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⣏⢎⡒⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣽⣻
⠀⠀⠀⠈⣯⢚⠤⡃⠔⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡃⣏⠖⡨⠄⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⣿⢾⣽
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣍⠖⣩⠘⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣼⣟⡯⠜⡰⠠⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⢻⣟⣾
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣯⢚⠤⡃⠤⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢹⣿⡧⢋⠤⠁⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠐⠸⣿⣽
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢻⡍⡖⢱⡈⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⢻⣿⡧⢩⢀⠃⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⢀⠀⢿⣿
⠀⠀⢈⣄⣠⠸⣏⡼⠡⡌⡑⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢺⣿⣇⠃⠆⡘⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣰⣲⠤⠘⣿
⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⡀⢿⡜⡱⢂⡑⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢺⣿⡧⢉⠰⢀⠃⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⢀⡀⠄⢹

new sronim xes anigav yssup elamef avluv tra tod ytilauxes esruocretni lauxes dlihc noitcudorper retsgnuoy sirotilc lauxes elinevuj roinuj dik ytivitca lauxes aibal

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

🍆👅💦🤤🫦🍑👋🏻

new sex female sexuality sexual intercourse

(,,>﹏<,,)( ͜.人 ͜.） ूाीू

new sex female woman sexuality sexual intercourse

8ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☾

new march eight viii month mars march 1 coquette

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

new kho patin ikan

☠︎︎

new male lesbian gender gay virile manly sexuality sappho heterosexual manful priapic masculinity

⠠⡀⠀⠘⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⢁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠋⠷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠸⡇⠿⠃⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠍⡈⠉⠐⠂⠈⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⡇⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡇⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢰⡀⣡⣤⡖⠒⠛⠒⠓⠒⠛⠒⠒⠦⣤⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⠓⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠈⠛⠲⣾⣼⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣸⣯⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠩⠍⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡌⠹⡀⢀⡀⠐⠒⠐⠂⠂⠀⠀⣤⣶⣲⣶⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⣤⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣷⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⣄⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢃⡿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⣉⠲⣹⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣋⣙⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣻⣿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠠⣀⠣⢽⡃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡆⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡟⢁⣬⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠡⢄⡋⢾⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⠆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⣄⣻⢿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣘⣛⠛⢹⣟⠋⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡈⠰⠌⣜⣹⠆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⠆⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣯⡿⠈⠁⠉⠒⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠋⠉⣭⠉⢻⣿⡽⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⢀⢣⡙⢤⢻⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢽⡃⢺⡥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣙⠇⢠⣶⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡀⣰⣿⡇⠀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠈⠄⣃⠲⢌⢧⢻⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣧⠈⡕⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⣼⡏⣿⢴⣆⣀⣀⣀⣠⣬⣽⡟⣿⢻⣧⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢁⠜⣠⠙⡬⢎⣿⠆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⣷⠌⠤⣁⠐⡀⠀⠒⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡇⢸⠈⠉⠉⠋⠹⠏⠀⠈⠁⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠐⡨⢐⠦⡹⣜⢫⣾⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡏⠶⡀⠶⢀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠸⡀⢇⡎⣱⠎⣿⡿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣯⡒⣅⠊⠤⡈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢀⠁⠀⢠⣆⢸⡝⣦⠀⠀⠀⠠⡼⠁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠰⢡⠘⠦⡜⣥⢻⣾⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢹⣷⡌⢣⠆⡁⠆⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⢨⠆⡸⣧⣻⣯⡧⣽⡀⢀⠰⠰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⡌⢑⢢⠙⡼⡱⢎⣿⣿⠃⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠾⣯⡑⡎⡔⠩⢄⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣮⢇⣹⡾⠛⠛⠛⢧⢻⣦⣢⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠄⡁⠎⡠⢃⡌⢣⠳⣭⢻⣿⠿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣷⡱⢎⠵⡈⢆⠡⠌⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣾⢫⡔⠡⢀⠂⠢⢩⢻⣿⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠠⢁⠂⡜⠠⣅⠣⡜⣡⢟⣼⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⣏⡶⣍⢆⠣⡜⠰⡀⢆⡐⠠⠀⠄⠀⠄⠠⠀⢾⣿⡇⡆⣁⠂⠌⡑⢬⢳⣿⠆⡜⡠⢡⠐⡀⢂⡁⠎⡐⠡⢌⠒⡌⡱⢂⢳⣸⡱⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢷⣞⣬⠳⣌⠧⣉⠦⡰⣁⠣⢌⠰⡈⢆⡑⢾⣿⣗⡇⠠⠌⡐⠌⣰⢻⣿⣙⢦⡱⢢⠜⡠⢃⠔⢢⢁⠣⣌⠲⣡⢣⡝⣦⣳⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢷⣟⣬⠳⣍⠶⡱⣌⠳⣌⠱⣘⠤⢎⣿⣿⠗⡌⣁⠢⠠⠑⢤⢻⣿⣻⣮⢵⣣⢞⡡⣍⢎⡱⣊⠵⣌⡳⢦⣳⣾⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠹⠿⣮⣳⡽⣘⡳⣬⢳⣱⡺⣝⣾⣿⢍⡒⠠⢀⠁⠎⣌⠳⣿⠹⢿⣷⣹⣎⡗⣞⢮⣳⣹⡾⠵⠿⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠛⠛⡷⠯⠷⠯⠷⣿⠛⣿⢸⠆⡁⠂⠌⠰⣸⢍⣿⠆⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⢬⡓⠠⠁⢈⠱⣸⡎⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠌⣧⠁⡃⢀⠲⡽⣘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⣏⠀⣏⡇⡏⢠⡀⡆⡶⡆⠏⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡘⢬⢃⣇⣨⡘⡗⢬⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣒⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣶⣶⡿⣷⢿⡿⣾⢿⡿⣿⢾⡿⣶⣦⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣴⡿⣟⢿⣻⠻⣝⣣⠟⣜⢣⡛⣜⢣⡝⣎⠳⡝⣮⠽⣹⣛⢿⡻⣿⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣭⢷⡹⣎⡳⡝⣎⠶⡙⡬⢣⠹⣌⠳⡸⢌⡳⡙⢦⡛⣥⢛⡮⢷⣹⡞⣽⣿⣟⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣤⡲⣶⣤⡤⡶⡶⠯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new xes elamef elam ytilauxes tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

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

𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒍! 𝒊𝒎 𝟏𝟒 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒕! 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝟏𝟑-𝟐𝟎 𝒚𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒍𝒅 💋 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒅! : 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒚𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟐𝟓𝟑

new paedophile child sexual abuse offender pornography predator child grooming minor indecent exposure degenerate abusers abuse awareness

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new xes nrop kcuf ytivitca lauxes esruocretni lauxes ytilauxesomoh buh tca xes esruocretni cihpargonrop ytilauxesib ytilauxes yhpargonrop lauxes noitutitsorp

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

Copy & Paste Xviii Emojis & Symbols 18+ | +18(‿ˠ‿) Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞εつ▄█▀█● | 🎟️

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