Karen Told the Doctor Emojis & Text

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

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

²

Fandom: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) Relationships: Eugene Krabs & Sheldon J. Plankton, Eugene Krabs/Sheldon J. Plankton Characters: Eugene Krabs, Sheldon J. Plankton, SpongeBob SquarePants, Spot, Squidward Tentacles, Karen (SpongeBob) Language:English Collections:Anonymous Stats: Published:2024-08-13 Summary: Mr. Krabs hasn't seen Plankton in a few days. So why are the doors boarded up? Notes: This can be read as either platonic or romantic between Plankton and Krabs. There are slight mentions and hints, but it's not really brought up or focused on. It's just kind of in the background. Work Text: The sound of coins clinking is like music to Mr.Krabs. He counts his earnings for the day in his office. Something seemed off to the crab, yet he couldn’t place his claw on it. A lot of customers came in today. Everything was accounted for. There were no issues. And no Plankton… Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen his arch nemesis in a few days. The tiny green creature usually makes a daily attempt to steal the secret formula. A cheerful sponge throws the door open to his office, startling him for a split second. “Closing time!” The crustacean lifts a claw up and waves it. “Good work today, lads!” He closes up the safe and walks out his office, checking his establishment. “Everything looks to be in ship shape. I’ll see ye tomorrow!” “See ya Mr.Krabs!” The sponge cheered. “Later Krabs,” the squid finally speaks up. The two employees hang their hats and start their walk home. Eugene looks outside, seeing only a bit of the sun in the sky. The streetlights are starting to flicker on. He takes a glance at the Chum Bucket across the street. The place was completely dark, from what he could see. He exits his establishment, locking up, and walks across the street to meet up with his rival. The crab can now see the state of the Chum Bucket. Yes, it looked like a dump in the past, but now the doors were boarded up. He takes a step back, also noticing that the glove that lifted up the handle of the Chum Bucket previously is now smashed into the roof. Alright, something is definitely wrong here , he thinks to himself, as if he’s just now putting the clues together. He steps up to the double doors and rips the wood off before trying to push the doors open. When he realizes that the doors are probably locked on the inside, he takes a few steps back before charging at it. Eugene successfully breaks through the doors, flying into the Chum Bucket and breaking a wooden chair when he lands on it. “Krabs?” Small footsteps made their way to the crustacean. The voice from the creature was more raspy than usual. “What are you doing here?” The only light shining through was from the streetlight outside. Once Plankton was in Krab’s view, Eugine noted that his antennas were curved down and his eye was watery. The only response the crab could give was “It’s Thursday”. “It’s already Thursday?” Plankton rubs his eye before looking over to the calendar on the wall. His voice was monotone, scaring more than he already was. “Boarded up signs means no visitors.” He turns around and slowly walks to the back, adding “Go home, Krabs”. Krabs stood for a moment, not having any idea what to do next. They’ve had a rivalry for years, should he really be helping? Should he get in Sheldon’s business? Since Plankton was so small, and was walking slower than usual, the red creature had plenty of time to think. After contemplating his options, he finally asks “Why is the power off?” Plankton stops in his tracks. Silence filled the room for a brief moment as the crab waited for an answer. “My power was turned off,” he answers honestly. He could tell something was bugging the small creature. “Couldn’t pay yer bills, huh Plankton?” The crustacean laughs at his rival's suffering before he notices he’s walking away again. “Hey, where ye going?” “Bed.” “Huh? It’s only 6pm! Who’d want to go to bed this early?” He finally stands up off the ground, taking a few steps towards the green creature when he doesn't answer. Despite Sheldon being his rival for years, he hated seeing him so bummed. Sure, he failed all the time at stealing his secret formula, but he had never been this heartsick. Krabs finally takes in his surroundings. The place’s odor seeped through his nostrils. The tables and chairs were bent in different directions, some even being torn out of the floor completely. A table that was neither had photos laid out of Plankton, Karen, and their pet, Spot. “Where’s Karen? …And, the little pet of yers?” The tall crab watches as the one-eyed organism breaks, lying on the ground and curling in on himself. Eugene hesitates for a minute, not knowing if he should assure him, or how. By his reaction, Karen and Spot weren’t there to help. Sheldon’s reaction reminded him of how he was when his wife passed, trying to care for Pearl as he grieved. He looks around the restaurant again noting it wasn’t the best place for anyone to stay at. Krabs hesitantly picks him up off the ground and carries him all the way back to his house. Plankton either didn’t know or didn’t care that he was being taken away. He was too focused on the loss. ___________________________________________________________________ After a day of staying at Krab’s home, Plankton finally talks. He surprised himself when he finally did, specially since he was getting vulnerable with his rival. It started when his pet, Spot, ran away. He spent the whole day looking. Karen stayed at home, printing missing fliers. When Plankton got home later that night to see if Spot came back, Karen told him to get sleep, and they would look for him the next day. The next morning, Karen and Sheldon went their separate ways in town. Plankton later got a call from the Hospital that Karen was hit by a boat. He rushed there finding all of her parts and pieces shattered. He tried repairs with no luck. He even begged Sandy to help! The only thing the squirrel told him when she saw the damage was “Sorry”. He lost motivation. Plankton closed down his restaurant and hid in his room for days. Plankton sobbed into a small pillow on a makeshift bed as he told it. He was worried that the crab would make fun but instead, he felt a claw start to awkwardly rub his back. A few days have gone by since he’s told Eugene. For the past days, he’s stayed in the bed, which was a small, empty, unused chest, a pillow, and a blanket. Pearl would bring him meals and check on him when Krabs was at work. All he wanted was his wife and Spot, but he knew one of those, he would never get back. His thoughts to go searching for his amoeba were crushed by the voice in his head saying, “What’s the use?”. When Krabs came back, he would chat with Plankton to give him some comfort. Usually, Plankton would like to be left alone in his thoughts. But Eugene knew exactly how he felt. The same thing happened when it came to his wife. Surprisingly enough, he found comfort in the red crab. He felt free to talk about anything that was on his mind, and Eugene would listen. He missed his wife. He missed Spot. At least he had someone there for him. ___________________________________________________________ Plankton wakes up in a cold sweat from another nightmare. The sun was starting to set outside, giving Plankton a beautiful view from his bed on the window seal when he sat up. Focusing on the sunset, he stared out the window for a minute. It was a Sunday, and even though Krabs had his restaurant closed, he told the small creature that he would be out for the majority of the day. He tucks himself back into his bed and tries to go to sleep again. Minutes go by before the door to the room opens up and he hears footsteps. “Hey Plankton,” a voice starts. “I heard about Karen. I figured I’d come and comfort ya. I’m sorry about what happened.” Sheldon covers his head and groans. SpongeBob noted the small creature’s body language but continued anyway. “I got you a little something.” “No. I’m not in the mood.” “I think you’ll like it!” The cheerful sponge pesters. Plankton huffs pulling the blanket off of him, immediately getting licked in the face by… “Spot?” The amoeba barked jumping on his owner. “SPOT!” Plankton wrapped his arms around his pet as they reunited. “Spot, you’re safe!” Tears start forming in his eye and he holds his pet tighter. “Aww.” SpongeBob bats his eyes. “I told ya you’d like it! We were out looking for him all day!” “We?” He looks to the door, finding Eugene at the doorway. “Yeah! It was Mr. Krabs idea. We looked everywhere! Turns out, he was staying at my library blah blah blah-” Plankton started zoning out as the sponge kept talking, overwhelmed with emotion. “-Oh, it looks like we have to go. Bye Plankton! Hope you start feeling better soon!” The fact Krabs did to help find his pet warmed his heart. Mr. Krabs says his farewells to his employee as Plankton showers Spot with affection. When the crab is done, he checks in with Sheldon again. He walks back up and knocks on the bedroom door before opening it. Plankton is still tickled by his pet and receiving kisses. “I missed you so much, Spot! Don’t you run away again!” The crab chuckles, startling Plankton, who didn’t realize he was back in the room. “You were out looking for Spot?” The red creature rubs the head/shell and darts his eyes away. “Oh, well… I figured since… ye know…” Plankton found himself speaking again. “Thanks, Eugene.” He sounded both shocked and grateful as he spoke. The crab finally gets the words he was looking for earlier together as he speaks. “Well, ye’ve been through a lot. Thought ye’d ought to get something good in yer life.” Krabs glances back at the small creature, finally smiling for the first time in what has seemed like eternity. https://archiveofourown.org/works/58159567

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အာဘွား♥🥰

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⠀⠈⠻⠎⢿⣿⡷⠎⠉⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⣀⠘⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⣳⣶⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡷⣤⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣥⣤⣄⣀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⢿⡜⢻⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⣄⡼⢃⣠⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⡄⠀⠀⢠⡀⢸⣆⡀⢀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡄⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡏⠀⠀⠉⠉⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠂⣿⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠙⣷⠀⣄⠀⠘⣿⡇⣤⠀⠈⢿⣼⣟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣯⡁⠀⠀⣰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢷⣦⣴⠾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⠹⢧⡄⣹⣿⠉⠀⠀⠈⢿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠟⠛⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠛⠹⢷⣦⣴⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣟⣀⡀⠀⢀⣿⣷⡦⠀⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠷⠾⢿⣿⠻⠷⠿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢺⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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✞☠︎𝒫ℴ𝒾𝓈ℴ𝓃 ☠︎✞

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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.

1/2 THE MOOON Karen took a seat by the window. She could feel the tension in the room, a palpable thing that thickened the air. The dentist, a man with a name tag that read "Dr. McFinley," entered the room. Plankton swallowed hard as he took his place in the chair. The nurse began prepping him, wrapping a bib around and placing in his mouth a prop that looked like a doorstop, designed to keep his mouth open wide. "Now, Mr. Plankton," Dr. McFinley said, "We're going to give you some anesthesia to make sure you don't feel a thing. It might taste a bit funny, but just relax and let it do it's job." The nurse administers the anesthetic into Plankton's gum, and he felt a cold spread through his jaw, a strange tingling that grew more intense with each passing moment as his mouth grew numb. "Ok Plankton, I want you to start counting backwards from twenty." Plankton took a deep breath. "Twenty... nineteen... eighteen..." With each number, his voice grew softer, his eyelid heavier. By the time he reached fifteen, his speech was slurred, the words barely audible. Karen watched with a mix of concern and fascination as his count grew less deliberate. "Thir...four... th...thwee..." His counting trailed off, and his head lolled to the side with a gentle snore. The nurse gave a knowing smile and patted Plankton's shoulder. "He's under," she assured Karen as she gently moved his head back into place. Karen's gaze followed every move Dr. McFinley made. The chair leaned back, and Plankton's snores grew softer as his consciousness retreated. She watched as the doctor's gloved hands moved precision over Plankton's slack jaw, his face a mask of concentration. She squeezed her own hand into a fist, nails digging into her palm, as the instruments moved in and out of his mouth, a silent ballet of extraction. The chair's hydraulics hissed as it tipped back, and a bright light was shone directly into Plankton's open mouth. The nurse held his mouth open wider, her grip firm but gentle. Dr. McFinley's eyes narrowed in concentration, and his hands worked with a steady rhythm. Plankton's body remained still. The nurse leaned in closer, assisting Dr. McFinley with a suction device, clearing away the excess saliva and blood. Karen forced herself to keep looking, to be there for Plankton, even if he wasn't aware of it. The doctor's face was a study in focus, his forehead creased with the effort of maneuvering around the obstinate tooth. The relief was palpable, even though Plankton remained blissfully unaware of the progress. The nurse's eyes flitted between her monitor and Plankton's face, ensuring his vitals remained stable while offering quiet encouragement to the doctor. Karen watched as the doctor's pliers gripped the tooth and began to apply steady pressure, his knuckles whitening with the effort. The tooth didn't want to give up without a fight, resisting with a stubbornness that mirrored Plankton's own spirit. The tension in the room grew, and Karen found herself leaning forward, her screen glued to the doctor's hands. The pliers twisted and pulled, and she could see a bead of sweat form on the doctor's brow. Finally the tooth gave way, and it was out. Karen couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. The nurse quickly moved in to clean and clamp the area, while Dr. McFinley turned to the final tooth. Plankton's snores grew more peaceful. With the same methodical care, Dr. McFinley began to loosen the last tooth. The pliers clamped down, and the chair's light cast eerie shadows across the room. Plankton's snores grew deeper, his body tensing slightly. Finally, the last tooth was free. The stitching process began. Karen had never seen someone so vulnerable, even though he was unconscious. Each stitch brought him one step closer to being whole again, and she felt a strange sense of pride watching the doctor's skilled hands. Dr. McFinley's fingers moved nimbly, weaving in and out of the gum line. The tiny sutures looked like black threads on a red canvas, a delicate art form in the steady hands of a master. The room was silent except for the occasional beep of the machines and the soft swish of the nurse's gloves. Plankton's face remained a picture of peaceful oblivion. The nurse handed over the sutures with a practiced ease, and Dr. McFinley went to tie them off, one by one. Karen watched the doctor's hands as they moved, the sutures forming neat little knots in Plankton's swollen gums. It was a dance of care and precision, a silent battle against pain that Plankton was blessed to not feel. His mouth, usually so expressive and full of life, was now a numb battlefield, his features slack and vulnerable. "It is done," said Dr. McFinley, his voice cutting through the taut silence. The chair was brought back to an upright position, and Plankton's head was gently cradled as they removed the mouth prop. His mouth was still open. The doctor stepped back, wiping his brow with the back of his gloved hand. "Your husband did very well. The extraction was successful." Plankton's chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths, his face pale and serene. The nurse began to clean him up, her movements efficient but gentle. She removed the bib, dabbed at the corners of his mouth. Plankton's eye remains closed. Karen studied his face, his features relaxed in sleep, his mouth slightly ajar. The sight was both peaceful and painfully vulnerable, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of protectiveness. As the minutes ticked by, his snores grew less frequent and his breathing grew more even. The nurse, noticing Karen's worried gaze, leaned over to whisper, "It's normal for patients to have some funny reactions when coming out of anesthesia. They might say things that don't make sense, or their body might do some funny things. It's the anesthesia wearing off, nothing to worry about. They might even act like they're a bit drunk, or just sleepy for today. It's all perfectly normal." Her words brought a hint of comfort to Karen, who nodded, wondering with excitement and fear what state Plankton would be in when he awoke. She had read about the disorientation that could accompany anesthesia but had never witnessed it firsthand. The first signs of movement from Plankton were subtle, a twitch of his antennae, and Karen leaned in closer in anticipation. "Plankton," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "It's over." His eye fluttered open, lid heavy with sleep and confusion. "It's ok," she soothed, stroking his arm. "You're all done." He blinked slowly, his eye unfocused, looking around the white-walled room as if trying to remember where he was. His mouth was still numb. "Karen?" he mumbled. "I'm here," she said, her voice calm and steady. "The surgery is over, sweetheart. You're going to be ok." Plankton's eye searched hers, his pupil dilated and unfocused. "Wha...what happen'd?" he slurred, his words coming out thick and slow. Karen chuckled softly, her heart swelling with love and relief. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, remember?" Plankton's eye widened, then narrowed as he tried to recall the events of the day. His mouth felt like a cotton field, and his tongue was a clumsy intruder, thick and unresponsive. "I... Don' member," he murmured, his voice still slurred and distant. The nurse chuckled under her mask, "It's the medication, dear. It'll wear off in a bit." Plankton tried to sit up, but his body felt like it had been filled with sand. Karen gently pushed him back down, laughing at his groggy protests. His eye searched the room. "Whewe am I?" he slurred, his antennae waving about. "You're at the dentist," Karen reminded him, her voice filled with amusement. "You had your wisdom teeth removed." Plankton's expression was that of a man who had just been told he had swum to the moon. "Dentist?" he repeated, his voice thick and uncertain. "Teef?" His hand flopped up to his mouth, his fingers probing the swollen gums. "My moufs gone!" he exclaimed, his words slurred and astonished. The nurse chuckled sympathetically. "The numbness will wear off, but for now, try to relax." Plankton's eye blinked slowly, and he looked at his hand as if it belonged to someone else. "My teef," he said again, his voice a mix of disbelief and confusion. He looked around the room, his gaze unfocused and glassy, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The nurse and Karen exchanged a knowing glance. "Yeah, you're missing a few now," Karen said, trying to keep her voice even. Plankton's eye grew wider, his antennae standing at full alert. "I'm not... I'm not drunk," he protested, his words slurring. The nurse laughed gently, "No, Mr. Plankton, you're just coming out of anesthesia."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

GO HONE 1/2 Karen sat in the chair next to the bed. Plankton lay there, snoring softly. They'd just finished removing his wisdom teeth. Karen rarely sees him asleep. He was a light sleeper, always had been. But here he was, mouth agape, drool pooling onto the pristine pillowcase. The nurse had said the anesthesia would wear off soon. She felt a strange mix of pity and amusement. Karen reached out to stroke his forehead. "Plankton?" Her voice was gentle, soothing. He didn't respond. His eye remained shut, but she noticed the faintest twitch of his antenna. A moment later, his eye fluttered open, unfocused. "Wheh...am I?" he mumbled, his voice slurred by the lingering effects of the drugs and numb mouth. "Karen?" "You're in the recovery room, sweetie," Karen whispered. "You just got your wisdom teeth out." The nurse walked in. "How we feeling?" Plankton looked around, his gaze unfocused, as if he wasn't quite sure where to land. "I don't know," he said, voice still thick. "Everything ish tho...big?" The nurse chuckled. "That's the anesthesia. It'll wear off in a bit. Can you tell me your name?" Plankton blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings. "Pwankton," he managed, sounding like a toddler with a mouthful of marshmallows. Karen pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. She felt a tug at her heart, seeing this tough, competent man reduced to such a helpless state. He attempted to sit up, but his body didn't cooperate, flopping back down onto the pillows. "Whoa, wath happening?" he slurred, his eye searching the room as if looking for something familiar. His limbs felt like spaghetti noodles, and his brain was stuck in slow motion. Karen helped him adjust, pillows plumping around his head. She couldn't help but chuckle at his drunken antics. The nurse took his pulse and checked the monitors. "Everything looks good," she said. "Just rest a bit longer." "Oh boy," he muttered, a goofy smile spreading across his face. "Wook at aww tha little fishies!" Plankton's mind was clearly somewhere else entirely. Karen looked around the recovery room, but all she could see were the regular, sterile equipment and a few other patients, not a fish in sight. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his silliness. "You're okay," she assured him, patting his hand. "Just the meds talking." Plankton's eye grew even wider, his smile turning into a grin. "Can I pway with dem?" he asked, reaching out a shaky arm to grab at the invisible fish. The nurse looked at Karen with a knowing smile. "It's a common side effect," she assured her. "The drugs can make patients feel pretty loopy." Plankton's giggle grew louder as he continued to "catch" the nonexistent fish. His movements were clumsy, like a baby learning to use their hands for the first time. Karen watched, her heart swelling with a sudden fondness for his innocent charm. "Wook, Karen! I got one!" He held up a finger, waggling it in the air between them. "It's tho tiny!" His eye squinted as he tried to focus on his own digit, then opened wide in amazement. "And it's on my han!" He was utterly captivated by his own hand, turning it this way and that, studying it like a new discovery. Karen couldn't help but smile at his antics. "That's right, Plankton. That's your finger," she said, her voice filled with amusement. "You're doing great." The nurse took a step back, allowing Karen to interact more freely with her husband. "You can talk to him, just keep it calm and don't let him move too much," she said before checking on the other patients. Plankton's gaze followed the nurse, his eye glazed over with wonder. "Wheh's she go?" he asked, his voice innocently curious. Karen leaned in closer, her hand still in his. "She's just checking on the other people who are feeling a bit sleepy like you." He nodded solemnly, his antennas flopping to the side with the motion. "Okay, Karen," he said, as if she had explained the secrets of the universe to him. The room started to spin gently, and he giggled. "I fink I'm on a merry-go-round!" Karen's smile grew, warming the coolness of the recovery room. "No, honey, you're just a bit woozy from the surgery. You need to lie still." Plankton nodded, his grin never leaving his face. "Otay," he mumbled, his eye crossing as he tried to focus on Karen's face. "Buh ith fun!" Karen couldn't resist the urge to lean in and kiss his forehead. "You're so adorable when you're loopy," she said, her voice filled with affection. Plankton's grin grew even wider, his cheeks flushing slightly from the attention. He closed his eye and leaned into the kiss like a child seeking comfort. "Karen," he said, his voice a slurred whisper, "youw my besht fren." The tenderness in his words made her heart melt. "Always, Plankton," she said, her thumb gently brushing his palm. "Always." He sighed contentedly, his giggle subsiding into a gentle snore. His hand fell limp beside him, his fingers still slightly curled as if holding onto the invisible fish. Karen smiled, catching him. His eye fluttered open again, rousing with a snort. "Whath...?" Plankton mumbled, his gaze floating around the room. He squinted at Karen, his vision blurred. "You're okay," Karen soothed, her voice like a lullaby in the stillness of the room. "You're just coming out of the anesthesia." Plankton blinked slowly, his pupil expanding to take in the soft lights and the unfamiliar surroundings. He tried to speak, but his words came out as mumbles and squeaks. "Wha...?" Karen's screen twinkled with affection as she spoke gently, "You're in the recovery room, sweetie. You're okay." Plankton's mind was still swimming in a sea of confusion. "Buth...buth...my teef?" he managed to ask. "They're out, don't worry," Karen assured him, her laughter barely contained. "The dentist took them out." Plankton looked at her with a mix of relief and silly curiosity. "The dentish?" he asked, his voice childlike. "Wheh did the put dem?" Karen nodded, trying not to laugh. "They're gone, gotten rid of." Plankton's face scrunched up like a little kid's, trying to understand. "Buth I can't feel dem," he whined, his hand gently probing his swollen cheek. "Awe youw shure?" Karen nodded, her smile never wavering. "They're gone, I promise. You'll have to be careful with soft food for a few days." Plankton's eye lit up like a child at the mention of a treat. "Soft food? Wike ice cweam?" Karen nodded, her laughter bubbling to the surface. "Yes, like ice cream. But remember, no chewing." Plankton's face fell. "Oh, no chewing?" he asked, his voice dropping to a disappointed whine. Karen nodded firmly, trying not to laugh at his sulky pout. "No chewing," she said, her voice conciliatory. "But we can have ice cream when we get home." Plankton's expression shifted immediately, his eye sparkling with anticipation. "Wight, wight," he said, his speech slowly becoming clearer. "Ice cweam ith okay?" "Yes, ice cream is okay," Karen said, her voice steady and warm. "But we'll have to wait until we get home." Plankton's eye grew large with excitement. "Hone?" he asked, as if the word had just entered his vocabulary. "Whewe hone?" Karen nodded, keeping her tone calm. "Yes, we're going home soon." Plankton's mouth twitched into a smile. "Whewe?" he asked again, his voice rising with excitement. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "Soon, Plankton. You just need to stay awake long enough for the nurse to say you're ready." His face fell a little, but then he perked up. "Candoit!" he exclaimed, his words slurred together. He sat up. "I'm awake!" Karen had to hold back her laughter as he swayed like a ragdoll before flopping back onto the bed. "Not quite yet, Plankton," she said, patting his shoulder.

🇩🇪2️⃣

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

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."

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

💗❤️

🛵༘⋆🌷💭₊˚ෆ.𖥔 ݁ ˖

📄×🍊🧃

🐈🥰

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠜⠀⣀⣠⡴⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠻⡆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⠴⠞⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⠋⠉⣠⡆⠰⡇⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⢀⣷⣀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⡉⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠷⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀ ⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀ ⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄ ⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇ ⠈⣿⡄⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠋⣿⣿⣦⣀⣀⣠⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⢿⡇ ⠀⢻⣿⣶⣾⡿⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⠋⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠙⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠖⠚⠉⠁⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⢄⠀⢂⢠⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢢⣐⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⡆⠀⢠⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⡰⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠋⢳⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⢷⠙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠴⣆⠴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⣀⣀⡉⠙⠒⠒⠒⡎⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⢶⠀⠀⠀⢳⠋⠁⠀⠙⢳⡠⠖⠚⠑⠲⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠈⢧⣀⣠⠔⡺⣧⠀⡴⡖⠦⠟⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢹⣾⠁⠁⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠆⠀⠉⢉⡝⠓⠦⠤⢾⠈⠓⠖⠚⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠐⠢⠤⠤⠔⠚⠁⠘⣆⠀⠀⢠⠋⢧⣀⣀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

😁😢😱🤢😡😨🥱😳😒➡️👧🏼

numeros pequeños ³³³² ² ²⁰¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹¹¹¹¹¹¹7️¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹¹

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

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

༒•▄︻デ𝟚𝕘𝕦𝕟𝕫══━一•༒

i think everybody knows about palestine atp...!!!!!1

/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ 𝟚𝕘𝕦𝕟𝕫 /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

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

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˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

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

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yesaya 41:10✞

２2️2️⃣❷

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عربي تعداد❷❶

𓐅

-`♡´-.𖥔 ˖

𓂮

-`♡´-

1️⃣2️⃣3️⃣4️⃣5️⃣6️⃣7️⃣8️⃣9️⃣🔟✅✔️✔️ ⚡✨

عربي تعداد

Hey 📢🛒

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

🤢😥😇😴🐭🦊😥✊✌️🍕🐰😴🍎🐭👌🐰🤢😴

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𓍣

(◝◨⌣◨)◞◟(◧⌣◧◜)

꧁꧂

︵²🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️︵²

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

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⠶⢶⡶⠶⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡸⢇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⢏⡉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⠤⠧⠼⠤⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢩⠿⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣾⣅⠘⢡⠆⡴⠛⢉⣠⣤⣶⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢯⣠⠔⠠⠚⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⣾⣿⣿⣷⣦⡞⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣤⣶⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀ ⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠛⠋⣁⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

:3

(.O⋋O)ㅅ(O⋌O.)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠠⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡁⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢀⣐⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠂⢔⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⢐⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⡻⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽

𓎏

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

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⢻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⡛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣋⣵⡆⠓⢀⣴ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⣩⣴⠾⢛⣡⣶⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣋⣴⣾⠆⢈⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢯⠀⠨⢰⣶⢲⠈⡋⡐⠒⠚⠂⠉⠉⠉⠻⡿⠟⣫⣴⡶⢙⣫⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣀⠀⠀⠰⠷⠦⠉⠘⢒⣳⣮⣻⣟⢿⠏⡐⢛⣥⣶⠟⠈⠁⠺⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠰⡜⣴⡟⣵⡟⣴⡟⢡⣍⢻⣿⡮⣩⡄⢟⣴⠇⠉⢀⡾⡡⢉⡀⠑⢈⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠟⢛⡙⠓⠀⠈⠛⠈⠛⠈⠻⠨⣟⠃⠉⠱⠶⠶⠊⠁⠒⢂⣈⣀⣀⡀⣀⠐⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡇⠀⡆⠀⠠⠀⢰⣤⣤⣤⡄⣤⢠⣤⢓⡲⢶⣤⣤⣝⣒⡲⠦⢭⡙⣨⣭⣭⣭⣭⣽⣷⣬⡻⣶⠝⠶⣭⣕⣒⠦⠍⠙⠛⠻⢿ ⣧⠰⠇⢠⣿⠀⣨⣁⣟⣛⠯⠿⠟⢿⠸⣿⡞⢏⣅⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⡀⣀⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣌⠿⣫⣶⣶⣶⠾⠷⠸ ⣿⣶⣶⠸⡿⢀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣸⣿⡇⢸⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⣝⣈⣛⣋⡉⠉⢉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣡⡄⠀⡙⠉⢁⠀⠀⠀⣼ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠸⠿⢷⣾⡆⢾⣿⣭⣍⣿⠇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠂⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⠂⡀⠀⠀⡬⠀⠀⢰⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⡄⠈⣭⠙⣩⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠠⠀⠆⠀⣆⢾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠘⠀⠀⠟⠀⠀⠠⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠂⠰⠃⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⣀⣀⣈⣁⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⢻⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⠛⣟⠛⢻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

༘⊹ ࣪ ˖~🦕I🦖AM🦣DINO~⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˚ ༘꩜

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡟⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣷⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

★🎸🎧🧷<𝟑⋆｡ °⋆

🐿️ * * / / ¡ ¿ OO2 ? ! / / * * 🦦