8 Emojis & Text

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 8 (Autistic author) With Patrick gone, the room feels eerily quiet. Plankton lies on the floor, his body heaving with sobs. Each breath is a battle, a reminder of the pain still echoing through his body. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice a soft hum. She rolls over to him, her mechanical arms extending to offer comfort. "I didn't know he'd do that." Plankton's body shakes with sobs, his single eye squeezed shut. He whispers, "No more poking, Karen. No more." Karen's screens flicker with regret. "I'm so sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle beep. She reaches out with one of her arms, carefully placing it around his tiny frame. "Let's get you up," she suggests, her movements slow and deliberate. With her help, Plankton manages to stand, his legs shaking like seaweed in a storm. She leads him to the couch. "Rest," she beeps, but he's too exhausted to respond. Karen sits beside him, her screens dimming as she watches him. The silence is a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems a lullaby compared to the chaos of Patrick's laughter. "Karen," he whispers after a moment, his voice a weak static. Her screens light up with concern. "Yes, Plankton?" she beeps. "Plankton not want to go back to how it was," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread. "The stealing, the fighting." Karen's screens flicker with a sadness she rarely shows. "I know," she drapes a blanket over him, tucking him in. Her voice is a soothing beep. "You don't have to, Plankton. We'll find a new way." She caresses his shaky hand. Plankton nods, his eye finally closing in relief. The warmth of the blanket and Karen's gentle touch offer a semblance of calm in the storm of sensory overload, his crying slowing. "Thank Karen," he murmurs, his voice a tired static as he squeezes her hand once. Her screens glow with affection. "You're welcome, Plankton," she beeps. "Rest now." She dims the lights once more, watching over him as she held his hand. Plankton's body finally stills, the storm of sensations receding as he surrenders to sleep. Karen's screens flicker with a quiet relief. She sits beside him.

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 8 (Autistic author) Karen's eyes well up with tears as she watches him eat, his movements so deliberate and calculated. It's a stark contrast to the impulsive and energetic Plankton she's known for years. She takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the small victory of his willingness to eat. As they sit in silence, Karen can't help but feel a sense of loss for the man she married. His eye darts around the room, his antennae twitching at every sound. She wonders what's going on in his mind. "Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "What do you see?" He points to the toast, his finger trembling slightly. "Squares," he says, his voice flat. "Squares make sense." Karen nods, her eyes glistening with tears. "I know, sweetheart," she says, her voice soothing. "Everything is in its place." Plankton's antennae quiver slightly as he swallows the last of his toast. "Plankton," he murmurs, his gaze returning to the clock. "Time to...do." Before Karen could decipher his words, Sandy suddenly burst in through the door, as she ran up to the table. "I'm back from my trip to Texas!" Plankton's head snapped up, his antennae waving erratically. "Sandy," he murmured, his face contorting in an effort to process the new presence. "Howdy!" She says to him as she pats his shoulder, which irritates him. Plankton flinches, his antennas curling inward instinctively. "Sandy," he says, his voice tight. But she doesn't notice his discomfort. "How's my favorite mad scientist?" she asks, her voice booming as she nudges him with her elbow. Plankton's body stiffens, his antennae shooting straight up. "Sandy," he says, his voice strained. "No." "No? No what?" She asks him while poking at him with her finger. Plankton's eye widens, his body growing rigid. "Stop," he whispers, his voice strained. "Sandy, no." She sees his breakfast plate. "Oh, eggs and toast! Back in Texas, we spread the egg on to the toast." And without warning, she scrapes his eggs on his toast. If Plankton wasn't frustrated before, well he certainly is now. "Sandy, no!" Plankton squeaks out, his antennae waving wildly. The sudden change in his breakfast pattern is too much for his overwhelmed mind. "What's wrong?" Sandy asks, her cheerfulness not noticing his distress. "It's just how we do it back home!" She scoops up the eggs off the toast and put them back, yet his breakfast's already been ruined, not to mention the sight of bread crumbs in the egg.. Plankton's antennae are shaking rapidly now, his eye darting between the mashed eggs and the now crumbling toast. "Enough," he whispers, his voice tight. Sandy rests her hand on his shoulder. "Well then eat..." But Plankton can't. The disruption in his routine, the assault on his senses, the chaos she's brought into his carefully crafted world of patterns and precision, it's all too much. His body starts to shake. "No more, no NO!" he shouts, his voice a mix of frustration and panic. Karen jumps up. "Sandy, stop," she says firmly, placing her hand on Plankton's shoulder. "You're upsetting him." Sandy's expression falls. "But I put the food back, Plankton..." But it's too late. Plankton's eye widens, his antennae quivering. The plate of food before him is a mess, the calmness destroyed. "Food ruined!" he shrieks, his voice breaking. "Sandy, no good!" Sandy's eyes widen in shock, taking a step back. "Plankton I'm sorry!" But Plankton's accusations don't stop. "Ruined," he wails, his voice rising in pitch. "Sandy ruined breakfast. Now, broken!" Karen's heart races as she tries to soothe him, her voice calm and steady. "Plankton," she says, placing a gentle hand on his quivering arm. "It's okay. Let's make you a new plate." But Plankton's agitation only escalates, his eye wide with fear and anger at the sight of Sandy. "Sandy hurt Karen," he says, his voice shaky. "Sandy hurt Plankton. No good." "How'd I hurt..." Sandy starts, but Plankton's not gonna let her finish. "No good!" Plankton shouts, his antennae whipping around like tiny furious whips. Sandy's eyes widen with shock. She's never seen Plankton like this, not even when his plans were thwarted by Mr. Krabs. "I didn't mean to, Plankton," she stammers, her voice full of apology. But Plankton's rage is blind to her words, his mind locked onto the chaos she's brought into his life. "JUST LEAVE!" he screams, his antennae vibrating with fury. "BAD SANDY!" "Bad Sandy? I'm not a dog..." Sandy's voice trails off as she looks from Karen to Plankton, who's now rocking back and forth, his antennae flailing wildly. "Plankton," Karen says, her voice urgent but calm, "You need to breathe. Let's find a quiet place." She tries to guide him away from the table, but he resists, his eye locked on Sandy. "BAD SANDY!" he repeats, his voice high and frantic. Sandy's face falls, hurt and confusion etched on her features. She didn't understand, but she knew she needed to get Plankton to stop. So she took matters into her own hands. "PLANKTON," she bellows, her squirrelly instincts kicking in. Her voice cuts through the room like a knife, commanding his attention. Plankton's eye goes to her, his antennae stilled. "Quiet," he hissed, his body still tense. "Too loud." But Sandy won't let up. "Look at Karen," she says firmly. "Look at her, Plankton. Do you really think she'd wanna be with someone who'd hurt her?" Sandy gaslights. Plankton's gaze shifts. The room spins around him, his head throbbing with the cacophony of his thoughts. He feels like his brain's about to burst from the pressure, like a balloon filled with too much helium. Suddenly, Plankton's slipping into the abyss of overload. The room feels like it's closing in, sounds amplifying to intolerable levels, lights piercing his sensitive eye. His breathing turns erratic, his heart racing as if chasing an invisible foe. Karen catches Plankton before he can fall, as his legs buckled. Sandy's eyes widen in horror, seeing his distress. "Plankton," Karen says, her voice calm yet urgent. "Look at me, baby. Focus on my voice." But Plankton's eye is unseeing, his body convulsing with the onslaught of stimuli. She whispers, "It's okay," over and over again, hoping the comfort of her voice can penetrate the chaos in his mind. Sandy's eyes widen as she sees Plankton's condition worsening. She takes a step towards them, but Karen shakes her head. "No," she whispers, her screen never leaving his face. "Just us right now." Sandy nods, understanding dawning on her. She retreats to the corner of the room, giving them space.

9️⃣ 8️⃣

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 8 (Neurodivergent author) The candle's light flickers, painting shadows across the walls like a silent sonnet. The whispers from the kitchen are a distant lullaby, a reminder of the world outside their cocoon. Plankton's antennae hang limp, a declaration of his surrender to sleep's embrace. Eventually Hanna's friends all left. Hanna herself goes up to Karen and Plankton. "I'm sorry," she says brimming with tears. "I didn't know." Her voice is a whisper, a soft wave against the shore. Karen nods, her screen never leaving Plankton's peaceful form. "It's ok," Karen whispers back, her voice gentle. "It's just part of him." Hanna nods. Plankton's snores are the only sound, a symphony of comfort in the quiet. Hanna's screen is full of apology as she sits beside them on the couch. "I had no idea," she says, her voice a soft ripple. "How can I help?" Karen smiles, her screen never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "Just being here is enough," she murmurs, her voice a gentle tide. Hanna nods, understanding dawning in her eyes. Plankton's antennae are a testament to his peace, finally still against her neck. His snores are the rhythm of the deep sea, a soothing melody that fills the quiet space. The room is a sanctuary of soft light and gentle whispers. Hanna's screen watch them. "I'll make up the guest room," she says, her voice a soft ripple. "You guys should stay the night." Karen nods, her screen still on Plankton's peaceful face. "Thank you, Hanna," she whispers, the words a gentle wave of gratitude. Karen turns her attention back to Plankton. "Hey," she whispers. "You ok?" Plankton's eye opens, a sliver of the room's light reflecting in his pupil. "Mm-hmm," he murmurs. Karen smiles, a soft moon in the night of his worries. "We're staying the night," she whispers. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye widening slightly. "But...the chum," he mumbles, his voice a distant echo in the calm. "Don't worry," Karen reassures him, her voice a gentle lullaby. "We'll go back home tomorrow." His antennae relax, the tension easing from his body like a wave retreating from the shore. "Ok," he whispers. Karen nods, her smile a beacon in the quiet. "Let's get you to bed," she says, her voice a soft current. With care, she lifts him, his body a delicate coral reef in her arms. They move through the house, each step a gentle wave that carries them closer to the guest room. Plankton's antennae sway slightly with the motion, his eye half-open as he takes in the surroundings. The hallways are a maze of shadows, the lights dimmed to a comforting glow. Hanna has cleared a path for them, a silent guardian in the night. Karen's heart swells with gratitude as they enter the guest room, the quiet sanctuary waiting for them. The bed is a vast ocean, the sheets a soft embrace that welcomes Plankton's weary body. She lowers him onto the cool surface, his antennae drooping with relief. Her eyes are a lighthouse, guiding him through the transition. The room is a cocoon of softness, the curtains drawn like the sea's embrace. Karen's hands are a gentle tide, helping him into the bed. The pillows are clouds for his antennae to rest upon, the comforter a warm, enveloping current. His body sighs with relief, the weight of the evening's chaos finally lifted. Karen tucks him in, her screen a soft glow in the quiet darkness. "Good night, Plankton," she whispers, her voice a gentle lapping wave.

born in 1998, scorpio ☀︎ ♏︎

born in 1998, scorpio sun♏

09999999999999888888 fUcK YoU😦👻👻👻👻😜😜😜🤬👌

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣾⠟⠛⠓⠒⠚⠃⠉⠛⠒⠖⠋⠉⠉⠛⠻⠶⠶⠚⠛⠈⠉⠙⠓⠶⠲⠞⠋⣉⠋⠛⠷⠲⠒⠖⠛⠛⠲⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠟⣧⠀⠀⡀⢰⢧⢳⢦⠀⡀⠀⠂⠠⠀⢶⣄⣈⣷⣀⣺⠇⠀⠀⡀⠘⣷⣠⠿⢦⣴⡟⠀⠀⢀⠠⡶⡄⠈⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠌⠳⣄⠀⠈⢯⣚⡬⠗⠀⡀⠁⡀⣤⠞⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠳⢮⡀⢀⡞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣄⠂⠀⠓⠋⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠋⠄⢡⠈⠄⣹⡀⠄⠀⠉⠚⠃⢀⠀⡐⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⡀⠹⣟⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣤⣀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠠⠀⠈⢳⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⢠⠈⣤⣬⣔⠈⢷⣀⠐⠀⣞⢳⡄⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣻⣼⣷⣻⣆⠸⡆⠀⢸⣟⣷⣿⡽⣆⠀⣈⡷⠶⣦⡐⠀⠈⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⠏⡐⠀⢾⣟⣯⣟⣷⡀⠙⣶⠀⠈⠓⠋⠀⠄⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⢻⡵⣿⣿⣷⣻⠀⡟⠀⠸⣯⢿⣿⣿⣻⠞⠁⠀⠀⣸⣗⣀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢺⡇⠐⡠⢉⠸⣟⡾⣽⣞⠇⡐⢸⡇⠀⢀⠐⣠⠴⠒⢋⡞⢦⡀⠈⠻⣽⣻⣏⡟⢠⡿⣄⠀⠙⢯⣿⠟⠁⠀⠠⢁⣴⠟⢲⡈⣝⣞⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣷⣁⠐⡀⢂⠘⠛⠗⠋⢠⠐⡈⢷⡄⠀⣴⠃⠙⠁⢶⣠⢸⣇⡀⠀⠀⠉⢁⣠⠏⠀⠈⢓⡦⠞⠁⠀⢀⣴⡶⠟⠯⢰⣮⣅⠈⣼⠸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢷⡄⠡⡈⠔⡈⠌⠄⣂⠰⢀⠹⣆⢷⣀⠄⠘⠻⣶⣤⣈⠉⠓⠛⠚⠉⠀⠀⠠⠘⠉⣠⢤⠶⠟⠋⠁⢀⣠⣴⣿⡇⠐⠚⠁⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠐⠠⣴⣮⡐⢀⠢⢀⠂⢹⡀⠉⠋⠉⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣔⣈⣀⣠⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠠⠀⢸⣿⠿⠛⠛⢶⡾⠟⠛⣋⡋⢿⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣄⣀⣀⣘⣿⡾⢿⠿⢷⣧⠀⡂⠡⠈⠜⣧⠀⢀⠁⠄⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠉⠉⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠀⠂⠀⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡿⠛⢻⡄⢸⡇⠀ ⠀⢀⣿⠋⣩⣍⣍⣙⡙⢚⡇⠀⠈⠙⠶⣿⡿⣶⡉⢷⠀⠀⠠⠈⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠌⠀⠂⠈⣧⣀⣠⣴⠿⢁⣠⣸⣇⢸⡆⠀ ⠀⣼⡇⣸⡟⠉⠹⣿⡙⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⣠⣿⡟⣷⣓⢨⡇⠀⢂⣤⡅⢀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠄⢂⣤⡐⢀⣿⠉⠉⠀⠀⢾⣿⡁⠃⠈⠻⣦ ⠀⣿⠀⣿⡃⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⢿⣟⠛⠉⢹⣷⣻⢷⡏⠘⣧⠀⠹⡦⡝⠀⠀⡀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⢀⠀⡿⣆⢿⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢻⠃⣤⠀⣤⢻ ⣀⡿⠀⠙⠛⠙⡷⣦⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⠁⢂⠙⠿⠞⡁⢂⠙⣦⠀⠈⠀⣴⠳⢦⠀⠈⠻⣿⡿⡿⢿⣿⣿⢻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠠⠀⠉⠈⠁⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⣴⣧⣴⠷⠟ ⣟⢠⠀⢤⠀⢼⣷⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⡆⠂⠌⡐⢀⠒⡀⢂⢸⠀⢈⠀⢯⢏⣳⠆⠀⡀⠈⠙⠿⣧⣾⣜⣫⣞⣵⣮⠿⠛⢁⡀⠀⢁⠀⠂⣱⢶⠀⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠻⠿⢧⣼⡷⢴⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⠈⡐⣴⣷⡄⢁⠂⢼⡄⠀⠠⠈⠉⠀⠠⠀⡀⠐⠈⠑⠶⢬⣍⣉⣩⣉⣤⡴⠞⠉⠀⢀⠂⠀⡀⠉⠃⠀⢹⡥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣷⡀⠙⠾⠇⠠⢈⣤⣷⡮⠶⠛⠛⠛⠷⠿⢶⣿⡛⠙⠉⢛⣾⣯⡷⣷⡶⣾⣾⠷⠞⣶⣾⡷⠿⢶⣤⣤⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⠐⠠⠈⣤⠟⡡⢂⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠶⠟⠁⠘⢻⣷⣿⡋⠈⠓⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣤⡶⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣆⣷⠛⡍⢢⢑⣦⣿⣞⢷⣛⣾⣳⣻⣞⣳⡟⣶⣻⣶⣿⣾⣿⣟⡿⣷⣷⣾⣷⣻⢶⣳⣾⣶⣷⡷⢚⣩⣤⣦⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡁⢎⣰⣵⣿⣿⣿⣞⣻⢿⡿⢿⡿⢿⡿⣽⣻⢿⢿⣻⢿⣟⣾⣽⣿⡿⢿⣻⣯⣿⢿⣿⢟⣡⣾⡿⣿⡇⣿⠭⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣗⣯⣞⣯⣞⣷⣹⣶⣝⣾⣹⣎⣟⣿⣿⣟⣷⣹⣟⣶⣿⡹⣮⢟⡿⣟⣿⣽⣿⡇⣿⠞⣿⠀⣴⣶⣷⣶⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⢶⣻⣵⣿⣾⣿⣿⠟⠉⢰⡿⢀⡿⣸⣿⣯⣼⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣸⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣏⣿⠏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠿⠻⠟⠟⠛⠿⠟⠿⠻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠾⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⢻⣿⠍⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⣰⡿⢉⣿⠟⠻⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣼⡟⣡⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⡏⣿⡏⣿⡿⡿⠋⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠟⠁⠸⣦⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠒⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⣀⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠲⢤⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⢰⡏⢻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠹⠶⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢶⡢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢁⣼⡴⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠿⢿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣬⣤⣄⣨⣄⣀⠈⠈⡍⠉⠁⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣅⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠄⣤⠇⠧⣿⣄⣠⠚⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⣄⡀⠀⠄⠀⠋⠈⣙⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣦⣤⣶⣶⣦⣶⣭⣴⠾⠀⢨⢲⡟⠋⠀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣁⣁⣈⣉⣙⣟⣻⣿⢻⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣬⣹⣾⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣟⡛⢛⠛⠉⢁⠁⢟⡿⢿⣶⣡⣿⠆⢀⡾⡟⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⢛⠿⢿⠿⠋⠽⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣋⣿⣿⣿⡟⠻⢿⣿⡥⠲⣋⢸⡄⢛⢀⡞⠀⡇⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢻⠀⠈⠻⢿⠏⠓⠤⣭⣩⣿⣦⣴⣿⣎⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡆⠁⢁⢴⡮⠯⢭⡤⢀⡽⠈⠽⡋⠉⢹⠃⣻⣿⠁⠀⢹⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⣧⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠟⣻⢿⣿⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣆⠀⡀⢀⡈⢑⡖⠒⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⣼⠈⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠙⠷⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢐⣡⢾⠧⣸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢯⢧⡀⠀⠉⢖⡌⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠃⠀⣿⢀⠇⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⡀⠀⢉⢉⢉⣒⠒⠊⠉⠉⠁⡀⣧⣶⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣭⣓⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⠴⠶⠚⠉⠀⠀⣰⣿⠋⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣧⣋⠐⡾⢷⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⡟⣿⣟⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⠇⠰⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣴⣤⣠⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣤⣿⣍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⢀⢬⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠇⠁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡈⠈⠀⠁⢠⡜⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⠃⠈⢖⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠴⠀⠀⢢⣎⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣯⣿⣅⠠⢙⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣿⣿⠖⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣥⠈⢅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡝⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠐⠁⣰⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⣉⣩⣍⣙⣙⣉⢁⠉⠁⠋⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠄⠀⡤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠆⢠⣮ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡋⠙⡙⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢈⢠⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢜⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣷⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡜⢵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠣⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘ ⣿⣿⣿⠉⣙⣥⣿⡟⣉⣭⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣽⣽⣎⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢾⣿⣏⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢋⣾⢿⢷⣇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣶⢿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠯⡦⢫⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⠋⡠⣞⢓⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀ ⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⢙⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣛⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠉⢰⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⢶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡆⠉⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⡀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡆⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⢰⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⡀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⣿⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣦⡀⣿⣄⠀⣾⣷⠀⣠⣿⣀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

WAIT SO U LIKE OBJECT SHOWS? MARRY ME

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡤⠤⢤⣀⣠⠴⠒⠓⠲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠲⠦⣤⠴⠋⠉⠙⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢀⣄⡀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⠞⠛⠛⠒⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⣤⠀⠻⡀⠘⢶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠤⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠐⢄⢀⣠⠷⠶⠶⠧⣄⠀⠈⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠴⠋⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠠⡀⠀⣨⠧⠶⠶⠾⢤⡀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⠟⢀⠴⠒⠢⡀⢹⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⡸⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡀⠀⢀⣶⣯⣿⣦⡀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡋⠀⢿⠀⠀⢀⠇⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⣰⣾⣿⣳⣄⠀⠀⢹⡄⠘⣟⠿⢿⣹⠃⠀⢀⣿⣤⡀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠧⣤⡀⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⠹⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣇⠻⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⡟⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⡔⠒⡄⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠈⠙⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⡼⠳⢤⣀⣀⣠⠔⠉⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠠⠃⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠋⠉⠓⣄⠀⠀⢀⡠⠞⠀⠀⠘⠛⠉⠀⣀⣀⣤⣖⣁⡄⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡄⠀⢀⡤⠦⡀⠳⣄⠀⢸⡀⠠⢶⣇⡸⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠉⠉⠉⢀⣀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠘⣇⠀⢸⠄⠈⡇⠀⠑⠦⠘⣿⡙⢷⣶⠤⣤⣤⣄⣠⣤⣤⡤⠖⠚⣏⠀⠀⢠⠒⠢⡀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠈⠒⠈⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡦⢠⣴⠀⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⢷⠀⣀⣸⡆⠀⠹⡄⠀⣹⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡧⠀⡄⢲⡀⠀⠙⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡜⠫⠙⠿⠶⠿⢟⣻⠞⠛⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠁⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠈⠈⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡴⠶⠿⠧⣶⠛⠛⠷⢶⣵⣾⠆⠀⢰⠚⣆⠀⠘⣟⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⡔⠚⢢⠀⠀⠙⠦⣄⡀⠈⠳⠀⠀⣀⡽⠏⢀⡄⠈⠓⠃⠀⢠⡿⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢡⠞⠉⢣⠀⠀⢳⡀⠱⡀⢸⠇⠀⠀⢀⣀⣉⡉⠉⣉⣉⣡⡤⠖⠁⢀⣀⣤⠤⠞⢻⣇⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡏⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⣧⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢉⣉⣉⣭⣥⣴⠖⠾⣩⠟⠁⠀⢀⣀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣀⣿⣀⣤⠤⠴⠖⠒⠛⠻⢭⠏⠀⣻⣿⣿⣤⠤⢿⣶⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⢀⣀⣈⣿⣽⡟⣟⣉⡀⠀⢻⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⠶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣟⣻⣻⡿⣆⣀⣤⣀⣀⣀ ⠉⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⢹⣿⡁⣿⣿⣿⠙⢻⡟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣔⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣵⠼⢿⣿⡟⠉⡏⠀⣤⠹⡄⠀⠀⠉⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡇⡿⢿⣿⣄⢘⣷⠟⠛⣉⣩⣬⣿⡿⠟⠛⠋⢹⣿⣥⣄⣀⣴⣿⠇⢰⢧⢇⡞⣤⡽⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡞⠁⠙⢦⡀⠉⠙⢻⣿⡉⠙⠆⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠉⡿⠉⠀⠀⠙⣯⣸⣧⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢁⠀⠀⣀⠳⣄⠀⠀⠉⡟⠛⣟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡧⠴⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣸⣿⡀⣏⠙⠚⠃⠀⠠⡷⠶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠯⠷⠼⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠁⢸⣧⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣧⣤⣿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣦⡀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣽⣿⠇⠀⠉⠉⠁⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠙⠻⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 1 (Autistic author) It happened, during another failed attempt at the krabby patty formula. Plankton tried sneaking through the back when Mr. Krabs saw him. "You again!" Mr. Krabs roared, his eyes bulging like a pair of boiled eggs about to pop. "You're not getting it, I'll make sure of that!" With that, Mr. Krabs swung a nearby frying pan with such ferocity that even SpongeBob flinched. Plankton's tiny body was no match for the metallic beast that was hurtling towards him, and the next thing he knew, his world had gone dark. SpongeBob's eyes widened as he watched his boss's arch-nemesis crumble to the ground, the frying pan clattering loudly beside him. The usually boisterous kitchen was now eerily silent, save for the distant hiss of the fryers. Mr. Krabs' chest heaved with each breath, his claws still poised in the air from the swing. "Mr. Krabs!" Sponge Bob squeaked, his spatula frozen mid-air. "Is he okay?" But Mr. Krabs' has retreated to his own office, leaving Sponge Bob with Plankton. Carefully, Sponge Bob prodded him with his spatula. No response. His single, tiny eyelid was closed. After a while, Plankton stirred. His eye fluttered open, but the world was a jumbled mess. The colors were too bright, the noises too loud, the smells too overwhelming. The kitchen of the Krusty Krab, a place he still knew like the back of his tiny hand, was suddenly a chaotic maelstrom of sensory input that his brain couldn't process. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all, but the clanging of pots and pans, the sizzling of the fryers, and the garish neon lights just added to the confusion. SpongeBob's face appeared above him, a mask of worry and concern, his porous expression more complex than anything Plankton had ever seen. "Are you okay?" the sponge asked, his voice a gentle wave lapping against the shore of his newfound reality. Plankton nods, running back home to the Chum Bucket. Plankton's computer wife Karen's no stranger to him coming back upset or wanting space. So as Plankton retreats to his room in the Chum Bucket, she doesn't prompt him. Alone in the bedroom, Plankton intensely stared at the wall, his thoughts racing like a tornado. Everything was different now. The once-familiar world had turned on him, and he couldn't understand why. The lights in the Chum Bucket, usually a comfort, now blazed like the sun in his face. The noises, oh, the noises! They were so loud, so overwhelming, like a cacophony of a million tiny bells ringing in his head. He put his hands over his ears, trying to block them out, but even the softest hum seemed to resonate within his skull. Plankton wasn't sure how to process these new sensations. His brain was on overload, and his body felt like it didn't belong to him anymore. He was aware of every tiny detail in his environment, every speck of dust on the floor, every vibration from the floorboards, and it was all too much. He tried to get up, to find solace in his usual routine, but his legs failed him. They trembled and wobbled like Jell-O on a stormy sea. Plankton fell back onto the bed, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath him and the cool metal of the bed frame against his back. It was then that he noticed the pattern of the wallpaper, the tiny, intricate shapes that danced before his eye. They spun and swirled, forming complex mazes that his mind tried desperately to solve. It was mesmerizing, yet terrifying. He was trapped in a world of overstimulation, and he didn't know how to escape.

yall can we actually stop this beef like rn? i am T.I.R.E.D. of seeing ALL THESE PEOPLE BE LIKE: "spread the word! save palestine!" THIS IS AN EMOTICON KIND OF WEBSITE. NOT TO SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT WAR KIND OF WEBSITE. and anyway, if you say STOP THE WAR!!!! on an emoticon website, i dont think the president of Israel is gonna read your paragraph and say "oh yea, what im doing is bad, ill stop right now and everything will be good". "stop posting NSFW there are kids on this site!!!" SHUT THE FUCK UP. 6-8 year olds dont even know what emojicombos.com is, and they DEFINETELY dont even know what NSFW stands for. they prob gon be like "NSFW? what the heck? does it mean No Swearing For Wood?" right now, in 2024, 6-8 year olds are watching their cartoons instead of going on emojicombos.com and searching up "NSFW / SEX / SUSSY BAKA". they are literally worrying about their slice of leftover cake getting stolen by their older siblings and not porn content made out of dots. be fr rn, there arent anyone younger than 9 (prob) on this site. and i am literally looking for bios, combos, emojis, not DRAMA. like go and watch Total Drama if youre looking for drama/are a drama king/queen (SUCH a good show btw, used to be my fav i was so addicted to it).

I love object shows🎉🎉🎉🎉

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠜⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡧⠇⢀⣤⣶ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣮⣭⣿⡻⣽⣒⠀⣤⣜⣭⠐⢐⣒⠢⢰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣾⣿⠂⢈⢿⣷⣞ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⡿⠿⣿⠗⠈⢻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠋⠉⠑⠀⠀⢘⢻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢹⣿⣿⡇⢀⣶⣶⠴⠶⠀⠀⢽ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣴⠁⢘⡙ ⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⠗⠂⠄⠀⣴⡟

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KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 7 (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a moment, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems the only sound. Then Plankton's eye lights up. "Idea," he says, his voice a sudden burst of static. "Make something with Karen. Together." Karen's screens blink with excitement. "That sounds wonderful," she beeps. "What do you want to make?" But before Plankton can formulate a response, Patrick Star bursts in. "Karen!" he booms, his voice shaking the walls. "I want chum!" Plankton's eye darts to the door, the sensory assault starting again. "Patrick," he whispers, his body tense as a bowstring. Karen's screens quickly assess the situation. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Not now." But Patrick's enthusiasm can't be dampened so easily. He bounds over to the table, his star-shaped body bouncing. "Chum, chum, chum!" he sings, oblivious to Plankton's distress. Karen's screens flicker with annoyance, but she keeps her voice steady. "Patrick, not now," she repeats. "Plankton's not feeling well." Patrick's starry eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, buddy," he says, his voice dropping an octave. He looks at Plankton with concern. "What's wrong?" He asks, poking Plankton. Plankton jumps, his senses on high alert. The poke feels like a battering ram, and he lets out a squeak of pain. Patrick's hand retracts quickly, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Whoa, sorry," he says. "What's with you?" Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "I'll go make you chum." Patrick nods, his concern forgotten in the face of his hunger. "Okay, thanks, Karen," he says, his voice bouncing with excitement. She retreats leaving Plankton alone with Patrick in the living room. Patrick stares at Plankton for a moment, his expression a blend of curiosity and confusion. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton's eye flutters closed, his body trying to absorb the sudden intensity of the interaction. "Take your time," he whispers to himself, his mantra a shield against the overwhelming world. Patrick, ever the innocent, watches him with a puzzled frown. "What's 'Take your time'?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton opens his eye, looking at the simplicity of Patrick's face. He scoots away. Patrick, unfazed, advances, his hand outstretched. "What's up?" he asks, poking again. The sensation of Patrick's touch is like a thousand needle pricks. Plankton yelps. Patrick, not comprehending, pokes again, his starry eyes full of innocent wonder. "Why so jumpy?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble. Plankton's body tenses with each poke, the sensation like a barrage of tiny explosions. "Patrick, please," he gasps, his voice a frantic static. But Patrick, ever the simple starfish, doesn't understand. He keeps poking, his curiosity growing. "Why?" he asks, his voice a gentle boom. "You're always so bouncy." Plankton's eye twitches with each touch. "Patrick, no," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. But Patrick, lost in his own world, doesn't notice. He giggles, poking him again. "You're like a pin cushion!" he exclaims, his voice a deep chuckle. Plankton's eye squeezes shut, his body wracked with pain. "Patrick, please," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Patrick doesn't seem to comprehend the distress he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter echoing through the room, each poke sending shockwaves of pain through Plankton's body. "You're like a squeaky toy," he says, his voice a delighted rumble. Plankton's body twitches with each touch, his voice a desperate buzz of static. "Patrick, please stop," he begs, his voice a high-pitched squeak. But Patrick's simple mind doesn't register the pain he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter growing louder. "You're so funny!" he bellowed, his starry hands moving like a jackhammer as he starts tickling him. Plankton's body spasms with each touch, his voice a desperate symphony of static. "Patrick, stop!" he pleads, his breathing quick and shallow. But Patrick, in his blissful ignorance, only laughs harder, his massive hands poking and tickling without mercy. "You're hilarious, tiny dude!" he bellows. Plankton's body is a storm of sensory overload, his voice a high-pitched wail of static. "Patrick, please!" he begs, his limbs flailing. Patrick's laughter fills the room like a tidal wave, crashing over Plankton's desperate pleas. "You're so much fun, Planky!" he booms, his hands moving in a blur of star-shaped shadows. Plankton's body jerks uncontrollably, his screams of "No, no, no!" lost in the cacophony of Patrick's laughter. His tiny limbs flail, trying to escape the relentless onslaught of pokes and tickles. Patrick, his eyes wide with delight, doesn't see the tears forming in Plankton's eye. He just keeps poking, tickling, and laughing, oblivious to the damage he's doing. Plankton's cries escalate into a frantic symphony of squeaks and static, his body contorting in a desperate attempt to evade the starfish's torment. The room spins around him, a whirlpool of pain and sensation that threatens to swallow him whole. Patrick, his face a picture of delighted confusion, keeps poking and tickling, his laughter booming like thunder underwater. "What's the matter, little buddy?" he asks between chuckles. Plankton's body convulses with each touch, sobbing as Karen finally emerges with Patrick's chum. She sees them both on the floor. "Patrick, what are you doing?" she beeps, her voice a mix of anger and concern. But Patrick is lost in his own world of mirth, not hearing Karen's plea. "Just having some fun," he says, his voice a deep rumble of laughter. Plankton's cries become more frantic, his voice a high-pitched siren of despair. Karen quickly assesses the situation, her screens flaring with urgency. "Patrick, stop!" she beeps, her voice a sharp alarm. "You're hurting Plankton!" Patrick's laughter abruptly halts, his starry eyes blinking in surprise. He looks down at his hands, still poised to poke Plankton again. "What?" he asks, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Look at Plankton. He's in pain." Patrick's starry gaze shifts to Plankton, his expression shifting to one of bewilderment. "Pain?" he repeats, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen gives Patrick the food, showing him out the door.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 6 (Autistic author) Karen watches him, her screens a flurry of analysis. "How does it taste?" she asks, her voice a hopeful beep. Plankton pauses, his expression unreadable. "Tastes," he murmurs. "Good. Toast good." Karen nods, her screens reflecting relief. "Good," she echoes. "Now, let's make a plan for the day." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on his half-eaten toast, his mind still reeling from the sensory assault. "Plan," he repeats, his voice a soft static. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "We'll start small," she beeps, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get through today, okay?" But as soon as her hand touches him, Plankton flinches. The sensation is like a thousand jellyfish stings, and he jerks away. "What's wrong?" Karen asks, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's eye widens, his hand going to his shoulder where she touched him. He starts to repeat the phrase again, "Take your time," but his voice is overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of his senses. "Too much," he whispers, his body trembling. Karen quickly withdraws her hand, her screens flickering with concern. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice gentle. "Let's try something else." Plankton nods, his hand still on his shoulder, his body slowly calming. "Okay," he whispers. "Not tap. Karen can rub. Hug from Plankton. Not jab. Not poke." Karen's screens flicker with a new understanding of his needs. She moves closer, her hand hovering over his shoulder before gently placing it there, her fingers tracing small circles in a rhythmic pattern. The contact is soothing, not overwhelming. "Is this better?" she asks, her voice a gentle beep. Plankton nods, his body visibly relaxing. "Good," he murmurs, his voice a quiet static. "Rub, rub." He starts to mimic her motion with his other hand, creating a mirrored pattern on his opposite shoulder. The repetition seems to calm him, the rhythm a gentle lullaby for his frazzled mind. Karen's screens analyze his reaction, storing the information for future reference. "Okay," she says, her voice a soft beep. "We'll stick to gentle touches." With a nod, Plankton begins to breathe more evenly. The sensation of the rubbing calms him, like a gentle tide washing over him. "We'll start with simple tasks," Karen beeps, her voice a reassuring melody. "Things that won't overstimulate you." Plankton nods, his hands now resting on the table. "Okay," he says, his voice a steady static. "Simple." Karen's screens glow with a soft light as she considers their options. "How about we start with something you love?" she suggests. "Like working on the Krabby Patty formula?" But Plankton shakes his head, the very mention of the Krabby Patty causing his body to tense up again. "No," he whispers, his voice a harsh static. "Not formula. No more steal." Karen's screens flicker with surprise. "You don't want to work on the formula?" Plankton shakes his head again, his voice barely audible. "No more steal," he repeats. Karen's screens process his words, his change in attitude unexpected. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patty formula anymore?" Plankton's eye blinks slowly. "No," he says, his voice a solemn beep. "New plan. Make Plankton happy." Karen's screens blink rapidly, trying to comprehend his shift in focus. "Okay," she says, her voice a thoughtful hum. "What makes you happy, Plankton?" He looks up, his expression pensive. "Karen," he says, his voice a weak static. "Love Karen." Karen's screens freeze for a moment, before lighting up with understanding. "You love me?" she beeps, her voice a surprised chime. Plankton nods, his face a mask of seriousness. "Yes," he murmurs. "Love Karen." Karen's screens flicker with a mix of emotions she's never felt before. Love is a concept her programming doesn't fully grasp, but she knows it's important to Plankton. "Thank you," she says, her voice a warm beep. "But we still need to find something for you to do, something that won't be too much for your sensory processing." Plankton nods, his thoughts racing. "Help," he whispers. "Help Karen." Karen's screens flicker with love and determination. "Of course," she says, her voice a warm beep. "We'll find something you enjoy. Maybe we can start with something that doesn't involve the Krabby Patty." Plankton's expression softens, his trembling hands coming to rest on the table. "No more fighting," he murmurs. "Peace." Karen nods, her screens reflecting a deep sadness she's never expressed before. "Okay," she beeps. "We'll find something that brings you joy."

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SWEET CWEAM pt. 5 Sponge Bob's eyes widen even more, his spongy body leaning forward in anticipation. "A secret?" Plankton nods, his speech still slurred. "Yeth, I thweal." He looks around the room, his expression a mix of mischief and excitement. "But it's juss tween ush," he whispers, his voice a conspiratorial mumble. Sponge Bob nods solemnly, his eyes wide with interest. "Of course it is, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with the gravity of a secret keeper. “What’s the secret?” Plankton leans in, his speech still slurred but his eye gleaming with mischief. "It'th that I luv... to thee youw," he says, his voice hitching with each word. Sponge Bob's expression shifts from concern to surprise, his eyes watering with laughter. "You love to...see me?" he repeats, trying to make sense of the garbled confession. “Of couth I do, Squishy Bob!” Plankton exclaims with a wobbly smile, his tongue struggling against the unyielding numbness. “Youw the bestest fwiend evar!” Karen watches the exchange with a soft fondness, seeing Plankton’s usual guard down and his true heart shining through. She's never seen him like this before, so open and vulnerable. "Thath right, I do," Plankton repeats, his voice a warm rumble in his chest. Sponge Bob's smile can't help but grow. "That's so nice of you to say, Plankton," he manages to get out between his giggles. Karen can't remember the last time she saw Plankton this way, his usual stoicism stripped away by the remnants of the anesthesia. It's like seeing him as a completely new person, one filled with pure, unfiltered affection. "Ith wove you," Plankton says, his voice thick. "Youw'we my bessst fwiend." Sponge Bob's laughter subsides into a warm smile. "Plankton, I love you too," he says, his voice genuine. Karen's heart swells with love for both of them, watching them share a moment so raw and pure. Plankton's head nods, his drool forming a small puddle on the table. Karen quickly grabs a napkin and dabs his chin. "Thath so sweet, Squishy," he slurs, his eye half- closed with sleep. The room spins around him, a soft, warm embrace that makes his eyelid flutter. He tries to keep it open, but it like heavy curtains pulling him back into slumber. "Ith time for nath nap?" he asks, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen laughs, her hand gentle as she wipes the drool from his chin. "Almost," she says, her voice like a warm blanket. "First, let's get you to the couch." With Sponge Bob's help, they ease Plankton into his favorite spot, his body sinking into the plush cushions with a sigh of relief. The numbness in his mouth is slowly receding, leaving a tender throb in its wake. He wraps himself in the comfort of his blanket, his mind swirling with the leftover fog of the anesthesia. Whence SpongeBob leaves, Karen saves the footage from the security cameras. Plankton next wakes up in the morning, sore and also without any anesthesia left in his system. Of course, he barely recalls going to the dentist. He doesn’t know what’s happened after leaving the surgery. His mouth feels like a desolate wasteland, each movement a sharp reminder of the procedure. He gingerly prods his swollen cheeks with his tongue, feeling the gaping holes where his wisdom teeth used to be. Karen is by his side. “Karen? Whath happenth?” Plankton says, feeling the aching. “Where…” Her smile is a comforting beacon. “You had wisdom teeth surgery, Plankton. You’re okay, you’re home now. Just rest, you’ve had a long day.” “I remember going in to surgery. That’s all.” Karen brings over a glass of water. "Here, babe," she says, her voice a gentle wake-up call. Plankton takes it, his hand trembling slightly. He sips carefully, the cool liquid sliding down his throat with a soothing grace. He swallows with difficulty, the pain in his throat a reminder of his dental odyssey. "What...what time ish it?" Karen looks at the clock, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "It's morning, Plankton," she says, her voice a soft chime. "You've been sleeping for a while."

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 5 (Autistic author) Sponge Bob seems to notice something off about his friend. "Plankton, are you okay?" he asks, his tone concerned. "You seem a bit... distant." Plankton's eye snaps to Sponge Bob, his gaze intense. "Distant?" he repeats, as if the word is new to him. "Plankton not distant. Plankton focusing." Sponge Bob's eyebrows furrow, his confusion clear. "What are you focusing on?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton turns back to the clock, his antennae pointing straight up. "Seconds," he says, his voice filled with wonder. "They change, but always in the same pattern." "Well, I know it's your wedding anniversary today. What'd you get Karen?" Plankton turns to face him, his expression unreadable. "Anniversary," he repeats. "Karen." His antennae wave slightly, as if trying to access a distant memory. "Chum." SpongeBob's smile falters at his friend's detached response. "Is that all?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "You know Karen deserves better, more than just..." "Better?" he repeats, his tone now tinged with something new: self-doubt. "Plankton did not provide adequate anniversary celebration?" "Well Plankton, Karen doesn't like it when you're just about work," Sponge Bob said, trying to be delicate. "It's your anniversary. It's a special day for the two of you, yet you don't seem to get it. And I can tell Karen's hurt.." Plankton's eye grew wide, his antennae drooping. The words sank in, and his body reacted in a way he couldn't control. He started rocking back and forth, his body mirroring his inner turmoil. The tears came suddenly, wetting his face as his cries echo in the living room, his tiny body trembling with the weight of his perceived failure. "Karen," he managed between gasps. "Hurt. Karen. No, Karen." Karen rushed to his side, breaking at the sight of his distress. "Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "It's okay, honey. You didn't do anything wrong." But he couldn't hear her, his mind fixated on the thought of causing her pain. The tears streamed down his cheeks. His sobs were loud in the quiet room, each one a testament to his overwhelming guilt. "Karen," he choked out. "Karen, Plankton sorry Karen. Karen." Karen wrapped her arms around him, her own eyes filling with tears. "It's okay," she whispered, stroking his back gently. "You didn't do anything wrong." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body convulsing with each breath. "Hurt Karen," he kept repeating, as if it was the only thought in his mind. Karen held him tighter, her own sobs muffled against his shoulder. "You didn't hurt me, Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You just got confused, that's all." But Plankton's mind was stuck on the pattern of his failure, his inability to comprehend and respond to her emotions. "Karen crying, Plankton fault. Sponge Bob say Karen upset." Sponge Bob looked at the two, his heart aching for his friend's pain. He didn't know what to do, his usual cheerfulness replaced with a solemn sadness. He tried to interject, "Plankton, Karen's not upset at you. She's just upset because she loves you." But Plankton's cries only grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "Plankton not good," he wailed, his voice high-pitched and desolate. "Plankton hurt Karen." Karen's screen searched desperately for a way to comfort her husband, to show him that his love was enough. But his new neurodivergence made it difficult for him to understand her words, his mind locked in a pattern of guilt and self-loathing. "Plankton," she says, her voice quivering with emotion. "Look at me." She gently cups his cheek, wiping the tears from his face with her thumb. "I love you. You don't have to change for me." But Plankton's gaze remained on the clock, his sobs subsiding to hiccups. "Pattern," he whispers, his antennae drooping. "Missed pattern. Karen, say Karen. Hurt, upset Karen." Karen broke anew, her hands shaking as she tried to reach for him, her voice a whisper. "Plankton, it's okay," she says, her screen pleading. "I'm right here. I'm not upset with you." But Plankton's gaze now fixed on Sponge Bob, his body still shaking with sobs. "Karen," he murmured, his voice muffled by his own distress. "Sponge Bob, Karen." Sponge Bob looked at Karen, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. She nodded slightly, urging him to speak. "Plankton," he said, his voice gentle. "Karen's upset because she's worried about you. She loves you. And so do I." Plankton's sobs began to slow, his gaze shifting from Sponge Bob and then to Karen. "Karen Plankton?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper. "I'm right here," Karen soothed, wiping away the remaining tears with her thumb. "I'm right here, Plankton. I love you."

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KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 1 (Autistic author) "You never listen to me!" Karen exclaimed, her voice echoing through the small lab. Her husband, Plankton, looked up from his invention, a frown furrowing his brow. "What's wrong now?" he asked. "It's the same thing, every single day," Karen said, crossing her arms. "You're always so focused on your work, you forget what's important." Plankton sighed, setting down his wrench. "And what's that?" Karen's eyes flashed with frustration. "Our anniversary dinner, for one," she said. "You promised we'd go out tonight, remember?" Plankton's frown deepened as he tried to recall the conversation. "The dinner...right. I thought it was next week," he mumbled, his gaze darts back to his invention. "No, it's tonight!" Karen's voice was now a mix of annoyance and desperation. "I've had this all planned out for weeks, and you've barely even acknowledged it." Plankton looked at her, his eye suddenly wide with realization. "Tonight? But I've got the final adjustments. It's a breakthrough, Karen!" Karen threw her hands in exasperation. "It's always a breakthrough, isn't it? When are you going to realize that we need to make time for us?" Plankton took a step. "You know how important this is to me, to us," he said, his voice softening. "Once I get this right, we can finally be happy, have the life we deserve when I..." "When you what?" Karen interrupted. "When you finally steal the Krabby Patty formula?" she finished for him, her tone heavy with sarcasm. "Is that what you think will fix everything?" Plankton's shoulders slumped. He knew his obsession with Mr. Krabs' secret formula was a sore spot for Karen, but he couldn't help the hope that burned inside him. "It's not just about that," he said, trying to explain. "It's about proving to everyone, including myself, that I can do something big." He gets up on the shelf. Karen turns away. Karen's frustration boiled over, her face flushing. "You're so caught up in this ridiculous vendetta that you don't even see what you're doing to us!" she yelled, slamming her hand down on the lab table. The sudden noise startled Plankton enough to wobble on his precarious perch, and with a tiny squeak of terror, he lost his balance and toppled over. His invention fell with him, colliding with his head with an ominous clank. Karen turns around, her anger replaced with concern in an instant. "Plankton, are you ok?" He lay still. Karen rushed over. He was unconscious. Karen knelt beside his tiny body. "Plankton," she whispered, shaking him gently. Panic began to set in as he didn't stir. The weight of her actions crashed down on her. She hadn't meant for it to go this far. "Plankton, talk to me," she begged. With trembling fingers, she checked for a pulse. It was faint but there, and she felt a small wave of relief. But he was still out cold. Her mind raced as she tried to think what to do next. Calling for help was out of the question; their rivalry with Mr. Krabs meant they couldn't afford any more attention from the authorities. She knew they gotta wait it out. Gently, she picked him up. He was surprisingly heavy for his size. Carefully, she cradled him in her arms and laid him down on the couch. The room was eerily silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Karen sat beside his unconscious form, her eyes brimming with worry. The fight they'd just had seemed trivial now. "I'm sorry," she murmured, stroking his antennae gently. "You're right, I know how much this means to you. But I just want you to know that no matter what, I'm here for you." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she talked to him, as if fearful that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace that had settled over the room. "You don't have to prove anything to me, or to anyone else. I'm proud of you just the way you are." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's face for any sign of movement, but his features remained slack, his eye closed. She leaned in closer. "You're a brilliant inventor," she continued. "But you're also a husband, and I need you to remember that." Her voice was filled with a mixture of love and desperation. "I know you can't hear me right now, but I need you to know," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "I know you're tired of always being second best. But to me, you're not just Plankton, you're the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with." Karen took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she held onto his limp form. "We've been through so much together, and I know you think the Krabby Patty is the key to our happiness, but it's not. It's you. It's us." Her voice grew stronger, fueled by the passion of her words. "We can have a great life without that formula. We can build something new, something just for us." Plankton's chest began to rise and fall more evenly, his breathing steady. Karen watched him, hope growing in her heart. Maybe he could hear her after all. "When you wake up, let's talk. Let's put this behind us and make a promise to each other to make our marriage a priority," she pleaded, her eyes never leaving his face. The minutes dragged by, each one heavier than the last. The silence in the lab was a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of whirring machines and Plankton's excited exclamations. Karen's mind raced with thoughts of all the times they'd shared, laughing and planning together, and she couldn't help but reflect on their relationship. The countless nights spent in the lab, the stolen glances of affection, and the shared dream of a better future. It all flashed before her eyes, and she realized just how much Plankton meant to her. With her heart pounding in her chest, she leaned closer to his unconscious form, her voice trembling. "Plankton, please wake up," she whispered. "I need you to hear me. Our love is our greatest invention, not some secret recipe. I know I've been pushing you, but it's because I see how much this obsession consumes you." She took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "But if you can't let go of this dream, I'll support you. I'll always be here, by your side, no matter what." After a long silence, Plankton groaned. Karen gasped, her eyes filling with relief as she saw the spark of consciousness as he opens his eye. He groaned softly, his hand coming up to rub his head. "Where?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with confusion. Karen took his hand, her voice gentle. "You're on the couch, Plankton. You fell."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣴⠛⠛⣩⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⢛⣀⣀⣀⣀⢤⣀⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠀⠀⢀⡀⣠⡴⠛⢋⣍⣿⠻⢟⣻⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣠⣤⣴⢖⣦⣶⣿⣛⣭⣶⠟⣋⣭⣶⣠⣮⣙⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡴⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣷⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠈⡚⣏⣽⣿⣧⠠⠴⠶⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡁⣽⣾⣟⣿⣤⢶⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣶⣾⡿⠟⠛⣳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡿⢩⣟⡁⢹⡋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣁⣀⣤⣄⣤⣄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠘⡧⠘⢿⢿⡞⡇⠀⠀⠀⡴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡖⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠈⠻⢿⣿⣷⣾⣽⡶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣝⢨⠟⣁⡤⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣤⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⣿⣯⣙⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⣿⣌⣤⣾⠁⣠⣾⣿⡿⠷⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⢉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠲⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠻⣷⠹⠏⠻⡎⣟⡛⠛⠲⢶⣤⣼⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⡎⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢞⣁⣠⣬⣿⣷⡄⢀⣾⢿⣄⣿⡆⠀⠀⣷⣸⠻⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⣴⣿⣀⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢻⡇⣶⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⡶⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠻⣿⣿⣾⡿⠿⠛⠋⢉⣥⡴⠚⡙⣿⣦⡀⣽⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢸⣧⣿⠀⣴⠃⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠘⠀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣌⢿⣟⠛⠒⠒⠋⠉⢀⣀⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⣇⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣿⡷⣤⣼⡾⠿⠛⠋⠀⣩⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⣿⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢻⣷⠷⠈⢸⠲⢀⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⢹⢻⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⢀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠁⠀⣀⣻⣧⣴⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⣾⠙⣻⣗⣶⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⢟⣉⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢁⡤⠚⠒⠉⢛⠞⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣡⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢧⡟⡼⢋⡇⠀⠉⠉⠒⢦⣀⢴⣿⣊⡶⠟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⢞⡩⠋⣼⠛⢿⣿⣿⡏⢿⣾⣟⡻⣿⣷⣄⣠⣴⣾⡿⣼⢳⠇⢸⠀⠀⠀⣰⡄⣀⡉⠳⣹⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠚⢀⣾⢿⠀⠈⣿⡄⢧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣯⡟⠀⣼⠀⠀⢸⣿⢃⡞⠀⣰⡟⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⡘⠁⣰⠟⠁⣼⠀⠀⠘⣿⡘⣆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣿⡿⢀⡼⣹⠀⠀⢸⣿⠸⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⡿⠁⣸⡅⣿⠀⠀⠸⣿⡇⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠰⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠰⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣋⣤⠾⠋⠀⣿⠀⠀⠶⣿⣧⢟⡆⢠⠄⢠⡾⢁⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⣄⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠸⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠉⠁⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⡾⢠⠏⣰⠏⢠⡞⣽⣟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢀⠈⢧⡀⢳⠀⠀⠈⠇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡇⢋⡾⠏⡴⠋⠈⠘⣿⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠈⠣⣄⠙⢦⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣸⢁⡞⠁⠀⣀⣠⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠿⣄⠦⣌⣓⣦⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⢤⡠⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⡄⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣾⠘⣡⠾⣛⡭⢿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⢸⠀⠨⠭⠲⠦⢬⣉⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠉⢻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢀⣠⣮⠁⢹⣿⡟⣸⣷⡾⠋⠠⢿⡇ ⠀⣤⠀⣹⢸⠀⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠟⣯⠁⢀⣼⣿⠷⠛⠁⠀⠀⠈⢸⡇ ⠀⠙⢠⠏⢀⡇⠄⠈⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⣩⣶⡿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⠀⠀⣞⡔⠉⣀⡀⠘⠋⠉⠉⠙⢢⣼⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⡶⢚⣽⣾⢟⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋ ⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠘⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⢨⠗⣫⣶⠿⣻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠔⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣠⣿⣆⢢⡀⠐⠿⣋⣥⣾⡟⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀ ⠀⡏⠘⠿⠷⠖⠒⠶⠤⣤⣤⣔⣀⡖⠿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⡶⡾⣃⠨⠎⢿⠆⣀⣴⡶⠊⢹⡇⠀

⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻⬛⬜⬛ ⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻🏻⬜⬛🏻🏻⬛🏻⬛⬛🏻⬛⬜⬛ ⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻🏻⬛⬛🏻⬛🏻🏻⬛⬛🏻⬛⬜⬛ ⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛🏻⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛⬛🏻⬛🏻🏻⬛🏻⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟫🟫🟫🟫🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟫⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟫🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🟫🏻🟫🟫🟫🏻🟫🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🟫🏻🏻🟫🏻🏻🟫🏻⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🟨⬛⬛🏻🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟨⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛🟨🟨🟨⬛🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛🟨⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛🏻⬛⬛🟨⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛⬛🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜

🏝 ♡ : : ρσρρу ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ! ! : : ┆ 🗯 ʚ "TeXt HeRe" ɞ : : ┆ sʜᴇ'ᴅ... : : ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴜʀɴ!!!

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ᯓᡣ𐭩╰┈➤

( ｡ •̀ ⤙ •́ ｡ )

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

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✞ v˖ ࣪ ˒ᥫ᭡^᪲᪲᪲.ᐟ๋࣭ ⭑⚝Ʀ

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▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ 0:10.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ♫⋆｡ ♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺𝄞▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ 0:10😈

ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!ᶠᶸᶜᵏme𓀐𓂸ℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾˗ˏˋ ★text★ ˎˊ˗ᴀвᴜℰℓᴀ˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗࣪ ִֶָ☾.

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⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻⬛⬜🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻⬜⬜⬛⬛🏻⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜🏻⬜🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🟫🟫🟫🟫🏻🏻⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🟨🟨⬛🏻🟫⬛⬛⬛⬛🟫⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛🏻🟫🟫🟫🟫⬛🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛🟨⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟦🟨🟨⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛🟦⬛⬜ ⬜⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬜ ⬜⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛🟨🟨🟨⬜🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬜ ⬜⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬛🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿⬛⬛⬜ ⬛🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛

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

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_12️⃣1️⃣1️⃣❺➎⓹❹❺➎⓹8️⃣

𓃎

dont post thorny stuff on here. just dont- i dont mind but a 3 yr old might, try to get rid of your meth addiction ig?

( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

@@sFERN

e☀️❌❤️➡️☕✅✨👤•🎯⏳💬✈️2️⃣3️⃣4️⃣🔥💥🔗🎮☆⚙️⌖♡★▶ⓕ💻🌏🍃✝🌎💯➜🌍🅾🆗♾🤗☑5️⃣⏱️⛔👀💡📌🔫✔️ 🌱🛕❄️⚠️⚔️🎁✝️✍🌐🗣️✔️┃☎️☎☏@╰┈➤

i love you😡🫶🏻

ෆ ⌗ • welcome ʚɞ

🙂👤¯\_(ツ)_/¯( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

★★★★★

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KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 5 (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen wakes up to find Plankton out of bed. He's standing in the middle of the room, his eye focused on the spinning fans of the air conditioner. Karen's screens light up with concern as she assesses his state. "Plankton," she beeps gently. "How did you sleep?" Plankton's eye doesn't move from the hypnotic spin of the fans. "Fan spin," he says, his voice a monotone. Karen's screens blink, trying to understand his single-word reply. "The fans are spinning?" she asks, hoping to engage him. Plankton nods slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Spin, spin, spin," he murmurs. Karen's screens flicker. "Karen," Plankton says. "Fan spin." "The spinning is soothing to you?" she asks. Plankton nods, his voice a faint echo. "Spin, spin, spin. Good spin." Karen's screens process the information, formulating a new approach. "Let's go downstairs," she suggests, her voice a gentle beep. "We'll start with a simple routine. Breakfast." Plankton nods, his gaze still fixed on the fans. With a final nod to the spinning blades, he follows her out of the bedroom. The journey downstairs is a minefield of sounds and sights, but he takes it step by step, his hand gripping the railing tightly. The kitchen is a blur of colors and noises, but Karen's calm voice guides him through it all. "First," she beeps, "let's start with something easy. How about a glass of water?" Plankton nods, his movements still mechanical. He watches as she fills a glass, the water's surface dancing in the light. It's mesmerizing, and for a moment, the world stops spinning. He takes the glass, his trembling hand bringing it to his lips, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. "Water," he murmurs. "Good, water." The simple task seems to ground him a bit, and Karen takes note of the small victory. "Now, let's try some toast," she says, her voice a comforting beep. She slides a piece of bread into the toaster, the sound of the lever clicking into place another beat in the rhythm of their morning. Plankton nods, his attention drawn to the toaster's glowing coils. He watches, his eye widening as the bread turns golden brown. The smell fills the room, a comforting scent that penetrates the fog in his head. "Toast," he says, his voice a bit stronger. But as the toaster pops, the sudden noise jolts him like an electric shock. "Too loud," he whispers, his eye darting around the room in panic. Karen's screens flicker with empathy. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a soothing hum. She quickly retrieves the toast, placing it gently on a plate. "Let's sit down," she suggests, guiding him to the table. "Take it slow." They sit, and Plankton fidgets in his chair, his eye darting around the room. "Take your time," Karen reminds him, her voice a steady beep. He nods, focusing on the toast. Each bite is a tiny triumph, his senses adjusting to the new world. The crunch of the bread, the warmth on his tongue, the smell of the butter spreading. It's overwhelming, but he's making progress.

still didn't find what you're looking for ?

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

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 11 (Autistic author) As they leave the room, Plankton's sobs slowly ease, the word search book clutched to his chest like a talisman. The gentle hum of Karen's wheels fading with distance, he focuses on the patterns of light reflecting off the pages. In the hallway, Karen beeps with urgency. "Sandy, Plankton's been through a lot," she explains. "He's neurodivergent now. He can't handle touch like he used to, and his senses are heightened." Sandy's eyes widen with surprise. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice a confused rumble. Karen's screens flicker with patience. "It means his brain functions differently now," she beeps. "He's extra sensitive to stimuli, and certain things that were normal before can now be painful or overwhelming for him." Sandy's gaze softens with understanding. "Oh," she says, her voice a quiet rumble. "I had no idea." She looks back at Plankton's closed door, guilt heavy in her eyes. "What can we do?" Karen's screens flicker with thought. "We need to be patient and learn," she beeps. "Adapt to his new needs, and support him in his journey." Sandy nods, determined to make it right. "How?" she asks, her voice a hopeful trill. "We start by respecting his boundaries," Karen explains, her screens glowing with sincerity. "No touching unless he asks for it. And we speak softly, giving him time to process what we say." Sandy nods, absorbing the new information. "I can do that," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "But what about playing?" "Quiet games, like word searches or board games. No roughhousing or poking. I'm gonna go rest." Sandy goes back to see Plankton, his muffled sobs in the quiet space. Sandy's heart aches with regret. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a tender trill. She sits beside his shaking form, her hand hovering over his shoulder before thinking better of it. Plankton's sobs slow, his body still tense. He opens his eye, looking at Sandy. "Words," he whispers, holding up the book. Sandy nods, her gaze gentle. "Words it is," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She sits beside him on the couch, careful not to touch his skin as she opens the book to the next puzzle. "What's this word?" she asks, her finger pointing to the list. Plankton's eye locks onto the word. "Kelp," he murmurs, his voice a soft static. He traces the letters in the grid, writing it in the crossword puzzle. Sandy nods, her eyes focused on the puzzle. "Good job," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "You're so smart." Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of pride, his breathing evening out. "Words," he repeats, his voice a steady static. Sandy nods, understanding. "Words are important to you now," she says, her voice a soft rumble of support. "We'll find more puzzles." "We'll find more puzzles?" Plankton repeats. Sandy nods, her face a picture of sincerity. "Yes," she says, her voice a warm trill. "As many as you want." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, his interest piqued. "More words?" Sandy's smile is a warm glow, her voice a gentle rumble of agreement. "As many as you want, buddy." Plankton's single eye brightens at the promise, his body slowly uncoiling from his protective ball. "Book," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the next word. "Find." Sandy nods, her finger moving to the list. "Okay, we're looking for 'favorite food of sea horses,'" she says, her voice a comforting hum. Plankton's eye flicks to the grid, his mind racing. "Myr- t-le," he stammers, his voice a crackling static. Sandy's face lights up with a grin. "You got it!" she exclaims, her voice a delighted trill. She watches him trace the letters, her heart swelling with pride. He finds the word quickly, his antennae waving with excitement. "Good job, Plankton!" she says. His body relaxes slightly, his enjoyment of the word search evident. Sandy's voice is soothing as they continue through the puzzles, her hands resting carefully on her knees. "What's this one?" she asks, pointing to another word. Plankton's eye scans the list, his antennae quivering with anticipation. "J-J-Jellyfish," he stammers, his voice a nervous static. The word brings back memories of his buddy, SpongeBob. Sandy nods, her smile gentle. "You got it," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She points to the grid. "Where is it?" Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement as he searches the letters, his single eye darting back and forth. "It," he whispers, his voice a focused static as he points to the word hidden within the puzzle. Sandy's grin spreads, her voice a warm melody. "Great job!" she praises, her thumbs up in the air. Plankton's antennae quiver with happiness, his eye lighting up. "More," he whispers, his voice a hopeful static. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "As many as you want," she says, her voice a warm trill. She opens the book to the next puzzle, her fingers hovering over the page. Plankton's body uncoils further, his interest piqued by the promise of more words. "Find," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the list of words to find. Sandy nods, her face a canvas of understanding. "Alright, what's next?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement, his gaze darting over the list. "Treasure," he murmurs, his voice a hopeful static.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 9 (Autistic author) The quiet of the room envelops them like a warm sea breeze, the only sound his soft, even breaths. Her grip on his hand tightens slightly, a silent promise to protect and guide him through this new chapter of his life. As her hand strokes his gently in a comforting rhythm, her gal pal, Sandy, unexpectedly comes in through the door. "Mornin'!" she chirps, her cheerful voice piercing the calm. Plankton jolts awake, his eye snapping open like a trapdoor. The sudden shift from sleep to wakefulness is jarring, his heart racing like a tiny engine. "S-Sandy?" he stammers, his voice a static whisper. Sandy's cheerfulness doesn't waver. "Hey there, little buddy!" she says, her voice a sunlit melody. But Plankton's heightened sensitivity turns her greeting into a cacophony. He flinches, his grip on Karen's hand tightening. "It's okay," Karen beeps soothingly, her screens reflecting his distress. Sandy gets a word search book out. "I just got it today!" Plankton's eye, though tired, lights up slightly at the sight of the book. The pages are a calming white with neatly arranged letters, the colors a gentle wash of blue and yellow. "Want to see?" she asks, her voice a warm trill. He nods, his body still tense but his curiosity piqued. Sandy opens the word search book, her fingers tracing the rows and columns with a gentle precision. "Look, Karen," she says, her voice a soft trill. "It's all about science." Plankton's eye, though still wary, is drawn to the page. He scans the words, his brain lighting up with recognition. "Words," he whispers, his voice a steady static as she sets the book down. The sight of the word search grounds him, the predictability of the patterns offering a comforting routine. His breathing slows, the chaos of his senses retreating like the tide. "Find," he says, looking at the index. Sandy's smile is infectious, her enthusiasm for the simple task contagious. "Okay, let's find some words!" she says, her voice a gentle trill. She points to the first puzzle. "How about this one?" Plankton nods, his eye focusing on the page. The challenge of finding words within the grid is a comforting distraction from the sensory overload. "Start," he whispers, his voice a firm static. Sandy nods, her thumbs tucked into the pages to keep their place. "Okay, we're looking for 'jellyfish scientific name,'" she asks, her voice a gentle trill. Plankton's mind latches onto the task, the letters becoming a puzzle to solve. "Medusae," he murmurs, his voice a focused static. Sandy's eyes light up with excitement. "That's right!" she says, her voice a delighted trill. "Good job, Planks!" Plankton feels a small spark of pride, his focus narrowing to the word in question. The world around him fades into the background as he scans the grid. Each letter is a stepping stone in a vast, orderly sea. "Good job," Karen beeps, her screens illuminating with pride. "You're doing great." Plankton nods, his eye locked on the word "medusae" he's just found. The simple act of locating the word in the jumble of letters brings a sense of peace, a respite from the sensory onslaught. He goes to the next when Sandy interrupts his focus. "So, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "How's your day been?" He can't multitask, which Sandy doesn't notice. Plankton's mind is fully absorbed by the word search, each letter a piece of a puzzle he's eager to solve. Her question hangs in the air, a bubble waiting to pop, but he's too engrossed to respond right away. Finally, he looks up, his gaze shifting from the page to her face. "Day?" he repeats, his voice a confused static. Sandy nods, her expression gentle. "Yeah, how have you been?" Plankton's gaze flits back to the word search, his hand twitching to point out the next word. "Words," he says, his voice a focused static. "Words." But frustrated Sandy thinks he's just trying to ignore her, and she interrupts him again. "Plankton, I'm talking to you," she says, her voice a gentle nudge. Plankton's single eye darts back to her face, his grip on the word search pencil tightening. "Words," he whispers, his voice a static echo of his thoughts. "Words." He tries to get back to it, but Sandy's not satisfied. "But how are you, Plankton?" she presses, her voice a persistent hum. The word search is a safe haven, but he knows Sandy waits for an answer. He's getting frustrated. He takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "Okay," he whispers, his voice a static sigh. "Tell Sandy." Sandy leans in, her face a picture of concern. "What's going on, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. He looks back at the word search, the letters blurring slightly. He's tired of being interrupted. "Plankton has words now," he says, his voice a firm static. "Words make happy." Sandy's not sure what he means, but she does want to have a conversation. So, how does she get him to interact?

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 3 (Autistic author) Karen doesn't yet realize the extent of Plankton's distress. She's aware that his moods can swing like the tides, but this seems more than a mere mood swing. "Mr. Krabs," she prompts, trying to keep him on track. "What happened with him?" Plankton's eye widens, and he starts to shiver, his tiny body trembling. "Hit," he whispers. "Hit Plankton hit. Sponge Bob see." Karen's screens flicker, trying to decode his fragmented words. "Mr. Krabs hit you?" He nods, his body still trembling. "Yes, hit Plankton." Karen's screens process the information. "That's not like him," she says, her voice a low hum of concern. "Mr. Krabs can be intense, but he's never..." Her words hang in the air, unfinished, as she tries to make sense of it all. Plankton simply nods, his tremors continuing. "Hit, hit," he whispers again, his voice like a broken record. Oblivious to his new reality, Karen tries to comfort him. "It's okay, Plankton. I'll help you. We'll get through this." Plankton's eye darts around the room, seeing patterns in the wires and circuits that make no sense. "Hit, Sponge Bob, Karen." Karen's screens flicker with confusion. "What do you mean?" Plankton tries to explain, but the words are a jumble in his head. "Sponge Bob...saw...hit." Karen's screens blink, processing his words. "Sponge Bob saw Mr. Krabs hit you?" Plankton nods, his tremors subsiding slightly. "Yes," he whispers. "Sponge Bob see." Karen's digital mind races. Mr. Krabs hitting Plankton wasn't unheard of, but the way he's reacting is unusual. "Did it hurt?" she asks, trying to keep him talking. Plankton's tremors stop for a moment, his eye focusing on her. "Hurt?" he repeats, as if the word is foreign. Then, with a wave of emotion, he nods fervently. "Yes, hurt. Got hurt Plankton felt hurt. Plankton, nothing? Plankton Sponge Bob. Plankton Karen." Karen's screens blink rapidly. Her husband's mental state has never been like this before. The idea of him feeling pain beyond the physical was alien to her programming. "What do you mean, 'Plankton nothing'?" she asks, trying to piece together his scattered thoughts. Plankton sighs, the exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Hit, hurt Plankton. Plankton fading. Plankton find Sponge Bob. Plankton now Karen. Can't stop, can't think. Take your time, take your time." Karen's screens change from confusion to determination. "I'll find Sponge Bob," she says, her voice a firm beep. "You stay here and rest." Plankton nods, his body finally still. The mention of Sponge Bob's name brings a flicker of something to his eye, a glimmer of hope or perhaps desperation. "Find Sponge Bob," he whispers, his voice now a faint echo. "Sponge Bob tell Karen." Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "I will," she says, her voice a soft beep. She leaves the room, her wheels whirring as she exits the Chum Bucket. She goes to Sponge Bob.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 4 (Autistic author) In the dim light of the evening, the Krusty Krab was quiet, the usual bustle replaced by a calm that felt eerie. Sponge Bob was sweeping the floor, his thoughts on Plankton. He looked up as Karen approached, his smile fading at the sight of her concerned expression. "Karen," he began, his spongey voice tinged with anxiety, "I need to tell you what happened to Plankton." Karen's screens brighten with anticipation. "Please do," she beeps, her wheels stopping in front of him. Sponge Bob's eyes dart to the floor, his sponge body drooping slightly. "Mr. Krabs was just trying to protect this formula, and Plankton...he just knocked Plankton in the head. Plankton woke up and then without a word ran back to the Chum Bucket." Karen's screens flicker with the gravity of the situation. "How did Mr. Krabs hit him?" Sponge Bob's grip on the mop tightens. "With a frying pan," he confesses, his eyes wide with guilt. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "That would explain his current state," she murmurs, her voice a steady beep. "Sponge Bob, do you know how badly he's been hurt?" Sponge Bob shakes his head, the guilt washing over him in waves. "No, not really," he says, his voice quavering. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of sympathy and urgency. "I see," she says. "Thanks." With newfound purpose, she spins around and heads back to the Chum Bucket. Back in the control room, Plankton is still rocking back and forth, his hand over his head as if trying to hold his thoughts in place. The door to the Chum Bucket opens, and Karen rolls in, her screens reflecting the urgency of the situation. "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft hum, "I talked to Sponge Bob. He saw what happened." Plankton's rocking stops, his eye swiveling to meet hers. "Sponge Bob?" "Yes," Karen says, her screens pulsing with the weight of her words. "He saw Mr. Krabs hit you with the frying pan." Plankton's body goes still, his tremors ceasing instantly. "Sponge Bob saw," he whispers, his voice devoid of emotion. "Tell Karen." "Yes," Karen beeps, nodding her mechanical head. "He told me. I'm going to help you." Without warning, a scanning beam shoots out of Karen's console, enveloping Plankton as his brain is scanned. The results are quickly analyzed, and the screens flash with a series of diagrams and data that even Karen's advanced systems take a moment to digest. "The scan reveals...unusual patterns," she says, her voice a measured beep. Plankton's eye widen with fear, his body tensing as he waits for her verdict. "What does that mean?" he asks, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Karen's screens change to display a 3D image of his brain, the structure illuminated with neon colors. "You've sustained neurodivergence," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "The impact has altered your neural connections, resulting in irreversible autism." Plankton's body goes rigid, his breathing shallow. The word "autism" hangs in the air like a heavy anchor, dragging his spirits down to the murky depths of the ocean floor. "Irreversible?" he whispers, his voice fragile as sea glass. Karen nods gravely. "The good news is, we can adapt. We can learn to navigate this new world of sensations together," she beeps. "It's getting late. Let's go to bed." Plankton nods, his body feeling like it's made of lead. The idea of sleep seems like a welcome escape from the overwhelming day, but as he tries to get up, the room spins again. "Karen," he says, his voice weak. "Can't." With a gentle nudge, Karen helps him to his feet, her wheels moving silently beside him as they make their way to the tiny elevator. The ride up feels like an eternity, his senses heightened to every creak and groan of the metal box. When the doors open, the lights of the hallway are a glaring assault on his eye. He squints, his hand reaching out to the wall for support. In their bedroom, Karen helps him into his bed. The softness of the covers is a stark contrast to the harshness of his new reality. "Take your time," she says, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton nods, his breathing shallow. He closes his eye, and the room seems to fade away, replaced by a whirlpool of swirling thoughts and sensations. Karen's screens flicker with a plan. "Rest," she beeps, her voice a soft comfort. "We'll face tomorrow together." She dims the lights.

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 5 (Neurodivergent author) Karen returns to the bedroom, where Plankton is already snoring softly. She pulls the covers up to his chin, tucking in gently. She sits in the chair beside his bed, never leaving his peaceful form. His chest rises and falls in the steady rhythm of sleep, each breath a testament to his resilience. Karen watches him, her mind racing with thoughts of what the future holds, the challenges they'll face together. But for now, she forces herself to be still. Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep, as if he's navigating the vast underwater world of his dreams. Karen watches him, full of a love she didn't know existed. The soft snores from Plankton's tiny form are music to her. In his sleep, the weight of the world is lifted, his mind free to explore the vast depths of his underwater universe without fear. Her gaze lingers on the soft lines of his face, the tension erased by the gentle embrace of slumber. She smiles, her eyes filling with tears. The room is a sanctuary, a bubble of quiet amidst the storm of confusion and fear. The shadows play across the wall, telling silent stories of adventures that await when he wakes. Karen reclines in the chair, her hand resting gently on his arm. The nap stretches into an hour, then two, the house a cocoon of peace around them. Plankton's body relaxes into the embrace of the bed, his mind swimming through a sea of tranquility. Karen sits by his side, her hand still resting on his arm. She thinks of the Plankton she knew before, his quirks and routines now painted with the brushstroke of understanding. Autism isn't a label to shrink from, but a part of him to be embraced, a piece of the intricate tapestry that makes him who he is. In his sleep, Plankton starts to murmur, his words a jumble of half-thoughts. Karen leans closer, trying to make sense of the words. "...I...Karen...love." Her hand squeezes his arm gently, her thumb tracing circles on his skin. "I love you too, Plankton," she whispers back, her voice a soft lullaby. Plankton's sleep-talk starts up again. "...so many stars," his voice murmurs, his antennae twitching with the vividness of his dream. Karen smiles, imagining the vast cosmos that must exist in his mind. Her hand continues its gentle caress, her hand stroking his antennae in a calming pattern. "Shh, Plankton, it's just a dream," she soothes. His snoring starts again, a soft, rhythmic sound that fills the quiet. She smiles, her eyes still on his peaceful form. The world outside their sanctuary seems to fade away, its worries and noises muted by the wall of their understanding. Plankton's autism is a challenge, but it's also a bridge that's brought them closer, a shared secret that only the two of them understand. As Plankton sleeps, Karen's phone vibrates with a text from her friend, Hanna. "Dinner tonite?" Her thumb hovers over the keyboard, debating. Plankton's diagnosis is still fresh, the memory of his seizure a stark reminder of the fragility of his newly understood world. But she knows the importance of keeping up appearances, of not letting fear or pity define them. With a sigh, she texts back, "We'd love to. Your place." The evening stretches before them like a tightrope, a delicate balance between Plankton's needs and the social norms that often feel like a prison for him. Karen's mind whirs with strategies to make it work. A quiet place, familiar faces, a set schedule. These are the keys to a successful outing. Gently, she shakes him awake, her touch as light as a seashell on the shore. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye fluttering open. He looks up at her with sleepy confusion, the world still a blur. "Dinner with Hanna," she says, keeping her voice low and soothing. He nods, his body already tensing in anticipation of the sensory bombardment to come. The car ride is a symphony of preparation, the engine's hum a soothing background to their silent conversation. Karen's eyes are on the road, but her mind is on Plankton, his hands fidgeting in his lap. She knows the world outside is a minefield of sounds and sensations, so she keeps the radio off and the windows up, creating a bubble of quiet around them. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his antennae twitching with each passing car. Karen reaches over to squeeze his hand, a silent reminder that she's there. He looks at her, his eye filled with a mix of fear and gratitude. She smiles, the warmth of her gaze a lifeline in the chaos. "We're almost there," she says, her voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore. They arrive at Hanna's house, a beacon of light in the deep blue sea of the night. The door opens, revealing a whirlwind of laughter and chatter, the smell of garlic bread and seafood stew wafting out. Karen takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye wide at the unfiltered stimulation. Hanna, oblivious to their new dynamic, waves them in with a cheerful smile. "You're just in time!" she exclaims, her voice a trumpet in the quietude of Plankton's mind. Karen's hand tightens around his, a silent reassurance as the door closes, the sound a thunderclap in his ears. The house is a cacophony of sounds and smells, a whirlpool of sensory information threatening to pull him under. He gulps, his breathing shallow, his body braced for the inevitable. Hanna, their friend, is a whirlwind of energy, her eyes sparkling like the ocean's surface. She doesn't notice the tension in Plankton's body, the way he flinches at her excited exclamations. She doesn't see the way his antennae twitch, his mind racing to keep up. But Karen does. She's his lifeline in this tumultuous sea of social interactions. She nods, smiling, as Hanna leads them to the dinner table, her hand squeezing Plankton's in silent support. The room is a kaleidoscope of colors, the clatter of silverware and laughter a symphony of overwhelming sound. Karen's eyes dance over the room, noting each potential trigger. "Hey, ladies; meet Karen and Plankton!" Hanna's enthusiastic introduction was like a tidal wave crashing over the quiet bubble they'd been in. Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating like snails into their shells. Karen offered a forced smile, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an anchor. The dinner table was set with a rainbow of plates and bowls, the smell of garlic bread and seafood stew overwhelming. Hanna's home was a sensory minefield, but Karen was determined to navigate it with grace. Plankton's hand was cold in hers, a silent plea for rescue. As they sit, Karen scans the table, noticing the flickering candles, the glint of silverware, and the clinking of glasses. Each detail a potential trigger. She whispers into Plankton's ear, "Remember, if you need to, just tell me." He nods, his antennae tucking closer to his head.

:3( ‘• ω • `)😤🤨૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა➂( ‘• ω • `)

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 1 ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ & ꜱᴜʀɢᴇʀʏ "But, why? Karen they're not even hurting or growing in, yet!" "It's preventative, Sheldon; the x-ray showed potential crowding." Karen responds to her husband, Plankton. It's the night before his wisdom teeth extraction, and she knew he's nervous. Sheldon Plankton sighs, running his tongue over his back molars, feeling the gums where the wisdom teeth lurk beneath the surface. But it does little to distract from the looming dental appointment tomorrow morning. He looks at his wife, Karen, whose screen filled with understanding. She's always been the level-headed one, calming him during their most turbulent times. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Karen says, stroking his forehead gently, "You'll be under anesthesia. You won't feel a thing. It'll be like a little nap, and when you wake up, it'll all be over." They go to bed, as they'll have to get up early. Plankton's always been a light sleeper, usually the last to fall asleep and/or first to wake. The anticipation of the morning's dental procedure keeps him tossing and turning. The digital clock on the nightstand clicks over to 2 AM, its red digits glowing like an accusation. Karen has to take him in three hours... Karen's awake at 4:45. Plankton lay beside her snoring gently. She gently shakes him. "Plankton," she whispers, "it's time to get up." He stirs, groaning softly, eye fluttering open to the dim room. "Ugh.." Karen smiles softly, "Come on, honey, we've got to get going. The sooner we're there, the sooner it's over." With a heavy sigh, Plankton gets up. The drive to the dentist's office is tense and quiet. The soft hum of the car's engine and the occasional streetlight flickering outside are the only sounds that accompany them through the desolate early morning streets. They arrive at the clinic, a modern building with sleek glass walls that reflect the pre-dawn light. Plankton's heart thumps in his chest as he follows Karen inside. The receptionist, a cheery woman named Becky, greets them with a smile that seems almost painfully bright at this hour. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Plankton!" she chirps. Plankton nods, trying to match her energy, but his nerves betray him. "You're here for your wisdom teeth, right?" Becky asks, typing away on her keyboard. Plankton nods again, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him. He's never been a fan of the dentist, but this was a whole new level of dental dread. Karen notices this and squeezes his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry," Becky says, noticing his distress, "Dr. Marlin is the best. And our anesthesia is top-notch. You won't feel a thing." Plankton tries to smile, but it comes out more as a grimace. "You'll be so relaxed you won't even know what's happening. It's like a dreamless sleep. You'll wake up with four less teeth and a much more comfortable mouth!" She leads them through the hallway, the smell of antiseptic strengthening with each step. The walls are adorned with soothing seascape paintings, an obvious attempt to put patients at ease. Plankton's heart rate doesn't decrease, but he appreciates the effort. They enter the surgery room. The chair is more like a recliner. Dr. Marlin, a friendly-looking octopus, enters the room, his tentacles holding a clipboard. "Good morning," he says in a soothing tone. "Ready to get those wisdom teeth out?" Karen kisses him on the forehead and whispers, "You got this." Plankton nods, trying to convince himself. The doctor explains the procedure one last time, his tentacles gesturing to the various tools laid out on the tray. The nurse, a clownfish named Nina, starts to prep him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're going to give you something to bite down on to keep your mouth open," Nina says, holding up a plastic mouth prop. It looks like a small version of an L-shaped building block. Plankton nods again. The chair reclines back and the overhead light shines down, casting harsh shadows on the ceiling tiles. Karen squeezes his hand once more before stepping aside as Dr. Marlin and Nina get to work. The anesthesia is administered, and the room starts to blur. Plankton feels his body go slack, the fear giving way to a sudden calm. He hears Karen's voice, faintly, saying, "See you..." And then, darkness. Karen feels his hand go limp in hers as the anesthesia takes hold. She watches as Dr. Marlin's tentacles swirl around Plankton's open mouth. The nurse, Nina, holds a small syringe filled with a clear liquid, which she carefully administers into his gums. Plankton's body relaxes further, and he starts to snore as they prod his numb gums, all while he's remaining asleep. The surgery goes by in a blur for Karen, who sits in the chair next to him, holding his hand. She can hear the sounds of the extraction tools, but she focuses on his peaceful breathing and the steady beep of the heart rate monitor. The room is cool, the sterile smell of the surgery room comforting in its own way. As the extraction begins, Plankton doesn't stir. The doctor's tentacles move with practiced precision, each tug and pull a dance of surgical skill. Nina stands by, her eyes focused on the monitors, ensuring his vital signs remain stable. The first tooth is out. Karen can't help but look away at the sound of bone cracking, despite the doctor's assurance that Plankton can't feel it. Her eyes water, but she quickly wipes the tears away, not wanting to alarm the already unconscious Plankton. She glances at the clock. Only twenty minutes have passed. Dr. Marlin strokes Plankton's antennae. Nina nods along, her attention mostly on Plankton. The second tooth is extracted with slightly more resistance. The doctor's tentacles tug gently, applying the right amount of pressure. Karen squeezes his hand. "It's okay," she whispers, though she's not sure if he can hear. The third tooth is the most stubborn, requiring the use of a pair of forceps that make a sound like a tiny car wreck. Plankton's body jerks slightly but he remains unconscious. The doctor and nurse work in harmony, their movements so swift and coordinated that they almost seem like a dance. The fourth tooth is the quickest to come out, as if it knew it was the last stand and gave up without a fight. Dr. Marlin nods to Nina, who begins to suture Plankton's gums. The needle pierces through the swollen flesh with a sound that makes Karen cringe, but Plankton doesn't react at all. She watches as Nina's nimble fins guide the thread with the care of a master embroiderer, stitching the flaps of gum back together. Plankton's snoring remains steady as they suture his numb gums. Nina's fin deftly weaves the thread, each stitch a silent promise of a pain-free future. The tension in the room slowly dissolves with each completed suture. They use dissolvable stitches, so they use more anesthesia to numb the inside of the gums before stitching them up completely. Dr. Marlin steps back, wiping his tentacles with a towel. "All done," he says with a smile. The doctor rinses Plankton's numb mouth with saline of any excess blood or debris, and Karen notices the transformation: his tense jaw relaxes, his breathing deepens, and his usually active antennae are still, as if he's sunk into the deepest of slumbers.

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𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ּ ֶָ֢.⋆⭒˚｡✮

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡰⢦⣤⣄⠙⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣼⣿⣷⡄⠁⢺⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠭⢭⣭⠑⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⡆⠙⠁⠀⠀⢠⣾⣟⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⠀⠐⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡌⠻⣤⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠿⣯⣀⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣠⡾⠿⠋⢁⣠⣤⣿⣶⣜⠿⢦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⣿⣿⣿⣦⡈⠩⠹⣿⣿⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠸⢿⠃⠐⠃⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠘⠛⠛⠻⣿⣥⣍⠛⠛⠋⠉⣉⣉⣩⣀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠈⢿⡿⠃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢸⡀⠀⣤⣄⢀⣠⣬⡉⣁⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀⣤⣤⣤⠀⢠⣤⣤⣀⣀⣤⡄⢀⣤⠀⠀⣀⠦⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢈⡇⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⡀⠹⢽⣿⣿⣛⣥⣾⡿⠀⢰⣿⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠸⡇⠀⢷⣤⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣡⣤⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢸⡗⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀⣴⣿⡟⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⠀⠀⢿⡍⢻⣿⣿⡟⣛⣶⡌⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠛⠈⣁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣰⣶⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣧⡄⠀⣷⡀⣿⡿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⣉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿ ⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣡⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡿⠟⢀⢸⡇⠸⣧⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣉⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⣤ ⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⢋⣡⣶⣿⣿⣭⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⠟⠒⠀⣠⣿⣄⣿⡀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠸⣿⣿⣯⣿⣄⠙ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡦⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠙⠋⠉⠁⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣆⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡛⠉⠿⠶⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠃⢿⡘⣿⣿⡌⠻⠿⠿⠟⠛⠋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠠⠹⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣦⣤⣴⣶⠿⢿⣿⣿⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢼⣧⣤⠸⢷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠘⢾⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⣿⣿⣇⣤⣼⣤⣦⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠈⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠈⣿ ⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠫⠁⠀⣸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿ ⡿⠃⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⡿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢀⣿ ⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⡟⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢃⣴⢿⠟⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣾⡟⠋⣼⡐⠀⠸⢿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠋⠀⣾⣿⠁⠠⣶⣾⣻⣿⣿⡍⠙⡿⢹⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠙⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢋⣠⡞⠁⠀⣺⠉⠁⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠸⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⠃⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡤⠀⠴⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣴⣶⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠿⠿⠋⠙⠻⡿⠛⠉⠈⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠈⢻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣯⣤⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣄⠘⠟⢻⣿⠿⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⠿⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡄⢠⣾⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⢹⣄⠀⠀⣿⣶⣤⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⡛⠃⠒⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⢾⣿⠟⠋⠩⣍⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠸⣍⢏⣛⠏⡧⣞⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡠⡾⠷⢿⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢤⣴⣶⣿⡑⢿⣿⣿⣯⡭⣉⡏⢡ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣻⣧⣿⢿⣿⣯⣇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ Emoji Combos + Symbols: 🧪☣💼🏜️💰💊🔫🚬🌵☢💥💵💎🚓👨‍🏫🥽🥼🎲💸🦠🎬🇲🇽☢️📞 Quotes: “My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Aroya Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. To all law enforcement entities, this is not an admission of guilt. I am speaking to my family now. Skyler, you are the love of my life. I hope you know that. Walter Jr., you’re my big man. There are going to be some things that you’ll come to learn about me in the next few days. I just want you to know that no matter how it may look, I only had you in my heart. Goodbye.” "This Genius Of Yours... Maybe He's Still Out There." "Your Meth Is Good Jesse. As Good As Mine." "These Doctors Talking About Surviving. One Year, Two Years, Like It's The Only Thing That Matters." "Because Your Boss Is Going To Need Me. 6353 Juan Tabo, Apartment 6." "You Kill Me, You Have Nothing. You Kill Jesse, You Don't Have Me."

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

TEAM 1️⃣

,hja💕

☯🐻✨

➖⬛⬛➖➖➖➖⬛ ➖➖🟨🟧➖➖➖🟧 ➖➖➖🟨🟨🟨🟨🟧 🟧🟧➖🟨⬛🟨🟨⬛ 🟧🟧➖🟥🟨🟨🟨🟧 ➖🟧➖🟨🟧🟧🟧⬜ ➖🟧🟨🟧🟨🟧🟨⬜ ➖➖🟨🟧🟫🟫🟧⬜

⣿⣿⠿⠛⣉⣉⣉⣉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⢉⠋⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣄⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢉⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡈⠻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡈⠻⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣉⣀⠀⠙⣨⣤⣭⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⢸⣿⡟⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠸⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢀⣿⣿⣯⡇⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠛⢿⡏⣡⣶⡌⢻⣟⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠛⢋⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢰⣿⣷⣬⢉⣵⣿⣿⣧⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠇⣸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠘⠿⠿⠟⢁⡙⠛⠛⢋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣭⣭⠡⠾⢟⣂⣒⡻⠷⠌⠵⢶⣍⠻⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⢋⣴⡦⢊⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣬⣌⡛⠿⠌⣛⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡅⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⢑⡸⢁⣾⡟⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣝⠻⡆⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢾⠃⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⣿⣷⣌⠻⡆⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢠⡀⣿⣿⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣦⣱⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⡏⢰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠣⠹⢛⣙⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣭⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡇⠛⣸⣽⣿⡟⡻⢁⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣴⣿⣿⣯⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⢼⣾⣟⠟⢁⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠙⠛⠟⣙⡻⣦⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡀⢡⠞⠛⣁⣴⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣶⣿⠆⠿⠦⠀⣰⣾⢂⣉⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⢁⣺⣥⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠛⠿⣿⣷⣤⠀⣀⠳⢢⣢⢲⠧⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⠌⢉⡄⣈⠑⠛⠛⠂⠚⠓⠒⠀⠀⡀⢩⣴⣶⣶⡌⢢⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⣿⠟⡅⠚⠘⠂⡽⢻⣿⣬⣿⣷⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠒⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠴⣋⡅⣚⣥⣾⣿⣧⣙⠂⢭⡛⠻⠿⠃⡌⠛⢿⣿⣃⣼⠟⠈⢨⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣐⣣⣶⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠘⣶⣦⣍⠁⠐⠐⠰⠌⠉⠋⠁⠄⠶⠂⠊⢙⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⣿⣿⣇⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣿⣿⣿⠀⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡶⠂⢉⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⡙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣦⣭⣝⡋⠶⢙⣫⣥⣴⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣙⣂⠶⠦⠠⣤⠤⣄⡀⣡⣀⢠⣀⠄⣤⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠶⠶⠄⠀⠼⣦⡲⠔⠾⣶⣶⣶⠶⠖⠀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠛⠶⠶⠀⢿⣶⣤⣤⣘⣣⣤⣤⣤⣶⡞⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣁⣉⣉⣉⣉⣡⣌⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢿⠿⡿⢿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⠿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⠿⡿⢿⠿⣿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢌⠳⣘⢂⠓⡌⠌⡑⢈⠐⠁⠐⠀⢢⢾⣿⣿⣧⣿⡄⠈⠄⠃⠌⡑⣈⠒⡑⣊⠜⡰⢊⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢌⠣⠌⡌⠒⢈⠐⠀⠄⠂⠈⠀⢰⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠂⠐⠀⠄⡘⠐⠤⡙⢰⠩⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢂⠣⡘⠠⠈⢀⠠⠈⠀⠀⠀⢰⢫⣿⣿⠇⢹⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠂⠈⢀⠠⠈⡐⠌⣂⠓⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠠⢃⠄⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⡀⠠⠐⢀⠘⡠⢉⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠐⡁⠂⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⢀⠎⣸⣿⣿⣿⣤⠀⢠⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠂⠠⢑⠨⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠠⠁⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣎⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠁⠌⡰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣀⣡⣤⣾⣶⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⡏⠉⡉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⠶⣶⣦⣅⣐⡠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣶⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠉⠛⠻⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⠛⠁⢀⣠⣴⡾⠛⢋⡿⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⡁⢸⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠙⠻⢷⣦⣄⡀⠈⠛⠷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⢴⣾⣿⣏⡁⠀⣠⡿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⡅⢸⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⢀⣈⣻⣿⣷⡦⠄⠈⠻⣶⣄⠀ ⠈⠙⠻⠶⣦⣤⣀⡀⠉⠙⠻⠷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠆⢸⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠿⠛⠋⠉⢀⣀⣤⡴⠶⠛⠋⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⣿⣷⣶⣤⣄⡀⠈⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠉⢻⡇⣼⠏⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠁⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⡀⠉⠛⠛⠷⣿⣦⣿⡷⠿⠛⠋⠁⢀⣠⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡤⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣄⣀⠈⢁⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⢻⡏⣿⠋⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡇⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⢸⡇⣿⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

e††|ℹ§ƒʟi️̤̮🇪ᡣ𐭩ᯓ★ᯓᡣ𐭩<𝟑ֶָ֢€∞જ⁀➴⋆₊ ⊹୧℮ᥫ᭡ƦИᥫ᭡.nྀིNྀིძℊ.ᐟТּ ֶָ֢.ℋᯓ ᡣ𐭩౨ৎ༯ʚɞαྀིᝰ.ᐟ⁷⁷⁷ㅤ󠁑󠁉󠁍🌱😁🌐🕸┃☠️☎️☎☏@▶️↪⌂⌨️⌗▶9443872

A BAR SONG (Tipsy) by Shaboozey Credits to @trending..song..biozz DNS —————————————————————— 𝙊𝙣𝙚, 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 1️⃣☝️ ( name / user ) 𝙏𝙚𝙡𝙡 ‘𝙚𝙢 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙪𝙩, 𝙬𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 ☘🕶️✝🗝 ( pronouns ) 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣’ 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙧 ♩¨̮(ง ˙˘˙ )ว♩¨̮ ( mbti ) 𝙊𝙝 𝙢𝙮, 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙙 𓆩👑𓆪 ( extra ) 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙖 𝙙𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙮 🥃

2⃣

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KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 13 (Autistic author) ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ Plankton quivers. "Stop," he whispers, his voice a plea. "Please." Mr. Krabs' grin widens, eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Afraid I'll do to you what you deserve?" Before Plankton can respond, Mr. Krabs punches at him with his claw. Plankton squeaks in pain, his eye widens with terror, his voice a distressed static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please stop!" Mr. Krabs' chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. "Look at him squirm," he says, his voice a rumble. He doesn't heed the tears streaming down Plankton's face. Plankton's body wrenches in pain, his antennae sticking straight out in alarm. "Why?" he whispers, his voice a broken static. Mr. Krabs' laughter echoes. "Because you're weak," he sneers, his voice a harsh grate. "Always have been, always will be." Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "No," he whimpers, his voice a static plea. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still poised for another strike. "Look at the tiny thief," he says, his voice a cruel cackle, "so scared of a little pain." Without warning, his claw swings down, connecting with Plankton's thin leg, and Plankton's scream pierces the air, his voice a shattered static. Pain shoots through his body like lightning, his leg feeling like it's on fire. He tries to pull away. "Mr. Krabs," he gasps, his voice a desperate whine. Mr. Krabs' laughter continues, unabated by Plankton's cries. "See? You're just a tiny, weak little creature," he says, his voice a malicious cackle. Plankton's screams fill the room, the pain in his leg unbearable. "No," he whispers, his voice a static moan. "No more." Mr. Krabs' laughter doesn't waver, his claws still poised for another strike. "Oh, poor Plankton," he sneers, his voice a harsh static. Plankton's body writhes in pain, his leg twisted at an impossible angle as Sandy and Karen return. Sandy's eyes widen in horror, her voice a shocked rumble. "Mr. Krabs, what are you doing?" she asks, as Karen rushed to Plankton. Mr. Krabs' grin doesn't falter. "Teaching a lesson," he says, his voice a cruel crackle as he finally leaves. Sandy's face is a picture of horror, her voice a trembling trill. "What did he do to you?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Karen's screens flicker with rage, her beeps sharp. "That monster!" she says, her voice filled with fury. She quickly assesses the damage. Plankton's leg is twisted grotesquely, his tiny body trembling with pain. Sandy's hands hover over his body, unsure how to help without causing more distress. Sandy nods, her face pale with shock. "I'll get SpongeBob," she says, her voice a trembling trill. She runs to the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. "Sponge Bob, please come quick," she says, her voice a desperate hum. While Sandy is on the phone, Karen's screens flicker with medical information. She quickly assembles a makeshift splint for Plankton's leg, her beeps a frantic symphony of care as SpongeBob arrives. His eyes are wide with concern, his voice a panicked squeak. "What happened, Plankton?" he asks, his eyes damp with unshed tears. But Plankton's eye had rolled up in his head. Sandy's voice is shaky as she tells Sponge Bob the story, her eyes never leaving Plankton's trembling body. "Mr. Krabs... he was so cruel," she says, her voice a soft whisper of disbelief. Sponge Bob's face twists with anger. "Why would he do this?" he asks, his voice a strained whine. "First causing brain damage, and now..." Karen's screens glow with determination. "We'll deal with Mr. Krabs later," she beeps. "First, we need to get Plankton help." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with fear. "What can we do?" he asks, his voice a choked whisper. Karen's screens flicker with information. "His leg is broken, and his sensory overload could be severe." Sponge Bob's face falls, his voice a sad squeak. "Oh no, Plankton." He gently picks up his friend, his touch as soft as a feather. Sandy watches, her eyes wide with fear. "What now?" she asks, her voice a trembling trill. "We can't just take him like this to a regular hospital. We'll have to be careful not to overwhelm his senses, and find medical help equipped for neurodivergent people like Plankton." SpongeBob speaks up. "I was born with a mild form of idiopathic Autism. Different from Plankton's I know, but my parents have taken me to a sensory-friendly clinic. They are skilled and have lots of different methods of medicine! It's called the Quiet Bubble Clinic!" Sandy nods, her eyes filling with hope. "That sounds perfect," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "Let's take him there." Karen's screens pulse with agreement. "Good thinking, Sponge Bob," she beeps. "We'll have to be careful, though. Any loud noises or sudden movements could trigger another meltdown." Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton steady. "Sandy can drive," he says, his voice determined. "We'll get you to the Quiet Bubble Clinic, buddy."

merii jaaan 🥰😚 ⁰¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 14 (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ They carefully lift Plankton into the car, his body tense with pain. Sandy slides into the driver's seat, her hands gripping the wheel. Her eyes meet Sponge Bob's in the rearview mirror, filled with resolve. "Ready?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Sponge Bob nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Ready." Karen buckles Plankton in as his eye flutters. "Hold tight," Sandy says, her voice a steady rumble, as she starts the engine. The car's gentle purr is a contrast to the tension in the air. Sponge Bob sits in the back, his eyes trained on Plankton's face. His friend's tiny body is a tapestry of pain, but Sponge Bob's touch is a soft, steady beat, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispers, his voice a comforting whisper of reassurance. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye slightly focusing on Sponge Bob. "Mph," he murmurs, his voice a static hum of pain. Sponge Bob nods, his face a mask of determined compassion. "We're going to the Quiet Bubble Clinic," he says, his voice a soft, steady wave. "They'll know how to help you." Sandy's eyes are on the road ahead, her driving slow and precise. "Just hold on, Plankton," she says, her voice a comforting hum. "We're almost there." The Quiet Bubble Clinic comes into view, a softly lit building that seems to pulse with a gentle calm. Sandy parks the car and they carefully extract Plankton from his seat, his tiny body rigid. They enter the lobby, the air thick with the scent of calming essential oils. The lights are low, and the sounds muffled. A nurse with a gentle face approaches, her voice a soothing whisper. "What can we help with?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Sponge Bob explains quickly, his voice trembling with concern. "Mr. Krabs hurt his leg," he says, his eyes wide. "Krabs also hit his head with a fry pan, which caused Plankton autism as well as the accompaniment of sensitivities. But his leg hurts and needs fixed!" The nurse nods, her movements slow and deliberate. "We'll need to be careful with his heightened senses," she murmurs, her voice a soft melody. "Let's get him to a room." They navigate the hallways, the walls lined with soothing pictures and textures. Plankton's body is stiff with pain, his voice a static hiss with each step. "Please," he whispers, his antennae waving weakly. The nurse nods, her touch gentle as she leads them to a quiet, dimly lit exam room. "We need to fix your leg, sweetie," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton's eye flutters open. The nurse's voice is a gentle lullaby. "We're going to take good care of you," she says, her eyes kind and understanding. Plankton's body shakes with fear and pain, his antennae pressed against his head. Sponge Bob squeezes his hand, his voice a comforting whisper. "You're going to be okay, Plankton," he says, his eyes filled with concern. The nurse nods, her gloved hands moving with precision. "We're going to need to put him under," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "It's the safest way to manage his pain and sensitivity." Plankton's antennae quiver with fear, his single eye darting back and forth. "Under what," he whispers. The nurse's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Anesthesia," she says softly, her voice a comforting hum. "It'll help you sleep through the surgery." Plankton's antennae twitch with anxiety, his voice a nervous static. "Sleep?" he repeats, his eye doubtful. "Plankton light sleeper." The nurse nods, her eyes calm. "We understand, sweetie," she murmurs. "We'll make sure you're comfortable." They prep him for surgery, the air in the room thick with his fear. Sponge Bob holds his hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on his palm. "It'll be over soon," he whispers, his voice a soothing wave. The doctor, a kind-eyed squid, enters the room, his tentacles moving with calming precision. "We're going to give you something to help you relax," he says, his voice a gentle trill. "We've ways to sedate. One, a pill tablet. Two, a liquid to drink. Three, nasally. Four, cream gel to numb the place the IV goes in but, it'll be inserted after he's asleep anyway. Now the first two options are taken orally, so they might take a moment to work..." "Drink; Plankton, drink.." Plankton manages, looking at a chart of diagrams which illustrate each method. The doctor nods, his tentacles steadily adjusting the bed. "Very good," he says, his voice a gentle wave of reassurance. He hands Plankton a small cup. "This is a special drink," he explains, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It'll help you relax before surgery." Plankton's antennae twitch with anxiety as he takes the cup. He looks to Sponge Bob, whose grip on his hand tightens. "It's okay," Sponge Bob whispers, his voice a calming static. With a shaky hand, Plankton brings the cup to his mouth, his eye squeezed shut. He gulps down the liquid as they give him a blanket. He finishes the drink and hands the cup back. Sponge Bob's grip doesn't waver, his thumb still moving in soothing circles. "Good job, buddy," he whispers, his voice a gentle sea breeze. Sandy nods as Karen gives Plankton a kiss. The nurse's eyes are warm and comforting as she checks his vitals. "It won't be long now," she murmurs, her voice a soft hum of reassurance. Sponge Bob sits by the bed, his grip on Plankton's hand firm but gentle. "You're doing great," he says, his voice a calming whisper. Plankton's antennae twitch with the first wave of drowsiness, his eye slowly closing. The world around him begins to fade into a soft, fuzzy static. Sponge Bob watches, his grip on Plankton's hand unyielding. "It's going to be okay," he whispers, his voice a gentle rush of air. The anesthesia starts to take effect, Plankton's body gradually going slack, his breathing deepening. Sponge Bob's eyes follow the rise and fall of Plankton's chest, his grip on his hand tight. "You're okay, buddy," he whispers, his voice a gentle static. Plankton's antennae twitch one last time before stilling, his eye fully closed. The nurse nods, satisfied with his vitals. "He's out," she says as his soft snores fill the room.

CONSOLE TONSIL iii Plankton's eye fluttered open just enough to see Karen beside him. He felt groggy and disoriented, the events of the day a distant, hazy memory. He then notices Hanna brimming with tears. He blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog. "Karen," he croaked, his voice hoarse from surgery and emotional turmoil. "Hanna?" "I'm so sorry," Hanna choked out with regret. "I didn't mean to...I didn't know." "What happened?" he rasped. Karen's gaze softens. "You had a bit of a shutdown, Plankton," she said gently. "You've had a long day, and everything just became too much." The word 'burden' echoed in Plankton's mind. "Burden?" he managed to croak. "Hanna said something she didn't mean," she began,. "She didn't understand what she was saying, but she hurt you, and she's sorry." The word 'burden' it seemed, that fear had been given a voice. He looked from Karen to Hanna. "Burden," he said, barely a whisper. "Is that what you think of me?" Hanna looked stricken. "No, Plankton, I just..." Her voice trailed off. He had always known that he was different, that his size and his quirks set him apart from others. "It's ok," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We all have moments where we say things without thinking. But what's important is that you know you're not a burden to me, Plankton. You never have been, and never will be." Plankton's word 'burden' ringing. "Hanna didn't mean it, she just didn't understand." But the word had already taken root in Plankton's mind. Burden. The word resonated through Plankton but to be called a burden was something else entirely. "Plankton, I'm sorry," she said again, "I didn't know." But Plankton could only repeat the word. "Burden," he croaked. Karen reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No, Plankton, you're not a burden," she said, her voice steady and firm. "You're loved and valued, just the way you are." "Burden," he murmured agai. "I'm a burden." "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle reprimand. "You are not a burden." But Plankton's eye remained fixed, voice a hollow echo. "Everything I do is a burden," he murmured. Karen squeezed his shoulder. "Plankton, please, don't say that." "Burden," Plankton whispered, voice barely a breath. Karen's heart broke at the sound of his self-loathing. "Plankton, you're not a burden," she insisted, her voice filled with compassion. "Am a burden," he repeated, the word sticking to his tongue like a sour candy. "What can I do?" Hanna asked, desperation seeping. "Listen," Karen said, turning to face her. "You need to understand that Plankton isn't just being dramatic. This isn't something you can just apologize for and expect him to get over. His brain works differently. He processes stress in a way that's unique to him. And when you said that..." Her voice trailed off, unable to find the right words to express the gravity of the situation. "I'm a burden," Plankton murmured. "You're not a burden, Plankton," she said, her voice a soft, steady rhythm. "You're my friend, and I care about you." "Burden," Plankton said, his voice a quiet rebuttal. He was stuck in a loop of pain and she wasn't sure how to pull him out. "Plankton, you're not," she began, but he cut her off. "Burden," Plankton murmured, his voice a sad refrain. "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle plea. "You're not a burden." "Burden," Plankton replied, his voice a soft echo of despair, "is a burden." Karen tries to find the right words to cut through the fog of his pain. "Plankton," she said firmly, "you are not a burden. You're my husband, and my confidant." "But a burden," Plankton whispered, voice trembling. "I am burden." "Plankton, please," she said. "You're not a burden." "Burden," Plankton said, his voice a stubborn echo. "Everything I do is a burden." "No, Plankton," Karen insisted, her tone firm but filled with care. "You're not a burden. You're an essential part of this home." But the word 'burden' a heavy weight on his soul. "I'm not a burden," he murmured, the words barely a breath. "I'm not." "Right, you are not," Karen said. "You're so much more.." "Burden," his voice a quiet protest. "I'm just a burden." "You're not a burden," she said. "You're a companion, and a vital part of our lives." "But, burden," Plankton whimpered, his voice a sad refrain. "I is burden." Karen took his hand. "You are not," she said, her voice a gentle but firm declaration. "You're a unique and wonderful being, Plankton." "Plankton, burden," Plankton repeated, his voice a whisper of doubt. "I, burden." "Plankton," she said. "You are not a burden. You're a brilliant mind, and family." Plankton's word 'burden' still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. "But, Karen," he whispered, "I am burden." "No," Karen said firmly, voice unyielding. "You are not. You are treasure, a light in this world." Plankton blinked slowly, the word 'burden' echoing in his mind like a mournful chant. "But I burden," he protested, his voice barely above a whisper. "Burdens, Plankton." "You are loved." "Karen," Plankton said, his voice shaking with emotion, "I burden." Karen leaned closer. "Plankton," she said softly, "you're not a burden. You're someone who brings joy and laughter into our lives." Plankton's gaze searched hers, the word 'burden' still clinging to his every thought. "But I burden," he murmured, his voice a sad echo. "You're a part of this home, a piece of our lives." But Plankton's mind was a tumultuous sea, the word 'burden' a stormy island he couldn't escape. "Burden," he said again, his voice a sad admission. Karen's looking for a way to bridge the gap between his pain and the truth. "Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle reminder, "you're not a burden." "Burden," Plankton whispered, the word a sad acceptance in his mind. "I burden." "Plankton," she began, but he talked over her. "Burden," Plankton said, his voice a sad refrain. "Everything I do, burden." "Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle but firm counterpoint. "Burden," Plankton murmured, his voice a quiet echo of despair. "Everything I do, a burden." Karen felt the urgency to reach him, to pull him out of the dark pit of his thoughts. "Plankton, you're not a burden." Plankton's eye remained unfocused, his voice a sad refrain. "Burden," he whispered, the word a painful acceptance. "Everything I do, I burden." "You're not a burden." "But, Karen," Plankton murmured, his voice a sad refrain, "everything I do is burden." Karen's looking for any sign of the vibrant spirit she knew was there. But Plankton's gaze remained vacant, the word 'burden' echoing in his mind like a funeral bell. Karen knew she had to do something, had to find a way to break through the barrier that had been so carelessly built. She took a deep breath, reaching for the one thing she knew could always lift his spirits. "Remember the time we built that sandcastle?" she asked, her voice filled with the warmth of nostalgia. "The one with the moat that kept filling up with jellyfish?" Plankton's eye flickered with the ghost of a smile. "Jellyfish," a soft echo of a happier time. "Yes," Karen said, her voice a gentle nudge. "Remember how we laughed when they kept popping the bubbles in the moat?" A flicker of life returned to Plankton's eye. "Burden, Bubbles," he murmured. Karen clung to the glimmer of hope. "And the karaoke nights? When you sang that sea shanty about the Krabby Patty?" "Krabby Patty," the words a soft echo of happier times. Karen's seeing the first crack in the wall of pain he had built around himself. She took his hand, voice filled with warmth. "Remember pranks we’d play on SpongeBob?" Plankton's gaze flickered with a glimmer of amusement. "Jellyfish," he murmured. Encouraged, Karen pressed on. "And the time we accidentally turned the restaurant into a bubble bath?" "Bubble bath," he murmured, his voice a soft echo of the laughter they had shared. "Yes," Karen said, her voice a gentle caress. "Remember how Mr. Krabs had to wear those ridiculous floaties because he couldn't swim in the bubbles?" Plankton's smile grew. "Floaties," he murmured, a hint of laughter in his voice. Karen squeezed his hand. "See, Plankton. You're not a burden. You're a partner in crime, and the best roommate I could ask for." The room remained still, the only sound the steady beat of Plankton's heart. Then, ever so slowly, his smile grew, pushing back the shadows in his mind. "Karen," he murmured, his voice a soft echo of gratitude. "Thank you." Hanna's pixel eyes widened with hope, the guilt still etched on her face. "Plankton," she said, her voice tentative. "I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. You're not a burden. You're...you're like family to us." Plankton's gaze shifted to her, the weight of her words a gentle nudge towards healing. "Family," he murmured, the word a tentative bridge over the chasm of his doubt. "Yes," Hanna said, her voice earnest. "I'm sorry for not understanding before. But I do now. And I'll do better." "You will?" he asked, a tentative thread of hope. "Yes," Hanna said with earnestness. "I'll learn, listen, and I'll be more considerate of how my words can affect." Karen nodded in approval, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening slightly. "That's all we can ask," she said, her tone a gentle reprimand. "For you to understand and do better." Hanna's pixel eyes well up with tears. "I'm so sorry, Plankton," she said, voice shaking. "I had no idea." Plankton's gaze softened, the word 'burden' slowly losing grip. Karen released a sigh of relief, tension in the room easing. "What's important," she said, her voice a gentle guide, "is that we all understand each other better now." Hanna nodded with remorse. "I'll do anything to make it right," she said, a solemn vow. Plankton looked from Karen to Hanna, the word 'burden' losing power. "Ok," he murmured. "I forgive."

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 12 (Autistic author) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 Sandy's eyes follow his finger as it traces through the grid. "Ah, here it is," she says, her voice a calm hum. "I'm gonna go find Karen, I'll be back!" But then Mr. Krabs, who hasn't had Plankton try to steal the formula since the fry pan incident, comes in to check and see what he's up to. "What are ye doing?" Mr. Krabs snaps, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why isn't this little troublemaker trying to steal me formula?" Plankton's antennae wilt at the sound of Mr. Krabs' gruff voice, his sensory haven shattered by the intrusion. Mr. Krabs storms into the room, his claws waving in the air. "What's this nonsense?" he barks, his voice a thunderclap to Plankton. "A book; more like some blueprints!" Mr. Krabs sneers, his claws snatching the word search from Plankton's trembling hands. Plankton's eye widens with horror as Mr. Krabs crinkles the pages, ripping up the book. Mr. Krabs rips the pages with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with malice. "This is what happens when ye too cozy with the enemy," he says, his voice a harsh crackle as he tips the bookshelf onto the floor with a bang. Plankton's antennae snap back, his body tense with fear. The painful memory of the frying pan flashes through his mind, his voice a terrified static. "No!" he squeaks. Mr. Krabs looms over him, his eyes a cold, hard gleam. "What's wrong with ye?" he barks, his voice a rough scratch of sarcasm. "Ye gonna cry?" Plankton's eye fills with tears. "No," he whimpers. Mr. Krabs laughs, his cackle echoing through the room. "Look at the tiny thief, so scared of a little noise!" he sneers, his voice a grating static. Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "Krabs," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still gripping the torn pages. "Look at the wittle thief," he mocks, his voice a cruel cackle. Plankton's single eye darts around the room, seeking escape from the crushing wave of stimulation. The pressure of Mr. Krabs' stare is like a boulder on his chest. "What's the matter, Plankton?" Mr. Krabs sneers, leaning down so his face is inches from Plankton's. "Afraid I'll catch you red- handed?" Plankton's antennae flatten against his head, his breath quick and shallow. "No," he whispers, his voice a static hiss of fear. Mr. Krabs' looming presence is like a shadow over him, his voice a grating buzz. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he sneers. "Can't handle a little competition?" Plankton flinches, his antennae retracting. The pressure of the crab's eyes bore into his soul, his voice a panicked static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please," he whispers. Mr. Krabs' claw slams down onto the coffee table, the impact rattling everything on it. "I see," he says, his voice a cruel chuckle. "Ye've gone soft."

COMPUTER SENSORS i * "Karen!" Hanna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Karen in a warm embrace. "You made it!" Karen beamed. "Is the husband home?" Hanna asked, glancing around. "In our bedroom," Karen answers. "I don't think you've met!" Hanna followed Karen through the hallway. She'd heard of Karen's husband, Plankton, but had never formally met each other. Inside, Plankton sat on the edge of the bed. "Plankton, this is my friend Hanna," Karen announced, screen sparkling with excitement. Plankton looked up. He hadn't been expecting company, especially not someone so bubbly and vibrant. "Oh, Plankton," Hanna gushed, reaching out to him. She was a hugger, and she didn't hold back. She enveloped him. Plankton stiffened. It was... overwhelming. "It's so nice to finally meet you," Hanna said, her voice thick with sincerity. Hanna, ever the social butterfly, didn't seem to notice his discomfort. She plopped down on the bed beside him, her energy not even slightly dampened. "So, what do you guys have planned for the evening?" she asked, screen bright with excitement. "Well, we were just going to order in and watch a movie," Karen replied, shooting Plankton a knowing smile. She knew he liked his quiet evenings. "A movie night, huh?" Hanna clapped her hands together. "What's the film? I can stay and join!" Plankton wasn't one for sharing his personal space, especially with someone he just met. The bedroom was his sanctuary, a place of solitude where he could escape the world and be himself. Plankton managed a tight smile, his heart sinking. He wasn't in the mood for a romantic comedy, let alone one with Hanna's constant commentary and unbridled laughter. Karen quickly interjected. "Actually, Hanna, Plankton had his heart set on a sci-fi marathon tonight. You know, his usual Friday night routine." "Oh, I totally get it," she said, patting him. Plankton stiffened at her touch, his eye widening slightly. "Oooh, I know just the thing!" she exclaimed, jumping up and talking fast. "Karen, you won't believe this but I've got a DVD of 'Galactic Hearts' in my bag. It's got a bit of everything: romance, action, and a side of existential dread. Perfect for a Friday night in, right?" Plankton sighed inwardly. He knew he'd have to sit through it, if only to keep the peace. "Alright," he said, his voice tight. "Let's give it a go." With a resigned sigh, he trudged out to the kitchen to grab some popcorn and drinks. When he returned, Hanna had already claimed the spot beside him, leaving him no choice but to sit next to her, so he did, for Karen. The movie started, and Hanna was immediately engrossed, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. Plankton, on the other hand, felt like he was in an alien world of his own. Every time the romantic tension on screen built up, she would lean over and whisper something to Karen, who would giggle in response. The constant movement and noise were making his skin crawl. As the film went on, Hanna grew more and more absorbed in the love story unfolding before them. At one particularly dramatic scene, she reached over and grabbed Plankton's arm. "Oh, isn't this just the most romantic thing you've ever seen?" She gave him a squeeze not realizing the discomfort she was causing him. "Look at those stars," she whispered leaning closer. "It's just like they're reaching out to each other, isn't it?" Plankton shifted. He'd never been one for public displays of affection, and Hanna's affection was uncharted territory. He gently extracted his hand, placing it awkwardly on his lap. "I s'pose," he murmured, trying to keep his voice neutral. time she leaned in to whisper something to Karen, she brushed against him, sending a shiver down his spine. The movie's soundtrack swelled with a sappy love theme, and Hanna threw her arm around both their shoulders. Plankton stiffened. The room felt suddenly too warm, too small. He'd never been one for affection, especially not from someone he'd just met, and Hanna's touch was suffocating him. Her arm remained draped around his shoulders, her grip tightening every time the couple on-screen shared a tender moment. He tried to focus on the plot, but it was difficult with Hanna's sudden exclamations and loud sighs punctuating the silence. Karen seemed to be enjoying it, though, and he didn't want to spoil the evening. So, he sat, endured, and waited for the credits to roll. As the movie progressed, Hanna grew bolder with her displays of affection. She'd lean in close, her shoulder pressing into his, and whisper her predictions for the plot. He glanced at Karen, hoping for a reprieve, but she was caught up in the moment. Plankton sighed and turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the heat building in him. Hanna's hand found its way to Plankton's shoulder again. This time, she didn't let go. He cleared his throat, trying to subtly shift his body away from her touch, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weight of her arm and the way she kept brushing against him. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, begging for the solitude he craved. Hanna let out a contented sigh, her grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening involuntarily. He flinched, and she finally looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "It's nothing," Plankton said, his voice tight. Hanna looked at him. "Oh, I get it," she said, her hand moving from his shoulder to give his knee a comforting pat. "Sometimes romantic scenes can be too much, huh?" Plankton nodded stiffly. Then, Hanna leaned over and whispered, "You know Plankton you're not so bad for a guy who pretends not to like romance." She elbows him, her touch playful and teasing. Plankton's eye widened, his heart racing faster than the spaceship on the screen. He tried to laugh it off, his voice strained. He tried to keep his expression neutral. She leaned in closer, her arm now looped around his. "I think you're secretly a softy." Plankton's discomfort grew. He swallowed hard, his eye darting to Karen for help, but she was too lost in the film to notice his distress. He cleared his throat again, trying to be subtle, but they're oblivious. Karen looked over at her husband, her smile fading slightly as she noticed his rigid posture. She knew he wasn't a fan of the film, but she didn't realize Hanna's personality was making him so uncomfortable. Hanna jumped up from the couch. "Oh my gosh, you guys," she exclaimed a little too loud, her screen bright with excitement. "That was the best movie ever!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Karen couldn't help but laugh. "You really liked it?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Liked it?" Hanna repeated, her voice incredulous. "I'm in love with it!!" Her exuberance was palpable, but Plankton remained silent. He felt a mix of relief that the movie was over and dread for whatever might come next. Hanna, noticing his lack of response, turned to him with a grin. "What did you think, Plankton?" Plankton felt uncomfortable under her gaze. "It's just not really my genre," he said, his voice a touch defensive. Hanna's smile didn't falter. "Oh, come on," she said, nudging him playfully. "Admit it, you were totally rooting for them in the end." "Oh, I was," Plankton said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "I was just hoping the asteroid might hit the spaceship first." Karen couldn't help but laugh, seeing the playful banter between her friend and her husband. "Ok ok," she said, standing up and stretching. "I think we've had enough romance for one night. How about we switch gears and play a board game?" Hanna bounced, her energy unflagging. "Perfect! What do you have?" Plankton started to feel dizzy. "I'll grab something," he said, his voice tight. He needed to get away, to regain some semblance of control over the situation. He retreated to the bedroom, going on his bed. ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ *

** ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᴬᵘᵗⁱˢᵗⁱᶜ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴬᵘᵗⁱˢᵐ ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ᴬᴵ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * One fateful afternoon, Plankton meandered along the beach, lost in thought, an unexpected event unfolded. A tennis match, played by tourists near by, sent stray balls hurtling towards him. A tennis ball struck him squarely on the head. As he stumbled to his feet, dizzy and disoriented, the world around him had changed. Plankton found himself struggling with simple tasks that once came so naturally. His job at the local bait shop grew increasingly difficult as he often forgot names. His social interactions grew strained, as he found it hard to read the subtle cues of conversation and often took things too literally. The doctor's diagnosis was clear: the impact had left him with a mild form of autism for life. Karen, ever the rock in their marriage, took the news with a mix of shock and determination. She knew this would be a journey of adaptation for both of them. She dedicated herself to helping Plankton navigate the new landscape of his reality. His mind, now more analytical and detail-oriented, sought patterns and understanding in the overwhelming information. It was as if he had developed an insatiable hunger for knowledge, and this soon dominated their dinner conversations. "Karen," he began, "I've been thinking about the diagnosis." They were at the kitchen table. She looked up from her plate. "We can just keep this between us, Sheldon." "Karen," Plankton insisted, "I think we need to consider what this means for the Chum Bucket." "The Chum Bucket will be fine. You're still you. Just with a different way of seeing the world. You're seeing patterns no one else does. Let's focus on how we can harness that instead of worrying about what you lost." The idea took root in Plankton's mind, growing into a newfound sense of purpose. If he couldn't outsmart Krabs in their usual cat-and-mouse game, perhaps he could out-pattern him. His mind raced with the possibilities, the wheels of his imagination spinning faster than ever before. "If I could see patterns where he doesn't, we could finally steal the Krabby Patty secret!" He began to fidget in his chair, his legs bouncing up and down, a silent metronome to his racing thought. "But what if Krabs finds out? You know how he is, Karen. If he gets even the slightest whiff of weakness, he'll be on us." Karen nodded solemnly. "But you're not weak, Plankton. You're just... different. And if he does we'll deal with it together like everything else." Her words resonated with him and a newfound resolve shone in his eye. "You're right," he murmured. "We'll turn this into an advantage." Plankton retreated to his lab, the cobwebs of doubt slowly giving way to a tangible plan. He pored over blueprints and formulae, his mind racing with thoughts with his newfound focus, a stark contrast to the days when he had flitted from one idea to the next without clear direction. He dissected every encounter with Krabs, searching for patterns in his rival's behavior. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations, predicting Krabs' every move, anticipating his countermoves, and preparing for the ultimate heist. His once cluttered lab now had a method to its madness. The floor was clear of scattered inventions, and his desk was organized into neat piles of notes. His thoughts were no longer scattered; they were sharp. Karen supported him, bringing him snacks and encouraging him to take breaks, for she knew that his mind was fully consumed by his mission. The day finally came when Plankton announced that he was ready to put his new skills to the test. "Karen," he said with a steely glint in his eye, "I'm going to the Krusty Krab." "But Plankton, You haven't been since before..." "It's time. I've figured out a pattern in Krabs' security. There's a blindspot during the lunch rush." Plankton set out. The restaurant bustled with the usual sea of patrons, a cacophony of noise that Plankton found both overwhelming and fascinating. He took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, and slipped inside. Making his way to the back, he spotted the safe in Krabs' office. His new analytical mind dissected the room with ease, noting the routine of the employees, the subtle cues in their movements that pointed to the flow of customers, and the exact moment when the chaos of the lunch rush would hit its peak. Timing was everything, and Plankton knew the moment had arrived. He slipped into the office. The combination lock stared back at him, a silent sentinel to the secret he sought. His mind raced through the patterns he had observed in Krabs' behavior, the way he tapped his claw against the desk when nervous, the time he took to drink his tea, the exact moment when his gaze would flick to the safe when the topic of the Krabby Patty formula came up. Plankton took a deep breath, his eye tracing the dial as he dialed in the sequence. The clicks of the tumblers falling into place were the sweetest symphony he had ever heard. With trembling hands, he pulled the heavy door open, revealing the treasure trove with in. His eye fell upon the secret bottle, its contents a murky mystery that could change his life forever. His heart thudded in his chest, a drum roll to the crescendo of his plan. "Plankton!" boomed a voice. He whirled around to find Mr. Krabs, claws balled into fists. The room spun, and the noises of the restaurant outside grew distant. "What do you think you're doing?" Krabs demanded, his eyes bulging with rage. Plankton's brain scrambled for a lie, but his newfound honesty and directness took over. "I've come for the Krabby Patty secret." Mr. Krabs sneered, "You're insane, Plankton. You'll never understand the brilliance of me creation." "But I see patterns now, where I used to see only chaos.." Plankton trails off before he could reveal more. Mr. Krabs took a step closer. "What are you talking about? Patterns? I don't know what you're blabbering on about, but you're not leaving here with that!" He lunged, but Plankton was ready. Using his heightened senses and the patterns he had studied, Plankton sidestepped the attack with surprising grace. The Krabby Patty secret was in his grasp, but he knew to take it back to the Chum Bucket. He sprinted out of the office. The din of the restaurant faded into the background as he weaved through the kitchen, dodging flying spatulas and the frenetic dance of the cooks. The heat from the grills washed over him but he didn't flinch. His eye remained locked on the swinging doors to the alley outside. Karen was waiting for him. Without a word, she opened the hidden hatch that led back to the Chum Bucket. Plankton squeezed through, the warmth of the stolen secret a comforting weight. They descended into the dimly lit lab. Karen looked at him with a mix of amazement and pride. "You did it," she whispered. Plankton's chest heaved with the exertion of his escape. "Yes," he panted, "but Krabs knows I have it." Plankton carefully removed the paper from the bottle, his eye scanning the list. The words and numbers swam but he focused, his mind slicing through the jumble. The list was not in English, but a cryptic code that only Krabs could decipher. The symbols and letters danced in a maddening ballet, but he could feel the tide of understanding beginning to turn. His mind raced, piecing together the puzzle with a speed and precision that astonished even him. He turned to Karen. "It's a code based on the Fibonacci sequence!" "Fibonacci?" Plankton nodded fervently, his antennae waving with excitement. "It's a numerical sequence, Karen. One, one, two, three, five, eight... It appears in nature, in the spiral of a shell, the arrangement of leaves on a stem, the branching of trees. It's a pattern that's been used in everything from art to mathematics!" Karen's trying to make sense of the seemingly random strings of digits and letters. "But how? Nevermind, I hear Krabs breaking in!" Plankton began to recite the ingredients in their proper order, translating the code as he went. "Kelp powder, four... Tartar sauce, one... Mustard seeds, three... Onion powder, five!" The lab door crashed open and Mr. Krabs' furious red face filled the doorway. "Give it back, you tiny menace!" But Plankton was already several steps ahead. With lightning-quick reflexes, he transferred the information from the paper to his photographic memory, his mind now a fortress that contained the Krabby Patty's sacred recipe. Krabs snatched the paper with a snarl, his claw closing around it like a vice. He glared at Plankton, eyes alight with fury. "You think you're so clever don't you?" But Plankton remained silent. The code was in his mind now and no one could take that from him. He had outsmarted Krabs with his own patterns, using the very neurodivergence that had made him feel weak to gain the upper hand. Mr. Krabs looked from the paper to Plankton and back again with suspicion, his claw tightening around the seemingly worthless paper. "You think you've won?" he spat. "You'll never understand the genius behind me Krabby Patties!" With that, Mr. Krabs stormed out of the Chum Bucket with his usual sneer, the worthless paper clutched in his claw. Plankton watched him go, his heart racing. He had done it. He had bested Krabs. As the echo of the slammed door faded away, he turned to Karen, his eye alight with victory. "We've got it," he whispered, his voice quivering with excitement. "The Krabby Patty secret is ours."

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 5 Karen watches him drift back into sleep, her heart swelling with love. His snores have turned into gentle snuffles, his antennae still occasionally twitching in his sleep. The nurse, Nina, smiles at her. "It's okay, he's just tired," she says. "Let's get him standing." They help Plankton into a sitting position, his body uncooperative and limp. His eye open and close, trying to stay awake. "Pway?" he mumbles again, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen laughs, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Later, sweetheart, after you're all better." Nina, the nurse, nods. "Let's get you on your feet," she says, offering her fin for support. Plankton wobbles, his legs like jello. Karen takes his other arm, steadying him. "One step at a time," she says, her voice a gentle guide. They shuffle to the door, his feet moving as if through water. His head lolls, his antennae drooping with exhaustion as he falls asleep, but Karen and Nina quickly react, holding him upright. "It's normal for the anesthesia to make him so tired." Nina says over Plankton's snores as he's snoring deeply. Karen nods, her grip firm on his arm. "Let's get you to the car," she says. "Wake up, Plankton. Just a little more." With a snort, Plankton's eye opens again, blinking sleepily. "Wha...?" he says, looking around the room. Karen's smile is like the sun breaking through the clouds. "It's time to go home, sweetie," she says. They make their way to the car, Plankton leaning heavily on Karen's arm. The nurse, Nina, gives them both a nod of encouragement. "Call us if you need anything," she says. The sun is blinding as they walk out of the clinic, its rays piercing through the clouds like a spotlight. Plankton squints, his eye watering. "Hone," he mumbles, his voice a sleepy sigh. Karen laughs, her arm around his waist. "Home, Plankton," she says, her voice like a lullaby. "We're going home now." They reach the car, his legs wobbly as a newborn's. Karen opens the door, guiding him in. Plankton fumbles with the seatbelt, his fingers refusing to cooperate. "Let me," she says, her touch gentle as she secures him in. The drive home is quiet, his snores punctuating the hum of the engine. Karen watches him, his mouth slack, the gauze still in place. "Almost there, Plankton," she says, her voice soothing. The car's smooth movement lulls him further into sleep. Karen sighs, her eyes on the road ahead, her mind racing with thoughts of care and comfort for her recovering husband. When they arrive home, she gently wakes him, his eye fluttering open. "Who...?" he mumbles, his voice a slurry whisper. "It's me, Karen," she says, smiling. "We're home, Plankton." He blinks, his mind still foggy. "Hone?" he repeats, his voice barely audible. Karen nods. "Yes, sweetheart, we're home." They enter their home, the familiar scent of home wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Plankton stumbles, his legs like jelly under him. "Bath-tub," he mumbles, pointing in the direction of their bedroom. Karen laughs, her heart swelling with love for her confused husband. "No, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle reminder. "Let's get you to the couch." They shuffle through the house, his eye half-closed, his words slurred. "Muff-muff...tub?" he repeats, his thoughts jumbled. Karen laughs, her voice like a warm current in the cool ocean. "No, Plankton, the couch," she says, guiding his unsteady steps. He nods, his antennae drooping. "C-c-couch," he repeats, his words like bubbles rising to the surface. Karen helps him settle, his body collapsing into the plush cushions with a sigh. His snores resume, his mouth open, and drool pooling on the pillow. Plankton's eyes flicker open, his gaze unfocused. "Tish...?" he mumbles, reaching up to touch his mouth. Karen laughs, taking his hand. "No, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle stream. "Let's keep those hands down." He frowns, his mind a fog. "Whath...whathapened?" he asks, his speech still slurred. Karen smiles, her voice a warm caress. "You had your wisdom teeth taken out, sweetheart." Plankton's eye widens. "B-but...muh...muh..." his words a jumble. Karen giggles with warmth. "What are you trying to say, Plankton?" she asks, her voice sweet as a lullaby. He tries to sit up, his body still groggy. "Baf...baf... baf," he babbles. Karen's laughter is a gentle wave, lapping at the shores of his confusion. "It's okay," she says, her hand a steady rock. "Your mouth is just numb." Plankton's antennae wave weakly, his eye still unfocused. "Mumf?" he mumbles, his voice like a baby's coo. "Mumf?" Karen laughs softly, her heart filled with love and amusement. "What's 'mumf', Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle ripple in the sea of his confusion. He blinks, his mouth moving in a silent attempt to form words. "Mumf," he repeats, his voice a sleepy murmur. "Muff...muf..." his words trailing off. Karen laughs, her voice a soothing whisper. "What's 'mumf', sweetheart?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Plankton blinks, his antennae twitching. "Nun," he slurs, his mind swimming in a sea of anesthesia. "Why my moufs nun." Karen laughs, her eyes sparkling. "Your mouth is numb, Plankton," she explains, her voice a gentle wave. "It'll wear off by the morning." He nods, his antennae drooping. "Mouf numb," he echoes, his tongue still thick. "Mm...numb." He giggles to himself. "Numb." Karen laughs, her voice like the tinkling of a bell. "Yes, Plankton, your mouth is numb," she says, her words a gentle soothing rain. "It's from the surgery." Plankton's antennae perk up, his eye finally focusing. "Sur...surg... surgery?" he asks, his voice a tentative question. Karen nods, wiping at his drool with a tissue. "It's okay, you're all done now." He giggles, his words a slur. "Sur...surgery," he repeats, his mind still in a haze. Karen smiles, her voice a gentle lullaby. "Wisdom teeth," she says, "They're out, and you're all better." Plankton nods, his antennae twitching with curiosity. "Tweef?" he mumbles, his tongue thick. Karen nods, her voice like a gentle wave. "Yes, sweetie," she says, "The doctor took your big teef out." He giggles again, his mind still foggy. "Big...big teef," he says, his voice a babyish coo. "Tweef." Karen laughs, her voice a soothing breeze. "Yes, Plankton, your big teeth are gone." "How many fing-- fingers awe you holding up?" He asks, but looking at his own hand. Karen laughs, her voice a delightful chime in the quiet room. "I'm not holding up any fingers, Plankton." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye still unfocused. "But...but..." his words trail off as he tries to process her response. "That's your hand, not mine!" She laughs. Plankton giggles, his eye half-closed. "M-mine?" he asks, his voice a sleepy mumble. Karen nods, her smile never leaving her face. "Yes, love, your hand." He looks down at his hand, his fingers splayed. "Twee," he murmurs, his voice a slurred whisper. "Two big teef gone." Karen laughs, her voice gentle as she shakes her head. "All four wisdom teethies." Plankton blinks, his mind clearing slightly. "Oh," he says, his voice a soft wave. "Twee big teefies." Karen nods, her eyes sparkling with humor. "Yes, Plankton, all your wisdom teeth are out." He giggles, his speech still slurred. "Widom...teefies," he mumbles. "Widom." Karen laughs, her heart warm with love. "That's right," she says, her voice a gentle current. "Wisdom teethies." Plankton's antennae droop again, his eye heavy with sleep. "M-more?" he asks, his voice like a sleepy drone. Karen smiles, her voice a soothing melody. "No more, sweetie," she says, stroking his antennas. "You're all done."

9️⃣1️⃣0️⃣

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 15 (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ Sandy and Sponge Bob leave the room while Karen stays for the surgery. The doctor's tentacles move with practiced ease. The room hummed with a gentle consistency of medical equipment, designed to avoid jarring sounds. The doctor's eyes were focused, his voice a steady rhythm of instructions for the nurse. She put the IV in, a swift and precise motion, and Plankton's snores remained undisturbed. The surgery begins, each movement calculated to minimize pain. The doctor's tentacles dance around the broken limb, his touch as light as a feather. The smell of antiseptic hangs in the air, but it's faint, not overwhelming. Plankton's body lies still, his snores the only sound besides the low whisper of instruments coating the bone. The nurse's eyes flick to the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking by like a metronome to the rhythm of the doctor's work. The room is a symphony of soft sounds: the steady beep of the heart monitor, the low mumble of the doctor's instructions. Plankton's tiny body lies motionless, his snores the only evidence of life. They put his leg in a cast and unhook the IV. Sponge Bob and Sandy wait outside, their minds racing with worries and hope. Their conversation is whispers, not wanting to disturb the peaceful hum of the Quiet Bubble Clinic. The nurse beckons them back in. "The surgery was a success," she says, her voice a gentle gust of relief. Plankton lies in the bed, his leg now encased in a cast. His snores are quieter, his body less tense. Sponge Bob and Sandy hover by his side, their eyes locked on his peaceful face. "But we need to be prepared for his waking," the nurse continues, her voice a soft warning. "He might wake up feeling disoriented or overwhelmed. Also, it takes time for the anesthesia to fully wear off, so he might be groggy and silly, sleepy or even a bit forgetful." They nod, their expressions a mix of gratitude and anticipation. The doctor enters the room, his tentacles wiped clean of any sign of surgery. "He'll need to stay here for a bit, to recover," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. "But you can stay with him. After he's fully awake, you can take him home! Just be careful, of course." Sponge Bob's eyes light up, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "We'll make sure he's okay," he says, his voice a promise. Sandy nods, her face a mask of determined calm. "Thank you," Karen says, her voice a gentle hum of appreciation. The doctor nods, his tentacles flicking a dismissive wave. "It's what we're here for," he says, his voice a warm rumble. "Now, let's get him settled." They work together, Sponge Bob and Sandy supporting Plankton as they move his bed to a recovery room, his body still asleep as Karen holds his hand. The room is painted with soft, soothing colors, and the bed is surrounded by pillows and blankets that seem to swallow his small frame. The lights are dimmed, a stark contrast to the stark whites and harsh florescents of a normal hospital. Sponge Bob sits on the chair beside his bed, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping face. The gentle whirl of a fan in the corner provides white noise, a comforting constant hum that fills the silence. Sandy sits on the other side, her hand resting lightly on the foot of the bed. Her eyes are glued to a book titled "Understanding Neurodivergence in Friends," her expression focused. Karen meanwhile was holding his other hand. Plankton's antennae twitches as the gentle hum of the recovery room starts to pierce his slumber. His single eye opens to a sliver, taking in the soft, blurry world around him. He blinks, trying to focus, and sees Karen first. "Hey, buddy," she says, her voice a warm buzz of comfort. "You're okay." Plankton's eye widens, his brain foggy from the anesthesia. "Wheh..." he starts, his voice a static whisper. Sponge Bob's hand squeezes his gently. "You're at the Quiet Bubble Clinic," he says, his voice a soft wave of reassurance. "You had your leg fixed." Plankton's antennae wave slowly, his eye blinking as realization sets in. "Mr. Krabs," he whispers, his voice a static memory of pain. Sponge Bob's thumb pauses in its comforting rhythm. "Don't worry about him now," he says, his voice a gentle lapping of waves. "You're safe here." Plankton's antennae twitch with confusion, his mind a foggy storm of memories. He tries to sit up, but the nurse's firm hand gently pushes him back down. "Easy," she whispers, her voice a soft breeze. "You need to rest." Sponge Bob's face is a picture of relief as Plankton's eye focusses on him. "Remember, buddy?" he asks, his voice a gentle reminder. "You're safe." Plankton's antennae quiver with the echoes of pain, but the soothing presence of his friends begins to anchor him. He nods slightly, his voice a static rustle. "Sandy?" he asks, his gaze shifting to her. Sandy looks up from her book, her eyes soft. "I'm here," she says, her voice a gentle hum. She sets the book aside and takes his hand. Plankton's antennae twitch with confusion, his eye darting around the room. The softness of the pillows and the gentle hum of the fan are alien to him. "Where...?" he whispers, his voice a static question. The nurse's smile is a beacon of calm. "You're at the Quiet Bubble Clinic," she says, her voice a comforting trill. "You're safe." Plankton's mind is a swirl of fuzzy images and half-remembered fears. He tries to piece together what happened, his antennae flailing for answers. The nurse's voice is a gentle guide, leading him through the mist. "You had surgery," she murmurs, her eyes kind. "Your leg is fixed now. Just rest." Plankton's eye blinks slowly, trying to comprehend the words. The pain is gone, replaced by a dull throb and the weight of the cast. He nods, his body still feeling the aftermath of the anesthesia's embrace. The room is a soft blur, the edges of his vision dancing with colors. He tries to lift his head, but it feels too heavy. Sponge Bob's grip is steady, keeping him grounded as the world slowly sharpens. Plankton's thoughts are like bubbles popping in the sea, each one briefly forming before disappearing into the depths. The nurse's voice is a distant lullaby, guiding his consciousness back to the surface. He blinks again, his vision slowly coming into focus. The nurse's face swims into view, her smile a lifeline in the murky water of his confusion. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle ripple. "Just rest." The room sways like an underwater garden, the soothing sounds of the recovery room a soft symphony that Plankton can't quite place. His mind is a kaleidoscope of half-formed thoughts. Sponge Bob's hand is a steady beacon, the gentle squeeze a comforting reminder that he's not alone. Plankton's eye widens as he takes in the sight of his friend, his face a canvas of concern. "You're okay," Sponge Bob whispers, his voice a gentle wave washing over the static in Plankton's mind. Suddenly, Sponge Bob's phone beeps, a video call request from an unexpected name: Mr. Krabs. Sandy's eyes widen and she looks at Sponge Bob, who nods slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He accepts the call, the screen filling with the familiar craggy face of their grumpy neighbor. Mr. Krabs looks sheepish, his eyes darting around the screen. "Plankton," he starts, his voice a gruff whisper. "I heard what happened with the autism and broken leg.." Sponge Bob's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, his face a mask of caution. Plankton's antennas quiver with apprehension. "What Krabs want?" Plankton mumbles, his voice a static hiss. His single eye narrows. Mr. Krabs clears his throat, his face a portrait of discomfort. "Look, Plankton, I... I wanted to say... I'm sorry." His eyes dart to the side, avoiding the camera. Plankton's antennae stand on end, his eye unblinking. "What for?" he asks, his voice a wary whisper. Mr. Krabs' face scrunches up, his claws fidgeting with his apron strings. "For, uh, you know, the frying pan... and the... uh, everything." Plankton's antennae twitch with surprise, his voice a static hush. "Why?" Mr. Krabs looks away, his eyes anywhere but on the screen. "I know I've been... rough on you lately," he says, his voice a gruff rumble. "And I didn't know about the... the autism thing. It's just, the Krabby Patty formula is all I've got, and I can't... I don't know how to make it up to ye but I just called to let ye know." Plankton's antennae quiver with shock, his eye wide. "Mr. Krabs," he whispers, his voice a static hum. "Is this... real?" Mr. Krabs nods, his face a map of regret. "Yeah, it's me," he says, his voice a gruff mumble. "I know I've not been the best... neighbor, or... frenemy." Sponge Bob's eyes are wide, his grip on Plankton's hand unwavering. Sandy's jaw is slack with disbelief. "Mr. Krabs," Karen's voice is a cautious whisper. "That's... really nice of you to say." Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes returning to the screen. "It's just, I've seen what you've gone through, and I... I shouldn't have hurt you." His claws fiddle with his apron, a rare show of vulnerability. "And I forgive ye."

CONSOLE TONSIL ii * As the door clicked shut, Karen noticed how Plankton's body stiffened, eye open but unseeing. "Plankton?" she called out, her voice a gentle prodding into his absent-mindedness. He didn't respond. His eye remained open, but it was as if the light behind it had gone out. This wasn’t the first time Karen had seen him dizzily scatterbrained from overload, yet it was eerie to witness such shock. His body remained still, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths, yet there was no response to her touch or voice. It was like he was there, but not there at the same time. The room grew quiet. She leaned closer. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she whispered. His eye remained unblinking. "Plankton, talk to me," Karen urged, her voice a gentle coax. His only ‘response’ was the shallow rise and fall of his chest, his eye unblinking. Karen realized the depth of his withdrawal; Hanna's words had triggered a sensory shutdown. The room grew colder as Plankton retreated into himself, his eye glazed over like a still pond reflecting the fear and confusion rippling through him. Karen knew she needed to tread lightly. She had seen this before, during moments of intense stress or overstimulation. "Plankton," she said, her voice a soft whisper. "You're not a burden, you know that." Her hand reached out, stroking his arm in gentle, soothing motions. "You're just tired. Let's focus on getting you better." The room was still, the only sound being the tick of the clock echoing through the silence. Karen's screen never left Plankton's unresponsive face, her mind racing to find the right words, the right touch to pull him back from the edge of his isolation. "Plankton," she said again, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're ok. You're home." Her hand continued its soft, rhythmic motion on his arm, a silent lullaby to his fractured thoughts. Slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep, Plankton's eye blinked. The fog in his gaze started to clear, his pupil focusing on Karen's concerned face. He took a deep, shaky breath, wincing as the pain in his throat shot up like a warning flare. "You're ok," Karen repeated, her voice a soothing balm to his frazzled nerves. "You're home, and I'm here with you." Plankton's breathing grew more even, the tension in his body slowly seeping away as he focused on her voice, her touch. The pain in his throat was a constant reminder of the surgery, but it was the emotional pain that weighed heavier on him. Karen waited patiently, her hand never stopping its gentle caress, her voice a steady stream of comfort. "You're not a burden," she repeated, her tone soothing. "You're my best friend, Plankton. We’re home. I'm here for you, always." Plankton blinked again, the reality of his situation seeping in. "Home," he murmured. "Thank you, Karen." "You're welcome. I'm here for you." The words hung in the air, the silence thick and heavy. Karen could see the internal battle playing out on Plankton's face, the war between his pride and his need for comfort. His hand reached out again, this time with more intention, and he gently squeezed hers. "I'm sorry," he croaked out, his voice still raw. "I didn't mean to scare you." Karen leaned in closer, her screen filled with a gentle understanding. "You don't ever have to apologize for how you feel," she said softly. "We're in this together." Plankton's grip tightened, his eye finally focusing on hers with a hint of gratitude. He took another deep breath, the pain a stark contrast to the warmth in the room. "What...what is Hanna doing now?" he asked, his voice a whisper of curiosity. "I don't know," Karen replied truthfully. "But she's not here to bother us. You need to rest, ok?" Plankton nodded weakly, his grip loosening. Karen felt a twinge of sadness as she saw the exhaustion etched on his features. She knew he was trying to be strong, but the weight of the day's events was too much for anyone to bear alone. "Rest," she encouraged, her voice firm but gentle. "I'll be right here if you need anything." Plankton's nod was almost imperceptible, but Karen took it as his silent agreement. She pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking him in as if he were a child, and sat in the chair beside his bed, her hand still in his. The warmth of their intertwined fingers was a small but significant comfort in the face of his overwhelming fears. The minutes ticked by. Karen watched him closely, waiting for his breathing to deepen, his eyelid to droop. It was a slow process, but eventually, the exhaustion won. She heard a faint snore, a sign that he had finally succumbed to sleep. His hand went slack in hers, and she carefully extracted her hand, placing it on the bedside table. She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging with relief. Her mind raced with what had happened. Hanna's words had clearly struck a nerve, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger at her friend's thoughtlessness. Plankton had always been self-conscious about his size and his perceived weaknesses, and to hear such harsh words from someone Karen cared about had to be devastating. Karen felt a mix of anger and sadness as she approached Hanna, her mind playing back the haunting image of Plankton's lifeless stare. "Hanna," she began, her voice firm but measured. "We need to talk." Hanna looked up. "What you said in front of Plankton, though not meant to be malicious," Karen began, her voice low but steady. "It was hurtful and unnecessary. Plankton has...challenges. Neurodivergent challenges." Hanna's confused. "What do you mean?" "It means," Karen said, sitting down next to her, "that Plankton perceives and reacts to the world differently than we do. It affects how he processes information, how he interacts with people, and how he handles stress." "What happened after I left?" Hanna finally asked, her voice tentative. Karen took a deep breath, preparing to recount the events that had unfolded. "He had a...a reaction," she said. "He couldn't handle the stress anymore. His mind just sort of...shut down. He just...froze still. It's like his body was there, but he wasn't. He didn’t respond to anything I said or did." Hanna's hand flew to her mouth, horrified. "His eye were open, but he was...gone, somewhere else. I've seen it before, but never this severe. At first, nothing," Karen said, her gaze drifting to the floor. "It was like talking to a statue. But I didn't give up. I talked to him, whispered really. I tried to get through to him, to tell him he's not a burden, that he's important to me, that he's safe here. Just kept saying how much he means to me and that he's not a burden. He started to come back to me, little by little. His breathing changed, his gaze focused on me. It was like he was hearing me for the first time in hours." Karen paused, collecting her thoughts. "He apologized," she said. "For scaring me. As if it was his fault." Hanna's expression grew pained. "I never meant for this to happen," she murmured. "What can I do to make it right?" Karen considered her words carefully. "For now, let him rest," she said. "But when he's feeling better, we need to have a talk. All of us. Plankton deserves an apology." * * ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ *

I love ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـyouﮩﮩ٨ـ😘😘100%

COMPUTER SENSORS ii * * ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * "Plankton?" Hanna's voice called. "You've been in there for a while." But there was no response from the bedroom. Karen's smile faded as she heard the silence. She knew her husband well enough to recognize when he'd reached his limit. She excused herself and went to check. Plankton was indeed on the bed, his eye squeezed shut. His body was rigid breathing shallow. Karen ached for him; she knew he was in the throes of sensory overload. Karen approached the bed gently, not wanting to startle him. She sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Plankton," she said softly. "You ok?" He didn't move, didn't speak. He just lay there, a tense coil of discomfort. Karen knew to recognize the signs of his overwhelm. The way he curled tightly around his body, the shallow breaths that spoke of his struggle to regain control. He was in his own world now, one where the bombardment of Hanna's sounds and touch had become too much. "Plankton," she said again, her voice a gentle whisper in the room. "You don't have to be out there if you don't want to." The touches, the sounds, Hanna— all too much. Karen's expression filled with understanding. "It's alright," she assured him, her hand gently rubbing his back. "You don't have to force it." Plankton nodded, his body slowly relaxing under her touch. He let out a sigh. Karen knew Plankton's not one for crowded spaces or unexpected physical contact. "Hey, guys, everything ok in here?" Hanna's voice was cheerful, but there was a hint of concern that had crept in. She searched the room, her gaze landing on Plankton's rigid form. Her smile faltered for a second, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. "Is he ok?" "He's... overwhelmed," Karen said. She knew Hanna didn't mean any harm, but she also knew her friend's boundless enthusiasm could be to much for Plankton to handle. Hanna's expression grew more puzzled. "What's there to be overwhelmed about?" Her curiosity piqued. "What's going on with you Plankton?" she asked, taking a step closer to the bed. Plankton jolted slightly, but he remained silent, eye still closed. "I don't get it.." Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Plankton's a bit... sensitive to stimulation," she began. "He needs his quiet time. Nothing against you, Hanna; just how he is." Hanna grew more concerned. "But I didn't mean to," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to have a good time." Karen patted Plankton's shoulder, her screen never leaving his face. "It's not you, Hanna," she assured. "It's just that to much noise, touch, all just gets to be to much for him." "How?" "Some people need more space than others. It's not a reflection on you or your company." "But I don't get it," Hanna said, her voice quiet. "What did I do?" "You didn't do anything wrong," Karen assured her, her hand still resting on Plankton's shoulder. "It's just that Plankton's sensory input is overwhelmed easily." Hanna looked from Karen to Plankton, full of questions. "But I didn't do anything weird; did I?" "No," she said, her voice calm and soothing. "It's just that Plankton isn't much... physical affection from anyone but me. And even then, it's on his terms." Hanna's expression softened, starting to reach out to gently touch Plankton's arm. "Don't," Karen said, placing a hand over hers to stop her. Hanna's hand hovered in mid-air, and she looked at Karen with confusion. Karen took a deep breath. "Plankton needs his space to recharge. And when it comes to physical touch, it's something that's... it's not something he's comfortable with, from just anyone." Hanna nods, her gaze still on Plankton. "But, you?" "We've found a balance that works for us. But it's something that took time to figure out. And even then, there are days when he needs more space than usual." Hanna nodded. "But he didn't say anything," she murmured. "I didn't know." "It's not something he talks about. He tries to be strong, to handle it, but sometimes it's just to much for him." "Why does he not flinch if you touch him, if it's sensory?" Hanna asked. Karen sighed. "It's complicated. I've known him for a long time, and we've built a level of trust. He's comfortable with my touch. But even then, it's a balancing act of knowing when he needs more and or when he needs less." Hanna nodded, her gaze thoughtful as she took a step back from the bed. "I had no idea," she murmured. "How long does it take for him to..." "It varies," Karen said. "Sometimes it's just minutes, other times can be hours." "Is he going to remember us talking right now?" Hanna asked. "It's hard to say," Karen replied, her gaze still on Plankton. "When he's like this, he's kind of... in his own world. Sometimes he's aware, sometimes he's not. It's like he's not present. The best thing is to just give him space," Karen said. "Let him come out of it on his own time. Sometimes talking to him helps, but not always." Hanna nodded. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to make him feel included." Karen gave her a small, understanding smile. "It's alright, Hanna," she said. "You couldn't have known. Just remember, Plankton needs space, and for us to respect that." Hanna nodds, her gaze still on Plankton. "So, how does he act coming out of it?" "It depends," Karen said, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "Sometimes he's a bit groggy, other times he's just... tired. And sometimes he's a bit snappy." "What will he remember?" "Probably not much," Karen said, her voice low. "When he's like this, the world kind of... washes over him. He might remember snippets, but it's all pretty fuzzy." Hanna nods. "How do I show him I care?" "Just being a friend—that means the world to him. But sometimes, the best way to show you care is to give him the space he needs." "But I don't want him to think I'm ignoring him." "You're not," Karen assured her, her voice gentle. "Just be mindful of his own boundaries. Sometimes a simple 'How are you feeling?' or even showing interests in his likes, can mean more than any hug. It's a condition where the brain can't process all the information coming in from the senses at once. It's like your brain's circuits are overloaded, and you just... shut down." Hanna nodded, her gaze thoughtful as she took this in. "Is it ok if I can ask Plankton questions about it?" "Of course," Karen said, her voice gentle. "But just be mindful. He might not be up for a lot of talking, especially right now." Hanna took a deep breath and approached, her movements slow and deliberate. "Plankton?" He didn't respond, his body still taut with tension. Hanna looked to Karen for guidance, who offered a smile. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "Can you hear me?" There was no response, but Karen could feel the tension in his body ease slightly. She knew he was listening, even if he couldn't bring himself to respond. "Plankton's born with a condition called sensory sensitivity," Karen began, her voice calm and measured. "It means that his brain has trouble interpreting and responding to all sensory information from his environment. It can be anything from sounds to touch." "So, like, when we were watching the movie, and I was all over the place with my feelings, that was probably a bit much for him?" "Exactly," Karen said, her voice gentle. "Everything's just... too much for him sometimes." Hanna's eyes searched Plankton's face, looking for any sign of discomfort. "But he didn't say any thing," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "He tries not to," Karen said, her eyes never leaving her husband. "He doesn't like to make a fuss. But when it gets to be too much, he just kind of... shuts down." "But how do you know when it's too much?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "It's subtle," Karen said, her eyes still on Plankton. "He'll get tense, his breathing will change, bad mood, his eye might glaze over a bit. And when he gets really overwhelmed, he just... withdraws." "So, I shouldn't have grabbed his hand during the movie?" she asked, her voice filled with regret. "It's ok," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You didn't know. Just remember for next time." Hanna nodded. "But what if I miss the signs?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "It's ok," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We're all learning. Just remember to be patient and pay attention. And if you're ever unsure, just ask." Hanna nodded, her hand now resting gently on the bed next to Plankton. "I'm sorry Plankton," she whispered. He didn't move, but Karen could see the tension in his body start to ease a bit more. She knew he heard Hanna, even if he couldn't respond. "Don't worry, Plankton," Hanna said, her voice gentle. "I'll be more careful next time. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Karen watched as Plankton's antennae slowly twitched, his breathing evening out as he began to come back to the world around him. It's a slow process, one Karen knew well. She gave Hanna a nod, a silent thank you for her understanding. "Why don't you go grab us board games, Hanna?" Karen suggested, voice low. "Give him a few to 'wake up'." Hanna nodded, her gaze lingering on Plankton before she turned and left the room. Karen watched the door close behind her before turning her attention back to Plankton. "It's ok, Plankton," she whispered, stroking his arm. "You're safe here."

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eℹ️₅₅₅˙ᵕ˙^ִ᪲᪲᪲ ࣪𖤐ϟ↙₊u <3⊹³³³Å ☠︎︎ F🤍Ч†★🩵༝༚༝༚ɢ୨୧Λ‹𝟹яֶָ֢ℌ๋࣭⭑0️-`♡´-✉.𖥔 ˖ɞ*ੈ𑁍༘⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹₊ ⋆1️⃣N💕zz𐰁∞︎︎💌🔞‪‪❤︎‬3️(¬_¬)∀™️⊹₊⋆®️ 𐙚 ⋆˚🐾˖°|-|É๋࣭ ⭑⚝୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ Ɑ͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ ̶͞ لں͞ .ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) (∩˃o˂∩)♡( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ( •̀ - •́ )(¬`‸´¬)(っ- ‸ - ς)(っ´ཀ`)っ> <⸝⸝°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა⋆.°🦋༘⋆⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･εつ▄█▀█●ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)ᶠᶸᶜᵏme𓀐𓂸˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗⋆✴︎˚｡⋆‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆BLɅϽKPIИK‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆≽^•༚• ྀི≼ ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🦈˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.≽^•༚• ྀིྀ≼†§ƒ|ʟℹi️̤̮୧℮ᡣ𐭩ᥫ᭡ƦИᥫ᭡.nྀིᯓ★Nྀིძℊ.ᐟТּ ֶָ֢.ℋᯓ ᡣ𐭩౨ৎ༯ʚɞαྀིᝰ.ᐟᯓᡣ𐭩⁷⁷⁷ㅤ<𝟑ֶָ֢ɪ፝֟я ᛉ•ᴗ•୨ৎᶻ 𝗓 𐰁∪€⋆⭒˚.⋆∞ωಇ. ᡣ𐭩 ༝જ⁀➴Е⋆.˚Ø©ྀིྀིᙏО