Paper X Oj Emojis & Text

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WAIT SO U LIKE OBJECT SHOWS? MARRY ME

YES I LOVE OBJECT SHOWS LETS GET MARRIED 😍😍

CHAT IT ACTUALLY WORKED IM SEEING MORE OSC PEOPLE YAYAYAYEEAYVFVNJDNBMKDNWDPKNNje38urhbklsa (lightbrush and fantube are the best ships) 🖌️💡

Any moment now... Are you sure this is what you want? (Scoff) Oh spare me your spin, you tablet tabloid. If you want to psychoanalyze someone, don't look at me- Look at them! It's so pathetic, How they run to fetch their sticks… Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic, At least I know other tricks! Look at me and all you'll see is the debris of some defective outcast, A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) little iconoclast, But I won't live in the past. (I almost won this game once, you know.) But. History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory, So reality is changed in the edit when they spin the story, And we choose, to feel this pain, And we lose, more than we gain... But I will BREAK this cycle, Of mistakes, unlike all, Of these SNAKES whom I call to condemn! If I can't win the prize, I'll play this last reprisal! Just to bring their lies all to an end… -Ack! You need regeneration. Unfortunately, I don't have much faith in that process. Of course not. Why "of course not?". You believe yourself to be incapable of starting over, in more ways than one. I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back? "Clear the slate, start again", Are you hearing how preposterous that sounds? How do you not comprehend that for someone with my MONSTROUS BACKGROUND, the whole slate has fallen apart! Taco that is not true. There are other ways to- IT’S TOO LATE- It's not too late, FOR ME TO RESTART! But it's not I, its they, (Let us talk about it when your), Who deign to play this game, so, (head is not so clouded. You're no), Cruel & inhumane, base & uncouth, (menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?) (Please think this through) I think they're too afraid to, (Feeling double-crossed is part of), Bear the bed they've made, (Dealing with a loss, yes, but the), Can't bring themselves to face the awful truth. (Healing is a process, that's the truth) So I'm turning up the heat to "sauté", I've a beef to get grilled, But I fully guarantee today that all the beans that get spilled, Won't be mine, No I'm fine, I- Shhhh... Now it's time...

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣼⠧⠐⠒⠒⠒⠲⠶⠤⠤⠤⠤⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⣈⣩⣽⣿⠆⠀⠉⠉⠉ ⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⣽⠾⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⠖⠒⠒⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠲⠖⠖⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠴⠶⠿⢶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠙⣷⡖⠲⠒⣒⣶⠖⠒⢶⣖⣒⡒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⢲⡖⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢽⡇⠉⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⡬⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠈⠋⠀⣀⣤⠖⠒⠛⠲⢤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠳⠿⣥⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⠴⠶⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣧⡀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⡁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⣿⠗⠀⠈⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣌⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡇⠀⠀⣠⣥⣴⣤⡶⠛⠉⢻⡟⠉⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠻⢿⣍⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣄⠀⠻⣶⡿⠿⠷⠚⠒⠒⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⡲⠿⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡌⠹⣶⣤⣌⣽⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⡀⣿⣿⠀⢪⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣍⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⢠⣿⣿⢰⣈⣙⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠶⠖⠒⠒⠒⠲⠶⣶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡶⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⢳⡿⠟⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⢀⡀⣀⠀⠤⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⡀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡊⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡊⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠟⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠃⠀⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠃⠈⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠆⠈⠒⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠀⡠⡄⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⡜⠣⡘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠎⢀⡠⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀FIREY BFDI ⠀⢘⠀⢆⡀⠈⠓⠄⣄⣀⣀⠎⠁⡊⠈⢆⠀⢇⡀⠀⠀⠀⣎⠇⠀⠱⡀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣊⠕⠁⡞⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠣⠀⠻⡦⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠖⠁⠀⠈⢦⡈⡑⠒⠉⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠳⡀⠑⠦⠤⠤⠤⢊⡕⠊⠁⠀⠀⡊⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠣⠀⢱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠯⠤⠖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠃⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⡀⢧⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠁⠀⣴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢦⣄⠉⠑⠲⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠒⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠖⠒⠁⠀⡠⣶⡝⣜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠈⠓⠲⠤⠤⠤⢤⠬⡍⠭⠥⠥⠥⠭⢽⣷⠒⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⣗⣛⣦⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⢶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⢾⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠟⣯⣗⡗⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣫⣿⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⡦⠇⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣷⣿⠟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣟⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡳⡹⣛⠗⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⣿⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣻⣿⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⣵⡳⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⣏⣟⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🔥X🍃 Firey x Leafy FOREVER!! BFDI

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✿ˋ❀ 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘤𝘰 ✿ˋ❀

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

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A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ii (Autistic author) The drive back to the Chum Bucket was quiet, the only sound the hum of the car engine and the occasional splash of a jellyfish passing by. Karen gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with tension. She glanced over at Plankton in the passenger seat, his eye glazed over and staring out the window. "You ok?" she asked tentatively. Plankton nodded, his gaze still fixed outside the car window. "Everything looks the same, but feeling... different." "You're going to be ok," she said. "We'll get through this." By the time Karen pulls up in the driveway, Plankton had fallen asleep, his head lolling against the car window. She gently lifts him out of the car and carries him into their bedroom, laying him down with care. As she watches him sleep, she whispers, "We'll get through this." The next day dawns with the promise of a new challenge. Karen wakes up to the sight of Plankton, obsessing with the pattern of the floor tiles. "You ok?" Karen asked, voice soft. Plankton looked up, his gaze slightly unfocused. "The floor," he said, his voice still quiet. "What, the floor?" Karen asked. "The floor," Plankton repeated. "What about it?" Karen asked. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the tiles. "Plankton not same, Plankton different," he murmured. Karen sat down beside him. "How are you feeling?" "Plankton feel... weird," he said, antennae drooping slightly. "Things to loud. Things to bright." He paused, looking at her with a flicker of his old mischief. "But Plankton still love Krabby Patty." Karen couldn't help but chuckle through tears. "I know you do, sweetie," she said, her voice warm with love. "But maybe it's time we focus on something else for a while." Plankton nodded slowly, gaze still on the floor. "Plankton... try," he murmured, fidgeting nervously. "Do you want for breakfast, Plankton?" Plankton's eye didn't leave the floor. Karen tries asking again. "Does Plankton wanna eat?" Plankton nods, his gaze finally shifting from the floor to meet hers. "Hungry," he said, his voice monotone and detached. Karen sighs and heads to the kitchen. She could feel the weight of the new reality settling on her shoulders, but she was determined to make things work. As she flipped through the recipe book, Plankton's voice, distant yet clear, floated through the air. "Plankton... Plankton different," he said to himself, gaze still locked onto the floor. Karen knew he was trying to process his new sense of self. "Plankton still smart," he murmured, as if reassuring himself. "But Plankton... not same." He paused, tiny body trembling slightly. "Plankton think to loud. Plankton hear to much." The world had become a symphony of overwhelming stimuli, each sound and light a crescendo that pounded against his newfound sensitivity. Karen looked up from her cooking with empathy. "It's ok Plankton," she said gently. "We'll learn to adapt. Maybe we can make some changes around here to help you feel more comfortable." Plankton nodded, but doubt remained. "Plankton... not know," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "What if Plankton mess up?" Karen set the frying pan aside and knelt down beside him, taking his hands in hers. "You won't," she said firmly. "We'll face this together. I'll always be here to help you, no matter what." Plankton nodded, his gaze finally shifting from the floor to meet hers. "Thank Karen," he said, voice a little clearer. "The chumbalaya is ready." She says, serving him his favorite chum dish. Plankton looks up from the floor, his gaze lingering on the plate before him. "Plankton eat now?" he asks, his voice still distant. "Yes, sweetie," Karen says with a smile, pushing the plate closer to him. "Eat your breakfast." "Eat breakfast," Plankton parrots back, his tone flat. He picks up a spoon and stares at it, his hand shaking slightly. The simple task of bringing it to his mouth seems daunting under the weight of his new reality. Karen's smile falters a little but she keeps the conversation going. "It's a beautiful day out side, Plankton. Would you like to go for a walk?" "Walk outside," Plankton repeats echoing the monotone rhythm of hers. He stands up, his movements stiff and deliberate as if he's not quite sure of his body's new limitations. "Oh I meant after finishing breakfast," Karen says. "Walk after breakfast," Plankton echoes. Karen nods encouragingly. "Yes, after you eat." She watches as he carefully brings the spoon to his mouth, his movements tentative and slow. Each bite is a victory, a declaration of normalcy in a world that had suddenly become any thing but. "Good boy," she says, voice filled with pride. Plankton looks up, his eye searching hers. "Good boy," he repeats, his voice a mirror of hers, but the words don't quite fit. Karen noticed how he just repeated the phrase she's said. It's called echolalia, a trait often seen in those with autism, and it's something they're going to have to navigate together. She decides to keep her words positive and encouraging, hoping it'll help him feel more at ease. "Yes, let's go for a walk," she confirms. They step outside into the vibrant world of Bikini Bottom, and they start their slow stroll down the boardwalk. The sun was shining, casting a warm glow over the coral reefs and the colorful fish swimming by. The smell of the ocean was a soothing balm to Karen's frayed nerves, and she hoped it would have the same effect on Plankton. He walked beside her, his steps halting and unsure, his antennae twitching at every new sound. As they approached the boardwalk, they saw a familiar figure in the distance. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a mix of excitement and trepidation, "it's SpongeBob." Plankton's antennae shot up, and his eye widened. "Sponge... Bob," he murmured, recognizing him. Karen took a deep breath and tightened her grip on Plankton's hand. She knew SpongeBob had a heart of gold, but she also knew he could be potentially overwhelming. As they approached, Sponge Bob spotted them and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Karen! Hi, Plankton!" His voice was a welcome sound in the quiet morning and Karen braced herself for whatever would come next. "Hi, Sponge Bob," she says. Sponge Bob's face lit up. "Oh boy, Plankton! What's shakin'?" Plankton stiffened, antennae quivering as he tried to process the sudden influx of sensory input. "Sponge Bob," he said slowly, his voice measured and careful. "Plankton... walk." Sponge Bob looked from Karen to Plankton, his expression growing concerned. "Is everything ok, Plankton?" he asked, eyes full of genuine care. "You seem a bit... off your game to day." Plankton stared at him, composing response. "Walk," Plankton repeated. "Plankton walk." Sponge Bob looked confused but nodded, his eyes filled with concern. "Ok Plankton," he said gently. "Would you like to walk with me?" Plankton's antennae twitched and he nodded. "Walk with Sponge Bob," he agreed, his voice still monotone. Sponge Bob took Plankton's other hand, and together, the three of them began their leisurely stroll along the boardwalk.

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 ♡ /)_/) (\_(\ (˶• ༝ •) (• ༝ •˶) ૮/ |ა ૮| \ა ( ) ( )

🖌 X 💡 lightbulb x painty!!

I V X L C D M 1 5 10 50 100 500 1000 🔢 Individual decimal places Thousands Hundreds Tens Units 1 M C X I 2 MM CC XX II 3 MMM CCC XXX III 4 CD XL IV 5 D L V 6 DC LX VI 7 DCC LXX VII 8 DCCC LXXX VIII 9 CM XC IX

SHELF IMPROVEMENT ii (Autistic author) His eyelid fluttered, and his antennae twitched slightly. He groaned, and she felt his hand move in hers, giving a weak squeeze. "Karen?" he managed to murmur, his voice raspy and distant. Her eyes filled with tears of joy, and she leaned in closer. "Yes, it's me, I'm here," she said, her voice choked. Plankton's single eye slowly opened, blinking a few times as he tried to focus. "What... happened?" he croaked. Karen couldn't hold back her smile. "You fell," she said, her voice still shaky with emotion. "But you're okay, you're okay now." Plankton's gaze swept the room, taking in the wreckage of the shelf. His face contorted in pain, and he winced. "Ow," he muttered, touching his head. "You hit it pretty hard," Karen said. "But you're awake, and that's all that matters." Plankton groaned again, trying to sit up. Karen quickly put a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Take it easy," she said, her voice soothing. "You need to rest." But as she studied his face, she noticed his antennae twitching nervously. "Plankton, are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her words. His behavior was unusual, even for him. His antennae quivered more erratically than before, and he began to rock back and forth on the couch. "The shelf," he murmured, his voice distant. "Shelf broken." Karen ached for his distress. She had never seen Plankton like this. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice filled with worry. "Why are you acting like this?" His antennae continued to quiver, and he rocked faster. "The shelf," he repeated, his eye dilating with panic. Karen's eyes widened with understanding. "Is it because of the shelf?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton nodded, his rocking growing more pronounced. "It's... it's gone," he stuttered, his single eye darting around the room. "Everything's... different." His voice was filled with a mix of fear and confusion. "It's okay," she said, her tone calm and reassuring. "The shelf broke, but we can fix it. We'll get it back the way it was. We'll fix it," she repeated, her voice soothing. "Everything will be just how you like it." Plankton nodded as he stopped rocking, and looked up at her. "Thanking Karen," he whispered, his voice still trembling. Her eyes searched his, seeing the fear slowly recede like the tide. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, smoothing his antennae gently. "Let's get you some water." As she rose to get the water, Plankton's panic grew. "No, no," he stammered, his hand gripping her arm tightly. "Can't... can't leave." Karen froze. She had never seen Plankton like this before. "Plankton," she said, sitting back down next to him, "just breathe." He nodded, his grip on her arm loosening. He took a deep, shaky breath, and his antennae began to still. "It's okay," she said again, her voice a gentle lullaby. "Everything's going to be okay." But Plankton's clearly in distress. Karen wondered if the fall had caused some kind of concussion, or perhaps released some deep-seated anxiety. She had read about these sudden behavioral changes before, but never in the context of Plankton's usually stable demeanor. "Let's just sit here for a while," she suggested. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Plankton nodded against her touch, his body still trembling. He wrapped his arms around his legs, drawing them tight to his chest. Karen's screen filled with concern. This was not the Plankton she knew. His usual confidence and sharpness were replaced by a child- like vulnerability. "It's okay," she repeated, stroking his back in a soothing motion. "You're safe here." Plankton's trembling subsided slightly. He looked at Karen, his eye wide and searching. "It's okay," she whispered, her hand still on his back. "You're safe." But her mind was whirling. Was this a symptom of something more serious than a concussion? Plankton's rocking slowed down, and he finally leaned back into the couch cushions. Karen could see the effort it was taking for him to maintain composure. He was always so independent, so in control. To see him like this was... unnerving. "Karen," he whispered, his voice still tremulous, "Karen, Karen hug?" She lurched at his vulnerability. Plankton was not one to ask for comfort, but his current state was clearly overwhelming him. Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. His body was rigid, but gradually, it began to relax into her embrace. Karen felt his breathing even out as he clung to her. "It's okay," she said again, her voice a soft murmur. "You're okay."

CATCH IN MY CHIP ii (Autistic author) Chip looks at his father with newfound understanding. He remembers the way Plankton's eye would sometimes glaze over when the TV was too loud or when the restaurant was too crowded. He'd always assumed it was just his dad being tired or grumpy, not that his brain was struggling to keep up. "So, what is it?" Chip asks, his voice small and scared. Karen takes a deep breath. "It's called autism, sweetie. And it just means that Daddy's brain works a little differently. Sometimes, it's really good at things, like inventing and remembering stuff. But sometimes, it can get overwhelmed by too much noise or too many people or things." Chip nods slowly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "But why doesn't he tell me?" Karen sighs, taking Chip's hand in hers. "Because he doesn't always know it's happening until it's too late. And sometimes, talking about it can make it harder for him." She looks up at her son with a gentle smile. "But now that you know, you can help him. Like giving him space when he needs it, or turning down the TV." Chip nods, his mind racing. He's always thought his dad was a little weird, but now he knows it's not just weirdness. It's something real, something that makes him who he is. He looks back at Plankton, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity. He goes and touches his dad's arm, his heart racing. "Dad, wake up," Chip cries, his hand shaking slightly. But Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Let's give him some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's still form. He retreats to the corner of the room, clutching his newly acquired seashell collection tightly to his chest. His mind races with questions, but fear keeps his mouth shut. He watches as his mom pulls the curtains, dimming the light to a gentle glow that seems to ease the tension in the room. The quiet is almost deafening now, the only sound the faint hum of the Chum Bucket's air-conditioning. Chip sits cross-legged on the floor, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. He'd always known his dad was unique, but he didn't realize it was something so... serious. Karen sits beside Plankton, speaking in hushed tones. "It's okay, dear," she says, stroking his arm. "Just breathe." Plankton's body twitches slightly, his eye still open and unseeing. Chip watches, wishing he could do something to help. He tries to be patient, his mind racing with questions about what just happened. Why couldn't Dad handle his stories and his energy? Why did he just... shut down? He'd never seen anyone react that way before. Chip's curiosity gets the better of him, and he tiptoes closer to the bed, peering over his mom's shoulder. Plankton's eye is still staring off into space, and his breathing is still shallow. "Mom, what's autism?" He whispers. Karen glances over at him, her expression a mix of love and sadness. "It's a condition that affects how people process information, honey," she says, her voice soft. "Some things that are easy for you and me, like talking and being around lots of noise, can be really hard for Daddy." Chip's eyes widen with realization. "So, when I was sharing all my stories and showing him my stuff, I was being too loud and moving too much?" Karen nods. "Sometimes, yes. It's like if you were trying to read a book in the middle of a rock concert. It's hard to focus." Chip looks down at his sandy hands, feeling a pang of guilt. "I didn't know," he murmurs. Karen smiles sadly. "It's okay, Chip. We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to think of your dad as different. But now that you know, you can help us take care of him." Chip nods solemnly, watching his mom gently guide Plankton to a more comfortable position on the bed. "How do we help him?" Karen sighs. "Well, for starters, we give him some space when he needs it. And when he's feeling better, we can talk about it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes glued to his dad's still form. He wants to help, but he doesn't know how. He watches as his mom covers Plankton with a blanket, her movements gentle and soothing. "What do we do now?" Karen looks at him, her expression full of warmth. "Now, we wait."

GREAT CHIP ii (Autistic author) After what feels like an eternity, Plankton's eye slowly refocus. His body twitches, then relaxes. He blinks, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Karen moves closer, her hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back," she says soothingly. Plankton looks up, seeing Chip in the doorway, his eyes full of questions. "What..." Plankton asks, his voice groggy. Chip takes a step forward, his heart racing. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton blinks again, his gaze sharpening. He looks at Karen. "I had one of my moments, didn't I?" His voice is tinged with self-consciousness. Karen nods, her eyes full of love and understanding. "Yes, you did." Plankton's gaze shifts to Chip, his vulnerability laid bare for his son to see. Chip steps closer, unsure of what to do with his hands, his eyes searching his dad's. "Are you okay?" Chip asks, his voice tentative. "I just got h..." "Yes," Plankton cuts him off, his tone brisk, "I'm fine, ok?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice, as if the seizure is an inconvenience, something to be pushed aside quickly and forgotten. Chip's heart squeezes at the sight. "Dad, ca..." "I said I'm okay," Plankton repeats, his voice a little sharper this time. There's a defensiveness in his tone that Chip's never heard before. Chip flinches. But he's still confused, and his curiosity won't quit. "But why do..." "I don't want to talk about it, I told you what to know," Plankton snaps, his voice abrupt and final. "So just drop it!" Chip's eyes fill with tears, his curiosity colliding with his dad's discomfort. He's never seen Plankton so agitated before. "Dad I'm so..." "I said I'm okay!" Plankton says. "So JUST STOP ASKING!" Chip's eyes well with tears. He didn't mean to upset him, he just wanted to understand. Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Why don't you go to your room for a bit, honey?" "Ok," Chip says, but he ends up accidentally touching his dad when he stands up to go, brushing against Plankton. And that makes him even angrier.. Plankton jolts away, his face twisting into a grimace. "I said not to touch me!" The room goes deathly quiet. Karen's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to say something, but Plankton's not done with Chip. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" he yells, his voice echoing off the walls. "I can't even have a moment without you pestering me! YOU'RE the one who's not okay! YOU'RE JUST A KID, CHIP; I NEVER WANT YOU TO EVER THINK ABOUT THIS AGAIN!" Chip's eyes widen, his face flushing with a mix of fear and sadness. He didn't know his dad could be so mad. He turns and runs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Karen sighs heavily. This isn't how she wanted Chip to learn about Plankton's condition. She knows her husband's frustration is a defense mechanism, a way for him to cope with his own fears. But it doesn't make it any easier for Chip to understand. Plankton's eye follows Chip as he runs off, his own expression a mix of anger and upset. He didn't like to scream, but the sensory overload from the seizure had left him on edge, his emotions raw. His son didn't mean any harm, but the sudden contact had been too much. His skin feels like it's buzzing, his mind racing with the echoes of his own voice. Plankton sighs. He doesn't like his son to see him like this, so vulnerable and out of control. Karen never liked to see Plankton upset. She knew to tread carefully with him when he's so explosive, as he's now breathing heavily. "Plankton," she starts gently, "Chip didn't mean to upset you. He's just trying to understand." But Plankton's still tense, not replying to her. Karen saw the frustration and wanted to try again, not knowing if he understood what she said. She inched closer to him cautiously. Plankton's eye darted around the room, avoiding hers. He knew his reaction was too much, but his senses were still screaming. He felt like a failure, unable to control his own body. Karen waited patiently, giving Plankton the space he needed. Her hand hovered near his arm, ready to offer comfort, but she knew better than to touch him now. Plankton's shoulders slumped as the reality of the situation sank in. He had always tried so hard to hide his seizures from Chip, not wanting to burden him. But now the secret was out, and his son had witnessed his most vulnerable moment. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he had snapped at Chip. It was his way of protecting his own pride. Plankton took a deep breath, his heart thumping in his chest. He didn't want his son to see him as weak or broken. Karen's hand remained hovering, a silent offering of comfort. He knew she understood, but he didn't want her defending Chip either. Plankton's mind raced, his heart still pounding. He felt exposed, his secret laid bare for his son to see. The room was suffocating, his thoughts a tornado. He didn't want Chip to think less of him, to see him as damaged. Plankton took another deep breath, his eye focusing on anything but Karen's concerned gaze. He felt a knot in his stomach, his chest tight, both of which can in themselves cause an overload on their own. But Karen didn't realize when she reached out to touch his shoulder.. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, but to Plankton, it was like a bomb had detonated in his sensory system. He jolted away, his eye wide with panic. "Sorry," Karen murmured, quickly retracting her hand. She knew better than to push when he was like this. Plankton nodded, his breathing steadying slightly. "It's okay," he managed to say, his voice still tight. "I know you're trying." Karen sat down next to him, her hand resting on the couch between them, a silent bridge of support. "We'll talk to Chip together, when you're ready." Plankton nodded, his eye still avoiding hers. In the quiet, Plankton felt his self-consciousness grow. He didn't want Chip to see him this way, to think less of him. It was something he'd managed to hide for so long, his autism, his moments of overload. Now, it was out in the open, and he felt like a creature exposed to the elements. The room felt too warm, too bright, each sound amplified. He knew his reaction was extreme, but his mind couldn't help it. The effort it took to appear 'normal' was like swimming against a riptide, and now the current had dragged him under. He could see the worry in Karen's screen, the sadness that he'd lashed out at Chip. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want Chip to think he didn't care, that he didn't want to be there for him. He just couldn't handle the touch, not now. Not with his senses still in overdrive. Karen knew that look, the one of internal battle. "Why don't we go talk to him?" she suggested, her voice soft. Plankton nodded, pushing himself out of the chair. His legs felt like jelly, his heart racing. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before opening the door to Chip's room.

CHIP AND THE DILEMMA ii (Autistic author) | ᴺᵉᵍᵃᵗⁱᵛⁱᵗʸ ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ | Karen's eyes widen, and she quickly takes in the situation. She's seen this before—his meltdowns. They've become less frequent, but when they happen, they hit hard. She turns to Chip, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chip, honey, why don't you go wash up for dinner?" Her voice is calm, but firm. Chip's screen flicked between his dad and mom, not fully understanding. "But Dad said we're doing the solar system after dinner," he protests weakly. Karen gives him a gentle nudge towards the door. "It's ok, sweetie. I'll take care of this. You go ahead." Reluctantly, Chip backs out of the room. He's worried, but he trusts his mom. Karen closes the door behind Chip, turning her full attention to Plankton. His breathing is still erratic, his eye unfocused. "It's okay," she whispers, moving closer to him. She's learned over the years that proximity can be both a comfort and a trigger. She treads carefully. Plankton flinches at her approach, but she's quick to respond, retreating slightly. She knows better than to push to hard. "You're having a hard time," she says softly, her voice soothing. "Do you want me to turn off the light?" Plankton nods, his eye squeezed shut. The dimness of the room helps, but the noise of Chip's retreating footsteps echoes like thunder. Karen moves to the window, drawing the curtains to block the setting sun, plunging the room into a comforting gloom. She sits down next to Plankton, not touching him, but close enough to be there. He takes a shaky breath. "Talk to me, love," Karen coaxes. "What triggered it?" Plankton's eye are still closed, but his breathing steadies. "Chip," he manages. "Chip's touch. It was too much." Karen nods. She's always been his rock, but she hates seeing him like this. She knows the stress of hiding his autism has taken a toll on him. "We should tell him," she says gently. "He's old enough to understand." Plankton's eye flies open, his panic rising again. "No," he says firmly. "He doesn't need to know." Karen sighs, stroking his back gently. "He deserves to know, Plankton. He loves you and he's worried about you." Plankton's body relaxes a little, the sound of Karen's voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. "I know," he admits. Karen nods, understanding the fear behind his words. "But think about it," she says. "He's going to notice things. It's better if we explain it to him on our terms, rather than him figuring conclusions and feeling alone or scared." Plankton looks at Karen, his expression a mix of fear and resignation. "Perhaps when the ringing in my ears dwindles," he says, his voice shaking. "I know, we can't keep it from him forever." Karen nods, her screen filled with empathy. "Whenever you're ready," she says. "We'll do it together." Plankton takes a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts of how to explain his condition to Chip. He knows it won't be easy, but his son deserves the truth. Dinner is a subdued affair, both Chip and Karen watching Plankton closely, noticing his lack of appetite and the faraway look in his eye. Chip keeps his questions to himself, sensing his dad's discomfort. After dinner, Karen breaks the silence. "Chip, why don’t we all go to your room?" she suggests, trying to keep her voice light. Chip nods, leading the way as Plankton follows, his steps slow and measured. Karen can feel the tension in his body as he tries to keep his composure. Once in Chip's room, Plankton sits on the edge of his bed, looking around. Chip notices the uncharacteristic stillness in his father's posture, the way his antennae droop slightly. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. Karen sits beside Plankton, her hand resting gently on his. "Chip, your dad has something important to tell you." Chip looks at them both, his screen wide. "What is it?" Plankton takes a deep breath. "Chip," he starts, his voice shaking slightly. "There's something you should know about me." Chip looks between his mom and dad. "What is it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton takes a moment, his eye scanning the room as if searching for the right words. "I'm... different, Chip," he finally says, his gaze locking onto Chip's. "I have a condition, called..." “Oh, Dad! Will get better?” Chip asks. “It’s gonna go away, right?” Plankton’s eye fills with sorrow as he shakes his head. “No, Chip, it doesn’t..." But before he can finish, Chip gasps. “It’s called autism, Chip,” Karen says gently, filling the silence. Chip frowns, his mind racing. “What’s that?” He’s heard the word before, but it’s always been in whispers or as a punchline in a joke at school. He doesn’t understand. Plankton sighs heavily. "It's a... the way my brain works," he explains, his antennae twitching with nerves. "It's like I experience the world through a different way than you do." Chip's eyes widen, his mind swirling with questions. "So, you're like... broken?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent concern. Plankton flinches at the word, his heart sinking. He's always feared this moment, wondered how his son would react. "No, Chip," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not like that. Autism is just part of who I am." But Chip's mind is racing. "You, you're like... not normal?" He can't hide the worry in his tone. Plankton's eye flickers with pain at the question, but he nods. "It's just a different way of things, buddy! It doesn't make me less..." But Chip's mind is already made up. "So you can't be fixed?" he blurts out, his tone filled with disappointment. Plankton's antennae droop. "There's nothing to fix," Karen says, interrupting gently. "Different, not broken. Autism is just a part of who your father is." But Chip can't shake the word from his mind. "Autistic." He's heard it before in whispers at school, thrown around like an insult. He looks at Plankton, his hero, his rock. But the damage is done. In Chip's gaze, his dad is no longer just quirky or unique— he's broken, like a toy that's missing a piece. "Chip," Karen says gently, "autism isn't something that can be fixed or taken away. It's part of who your dad is, and it's what makes him special." Chip looks at his mother, his expression confused. "But if he's different, doesn't that mean he's not as good?" Karen's screen fills with sadness, but she remains calm. "No, Chip," she says firmly. "Being different doesn't mean being less. It just means seeing the world in a different way. And your dad, he's incredible in so many ways. He's smart, and he's kind, and he loves you more than anything."

JUST A TOUCH ii (Autistic author) Plankton began to sit up, his movements were methodical, each action deliberate and precise. His antennae twitched as he took in the sights and sounds of the hospital room, his eye searching for familiarity in the unfamiliar setting. "Home?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency. Karen's screen filled with understanding. "We're not home, sweetie. We need to stay here until the doctors are sure you're okay." She kept her tone soft and even, hoping to soothe his growing anxiety. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. "You've acquired Autism." The doctor nodded in agreement. "It's important that he feels secure and comfortable in this new environment. Let's start with some simple questions to gauge his cognitive function." He turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's response was immediate and crystal clear. "Sheldon J. Plankton." Karen's heart skipped a beat at the formality in his tone. This was her husband, but the way he spoke was unlike anything she had heard from him before. The doctor's smile remained, but his eyes were assessing. "And who is this lovely lady next to you?" Plankton paused, his antennae quivering. "Karen," he said, his voice slightly softer, "Plankton's computer wife." He was stating facts, not sharing his emotions. The doctor noted the exchange and nodded. "It's alright, Karen. This is all part of the adjustment." He then turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me what you see around you?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his antennae twitching rapidly. "White walls. Blue floor. Bright lights. Machines," he listed, his voice devoid of inflection. The doctor jotted down notes, his gaze thoughtful. "Good, good. Now, can you tell me how you feel?" Plankton's response was quick and specific. "Plankton feel the coolness of the air conditioner, hear the hum of the lights above. Plankton's hand is clammy. Your hand is dry." Karen felt a pang of sadness at his lack of emotional description. The doctor nodded, his gaze shifting to Karen. "It's not uncommon for individuals with Acquired Autism to speak in a matter-of-fact manner, especially when they're trying to make sense of their surroundings." Karen felt a tear slip down her screen as she forced a smile for Plankton. "Okay, we can handle this," she thought, wiping it away. Plankton's gaze never left the doctor, his eye scanning every tentacle as he spoke. "Now, let's check your coordination," the doctor said, handing him a simple puzzle. Plankton took the puzzle pieces in his tiny hands and began to assemble them with lightning speed. The doctor watched in amazement as the intricate pattern emerged, each piece fitting perfectly. "Remarkable," he murmured. "It seems his problem-solving abilities have indeed been enhanced." Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears as she saw Plankton's meticulous movements, the way his fingers danced over the plastic pieces. It was as if he saw a pattern that she couldn't. As the puzzle came together, she noticed his breathing had evened out, his movements more fluid, as if the task provided him some semblance of peace. But when the doctor tried to take the puzzle away to test another cognitive function, Plankton's hand shot out, his grip tightening on the last piece. "No," he said firmly, his voice edged with something new, something akin to panic. "It's not finished." The doctor exchanged a look with Karen, who nodded slowly. They had to respect his new boundaries. "Alright, Plankton, take your time," she said, her voice calm. The doctor stepped back, allowing Plankton to complete his task. With a final snap, the puzzle was done. Plankton stared at it, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Once the puzzle was complete, he handed it back to the doctor with a nod. The doctor took it with a smile. "Very good, Plankton." Karen felt a swell of pride mixed with the fear. "Now, let's move on to some memory recall," the doctor suggested, his tentacles holding a series of cards with images. "I'm going to ask you..." But before the doctor could finish, Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye widening as he spotted a smudge on the wall. "Clean," he murmured, his gaze firmly locked on the imperfection. Karen's heart sank as she watched his obsession take hold. The doctor paused, sensing the shift in Plankton's focus. "It appears Plankton has developed some OCD tendencies alongside his Autism," he said gently to Karen. "It's not unusual for them to fixate on certain things." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's as his gaze remained glued to the smudge. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "We can get someone to clean it." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body visibly relaxing at the thought. The doctor nodded at a nearby janitor, who quickly came over and wiped the smudge away, leaving the wall gleaming. With the wall back to its pristine state, Plankton's eye moved back to the cards. He took them in his hands and studied each image intently, his antennae quivering with concentration. "Ready?" Karen asked, hopeful that this part of the assessment would go smoothly. But Plankton's gaze shifted to the floor, focusing on the tiles. Each one was perfectly aligned, except for a single one slightly askew. "Crooked," he said, his voice laced with distress. Karen's heart broke as she watched him struggle with the internal conflict of wanting to fix it and knowing he couldn't. The doctor, noticing the shift in mood, stepped in. "It's alright, Plankton. Let's focus on..." But Plankton's eye was already darting around the room, spotting every imperfection, his anxiety rising. Karen knew they had to get home, to a place where he could find peace. "Doctor, can we go?" she interrupted, her voice tight with urgency. The doctor nodded, his smile understanding. "Yes, you can take him home. Remember, patience is key. His world has changed, and he needs a stable environment to adjust." Karen stood, cradling Plankton in her arms once again. He felt lighter, his body more rigid than usual. As they left the hospital, the chaotic world of Bikini Bottom rushed in, a cacophony of sounds and lights. Plankton's eye widened, his antennae quivering. Karen could feel his discomfort, his body tensing with each step they took closer to the noisy, bustling streets.

./)/) (\(\ ( . .) (. . ) ( づ🍜⊂ )

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD ii The nurse finished up the paperwork and handed it to Karen. "You're all set to go home once Mr. Plankton is ready. Just remember, he'll need to take it easy for a few days. No solid food, only soft things like soups and mashed potatoes." Karen nodded, her gaze still locked on Plankton's fascinated expression. "I've got it covered," she said. Plankton, seemingly oblivious to the instructions, was busy poking his cheeks with his fingers, his mouth still numb and frozen. He looked up at her, his eye twinkling. "Kay... Kahen... anotha... anotha teeth." The nurse had left the room, leaving them in a quiet solitude punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional swish of hospital curtains. Karen couldn't resist the urge to laugh. "You're already asking for more?" she teased. Plankton shrugged, his expression as goofy as a puppy's. "Ith... wothless... wifout... wisdom," he mumbled. Her amusement grew. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment to the teeth or an insult to me," she said playfully. Plankton's antennae shot up, his cheeks flushing a brighter shade of pink. "Mmph... no, no... gwed... wisdom..." he insisted, his speech still slurred. Karen couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," she said, her voice filled with affectionate sarcasm. "So, what's the first thing you want to do when we get home?" Plankton's antennae twitched with excitement. "Mmph... mow... wock?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Karen raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden interest in music. "You want to rock?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes. Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennae bobbing. "Mmhmm," he managed, his mouth still refusing to cooperate. "Wock and wowl." Karen couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll make sure to have some rock music ready for when we get home." Plankton's eye lit up, his enthusiasm clear despite the numbness. "Gweat," he murmured, his antennae swaying to an unheard melody. Karen watched him, his normally stoic face now a canvas of comical expressions and muffled sounds. It was surreal to see him like this, but she found his vulnerability endearing. "But first, we need to get you home," she said, her voice a gentle reminder of reality. Plankton nodded, his eye closing in exhaustion. He leaned his head back on the pillow, his snoring resuming its soft crescendo. The nurse returned to check on them. "Looks like he's comfortable," she said with a smile. "You can take him home whenever you're ready." Karen nodded, still watching Plankton's peaceful face. "Mmph... Kahen?" Plankton's eye opened again, searching for her. "Ca-- we go now?" he slurred, his voice laced with hope. Karen couldn't resist the urge to lean over and kiss his forehead. "Soon, buddy," she whispered. He nodded, his antennae waving sluggishly. His hand found hers again, his grip firm despite his grogginess. Karen felt her heart melt at his determination. "Mmph... I teww you 'notha tink?" he mumbled, his smile hopeful. "Sure," she said, leaning closer. "Wheh, mmmph... the dentist made every ting awwright, yet firsh, they saith I woul’ be in surgery. Bu’ they didn’t even cuth me openth! They jus’ made every ting go woozy," Plankton slurred. "Then youw face wath theath wight bulb on top." Karen couldn't stop herself from laughing. "What are you talking about, Plankton?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth. He tried to enunciate, his lips moving awkwardly. "Mmph, Kahen, the dentist... they... they put me to sweep wi’out cutting me." His words were jumbled. Karen's curiosity piqued, she leaned in closer. "What do you mean, without cutting you?" she questioned, her voice filled with gentle amusement. Plankton's antennae waved wildly. "Mmph, they goth me all sleepy and then I woke up wifout getting cuth!" he exclaimed, his words still thick. Karen couldn't contain her laughter. "They didn't cut you because they already took your teeth out while you were asleep," she explained, her voice a blend of humor and affection. Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye looking disappointed. "Mmph, oh... I wath expehcting a magith trick." He slumped back into the pillow. Karen chuckled, stroking his hand. "It's like magic, isn't it?" she said, her voice light. "You went to sleep with four extra teeth and woke up with none." Plankton's antennae shot up again. "Ma... ma... magic?" he repeated, his voice filled with wonder. Karen nodded. "In a way, yes. They used sleepy medicine so you wouldn't feel a thing." He stared at her, his eye wide with fascination. "Wow, Kahen. They're wike wizawds!" he exclaimed, his speech still slurred but his enthusiasm unmistakable. Karen laughed again, her heart feeling lighter. "Mmph, can they make me fwee too?" Plankton asked, his voice filled with hope. Karen shook her head, her smile never leaving her lips. "Sorry, Plankton. Only in your dreams." He pouted, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's. "Mmph, no fun." His eye grew heavy again, his body still feeling the weight of the anesthesia. Karen stood, gently squeezing his hand. "Let's get you up, okay?" With a groan, Plankton managed to push himself into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. Karen supported him, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. His head lolled to one side. "Mmph... wath... whath... whath's that?" Plankton's voice was a muffled mess, his words tripping over his still-numb tongue. Karen followed his gaze to the plastic cup of water. "Mmph... wath's in thef?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Karen laughed gently. "It's for rinsing, buddy. To keep your mouth clean." Plankton nodded, his antennae still waving with excitement. The nurse stepped in to help, handing him the cup filled with water. "Here, take a sip." Plankton's antennae waved nervously as he took the cup, his hand trembling. He took a tentative sip, his mouth filling with the cold liquid. "Ah, gwed," he slurred, his speech still affected by the anesthesia. Karen watched him with amusement. "You're doing great," she encouraged, her voice soothing. Plankton managed a wobbly nod. "Mmph... wath's nxt?" "Now, we just need to get you home," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Mmph... dawes?" Karen nodded, her smile never fading. "Yes, darling, we're going home now." Plankton's eye lit up with excitement, his slurred speech a cute contrast to his usual sharp wit.

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ii (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen woke up to find Plankton still asleep, his hand still clutching hers. She gently pulled her hand away and stood up. Plankton's snores echoed through the quiet room. Karen studied his peaceful expression, his features softer in sleep, and felt a surge of affection for the man she had married so many years ago. In the cold light of day, the reality of his condition settled in. He was different, but she would not let that change the way she saw him. As a robot, Karen understood the importance of adjusting to new situations, and this was no exception. As Plankton stirred, she quickly moved to his side, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring. His eye opened, looking around the room before settling on her. "Karen," he said, his voice still flat, but with a hint of recognition. "Good morning, Plankton," she replied. This was their first day facing his autism together, and she had spent the night preparing. Plankton sat up, his eye locking onto hers. "Morning," he repeated. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if his brain was processing each action. "Would you like some breakfast?" she asked. He nodded. "No vault," he murmured, and she could see the beginnings of a frown. Karen nodded, knowing that his obsessions might become more pronounced. "It's okay," she said. "We don't need the vault." Plankton's eye searched her face, his expression unreadable. "No vault," he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "Good." Karen nodded. "Let's start the day," she suggested, trying to shift the focus. She led him to the tiny kitchen area, the smell of chum wafting through the air. Plankton followed her, his steps measured and precise. His gaze flitted around the room, taking in every detail. "Would you like eggs or chum?" she asked. "Both," he said, his voice clearer than before. Karen nodded, cracking an egg over the sizzling pan. Plankton sat at the table, rocking back and forth slightly. It was clear that his senses were heightened, every sound and smell more intense than before. "Here's your breakfast, Plankton," she said, placing the plate in front of him. His gaze fixated on the food, his eye narrowing as if studying a complex puzzle. "Thank you," he said, the words coming out mechanically. But as Karen stirred the chum and eggs together, something shifted in his demeanor. He stiffened in his chair, his rocking coming to an abrupt halt. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing the sudden change. Plankton's eye grew wide. "No," he whispered, his voice strained. "Not together. Separate," he demanded, his voice growing more urgent. Karen paused, her circuits racing. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I'll fix it." She carefully scraped the food onto two separate places, one with egg, one with chum. She placed it in front of him, hoping she was interpreting his needs correctly. Plankton stared. "Different plate," he murmured. "And a new spoon. And new eggs not touching new chum." Karen nodded, quickly moving to comply with his requests. She knew that routines and sensory preferences could be crucial for individuals with autism, and she wanted to make sure his first breakfast post-diagnosis was as comfortable as possible. She replicated his meal with meticulous precision, ensuring every detail was exactly as he had specified, ridding of the old food. The new plate was set before him, the eggs and chum neatly separated. Plankton's shoulders relaxed slightly. He picked up the spoon, his gaze intensely focused on the task at hand. Karen watched as he took a tiny bite in what seemed like pleasure. "Good?" she ventured. Plankton nodded, his eye not leaving the plate. "Good," he echoed, his voice still monotone. Karen observed him as he methodically ate his breakfast, each bite the same size, each chew lasting the same amount of time. It was fascinating and slightly disconcerting to watch the man she knew so well now engaging with the world in such a different way. Plankton's routine was always important, but now it had taken on a new level of significance. The clink of the spoon against the plate was the only sound in the room, the rhythm of it almost hypnotic. As Plankton finished his meal, his head snapped up, his gaze sharp and focused on her. "Karen," he said, his voice now clear and concise. "Yes, Plankton?" she replied, wiping down the counter. "Thank you," he said, his eye fixed on the now-empty plate. Karen nodded, taking the dishes to the sink. She could feel his eye on her as she moved about the room, the weight of his silence a stark contrast to his usual incessant chatter. She knew that autism would bring challenges, but she was determined to be there for him.

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii (Autistic author) The doctor stepped in, his tentacles moving gently as he spoke. "Mr. Plankton, it's important to stay calm. This is a big change. Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's gaze flicked from Karen to Dr. Kelp, his expression a mask of confusion. "I'm Plankton," he managed to say, his voice shaky. The doctor nodded, his tentacles still and calm. "Good. That's good, Mr. Plankton. Do you know where you are?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his breathing growing rapid and shallow. He looked down and then back up at Karen. "What's happening?" he repeated for the third time, his voice now a little more frantic. Karen's heart was in her throat. The doctor's explanation was beginning to take root in her mind, and she could see the stark reality of their situation. Plankton's repetition, his difficulty with understanding new surroundings and his increased sensitivity to sound—these were all hallmarks of his new autism. The doctor continued his assessment. "Mr. Plankton, can you tell me your wife's name?" he prompted. Plankton's gaze shifted to Karen, his expression becoming more focused, as if her presence was the only familiar thing in the room. "Karen," he said, his voice softening slightly. The doctor nodded, making a note on his clipboard. "Good. Now, can you tell me what happened before you woke up?" Plankton's eye flitted back to Karen, searching for answers. He began to rock slightly, his body moving in a rhythmic motion, a common self-soothing behavior for those on the autism spectrum. Karen recognized it immediately but seeing it in Plankton was jarring. His gaze darted around the room, his pupil dilating with every new sound or movement. The doctor's tentacles were a blur of activity making notes. "Mr. Plankton, I see you're feeling You're almost ready to go back home with Karen." Dr. Kelp says calmly. "Just one more question, if you don't mind. Now, can you tell me if you have any pets?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room. "Pets? Spot! Yes, Spot. Amoeba puppy; Spot.." The doctor nodded, his tentacles still scribbling notes. "Very good, Mr. Plankton. It seems like your long-term memory is intact, which is a positive sign. Now Karen can take you home!" Karen felt a wave of relief crash over her, but it was tinged with the stark reality that their life was never going to be the same. Plankton's autistic mannerisms were now a constant reminder of the accident—his newfound need for routine, his heightened sensitivity to surroundings, and the way his eye would dance around the room as he tried to make sense of his environment. As they arrived home, the stark reality of their new life hit Karen like a wave. His once-quick steps had been replaced with a cautious shuffle, as if the very floor beneath him was unpredictable. Inside, Plankton was drawn to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock, his eye fixated on the second hand's journey. Karen watched him. His newfound need for predictability was overwhelmingly apparent. "Let's sit down," she suggested, guiding him to their couch, which was now occupied by Spot. Plankton's gaze flitted around the living room, his eye alighting on his beloved amoeba puppy Spot. "Spot," he murmured, his voice tentative, as if unsure if his words would have the same effect they once did. The pup looked up at him, its blob-like form shifting slightly with excitement. But instead of the weariness Plankton has shown today, he joyfully watched Spot's movements. Karen felt a moment of warmth— his love for Spot hadn't changed, nor their usual interactions. The doctor had told her that routines were vital for those with his condition. So, she decided to start their day with a familiar activity: breakfast. Plankton's eye lit up at the sight of the familiar kitchen. He took his usual seat at the table, his hands fidgeting with the napkin. Karen noticed his meticulous arrangement of his silverware, the way he lined up his plate and cup perfectly parallel to the edges. As she prepared their meal, she could feel his gaze on her, his eye darting between her and Spot, who was now playfully chasing his own tail in a loop around the living room. He began to hum a tune, his voice off-key and repetitive. Karen's with love despite the pain she felt. The clanging of pans was loud in the silence, making Plankton flinch—this was going to be so much harder than she had anticipated. The doctor's instructions echoed in her mind: stick to routine, keep things simple. Karen set the breakfast plates down carefully, each item placed exactly where Plankton liked it. His eye grew wide as she slid his plate closer. He stared at the food for a moment, then picked up his spoon. The clink of metal on porcelain was like a gunshot to his heightened sensitivity. He dropped the spoon, his hands shooting up to cover his head in distress. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen soothed, moving quickly to his side. She retrieved the spoon and set it aside, her hand trembling slightly. "You don't have to eat right now," she said softly, her voice a gentle caress against the tension in the room. Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing slowing as his hands uncovered his ears. He fidgeted in his chair, his eye darting to the ceiling as if searching for something. "Let's go read a book," Karen suggested, desperate to find anything that might calm his nerves. Plankton nodded slightly, his gaze still unfocused. He stood up carefully, his body moving with the precision of a man who knew his world had changed. As they approached the bookshelf, his eye caught a glint of metal from the corner of the room. The invention that had brought them here lay in a tangled heap, its wires and gears silent and ominous, giving him déjà vu. Plankton stopped, his body rigid, his gaze locked on the machine. He stared unblinking, his mind racing back to the crash. Karen notices his suddenly unmoving form and gets concerned. "Plankton?" she calls softly, but he doesn't react. His entire being seemed to be consumed by the wreckage of his former life. The invention, a testament to his former brilliance, now a grim reminder of the accident. "Plankton, honey," Karen's voice was barely a whisper as she tried to get him to talk. He didn't move. The invention, a tangled web of wires and gears, seemed to hold his gaze captive. It was the very machine that had caused this transformation. Karen followed his gaze, her heart sinking as she realized the source of his distress. "Let's go to another room," she suggested gently, her hand resting on his arm. But he didn't move. Karen felt the weight of the moment settle heavily on her shoulders. It was time to face the reality of their new life together—a life where Plankton's once sharp wit and innovative spirit were now clouded by a disorder she was only beginning to understand. Her heart swelled with sorrow as she observed his interaction with the inanimate objects around him. The love she had for him remained unshaken, but the thought of what they had lost—what he had lost—was almost too much to bear. "Come on," she coaxed, her voice gentle as a lullaby. "Let's go to the living room. I'll read you a story?" Yet Plankton remains frozen. So Karen made a decision. She couldn't bear the thought of that accursed machine looming over them, a constant reminder of the tragic turn their lives had taken. With a fierce determination she hadn't felt in ages, she strode over to the invention and began to dismantle it, piece by painful piece. The metal clanked and clattered as she worked, her movements quick and sure, each part coming off with a satisfying crunch. Plankton's eye followed her, his expression unreadable. When the last piece was removed, his gaze lifted to meet hers, his eye filled with something that looked akin to gratitude. "Thank you, Karen," Plankton murmured, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the now bare room. Karen paused in her task, her eyes meeting his with a surprised expression. This was the first time since the accident that he had spoken to her with anything other than fear or confusion. "You're welcome," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii (Autistic author) His eye took a moment to focus on her, and when it did, she saw a flicker of confusion, followed by a glimmer of recognition. "Karen?" he repeated, his voice still faint. "Yes, it's me, Plankton. You're ok." But his gaze remained distant, his focus unsteady. "Where...where are we?" "We're at the hospital, sweetheart," Karen said softly, stroking his antenna. "You had an accident." The confusion in Plankton's eye grew, and he tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. "What kind of accident?" His voice was still weak, but there was an urgency to his words that hadn't been there before. Karen took a deep breath, her grip on his hand tightening. "Mr. Krabs...he hit you with a fry pan." The words tasted bitter but she had to tell him the truth. Plankton's eye widened slightly, and she watched as the puzzle pieces of the situation slowly clicked into place in his mind. "Krabby Patty," he murmured, his voice distant. "Yes, Plankton, you were trying to get the recipe again," Karen whispered, aching at the memory. "But it's over now. You need to rest." His eye searched hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of his old self, the cunning and ambitious man she had married. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a vacant stare. "Don't... don't remember," he mumbled, his antennas drooping. This wasn't the Plankton she knew, the one who schemed with a glint in his eye and a plan in his pocket. "It's ok, Plankton," she soothed, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Do you remember me?" Plankton's gaze remained steady for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. "Karen," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. But the spark of recognition was tinged with confusion, as if he wasn't quite sure how he knew her. Karen's felt like breaking into a million tiny pieces. But she knew she had to stay strong. For Plankton. For them. "You don't remember what happened, do you?" she asked gently. "What else do you remember?" Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, his eye searching hers. "Don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's chest tightened as she held back a sob. "It's ok," she reassured him, her voice shaky. "Do you remember your name?" she asked, her voice hopeful. He blinked slowly, his gaze fading in and out of focus, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. "Sheldon... Plankton?" The sound of his voice saying his own name brought a small smile to Karen's face. "Yes, that's right," she said, her voice filled with relief. "Do you remember where we live?" she continued, her tone gentle. Plankton's eye searched the ceiling of the hospital room, as if the answer was written there. "The Chum Bucket," he murmured, his voice unsure. Karen nodded, encouraged by his response. "Good, good," she said, smiling weakly. "What about our friends?" Again, the confusion clouded his gaze. "Friends?" he repeated, his voice tentative. "SpongeBob, Sandy...?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice soft. "Do you remember them?" Plankton's expression grew more distressed, his antennas drooping. "Square...SpongeBob. And a squirrel, yes?" He paused, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Karen nodded, brimming with unshed tears. "Yes, SpongeBob SquarePants and Sandy Cheeks. They're friends." Plankton's antennas twitched as he processed the information, his brow furrowing with the effort. "Friends," he repeated, the word sounding foreign. Karen could see the gears turning in his tiny head, his brain desperately trying to make connections to his past. "Do you remember anything about your life before the accident?" Karen asked, her voice trembling with anticipation. Plankton's eye searched hers, uncertain. "Life...before?" Her heart sank. "You know, our adventures, our home, our love?" He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "Love?" The word was barely a whisper. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice cracking. "We love each other. We've been married for a long time, and we've had so many adventures together." She paused, willing the words to resonate with him, to ignite a spark of memory. "Do you remember any of that?" Plankton's gaze remained vacant for a moment before he nodded slightly. "Married," he murmured, as if tasting the word for the first time. "To Karen." His antennas lifted slightly, a glimmer of something familiar flickering in his eye. "Karen Plankton computer wife." "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice thick with emotion. "Does that mean something to you?" she asked, her heart in her throat. He nodded slowly, his antennas waving slightly. "Computer wife," he murmured again, his voice gaining a hint of warmth. "Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm your wife." She leaned closer, her voice gentle. "Do you remember anything about us?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Wife," he said slowly, his voice a faint echo of the man she knew. "Wife...Karen. Married July 31, 1999." That was their wedding day, a date they had celebrated every year since. "Yes," she whispered, her voice choking. "We got married on July 31, 1999." The hospital room felt thick with silence as she waited for his next words. Plankton's eye searched the room, his antennas twitching as he tried to piece together the shards of his past. "Plankton, can you tell me about yourself?" Karen asked, her voice gentle. "What do you like to do?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Invent," he said, his voice still weak but with a hint of pride. "Science?" The words came out as a question, as if he wasn't quite sure of his own identity. "Yes," Karen said, her voice brightening slightly. "You're a genius inventor. You've made so many wonderful things." She paused, hoping to see some spark of recognition in his eye. "Do you remember any of your inventions?" Plankton's antennas waved in the air, as if searching for the memories that remained elusive. "Inventions," he murmured, his single eye searching the ceiling. "Gadgets...machines." "That's right," Karen encouraged, squeezing his hand. "You've created so many amazing machines. Can you describe one of them?" He blinked, his antennas stilling for a moment. "Chum...Chum Dispenser 3000," he said, his voice picking up a bit. "It makes...makes food for fishies." Karen's smile grew despite the pain. The Chum Dispenser 3000 was one of his earlier inventions, a failed attempt to lure customers to their restaurant, but it was a testament to his ingenuity. "That's wonderful, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "How about something more recent?" she prompted, eager to see how much of their shared history remained with him. Plankton's antennas twitched as his brain worked overtime. "Um... the Incredibubble," he said, his voice picking up speed as he talked. "It's a bubble that can shrink things down to microscopic size." Karen felt a jolt of excitement. "That's right!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You used it to get to find a secret plan." Plankton's gaze remained distant, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eye. "Computer... plan?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice shaking. "We've had so many adventures together, Plankton. We've faced so much together." He nodded, his antennas twitching slightly. "Together," he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. "Do you remember any of those adventures?" Karen asked, her voice trembling. "Adventures?" Plankton's eye flickered, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. "With Karen... wife?" "Yes, with me. We've traveled the ocean, faced so many challenges together." The doctor came in. "You can go home now," he said. Karen nodded, never leaving Plankton's face. She had spoken to the doctor about his condition, about the autism, but she still wasn't sure how to process it all. How would their life change now? "Come on, Plankton," she said, helping him sit up gently. "Let's get you home." She buckles him into his side of the car, his newfound passivity making the usual struggle unnecessary. The engine of the tiny vehicle roars to life, and Karen guides them out of the hospital parking lot. The ride back to the Chum Bucket is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine and the occasional splash from the waves outside. Karen keeps glancing at Plankton, his antennas listless as he stares out the window. His mind seems to be somewhere else, lost in a world of his own making. When they arrive, she helps Plankton out of the car and supports him as they make their way to the door. The neon sign flickers in the gloom, casting erratic shadows across the sand. The once bustling environment now feels eerie and desolate. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts of how to make this place feel like home again for Plankton.

TEETHIES ii The nurse dimmed lights and adjusted the bed, giving Plankton's body a chance to recover from the wisdom tooth surgery. Gently, Karen began to hum a tune she knew Plankton loved. The melody filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm blanket. His breathing grew a little easier, the tension in his hand loosening slightly. Plankton stirred, eye fluttering open to reveal a world still blurred by the fog of anesthesia. "Where... what...?" Plankton slurred. "Who... who are you?" "The dentist had to get your wisdom teeth out in surgery." Karen told him. "Wis...dommm...surgery? I don't...I don't remembe--- much." Plankton says. "Had to take them out. You've been asleep for a while." The nurse said. The door to the room creaked open to SpongeBob, his face a picture of concern. "Plankton!" he exclaimed. "How are ya?" Plankton, still groggy from the surgery, tried to form a coherent sentence. "S-SpongeBob," he slurred. "M-more wike... 'Arrr, matey' than usual, I s'pose." Karen rolled her pixel eyes. "It's the anesthesia." Plankton chuckled. "Ahoy ther- Spongey! Aye, it's awh’ 'cause of tweasare... I mean, surgery," he corrected, his speech still swaying. "You two are always so... " Karen trailed off, searching for the right word. "Inseparabubble?" Plankton suggested. Sponge Bob's laughter bubbled up again. "You mean, no Krabby Patty stealing schemes?" "Thath's righ'. No mow... Krabby... Patties... fow awhile." The words came out in a drawn-out slur, his head lolling slightly on the pillow. "Thath's... wath I wath thhinking," his speech still slurred but fading as his eyelid growing heavy. "Arr, thith... thith way, me... hearty," Plankton mumbled, as the nurse helped 'em into the car. "Arr, me... tweasuwe... home,". Sponge Bob watched his eyelid grew heavier. Plankton's head lolled back against the seat and his mouth fell open slightly, emitting a soft snore. "He's gonna be out for a bit," Karen said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "The anesthesia usually takes a few hours to wear off completely. He'll be fine." He reached out and gently patted Plankton's arm, whispering, "Don't worry, buddy. We're almost there." "We're home, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle nudge. Sponge Bob turned to see Plankton's chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths, his mouth open in snore's. His usually scheming eye were shut tight. Karen carefully opened the door. Sponge Bob looked at Plankton, who was still out cold. Sponge Bob leaned over the seat, his arms wrapping around Plankton's frail body. Plankton's head lolled back, his mouth still open in snore's. "Should we... should we wake him?" "Let him rest, Sponge Bob. He's had a rough day." Karen puts him on the couch. "Do you think he'll... you know, remember any of this?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice low and tentative. Karen's smile was a gentle wave. "I doubt it. The anesthesia usually wipes out memories for a bit." "Rest well, honey," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You've had a long day." Suddenly Plankton stirs in his sleep, his snores morphing into a groan as he shifts beneath the blanket. "Is he okay?" SpongeBob asks. "He's okay," she nods, her voice a gentle lullaby in the stillness. "Just anesthesia wearing off." She stood by him. "Easy, Plankton," Karen cooed, gently rubbing Plankton's back. "You're okay." The little villain's body twitched, and his eye fluttered open. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his gaze before he spotted Sponge Bob and Karen. "W-wha... whass happening?" Plankton's words were slurred, his lisp more pronounced than ever. "You're home, Plankton. You had wisdom teeth removed." "W-what? Did I miss... somefink?" He tried to sit up, his body moving as if through syrup. "You've been out for a bit," Karen said. "But you're home now." Plankton blinked. "Home?" he mumbled. "Yes, sweetie," Karen said, her voice a gentle caress. "You had your wisdom teeth out. You're going to be fine." "Oww... wha’ happened to my mouf?" "Your wisdom teeth were out." "Oh... wight," he murmured. "Need anything?" "Could... could I have some... ice... cweam?" His voice was a whispered plea. They get him some. "Thath's... thoothing. So, how'd I get home?" "Karen and I brought you back," Sponge Bob said. "You were out cold. Didn't even wake up when we carried you in." "Did... did you two... take care of me?" His voice was a mix of surprise and vulnerability. "Of course, Plankton!" He turned to Plankton. "Want me to pick something to watch?" "Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, eye already closing again. Sponge Bob flicked through the tv channels, finally settling on a rerun of their favorite show, "Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy." The familiar theme song filled the room, and Karen took a seat next to Plankton on the couch, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. As the adventure unfolded on the screen, Plankton's breathing grew deeper and more regular, his body gradually relaxing into the cushions. "Looks like he's out again," Karen said softly. Sponge Bob nodded, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall rhythmically. "Guess the surgery really took it out of him." The room grew quiet, save for the distant laugh track of their favorite show and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles. At night, turning the tv off, Spongebob picked Plankton up, cradling him. His friend's head lolled back, his mouth slightly open in a peaceful snore. Sponge Bob carefully made his way to his bed, setting him down. He pulled the blanket up to Plankton and gave him a soft pat. They both settled into the makeshift beds they had set up next to Plankton's. The next morning, both woke up before Plankton. Karen chuckled. "We should take a picture." Spongebob snapped a picture of Plankton, still asleep with his mouth slightly open, a trail of drool escaping onto the pillow. "Morning, Captain Snores-a-lot," Sponge Bob whispered with a smirk, rousing Plankton. Plankton's eye opened, only to wince. "Oww... wath... what's happening?" "It's morning, Plankton," Karen said, her tone still gentle. "Look your post-surgery glamour shot," Spongebob teased, holding the phone out of reach. "You were out cold last night." Plankton's eye widened as he took in the image. "You... you took a picture of me?!" He was half horrified, half amused. "Couldn't resist," Karen said, grinning. Plankton rolled his eye and wiped his mouth, then winced. "How wong hav- I been out?" "Overnight," Sponge Bob said, unable to hold back a chuckle. "You had quite the ride home yesterday." Plankton groaned, his hand reaching up to gingerly touch his swollen cheek. "Whath happened?" "You had your wisdom teeth out," Karen reminded him, her voice filled with a touch of amusement. "It's normal to be a bit out of it after surgery." "Wisdom teeth?" Plankton echoed, his voice still groggy. "Oh, wight. The dentist." Karen chuckled. "Yeah, you don't remember much, do you?" Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You talked like a pirate all the way home, matey." Plankton's eye widened in horror. "I did what?" Sponge Bob nodded. "Yeah, you kept calling me 'Spongey' and said we were 'inseparabubble'." Plankton blushed. "Oh, come on," he mumbled, trying to hide his face in the pillow. Sponge Bob and Karen shared a knowing look, their laughter subsiding into a comfortable silence. They could both tell that despite his tough exterior, Plankton was a bit embarrassed. Plankton sighed, his small body sinking deeper into the pillows. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But if I don't get to do anything, can I at leash wash TV?" "Of course," Karen said, handing him the remote. "But take it easy today, okay?" With a groan, Plankton managed to sit up, his hand still tentatively exploring his tender cheeks. He squinted at the TV, searching for something to watch. His eye lit up when he found a science fiction marathon. "Jackpot," he murmured.

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hii any1 wanna be friends!!?? 12-15 plz my reddit is: monnjiiskii and pinterest: Pic0cooreee11 ❤️

FANDOM EMOJI COMBOS! ; Slime rancher - 🚜🦑 Battle for dream island/BFDI - 💭🏝️ (Or any other object shows) Total drama island/TDI/TD - 🎥🏝️ MSI - 🦑🐇 Homestuck - 🛁🖋️ Dandys world - 🌈🌼 Dog man - 🐾🚔 FPE - 📜🩸 Doors - 👁️🚪 Miracle music -🌴🌈 Tally hall - 🔲🔳 Country humans - 🌐✨ Gorillaz - 🎸🦍 Garten of ban ban - 🪱🌈 Kirby - 🩷💫 Splatoon - 🦑🎨 Invader zim - 🐶🛸 Aggretsuko - 🎸🖇️ Project sekai - 🌸🎮 Bad parenting - ⛓️🚬 Sonic - 🦔🟦 Gravity falls - 🌲🌀 Clone high - ⏰🧬 Heathers - 💛❤️💚💙 Ride the cyclone - 🌀🎢 Weezer - 💙🎸 Dandys world characters! ; Shelly - 🐚🦖 Vee - 💚📺 Dandy - 🌈🌸 Shrimpo - 🦐💢 Im done, Make sure to up-vote so you can find more people in your fandom!

what the fuckkkkkkkkk jose you made a even worse joke like go suck a dick i hope catch on fire and fall in a 10000000ft hole and spalt on the fucking ground and am telling your mom again now you can bye to your fucking life you stupid bitch like fuck you funny fact for dumbass santa not real cause i burned him oo and your gf is breaking up with your fat ass like go walk for once you fat fuck 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

WISDOM WITH TEETH 2/2 The nurse returns with a wheelchair. "Alright, Mr. Plankton," she says with a smile. "Let's get you up and moving." He looks at her with a dazed expression, his mouth hanging open slightly as he drools onto his chest. "Whath's the maddah?" he asks, his words jumbled. Karen tries to hide her smile as she gently wipes his mouth with a tissue. "You're just groggy, sweetie. The anesthesia's wearing off," she explains, taking his hand. "Let's get you into the chair." With her help, Plankton manages to stand, his legs shaky beneath him. The nurse places the wheelchair behind him, and he plops down with a sigh of relief, the chair's cushions enveloping his frail frame. His drool hangs from his mouth like a tiny waterfall, and she can't help but lean in and kiss him gently on the forehead. He looks up at Karen with the wide, wondering eye of a toddler discovering the world for the first time. "Whath's...thath?" he asks, his gaze fixed on the wheelchair. Karen laughs lightly, her hand still steadying his arm. "It's for you to sit in so you don't have to walk all the way to the car." He nods slowly, the action causing his antennae to wobble. With a gentle push from the nurse, the wheelchair begins to move, and Plankton looks like a lost child in an unfamiliar playground. His drool forms a small puddle in his lap, and Karen graciously hands him another napkin. The corridor outside the recovery room is a blur of white walls and sterile equipment, but the warmth of Karen's hand on his shoulder keeps him anchored. "Whath's...thath?" he asks again, his gaze fixed on the ceiling lights as they pass above him. They look like stars, twinkling in an alien sky. Karen smiles patiently, pointing out each one. "They're just lights, Plankton. We're in the hallway now." His eye follows the nurse's hand as she opens the door to the waiting area. She can see the fear and confusion in his gaze, but she knows it's just the drugs. A young couple with a toddler looks over as they pass by. The little girl giggles, pointing at his mouth. "Mommy, why is he drooling?" she asks innocently. The mother blushes and pulls her daughter away, muttering an apology to Karen. Plankton's cheeks redden, and he tries to wipe his mouth discreetly with the back of his hand. "It's ok," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle breeze. "You're just a little out of it." He nods, his gaze still mesmerized by the lights. "Whath's thath?" he asks again, pointing at a framed poster on the wall. Karen leans in to look. "It's a picture of a happy family," she says, her voice a balm to his confusion. His antennae twitch, and he nods again, the motion setting off a fresh wave of drool. The nurse wheels him out to the car, and Karen helps him into the passenger seat, his body moving like a ragdoll. "Buckle up, Plankton," she says, and he fumbles with the seatbelt, his hands slipping over the buckle. She fastens it for him, his cheek pressed against the cool leather. "Whewe's we going?" he slurs, his voice laced with sleep. "Home," she says. His mouth hangs open slightly, a string of drool connecting his bottom lip to his chin. "Whath's happening?" he mumbles, his head lolling to the side. "You're ok, honey. We're just driving home." She keeps her voice low, hoping to keep the outside world at bay. The car jolts over a bump, and Plankton's eye snaps open. "Ow," he whines, his hand flying to his mouth. The cotton has shifted, and the pain is sharp. Karen quickly reaches over and readjusts it, her touch gentle. "You're ok," she whispers. "Whath's this?" he slurs, his hand fumbling with the seatbelt. "It's keeping you safe," she says, her voice steady and calm. "Just hold on, ok?" He nods, his eyelid drooping almost immediately. "Whath's...whath's..." he mumbles before falling asleep. Then his head nods forward, jerking back up as he started to doze off. He wakes with a snort, the cotton still lodged in his mouth. Karen laughs softly, reaching over to remove it. "Almost there, sweetie," she says. His eye is glassy, and he nods, his head lolling again. The car hits another bump, and his eye flies open again, wide with panic. "Whe... whath...whath's happening?" he asks, his voice high pitched. "It's ok," Karen repeats, keeping her tone calm and soothing. "We're just driving home. Try to relax." Plankton's eye closes, and for a brief moment, the car is silent except for the purr of the engine. But then he's jolted awake again, his head snapping back with a start. "Whewe awe we?" he asks, his voice slurred. "Almost home, sweetie," Karen says, her voice steady. He nods, his head falling back onto the headrest. The car's movement rocks him like a cradle, and his eye closes with a snore. But the jostle of a turn wakes him up with a start. "Whath's happening?" he mumbles, his eye unfocused. The world outside the window is a blur of colors and shapes. Karen smiles, taking his hand in hers. "Just a turn. We're almost there." Another snore escapes his throat, and his head lolls to the side again. Karen gently shakes him awake. "We're home," she says, her voice a beacon in the fog. He blinks, his vision swimming with sleep. "Whe...whe...whath's that?" he asks, his voice barely a murmur as the car slows to a stop. "Whe...whath's going on?" he asks again. His eye is heavy, and his words are a jumble. With a sigh, she unbuckles his seatbelt and helps him out of the car, his legs still wobbly. The cool breeze slaps his face, and he winces. "Home," he murmurs, his eye half-closed. Karen guides him to the front door, his steps labored. The house is quiet, save for the distant hum of the refrigerator. Inside, she helps him to the couch, where he flops down like a ragdoll, his body heavy with exhaustion. "Whe...whe...whath's that?" he asks again, his head lolling to the side. Karen chuckles softly. "It's our living room, Plankton," she says, placing a pillow under his head, but Plankton barely registers. "Whath's that?" he asks again, his gaze wandering to the TV. It's off, but in his drug-induced haze, it's a source of fascination. Karen sits down beside him, his body a dead weight against the couch cushions. She takes his hand in hers, her thumb tracing circles on his palm. "It's just the TV, honey. You don't need to worry about it." He nods, his head still lolling to the side. "Whe...whath awe we washing?" His question hangs in the air, and she laughs softly. "We're not watching anything. It's off." The TV seems to beckon to him, and he tries to sit up, his body protesting. "Whe...whath's on?" he slurs, his antennae waving sluggishly. "It's not on, Plankton," Karen says, her voice a warm embrace. "Why don't you just rest?" She tucks the throw blanket around his shoulders and reclines the sofa. His eyelid flickers, the struggle between sleep and curiosity evident. The room starts to spin, and Plankton's antennae wave erratically. "I'm... so tiwed," he mumbles, his words a gentle protest. Karen nods, her smile understood. "Sleep, sweetie. I'll be here when you wake up." He nods, his eyelid fluttering closed, and his breathing becomes deep and rhythmic. Karen watches him for a moment, his chest rising and falling with the comfort of a sleeping babe's. Then she gently slides the blanket over him, his snores the only sound piercing the quiet. The room dims as the afternoon sun moves behind the curtains, casting a soft glow across the living room. Plankton's hand, still clutching Karen's, slips to the floor with a thump, and his snores grow louder. Karen chuckles, reaching for it to place it gently on his chest. His breathing is slow and even, his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket. Karen sits for a moment, watching him sleep, her mind racing with all the things she needs to do: prepare his meals, make sure he takes his medicine on time, keep an eye on his swelling. But for now, she's content to just sit and watch him, his features relaxed and peaceful in slumber.

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

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣶⣶⣶⡄⢀⣀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠹⡦⠄⣀⡀⢄⣾⣁⢤⠀⢀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠒⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣯⡛⠻⣴⣢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⣿⡟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠈⠁⠒⠚⠛⡽⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⣿⣤⣼⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣞⡉⠀⢠⡀⡠⣴⠖⣲⣄⡄⠐⢄⠀⠈⠙⢳⡶⠖⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⣫⠾⡡⣤⣷⣱⢝⣥⣾⣿⡿⣹⣦⡀⣭⣄⠒⠢⣝⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠬⣣⢞⣽⣿⣟⣿⣵⣿⣿⢿⡟⢻⡙⢻⡏⢿⣆⠀⢑⢍⣓⡤ ⠀⠀⢀⢽⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣟⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡗⣽⣿⣯⠯⡇⠎⣽⣀⣾⣿⣽⡏⠬⠇⢾⢼⣷⣮⣿⣅⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣻⡇⡠⠄⠐⠒⠒⠂⠀⡴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡑⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⢈⡅⡄⣆⠈⢸⡿⣿⣧⠿⠺⣿⢧⡘⣿⢿⡯⣿⡿⣮⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠚⢸⣟⣧⠒⢾⠿⠿⠿⠂⠀⡑⠹⡟⢿⣿⣿⠛⢄⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⣙⣸⣿⣿⣫⣕⣷⠳⠽⠟⠲⠚⠁⢿⣷⣿⡿⣿⡿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡋⡆⠀⠈⣾⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⢹⢹⢻⠉⢉⠇⠃⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠟⣼⣽⠹⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⡄⠀⢀⠀⢀⣐⠛⢁⣤⢺⢮⡛⡦⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⡀⣑⢖⡠⢔⣺⣽⡄⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⢢⡉⠛⢳⣦⣍⠏⢡⣿⣄⠉⢛⡳⠬⠯⢳⣲⢂⠄⡀⣠⣾⣟⠗⢌⠳⣿⠛⠛⣹⠃⣰⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢱⠀⠹⡒⢄⡈⠁⣰⣿⣿⣽⠇⢸⠁⡤⣤⠖⣁⠌⢉⠑⡛⠿⠥⣀⢸⣗⢌⠙⠛⠋⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣼⢿⣦⣄⣘⢦⣙⣻⣿⣿⣿⡟⣰⡆⣸⣹⠁⡴⠋⣰⣷⡢⠤⣠⠂⠀⡉⢿⣾⣯⣲⡍⣹⣿⣿⣿⣀⣧⢄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣤⡶⠟⣯⠸⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⡸⣿⠟⠉⢣⣙⣆⣫⣩⣿⣶⣭⣖⠂⣉⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⡏⠐⠥⡢ ⣂⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡍⠻⣿⠛⠻⣾⣿⣿⡟⣁⠥⣺⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⢿⣿⣟⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⣿⠟⠋⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠙⢿⣦⣄⠀⠈⢿⣿⣆⠉⠳⢄⢻⣭⣍⣿⣿⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣉⣹⣯⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⣄⡀⣠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣦⣤⣌⣉⣳⣻⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣤⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡉⠛⠳⣤⣀⠠⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⢨⣈⠆⠀

𖨆♡ 𖨆

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

(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡₍˄·͈༝·͈˄*₎◞ ̑̑

🥄 x .𖥔💜🕯 ݁˖

( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶) ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـּ ֶָ֢.𖠋♡𖠋

ᙏ̤̫ᰔᩚᙏ̤̫

♡ ☆ .♡‧₊˚ ☆ .♡ ‧₊ ♡‧₊ ☆ .♡˚ ╭◜◝ ͡ ◜◝╮ ㅤ ╭◜◝ ͡ ◜◝╮. ( ) ♡ ( )☆ ♡ ╰◟◞ ͜ ◟◞╭◜◝ ͡ ◜◝╮ ͜ ◟◞╯♡ . ☆ ㅤㅤ( )☆ ♡ ♡ 　 ╰◟◞ ͜ ◟◞╯ ♡ (\_(\ /)_/) ( ) ( ) ૮/ʚɞ |ა ૮| ʚɞ\ა ( ◌ | | ◌ )

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི✮ ✮ ✮☾☼

(๑ᵕ◡ᵕ)(ˆ◡ˆc)

💡🖌🧪🪭

THE LIFE OF UNITY ii (Autistic author; make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first!) Kevin scoffs. "Yeah, right," he says, voice dripping with disdain. Kevin snorts. "So jellyfish are smarter than you? You're saying you're like a jelly fish; Brainless and just floating around?" Plankton's antennae stiffen, taking on edge. "Kevin," he murmurs, "Jellyfish have nerve nets. Complex behaviors. Brainless? Not brainless. Different." Kevin's eyes narrow, his grin fading into a sneer. "So, what you're saying is that you're like a jellyfish?" he taunts. "Just with no real purpose?" The silence that follows is thick with tension. Plankton's antennae quiver. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, eye flashing, "have purpose. Plankton has purpose." Kevin snickers, unaware of the impact of his words. "Sure, Plankton," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your purpose is to annoy me I guess." Plankton's antennae stiffen. "Purpose," he murmurs, his one eye narrowing. "Annoying Kevin... not Plankton's purpose you don't understand." Kevin's sneer turns into a full-blown laugh. "Understand what?" he asks, his voice dripping with disbelief. "That you think jellyfish are your friends? That you're obsessed with them because you're just like them?" Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness, his monotone voice tight. "Jellyfish. Different." Kevin's laughter echoes through the jellyfish fields, his ignorance fueling the flames of Plankton's anger. "Oh come on," he says. "You're just mad because you can't outsmart a jellyfish." Plankton's antennae quiver violently, his monotone voice filled with a rare emotion: insecurity. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you don't know what you're saying." But Kevin's laughter doesn't cease, eyes sparkling with mischief. "What, are you going to get all sensitive on me now?" he asks, his voice filled with mock concern. "Is Plankton thinking with his 'jellyfish brain'?" Plankton's antennae droop, the barb of Kevin's words hitting too close to home. "It's not funny," Plankton murmurs, antennae drooping. SpongeBob steps forward, fists clenched. "Kevin, that's not cool," he says firmly. "You don't know what you're talking about." Kevin's laughter falters, his smirk fading. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice defensive. "It's just a joke." "No," Plankton murmurs, his antennae drooping further. "Not funny." Kevin's sneer fades, his expression shifting to confusion. "What's your problem, Plankton?" he asks, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Kevin," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix of concern and reprimand. "That's not nice. Plankton's interest in jellyfish is special to him." But Kevin's sneer only deepens. "Oh, I get it," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're all playing along with his little game. Well, I'm not. Jellyfish are just mindless blobs. And if you're so obsessed with them Plankton, maybe that's all you are, too." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye blinking rapidly. But Kevin, fueled by his own ignorance, continues to laugh, his words cutting deeper. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he sneers. "Can't take a little ribbing?" Plankton's antennae quiver with each insult, his monotone voice strained. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye wide with hurt. "Not a game." Kevin's laughter echoes through the jellyfish fields, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Oh, I see," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just to sensitive for a little teasing." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness, his monotone voice tight. "Jellyfish... complex," he murmurs, his eye flashing with determination. "Not brainless. Not like your jokes." "What's the matter?" Kevin asks, his smirk growing. "Can't handle the truth?" "Truth?" Plankton's antennae quiver with emotion. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, his monotone voice filled with a rare passion. "Jellyfish... beautiful. Complex." Kevin's eyes narrow, his laughter fading. "Beautiful?" he scoffs. "They're just jellyfish, Plankton. They don't have feelings. They don't have brains. Just like you." Plankton's antennae quiver. But Kevin's smirk only widens, his laughter bouncing off the surrounding coral, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You can't talk without getting all worked up. What kind of brainless blob are you?" Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice strained. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you don't understand." "Understand what?" Kevin sneers, eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "That jellyfish are just mindless blobs of jelly? That you're just like them?" Plankton's antennae droop. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you don't know." "Know what?" Kevin's laughter is cruel, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "That jellyfish are just mindless animals and you're obsessed with them because you're just a brainless creature who can't get a life?" Plankton's antennae droop even further, his one eye blinking rapidly. "Not mindless." Kevin's laughter turns into a cackle. "Oh, so you think you're better than jellyfish now?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe if you had a brain, you could actually catch one of those Krabby Patties you're always after! Maybe if you had a brain, you'd realize THAT YOU'LL NEVER BE MORE THAN A TINY, BRAINLESS BOTTOM FEEDER!" The words hit Plankton like a tidal wave, antennae drooping even further. "Kevin," Plankton murmurs, his monotone voice thick with emotion, "you don't know."

WHERES ALL THE YOYLE CAKE LOVING BFB/BFDI/II/BFDIA/TPOT FANZ >_< ;; NEW WRITTER MIMI<3 *teleportz to mimi* you hav zummoned me. (im a bfb fan and im ztarting to watch hfjone lulz) -zombie gutz ^_^

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love u 223% I love u 224% I love u 225% I love u 226% I love u 227% I love u 228% I love u 229% I love u 230% I love u 231% I love u 232% I love u 233% I love u 234% I love u 235% I love u 236% I love u 237% I love u 238% I love u 239% I love u 240% I love u 241% I love u 242% I love u 243% I love u 244% I love u 245% I love u 246% I love u 247% I love u 248% I love u 249% I love u 250% I love u 251% I love u 252% I love u 253% I love u 254% I love u 255% I love u 256% I love u 257% I love u 258% I love u 259% I love u 260% I love u 261% I love u 262% I love u 263% I love u 264% I love u 265% I love u 266% I love u 267% I love u 268% I love u 269% I love u 270% I love u 271% I love u 272% I love u 273% I love u 274% I love u 275% I love u 276% I love u 278% I love u 279% I love u 280% I love u 281% I love u 282% I love u 283% I love u 284% I love u 285% I love u 286% I love u 287% I love u 288% I love u 289% I love u 290% I love u 291% I love u 292% I love u 293% I love u 294% I love u 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LOVE U 367% I LOVE U 368% I LOVE U 369% I LOVE U 370% I LOVE U 371% I LOVE U 372% I LOVE U 373% I LOVE U 374% I LOVE U 375% I LOVE U 376% I LOVE U 377% I LOVE U 378% I LOVE U 379% I LOVE U 380% I LOVE U 381% I LOVE U 382% I LOVE U 383% I LOVE U 384% I LOVE U 385% I LOVE U 386% I LOVE U 387% I LOVE U 388% I LOVE U 389% I LOVE U 390% I LOVE U 391% I LOVE U 392% I LOVE U 393% I LOVE U 394% I LOVE U 395% I LOVE U 396% I LOVE U 397% I LOVE U 398% I LOVE U 399% I LOVE U 400%

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⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣾⠋⠀⡎⢱⠹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠑⠊⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⠳⢦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⡤⠋⠉⠉⡶⠉⣈⣣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⣦⣴⠟⡡⠤⠤⣄⡤⣧⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡅⠀⠀⠀⠾⡇⡞⠛⠳⠔⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠦⣄⡤⠏⠉⣇⣀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⢀⣀⣤⡞⠉⠉⠻⣦⠶⢶⣤⠴⠶⠚⠛⠒⠛⠶⠦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢠⡞⣩⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠟⠉⠉⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣯⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⡆⠀⢘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⢀⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣼⣆⣀⠀⣶⡆⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢏⢿⠧⢶⠉⡇⠲⠂⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢦⣬⣷⡞⠀⠑⠤⢤⣊⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⣓⠶⣤⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠷⡶⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡆⠀⡟⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠓⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⡏⠀⡇⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠒⠒⠒⢻⠉⠁⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⠃⠀⢁⡾⠛⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠈⠳⣤⣤⣦⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⡖⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠓⢲⡄⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⠶⠾⣿⣾⣷⣧⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣶⣾⣷⣾⣶⣶⡿⠶⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

Matching wlw bio.ᐟ 1. ₊ ⊹⋆｡˚🍬ˎˊ˗✧ℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3 2. ₊ ⊹ֶָ๋֢࣭ ⭑⋆.˚🍧ˎˊ˗❥𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝔂 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷~ search "lov3ly!?" 4 more.ᐟ

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

[🤍] #4 𝗰υ𝗍𝖾 𝗺α𝗍𝖼ɦ𝗂𐓣𝗀 𝗹𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝟰 𝘆ⱺυ !        ᑲꪗ 𝒔α𝗍υ𝗋𐓣lovᧉ𝒔ρɑcᧉ 𓂃 — you know where to find me ☆ — and i know where to look ★ — i know you love me back 말하지도 않은 채 ᰔᩚ — oh, i know you love me back 보여주지도 않은 채 ᰔᩚ — don't forget to kiss me ♡ — or else you'll have to miss me ♡ — finding the right words to use for this song .. — i have you in mind so it won't take so long <3 — if you're in the mood ✧ — we can take it to the moon ✦ search "saturnlovespace" for more

"૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა

II 18 TOMORROW, I REPEAT, II 18 TOMORROWWWWW🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

₊˚✧💡🖌️📱🌮 🎤🔪 ࿔*:･

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🪭ּ ֶָ֢.๋࣭𓂃𓈒 https://youtu.be/HWie68IBdlg?si=Y128OiYSCricNik5

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

⢊⠐⠀⠀⠂⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⣶⣿⣿⣿⣥⣼⣥⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠻⠻⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣴⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠙⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠧⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣯⣿⣿⣤⣤⣀⣀⣐⡂⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡇⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠘⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠐⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡷⠶⣶⣾⠷⢶⢶⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⡀⢈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 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OH NOT THE WISDOM TEETH pt. 2 Karen sits by the bed, her gaze fixed on Plankton’s face as drool pools at the corner of his mouth. The nurse comes in, checks the machines, and leaves with a nod. Plankton stirs slightly, but the snores continue. Karen's thoughts drift to their life together, the adventures they’ve shared. The quiet moments of laughter, the fiery fights over the Krabby Patty formula, the tender kisses exchanged at nightfall. Her heart swells with love and concern. She brushes his antennae with a gentle touch. The drool on Plankton’s mouth forms a tiny river, wetting the pillow. Karen fights the urge to laugh, knowing he’d be embarrassed if he were awake. She reaches over to his gauze and dabs it away, careful not to disturb. A nurse, a motherly looking octopus named Octavia, enters the room with a kind smile. “You know, Mrs. Plankton, sometimes patients can get a bit loopy when they first wake up from anesthesia. It’s perfectly normal. You might want to be prepared for some funny things he might say or do.” She chuckles to herself, remembering past incidents with other patients. Karen looks up. “Like what?” she asks. Octavia smiles, her tentacles curling around the clipboard she holds. “Well, they might say something that doesn’t quite make sense, or think they’re somewhere else entirely. Some get a bit feisty, too. It’s all just the anesthesia wearing off. Nothing to worry about, really.” She winks one of her large eyes, her expression comforting. “His mouth will be numb, so he might talk a bit funny. And sometimes, they think they’re still dreaming, so they do or say the darndest things. Just try to keep him calm, and it’ll all be over soon enough. Remember, it’s temporary, and he’ll be back to his usual self before you know it!” Karen nods, trying to absorb the information while keeping her eyes on Plankton. His snores have changed pitch, and she can't help but wonder if he's about to wake up. The minutes drag on, feeling like hours, as she waits for any sign of him stirring. Finally, with a soft moan, Plankton's eye begins to flutter open, unfocused, glazed over, and it's clear he's still not fully awake, and Karen smiles, ready for the loopy phase the nurse warned her about. "Karen," he slurs, his voice muffled by the cotton gauze stuffed in his mouth. "Wheh... wheh a?" Karen's smile broadens. "You're ok, Plankton. It's over. You're in the recovery room," she whispers. He tries to sit up, but the nurse gently pushes him back down. "Easy, easy. Take it slow, Mr. Plankton. You're still..." Her voice trails off as Plankton's eye focus on the ceiling, and his mouth moves as if he's trying to speak. Karen leans closer, her heart racing. "What is it, sweetie?" His words come out slurred, the anesthesia still thick in his voice. "Whe... whe... whewe... my... my mouf?" Karen chuckles softly, relief bubbling up. "Your mouth is numb, Plank..." But her words are cut short as Plankton's eye widens. "My... my tee... tee... tweef!" He mumbles. The nurse, Octavia, steps forward with a calm demeanor. "It's okay, Mr. Plankton. Your teeth are safe. We removed the wisdom teeth. You won't feel much pain for now because of the numbing agent and anesthesia." Plankton's eye darts around the room. "My tee... tweef... I wont feel... I ca..." Karen's uncertain of what he's trying to say. She repeats the nurse's words, her voice soothing. "You won't feel much pain. It's okay." Plankton's hand shoots up, flailing slightly as he tries to touch his mouth. Karen catches it gently, holding it down. "You don't have to worry about your teeth right now." They remove the IV from Plankton’s arm, and he sees the dentist. “Huh..” “You did great, buddy,” says the dentist. Plankton’s eye is still blurry, his thoughts scattered. “Teethies?” he repeats, his voice still slurred. The nurse nods, patting his hand. “Yes, we took out the teethies. You’re all fixed up now.” Plankton’s eye relaxes a bit, but confusion swims through the fog of his thoughts. “Tee... tw... thee?” Karen nods. “They got all four of them. You’ll be ok now.” The nurse, seeing his confusion, explains further. “The anesthesia makes it so you don’t remember the surgery. But I promise, we took great care of you. Your teeth are out, and you’re safe here in recovery.” Plankton’s eye droops slightly, and his head lolls to the side as he slips back into sleep, his snores resuming their steady rhythm. Octavia smiles. “This is completely normal, Mrs. Plankton. The anesthesia can take a while to wear off. Just keep talking to him, soothingly, so he knows you’re here when he wakes up. Let’s wake him up and get him to your car.”

TOOTH AFTERNOON ii Karen leaned closer, her laughter dying down to a soft giggle. “You’re going to have to be careful with that mouth, Plankton. It’s going to be sore for a few days. But don’t worry, I’ve got all the soft foods you’ll need once we get home. Ice cream, soup, mashed potatoes...” Plankton’s eye lit up at the mention of ice cream. “Ish...cweam?” he mumbled, his mouth moving awkwardly. Karen nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Plankton. Ice cream, and anything else you want. Just no crunchy things, okay?” Plankton’s eye searched her face, his thoughts swimming. “Cweam...no...crunchy?” Karen nodded, her smile sympathetic. “Just until you heal up, love. No crunchy food for a bit. But we’ll manage. You’ll have your favorites, I promise. Just not the crunchy snacks for now.” The nurse returned to check his vitals and gave Karen a knowing look. “It’s going to be a long afternoon, isn’t it?” Karen nodded, wiping away a tear of laughter. “I’m ready for whatever comes next,” she said, her voice filled with determination. Plankton’s eye finally locked on hers, and he managed a wobbly smile. “Karen...” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “What is it, Plankton?” she asked, her tone filled with warmth. His voice was a barely-there murmur. “Whath...is...this...placsh?” His eye shifted. Karen’s laughter had subsided, leaving a warm smile in its place. “It’s the recovery room, Plankton. You’re at the dentist’s office. You had your wisdom teeth taken out.” She hoped the repetition would help him understand. But Plankton’s gaze remained cloudy. “Denthis...tish...” he slurred, his tongue a traitor to his speech. “Whewe the...the ...lobby?” Karen’s smile grew. “The lobby is right outside this door, sweetie.” Plankton’s eye searched hers desperately, as if she held the key to his sanity. “Whish way?” Karen pointed to the closed door, her voice a gentle guiding force. “Just through there, love. You’re not going anywhere until you’re feeling better.” Plankton’s gaze drifted to the door and back to Karen, his mind a tangled web of half-formed thoughts. “Buth I wan...I wanna...to...thee...the... lobby...nowww,” he protested, his words trailing off into a sleepy whine. Karen’s heart ached with a mix of pity and love for her disoriented husband. She squeezed his hand, her voice calm and firm. “Just stay here with me. We’re going to wait for the medicine to wear off a bit more, and then we’ll go home, okay?” Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumbled mess. “Buh...buth...my teefh... shaw I?” Karen nodded, her smile soft. “Yes, Plankton, your teeth. They’re okay.” Plankton’s eye searched the ceiling as if the answers were written there. “Whath...whath time ishit?” he mumbled. Karen checked her watch, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s three in the afternoon, honey. You’ve been asleep for a while now.” Plankton’s eye drifted to the ceiling again. “Tee...tree in the afternish...” he repeated, his words slurred and slow. Karen nodded, her smile lingering. “Yes, Plankton. Three in the afternoon. It’s time to wake up now, okay?” Plankton’s gaze drifted down to her, his eye half-lidded. “But...I’m not still sleepsh,” he protested, his speech still thick with anesthesia. Karen chuckled softly, squeezing his hand. “You’re awake now, Plankton. Just a bit sleepy and loopy, that’s all. The doctor said you’d be like this for a little while.” Plankton’s mouth moved as his brain worked to form words. “Loopy? Whath’s loopy?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and irritation. Karen’s chuckle was a warm wave that washed over him. “It means you’re not quite all there yet, honey. The anesthesia is still in your system, so you’re a bit out of it.” Plankton’s mouth twisted as he processed her words. “Anesh...thia?” he slurred. Karen nodded. “Yes, Plankton. The medicine they gave you to help you not feel pain during the surgery. It makes you a little loopy when you wake up.” Plankton’s eye searched hers, his curiosity piqued despite his muddled thoughts. “Mishine...” he mumbled, his tongue thick in his mouth. “Whath’s...whath’s...thish?” Karen followed his gaze to the IV in his arm. “That’s just the medicine that helped you sleep through the surgery, Plankton. It’s ok, it’s almost done.” Plankton’s eye grew wide. “Shurgery? Did...did I...?” “Yes, sweetie, you had surgery. But it’s all done now. You’re going to be just fine,” Karen reassured him, her voice a gentle lullaby. Plankton’s eye grew wide with realization. “Shergy? Did it hurt?” Karen’s smile was a soft caress. “No, Plankton. You slept through it all. You don’t remember a thing, thankfully. It was quick and painless for you,” she said, hoping to ease his worries. Plankton’s gaze drifted to his swollen cheeks, his hand coming up to tentatively touch the numbness. “Cheek...hurt?” he mumbled, his voice a slurred mess of syllables. Karen nodded gently. “Yes, sweetie, it’s going to be a bit sore for a while. But you’re doing great. Just stay still and let the medicine do its work,” she soothed, her voice a comforting melody. Plankton’s hand dropped back to the chair’s armrest, his eye heavy with the weight of the anesthesia. “Karen, what’s...what’s that beep...beep...beep?” he asked, his voice trailing off into sleepiness. Karen looked at the monitor behind him, the rhythmic beeping a comforting lullaby. “It’s just the heart rate monitor, Plankton. It’s making sure everything’s ok,” she explained, her voice a gentle reminder of the world outside his drugged haze. Plankton’s eye squinted as he tried to focus on the steady green line that blipped with each pulse. “Hearth hate?” he slurred, his tongue still uncooperative. Karen nodded. “It’s your heartbeat, Plankton. It’s making sure you’re ok. It’s all part of the recovery process,” she said, keeping her voice calm and steady. Plankton’s eye searched her face, his thoughts a tapestry of confusion. “Hearth...hate?” he repeated, the words a jumble of sounds that didn’t quite make sense. Karen’s smile was warm and understanding. “It’s your heart, Plankton. It’s beating, which is a good thing. It means you’re ok,” she said, her voice a soothing balm to his bewilderment. Plankton’s eye searched hers again, his mind a foggy maze. “Heath...beep...beep...” he murmured, his words a sleepy mantra. Karen’s smile remained, her patience unwavering. “It’s ok, sweetie. It’s just the machine making sure you’re ok. It’s your heart, beating nice and steady,” she explained, her voice a gentle whisper. Plankton’s eye blinked slowly. “Heath...beep...beep...good?” he managed to ask, his voice a soft mumble. Karen nodded, her smile a constant reassurance. “Yes, Plankton, your heart is good. It’s beating nice and strong. You’re going to be ok,” she said, her voice a warm embrace. But Plankton’s curiosity had not yet been sated. His gaze drifted to his hand, his mind trying to make sense of the strange shapes. “Whath...whath awe...thish?” he pointed to his hand, his finger waving weakly. Karen’s smile grew wider, her eyes filled with love and patience. “That’s your hand, Plankton. It’s ok, it’s all part of you,” she said, her voice a soothing balm to his confusion. Plankton stared at the foreign appendage, his mind still a whirlwind of anesthesia. “Han’...hand?” he repeated, his finger twitching slightly. Karen nodded, her smile never leaving her screen. “Yes, Plankton. That’s your hand. You can use it to do lots of things. Like hold ice for your sore mouth,” she said, her voice a gentle guide through his haze. But Plankton’s curiosity had taken a turn. “Ish...moufh...hurt?” his words still slurred and slow. Karen’s smile was understanding. “Yes, sweetie, your mouth might be sore from the surgery, but the ice will help with that,” she said, her voice a gentle guide through the fog of anesthesia. Plankton’s eye searched her face, his thoughts a jumble. “Ish...cweam...loobypop?” he murmured, his mouth still numb and uncooperative. Karen couldn’t help but laugh at his garbled words. “Ice cream and loopy bop?” she asked, her voice a soft caress of humor. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts a foggy haze. “No...no...floobydust...bishbath...” he mumbled, his words a nonsensical jumble. Karen’s smile grew, her screen twinkling with affection. “Floobydust and bishbath?” she repeated, her voice a gentle mockery of his slurred speech. “What on earth…” Plankton’s mouth moved in a slow, sleepy attempt at speech. “Thish...thish...thish...” he muttered, his words a stream of nonsense that seemed to make sense only to him. Karen watched him with amusement, his random word association a cute side effect of the anesthesia. “What are you saying, love?” she asked, her voice a soft chuckle. Plankton’s eye rolled back into his head as his eyelid grew heavy. “Stay with me, Plankton,” Karen urged, her voice a gentle prod against the tide of sleep. “Mmm...Karen...tiwed...” his voice trailed off, his eye trying to focus. Karen leaned in, her smile warm and gentle. “You’re fine, Plankton. You’ve just had surgery. Try to stay awake for a little while longer.” But Plankton’s body had other plans. His head lolled back, his snore a soft counterpoint to the steady beep of the monitor.

PLUSH ONE ii (By NeuroFabulous) "What's your favorite thing to do?" Karen continues, her voice gentle. He looks around the room, his gaze finally settling on the metal container, his project before the accident. "Fix," he says, his hands moving in small, repetitive gestures. "Invent. Invent," he murmurs. It's a start. The paramedics nod, jotting down their observations. "It seems like his long-term memory is intact," the first one murmurs to the other. "Okay, Plankton, we're all done here; we'll be heading on out." Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening as she watches them leave, their boots echoing down the hall. The door clicks shut, and suddenly the room feels much emptier, the silence suffocating. She looks back at her husband. She's never dealt with someone with severe autism, let alone the man she loves. She takes a deep breath. "Come on," she says, her voice a gentle coax. "Let's sit up." With surprising ease, he allows her to help him into a sitting position. He looks at her, his gaze warm and affectionate. "Karen," he says, his voice gentle. It's the first time he's called her by name since the accident, and it fills her with a hope so profound it hurts. They sit there for a while, Karen stroking his arm, Plankton's eye closed as he leans into her touch. He seems to find comfort in her presence, and she in his. She whispers softly, "I love you, Plankton." He opens his eye, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Love... Karen," he echoes. "You, I... I lo-ove you Karen." It's not eloquent, but it's enough. It's more than enough. Karen feels tears sting her screen as she leans in and kisses his forehead. "I love you too, Plankton." His hand, stiff and unpracticed, moves to hers, tracing the outline of her palm. The simple gesture speaks volumes, a silent promise that they'll navigate this new world together. Karen's eyes well up, a smile forcing its way through the tears. "You're going to be okay," she whispers, trying to tell herself as much as him. Plankton nods, his gaze on their joined hands. He starts to fiddle with her fingers, his touch tentative but earnest. It's a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He's trying, and she loves him for it. The world outside feels muted as they sit together, sharing this quiet moment of understanding. Their bond, though altered by his new condition, remains strong. Karen can see it in the way he looks at her, his eye searching hers for comfort. And she's there, offering it in spades. "We'll get through this," she says, her voice steady "We'll figure it out." Plankton nods, his hand still tracing the lines of her palm. His movements are methodical, almost ritualistic. It's clear that touch is a way to connect, in a world that's suddenly become more confusing. Karen runs her thumb over the back of his hand. He looks up at her, his gaze intense, his eye searching hers for reassurance. Karen smiles through the tears. "We're in this together," she whispers, leaning in to pat his shoulder. But the second her hand makes contact, he flinches away, his body taut with discomfort. It's a stark reminder of the sensory challenges he now faces. "I'm sorry," Karen says quickly, retracting her hand. She's read about sensory issues in autism, but experiencing it firsthand is overwhelming. She's eager to learn what will soothe him, what will help him navigate this new reality without causing him discomfort. "It's ok" Plankton mumbles, his hands moving in a soothing motion over the blanket. Karen's determined to learn. "What do you need, honey?" she asks, her voice gentle. Plankton's hand stops its erratic movement. He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Karen," he whispers. Her eyes fill with hope, clutching onto his words like a lifeline. "What do you need, Plankton?" she asks again, her tone soft and patient. He turns his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the couch. Karen gently guides him to the couch, placing a pillow under his head. She grabs his favorite blanket, and drapes it over him. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes into the softness. His hands resume their repetitive stroking, this time on the fabric. Karen notices his eye is drawn to the patterns, and she wonders if the visual stimulation helps him focus. Gently, she sits beside him, keeping a respectful distance. Karen's mind is a storm of thoughts and questions, but she forces herself to be present, to be patient. Plankton's hand continues to move over the blanket. He's in his own world, yet she's eager to understand it.

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KAREN AND THE TEETHIES ii Karen's relief is palpable, but she squeezes Plankton's hand even tighter. The process repeats. Karen's eyes never leave his face, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all she sees is peaceful oblivion. The second tooth comes out without much fanfare, and Plankton snores on, a symphony of deep, contented breaths that seem almost comical against the surgical backdrop. Karen's eyes stay glued to the monitors, watching the blips and waves that indicate her husband's steady heartbeat and rhythmic breaths. The assistant works quietly, keeping the area clear and sterile, his movements a silent ballet that complements the dentist's more forceful actions. The third tooth is a tougher proposition. The drill's whine deepens, the smell of bone dust more pronounced. Karen's knuckles are white from her tightened grip. The nurse notices and places a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. He's fine," she whispers. The sight of his mouth, open and vulnerable, filled with foreign instruments, should be terrifying, but his deep, unbothered breaths reassure Karen. The drill's pitch changes again as the third tooth resists extraction. Plankton's snoring adjusts to a deeper, more rumbling tone, vibrating the chair. Dr. Finnegan's smile diminishes slightly, his brow furrowed as he applies more pressure. The forceps clamp and pull, the tooth refusing to budge. Sweat beads on the assistant's forehead as he quickly switches tools, preparing for a tougher extraction. The room falls quiet except for the persistent snoring. Plankton's chest rises and falls with each breath, his head resting back against the chair, utterly at ease. Karen wonders how he can be so comfortable amidst the chaos. The nurse monitors the vitals, nodding slightly to herself, a silent mantra of reassurance. Dr. Finnegan grunts as he applies more pressure to the stubborn tooth. The forceps clamp down again, their metallic grip unyielding. The tooth shifts, just a little, and the tension in the room releases slightly. Plankton's snoring changes once more, a symphony of slurps and gurgles as saliva threatens to spill over the prop. Karen giggles, the tension breaking like a dam. The assistant glances over with a smile of his own. "It's okay," he whispers, "It's normal. He's still under." Karen nods, her eyes fixed on the nurse's calm expression as much as the monitors. The fourth tooth is proving to be the most challenging yet, the drill's buzz a constant reminder of the work being done. The nurse whispers, "This one's a little stubborn," but doesn't look up from her task. Plankton's snoring continues, now a mix of deep, even breaths and the occasional snort that makes Karen want to laugh despite the gravity of the situation. Dr. Finnegan's grip on the forceps tightens. He wiggles the fourth tooth gently, then with more insistence. The drill starts up again, the sound echoing in the small room. Karen's heart is in her throat, but Plankton's snores don't change. They're a comforting white noise, a reminder that despite the chaos, he's still deeply asleep, unaware of the dance of metal and pressure in his mouth.

TRUTH AND NAIL ii The nurse returned. "How's he doing?" she asked, checking the monitors. "Just woke up briefly," Karen said, her voice a whisper. "He's still pretty out of it." The nurse nodded, jotting notes on a clipboard. "That's normal," she said. "The anesthesia takes some time to wear off completely. You can take him home now." "But he's still..." The nurse nodded, her voice firm but gentle. "It's normal. He'll be groggy for a bit, but he's stable enough." With her help, Karen managed to rouse Plankton to a semi-conscious state. He blinked at her, his eye unfocused and glazed over. "Tek me…” Karen nodded, smiling at his attempt to form coherent words. "Yes, sweetie. We're gonna go.." He sat up with a start, his body moving before his mind caught up, the world tilting and spinning around him. Karen's hand was quick to steady him, her voice a gentle reminder of where he was. "Easy," she said, her voice like a soft pillow for his pounding head. "You're okay." Plankton blinked, his eye trying to focus on her screen. "Wha...wha...wha...?" he stuttered, the words fighting to escape his numb mouth. Karen's smile grew wider, seeing the confusion in his glassy gaze. "It's okay, honey," she cooed, her voice a balm to his bewilderment. "You're just coming out of the anesthesia." He then notices the nurse standing by. "Nurse?" he croaks, his voice hoarse and his tongue thick in his mouth. "Nurse?" he tries again, his voice a bit stronger. The nurse looks over, seeing his struggle to make sense of his surroundings. She smiles, "You're okay, Mr. Plankton. You had a little surgery." Her words are clear, but they hit him like a foggy echo. "Sur...surg...teef?" he slurs, his mouth feeling like it's filled with cotton balls. "Yes, you had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen says, her voice a soothing melody in the white noise of the recovery room. “Who’s there?” Plankton's voice was a faint rasp. The nurse and Karen exchanged a knowing glance. He was coming around more, but still not fully with it. “It’s me, Plankton,” Karen whispered, leaning closer. Her screen swam into view, a beacon of familiarity in the sea of white. He squinted, trying to focus. “Karen?” he mumbled, his throat dry and raw. “Yes, it’s me,” she repeated, her voice a gentle lullaby. “You’re okay, you just had your wisdom teeth out. You’re still a little sleepy from the surgery.” Plankton's hand reached up to his face, feeling the swollen jaw and the cottony numbness. “Teef?” he managed to murmur, his voice a gravelly shadow of its usual self. The word felt strange and foreign in his mouth. “Wisdom teeth, darling,” Karen reminded him, her tone soothing as a warm blanket. “They took them out to stop your pain.” “Buh, buth Karen haz aww the teefs?” Plankton's slurred words hang in the air, a question mark painted on his confused expression. Karen laughs lightly with amusement. "No, sweetie. Let’s get you standing up." With the nurse’s help, Karen eases Plankton to his feet. The world swims around him, a blur of white walls and the steady beeping of machines. He tries to stand on legs that feel like jelly. "Easy, darling," Karen says, her arm around him, supporting his weight. "Take it slow." The nurse nods, guiding his elbow. "Just a few steps to the chair." Plankton's legs wobble like a newborn deer's, his feet shuffling along the cold floor. "Tek me ho...ho...home?" he slurs, the words like molasses escaping his mouth. "Soon, baby," Karen soothes, her arm tightening around him. She can feel his confusion like a heavy fog in the air, but she's determined to be his compass in this disoriented state. Plankton's eye darts around the room, trying to make sense of the shapes and sounds. "Wha...wha...where...?" he stammers, his mouth still not fully cooperating. The nurse smiles kindly, "You're in the recovery area. You had a little procedure to take out some teeth, remember?" Karen helps him into a chair, his body moving slowly as if through molasses. His gaze flits to her, his mind still groggy. "Tee...th?" he mumbles, his tongue sluggish in his mouth. Karen nods, her smile warm and comforting. "Wisdom teeth, darling. They're gone." “Wav...wav...Karen?” Plankton’s voice was a faint echo. “How will I eath?” The words were jumbled, his speech a slur. “Soft foods for now, love. We’ll manage, don’t worry,” she said, her voice like a lullaby. Plankton's head nodded slightly, his eyelid heavy. “Than...thank...you...” he slurred, his speech still a puzzle of sounds as they walk down the corridor.

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.

PLEASE IM BEGGING I NEED OSC FRIENDS 🙏🙏🙏 some object shows ive watched are : bfdi, ii, burner, eee, tdos, hfjone, itft, tnm, ab, and lots!!! other fandoms?: project sekai, vocaloid, needy streamer overload , i love amy , sanrio , my little pony , oshi no ko , omori, bocchi the rock , doki doki literature club , learningblocks , lucky star , class of '09 , my deer friend nokotan , k-on , precure , chibi devi , ms kobayashi's dragon maid , roblox , the amazing digital circus , alien stage , amanda the adventurer , phighting , bsd, sprunki, murder drones, dandys world !! DISCORD USER: muffincake.com

SOMEONE PLEASE ADD ME ON DISCORD I NEED FRIENDS. discord user: liamxbryce I LIKE HFJONE PLEASE ADD MEEE

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PLANKTON GOING TO THE DENTIST Ii/Ii Plankton's eye dart around the room, trying to focus, confusion growing as the words won't come out right. "Th-th-the...th-the...th-th-th-th..." He stammers, his mouth working overtime to form the words. Karen's laughter subsides into a comforting chuckle. "It's ok, Plankton." "Th-th-then...why...why do I tawking wike thith?" He asks, voice a wobbly mess, each word a struggle. "I...I'm a g-g-genius!" He stammers, trying to sound defiant despite his speech impediment. "I'n noth s-s-suppothed to tawl wike thish!" Karen giggles. "It's just anesthesia, Plankton," she says soothingly. "It'll wear off soon." Plankton's eye widen further. "B-but...I nee, needff to...to think...think...think!" He stammers. "You'll be fine, Plankton," she says. The dentist pats Plankton's shoulder. "You're quite the charmer even with a mouthful of gauze," he quips, and the assistant snickers. Plankton's cheeks redden, indignation clear even through haze of anesthesia. "I caan...caan...can't...I caan't th-th-think!" Plankton splutters. Karen tries to stifle her giggles, shaking with amusement. "It's anesthesia," she repeats, her voice a gentle wave washing over him. "You're ok, Plankton. You're ok." He takes a deep breath, willing his tongue to cooperate. "G-got...it-t," he says. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, let's get you sitting up," he says. He tries to stand, but his body feels like it's made of jelly, his legs wobbling beneath him. "Whoa!" He exclaims, speech slightly clearer but still slurred. "Thish isn't goog." Karen and the dental staff help him to his feet, the nurse holding on to him as he sways slightly. His eye still glazed over, but there's a hint of the sharpness that she knows so well starting to shine through. "Steady there," she says supporting him. "Let's get to the car." Plankton nods. "Yeah...the...the...ca--" he says. He takes a shaky step. "Just keep taking it slow," she advises, her voice a beacon in the fog of his mind. Karen's supporting him as they navigate the hallway. "Where...wher's...wher's the...the...th-the...?" Plankton's words trip over each other, traitor to his usual eloquence. "The car, sweetie," Karen says, her voice a lifeline in the fog of anesthesia. She leads him through the hallway acting as a gentle guide. The receptionist waves with a smile. "Moth...thath...moth," he stammers. She fastens his seatbelt for him. "D-don't laug-fh at me," he mumbles, eye half-lidded with the lingering effects of anesthesia. "I'm not laughing at you," Karen says. "I'm just happy you're ok." Plankton nods. He tries to say "thanks," but it comes out as "thathks." "You're welcome, Plankton. You're going to be fine." She starts the engine. "Bh-buth...whath abou- the...the...th-the...the...teethies?" Plankton slurs, words a tangled mess. Karen laughs. "Don't worry about the teeth Plankton. They're out. You're all healed up." Plankton nods, his eye glazed and his speech still slurred. "Thath's...tha's good," he manages to say. "But I...I can't t-talk wight," he mumbles, frustrated. "Don't worry, honey," Karen says, patting his hand. "You're just a bit loopy from anesthesia. It'll wear off." Plankton tries to argue, but all that comes out is a series of garbled sounds. "Th-the...th-th-th..." "Your mouth is just numb, Plankton," Karen says, driving. "The anesthesia makes it hard to talk." But Plankton can't help it; he keeps trying, his slurred words a jumble of consonants. "Th-th-that's not ith’s," he protests, his voice bubbly. "I'm a g-g-gen-n-n...genius!" Karen giggles, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "You're a genius all right," she teases. Plankton's eye narrow in determination. "Th-that's not...noth fair!" He says, his tongue feeling like a thick sea slug. Karen can't help but laugh harder. "It's ok, Plankton," she says. "But I...I nee-f to...to...to th-th-think! I can't...can't th-think thish!" Karen's laughter bubbles up again and she squeezes his hand reassuringly. "You're ok, Plankton," she says, voice a warm current of comfort. "D-don't...d-don't leav-e me," he mumbles, his eye drooping. Karen glances over. "I'm right here, Plankton," she says. Plankton's head lolls to the side, and his snores become a soothing background to the hum of the boat's engine. His mouth hangs open, a stream of drool trailing down his chin, creating a small pool in the seat. Karen, noticing the gauze in his mouth has shifted, gently repositioned it, careful not to cause him any pain. He mumbles something incoherent, and she chuckles, shaking her head. "Rest my love," she murmurs. The drool continues to escape Plankton's mouth, creating a wet spot on the boat's upholstery, his slumbering form a stark contrast to the sharp scheming creature she's used to. She reaches over to gently dab at the drool, her movements careful not to disturb his sleep. As the boat docks at the Chum Bucket, Karen wonders how she'll manage to get him inside without him babbling incoherently and scaring off any passersby. But Plankton, in his anesthesia-induced haze, seems oblivious to the world around him, his snores the only sound. Karen helps him out of the boat, and she half-drags half-carries him through the door. They enter their living quarters and she gently lays him on their bed which feels like a vast ocean compared to his usual cramped lab space. She carefully takes out the gauze, watching his eye flutter open. "Where...where am I?" He mumbles. "You're home, Plankton," Karen says, her voice a soft wave of comfort. She wipes his chin clean with a warm, damp cloth. Plankton looks around, his eye finally focusing on the familiar sights of their home. "Home?" He slurs, his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth. "B-but...I..." "Just rest, Plankton," Karen says, pushing him gently back down. "You've had a big day." Home never felt so welcoming, Plankton thinks, as he sinks into the embrace of the bed. Karen fluffs a pillow under his head, her movements tender. "Th-thank youw," he manages to say, his speech still thick. "You're welcome," Karen replies, her voice a gentle caress. "Now, you just rest. I'll be here." He closes his eye, letting the numbness of his mouth and the heaviness of his limbs take over. Karen sits beside him, moving in a soothing rhythm against his arm. "You're going to be fine," Karen whispers, stroking his cheek. "Just sleep it off and by tomorrow you'll be back to your usual scheming self." Plankton tries to smile but his mouth refuses to cooperate. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a half-hearted attempt and he mumbles "I wove youw thoo." The next day, Plankton wakes up. The numbness in his mouth has subsided leaving only a dull throb. He opens his eye to see Karen. "How do you feel?" She asks. Plankton's eye blinked open, the room spinning around him. Karen came into focus. "Mmph; wha's? Wh-when..." "Your wisdom teeth," she says, her voice a soothing tide. "They're gone Plankton. You don't have to worry about them anymore." "Wis-wis-wis...?" He stammers, his tongue tripping over the word "wisdom." "Yes, Plankton," Karen says with amusement. "You had your wisdom teeth removed yesterday." Plankton's eye widen, and he tries to sit up. "Y-yesterday?" He slurs. "But I...I caan't...can't remember.." Karen nods, her smile full of mirth. "You were pretty out of it," she says. He tries to push himself up, but the pain in his mouth sends a shockwave through. "Mph-ow!" He flops back down, his hands flying to his cheeks. "What do you mean?" Karen laughs. "You were pretty loopy," she says, holding him down gently. "The anesthesia had you talking like..." she pauses, searching for the right words. "Well, like you've never talked before." "I hope I...I didn't say anything..." he starts, his voice trailing off. "Oh, you said plenty," she teases. "But don't worry, it was just the anesthesia talking." "Wh-wh-what did I say?" Karen chuckles. "You were worried about your 'teethies'," she mimics his slurred speech from the day before. "And you kept insisting you needed to think, even when it was clear you couldn't even talk straight. But don't worry; you're just fine."

CHIP IN MY BOX ii (Autistic author) As they wait, Chip's curiosity is obvious. "What's wrong with Dad?" he asks, his brow furrowed with concern. Karen sighs, sitting down beside him. "It's not that something's wrong, exactly," she starts. "Your father has a... condition. It's a bit like when you get overwhelmed by noise or too much to do and you need to go to your room to play with your toys by yourself, right?" Chip nods, still not completely sure. "It's like he has a... sensory processing thing," Karen elaborates, her voice soft. "Sometimes the world is just too much for him, so he needs these special tools to help him cope." Chip's eyes widen as he looks from the sensory curtain to his mother. He's heard about kids in school who have to wear noise-canceling headphones or sit in quiet areas, but he never thought his dad might be like that. He opens his mouth to ask more questions, but Karen puts a hand on his arm, her grip firm but gentle. "Let's give him his space," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Chip nods, his mind racing. He's heard of people who need breaks, but not like this. "What happens if he doesn't use it?" Chip whispers, his eyes flicking to the sensory box and back to Plankton. "Well," Karen starts, "he can get pretty anxious and overwhelmed. It's like his brain can't keep up with the world around him. It'd just take longer for his brain to wake.." But Plankton's eye starts to twitch, then blink rapidly. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and the room seems to snap back into focus for him. His gaze shifts, first to the box on the table, then to Karen and Chip. "What... what happened?" he stammers, sounding groggy and disoriented. Karen smiles warmly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You had a little moment," she says, using the term they've agreed upon to describe his episodes. Plankton blinks rapidly, his eye adjusting to the light. He looks around, noticing the sensory curtain lying in his lap, the open box. "Ah," he says, his voice a little hoarse. "I see." Embarrassment floods his features as he realizes his son has witnessed his episode. He's always tried to keep it from Chip, his pride not wanting his son to know. He doesn't like being seen this way, vulnerable. It's a side of him he's never shown to anyone outside of Karen. But his son's to curious and wants to ask, as he can't help his curiosity. "What was that?" he whispers. Plankton's face tightens, a mix of embarrassment and anger. He doesn't like for anyone, especially Chip, to see him when he zones out. It's a private battle. He tries to stand, but Karen's hand on his shoulder stops him. "Dad, w---" "Don't!" Plankton snaps, his voice harsher than Chip has ever heard. Karen's hand tightens on Plankton's shoulder, a silent plea for patience. "Chip just walked in, honey. He didn't mean to," she says soothingly. But Chip's curiosity is fueled by the unanswered questions swirling in his head. "But why do you need that?" he asks, touching the sensory curtain. Plankton's expression hardens, his cheeks flushing. He hates the feeling of being interrogated, especially when it's about something so deeply personal. "It's none of your business," he snaps, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. "Now just leave me be." Chip's eyes widen, hurt mixing with confusion. He's not used to his father's sharpness. His hand retracts from the sensory curtain as if burned. "But, Dad," he starts, only to be cut off once more. "I said, leave me alone," Plankton repeats, his voice like steel. Chip feels his heart drop, but his curiosity refuses to wane. "What's in the box?" He asks, reaching for it. Plankton's hand slams down on the box's lid with a force that makes the whole room jump. "I said enough!" His eye flashes with a rare anger that sends a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen intervenes quickly, placing herself between them. "Chip, let's go to your room," she says gently, her voice full of an urgency that usually meant serious trouble. But Chip's curiosity is a stubborn beast. "But I'm wor–" "I said, leave it!" Plankton's voice booms, cutting through the tension. His eye flashes with a fiery intensity that makes Chip's knees wobble. Karen's grip on Chip's arm tightens. "Come on," she urges, guiding him away from his father's wrath. But Chip resists, his curiosity not easily deterred. "Why do you have to use that?" He points to the box, his voice shaking slightly. "What's so important that you can't even talk to me? What's in there that's so important you can't even lo…" "I don't have to explain everything to you," Plankton snaps, his voice rising. Karen's eyes dart between them, worry etching lines on her forehead. "Plankton, please," she begs, her voice barely a whisper. But Chip, oblivious to the storm brewing in the room, presses on. "But why do yo-" "Because I said so!" Plankton's roar is a thunderclap in the quiet room. The box shakes with the force of his hand slamming down on it. Chip flinches, his eyes watering, but he's not backing down. "But, Dad-" "I said, I don't have to explain!" Plankton's voice echoes through the room, the force of his words almost tangible. Karen's grip on his arm tightens, but Chip still tries to stand his ground. "But why can't you?" Chip's voice cracks with the weight of his questions. "You're always telling me that talking about things makes them better. Why can't we talk abou-" "ENOUGH!" Plankton roars, his fists clenched, the knuckles white with tension. His anger is a palpable force. The sensory box seems to quiver under his glare. Chip's eyes widen with fear, but the stubbornness within him won't let him retreat. He opens his mouth again, desperate for answers. "But Dad, if you don't tell me, how can I understand?" Plankton's anger seems to grow with every question, his body tense and his face a mask of rage. "Understand?" he spits out. "You don't understand anything, you little brat!" His hand hovers over the box, as if it's the source of his fury. The room feels like it's shrinking around Chip, the tension suffocating. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. He tries to pull away from Karen's grip, his need for answers stronger than his fear of his father's wrath. "But why?" Chip repeats, his voice smaller now, the storm in the room making his courage waver. Plankton's eye narrows, his body vibrating with frustration. "Why can't you just leave it be?" he snarls, his hand still hovering over the box, his knuckles stark against the wood. Karen's eyes are wide with fear, her grip on Chip's arm now painfully tight. "Chip," she says, her voice trembling, "Please, just go to your room." But Chip is caught in the storm of his own curiosity. "But I want to know!" Chip's voice is louder now, his eyes shining with a mix of fear and determination. He can't understand why his father is so upset, why this simple question has caused such a reaction. "You don't need to know!" Plankton's voice is a thunderous boom, his hand slamming on the box so hard that the wood groans. "Just leave me be!" Chip's eyes are wide with shock and confusion, his cheeks flushed with a mix of fear and frustration. "But why?" He persists, his voice shaking. "What's so bad about me asking?" Plankton's fury seems to grow with each syllable Chip utters. He glares at his son, his hand still hovering over the box. "It's not for you to understand!" His voice is a roar that shakes the foundation of the room. Chip takes a step back, his heart racing. But instead of retreating, his curiosity blazes brighter. He's never seen his dad this way, so consumed by anger. It's like his questions are poking at a wound, a secret so deep and raw that Plankton can't bear to acknowledge it.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY ii (By NeuroFabulous) "Let's go downstairs," Karen suggested, her voice still calm but with an underlying urgency. They followed her, leaving Plankton to gather his thoughts. Once they were in the living room, Karen turned to face them. "I know this might be scary, but you guys need to remember that Dad is okay," she began, her eyes full of reassurance. "It's just his way of processing things." Chip nodded, trying to understand. Alex leaned against the wall, their mind racing with questions. "It's like when you get lost in a good book," Karen continued, looking at Alex, "you're not really gone, you're just somewhere else for a little bit." Alex nodded, their eyes reflecting their attempt to grasp the concept. "But why does he do that?" Chip asked, his voice filled with a childlike innocence that masked his worry. Karen sighed, looking from Chip to Alex. She knew it was important for Chip to understand, but she wasn't sure how much Alex needed to know. "It's complicated, Chip. But what's important is that we're here for him." Alex nodded, still not fully comprehending but willing to accept the explanation for now. They could see the love and concern in Karen's eyes and knew it was something serious. "Okay," they said quietly. But before they could leave, Karen spoke again. "Alex, can I have a word?" Alex turned, their eyes meeting Karen's steady gaze. Chip hovered in the background, sensing the gravity of the moment. "Of course," Alex replied, their voice cautious. Karen's expression grew serious, her eyes locking onto Alex's. "You know, what happens here, stays here," she said firmly. "Your friendship with Chip is important to him. And his dad's condition...it's something Chip doesn't even know about yet I will tell him, but it's a bit personal. You did nothing wrong." Alex nodded, understanding the weight of what she was asking. "I won't tell anyone," they promised, their eyes sincere. Karen took a deep breath, appreciating Alex's maturity. "Thank you," she said, giving their hand a squeeze. "But for now, I think it's best if you head on home." Alex looked at Chip, who was still trying to process everything. "But... what about our plans?" Chip's voice was small, his excitement of earlier replaced by confusion and worry. "We'll have to save them for another day, buddy," Karen said, her voice soft. "But I promise, we'll make it up to you." She gave Alex a gentle smile. "Thank you for understanding." Alex nodded solemnly, their eyes darting from Karen to Chip and back. They knew they had stumbled into a situation that was bigger than themself, and they didn't want to cause any more stress. "Okay," they murmured, "I'll go." Chip looked up at Alex, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "Do you have to?" he asked, his voice trembling. Alex forced a smile. "Yeah, I should get going. But I'll see you." They gave Chip's shoulder a comforting squeeze before turning to leave. Karen walked Alex to the door, her mind racing with thoughts of how to explain this to Chip. She knew he wasn't ready to understand Plankton's condition fully, but she also knew that keeping it a secret wasn't fair to him. As they reached the front door, Alex paused. "Is your dad going to be okay?" They asked, their voice filled with genuine concern. Chip hovered behind them, listening intently. Karen nodded, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes, he'll be fine," she assured them. "This happens from time to time. It's just part of him." Alex nodded again, their gaze lingering on Chip. "Okay," they said, trying to sound braver than they felt. "See ya, Chip." Chip managed a weak smile, his eyes still glossy. "See ya," he echoed. The door closed gently, and the house was once again filled with a tense silence.

NEW REALITY ii (Autistic author) He points to the fan again, his finger trembling slightly. "Fan. Spin." The words come out in a staccato rhythm, each syllable a separate entity. "It's okay," she tells him, her voice shaky. Karen tries to distract him, pointing to various items around the room. "Look, Plankton, that's our picture from our wedding day." She shows him the small, framed photograph on the nightstand. His eye flits to it for a second, then back to the fan. "Picture. 31 July 1999," he says, but his voice lacks emotion, as if he's simply reciting words from a dictionary. "Do you remember the day?" she asks, her voice hopeful. He nods, his gaze still glued to the spinning blades. "Wedding. Married to Karen. Happy day." The words come out like a rehearsed script, and the joy that should have filled his voice is painfully absent. Karen's heart aches. This isn't the Plankton she knows, the one who would tease her mercilessly or whisper sweet nothings when no one was around. This is a stranger, trapped in a body that's only familiar because of the memories it holds. She decides to keep talking, hoping that something will spark a memory, a connection. "Plankton," she says, her voice gentle but firm, "I noticed you're interested in the fan.." "Fan," he repeats, nodding his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Spinning. Fast." Karen tries to hide her concern. "Do you like it?" she asks, her voice a careful balance of casual and hopeful. "Like?" Plankton echoes, his eye still transfixed by the fan. He seems to think for a moment, then nods. "Yes. Like. Spinning." Karen tries to smile, but it feels forced. "Okay," she says, swiping at a tear that escapes. "Let's talk about something else." Plankton's gaze finally breaks from the fan and lands on her, his expression unreadable. "Else," he repeats, as if trying to grasp the concept of something other than the fan. Karen's mind races, desperately searching for a topic that might draw him out of his fugue. "Remember SpongeBob?" she asks, thinking of their shared friend and his successful rival. Plankton's face twitches, a glimmer of something resembling recognition flickering across his features. "SpongeBob," he murmurs, his eye focusing on a spot just over her shoulder. "Yes," Karen encourages, feeling a flicker of hope. "You two are always trying to outdo each other." But Plankton doesn't react. Instead, his hands start to wave slightly, a rhythmic movement that seems to soothe him. Karen's heart sinks. "What are you doing?" she asks, trying to keep the worry from creeping into her tone. Plankton's antennae twitch as he continues to move his hands. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soft and comforting. "You're just a bit out of it. You'll be okay." But Plankton doesn't respond. His hands keep moving in the same pattern, his eye on the wall. Karen's stomach churns. This isn't just dizziness. This is something else. Panic starts to set in as Karen realizes she might not have her husband back. "Plankton," she says, her voice trembling. "Look at me." Slowly, his eye shifts from the wall to her face, and for a moment, she sees a flicker of the man she loves. "Karen," he says, his voice a bit more present, but his movements still erratic. She can't ignore the fear that's building in her chest. "What happened to you?" she whispers, her voice thick with unshed tears. Plankton's hand stops mid-wave. "What Karen meant?" he asks, his tone devoid of any understanding. Karen's throat tightens. "It's just... you're acting a little different, that's all," she says, desperately trying to keep her voice calm. Plankton's movements become more erratic, his hands flapping in an unnerving rhythm. "Different?" he repeats, his eye darting around the room. "No, Plankton." Karen tries to calm him down, her heart racing as she searches for a way to explain without upsetting him. "I just meant, you're not quite yourself today." Plankton's movements slow, his hands stilling in his lap. "Self?" he questions, his voice a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Plankton self, Karen." Karen nods, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "Yes, yourself. You know, your personality, your... your quirks." She tries to laugh, but it comes out forced. Plankton's eye narrows, his expression unreadable. "Quirks?" he repeats. "Plankton has quirks.." Karen nods, her smile strained. "Everyone does, honey. It's what makes us who we are." Plankton seems to ponder this, his hand resuming its wave-like motion. "Plankton, self," he murmurs, his gaze returning to the fan. "Spin. Fast. Like." Karen watches him, her heart heavy with unshed tears. She doesn't know what to make of his behavior. Could he really be okay? Maybe this is just a phase, a side effect of the explosion. She clings to the thought like a lifeline, not ready to face any alternative. "Let's get you some water," she says, forcing a smile. Plankton nods, his eye still on the fan. As she moves to the kitchen, she tries to convince herself that he'll be fine, that this is just a temporary setback. But the way he's acting, so detached and disconnected, it's not like him at all. The kitchen is a blur as she fills a glass with water, her mind racing with questions. What do they do now? How do they get through this? She carries the water back to the bedroom, her hand shaking slightly. Plankton hasn't moved, still staring at the fan. She sets the glass on the nightstand, his eye never leaving the spinning blades. "Here you go," she says, offering the water with a trembling smile. He takes it, his movements precise but mechanical, and brings it to his mouth. As he drinks, Karen watches his every move, looking for any sign of the man she loves beneath the surface of this new, strange behavior. "Thanks," he says, his voice devoid of its usual sass. He sets the glass down, his gaze returning to the fan. Karen tries focusing instead on the way the light dances off the beads of water on his antennae.

⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⢄⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠠ ⢻⣿⡗⢶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠒⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠅⡔⣒⣡⣄ ⠀⢻⣇⠀⠈⠙⠳⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⡀⡤⣀⣤⠷⡛⡏⣹⣿⡿ ⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⣀⣀⣀⣦⣤⣤⣄⣠⣴⠟⢋⠹⠈⣡⡸⣀⣿⡟⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⡁⠁⠩⠒⠠⠀⣡⣿⡫⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡶⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠂⠀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠄⠄⢉⢠⣠⡾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⢠⠒⣆⡀⡄⠈⠃⠐⡀⢢⢷⣄⠀⡀⠈⢻⣆⠀⠀⡀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⠀⠀⠈⠛⢋⡴⢃⣀⡃⣃⢐⠜⠟⠗⠈⠀⠀⠈⣿⡀⠄⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠛⢳⠀⡄⡋⠨⠂⣋⣛⣎⠥⠂⠡⣰⢛⠙⣶⠀⢹⣧⠅⠠⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡗⠛⠋⠨⠁⠉⢈⣿⠋⠊⢱⠀⠀⢀⠘⠲⠗⠋⠀⡘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠒⠋⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠌⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⣀⡠⠃⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀

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

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 2 𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous ) Karen takes a deep breath and squeezes Plankton's hand, calling his name softly. "Plankton, sweetie, come back to me." Her voice is a lifeline, a warm presence that Plankton's mind might be able to cling to. She knows from experience that his seizures can eventually be helped by her voice and gentle touch. "I'm here, it's okay," she whispers, stroking his antennae with her thumb. Chip's cries fade as he heads to his room. He's scared, confused, and feels alone. He doesn't know why his dad is acting so weird, but he trusts his mom. Eventually, Plankton's eye starts to blink, a sign that he's coming back. Karen's with relief, and she squeezes his hand, continuing to speak in hushed tones. "You're ok, Plankton. You're home with me." She knows how disorienting these episodes can be for him, and she wants to make sure he's fully grounded before anything else. As Plankton's gaze slowly refocuses, Karen watches. He tries to sit up, yet his body feels heavy and sluggish. "What happened?" he asks, his voice a croak. Karen's relief is palpable as she helps him sit up, still holding his hand. "You just had one of your episodes, sweetie. It's okay." She's careful with her words, not wanting to alarm him. "What do you remember?" Plankton looks around the room. "Chip," he murmurs. "Chip yelled hi, and then everything's patchy. I felt his presence yet I kept going deeper into the retreat, but I vaguely recall Chip bombarding me. And now I guess you apparently came.." Karen nods, her grip on his hand tightening. "Yes, Chip saw you and was scared. He didn't know what was happening." Plankton's face pales at the thought of his son being afraid. "Is he alr- Chip; he must've seen me! He witnessed..." Karen nods solemnly. "Yes, he saw everything. He's in his room now, I told him to stay there." Plankton sighs heavily, his eye closing briefly. "I know you're gonna say to tell him everything, how he's mature enough. Great, just great." Karen nods, her voice gentle. "We can't keep this from him forever, Plankton. He's seen you like this now. It's time to explain what's happening." Plankton sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. He knows she's right, but the thought of Chip knowing his secret makes him feel exposed and vulnerable. But Karen's voice is firm. "We can't keep hiding this from him. He's old enough now. We have to tell him. I'll bring him in, okay?" Plankton nods weakly, his heart racing at the thought. He knows Karen is right; they can't keep this from him forever. Karen heads to Chip's room to find him curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest. His eyes are swollen from crying. "Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. "Can you come with me?" Chip sniffs and nods, his eyes darting to the door. He's afraid, but he knows his mom will make it right. He follows her into the bedroom, where Plankton sits up, looking drained but alert. "Dad!" Chip cries out, running to Plankton's side. Plankton starts to scoot away. Karen intervenes quickly. "Chip, honey, let's give Daddy some space," she says, her voice calm but firm. Chip frowns, not understanding. "But he's okay?" Chip asks, his voice small and hopeful. "Yes, Chip," Karen says, sitting on the bed with Plankton. "Daddy just had a little... Plankton, why don't you tell him?" Plankton sighs, bracing himself for the conversation he's been avoiding. "Chip, what you saw was something you were never meant to see. You weren't supposed to see me like that. So I don't wanna hear a peep about it, ok?" Chip's eyes widen with confusion. "But what was that, Dad?" His voice is small, filled with fear. Plankton hesitates, trying to find the right words. "I JUST TOLD YOU TO FORGET ABOUT IT!" he snaps, his voice sharp. Chip flinches, surprised by his dad's harsh tone. Karen sighs, taking the lead. "Chip, honey, your dad's okay. It's like his brain goes on a tiny vacation without telling his body, and he can't move or talk during it." She tries to make it sound less scary. Chip's eyes grow wider, but his curiosity isn't satisfied. "But why? Why ca--" Plankton cuts him off, his tone sharp with agitation. "I don't have to explain myself to you." Chip's confusion turns to hurt. He doesn't know what he did wrong. He just wanted his dad to wake up. "Dad, you were just sitting ther-" But Plankton's harshness cuts him off again. "I said forget it, Chip! It's nothing you need to know!" Plankton's voice is filled with frustration and fear. Chip's eyes well up with new tears. "But I just wanted you to wake up," he whispers, his voice breaking. "Yo--" Plankton's sharpness slices through the air, his usual playfulness nowhere to be found. "I SAID, FORGET IT!" Karen's eyes widen at her husband's reaction. "Plankton, honey, maybe we should just tell him. He's seen it now; we can't keep hiding it," she suggests gently, trying to ease the tension in the room. Plankton looks at her with a mix of frustration and fear, his antennae twitching. "Fine," he grumbles, his voice softening. "But remember, this is my story, not yours." Chip, still sniffling, looks between his mom and dad. Karen gives Plankton a gentle yet firm look, and he sighs heavily. "Okay, Chip," he starts, "I've corpus callosum dysgenesis." Chip looks at him, puzzled. "What's th-" "It's a brain thing, okay?" Plankton cuts him off, his tone gruffer than usual. He can't bear the thought of his son knowing. Chip nods slowly, trying to comprehend. "But w---" "That's all you need to know," Plankton says, his voice clipped and final. But Chip's curiosity doesn't wane. "But, Dad, why can't you just wake up?" he asks, his eyes filled with concern and confusion. Plankton's antennae twitch in irritation. "CHIP, I TOLD YOU TO FORGET ABOUT IT!" His voice is sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. Chip recoils, his screen brimming with unshed tears. He doesn't understand why his dad is so upset. He just wanted to help, to make him snapshot out of whatever was wrong. Chip tries again. "Dad, Mom said you can't keep whatever from me anymo-" "ENOUGH, CHIP!" Plankton's shout echoes through the room. "It's not your business, it's mine! Now get lost!" The pain in Plankton's voice is palpable, and Chip can't understand why. Chip's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching. "But Dad, I just wanted to he-" "I SAID ENOUGH!" Plankton's voice booms through the room, his antennae quivering with frustration. Chip's voice trails off, and he takes a step back. He's never seen his dad so upset, and it scares him. "But Dad, I don't know what's wrong with you!" Chip's voice is small, his eyes filled with fresh tears. Plankton's outburst has only confused him more. Oblivious to Plankton's internal turmoil, Chip doesn't realize his dad's reaction is due to his autism. But the outburst only adds to Chip's confusion and fear. He looks at Karen with pleading eyes, desperately seeking comfort and answers.

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY ii (Autistic author) Karen's friend Hanna came over unexpectedly. Hanna never met Plankton personally, nor did she hear of his diagnosis. "Oh, Plankton, it's good to finally meet you!" Hanna exclaimed, voice bubbly. Plankton looked up from his book, his gaze unwavering. He didn't move or speak. Yet Hanna was oblivious. Karen stepped in, her smile forced. "Honey, this is Hanna," she said, hoping for a response. Plankton studied Hanna with a curiosity that was both intense and slightly unnerving. He tilted his head, his antennae vibrating slightly. "Hello," he said, his voice monotone. "I'll go get some refreshments," says Karen. Hanna took a seat right up by Plankton, unaware of his aversion to touch. "So, Karen tells me you're quite the inventor," Hanna said with a chuckle, reaching out to pat him on the back. Plankton flinched at the unexpected contact, antennae twitching. "What are you working on?" she asked, picking up a gadget. Plankton's antennae snapped to attention, eye widening in horror. "That's not for touching!" he snapped, his voice sharp and urgent. "Oh, sorry," she stuttered, quickly returning it to the bench. "I didn't know." Plankton's gaze didn't leave. He took a deep breath. But she didn't give him space, didn't understand him. Plankton felt tense, antennae quivering. "Could I see what you're reading?" Hanna leaned closer, trying to peer at the book. Plankton flinched, his grip tightening around the pages. His eye flitted to the book and back to her, his antennae pulsing rapidly. But Hanna was unaware of the discomfort she was causing. "It's just a book," she said with a wave of her hand. "Don't be so secretive." She leaned in even closer, trying to make eye contact. The room grew hotter, his antennae twitching uncontrollably. He felt his heart racing in his chest, the thump- thump echoing in his ears. He wanted to yell at her to go away, but he knew that would only make things worse. "Could you not talk so much?" Plankton's voice was tight, his desire for quiet clear. But Hanna, in her ignorance, just laughed, thinking it was a quirky part of his personality. "I've got so much to tell you about!" she babbled, her hands animated as she talked. Plankton's seeking an escape from the onslaught of sensory input. Hanna, oblivious to his distress, rattled on. Each word she spoke was a new pinprick on his already frayed nerves. He couldn't focus on the conversation. "So, what do you think?" Hanna asked, her eyes bright with expectation. Plankton blinked, pulled from his thoughts. "Think about what?" He replied, his voice flat. Hanna's smile wavered. "I said, what do you think about the new fashion trend in Bikini Bottom?" Plankton blinked again, trying to process her words. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and the effort it took to engage in small talk was exhausting. He shrugs. It was the only response he could muster. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting, trying to keep up. Hanna was unfazed. "It's all the rage!" she exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening. The touch was like a shock to his system, and he had to fight the urge to pull away. "Mm," he murmured, not really listening. The effort to maintain his composure was Herculean. Hanna didn't seem to notice, her laughter bubbling over, taking Plankton's lack of engagement as shyness. "You know, Patrick's even started a jellyfishing club!" Plankton nodded again, his eye flicking towards the doorway, willing Karen to return. Plankton felt his head throbbing. He tried to focus on her words, to find some semblance of meaning in the chaos. Plankton realized she was waiting for him to speak, but he can't. He wanted to scream, to tell her to just leave him alone. "You know, Plankton," Hanna said, her voice softer now, "Karen tells me you're quite the genius." She leaned forward. Plankton's antennae twitching erratically. She reached out to pat his arm again, but that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Plankton's eye widened with panic. He twitched abruptly, knocking over his chair. "I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" Plankton didn't answer. He couldn't. The words were trapped in his throat, a tangled mess of frustration and anxiety. He took a step back, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. The room spun around him, his senses on overload. Hanna noticed his distress. "Plankton?" she whispered, her hand outstretched. But Plankton was beyond words. He couldn't form a coherent response, couldn't explain. Karen rushed into the room, alerted by the sound of the chair falling. Her screen searched her husband's face, seeing the distress he couldn't voice. "What happened?" Hanna stuttered, her hands up in defense. "I don't know! I was just talking to him, and he...he..." But Karen had already assessed the situation. She saw the fear in Hanna and the panic in Plankton. She knew he was overwhelmed. She stepped in quickly, her voice a soothing balm. "It's ok Plankton," she said, her tone calm and reassuring. "You're safe. It's just Hanna. She's a friend." Plankton's antennae stopped quivering, his breaths coming in slightly more even. But he didn't look at Karen, his gaze still locked on the wallpaper. Hanna watched, her expression mixture of concern and confusion. But Plankton couldn't find words. His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and sensory input. He felt his body shaking, breaths coming in quick gasps. Hanna took a tentative step. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Plankton's body remained rigid, his eye still fixed on the wall. Hanna tried to reach out to him like Karen did. "NO!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the lab, the first time he'd raised it since his diagnosis. Hanna took a step back, her face falling. "I'm sorry," she whispered. But Plankton couldn't hear her apology, couldn't process anything anymore, couldn't move nor speak. The world was too much, too loud, too bright, too everything. He retreated into himself. Karen watched as Hanna took in the scene before her, her own hand freezing in mid-air. The room was silent except for Plankton's ragged breaths, his tiny body trembling. "I didn't mean to upset him," Hanna whispered, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to be friendly." Karen's gaze never left Plankton. She knew he couldn't help it. The diagnosis was new, and they were both learning to navigate this uncharted territory. Karen didn't want to go into details about Plankton's autism with Hanna, not yet. Hanna looked from Plankton to Karen. "What's wrong with you?" she asked him, shaking. Plankton didn't respond, his gaze still locked on the wallpaper. His body was a statue, but inside, he was a tempest of overstimulation and fear. Hanna's words, her touch, her very presence was too much for him to handle. Karen stepped closer, placing her hand on Hanna's arm. "He's just overwhelmed." Hanna looked at her, the confusion clear in her screen. "Can you give us a moment? He needs space." Hanna nods. Approaching Plankton, Karen knelt before his frozen form. "It's ok," she whispered, her voice a gentle lullaby. "You're safe here." She took his hands, guiding them to her shoulders, his grip tightening reflexively. Hanna hovered, unsure of what to do, but Karen's gaze was firm. "I'll take care of him," she assured. Karen sat with him, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what he needed. "You're ok," Karen whispered, repeating it like a mantra. Plankton's body was rigid, but his grip on her shoulders began to loosen. She stroked his arm, her touch gentle and rhythmic. "It's just you and me, Plankton." Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, his breathing evening out. Karen remained a constant, calming presence. "I'm here," she murmured, her eyes meeting his, which were now brimming with unshed tears. "You're ok. It's just us." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching as he focused on Karen's face. Her eyes were filled with love and understanding, a beacon in the storm of his overwhelmed senses. "You're ok," she repeated, her voice a lullaby that seemed to resonate with his racing heart. He nodded slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. Sensing his comfort with her proximity, Karen carefully wrapped her arms around him. He didn't resist, instead leaning into her embrace. She could feel his body relaxing, his breaths growing deeper. The room was quiet now. She rocked him gently, the motion soothing to them both. His antennae stilled, and his eye began to droop. Plankton's body grew heavy, his muscles finally relaxing. The storm of his thoughts began to calm, the sensory overload slowly abating. Karen felt his grip loosen, his breaths deepening as he leaned into her embrace. The weight of his head grew heavier against her shoulder. His breaths grew slower, deeper. Karen felt Plankton's grip on her shoulders loosen until his arms were draped over her, his breathing deep and even. She knew he was exhausted. Plankton's head lolled against her neck, and she felt the tension in his body ease away, his limbs going slack. Her hand stroked his back, the rhythmic motion a comforting reminder that he was safe. Karen noticed Plankton's breathing had turned into a gentle snore, his body finally at ease. Hanna, who stood in the doorway, came closer to the couple. "I am so..." Karen turned to her, her expression firm but gentle. "Shh," she hushed, raising a finger. "He's asleep." She didn't want to explain his condition, not yet. The words were still too fresh, too raw. Hanna nodded, brimming with unshed tears. She looked at Plankton, then back to Karen. "What can I do?" she asked softly. Karen took a deep breath, composing herself. "Just give us some space for now. I can explain later." Hanna nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton. "Ok," she whispered, retreating.

🗿

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