Moviecore Emojis & Text

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ix (Autistic author) Plankton's smile flickers back to life, his eye lighting up slightly. "Good," he says, a monotone echo. "Friend." Sponge Bob nods, his smile genuine despite the sadness still lingering in his eyes. "Always," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "Well, what should we do now?" Plankton's gaze shifts to the book, then to Sponge Bob. "Movie," he says, his voice picking up a hint of excitement. "Friend watch movie." His hands flap in a pattern that seems to mirror his thoughts racing. Sponge Bob's smile is a mix of relief and excitement. "Movie?" he repeats, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, let's watch a movie! What do you want to see?" Plankton's eye dart around the room, his hands flapping in a flurry of indecision. "You choose," he says, his voice a monotone. "You know me." His antennas twitch with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile is filled with understanding. "Okay, then," he says, his voice calm. He scans the bookshelf, looking for a title that might spark Plankton's interest. "How about this one?" he asks, holding up a DVD case with a picture of the Dirty Bubble on the front. Plankton's antennas perk up, eyelighting up at the sight of the villainous bubble's grinning face. "Yes," he says, his voice a monotone. "Dirty Bubble." His hands flap in excitement. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes with love and concern for his unique friend. "Alright, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "Let's watch 'The Great Dirty Bubble Heist'." He pops the DVD into the player, the machine whirring to life. The two of them settle on the couch, Sponge Bob's arm draped protectively around Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's hands are still, his gaze fixed on the screen as the movie starts. The TV flickers to life, casting a warm glow over the room. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax slightly against his side, his eyes never leaving the colorful bubble of the Dirty Bubble's latest escapade. As the movie plays, Plankton's flapping subsides, his gaze transfixed by the screen. The sounds of bubbles popping and laughter fill the room, a stark contrast to the silence that typically accompanied their stakeouts at the Chum Bucket. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax further into the couch, his shoulder leaning into him. He notices Plankton's antennas twitch slightly with every joke, his eye flickering with understanding at the slapstick humor. It's a small sign of connection, but it's enough. The movie's plot unfolds, and Plankton's chuckles echo through the room, his laughter a comforting reminder of their long-standing friendship. Sponge Bob smiles, watching Plankton react to the familiar beats of the film's storyline. It's clear his friend's love for the simple pleasure of laughter hasn't changed. As the film progresses, Plankton's chuckles grow softer, his eyelid drooping as he's nestled against Sponge Bob. He's falling asleep, his mind finally at ease in the comforting embrace of his friend. His head lolls to the side, his antennas coming to rest on Sponge Bob's arm. His mouth has fall open slightly, his breaths even and deep. Sponge Bob's heart swells with tenderness, watching Plankton's face. He gently shifts his position, adjusting the small blanket over Plankton to keep him warm. The TV's light continues to flicker across their faces, casting shadows on the walls. Sponge Bob doesn't want to wake him; instead, he takes the moment to study his friend's newfound peace. Plankton's antennas, usually a blur of activity, are still, his breaths deep and rhythmic. Sponge Bob notices the slightest tremble in his friend's hand, now resting on the couch cushion. He gently takes it in his, intertwining their fingers. Their friendship remains a bastion of comfort and acceptance. The TV echoes in the room, punctuating the silence between them. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax further into the couch, his head now resting heavily against his shoulder. Plankton's laughter has turned to soft snores, his antenna twitching with each breath he takes. Karen peeks into the room, and sees Plankton asleep against Sponge Bob's side. She goes closer, wanting to make sure Plankton is ok. She feels warmth seeing their friendship unchanged by his diagnosis. Sponge Bob, ever the caretaker, has his arm around Plankton, his hand over Plankton's, their fingers intertwined. Karen smiles softly with pride. This moment of peace, despite the turmoil, shows their unyielding bond. "You guys okay?" she asks, her voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, Karen," he says, his voice low. "We're just watching a movie." Karen's smile is filled with warmth as she steps closer. "I can see that," she whispers. "How is he?" Sponge Bob's gaze shifts to her, his smile a mix of relief and sadness. "Different," he says, his voice soft. "But still Plankton." Karen nods with understanding. "He's been through a lot," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "But he's strong, and he has his friends." She sits down on the couch, her hand reaching out to rest on Plankton's leg. Her touch is light, comforting. Plankton's body twitches slightly in his sleep, his antennae stirring. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand gently. "You're ok, buddy," he murmurs, his voice a soft reassurance. Karen sits down beside them, gaze on Plankton's serene expression. "I'm here," she says, her voice soft. "Always." She reaches out, her hand resting on Plankton's knee. The touch penetrates his subconscious, his antennae twitching slightly in response. Sponge Bob nods. "Thanks, Karen," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'm still trying to get used to this new Plankton." Karen's expression is one of quiet understanding. "It's ok," she says, her voice a soothing balm. "It's a lot to process, but you're doing great." She looks down at Plankton, his small form snuggled against Sponge Bob. "He's lucky to have you," she whispers. Sponge Bob nods, his voice thick with emotion. "But it's hard to see him like this." His eyes well with tears, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Karen's gaze is filled with compassion as she looks at Plankton. She reaches over, her hand gently brushing his cheek. "He's still the same Plankton," she whispers. "He's just learning to navigate a new part of himself." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes still fixed on the TV. "I know," he says, his voice tight. "But it's so...different." His eyes flicker with unshed tears. Karen's gaze remains on Plankton's peaceful face, her hand still on his knee. "It is," she says, her voice soft. "But different isn't bad, Sponge Bob." She looks at him, her eyes filled with a gentle wisdom. "It's just new. And sometimes, new things take getting used to." Sponge Bob nods. "I know," he says, his voice a whisper. "It's just..." He pauses, his thoughts racing. "It's just that I want to be there for him, you know?" His voice cracks, his grip on Plankton's hand becoming stronger. Karen nods with empathy. "I know you do, Sponge Bob," she says, her voice soft. "And you are." She reaches over, placing a comforting hand on Sponge Bob's shoulder. "You just need to be patient with him, and with yourself. We're all learning together." The TV laugh track fades into silence as the movie reaches its end. Plankton's snores remain steady, a testament to his sleep. Sponge Bob sighs, his eyes finally leaving the screen. He looks down at their joined hands. "I'll be patient," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "For you, Plankton." His eyes meet Karen's, a silent promise passing between them. "I know you will," she says, her voice a gentle encouragement. "You've always been a good friend." The room is quiet, save for Plankton's soft snores. Sponge Bob's eyes remain on the TV, his thoughts spinning. Karen's words echo in his head: different isn't bad, just new. He looks down at Plankton. He tries to imagine a world where Plankton doesn't have autism, but the thought feels wrong. This new version of his friend is still Plankton, still the same in so many ways. Their bond is strong, their friendship unchanged. He squeezes Plankton's hand, his thoughts racing. "I'll be there for you," he whispers, his voice a promise. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton's snores hitch slightly, his antenna twitching in his sleep. Sponge Bob's filled with a newfound determination. He'll be there for Plankton, no matter what. His heart swells as he leans down, his lips brushing Plankton's forehead in a soft kiss. The room is a cocoon of quiet, their friendship a beacon in the stillness. Karen watches them, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Let's get him to bed," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob nods, his movements careful as he lifts Plankton into his arms. Plankton's eye flutter open briefly, his gaze confused but quickly calming at the sight of Sponge Bob's smiling face. "Tired," Plankton murmurs, his voice sleepy. Sponge Bob nods, his smile gentle. "Come on, buddy," he says, his voice a warm whisper. "Let's get you to bed." They're careful not to jostle him to much. Plankton's eye droop closed again, his body limp in Sponge Bob's embrace. Karen leads the way to the bedroom. The bed is made with fresh sheets, the room organized with care. Plankton's favorite gadgets line the shelves, each item meticulously placed. Sponge Bob lays Plankton gently on the bed, body is heavy with sleep, his snores a comforting lullaby. Karen pulls the blankets up, tucking them around his small form. "Thank you," Plankton mumbles. Sponge Bob's smile is warm and reassuring. "You're welcome, buddy," he says, his voice low. "Sleep tight." Karen watches the scene with affection. "I'll be right outside if you need anything," she whispers. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye opening slightly. "I lo-ove you.." "We love you too, Plankton," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. He smiles at Karen, who nods in understanding before they slip out of the room, letting him sleep.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xvi (By NeuroFabulous) "Could Dad feel anything?" Karen's gaze is filled with compassion. "No, sweetie," she says gently. "That's the point of the medicine. He didn't feel anything." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "What's it like when Dad woke up?" he asks, his voice a soft curiosity. Karen's voice is a gentle narrative, her words painting a picture of Plankton's recovery. "He was a bit confused at first," she says, her eyes on Plankton. "But he quickly understood where he was." Chip's eyes are a mirror of his mother's, his curiosity a living entity. "But his mouth?" he asks, his voice a quiet probing. Karen's smile is a soft reassurance. "They gave him something to make it numb," she says, her words a gentle explanation. "So he couldn't feel the surgery." Chip's eyes are a swirl of understanding. "What was it like when it was over?" he asks, his voice a whisper of fascination. "Before he awoke from it? After they finished while you waited for him to wake up, what'd his face and mouth look like?" Karen's gaze is a silent answer, her eyes a soft story of the surgery's aftermath. "His cheeks were a bit puffy," she whispers, her voice a gentle narrative of the scene she'd witnessed. "And there was a bit of blood, but the doctors cleaned him up. As he slept, I could see his chest rise and fall, and I knew he was okay." Chip's eyes are wide with interest. "And then?" Karen's voice is a soft narrative, her words painting the picture of Plankton's recovery. "After they took his teeth out, they put in stitches," she says. "And now his mouth needs time to heal." Chip's eyes widen, his mind racing with images. "Stitches?" he repeats, his voice a mix of fascination and horror. "How'd they put in stitches while he was sleeping?" Karen's smile is a gentle explanation. "They're very careful," she says, her voice a calm lake. "They use a special thread that dissolves so he doesn't need to come back to have them removed." Chip's eyes are a mix of wonder and concern. "How'd he not bite the dentist?" Karen laughs softly, a warm sound in the quiet room. "They gave him more medicine," she says, her voice a gentle guide. "So his mouth was completely relaxed." Chip's eyes are wide with wonder. "How did it feel to wake up?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent curiosity. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his eye opening to look at his son. "It was... strange," he murmurs, his voice a distant echo of his experience. "Everything was blurry, and my mouth felt funny." Chip nods, his eyes wide with interest. "But it's better now?" he asks, hope coloring his voice. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Mmh," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse affirmation. "It's okay; still healing.." "How about we watch a movie?" Karen suggests, her voice a gentle distraction from the pain. "Something fun, to take your mind off it?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his interest piqued despite his discomfort. "The Dirty Bubble?" he murmurs. Karen's smile is a nod, her eyes filled with the promise of distraction. "Yeah," she says, getting up to grab the remote. "It's about the underwater world's biggest heist," she says, her voice a gentle coaxing. "I think you'll enjoy it, Chip." Plankton's antennae twitch with slight interest as he sits up more, his body protesting with a soft groan. Chip moves closer, his eyes on his father. Plankton's antennae twitch. Karen and Chip sit on either side of him. The movie's sounds fill the room, the images dancing across the television screen. As the film progresses, Plankton's eye grows heavier, his head slowly tilting towards Chip. Chip, lost in the story, feels the slightest pressure against his shoulder. He looks down to see his father's antennae quivering, his head leaning closer. Plankton's body is a silent admission of his exhaustion. He's trying to stay alert, but his eye keeps slipping shut, his antennae drooping slightly. The movie plays on. Chip feels the weight of his father's head, a warmth that spreads through his body. Plankton's antennae are a quiet whisper, his breathing even. Karen's gaze flits from the TV to the two of them, her heart swelling with gratitude. This is progress. Chip feels his dad's antennae brush against his arm, the sensation a soft reminder of his presence. The movie's end credits roll, the room bathed in the soft glow of the TV. Sandy's hand is warm on the remote, turning off the film. Chip then hears a gentle snore against his shoulder, his dad's antennae lying limp beside him. He looks down to see Plankton's eye closed, his head resting heavily. Karen's smile is a quiet celebration. "Looks like he's asleep," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper. Chip's eyes are wide with surprise. "On me?" he asks, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen nods, her smile a warm embrace. "It's okay," she whispers, her eyes on Plankton's sleeping form. "He's just really tired." Chip's heart swells with pride. It's the first time his dad's ever fallen asleep on him, a silent testament to the trust building between them. He carefully shifts his shoulder, making room for Plankton's antennae. Karen's eyes are a gentle nod of understanding. "Let him sleep," she whispers. The room is a soft symphony of Plankton's snores and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Chip watches his father, his expression one of wonder.

🛸 🎠 🐎 | 🎥 🏇 🎥 | 🐎 🎠 🛸

https://i.imgflip.com/8jy6ee.gif

​👽​📞​📡​👦​🚲​🌕​

↓ https://archive.org/details/willywonkathechocolatefactory1971originaltheatricalprintrecreation ↑

https://archive.org/details/willywonkathechocolatefactory1971originaltheatricalprintrecreation

🐙 🧜‍♀️ 🐙 🧜‍♀️ 🐙 🧜‍♀️ 🐙 🧜‍♀️

👦🏻➕🍫🏭

_________________________________________________________ 1) /////// | | _ _| |/ . . | (- `\ | | `-' | ____/ - |___ / `\ .___/ | \ | `\ /' | | | `\___/' | | _________________________________________________________ 2) TBH'99 ,----------------. /////// |Wh...Whats THAT?| /`., , || _ _| | An a-alien? | /'/''< |/(O)(O) `-/----------------------'_.' /_'\. (- `\| / (_ oOo __) | | _`-'| / `\ : /' `\ ____/ (___)|___ /` |____ / `\ .___/ | \ /'\_____/ _ `\ / `\ /' \______ ____ | | | | / / `\___/' | | __) | | | | _________________________________________________________ 3) TBH'99 ,------------. /////// |Buahahahaha!| /`., , | | - _| `----------------------' /'/''< |/ O o| | _.' /_'\. (- `\ | | (_ oOo __) | | `-' | \ ` \ : / ' `\ ____/ --- |___ `- /` |____ / `\ .___/ | \ /'\__(()\_/ _ `\ / `\ /' \ | | (\\\)__/ | / / `\___/' | \ | | \ / _________________________________________________________ 4) TBH'99 ,-----------------. ||||||| |Nice costume, eh?| .,,,,. | / \ | `-----------------' ' `\\ | O O | \ |~,~ `\\ (- / \ -) \_____ | / -) | `- ' | |`- ` |\ ____/ --- |___ /`., |`=' \_____ / `\ \___/ | \ ()'/''<`======''_ `\ | `\ /' \ _() /_ \ | | | | `\____/' | | (_ oOo __)()_______/ / ______________________`\:/' ()______________ 5) \_______\ TBH'99 ,-----------------------. ///////|Well, then what| . , , , , . _/) | | _ _| | about this??? | '- - `\\ //') |/ . .| `---------------' |.,. `\\ /\,') (- `\| / | / - ) / |, | `-'| --' |`-' |\ / /___/ `== |___ /`., | - \_____ / / `\ .___/ | \ ()'/''<`======''_ `\ , ( `\ /' \ _() /_ \ | | | / `\___/' | \ (_ oOo __)()_______// ________________________ `\:/' ()______________ 6) \_______\ TBH'99 ,-----. _,--. |Hehe!| .,,,,,. /' OOOO\ `-----' ` _ - ' |.\_______\ ____/ | O O | |: | (- / \ -) |: / | `- ' | ____ |: / __/////// /`., | --` \_____ / `======'()| _ _| ()'/''<`======''_ -\ | \________/ |/ . .() _() /_ \ | | | |()- `\() (_ oOo __)()_______/ / ____________| `-'|_____`\:/' ()______________ TBH'99 / -- / \_______\ '----'

👨🏻‍🦱🍫🏢

. * . . * -0- . . * - )- . * o . * o | . -O- . | * . -0- * o . ' * . o . . | * * * -O- . . * | , . o . - - - . = _/__~0_\_ . * o ' = = (_________) . . * * - ) - * . . .. : . . . . . . . . .. . . * * . .. . . . . : . . . . . . . . . . . . *:. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... .. . . . . . . *. . .

👽📞🏠

✨👽👉👈🧒✨

👽🚲🌕

o o \ / \ / :-'""'-: .-' ____ `-. ( ( (_()_) ) ) `-. ^^ .-' `._==_.' __) (___

↓ https://archive.org/details/willy-wonka-the-chocolate-factory_202303 ↑

https://archive.org/details/willy-wonka-the-chocolate-factory_202303

/ \ \ / || ---- || /(o) \ || ( < ) || \ -- / /|_||_|\_(--====--) (|____\======/\ \[[/ || (--) \ \/ / / \ \_-/ |====| __ ( /\ ) /_\ | | | _ |\ | | )( | / \ |__ | |__ | \| [ ][ ] _|| ||_ ( ][ )

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 days ago mwalexandercreations Exploring the galaxy in search of a habitable planet, we finally received radio signals indicating life. Being in desperate need for resources for our dying species, we find ourselves needing to lie to planet Earth, responding with, "we come in peace."

https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLplbJ5rwVRRJ_w_6VyyIwdHsom4uOC1Zi

👽🚲🌛

→ https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLplbJ5rwVRRJ_w_6VyyIwdHsom4uOC1Zi ←

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮🪩🛸🖇⛓️🕸✩°｡⋆⸜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⠐⠒⠂⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠢⡈⠲⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⢀⠁⠀⠀⠈⢁⠀⠔⠀⠄⠈⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣴⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡧⠄⠀⠀⢉⠐⠒⠀⡉⠁⠀⠢⢼⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢸⣟⠛⣿⣦⠑⠀⠊⣴⠿⣿⣿⡏⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢮⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⣟⡴⠁⠀ ⡤⠄⠀⡖⢢⠀⠈⢳⡈⠙⠛⢁⠀⡈⠛⠋⣁⡞⠁⠀⠀ ⠱⡸⡀⡕⡎⠀⠀⠀⠳⣄⠀⠉⠀⠉⠀⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢣⢣⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠒⢈⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢴⢺⣃⡒⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠲⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠣⡹⠉⢀⠃⠀⢀⣀⡠⠜⡙⣀⢛⠣⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠑⡏⣹⠀⢸⠇⢀⠀⠉⠀⣀⠀⠁⠀⡄⠸⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢁⠀⢇⡸⢀⣨⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢀⣅⠀⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠈⠇⣸⠏⣇⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⢨⡟⠀⡗⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢺⡇⠀⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠺⡽⠁⠀⠧⠬⠤⠤⠄⠄⠸⢇⣄⠇⠀⠀

༉‧₊˚ ✩ ＊ ୧ ⛓🛸 ˖⁺ . ⩩ 𝗵𝗶𝗶 ！ ︳˚୨ 🪐 ୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝗮𝗴𝗲;; ︳⋆｡°🤺 ⟆ ⸝⸝ ₊ ١٠ 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲;; ︳.˚₊ 🔭 . *. ⋆ ᭡ 𝘀𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝘀;; ✧˚ · . ٠。📡 °˖ . ⋆ 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗿𝘆;; ㆐𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿;; ɛ> ⋆｡° 🚀 ✩ 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴;;

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓████████████████████████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█████▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓███▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒░██▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▓░▒██░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒░██░░░░░▒▒▓███▒░░░░░░░▒███▓▒▒░░░░░██░▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░██░░██████████▒░░░░░▓██████████░░██▒██░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████░████████████░░░░░████████████░████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███░▒██████████░░░░░░░██████████▒░██▒░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░ ░░░░▒████░░░░░░░▓█▒░░█████████░░░░░░░░░█████████░░▒█▓░░░░░░▓████░░░░ ░░░░██░▒██▒░░░░░██░░░░██████▓░░░░█░█░░░░███████░░░░██░░░░░███░░██░░░ ░░░░██░░░██▓░░░░██░░░░░░▒▓▓░░░░▒██░██░░░░░▓▓▒░░░░░▒██░░░░███░░░██░░░ ░░▓██▒░░░░████▓░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░███░███░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░█████░░░░▓██▒░ ░██▓░░░░░░░░▒████████▓░░░░░░░░████░███▓░░░░░░░▒▓████████░░░░░░░░░███ ░██▓▒▓███▓░░░░░░▓████████▓░░░░████░███▓░░░░▓████████▓░░░░░░████▓▓███ ░░███████████▒░░░░░░███████░░░░██░░░██░░░░██████▓░░░░░░▓███████████░ ░░░░░░░░░░░▓█████░░░░██▓▓░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░█▒██░░░▒█████▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█████▒▒█▓█░███▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▓███▒███░▓█████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒████▒▓█▒▒█░█▒█░█░█▓█▒█▓░█░█████▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░██▓█▓█▓█▒█▒█▓█▓████░▓█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓████▓░▓█▓█░█▒█░█░█▒█▒███▒░██████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█████░░██░░░▒█████▓█▓█████▒░░░██░▒█████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▒██████████▓░░░░░███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒░░░░░▓██████████▒░░░░ ░░░░░██░░░▓▓▓░░░░░░▒██████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░███████▒░░░░░░▓▓▒░░▒██░░░░ ░░░░░▓██░░░░░░░░▓████▓░░░█████▒░░░░░░▒▓█████░░░▓████▓░░░░░░░▒██▓░░░░ ░░░░░░░███░░░░████▒░░░░░░░░▓█████████████▒░░░░░░░░▒████░░░░███░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░██░░░██▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓██░░░██░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░██▒▓██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▒▓██░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░████░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⠿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠁⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠶⠛⠻⣝⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⣀⣠⠀⣴⡞⠉⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⡎⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⣿⠏⠘⠻⠁⢀⣾⢸⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣸⠃⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣦⠀⣿⣇⣼⠏⠀⠀⣠⡶⠋⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⡀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⡇⡏⠀⠀⣀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⢀⣤⠴⣶⣤⡀⡞⠁⢹⣿⠀⣿⡿⣧⣄⠀⣰⢿⠁⢀⣿⣳⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢷⣓⣲⡟⠀⠀⠀⣷⠇⢠⡟⡏⢀⣿⠀⢀⣴⠟⢷⣦⡀⢿⣿⠁⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⡇⠈⢯⢧⢻⡸⢶⠟⠙⠻⠗⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⣞⣹⠀⢸⡏⠀⣼⡿⡀⠈⣾⡇⢸⣿⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⡟⡇⠀⠸⡌⣇⣉⡥⠤⠶⠶⢦⣄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⣼⡟⢹⡆⣾⡇⢸⢿⠓⠁⠀⣿⡇⣘⢿⠀⢀⣿⡤⠘⠋⢁⣠⣔⢷⠸⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣜⣏⣼⠟⠀⢸⣧⢻⡇⠙⢸⡀⠀⢠⡻⠁⢿⣼⠀⠈⠉⣀⣤⡶⠟⠋⠀⠈⢧⠙⢦⣀⣀⣠⣾⠟⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣼⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⢟⠿⣷⠸⡘⢧⣤⡾⠁⠘⠉⢀⣠⣴⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠈⠓⠋⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⣼⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⡼⠆⠈⠉⠉⣀⣤⣴⣾⠽⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣀⠘⠻⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡤⠴⢖⣻⡽⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⠳⢶⣲⡤⠤⠴⠶⠶⠖⠚⢛⣉⠥⠄⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

😎😎🚀🔫👽👾

🪐💿♡♾🐚🪩☆

🛸👽👾🔮

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠛⠶⣭⡻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡄⢀⣴⡿⠋⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀⠀⣿⣼⠁⣾⣽⠃⠀⢀⡟⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡜⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⣿⢧⠀⣼⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠿⡇⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⣿⣿⣧⠀⣿⢸⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⢀⣶⡿⠋⠀⡇⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡏⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠶⢶⣶⣦⡄⣼⠏⠀⢸⣿⡏⠀⣿⢹⣿⣶⣄⠀⢀⡿⣿⠀⠀⣰⡇⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣾⠧⢤⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⡇⠀⣸⢿⡟⠀⣾⡿⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣶⣶⡄⠘⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⣿⣼⠀⠹⣟⢷⡘⣇⢘⣶⢾⠟⠳⢿⡷⠄⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⢠⡿⣼⠁⠀⣿⠇⠀⢰⣿⣏⠀⠘⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠇⢰⣿⢹⠀⠀⢸⡎⢧⠙⠒⠒⠉⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠇⢀⣾⣴⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⢠⢿⣿⢻⡆⠀⢹⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⣇⡼⠀⠀⠈⣿⠸⣤⠶⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠙⢿⣆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⢀⣾⡿⠁⣿⡆⢸⣿⠀⣸⢹⠘⠋⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⣾⡿⠀⠀⢠⣿⣶⠆⠘⠁⢀⣠⣴⡾⢿⡀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⠆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⣹⢁⣾⡟⠁⠀⣿⣧⢸⣿⠀⡟⢸⡆⠀⠀⢀⡟⠏⢠⣿⣧⡀⠀⠈⠉⠀⣀⣤⣶⡻⠟⠉⠀⠀⢻⣄⠹⣦⣀⡀⢀⣀⣴⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣹⣣⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⡄⢡⢸⣿⡀⢀⣼⡝⠀⠾⠛⠉⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⠦⣉⣛⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢳⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡉⠙⣷⠈⠣⣽⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠡⡦⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠴⠟⠃⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣾⣿⡷⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⠀⠈⠛⠶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⡶⠾⢛⣩⣵⠞⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠻⣶⣦⡤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣴⠶⠾⠿⠛⠉⣁⡀⠤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠓⠲⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠄⠐⠒⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

r/TwoSentenceHorror 9 mo. ago Jellycaine The aliens invaded planet earth, and the human never seems to notice. A thousand years later and they already think shadows are a natural occurrence.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍫🍭🏭🍬🍫ɞ˚‧｡⋆

↪ https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZ-F4pjbka7EIKKAwh83RDqi7Vp0q_DQp ↩

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣥⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣱⣶⣾⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣟⠿⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠛⣿⡟⠉⠫⠙⠉⢛⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣾⢹⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠓⠌⠙⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⠉⢹⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⣿⡏⢸⣿⢸⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠟⣛⢠⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠼⠿⠏⠙⠛⣿⡀⠻⠀⢁⢰⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠤⣄⠙⠻⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⣧⡀⢀⡤⠀⠈⠳⠴⠀⠀⠋⠸⡛⠉⠩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠣⠀⢹⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠚⣰⣿⠟⠙⠉⠀⠈⠁⠀⠠⢤⣤⣤⡄⣄⡀⣠⣄⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⢰⠄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠀⢨⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡄⠀⢀⠄⢸⣿⣿⣷⣿⡿⢿⣯⡿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠐⡗⡐⠂⠄⠳⡇⣩⣦⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢸⣿⡇ ⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⣲⢶⣤⣀⣞⣿⢿⠭⣏⣳⡄⠙⠛⣿⣿⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠘⡉⣲⣞⣾⣍⡭⣦⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢠⣿⣿⡇ ⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠾⣿⣿⡖⣿⢿⢻⣸⠿⠈⡷⡝⢶⣤⣼⣽⠈⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠚⠋⠈⠙⠻⣿⣿⣾⣷⠐⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠧⣿⣏⣼⣿⢻⡶⢳⣄⢣⣸⠏⠀⡉⠀⠀⢠⡄⢃⠣⠀⣘⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⡞⡆⢠⢀⠉⠀⣀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⣿⣠⢿⡿⠇⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠻⣷⣿⣿⣿⣋⣉⡉⢙⠓⠶⣄⡀⠀⠉⢿⣭⣷⠃⠈⠠⠘⠿⠄⠀⠈⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠀⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡀⢲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠘⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣮⣽⣧⡆⠀⡝⠁⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⣀⣴⣂⣠⣄⡀⡀⣤⣀⣶⣾⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡟⣻⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡚⣿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣵⣤⣾⣤⣼⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣟⣫⣤⣤⣄⡉⠉⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠿⠿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣿⣷⣦⣄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣴⣶⣎⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠋⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠟⢿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⣱⣠⡀⣀⣱⣴⣾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⣤⣁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠄⡀⠀⠀⠠⡸⡿⢏⣶⡿⠋⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⣿⣦⡀⢀⣀⠀⢄⣰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⠾⡔⣔⠄⡀⢻⡇⠀⠱⣿⣷⣆⠀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡟⠁⠐⠲⣄⠀⢂⢤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⢸⡄⡇⢈⠹⠃⠀⠀⠙⣹⠿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⣤⠄⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⣄⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡁⢌⠙⠻⢿⣯⣙⢦⣤⣤⣄⡉⠀⣠⣾⣿⠆⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢽⣿⣿⣷⡘⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣦⡕⣶⣀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⠿⠛⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠂⢀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⠿⣿⣧⣤⣀⣀⣠⣾⡿⠟⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠃⣀⣳⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⣀⠀⠈⠑⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⡿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠠⡤⢳⡈⠃⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠉⠅⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠙⠻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣷⣦⣴⣓⣂⣐⠀⣁⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠹⣾⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠹⢿⠀⠽⣿⣿⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠂⢸⣧⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣦⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣣⠀⠈⠉⠁⠘⡿⣿⣿⣷⡫⣽⣿⢷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⠋⢁⠀⣤⠠⠀⠘⠛⣽⣿⣥⡏⢸⣸⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣶⣾⢻⡟⢿⣶⡻⡿⡿⠻⡇⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣣⢸⠒⠜⠛⢷⣽⠀⢀⣇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡏⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠁⠌⠈⡀⠂⢆⡘⢿⡗⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣘⠁⢀⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⢴⡦⣀⠬⠁⠉⠛⠇⣹⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⡀⠈⢈⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⢀⠈⠙⢿⣆⠀⡀⠂⢡⣏⠀⡀⣉⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣶⣼⣆⠀⠀⢰⣋⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⢿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣯⣭⣉⣾⣿⣿⣿⡗⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⢎⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⣍⠛⠛⠟⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣴⢋⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇

https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZ-F4pjbka7EIKKAwh83RDqi7Vp0q_DQp

GOOD EVENİNG

____________________¶¶¶ _____________________¶ _____________________¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶ _____________________¶¶¶___¶__¶_¶¶¶¶ _____________________¶¶¶___¶¶¶¶___¶¶ _____________________¶¶¶__¶¶¶¶¶___¶¶ _____________________¶¶¶__¶¶¶¶¶___¶ _____________________¶¶¶¶¶¶__¶¶___¶ _____________________¶_________¶¶¶¶ _____________¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶ _____________¶¶___________¶¶ ______________¶____________¶ ______________¶_____________¶ _______________¶____________¶ _______________¶____________¶_¶¶ _______________¶__¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶ _____¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶______________¶ _____¶____________¶¶_____________¶¶____¶ _____¶¶____________¶_____¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶ ______¶______¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶______________¶ ______¶¶_____¶¶___________¶______________¶¶ _______¶______¶____________¶______________¶ _______¶______¶¶___________¶_____________¶¶ _______¶_______¶___________¶_____________¶¶ ______¶¶_______¶___________¶¶____________¶ ______¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶__________¶¶___________¶¶ ___________¶_¶_¶¶________¶¶¶_____¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶_____¶¶¶ ___________¶_¶_¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶_¶¶¶¶¶¶¶_______¶¶¶¶¶__¶¶ ¶¶¶¶¶¶_____¶_¶______¶¶_¶_______¶_¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶___¶¶¶¶¶ ¶¶___¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶______¶¶_¶____¶¶¶¶¶¶¶________¶¶ __¶¶________¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶____¶¶______¶ ____¶____________________________¶¶_¶____¶ _____¶_____¶¶¶_____¶¶_____¶¶¶_____¶¶¶___¶¶ ______¶___¶¶_¶¶___¶¶_¶____¶_¶¶__________¶ ______¶¶____¶¶_____¶¶¶_____¶¶__________¶¶ _______¶¶_____________________________¶¶ ________¶¶___________________________¶¶ _________¶¶________________________¶¶¶ ___________¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶¶

🐙 🔮 🐙 🔮 🐙 🔮 🐙 🔮 🐙

🍬🍭🍫😋( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⡟⠸⡇⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣆⣠⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⢸⠇⠀⣧⡀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡿⣻⣵⡿⠟⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣧⣿⣿⣷⣼⣷⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⡴⠛⢷⣠⣼⣧⣠⣿⠆⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠂⠈⠐⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⢳⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡶⠶⢿⡧⠄⣴⠟⣛⡛⠟⠉⢯⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⣤⣤⢤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠙⣿⡝⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠰⣦⣈⣻⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠉⢿⠋⢹⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⣷⣠⣟⠻⣮⣙⣒⣒⣺⡯⠴⣻⢿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡶⠻⣿⣽⠛⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡇⠀⠉⠻⣿⠛⠒⣲⣿⠁⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠿⠿⠿⣷⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠁⣠⠟⠉⠧⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⣤⠾⠋⡿⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⡇⠀⠀⣠⡿⠃⠀⠀⡇⢀⣾⣿⡇⣸⡇⠀⢲⠒⢲⡿⠛⢷⠂⠹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠹⣧⡇⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣷⠿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡟⠦⣜⣶⠞⣷⣶⢟⡴⢋⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀ ⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⠋⠀⠀⢻⣧⠞⠓⢶⠞⠛⢶⣈⣁⣤⣿⣿⠀⠘⢷⡀⠈⠙⠒⠛⠙⠃⢠⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⠚⠋⠀⣿⠀⣀⣀⣼⣿⣤⣴⣾⣦⣤⣞⠉⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⡻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⢹⣹⡿⢻⠻⣏⠋⠉⢷⣄⠀⣿⠛⠛⠛⠻⡿⠿⣿⠿⣭⣿⠾⠃⠀⣠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⡟⢹⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣏⣿⣷⢸⠀⣿⢧⣴⡿⠛⠳⣾⡖⠢⣄⠀⡇⠀⠘⠲⢤⣀⣀⣴⡿⢿⣝⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⢇⡇⢸⡟⣿⡇⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⣿⣧⣿⣄⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠿⠶⣧⣤⠴⠶⣻⡿⡿⢿⡇⠀⢹⣧⡹⣦⣀⡴⣿⢸⡘⡇⢸⠇⡇⡇⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⢻⣿⣿⣽⡿⠛⢷⠞⠛⣿⡏⠀⠈⠙⠳⣦⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⠖⢚⣿⣧⣧⢸⡇⠀⢸⡇⠙⠲⠿⠚⢻⣼⡿⠛⢿⡶⣧⣷⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣤⣼⣿⡏⢿⣄⣀⣼⣦⣤⡿⠿⠛⠶⣶⡷⢾⣄⣤⣤⣠⡯⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⢸⣿⠀⢸⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⡟⢻⡇⠀⣼⡇⡟⢿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⢋⣛⣿⠷⢶⣤ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⢸⣿⣇⣀⣉⠉⠑⠒⠀⢀⣠⠴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠈⠳⠤⢤⠄⡤⠤⠤⢾⣿⣿⢸⣽⠀⢸⠷⣄⣤⣶⠟⠁⢸⡇⠀⣿⡇⣷⣽⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠞⠋⠉⢻⠙⢶⣼ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡷⣾⠙⣴⢪⣿⢿⢲⣶⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⡇⠀⠀⢸⡇⡏⣸⡏⠀⢸⡴⣟⣾⡧⣾⠃⢸⡇⠀⣿⡇⢿⣿⠆⠀⣰⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣄⣼⡿ ⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣁⣿⡿⣱⠏⢨⢻⠀⣿⠀⣿⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣠⣇⣀⣤⣾⠧⠖⠋⠀⠀⣾⣴⣻⣷⡟⠁⠀⢸⡇⠀⣿⣇⠂⠐⡀⣼⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠏⠀ ⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⢹⡁⣯⠀⢸⣸⠀⣿⡀⣿⡆⣧⣀⣤⣤⣄⣀⣠⣾⣿⢇⣀⠀⣷⢿⠀⠀⣀⣠⣾⣏⣽⣯⣿⣏⣀⡀⢹⡇⠀⢸⣿⠀⢀⣼⡟⠍⠛⠓⠶⠶⠶⣴⣿⡋⢷⡄ ⣀⣀⣀⣠⣠⣤⣿⣾⣿⣷⣼⣧⣤⣿⣤⣿⣧⣾⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣭⣍⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣰⣿⣧⣾⣧⣤⣼⣿⣤⣾⣏⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣴⣟⣃⣙⣷⣝ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢈⢿⡿⡉⣿⢿⡿⣿⣟⡻⣿⢛⡿⣛⡛⣿⢟⡻⣿⡟⢿⡿⣛⡻⡿⣿⡿⡿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠸⢯⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿⣟⣛⣺⣿⡿⣛⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣯⣿⣧⣿⣸⣇⣿⣴⣿⣿⣼⣧⣿⣿⣿⣴⢷⣯⡶⣺⣯⣿⡃⣷⣿⣇⣯⣿⢻⣿⣿⢾⣧⣿⣿⣜⣻⣿⣹⣿⣻⣯⣧⡿⣿⣦⣹⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⢿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣧⣛⢿⢟⣿⣿⡟⣿⢻⡟⣿⢛⣏⣹⣿⣿⣿⣧⣹⣿⣣⢸⢟⡟⢿⣟⣿⢿⣛⣿⢟⣿⣻⣿⡟⣿⢻⣿⡇⠿⢇⣿⠟⢿⢻⡿⠛⢿⢸⠟⡟⢿⡟⣛⢿⡉⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣻⣼⣾⣿⣿⣧⣛⣼⣧⣿⣼⣷⣹⡟⣿⣿⣼⣷⣴⣿⣼⣦⣻⣿⣿⣿⣼⣟⣼⣮⣛⣵⣿⣿⢡⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣧⣛⣼⢺⣯⣛⣿⣼⣦⣛⣿⣿⣿⣼⣧⣿⣝⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

👽👽

🐉👽Sιrι👽🐉

👽☢️

👽🛸👾🌌🪐🛰️

🐸👽

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ix (By NeuroFabulous) The drive to the dentist was silent, the tension in the air thick. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye on the passing scenery outside the window. "You okay?" Karen asked, her voice soft. She reached over, her hand hovering. Plankton's antennae quivered. "Just... I'd prefer quiet, alone... and no touching," he murmured, his voice tight. "Please, for now." Karen nodded, her hand retreating to the steering wheel. "Okay, Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "I'll give you space.." The car was a cocoon of quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound to break the silence. Plankton sat in the passenger seat, his body tense, his antennae twitching slightly as he took deep, shaky breaths. Karen knew her husband was trying to prepare himself for the possible onslaught of the dentist's office. When they arrived, Karen parked the car and turned to him. "Ready?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze darting to the bright building ahead. "As ready as I'll ever be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nodded, her expression understanding. "Let's go, love," she whispered, reaching for his hand. But Plankton's body tensed, his antennae shooting up. "No touching right now," he murmured, his voice tight. They approached the dental office with slow, measured steps. The bright lights and the smell of antiseptic made Plankton's antennas quiver, but he pushed through, his gaze focused on his wife's calming presence. Inside, the receptionist's cheery greeting was almost too much for Plankton, his antennae twitching erratically. The hum of the office was a cacophony to his sensitive ears, but he took deep breaths, his gaze never leaving the floor. Karen's voice is low and soothing. "It's okay, honey," she murmured. "We're just here for a quick check-up." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. They take their seats in the waiting room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Each tick of the clock echoes in the silence, a stark contrast to his racing thoughts. He focuses on his breathing, in and out, trying to calm his nerves. Karen notices the way his antennae twitch in agitation, her hand hovering close to his. But he shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. The wait seems eternal, but finally, the hygienist calls Plankton's name. He stands, his antennae quivering slightly. Karen follows him into the room, her eyes scanning the environment for potential triggers. The hygienist, noticing Plankton's discomfort, speaks in a soft, even tone. "Hi, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "I'm Rachel. We're just here to check on the teeth we saw last time. So we're gonna take another x-ray and compare them, okay?" Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. Rachel's gentle touch as she leads him to the chair is almost too much for him. Karen can see the effort it takes for him to stay still, his body tense as a bowstring. The sound of the x-ray machine whirring to life makes Plankton's antennas twitch. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be quick, just hold still." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. Rachel places the film in his mouth, the cold metal sending shivers down his spine. He closes his eye, his breaths coming in short bursts. Karen's hand rests gently on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles. She whispers, "We've done this before," her voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching slightly. Rachel, the hygienist, notices his discomfort and dims the lights slightly. The sudden change makes his antennae still, his breathing evening out. "Alright, Mr. Plankton," Rachel says, her voice calm. "This won't hurt a bit. Just keep still and we'll be done in no time." Plankton nods, his antennae quivering slightly as Rachel steps away to take the x-ray. The room goes dark, the machine's buzz piercing the silence. Plankton's breath hitches, his eye squeezed shut. When Rachel returns, she's careful to avoid sudden movements. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, we're all done," she says, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae still as he opens his mouth, allowing Rachel to remove the film. He swallows hard, his eye never leaving Karen's.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iv (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's face was now slack with sleep. Karen moved silently, not wanting to disturb him. She knew how important this time was, how much he needed it. The house felt heavier with quiet, but Chip's door was open a crack, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Karen peeked in. He looked up, seeing her in the doorway. "Mom?" his voice was small, his screen searching hers. Karen walked over, sitting beside him on his bed. "Yes, Chip?" He looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Is Dad okay?" Karen took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "He will be, sweetie. Sometimes, people with disabilities have moments like this. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his throat tight. "But why's he..." Karen pulled him into a warm embrace. "It's okay to feel scared or confused. But remember, Dad's still in there. He loves you so much, and he's doing his best." Chip nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. "Does he know when it happens?" Karen's gaze remained steady. "Sometimes he does, sweetie. It's like when you get tired and need a nap. His brain just needs to recharge." Chip thought about that for a moment, his thumb playing with a loose thread on his blanket. "Does he remember what happens?" Karen's hand stilled on his back. "It's like a dream, Chip. Sometimes he remembers snippets, sometimes it's all a blur." Chip sat up, his eyes bright with questions. "Does he see us when he's like that?" Karen shrugs. "He might feel us, but his brain isn't fully here." Chip's mind raced with questions. "Mom, how did Dad get this... this... brain thing?" his voice cracked. Karen took a deep breath, her hand still warm on his back. "Well, sweetie, it's something he was born with. It's called autism, and it's a part of him." Chip's eyes widened. "But why? Did he do something wrong?" Karen sighed, her grip tightening around him. "No, Chip, it's not like that. It's just how his brain was made. Some people have different brain wiring, and that's okay. But in his specific circumstance, he was born posthumously, after his mum passed away.." Chip's eyes grew wider still, his curiosity piqued. "But, what? How..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. Karen took a deep breath, preparing herself for the explanation she had never thought she'd have to give. "Your dad's mum, she had him after she... passed away," she said, her voice gentle. Chip's eyes grew as big as saucers. "What do you mean, 'after she passed away'?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen took a moment, swallowing hard. "Well, sweetie, you know how babies are usually born when their mommies are alive and well, right?" Chip nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But how's that even physically possible?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's a rare procedure, Chip. When his mum was very sick, the doctors did everything they could to save her. But when she passed away, they realized his heart was still beating inside her." Chip's eyes were wide with horror and fascination. "But how did they get him out?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's eyes grew misty as she recounted the story, her voice soft and gentle. "They performed an emergency procedure called a post-mortem 'coffin birth'. It's very rare, Chip." Chip's eyes were like dinner plates, his mind trying to grasp the concept. "But how?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Karen took a moment to collect her thoughts, the story weighing heavily on her. "The doctors had to be very quick and careful, Chip. They knew Plankton had a chance, so they did what they could to save him. It was a miracle he made it out alive," she said, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of sadness. "Yet, because of the way he was born, his brain developed differently. That's what caused his autism. His brain was deprived of oxygen for a short time, which can lead to such conditions." Chip's hand went to his chest, his heart racing with the realization. "But does that mean he's... not like other dads?" Karen wrapped her arms around her son, holding him close. "Chip, your dad is unique, just like you. And yes, his brain works differently, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less. He might just show it in his own way." Chip sniffled, trying to make sense of everything. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked. Karen stroked his back, her heart heavy. "Because, sweetie, it's a hard thing to explain. And we didn't want to scare you or make you feel different about him. We wanted you to understand his quirks as part of who he is, not because of some label. And he's a good dad in his own way, even if he doesn't show it like other dads. Yet he also has his challenges, like with his sensory issues." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing with the new information. He had noticed how his dad sometimes flinched at loud noises or avoided crowded places.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iii (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton feels a wave of self-consciousness crash over him. He's always been different, and now his son is seeing him at his most vulnerable. He doesn't look at Chip, focusing instead on the ceiling above. Chip stares at him, his face a mix of confusion and concern. "Dad, are you o..." But Plankton snaps, cutting his son off with a harsh tone that slices through the tension in the room. "The show's over, Chip; you can leave now!" Chip's eyes widen in shock, his screen flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and hurt. He had never seen his father like this before. Karen intervenes gently. "Chip, your dad's just tired. Why don't you go play in your room for a bit?" Her voice was calm, but there was a firmness that Chip knew meant business. He nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his small shoulders. As he turned to leave, his gaze caught the sadness in his father's eye, a look that seemed to apologize without words. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence was deafening. Chip sat on his bed, his mind racing with thoughts about his father. He knew Plankton was different, but seeing him like that... it was like looking at a robot that suddenly turned off. It was scary, but also fascinating. He had so many questions, but his mother's words echoed in his mind: "Give him some space." He'd have to be extra careful around his dad from now on. Back in their own room, Karen sat beside Plankton, still stroking his arm. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she murmured. "I know it's hard for you." His eye searched hers, filled with a quiet desperation. "It's not your fault," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... sometimes it's too much." Karen's gaze softened, and she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I know," she whispered, her thumb continuing its soothing motion on his arm. "We'll get through it together." Plankton's antennae twitched again, and he took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice still hoarse from his self-imposed silence. "I know it's scary for you, for Chip." Karen's eyes remained on his, filled with love and understanding. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said firmly. "You're doing the best you can." Plankton managed a weak smile, his body slowly starting to uncoil from the tight knot it had formed during his shutdown. Karen's gentle touch was like a warm blanket, wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort. "Thank you, Karen," he whispered, his voice still shaky. "I'm just so tired." Karen nodded, her hand never leaving his arm. "You've had a long day," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "Why don't you rest a bit?" Plankton nodded, his energy depleted. He managed to get himself into a lying position, the bed creaking beneath him. Karen pulled the covers over him, tucking him in. Her voice was a lullaby in the quiet room. "Close your eye, Plankton. Take deep breaths. I'm here." Her hand remained on his arm, her thumb tracing the same comforting pattern. Plankton's breaths grew even, his body slowly relaxing into the mattress. The tightness in his chest eased with each exhale, and his antennae drooped slightly as he succumbed to his body's needs for rest. Karen watched over him, her screen never straying from his face. "Rest, love," she whispered, the words carrying a gentle lilt of reassurance. She knew the battle he faced every day, how hard he tried to fit into a world that didn't quite understand him. She felt a surge of admiration for his strength and resilience.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vi (By NeuroFabulous) They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sound being Plankton's even breathing. Then Chip spoke up, his voice tentative. "Mom, can you tell me more about autism?" Karen nodded, her hand still resting on Plankton's arm. "Autism is a spectrum, Chip. It means that no two people experience it the same way. Some have a harder time with it than others. For your dad, it's mostly about his senses. They can get overwhelmed easily." Chip leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'overwhelmed'?" Karen took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's like his brain can't filter out the extra information." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above Plankton's antennae. Karen's hand shot out, her grip on Chip's wrist firm but not painful. "Remember, sweetie, his senses are heightened." Chip's hand froze, his fingers curling slightly. "Does that mean he doesn't like to be touched?" he asked, his voice quivering. Karen's grip loosened, her eyes meeting Chip's. "It's more that certain touches can be too much for his brain to handle." Chip nodded, his gaze still on Plankton's antennae. "But what if I just..." his voice trailed off, his hand hovering. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding dawning. "If you want to touch him, Chip, do it gently. Use the back of your hand, like this." She demonstrated, her hand gliding softly over his antennae. "It's like you're saying 'hello' without disturbing him." Chip nodded, his hand trembling slightly. He mimicked her movements, his touch as light as a feather. Plankton's antennae quivered under his touch, but he remained asleep. Karen gave him a small smile of encouragement. "Mom, does he like it when I touch him like this?" Chip asked, his voice filled with hope. Karen watched her son, his hand hovering over Plankton's antennas with such care. "It depends," she said, her voice soft. "Sometimes, it can be soothing for him. Other times, it can be too much." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "But how will I know?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding his desire to connect. "You'll have to watch him, Chip. Look for signs. If he tenses up or pulls away, that's his way of saying 'stop'. And if he seems calmer or his breathing slows, that's his way of saying 'ok'. It's about reading his body language." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over Plankton's antennas. He took a deep breath, and then, as gently as he could, he let the back of his hand graze the antennae. Plankton's body remained still, yet his antennae twitched slightly. Karen gave a nod of approval. "Remember, Chip, everyone's touch is different to him," she said. "Some days, he might not even want to be touched." Chip nodded solemnly, his hand hovering over his father's antennae. "Does he like it when I hug him?" he whispered. Karen's smile grew. "His favorite person to be touched by is me. But even with me, he has his limits. Sometimes, he just needs his space." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "Does he like it when other people touch him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes searched his, knowing this was a delicate topic. "Well, Chip, it's different with everyone. Some days, your dad can tolerate more than others. But generally, it's people he's comfortable with, like me." "But what about me?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly. Karen's smile was sad. "It's going to take some time, Chip. You'll have to learn his signals, his boundaries.." Plankton's body began to stir, his antennae twitching more frequently as he shifted in his sleep. Chip watched, his hand hovering over his dad's head, unsure if he should risk disturbing him. Karen's eyes followed the movement, her gaze filled with a quiet sadness. "It's okay, Chip," she whispered. "He's just waking up." Plankton's antennae twitched again, more quickly now. His eye flickered open, his pupil expanding as he adjusted to the dim light. He looked around, his gaze landing on Karen and Chip. "Hey, buddy," Karen whispered, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. Plankton's eye focused on Chip, who was staring at him with a mix of fear and fascination. He knew that look, had seen it in others' eyes before. But coming from his son, it hit him harder than he'd ever expected. He took a deep breath, his body still feeling like he'd run a marathon. "Hi," he said, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip's hand jerked back, his heart racing. "Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae twitched again, this time in acknowledgment. "Hi, Chip," he rasped, his voice sounding neutral. Chip stared, his thoughts racing. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to say, but the words got caught in his throat. Plankton looked at his son, his antennae drooping. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken worries and fears. He took another deep breath, his body still feeling the toll. "How are you feeling, Plankton?" Karen's voice was a gentle caress in the silence. He swallowed, his throat dry from his ordeal. "Tired," he murmured, his antennae twitching slightly. "But better." Karen's hand found his again, her touch a lifeline. "Do you remember what happened?" she asked gently. Plankton's antennae drooped. "I... I think so," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "I had a... a shutdown, with Chip." Chip's eyes widened, his heart racing. He'd never heard his dad talk about his episodes before. It was like a door had been opened to a part of Plankton's life that had always remained closed to him. "It's okay, Dad," he whispered, his hand reaching out tentatively. "You can tell me." His hand barely grazed Plankton's arm... Plankton flinched at the touch, his antennae twitching erratically. Chip's heart skipped a beat, his hand retreating as if burned. Karen offered a gentle smile, her gaze meeting Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said softly. "Chip's just trying to understand." Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae slowly calming. "I know," he murmured. "I, I'm s-sorry." Karen's hand tightened on his, her eyes never leaving his face. "Don't apologize, love," she whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong." Plankton nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He knew she was right, but the fear of losing his respect was palpable. His antennae twitched again, the overstimulation of the day still lingering.

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

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xiv (By NeuroFabulous) Sandy and Chip watch as she tucks the blanket around his form, her movements careful not to disturb his slumber. "Let him sleep," she murmurs, her voice a caress. "He'll wake when his body's ready." The two of them nod, understanding in their silent gazes. They sit quietly, the only sound the ticking of the clock and Plankton's deep snores. Sandy glances at Karen, her eyes filled with concern. "Is he okay?" she asks in a hushed whisper. Karen nods, her expression calm. "It's normal after surgery. He'll be fine." Chip's gaze is glued to his father, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar sight. "What happens now?" he asks, his voice small in the quiet room. Karen sits back, her hands folded in her lap. "Now, we wait," she murmurs. "Let him rest." Sandy nods, her eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. "It's late," she says, her voice low. "Should I stay?" "You can sleep in my bed Sandy," Karen says. Sandy nods, her eyes on Plankton. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to leave you alone." Karen smiles, her gaze on Plankton's peaceful face. "You won't," she says. "We're all here." Sandy nods, a soft smile gracing her features. "Thank you," she says, her voice a gentle echo in the silent room. She takes the offered space, her eyes never leaving her friend's sleeping form. Karen watches Plankton sleep, his antennae twitching slightly with each snore. Her thoughts are a whirlwind of emotion, a mix of worry and love. She knows the road ahead won't be easy, but she's determined to navigate it with patience and care. The next morning, the sun peeks through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the living room. Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching as the world intrudes on his slumber. The room is quiet, the remnants of the previous day's events a fading memory. He opens his eye to find Karen asleep in the chair beside him. Her hand is curled around his, a silent promise of support. Plankton's mouth feels swollen, the tender reminder of the surgery yesterday. He sits up slowly, his body protesting with a soft groan. The house is still, the only sounds the distant chirps of early morning scallops. Chip is probably still asleep, Sandy in the other room. Plankton's antennae quiver as the pain of the surgery starts to make itself known, a dull throb that echoes through his body. He reaches up to his mouth with tentative fingers, the swollen flesh meeting his touch with a sharp sting. He winces, his body tensing in response. Karen's eyes open. "You're ok," she whispers, her voice a gentle balm. She takes his hand, guiding it away from his face. "Le..." But Plankton's antennae are already twitching with discomfort, his eye wide with pain. "M'hurt," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen's expression softens, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I know," she says, her voice soothing. "It's from the surgery." Plankton nods, his body stiff with discomfort. Karen stands, her movements fluid. She fetches a cold compress from the kitchen, the fridge's hum a gentle reminder of the world outside their quiet bubble. "Here," she murmurs, her touch featherlight as she places the compress gently against his cheek. The coldness soothes the ache, his antennae quivering with relief. Plankton's eye closes, his body sagging into the couch cushions. The pain is a dull throb, a constant reminder of his surgery. Karen sits beside him, her hand resting lightly on his, her presence a comforting weight. "What else can I do?" she whispers, her eyes filled with concern. He mumbles something incoherent, his antennae twitching. Karen frowns, her brow furrowed. "What was that, Plankton?" He opens his eye slightly, his voice thick with pain. "M'hurt," he whispers. Karen's heart clenches. "Your teeth?" she asks, her voice a soft concern. Plankton nods, his antennae drooping. "Mmh," he confirms, his hand moving to his swollen cheek. The coldness of the compress is a small mercy, but the throb persists. Karen's gaze is filled with determination as she looks for more ways to ease his discomfort. She remembers the pain medication from the doctor, quickly retrieving it from the kitchen counter. The bottle rattles slightly in her hand, each pill a potential lifeline. Plankton's eye widens slightly at the sound, his antennas twitching with anticipation. She opens the bottle with a soft click, the smell of mint wafting upwards. "Take one," she instructs, her voice a gentle guideline through the fog of his pain. He nods, his hand shaking as he takes the pill. The water is cold on his swollen tongue, the liquid a sweet reprieve. Karen watches as he swallows, her face etched with care. "There you go," she whispers, her hand never leaving his. The pain medication takes effect slowly, the throb easing into a dull ache. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his breathing evening out. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen's smile is a soft reassurance. He sinks back into the couch cushions, his antennae drooping with relief. The cold compress is a steady presence, her hand in his a warm reassurance. "You're welcome," she whispers, as Chip follows his mom's friend Sandy to them. Sandy's eyes are filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "How's he doing?" she asks, her voice a soft question in the early morning silence. Karen looks over back at Plankton. "He's in a bit of pain," she says, her voice a gentle sigh. "But the medication should kick in soon." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "I can stay and help," she offers. "If you need anything, just let me know." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye opening to meet her gaze. "Mmph," he mumbles, his voice still slurred. Karen nods, her smile gentle. "You're doing great," she whispers. Chip sees his dad's swollen cheeks and his antennae drooping. "Does it hurt a lot, Dad?" he asks, his voice filled with a newfound compassion for the man he's often seen as just his quirky father. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye blinking open. "Mmh," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse echo of his pain. "A little." Karen's smile is filled with empathy as she squeezes his hand. "It's okay, I'm here," she whispers. She knows the pain of his autism, the way it can magnify the smallest of discomforts into a symphony of sensory overload. She gently places the compress back on his cheek, her eyes never leaving his face.

I beat my meat at 4am in the morning! Red kitnap, orange kitnap, blue kitnap, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, stop wonk, stop wonking my Willy, stop wonking my Willy, uh, Wonk Willy's Willy instead, you know, Willy Afton's Willy, William Afton's Wonk his Willy instead! My willy, I beat my meat, I beat my meat, I beat my meat, I beat my meat, I beat my meat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit ass, shit ass, shit ass. If you wake up at 4am in the morning or 3 and go to the kitchen, sing shit in it and yell among us 69 times very loudly, then an entity called your mom will beat you with a very, very, very, very powerful powerful a weapon called the slipper.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago AlexDalcourt I like to flap my hands and vocalize- sometimes I do it in public. "Reports coming in that an Autistic child was killed by police for suspicious behaviour and resistance of arrest."

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS v (By NeuroFabulous) "You know how sometimes, Dad gets overwhelmed with too much going on around him?" Karen began, her voice gentle. "It's because his brain processes things differently. He's sensitive to sounds, lights, even touch. That's why he can seem a bit... reserved, other than the fact that he's just shy about it." Chip nodded, his mind still racing with questions. "But why's he shy about it?" Karen took a deep breath, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "Because, Chip, your dad's always been self-conscious. He's aware of how he's different, and sometimes, he just needs his space." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving his mother's face. "Does he ever get mad about it?" Karen's gaze was steady, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, Chip. But it's not at you. It's his way of dealing with the overstimulation." Chip nodded, his curiosity morphing into understanding. "So, his brain needs a time-out?" Karen nodded, her voice soft. "In a way, yes. It's his body's way of telling him to slow down and take a break. Sometimes, when things get too much for him, he just needs to be alone, without any noise or distraction." Chip looked at his mother, his eyes brimming with emotion. "But what about when he has these... episodes? Will he always be like this?" Karen squeezed his hand, her gaze never leaving his. "Sweetie, we can't predict the future, but we can help him. He's gotten better at managing his overstimulation over the years, but sometimes it still happens. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his mind still racing. He looked towards the door, his curiosity about his father's condition growing. He wanted to check on him, to make sure he was okay. With Karen by his side, they tiptoed into the dimly lit room. Plankton was now fast asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly beneath the covers. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. Chip felt a pang of sympathy for his father, his mind still racing with questions about the condition he had just learned of. He studied Plankton's face, now peaceful in slumber. His antennae lay flat against his pillow, no longer twitching with the stress of the shutdown. Karen put a finger to her lips, reminding Chip to be quiet as they approached the bed. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face finally relaxed, free from the tension that had held him captive earlier. The room was dim, the only light coming from the hallway. Karen watched her son studying his father, her heart swelling with pride. Chip was growing up so fast, and now he was facing something so complex. She knew he was strong enough to handle it, though. They stood there in silent vigil for a moment, until Chip finally whispered, "Can I talk to him?" Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "Just keep your voice low," she advised. Chip leaned over, his whisper a gentle breeze. "Dad, I'm here," he murmured. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Karen's hand rested on Chip's shoulder, guiding him to sit in a chair beside the bed. Chip's eyes remained fixed on his father, his mind racing with questions and fears. Yet, there was also a newfound respect for Plankton's silent battles. He watched his chest rise and fall, the steady beat of his heart a testament to his resilience. "What do we do now?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes never left Plankton's sleeping form. "We give him time," she said, her voice soothing. "And when he wakes from his nap, we'll be here."

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vii (By NeuroFabulous) "Chip," he began, his voice cracking. "I have something important to tell you." Chip leaned forward, his heart racing. "What is it, Dad?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, his eyes meeting his son's with a meld of love and apprehension. "I'm autistic," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip thought back to what his mom had told him about his father's unique way of being born, and how it had affected his brain. He remembered the awe in his mother's voice as she recounted the story of Plankton's birth, the way she'd spoken with a mix of wonder and sorrow. It was a lot to take in, but it made him feel closer to his father somehow. "Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative, his hand still hovering over his father's arm. "What's a... coffin birth?" Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye flicking to Karen's. She gave a tiny nod, understanding the need for honesty. "It's a rare event, Chip," Plankton began, his voice steadier now. "It's when a baby is born after their mother has... passed away." Chip's eyes searched his father's, trying to make sense of the words. "But how?" Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae flattening slightly. "The doctors had to be... quick," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They knew I was still alive, and they did everything they could to get me out." Chip's eyes grew even wider, his imagination running wild. "But Dad, how does that even work?" he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and horror. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's... it's a difficult thing to explain, Chip," he said, his voice strained. "But basically, when a mom's body isn't alive anymore, but the baby's heart is still beating, the doctors do an emergency procedure to get the baby out." Chip's eyes were like saucers, his mind racing. "But how is that possible?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. Plankton sighed, his antennas drooping slightly. "The doctors try to induce labor in mum's body after she... after she's gone," he said, his voice strained with the difficulty of the memory. "It was a delicate process, and not always successful. In my birth, there was a moment where my brain didn't get enough oxygen," he murmured. "When I was still inside mum." Chip's unsure how to react. "And how'd it give you autism?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, his gaze dropping to the bed. "Well, it's something that can happen when a baby's brain doesn't get enough oxygen during birth, Chip," he said, his voice quiet. "It's like a... hypoxic-ischemic event. It can lead to... complications. For me, it was autism." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over his father's arm. "But how did your mum... die?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae drooped further, his gaze going distant. "It was an accident," he murmured. "Her heart... it just stopped. Bled out, the doctors said." Chip's hand hovered over his dad's arm, his mind racing with the implications. "But why?" Plankton took a moment, his antennae flicking slightly. "It's complicated, Chip. My mum... she had a rarity. Her heart was weak, and it couldn't handle the stress. It went undiagnosed back then." Chip's hand hovered still, his heart breaking for his dad. "But Dad, why didn't anyone know?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze going to the floor. "They did, eventually," he murmured. "But by then, it was too late. My mum was gone." Chip's eyes filled with sympathy, his hand resting on the bed. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze meeting his son's. "It's okay, Chip. It's not something you could've known. I obviously didn't know her to well, but thank you." Karen was glad to see them connecting. "So Chip, you can ask us questions if you want." Chip looked from Karen to Plankton, his curiosity piqued. "Dad, is there anything you really hate that makes you have these... shutdowns?" Plankton's antennae twitched nervously, his eye darting between them. "Well, Chip, it's not always just one thing. It's mostly like... a buildup. Loud noises, too many people, bright lights," he listed off. "They can all make it harder for me to focus, to filter out the extra stuff my brain's taking in." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "What about touch?" he asked, his voice tentative. "Does it bother you?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze flicking to Karen's comforting hand. "It depends," he said slowly. "Some days, I crave it. Other days, it's too much." Chip nodded, his mind racing. "What about hugs?" he asked, his voice hopeful. "Does it help you feel better?" Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye searching his son's face. "Sometimes," he said, his voice tight. "But not always." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering. "Can I... ca--" Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye widening. "No!" The suddenness of his reaction made Chip's hand jerk back, his eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry, buddy," Plankton said, his voice softening as he saw the fear in his son's eyes. "It's just that, sometimes, hugs are too much. I need... space, like I told you. But only if I know they're coming, and only from people I trust. I'm still recovering right now." Chip's hand hovered in the air, unsure of what to do. "Can I... I don't know, maybe just pat you on the shoulder?" he asked, his voice hopeful. But Plankton shook his head. "No, Chip," he murmured. "I do not want my shoulders to be patted. That's too much." Chip nodded, his gaze on Plankton's. "How about a high five?" he asked, his hand still hovering. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye narrowing as he considered his son's question. "Maybe," he murmured. "But only if you're gentle." Chip nodded eagerly, his hand slowly descending towards his dad's hand. He hovered for a moment, his heart racing. Then, with all the gentleness he could muster, he tapped his father's hand with his fingertips. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but his eye remained focused on Chip's. "Good job," he murmured, his voice a quiet praise. "That was... perfect."

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS viii (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's gaze searched both of their faces, seeing the tentative connection forming. "Why don't we let Daddy rest now?" she suggested softly, her eyes on Chip. "It's getting to be bedtime. You head to bed, Chip." she said gently. Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over Plankton's. He knew his father needed his space, especially after such an ordeal. "Goodnight, Dad," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of fear and love. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye still focused on Chip. "Goodnight, buddy," he murmured, his voice exhausted. "I-I-I-I… lo-ove y-you." The words hung in the air, a declaration of his feelings despite his condition. Chip felt his heart swell with a mix of emotion, his hand falling to his side. "I love you too, Dad," he whispered back, his voice trembling slightly. The next morning, Karen hears a ding vibrate on her phone, waking her. She sits up and looks over at Plankton, who's still sleeping. She smiles softly at the sight of her snoring husband, his antennae twitching slightly with each breath. Gently, she slides out of bed, careful not to disturb his rest. She grabs her phone, checking the text. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of the message: "Plankton: Dental Appointment to discuss his latest x-ray. We open in 1 hour." It was from Plankton's dental office. Karen sighed, setting her phone on the nightstand. "Plankton, love," she whispered, carefully shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, we have a dental appointment." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye opening. He took a moment to process the information, his brain slowly coming online. "Dentist?" he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen nodded, her voice steady. "Yes, honey. We need to talk to the dentist about your latest x-ray." Plankton's antennae twitched. Karen knew that dental appointments were a particularly tough challenge for Plankton due to his sensory sensitivities. With a sigh, Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen could feel the tension in the room, so she took Plankton's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll call Sandy" she said, her voice calm. "She'll look after Chip." Plankton nodded, his antennas still twitching nervously. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen quickly dials Sandy's phone number. The phone rings, a distant melody in the quiet room. Plankton's antennae twitched with every ring, his nervousness palpable. "Sandy, it's Karen," Karen's voice was a comforting balm over the line. "Could you possibly watch Chip today? We've got a dental appointment for Plankton, and it's... sudden, I know." Sandy's voice came through the speaker, warm and understanding. "Of course, Karen. Right now? I'll be heading on over!" Karen breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Sandy," she whispered, then hanging up. She went to Chip's room. The light from the hallway spilled into his room, casting long shadows across the floor. Chip stirred in his bed, his eyes blinking open sleepily. "Huh?" he mumbled. Karen's smile was gentle as she leaned over him. "Hey, buddy," she whispered. "Sandy's here to watch you while I take Daddy to a dentist appointment." Chip's eyes widened, his mind still foggy with sleep. "Dentist?" he repeated, sitting up. "Don't worry, Chip," Karen assured him, her voice soft. "You can stay here with Sandy. She'll take good care of you." The sound of the doorbell rang through the house, a sharp, piercing noise that made Plankton's antennae twitch. Karen's eyes darted to his face, but his expression remained stoic. She knew his hearing was sensitive, but she didn't have time to fuss over it now. "It's just Sandy," she assured Plankton with a smile, patting his hand before heading to the door. "It'll be okay, honey." The door opened, and Sandy's cheerful face appeared. "Howdy, Karen!" she chirped, her eyes scanning the room. "Hi, Sandy! I don't know how long we'll be gone but I can keep you updated. It's to review an x-ray from Plankton's last x-ray they said they'd keep an eye on, and they notified us to come in today." Sandy nodded, her smile warm and reassuring. "Don't worry, I've got this. I'll keep Chip busy and entertained," she promised. "But he can also sleep in.." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's okay, love," she murmured, squeezing his hand. "We'll be going now." Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen knew he was scared, but she also knew he'd get through it. "Come on," she whispered, her voice soothing. "Let's go to the car."

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xv (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's antennae twitch. "M'sorry," he murmurs, his voice a weak apology for his condition. Karen's hand is a steady presence, her grip reassuring. "You have nothing to apologize for," she says, her voice a soft whisper of comfort. Chip watches his father, his curiosity piqued. "Hey, Dad," he says, his voice a gentle reminder of the care and understanding that now exists between them. Chip sits on the edge of the couch, his hand reaching to touch Plankton's shoulder... Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye snapping open in alarm. His hand shoots out, batting Chip's arm away. Chip recoils, his eyes wide with surprise. "It's okay, Dad," he says quickly, his voice low. "I wa-" But Plankton's antennae are quivering with agitation, his body tense. "Don't," he snaps, his voice sharp. Karen's eyes dart to her son, her expression a silent apology. She knows Plankton's autism makes him hypersensitive to touch, especially when in pain. Chip's hand hover in mid-air, his eyes wide. "Why'd yo-" Plankton's voice is a harsh interruption, his antennae twitching erratically. "I said don't," he repeats, his voice a firm command. Chip's hand drops to his side, his expression one of confusion and hurt. "It's okay," Karen says quickly, her voice a gentle reminder. "He's just sensitive." Sandy nods, her eyes on Plankton's face. "It's okay, Chip," she says softly. "Let's just give him some space." Chip nods, his gaze on his father's tense form. Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she watches Plankton, his antennae still twitching with agitation. "It's all right," she whispers, her voice a gentle balm. "Your body's just healing." The silence stretches between them, a soft acknowledgment of his pain. The compress feels cold against his cheek, the medication a distant promise. His antennae droop slightly, his body beginning to relax. Karen watches him closely, her eyes a map of his comfort. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "You just need to rest." His antennae twitch in response, his breathing evening out. The medication starts to kick in, the pain a distant memory. Plankton's antennae droop with the weight of his exhaustion. Karen's hand remains in his, a silent promise of support. She knows that his autism means that even the smallest touch can be too much, yet she also knows the comfort of familiarity. Chip's eyes are wide, taking in the scene before him. He wants to be near his dad! Karen's eyes are on them both, her heart a silent prayer. She knows how much Chip wants to comfort Plankton, to bridge the gap that autism often forces between them. Chip tries to keep his moves calm, but his heart races with concern despite his efforts to hold back. He also sees the way Karen's hand rests on Plankton's, a silent offer of comfort, and wonders if he could do the same.. So Chip takes a deep breath, his finger tentative as it reaches out to his father's shoulder, his touch immediate... Plankton's body twitches right at Chip's contact, his eye snapping open. "Mmph," he mumbles, his antennae shooting up in a defensive stance. Chip's hand freezes, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "It's okay, Da-" Yet Plankton's antennae droop again, his eye falling closed. "Mmh," he mumbles. But Chip takes this as a green light. He leans in closer, his finger brushing Plankton's cheek... "Don't touch me!" Plankton's voice is a whipcrack, his antennae twitching angrily. His hand shoots up to swat Chip's touch away. "M'fine!" he snaps, his body trembling with pain and frustration. Karen's heart aches, caught between her son's well-meaning concern and Plankton's desperate need for space. "Chip," she says gently, her voice a calming force. "Remember what we talked about.." Yet Chip wants to ask questions about his dad's dental surgery. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye opening to slits. "What?" he snaps, his voice a sharp edge. Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity. "What was it like?" he asks, his voice eager. "The surgery, I mean." Karen's smile is a soft explanation. "It was like a long nap," she says, her eyes on Plankton. "They gave him medicine to make him sleepy, so he wouldn't feel anything." Chip's eyes light up with interest. "What happened to make him asleep?" he asks, his voice filled with eagerness to understand. Karen's smile is a gentle explanation. "They used anesthesia," she says, her voice calm and steady. "It's like a special kind of sleep that lets doctors work without you feeling anything." Chip's eyes widen, his mind racing with questions. "But how did they know he was asleep?" he asks, his voice a whisper of wonder. Karen's smile is filled with pride. "They used monitors, sweetie," she explains. "They keep track of his heartbeat and breathing, so they know he's okay." Chip's gaze is riveted on Plankton's swollen cheeks. "But his mouth?" he presses. "What did they do?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his discomfort visible. Karen's voice is a soft guide. "They took out his wisdom teeth," she says. "They were gonna cause problems." Chip's curiosity is a whirlwind of questions. "How do they know when you're asleep?" he asks, his voice filled with awe. Karen's smile is a gentle teaching tool. "They watch his brain waves," she says, her words a soft explanation. "They use a machine that shows them how much he's sleeping." Chip nods, his eyes absorbing the information. "And how'd dad woke up?" Karen's eyes are filled with patience. "They stopped the medicine," she says. "And when he was ready, his body woke up." Chip's mind is a storm of curiosity. "But what was it like?" he asks again, his voice a persistent wonder. "Being asleep like that?" Karen's eyes hold a hint of amusement. "It's like a very deep sleep," she says. "You don't dream, you don't feel, you just rest." Chip's curiosity is a tiny flame, flickering brightly in the quiet room. "But what about when he woke up?" he presses, his voice filled with a child's need to understand the world. Karen's smile is a gentle nod. "When you wake up from surgery, it's a little different," she explains. "The body's still sleepy, and his mouth was numb." Chip's eyes are wide with understanding. "Oh," he says, his voice a soft wonder.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xvii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip's never felt so close to his dad, not even when they used to build sandcastles on the beach. Plankton's antennae tickle his neck, a gentle reminder of the trust that's been slowly building between them. The snores are a comforting background to the quiet evening. "Can I sleep out here, next to Dad?" Chip asks. Karen nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course," she whispers, her voice a soft caress in the darkness. "Just be careful not to disturb him. Let's get you both set up." They work together, moving pillows and blankets, careful not to jostle Plankton. Chip watches as his mother gently lifts his father's head, placing it gently on his own pillow as Chip stands up. They move a soft foot bench for Chip to sleep on next to Plankton. Karen pulls a blanket over both of them, tucking it around them both. Chip's heart races with excitement, his mind racing with the newfound connection. He lies down on the foot bench, his body tense with anticipation. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he shifts, but he doesn't stir. Karen's eyes are a soft moon, her gaze a gentle reminder of the night ahead. "Remember," she whispers. "Don't move too much. He needs his space." Chip nods, his eyes filled with understanding. He watches as Karen disappears upstairs, the light flickering before going out. The room is a canvas of shadows, Plankton's snores a soft metronome. He lies still, his mind whirling with thoughts. It's strange, feeling his dad's body so close. He's always been the one to move away, the one to hide. But here he is, sleeping. The room is quiet, save for Plankton's snores. Chip swallows, his heart thumping. He reaches out his hand, his fingers trembling slightly. He's never felt so nervous about something so simple. He touches Plankton's antennae, his heart in his throat. They twitch slightly at the contact, but Plankton doesn't wake up. Chip's breath escapes in a silent whoosh. He holds his hand there, his fingertips exploring the softness of his father's antennae. They're so delicate, like tiny whiskers. Plankton's breathing doesn't change. Encouraged, Chip slides his hand further up, his heart racing. He's never felt so close to his dad, not even during those rare moments when Plankton allows a brief hug. His hand comes to rest on Plankton's shoulder, his father's arm lying limp. Plankton's snores hitch for a moment, his antennae twitching erratically. Chip's heart leaps into his throat, but then Plankton relaxes again, his snores resuming their comforting rhythm. Chip's hand remains on his father's shoulder, his mind racing with thoughts of all the times he's wanted to be closer. He's never dared to touch him like this before, afraid of setting off a storm of sensory overload. But now, as Plankton sleeps, his antennae lying still against his head, Chip feels a strange sense of peace. He watches his father's chest rise and fall, his snores a soothing lullaby. He's always been so quick to retreat into his shell, but here, in this quiet moment, he's vulnerable, his defenses down. Chip's hand remains on his father's shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles. He wonders if Plankton knows how much he's wanted to connect like this. How much he's longed for the kind of closeness that other kids share with their dads. The antennae on Plankton's head twitch slightly, and Chip holds his breath. But Plankton's snores remain steady, his body relaxed. A smile tugs at the corner of Chip's mouth. He's never felt this level of acceptance from his father, not even during their rare moments of physical contact. He leans closer, his eyes studying Plankton's sleeping face. His father's cheeks are still a bit puffy from the surgery, but there's a peace to his expression that Chip hasn't seen in a long time. His antennae lie still, no longer twitching with pain or irritation. Chip's hand on his shoulder feels like an anchor, a connection he's longed for. He wonders if Plankton's dreams are filled with the colors and shapes of their underwater world, or if he dreams of a place beyond the reef, a place where his inventions come to life. Chip simply watches him sleep, his own eyes drooping with exhaustion. As the night stretches on, the snores become a lullaby, a rhythm that soothes Chip's racing thoughts. He's so close to his dad, closer than he's ever been. The room feels smaller, yet somehow more expansive, like the ocean outside their door. He watches Plankton's chest rise and fall with each breath, his antennae lying still against his forehead. It's strange, seeing his father so vulnerable, so open to the world. In sleep, Plankton's usual defensive posture has melted away, leaving behind a softness that Chip has never seen before. He tentatively reaches out his other hand, his fingers sliding under the blanket to rest lightly on Plankton's hand. It's a small gesture, but it feels like a monumental step forward. Plankton's hand twitches, but doesn't pull away. Chip's breath catches in his throat, his heart racing. He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction. But Plankton's snores remain steady. Chip's heart thumps in his chest. He's never felt this close to his father. It's like they're sharing a secret, a quiet moment of understanding. He squeezes Plankton's hand gently, his thumb tracing the outline of his father's palm. Plankton's antennae twitch again, his hand moving slightly under Chip's. Chip's heart leaps, his eyes widening. Did he feel that? A soft squeeze from Plankton's hand, a silent communication. He squeezes back, his grip gentle. Plankton's snores continue, his hand relaxing into Chip's. The moment stretches, a warm band connecting the two of them. Chip's heart is a caged bird, fluttering with excitement. He's never felt so close to his dad, never thought this was possible. He watches as Plankton's snores deepen, his hand in his father's a silent promise of support. The room is a symphony of quiet moments, each breath a note of peace. Chip's lulled by the steady beat of his father's snores. His eyes drift shut, his mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts. He dreams of a world where Plankton's antennae don't twitch with fear, where the shutdowns don't steal him away. He dreams of a future where they can share laughter, not just the quiet moments like this. Hours later, Plankton's snores have turned into soft, even breaths. The room is bathed in the gentle glow of early morning, the sun peeking through the curtains. Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching as he awakens to a new day. He blinks slowly, his eye adjusting to the light. And then he sees it. Chip's hand, curled around his own, a warm pressure that grounds him. His son's body, curled into the foot bench, his chest rising and falling silently with sleep. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he blinks, his mind foggy with the remnants of sleep. He tries to sit up, to pull away, but his body protests, a dull throb in his cheeks reminding him of the surgery's aftermath. He feels a warmth beside him, his son's hand in his own, a gentle reminder of the night's unexpected intimacy. His heart thumps in his chest, the realization hitting him like a gentle wave. Chip had been there, holding on, a silent support through his slumber. Plankton's antennae quiver, his brain slowly waking up. He's not used to this, to being touched so casually, so openly. It's a foreign sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. He looks down at their joined hands, his son's thumb resting against his palm. He's torn between retreating and embracing the moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. But his son's gentle breaths, the weight of his body against his side... He feels a strange warmth, a feeling he's often chased away. But here, in the quiet pre-dawn light, he lets it in. Plankton's antennae twitch, a quiet acknowledgment of his son's presence. He doesn't pull away, his hand still in Chip's. His mind is a tornado of thoughts, spinning with the realization that he's allowed this unsolicited closeness with Chip. Plankton's heart beats faster, his antennae quivering slightly. He's not used to this, the unexpected warmth, the silent comfort of his son's touch. But as the moments stretch into something more, he finds that he doesn't want to pull away.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS x (By NeuroFabulous) Rachel's gaze flicks to the x-rays now in her hand, her eyes widening slightly. "Everything looks... mostly good," she says, her voice measured. "But we've noticed something with your wisdom teeth." Plankton's antennae spike in alarm. "What is it?" he asks, his voice tight. Karen's hand squeezes his shoulder, her eyes on Rachel's face. Rachel's eyes scan the x-ray, her brow furrowed. "It appears your wisdom teeth are impacted, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice soft. "They'll push against your other teeth as we feared." Karen's eyes dart to her husband's, watching the panic flicker across his face. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice tight. Rachel swallows, her expression sympathetic. "It means, Mrs. Plankton, that your husband will need to see our oral surgeon to have them removed," she says gently. "They can't wait much longer. The surgeon is actually open right now, if... Plankton?" Rachel notices his sudden stillness. Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze unfocused. "What's the matter?" Rachel asks, her voice filled with concern. Karen quickly explains the situation. "He's autistic," she murmurs. "He can get overwhelmed easily." Rachel nodded, her expression understanding. "Ah," she said, her tone gentle. "Well, let's go slowly. We know that the wisdom teeth are causing problems, and they need to come out. But we can work with you to make it as comfortable as possible. You both follow me to the surgery." They follow Rachel down a hallway, the walls a soothing blue, the floor a muted grey. Plankton's antennae twitch with each step, his eye darting from side to side. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes never leaving his face. The surgery room loomed ahead, its door open just a crack, a glimpse of gleaming instruments and the smell of antiseptic wafting out. Rachel notices Plankton's anxiety and stops, turning to face them. "Let's go over what will happen during the surgery," Rachel says, her voice measured and calm. "First, let's go in the room and meet our surgeon." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye flicking to Karen's hand still holding his. She nods, her smile encouraging. "We can do this," she whispers. They enter the surgery room, the coldness of the air making his antennae stand on end. The surgeon, a squid named Dr. McSquinty, greets them with a friendly smile. His tentacles wave in a non-threatening way. "Hi, I'm Dr. McSquinty," he says, his voice a soothing baritone. "We're going to make sure this is as easy and painless as possible for you. I'll take it from here, Rachel." Rachel nods, her eyes lingering on Plankton's anxious form before exiting the room. The surgeon's tentacles move in a gentle, calming wave. "Now, I know this can be a bit overwhelming, Mr. Plankton," he says, his eyes kind. "But I promise we'll explain everything before we do it." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze fixed on Dr. McSquinty. Karen squeezes his hand, her voice soft. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmurs. "He's autistic, and sensitive, Doc..." Dr. McSquinty nods, his tentacles waving gently. "I've had patients with special needs before," he says, his tone calm. "We'll take it slow, and I'll make sure to explain everything step by step." Both their eyes searched Plankton's face, his antennae still quivering. "Okay, Plankton," Dr. McSquinty began, his voice calm and measured. "We're going to talk about taking out your wisdom teeth." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze fixed on the surgeon's tentacles. Karen could see the fear in his eye. Dr. McSquinty continued, his tentacles moving in a slow, methodical pattern. "We'll use a local anesthetic to numb the area. You won't feel a thing, I promise." He grabs a syringe, which ends up being to much for Plankton. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening. Karen's hand tightens around his. "It's ok," she whispers. "It's just to help with the pain." But Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the syringe, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Dr. McSquinty notices. "We need to, Plankton. Now, do you know why we need to have your wis..." Plankton's antennae quivered uncontrollably, his eye wide with fear. "Breathe with me, Plankton," Karen whispered, her grip steady. She watched as Dr. McSquinty approached. Yet Plankton's body started to shake, his antennae quivering wildly. The thought was too much, and he uncontrollably began to shut down again. "It's okay," Karen murmured, her voice a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. "Let's take a step back, Doc." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles stilling. "Of course," he said, his voice gentle. "Let's talk it through, Karen. Tell me what Plankton needs fo..." But Plankton's antennae were already drooping, his body shutting down again. The fear had become too much. "Plankton," Karen's voice was calm and firm. "Look at me." She waited until his gaze met hers. "We need to do this, okay? For your mouth to feel better." But all that did was make him shake more violently, his breaths shallower. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles stayed still. "How about I show you first?" He gestured to a model of a mouth, complete with wisdom teeth. "This way, Plankton can see without it being a direct threat to him." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, his antennae still twitching in distress. "Okay," she murmured, her voice tight. "Let's do that." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles moving to the model. "This is your mouth, Plankton," he began, his voice calm. "And these are your wisdom teeth. First, we'll make sure you're numb, okay?" He pointed. "We'll use a gel that tastes like bubblegum, and then we'll put in a tiny lit..." But Plankton's body convulsed, his eye starting to roll back into his head. "No, no, no," Karen whispered, her voice trembling. "Not again." Plankton's body stilled, his antennae drooping as his mind retreated. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her eyes never leaving his face. She turned to Dr. McSquinty, her voice steady despite her own fear. "We need to find another way?" The surgeon nodded, his tentacles still. "Let's talk about options," he said, his voice calm. "We can try sedation, or perhaps a different approach; we can even anesthetize him." Karen's gaze never left Plankton's shaky form. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved in a comforting wave. "Well, considering his sensitivity to pain and the potential for overstimulation, I'd suggest anesthesia. It'll keep him calm, and he won't be awake at all. It's safe." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's form, her grip tightening on his hand. "But he's never been under anesthesia before," she said, her voice tight. Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles waving reassuringly. "It's completely safe," he said. "We'll monitor his vitals closely the entire time." Karen's gaze remained fixed on Plankton's form, his antennae drooping. "Okay," she whispered. "Plankton baby, can you listen to me?" Her voice was gentle, her tone measured. Plankton's eye slowly focused on her screen, his body still trembling. Her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand. "We're going to have to put you to sleep so you don't feel any pain. Can you do that for me?" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze on Karen's screen. He nodded, his voice a faint whisper. "Okay." Karen felt the tension ease from her shoulders. "Good," she murmured, her voice soft. "We're going to take care of this together." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles moving in a slow, calming pattern. "I'll make sure you're both as comfortable as possible," he assured her, his gaze shifting to Plankton. Karen texts Sandy, "Plankton's getting his wisdom teeth out 🦷" Sandy replies, "Good luck! Chip's fine, don't worry 👶💨" The room was prepped, the smells and sounds minimized to prevent overstimulation. Plankton was laid on the chair, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen stood by his side, her hand on his. Dr. McSquinty approached, his tentacles moving with precision. He held up a mask, the sweet smell of gas wafting gently. "This is the anesthesia," he explained. "It'll help you sleep before we put the Iv in. The Iv will continuously administer anesthesia to keep you asleep." Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze flicking to Karen's screen. She nodded, her smile reassuring. "It's okay, love," she whispered. "You'll be fine." Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved with a gentle rhythm as he placed the mask on, and Plankton's eye grew heavy. Karen's hand stayed on his, her thumb rubbing small circles into his palm. The room grew fuzzy around Plankton as the anesthesia took hold. His antennae stopped quivering, his body relaxing into the chair. As the world faded to black, his last thought was of Karen's hand in his. A gentle squeeze, and he was adrift.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ii (By NeuroFabulous) "What causes this, Mom?" Chip asked, his voice quieter now, more contemplative. Karen sat beside Plankton, still stroking his arm. "Sometimes, sweetie, when people have brains that work differently, like Daddy does, they can get overwhelmed." She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "It's a type of 'neurodisability' he has." Chip's still confused. "But why didn't you tell me before?" his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's hand stilled on Plankton's arm as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Well, Chip, sometimes parents want to protect their kids from things they think might be too much for them to understand. But now that you're a little older, it's important you know about your dad's... condition." Chip looked at her with wide eyes, processing this new information. "Is it because of his inventions? Does he think too much?" Karen's gaze remained on Plankton, her thumb still making circles on his skin. "No, honey, it's not because of his inventions. It's just his disability. Some people's brains work differently, and that's okay." Chip's eyes darted back to his father, who was still as a statue. "But what does it feel like?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's hard to say, because everyone's experience is unique. For Daddy, it might be like being in a really quiet room where everything is far away and muffled." Chip nodded slowly, his gaze still on Plankton. "So, it's like he's not here, but he kind of is?" Karen nodded, her screen never leaving her son's. "In a way, yes. It's like his brain has gone until it's ready to come back and get unstuck." Chip's screen searched his mother's screen for any sign of fear or sadness, but she was calm, a rock in the storm of his confusion. "How long will he be like this?" Karen's gaze never left Plankton's still form. "It could be a few minutes or hours. We just have to wait it out." Chip nodded, his curiosity still burning. "Does he know we're here?" Karen offered a small, sad smile. "I think he can feel us, but he's not really with us right now." Chip nodded, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his camp t-shirt. "But how do we know when he's... not stuck anymore?" Karen looked up at him, her screen filled with a gentle wisdom. "You'll know, Chip. He'll blink, or twitch, or maybe even say something. It's like he's in a deep sleep, and we have to let him wake up on his own." Chip sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bed, his hands folded in his lap. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to share with his dad. "Does he remember stuff when he's like this?" he whispered. Karen's eyes remained on Plankton, her voice low and soothing. "It's complicated, Chip. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't. But it's like his brain is playing backup right now." Chip nodded, his thoughts racing. "But how do we help him?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. Karen turned to her son. "We just have to be patient, Chip. And keep the room calm." Chip nodded, his curiosity now muted by the gravity of the situation. He watched his mother closely, studying her calm demeanor, the way her hand continued to move in gentle strokes on Plankton's arm. He wanted to be like her and help. "What can I do to make him feel better?" he asked, his voice quieter than his racing thoughts. Karen's eyes flicked to his, a gentle smile playing on her screen. "You're already doing it, Chip. Just being here, keeping the room calm, is helping." But Chip's mind was still whirring with unanswered questions. "But what causes this?" he pressed. Karen sighed, her gaze still focused on Plankton. "It's a disorder, sweetie. It's a neurological condition that makes his brain process things a bit differently. Sometimes, when his senses get overwhelmed, his body does this to protect him." Chip's brows furrowed. "But why didn't he tell..." "Because," Karen interrupted, "it's hard for some people to explain things like this, even to those they love most. Your dad's been dealing with this and it's not always easy to talk about." Chip nodded, his curiosity still not fully satisfied. "How will he feel whenever he wakes up?" Karen took a deep breath. "It can vary, Chip. Sometimes he's groggy, like waking up from a deep sleep. Other times, he's just tired, but he'll be okay. He might need some space, some quiet, and maybe a little time alone." Chip nods. "Mom, ca--" Plankton's antenna twitches suddenly. Karen's puts her hand up to silence Chip. "Shh," she whispers. Slowly, Plankton's eye begins to focus, the vacant stare shifting as he blinks, his pupil slowly coming into focus, as if surfacing from a deep sleep. He looks up at Karen, not recalling her coming in here. "Wh...what's going on?" he stammers, his voice rough from disuse. Karen's hand tightens on his arm, her voice a whisper. "You had a shutdown, sweetie." He figured that. He remembers Chip bombarding him before going dizzy/lightheaded as Chip kept prodding him, his son's gaze unwavering. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his body still sluggish from the shutdown.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xii (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye opening slightly to see the familiar sight of their front door. The house looked warm and welcoming, a haven from the overstimulation of the outside world. He nodded, his antennae drooping. "Home," he murmured, his voice still slurred. Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly under the weight of his still-sluggish body. The fresh air was a shock to his sensitive system, his antennae quivering at the sudden change. "Come on," she urged gently, her arm around his waist. "Let's get you inside." Plankton leaned heavily on Karen as they made their way up the path to the house. The brightness of the sun was almost painful, his eye squinting against the light. "I'm shorry," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "Soo tired..." Karen chuckled softly, her arm tightening around him. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle breeze. "You can sleep as soon as we..." But her words were lost as his antennae drooped, his body giving in to the siren call of sleep. His eyelid fluttered closed, his head lolling forward. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice a gentle nudge. But his body was heavy, his antennae still. With a sigh, Karen picked him up, cradling him against her chest. His antennae twitched slightly at the sudden motion, his eye opening to slits. "Wha..." he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "You're okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice a gentle whisper. "We're going inside." Her arms were strong, her movements slow and steady, carrying his weight with ease. The world outside faded away, replaced by the warmth and comfort of their home. Inside, Sandy and Chip played chess, the only other sounds the soft footsteps of Karen's feet and Plankton's muffled snores. Sandy looked up as Karen carried in the sleeping Plankton, his antennae drooping like wilted flowers. "How's he doing?" she asked, her voice low. Karen nodded. "The surgery went well," she murmured. "But he's still out of it." Chip looked up from his chess board, his eyes wide as his mom carried his dad. Sandy quickly set aside the chess pieces and rushed to help. Karen set him on the couch, his antennae brushing the fabric as he was laid down. "Just rest here for a moment," she murmured, her hand smoothing his antennae. Chip watched, his curiosity piqued by his dad's vulnerable state. "Is he okay?" he whispered, his eyes searching Karen's face for answers. "He's fine," she assured him, her voice soft. "He's just really tired from the surgery. The anesthesia makes it hard for his brain to stay awake." Chip nodded, watching as Karen tucked a blanket around Plankton's form, her movements gentle and careful. "Why does Dad snore?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "It's just his body's way of getting the air it needs," Karen explained, her voice a soft mumble. The living room was bathed in dim light, the curtains drawn to keep the world at bay. Plankton's snores grew louder, his antennae twitching with each inhale. Sandy's filled with concern. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her voice hushed. "Help with Chip?" Karen's smile was filled with gratitude. "That would be amazing," she murmured. "I need to keep an eye on Plankton." She gestured to the sleeping form on the couch. Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course," she said. "I'll watch Chip." Her voice was a gentle whisper, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had descended upon the house. With Plankton safely on the couch, Karen turned to face Sandy. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of the day's events. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Sandy waved a dismissive hand. "It's what friends are for," she said, her smile soft. "Now, go take care of Plankton. I've got this." Karen nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. She knew she could trust Sandy with Chip, especially in a time like this. She bent over Plankton, her hand brushing his antennae gently. "Rest," she whispered, her voice a soothing caress. "You're safe." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his sleep-laden eye sliding open. The room spun around him, the edges soft and fuzzy. "Karen?" he mumbled, his voice thick with slumber. Karen's face appeared above him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You're okay, Plankton," she whispered, her hand stroking his antennae gently. "You're safe." The words washed over him like a gentle wave, the warmth of her voice seeping into his bones. His antennae quivered slightly, his eyelid flickering. The room spun, his body heavy and sluggish. "Home," he murmured, his voice a sleepy echo of his earlier sentiment. Karen's smile grew, her eyes soft with affection. "Yes, we're home," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You can rest now." Plankton let out a contented sigh, his antennas drooping with exhaustion. The gentle stroking of Karen's hand on his antennae was the last thing he felt before his mind slipped fully into the abyss of sleep. His snores grew deep and even, his body finally at peace.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xiii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and Sandy hovered at the edge of the room, their eyes wide with curiosity. "What happens when you have your wisdom teeth out?" Chip asked, his voice a soft whisper. Sandy shrugged, her own interest piqued. "They take them out so they don't hurt you," she said, her voice thoughtful. "But I don't know what it's like." Karen's eyes remained on Plankton's face, her thumb tracing gentle circles on his palm. "It's not always easy," she murmured. "Especially for someone like him." Her gaze flickered to Chip, her expression serious. "Remember, buddy, everyone experiences things differently. We have to be patient and understand." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. He was fascinated by his dad's autism, the way it made him see the world so uniquely. He was eager to learn more, to be there for him in ways he never knew were needed. Sandy sat beside them, her eyes on the chessboard, lost in thought. "I've heard of autism before," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn't know it could affect Plankton." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. "It's part of who he is," she murmured. "It's not always easy, but it's what makes him special." Her gaze softened as she looked at Chip. "And it's important we learn to support each other, especially when things are tough." Karen stands up, getting vanilla ice cream from the freezer. With a spoon in hand, she wakes Plankton up gently, her touch featherlight on his shoulder. "Hey," she whispers, her voice a gentle nudge. "You need to wake up for a moment." Plankton's antennae twitch, his sleepy eye opening to find Karen's smiling face. "Wha?" he mumbles, the gauze in his mouth making his words indistinct. "Ice cream," she whispers, holding up the bowl. His eyes widen slightly, the mention of the cold, soothing treat cutting through the haze of his anesthesia-induced sleep. "For the swelling," she reminds him gently, her voice a soft caress. "Let's get rid of the gauze first.." With trembling hands, Plankton reaches for the gauze in his mouth, his antennae quivering slightly. Karen's hand guides his, her touch a gentle reminder of her presence. He pulls it out with a grimace, his mouth feeling strange without the pressure. The formerly white gauze is stained pink. Karen takes it from him, her movements swift and efficient. "Here," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "Let's get you some ice cream." She brings the spoon to his mouth. Plankton's eye widens. He opens his mouth, his antennae drooping with exhaustion. He makes a contented noise, his antennae twitching slightly. "Mmm," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. Karen feeds him another spoonful when his antennae perk up slightly, his sleepy gaze locking on hers. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle whisper. "You can eat." "Mmph," he mumbles. The coldness of the ice cream is a shock to his sensitive mouth, but the sweetness soon overpowers the discomfort. His antennae twitch with each spoonful, his eye slowly focusing. "Manilla cweam," he murmurs, the words barely coherent. Karen smiles, her eyes shining with relief. He takes another bite, the creaminess of the ice cream coating his tongue. "Mmph," he sighs, his antennae drooping with contentment. Karen chuckles softly, her hand steady as she feeds him. Chip watches as Plankton's eyelid flutters. "He's really tired, huh?" he says, his voice small. Sandy nods, a knowing smile on her face. "Yeah, but the ice cream will help with the swelling," she assures him. Karen nods, her movements careful as she feeds Plankton another spoonful. "It's important to stay ahead of the pain," she whispers. "And I think he enjoys it too." Her eyes sparkle with mirth, the tension of the day briefly forgotten as they watch Plankton's sleepy indulgence. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye half-lidded as he savors the ice cream. The sweetness of the vanilla is a soothing contrast to the metallic tang of his mouth, the coldness a gentle reprieve from the surgery. Each spoonful is a battle against his need for sleep, his body demanding rest while his taste buds revel in the creamy delight. Karen's hands are gentle, her touch steady as she feeds him, her eyes always on his face, watching for any signs of pain or distress. Chip sits beside them, his eyes widening with every spoonful. "Dad's really out of it, isn't he?" he whispers to Sandy. Karen nods, her smile soft. "The anesthesia can do that," she says. "But the ice cream will help with the swelling." Plankton's antennae twitch as his eyes struggle to stay open, the weight of sleep crushing down on him. Each spoonful of ice cream is a tiny victory, a brief reprieve from the siren's call of his bed. He mumbles something incoherent, his antennae drooping. "What was that?" Karen asks, leaning closer to hear him better. "M'tired," he manages, his voice slurred. Chip giggles softly at his father's sleepy state, his own energy a stark contrast to the slumber that threatens to consume Plankton. "You can sleep soon," Karen soothes, her voice a gentle reminder. "But let's fi-" But Plankton's antennae droop, his eye slipping closed once more. His snores fill the quiet room, a comforting rhythm that speaks of his deep rest. Karen sighs, her hand pausing mid-air with the spoon of ice cream. "C'mon, Plank..." He stirs slightly, his antennae twitching. "Mmh?" he mumbles, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen's smile is patient, her love for him shining through her eyes. "Just a little more," she coaxes, her voice gentle. "For the swelling." She helps him sit up straighter. The coldness of the ice cream is a jolt to his senses, his eye opening wider. He nods, his antennae perking up slightly. "Okay," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen continues to feed him, her movements slow and deliberate. Each spoonful is a battle won, his eyelid fighting to stay open. "You're doing great," she whispers, her thumb brushing his hand. Sandy and Chip watch Plankton's struggle. Chip's eyes are wide, taking in every detail. Karen's hand is a steady presence. But Plankton's body fights back, each spoonful a challenge to stay awake. He takes a deep breath, his antennas fluttering as he tries to focus on the taste of the vanilla ice cream. "M'okay," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. But his eyelid droops, the weight of sleep too much to resist. Karen's eyes fill with determination. She'll get him through this. She feeds him another spoonful, her voice a gentle chant. "Keep going, Plankton. You can do it." His antennae quiver slightly as he tastes the ice cream, his eye blinking slowly. "M'tryin'," he whispers, the words almost lost. Karen's voice is a soft mantra, her words a gentle push to keep him conscious. "Just a little more," she coaxes, her hand steady as she brings the spoon to his lips. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye sliding closed again. "Mmph," he protests, his voice a sleepy mumble. The coldness of the ice cream is a jolt to his sluggish system, his body instinctively swallowing. Karen's voice is a gentle coax, her touch a comforting presence. "You can do it," she whispers, her eyes filled with love and determination. "Just a few more bites." But Plankton's body has other plans. His antennae twitch with each spoonful, his eyelid a battleground between staying awake and giving in to sleep. "Mmh," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "Tired." Karen's eyes never leave his face, her smile filled with compassion. "I know, Plankton," she whispers. "But we need to finish this." She holds the spoon to his mouth, her eyes filled with understanding. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye opening with difficulty. "Mmh?" he mumbles, his voice a sleepy echo of his exhaustion. Karen's voice is a gentle reminder. "Just a little more, sweetie," she says, her tone filled with love and concern. She holds the spoon to his mouth again, her expression a silent plea for his cooperation. Plankton's antennae wobble, his eye barely open. He takes another bite, his antennae drooping with each spoonful. "Almost done," she whispers, her hands steady. "You're doing so well." He nods slightly, his antennae twitching with the effort to stay awake. "Mmph," he mumbles, his voice a sleepy grumble. The ice cream is a sweet torment, his mouth watering with each tiny bite. "M'tired," he whispers, his antennae quivering. Karen's eyes are soft with understanding. She knows the struggle of his autistic brain to process the world, even in sleep. "Just a little more," she soothes, her voice a whispered promise of rest. She feeds him another spoonful, his eye fluttering shut again. The sweetness of the vanilla ice cream is a siren's call to his senses, briefly keeping his consciousness afloat. "Mm," he murmurs, his antennae twitching slightly. The coldness of the treat is a stark contrast to the warmth of his sleepiness. Karen's voice is a gentle guiding light, her words a soothing melody to his sluggish mind. "You're doing great," she whispers, her smile a soft ray of comfort in the dimly lit room. "Al-" But Plankton's antennae droop, his eye slipping closed once more. His snores return, deep and rhythmic. Karen sighs, her eyes soft with love. "Okay," she whispers, setting the spoon aside. "You've had enough." Her voice is a gentle goodbye to the waking world as she helps him lie down, his body a deadweight against the couch cushions.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 6 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ The sounds Plankton makes shift again. "Skrink, skrink." Karen's eyes light up with understanding. "It's his brain's new way of saying 'I'm okay'," she whispers. "It's a 'stim'." Chip looks at his dad, his curiosity piqued. Plankton's antennae wriggle, his eye glazed over. "Skrink, skrink, skrink." The sounds are soothing, almost hypnotic. "It's like he's playing a tune," Chip murmurs. Karen nods. "In a way, he is," she says. "It's his brain's symphony." The room is bathed in the glow of Plankton's stims, his autism's unique melody. "Dad?" Chip asks tentatively, his voice a whisper. Plankton's head tilts slightly, his antennae still. "Skrink skrink skrink," he repeats. It's like he's in a trance, lost in a world only he understands. Plankton's eye flickers. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers. "You can keep making your sounds." And then it happens. Plankton's voice shifts, echoing Karen's words. "It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs. Chip looks at his mom, his eyes wide. "Is he... is he okay?" Karen nods. "It's his way of processing," she says. "It's called 'echolalia'." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his father's. "It's when his brain mimics the words he hears to make sense of them," she explains. "It's like when you repeat something until it feels right." Plankton's antennae twitch in time with his echoes. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice a mirror of Karen's soothing tone. Chip smiles. "It's okay, Plankton," he repeats, trying to enforce his dad's calm. But Plankton thinks Chip's making fun of him. His antennae shoot straight up, his eye wide with hurt anger at Chip. "It's not a game, Chip!" Plankton snaps. "It's not something to tck tck... to mock!" Karen sighs, knowing this conversation needs to be handled with care. "Sorry, Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "I just... I thought it would he-" "It's not for you to think about!" Plankton cuts him off. Karen puts a hand on Chip's shoulder, her gaze on Plankton. "Chip didn't mean anything by it," she says calmly. "He just wants to understand and connect." She turns to Chip, her screen filled with compassion. "I know it's hard to see Dad like this," she says. "But remember, his autism is part of him, and we need to respect it. He doesn't like it when you mimic his sounds like that." Chip nods, feeling a wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but he doesn't look at Chip. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing. "We're all learning here." Plankton's hand starts to move again, tracing patterns on the blanket. Karen watches. "It's his 'stimming', Chip," she says. "It's his way of self-soothing, and these movements and sounds help him to cope." Chip nods, his eyes still wet. "But why did he get so mad when I do it?" he asks. Karen sighs. "Because it's his own personal language, his way of understanding the world," she explains. "When you address it, he feels like you're invading his space, like you're not taking his feelings seriously. It's something his brain does for himself only." Karen smiles gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "Chip's just trying to understand everything. You can keep making your sounds." Chip wants to help, but he doesn't know how. "Just let him be, Chip," Karen says, her voice soothing. Plankton shifts again, his eye teary. "It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs, echoing Karen's words from earlier. Chip clenches. He didn't mean to upset him, seeing his dad's eye welling up with tears. Karen's hand finds Plankton's, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she says. "You don't have to hide it from us." Plankton's tears spill over, tracing a silent river down his cheek. Karen's eyes never leave his. "You don't have to hide, Plankton," she whispers. "We're here for you." Chip watches. He doesn't know what to do, his mind racing. "Mom," he says, his voice shaking, "What can I do?" Karen turns to him, her expression gentle. "Just be here," she says. "Just listen and learn." Plankton's tears stream down. "It's okay, Plankton," he hears his wife say again. The words echo in his mind, a comforting mantra. "It's okay, Plankton," Plankton murmurs, trying to mimic her tone. But it sounds forced, wrong. He swallows hard. "That's right, Plankton," Karen says, smiling. "You're okay. You're safe, Plankton," she repeats. "You're here with us." Chip watches his dad, his heart breaking. "Mom, why is he...?" Karen's eyes are filled with pain. "It's his way of telling us he's okay," she says. "He's using my words because right now, his brain can't find his own." Chip nods, his eyes on his father. Plankton's hand is still moving, tracing the patterns on the blanket. "It's okay, Dad," Chip whispers. Plankton's crying intensifies, his tics becoming more pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he murmurs, his antennae flailing. Karen reaches for him, but he flinches away. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "We're here." Chip watches, his own screen wet with tears. He's never seen his dad like this before. He feels like an outsider in a conversation he's always been a part of. "You don't have to hide your tears," Karen whispers to Plankton. "We're a family." Plankton's sobs become louder, his tics more pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he says, his body convulsing slightly. Karen's hand is firm but gentle on his back, offering silent support. "It's okay," she murmurs. "Let it out." Chip watches. "Why is he...?" his voice trails off. Karen looks at him, her screen full of love. "It's his way of saying he's overwhelmed, Chip," she whispers. "When he repeats my words, it's his brain trying to find the comfort it needs." Plankton's cries become louder, his tics more erratic. "Tck tck tck," he sobs, his body shaking. Chip feels helpless, his mind racing. He wants to make it stop, but he doesn't know how. "Just be here, buddy," Karen says, her voice calm. "Sometimes, that's all he needs." Plankton's tics morph into full-body shudders, his cries now muffled by the blanket. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers, her hand still rubbing his back. "We're with you." Chip watches as his father's sobs echo in the room, each one a heartbreaking testament to the weight he carries. "You're not alone," he whispers, his voice tiny in the face of Plankton's distress. The words tumble from Plankton's mouth, a mix of Karen's soothing tones and his own raw pain. "It's o-okay, P-Plankton," he repeats, his voice broken. "It's o-okay." Karen's eyes well up too, but she remains steadfast. She's seen this before. "Tck tck tck," Plankton says, his body convulsing with each sob. "You don't have t-to tck tck hide it-t." Karen nods, her thumb brushing away a tear. "It's okay," she whispers. "We love you just as you are." Plankton's sobs turn into hiccups, his antennae twitching. "It's okay, Plankton," he says, his voice mimicking hers. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles on Plankton's back, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen says. "You're safe here." Plankton's sobs subside slightly. Karen nods. "That's right," she whispers. "Your sounds, your tics, they're part of you." Chip watches. He's never seen his dad so vulnerable. "But... but why?" he asks. Karen takes a deep breath. "His autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain has its own language, and when he's overwhelmed, it comes out." Plankton's tics become less erratic, his breathing even. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says, his voice trembling. "You're not alone." Karen smiles sadly. "He knows that, Chip," she says. "But sometimes, his brain just needs to speak its own words." Plankton's eye meets his wife's, the panic receding slightly as Chip watches.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, came home from summer camp early one day. Chip's mother, Karen, greeted Chip. Plankton, his father, was a quirky little fellow, known for his ingenious inventions that often failed, but never dampened his spirit. So Chip decides to go find his father eagerly. Plankton was on his own bed in the room he shared with Karen. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and in burst Chip. He threw himself onto Plankton's bed, not noticing his father's flinch at the sudden noise and movement. "Dad! Dad! You won't believe what I learned at camp! I made a new friend, and we did the coolest science project together! It's like you're always saying, science can make anything taste good!" Yet it was too much for his overwhelmed body to handle. Plankton's eye glazed over, his body still as a statue, frozen in the midst of his usual frenetic energy. Chip's chatter trailed off as he stared at his father, confused. "Dad? Are you okay?" Chip stepped closer, noticing the way he didn't move, not even to blink. Panic clawed at his chest. The room grew silent, save for the ticking of a clock in the corner. The vivid colors of Chip's camp t-shirt seemed to dull in contrast to Plankton's unnatural stillness. The boy's mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. He knew his dad was quirky, but this was different. It was like the gears in Plankton's brain had stopped turning, leaving his body an empty shell. Chip reached out with a trembling hand, placing it on Plankton's shoulder. The cold, unyielding feel of his father's skin sent a shiver down his spine. "Dad?" he whispered, voice shaking with fear. "Wake up, please." His voice was a mere echo in the room, bouncing off the walls and returning to him, unheard. Panic swelled in his chest, pushing aside the excitement from moments before. Chip knew his dad was different, had always been different, but this... this was new, this was terrifying. Here, in their tiny house in the Chum Bucket, Plankton's breathing remained steady, but his eye were vacant. The young boy's mind whirred, trying to piece together his father's sudden stillness. Plankton had always been a whirlwind of ideas and energy, but now he sits there, silent and unresponsive. Chip's fingers tightened on Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, please," Chip began to plead, his voice cracking with emotion. He shook him gently at first, then more urgently, but the small figure remained unmoved. He tried to shake his father again, more firmly this time, but Plankton was still as stone. His eye were open, but there was no spark of life. The only sound was the frantic panting of his own breaths. "Dad, come on! You're scaring me!" Chip's voice grew desperate. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He couldn't let fear overtake him now. He had to help his dad. He patted Plankton's cheek, then called out louder, "Daddy, snapshot out of it!" Still no response. He tried calling again, louder now, but Plankton remained eerily silent. He grabbed the nearest item, a rubber spatula from his dad's invention bench, and waved it in front of his father's face. Nothing. Not a blink, not even a twitch. "Dad, wake up!" But Plankton just sat there, his gaze fixed on some unseen point on the wall. Chip's thoughts spun out of control. He had to get his mother. She'd know what to do. "Mom, something's wrong with Dad. He won't wake up!" Karen rushed in. She took in the scene and immediately knew that Plankton was in the grip of a shutdown. An intense reaction to overstimulation for someone on the spectrum, like his autism. "Chip, sweetie, back away," she said gently, pushing his hand off Plankton's shoulder. Karen had always tried to protect her son from the reality of his father's condition. But now, she realized, it was time for Chip to learn. Her voice was calm and soothing as she approached Plankton. She sat beside him on the bed, her hand resting on his cold, stiff arm. "Chip, sometimes Daddy's brain gets too full." She looked up at her son, her screen filled with both sadness and love. Chip stared at her, his mind racing. "What do we do?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "We just need to wait," Karen replied, her voice steady. "It's like his brain's gone on a little vacation. Give him some space, okay?" Chip nodded, though he didn't fully understand. He stepped back and watched his mother gently stroke Plankton's arm. Curiosity began to bubble up inside him, mixing with the fear. Chip stepped back from the bed, his screen wide with wonder and worry. He studied his father intently, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Oblivious to his own fear, Chip tiptoed closer once more, his curiosity getting the better of him. He leaned in, peering closely at Plankton's expressionless face. "What's happening to him, Mom?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's like his brain needs a break, Chip. Sometimes, his mind gets too busy, and his body just stops so he can recharge." Chip's screen searched his mother's, looking for more. "But why is he so still?" he pressed, his curiosity refusing to be quenched. Karen sighed softly, her fingers still moving in soothing circles on Plankton's arm. "It's like his brain is taking a nap," she explained. "When he gets too much information or feels too much, his body just stops to help him cope." Chip nodded, his young mind working overtime. "Can I talk to him?" Karen looked down at Plankton, her gaze filled with concern. "You can," she said softly, "but he might not hear you right now. Give him some quiet." Chip nodded, but his curiosity couldn't be stilled. "Can't I tell him about my day?" Karen squeezed his hand gently. "You can, but remember, his brain is resting. He might not understand everything you say. But it's okay to whisper comforts to him. Sometimes just hearing your voice can be comforting." With a nod, Chip whispered his questions, his voice barely audible above the clock's tick. "Dad, can you hear me? What's it like when your brain takes a nap?" He paused, waiting for some sign of life, but Plankton remained still. Karen watched her son carefully. She knew this was a crucial moment for him, learning to navigate his father's complex world.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |ᥫ᭡.

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⡿⠿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⡿⠿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠿⢉⣉⡁⠀⠀⣀⣶⣦⣄⣤⣤⣀⣿⢶⠦⢤⣤⣤⡀⢴⣶⣤⣀⣉⡀⣀⣈⡀⠒⠉⠻⣯⡛⠛⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⣡⠴⠛⢡⣤⣄⣤⣽⡟⠋⣿⡿⠛⣡⣴⣾⠟⣩⣿⡛⠳⣶⡿⠯⣻⣟⡃⢹⣿⣧⡉⠻⡿⠟⢶⣴⡶⠈⠳⢦⡉⠳⣬⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢹⡅⢀⠰⣇⠀⠤⣤⣼⠛⢂⣘⣻⣶⡄⠛⢿⣋⡀⢻⣶⡏⠠⣴⡞⢛⡷⠶⣉⣿⡷⢚⡿⢯⣝⣻⣽⠶⢛⣉⣷⡟⠃⣸⢿⡠⣄⡇⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⠳⣄⡂⠼⠳⣄⡀⠾⠿⠋⣽⡧⢄⣘⣷⠞⢩⣤⠞⢣⣤⣴⠛⢛⣛⡡⢶⣿⣝⠛⣻⣴⣞⣻⣟⣷⣦⡴⠛⣉⣠⠞⠃⢀⡷⠏⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠦⣜⣧⣄⡀⠠⢽⡏⣤⣚⡷⠦⠀⠛⠛⠀⠠⣾⢿⣉⠽⠶⠚⡭⠼⠟⠛⠾⠛⠁⡬⠍⣀⣠⣮⢝⣛⣐⣊⣉⡀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠋⠙⠷⠦⢭⣽⠶⠤⣄⣲⡶⠶⢤⡀⡀⠒⠠⠀⠤⠄⣠⠤⠀⠀⠐⠀⠊⠉⠉⠉⠈⠉⠉⣹⣯⣵⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠲⣄⡄⠉⠉⠓⠶⢤⡀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠴⠤⠤⠶⠶⠶⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢩⣿⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣠⡟⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠀⣿⠛⠛⠛⡻⣿⡧⣼⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠛⠛⠀⢸⣿⢿⣟⣿⡇⢿⢿⣿⠇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠈⢻⣄⡀⢠⠅⠀⣿⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠹⠛⢦⡜⣿⣇⠘⠷⣯⣉⢻⣏⣁⡉⣄⣿⣿⣟⠁⠘⣷⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣯⣾⣿⣿⣷⣮⣧⠀⠀⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢿⡆⠀⠛⠀⢻⣆⣰⣟⡤⠼⣧⣀⣴⣶⣶⣄⢩⣟⢻⣳⣦⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣆⢀⣿⡖⢿⣾⣿⠋⢙⣾⣿⠁⣏⢿⣿⣷⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠛⣿⡀⠀⢳⡀⢻⡿⠋⠁⠀⠙⠋⠉⠁⣨⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣾⣷⣄⠹⢎⡛⢿⣷⡟⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠀⠈⠉⠀⢠⣿⡿⠟⢠⣿⡿⢰⣿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⢸⡿⠃⠀⢸⣷⠉⣥⣾⡆⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⢿⡟⠁⣀⠹⣟⣿⣿⣷⡄⠉⠳⣄⡀⠠⣀⣈⡛⢤⣴⡄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⣽⣿⣿⣼⣏⣼⡏⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠉⠻⣿⡷⠳⣶⠿⣿⠀⢹⣿⡄⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⣷⡤⠀⠀⠒⠆⠘⠿⠉⣿⣿⣤⡀⠙⠃⠘⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣡⣤⣤⡄⢹⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣄⠙⢿⣶⠿⠾⢿⠀⣼⣇⡘⢦⣄⡀⠻⣿⣿⣀⣠⡀⣉⠁⣤⡄⢰⣿⣿⠋⠉⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⡄⣿⣯⡅⣀⣨⣛⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣄⠙⢿⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⣙⣆⠈⣿⡄⢠⡄⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢦⣟⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠴⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⠙⠋⠉⠉⠉⣹⣿⠋⢀⣾⣿⣿⠿⣶⡄⠛⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣄⠻⣿⡄⠘⣷⣀⣿⢠⣾⠃⠀⣀⣠⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⡄⠀⣈⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣍⠋⠁⠀⣤⠀⢠⣴⠟⠀⣾⡿⠁⢀⣾⣯⣼⣿⣾⠿⣿⡄⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣻⢠⣼⣷⣀⡈⠋⠁⠀⠻⣶⣾⡿⠟⠉⠀⢀⣴⡶⢶⡿⠛⡿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣞⠻⣿⣿⣶⣠⣾⡧⠘⢷⣤⡾⠟⠀⣠⣿⡿⠛⣱⣿⣿⣴⡾⡇⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣿⢈⣿⢹⠈⣿⣶⣿⣶⣄⣩⡁⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣉⣠⣾⣷⠀⢁⣶⣿⣿⠷⣦⡈⠳⣄⡉⠛⠻⠍⣀⣀⣀⣁⣼⠄⠰⣿⠋⣰⣿⣽⣿⠻⢿⡷⣷⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢿⡿⠃⣾⠀⣿⣿⠎⠙⣮⣉⢿⡆⠀⣿⡿⠛⣉⠉⠙⣇⣴⣿⠙⠻⠛⣻⢿⣷⡀⠉⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣿⣸⣿⣦⣿⠃⣿⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡤⣼⡇⢠⣿⢠⣿⣟⢦⣤⣬⠷⣻⠁⠀⣿⡁⢼⣿⠙⠊⢻⣿⣿⠁⣰⣾⣿⡿⢻⣧⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠈⣿⣿⠀⢸⣧⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢶⡇⣽⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣡⡽⣧⣾⠇⠋⣀⣉⠛⠿⠶⠾⢿⡄⠀⣿⣇⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣯⣤⣴⡿⠿⢁⣾⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣦⣴⣾⣿⣿⣧⠀⢿⣷⡀⣸⡏⠹⠟⣿⡿⢻⠇⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡘⠇⠉⢷⣴⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣠⣦⣁⠀⠀⠸⣿⡆⠸⠛⣾⡏⠉⢹⣿⠿⠦⠄⣼⣿⠿⡤⠿⠟⠉⠉⠛⠛⠉⣀⣀⣀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⡟⣴⣶⣟⣥⣿⣴⣿⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠙⣷⣾⣿⣿⠋⠉⢨⠇⠰⣟⠁⠹⣷⣤⡀⠙⢿⣦⣤⣾⠇⣄⠸⣿⣦⣤⣼⡿⠏⠀⢁⣠⣤⣶⣴⣄⠘⣿⡿⠛⢿⣷⣦⣄⠘⠃⢀⣽⢿⣿⣟⡟⠋⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⠟⢻⣿⡿⣷⣤⣄⣀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣤⡀⠈⠁⢀⣤⣼⣶⣯⠛⠉⠙⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡿⠋⢹⡟⠀⠙⠃⠀⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡿⣿⣷⡤⠄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣈⣿⡇⠈⠻⣿⡿⣾⣿⡲⠾⣿⣿⣯⣞⣿⣶⣤⣀⣹⠛⠉⠀⣁⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣯⣌⣠⣤⣤⣴⡆⢰⣶⣾⣯⡿⠛⣻⣯⣿⠙⠛⢴⠀⣘⣿⠇⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠐⣿⠇⠹⣿⣍⠈⠀⠉⠀⢈⣹⣿⠿⣿⣿⠃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⣀⠀⢀⣿⡟⣠⡿⢁⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣄⠙⠿⣿⣄⣤⣄⡀⠀⣰⣆⠙⠋⠀⠀⠁⠀⢻⣿⣿⠃⠙⣇⣀⠹⡿⠛⠈⢿⣿⣿⣬⠁⠀⠀⠀⠿⠟⠀⠈⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⣿⡿⠋⣠⠾⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠛⠳⣦⡈⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠙⡳⣤⡀⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⡷⣶⣦⣄⠉⠀⢀⣠⣄⣸⣿⣿⠃⠀⠈⣀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣧⣄⠀⢠⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⡿⡟⠛⣋⣴⡾⣯⠆⣼⣷⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢉⣿⣿⣄⣲⣤⡿⢷⣶⣄⣈⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡛⣼⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⣴⣶⣿⣿⣷⣾⣯⣵⣾⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⢁⣠⣽⣿⣟⡛⠋⡁⢠⣟⣼⣻⣿⡇⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣿⣿⡟⣷⣯⢠⣤⣤⣬⣿⣿⢳⣶⣦⣤⡄⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⠛⢩⣿⡏⠉⢻⣿⣷⣿⢻⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⢿⣷⣭⠻⠿⣯⣉⡉⢇⡈⠳⣦⣈⣽⢻⡿⢳⢶⡶⢶⣶⣶⣦⣴⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⠶⠶⢶⣶⣟⠛⠛⠉⢉⡌⠙⢀⣴⠞⢙⣡⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⠿⠋⠀⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣷⣢⠍⡛⠛⠿⠷⣤⣉⣃⣠⣥⠶⠶⠶⣶⣄⠉⠛⢶⣤⣤⣉⣭⠙⠿⠛⣛⣫⣴⣶⠾⣶⡄⣀⣉⡛⠛⢶⣿⣥⣶⡿⠷⠞⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⣀⣤⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⢾⣧⣴⣤⣀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠲⠶⠶⠾⠿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣭⣿⣿⣤⣶⣿⣿⣭⣭⣶⣴⠿⠿⠛⡛⣛⣛⣋⣩⣥⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⡟⢻⠏⠀⣶⣞⣛⠯⢈⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⠶⠮⠽⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⣿⠶⢻⡛⣉⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣏⣉⣙⣛⣙⣉⡉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣽⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⠁⠘⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠲⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣾⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿