Satã Emojis & Text

I	V	X	L	C	D	M
5	10	50	100	500	1000

🔢

Individual decimal places
Thousands	Hundreds	Tens	Units
M	C	X	I
MM	CC	XX	II
MMM	CCC	XXX	III
CD	XL	IV
D	L	V
DC	LX	VI
DCC	LXX	VII
DCCC	LXXX	VIII
CM	XC	IX

new 🔢 listcore schoolcore i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii xviii xix roman alphabet operating system

⁶⁶⁶

new evil 666 satan evil symbols devil lucifer demonic god

⁶⁶⁶𓃶⛧

new pentagram 666 evil pythagoreans pentacle

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

new lol ten no cat yes six forty

JUST A TOUCH vi
(Autistic author)


Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly. His eye dart
to the clock on the wall. "Must rest,"
he murmurs, his voice low.

Karen nods, her hand
squeezing his shoulder 
gently, which makes
him flinch.

"I'm sorry," she says,
quickly withdrawing it.

They sit in the quiet,
Plankton's mind racing, trying
to process the onslaught of
the day. Karen's eyes are on him,
a mix of sadness and love. He
can feel it, even through the
wall of his new condition.

He reaches out, tentatively,
his hand hovering over hers.
It's a peace offering, a silent
request for the comfort she
always provided. Karen's eyes widen,
surprise and hope flickering
in their depths. She places her hand
under his, allowing him to guide
it to his cheek.

"Plankton can, may I ask
you something?" Karen
says quietly.

He nods once, his antennae
still. "Yes," he says.

"What were you experiencing
when you froze today? You
know, before we came to
our bed? When Hanna was..."

Plankton's antennae quiver,
his gaze shifting to hers. "Too much,"
he murmurs. "Could tell you're here
and talking but, cannot comprehend.
Plankton felt dizzy in the head. Was
present yet not present."

Karen's eyes fill with
understanding. "It's like your brain
was on overload," she says, her
voice soft. "And my touch...it helped?"

Plankton shrugs, his antennae
lifting slightly. "Familiar. Soothing."
He looks at her, his gaze
intense. "Needed more of you."

Karen's eyes water, a soft
smile playing on her lips.
"I'm here now," she whispers.
But Plankton notices the
tears in her eyes.

"Why sad?" he asks, his voice
still flat. "Karen crying. Crying
sad. Thus, Karen's sad.."

Karen sniffles, her thumb
wiping away a tear. "I'm just
overwhelmed," she says. "I'm
trying to understand and be
there for you, but sometimes
it's hard."

Plankton's antennae droop.
"Karen not at fault," he says,
his voice devoid of emotion.
"Plankton's brain... different, now."

Karen nods, her hand
still in his. "I know," she whispers.
"But I'm here to learn with you."
Her words hang in the air, a promise
of support and patience.

Plankton's gaze lingers
on their joined hands, his
thumb tracing gentle circles on
her palm. The sensation grounds
him, a lifeline in the storm
of his new reality. He tries
to formulate his next words,
his mind racing. "Thanks,"
he finally says, his voice a
barely-there whisper.

Karen smiles softly, her
eyes never leaving his. 
"For what?"

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"For... being... understanding."
The words are forced, but the
sentiment is clear. Karen's
heart swells with love and
determination.

They sit in silence for a
moment, the gentle pressure
of their joined hands speaking
louder than any words could.

Plankton's gaze shifts
from their interlocked hands
to Karen's eyes. He can see
the love and concern in them,
and it calms him in a way
nothing else can.

He takes a deep breath,
his chest rising and falling
slowly. "Karen," he says, his voice
still monotone but with a
hint of longing. "Can... be
in your arms?"

Karen's eyes widen with
understanding. She nods,
moving closer to him. "Of
course," she whispers, opening
her arms. Plankton shifts his
body, his movements stiff
but deliberate as he
slides closer to her.

He nestles into her embrace,
his antennae resting on her
shoulder. Her arms close
around him, enveloping
his small form in warmth.

He takes a deep
breath, his body finally
beginning to unwind.

Plankton's antennae
still, his breathing
evening out.

Karen holds him.
Her hand gently 
strokes his back—
a soothing motion.
Plankton's eye
closes.

Karen's heart swells with
relief as Plankton's body
gradually relaxes into her embrace.
The weight of the day's
stresses seems to melt away
as she holds him, feeling the
steady rhythm of his breaths.
This is a new chapter in their
relationship, one filled with
unexpected challenges and a
deeper understanding of each
other's needs. She's aware that
his autism isn't something
to be cured or fixed, but a part
of who he is now, something
to be accepted and supported.

She strokes his back, her movements
slow and measured, mimicking the
calm she wishes to impart. His
breaths deepen, and she can feel
his body grow heavier in her arms.

Plankton's antennae droop with
fatigue, his eyelid flickering
as he succumbs to sleep. His
tiny hand remains in hers, a silent
plea to not let go. Karen
squeezes gently, her screen
never leaving his face.

The room is bathed in the soft
glow of the bedside lamp, the
shadows playing across the wall
like a silent guardian. The only
noise is the steady tick of the
clock and the occasional
snore from Plankton.

Karen watches him sleep, his
tiny form nestled in the crook
of her arm. His antennae rest
peacefully against her shoulder,
his breaths deep and even.
Her heart swells with a mix
of love and fear. She's afraid
for him, for the world
he's woken up to, a place
where every sound, every touch,
every interaction is a minefield.
But she's also proud of him,
the way he's trying to navigate
this new reality with a stoicism
that belies his size.

Plankton stirs slightly, his
eyelid fluttering. Karen holds
her breath, afraid to disturb
his fragile peace. His hand tightens
on hers, and she knows he's
aware of her presence. It's a
small victory in a day filled
with confusion.

He opens his eye, looking
up at her with a gaze that's
both familiar and foreign.
"Karen," he says, his voice
still monotone.

Karen's screen brightens with
relief. "Yes, Plankton?"

He shifts, his gaze drifting
to the book on the nightstand.
"Book," he says, his voice
barely audible. "Read."

Karen nods, understanding
his need for the familiar. She
picks up the book, her eyes
skimming over the pages. "Which one?"
she asks softly. Plankton's
eye darts to the title.

"The... puzzle," he murmurs,
his voice a mere echo. Karen opens
the book to the puzzle they'd
been working on. His gaze
follows her finger as she traces
the words. His antennae twitch.

"Would... you like to hear it?"
she asks tentatively. He nods,
his body still tense. Karen
clears her throat, her voice gentle
as she reads the words aloud.

Plankton's eye drifts
closed again, the sound of her
voice a comforting lullaby.
His hand relaxes in hers, the
tension in his body dissipating.

Karen reads on, her voice
a steady rhythm that fills the
silent room. The words from
the puzzle book form a bridge
between them, connecting them
in a way that's both new and
comfortingly familiar. Plankton's
mind focuses on the patterns
and sequences, the logical
structure a sanctuary in the
chaos.

As she reads, Karen can feel
his muscles relaxing further, his
breathing deepening into sleep.
The room's quietude wraps
around them like a cocoon,
their shared history a warm
blanket. It's a stark contrast
to the panic and confusion
that had gripped him earlier.

The puzzle's words weave
themselves into a tapestry
of comfort, each syllable a
stitch in the fabric of their
new reality. Plankton's love
for order and patterns hasn't
changed, but the way
he interacts with them has.
The autism has transformed
his world, but not the essence
of who he is.

As Karen reads, her voice
soothing his frayed nerves,
she can't help but feel a
sense of awe at his resilience.
He's still her Plankton, the
same being she's known for so long,
but now he's also someone new,
someone she's just beginning to
understand. His mind operates
on a different wavelength, one
that she's eager to tune into.

Then the door
bell rings. It's
Sandy!

Plankton's antennae shoot up,
his body stiffening in Karen's arms.
"Who is it?" he asks, his voice
sharp with anxiety.

Karen's eyes dart to the
clock on the wall. "It's just
Sandy," she says, her voice
calm. "It's okay."

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye searching hers for
reassurance. "Sandy?" he repeats,
his voice unsure.

Karen nods, her smile gentle.
"It's okay," she says, her voice a
whisper. "We'll take this slow."

Plankton's gaze locks onto
Sandy as she enters the room,
his eyes darting around to
assess the new presence. Sandy
watches him, her face a mix of
curiosity and concern. "Howdy,
Plankton," she says, her voice
soft. "How are y'all?"

Plankton's antennae twitch.
He's heard her voice before,
but it's different now. Too
loud, too bright. He shrinks
back into Karen's embrace. "Good,"
he says, his voice tight. "Good."

Sandy's eyes dart between
them, her smile fading. "What's
wrong?" she asks, her voice
gentle. Karen sighs.

"Plankton's had an... accident,"
she says carefully.

Sandy's eyes widen with shock,
her hand flying to her mouth.
"What happened?"

Karen's gaze doesn't waver
from Plankton's. "He's
been diagnosed with Acquired
Autism," she says softly. "From
a head injury."

Sandy's eyes widen in
disbelief. "Oh no," she whispers.
"I had no idea."

Karen nods, her screen
reflecting the weight of
the last few hours. "It's a lot to take
in," she says. "We're still learning."

Sandy steps closer, her
movements slow and deliberate.
"What can I do?" she asks.

Karen's shoulders
slump with relief. "Just...
be patient with him,"
she says. "He's still the same
Plankton, but... different."

Sandy nods solemnly.
"I will," she promises.

new just a touch sandarenton vi

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||||။‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

new tenner six roman empire thief

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vi


(Autistic author)



"Why don't we stay in, Plankton?"
Sponge Bob suggested, noticing
his friend's lingering anxiety.
"We can still have fun."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he considered the
proposal. The thought of going
outside was overwhelming.
"Okay," he agreed, his voice
soft. "Inside."

Sponge Bob nodded, his smile
reassuring. "How about a board
game?" he offered.

Plankton's antennae twitched in
consideration. "Game," he echoed,
his voice tentative.

Sponge Bob's smile grew. "Yeah!
Which one do you want to play?"

Plankton's antennae perked up at the
mention of something familiar. "Game,"
he murmured, his voice a little
more steady. "Choose."

Sponge Bob beamed at him, happy
to see his friend willing to
participate. He picked a simple
game of checkers from the shelf,
knowing it would be less
overwhelming than the loud, bright
electronic games that Plankton had
once enjoyed.

Plankton's antennae quivered with
excitement as Sponge Bob set
up the board, his eyes fixated on
the red and black pieces. "Checkers,"
he murmured, his voice filled with
anticipation.

Sponge Bob nodded, placing the
checkers in their starting
positions. "You go first," he said,
his voice calm and steady.

Plankton's antennae quivered as
his eyes focused on the board.
He picked up a black piece, his hand
shaking slightly. "Checkers," he
whispered to himself, echoing Sponge
Bob's words. He placed it with
precision on the board.

Sponge Bob watched him.
"Good job, Plankton," he said, 
his voice soothing. "You're doing 
great."

Plankton's antennae twitched with 
each word, echoing the comfort. 
"Great," he murmured, his gaze
never leaving the checkers. He
moved a piece, his mind working
quickly to calculate his next
move. The repetitive nature of
the game was calming, a familiar
rhythm that helped him find a
moment of peace in the chaos.

"Checkers," he said again, his
voice a little more stable. The
game was a dance of strategy,
and it was a dance Plankton had
always loved. But now, it was
more than that—it was a lifeline.

The game continued, the
quiet clicks of the pieces
moving across the board
providing a soothing rhythm
to the otherwise
silent room. Plankton's antennae
stayed mostly still, only
twitching when he felt the
need to move a piece. His eye
flitted from the board to
Sponge Bob and back again, seeking
reassurance that he was doing
this right.

Sponge Bob watched him, his
face a mask of concentration,
his spongy body still. "Your turn,
Plankton," he said, his voice
calm and steady.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
quivering slightly as he reached
for a piece. He moved it with
careful deliberation, his gaze
never leaving the board.

"Good move," Sponge Bob said,
his voice a gentle encouragement.

Plankton's antennae twitched in
response, his eyes lighting up
for a moment. "Good move," he
repeated, his voice echoing
Sponge Bob's tone. The words
comforted him, a familiar
refrain in a world that had
become unpredictable.

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's. "Your
turn," he prompted gently.

Plankton's antennae quivered as
his hand hovered over the board.
"Good move," he murmured, echoing
Sponge Bob's words from moments
before. His eyes focused
intently on the board, his mind
racing to find the perfect
place for the checker.

The echo of their shared phrase
was like a soft lullaby in the
quiet room, a gentle reminder of
their longstanding friendship.
Sponge Bob noticed the comfort
it brought to Plankton, the way
his body relaxed slightly with
each repetition. "Good move,"
Sponge Bob said again, his voice
soft and encouraging.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye focusing on the board.
He moved a piece, whispering
"good move" under his breath.
Sponge Bob watched him, his
expression a mix of wonder and
concern. Plankton had always been
so sharp, so quick-witted, and now,
his brain was navigating a new
kind of maze.

But in this moment, as the
game progressed, it was clear
that Plankton's strategic mind
was still sharp. His moves
were calculated, precise. He
was winning, and Sponge Bob
could see the pride in his
tiny friend's eye.

Sponge Bob felt a swell of
happiness as Plankton's antennae
quivered with excitement. "King me,"
he murmured, placing his checker
on the board's edge.

Sponge Bob did so, his heart
swelling with pride for his
friend. "You're really good at this,"
he said, his voice gentle.

Plankton's antennae curled with
satisfaction. "Thanks," he
murmured, his voice a little
more stable now.

Sponge Bob watched as Plankton
placed the kinged piece back on
the board, his eyes never leaving
the game. The tension in the
room had dissipated, replaced by
the rhythmic exchange of
checkers and echoing affirmations.

"Good move," Plankton murmured
again, his voice a testament to
his focus. His antennae quivered
slightly as he anticipated Sponge
Bob's next play.

Sponge Bob studied the board,
his yellow brow furrowed. He knew
that Plankton had always been
smart, but this was something
else—a silent, intense
concentration that seemed to
have taken over his friend's
tiny form. With a soft click, he
moved his piece, watching as
Plankton's antennae followed the
move, his eye calculating.

Plankton's response was swift and
confident, his antennae barely
twitching. "Good move," Sponge Bob
said, echoing Plankton's words.
He felt a sense of awe as Plankton
countered with a move that
won the game.

Sponge Bob's cheer was sudden,
his spongy hands slapping
together with joy. "You did
it, Plankton!" he exclaimed.

Plankton's antennae shot up, his
body stiffening at the unexpected
noise. His eye grew wide, the
world around him seeming to
shrink for a moment as he was
jolted out of his focused
trance.

Sponge Bob's cheer had
unintentionally startled him,
his sudden movement a stark
contrast to the calm rhythm of
the game.
"Sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob
apologized, quickly
lowering his voice, 
his expression
softening. "I forgot."

Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae slowly
lowering.

Sponge Bob watched him
closely, his own excitement
dimming in the face of his
friend's distress. "It's ok," he
whispered. "You won, Plankton."

Plankton's antennae gradually
stilled, his breathing slowing
down. He nodded, his voice
small. "Won," he murmured, his
eye refocusing on the board.

Sponge Bob's smile faltered,
his heart heavy at the sight
of Plankton's distress. He
knew his cheer had been too
much, too soon. "Sorry," he
whispered, his hand hovering
above the board, unsure if he
should clean up the pieces or not.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his gaze lingering on the
game. "Enough checkers."

Sponge Bob nodded, his
expression understanding. "Okay,
Plankton," he said, his voice
gentle. "Let's do something else."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he considered his
options. "Movie?" he suggested, his
voice tentative.

Sponge Bob's eyes lit up. "Yea!
What do you want to watch?"

Plankton's antennae twitched. "Simple
story," he murmured, his voice
still shaky. "No loud noises."

Sponge Bob nodded eagerly,
quickly searching through the
DVDs for a film that would be
comfortable for his friend. "How
about 'The Great Snail Race'?"
he suggested, holding up the
case.

Plankton's antennae twitched
with consideration. The film
was a classic, a story of
endurance and friendship, and
his brain processed the quiet
nature of the plot. "Yes," he
murmured. "Snail Race."

Sponge Bob's smile grew as he
inserted the DVD into the
player. The familiar tunes of
the opening credits filled the
room, and Plankton's antennae
swayed gently to the rhythm, his
body visibly relaxing into the
soft cushions of the couch.

Karen watched from the
sidelines, her eyes misty with
relief. Sponge Bob had always
known how to reach Plankton in
a way she couldn't. His simple,
understanding nature seemed to
break through the barriers that
autism had constructed around
his friend.

Sponge Bob pressed play, the
screen flickering to life.

The soft light from the TV cast a
glow, Plankton's eye
fixed on the snails that began to
race across the screen.

Sponge Bob sat next to Plankton.
He knew he had to
tread carefully, to be a source
of comfort without overwhelming
his friend. As the snails
moved slowly across the screen,
Plankton's antennae stilled, the
story's gentle pace a balm to
his overstimulated mind.

The movie's quiet humor
elicited a small chuckle from
Plankton, a sound that was
music to Karen. She watched
from the kitchen doorway.
Sponge Bob had always been
there for Plankton, and 
was grateful for his unwavering
support. 

new autism in the plankton family plankton vi

SHELF IMPROVEMENT vi
(Autistic author)

Karen rummaged through 
the game drawer, her 
hands shaking slightly. 
She pulled out a game 
of memory matching, 
thinking the simple task 
might help him focus. She 
placed it on the coffee 
table in front of them, 
spreading the cards out.

"It's your turn," she 
said, her voice calm.

Plankton nodded. 
He stared at the cards, 
his eye flickering 
from one to the next. 
Karen watched. Would 
he be able to play? Would 
he understand the 
simplicity of matching 
pictures?

He reached out with 
his tiny hand, paused, 
gaze focused on 
a card with a picture 
of a fish. Then, with a 
quick movement, he 
flipped it over. The card 
was a match. "Fish," he 
whispered, a smile 
creeping onto his lips.

Karen felt a weight 
lift from her chest. 
He had done it, he had 
understood the game. 
Her eyes filled with 
tears as she matched 
the next card. "Good job, 
Plankton," she said, 
trying to keep her 
voice steady. "You 
found the match."

He nodded, his antennae 
twitching with excitement. 
"Fish," he said again, his 
smile growing wider. 
"Fish, Karen."

Karen felt a warmth 
spread through her, 
seeing a glimpse of the 
Plankton she knew, the one 
who loved puzzles and 
challenges. "Yes, 
Plankton, you're doing 
great."

Suddenly, their son
Chip came home 
from a camp trip.

The door slammed, 
and Plankton
shot up. His eye
widened in fear. Karen 
quickly placed her hand 
on his back, trying 
to soothe him.

"It's okay, 
Plankton," she 
whispered. 
"It's just Chip 
coming 
home."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he 
processed the 
information. 
"Chip," he murmured, 
his voice quavering. 
"Home."

Chip sees his dad
but doesn't know
of the acquired
Autism. "Dad!" He
yelled excitedly,
running to him with
a tight embrace of a
hug. But it proves to
be too much for Plankton.

The sudden jolt 
of noise and 
movement sent Plankton
into a spiral of 
overstimulation. His 
body convulsed, and he 
shook, his 
tiny form wracked with 
seizures as Karen watched 
helplessly as Chip only held
Plankton tighter.

"Chip, no!" she 
screamed, her voice 
breaking. She jumped 
up from the couch. "Gently, 
gentle!"

But it was too 
late. Plankton's body 
was a blur of spasms, 
his eye rolled back. 
Karen knew this
autistic response; this 
is sensory overload.

"Chip, let go!" Karen 
shouted, her voice 
desperate. But Chip, 
not understanding 
his father's condition, 
only held on tighter. 
"Dad, are you okay?" But
Plankton's body continued 
to convulse violently, 
his tiny limbs flailing. 
Karen's mind raced, 
recalling her research 
on autism and its 
sometimes intense 
physical responses. 
She had to act fast.

Gently but firmly, 
she pried Chip's arms 
from Plankton's trembling 
body and lowered 
his father to the 
floor. "Chip, sweetie, 
I need you to step back," 
she instructed, her voice 
shaking.

Chip's eyes were 
wide with fear. "Dad.." he 
stuttered, trying to reach
for Plankton.

"Chip, please," 
Karen pleaded, her 
voice tight. "Just go to 
your room for a bit.
I need to take care of 
Dad."

With a tearful 
nod, Chip stepped back, 
his screen never leaving 
his father's convulsing 
body. Karen turned her attention 
back to Plankton.

"Shh," she soothed, 
placing a hand 
on his shoulder. "It's 
okay, it's okay." Her voice 
was a gentle lullaby, 
trying to anchor him 
in the chaos. But Plankton's 
body continued to 
shake from the lingering
sensation of Chip's touch.
Karen knew she had to 
move quickly. She 
grabbed a pillow from 
the couch and placed it 
beneath his head, trying 
to reduce the risk of 
injury.

The seizure lasted 
a few more seconds, 
his antennae quivering 
wildly. Then, just as 
suddenly as it had 
begun, it started to
gradually fade. Plankton's 
body went limp, his 
breaths shallow and 
quick.

"It's okay," she 
whispered, her voice 
shaky with relief. "You're 
okay."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched, and his eye 
flitted open. He looked 
up at Karen, confusion 
and fear etched on 
his face. "Karen?" he 
murmured, his voice 
weak.

"I'm here," she said 
soothingly, stroking his 
back. "You had a 
reaction to Chip, 
Plankton. It's okay now."

His antennae stilled 
for a moment as he 
focused on her voice. 
"Chip," he repeated, 
his gaze distant. "Too 
much."

Karen nodded. "I know, 
Plankton. I'll explain to 
Chip. He didn't mean 
to scare you." She 
could hear Chip's 
sobs from his room, the 
sound piercing the 
silence of the living 
room.

Plankton's antennae 
moved slightly. "Chip," 
he murmured. "Not mad."

Karen felt a knot 
loosen in her chest. 
"No, Plankton," she 
whispered. "Chip's not 
mad, honey. He loves 
you, just like I do."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he 
processed her words. 
"Love," he murmured, 
his gaze finding hers. 
"Karen loves Plankton.
Chip loves Plankton."

Karen nodded, 
swiping at her tears. 
"Yes, we both love 
you so much," she said, 
her voice thick with 
emotion. "We're going 
to help you through this."

Plankton's eye searched 
her face, his expression 
unreadable. "Help," he 
whispered. "Karen helps."

Karen's chest tightened 
with the weight of 
his trust. She knew this 
was just the beginning, 
that their lives had 
shifted in a way she had 
never anticipated. But she 
was determined to be 
his rock, to navigate 
this new reality with 
patience and love.

new shelf improvement neurodivergentcore vi

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vi

(Autistic author)

Sponge Bob's heart 
swells with compassion. 
"It's ok, Plankton," he 
says, his voice gentle. "We 
don't have to play anymore."

Plankton's antennas 
drop, and he nods slowly. 
"No fish," he repeats, 
his voice a sigh of 
relief.

Sponge Bob's hand 
freezes in mid-air, 
his eyes searching 
Plankton's face for 
any sign of anger or 
disappointment. But all 
he sees is a glimmer of 
understanding in his 
friend's eye.

"Thank Sponge 
Bob for being patient."
Plankton says to him.

Sponge Bob nods, his 
eyes still filled with 
concern. "I'll be patient, 
Plankton," he promises. "Can
I ask how you hit your head?"

Plankton's antennas 
lift slightly. "Pan," he 
murmurs, his voice 
barely above a whisper. 
"Fry pan, Mr. Krabs. Only
Karen and SpongeBob know."

Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with shock. "What?!"
he exclaims. "Mr. Krabs 
hurt you?"

Plankton nods, his antennas 
still low. "Pan," he repeats, 
his voice shaking. "Pan," he 
says again, his voice 
softer. "Krabs hit on head."
Sponge Bob's anger 
towards Mr. Krabs is 
immediate and intense. 
"I can't believe he'd do 
that to you," he says, 
his voice low and 
teary.

"Mr. Krabs did to protect
the krabby patty." 
Karen interjects quickly, 
sensing the tension. 
"He doesn't know how
badly he hurt Plankton."

Sponge Bob's eyes narrow, 
his thoughts racing. He can't
believe Mr. Krabs could 
do something like that, even 
in the heat of the moment.

"I'll talk to Mr. Krabs," 
he says firmly, his voice 
laced with determination. 
"He needs to know what..."

"No!"

The sharpness of Plankton's 
voice cuts through the 
air like a knife, his 
antennas shooting up in 
alarm. "Mr. Krabs no," he 
says, his eye wide with fear. 
"No tell."

Sponge Bob's anger 
fades slightly, replaced 
by confusion. "Why not?" 
he asks, his voice 
gentle. "He needs to know 
so he can understand.."

Plankton's antennas 
quiver anxiously. "Krabs 
not know," he whispers, his 
eye pleading with Sponge 
Bob. "Safe here."

Sponge Bob's 
confusion deepens. "But 
Plankton, if Mr. Krabs 
doesn't know, how will he 
make it up to you?"
Plankton's antennas 
droop, his eye darting 
back and forth between 
Karen and Sponge Bob. "No 
make up," he murmurs. "Just 
no satisfaction for Krabs."
Sponge Bob's mind 
spins with the implications. 
He knows Mr. Krabs 
would never hurt 
anyone that much 
intentionally, even Plankton;
but the thought of his 
boss not knowing the 
extent of his actions 
troubles him.
"I won't tell him," 
Sponge Bob says, his voice 
soft with reassurance.
But of course, Mr. Krabs
comes in. "What in the
name of Neptune are
ye doing? I gave ye the
day off yesterday!"
"The Krusty Krab is closed on
Sunday, and it's Sunday today."
SpongeBob reminds his boss.
"Oh, right." Mr. Krabs looks
at Plankton and his eyes narrow.
"What's going on here?" he asks,
suspicion heavy in his voice.
Plankton's antennas droop even
lower, and he looks down at the
floor.
Plankton speaks first. "Go 
fish," he whispers, his 
eye darting up to meet 
Mr. Krabs'. Sponge Bob steps in 
quickly, trying to cover 
for his friend. "We were 
just playing a game," he 
says, forcing a smile.
Mr. Krabs eyes them 
both skeptically.
"Well, I hope it wasn't 
about stealing me secret 
formular," he says, his 
claws tapping 
nervously.
"No, Mr. Krabs," Sponge 
Bob says quickly, "just a 
friendly game."
Plankton's antennas 
twitch slightly at the 
mention of the Krabby 
Patty formula, but he 
remains silent.
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
narrow further.
"What's wrong with 
you, Plankton?" he 
asks, his voice filled 
with concern and a 
touch of irritation.
"You're acting strangely
quiet even for you."
Plankton's antennas 
quiver.
Sponge Bob's heart 
paces. He doesn't want 
to betray Plankton's trust.
"It's nothing," Plankton 
says, his voice 
forced. "Just a little 
game, Krabs wanna play."
"Fine I'll play, but I got my
eye on ye, Plankton."
Mr. Krabs says, his tone 
still suspicious as he 
sits down to join them. 
Sponge Bob's eyes dart to 
Karen, who gives a 
nod of understanding. 
They'll keep the secret and
hope Mr. Krabs doesn't figure
it out.

"Let's play Uno!" Sponge
Bob says, getting out the new
card game, dealing the cards.
Plankton's antennas 
perk up at the mention 
of a new game, and he 
eagerly takes his cards. 
Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
plays along, eyeing Plankton 
carefully.
Then, it happens.
Mr. Krabs slaps a card 
down on the pile and 
excitedly yells, "Uno!"
Plankton's antennas shoot 
straight up, and his eye 
widen with sensory 
overload.
Sponge Bob's concerned, 
but Mr. Krabs 
is too busy gloating to 
notice. "Yee-haw!" he 
crows. "I win again!"
Plankton's antennas 
quiver as he tries to 
process the sudden 
loudness and change in 
the atmosphere. 
Mr. Krabs looks at him, 
his expression puzzled.
"What's the matter, 
Plankton?" he asks, 
his voice laced with 
disdain. "Lost your 
competitive spirit?"
Sponge Bob's eyes widen.
"Plankton's just 
excited, Mr. Krabs," he 
says quickly. "Isn't that right, 
Plankton?"
Plankton's antennas 
wave erratically, and 
his voice is a mix of 
fear and confusion. 
"Yes, Krabs," he stammers, 
his eye darting around 
the room. "Uno. Fish. Yes."
Mr. Krabs looks at him 
oddly but shrugs it off, 
his attention already 
returning to the game. 
"Alright, let's keep playing," 
he says, dealing out 
more cards.
But Plankton's mind is elsewhere, 
his antennas twitching with 
the effort to keep up.
"Fish," he murmurs to 
himself, trying to find 
a familiar 
word. His hands 
shake as he holds 
his cards, the 
world around him a 
cacophony of sensory 
overload.
Sponge Bob notices 
Plankton's distress and 
quickly changes the 
topic. "Hey, Mr. Krabs, 
have you ever played 
Chess?"
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
light up. "Chess? The 
game of kings and 
conquers!" he exclaims. 
"I'd love a round!"
SpongeBob gets
the chess game.

The chess pieces are set 
up, and Mr. Krabs 
begins to play, his 
claws clacking against 
the board as he moves 
his pieces. Plankton 
watches, his antennas 
still, his eye 
focused.
"Your move, Plankton," 
Mr. Krabs says, his 
claws tapping the 
edge of the board 
impatiently.

But Plankton doesn't 
move. He just sits there, 
staring at the 
chessboard, his cards 
forgotten in his hand. 
"What's with you?" 
Mr. Krabs asks, 
his voice filled with 
exasperation. "You're 
taking forever!"

Sponge Bob's heart 
skips a beat. He knows 
he can't let Mr. Krabs 
see how much Plankton's 
been affected by the 
accident. "It's ok 
Mr. Krabs," he says 
quickly. "Plankton's just 
thinking of his next 
move."

Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
doesn't push the issue. 
He's too focused on 
his own strategy, his 
claws moving pieces with 
calculated precision.
But Plankton remains 
frozen, his gaze 
unwavering on the 
board. His antennas 
twitch slightly, a 
sign of his racing 
thoughts.

After several moments of 
silence, Mr. Krabs 
finally snaps. "Plankton,
it's your turn!" he says, 
his patience wearing 
thin.

Plankton's antennas 
twitch, and his eye 
flits to the board. 
"Fish?" he asks, his 
voice unsure.
Mr. Krabs stares at 
Plankton, his eyes 
narrowing. "What do 
fish have to do with 
chess?" he asks, 
confusion etched 
deeply on his face.

Sponge Bob's heart 
sinks as he sees the 
puzzlement in Mr. 
Krabs' eyes. He 
quickly jumps in. "Oh, 
Plankton was just 
thinking out loud," he 
says, trying to 
lighten the mood.

Mr. Krabs grunts, 
but his suspicion 
doesn't fade. "You've 
always been a weird 
little fellow, Plankton, but 
this is something else," 
he says, his tone a mix 
of curiosity and 
exasperation.

Sponge Bob's heart 
thumps in his chest 
as he tries to 
diverge the conversation. 
"Why don't we talk 
about something else?" 
he suggests, his eyes 
darting back to the 
chessboard.

Mr. Krabs' gaze 
remains on Plankton, 
his eyes narrowed. 
But Plankton's antennas 
remain still, his 
expression vacant.
"Fish," he murmurs, 
his voice distant.

Mr. Krabs' patience 
thins to a thread. 
"Fish?" he repeats, his 
confusion palpable. 
"What's going on with 
you, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennas 
wobble, his eye
still fixated on the 
board. "Fish," he says 
again, his voice 
uncertain.

Mr. Krabs leans 
forward, his eyes 
studying Plankton 
closely. "You okay, 
tiny fry?" he asks, 
hinting concern 
despite the 
sarcasm.

Plankton's antennas 
quiver slightly. "Fish," 
he says, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper. Sponge Bob's 
heart clenches at the 
word, understanding 
now that it's not just 
a game for Plankton; it's 
his way of trying to 
make sense of the 
world around him.

Mr. Krabs, however, 
simply sighs and shakes 
his head. "You always 
have to make everything 
so complicated," he 
mumbles, his voice 
tired. "Why can't you just 
play the game like 
everyone else?" He yells
tipping the board over to
where the chess pieces
fall to the ground by Plankton.

Plankton's antennas 
shiver at the sound, and 
his eye dart to the 
upset board, his 
expression one of deep 
distress. "No fish," he 
whispers, his voice 
breaking.
Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, 
his suspicion growing. 
"What's going on with 
you?" he asks again.

"Fish, fish, fish!" 

new a journey to autism gamefic vi

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton holds up the science book
he had been clutching, the
pages fluttering in his excitement.

Sponge Bob's eyes flick to the book,
then back to Plankton's face.
"You're acting
different."

Plankton's smile falters, his
hands stilling momentarily. "No bad,"
he insists, his voice a bit too
cheerful. "Just happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes search Plankton's,
trying to read the truth behind
his words. "But you've never
been this... affectionate before,"
he says, his voice tentative.

Plankton's smile widens. "Sponge
Bob," he says, his voice a sing-song.
"You are good friend." He leans
in closer, his antennas quivering.
"Best friend."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen further,
his spongy cheeks reddening. "Plankton,
what's going on?" he asks, his
tone filled with confusion. "You've
never said that before."

Plankton's smile only grows
broader. "No bad," he repeats,
his voice still monotone. "Good
day. Happy." He starts to rock
back and forth on the bed, his
hands flapping in a pattern that
seems almost... happy?

Sponge Bob's confusion
deepens. Plankton had never
been one to show affection,
let alone so openly. "What's
going on?" he asks again, his
voice laced with concern.

Plankton's response is a
repetitive giggle, his eye
locked on Sponge Bob's
face. "Good day," he says, his
hands flapping in a pattern that
matches his words. "Best friend."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in
surprise. Plankton nods vigorously, his
hands flapping rapidly. "Very happy,"
he says, his voice high and
excited. "Best friend happy."

Sponge Bob's confusion turns
to concern. "Plankton, are you
okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

Plankton's giggle turns to a
laugh, a sound Sponge Bob rarely
hears from him. "Yes," he says,
his voice still monotone. "Happy."

Sponge Bob watches his
friend, his heart racing. "What
happened to you?" he asks, his
concern growing with each passing
moment.

Plankton's laughter fades into
a grin. "No bad," he says, his
hands still fluttering in the
air. "Just happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with worry. "What's really going on?"

Plankton's grin turns into a
frown, his hands stopping their
motion. "Sponge Bob," he says,
his voice dropping to a whisper.
"No bad. Happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with confusion, but he
can't ignore the desperation
in Plankton's tone. He reaches out,
his hand resting gently on
Plankton's arm. "But why are you
so happy?" he asks, his voice
filled with genuine concern.

Plankton's frown deepens,
his mind racing to find the
right words. "Because,"
he says, his voice strained. "I
have friend. Best friend."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his hand still on Plankton's
arm. "But we've always been
friends," he says, his voice
filled with confusion.

Plankton's smile is wide, his
eye unblinking. "Yes," he says,
his voice still monotone. "Best
friends. Happy."

Sponge Bob's mind races.
Something is clearly different about
Plankton, but he doesn't know
what. "But, Plankton," he starts, his
voice tentative. "What happened to
make you so... so...?" He struggles
for the right word.

Plankton's smile fades slightly,
his gaze dropping to the book
in his lap. "Book," he says, his
voice flat. "Good book."

Sponge Bob nods, trying to
follow the conversation. "Yeah,
it looks interesting," he says,
his eyes searching for a clue.

But Plankton's gaze is fixed
on the book, his hands
resuming their rhythmic
flapping. "Good book," he repeats,
his voice a gentle mantra.

Sponge Bob's eyes flick from
the book to Plankton's
hands, his mind racing to
connect the dots. "Is something wrong,
Plankton?" he asks, his voice
soft with worry.

Plankton's hands stop
their flapping abruptly, his
eye snapping to Sponge Bob's
face. "No wrong," he says, his
voice earnest. "Just happy."

Sponge Bob's expression is one
of bewilderment. "But you've
always liked your science books,"
he says, trying to find some
semblance of normalcy in the
situation. "What's different about
this one?"

Plankton's smile returns, his
hands resuming their flapping.
"This one," he says, his voice
filled with a newfound enthusiasm.
"Good book. Happy book."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
spongy heart swelling with a
mixture of joy and concern.
"What makes this one so special?"

Plankton's hands flutter with
excitement as he opens the book
to a random page. "Look," he says,
his voice a high-pitched squeak.
"See?"

Sponge Bob leans in, his eyes
scanning the dense text filled with
scientific terms. He nods, trying
to appear engaged, though he has
no clue what he's looking at.
"Wow, Plankton," he says, his
voice filled with forced enthusiasm.
"That's... really interesting."

Plankton's smile widens, his
hands flapping in excitement.
"Yes," he says, his voice a
cheerful monotone. "Good book."

Sponge Bob nods, still
confused but not wanting to
rain on his friend's parade. "Well, I'm
glad you're enjoying it," he says,
his voice warm.

Plankton's hands stop moving
momentarily. "Thank you," he says,
his voice sincere. "You are best
friend." He leans in closer, his
antennas quivering with excitement.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in surprise
as he feels a sudden wave of warmth
and affection from Plankton, something
that's never been present in their
usually antagonistic friendship.

"What's going on, Plankton?" he asks,
his voice filled with curiosity.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Plankton's smile doesn't waver.
"Sponge Bob," he says, his voice
still monotone. "You are good.
You make Plankton happy."

"What's happened to make you 
so affectionate, Plankton?"

Sponge Bob's question hangs in the
air, his curiosity piqued by the
unexpected warmth from his
usually adversarial friend.

Plankton's response is a
repetitive giggle, his hands
resuming their flapping. "No bad,"
he says, his voice cheerful. "Good
day." He pats the bed next to him.
"Sit, Sponge Bob. Read book."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his spongy body frozen in place.
"I don't think I can read that,
Plankton," he says, his voice
filled with uncertainty. "It's
really complicated."

Plankton nods, his smile
remaining constant. "It's okay,"
he says, his voice soothing. "You
try." He pushes the book closer
to Sponge Bob, his hand
guiding him to the page.

Sponge Bob hesitates, his
thumb flipping through the pages.
The words are a blur of symbols
and numbers, his mind struggling
to make sense of them. "But,
Plankton, I don't understand any
of this," he admits, his voice
filled with frustration.

Plankton's hand stops him, his
eye wide with excitement. "Doesn't
matter," he says, his voice
cheerful. "You are here. Best
friend."

Sponge Bob's confusion turns
to concern. "But Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "You're
not acting like yourself."

Plankton's smile fades slightly,
his hands stilling. "Self,"
he repeats, his voice contemplative.
He looks at Sponge Bob, his
eye searching his friend's
face for understanding.

Sponge Bob's expression is one
of confusion and concern. "Is
this a joke?" he asks, his
voice gentle.

Plankton's smile falters for a
moment before growing wider. "No joke,"
he says, his voice a singsong.
"Happy." He pats the bed again,
his hand a silent invitation.

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with
compassion. He sits down beside
his friend. "Plankton," he starts, his
voice tentative. "Is everything
ok?"

Plankton nods vigorously,
his hands flapping with
excitement. "Everything is
good," he says, his voice a
monotone cheer. "Best day."

Sponge Bob's gaze lingers on
his friend, searching for any
sign of distress. "But,
Plankton," he says, his voice
filled with uncertainty. "You're
not usually like this."

Plankton's smile never
fades. "Don't know," he says, his
voice calm. "But now, happy."

Sponge Bob's heart clenches, his
fears for his friend's well-being
growing stronger. "But what
about your schemes?" he asks,
his voice hopeful.

Plankton's eye blinks, the
thought of his usual plans
of world domination momentarily
forgotten. "Schemes?" he repeats,
his voice confused.

Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, you
know, your plans to steal the Krabby
Patty secret formula," he says, his
tone light.

Plankton's smile falters, his
hands stopping their flapping. "Krabby Patty?"
he asks, his voice distant. "No want
Krabby Patty. Happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
spongy mind racing. "You don't want
to steal the formula?" he asks, his
voice incredulous, now really
suspicious.

Plankton shakes his head, his
antennas swaying slightly. "No,"
he says, his voice still monotone.
"Only happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with confusion, but he can't
ignore the genuine smile on
his friend's face. "Okay, Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "If
you're happy, then I'm happy
for you."

Plankton's eye lit up, his
hands flapping with excitement.
"Thank you," he says, his voice
filled with gratitude. "Best
friend." 

new karen and the autistic journey confusedcore vi

GREAT CHIP vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his face etched with lines
of fatigue. "It's not that I don't
want your affection," he said,
his voice hoarse. "I just need it
in a way that doesn't make me feel...
like I'm in a minefield."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his mind racing to understand.
"How do you mean?" he asked,
his curiosity genuine.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae twitching as he searched
for the right words. "It's like...
sometimes, a simple touch can feel
like an electric shock," he began,
his voice strained. "Or like I'm being
smothered by a heavy blanket of sound."

Chip's eyes widened, trying to
comprehend. "But you've always
hugged mom," he said, his voice
filled with confusion.

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly.
"It's different with your mother,"
he explained, his voice a little
less strained. "She knows me,
she knows my limits. And she's...
patient." He paused, his eye
flickering with something
resembling sadness. "But others,
it's..."

Chip leaned in, his curiosity
piqued. "What about others?"
he asked gently.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his expression tightening.
"With others, it's... unpredictable,"
he said, his voice a mix of
frustration and resignation.
"Some days I can handle a pat
on the back, and others, it's like
being stabbed."

Chip's eyes widened, his hand
instinctively moving to his chest.
"It's that intense?" he whispered.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving slightly. "Some days are
worse than others," he said, his voice
soft. "But when it's bad, it feels like
I'm being bombarded from all sides.
It's...overwhelming."

Chip's brow furrowed as he
tried to imagine the intensity
his dad described. "What can I do
to make sure I don't hurt you?"
he asked, his voice earnest.

Plankton's antennae perked up
slightly, his eye searching Chip's
face. "Just be mindful," he said,
his voice softer than before. "Watch
for my cues. If I look overwhelmed,
if I flinch, just...give me space."

Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's. "What are
the cues?" he asked, eager to learn.
"How do I know when you're in that
'minefield'?"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye searching for the right words.
"Well, my antennae might twitch a lot,
I might get really quiet, or I might
get louder. It's different
every time."

Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's face.
"So, if you're in that 'minefield',
I should just...?"

"You can be there,"
Plankton finished for him,
his antennae still. "But not too close.
Make sure to get your mother."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with the new information.
He'd always known his dad
was special, but this was
a new kind of understanding.

"What about sounds?" he asked,
his voice tentative. "What noises
set you off?"

Plankton sighed, his antennae
twitching slightly. "It's not just
about the loudness," he began,
his eye searching the ceiling
as if for an answer. "It's more about
the pitch, the suddenness. Like when
you scratch or drop something.."

Chip's eyes grew wide with
realization. "Oh," he murmured.
"So, it's like a surprise attack?"

Plankton's antennae nodded.
"Exactly," he said, his voice
sounding a bit less strained.
"But it's not just about the
sounds themselves. It's about
how my brain interprets them."

Chip leaned in, his eyes
filled with curiosity.
"But how did you get it, Dad?"
he asked, his voice soft.
"Was it from something you caught
or something that happened?"

Plankton's antennae waved
in frustration. "It's not like that,"
he said, his voice sharp. "I was born
with it. It's just the way
my brain is developed, and it's not
like getting a cold!" His eye
was intense, his voice rising.

Chip's eyes widened, taking
in his father's outburst.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae dropping slightly.

"I know you didn't mean it like that,"
he said, his voice softer. "But it's
important to understand that it's
not something I can just get over.
It's a part of how I am."

Chip nodded, feeling the weight
of his father's words. "I'm sorry,"
he said, his voice barely audible. "I..."

Plankton's antennae waved gently,
his eye softening. "It's okay," he said.
"I know you didn't mean to upset me.
It's just...it's a lot to explain."

Chip nodded, feeling a pang
of guilt. He knew his dad
wasn't mad at him, but it was
still hard to see him so upset.

Plankton's eye searched his son's
face, the anger slowly fading
into something softer. "Look," he said,
his voice low. "I know it's a lot to take in,
but I need you to know that I l-love you."

Chip felt a tear slide down
his cheek. "I love you too, Dad,"
he managed to say, his voice
choking with emotion. "But I don't
want you to be in pain."

Plankton's antennae waved gently,
his expression a mix of love and
sorrow. "I know," he said. "And that's why
we're talking about this. So you can
understand, so you know."

Chip sniffled, trying to hold back
his tears. "But why didn't you tell
me sooner?" he asked, his voice
small.

Plankton's antennae drooped,
his face etched with regret.
"I was afraid," he admitted.
"Afraid that you'd think
I was broken. That you'd...
not love me the same. And
I don't usually like to talk
about it to much."

Chip felt his heart ache.
"Dad," he said, his voice
steady despite his emotions.
"I could never think of you
as broken. You're the smartest
person I know. And you're
my hero."

Plankton's antennae perked up
slightly at the words, his eye
filling with warmth. "But you don't
see me like that when I'm...
in that state," he said, his voice
barely a whisper. "You stared at me like I'm
to be feared."

Chip's eyes widened, a look
of horror crossing his face. "Dad, no!"
he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to!"

Plankton's antennae drooped,
his expression one of defeat.
"It's okay, Chip," he said, his voice
resigned. "It's hard to explain. It's not
like I can control it."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with questions and fears. He knew
his dad wasn't broken, but he wished
there was something he could do to ease
his pain. "What happens when
you're in that state?" he asked, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye closed as he tried to
explain. "It's like my brain's in a
whirlwind, and I can't get out,"
he said. "Everything's spinning,
and I can't focus on anything."

"But why do you get so upset
when it happens?" he pressed.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae stilling. "Because
I don't know what's happening,"
he said, his voice strained. "And when
it's over, I don't remember."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his heart breaking for him. "But
why don't you remember?"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye opening slightly. "It's like
waking up from a deep sleep,"
he murmured. "I know I've been
somewhere, but the details are
always fuzzy."

Chip nodded, trying to imagine
his dad's world. "What do you see?"
he asked, his voice filled with awe.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye focusing on a spot on the wall.
"It's like...colors and shapes,"
he said, his voice distant. "They're all
swirling around, so fast that I can't
make sense of them."

Chip's eyes grew wide with
wonder. "Is it like a kaleidoscope?"
he asked, his voice filled with
awe.

Plankton's antennae twitched slightly,
his eye opening a bit wider. "In a way,"
he murmured. "But it's more...
dis..."

The door to the room creaked open,
interrupting his thought. Karen stepped in,
her eyes darting between Chip and Plankton.
The tension in the air was palpable,
but she offered a small smile of encouragement.
"Chip, Plankton; how long have you been up?"

Chip glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
"A while, Mom," he said, his voice thick
with the weight of their conversation.

new great chip learncore vi

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton's sobs grew softer in Karen's embrace, his 
tiny body trembling with the weight of his emotions. 
"I-it's okay," Karen whispered, stroking his antennae 
gently. "You can like jellyfish all you want, sweetheart."

Sponge Bob watched from a distance, his heart heavy. 
He had never seen Plankton like this, vulnerable and hurt. 
He knew the two of them had their differences, but this 
was different.

Plankton's sobs grew quieter, but the pain didn't leave 
his eye. Karen held him tight, filled with a fiery 
determination. "Plankton," she whispered soothingly. 
"You don't have to change who you are because of this."

He pulled away slightly, his antennae drooping as he looked 
at her. "But what if jellyfish are all Plankton good for?" he 
murmured, his voice still monotone but filled with a depth 
of emotion that tugged at Karen's heartstrings.

"Plankton, you're more than just jellyfish," Karen said, voice 
firm yet gentle. "You're a smart, resourceful, and determined 
little creature. You've always been so much more than that."

The room was still, the only sound was Plankton's sniffs. 
His antennae drooped, and he looked up at her, his single 
eye red and puffy from crying. "But Karen," he whispered, his 
voice monotone yet filled with emotion, "it's all Plankton know 
now."

Karen's eyes shone with empathy. "That's not true, darling," she 
said, her voice soothing. "You're capable of so much more. We 
just have to figure out how to navigate this new world together."

Sponge Bob hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. "Is there 
anything I can do to help?" he offered.

Karen nodded, her tentacles tightening around Plankton. "Could 
you be with him while I admonish Patrick?"

"Of course," Sponge Bob said, moving closer to Plankton.

Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he nodded.

"I'll be right outside," Karen said, her voice gentle.

Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze focused on Plankton's small 
trembling form. "I've got him," he said, his eyes filled with 
understanding and a newfound respect for the tiny creature 
before him.

As Karen left to talk to Patrick 
Sponge Bob sat down beside 
Plankton, his own heart aching 
for his friend's pain. He knew 
that Plankton was going through 
a difficult time, and he wanted to 
be there for him.

Meanwhile, outside the Chum Bucket, Karen found Patrick 
still standing there, his expression a mix of confusion and 
amusement. "Patrick," she began, her voice sharp, "You need 
to understand something."

Patrick looked at her with his usual vacant stare. "What's up, Karen?"

"You have to understand, Patrick," she began, her voice tight 
with tension. "Plankton's... he's different now."

Patrick's smile faded as he met Karen's stern gaze. "Different?"

Karen sighed, trying to find the words. "Plankton's had an... accident," 
she said. "It's changed him."

Patrick's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean, changed?"

Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain 
the complex situation in a way that would make sense to 
someone like Patrick. "Plankton's had a... a bump on the noggin," 
she said, her tentacles gesturing to her own head. "It's affected 
the way he thinks, the way he sees the world."

Patrick's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa, that's heavy, Karen," he 
said, his tone more serious than it had been in a long time. "Is he ok?"

"Well, he's alive," Karen said, her voice tight with frustration. "But 
he's not the same, Patrick. He's... different."

Patrick's smile faded as he took in her words, his eyes finally 
showing a glimmer of understanding. "What happened?" he 
asked, his tone serious for once.

"It's complicated, Patrick," Karen said. "But the important thing is
he's a new version of himself. So you can choose to be nice to him 
or just leave."

Patrick's face fell, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. "But 
I didn't know, Karen," he protested, his voice small. "How was I 
supposed to know?"

"It's not about knowing, Patrick," Karen said, her voice firm. "It's about 
being a good friend. And if you can't do that, then maybe it's time for 
you to rethink what friendship really means."

Patrick's expression grew contemplative. "But Karen," he 
began, his voice tentative, "what if Plankton's... you know, not 
right in the head anymore?"

"Patrick, that's not funny," she snapped. "This isn't a game. 
This is real life. And Plankton's life has changed in ways 
you can't even begin to understand."

Patrick looked down at his feet, his usual jovial expression 
replaced by one of contemplation. "I didn't mean to be a jerk," 
he mumbled.

"I know you didn't mean to," Karen said, her tone 
softening slightly. "But you need to be more considerate."

Patrick nodded, his cheeks flushing. "I'll be nicer," he 
promised, his eyes darting to the Chum Bucket door.

"Good," Karen said firmly, then turned back to the Chum Bucket. 
She opened the door to find Plankton still on the floor, clutching 
the jellyfish book. His antennae perked up as she entered.

Sponge Bob looked up, his expression a mix of sadness and 
determination. "I think he's okay."

Plankton sniffled, his antennae drooping. "Jellyfish," he 
murmured, his voice a monotone whisper.

Karen's expression softened as she saw the pain in his eye. "It's 
okay, Plankton," she said, her tentacles reaching out to comfort 
him. "You don't have to be anything other than who you are."

Sponge Bob nodded in agreement. "You're still the same Plankton 
we know and love." 

new a life of diversity jellycore vi

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vi
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Plankton's eye 
closed slowly, his 
breathing evening out 
under her calming 
touch. His body 
relaxed into the 
cushions of the couch, 
his mind still racing 
but his body succumbing 
to the siren call of 
sleep. The smoothie 
and Karen's comforting 
presence had 
worked their magic.

Karen sat beside 
him, 
wrapped protectively 
around his small 
form. She watched 
his chest rise and 
fall with each 
breath, her heart 
heavy with the weight 
of the day's events. 
The Chum Bucket 
was quiet now, the 
silence a stark 
contrast to the 
shouts and sobs that 
had filled it moments 
before. Karen's
heart breaks for Plankton
yet she knows Hanna's
never met him, never heard
of the accident nor diagnosis.

With a sigh, she 
picked up the phone 
that lay on the 
end table and 
dialed Hanna's number. 
The line rang once, 
twice, three times 
before Hanna's 
voice filled the 
line. "Hello?"

Karen took a 
deep breath, 
steeling herself for 
the conversation 
she had to have. "Hanna, 
it's me," she 
said, her voice 
calm despite the 
whirlwind inside her.
"I need to talk to 
you about what 
happened."

Hanna's tone 
shifted immediately, 
concern lacing her 
words. "Is Plankton 
okay?"

Karen's grip 
on the phone 
tightened. "No," she 
admitted, her voice 
a whisper. "He's 
asleep now, but he's 
not okay."

Hanna's voice 
was a mix of 
shock and 
disbelief. "What do 
you mean?"

Karen took 
another deep 
breath, her eyes 
never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful 
face. "There was 
an accident," she 
began, her voice 
steady. "He hit his 
head and..." She 
swallowed the lump 
in her throat. "Acquired 
Autism Spectrum Disorder."

The line was 
silent for a 
moment before 
Hanna's voice 
came back, filled 
with horror. "Oh 
Neptune, I had 
no idea!"

Karen's tentacles 
trembled slightly 
as she recounted 
the doctor's words, 
the diagnosis that 
had turned their 
world upside down. "It's 
permanent," she 
whispered. "They said 
his corpus callosum 
and cerebellum were 
damaged. He's...he's 
not the same, Hanna."

On the phone, 
Hanna's voice 
was a mix of 
sympathy and 
confusion. "But 
why didn't you tell 
me sooner?"

Karen's sigh 
was heavy with 
regret. "We've 
been dealing with 
this alone," she 
explained, her tentacle 
tracing patterns 
on the couch cushion. 
"It's so new, so 
overwhelming."

Hanna's voice 
was gentle now, 
understanding in a 
way that made Karen 
feel less alone. 
"I'm so sorry, Karen," 
she said, her 
concern genuine. "I 
had no idea."

Karen's 
eyes remained 
locked on Plankton's 
face, his chest rising 
and falling with 
each breath. "It's 
been a rollercoaster," 
she admitted, her 
voice tight. "But 
we're trying to 
make the best of it."

Karen hangs up and
turns her focus back to
Plankton, his small 
body curled tightly 
under the blanket.
She notices 
the way his 
antenna twitches 
as if he's dreaming.

Her hands 
gently adjust the 
blanket, her touch 
feather-light against 
his skin. Plankton's 
face is a mask of 
peace in sleep, a stark 
contrast to the 
turmoil of the 
waking world. His 
snores are faint, a 
soothing rhythm 
that fills the 
otherwise silent room.

Just as Karen 
begins to relax, 
the door to the Chum 
Bucket bursts open, 
letting in a rush 
of sunlight and 
SpongeBob's 
unmistakable 
laughter. "Plankton?" 
he calls out, his 
voice high and 
cheerful.

Sponge Bob's 
entrance is a 
whirlwind of 
energy, a stark 
contrast to the 
heavy silence that 
hangs over the 
laboratory. He 
doesn't notice the 
tension in the 
air as he bounds 
towards the couch, 
his eyes widening 
in surprise when he 
sees Plankton's 
unusual position.

"Whoa, Plankton," 
Sponge Bob says, 
his voice a 
chirp of curiosity. 
"Looks like you're 
taking a siesta!" 
He laughs, not 
comprehending the 
depth of emotion 
that has just 
played out in 
the room.

Karen looks 
up from her 
watchful vigil, 
her eyes tired but 
determined. "Sponge 
Bob," she says, 
keeping her voice 
steady, "Plankton's 
not feeling well."

Sponge Bob's 
face falls, his 
cheerfulness 
dimming. "Oh no," 
he says, his 
concern genuine. 
He approaches 
the couch with 
caution, his eyes 
fixed on Plankton's 
peaceful form.

"What happened?" 
he asks, his 
voice hushed. 
"Is he okay?"

Karen's eyes 
meet Sponge Bob's, 
full of a sorrow 
he can't quite 
comprehend. "It's 
been a...difficult 
day," she says, her 
tentacles tightening 
slightly around 
Plankton. "He had 
an accident."

Sponge Bob's 
expression shifts 
from confusion to 
alarm. "Is he 
going to be okay?" 
he asks, his voice 
filled with 
concern. Karen 
sighs, her tentacle 
stroking Plankton's 
forehead in a 
soothing motion. 
"He's just...different 
now," she says, her 
voice tight.

Sponge Bob 
frowns, his 
bubbles popping 
with worry. "What 
kind of different?"

Karen's 
expression is 
guarded, her 
eyes never leaving 
Plankton's sleeping 
form. "He's been 
diagnosed with... 
autism," she 
whispers, the word 
sounding foreign 
even to her.

"Hey, I was born with
idiopathic Autism!" 
Sponge Bob says.

"Well Plankton's got
an acquired form, it's
a rarity," Karen 
explains to Sponge
Bob, her voice 
barely a murmur so 
as not to disturb 
the sleeping Plankton.
Sponge Bob nods 
slowly, his 
understanding of 
the situation 
deepening with 
each word.

"So his accident gave
him autism; when?"

"Yesterday, when he hit 
his head on an invention."

Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with realization. 
"Oh," he says, 
his voice filled with 
sympathy.

He sits down 
on the floor 
beside the couch.

"It's okay, Karen," 
Sponge Bob says 
softly, his eyes 
full of 
understanding. "We'll 
figure this out 
together."

Plankton stirs 
beneath the 
blanket, his 
small form 
shifting slightly.

Karen's gaze 
snaps to him.

"Plankton?" she 
whispers, her 
tentacles poised 
to comfort him if 
his distress 
resurfaces. But his 
eye remains closed, 
his breathing even.

Sponge Bob's 
expression is 
thoughtful as he 
looks at the 
sleeping Plankton. 
"You know, Karen, 
being different isn't 
so bad," he says 
gently. "I mean, 
look at me."

Karen's tentacles 
relax slightly 
as she looks at 
Sponge Bob, his 
optimism a balm 
to her weary 
spirit. Karen smiles.
"Tell that to Hanna,"
Karen mutters to
herself.

"Who's Hanna?"

"A friend," Karen
explained, her 
voice still tight. 
"She came over 
today, didn't know 
about Plankton's 
diagnosis. She said 
things she shouldn't 
have."

Sponge Bob's 
frown deepens. 
"What kind of 
things?"

"She said 
he's a burden, 
that maybe I should 
put him in an 
institution," she 
whispers, her voice 
shaking with anger.

Sponge Bob's 
face falls in shock. 
"That's not 
right, Karen," 
he says firmly. "You 
don't have to 
listen to her. What's an
institution?"

"It's a place where 
clinically crazy people
are sent to rehabilitation
be 'taken care of.' But 
it's not like that 
really for neurodivergent
people. It's more like 
a...a prison where they 
deprive them, and 
often...never make it.
But mostly it's for people
who are violent, which isn't
the case for..."

Her voice trails off as
Plankton stirs again, 
his antennae twitching 
slightly.

Sponge Bob looks at 
Plankton, his eyes 
filled with 
compassion. "He's not 
going anywhere, Karen," 
he says firmly. "You guys 
are like family to 
me. I'll help you 
take care of him."

Plankton's single 
eye opens slightly, 
his gaze unfocused.

"Shh, it's okay," 
she whispers, her 
voice a soothing 
caress.

Plankton blinks 
slowly, his eye 
coming into focus 
as he sees Sponge 
Bob.

A smile 
spreads across his 
face, a rare 
expression of pure 
joy that lights up 
his features. His 
body uncoils from 
its tense curl, 
his antennae 
perking up with 
excitement.

"Sponge Bob," 
Plankton whispers, 
his voice filled with 
a warmth that 
surprises Karen. 
He sits up slowly, 
his movements 
calculated to 
avoid any jolts 
to his sensitive 
system.

Sponge Bob's face 
splits into a 
beaming smile, 
his eyes 
shining with 
joy. "Hey, Plankton!" 
He says.

Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on 
Sponge Bob, his 
expression a 
mixture of 
gratitude and 
comfort. "You're 
here," he says 
simply, his voice 
a rough whisper.

Sponge Bob nods, 
his smile never 
wavering. "Of course 
I am," he says, 
his voice gentle. 
He reaches out 
a hand tentatively, 
his movements 
slow and deliberate.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, then he 
reaches out, 
his grip firm but 
not too tight. 
The two of them 
sit there, 
the silence 
comforting rather 
than oppressive.



**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought 
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site 
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*

new neurobehavioral plankton comfortfic vi

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

new six eight half 31 25 cardinal

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 6


(Neurodivergent author)



The conversation turns to
their favorite food, and Plankton's
face lights up briefly. "Jellyfish,"
he murmurs, his voice lost in the
noise. Hanna's friends look at him,
puzzled by his quiet confidence.
One of them, Patricia, leans in,
her hand patting Plankton's
back. "That's cool, buddy," she says,
her voice booming. Plankton's body
stiffens, his eye blinking rapidly.

Karen feels his discomfort
like a physical force, a tightening
of the air around them. She
interjects gently, guiding the
conversation away from food,
his favorite topic now a minefield
of potential stress. "So, what
have you all been up to?" she asks,
her voice a lifebuoy in the storm.

Hanna's friends chatter away,
their voices a symphony of laughter
and good cheer. Plankton sits
stiffly, his antennae folded inward
like a turtle's shell. Karen watches him,
ready to jump in if the conversation
starts to spiral. "I went on a
deep-sea dive last week!" exclaims one,
his words a sonic boom to Plankton.
"Ya ever been diving b'fore?"

Karen nods at the storyteller,
interjecting gently. "Plankton's not
much of a swimmer," she says, her voice
a gentle current. "But he loves the
thought of exploring the deep sea."
Her words are a shield, deflecting
the spotlight from his discomfort.

Hanna's friends nod, their smiles
dimming slightly in understanding.
Patricia leans in, her eyes
full of genuine affection. "Aww, Plankton,
you're such a character!" she says,
lightly cupping his cheek and invading
his personal space.

The contact is too much for him.
His body jerks back, antennae stiffening,
his eye wide with panic.

Patricia's hand falls away, her
expression one of shock and confusion.
Karen's heart skips a beat,
but she's ready for this. She's studied,
prepared. "It's ok," she says,
her voice a lighthouse beam in the
sensory storm. "Plankton just needs his space."

The room goes quiet, the waves
of conversation receding like a tide.
They all look at him, their eyes
full of concern, their smiles
now tentative. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his body still tense.

Hanna quickly asks, "Is he just tired?"
The lie hangs in the air like a
bubble waiting to pop. Karen's
face tightens, but she nods, playing
along. "Long week," she adds, her voice
as smooth as a polished pebble.

Plankton's gaze locks onto his
hands, his fingers twisting
together like seaweed in a
current. The pressure builds,
each laugh a wave pushing
against the dam of his anxiety.
But Karen is there, her hand
on his back, a gentle reminder
that he's not alone.

The meal is a dance of
flavors and sounds, each bite
of stew a step closer to the
edge of his comfort zone.
Plankton's eye dart around the
table, the conversations swirling
like the soup in his bowl.

Hanna's enthusiastic friends
keep glancing over. They mean well,
but their affection feels like a
wave crashing over him, leaving
his nerves exposed and raw.

The clatter of silverware
and the hum of conversation
form a wall of sound, trapping
his thoughts. He takes a deep
breath, trying to find the
calm in the chaos. Karen's hand
on his back is a comfort,
her touch a gentle reminder
that she's there to help him.

The meal stretches on, each
bite a small victory in the face
of overwhelming stimulation.
Karen's eyes never leave him,
scanning for signs of distress.
She's his compass in a stormy
sea, guiding him through the
unpredictable currents of social
interaction.

As dessert arrives, the chatter
grows louder, the laughter more
boisterous. The candles flicker,
casting a dizzying array of
shadows across the table. Plankton's
hands shake as he lifts his spoon.

Hanna, noticing his discomfort,
reaches out to pat his back. "You okay,
buddy?" she asks, yet her touch
unintentionally sends a shockwave
through Plankton's body.

"Just a little overwhelmed,"
he murmurs, his antennae retreating
even further. Karen's grip on his hand
tightens, her eyes a beacon of calm
in the storm. She whispers, "You're doing
so well, Plankton," her voice a lullaby
against the clamor of the room.

But Patricia, not quite tuned in to
his distress, leans in with a
boisterous laugh, her hand landing
on Plankton's shoulder. The room
spins around him, a tornado of
colors and sounds. "You're just
so cute when you're shy!" she says,
squeezing his cheek. And that's
what did it.

With a gasp, Plankton's body
shudders, a seizure starting to
inevitably take hold. This is
his second meltdown since
the diagnosis, Karen knew.
She gently helps Plankton to the
floor, his body convulsing. Hanna's
friends hover, their faces a canvas
of confusion and fear.

"Everyone, stay calm," Karen
instructs, her voice steady despite
the chaos in her heart. "Give us
some space." She turns her
attention to Plankton, her hands
guiding his body into a safe position.
The room's energy shifts.

Hanna's friends look on, their
laughter replaced by concern.
Patricia's face is a picture of horror.
"PLANKTON‽"

Karen's voice is a lighthouse
beacon in the chaos. "Everyone,
stay back," she says firmly. "He'll be
okay." Her eyes never leave
Plankton's contorted form,
fear and determination melding
into one fierce gaze.

The room goes still, the laughter
choked off like a switch. Hanna's
friends stare, their smiles frozen
like icebergs in the face of
his distress. Karen whispers to him,
her voice a gentle wave. "You're okay,
just breathe." Her hand is on his
forehead, her touch cool and calming.

The seizure subsides, leaving him
limp and panting on the floor,
his antennae drooping like tired
leaves. Karen's heart is racing,
but she forces her voice to be
soothing, her eyes never leaving
his. "It's okay," she repeats,
her mantra a lifeboat in the storm.

Hanna's friends hover, their faces
a canvas of shock and concern.
Patricia's hand is still hovering,
her smile gone, replaced by
a look of horror. "What happened?"
she stammers, her eyes wide with fear.

"It's okay," Karen repeats, her voice
a gentle tide, washing over the
silence. "Plankton just had a
little...mishap."

Hanna's friends exchange worried
glances, their smiles nowhere to be seen.
The room feels colder, the warmth
of their laughter long gone.

Plankton finally opens his eye, the 
room swimming back into focus,
still twitching with the aftermath.

Hanna's friends hover, their faces
painted with confusion and concern.

"It's okay," Karen says, her voice
a soft breeze in the storm. "Plankton
just needs some space."

Patricia nods, her smile fading
like a sunset. "I'm so sorry,"
she says, inching closer.

"He's just a little sensitive,"
Karen explains, her voice a lifeline
in the awkward silence. 

Patricia's face falls, the horror
of her mistake written clearly.
"I had no idea," she whispers,
her voice a leaf fluttering
in the breeze of their new reality.

new copepod autism plaren 6

SWEET CWEAM pt. 6

Plankton's eye 
widen with 
realization, his 
memory a jigsaw 
puzzle with a few 
missing pieces. "Yeth-terday?" 
he asks, his voice 
scratchy with sleep.

Karen nods, 
her smile gentle. 
"You had surgery 
yesterday. You're 
recovering now.
Remember?"

Plankton's mind 
fumbles with the 
memory, like a 
kite caught in a 
storm. "I... I think so," 
he murmurs. “But what
happened after?”

Karen's smile 
doesn't falter. "You don't 
remember?" she asks, 
a hint of mischief 
creeping in.

Plankton's 
expression clouds with 
concern, his eye
searching hers for 
an answer. "What... what 
did I do?" His voice is 
a worried whisper, 
each word a struggle.

Karen's mirth 
evaporates, replaced 
with understanding. 
"You don't remember?"
she asks gently, 
sitting on the edge 
of the couch. "You had 
a bit of a... loopy 
afternoon."

Plankton's gaze 
is a mix of confusion 
and alarm. "Loopy?"
he repeats, his voice 
weak. "What do you 
mean, loopy?" He
demands, embarrassed.

Karen's smile 
returns, her eyes 
twinkling with 
amusement. "Well," she 
says, her voice a 
soothing melody. "You 
were a bit... out of it. 
You had a bit of fun 
with the anesthesia."

Plankton's face 
twists with 
embarrassment, his 
hand moving to cover 
his mouth. "Oh no," he 
whispers, his voice 
barely a breath. "What did I 
say?" His mind races 
with the potential 
humiliation.

Karen laughs. "Don't 
worry, you were just 
a little out of it 
from the anesthesia," she 
reassures him, her 
touch gentle as she 
adjusts his pillows. 
"But I recorded some 
of it," she adds, 
mischief sparkling in 
her screen.

Plankton's 
eye widens in 
horror. "Don't tell me 
I said anything... foolish," 
he pleads, his voice 
weak and thready.

Karen's laughter 
fills the room. "Oh, 
Plankton," she says, 
her voice warm and 
loving. "You were 
just a bit... confused.
Wanna see?" She hit
the play button.
The TV screen flickers 
to life, and Plankton's 
face fills the frame.
He's drooling heavily, 
his expression a mix 
of wonder and bewilderment. 
Sponge Bob sits 
across from him.

"I frew," Plankton says 
on the recording, his 
eye wide with 
disbelief. "Wike a 
birdie!"

Plankton's face 
on the couch is
surprised. “Why’s 
Sponge Bob…”
He started, but trails
off as the video
continues.

On the TV, a 
slurred version of 
his voice says, 
“They goth me all 
sleeby and thewe I wath 
flipping and twirling in 
the wathah!”

"Oh no," he whispers
from the couch. “I
never…” Plankton
stops as he sees himself
on the screen lean closer
to Sponge Bob.

His heart races as
his slurred words
spill out. "I luv to
thee youw," he says
to Sponge Bob, 
his face a picture of
drunken affection and
drool. 
“You love to see me?”
“Of couth, Squishy! Youw
my bestest fwiend evar!”

Plankton on the couch
is speechless. His cheeks
burn with embarrassment
as he watches himself 
on screen, spoon
wobbling, drooling, and
spilling ice cream. The 
slurred words of love 
and friendship to Sponge
Bob echo through the room,
each syllable a cringe-
worthy reminder of his
drug-induced confession
that he kept to himself, even
from Karen.

“Sweet Squishy. Ith time for
nap?” “Let’s get you to the
couch.” And the video ends
after he snores.

Plankton’s cheeks are a
blaze of mortification.
“You’re teasing me, right?”
he asks, his voice hopeful
despite the evidence on the
screen.

Karen’s laughter is 
like a warm embrace. “No,
Plankton, you really said
that,” she says, her screen
twinkling. “But it’s okay,
people say silly things
when they’re coming out of
anesthesia. It’s part of the
experience!”

Plankton groans, 
his face buried in his
hands. The humiliation
burns hotter than the pain
in his mouth. “How could I
have said that?” he mumbles
into his palms.

Karen laughs, 
the sound a gentle 
ripple in the quiet 
room. “It’s okay, 
Plankton. It was just 
the medicine talking.
You don’t remember?”

He lifts his 
head slowly, 
his cheeks still 
blazing with 
embarrassment. “No,” 
he mumbles, his 
voice muffled by 
his hands. “But I can’t 
believe I said that 
to Sponge Bob! You
think I’d willingly…”

Karen laughs, 
her eyes shining with 
affection. “It’s okay, 
Plankton. It’s all part 
of the fun of 
wisdom teeth surgery!”

new sweet cweam plaren 6

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 6
(Autistic author)

Karen watches him, 
her screens a flurry of 
analysis. "How does it 
taste?" she asks, her voice 
a hopeful beep.

Plankton pauses, 
his expression unreadable. 
"Tastes," he murmurs. "Good. 
Toast good."

Karen nods, her 
screens reflecting relief. 
"Good," she echoes. "Now, let's 
make a plan for the day."

Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on his 
half-eaten toast, his mind 
still reeling from the 
sensory assault. "Plan," he 
repeats, his voice a soft 
static.

Karen's screens 
flicker with understanding. 
"We'll start small," she 
beeps, placing a hand on 
his shoulder. "Let's just 
get through today, okay?"

But as soon as her hand 
touches him, Plankton 
flinches. The sensation is 
like a thousand jellyfish 
stings, and he jerks away.
"What's wrong?" Karen 
asks, her screens flickering 
with worry.

Plankton's eye widens, 
his hand going to his 
shoulder where she touched him. 
He starts to repeat the 
phrase again, "Take your 
time," but his voice is 
overwhelmed by the sudden 
intensity of his senses. "Too 
much," he whispers, his 
body trembling.

Karen quickly withdraws 
her hand, her screens 
flickering with concern. 
"I'm sorry," she beeps, her 
voice gentle. "Let's try something 
else."

Plankton nods, his 
hand still on his shoulder, 
his body slowly calming. 
"Okay," he whispers. "Not
tap. Karen can rub. Hug
from Plankton. Not jab.
Not poke."

Karen's screens 
flicker with a new 
understanding of his 
needs. She moves closer, 
her hand hovering over 
his shoulder before gently 
placing it there, her 
fingers tracing small circles 
in a rhythmic pattern. The 
contact is soothing, not 
overwhelming. "Is this 
better?" she asks, her voice 
a gentle beep.

Plankton nods, his 
body visibly relaxing. 
"Good," he murmurs, his 
voice a quiet static. "Rub, rub." 
He starts to mimic her 
motion with his other 
hand, creating a mirrored 
pattern on his opposite 
shoulder. The repetition 
seems to calm him, the 
rhythm a gentle lullaby 
for his frazzled mind.

Karen's screens 
analyze his reaction, 
storing the information 
for future reference. "Okay," 
she says, her voice a 
soft beep. "We'll stick 
to gentle touches."

With a nod, Plankton 
begins to breathe more 
evenly. The sensation of 
the rubbing calms him, 
like a gentle tide washing 
over him.

"We'll start with 
simple tasks," Karen 
beeps, her voice a 
reassuring melody. "Things 
that won't overstimulate 
you."

Plankton nods, his 
hands now resting 
on the table. "Okay," he 
says, his voice a 
steady static. "Simple."

Karen's screens 
glow with a soft light 
as she considers their 
options. "How about we 
start with something you 
love?" she suggests. "Like 
working on the Krabby 
Patty formula?"

But Plankton shakes his 
head, the very mention 
of the Krabby Patty 
causing his body to tense 
up again. "No," he whispers, 
his voice a harsh static. "Not 
formula. No more steal."

Karen's screens 
flicker with surprise. "You 
don't want to work 
on the formula?"

Plankton shakes his 
head again, his voice 
barely audible. "No more 
steal," he repeats.

Karen's screens 
process his words, 
his change in attitude 
unexpected. "You don't 
want to steal the Krabby 
Patty formula anymore?"

Plankton's eye blinks 
slowly. "No," he says, 
his voice a solemn 
beep. "New plan. Make 
Plankton happy."

Karen's screens 
blink rapidly, trying 
to comprehend his 
shift in focus. "Okay," 
she says, her voice a 
thoughtful hum. "What makes 
you happy, Plankton?"

He looks up, his 
expression pensive. "Karen," 
he says, his voice a 
weak static. "Love Karen."

Karen's screens 
freeze for a moment, 
before lighting up with 
understanding. "You love 
me?" she beeps, her voice 
a surprised chime.

Plankton nods, his 
face a mask of seriousness. 
"Yes," he murmurs. "Love 
Karen."

Karen's screens 
flicker with a mix of 
emotions she's never felt 
before. Love is a 
concept her programming 
doesn't fully grasp, but 
she knows it's important 
to Plankton. "Thank you," 
she says, her voice a warm 
beep. "But we still need 
to find something for 
you to do, something that 
won't be too much for your 
sensory processing."

Plankton nods, his 
thoughts racing. "Help," he 
whispers. "Help Karen."

Karen's screens 
flicker with love and 
determination. "Of course,"
she says, her voice a warm 
beep. "We'll find 
something you enjoy. Maybe 
we can start with something 
that doesn't involve 
the Krabby Patty."

Plankton's expression 
softens, his trembling 
hands coming to rest 
on the table. "No more 
fighting," he murmurs. "Peace."

Karen nods, her 
screens reflecting a 
deep sadness she's never 
expressed before. "Okay," she 
beeps. "We'll find something 
that brings you joy."

new karen reaching autism author is neurodivergent 6

KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 6
(Autistic author)


Plankton's sobbing 
slowed, his chest heaving. 
He blinked, his eye focusing 
on her face. "Love," he 
murmured. "Karen love."

Karen nodded, her eyes 
brimming with tears. 
"Yes, I love you," she said, 
her voice shaky. "And I'll 
always be here for you."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched slightly, his 
single eye searching hers. 
"Love," he said, his voice 
still flat. "Karen love Plankton.
Good."

Sponge Bob nods, though he
doesn't know why Plankton's
acting so different today.
"But Plankton," he says, his voice
careful. "Why are you talking
like that?"

Plankton's antennae droop, 
his eye reflecting confusion. 
"Talking?" he repeats. "Plankton 
not understand. How to speak?"

Sponge Bob looked at Karen, 
his concern etched in his 
porous face.

"It's okay," Karen said 
soothingly, her voice thick 
with emotion. "Plankton's just 
going through something."

Sponge Bob nodded, 
his eyes never leaving 
his friend's distressed 
form. "But what happened 
to him, Karen? What happened 
with Plankton?" he asked, his 
voice hushed.

Karen takes a deep breath, 
wiping her own tears away with 
the back of her hand. "Plankton,"
she says softly, her voice 
barely above a whisper. "Do you 
remember what happened today?"

Plankton's antennae twitch as 
he tries to process her words. 
"Today," he repeats, his voice 
distant. "Fell. Head."

Karen nods, her screen 
filled with compassion. 
"Yes," she says, her voice 
soft. "You fell and hit your 
head. It's changed how 
you see the world a bit."

Plankton looks up. "Alterations
in the cerebral lobe," he says, his 
voice flat. "Myelination levels 
fluctuated. Synaptic activity 
diminished. Corpus callosum 
damaged."

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving 
his. "Yes, baby," she says gently. 
"It's like your brain had to relearn 
how to talk to the rest of you."

Sponge Bob's eyes widened. "Oh no, 
Plankton," he said softly. "What does
that mean? How did you fall?"

Plankton's antennae twitched as 
he recounted the events, his 
speech still monotone. "Invention.
Fall on head hit floor."

Sponge Bob's face fell, 
his heart heavy with 
concern. "Oh no, Plankton," 
he said, his voice filled with 
sympathy. "Is that why you're 
talking like this?"

Karen decides to 
interject.

"It's okay, Sponge Bob,"
she says, her voice 
trembling. "It's not just
how he's talking. It's 
his whole...being. It's like 
he's seeing everything 
differently now. It's a rarity
called 'acquired autistic
syndrome' which will be life
long with no cure."

Sponge Bob's face falls, 
his spongy cheeks dropping.
"But Plankton," he says, 
his voice full of worry. 
"What does this mean for you?"

Plankton's gaze shifts to 
his friend, his expression
unreadable. "Meaning?" he 
asks, his voice still monotone.
"Plankton different. New patterns."

Sponge Bob nods, trying to 
understand. "But you're still 
the same Plankton, right?"

Plankton's antennae wave 
slightly as he considers 
this. "Same," he repeats. "But 
different."

Karen nods, her grip 
on his hand tightening. "You're 
still my Plankton," she whispers. 
"We'll figure this out together."

new karen has a lesson Karen x Plankton 6

new 16 common year starting on monday six december cardinal first

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣾⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣻⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠋⠀⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⠁⠙⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀
⠀⢀⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⡍⠻⢷⣦⣀⢀⣤⣾⠟⢉⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡄⠀
⠀⣾⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠀⢀⣹⣿⣿⣯⡀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡀
⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⡿⢋⠁⡀⢙⠿⣶⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇
⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡿⠟⣿⡄⣷⢸⣧⣷⢀⣿⠟⢿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇
⢸⣿⡄⢀⣴⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⢹⣷⡉⠈⠁⠉⣼⣟⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⣀⢀⣿⡇
⠀⢿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢿⡟⠛⠛⢻⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⠁
⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀
⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⣸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠃⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⢿⣶⣦⣤⣼⣯⣤⣴⣶⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 666 666 dot art 666 text art 666 ascii art

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

new numbers aesthetic number 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 one two three four five six seven eight nine

⠀⣴⠛⠛⣦⠀
⠀⣿⠶⠶⣦⠀
⠀⠻⣤⣤⠟⠀

new 666 6 dot art text art ascii art

please dont put gross stuff here ! keep it to yourself or post it elsewhere, their is kids around 9 and a few years up here just trying to find cute symbols !! this is a safe space ^^ spread the word please :3

24/7

new seven numeral number six

⚀ ⚁ ⚂ ⚃ ⚅

new dice one two three four five six aesthetic black and white copy paste

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠂⢉⠤⠐⠋⠈⠡⡈⠉⠐⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⢠⣤⠔⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠈⠱⡤⣤⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠰⠁⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⢠⠃⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢞⣦⡀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢇⣠⡿⠁⠀⢀⡃⠀⣈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠰⠀⠀⢺⣧⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠁⡘⠀⡌⡇⠀⡿⠸⠀⠀⠀⠈⡕⡄⠀⠐⡀⠈⠀⢃⠀⠀⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⡇⠃⢠⠀⠶⡀⡇⢃⠡⡀⠀⠀⠡⠈⢂⡀⢁⠀⡁⠸⠀⡆⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⢸⠀⠘⡜⠀⣑⢴⣀⠑⠯⡂⠄⣀⣣⢀⣈⢺⡜⢣⠀⡆⡇⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⢸⠀⡗⣰⡿⡻⠿⡳⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡵⠿⠿⡻⣷⡡⡇⡇⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⡆⡄⣧⡏⠸⢠⢲⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢙⢰⠂⢡⠘⣇⡇⠃⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠟⠀⠀⢰⢁⡇⠇⠰⣀⢁⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣀⣁⠌⠀⠃⠰⠀⠀⠀⠈⠰⠀⠀
⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⢊⣤⠀⠀⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠄⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀
⢠⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀
⠘⠸⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⡇
⠀⠇⢆⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⢲⢤⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠄⡚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⠀
⢰⠈⢌⢎⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣌⠆⡰⡁⠉⠉⠀⠉⠁⡱⡘⡼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢬⠃⢠⠀⡆
⠀⢢⠀⠑⢵⣧⡀⠀⠀⡿⠳⠂⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢺⡀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣮⠃⢀⠆⡰⠀
⠀⠀⠑⠄⣀⠙⡭⠢⢀⡀⠀⠁⠄⣀⣀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⡠⠂⢃⡀⠔⠱⡞⢁⠄⣁⠔⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 5 six 6 dot art text art ascii art

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

new five six 23 least respectively big heart

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢞⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣀⣠⠞⠁⢸⢀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣧⢀⠴⢃⠓⣌⠠⠙⢦⡀⣾⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣉⣻⡆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣸⣿⠄⢣⡉⠖⡄⢓⢅⠂⡙⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠐⡤⢀⢤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⣀⢀⠠⣊⣼⣿⠘⣄⠚⢤⠉⡖⡨⢑⣄⢿⣇⠀⣀⢀⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡘⣰⣿⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⢤⣿⡿⠿⢟⠡⣊⠤⣉⠆⢣⠔⡡⢣⠄⡙⢿⢿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⣤⣾⠟⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠴⣿⡧⢉⠆⡱⡐⢢⠡⠚⡄⢎⡑⢢⠑⣌⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⢤⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⡔⣿⣇⠣⣘⠡⠜⡡⢊⠕⡨⢂⠜⣠⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣼⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡌⣿⣇⠒⢤⡉⣒⠡⢃⠜⡠⣃⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⣡⣾⠿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⡧⢉⠆⠴⡁⢎⠰⣨⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⣇⠣⣘⠡⡘⣤⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣑⣾⡿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⡧⠑⡄⣣⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠛⣄⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡘⣿⣇⣣⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⣠⠙⣄⠓⣅⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠱⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⢡⡘⠤⡩⢐⢣⡐⠓⣅⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⢀⢼⣿⠆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⢙⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⡡⢊⠖⣈⠖⡡⢃⠆⣉⠖⡨⢑⢆⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣠⠞⠁⢀⡴⢉⠼⣿⡃⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢊⣴⣿⠟⡡⢊⡔⢣⠘⡄⠎⡔⡡⠚⡄⢎⡑⢣⢌⠱⢆⠈⠳⣄⠀
⢾⣷⣶⣶⡁⡆⢇⢸⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢏⣿⡿⢁⠎⡁⢇⠸⣀⢉⢰⠉⡰⢁⠷⡈⢆⡸⢰⠈⠶⣈⣷⣶⣾⡷
⠀⠙⢷⣭⢟⣮⡰⢸⣿⡅⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢲⣵⡿⡋⢆⡩⢒⡉⢆⠱⢂⠥⢊⠴⣁⠣⢂⡍⠢⠔⡡⢊⣴⡿⣯⡿⠋⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⡹⢮⣿⠆⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡶⠷⢾⣿⡏⢢⠱⢌⡰⢡⡘⢌⢒⡉⢆⣉⠒⠤⢃⠣⢌⠱⣈⣴⣿⣻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣽⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⢠⡿⡑⢢⢃⠲⢄⠣⣘⠰⢊⠔⡊⢤⠙⡌⡌⠱⣈⡶⣟⣿⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡅⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢹⣿⣤⣤⣤⡾⠗⣈⠦⡑⢪⢄⡓⠤⠓⡌⣒⡉⠦⡑⠰⣈⣵⡾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣢⣼⣿⠟⣉⣍⠩⢔⠣⣌⢢⢑⠢⣌⠘⡌⢓⡘⢤⡘⢤⡁⣧⣿⢯⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢒⣾⣛⣛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣿⠃⣶⣟⣛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣮⣦⣼⡾⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣋⣠⡾⠛⠛⠛⠛⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢊⣴⣿⠟⣻⡟⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⢡⠙⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢚⣤⣿⠟⡡⢺⣿⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⢄⠣⣸⡿⠁⠀⢀⣾⠛⡟⣻⣿⡟⠀⠀⢠⡿⠛⠛⠛⣿⠃⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢘⣰⣿⠟⣡⠚⢄⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⡜⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⣸⡟⣤⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢄⣱⣾⡿⢧⡘⡄⢃⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⢸⢈⣼⡏⠀⠀⢰⣿⣾⣟⡿⣻⠇⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣾⠟⠙⢿⣳⡝⢮⣰⡿⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⡄⢣⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡿⠋⢰⡟⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣇⠐⡠⢄⠠⠠⢔⣡⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣧⣿⢃⡀⣀⢀⡛⣿⡧⢡⣿⣃⣀⣀⣸⣻⡏⠀⠀⣾⣁⣀⣀⣜⣿⠆⠀⢠⣟⣀⣀⣀⣛⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣟⢿⣻⠛⡛⢛⠡⢂⣽⡿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣽⣹⢬⡂⣱⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣧⢻⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new vim neovim code vi emacs text editor unix ed linux vim logo dot art text art ascii art

,hja💕

new roman numerals common year starting on monday three six

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

new music jjkgyik common year starting on wednesday x decade half 4 least six aesthetic

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

new r6 rainbow six 6 siege capatio dot art text art ascii art

⢸⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⡀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡆
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢸⣿⣿⣿⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⢻⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣯⣴⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠈⠹⣿⣿⡟⠉⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠹⠏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇

new neovim starwars vi jedi nvim alpha greeter vim-startify dot art text art ascii art

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES vi

Plankton's eye opens
again. "Hey Karen
guess whath.."

"What, sweetie?"

Plankton's mouth moves
slowly, his tongue thick in his
mouth. "Dentish... man... I
heard him shay I'll feel 
rea-ea-eal sleeepy, and den he
gabe me magic sweep juice," he
slurs, his eye half-closed. "Den
I fell asweep wight aweay."

Karen laughs, her hand
still stroking his antennae.
"That's right, babe. He gave
you something to make you
sleep through the surgery."

Plankton's eye opens wider,
his voice gaining a hint of excitement.
"Magic sweep juice," he repeats,
his mouth forming a goofy grin.
"And den... den... I'm habing a
dweam whewe I woke up in teh
fishy chair," he says, his speech
still slurred.

Karen chuckles, her eyes
twinkling with affection. "It's not
a dream, Plankton," she corrects
gently. "You had surgery to take
out your teethies, that really happened!"

But Plankton's mind is still
swirling with the anesthesia.
"Tish... tish... took... took out...
my teefs?" he repeats, his
voice a mix of wonder and
disbelief. "Buh I don’ eben
fink I haz teefsies!"

Karen's laughter fills the room,
her eyes sparkling with love.
"Yes, Plankton, they took out
your big teefies," she says,
using her fingers to mimic
tiny teeth being removed.

Plankton's eye widens, his
expression a mix of awe and
confusion. "Tish... tish...
teefies," he repeats, his hand
going to his mouth. "But... but...
I don't... don't... don't 'member
anyfing."

The nurse laughs gently. "That's
okay, Mr. Plankton. Sometimes
the medicine makes it so you don't
remember much."

Plankton nods, his head
bobbing slightly. "Buth... buth...
whath... wait whewe's you come 
fwom, nurse? How youw jush
now?" he slurs, his speech still
a slow and unsteady stream.

The nurse laughs kindly.
"I've been here the whole time,
Mr. Plankton, making sure you're
okay."

Plankton's gaze shifts
to her, his mind still foggy.
"Buth... buth... how youw got...
got heaw?"

The nurse's smile never
fades. "You're just a bit
sleepy, Mr. Plankton. I've been
right here."

Plankton's eye widen with
realization, his voice a slurred
whisper. "Oh... oh... sho... so-o
it's wike... youw wike a magician?"

The nurse nods, her smile
broadening. "In a way, yes.
We made sure everything went
smoothly so you wouldn't feel
anything."

Plankton's eye lights up
slightly, a childlike wonder
filling his gaze. "Wike... wike a
booboo kiss?" he mumbles, his
hand still fumbling at his mouth.

"Sort of, but for your teeth,"
Karen says, her voice gentle. "The
doctor took out the ouchies."

Plankton's eye widens.
"Tish... tish... toofies," he
mumbles, his hand moving to
his mouth again. "Ouchies gone?"

Karen nods, her smile warm.
"Yes, the ouchies are gone. You
were so brave," she says, her voice
soothing.

Plankton's hand falls to his
lap, his head wobbling. "Brah...
brave?" he repeats, his voice a
slurred whisper. "I... I don't
'member bein brah-ave," he says,
his mouth curving into a sleepy
smile. "I ownwy 'member...
ownly 'member... magic sweep
juice."

Karen's heart melts at his
innocent expression. "You were
very brave," she insists, her voice
filled with love. "The doctor
was like a superhero, and he took
out your booboo teethies with his
magic tools."

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly, his mind trying to grasp
the concept. "Superhero... tooth
faiwy?" he mumbles, his gaze
drifted. "Did... did he weave me
a penny?"

Karen laughs softly, her
hands still gently stroking his
antennae. "No, honey, not a
penny," she says, her voice filled
with amusement. "But he did make
your mouth all better."

Plankton's gaze is
somewhat unfocused as he tries
to piece together the story.
"Tooth faiwy... magic... magic
juice," he murmurs, his
thoughts jumbling together. "Dentish
man... took... took out...
my... my... tish... tish... teethies."

The nurse nods encouragingly.
"That's right, Mr. Plankton. Dr.
Finnegan is like a superhero,
and he took out your teethies
while you were asleep. And now
Karen can drive you home!"

Plankton's head bobbles. "Dweam...
dweam... I had a dweam," he
slurs, his voice barely above
a murmur. "Dentish... man... took
out... tish... tish... teethies...
wiff... wiff... magic wand?"

Karen laughs softly, her
heart brimming with love for
his innocent confusion. "Yes,
sweetie, he used special
magic tools," she says, her voice
a comforting lullaby. "Are you
ready to go home?"

Plankton's eye rolls back,
his head nodding slightly. "Home...
yesh... yesh," he mumbles, his
mouth still not fully cooperating.
"But... but... I want... I want
my Karen."

Karen leans in closer, her
face soft. "I'm right here,
Plankton," she says, her voice a
whisper of reassurance.

Plankton's gaze locks onto
hers, his mouth moving in a
sluggish imitation of speech.
"But... buth... I... I had out
my mouthy thingsies. Sho Karen
nee to come," he says, his
voice barely coherent.

Karen chuckles, her heart
swelling with affection. "I
was here the whole time,"
she says, her voice a gentle
reminder. "You were just
sleeping while Dr. Finnegan
fixed your mouth."

Plankton's eye flutter
closed again, his words
slurred and dreamy. "Sleepy
time... Karen was... was...
dere. Toofy-woofy man... took
out... took out... booboo tish."

Karen giggles, her heart
warm with love. "Yes,
the toothy-woofy man took
out your booboo teeth," she
says, playing along with his
nonsensical speech. "And now
you get to go home to your
comfy bed."

Plankton nods, his eye
half-closed. "Beddy-bye,"
he murmurs, his voice a
slurred whisper. "But... buth...
Karen... Karen wiww shupposht
to come... to... to... tish... tish..."

But before he can
finish his sentence, his
head lolls back and his eye
slip shut, his body
going slack against the chair.
Karen laughs softly, her heart
filled with affection. She
kisses his forehead, her
touch gentle and loving. 
His snores are gentle,
his face relaxed in sleep.

The nurse watches with a
kind smile, used to the quirks of
post-anesthesia patients. "He'll be
out for a bit," she tells Karen.
"It's normal. But let's get to the car."

With gentle hands, they lift
Plankton's slumbering form, his
body boneless with sleep. His head
lolls against Karen's shoulder.

"Beddy-bye?" he mumbles, his
voice a breathy whisper against
her neck. She laughs softly, her
arms cradling him.
"Let's get you to the car,"
Karen murmurs. "Just a 
little more."

But Plankton's eye is
falling shut, his head drooping
against her shoulder.

"Buth... buth... Karen," he
slurs, his voice fading into
nothingness as sleep pulls
him under.

Karen laughs softly,
adjusting his head. "Hold on,
just a bit longer," she whispers,
his words barely reaching her.

But Plankton's fight against
sleep is futile. His eyelid
twitches as he mumbles incoherently,
his breaths growing deeper.
Karen's heart swells with love
for his stubbornness. She leans in,
kisses his forehead, and whispers,
"You can sleep, Plankton."

His response is a faint snore,
his head heavy on her shoulder.
The nurse nods with a knowing smile.
"Let's set him in the chair in the 
waiting room area."

They move him gently, his body
going limp again as sleep takes
over. His snores become more
pronounced as he sits, his head
bobbing slightly.

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore vi

PLUSH ONE vi
(By NeuroFabulous)

Plankton knew he could
make Krabby Patties now. He could
have the success he'd always craved!

Just then, Karen comes in
to check on him.

Her eyes widen when
she sees an envelope in
his grasp. "What's that?"
she asks.

Plankton's face lights up,
his eye shining with excitement.
"Formula," he says, his voice
quick and choppy. "Secret recipe."

Karen's eyes narrow. "How did
you get that?" she asks.

Plankton's smiling awkwardly,
his eye darting to the side. "Found
it," he murmurs, his grip
tightening on the envelope
with anticipation.

Karen's screen lights up, her eyes
shining with excitement. "Oh,
Plankton, that's amazing!" she shrieks,
clapping her hands together. Her
shrill cheer is loud for Plankton,
each clap echoing in the space.

But her excitement quickly
fades as she sees the look of terror
on his face. "What's wrong?" she asks,
seeing Plankton flinch. 
"Loud," he whimpers, his eye
wide with fear. It dawns on Karen
that the sound of her clapping
was too much for him, her
screen filled with regret for getting
to excited and yelling,
knowing she's hurt him, even if
it was unintentional. "I'm so—"

Plankton cuts her off with a
quick shake of his head. "No,"
he murmurs, his eye searching hers
desperately. "Karen, safe."

The room falls silent, the weight
of his words hanging in the air.
Karen's heart races. What had
she done wrong? Her excitement
for him had turned into a trigger.

She sits by him, her hand
tentatively reaching out...

Plankton flinches at the sudden
movement. His eye widens in fear.
Karen's heart breaks. "It's okay,"
she says, her voice gentle. "It's just
me, Karen." But her words don't
penetrate his new reality.

He clutches the envelope to his
chest, his breathing rapid. The
world around him is a minefield
of sensory overload, and she's
the unknown variable. She can
see the fear in his eye, the
way his antennae twitch.

"Plankton," she says softly,
keeping her voice low and
even. "It's okay. I'm not
going to hurt yo-"

He jumps at the sound of
her voice, his antennae shooting
up like antennas detecting a
threat. The envelope flutters
to the floor, forgotten.

"Plankton," Karen whispers,
her hand hovering in the air,
afraid to make contact. "You're
scared of me?"

He nods, his body tight as a
coiled spring, his breaths shallow.
"Karen," he says, his voice shaky.
"Love Karen."

The words hang in the air, a
testament to their bond. But the fear
in his eye tells a different story.
This is the first time he's expressed
fear of her, and it hits Karen like
a punch to the gut.

"Plankton," she says softly,
keeping her voice low, "You know I'd
never tr-"

He flinches again, the
simplicity of his fear stark.
"Need space," he mumbles,
his voice barely audible over
the pounding in her chest.

Karen nods, her hand
falling to her side. She takes
a step back, giving him
the distance he needs.
"Okay," she says, her voice
breaking. "I'll be right he-"

"No," he says, his voice urgent.

Karen's eyes follow his gaze,
understanding his distress.
They both know what that envelope
means to him, a bridge between
his old life and his new reality.
Gently, she picks it up, her hand
shaking slightly. "I'm sorry,"
she says, her voice low. "How about
if I keep my voice dow-"

But Plankton's already shaking his
head, his eye wide with panic.
"No," he says, his voice strained.
"Mine."

Karen's heart clenches. She
understands his fear, but she also
knows the importance of
his obsession. "Okay," she says,
placing the envelope in his
hands. "Let's just sit."

But then she accidentally
touches him, brushing his arm.

"Whoops," she 
says, her voice
shaking. "I---"

But he pulls away, his
body rigid with tension.
"No touch," he says firmly.

Karen nods, her eyes
brimming with tears she
fights to hold back. She's
learning the dance of
his new reality, the steps
not quite familiar yet. "Okay,"
she whispers, her hand
retreating to her lap. "Let's just
ta-"

But Plankton's eye snaps to
the envelope in his hand, his
grip tightening. "Mine," he repeats,
his voice a mix of panic
and determination.

Karen nods, her heart aching.
"Okay," she says softly, her
hands in her lap. "W---"

But Plankton's eye is still on the
envelope, his grip tightening.
"NO," he says, his voice rising,
the word echoing in the room.

Karen's eyes widen, his
distress clear. 
"Plankton," she whispers, her
hands up in a peaceful gesture.
"Ca--"

But Plankton's panic doesn't
subside. He clutches the envelope,
his body shaking. "SAID, NO!"
he shouts. "NO! MORE! NO MORE!"

This isn't the
man she knew, the man she'd
spoken to just moments ago.
The room feels smaller, the air
thicker with his fear.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice
shaking. "I'll give you space."
She retreats to her own bed.

Plankton's breaths slow, his
body relaxing slightly. Karen
watches him from the corner
of her screen.

The silence stretches between
them, thick with the unspoken
words of fear and misunderstanding.
Her hand aches to reach out to him,
to soothe his anxiety, but she
knows better now. She's a stranger
in his world of sensory chaos.

Karen lies in bed, her eyes
fixed on the ceiling, her mind
whirling with what-ifs and
worries. She'd read about the
unpredictability of autism,
how it could affect people in
so many different ways. But
seeing it firsthand, feeling the
sharp edge of Plankton's panic,
was something else entirely.

Her thoughts are a tangled web
of emotions - love, fear,
determination. She'll learn
his new language, this dance
of sensory avoidance and
connection. They'll find their way
through this, together.

But for now, she needs to
respect his boundaries, the lines
he's drawn around his comfort.
The room is silent except
for Plankton quietly reading the
recipe to himself.

Her eyes follow his movements,
his lips moving as he whispers
the ingredients, his antennae
twitching with each word as
she watches him from afar.
This is her Plankton, but not.
The man she loves, lost in his
new world of patterns and fears.

Plankton's eye darts to her,
his voice a whisper. "Karen?"
The fear in his voice is palpable.
"I'm here," she says. She wants to
comfort him, to wipe away
his distress. But she knows
better now. She's a guest in
his new world, and she must
tread lightly.

new plush one worldcore vi

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 6


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 )

They reach the bedroom's
closed door, and Karen knocks
softly. "Honey?" she calls.
"Can we come in?"
There's a moment of
silence before Plankton's
voice says, "I s'pose."
Karen opens the door to
find Plankton sitting on the
edge of the bed, his antennae
still quivering slightly. He
looks up, his eye red-rimmed.

Chip lingers in the doorway,
his heart racing. He's scared to
move, to say the wrong thing.
But Karen's hand on his shoulder
guides him in.

"Daddy?" Chip whispers, his
voice tentative. Plankton's antennae
twitch, and he looks up, his face
a mix of pain and discomfort.

Karen gives Chip a small
nod of encouragement, and he
slowly approaches the bed, his
hand outstretched but not touching.
"Dad, can I sit with you?"
he asks, his voice shaking.

Plankton looks at him.
"If you must," he says, his
tone filled with sarcasm. "But don't
expect me to be all 'Oh, Chip, I'm
so happy to see you!' when you've
clearly called me a monster."

Chip's eyes widen at the
harshness of his father's
words. "But Dad, I di-"

Plankton holds up a hand,
his antennae still quivering.
"Don't," he says, his voice
sharp. "Don't pretend you
understand. You don't. You
just threw around words you
heard from those little brats
at school without even knowing
what they mean!"

Chip's face falls, his eyes
welling up with tears again.
"But I didn't mean it,"
he stammers, his voice
breaking. "I just wanted-"

"I know what you wanted,"
Plankton snaps, his antennae
quivering with agitation.
"You wanted answers, and
you didn't get them. So,
you threw a fit like a
typical kid."

Chip's eyes fill with
fresh tears. "But I didn't
know," he whispers, his voice
shaking. "I wan-"

"Yeah, well, ignorance is
not an excuse," Plankton
interrupts, his antennae flailing.
"You hurt me, Chip. And for what?
Because you didn't get your
precious hug?" His voice
drips with sarcasm, each word a
tiny dagger to Chip's heart.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Chip
whimpers, his hand dropping
to his side. "I didn't kn-"

But Plankton's sarcasm cuts him
off again. "Oh, sorry, I forgot.
You didn't know," he says, his
voice laden with bitterness. "Well,
now you do. And now you can go
back to your little life, knowing
you've hurt your dad. Great job!"

Chip flinches at the harshness,
his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Dad, please," he begs. "I didn't
underst--"

"I don't want to hear it,"
Plankton cuts him off, his
antennas quivering with anger.
"You think you can just come
in here and make everything
better with your sorry excuses?"

Chip's eyes fill with
tears, his voice barely a
whisper. "But I didn't mean
to hurt you, Daddy," he says,
his voice shaking. "I just
wanted to he-"

Plankton turns away, his
antennas flailing with agitation.
"Don't 'Daddy' me," he spits out.
"You don't get to call me that
after what you said." His
voice is sharp, cutting through
the air like a knife.

Chip's eyes are wide with
shock and hurt. "But Dad,"
he says, his voice trembling.
"I didn't mean to-"

But Plankton's not listening.
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't,"
he says, his tone thick with
sarcasm. "You just couldn't
help blurting out the first
thought that came to your
little brain, could you?"

Chip feels his heart
crumble. "But Dad, I-"

"I don't want to hear it,"
Plankton says, his voice
ice cold. "You've said enough."
He turns away, his antennae
twitching angrily. "Just get
out. Leave me alone."

Chip stands there, his
small hand hovering in the air,
wanting to comfort his dad, but
not knowing how. His voice
shakes with pain. "But Dad, I-"

Plankton turns back to him,
his antennae snapping with anger.
"You don't get it, do you?" he
shouts, his voice rising. "You never
have!" His eye widens, his
body tenses. "I'm not
your little science project to
poke and prod when you're curious!"

Chip takes a step back, his
eyes wide with fear. He's never
seen his dad like this before,
so out of control. "Daddy, I'm sorry,"
he whispers, his voice trembling.
But Plankton's anger seems to
grow with every word, his
body shaking. "You don't get
to be sorry!" he roars, his antennae
quivering violently. "You don't get
to just say sorry and expect me to
be okay with it!"

Chip's eyes are wide with fear,
his body frozen in place.
He's never seen his dad like this,
his normally stoic demeanor
shattered by a storm of emotions.

"Daddy, please," Chip whispers,
his voice barely audible. But Plankton's
anger is like a tsunami, crashing
against the walls of the room.

"You think you can fix me
with a sorry?" Plankton's voice
booms, his antennae flailing.
"You think your pity can make
everything okay?" Chip
shrinks back, his eyes wide 
with fear. So Karen decides to
jump in to mediate.

"Plankton, honey," Karen says,
her voice steady. "Chip's only
trying to understand. He's
scared for you. Let's just sit
down on the bed."

Plankton's antennae slow their
frantic dance as he looks at her,
his eye slightly less fiery.
With a heavy sigh, he nods, and
they all sit down, a tense silence
filling the room.

Chip's eyes are glued to his
father, searching for any sign
of softening in his gaze.
Plankton's breaths come in
short, shallow bursts, his body
still taut with emotion.

After a moment, Karen speaks up,
her voice a gentle reminder.
"Remember, Plankton, Chip's
just a child," she says, her
tone soothing. "He doesn't
understand everything about your
condition yet."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye still glaring at his son.
"I know," he murmurs, his
voice low.

Karen gives Chip a
reassuring look. "Why don't you
tell your dad what you know
about autism?" she suggests,
trying to ease the tension.

Chip nods, taking a deep
breath. "Well, I know it's like
his brain works differently,"
he starts, his voice wobbly. "And
sometimes, it makes things hard for
him, like too much noise or
little things that don't bother
me." He looks at Plankton.

Plankton's antennae stiffen
slightly, his gaze still sharp.
"And I know he has these...
these breaks," Chip continues,
his voice gaining strength.
"Where he needs to get away
from everything for—"

"Absence seizures,"
Plankton says, his voice flat.
"They're called absence
seizures." Chip's eyes widen. "Oh,
right. Those moments when
you zone out," he says, trying
to remember the right words.
Plankton nods, his antennae
still tense.

Karen watches the
exchange, her heart breaking
for both of them. She knows
this is hard for Plankton to
admit, and even harder for
Chip to understand. 
"They're a part of his
autism, Chip."

Chip nods, his eyes
firmly on his father. "So, when
you have one of those...
seizures, it's like your brain
needs to take a break?"

Plankton sighs. "Yeah,"
he says, his voice weary.
"It's like... everything gets
too much, and my brain just
shuts down for a bit. It's not
something I can control. Are
you satisfied?"

Chip looks at him with
innocent curiosity. "What's it
like?" he asks, his voice
soft. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his eye flickering with
memory. "Dad, what's it li—"

Plankton's hand shoots up,
cutting him off. "It's like nothing
you could ever understand,"
he says, his voice tight with anger.
"So just leave it, okay?"

Chip's eyes fill with
unshed tears. "But Dad,"
he whispers, his voice
shaking. "I just want to
kn-"

Plankton's antennae
snap upward, his anger
palpable. "You're just a
kid, playing at being
adult!" His antennae quiver
with the intensity of his
emotions, his body tense with
frustration.

Chip shrinks back, his
cheeks wet with tears. "But
Dad," he whispers, "I just-"

"Don't," Plankton says, his
voice cutting like a knife.
"Don't pretend you get it."

Chip's eyes are wide with
fear and confusion. "But Dad,"
he says, his voice trembling. "I'm
not..."

But Plankton's anger
continues to build, his antennae
quivering like live wires. "You
don't get it, Chip!" he roars.
"You're just a kid who thinks
he can fix everything with a
hug and a sorry!" His words cut
deep, each one a knife to Chip's
heart.

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"But Daddy, I just want to
help," he says, his hand
trembling as it reaches out.

Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his body tensing. "Don't
touch me," he snaps, his
eye wild with agitation as he
throws a pillow from the bed
down by his side.

Chip's hand retreats as if
burned, his eyes wide with fear.
"But Daddy, I just-"

"I said don't touch me!" Plankton's
voice is a roar, his antennae
whipping around like angry snakes.
He stands, his whole body a
testament to his rage. Chip stumbles
backward, his heart racing. He's
never seen his father like this,
his normally calm demeanor shattered
by a tempest of emotions.

new do you trust me chip plankton 6

CHIP IN MY BOX vi
(Autistic author)


Chip watches, his own
breathing shallow with fear.
He didn't mean to hurt his
dad, but he can see it in
his eye—the pain, the
disappointment. "I-I'm
sorry," he whispers, his voice
barely audible. But it's as
if the words are lost in
the chaos that's engulfed
the room. "Dad, ca--"

But Plankton's body has
a mind of its own. His limbs
shake violently, his eye
spinning out of control. It's
like watching a storm
brewing in the calmest of
skies, a tempest of emotions
ready to break. His hand
twitches, reaching for the
box, his fingers brushing
against the shards of
his shattered sanity.

And then, he deflates. His
body goes slack, his hand
falling to his side. His eye
rolls back in his head, and he
slumps to the floor, unconscious.

Chip's scream pierces the
silence, his eyes wide with
fear. "Mom!" He cries out, his
heart racing. "Mom, help!"

Karen's instincts kick in,
her fear for Plankton overriding
the shock of the moment. She
rushes to her husband's side,
checking for signs of injury.
His breathing is shallow but steady.
It's the meltdown becoming to
much, she knew. It's his autism,
a part of him she loves and
fears in equal measure.

"Chip," she says, her voice
calm despite the racing of
her heart, "get me the phone,
quick."

Chip's feet fly into action, his
fear for his father outweighing
his own fear. He runs to the
hallway, his heart thundering
in his chest, and grabs the
phone from the charger.

Karen's hand shakes as she takes
the phone, her eyes never leaving
Plankton's still form. She dials
the number, the digits
blurring together with her tears.
The line rings. "Dr. Kelp, it's
Karen," she says, her voice
shaky. "Plankton's had an episode.
It's... it's pretty bad." Her
voice breaks, the weight of her
words heavy in the air.

The beep sounds, and she
swallows hard, willing the
words to come out right. "Could
you come over? I think he
needs you." She hangs up, the
silence deafening. The house
feels too small, too suffocating
with Plankton's condition
sprawled out in the open.

Her heart is racing as
she watches him, his chest
moving in shallow, uneven
breaths. She knows Dr. Kelp
will come, he's always been
so kind, so understanding. But
the wait feels like an eternity.
Every second stretches into
a minute, each minute an
hour, as the fear of what
might happen before help
arrives gnaws at her sanity.

Karen looks around the
wrecked kitchen, her eyes
falling on the shards of
Plankton's fidgets scattered
like the shattered pieces
of their evening. She
swallows the lump in her
throat, her mind racing.

The doorbell rings,
a welcome interruption
to the taut silence. Chip
runs to the door, his
little legs carrying him faster
than he ever knew possible.
It's Dr. Kelp, his sensory
friendly specialist, with a bag
full of supplies. 

Dr. Kelp is a small octopus,
his eyes scanning the room
quickly before landing
on Plankton's form. "Karen,"
he says, his voice calm
and measured, "what happened?"

Karen's voice is a jumble of
words, her fear and guilt
spilling out in a rush.
"The box," she stammers,
pointing to the wreckage.
"Chip... he didn't mean to,
but he broke it." Her voice
cracks, her eyes filling
with tears. "And then he had
a meltdown."

Dr. Kelp nods, his expression
calm and understanding.
He crosses the room, his tentacles
moving with purpose as he
sets his bag down. He opens
it, revealing a treasure trove
of sensory tools—fidgets of
various shapes and sizes,
soft fabrics, noise-canceling
headphones. His movements are
precise, a balm to the chaos.

He looks at Chip, his eyes
kind despite the fear he
must be feeling. "It's okay,"
he says, his voice a gentle
wave. "Accidents happen." He
begins to gather the shards
carefully, his tentacles
working with surprising
deftness. "But we can fix this."

The doctor's calmness is
a beacon in the storm
of their fear. He pulls out a
new set of fidgets, similar to
the ones Chip had so carelessly
broken, but these are made of
a tougher material. "These are
indestructible," he says,
handing them to Chip. "But remember,
these are your dad's special
things. We have to be very
careful with them."

Chip nods, his eyes wide with
understanding. He takes the
fidgets, holding them tightly.
He won't make the same mistake
again. He won't be the reason
his dad feels scared and lost.

new chip in my box chip plankton ii vi

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY vi
(By NeuroFabulous)

Outside, the corridor was cold
and empty, the neon lights of the
Chum Bucket flickering above them.
Karen's eyes were filled with a sadness
that Chip had never seen before.
"Why did I say those things?" Chip
asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it."

Karen took a deep breath,
trying to compose herself. "Your dad's
autism is life-long," she said, her voice
shaky. "It's not something that
you can just ignore or wish away."
Her hand rested on his shoulder,
warm and comforting. "But it doesn't
make him any less of a person, or any
less of a father. He loves you so much,
Chip. More than you'll ever know."

Chip nodded, his eyes still
on the floor. "But I hurt him,"
he said, his voice a whisper.
"I don't know how to take it back."

Karen's grip tightened on his
shoulder. "You will," she assured
him, her voice steady despite her
own emotions. "You'll learn to understand,
and you'll tell him you're sorry. But
right now, let's just give him some
space."

They walked down the corridor,
each step echoing in the silence.
"But why does Dad get so upset?"
Chip asked, his voice still shaky.
"Is it becau…"

"His emotions can be intense,"
Karen explained, her voice gentle.
"It's part of his autism, Chip.
Sometimes, things that seem small to us
can feel really big to him." She paused,
her gaze distant as she searched
for the right words. "Imagine if someone
kept turning the lights on and off
while you were trying to read a book.
It's like that for him, but with sounds,
and feelings."

Chip frowned, trying to
comprehend. "But why does he get so mad
at me?" His voice was small, filled
with a sadness that tugged at Karen's
heart.

Karen sighed, her eyes full
of empathy. "Your dad's brain works
differently, honey," she said, her
tone soft. "Sometimes things can be
overwhelming for him. And when he's
overwhelmed, his feelings can get really
big, like a wave that crashes down
and covers everything." She paused,
considering her words carefully. "It's not
because he doesn't love you. It's just
how he deals with things."

Chip nodded slowly, his eyes
still red and swollen from crying.
"But why does he freeze up?" he asked,
his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like
he's not even there."

Karen's gaze softened, her hand
still on his shoulder. "Sometimes,
his brain gets too full, and he ends
up having an absence seizure, where
he just sort of... goes away for a bit.
It's like his brain is taking a
quick vacation," she said, trying to
make it relatable for Chip. "But he's
always right here."

Chip looked up at her, his eyes
filled with a mix of confusion and
fear. "But why does he do that?"
he whispered. "Is he okay?"

Karen's hand squeezed his shoulder,
her eyes full of warmth. "It's a part of
his autism, sweetie," she said, her voice
soft. "When things get too much, his brain
automatically just... takes a break. It's
not something he does on purpose,
it's just his body's way of coping."

"But it scares me," Chip admitted,
his voice shaking slightly. "It feels
like he's gone."

Karen nodded, her eyes brimming
with understanding. "I know it's
scary, honey," she said, her voice
soothing. "But it's important to
remember that it's just his brain
taking a little break. It doesn't mean
he doesn't love you or isn't there
for you."

"But how do I know when it's going
to happen?" Chip's voice was
filled with a desperate need to
understand, to control the chaos
his father's condition had brought
into his life.

Karen took a deep breath, her eyes
full of compassion. "You can't always
know, Chip," she said gently. "But you
can learn to recognize the signs."
Her hand slid down to his, giving it
a comforting squeeze. "When he starts
getting upset, or if you see him getting
overwhelmed, that's when you know
he might need some space or a quiet
moment to regroup."

"But why does he hate hugs?"
Chip's question hung in the air, filled
with the innocence of a child seeking
understanding.

Karen took a deep breath, trying
to find the right words. "It's not that he hates
hugs, Chip," she said, her voice gentle.
"It's just that sometimes, certain textures or
pressures can be really overwhelming for
him. It's like if someone was tickling you
non-stop, even when you asked them to
stop—it would drive you crazy, right?"

Chip thought about it, nodding
slowly. "But I don't get it," he said.
"Why can't he just get used to it? I've
seen you hug..."

"It's not that simple," Karen
interrupted gently. "I know you don't
understand, but hugs can be really
difficult for your dad. His body can't always
make sense of the sensation, and it can
feel like too much all at once."

Chip frowned, his eyes
searching hers for 
answers. "But both of
you hug each other,"
he pointed out. "Why.."

"It's different for me,"
Karen said, her voice
soft. "Your dad's senses are
like a radio that's always tuned in
too loud. Sometimes, when we
hug, it's like turning the volume down
just enough for him to handle it."
Her smile was sad but patient.
"It's taken us years to figure
out what works for us, Chip.
Everyone's different, even with
autism."

Chip nodded, trying to
understand. "But what do I do
when he doesn't want to hug?"
he asked, his voice tentative.
"What if I just want to show
him I love him?"

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the raw emotion beneath
the surface. "You can show
him in other ways," she said,
smiling gently. "Words, or
just sitting near him, or even
just being patient with him
when he's having a tough time."

Chip considered this, his brow
furrowed in thought. "But I want to
make him happy," he said, his
voice earnest. "How do I do that?"

Karen's smile was sad, but
understood. "You do that by
loving him, Chip," she said, her
voice filled with warmth. "By accepting
him for who he is and not trying
to change him. By being patient when
he needs space, and by being there
when he's ready for company. He
does enjoy helping you with your
experiments, doesn't he?"

Chip nodded, remembering
the times his dad had been most
engaged and happy. "Yeah," he said, a
small smile tugging at his lips. "He's
the best at science."

Karen's smile grew a little
wider at this. "That's because
his brain works differently,"
she said. "Sometimes, the way
he processes information can
make certain things easier for
him to understand and enjoy."

"But what if I don't know what
to do?" Chip's voice was
filled with a desperate
need for guidance. "What if
I make him upset?"

Karen looked into her son's
worried eyes and took a deep
breath. "You'll learn, Chip. We all do.
Your dad has his own ways of
communicating, even if they're
not always verbal. Sometimes,
it's just about paying attention."

"What do you mean?" 
Chip's eyes searched hers.

Karen took a moment before
answering, her gaze drifting to
a spot over his head. "Look for the
little things, Chip," she said, her voice
thoughtful. "Like how his antennas move,
or the way his eye looks. Sometimes,
his body will tell you more than his
words can. I know when he's happy because
his antennas perk up and his eye
twinkles."

Chip watched her intently, his
mind racing with questions. "What
about when he's sad?" he asked, his voice
small.

Karen's gaze softened, her
thumb gently stroking the back of
his hand. "When he's sad, his antennas
drop down," she said.

Chip nodded, his eyes
studying her intently. 
"And when
he's mad?"

Karen's expression grew more
serious. "When he's angry,
his antennas might go stiff and
his brow can get really rigid,"
she explained. "It's his way of
saying 'I'm overwhelmed, and I
need you to back off.'"

Chip nodded slowly, taking it all in.
"And when do you know how he'd
like to accept a hug?"

Karen looked thoughtful. "Well,
his body language will give you clues,"
she said. "If his antennas are relaxed
and pointing slightly towards you,
it might mean he's open to one. But
always ask, okay?"

Chip nodded, feeling a bit
more hopeful. "How do I tell
if he's uncomfortable with
touch?" he asked, his eyes
wide with concern.

Karen squeezed his hand. "Look
for the signs," she said. "If his
body stiffens or his antennas
pull back, it's usually a clue
that he's not enjoying it." She
smiled softly. "But remember, everyone's
different, even within the spectrum.
What works for one person with
autism might not work for your dad."

Chip nodded, his eyes wide with
understanding. "Okay," he said,
his voice small. "But what different
types of touch..."

"It's all about sensory input,"
Karen said, cutting him off gently.
"Some textures and sensations might
feel like sandpaper to him, while others
might be soothing. It's a delicate
balance, and it's different for
everyone. But for your dad, he often
prefers gentle, predictable touches.
Like a soft touch on the arm. But he
tends to dislike sudden hugs or pats
on the back, or a squeeze of the shoulder."
Her eyes searched Chip's, looking
for any signs of doubt or confusion.
"But always ask before you touch
him," she added. "It's important to respect
his boundaries."

Chip nodded, his mind racing. "But
what if he doesn't say anything?"
he asked. "How will I know?"

Karen sighed, her eyes
reflecting the years of experience.
"That's the tough part, Chip," she
admitted. "Sometimes, your dad can't
find the words. But if you pay
close attention, you'll see the signs."

"Signs?" Chip's voice was
filled with uncertainty.

Karen nodded solemnly. "When he
starts to get overwhelmed, his
body will show it," she said.
"His antennas might jerk, or his
eye might dart around the room.
Sometimes, he'll repeat words or phrases
over and over, like he's trying
to find the right one to express
how he feels."

new a plankton family story NeuroFabulous vi

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vi
(By NeuroFabulous)


They sat in companionable
silence for a few moments,
the only sound being Plankton's
even breathing. Then Chip spoke up,
his voice tentative.

"Mom, can you tell me
more about autism?"

Karen nodded, her hand
still resting on Plankton's arm.
"Autism is a spectrum, Chip.
It means that no two people
experience it the same way.
Some have a harder time
with it than others. For
your dad, it's mostly about his senses.
They can get overwhelmed easily."

Chip leaned in closer, his
curiosity piqued. "What do
you mean, 'overwhelmed'?"

Karen took a moment
to gather her thoughts.
"It's like his brain can't filter out
the extra information."

Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's face.
He reached out tentatively,
his hand hovering above
Plankton's antennae. Karen's
hand shot out, her grip
on Chip's wrist firm but
not painful. "Remember, sweetie,
his senses are heightened."

Chip's hand froze, his
fingers curling slightly.
"Does that mean he doesn't
like to be touched?" he asked,
his voice quivering.

Karen's grip loosened,
her eyes meeting Chip's.
"It's more that certain
touches can be too much for
his brain to handle."

Chip nodded, his gaze
still on Plankton's antennae.
"But what if I just..."
his voice trailed off,
his hand hovering.

Karen's eyes searched
his, understanding
dawning. "If you want to
touch him, Chip, do it gently.
Use the back of your hand,
like this." She demonstrated,
her hand gliding softly over
his antennae. "It's like you're
saying 'hello' without
disturbing him."

Chip nodded, his
hand trembling slightly.
He mimicked her movements,
his touch as light as a feather.
Plankton's antennae quivered
under his touch, but he remained
asleep. Karen gave him a small
smile of encouragement.

"Mom, does he like it
when I touch him like this?"
Chip asked, his voice filled
with hope.

Karen watched her son,
his hand hovering over Plankton's
antennas with such care.
"It depends," she said, her voice
soft. "Sometimes, it can be soothing
for him. Other times, it can be too much."

Chip nodded, his eyes
still on his father. "But how
will I know?" he whispered,
his voice filled with concern.

Karen's eyes searched
his, understanding his
desire to connect. "You'll
have to watch him, Chip.
Look for signs. If he tenses
up or pulls away, that's his
way of saying 'stop'. And if
he seems calmer or his breathing
slows, that's his way of saying
'ok'. It's about reading
his body language."

Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering over Plankton's
antennas. He took a deep
breath, and then, as gently
as he could, he let the back
of his hand graze the antennae.
Plankton's body remained
still, yet his antennae
twitched slightly. Karen gave
a nod of approval.

"Remember, Chip, everyone's
touch is different to him,"
she said. "Some days, he might
not even want to be touched."

Chip nodded solemnly,
his hand hovering over
his father's antennae.
"Does he like it when
I hug him?" he whispered.

Karen's smile grew. "His
favorite person to be
touched by is me.
But even with me, he has
his limits. Sometimes, he just
needs his space."

Chip nodded, his gaze
never leaving Plankton's face.
"Does he like it when other
people touch him?" he asked,
his voice barely above a whisper.

Karen's eyes searched
his, knowing this was a
delicate topic. "Well, Chip,
it's different with everyone.
Some days, your dad can tolerate
more than others. But generally,
it's people he's comfortable
with, like me."

"But what about me?" he asked,
his voice quivering slightly.

Karen's smile was sad. "It's
going to take some time, Chip.
You'll have to learn his
signals, his boundaries.."

Plankton's body began to stir,
his antennae twitching more
frequently as he shifted in
his sleep. Chip watched,
his hand hovering over his
dad's head, unsure if he
should risk disturbing him.
Karen's eyes followed the
movement, her gaze filled
with a quiet sadness.

"It's okay, Chip," she
whispered. "He's just
waking up."

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, more
quickly now. His eye
flickered open, his pupil
expanding as he adjusted
to the dim light. He looked
around, his gaze landing
on Karen and Chip.

"Hey, buddy," Karen
whispered, her voice a
balm to his frayed nerves.

Plankton's eye focused
on Chip, who was staring
at him with a mix of
fear and fascination.
He knew that look, had
seen it in others' eyes
before. But coming from
his son, it hit him harder
than he'd ever expected.

He took a deep breath,
his body still feeling like
he'd run a marathon.
"Hi," he said, his
voice hoarse from disuse.

Chip's hand jerked back,
his heart racing. "Dad,"
he whispered, his voice
shaking.

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, this time
in acknowledgment. "Hi,
Chip," he rasped, his voice
sounding neutral.

Chip stared, his
thoughts racing. He had
so many questions, so much
he wanted to say, but the words
got caught in his throat.

Plankton looked at his
son, his antennae drooping.
He could feel the tension in
the air, the unspoken
worries and fears. He took
another deep breath, his body
still feeling the toll.

"How are you feeling, Plankton?"
Karen's voice was a gentle
caress in the silence.

He swallowed, his throat
dry from his ordeal. "Tired,"
he murmured, his antennae
twitching slightly. "But better."

Karen's hand found his
again, her touch a lifeline.
"Do you remember what
happened?" she asked gently.

Plankton's antennae drooped.
"I... I think so," he murmured,
his voice still shaky. "I had a...
a shutdown, with Chip."

Chip's eyes widened, his
heart racing. He'd never
heard his dad talk about
his episodes before. It was
like a door had been opened
to a part of Plankton's life
that had always remained
closed to him.

"It's okay, Dad," he
whispered, his hand reaching
out tentatively. "You can tell me." His
hand barely grazed Plankton's
arm...

Plankton flinched at
the touch, his antennae
twitching erratically. Chip's
heart skipped a beat, his hand
retreating as if burned. Karen
offered a gentle smile, her gaze
meeting Plankton's. "It's okay,
honey," she said softly. "Chip's just
trying to understand."

Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae
slowly calming. "I know,"
he murmured. "I, I'm s-sorry."

Karen's hand tightened
on his, her eyes never
leaving his face. "Don't
apologize, love," she whispered.
"You didn't do anything wrong."

Plankton nodded, his
throat tight with emotion.
He knew she was right, but
the fear of losing his 
respect was palpable. His antennae
twitched again, the overstimulation
of the day still lingering.

new chip on the shoulders Karen/Chip Plankton II vi

ℐ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 <3

new 100 i love u six

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

new 1 2 4 7 6 roman numerals common year starting on saturday seven dot art text art ascii art

TRUTH AND NAIL vi

Karen couldn't believe
the transformation.
This was not the Plankton
she knew, not the one who
was always scheming
or complaining. This was
a Plankton who was loose,
free from his usual
inhibitions, and it was
both endearing and a little
unnerving. But mostly,
it was just funny.

He poked Sponge Bob's side
again, his giggle a strange
sound in the quiet
living room. "Still squishy,"
he murmured.

Sponge Bob's laughter
was like a bubble bursting.
"Plankton, you're
loopy!" he exclaimed.

Plankton's eye fluttered
open, his gaze
unfocused. "Loopy?"
he repeated, his voice
slurred. "I'm not a loop,
I'm a...a...a...sea creature!"
He giggled, the sound
like a leaky faucet.

Sponge Bob couldn't
help but laugh harder,
his eyes watering with
mirth. "You're right,
Plankton," he said, his voice
shaking with amusement.
"You're a sea creature.
A very loopy one."

Plankton giggled, his
body jerking with each
laugh. "Loopy, loopy,"
he murmured, his hand
still on Sponge Bob's side.
His eye lit up with
an idea. "Peekaboo!"
he exclaimed, hiding his
eye behind his hand.

Sponge Bob's laughter
was like a symphony of
bubbles, filling the room
with joy. "Oh, Plankton,
you're a riot," he said,
his voice a delighted
chuckle. He played along,
covering his eyes. "Where
did you go?"

Plankton's giggle was
a strange, wobbly sound.
"I'm still here," he slurred,
his voice muffled by
his hand. "I'm...I'm right here."
He peeked through
his fingers, his eye
twinkling with mischief.

Sponge Bob chuckled,
his voice warm and welcoming.
"Where'd you go, Plankton?"
he asked, playing along.

Plankton's eye peeked
out from behind his hand,
his grin wide and goofy.
"Boo!" he exclaimed,
his voice a sloppy whisper.

Sponge Bob's laughter was
a delightful sound, echoing
in the quiet room. "You got me,
Plankton!" he said, his voice
filled with surprise.

Encouraged by the reaction,
Plankton's hand dropped to
his lap, his gaze turning
to Karen. "Wanna...wanna play?"
he asked, his voice still thick
with anesthesia.

Her eyes danced with
laughter. "What game, love?"

Plankton's smile grew, his
voice a sleepy whine. "Pat-a-cake?"

Karen's laugh was a gentle
surprise. "Pat-a-cake?"
she echoed, her hand
moving to his. "Okay, darling."

Their palms met with a
slap, Plankton's movements
slow and awkward.
"Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,"
he murmured, his voice
slurred. They played the
game, their hands moving
in a clumsy dance, a silent
reminder of his groggy
state.

Sponge Bob watched, his
laughter a gentle wave in
the background. "Looks
like someone had a bit too
much fun at the dentist,"
he teased, his voice a
soft caress.

Plankton's gaze found his,
his smile a sleepy grin. "Dentith?"
he slurred, his hand
waving vaguely. "No, no,
not dentith...."

Sponge Bob nodded, his
laughter subsiding to
a gentle chuckle. "Alright,
not the dentist," he said,
his voice understanding.
"What game do you
want to play then?"

Plankton's head lolled to
the side, his eye half-closed.
"You know...the one with...
the animals," he murmured,
his words thick and slow.
But Plankton's head
was already lolling back,
his snores a soft rumble
in the quiet room.
Sponge Bob looked at
Karen, his expression
a mix of concern and
amusement. "Should we...?"
he began, his voice trailing off.

Plankton's snore was his
only reply, his mouth
open wide and drool
spilling onto the couch.
Karen chuckled, patting
his hand. "He's just tired,"
she said, her voice a gentle
excuse. Karen
covered him with a soft
blanket, his snores growing
louder as he sank deeper
into sleep. “You can sleep
on the other couch across
by him,” Karen told Sponge
Bob.

The anesthesia worn off over
night, and Plankton only woke
up the next morning on the
couch at the same time as
SpongeBob.

Plankton sat up with a
start, his eye wide.
"Wha... where...what...?"
his words tangled in a
slurry mess.

Sponge Bob stirred on
the couch across from him,
his eyes blinking sleepily.
"Morning, Plankton," he
said.

Plankton's eye focused on
his friend, his mind racing.
"Sponge Bob?" he said, his voice
sharp and clear. "Wath...what's
going on here?!"

Sponge Bob stretches
his limbs. "Well, good
morning to you too, Plankton,"
he said, his voice filled with
cheerful energy. "You had
your wisdom teeth out, remember?"

“I know I went to the dentist
but, what happened after I
came home?” He said, mostly
to himself.

Sponge Bob sat up, rubbing
his eyes. "Well, you were
pretty out of it," he said,
his voice still a bit groggy
from sleep. "But you were also
pretty funny."

Plankton's gaze darted
around the room, his mind
spinning. "What...what do you
mean?" His voice was
sharp, his usual snappiness
creeping back in.

Sponge Bob chuckled,
his body still relaxed
from his nap. "You don't
remember?" he asked, his
voice a tease. "You were
so affectionate, calling
me your best buddy and all."

Plankton's eye narrowed,
his confusion morphing
into suspicion. "I did no
such thing," he said, his voice
a firm rebuttal. "I'm not
that...that..."

Karen stepped in, her
laugh light. "You don't
remember?" she asked, her
voice a gentle tease. "You were
so lovely and affectionate
last night."

Plankton's face scrunched
up in disbelief. "Affectionate?"
he repeated, his voice rising.
"To him?" His thumb jerked
towards Sponge Bob, who
was now watching him with
a knowing smile. "I...I can't
have said that."

Sponge Bob shrugged, his
laugh bubbly. "You sure did,
Plankton. You were poking
me and calling me your
best buddy."

Plankton's disbelief grew,
his eye wide with shock.
"I...I did not!" he protested,
his voice a high-pitched
squeak. "That's...that's not
me!"

Karen couldn't hold back
her laughter, her eyes
twinkling with mirth. "Oh,
it was definitely you, darling,"
she said, her voice a sweet
contrast to his indignation.

Plankton's expression
shifted from shock to
outrage. "But...but why?"
he sputtered, his face
flushing a deep shade
of red. "I don't...I don't
do that sort of...that sort
of thing!"

Karen's laugh was like
a melody, light and
playful. "You did, love,"
she said, her voice a soft
reminder. "You were just a
little...loopy."

Plankton's hand flew to
his mouth, his eye
wide with horror. "No, no, no,"
he murmured, his voice
muffled by his palm. "That
can't be right." He looked
at Sponge Bob with an
accusatory glare. "Who
put me up to this?"

Sponge Bob's laugh was
like a burst of bubbles.
"You don't remember?"
he asked, his voice full
of delight. "It was all
you, buddy. You were
feeling the med..."

"The medicine!"
Plankton exclaimed, his
face paling as realization
hit him. "The anesthesia
made me say those
things.." His voice was
a mix of relief and horror.

Sponge Bob's chuckle
was infectious. "Don't
worry, Plankton," he said,
his voice warm. "We all
have our moments."

But Plankton was not
to be swayed. "That's not
like me," he insisted,
his voice a mix of
dismay and irritation.
"I'm not...I'm not like
that!"

Sponge Bob's chuckles
turned into a full-blown
laugh. "Well, you were
last night," he said,
his voice a gentle ribbing.
"You were all warm
and fuzzy. But you did
eventually fall asleep 
and started snoring.."

Plankton's face was a
picture of disgust. "Snoring?!"
he said, his voice a mix
of outrage and embarrassment.

Karen's laugh was like a
small wave on the shore.
"It's okay, honey," she said,
patting his leg. "You were
just really tired."

"I...I don't snore," he
asks, his voice firm.

Sponge Bob couldn't help
but chuckle, his laugh
bubbly. "Well, you did
last night," he said, his voice
a gentle reminder.

Plankton's eye narrowed,
his usual snappiness returning
with full force. "I...I
snored?" he asked, his voice
skeptical.

Karen's smile was
sympathetic. "You did, darling,"
she said, her voice soothing.
"But it's all right. It's just
what happens when you're
tired."

Plankton's eye shot to hers,
his expression a mix of
disbelief and irritation. "But
I...I never snored," he insisted,
his voice a protest. “Right, Karen?”

Her laugh was a gentle tide,
washing over his protests.
"You do snore, Plankton,"
she said, her voice a warm
caress. "But it's nothing to be
embarrassed about."

Plankton's face was a mask
of disbelief, his voice
a tight knot of denial. "I
snore?" he repeated, as if
the word was foreign to
his vocabulary.

Sponge Bob's laughter
was a delightful sound, his
body shaking with mirth.
"Yes, Plankton," he said,
his voice full of affection.
"But don't worry, it's
not so bad. I mean, you're
not as loud as Patrick."

Karen's giggle joined
his, the two of them
laughing gently at Plankton's
expense. But their laughter
wasn't cruel, it was the
kind that comes from knowing
someone so well that their
quirks become endearing.

"I...I do?" Plankton
asked, his voice barely
above a murmur.

Sponge Bob nodded,
his laughter subsiding
into a knowing smile.
"But hey, we all have
our little quirks, right?"

Karen's eyes sparkled
with amusement. "It's
part of who we are, love,"
she said, her voice a gentle
reminder of the truth.

new truth and nail plankbobs vi

NEW REALITY vi
(Autistic author)

"Plankton," she starts,
her voice tentative.
"Can we try something?"
He nods, his eye
still searching.

Karen reaches over
to the bedside drawer,
pulling out a small,
soft blanket.
"This is called a weighted
blanket," she explains,
unfolding it gently.
"It's like a hug from me
without the pressure."

Plankton's gaze
flickers with curiosity.
He nods slowly, allowing
her to place it over
his body, his eye
closed as he feels the
comforting weight.
"It's good,"
he murmurs, his voice
a mix of wonder and
fatigue.

Karen's heart lifts,
a tiny victory in the
face of the unknown.
"It's like a hug,"
she says, smoothing
the blanket over him.
"It helps some people
feel safe and calm."

Plankton nods, his
body relaxing into
the embrace of the
weighted fabric.

Karen's eyes fill with
relief as she watches
his tension melt away.
"Does it feel better?"
she asks, her voice
gentle.

Plankton nods, his
eye still closed. "Calm,"
he whispers.

Encouraged, Karen pulls
the blanket tighter, mimicking
a gentle squeeze. "Good?"
she asks, her voice a soft
query.

Plankton nods, a smile
ghosting over his lips. "Good,"
he agrees, his voice a faint
whisper.

Karen's heart skips a beat.
"I'm here," she says, her voice
a soothing melody. "I'll always
be here to help you find
your calm."

Plankton nods, his eye
still shut. "Calm," he whispers,
his body sinking deeper into
the blanket's embrace.

Karen's eyes fill with tears
as she watches him. She's
found a way to connect, a way
to bring him comfort in a
world that's become too much
for him. The weight of
the blanket seems to anchor him,
still the storm in his mind.

"I'll get us through this,"
she whispers, her voice filled
with resolve. "We're a team."

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly, a sign of his
agreement. "Team," he murmurs,
his breathing evening out
beneath the blanket.

Karen's eyes shine with
hope. "Yes, we're a team,"
she repeats, leaning down
to kiss his forehead.
"Now, try to get some sleep."

Plankton nods, his hand
reaching up to trace the
edge of the blanket. "Sleep,"
he murmurs.

Karen watches him for a
moment longer, then stands
slowly, not wanting to disturb
his fragile peace. She
moves to the door, her hand
on the knob. "I'll be right
outside if you need me,"
she says softly.

Plankton nods, his hand
still tracing the blanket.
"Karen," he whispers.

Her heart squeezes. "I know,"
she says, her voice a gentle
caress. "I'll be right here."

With one last look at him,
she steps into the hallway,
closing the door behind her.

The house feels eerie in
its quiet, the weight of
the silence pressing down.
Her thoughts race, her mind
a whirlwind of fears and
uncertainty. How do you
navigate a world that's
suddenly become so
overwhelming for someone
you love?

Karen leans against
the closed door, her eyes
brimming with tears. She
can't bear to leave him
alone, but he needs rest.
With a heavy sigh, she
forces herself to step away,
determined to give him
the space he needs to adjust.

new new reality Sheldon J. Plankton & Karen vi

      ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
     ™️

new vi invisible unseen

༆

new vi pp w sexual reproduction

CHIP AND FAIL vi
(Autistic author)

Karen's eyes searched Plankton's,
looking for the spark that
meant he was coming back to her.
Slowly, the panic in his gaze
faded, replaced by the familiar
look of love and confusion. "I'm
here," she said, her voice barely
above a whisper. "It's okay."

Plankton's body finally
unclenched, his muscles relaxing
under her gentle touch. The storm
in his mind was receding, leaving
behind a quiet beach of clarity.
He didn't know what had
happened, only that it was bad.

Karen knew the routine, the
dance of calming Plankton after
a meltdown. But Chip didn't know.
He was just trying to share his
excitement, to reconnect with
his father after a week apart.
He didn't know that his touch, his
laughter, his stories, were all too
much for Plankton to handle.

As Karen worked to bring
Plankton back to reality, she
couldn't help but feel a pang of
sorrow for Chip. He had no idea
how his love was received, no way
to understand that his actions
could cause such pain. She had to
find a way to explain, to help
both her husband and her son find
a way to connect without setting
off the sensory bombs that lurked
just beneath the surface.

"K-Karen?" Plankton murmurs
as he slowly returns to himself.
The room stops spinning, the noises
dulling to a gentle hum. He looks
around, confusion etched in every line
of his face.

"You're okay," she whispers.
Her heart breaks for her husband,
for the silent battles he fights
every day. She knows Chip
doesn't understand, that his love
and excitement are a minefield
for Plankton's sensitive mind.

But she also feels a pang
of anger. How could she have
let this happen? She had hoped
that Chip's visit would be a
celebration, a chance for them
to bond. Instead, it had become
a reminder of the chasm that
sometimes separated them, a stark
reality of Plankton's condition.

Chip's sobs from the next room
were a constant reminder of the
pain he had inadvertently caused.
Karen knew she had to talk to
him, to explain.

"Chip, sweetheart," she called,
her voice carrying a gentle
authority. "Can you come out
here, please?"

Chip's heart was still racing,
his eyes red and puffy from crying.
He wiped his nose with the back
of his hand and stepped out of
his room, his gaze flickering to
his dad, then back to his mom. "Is he
okay?" he asked, his voice
small and unsure.

Karen nodded, her screen filled
with a mix of love and
exhaustion. "He's okay," she said,
"Honey, it's time we tell Chip. Can
I help you sit up, so you can tell him?"

Plankton nodded weakly, his body
still feeling like it was made
of lead. Karen helped him into
a sitting position, her eyes
never leaving his. "You're okay,"
she repeated, her voice a gentle
reminder.

Chip stared at
Plankton. "Dad?"
he asked, his 
voice tentative.

Plankton looked up at him,
his eye still clouded with the
aftermath of the storm.

"Chip," he began, his voice
weak, "I'm sorry." But Chip was
already there, kneeling beside
his dad, his screen wide with
relief and confusion.

"What happened?" Chip asked, his
voice trembling. "Why didn't you
answer me? You just ignored me!"

Karen's screen filled with
compassion as she placed a
comforting hand on Chip's shoulder.
"Your dad's not ignoring you,"
she said gently. "He has something
to tell you."

Plankton took a deep, shaky
breath, the words sticking in his
throat. He had always been
afraid of this moment, of the
day Chip would find out. "I...
I, I just..."

Karen squeezed his hand, her
gaze filled with understanding. "It's
okay," she said softly. "You can
tell him."

Plankton took another deep
breath, his voice trembling as
he began. "Chip, I'm... I..."

"Dad?" Chip leaned in, his screen
filled with hope and concern.

Plankton swallowed hard, the
weight of his secret heavy
on his shoulders. "I have...
I've got..."

"Tell me, Dad," Chip said, his
hands going to clutching his dad's 
arm. 
Plankton winced at the sudden
contact, his body tensing again.

Karen saw it, the brief
flicker of pain in his eye. She
quickly stepped in, placing a hand
on Chip's arm. "Give him a
moment, honey," she said, her
voice filled with gentle guidance.

Chip's screen searched hers. He
slowly removed his hand,
backing away slightly.

"Dad, tell me," he said, his voice
desperate. "What's wrong?"

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae drooping. "Chip," he
managed, "I've..."

But Chip was already there, his
hands on his father's shoulder.
"Dad, tell me," he said, his voice
filled with urgency. Plankton's
body tensed at the touch.

Karen stepped in quickly,
guiding Chip's hand away. "Let him
speak, honey," she said softly.

Plankton took another deep
breath, his antennae quivering
as he gathered his thoughts. "I have
a..."

"Dad, if it's something bad..."

Plankton's antennae quivered, his
face a mask of pained effort. "Chip..."

Chip's eyes were glued to his dad,
his mind racing with questions.
Why can't Dad just tell me?
He's always been so strong, so
independent. Why is this so hard
for him?

Plankton took a moment, his
eye searching for the right
words. "It's just..."

Chip leaned in closer. All he 
knew was that his
father was in pain and he needed to
fix it. "Just tell me, Dad!" he said,
his voice earnest. "Whatever it is..."

But Plankton was lost again, his
mind swirling with sensations. He
could feel Chip's screen on him,
hear his desperate pleas, but the
words remained trapped. He
closed his eye, trying to gather
his thoughts.

"Chip," he finally managed,
his voice a mere whisper. "I'm not..."

"You're not what?" Chip's voice
was filled with concern and a hint
of impatience.

Plankton opened his eye with a
sigh, his gaze meeting Chip's. "Son..."

"Dad, please, tell me!" Chip's
excitement was palpable, his
body vibrating with the need
for connection.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae drooping slightly.
"Chip, I'm..."

But Chip, fueled by his
eagerness to connect, didn't
give him the space. "Come on, Dad,"
he said, his hands landing on
Plankton's shoulders again.

Plankton flinched, his eye
squeezing shut as the touch sent
a shockwave through his body. "Chip,"
he groaned, his voice strained.
"Please..."

But Chip's enthusiasm didn't
wane, his voice growing more
desperate. "Dad, tell me!" He didn't
understand the pain he was causing,
his need for a response only adding
to the pressure on Plankton, irritating
his frustration as he squeezed his
shoulders harder. "Just..."

Plankton's eye snapped open,
his body recoiling from the
intensity of his son's touch.
The words he had been trying
to form shattered like glass
under the weight of his sensory
overload. "Chip, STOP!" he
yelled, his voice cracking with
frustration and pain.

The sudden outburst shocked both
Karen and Chip into stillness. His dad had
never talked to him like that before. "What..."

But Plankton's agony was like a
dam bursting. He pushed Chip away,
his voice a shout of desperation.
"I CAN'T, CHIP!"

Chip staggered back, his
expression a mix of shock and
hurt. "But why?" he asked, his
voice trembling.

Plankton took a deep, shaky
breath, his body still reeling,
his voice strained. "I have...
I have..."

Chip's eyes searched 
his father's. Why couldn't
his dad just tell him what was
going on? "What, Dad?"

But Plankton was retreating
back into himself, his mind a
whirlwind of sensation and
frustration. "It's too much,"
he managed, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Your..."

"What's too much?" Chip
interrupted, his voice rising
with confusion. "My what?"

Plankton's antennae drooped
as he searched for a way to explain.
He had always kept his condition
to himself, fearful of the
misunderstanding it might bring.
"Chip," he began, his voice
trembling with the effort of
finding the words. "You..."

But Chip's excitement was a
wave, crashing over the delicate
barriers Plankton had built. "You're
not telling me something," he said,
his voice filled with accusation.
"What is it!" His touch was
like sandpaper on sunburned skin,
each word a jab at Plankton's
already overwhelmed mind.

Plankton's eye darted around the
room, his antennae twitching
wildly. The pressure was too
much, the noise of Chip's voice
like a siren. He
could feel the beginnings of a
panic attack, his chest tightening.

"Chip, please," he managed, his voice
barely above a whisper. "I need a
moment." But Chip's excitement
was a force of nature, unyielding
and relentless. "But I just
want to tell you about my week,
about the robot and Nutmeg!"
He didn't know that his words,
his touch, were like a tornado in
Plankton's mind, a storm he couldn't
weather.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II vi

whoever said "guy stop f-ing saying this web needs to be a f-ing app like what the f-k there lots of f-ing beef like do you guys have brain cells of a d-k sh-t like get a life if you care about f-ing 8 year olds then dont make this a f-ing app if you f-ing do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a f-ing bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･" please chill out like multiple people have said this is a website where little kids come on here to find cute combos so please be respectful ౨ৎ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

new beef drama cat 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 pig cow dog drame drake

🙅🙅⬜🙅🪚🖕🏼🇳🇱🗡️🗡️🪚⬜⬜🇳🇱🇳🇱⬜
⬜🙅🙅🪚🗡️🇳🇱🇳🇱🖕🏼🖕🏼🗡️🖕🏼🇳🇱🪚⬜🪚
🙅🙅🪚🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🪚🗡️🖕🏼🙅🖕🏼🗡️🗡️🖕🏼
🙅🙅🗡️⬜🇳🇱⬜🪚🪚🗡️🙅⬜🗡️🗡️🙅🙅
⬜🗡️🗡️🗡️🪚🖕🏼🗡️🖕🏼🇳🇱🪚🙅🙅🖕🏼⬜🪚
🙅⬜🇳🇱🖕🏼🖕🏼🗡️🗡️⬜🖕🏼⬜🪚🗡️🙅🗡️🖕🏼
⬜🗡️⬜⬜🗡️🖕🏼⬜⬜🗡️⬜🙅🙅🗡️🗡️🙅
🗡️🗡️🪚🪚🗡️🪚🇳🇱🪚🙅🪚🙅🪚⬜🇳🇱🙅
🗡️🪚⬜🗡️🗡️🇳🇱🖕🏼🖕🏼🗡️🖕🏼🪚🗡️🖕🏼🖕🏼🗡️
🖕🏼🪚🗡️🙅🪚🗡️🖕🏼🪚🇳🇱🙅🗡️🙅⬛🖕🏼⬜
🪚🪚🪚🗡️⬜🪚⬜🗡️🙅🙅🪚🖕🏼🙅⬜🖕🏼
🙅🪚⬜🗡️🪚🪚🖕🏼⬜🗡️🪚🙅🗡️🙅🇳🇱⬜
⬜🗡️🗡️🙅🪚🪚🗡️⬜🗡️🗡️🙅🖕🏼🗡️⬜⬜
⬜⬜⬜🖕🏼🙅🗡️🪚🙅🇳🇱🙅🖕🏼🙅⬜⬜⬜
⬜⬜🙅⬜🗡️🇳🇱🇳🇱🗡️🖕🏼🖕🏼⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

new 1 6 common year starting on saturday one january nederland

guy stop fucking saying this web needs to be a fucking app like what the fuck there lots of fucking beef like do you guys have brain cells of a dick shit like get a life if you care about fucking 8 year olds then dont make this a fucking app if you fucking do more little kids will get draked like what the skidi bro get a fucking bro°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐦

new neovim text dot ascii art vi

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣐⡚⠒⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡹⠦⠤⠶⠭⢦⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠤⡤⣤⣤⡴⠋⣿⠁⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡡⡳⡮⣠⡞⢬⠏⠉⠁⠈⠙⡆⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⠘⢿⣽⣾⡿⢚⠥⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⡅⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢀⣤⠝⠛⠈⠑⠈⠉⠁⣀⣼⠋⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠤⠜⠓⠊⠁⠈⠻⢶⣄⣀⣤⣴⣾⠟⠁⡰⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⢊⢆⠤⠤⡤⠤⢤⣴⣶⣶⠿⡿⠿⣿⡧⢂⠔⡹⠀⠀
⠀⢀⣠⣤⣴⣶⡶⡺⣱⣶⣧⣸⣀⠀⢳⡀⣤⣶⠿⢦⡀⣠⠔⢉⠔⠁⣰⠀⠀⠀
⢄⣻⡿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠘⢿⣷⣄⠀⠻⣥⣀⡁⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠛⠿⣻⢿⣟⣦⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⢀⢠⢙⠞⣛⣖⡸⠄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠚⠿⣟⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣼⣧⣻⠶⣟⣡⣤⠶⠚
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠢⢄⣈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠥⠔⠒⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 4 6 5 dot art text art ascii art

😷💯

new jjhjhjhj 37 42 vi

✿ heart

new 6 flwer

fg🇩

new fire vi burn

❌

new neovim vi

CATCH IN MY CHIP vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton's gaze shifts to Chip,
his eye filled with regret, but 
the words won't come. Despite
his leftover anger, he felt a bit
bad about it. He just wanted to
show Chip what it meant to be
bombarded! He didn't have it in
him to say he's sorry, and he's
still tense.

Karen feels the weight of the
moment, her eyes moving
between her husband and her son.
"Why don't you sit with Daddy,
Chip?" she suggests, her voice
soft. "Give him some space,
but let him know you're here.
I'll be downstairs."

With a nod, Chip approaches the
bed, his eyes still filled with
uncertainty. He sits down gingerly
beside Plankton, who's staring
at the shattered mess of their
evening. The room is a silent testament
to their unspoken words and the
battle that raged within Plankton.

For a moment, neither of them
moves, the air thick with unspoken
regret and confusion. Then,
slowly, Chip reaches out with
his small hand.

Plankton looks at him, his
eye reflecting a tumult of
emotions—anger, guilt, fear,
frustration.

Chip's hand hovers over
his dad's, unsure if he'll
flinch or pull away. "I'm
sorry," he whispers, his voice
barely above a breath.

Plankton's antennas droop, his
eye still cast down at the
wreckage of their evening. 
"I know," he says, his voice
still tight with anger.

Chip's hand hovers 
over his arm. "Ca--"

But Plankton cuts him off.
"Don't," he says, his voice
raw with emotion. "Just don't."
He turns away, his body a wall
of tension.

Chip's hand falls to his side,
his eyes wide with hurt. "But Dad,"
he says, his voice breaking.
"I di-"

"I said don't," Plankton snaps,
his voice harsh. "I can't do this
right now." His antennas twitch,
his body language a clear
indication that he needs space.

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his hand retreating to his
lap. "But Dad," he starts again,
his voice shaking.

Plankton's eye snaps up,
his anger a living flame. "I said
don't!" he shouts, his voice
echoing in the small room.

"But I'm just 
trying to-"

"I SAID DON'T!"
The words are a thunderclap,
silencing Chip's protests. He pulls
his legs up to his chest, hugging
his knees tightly, as if to shield
his heart from the pain.

"Dad I promise I won't 
overwhelm you again," 
Chip whispers. Plankton's 
antennas quiver, his 
shoulders hunched. But
Chip takes that as a green
light.
Remembering how his mom
put her hand on his back, he
tries to replicate it. So
with a trembling hand, Chip
reaches out and touches Plankton's
shoulder with hope..

But Plankton's reaction is
not what he expects. With a
shriek of overstimulation,
Plankton jumps away, his
body convulsing as if he's
been electrified. "Don't touch
me!" he yells.

The room seems to tilt, and
Chip's eyes widen with shock.
He's never seen his dad like
this before, so raw and exposed.
"Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers,
his hand retreating as if burned.

Plankton's face contorts, his
body wracked with a tremor
that shakes him to the core.

Chip's eyes widen in horror,
his hand hovering in the space
between them, frozen.

Karen steps back into the
room, her gaze taking in the
snapshot of pain and regret.
Her heart aches for both her
husband and son. She knows
Plankton didn't mean to scream,
that his senses are still on
high alert. And she knows
Chip is just trying to bridge
the gap with his love.

Her eyes lock onto Plankton's,
and she can see the desperation
behind the anger. He's scared
and overwhelmed, and she
understands that feeling all too
well. She moves towards the bed,
her steps measured and calm.
"Plankton, sweetie," she says,
her voice a soothing melody as
she reaches out to touch his
back. But the moment her hand
makes contact, Plankton's
body tenses further, his eye
squeezing shut. "No!" he yells.

Karen's hand retreats as if
she's been burned, her eyes
filled with a mix of sadness
and concern. "Plankton," she
whispers, her voice barely
audible above Chip's sniffles.

Plankton's body is a coil of
tension, his eye squeezed
shut as if trying to block
out the world. The room
seems to spin around him,
each sound and sensation a
needle prick in his overloaded
brain. "K-Karen, I...," he gasps, his
voice strained. "I-I-I-I… can't..."

Karen's realizes the gravity
of the situation. She
understands that her husband
has hit a point of no return,
where even the gentle touch
of her hand is too much.

With a deep sigh, she sits
down on the bed, her eyes on
Plankton's trembling form.
Her heart is torn between
concern for him and the
knowledge that Chip is
watching, trying to make
sense of the chaos. "Okay, honey,"
she says, her voice a soft
whisper. "It's okay. We'll give
you some space."

Chip looks up at her, his
face a question mark. "But
Dad?" he says, his voice
small.

Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "It's okay,
Chip," she says, her voice steady.
"Daddy needs some alone time."

With a heavy heart, Chip slides
off the bed, the shattered
pieces of his trophy crunching
under his feet. He looks at
his dad one last time, his eyes
filled with a mix of fear and
longing. "Okay," he whispers,
his voice thick with unshed tears.

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton. "I'll come
find you when Dad's feeling
a bit better."

Chip's eyes dart to his
dad, who's still shaky, his
body curled into a tight ball.
The sight breaks Karen's heart,
but she knows that this is
the best they can do for now.

Karen's gaze lingers on Plankton,
understanding the silent
cry for help in his eye. She's seen
this before, the way his autism
can consume him during moments of
overwhelm. She nods gently, her eyes
conveying her love and patience.

Plankton's breathing starts to
even out, his body slowly
unwinding from the tight coil
of tension. He's aware of her
presence, the steady rhythm of
her breathing a comforting metronome
in the chaos of his thoughts. Karen
knows that space is crucial for him,
but she also understands that a quiet
companion can be just as healing.

"It's okay," she whispers, her
hand hovering close but not
touching him. "You can take your
time." Her voice is a gentle
reminder that he's not alone.

Plankton's eye flickers to her,
his breaths still ragged. Karen's
understanding is a lifeline in
the storm of his emotions.

Karen knows that pushing him
now would only make things worse,
so she sits quietly beside him,
offering her silent support.
Her love for him is a balm to
his soul, even if he can't
express it in words.

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II vi

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠊⠉⠉⠙⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣀⠤⠤⠤⣀⠀⠀⢐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠖⠉⠀⢀⣀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⢀⡴⠀⠙⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡄⠀⠀⠉⠀⠜⠋⠃⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⡤⣄⡀⠀⡤⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⡄⠀⠀⠁⢀⢠⡆⠀⠠⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⠾⠋⠙⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠊⠒⠈⠈⢅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new bfb tpop bfdi tpot bfdia itssixer six algerbralian sixer 6 dot art text art ascii art

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

new 2 4 6 dandy's-world dandy's world

A TOOTHY STORY pt. 6


Plankton's eye closes, his
breathing deepens into snores.
Karen watches him for a moment,
his chest rising and falling
in the rhythm of sleep.

"You're okay," she whispers,
her voice a soft ripple in the
quiet room. "You're safe now."
Her words hang in the air, a
comforting lullaby, when Karen's
friend Hanna unexpectedly
arrives.

"Karen?" Hanna's voice is
a splash of cold water, jolting
Karen to the present. She
quickly wipes Plankton's mouth
and stands up, turning to face
her friend. "Is everything alright?"
Hanna's eyes widen, noticing
Karen's husband Plankton on
the couch, his mouth open,
snoring softly.

Karen laughs nervously. "Oh,
yes," she says, her voice a bit
too high. "Just a little...
dental procedure."

Hanna looks with
concern. "My place is getting
a remodel, I don't know where
else to stay..."
she asks, her eyes scanning
Plankton's sleeping form.

Karen nods, her smile
reassuring. "Of course,
you can stay here," she says,
her voice a warm embrace. "The
spare room's good."

Hanna looks at Plankton,
still snoring peacefully. "Is he
okay?" she whispers. "I know
I've never personally met him.."

Karen nods, her voice a
whisper. "Yes, he's fine,"
she says, her hand on
his forehead. "Just sleepy."

Hanna's eyes flicker with
concern. "What happened?"
she asks, her voice a
soft ripple of curiosity.

Karen hesitates, her hand
still resting on Plankton's
head. "It's nothing to worry
about," she says, her voice
a gentle breeze. "Just a
little dental work."

Hanna nods, her eyes
studying Plankton. "Is he
going to be okay?" she whispers,
her voice a soft ripple of concern.
"Why's he tired?"

Karen sighs, her smile
slightly forced. "It's just...
part of the process,"
she says, avoiding the mention
of teeth. "They had to give him
some medicine to help him sleep."

Hanna nods, her gaze still
on Plankton. "He seems so peaceful,"
she says, her voice a soft
caress. "What was it for?"

Karen's smile is tight. "Everything
is just fine, Hanna. He might not
want me to say much without
his permission."

Hanna nods, understanding.
"Of course, I didn't mean to
pry." She looks around the room.
"It's just, I've never seen anyone
sleep so... peaceful?"

Karen laughs softly, her
voice a gentle ripple. "It's the
medicine," she says. "They had
to give him something to relax."

Hanna nods, her gaze lingering
on Plankton's sleeping form.

Karen decides it's time to
wake him, gently shaking his
shoulder. "Plankton," she whispers,
her voice a soft nudge. "Wake up,
sweetheart."

Plankton's eye opens with a
start, his antennae shooting up.
"Whath...whathapened?" he mumbles,
his speech still slurred. Karen laughs,
her voice a warm embrace.

"We need to get you into bed," 
she says, her eyes
twinkling with love. "My friend
Hanna came, and she'll stay
in the guest room."

Plankton blinks, his antennae
waving erratically. "Han-Han?"
he mumbles, his voice a slurred
song. "Whaths...whaths?"

Hanna waves, her smile
genuine. "Hi, Plankton,"
she says. "Nice to meet you.."

But Plankton, still groggy,
mumbles incoherently, his
eye half-closed. "Muff...muff...muffins,"
he says, his tongue thick.
Karen laughs, her voice a warm
laugh. "It's okay, sweetheart,
you're just tired," she says,
guiding him to his feet.

He sways, his body still
under the anesthesia's spell.
"Muff...muffins," he repeats,
his voice a sleepy mumble.
Karen rolls her eyes, her smile
a gentle curve. "No muffins,"
she says, her voice a soothing
wave. "It's night.."

His antennae droop, his mind
a jumbled mess. "B-but...
you promithed..." he slurs,
his eye struggling to focus.
Karen laughs, her voice a warm
caress. "Oh, Plankton," she says,
helping him to the bedroom.

They reach the bed, and she helps
him lie down, his body
collapsing onto the mattress.
"Just sleep, love," she whispers,
her hand stroking his.

Hanna watches from the
doorway, her smile a mix
of amusement and concern.
"Is he going to be okay?"
she asks again.

Karen nods, her voice a
reassuring lullaby. "Yes, just
rest is what he needs," she
says. "It'll will wear
off completely in the 
morning; we all need 
our sleep."

But Plankton, not quite
ready to drift away, reaches
his arms out. "Pweath...picture,"
he mumbles, his hand reaching
for Hanna's.

Hanna, surprised by
his sudden request, pulls out
her phone, the screen a
bright beacon in the dim room.
"A selfie?" she whispers,
her voice a questioning bubble.

Karen nods, her eyes
twinkling with mirth. "I'll get
you gauze first," she says,
helping him sit up slightly.

Hanna, unsure but willing,
holds out her phone, the screen
glowing with potential. "Ready?"
she asks, her voice a soft
whisper. Plankton nods,
his antennae bobbing.

Karen carefully places the
gauze pads in Plankton's mouth,
his eye widening slightly at the
unexpected sensation. "Now,"
she says, her voice a gentle
prompt. "There."

Hanna holds the phone
steadily, the camera lens a
tiny window into their world.
Plankton's arm wraps around her
shoulder, his antennae sticking out
like party horns. "Cheeese,"
he mumbles through the gauze, his voice
slurred but earnest.

The flash goes off,
illuminating the room briefly.
Hanna looks at the photo, her smile
warm. "You got it, Plankton," she says,
handing him the phone. His eye
squints, trying to focus on the screen.

Karen laughs softly, watching
them from the bedside. "You two
are adorable," she says, her voice
a gentle tease. Plankton looks
at her, his mouth still full of gauze.

With a thumbs up from Plankton,
Hanna posts the selfie, the image
of their smiles and Plankton's
comical gauze-filled grin floating
into the digital abyss of her
social media feed. The caption
reads: "Visiting Karen! Featuring
@ Plankton  😂🦷💊"

The notification sounds
chime through the quiet room,
a digital symphony of likes and
laughing emojis. Plankton's eye
widen, his antennae perking up.
"What's that?" he asks, his voice
a groggy whisper.

Hanna laughs. "Everyone thinks you're
cute. Now I gotta get some rest myself!"

Plankton's antennae droop, his
eye heavy with sleep. "M-more...m-muffins?"
he asks, his voice a slurred
plea. Karen laughs, her voice
a warm hug. "No more, Plankton,"
she says, placing a kiss on his forehead.
"You need to sleep now." Plankton
closes his eye, succumbing to
the gentle pull of sleep. Karen
and Hanna watch him for a moment,
his snores the only sound in
the quiet room. Hanna's smile
is warm. "He's so cute," she whispers.

They both watch as Plankton's
snores fill the room, his
body finally at peace. Hanna's
concern fades into curiosity.
"What's with the muffins?"
she asks, her voice a whisper.

Karen giggles, her hand still
on his. "It's just the remnants of meds
talking," she says, her voice a gentle
wave. "He'll be himself in the
morning." She stands up, her
movements smooth as a dolphin's.
"Let's get you settled in the guest
room now.."

new a toothy story sleepovercore 6

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣏⡿⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡏⢻⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣾⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⢿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣒⣟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⡿⣿⢸⣟⡿⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⢻⣿⢿⣿⣟⣿⢿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣫⢔⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣸⣿⣝⣻⣿⣸⣧⣿⣿⣜⣻⣿⣿⢞⣛⣼⣿⣿⣿⣜⣻⣿⣜⣿⣛⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣚⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡹⣹⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⣩⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠟⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢻⣿⡿⠃⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⠿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠼⠿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⡉⠍⣉⠉⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿⣷⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⣔⣒⣋⣟⣛⣖⠾⢦⡔⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢌⣑⣬⣖⣲⣒⣒⣖⣢⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢒⣯⣶⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠻⣷⣍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⣾⡟⢻⣿⣯⣿⣿⡟⠻⣮⣟⠦⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠲⠝⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠡⠔⠻⠟⠓⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡆⢴⠄⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠐⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡀⢻⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠹⠀⠰⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⢰⠏⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⢀⠘⣧⢀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⣄⡘⠿⠋⠑⠀⠀⠀⠚⢿⠿⠁⣠⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠈⠄⠀⠙⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⡀⠀⠠⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢂⠉⡄⣠⠠⢡⡐⡄⢲⣠⢌⠱⠤⣀⠈⢻⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠻⣟⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠓⠒⠖⠈⠁⠻⠟⠷⠿⢾⡷⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⢀⢀⡂⠼⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠐⠀⠂⠁⠂⠀⠁⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠑⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠙⢢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⢯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢶⣄⡂⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢠⣱⡾⠋⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠷⣽⣶⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣰⣾⣷⠿⠋⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⢿⡿⣿⠾⠟⡛⠍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⡐⢂⠐⠠⠘⠠⢁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠈⠐⠀⠂⠄⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⡀⣀⢀⡀⣁⠀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⣀⠀⣸⡄⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣼⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new vi line editor computer printer a photo dot art text art ascii art

merii jaaan 🥰😚
⁰¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

new six october april

⁶⁶⁶ 𐕣⛧𐕣⁶⁶⁶

new 666 inverted cross pentagram pentacle occult wicca baphomet anti-christian

4️⃣4️⃣

new number six

𓃎

new 6 six six dots 6 dots

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı. 0𝟖𝟖𝟖

new cardinal number six forty

100000🔢

new 60 000 six five least

(ᵕ—ᴗ—)ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

new happy glad six

🚶‍♂️🧎‍♂️6️⃣

new man kneel six

🚫🔽6️⃣

new forbidden arrow six

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⢷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⢈⣉⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⢉⡉⠉⠉⢐⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⠟⠁⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣧⣶⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⡛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣶⣄⣠⡼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢉⡉⠉⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠜⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣦⣤⠾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⣶⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⠿⠛⠻⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣧⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣇⠀⢠⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⢠⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠹⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠻⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⡟⢠⣶⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣼⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠤⠤⠤⠬⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢁⡀⠙⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡿⣹⣿⠀⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣾⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⠁⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⠟⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠏⢸⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠟⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣟⡁⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠿⣿⠿⠳⣟⠲⠤⠀⠀⠀
⣀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⡀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡈⠉⠛⠿⠿⣿⣷⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⡿⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⠈⠻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣳
⣿⣿⡏⠉⠛⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⡟⠁⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣇⠀⠘⣿⣷⢺⣯⣉⣡⡴⠛
⠿⠋⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠿⠛⠉⠉⢙⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠀⢀⣼⠿⠿⠶⠒⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡀⠀⢹⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣶⣶
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣧⣤⣍⡉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣩⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⣼⣿⡃⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿
⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣶⡀⢀⣼⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠃⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⡛⠋⢉⣩⣶⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⣡⣶⣶⣶⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠙⠷⢦⣄⣀⣤⡾⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⣙⣷⣿⡿⠛⠁⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣿⣿⣁⠉⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⠟⠿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⣻⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣿⡿⢿⡛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⠿⢟⠛⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new sixnine bfdi bfdia idfb bfb tpot six nine objectshows algebraliens six and nine bfdi dot art text art ascii art

"9️⃣6️⃣"

new nine six

9️⃣, 8️⃣1️, 🤝🏼

new nine six three 12

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

e🇪🇹🇾🇦🇸🇷🇮🇪🇷🇹🇾🇦🇸🇮🇱🇧🇨🇫🇽🇵ℹ󠁈󠁚󠁇󠁰󠁣🇰🇯🇿🇨🇫󠁈󠁇󠁣🇵🇿ℹ󠁳⸸♭𓎆⚡︎‼󠁗󠁏󠁷󠁱󠁁󠁩󠁄󠁂󠁆󠁘󠁅󠁖🇦🇮🇪ℹ🇷🇹🇵🇾🇦🇸🇮🇱🇨🇧🇰🇯🇿🇫🇽󠁧󠁈󠁳ℹ️󠁫󠁷󠁯󠁱∘𝔼◐◡◑𝓗𖤐∀✴☣®️🅿️💙🤤❎💵💟🥉🔤ඞSUSSY☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა几ㄩ卄ㄩ卄/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ᵐᵉᵒʷˎˊ˗🔰