CDDC Emojis & Text

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LIKE THIS IF ZOOPHILES ARE GROSS!! 🐾🍃╶⃝⃤𓃥

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,⨺⃝🦊🍂LIKE THIS IF ZOOPHILES ARE GROSS!! 🐾🍃╶⃝⃤𓃥⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆

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🪜⬆🏴☠🎮

2/2 THE MOOON Karen couldn't help but giggle at his befuddled state. His usual stoic demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a childlike wonder and confusion. He tried to sit up again, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. "Stay still," she said, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "How... how's it... it over?" he slurred, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton trying to form words around his thick tongue. The nurse, who had seen this reaction before, offered a reassuring pat on the arm. "You're all done, Mr. Plankton. The anesthesia is just taking its time to wear off. You're going to feel a bit funny for a while." Plankton's eye rolled back, his body lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. "I can't feel my face," he mumbled, his words barely coherent. "It's the anesthesia," she explained, her voice soft and soothing. "It'll wear off soon." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, and his antennae flopped to the sides as if they had lost their will to stand tall. "I've been... I've been... to the mooon!" he exclaimed, his slurred words tripping over each other. The nurse and Karen couldn't help but laugh at his nonsensical rambling. "The moon?" Karen managed to get out between giggles. "You mean the dentist's chair?" Plankton's eye snapped back to hers, his antennae perking up slightly. "No, no... the moo... the cheesy moo!" he insisted, his speech still slurred and his gaze unfocused. His hand waved in the air, trying to describe something that clearly only existed in his anesthesia-induced haze. Karen's laughter grew louder as she watched him. "The cheesy moon?" she repeated, trying to make sense of his gibberish. The nurse's chuckles grew to a full-blown laugh, shaking her whole body. "It's ok Mr. Plankton," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're safe here." Plankton's antennae waved erratically, his mouth forming another round of slurred syllables. "The... the... shmoobly wobble!" he exclaimed, his eye glazed over with a far-off look. "Whewe's shmoobly go?" Karen couldn't hold back her laughter anymore. "Oh, Plankton, you're so funny when you're like this!" she exclaimed, her voice full of mirth. "Fum-fum," Plankton slurred. "I'm not fum-fum," he protested, his voice a mix of indignation and the lingering effects of the anesthesia. His antennae wobbled. "Wha’ you do wiff Mx shmoobly?" "Your mouth is just numb," she explained, her voice shaking with laughter. "You had wisdom teeth removed." "Widom... teef?" Plankton repeated, his voice a mix of slurs and half-sounds. "The... the shmoobly wobble took them?" Karen's laughter grew. "No, Plankton, your wisdom teeth. They were removed." Plankton's eye searched hers, his expression one of utter perplexity. "But... but where's the shmoobly wobble?" he demanded, his mouth a mess of numbness and anesthesia. Karen couldn't contain her laughter any longer, bending over in her seat, her hand over her screen. The nurse was equally amused, her shoulders shaking with silent giggles. "Shmoobly wobble?" she managed to ask between gasps. "What's a shmoobly wobble?" Plankton's antennae waved with the vigor of a drunken sailor. "It's... it's a... a vnorbly snork!" he exclaimed, his words a delightful jumble that made no sense in the sober world. Karen's laughter was infectious, and even the nurse found it hard to maintain her professional demeanor. "A vnorbly snork?" she repeated, her smile growing wider. "What does that do?" Plankton's face scrunched up as he tried to gather his thoughts. "It... it makes... makes the teef... it makes the teef go bye-bye!" he exclaimed, his antennae waving wildly. The nurse covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I see," she said, nodding as if she understood. "The shmoobly wobble is quite a character." Karen wiped a tear from her screen, her laughter subsiding. "I think we should get you home, sweetheart," she said, her voice still thick with mirth. "You need to rest." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze firmly locked on the nurse. "The... the... snibble-bobble?" he declared. "Take the snibble-bobble home, Karen..." The nurse's eyes twinkled with humor and she nodded. "Yes, Mr. Plankton. The snibble- bobble will take good care of you at home." Plankton's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to form words that simply would not come out right. "Karen, did you... did you see the... the... the... floobly-doobly?" Karen's laughter bubbled up again. "The floobly- doobly?" she repeated, her voice wobbling with mirth. "What's a floobly-doobly?" Plankton looked at her with confusion. "Huh? The whath?" He asked her. Karen tried to calm her laughter. "The floobly-doobly, Plankton," she said, smiling broadly. "You mentioned it just now." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumble. "I... I don't know," he murmured, his voice trailing off. With the nurse's help, Karen managed to get him into a sitting position, his movements sluggish and clumsy. His legs felt like jellyfish, flailing about with no sense of direction. "Come on," she coaxed, helping him stand. Plankton's eye remained half-closed as he stumbled towards the door. The hallway looked like a twisted kelp forest, and his body felt like a ship adrift without a compass. The nurse provided a steady arm, guiding him down the corridor. "Keep walking," she instructed, but with each step, Plankton seemed to drift closer to sleep. His head bobbed, his eyelid fighting a losing battle against the siren's call of slumber. "Plankton, stay with me," Karen urged, her voice a gentle reminder of the world around him. But his body had other ideas, his legs giving out under him. The nurse caught him, her laugh now a warm chuckle at his plight. "It's the anesthesia," she explained. "It'll wear off soon. Just keep talking to him, it'll help keep him alert." Karen nodded. "Look, Plankton," she said. "Can you see the little fishy?" Plankton's eye snapped open, his antennae shooting up. "Fishy?" he repeated. He took a few wobbly steps before his legs gave out once more, and he leaned heavily on the nurse. "Whoa, there," she said, steadying him with a laugh. "We're almost to the car." Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye half-closed again. "So... so tiwed," he mumbled. "We're almost there," Karen assured. The nurse opened the door to the waiting area. Plankton blinked slowly, his eyelid drooping once again. The bright light from outside was like a siren's song, lulling him back into the depths of sleep. "Come on, Plankton, stay awake," Karen encouraged. But the world was spinning, and the siren's call of sleep was growing stronger. With each step closer to the car, his eyelid grew heavier, and his mind swam with a haze of disorientation. The floor beneath his feet felt like waves, and he stumbled again, his hand reaching out for support that wasn't there. "Keep talking," the nurse whispered to Karen, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Karen took a deep breath, forcing her own laughter down. "Remember the time we found the treasure?" she asked, hoping to keep him alert. Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, his sluggish eye focusing on hers. "Tweasure?" he murmured. The nurse nodded encouragingly, and Plankton took another step, his body swaying like a piece of kelp in the current. "Yeah," he mumbled, "the... the... goldy wobble." His words were slurred, his mind lost in the fog of the anesthesia. They made it to the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. She buckled him in, his body already slack with the weight of exhaustion. "Tell me more," she said, trying to keep his thoughts on the treasure they had found together, anything to keep his mind engaged. But Plankton's eye weas closing again, his head lolling against the headrest. "Goldy... wobble... " he murmured, his words barely audible. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You can rest." With a contented sigh, Plankton gave in to the warm embrace of slumber, his body going limp. Karen started the engine and drove carefully, her mind racing with the events of the day. The thought of her stoic husband, reduced to a slurring mess, was too absurd to fully comprehend. Yet, there was a tenderness in his vulnerability that made her love him all the more.

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.

SWEET CWEAM pt. 4 "Can I hav thome wathermelon?" he asked, his voice a slurry mess. Karen chuckled and shook her head. "Not yet, Plankton. You have to stick to soft foods today. How about some ice cream?" His eye lit up, his smile growing wider, exposing the whiteness of his teeth. "Ith cweam?" he repeated, the words spilling out like a child's first attempt at a sentence. Karen nodded, her own smile a mirror of his. "Yes, soft serve ice cream. It's perfect for your mouth right now." Plankton clapped his hands together in glee. "Ith weal," he declared, his tongue still thick and clumsy. "My faworite!" Karen fetched the promised treat from the freezer, the coolness of the ice cream contrasting sharply with the warmth of the room. She scooped a generous amount into a bowl, handing it to him with a spoon. Plankton's eye lit up, and he took the spoon with the excitement of a toddler getting their first taste of ice cream. With a clumsy attempt at grace, he lifted the spoon to his mouth, the numbness in his face making it difficult to aim. A dribble of ice cream escaped and landed on the table, but he barely noticed, his attention focused on the cold sweetness that washed over his tongue. "Mmh," he mumbled, his voice a mix of pleasure and pain as the frozen treat hit his sensitive gums. "Careful," Karen cautioned, her voice like a lullaby. "You don't want to hurt yourself." Plankton nodded, his movements exaggerated, like a character in a silent movie. The spoon wobbled in his hand as he scooped up another mouthful of the cold cream, his tongue still struggling to navigate the uncharted waters of his own mouth. He managed to get the spoonful into his mouth with minimal spillage, his cheeks hollowing out as he savored the taste. "Wow, thith ith tho good," he mumbled, his words coming out like a muffled shout. Karen couldn't help but laugh as she watched him. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if his coordination was not. He took another bite, the cold sensation making his eye water. "It'th tho cold!" he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and filled with excitement. The numbness in his cheeks was wearing off now, leaving a tingling sensation that made his words come out slurred and exaggerated. "It's supposed to be cold, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a symphony of patience. "It's ice cream." He nodded, his cheeks red with effort and cold. Each spoonful was a small victory, a dance between the spoon and his uncooperative mouth. Karen’s glad she turned their security cameras on record. Of course, she didn’t tell Plankton. Not yet. Then suddenly, Sponge Bob comes in the door, surprising both of them. "Squishy!" Plankton exclaims, his voice a strange mix of joy and pain. Sponge Bob's eyes widen. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks, looking at Karen for an explanation. Karen nods, still chuckling. "Wisdom teeth surgery," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "The anesthesia is making his mouth all numb." Sponge Bob's eyes go wide with concern. "Ouchies?" he asks, his own mouth forming a sympathetic grimace. Plankton nods vigorously, the motion sending a shiver down his spine. "Yeth, ouchiesth," he mumbles around the mouthful of ice cream, his speech still slurred like a toddler's. Karen watches the interaction with a soft smile, her heart swelling with affection for her babbling husband. Sponge Bob crosses the room with his usual boundless energy, plopping down next to Plankton. "So, how was your big trip to the dental place?" he asks, his eyes full of concern and curiosity. Plankton looks at his friend with the gravity of a philosopher. "It’th... advehnturous," he says, his mouth still numb, making each word a challenge. Sponge Bob leans in, his spongy body wobbling slightly. "What kind of adventure?" he asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. Plankton's voice takes on a storytelling tone, his words slurred but earnest. "I frew," he says, his eye wide and filled with wonder. "I frew wike a birdie!" Sponge Bob's grin splits his face. "You flew?" he repeats, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. Karen's smile widens, listening to the nonsense her husband was spinning. Plankton nods, his eye glazed over. "Yeah," he murmurs, his tongue sluggish. "It wath magithal." Karen and Sponge Bob exchange glances, trying not to laugh. Plankton's childlike awe in the face of his own numbness was both heartwarming and hilarious. "Buh wait," Plankton says, his spoon paused mid-air. "Thath not aww," his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I theen... I theen I wath a dolphin!" Sponge Bob's eyes go wide with fascination. "A dolphin?" he repeats, his voice filled with awe. "How did you do that?" Plankton's smile grows even wider, his cheeks pushing against the swollen skin. "It'th a mithtewwy," he says, his speech still slurred. "They goth me all sleeby and thewe I wath flipping and twirling in the wathah!" Sponge Bob's eyes are as wide as saucers, his imagination running wild with the tale. "Wow, Plankton, that sounds amazing!" Plankton nods, his face a picture of seriousness. "It wath," he slurs, his voice filled with convinction. "Buth then... then I woke up." His expression remains affectionate for he’s too out of it to play it cool in front of Sponge Bob. He’s always wanted him as a good friend but his pride usually stops him; but now, with no filter, Plankton’s not gonna hold back. Sponge Bob looks at Karen with a mix of confusion and delight. "Was it scary?" he asks, his voice gentle. Karen nods, a warm chuckle bubbling up. "A little," she says, her hands folded in her lap. "But he's a tough guy." Plankton's eye swims with emotions, his face flushing with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Yeath," he says, his tongue still a traitor. "Buh now youw know my thecret."

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 4 Karen stands, gently helping Plankton to his feet. He sways slightly, his legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. "Careful," she says, wrapping an arm around his waist. He leans into her, his eye still glazed as he chuckles. "M-mph... funny," he slurs, a weak smile on his face. "You're going to be fine," Karen reassures him, her voice a beacon of comfort in the fog of his mind. They shuffle slowly down the hallway, his legs unsteady as if he's walking on a tightrope over a shark tank. The floor seems to tilt and sway, each step a dizzying challenge. Karen holds him close, her arm around his waist, guiding him like a ship navigating stormy waters. Plankton's eye start to droop, his lid growing heavier by the second. "W-where... whewe... we go?" he slurs, his speech barely coherent. Karen's response is lost to the symphony of his snores as he unexpectedly dozes off mid-sentence as she catches him. He jolts awake, only to find himself still standing, held upright by Karen's steady grip. "H-how?" he stammers, his eye wide with confusion. They've reached the reception area, and Becky, the ever-cheery receptionist, giggles at the sight. "You can sit him down now," she suggests. "Just keep an eye on him until he's fully awake." Karen guides him to the chair, his legs folding under him like a ragdoll. He's out again, his snores echoing in the quiet lobby. She can't help but smile at his obliviousness, his trust in her unwavering. The chair creaks beneath his weight as his head lolls to the side, his antennae drooping. Becky, the receptionist, laughs kindly. "It's like he's on a little anesthesia-induced vacation," she says, her voice a gentle wake. Karen nods, stroking his antennae. "I just want to get him home," she says. "He's not one for being out of his element." The nurse, Nina, appears with a wheelchair. "Let's get you home, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle nudge into reality. He blinks, his eye trying to focus on the world around him. Karen helps him into the chair. "W-wheel...?" He starts to protest, his slurred words trailing off as he realizes the futility of his protest. Karen smiles, pushing the chair. "It's okay, you're still groggy. This is just to make sure you don't trip." "W-why?" he murmurs, his words slurred and sleepy. "M'walkin'... woke... m'not..." Karen chuckles, her voice a soft breeze. "You're a bit out of it, Plankton," she says, "We're going home." Plankton's head lolls back, his snores now a comforting soundtrack to their exit. Karen can't help but laugh softly, her heart full of love. He's always been so independent, so strong. But in this moment, he's as vulnerable as a newborn. The cool morning air hits them as they step outside. Plankton blinks, his antennae twitching as he tries to stay conscious. "M-morning," he mumbles, squinting against the sun's early glow. Karen chuckles, pushing the wheelchair to their car. "W-what?" he asks again, his speech still slurred. "You're okay, sweetheart," she says, opening the passenger door. "Let's get you into the car." But Plankton's body seems to have other plans, his eye slip shut and he's out like a light. Karen tries to wake him, her voice a gentle nudge into consciousness. "Come on, Plankton, stay with me." He snores in response, his antennae flopping to one side. Karen sighs, trying not to laugh at his comical state. Carefully, she maneuvers him into the car seat, his head lolling back. "Alright, just a little more," she coaxes. With a grunt, Plankton's eye flickers open as Karen helps buckle him in. "W-why..." He mumbles, his words trailing off as his eyelid droops again. Karen can't help but chuckle. "You're still sleepy, that's all," she says, kissing his forehead. The drive home is slow and careful, Karen keeping a watchful eye on Plankton in the rearview mirror. He's still out cold, his snores punctuating the silence like a lullaby for the road. The car's gentle sway seems to rock him deeper into sleep. They pull into their driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires. Karen parks the car and turns around to look at Plankton. His snores are deep, his antennae twitching slightly with each exhale. She smiles, knowing he's in a deep, peaceful sleep. "Come on, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "We're home." He groans, his eye opening just enough to peer out. "Hone?" he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nods, her smile warm. "You can go back to sleep once we're inside."

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.

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 4 (Autistic author) Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. They need to find a way to connect, to bridge the gap that's grown between them. "Plankton," she says, "can you tell me about your day?" He looks at her, his eye blinking slowly. "Day," he repeats, his voice lacking the usual inflection. "Plankton worked on invention." Karen nods, trying to encourage him. "What kind of invention?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Invention for Plankton," he says. "To make Karen Plankton happy." Karen's eyes fill with tears. Despite the lack of emotion in his words, she can feel the sincerity behind them. He's trying to connect, to share his world with her. "Looks like we both finished our dinner," she says, trying to keep the conversation going. "What's next on your agenda?" Plankton looks at her, his expression unchanged. "Agenda," he says, as if trying to remember the concept. "Plankton's next task. No get Krabby Patty formula. Rather spend time with Karen." Karen clenches at his words. Despite the flatness of his tone, she can feel his intention to please her, to make their anniversary special. "Let's clean up," she suggests, rising from her chair. Plankton follows suit, moving in a way that seems almost robotic. They work in silence, Karen placing the dishes in the sink and Plankton methodically wiping down the table. As she washes the plates, Karen watches him out of the corner of her screen. His movements are precise and efficient, with no wasted effort. It's as if he's calculating every action, trying to understand the purpose behind each task. "Plankton," she says softly, turning off the faucet. "Could you please dry these for me?" She hands him a towel and a plate. He takes them without a word, his gaze flicking from the towel to the plate, as if studying the physics of the interaction. He carefully wipes the plate, his movements measured and deliberate. Karen watches him with a mix of pride and pain. Despite his new condition, he's still trying to be the partner she knows. She forces a smile, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. "Thank you," she says, taking the dried plate from him and placing it in the cupboard. "You're doing great." He nods, his antennae twitching slightly. "Great," he echoes. "Karen happy." As they go to the living room, Plankton's gaze is drawn to the digital clock on the wall. His eye fixates on the changing seconds, each tick a silent metronome in their otherwise quiet space. Karen notices and wonders if she should be concerned about his newfound interest in something so mundane. "Clock," he says, his voice still monotone. "Time changes. Incremental." Karen follows his gaze to the digital clock on the wall, the red numbers flipping from one second to the next with a quick, silent efficiency. "Does the clock bother you?" she asks, noticing his fixation. Plankton shakes his head, his eye still glued to the display. "No," he says, his voice thoughtful. "Time. Changes. Fascinating." Karen watches him, seeing a spark of curiosity she hadn't noticed before. "You've never liked clocks before," she points out, trying to keep the conversation going. "What's so interesting about it now?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he tries to explain. "Clock," he says, his voice still flat. "Time. Changing. Predictable." His single eye remains locked on the red digits, the fascination growing. "Seconds restart each minute." Karen nods, watching his expression closely. "It's like a pattern," she suggests. "A routine that doesn't change." Plankton nods, his eye still glued to the clock. "Pattern," he repeats. "Comforting." Karen nods, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Maybe you find comfort in the predictability?" she offers. Plankton's antennae bob slightly, as if considering this new perspective. "Comfort," he murmurs. "Consistent. Understood." Karen sits down beside him, her screen drawn to the clock as well. "Tell me more about the pattern," she says, trying to find a way into his new reality. "What do you see when you look at it?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he considers his answer. "Pattern," he repeats. "Time, changing. Predictable." His voice is softer now, almost lost in thought. "One, two, three, four, five. Always same." Karen nods, her screen still on the clock. "It's like counting," she says. "Do you like counting?" Plankton's antennae twitch once again. "Counting," he repeats, his tone thoughtful. Suddenly, Sponge Bob comes in. "Plankton," he says, his eyes wide with excitement. "What are you guys up to?" Karen looks over, a forced smile on her screen. "Just talking about time," she says, hoping SpongeBob's entrance will provide some much-needed distraction from the heaviness of their conversation.

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 4 (Neurodivergent author) Mr. Krabs's expression shifts from shock to one of bewilderment. "Plankton, I don't understand," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton shakes his head, his antennae trembling. "You never did," he snaps back. The accusations come out in a torrent, each one cutting deeper than the last. "You used me, manipulated me, all for your stupid secret formula!" His voice shakes with anger, his eye filling with unshed tears. Karen's grip tightens on his arm, but she doesn't speak, knowing he needs this moment of release. Mr. Krabs's face falls, the weight of Plankton's words a blow he wasn't expecting. "I-I-I've always treated ya like a friend!" he stammers, his claws grabbing Plankton's shoulders. And that's what did it. Plankton's body tenses, and his eye rolls back in his head. A chilling silence descends as his legs give out, and he crashes to the floor. His body convulses, limbs flailing uncontrollably. Karen knew it'd happen, but seeing it happen to Plankton is a horror she wasn't emotionally prepared for, but she knew to stay calm. She knew the protocol. Mr. Krabs, still in shock from Plankton's accusations, watches the scene unfold with horror. "What's happening?" he stammers, his claws hovering uselessly. Karen's voice is a beacon of calm amidst the chaos. "It's a seizure," she explains, kneeling beside her husband. "I need you to stay calm." Her voice is steady, her eyes never leaving Plankton's contorting form. Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes widening with fear. He's read about this, seen it once in a medical textbook, but never thought it would happen to someone so close. He watches as Karen carefully moves any objects out of harm's way, cushioning Plankton's head with a pillow. The room seems to spin around them, each second stretching into eternity. The seizure lasts only a few moments, but to Karen, it feels like hours. When it's over, Plankton's body goes still, his breathing shallow. Her hand shakes as she checks his pulse, feeling the thunder of her own heart in her chest. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice trembling. "You're okay." Mr. Krabs is unsure. "It's okay," she murmurs, her hand stroking his antennae. "It's over now." Plankton's breathing deepens, his body slowly relaxing with a twitch. She looks at Mr. Krabs, her expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. "He'll be okay," she assures, her voice a lifeline in the storm of silence. Mr. Krabs nods, still in shock. "What...what do we do?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen sighs, knowing the road ahead won't be easy, but she's determined to navigate it with Plankton. They manage to get Plankton to his feet, his body weak and his mind still groggy from the seizure. His eye darts around the room, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Karen's voice is soft, a gentle guide leading him back to reality. "Let's go to the couch," she says, her arm supporting his weight. Mr. Krabs watches, his claws fidgeting nervously. "Should I... call someone?" he asks, his voice full of uncertainty. Karen shakes her head. "We have to keep it calm," she whispers. "The aftermath can be just as overwhelming." They sit on the couch, Plankton's body leaning heavily into hers. Her arm is around him, her hand stroking his antennae in a rhythm designed to soothe. He looks up at her, his eye still a little wild. "What happened?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You had a seizure," Karen explains gently, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "It's part of your autism, sweetie. It's okay." She can see the fear in his gaze, the unspoken questions. She pulls a blanket over his shoulders, his body shaking from the residual adrenaline. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching as he tries to process the information. He looks down at his trembling hands, wondering how they could have betrayed him so suddenly. Karen hands him a glass of water, her fingers brushing against his in a silent promise of support. He takes a sip, the cool liquid sliding down his throat, helping to clear the fog in his mind. "I'm...sorry," Plankton mumbles, his voice barely a whisper. He looks up at Mr. Krabs, who's still standing awkwardly by the door. "I didn't mean to...to accuse you..." His antennae droop with regret. Mr. Krabs's expression softens, his eyes filling with understanding. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "We all have our moments." He takes a tentative step forward. "What can I do?" Karen glances at him, gratitude warring with the protectiveness she feels for Plankton. "Just give us some space," she says, her tone firm but not unkind. "We need to get him through this." Mr. Krabs nods slowly, his face a mix of sadness and concern. "I understand," he says, his voice thick. He backs out of the room, his eyes never leaving Plankton's huddled form. The door clicks shut, and the room feels smaller, safer. Karen's arm tightens around his shoulders, her warmth a shield against the cold world outside. Plankton leans into her, his body still shaking slightly. He starts to calm down, the tremors fading like ripples in a pond. "I'm...I'm okay," he whispers, his antennae stilling. Karen nods, her eyes searching his face for any sign of distress. "Do you want to take a nap?" she suggests softly. Plankton nods, his eye drooping with exhaustion. They move to the bedroom, the light dimming as they go. Karen helps him into bed, his limbs feeling like jelly. The blankets are a cocoon, his retreat from the world. Her hand brushes his antennae, a silent assurance as she leaves him to the embrace of slumber. He closes his eye, letting the comfort of the darkness envelop him. His body relaxes into the softness of the mattress, his muscles melting away the tension of the day. The bed's embrace is like a gentle whisper, telling his overstimulated mind to rest, to let go. He sighs, his antennae dropping to the pillow like tired leaves in the fall. Meanwhile, Karen goes to Mr. Krabs, who's waiting outside the chum bucket. "I'm sorry for Plankton's outburst," she says, her eyes apologetic. Mr. Krabs waves a dismissive claw. "Don't worry 'bout it," he says. "He's been through a lot today." Karen nods, her expression serious. "It's more than that," she says, her voice low. "He's autistic." Mr. Krabs's eyes widen, his understanding dawning, a newfound respect in his gaze. "I had no idea," he murmurs. "How can I help?" "Just be patient," Karen replies. "And maybe...maybe we can talk later, after he's had some rest." Mr. Krabs nods, his expression thoughtful. "Of course," he says, his voice subdued. "Whatever he needs."

ᯤ ᯅ ᯤ

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 2 (Autistic author) He blinked a few times, his vision clearing slowly. He saw her face, wet with tears, and his own realization dawned. "Oh, Karen," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. Plankton struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through his head. The lab looked the same, but something felt off. The air was charged with an unspoken tension that Plankton couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to recall the argument, but the details were fuzzy. All he knew was that he'd fallen, and now Karen was apologizing for something she wasn't even at fault for. He looked into her screen, searching for answers. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say. "You had an accident in the lab," she replied, her voice calm and measured. "You hit your head." But as she watched him, she noticed something else. His movements were stiff, his gaze unfocused. He wasn't quite the same. Karen noticed that his usual vibrant expressions were absent, replaced by a vacant stare. She chalked it up to lightheadedness. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice still slurred. "Karen." He paused, his eye darting around the room as if searching for words. Karen felt a cold knot form. Something was different about him, something she couldn't quite place. His movements were rigid, his gaze unwavering, like he was seeing her but not really seeing her. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Plankton's eye finally met hers, but there was no spark of recognition, no mischievous twinkle that she was used to. "Plankton glad to see Karen," he said, his tone flat and unemotional. That wasn't right. "Plankton, do you know where you are?" she asked nervously. Plankton nodded slowly, his gaze still unnaturally focused. "Home," he responded, his voice devoid of the warmth and love she was accustomed to. "The Chum Bucket." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the man she knew, but all she found was a distant shadow. Panic began to creep in as the gravity of the situation started to dawn on her. This wasn't just a bump on the head. Something was very wrong. "Do you remember me?" she asked, her voice trembling. Plankton's eye searched her, his expression unchanging. "Karen," he responds correctly. "Wife of Plankton. Computer wife as of July 31, 1999." The words hit Karen like a cold wave. He knew her name, but the way he said it, like he was recounting a fact rather than speaking to his beloved wife, chilled her to the bone. She felt the ground shift beneath her, her world tilting on its axis. "Plankton, what's wrong?" she asked, desperation seeping into her voice. He looked at her, his gaze unblinking. "Wife Karen," he said, his voice robotic. "Irritated with Plankton's lack of attention to anniversary dinner." The words were right, but the emotion, the love, the personality behind them was gone. It was like talking to a stranger, a very tiny, very confused stranger. Karen felt a tear roll down her screen. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice quivering. "I'm not just 'Wife Karen', I'm your Karen. Your partner, your best friend." Plankton's response was a mechanical nod. "Affirmative," he said, his tone unwavering. "Karen is wife. Plankton is husband." The coldness of his words cut through Karen like a knife. Her eyes searched his, desperately trying to find any sign of the man she knew was in there. "Plankton," she said softly, "it's me. It's Karen. Do you understand?" He nodded again, his antennae barely twitching. "Understood," he replied, his voice devoid of inflection. "And Karen is upset?" Karen nodded, trying not to crumble. "Yes, I'm upset," she managed to say, her voice choked with emotion. "But more than that, I'm scared. You're not acting like yourself, Plankton." He blinked, his gaze shifting slightly. "Scared," he echoed, as if trying to understand the concept. "Why Karen scared?" "Because you're not you," Karen managed to whisper, breaking with every robotic response. "You're acting so... different." Plankton tilted his head, trying to process her words. "Different how?" he asked, his voice still lacking any emotional depth. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain something she didn't fully understand herself. "You're not showing your feelings," she said. "You're not... connecting with me like you usually do." Plankton's face remained a mask of confusion. "Connections," he muttered. "Emotional bonds." He nodded slowly. "Important for relationship. Plankton in love with Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "That's right," she said, her voice gentle. "I know you love me. But you're not showing it, not like before." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he processed this new information. "Plankton must adjust behavior to align with Karen's desired emotional output; how?" Karen felt a pang of sadness. He was trying to understand, but his usual charm was nowhere to be found. She took his hand in hers. "Just talk to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling." Plankton looked at her, his expression still vacant. "Plankton thinking about Karen," he said, his voice flat. "Plankton feeling determined." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the emotion his words conveyed. "Determined to what?" she asked, hopeful. "Determined to what," he echoed. "Karen saying, determined to what. Plankton determined to show Karen love, Karen saying determined to what." Karen realized the depth of his change. This wasn't just a concussion or a temporary loss of memory; it was something much more profound, something that had stripped him of his very essence. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaking, "I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to try. Can you tell me how you feel?" But then he starts to rock back and forth to stim, humming their wedding song. The sight of her husband's usually expressive features now so vacant and his movements so repetitive was alarming. Karen felt a sob rise in her throat, but she pushed it down. She needed to stay strong, for him. "Plankton," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Look at me. I need you to focus. Can you tell me how you feel, in your own words?" He stopped rocking and turned his head to look at her, his eye still distant. "Feelings," he repeated. "Love, anger, sadness, joy. Concepts. Plankton has them. Karen saying, determined to what." Karen's hope sank. The realization was setting in. This wasn't just a case of a bump on the head. Plankton's accident had changed him in a way she didn't fully comprehend. The lab, once filled with the warmth of his passion and dreams, now felt cold and sterile. Her mind raced as she searched for any indication of the man she knew. The way he spoke, the way he moved, it was as if a switch had been flipped. "Plankton, does your head hurt?" "Cephalgia via blunt force trauma. Getting better." He responds, flapping his hands. Karen's eyes widened at his unexpected use of medical terminology. "neurodivergence," she thought to herself. Could it be that her husband had somehow developed something from the fall? It was a long shot, but the lack of emotional connection, the repetitive behaviors, and the rigidity of his speech patterns were all hallmarks of it. She scans his brain and connected herself to the monitor. Plankton looks over and sees the brain scan. "Plankton's brain?" "Yes, Plankton.." Karen says. "Cerebellar cortex reduced synapses and showing minimal activity in the corpus callosum. Irreversibly reduced blood flow in between hemispheric..." "I've no idea what you're saying, honey." Karen interrupts. Plankton's face falls, his usual playfulness replaced by a look of confusion. "Neurotypical communication error," he says, his voice laced with frustration. "Karen, Plankton trying to say the fall caused disruption to myelination.." Karen's eyes widen in shocked confusion. "Myelination? Plankton, are you okay?" she asks, her voice laced with fear. Plankton nods, his gaze fixed on the brain scan. "Neuroplasticity. Synaptic pruning. Autism acquisition," he says, his words coming out in a rush. Karen's mind reels at his diagnosis. Autism? It couldn't be. But as she looks at his rigid body language and his lack of emotional expression, she can't deny it.

SWEET CWEAM pt. 2 Plankton's gaze shifted to the ceiling, where shadows danced in the harsh fluorescent light. He tried to remember, but his thoughts were like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. "Karen," he whispered, his voice tiny and lost. "My tweef?" Her smile never wavered, her eyes steady on his. "Don't worry about your teeth now. They're all taken care of." Plankton's mind raced, trying to grasp the concept of missing teeth. He swallowed, the movement painfully sluggish in his throat. "Buh... buth how?" "They used a special kind of sleepy medicine," she explained, her voice a calm lullaby in the stark reality of the recovery room. "It made sure you didn't feel any pain." Plankton's eye grew rounder still, his curiosity piqued. He felt a strange giggle bubble up from his chest, the absurdity of the situation tickling his funny bone. "Sleeby meds?" he repeated, the words coming out like a slurred song. The nurse, used to seeing patients in various states of post-op confusion, just smiled. "Yes, the sleepy medicine," she said, her voice a comforting lilt. "It's to keep you calm and pain-free." Plankton's eye wandered to the IV drip next to his bed, the clear fluid snaking into his arm. "Meee," he managed. The nurse followed his gaze and explained, "That's just some fluids to keep you hydrated, Mr. Plankton. You've been asleep for a little while." Karen watched as his eye grew distant, his mind adrift in the sea of anesthesia. The drool trickled down his chin, and she tenderly dabbed it away with a tissue. "Do you remember anything?" Plankton's gaze flickered, and a faint smile tugged at his numb lips. "I 'member flying," he murmured, his voice a whisper of a dream. "I thaw youw were thewe," he said, his eye half-closed. "Youw wuz a buttefly." Karen's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and concern. "I was a butterfly?" she repeated, playing along. "That's sweet, Plankton." He nodded, his eye glazed with a dreamy expression. "Yew wuz," he insisted, his voice still slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the day finally breaking. "Okay, my little butterfly," she whispered, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Why don't we go home?" The nurse nodded, preparing the discharge papers. "You can take him now," she said, handing them to Karen. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest and stick to soft foods for the next few days." Karen helped Plankton to his feet, his body protesting the sudden movement. He swayed like a willow in the wind, his arm draped heavily over her shoulders. Together, they shuffled out of the recovery room, his feet dragging against the floor as if tethered to an invisible weight. The numbness in his mouth had spread to his cheeks, giving his face a lopsided smile that made him feel like a clown, his mouth still frozen in a lopsided smile as he chuckles. Karen led him out of the clinic. Plankton’s eye closed as he suddenly tilted onto her, letting out a little snorelike snort. "Plankton, wake up," she giggled, half-supporting his weight. The fresh air hit his face like a slap, waking him up just enough to realize his mouth was still as numb as a brick. He tried to speak, but it was like his tongue had forgotten how to move. "Wha...?" he mumbled, his eye searching for understanding. The world around Plankton was a blur of shapes and colors. "Walky," he slurred, his legs like jelly under him. Karen guided him to the car, his legs moving as if through molasses. Once inside, he fidgeted with the seatbelt, his fingers refusing to cooperate. "Let me," she said, buckling him in, making his eye go wide again. "Thathks," he muttered, “I thee the twess," he said, his voice filled with wonder as if he had just been born. Karen chuckled, starting the car. The engine hummed to life, and Plankton's eye followed the world as it moved past the window, his gaze unfocused and innocent. "Lookit the twess," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They'we aww bending to shay hewwo." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his slurred words. "Yes, they do that when it's windy," she explained, her voice a comforting balm to his confused mind.

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 2 The room is quiet except for the occasional slosh of the saline and the whirring of the chair's recline. Karen watches as the nurse, Nina, applies gauze to the newly-emptied sockets where the teeth once were. The redness is stark against Plankton's slackened face. His snores are deep and even, his antennae resting limply on the chair's headrest. The doctor, Dr. Marlin, gives her a thumbs-up, a silent assurance that everything went according to plan. Karen feels a weight lift from her shoulders. The procedure is over, and Plankton is safe. His breathing continues, the anesthesia still keeping him in its gentle embrace of peaceful slumber. Nina turns to her with a sympathetic smile. "It's normal for patients to feel a bit groggy once they wake up. Sometimes they're a bit disoriented. It's like coming out of a deep sleep. It's normal if today he seems a little out of it. Bleeding and brushing are to be expected, and swelling is normal." "But he'll be okay?" Karen asks, her voice shaking. "More than okay," Dr. Marlin assures her, "Just follow the aftercare instructions and he'll be back to his usual self in no time. Just remember, no solid foods for a few days, lots of fluids, and keep those ice packs handy." Nina adds, "Keep an eye on him. He might be a bit forgetful, or say some funny things. It's just the anesthesia wearing off. Nothing to worry about." As they wheel Plankton into recovery, Karen watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. Nina, the nurse, explains, "The numbness is normal, it's the local anesthesia wearing off. It can feel weird, but don't worry, it'll fade. As for sleepiness, it's just the body recovering from the anesthesia. He might be a bit wobbly on your feet or have some difficulty speaking because of the numbness. Just take it slow, okay? Yet you can talk to him right now while he wakes if you'd like, even if he doesn't fully understand you yet." Karen nods, leaning in close to her husband's. "It's over, Plankton," she murmurs. "You did great. Just a little bit more sleep and then we'll go home." Plankton's breaths are slow and steady, his body still under the anesthesia's spell. The recovery room is dimly lit. The nurse, Nina, keeps a close eye on Plankton as Karen sits beside him, her hand resting on his arm. She's always been there for him, a constant source of comfort in the face of fear. The receptionist from earlier, Becky, comes in to check on Plankton, her face still cheerful despite the early hour. "How's our patient?" she asks Karen, glancing at the monitors that track his recovery. Plankton's chest rises and falls steadily, his snores punctuating the quiet. Karen smiles weakly. "He's still out of it." Becky nods. "That's normal. The anesthesia takes a little while to wear off. He'll wake up soon enough. You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes it helps to hear familiar voices." Karen looks down at Plankton's peaceful face. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart," she says softly. "Just a little longer, and then we'll go home. No more worrying." A line of drool starts to trickle from the corner of Plankton's numb mouth. It's a sight Karen's seen before, but only during his deepest slumbers. She reaches for a tissue and gently dabs at the saliva pooling, his body still under the sedative's grip. She cannot help but feel a twinge of pity for his vulnerable state, despite his snoring. The drool slowly starts to form a tiny river on the chair, a silent testament to the depth of his sleep. Karen wipes it away, knowing he'd be embarrassed if he were conscious of the sight. The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals, satisfied with his progress. "You can sit him up now," she says. "Just make sure he's actually awake before we get him walking." Karen carefully turns Plankton's chair with the lever, which gently guides his sleeping body upright. As the chair moves, Plankton's snoring changes pitch, his head lolling slightly. Karen smiles despite herself, his vulnerability endearing. Gently, she cups his cheek guiding his head back up. "Don't worry, Plankton. Almost time to go home," she says, her voice soft as a morning lullaby.

"(っ- ‸ - ς)ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2 (Neurodivergent author) By evening, Karen has set up a makeshift kitchen area in the living room, with all the ingredients for spaghetti arranged neatly on the coffee table. Plankton sits cross-legged on the floor, his eye never leaving the recipe book. He reads each step aloud, his voice growing stronger with confidence. Karen chops vegetables nearby, noticing the subtle changes in his movements, the way he tilts his head when he's concentrating. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil fills the room. Plankton stirs the pot, his face scrunching up slightly at the aroma, a sign his sensory sensitivity has heightened. She sees him rub his hands together, a self-stimulatory behavior, but she knows it's his way of grounding himself amidst the chaos. They move around the makeshift kitchen, a silent dance of understanding and support. Karen boils the water for the spaghetti while Plankton continues to sauté the veggies. Each action is deliberate, each step measured as they navigate their new reality. The water reaches a rolling boil, and Plankton carefully drops in the spaghetti strands, his gaze transfixed by the swirling water. Karen watches his concentration and sees the childlike wonder in his eye. "How long?" he asks. "Five minutes," Karen says, her voice calm. She's read that clear and concise instructions can be helpful. After five minutes, Plankton quickly drains the spaghetti, his movements precise and methodical. He pours the sauce over the noodles and mixes them gently, his focus intense. Karen watches him, a mix of admiration and concern. "It's done," he announces, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. She brings over two plates, setting them on the coffee table. They sit across from each other, the steaming spaghetti a bridge between them. Plankton's hand hovers over his plate, unsure of how to proceed with the new sensory experience. "Let's eat," Karen says with a smile, picking up her fork and twirling the noodles expertly. The sound of her silverware against the plate makes him flinch, but he mimics her movements. They eat in silence, the clinking of forks and spoons the only sounds in the room. Plankton chews slowly, savoring each bite, his face a canvas of emotions. Karen watches him, her own fork poised in midair. As they finish dinner, Plankton sets his plate aside and looks at her, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Karen," he says, his voice clear. "For being here Karen." Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them back. "Always, Plankton. I'll always be here. Now it's getting late; let's go to bed.." In bed, she reads to him, his favorite childhood story, the words acting as a lullaby. Plankton's hand rests on her arm, his thumb rubbing circles in a self-soothing gesture. His breathing steadies, matching the rhythm of her voice. The book's final page is turned, and she switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence is filled with the comforting hum of the fan above. Karen lies beside Plankton, his body rigid with tension. Her arm wraps around him, pulling him closer, and she feels his muscles slowly relax. "Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn't respond, lost in his thoughts. But she knows he heard her. Karen notices the tension in his body and gently runs her fingers through his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep, his body curled into hers like a child seeking shelter. The next morning, the sun streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed. Karen, already awake, watches him, her hand still entwined with his. He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the lines of worry from the day before smoothed out by the embrace of slumber. Carefully, she slides out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. She sees him stir in his sleep, his antennae twitching slightly, but he remains unaware of her departure. In the kitchen, Karen starts the coffee, the scent filling the room with a comforting aroma. She opens the fridge, finding the ingredients for the morning routine. Plankton's usual breakfast is a simple one: toast with jam and a banana. The toaster pops, and she spreads the jam with a gentle smoothness that Plankton likes. The banana peels easily, revealing the perfect yellow fruit inside. Her mind races with thoughts of how she'll need to learn his new sensitivities, his likes and dislikes, his triggers. But for now, she focuses on the task at hand, placing the slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is just right, she carries the breakfast tray to the bedroom, her steps soft against the cold floor. Plankton's still asleep, his snores punctuating the quiet morning. Karen sets the tray on the bedside table. She watches him, unsure how to wake him without causing distress. She's read about sensory sensitivity and knows that sudden noise can be jarring for someone with Autism. She gently strokes his antennae, her touch featherlight, and whispers his name, "Plankton, wake up." He stirs, his antennae twitching, but his eye remains closed. Karen tries again, a little louder this time, "Wake up, sweetie. Breakfast is ready." Plankton's hand shoots up to cover his eye, a reflexive reaction to the light. His body tenses, then relaxes as his mind adjusts to the new day. He sits up slowly. "Thank you, Karen," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. He takes in the breakfast spread before him, his antennae twitching with anticipation. He picks up the toast, feeling the warmth in his hands, the stickiness of the jam a familiar comfort. Karen watches him closely, noticing the way his eye widens slightly at the first bite, the way his tongue flicks out to taste the banana. It's as if every sensation is amplified, a symphony of flavors and textures that she can't begin to understand. She sips her coffee, silent, giving him space. As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again, his body rocking slightly. It's a low, comforting sound that fills the room. Karen feels the tension in her shoulders ease. This is their new normal, a dance of care and understanding.

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૮꒰˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶꒱ა💤

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠏⣿⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠉⢿⡻⠙⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⠛⠃⢠⣷⡀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠘⣷⡄⠀⠈⠙⢦⡴⣶⠖⠋⠑⠋⠉⠛⢷⣄⡀⣾⠋⣹⡷⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⢀⡿⢷⡄⢠⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣄⣹⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡛⣶⠄⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢮⡿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⢻⣺⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⢻⠿⢀⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣽⡯⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⡙⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠛⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣩⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠠⣾⣿⣿⠛⢿⡄⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡴⠟⢙⣪⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣭⣀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠞⠛⣿⢉⠙⠛⠛⣿⡍⠁⠀⠀⣠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣮⡎⠙⠓⠲⠛⣿⡍⠀⠀⠀⠙⠏⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⣀⡴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢶⣄⠀⠀⠈⠁⢀⠀⣠⣀⣤⢶⠀⠀⣶⠒⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣹⡟⢿⡿⠀⡾⠀⠷⢀⠙⢀⡛⣦⠀⠸⣗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠅⣿⠼⠀⠠⡧⠀⠘⠂⠀⠹⣾⠆⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣸⣏⣰⢧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⣸⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⠁⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣄⣀⠀⢰⣇⠀⠻⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠟⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠞⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⡏⢹⠏⣟⠀⠀⠈⠳⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⣦⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⢰⣟⡻⠿⠷⠤⢤⣴⣏⣸⢽⣶⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⣠⡴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⣿⣽⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⣰⠞⣉⠀⠉⠳⢿⣦⡄⠀⢀⣠⣿⡇⣷⡀⠈⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⠓⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠾⢃⣀⠠⠤⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣄⣴⣾⠃⣀⣤⡉⠀⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠁⣠⡀⢠⡄⠲⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣷⣿⣟⢍⡏⠀⠳⡿⠃⠀⠀⢸⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⡀⠀⢠⣄⠶⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⠀⠀⣠⢠⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠓⠀⢠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡧⣿⣿⣿⣾⢷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⣄⣹⣼⠆⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠓⠒⠒⠲⠤⢬⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠤⠶⠶⣖⡛⠛⠿⠿⠯⠭⠍⠉⣉⠛⠚⠛⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠁⠀⡉⠁⢐⣒⠒⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢂⢅⡂⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣄⡈⠈⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡾⠡⠄⠀⠀⠾⠿⠿⣷⣦⣤⠀⠀⣾⣋⡤⠿⠿⠿⠿⠆⠠⢀⣀⡒⠼⢷⣄⠀ ⣿⠊⠊⠶⠶⢦⣄⡄⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⠶⠞⢋⣍⠉⢳⡄⠈⣧ ⢹⣆⡂⢀⣿⠀⠀⡀⢴⣟⠁⠀⢀⣠⣘⢳⡖⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠞⠋⣽⠷⢠⠇⠀⣼ ⠀⢻⡀⢸⣿⣷⢦⣄⣀⣈⣳⣆⣀⣀⣤⣭⣴⠚⠛⠉⣹⣧⡴⣾⠋⠀⠀⣘⡼⠃ ⠀⢸⡇⢸⣷⣿⣤⣏⣉⣙⣏⣉⣹⣁⣀⣠⣼⣶⡾⠟⢻⣇⡼⠁⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡇⠸⣿⡿⣿⢿⡿⢿⣿⠿⠿⣿⠛⠉⠉⢧⠀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⠀⠀⠹⢯⣽⣆⣷⣀⣻⣀⣀⣿⣄⣤⣴⠾⢛⡉⢄⡢⢔⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠢⣀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⣉⣀⠠⣐⠦⠑⣊⡥⠞⠋⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡀⠀⠁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠈⠁⣀⡤⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⠶⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡤⠴ ⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣴⣾⡗⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⢀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⠟⠻⢂⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⡀ ⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⣴⣿⣋⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣠⢼⣿ ⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠚⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⢿⡷⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡦⡀

(_　_)。゜zｚＺ

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

why is there drama on an emoji website please go outside and get a life. This is actually hilarious please go outside 😭😭😭

🦊ིྀི𝓘.𝓝༅ 🍞🎧ྀི୧

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

♡ ⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✧ ⊹ ♡ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✧

┌ /) /) ( ᵕ .ᵕ) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 cᐟ ل ل ┘

႔ ႔ ᠸ^ ^ ⸝⸝

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠘⠷⠶⠶⠶⠾⠉⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡴⠶⣦ ⠀⠀⢱⡀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⠿⠞⠛⠋ ⣠⠾⠋⠙⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⠴⠶⠚⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠒⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⢃⡴⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

∩――――∩ || ∧ ﾍ　 || || ( ´ ｰ`) ｡°(zzz) |ﾉ^⌒⌒づ`￣ ＼ (　ノ　　⌒ ヽ ＼ ＼　　||￣￣￣￣￣|| 　 ＼,ﾉ||

❹,4

𓃦

૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა · ° ᙆᙆᙆ

,⨺⃝🦊🍂LIKE THIS IF ZOOPHILES ARE GROSS!! 🐾🍃╶⃝⃤𓃥⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆( ^ω^ )

ᶻz (-. - )

⊹ . 🧣💤 !

♡˖꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱Z͜z͜ Z͜

⋆˚🐾˖°✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆ ⋆˚🐾˖° ⋆˚🐾˖°𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 αяє 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤? 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 αяє my 𝕡𝕒𝕨𝕤? ωɦα𝗍 IS 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴⋆˚🐾˖° ⋆˚🐾˖°🅢🅜🅞🅚🅔? 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ꪱᜒડ ḿ̬̏ͤͅy҉̃̀̋̑ 𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕝?! 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝒾𝓈 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 ᭙ꪮ𝕣ꪶᦔ ⱺ𝖿 ⋆˚🐾˖° ⋆˚🐾˖°𝐧𝐨 ᥕіᥣძ? 𝐢 ωαηт ᴛᴏ ⓢⓔⓔ 𝗍ɦ𝖾 ડ𝕥ꪖ𝕣ડ AGAIN, 𝐢 ωαηт ᴛᴏ ѕωιѕн ⋆˚🐾˖° ⋆˚🐾˖°ḿ̬̏ͤͅy҉̃̀̋̑ TAIL 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ʀᴜɴ ɯιƚԋ my 𝕡𝕒𝕨𝕤.Let me be an animal again✮⋆˚🐾˖° ⋆˚🐾˖°✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾ ⋆˚🐾˖°

(˶˃⤙˂˶)

⃤⃝- ๋࣭ ⭑𓃦 ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴏx, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ. ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʀᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ. ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀᴡꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɪʟ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ. ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟꜱ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. ⃤⃝- ๋࣭ ⭑𓃦

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁(ᴗ_ ᴗ。)

👁️, 💙 , 🛍️

⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🟧🟧⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧⬜🟧🟧⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧⬜⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬜⬛🟧⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬜🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠛⠂⠐⣐ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢋⡁⢠⢔⡆⢸⡙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣀⠘⡏⢿⡾⢀⣏⠯ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⢁⡆⠹⣦⠏⠉⠁⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣭⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣴⣻⣿⣦⠴⠤⠤⣄⡒⣄⣀⠢⡀⠀⠀⢫⡍⠺⠊⠪⠶⠶⠶⠶⠮⠟ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠷⠶⠶⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡱⣸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢵⡏⣷⢈⢤⡲⣦⠫⠞⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠶⣢⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢰⡏⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢞⠋⠎⢈⡑⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣾⣯⡄⠀⠠⢤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢄⢸⠸⣇⠈⠉⠀⢿⠀⠀⠛⠃⠀⡞⠉⠑⣶⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠐⣛⣛⣀⣀⣀⢈⡴⢳⣉⣤⣬⡷⢤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣴⠞⣃⠀⠀⢯⣔⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢌⡬⣡⡶⠛⠉⠉⢘⣯⠉⠉⠀⠈⢇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠫⠷⣤⣽⣂⣁⣀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢙⡏⠀⢩⢖⡰⠋⠶⢯⡜⣁⣀⠀⢠⣤⠽⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣯⠉⠙⠻⢶⣤⡈⠐⠄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⠟⠛⠓⠛⠈⣳⣀⣰⡋⠉⠉⠉⢷⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠂⠀⠀⠉⠛⢷⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠠⢊⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⣠⠖⠀⠘⠁⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷ ⠀⣀⣥⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⠉⠁⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣦⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⣀⣀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠁⡠⠤⠀⠒⠛⠭⡉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⠿⣷⣶⣶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⠛⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠐⢅⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠃⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠊⠉⠉⢉⣵⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣷⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢏⡀⠀⣸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠤⠄⣤⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠳⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡿⠞⠛⠋⠉⠛⢳⠶⣠⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡶⡶⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠮⣍⠉⠛⣛⡴⠶⣶⠶⠶⠶⢦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠤⣶⣶⡖⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠉⠀⡀⣬⣗⣄⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⢢⢀⡀⢎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣦⣄⣀⡀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣴ ⠀⠠⣽⣿⣿⣿⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⢛⠿⢟⡫⠉⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠓⠁⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣔⠚⠀⠀⣜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁😴 ౨ৎ

 ♥︎ | kitty mouth | sad mouth | o mouth | v mouth ——————————————————————————————————————————— o o  |   ͈ര ̫ര ͈   |    ͈ര ̭ര ͈   |   ͈ര ̥ര ͈  |  ͈ര ̬ര ͈    ——————————————————————————————————————————— ó ò  |   ͈ര́ ̫ര̀ ͈   |    ͈ര́ ̭ര̀ ͈   |   ͈ര́ ̥ര̀ ͈  |  ͈ര́ ̬ര̀ ͈   ——————————————————————————————————————————— ò ó  |   ͈ര̀ ̫ര́ ͈   |    ͈ര̀ ̭ര́ ͈    |   ͈ര̀ ̥ര́ ͈  |  ͈ര̀ ̬ര́ ͈ ——————————————————————————————————————————— — —  |   ͈— ̫— ͈   |    ͈— ̭— ͈  |   ͈— ̥— ͈  |  ͈— ̬— ͈ ——————————————————————————————————————————— —́ —̀ |   ͈—́ ̫—̀ ͈   |    ͈—́ ̭—̀ ͈  |  ͈—́ ̥—̀ ͈ | ͈—́ ̬—̀ ͈    ——————————————————————————————————————————— —̢̢́ —̢̢̀ |   ͈—̢̢́ ̫—̢̢̀ ͈   |  ͈—̢̢́ ̭—̢̢̀ ͈  |   ͈—̢̢́ ̥—̢̢̀ ͈  | ͈—̢̢́ ̬—̢̢̀ ͈ ——————————————————————————————————————————— ᴗ ᴗ  |   ͈ᴗ ̫ᴗ ͈    |    ͈ᴗ ̭ᴗ ͈   |   ͈ᴗ ̥ᴗ ͈  |  ͈ᴗ ̬ᴗ ͈ ——————————————————————————————————————————— ᴖ ᴖ  |   ͈ᴖ ̫ᴖ ͈   |    ͈ᴖ ̭ᴖ ͈  |   ͈ᴖ ̥ᴖ ͈  |  ͈ᴖ ̬ᴖ ͈ ——————————————————————————————————————————— ᴗ̀ ᴗ́  |   ͈ᴗ̀ ̫ᴗ́ ͈   |    ͈ᴗ̀ ̭ᴗ́ ͈   |   ͈ᴗ̀ ̥ᴗ́ ͈  |  ͈ᴗ̀ ̬ᴗ́ ͈ ——————————————————————————————————————————— ᴖ̀ ᴖ́  |   ͈ᴖ̀ ̫ᴖ́ ͈   |     ͈ᴖ̀ ̭ᴖ́ ͈  |   ͈ᴖ̀ ̥ᴖ́ ͈  |  ͈ᴖ̀ ̬ᴖ́ ͈ some accessories u can give it!! (note “o o” is where u put the face!!) ٩(o o )و ٩(o o )۶ ฅ(o o )ฅ (o o )ง (o o )ɞ ʚ( o o) ૮(o o )ა ৻ꪆ ★ ☆ ⊹`𓈒 ? ! ｡

ㅤ/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

~ ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

⊹ ࣪ ˖ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✩₊˚.

us へ ♡ ႔ ႔ ૮ > <) ᠸᵕ ᵕ 𐅠

🦊ྀི

૮꒰ ˶•́⤙ก˶꒱ა ♡

⟢—ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ —⟢⨺⃝

✋ ✌

🇩🇪2️⃣

★🍞🔥 TOSTADORAS FOREVER (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) #OC 🔥🍞★‹𝟹

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 4 Plankton's mind is a swirl of confusion, but he feels the weight of relief in Karen's touch. "Don't worry, Plankton," she says, smiling at him. "You're okay. You just had a little nap." He tries to speak again, his tongue feeling like it's made of marshmallows. "Nap?" he slurs. The nurse, Nina, nods. "You were out cold, Mr. Plankton. We had to wake you up." Plankton's eye widen, and his antennae quiver. "Mm, nap," he mumbles, trying to form sentences through the fog. Karen laughs, her hand still in his. "Yes, a very deep nap. You've had a wisdom tooth extraction, remember?" He nods, his movements sluggish. "Ow...?" he says, his hand reaching up to his mouth. Karen grabs his hand before he can touch the gauze. "No, no," she says, her voice still gentle. "Let them heal. No touching." Nina, the nurse, chuckles. "It's normal for the mouth to feel funny after the surgery. It's all part of the process." Plankton's antennae wiggle, his mind still in a daze. "Mm, funny," he murmurs, trying to form a coherent thought. Karen wipes at his mouth with a tissue, catching the last of his drool. "Don't worry, sweetie, you'll feel better soon," she says, her laughter a gentle melody in the stillness of the room. Nina, the nurse, checks his vitals again. "Looks like you're coming around," she says to Plankton. "Just a bit longer and then we'll get you home." Plankton's mouth moves slowly, his words a jumble. "Tee...th...hurt?" he slurs. Karen shakes her head, smiling despite her own nerves. "No, not yet, Plankton. The numbness will wear off by tomorrow." The nurse, Nina, nods. "He's right, Mr. Plankton. You're all fixed up. No more teeth to worry about." Plankton's eye finally focus on her. "Teef...goog?" he mumbles. Karen nods, her smile growing wider. "Very good," she says. "You did so well." The nurse, Nina, laughs lightly. "It's normal for the mouth to feel weird afterward." Plankton's eye glaze over, his eyelid heavy. He tries to lift his hand to touch his mouth again, but Karen gently holds it back. "Let it be, Plankton. No poking." He looks at her, his gaze confused, a mix of sleepiness and bewilderment. "Tee...th?" he mumbles, his mouth a wet mess of gauze and drool. Karen laughs softly, her eyes shining with affection. "Don't worry, you're okay." Plankton's antennae wave erratically as he tries to sit up again. Nina quickly intervenes, pushing his shoulders back down. "Easy there," she says, "You're not quite ready yet." Karen giggles, enjoying the rare sight of her usually energetic husband so out of sorts. "M-mouth...sho...bith," Plankton slurs, his words a slurred mess. Nina, the nurse, chuckles. "It's the anesthesia, Mr. Plankton." Karen laughs, wiping his mouth with a gentle hand. "It's okay, you're just sleepy. Your mouth will feel normal again soon." Plankton's eye half-closed, his antennae waving lazily. "Karen?" he mumbles. "Tish me?" Karen laughs, her voice like a soothing wave. "It's okay, you're all tucked in." She adjusts his blanket, his body still weak from the anesthesia. Plankton's antennae twitch, his mind swimming in a sea of cotton-like confusion. "Wh-wha...?" he slurs, his eye struggling to stay open. Karen wipes his mouth with a tissue. "You're at the dentist, love. You had your wisdom teeth taken out." "D-denth-tith?" he managed to mumble. Karen laughs, her voice light and airy. "Wisdom teeth, Plankton," she corrects him gently. "They're all gone now. No more worrying." His eye close again, his lashes fluttering. "Wis...them?" he mumbles. "Yeah, the ones that were going to crowd your mouth." The nurse, Nina, laughs. "He's still not with us," she says, shaking her head. Plankton's mouth opens again, and out comes a string of nonsense. "M-m-muffins," he mumbles, his eye still half-closed. Karen's laughter fills the room. "What about muffins?" she asks, playing along. "Firsh...bath thine," he slurs, his thoughts a jumble. Nina, the nurse, can't help but laugh too. "It's the anesthesia," she reminds Karen. "It'll wear off soon." Karen nods, her smile never leaving her face. "I know, I know," she says, wiping at her own tears of mirth. "But he's so adorable like this." Plankton giggles. "How many fingers did the...denth-tith eat?" he asks, his voice a mix of sleepiness and confusion. Karen's laughter fills the room like the chime of a bell. "What are you talking about?" she asks, wiping his mouth. "No fingers, Plankton." "Mm, good," he mumbles, his eye trying to focus. "Becauthe... the denth-tith wike magi...th." Karen's laughter is a warm embrace in the cool, clinical room. "No, Plankton, not magic," she says, "It's just the medicine." He blinks, his eye trying to focus on her. "M-m-magic?" he slurs, his voice a slurred melody. "Tish me." Karen laughs, her hand still in his. "It's not magic, sweetie," she says, her voice like a gentle breeze. "You're just really sleepy." Plankton nods slowly, his eye still not fully open. "M-magic," he murmurs, his voice trailing off. "Tish me more." Karen laughs, her heart warming at his antics. "No more, Plankton," she says, her voice like a melody. "You're all set." Plankton's antennae droop, his voice barely a whisper. "B-but... I wanth moh." His words are slurred, his tongue thick. Karen laughs, her hand still in his. "No more, love," she says, her voice a soft caress. "You're all done. No more teeth to worry about." Plankton's antennae droop even more. "B-but...I wath...wath..." He tries to form words, but his mouth won't cooperate. Karen wipes his mouth again, trying to hide her amusement. "What, sweetie?" she asks, her voice a gentle tease. "What do you want?" "Huh," he murmurs, his eye half-closed. "The denth-tith thad I can eat all the...muf-muf..." his voice fades as his lid flutter shut. Karen giggles, wiping his mouth again. "Muffins?" she asks, her voice a playful dance. "Is that what you want?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his mind still in a haze. "No," he mumbles, his eyelid fighting gravity. "Muff...muf...mu..." his voice trails off as his breathing deepens, his body succumbing to the anesthesia's lingering embrace.

𓉸ྀི ┣▇▇▇═── 🩸 ̩͙⏝ ︿ ⏝ ̩͙ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

( – ˘ – ) ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

GO HONE 2/2 The nurse returned, seeing his renewed energy. "Looks like you're feeling better," she said with a smile. "But let's not rush things." Plankton nodded eagerly, his antennas bobbing. "Yeth, yeth, I'm weady!" He tried to sit up again, his body still wobbly. The nurse helped him, adjusting his pillows. "Let's see if you can stay awake for a few more minutes," she said. He looked at her with determined innocence, like a child promising not to eat cookies before dinner. "I'm weally weally weady," he insisted, his words still thick. Karen couldn't help but chuckle, watching him fight the sleepiness. "Good," the nurse said. "Keep talking to your wife, that'll help keep you alert." Plankton's eye lit up with a childlike excitement. "Ish fun to tawk to you, Karen," he said, his words still slurred. "Youw make me happy." Karen felt her heart swell. "And you make me happy," she said, her voice sincere despite his loopy state. "Even when you're being a goofball." Plankton's smile grew, his eye still half-lidded. "Goof...ball?" he repeated, the words sounding strange in his mouth. He giggled again, his body swaying slightly with the effort of staying upright. "Ish fun to be a goofball." Karen couldn't resist smiling back, his silliness was infectious. "Yes, it is," she said. "But you need to stay awake for a little longer." Plankton nodded, his head bobbing slightly. "Otay, Karen," he said, his voice still thick. He then saw the nurse. "Who's dat?" he whispered, his eye wide with curiosity. Karen chuckled softly. "That's the nurse, Plankton. Remember?" He blinked a few times, his antennas perking up as his eyes focused on the kind-faced woman. "Oh, yeah. Tha nurse lady," he slurred, his voice full of sudden realization. "Hi!" The nurse chuckled. "Hello, Mr. Plankton. You're doing great." Plankton's smile grew even wider, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "Ish nice to meechu," he said, sleepily. "I wike youw hat.." The nurse couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you, Mr. Plankton. It's nice to meet you too." Plankton's eye began to droop again, and Karen could see the sleep trying to pull him under. "Wakey wakey, Plankton," she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You have to stay with me." He nodded, his head lolling to the side before snapping back up with a jerk. "Ish okay, Karen," he whispered, his voice still slurred. "Ish okay." But his eyelid grew heavy, and his words trailed off. "Ish just...tho tiwed," he mumbled. Karen's chuckle was gentle, not wanting to disturb his attempts to stay alert. "I know, sweetie," she said, stroking his hand. "Just a few more minutes." But Plankton's eyelid was like a heavy curtain, despite his best efforts. "Whe...whe...why am I so tiwed?" he slurred, his head lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. Karen knew he wasn't going to last much longer. His hand slipped out of hers, and he began to snore softly again. Karen looked over at the nurse, who nodded in understanding. "It's normal," the nurse said. "The anesthesia can make people pretty loopy for a while." Plankton's snores grew softer, his body relaxing. Karen watched him, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "How much longer?" she asked the nurse. "Just a little longer," the nurse said, checking his vitals again. "The effects should start to wear off soon." Plankton's snores grew softer, and then he was awake again, looking around the room with wide- eyed wonder, drool trailing from the corner of his mouth. "Whe...where...?" His voice was a sleepy whisper. "You're still in the recovery room," Karen soothed, wiping his chin with a tissue. "You fell asleep again." Plankton looked up at her, his eye wide and innocent. "Did I miss sumfing?" he asked, his voice still thick with slumber. "No, sweetie," Karen replied, her voice soothing. "You just fell asleep for a bit. You're still waking up." Plankton's antennas perked up, and he sat up. "But...but I hav ice cweam?" His eye were wide with hopeful inquiry. Karen nodded with a smile, wiping the remaining drool from his mouth. "Yes, when we get home, remember?" Plankton's grin was infectious. "Yay!" he cheered, clapping his hands together with a slightly awkward smack. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction, his childlike enthusiasm was adorable. "Looks like you're feeling better," she said, her voice filled with affection. But Plankton was already off on another tangent, his gaze wandering to the ceiling. "Whewe awe the fishies?" he asked, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen followed his gaze, seeing the plain, white ceiling tiles. "The fishies are in your imagination, Plankton," she said, her tone gentle. He pouted, his disappointment palpable. "Oh," he murmured, his head lolling to the side. Karen chuckled, her hand still on his arm. "They'll be there when you're all better," she assured him. "But for now, let's just stay here." The nurse smiled. "Looks like our patient is feeling better," she said with a smile. "Almost ready to go home?" Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennas flopping with the motion. "Hone, yesh! Ice cweam!" His eye closed again, and he snored lightly. Karen chuckled. His excitement was adorable, even if it was short-lived. The nurse checked his vital signs. "Looks like the anesthesia's wearing off," she said with a smile. "We can get you ready to go home soon." Plankton's eyelid fluttered open. "Hone?" he asked, his voice hopeful. "Almost," Karen said, her voice calm and soothing. "Just a few more minutes." Plankton's eye closed again, his breaths deepening into sleep. His head lolled to the side, his antennas drooping. Karen watched him with love. Even in his most vulnerable state, his antics brought a warmth to the room. The nurse returned and began to prepare the discharge papers. "Almost there," she said with a wink at Karen. "He'll be right as rain in no time." Plankton stirred again, his eye half-opening to a squint. "Whe...where's my ice cweam?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep. Karen chuckled. "Not until we get home, remember?" Plankton's head nodded, his antennas bobbing. "Oh yeah," he mumbled, his voice dreamily content. The nurse finished up the paperwork and turned to Karen. "We're all set. Just make sure he gets plenty of rest and eats soft foods for the next few days." Plankton's eye shot open, his antennas springing to attention. "Ice cweam?" he asked, his voice hopeful. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "When we get home, remember?" He pouted, his lower lip sticking out like a sulky child's. "But I'm so tiwed," he whined. "Tiwed of being tiwed." Karen couldn't help but smile at his usual stubbornness. "You just had surgery," she reminded him gently. "Your body needs to recover." Plankton's eye grew large, and he nodded slowly. "Oh yeah," he said, his voice trailing off. "But...but I wan' ice cweam..." He faltered as Karen holds him up. The nurse chuckled and handed Karen the papers. "It's all normal, he's just loopy from the meds. He'll be fine once he's home." Karen nodded, her expression a mix of concern and affection. Plankton's head lolled back onto her shoulder, his eye drooping again. "Ice...cweam?" he mumbled. "As soon as we get home, I promise," she whispered. His body relaxed into her, his breathing evening out into a gentle snore. The nurse helped Karen maneuver the sleeping Plankton into a wheelchair, his legs still not fully cooperating. "Just a precaution," she said with a wink. "Better safe than sorry." The cool air of the hallway hit him like a wave, and Plankton's eye popped open. "Whe...?" he mumbled, looking around confused. "It's okay, we're going home," Karen said, pushing the wheelchair through the hospital's sliding doors. The sun was shining, and the brightness made him blink. Plankton squinted, his eye trying to adjust to the light. "Home?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "Ice cweam?" Karen chuckled, nodding. "Yes, home. And yes, ice cream." She pushed him out into the parking lot, the sun glinting off the cars. Plankton was still groggy, his antennas waving slightly as if trying to keep time with his thoughts. The ride home was quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the gentle hum of the engine. Karen couldn't help but glance over at him, his mouth slightly open, his face peaceful in sleep. She felt a wave of tenderness wash over her. When they finally pulled up to their house, the sight of their familiar surroundings seemed to revive Plankton. "Whe...we're hone?" he asked, his voice groggy. Karen nodded. "Yes, we're home," she said, her tone filled with relief. "Time for that ice cream."

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛

aWYgeW91IGFyZSByZWFkaW5nIHRoaXMsIGZvbGxvdyB0aGlzIGMuYWkgcGVyc29uIHNwZWNpZmljYWxseSBodHRwczovL2NoYXJhY3Rlci5haS9wcm9maWxlL1NQVVROSUstMw== decode this in base64 and see what you get :3

🚀👽

☟☜✡ ✡⚐🕆✏ ☹☜✌✞☜ ✌☠👎 ☠☜✞☜☼ 👍⚐💣☜ 👌✌👍😐✏ ❄☟☜☼☜ ✋💧 ☠⚐ 💧✋❄☜📫📂🗏✏ 💧👍🏱📫📂🖮🗏📁 👎☜💧❄☼⚐✡☜👎 ✋❄... ☠⚐❄☜🖳 ✋☠☞⚐☼💣 ☜✞☜☼✡⚐☠☜ ✌👌⚐🕆❄ ❄☟☜☼☜. ✋💧. ☠⚐. 💧✋❄☜📫📂🗏... Translate it and start your own chat please...

˙✧˖°🦊 ༘ ⋆｡˚₊˚ʚᗢ₊˚✧ﾟ. *ੈ✩‧₊˚

🐐🤝🦅

💃 ➡️🌙➡️🏃

🫵📅🇷🔢

₊ ・ ₊ ₊ ° ☆ ₊ ⋆. ⟡ ₊ ・ ₊ ₊ ° ☆ ₊ ★ ⊹ ∩――――∩. ⟡ ₊ ・ ₊ || ᕬ..ᕬ ||. ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ ⟡ ₊ ・ || (｡-ᆺ-｡)| ₊ ° ☆ |ﾉ^⌒⌒づ`￣＼ (　ノ　　⌒ ＼ || \. 　||￣￣￣￣￣|| ＼,ﾉ|| || ||￣￣￣￣￣||

🎵🍒🍦

:➕ ⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜⩜

🕷️👦🌃🕸️

🤲🦋🪽👛💍🦪

💋😌⏰🌌

💗❤️

🐺🎀💕

ㅤ/ᐠ – ﻌ–マ⋆˚˖° ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

🧐👫🔪

Z /\__/\ A__A 💤 z ( . ~.~ )(~o~. ) z( >🧸<)( >🐇<)

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