The Life of Unity Emojis & Text

THE LIFE OF UNITY v (Autistic author) Sponge Bob wraps around Plankton's quivering body, his eyes filled with compassion. "It's ok, buddy," he says soothingly. "Kevin didn't know. He's just not used to... well, you know." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye brimming with unshed tears. "Kevin hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob nods, wrapping around Plankton in a gentle embrace. "I know buddy," he says soothingly. "But Kevin's just a sea cucumber. He didn't understand." Plankton's antennae quiver with sadness, his monotone voice barely audible. "But jellyfish," he murmurs, his one eye slowly closing. "Jellyfish never hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob nods, stroking Plankton's antennae gently. "It's ok," he whispers, his voice filled with warmth. "You're safe now." Sponge Bob's stroke Plankton's antennae, his touch as soft as a feather brushing. Plankton's quivering slows, a distant echo of the pain that once consumed him. His eye closes, his body relaxes, and the tension dissipates. As Plankton's breathing evens out and his antennae stop quivering, Sponge Bob realizes that his friend has finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. The yellow sponge looks down at the tiny plankton in his arms. Sponge Bob's gaze is soft as he takes in Plankton's peaceful sleeping form. Plankton's antennae, no longer quivering with anger, lie still against his head. His one eye is now closed, his mouth slightly agape in the unguarded ease of slumber. He looks around the jellyfish fields, the serene scene a stark contrast to the emotional storm that has just passed. The jellyfish float around them, oblivious to the drama, their tentacles trailing lazily in the water. Sponge Bob sighs, his tightening around Plankton's small form. He knows that this incident with Kevin won't be the last time his friend faces misunderstanding or cruelty. Plankton's new reality is tough but he's determined to help him navigate it. Gently, he cradles Plankton and starts the journey back to the Chum Bucket, the place where Plankton's heart lies despite his recent troubles. The walk is quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of the jellyfish and the occasional splish-splash of the water. Sponge Bob's thoughts are with his friend, wondering how he can help him feel less alone in the vast sea of confusion and pain. As they enter the Chum bucket, Karen's electronic eyes light up with curiosity. She notices Plankton's asleep and Sponge Bob's solemn expression. "What happened?" she asks, her digital voice filled with concern. Sponge Bob sighs, still gently supporting Plankton. "A jellyfishing champion named Kevin was making fun of Plankton," he explains, his voice tinged with sadness. "It upset him because of his condition." Karen's robotic arms cross over her chest, her digital eyes widening. "His neurodisability?" she asks, her curiosity piqued. Sponge Bob nods, still wrapped around the sleeping Plankton. "Yes," he says, his voice gentle. "Kevin didn't know. He said some things that really hurt Plankton's feelings." Karen's digital brow furrows, her LED lights dimming slightly. "That's unfortunate," she murmurs, her circuits processing the situation. "Tell me what he said." Sponge Bob recounts the conversation around Plankton protectively as he speaks. "Kevin called Plankton 'stupid' and said jellyfish were dumb," he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "It really got to him." Karen's LED lights flicker with understanding. "I see," she murmurs, her robotic voice soothing. "It's not uncommon for those who are unaware of neurodiversity to make hurtful comments." Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But it really hit Plankton hard. He's already feeling so lost with his new diagnosis." Karen's LED lights dim slightly, her digital expression reflecting empathy. "It must have been quite the ordeal," she says, her voice a soothing hum. "I can see how that would be difficult for him." Sponge Bob nods, his tentacles still wrapped around Plankton. " He's not the same," he whispers. "But I think he's trying." Karen's digital eyes narrow, her circuits whirring as she processes the information. "Tell me everything," she says, her voice a gentle purr of concern. "I want to understand what happened to my Plankton." Sponge Bob takes a deep breath. "Kevin was making fun of Plankton," he starts, his voice filled with anger at the thought of his friend's pain. "He didn't know about the accident." Karen's eyes widen, her digital pupils dilating with concern as Plankton himself starts to stir, his antennae quivering in his sleep as if in response to the conversation. "It's okay, Plankton," Sponge Bob murmurs stroking his friend's antennae gently. "You're safe." Plankton stirs in his sleep, his antennae quivering slightly as he groans. Karen's eyes soften, her robotic arms reaching out tentatively. "Let me take him," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "I'll make sure he's comfortable." Sponge Bob nods, unfurling as he gently transfers Plankton to Karen's outstretched arms. She holds him with surprising tenderness, cradling him against her cold, metallic body. "Thank you," she murmurs, her digital eyes never leaving Plankton's face. As she carries him to his bed, Sponge Bob follows, his thoughts racing with the weight of the situation. He can't help but feel a mix of anger and sadness at Kevin's callous words and Plankton's pain. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he whispers, brushing the plankton's antennae. Plankton's one eye opens slowly, his antennae still quivering from the echoes of the painful conversation. "Karen?" he murmurs, his monotone voice thick with sleep. Karen's LED lights blink in response, her robotic arms adjusting his pillow with gentle precision. "You're safe," she assures him, her digital eyes softening. "You're home." Plankton's antennae quiver with confusion. "Home?" he murmurs, his one eye opening wider as he takes in the surroundings. "Where's jellyfish?" Karen's LED lights flicker gently. "You're in the Chum Bucket, Plankton," she says, her robotic voice a soothing purr. "You're safe." Karen hands him his box of organized jellyfish figurines. Plankton takes the box, his one eye blinking rapidly as he looks around the room. The familiarity of his bed and his beloved jellyfish figurines brings a small measure of comfort, but the memory of Kevin's cruel words still stings. Sponge Bob sits by Plankton in the bed, looking at the different mini figures of jellyfish Plankton assorted. "Jellyfish," Plankton murmurs, his antennae still quivering slightly. He takes one out, a small translucent figurine with a smiling face. "This one's Aurelia aurita," he says, his monotone voice slipping into the rhythm of technical jargon. "It's a moon jellyfish. They have a lifespan of approximately one year." Sponge Bob nods, reaching out to touch the delicate model. "They're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with wonder. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly with pride, shifting to a gentle lecture tone. "Yes," he murmurs, holding up another. "This one is a Cyanea capillata, also known as the lion's mane jellyfish. It can grow up to 2.5 meters wide with tentacles over 30 meters long. Quite the predator." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with amazement. "Wow," he says, his voice filled with awe. "They're so different from each other." Plankton nods, his antennae quivering slightly.

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A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i (Autistic author) "You know, Shel, just put yourself out there. You think to much! Just steal a patty from the krusty krab, and bring it back. No inventions, just believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says. Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition often outstripped his grasp, took a deep breath and nodded. It was a simple enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting ingenious contraptions and elaborate schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret formula. Yet here he was, standing in the shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth for any signs of movement. Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her frustration building. Meanwhile, Plankton took a final shaky breath and slid open the kitchen window, his heart racing. The scent of greasy fryers and salty ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached out, his tiny hand trembling, and snatched the Krabby Patty that lay unguarded on the counter. With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's confidence grew. He had done it; the secret was within his grasp! He turned to leave, but his elation was cut short when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze. Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was quick. He dashed under the cash register, the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like a football player crossing the finish line. "You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs was persistent, his claws snapping shut just millimeters from Plankton's antennae. With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy metal contraption off its stand. Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and the cash register came down on him like a guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the kitchen, and the Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp. Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. The impact had been tremendous, and for a moment, he lay dazed and defeated. The cash register's heavy weight had not only knocked him out cold but also left a sizable dent in the floorboards. Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic. as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just as she was about to storm inside, she hears the cash register, which hit Plankton's head. Peering in she saw Plankton lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with panic. Karen opens the door and goes to him. "Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, voice shaking the very foundation of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's eye closed, and his body was completely still. The Patty lay forgotten. Panic set in, and she began to pat his face. "Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing through the deserted kitchen. She knew that Plankton could be dramatic, but this was unlike him. He'd always bounced back from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a bruised ego. There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of desperation and fear. She knew she had to do something, and fast. But what? Her medical expertise was limited to patching up her husband's bruises from past failed schemes, not dealing with a concussion from a cash register to the head. She then managed to scoop up her unconscious husband and sprinted to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. Once inside the hospital, she explained what happened with the cash register. "We'll do a brain scan." They said. Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed. Finally a doctor approached with a solemn expression. "The brain scan results are in." Karen nodded for him to go on. "It seems your husband has suffered significant brain damage from impact," the doctor continued, fidgeting with a clipboard. "The good news is that he will wake up, but... your husband has experienced severe brain trauma. While he will regain consciousness, it appears that he may have developed permanent autism." "What does that mean?" she managed to whisper. The doctor explained that while Plankton would still be able to talk and/or communicate, his interactions and reactions to sensory would be significantly affected. "But he'll still be the same Plankton?" The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. His personality, his memories, they should all be intact. But his ability to process, to understand and respond appropriately... those might be altered. It's a complex condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go home whence he wakes up." Karen nodded numbly, mind racing with the implications. As she sat by Plankton's bedside the hospital lights flickered, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was the only company she had. The quiet was broken her husband's eye fluttering open. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the trauma. Her heart leaped at the sound, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm here," she said, her voice cracking. "How do you feel?" Plankton's gaze darted around the room. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and fear. "You're at the hospital, sweetie," Karen replied, voice gentle and soothing. "You had hit your head on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." Karen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you." Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, voice sounding distant and confused. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at his brain like a thousand tiny needles. "What happened to me?" he asked, voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath preparing herself to explain the gravity of the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and now, the doctor says you have... acquired a neurodisability." Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... what?" he repeated. Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's like your brain is wired differently now. You might see things, hear things, feel things more intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand people, or process differently." "Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice barely a whisper. "No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not broken. You're just... different. And we'll figure this out together."

˚　　　　✦　🪐　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 🌀　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . 　🚀　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　☄️ 　　　 ˚🌒　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　🌀　　　 ✦　　.　

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

◤ 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙮𝙚 ; 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚! 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙮. ◢

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

˗ˏˋ ⭐️ ˎˊ˗ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᵎᵎ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ 🌙 ⭑𝐚𝐠𝐞;; ... ୧ ‧₊˚ ꙳◞ ⋅ ☆ ೃ⁀➷ | 🪐 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 💭 ୧˚𝐧𝖆𝖒𝖊;; ... ╰┈➤ ‧₊˚ ☀️ 彡 𝐧𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓;; ... 𝐠𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗;; ... ⤵ ‎ ⋆ 🌏 𝐬𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑𝖘 ;; ...◞ ๋࣭ ⭑ ☄️ ˎˊ˗ 𝙗𝙮𝙚 !! <𝟑 bio credits // m14!!

👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚

𖦹ଳ𓂁𓇼𓂃𓆉.𓆉.𓆉𓂃𓇼𓂁ଳ𖦹

F e l i c i t a t i o n s , m a l e f a c t o r s !

“HEAR ME KRABS! WHEN I DISCOVER YOUR FORMULA FOR KRABBY PATTIES I’LL RUN YOU OUT OF BUSINESS! I W E N T T O C O L L E G E!”

Bald Man © 8 hours ago ⬛⬛                     ⬛⬛ ⬛🟩⬛               ⬛🟩⬛    ⬛🟩⬛         ⬛🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛   ⬛🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛          ⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛       ⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛   ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵈᵃʸ       ⬛🟩🟨🟨🟨🟩⬛      ❤    ⬛🟩🟩🟨🟥🟨🟩🟩⬛ ⬛🟩⬛🟩🟨🟨🟨🟩⬛🟩⬛ ⬛🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩⬛    ⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛       ⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛          ⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛       ⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛       ⬛⬛⬛   ⬛⬛⬛

r/shortscarystories 5 days ago DottedWriter My Former Highschool Bully Apologized To Me Today I stared at her as she sobbed on her knees "Alice, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I'm sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you!" Sophia said as she wept in front of me. I just stared at her as she continued to sob over all of the things she had done to me. She would directly insult or make demeaning JOKeS about me, spread n͟asty rumours about me, manipulate my friends against me, şteal a guy I had a crush on, make horrible posts about me on social media, and even manipulate some guys into doing things like jum͜ping̨ me. She did everything if it meant I suffered in the end. I tried to tell my teachers about this, but they just turned a deaf ear, and I didn’t even bother talking to my parents about it, they were more focussed on their jobs than me. And even then, if Sophia found out I snitched, that would result in an extra beating from her and her cronies. She was behind all of my sufferıng, enjoyed the despair on my face, she enjoyed how much ab*se she inflected on me. So you could only imagine my surprise when she approached me one day and started to apologise tearfully to me As she continued to cry, my eyes started to spark with anger, anger that I had suppressed inside me for the past 5 years after highschool . I had no one to turn to for support, absolutely no one. And she dared to spew her little crocodile tears right in front of me. I had enough of it. I floated around my grave until I was behind her, I stared at her for a long minute, before I plunged my hand into her chest. She tensed up, and some of her bľood splattered onto my grave. I dug through her organs before I found what I was looking for. Her heart. It was still beating as she collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at the wound at a desperate attempt to cover the bleeding. She coughed out błoođ, and wheezed as she continue to bleed out. I stared at how pathetic and pitiful she looked now. I stared at her as a twisted, evil, and satisfied grin crept onto my face .

– ̗̀ 𝓗𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢 ̖́- ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ✧

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY v (Autistic author) The door to the Chum Bucket creaked open, and Patrick Star waddled in, a quizzical expression on his face as he took in the scene before him. "What's with the library vibe?" he asked looking from the book-laden table to Plankton's intense gaze. Plankton looked up from the book, antennae stilling for a brief moment before he resumed his recitation of pi. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." Patrick's eyes grew wide as he took in Plankton's intense focus and the unwavering rhythm of his voice. "Plankton, buddy, what's got you in such a tizzy?" he asked, his usual lazy drawl replaced with curiosity. Plankton's antennae twitched as he broke from recitation. Patrick looked at Plankton with genuine curiosity. "Patrick," Plankton said, his voice flat but his antennae twitching slightly. "Jellyfish club." Patrick blinked, his star-shaped pupils dilating in surprise. "Jellyfish club?" he echoed, his voice rising an octave. Karen nodded. "Yes, we were just talking about starting a jellyfish club," she explained, gesturing to the book. "Since Plankton's really interested in them now." Patrick looked from Karen to Plankton, then back again. "But Plankton, jellyfish sting," he said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Jellyfish sting," Plankton agreed, his voice still monotone. "But Plankton have plan. Jellyfish in jar." Patrick's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish in a jar? What's the point of that, buddy?" "Safe jellyfish," he murmured, his voice tight. "What's that supposed to mean, Plankton?" Patrick asked. "Mean jellyfish safe," he said, his voice a little less monotone. "In jar." Patrick chuckled, mistaking Plankton's seriousness for a joke. "Yeah, right, Plankton. You're not seriously gonna start a jellyfish club, are you?" The room's atmosphere shifted, and Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Why not?" he asked, his voice devoid of its earlier excitement. Patrick's chuckles died in his throat as he realized Plankton wasn't joking. "Well, I didn't mean to laugh," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "It's just, jellyfish are kind of... boring, don't you think?" Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he closed the book with a thud. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice devoid of its previous enthusiasm. "It's just... jellyfish aren't exactly the most exciting creatures," Patrick said, trying to recover from his faux pas. "They just float around, right?" The room went quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped further, and he stared at Patrick, his eye unblinking. "Boring," he murmured, his voice a mix of hurt and disappointment. Patrick, not realizing the depth of Plankton's newfound interest continued, "I mean, come on, Plankton. There's more to life than jellyfish." Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he looked at Patrick with a mix of confusion and hurt. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice monotone yet filled with a hint of challenge. "Well, yeah," Patrick said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean jellyfish are for tourists and little kids, right?" The words hung in the air like a thick fog, and the room grew tense as Plankton's antennae quivered with a mix of anger and hurt. "Patrick, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say," Karen said, her voice a gentle warning. But Patrick, oblivious to the tension building in the room, shrugged again. "I'm just saying, jellyfish aren't exactly the coolest things in the ocean, Plankton," he said, his voice still filled with cheerfulness. "Why don't you jus-" Plankton's antennae shot up, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Jellyfish cool," he said, his voice a monotone, but with a hint of steel. "Oh, come on, Plankton," Patrick said, waving a dismissive hand. "You're smarter than this. Why waste your time with jellyfish?" "Jellyfish interesting. Plankton like jellyfish." Karen stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Patrick, Plankton's just found something that he really enjoys," she said. "We should support him in his new interest." But Patrick, still not grasping the gravity of the situation, chuckled. "Oh, Plankton, always so dramatic. It's just a phase. And you can't talk like that forever, right?" He then mimicked Plankton's flat tone saying, "Plankton wike jellyfish," which sent him into a fit of giggles. The room grew quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped, and a single tear formed at the corner of his eye, sliding down his face. "B-but, Plankton thought..." Plankton's voice broke as Patrick interrupts him again mimicking him. "B-but, Plankton thought," Patrick said, his voice a high-pitched parody of Plankton's monotone. "Jellyfish cool," he continued, his giggles echoing in the room. Plankton's antennae shot up. "Jellyfish cool," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering. Patrick's giggles didn't stop, and he leaned closer to Sponge Bob, whispering, "Is he for real?" But Plankton's tears didn't fall in vain. The moment his sobs filled the room, the atmosphere shifted. Karen's with horror at the sight of her husband's pain, and she rushed over to him, wrapping around his tiny frame. "Plankton, no," she whispered, her voice filled with a motherly concern that was more powerful than any Krabby Patty recipe. Sponge Bob's expression grew solemn as he watched the scene unfold. He had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, so raw. The villain he knew was now a creature in pain, and his heart swelled with emotion. "Patrick, that's enough," she said, his voice firm. But the damage was done. Plankton's sobs grew louder, and he buried his face in Karen, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen glared at Patrick, her screen flashing with a fiery protectiveness that was uncharacteristic of her usual calm demeanor. "Patrick, you need to leave," she said, her voice a low hiss. "Now." Patrick, taken aback by the sudden shift in mood, backpedaled awkwardly. "But, I didn't mean to-" "Just go," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "Outside. I'll talk to you in a moment." Patrick, still chuckling nervously, shuffled to the door. "But, I didn't mean to make him-" "Out!" Karen's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The urgency in her tone was clear, leaving no room for argument. Patrick, still looking confused, shrugged and waited outside.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iv (Autistic author) Without missing a beat, Plankton starts rattling off a stream of facts. "Jellyfish are invertebrates," he says, his voice gaining speed and confidence. "They have no bones, no brains, but they have stinging cells called nematocysts." "Wow, Plankton, that's amazing," Sponge Bob says, eyes wide with wonder. "I didn't know that!" "Neither did I," Karen admits, a small smile playing. "You've always had a knack for science, but this is something else." Plankton nods, his excitement palpable. "Jellyfish have life cycle," he continues, his voice taking on the rhythm of a lecturer. "Start as polyps, then grow into medusae." Plankton's antennae twitch as he recites facts rapidly. "Jellyfish can have hundreds of stinging tentacles," he says, his voice gaining momentum. "And some species can even clone themselves. It's called strobilation!" he says, his eye glued to the book. His voice is monotone, but the enthusiasm is clear as he shares his newfound knowledge. "That's so cool, Plankton!" Sponge Bob exclaims. "I had no idea!" Plankton nods. "Jellyfish book," he says again, his voice still a monotone, but his tone is less flat. Karen and Sponge Bob share a hopeful look. Plankton's intense focus on jellyfish seems to be providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos of his new reality. "I think Plankton might just become the smartest jellyfish expert in Bikini Bottom," Karen says trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe one day we can go jellyfishing together," Sponge Bob says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his gaze flicking to Sponge Bob before returning to the book. "Jellyfishing," he repeats. "But Plankton, remember jellyfishing can be dangerous if they sting" Karen says gently with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch. "Dangerous," he repeats, his eye still on the book. "Jellyfish sting, but Plankton have plan." He flips through the pages, stopping at an image of a jellyfish in a jar. "Jellyfish in jar," he says, tapping the picture. "Safe jellyfish." Karen and Sponge Bob exchange a look. "You wanna keep jellyfish in a jar, Plankton?" Sponge Bob asks, voice tentative. Plankton nods vigorously. "Jellyfish in jar, safe jellyfish," he says, his excitement palpable. Sponge Bob leans closer to the book, his curiosity piqued. "What else does the book say, Plankton?" Plankton starts reading off the index and page numbers, his voice a monotone yet steady stream of information. "Jellyfish page 12. Nematocysts, page 34. Jellyfish reproduction, page 67," he recites, his antennae twitching with each number. Sponge Bob leans in closer, fascinated by Plankton's sudden wealth of knowledge. "How do you remember all of that?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Good memory," he says, his voice still flat but with a hint of pride. "Plankton read book." Karen nods, her gaze soft. "Yes, you read the book," she says, her voice a gentle reminder. "You've learned so much about jellyfish." Plankton's antennae quiver with excitement as he flips through the pages. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his gaze alight with a passion that Karen hadn't seen in him since before the accident. "You know, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, leaning closer to the book. "Maybe we could start a jellyfish club. Just you, me, and Karen. We could learn all about them together." Plankton's antennae stand at attention at the idea. "Jellyfish club," he repeats, his voice a mix of excitement and skepticism. "With Karen and Sponge Bob?" "Yes," Karen says with a smile, her voice filled with hope. Plankton nods, his antennae moving with the rhythm of his thoughts. "Jellyfish club," he murmurs, the words rolling around in his head like a treasure found at the bottom of the sea. "Yea Plankton who knew, easy as pie!" "Pie?" he repeated, the word echoing in the room. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." His voice grew in confidence as he recited the digits, his eye glazing over as he fell into a rhythm that seemed almost meditative. Karen and Sponge Bob stared at him in amazement as he rattled off the numbers, his monotone delivery a stark contrast to the awe in their expressions. "Plankton, that's incredible!" Karen exclaimed with astonishment. "Pi, yes," Plankton said unwavering. "Circle's ratio." Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "How?" "Pi," Plankton began, his antennae quivering slightly as he found his rhythm. "The ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. 3.14159265358979323846..." He recited the digits as if they were the most natural thing in the world, his voice steady and unwavering. Karen and Sponge Bob watched in amazement as Plankton's eye took on a faraway look, his focus solely on the mathematical constant that held the secrets of the universe's geometry. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight of Plankton's newfound passion. "It's incredible how you can remember all of that," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "Remember pi," Plankton said, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "Easy for Plankton." "Wow, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his eyes sparkling with amazement. "You're a math genius!" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly at the compliment.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iii (Autistic author) "It's okay, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his voice soothing. "We're just going for a walk. Nothing to worry about." The three of them walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the lapping of the waves and the occasional squawk of a seagull. Karen could feel the tension, and she wondered what was going on inside his head. As they neared the jellyfish fields Sponge Bob perked up. "Hey, Plankton, you remember jellyfishing right?" He asked, his tone hopeful. Plankton's antennae stopped the nervous twitching for a moment. "Jellyfishing," he murmured, the memory sparking a glimmer of interest. "Jellyfish sting." Sponge Bob's smile grew wider. "Yeah, but it's fun, right?" He said trying to keep the conversation light. Karen could see the effort in his eyes and felt a pang of guilt for ever thinking poorly of him. "Jellyfish... fun," Plankton repeated, his voice still flat. Sponge Bob looked at him, his smile fading slightly. "Yeah, jellyfishing's the best!" he said trying to keep the energy up. "Remember all the good times we had?" Plankton nodded, his gaze distant. "Good times," he echoed. Sponge Bob's smile faltered, and he shot a questioning glance at Karen. "Is everything ok with Plankton?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. Karen took and squeezed Plankton's hand. "Hold on, Sponge Bob," she said gently. "Plankton, can you find us a rock? A pretty sparkly rock." Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, and she could see the gears turning in his head. He nodded, his antennae tilting slightly. "Find rock," he said, before going in the familiar jellyfish fields. Sponge Bob watched him go, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is Plankton ok Karen?" he asked. "He's just... different now," Karen said, voice tight with emotion. "He had an accident, and the doctor says he has acquired autism." Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "Hey I think I have that, too! But what does that mean for Plankton?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "It means he's going to need some help," Karen said, her voice calm and measured. "He'll still be the same Plankton we know, but his brain works differently now." Sponge Bob's eyes searched hers, trying to understand. "Different like how?" Karen took a deep breath. "Well, he might repeat what we say," she began, watching Plankton as he picked up rocks and examined them. "It's called echolalia. It's a way for him to process language now." Sponge Bob's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, like a parrot!" he exclaimed, nodding. Karen chuckled, despite the heaviness of the situation. "Sort of," she said, "but it's more than just repeating words. It's how he processes information now." Sponge Bob watched Plankton, who had found a particularly shiny rock and was now examining it with intense focus. "What else, Karen?" he asked. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain as best she could. "Sometimes, Plankton might need more time to understand what people are saying to him." Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton. "How might he act?" Karen sighed, looking at the ocean. "Well, sometimes he might get overwhelmed by sounds, lights, or even textures," she said. "It's like his senses are on overload. Although he'll have it for the rest of his life, he can potentially improve his skills. It happened yesterday, I don't think you were working but Krabs hit Plankton's head.." Sponge Bob's expression grew serious, and he nodded solemnly. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Karen," he said, his eyes filled with genuine empathy. "Plankton's always been pretty tough, but I won't let Mr. Krabs know." Plankton returned with the sparkly rock, his gaze still a bit unfocused. "Pretty rock," he said, holding it out to Karen. Karen took the rock. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Good find," Sponge Bob added, giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. The walk continued, yet a distant wail of a boat's horn created a symphony that seemed to overwhelm him. He stopped, his antennae flattening against his head, his eye wide with distress. "Too loud," he murmured, his voice strained. Karen noticed Plankton's agitation. They guided him to a nearby bench, and he sat, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice calm. "Just breathe, darling." Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his antennae quivering. "What's wrong, Plankton?" SpongeBob asked, voice filled with concern. Plankton didn't respond, his eye squeezed shut as he hummed a tune to himself. Karen and Sponge Bob sat beside him, giving him space and waiting for the overwhelming sound to pass. After a few moments, the boat's horn ceased and Plankton's breathing began to even out. He looks up, gaze still slightly unfocused. "Plankton ok now?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice gentle. Karen nodded. "I think so," she said, watching Plankton's antennae slowly untangle from their protective pose. "Sounds can be really intense for him now." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. "We'll keep it down then," he said, his voice a whisper. Karen smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Sponge Bob," she said. "It means a lot." They sat for a few more moments, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore acting as a soothing lullaby for Plankton. Finally, he spoke up, his voice still flat. "Home now," he said, his eye still on the horizon. Karen nodded. "Alright, let's go home," she said, her voice gentle. "SpongeBob?" Plankton asks, wanting him to come with. Sponge Bob looks to Karen, who nods with a grateful smile. "We'd love for you to come, Sponge Bob," she says. "We can all help each other understand." Plankton's gaze immediately falls on a biology book that's been lying on the coffee table, half open to a page about jellyfish. His antennae start twitching rapidly, and he picks it up with a new found interest. "Look, Karen," he says, his voice filled with excitement as he points to a picture of a jellyfish. "Jellyfish." Karen nods. "Yes, Plankton," she says gently. "That's a jellyfish." Plankton opens the book wider, eye scanning the pages with a fervor that was almost palpable. His antennae quivered with excitement as he absorbed every piece of information he could find about jellyfish. It was as if he had found a new obsession, a puzzle to solve that could potentially drown out the cacophony of the world around him. "Jellyfish," he murmurs to himself, his eye scanning the text. "Jellyfish sting. Jellyfish pretty." Sponge Bob's curiosity peaks, and he leans over to look at the page Plankton is fixated on. "Jellyfish, huh?" He says, his voice soft so as not to disturb Plankton's focus. Karen nods. "It's like he's trying to make sense of everything again," she explains. "It's one of his special interests now." Sponge Bob nods. Karen watches as Plankton traces the outline of a jellyfish with his hand. "It's called hyper fixation," she explains. "It's when extremely focused on something to the point where it's almost all he can think about." Sponge Bob nods thoughtfully. "Well, Plankton I see you like the book of jellyfish?" Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his eye never leaving the page. Sponge Bob nods, a smile spreading across his face. "I can see you really love jellyfish, Plankton," he says, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

PLANKTON Lyrics If you see me lurking outside your door Better grab your belongings and swim for shore You’re all a bunch of dumbos who don’t know the store Well I went to college and I’m rotten to the core I’m a marine drifter, I’m a first rate grifter I can be a shapeshifter if that’s what’s called for I’m Plankton Get out of my way I’m Plankton Better do as I say (Karen: You always blow it, don’t you know it Time for me to take the lead If you listen to me for just once in your life Chances are we will succeed) P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N P-L-A-N-K-T-O-N Plankton, Plankton, Plankton, Plankton The secret formula is waiting for me here And you bet your boots I’m gonna get it If you underestimated my twisted brain Then for sure, you’re gonna regret it Taking over the world, today’s the day Sweet victory is just a pull away I’m Plankton The biggest evil genius I’m Plankton The smartest villain alive I’m Plankton I’m gonna get what I want I’m Plankton I’m taking over the world

Best PLANKBOB Episodes Season 1 10b "F.U.N." 15a "Sleepy Time" 16a "Valentine's Day" Season 6 109b "The Krabby Kronicle" 122b "Single Cell Anniversary" Season 7 137a "One Coarse Meal" 139a "Gramma's Secret Recipe" 141b "The Main Drain" Season 8 168b "Fiasco!" 177b "Move It or Lose It" The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water Season 9 198b "CopyBob DittoPants" 203a "Pineapple Invasion" Season 10 207a "Mimic Madness" 207b "House Worming" 209b "Plankton Gets the Boot" 210b "Burst Your Bubble" 228b "Grandmum's the Word" 230b "Bottle Burglars" 232b "Shopping List" 235a "Plankton Paranoia" 238b "Karen's Virus" The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run Season 12 246a "Plankton's Old Chum" 254-255 "SpongeBob's Big Birthday Blowout" 259a "The Ghost of Plankton" 259b "My Two Krabses" 264a "Plankton's Intern" Season 13 272 "SpongeBob's Road to Christmas" 284a "The Flower Plot" 285a "Delivery to Monster Island" 289a "My Friend Patty" Season 14 294a "Single-Celled Defense" 305b "Sheldon SquarePants"

ᴴᵒᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ⁱˢ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ⁱⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵉˡˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᴳᵃʳʸ‧‧‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ‽" ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᴵ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵘʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴺᵉˢᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵒᵘᵗˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢˡᵉᵖᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ‧ "ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ!" ᴳᵃʳʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱʳ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃʸ ᵒʳ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ "ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰᵉʳᵒᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵍᵘʸˢ‧‧‧" ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳ ᵐᵉʳᵐᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵃ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ⁿᵒ ᵛⁱˡˡᵃⁱⁿˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉʳᵒᵉˢ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ʳᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵍʳᵃᵗⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ ᵒʳ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᵃ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ!

› ❝ ʸᵒᶸ ᵈᵒᶰ’ᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ʷᵸᵃᵗ ᶥᵗ’ˢ ᶫᶥᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᶫᵒˢᵉʳ… ❞ ‹

THE DAȲ̴̧̱̭̯̹̗̥̬̬̭̠̉͆́̋͌̐̈̈ ̷̹͕̘͖̽͂̃͒̂́̊͗͂̔͝T̸͛̊HA̸͎͉̺͇͛̅̉̈́̈̎͝͝ͅͅT ̸̡͎̣̙͔͉͕̙͉̩̦͈̘͈̊͑͆͊̏͒̀̉̽̕͝͝Ķ̶̧̨̡̘͚̘͖̭͓͇̬̲̹̩̂́̆͂̎̌̅͒Ȓ̶̡̲͚͈͓̪̘̗̬̪̪͚̹͈Â̸̔BS ̴̢̨̰͓͍̝̯̥̤͈̖̪̹̏̏͂͛̈́̃̾͊̉̓̅̋̏F̴̻̳͚͖̞̤͍̥̫̤̀̃̀́͒̽͆̕R̸̃̀̎̈̌̏̕IẸ̸̡̦̹̤̼͉͕͙̗̠̤̼̖̬̈́͋̋̆S̴̨͍͉͙̻͉̼̩̯͕̽ͅ

ar شمشون (شخصية) Bangla প্ল্যাঙ্কটন Catalan Plàncton Chinese 皮老板 Hebrew פלנקטון hr Šime Josip Plankton シェルドン・ジェー・プランクトン （Sheldon J. Plankton） シェルドン・J・プランクトン ko 플랑크톤 (등장인물) ru Планктон (персонаж) sr Шелдон Планктон zh 皮老闆

🌑🪐🌪💽🔭🛸🛰🛩💫

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☆꧁lil reminder!: 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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."

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vii (Autistic author) "We're just going to do what you want. How about a trivia game?" Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the mention of a game, his love for competition never truly forgotten. "Trivia," he echoed, his voice still monotone but with a hint of interest. "Yes, trivia," Karen said, stroking his back gently. "You can show us all how much you know." Plankton looked up at Patrick. "I'm sorry," Patrick said, voice sincere for once. "I didn't mean to make you cry." Plankton sniffled, his antennae twitching slightly. "Patrick mean," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled with hurt. "I know, buddy," Sponge Bob said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But he didn't know. Sometimes, Patrick doesn't think before he speaks." Patrick nodded, his eyes downcast. "I guess I'm not the best at understanding things," he mumbled. Sponge Bob leaned closer to Plankton. "Why don't we start our game now?" he suggested, his voice gentle. "We can play a game about random trivia. Does that sound okay?" Plankton nodded slowly, antennae still drooping. "Okay," he murmurs. They around the table, the jellyfish book open to a random page. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on it, his mind racing with facts and figures. Karen took a deep breath, her tentacles still tense from the confrontation with Patrick. "Alright, let's start with something easy," she suggested. "What's the scientific name for jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye lighting up with excitement. "Jellyfish scientific name," he recited, "Cnidaria." "Cnidaria?" Sponge Bob repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's right, Plankton!" Patrick looked at the book, then at Plankton, his eyes wide. "How do you know all this stuff?" Plankton's antennae wiggled slightly. "Plankton read book," he said, his voice monotone but with a hint of pride. "Patrick, I'll ask you a question," Sponge Bob said, his smile genuine. Patrick nodded, eager to make amends. "Shoot." Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Okay, Patrick," he said, "What's the square root of 120?" Patrick's eyes widened, his brain scrambling. He took a deep breath and announced, "It's 12?" "No, Patrick," Plankton said, his voice a monotone but with a hint of amusement. "It's 10.190565... but Plankton rounds to 10." Patrick's face fell as he realized he'd been outsmarted. "Oh," he murmured. "Guess I should've studied more at boating school." "It's okay, Patrick," Karen said. Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with encouragement. "Let's keep playing, Plankton," he said. "You're doing great." Plankton nodded, his antennae slightly less droopy. "Your turn, Plankton," Sponge Bob said. "What's something interesting about yourself?" Plankton paused, his antennae twitching as he searched for words. "Interesting?" he echoed. Sponge Bob nodded encouragingly. "Yes, something that makes you special or unique. Tell us all about Plankton." Plankton's antennae quivered as he thought. "Plankton... good at science," he said finally, his monotone voice revealing his pride. "Especially jellyfish." "That's fantastic, Plankton!" Karen exclaimed. Patrick nodded in agreement. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice still subdued. "You're a real jellyfish genius." Plankton's antennae twitched with a hint of satisfaction. "Jellyfish have 24 eyes," he said, his voice monotone yet filled with a newfound confidence. "But no brain." "What?" Patrick's eyes widened. "How can they see without a brain?" Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he began to elaborate. "Jellyfish have simple nervous system," he said, his voice still flat but gaining momentum. "Eyes detect light, not images. Help them avoid predators and find food." Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Wow Plankton," he said. "That's so cool!" "Plankton born cycloptic one eye." Patrick's jaw dropped as he stared at Plankton. "That's... really cool," he murmured, his mind racing to keep up. Sponge Bob nodded eagerly. "Yeah, Plankton," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "Tell us more!" Plankton's antennae perked up at the genuine interest from his friends. "Plankton own Chum Bucket," he said, his voice monotone but proud. "Serve chum, best food in Bikini Bottom." Patrick's eyes lit up. "You're like a chef, Plankton! That's so cool!" But Plankton's gaze remained on the jellyfish book, his thoughts drifting. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled with a hint of anger. "Has Krabby Patties.." Karen and Sponge Bob exchanged a glance, knowing the mention of Mr. Krabs. "Plankton," Karen began cautiously, "we don't have to talk about Krabby Patties if you don't want to." But Plankton's antennae shot up, his voice taking on a new, almost manic energy. "No, no," he murmured, his monotone cracking. "Mr. Krabs. Krabby Patties. Plankton's purpose." Sponge Bob's smile faltered, the mention of Krabby Patties bringing back memories of their long-standing rivalry. "Plankton," he said gently, "you don't have to steal Krabby Patties anymore. You have jellyfish now." But Plankton's antennae quivered with a strange intensity. "Krabs," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a newfound urgency. "Gave Plankton brain damage. Accident," Plankton murmured, his voice low. "Mr. Krabs... Krabby Patty... Plankton's brain... changed." Sponge Bob's smile faded, his heart sinking as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Plankton," he said, his voice filled sadness. But Plankton didn't seem to hear him, lost in his own thoughts. "Plankton not same," he murmured. "But jellyfish... jellyfish make Plankton happy." Karen's eyes filled with understanding. "It's ok, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "You can still have a purpose. Maybe not with Krabby Patties, but with jellyfish." Plankton's antennae quivered as he repeated her words back to her. "Purpose with jellyfish," he murmured. "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her tentacles stroking his back gently. "Your purpose can be whatever makes you happy." "Happy," Plankton echoed, his antennae twitching as he repeated her word. "Yes, happy," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We're here to support you, Plankton." "Support Plankton," he echoed, his antennae drooping slightly. "But Krabs... Plankton's enemy." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, her own filled with a gentle warmth. "Mr. Krabs doesn't have to be your enemy anymore," she said, her tone soothing. "You can find joy in other things." "Other things," Plankton echoed, his antennae still. "Yes," Karen said, her tentacles waving gently. "Like jellyfish. You can focus on learning about them and sharing your knowledge with others." "Share knowledge," Plankton repeated, his antennae quivering with curiosity. "Exactly," Karen said, her tentacles gesturing encouragingly. "You can start a jellyfish club, remember?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed her words. "Jellyfish club," he murmured. "Yeah, buddy," Sponge Bob said, his voice filled with excitement. "We can all join and learn together!" Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, and a glimmer of hope entered his eye. "Club," he murmured, his voice monotone but with a hint of excitement.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY x (Autistic author) "Jellyfish... help Plankton think." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed as he studied Plankton. "So, you're telling me that jellyfish... they help you?" Plankton nodded, his antennae waving slightly. "Yes, Mr. Krabs," he murmured. "They're... comforting." Mr. Krabs's expression softened, the realization of the depth of Plankton's connection to jellyfish dawning on him. "Well, in that case," he said, his voice gruff but kind, "maybe we can find a way to make peace. No more stealing, Plankton." Plankton's antennae quivered as he met Mr. Krabs's gaze. "No more stealing," he murmured, his voice firm. "Plankton loves jellyfish now." Mr. Krabs's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Loves jellyfish?" he repeated, his voice filled with skepticism. "You're giving up your life's work for these... blobs of jelly?" "It's a special interest," she explained. "It brings him comfort and helps him make sense of the world. And who knows, maybe it'll lead him to something amazing." Mr. Krabs's claw tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if jellyfish are what you love, Plankton," he said slowly, "then I guess we can find a way to... coexist." Plankton's antennae perked up at the word, his monotone voice cracking with hope. "Coexist?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Maybe," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "But you've got to promise me no more stealing." "No more stealing," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "Jellyfish... Plankton's friends now." Mr. Krabs studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said gruffly. "But you've got to promise me something in return." "What?" Plankton's monotone voice was filled with caution. Mr. Krabs leaned in, his expression serious. "You gotta promise me, Plankton, that you'll keep on sharing this... this love for jellyfish," he said, the words strange and foreign in his mouth. "Maybe even teach others about 'em." Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering with excitement. "Teach," he murmured, his monotone voice cracking. "Plankton can do that." They had never seen Mr. Krabs and Plankton get along, let alone discuss something other than Krabby Patties. The atmosphere had shifted from tension to something almost... friendly. "Come on, Plankton," Karen urged gently. "Let's get you home." With a heavy heart, Plankton picked up his box of jellyfish, his antennae drooping slightly. "Home," he murmured. "Chum Bucket." Sandy and Karen exchanged glances, their expressions filled with hope and trepidation. But they also knew that with their support and understanding, he could find a new path, one that didn't involve stealing Krabby Patties or fighting with Krabs. The group walked back to the Chum Bucket. Once inside, Plankton carefully placed his jellyfish figurines on a shelf that he had cleared out earlier, his antennae quivering with satisfaction as he arranged them in a pattern that only he understood. The room was a stark contrast to its usual cluttered state, with everything in its place and the once-messy floor now a canvas of neatness. Karen watched. "What are you thinking Plankton?" she asked softly. "Chum Bucket," he murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "Home. Different now." Sandy looked around the tidy space, her eyes wide with amazement. "You've really turned this place around, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching slightly. "Needed... order," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of pride. "Jellyfish like order." The three of them sat down at a small table, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air like a fine mist. Karen reached out. "You know, Plankton," she began, "you don't have to hide anymore. You can be you, with your jellyfish and your quirks, and we'll all still be here for you." Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye blinking rapidly as he took in her words. "Be me?" he murmured, his voice filled with doubt. "Yes," Sandy said, her voice firm. "You're still you, Plankton. Autism is just a part of you, like how jellyfish are part of the ocean." Plankton studied them, his antennae still, processing their words. It was a lot to take in, but he felt a warmth spread through his tiny body. "You really mean it?" he murmured, his monotone voice cracking. Karen and Sandy nodded in unison. "We do," Karen assured. A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY (leads into the sequel if u like but make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first)

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ix (Autistic author) With newfound enthusiasm, Plankton began to organize the mini jellyfish in the box, his antennae quivering as he meticulously arranged them by species and size. Each figurine was carefully placed, his movements deliberate and precise. "Jellyfish... special," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of wonder. Sandy watched, her eyes shining with admiration. "You're really good at this," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Good at jellyfish," Plankton murmured, antennae waving slightly with pride. "Plankton's special place." Sandy nodded, her tail swishing with excitement. "Yes," she said, her voice filled with encouragement. "You have a special place in the world, Plankton, and jellyfish are your thing." As Plankton continued to organize his new collection, his movements grew more animated, his antennae quivering with purpose. Each jellyfish was placed with such precision that it was as if they were living beings in a miniature ocean. His eye never left his task, his mind fully engrossed in the world of jellyfish. It was as if by organizing them, he was somehow bringing order to his own chaotic thoughts. "Plankton," Karen said softly, "I know this is a big change for you. But you know what? Maybe this is your chance to do something amazing with your life." Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. "Let's go outside." Plankton looked up from his box, his antennae twitching with excitement. "Outside?" "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her smile warm. They made their way outside, with Plankton carrying his precious box of jellyfish figurines, his antennae quivering with excitement at the prospect of sharing his knowledge. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over Bikini Bottom as the trio strolled down the sidewalk. Their peaceful evening was abruptly interrupted when they rounded the corner to find Mr. Krabs, his eyes wide with surprise at the sight of Plankton in the company of Karen and Sandy. "What's all this?" he barked, voice gruff. Plankton's antennae drooped slightly, but he held his ground, his box of jellyfish figurines clutched tightly. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, monotone voice cracking. Mr. Krabs squinted at Plankton, his claw resting on his chin. "Well, if it isn't the little troublemaker," he said with a gruff chuckle. "What brings you out of the Chum Bucket?" Karen's forced a smile. "We're just out for a little stroll Krabs," she said. "Plankton's found a new hobby." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued by the unusual sight of Plankton engaged in something other than his usual Krabby Patty obsession. "What kind of hobby?" he asks. Plankton's antennae quivered as he held up his box of jellyfish figurines. "Jellyfish," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of pride. Mr. Krabs's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish?" he repeated, his voice incredulous. "What's gotten into you, Plankton? You're not planning to use them for some crazy Krabby Patty scheme are you?" Plankton's antennae twitched, but he remained calm. "No, Mr. Krabs," he murmured, voice firm. "Plankton loves jellyfish." Mr. Krabs squinted at him, his claw tapping against his chin as he tried to process this new piece of information. "You love jellyfish?" he said, his voice filled with skepticism. "What's so special about jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae waved slightly as he thought about how to explain it. "Jellyfish... unique," he murmured. "Different. Like Plankton." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed. "Different, you say?" he repeated, his claw stroking his chin as he contemplated this revelation. "Well I'll be a barnacle's uncle. I never knew you had an interest in any thing but stealing me secret recipe." Karen stepped forward, her tentacles waving gently. "Mr. Krabs, when Plankton hit his head because of you and when I took him to the hospital, well let's just say things are a little different now." Mr. Krabs's eyes widened, his claw freezing mid-stroke. "Different? What do you mean, different?" Karen's tentacles waved in a calming gesture. "Plankton was diagnosed with autism after the incident with your cash register," she said gently. Mr. Krabs's eyes bulged, and his claws clutched at his chest dramatically. "Autism? What?" he bellowed. Sandy stepped forward, her voice firm and steady. "It's ok, Mr. Krabs," she said, her eyes on the crab. "It just means Plankton's brain works differently than ours. But he's still the same Plankton we know, and he's found something that makes him really happy." Mr. Krabs's eyes darting between Plankton and his box of jellyfish. "Well, I'll be a sea cucumber's uncle," he murmured, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. As they talked, a group of kids playing catch nearby accidentally bumped into Plankton, their laughter and shouts of excitement cutting through the air. In an instant, the delicate balance of jellyfish figurines was disrupted, and they spilled out of the box, scattered across the sidewalk. The children's ball rolled into the mix, coming to a stop. Plankton froze on the ground, antennae shooting straight up, eye unblinking as he stared at the chaos before him. The children looked up, their laughter fading as they took in the scene. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was gentle, but it was lost, mind racing as he tried to make sense of the sudden disarray. The children stared, their laughter dying in their throats as they saw the tiny plankton's distress. One brave soul reached out to help, but pulled back when Plankton didn't react. Karen and Sandy exchanged a worried glance. "Plankton?" Karen called again, her voice a little louder this time. The children watched, their curiosity piqued by the sight. One by one, they cautiously approached, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination. "What's wrong with him?" a young fish whispered to another, their eyes darting from Plankton to the scattered jellyfish figurines. "I think he's in shock," Krabs murmured, his own eyes filled with concern. "The disorganization of his jellyfish is really bothering him.." Sandy nodded, her eyes on the children. "Why don't you guys help Plankton?" she suggested. "You can put the jellyfish back in the box. Let's all put them back the way he had them!" The children looked at each other, then back at Plankton, who was still frozen on the ground. Slowly, they began to pick up the scattered figurines, their little hands moving with care as they tried to mimic the order Plankton had created. They whispered to each other, comparing notes and asking questions, their curiosity overcoming their initial fear. Karen watched them work, her tentacles relaxing slightly as she saw the concern in their eyes. "Good job," she murmured, her voice gentle. "You're all helping out." The children nodded, their eyes never leaving Plankton as they carefully placed each jellyfish back in the box. They worked in silence, their movements a mix of awe and caution. The sight of Plankton's intense focus on his jellyfish had left an impression on them, and they were determined to help him restore order to his miniature world. One by one, the jellyfish returned to their spots, each figure a silent testament to Plankton's knowledge and passion. The children looked at each other, then back at Plankton, who hadn't moved a muscle, still rigid, his eye unblinking. "Is he okay?" the bravest one asked, holding out a tentative fin. Plankton remained unmoving, his antennae quivering slightly. The children's gentle whispers and the soft patter of their flippers on the pavement was the only sound as they worked. The last jellyfish was placed back into the box, the figure of Burgessomedusa phasmiformis nestling into its spot among the others. The children held their breath, waiting for some sign from Plankton that he noticed their efforts. Slowly, Plankton's antennae lowered, and he blinked once, then twice. He looked down into the box, his eyes scanning the neat rows of jellyfish. The children watched as a slight smile graced his lips, and he let out a sigh of relief. The children beamed, their eyes shining with pride, stepping back to give him space. Mr. Krabs, still looking slightly stunned, took a tentative step forward. "Plankton?" he asked, his voice gruff but concerned. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he looked up, his one eye focusing on the crab. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his monotone voice still present but with a hint of warmth. Mr. Krabs's claw hovered over the box, unsure of what to say. "I had no idea Plankton," he murmured, his eyes on the meticulously organized jellyfish. "It's ok," Plankton said, his monotone voice tinged with sadness. "Mr. Krabs didn't know." Karen stepped in gently. "Krabs is just surprised," she explained. "He's never seen you like this before." Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression softening slightly. "That's right," he said, his voice no longer filled with anger. "I've never seen you so... focused on something other than Krabby Patties." "Jellyfish special," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "I didn't mean to cause you brain damage, Plankton.." Mr. Krabs says. "It's okay," Plankton murmured, his antennae twitching slightly.

Your Warranty Has Now Expired by Butterfrogmantis Cartoons » SpongeBob SquarePants "Stand down Krabs! Or prepare to meet your doom!" "Yeah right , yer'll never get yer hands on me secret formula!" "My little friend here says otherwise, eheheh! Now hand over the formula Krabs and no- one gets hurt!" Plankton was holding a large ray gun. "I can already smell the patties! COME TO PAPA" He yelled, pressing the trigger. Nothing. He pressed again. Hm, Maybe something was broken? He shook the gun, then aimed it back at the safe and hit release. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "BARNACLES" He screeched, and squeezed the trigger as hard as he could.. Plankton next woke up in the hospital. "Whaah?" He was aware of a small heart monitor next to him, and the overpowering scent of disinfectant. There was a squeaking trolley moving down the hall, and a slight murmuring from either side of his white curtains. He looked to the left, and then to the right, confused. He had JUST been in the Krusty Krab, hadn't he? Yes, he was trying to melt the safe, so what on earth was he doing in here, he'd been seconds away from blasting the door off of that thing. Ah yes, his ray gun had jammed. Weird. Hadn't done that before. He tapped the side of his head, trying to see if he recalled anything other than pulling the trigger, but his memory was patchy at best. "Sheldon? Oh good, you're alive!" The microorganism looked up to see a very familiar face. Well, screen at the very least. "Ah, Karen! My computer wife – tell me, uh, what happened?" "You exploded, that's what happened. Well, your gun did anyway, I thought you'd died!" "Hm, weird, my trusty old laser shouldn't have gone like that, especially not when I was so CLOSE to getting the secret formula!" He cursed, causing his heart rate monitor to speed up rapidly next to him. Later that evening, once Plankton had been thoroughly checked and confirmed ready for discharge by Nurse Daisy Bazooka, the two returned to the Chum Bucket. The same night, he dreamt about the day. And to think, just like his laser gun, it had all started with the same- "Wires!" Plankton sat up in bed, having been woken up by his thoughts. "Sheldon? What are you doing up at this time? Your left antenna's been twitching ever since I brought you home from the hospital. It only twitches like that when you're stressed or thinking reallll hard about something." "It does?" Plankton blinked, looking up at his own antenna, which was twitching rapidly. "Huh, I wonder why I never noticed". He rubbed his head to get over his daze and turned with a groan to see a familiar yellow sponge bounding up to them from across the other side of the street. He was holding a large balloon. "Hello Karen, Hello Plankton – sorry about your laser the other day." The two of them turned to look out of the window and across the street, to where the sign for the Krusty Krab had just turned from 'closed' to 'open'. "Shall we?" Sheldon grinned a most delighted grin. https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13876443/1/Your-Warranty-Has-Now-Expired

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🧪 || ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃᶰ ᵍᵒ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ʷᶤᶠᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵘᶰᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃᶰᵈˢˑ || ‎‍🧪

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⢟⣺⡽⢛⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠁⡀⢀⠠⠁⠀⠄⠀⠥⠤⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣷⡫⣿⣾⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⡛⣁⣂⠄⠀⠒⠁⡄⠄⠀⠂⠐⠔⠠⣀⠠⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣾⣾⣹⣗⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣮⢵⣿⠟⠀⠁⠀⠀⠄⠔⠊⠀⠀⡀⠀⠊⠐⡈⡈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠈⠠⠀⠀⠀⣀⢦⡄⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⡷⣻⠟⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⣼⡗⠁⠀⠀⠀⡈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠁⡀⠈⠂⠂⠀⢤⡀⡀⠀⢨⢄⡀⠨⠐⡙⢷⡀⠈⢿⣿⣏⣿⡓⡿⣯⣿⣀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⣿⢿⡿⣼⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠔⡈⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠈⠅⠀⠠⠁⠁⢄⠀⠢⡀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠉⢄⠒⠄⠈⠻⣦⣾⣿⣿⠥⠾⡥⣄⣿⣿⣆⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣻⢟⠃⠀⠀⢀⠄⣠⠂⠀⠑⠀⣿⡥⠁⡐⡀⠁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠐⠀⠘⠀⠘⣧⡀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢠⠀⠈⠹⣿⣷⣿⣦⠘⢿⣮⣻⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠋⢠⡟⠀⠀⢄⢴⡾⡇⡴⢀⠀⠊⠀⠈⣶⡄⠀⡤⠤⡀⠀⠘⢗⡄⠄⠐⠀⡢⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣾⣿⣃⠘⢿⢻⣿⣿⣽⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⡒⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣼⠃⠀⠠⣾⠋⠨⣿⠀⡄⠀⡆⠙⡁⣹⣿⣄⠀⠀⢩⡈⠀⠨⣷⠁⠀⠀⠤⢀⢂⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡷⡄⢘⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢹⣷⠄⠀⡰⠁⢰⣿⠀⣰⡿⠥⠄⢤⡟⠆⣷⠀⢩⢠⠀⣿⠉⢿⣦⠁⠘⣿⣆⠀⢻⣷⡀⢀⠃⢀⠊⠄⠀⢹⣿⣟⢷⢳⣼⣷⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⠀⠠⢘⠀⣸⣿⣰⡻⠁⠄⠀⠀⠔⡺⣿⣖⠐⡨⠀⣾⡁⠀⣿⣷⡶⣓⡿⢻⡮⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣯⡹⣿⣽⣿⣷⢿⡂⠈⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⢽⣿⠀⠀⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⢵⣿⢵⣦⣄⠀⢸⣉⣿⡄⠒⠄⣿⠀⠀⠈⠘⠯⢿⣧⠈⠻⣿⣿⡀⢀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠄⣿⣗⢿⠿⣾⠎⠘⣾⣇⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⢸⡿⢾⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿⡫⠔⣫⢭⢩⣵⢳⡛⠻⣟⠶⠐⠂⣟⣪⢠⣤⢈⣠⠬⣷⣤⣄⡘⢯⡇⢀⠂⠘⢰⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣷⣅⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡇⢸⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⡂⣽⣿⣩⠹⢯⣉⣛⣑⠘⢾⣬⡄⢹⡻⢈⣴⣿⣾⣲⣽⣟⠿⣿⣿⣇⠰⠀⠈⢠⡇⠀⢸⣿⣷⣺⣿⠀⠀⣸⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⣸⣿⡀⠀⣿⣷⡇⢻⡿⠋⡏⠳⣷⡇⠀⡁⠊⠼⢞⢼⢿⠘⣿⣿⠻⡘⣊⣹⠂⢘⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⢸⣇⣿⣿⡿⡀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣟⣇⠀⣿⡏⠀⢠⠟⡻⠯⠞⠏⡄⠀⠠⠓⢄⠐⠠⠫⢉⠻⠟⠛⠒⠻⣯⡆⠡⣿⠿⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣦⡀⣿⣿⣾⢟⠇⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⠀⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢸⢿⣄⠠⠛⡏⢂⢀⠀⢄⣀⣸⢊⠤⠌⣥⡈⢉⡀⠓⢗⠴⠾⠊⠠⠀⣼⡏⠀⠄⣾⣽⣻⡿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡃⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣴⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⠹⣿⣾⠿⣿⣯⣄⠁⠕⢡⡐⢛⡲⠓⢦⠬⠥⠬⠬⠭⠬⠄⠁⠈⠅⠹⠖⢀⢿⡋⢂⣾⣿⣯⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣻⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⣿⢸⣿⣹⣾⡇⠀⠘⢿⣻⣾⢾⣿⡻⢶⣤⣁⡗⠖⡐⠶⠶⠶⡆⠉⢁⠰⠄⠀⠈⢁⣠⣼⣾⡎⣠⢿⣯⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⣿⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡈⠻⢟⠺⣾⡸⢿⣿⣎⣽⣿⡷⢶⣶⣶⣦⣶⣿⣶⣷⣶⣿⠿⢟⡿⣿⣺⠝⠉⠉⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣵⠀⠀⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠆⠀⠛⠿⢻⡿⢛⡉⣱⣴⡿⣿⣇⠰⡿⠋⠙⣎⣄⠀⠰⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡈⠂⠀⡀⣠⡺⢷⣷⠃⡀⢸⣷⣾⠏⠉⢷⡄⢶⣖⢮⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣞⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⣾⡏⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠂⢁⣼⣿⣷⣿⡿⢠⢈⣽⢧⣿⢩⢭⠽⣿⣾⣿⣾⢼⣂⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢸⣽⣿⢼⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡄⠀ ⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⠾⡿⣟⣷⣺⣿⢸⢀⣿⠀⣿⠈⡆⠀⠈⢿⣟⣿⣴⣇⣧⡀⠀⠀⠁⡆⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀ ⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢿⣗⣟⢹⣿⡋⡿⣆⢸⣿⡆⣿⠀⢸⠄⠤⣲⣿⣿⣭⡞⣿⣻⡄⠀⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣷⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⠀ ⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣶⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡬⡿⣝⡿⣺⡞⡹⠁⣼⡝⠃⣿⡀⢸⡇⠑⡘⣿⣿⡟⣵⣿⣿⢿⣦⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡄ ⢸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣈⣿⣟⢴⣝⣧⡘⠁⠀⣹⣷⢶⣟⠁⠀⢳⣣⣀⣘⣿⣧⢻⣿⢾⣿⡟⡇⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠃⠀⢰⠀⠀⠘⣿⡇ ⢸⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⢉⣬⡻⣿⡻⣧⣴⣿⣷⣻⣿⣆⢤⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⡻⣿⣿⠤⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠘⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⣿⣶⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢾⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣿⣻⣿⣤⣈⡚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧ ⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢻⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⣮⣡⣋⣽⣿⠿⣯⣯⠿⣿⣟⡿⣿⣿⣷⠒⠞⠁⠀⠁⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏ ⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣹⣯⣭⣿⣿⣶⣷⣹⣓⣁⠉⣁⣰⣶⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⠁⠀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣯⣿⣿⡺⢷⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⢀⣾⣿⣿⠃⢀⣼⣿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣽⣯⣿⣯⣧⣯⢶⡙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⢃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣴⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⢿⣼⣿⡿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣷⣷⡠⣤⣟⣿⣯⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠿⠟⠛⠁⠀⢿⣼⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

#🧪 || ᵒᶰˡʸ ᵃᵍᵍʳᵉˢˢᶤᵛᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᶜᵒᶰᵠᵘᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈᵎ || ‎‍🧪

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⣾⠿⣦⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣴⠿⣷ ⢹⣷⣿⠿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠿⣿⣾⡏ ⠈⠋⢻⣶⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⣶⡟⠙⠁ ⠀⠀⠘⢿⣧⣬⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣥⣼⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢾⣿⡟⠙⣷⡀⣀⣀⢀⣾⠋⢻⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡶⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢶⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣦⠀⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⢀⣴⣶⣾⣷⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⣾⡏⠉⢹⣿⣿⡏⠉⢹⣷⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠸⣧⠀⠘⠻⠟⠃⠀⣼⠇⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠙⢷⣦⣤⣤⣴⡾⠋⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡇⠐⠟⠙⠷⢶⣦⣤⣤⣶⠶⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀

🌎　.°•🚀 🛸　🌎 🪐 .•　° 📡 ✨ ★ 🌙 *^•. “•*.⭐ 🛰️ .• ‘ “ . •., •🔭

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⢄⠀⠀⣄⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⢠⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣎⢸⣿⡿⠳⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢠⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢋⣿⣿⠉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠺⢷⣿⣿⣥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⣾⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠂⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠀⣼⣿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⢸⣿⣿⠁⠃⠀⠀⠀⠸⠁⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢀⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⣿⣠⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⢰⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡶⠶⠛⠋⠛⠛⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠟⠁⠀⣾⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠘⣷⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡿⠇⠀⠹⣧⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⢷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⠶⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠋⢁⣿⠅⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠘⢯⣷⣾⣃⣀⣹⣯⣭⣭⣯⣭⣝⣓⣐⡀⢷⡀⠈⣿⣷⣼⠀⠀⡆⡯⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠃⠀⠀⠀⢨⣷⡄⠈⣿⡦⠤⠤⠤⠼⠷⠾⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢼⣿⠇⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⢠⣷⡷⣟⣿⣶ ⠀⠀⢀⠀⣾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⠀⢹⠙⢧⣀⠀⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⢀⣤⠞⠃⠀⣽⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣟⠻⣿⠋ ⠀⠠⠚⢰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠒⠶⠶⠒⢛⣡⠄⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢸⡏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⢶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠒⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⠐ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣌⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣯⣄⣀⣠⣄⣄⣄⣀⣠⡿⣸⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠿⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠾⠏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⢁⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⡟⢸⡇⢠⢴⣶⣶⠈⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡆⠀⡇⢸⣧⣿⢀⣿⡟⡆⣿⣿⡙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠀⠐⣷⢿⣻⣿⠾⠏⠀⠈⢾⣿⣿⡙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠻⠄⢀⣿⡶⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣯⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⣦⣄⡛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣛⣵⠾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢮⡳⣍⠙⠓⢮⣽⣉⣙⣋⣹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣬⣛⠶⢤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣧⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠻⠶⠧⠼⠬⠯⢽⣿⣿⣮⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡺⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣎⠻⣿⡗⠶⠒⢦⡄⠀⠀⠀⣴⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⣠⡮⣭⣭⣭⡤⠴⢶⣛⡿⠤⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

⋆₊‧꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ଳ.𖥔 ݁ ˖

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iv (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ But Plankton's frustration had reached a boiling point. His voice was a thunderclap in the small room, his eye flashing with a rage he couldn't contain. "You don't know!" he roared, his body shaking. Hanna took another step back, her heart racing. "I'm sorry, Plankton, I truly didn't mean to upset you," she said, her voice shaking. Plankton's gaze shifted to the door, his mind racing to the safety of his solitude. "You don't know," he murmured, his anger subsiding slightly. The sudden silence was like a balm to his raw nerves. But Hanna's curiosity angered him further. "Plankton, what..." "I DON'T KNOW!" Plankton's voice pierced the silence, his frustration at an all-time high. Hanna's eyes grew wider. "I'll leave you alone," she said quickly, her voice quiet and soothing. But as she turned to go, she accidentally brushed against his arm. Plankton's reaction was instant and explosive. He jerked away, his body tensing, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice sharp and jagged. Hanna's eyes wide with shock. "Plankton tell me what's..." But Plankton had reached his limit. The touch, the questions, the expectation of normalcy—it was all too much. He felt personally attacked, now on a roll. "You don't know what's what?" he spat out, his voice a whip crack. "You come in here, invading my space, without a care in the world for what I'm going through!" Hanna took another step back, retracting quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she whispered, her eyes filling with sorrow. "Karen never mentioned..." But Plankton's frustration had become anger, his next words cutting like a knife. "You don't know anything," he snarled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You come in here, asking your stupid questions, expecting me to be the same person I was before!" "Before what, Plankton?" Yet Plankton's not wanting to answer Hanna so he yells his next words at the top of his lungs. "Before I...I... YOU KNOW WHAT? IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Plankton's voice cracked with the effort of his outburst, but he's just getting started, now he's on a roll, his next words being worse. "I don't want you here. I don't need you here," Plankton spat out, his frustration a palpable force in the room. Hanna took another step back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was just trying to..." But Plankton's anger had taken over. "You're not helping!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "You don't get to decide what I need!" He was on his feet now, his body rigid with frustration. "I don't want you to know!" "Know what, Plankton? You don't get to decide what I can and can't know," she said, her voice firm. But Karen's now returned with the smoothie, both Hanna and Plankton too wrapped up to notice her presence. "You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything?" his voice was a growl now. "You think you know what it's like to be trapped in here?" He tapped his head with his finger, his eye wild. "You don't know anything!" Now Hanna's getting real angry. "You think you're the only one suffering?" Hanna countered, her voice rising. "What about Karen? What about the people who actually care about you?" Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, his anger fueled by her words. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space of the Chum Bucket. "You don't know what it's like to have the world make no sense! To be trapped in your own head!" Hanna's expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I really am. But you can't just push everyone away." "Why not?" Plankton demanded, his voice a whip crack. "Why do I have to explain?" But Hanna's concern for Karen overrode her own fear. "Karen's my friend and she deserves better than you and your little tantrums," Hanna snapped back. "Tantrums? TANTRUMS?" Plankton's voice was a roar now. "This isn't a tantrum, it's reality!" Hanna's in a defensive posture, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I don't know what real pain is?" she shouted back. "You're so caught up in your own world that you can't see what you're doing to her, just because you're too stubborn and acting like a child who can't deal with the real world! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A BURDENSOME WASTE OF SPACE! So, if you can't get your act together, maybe you should just go to an institution where people can handle your..." "That's enough!" Karen snapped. Her voice was a whip crack across the tension filled room, startling both Plankton and Hanna. She couldn't stand silent any longer. Yet Plankton's face crumpled at Hanna's threat, his anger giving way to despair. Tears began to stream down his face, his body shaking with sobs he couldn't control. The sudden shift from rage to sorrow was like a punch to Hanna. **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.*

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CATCH IN MY CHIP iv (Autistic author) Plankton looks around, confusion flickering in his eye. "What's going on?" "You had a bit of an overload," Karen explains, her voice gentle. "Too much sensory input, remember?" Plankton's antennas twitch, and his eye widens slightly as he takes in the scene. The mess, the quiet, Chip's tear-stained face. He sighs, his body relaxing back into the pillows. "Ah, yes," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you." Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "It's okay, dear. We're just here for you." Plankton's gaze drifts to Chip, who's hovering in the doorway, his eyes wide and worried. "Chip... I'm sorry." Chip's eyes fill with tears, his voice shaking. "It's okay, Dad. Is your autism causing..." Plankton looks at him, his eye widening slightly. "What do you know about autism?" He sits up, his voice tinged with surprise. Chip sniffles, his grip tight on the seashell collection. "Mom told me," he says, his voice barely audible. "It's why you got overwhelmed, isn't it?" Plankton's expression shifts from confusion to something closer to anger. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me," he snaps, his voice sharp. "I can handle it." "But Dad you just..." Plankton cuts Chip off, his voice edged with agitation. "I said, I can handle it!" Chip takes a step back, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He hadn't meant to upset his dad; he just wanted to understand. "You couldn't handle it, Dad. Otherwise, you..." Plankton's eye narrows, his antennas standing on end. "Don't," he says, his voice a warning growl. "I don't need a little kid telling me what I can and can't handle." Chip's shoulders slump, his eyes welling up. "But I just... I didn't mean to..." "I said, I can handle it!" Plankton's voice cracks through the air, his face flushing with irritation. Karen's grip on Chip's hand tightens, a silent message to stay calm. Chip's eyes water as he stammers, "But I just wanted to help." The weight of his dad's words hits him like a brick. He hadn't meant to make him mad, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something wrong. Plankton's breaths are sharp and quick, his body tense with frustration. "You don't know what you're talking about," he snaps, pushing the covers off his legs. "You're just a kid. You don't understand." Chip's eyes well up with tears as he looks at his father, the man he's always admired and loved, now a stranger in his own pain. "But Mom said it's okay for..." Plankton's anger flares, his antennas quivering. "Don't you dare bring your mom into this," he says, cutting Chip off again. "This is not your business!" Chip's lower lip trembles, his eyes filling with tears. He hadn't meant to upset his dad, but everything he says seems to make it worse. "But Dad," he starts, but his voice is lost in the wave of Plankton's frustration. "I don't need your pity," Plankton says, his voice rising. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his movements quick and jerky. "You think just because you know a fancy word, you know what it's like?" Chip feels his cheeks burn, his eyes blurred with unshed tears. "No, Dad, I just..." But Plankton is already out of bed, his legs wobbly. "You think you know everything, don't you?" His words are a jumble of anger and pain, his voice echoing in the quiet room. Chip steps back, his eyes wide with shock. "No, Dad, I just..." He tries to explain, but Plankton interrupts again. "Don't tell me what you 'just,'" Plankton snaps. "You think because you went to some camp you can come back and act like you know me?" His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. Chip's eyes dart to the ground, his body shrinking under the weight of his father's words. "But Dad, I just..." Plankton's anger is palpable, his body vibrating with tension. "I said, don't tell me what you 'just'!" He snatches up Chip's new surfboard, the one symbol of joy from camp, and slams it against the wall. The room shakes with the impact, sending a shower of sand and shells flying. Chip jumps, his eyes wide with shock. "Dad, please," he whispers, his voice shaking. He's never seen his dad like this, never felt such anger radiating from him. It's like a storm has taken over the room, and he's the only one caught in it. "What are you doing?" Chip asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a step back, his hands up in a protective gesture. "What does it look like?" Plankton snarls, his grip tight on the broken surfboard. "I can't even have a moment without you poking and prodding!" Chip's eyes dart around the room, his heart racing as he tries to find the words to fix this. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to help." But Plankton is beyond reason, his anger a living thing that feeds off the chaos. He turns to the desk, his gaze settling on the pile of sandy photos. "You think your camp souvenirs mean anything to me?" He snatches the pictures, ripping them into shreds. Chip gasps, tears spilling down his cheeks as he watches his memories destroyed. "Dad, no!" He tries to grab the photos, his hands shaking, but Plankton swats him away, the torn pieces falling like confetti around them. The room seems to close in, the smell of saltwater and musty sand overwhelming him. "These are from my trip!" Chip sobs, his voice choking on his own pain. "I don't care about your trip!" Plankton shouts, throwing the remaining pieces into the air. They flutter down like sad confetti, a stark contrast to the joy they once represented. "I care about me! I care about what you do to me with your noise and your energy!" Chip's heart feels like it's shattering into a million pieces, each one a memory of his dad's love and patience torn apart. "I didn't mean to," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. "I just wanted to share..." Plankton's eye flashes with anger, his grip on the shredded photos white-knuckled. "Share?" He spits the word out like it's poison. "You have no idea what you're doing to me! You just keep pushing and pushing, and you don't even notice when I can't take it anymore!" Chip's eyes dart to the floor, his hands curling into fists. "I thought you liked it," he says, his voice shaking. "I thought you liked when I talked about my day." Plankton's chest heaves, his eye blazing with frustration. "You don't get it, do you?" He says, his voice rising. "You never get it!" He picks up Chip's rare seashell collection, the one he'd been so proud to show off, and hurls it across the room. The sound of breaking shells fills the air, each one a shard of Chip's shattered happiness. "Dad, please!" Chip begs, his hands outstretched. "Stop!" But Plankton's rage has taken over, a whirlwind of accusations and anger. "You think this is fun?" He yells, holding up a shard of seashell. "You think this is what I want?" Plankton throws the shard down, the clatter of broken shells like a mocking echo of Chip's pleas. "I don't want your noise!" His hands shake with fury as he grabs the sandy trophy from the camp sandwich contest. "Dad, please," Chip says, his voice small and scared. "What's wrong?" He tries to approach, but Plankton's body language is a clear warning. Plankton's eye dart around the room, his anger a tangible force. "Wrong?" He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "Wrong is you, coming in here with your stories and your noise and your... stuff!" He gestures wildly at the camp souvenirs, the remnants of Chip's excitement scattered across the floor. He hurls the trophy at the wall, watching with a twisted satisfaction as it shatters into a hundred pieces. "This," he says, holding up a fistful of sand, "this is what you do to me!" Chip flinches with each broken piece, his heart aching. "But Dad, I just wanted to make you proud." His voice is barely a whisper, lost in the storm of Plankton's rage. "Proud?" Plankton sneers, his grip tight on the sand. "You think this junk makes me proud?" He throws the sand at Chip, the grains stinging his face like tiny needles. "You have no idea what I go through every day, do you?" His voice cracks, his anger giving way to pain. Karen steps in, her voice firm but calm. "Plankton, that's enough." Her eyes are on her son, her face a mask of concern. "Chip, why don't you go... dust your screen?" Her tone is gentle, but her gaze holds a silent message: stay calm. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's. He turns and heads for the bathroom, his steps slow and deliberate. The door clicks closed behind him, leaving Karen and Plankton alone in the room.

GREAT CHIP iv (Autistic author) In the bedroom, Karen managed to guide Plankton to the bed, her voice soothing. She knew his senses were heightened right now, his body a battleground. Chip hovered in the doorway, his eyes never leaving his dad. He felt like he didn't recognize this man who had always been his hero. The seizure passed, leaving Plankton drained. Karen helped tucked him in, her eyes filled with sadness. In the quiet that followed, she turned to Chip, his own eyes red and puffy. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she said gently. Chip nodded, his gaze still on Plankton's exhausted face. "Is he okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "He'll be fine," Karen assured, her voice strained. "Just tired. This happens sometimes." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. He felt like he was seeing his dad for the first time, like he'd been looking at him through a fog and suddenly, it had lifted. He didn't know what to do with the mix of feelings swirling inside him: confusion, fear, sadness. Karen took Chip's hand, squeezing it gently. "Let's go talk, okay?" she suggested, leading him out of the room. They sat in the kitchen, the silence heavy between them. "I don't get it," Chip said finally, his voice still shaky. "Why did Dad get so mad?" Karen sighed, her grip on his hand tightening. "It's not that he's mad at you, sweetheart. It's his way of dealing with the fear and confusion. Sometimes, his brain gets overwhelmed, and it's like he can't control his reactions." Chip looked at her, his eyes searching for understanding. "But why does he have to break my toys?" he asked, his voice still small. Karen's heart ached for him. "It's not about the toys," she explained softly. "It's about the frustration he feels, the inability to communicate what he's going through." Chip sniffled, trying to wrap his head around it all. "But why does he get so...so...mad?" Karen's eyes were filled with understanding. "It's not just you, Chip. Sometimes, his brain needs a way to deal with everything. It's like his own personal tornado, and when it hits, it's hard for him to keep his emotions from spinning out of control." Chip nodded, still not fully understanding but willing to try. He looked down at their joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm. "What can I do?" Karen squeezed his hand. "Just be patient," she said. "And don't take it personally. Remember, it's not about you, it's about what he's feeling. And when he's ready, we can talk about it together." Chip nodded, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. He didn't want to upset his dad again, but he needed to know how to help. He didn't want to feel so powerless. "But what if he doesn't want to talk?" he ventured, his voice small. "Then we'll give him space," Karen said, her eyes filled with warmth. "But we'll be here, ready to listen when he does." Chip nodded, wiping away the last of his tears with the back of his hand. "Okay," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "Can I sit with him?" Karen nodded. "Just for a bit, but remember, he might not know you're there right away. Let's go." They tiptoe back into the room, the air still thick with tension. Plankton's eye is closed. Karen knows he's sleeping. Chip sits in the chair beside the bed, watching his dad's chest rise and fall. He reaches out to touch Plankton's hand, but stops. He didn't want to startle him, not after what happened. His mind raced with questions, but he knew now was not the time to ask. Instead, Chip took a deep breath, his hand hovering over Plankton's. He didn't know how to make it right, but he knew he had to try. Karen watched from the doorway, her heart heavy with the weight of her family's pain. She knew this was a moment that could either build a wall or bridge the gap between father and son. Chip's hand hovered, unsure, before finally landing on his dad's. Plankton's antennae twitched, and Chip looked up to see his mother's eyes glistening with proud tears. Karen offered a gentle smile. "You can sit with him," she whispered. "Just don't touch him anywhere else." Chip nodded and pulled the chair closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving his dad's still face. He sat for what felt like hours, his hand resting gently on Plankton's. Every now and then, his dad's antennae would twitch, and he'd hold his breath, afraid that he'd wake him up. But Plankton remained still, lost in a deep slumber. The room was quiet, save for the soft snores escaping his dad's mouth. Chip stared at his hand on Plankton's, his mind racing with everything he'd learned. Autism, seizures, the way his dad's brain worked differently. It was all so new and overwhelming. He felt a pang of guilt for not knowing sooner, for not understanding. But Karen's words echoed in his mind: his dad's reactions weren't personal. It was just how his brain dealt with stress. Chip leaned back in the chair, his eyes heavy with the weight of the day's events. He watched his dad's chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm comforting him. His thoughts swirled with questions and confusion, but he knew one thing for sure: he loved his dad, no matter what. As the minutes ticked by, his fear turned into resolve. He would learn more about his father and try to find a way to support him without setting off the storm of sensory overload.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii (Autistic author) Inside, she sets him down on their favorite couch, the one with the frayed edges and the squeaky spring that always reminded them of their first date. The room is cluttered with half-finished inventions and plans for Krabby Patty heists. She sits beside him. The silence stretches on, heavier than a net full of anchovies. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye darting around the room, taking in the chaos. Karen's mind is racing, wondering if he recognizes any of it, if it brings back any memories of their life together. "Home," he murmurs, his voice filled with uncertainty. The room feels smaller, more cramped than she remembered, as if the walls are closing in on them. "Do you like it here?" she asks, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks around, his antennas moving slightly as he processes his surroundings. "Home," he says again, his voice a mix of curiosity and confusion. The room is a jumble of wires, gadgets, and half-eaten chum sticks. Karen's with tears as she realizes how much she's taken for granted their life together. She had always loved Plankton's quirks and his boundless energy, but now his mind seemed to be stuck in a loop, unable to move beyond the basic functions of acknowledgment. "Home," Plankton says again, his antennas drooping. "Home with Karen." The repetition of the words stirs something within Karen. Echolalia, the doctor had called it, a common trait in those with autism. It was Plankton's way of trying to understand the world around him, to find comfort in familiar words and phrases. "Yes," she whispers, her throat tight with emotion. "This is our home." The room seems to shrink around them as Plankton's echolalic chant of "home with Karen" repeats in a soothing loop. Each time he says it, Karen feels a pang of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was finding comfort in the simplicity of their life together. "Home with Karen," he says again, his antennas slightly more animated. Karen nods, brimming with tears. "Yes, Plankton, we're home." But she sees a flicker of distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his antennas quivering with urgency. "Where's Sponge Bob?" Karen's heart squeezes at the mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not here right now," she says, choosing her words carefully. "But he'll come to visit." Plankton's antennas shoot up, his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice gaining strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob." The desperation in his tone is heart-wrenching, and Karen knows she needs to act fast to soothe his anxiety. "Ok, ok," she says, her voice calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob." Karen picks up the phone, her hands shaking slightly as she dials the familiar number. The phone rings once, twice, before it's answered by a cheerful voice. "Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice sounds surprised but concerned. "Is everything ok?" Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's Plankton," she says. "He's asking for you to come over." There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Plankton? But we're... I mean?" Sponge Bob's voice is filled with confusion. Karen's with desperation as she watches Plankton rock back and forth on the couch, his chant growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need Sponge Bob." "Please, Sponge Bob," she pleads, her voice cracking. Sponge Bob's voice on the other end of the line softens. "Of course, Karen. I'll be right over." The line goes dead, and Karen hangs up the phone, feeling a tiny spark of hope. Plankton's cries for Sponge Bob have become more insistent, his rocking more pronounced. She gently places a hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe him. "Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "He'll be here soon." Plankton's rocking slows, his antennas drooping slightly. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his eye searching hers. "Safe." The word hangs in the air, and Karen realizes that despite his confusion, he feels comfort in Sponge Bob's presence. A few moments later, they hear the telltale sound of bubbles popping against the glass, and a knock on the door. With a tremble, Karen stands and opens it to reveal Sponge Bob, looking slightly nervous but determined. "Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims. Plankton's antennas shoot up at the sound of his name, and he whips his head around to face the door. "Sponge Bob!" he shouts, his eye lighting up with an unmistakable joy. Sponge Bob steps into the room. "Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of excitement and relief. He lunges forward, wrapping his tiny arms around the larger sponge in an embrace. Sponge Bob looks surprised but quickly returns the hug, his spongy form enveloping Plankton completely. "Plankton, what's going on?" he asks, his eyes wide with concern. He's never seen Plankton like this. Plankton pulls back, his expression a jumble of emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says again, his voice filled with affection. He grabs Sponge Bob's hand and tugs him closer. "Home with Karen. Need you." Sponge Bob looks to Karen, his eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nods encouragingly. "It's ok," she says. "He's just happy you're here." The sight of Plankton's excited state brings a smile to Sponge Bob's face, despite his confusion. He sits down next to him on the couch, his own excitement growing. "What do you want to do?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. Plankton's antennas twitch as he thinks, his eye darting around the room. "Let's play a game," he suddenly exclaims, his voice filled with a child-like excitement that hadn't been there before. "What kind of game, Plankton?" Karen asks, eager to encourage his newfound energy. "Chess!" he exclaims, pointing to a dusty board in the corner of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with surprise, but he doesn't hesitate. He leaps up from the couch and wipes the dust from the board with his spongy hand, setting up the pieces with surprising efficiency. Karen watches from the sidelines, her heart swelling with love and hope as Plankton's enthusiasm grows. He moves the pieces with a frenetic energy, his eye alight with a joy she hadn't seen since before the accident. Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, matches his excitement, even though he's clearly outmatched by Plankton's strategic mind. "Checkmate!" Plankton cries out, his antennas waving with each word. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of surprise and admiration. "Wow, Plankton, you're really good at this!" The room echoes with Plankton's laughter, a sound that's both familiar and foreign to Karen's ears. The old Plankton would have gloated. "Checkmate," he says again, his antennas bobbing in excitement. "Checkmate, checkmate." Sponge Bob laughs, a wonderful, genuine laugh that fills the room. "You win, Plankton," he says, his hands clapping together. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, and he looks at Sponge Bob, his eye studying the sponge's reaction. "Win," he repeats, a hint of understanding in his voice. "Win at chess." He claps like SpongeBob. Sponge Bob's eyes light up, seeing the connection. "Yes, Plankton, you won the chess game," he says, his voice soothing. "You're really good at it." Plankton's antennas start to twitch again, his eye darting between the board and Sponge Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his voice filled with a newfound sense of pride. "Win with Sponge Bob." The phrase becomes a chant, his brain finding solace in the repetition. "Win with Sponge Bob, win with Sponge Bob." Sponge Bob smiles warmly, picking up the rhythm of Plankton's words. "Yes, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You won the game. You're a great chess player." Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye locking onto Sponge Bob's. "Great chess player," he echoes, his voice a mix of pride and amazement. "Win with Sponge Bob." Karen watches from the sidelines with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the breakthrough they needed. Sponge Bob's presence was calming him, bringing out a side of Plankton she hadn't seen since the accident.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iv (Autistic author) "Let's play again," Plankton says, his voice eager. Sponge Bob nods, his smile genuine. "Ok, Plankton pick a board game." Karen watches as Sponge Bob sorts through the disarray of their game collection, his spongy fingers touching each box before finally settling on a card game. "Go Fish!" Sponge Bob exclaims, holding up the battered cards. Plankton's face lights up at the familiar phrase, his antennas waggling with excitement. "Fish, fish, fish," he repeats, his voice echoing the words. The two sit cross-legged on the floor, the cards spread out in front of them. Plankton's hands tremble slightly as he picks up his cards, but his concentration is intense. "Fish," he whispers, holding his hand out to Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob nods, understanding the game despite Plankton's simplified request. "Go Fish," he responds, placing a card into Plankton's outstretched palm. Plankton's eye brightens, and he repeats the action, placing a card into Sponge Bob's hand. "Fish," he says again, his voice slightly more confident. "Plankton you gotta take a card from the pile.." Sponge Bob starts to explain, but Plankton's antennas shoot up, and he interrupts. "Fish from the pile," he repeats, his voice eager. He reaches for the deck and draws a card, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob nods. "That's right, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "Go Fish." Plankton repeats the phrase, his antennas bobbing with each word. "Go Fish," he murmurs, his eye scanning the cards. Sponge Bob nods, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Good job, Plankton," he encourages. "Your turn to ask for a card." Plankton's antennas wiggle as he thinks, his eye darting to his hand. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and focus. "Got any...?" He pauses, his brain searching for the right word. "Got any...?" "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob prompts, his smile never wavering. "Fish," Plankton repeats, his antennas bobbing. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob nods, understanding dawning. "Do you have any twos?" Plankton's antennas twitch in excitement. "Two," he echoes, his voice triumphant. "Do you have any twos?" Sponge Bob's smile falters slightly as he nods, looking at his own cards. He's not sure how to proceed. He decides to keep the game simple. "I don't have any twos," he says. "Now it's your turn to Go Fish." Plankton nods, his concentration unbroken. He scans his cards again. "Got any fish?" he asks, his voice determined. Sponge Bob's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with understanding. "No fish here," he says, placing a card face down. "Go Fish." Plankton's antennas twitch rapidly as he processes the new information, his brain working to keep up with the game's flow. "Go Fish," he repeats, his voice gaining confidence with each exchange. Sponge Bob's eyes widen slightly but he nods along, playing his part. "Okay, Plankton," he says, placing a card on the pile. "Your turn." Plankton's antennas wobble as he considers his next move. "Got any fish?" he asks again, his voice a mix of excitement and challenge. Sponge Bob's smile becomes a bit forced. "Nope," he says, his voice still cheerful. "Go Fish." Plankton's eye dart to the cards in his hand, then back to Sponge Bob. His antennas wave erratically as he tries to formulate his next question. "Got any...?" Sponge Bob waits patiently, his heart aching for his friend. He's never seen Plankton like this before, for SpongeBob doesn't know about the accident nor the diagnosis. "Got any fish?" Plankton's words echo in the silence of the room. Sponge Bob's confusion mounts as he looks into his friend's eye, searching for a clue to what's going on. "No, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained. "I don't have any fish." Plankton's antennas drop slightly, his expression one of disappointment. "Go Fish," he murmurs, his gaze drifting to the card pile. Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend, trying to understand this new, strange behavior. "Do you want to play something else?" he asks, hoping to distract Plankton from his obsession with the game. But Plankton's antennas spring back to life. "More fish," he insists, his voice almost a command. Sponge Bob nods, his mind racing to comprehend what's happening. He knows Plankton's mind is sharp, so why the repetition? "Got any fish?" Plankton asks again, his voice growing more urgent. Sponge Bob's smile falters. He's never seen Plankton act this way before. The urgency in Plankton's voice, the repetition of words, it's all so strange and disconcerting. "I don't understand," he says, his voice small and unsure. "What's going on with you?" Plankton's antennas quiver slightly at Sponge Bob's question, but his eye remains fixed on the cards. "I don't understand," he says, voice soft but firm. "What's going on with you." Sponge Bob's smile falters, his eyes searching Plankton's face for answers. "It's just a game, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You don't have to keep asking for fish." This isn't the Plankton he knows, the cunning and scheming arch-nemesis who always has a plan up his sleeve. This is someone else entirely, someone lost and confused. But Plankton doesn't seem to hear him. "Fish," he whispers, his antennas twitching in time with his words. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob feels a knot form in his stomach. Is Plankton trying to annoy him? "Plankton, are you ok?" he asks gently, his voice filled with concern. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, his gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "Plankton are you ok," he echoes, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for a clue. "Fish." Sponge Bob's brow furrows deeper, his confusion growing. "You don't have to keep asking for fish, Plankton," he says again. But Plankton's mind is stuck on the pattern, his voice insistent. "Fish," he repeats. Sponge Bob's now getting irritated. The echoing of his words, the intense stare, and the persistent demand for "fish" are unlike anything he's ever seen. "Plankton, please," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "I don't have any fish. Let's play a different game." But Plankton's antennas only wiggle more rapidly. "Fish," he insists. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob's patience is wearing thin, his cheery demeanor slipping away. "I said no!" he snaps, his voice a little too loud. Plankton recoils at the sudden change in tone, his antennas drooping. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice filled with uncertainty. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with regret at his outburst. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, his voice softening. "I didn't mean to yell. But Plankton, I don't have any more fish!" Plankton's antennas sag, and his eye becomes unfocused. "No fish," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob's never seen Plankton like this, his behavior so repetitive and unresponsive to his words. It was as if the game had become the center of Plankton's entire world, and Sponge Bob's refusal to play along had shattered it. "I'm sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice trembling with frustration. "I just don't understand why you're so obsessed with fish." Plankton looks up, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's, a hint of hurt flickering across his expression. "Fish," he says again, his voice smaller this time. "Need fish." Sponge Bob sighs, his hands going to his face. "Ok," he says, his voice muffled. "Let's just finish this game."

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii (Autistic author) "Now let's go to the living room and I'll go pick up a smoothie for you. Can you stay here by yourself?" He nodded, his expression slightly less tense. "I'll be back soon," she assured him, squeezing his shoulder before leaving the Chum Bucket. Just moments later, Karen's friend Hanna came for a surprise visit. She knew Karen had a husband named Plankton, but she never met him. Plankton was now back on the living room couch. "Oh, you must be Plankton!" Hanna exclaimed. Plankton's eye flitted to her, his expression unreadable. Hanna walked over to the couch, her smile wide and genuine. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, embracing him in a hug. Plankton stiffened, his eye wide with surprise. His body tensed, his mind racing to process this new sensory input. "You ok?" Hanna asked, pulling back slightly. She had noticed his reaction but didn't know the reason behind it. Plankton nodded, his eye darting around the room again. He wasn't used to such spontaneous affection, and the unexpected sensation of Hanna's arms around him had thrown him off balance. "Yes, I am Plankton," he murmured, his voice monotone. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Hanna's smile didn't waver, unaware of the turmoil within his mind. "How are you feeling today?" Plankton's gaze flicked to the ceiling, his mind racing to find the right words. "Today, feeling," he echoed, his voice still a whisper. The repetition was a comfort, a way to process the flood of sensory information that assaulted him continuously. Hanna looked at him with a puzzled expression. "You know, your wife Karen tells me you're an inventor," she said, her tone innocently curious. Plankton's eye locked onto hers, his mind racing to understand the context of her words. "Inventor," he repeated, his voice flat. It was a word he knew, but it felt foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. "Yes, inventor," Hanna said, nodding enthusiastically. "I've heard so much about your gadgets and contraptions. What are you working on these days?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room again, his mind struggling to grasp the concept of 'working'. "Gadgets, contraptions," he murmured, his voice a broken record. Hanna's expression was one of confusion, her smile beginning to fade. "Well, what do you do all day?" she prodded gently, trying to coax him out of his silence. Plankton's reply was immediate and robotic, "Do, all day, all day." Hanna's brow furrowed, uncertain how to interpret his repetitive response. She had known Karen for years, but Plankton's behavior was unlike anything she had ever heard of her friend's husband. "Do you like the beach?" she asked, hoping to engage him in conversation. Plankton's eye blinked slowly, his mind processing the question. "Beach," he echoed, his voice hollow. Hanna nodded, encouraged by his response. "Yes, the beach! It's such a beautiful place. Do you ever go there?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the memory of sand and surf a distant whisper. "Go, beach, beautiful place," he said, his words a stuttered echo of hers. Hanna's smile dimmed slightly. This wasn't the witty banter she was expecting from Karen's husband. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she asked, uncertain. Plankton's eye moved to hers, his gaze intense. "Talk," he repeated, his voice a whisper. Hanna felt a twinge of discomfort. Something was off about his responses, but she couldn't quite put her tentacle on what it was. "Well, what do you like to do for fun?" she tried again, her tone tentative. Plankton's eye wandered back to his own hand, fidgeting with his fingers. "Do, fun," he murmured, the words a reflexive response to the question. Hanna's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you do for fun?" she clarified, wondering if he had simply misunderstood. Plankton's gaze remained on his fidgeting hand, his mind racing to connect the concept of 'fun' with his new reality. "Do, fun," he repeated, his voice devoid of the mirth he once expressed so freely. Hanna's smile was now forced, her confusion growing with each interaction. "Plankton, can you tell me what you enjoy doing?" she asked, hoping for a clearer response. He looked up at her, his gaze slightly less focused than before. "Enjoy doing," he repeated, his voice a faint echo. Hanna's twitched with concern. "You know, like hobbies or interests," she prompted gently, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's eye moved back to his fidgeting hand, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensory overload. "Hobbies, interests," he murmured, his voice a hollow echo. Hanna's concern was now clear on her screen. "You know, like things you like to do in your free time," she tried again, her voice a little less bright. Plankton's eye latched onto hers. "Free time," he repeated, his voice a monotone. "Like to do." Hanna's eyes widened slightly, her confusion growing with each word he said. "Yes, exactly," she nodded, her voice a little more cautious now. "What do you like to do in your free time? Well, other than repetition.." She awkwardly laughs as she elbows him multiple times, not knowing how her touch is irritating Plankton. Plankton's getting more frustrated/angry now, as Hanna goes to pat his shoulder. He can't take much more now. Hanna's touch was like a brand, searing his already overwhelmed senses. He flinched away, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton, are you ok?" Hanna asked, her voice filled with concern. She noticed his discomfort but couldn't pinpoint the cause. He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "Ok, ok," he mumbled, his voice still a monotone. Hanna looked at him with concern, her smile slipping. "Karen said you used to be quite the conversationalist. What happened?" She says, grabbing his elbow; but that's the last straw for Plankton. Plankton's eye snapped up to hers, his voice sharp. "What happened? You happened!" He snapped, his words sharp as a knife. The sudden aggression in his tone was like a slap in the face, catching Hanna off guard. She took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she began, but Plankton was on a roll now. "You don't know what happened!" his voice grew louder, his words quickening with each syllable. "You don't know anything!" Hanna's eyes went wide with shock. This was not the Plankton Karen had described. Her arms flailed in the air as she tried to placate his sudden anger. "I'm sorry, Plankton. I just didn't know..."

SHELF IMPROVEMENT iv (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen awoke with the sun, her mind still heavy with the weight of the previous night's discovery. Plankton slept peacefully beside her, his breathing even and deep. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope that was just a bad dream, a fleeting nightmare that would disappear. But when she looked over at him, she knew it was all too real. Her eyes took in the familiar lines of his face, the way his antennae twitched even in sleep. They had faced challenges before, and they would face this one too. Gently, she slipped from the bed, not wanting to wake him. She knew he needed his rest. In the kitchen, she started to make his breakfast smoothie. She had read about autism, knew it could manifest in different ways, but she had never thought it would touch their lives so suddenly, so profoundly. The blender whirred to life, slicing through the fruit and yogurt. The smell of strawberries and bananas filled the room, a stark contrast to the heaviness of her thoughts. As she poured the smoothie into a glass, her mind raced with questions. How would this change their relationship? What did this mean for Plankton's life? What could she do to help him? The sudden sound of footsteps on the floor snapped her out of her thoughts. Plankton. She turned around to see him standing in the doorway, his expression tentative. His eye searched hers, and she forced a smile, hoping to reassure him. "Breakfast," she said, holding out the smoothie. "Your favorite." Plankton's antennae twitched, and he took a step forward, his eye locking onto the glass. "Smoothie," he murmured. Karen clenched at his response, so unlike his usual greeting. "Yes, a strawberry-banana smoothie." Her voice was filled with hope, trying to keep their morning routine as normal as possible. He took the glass from her, his grip careful, his movements precise. He took a sip. Karen watched him. "How does it taste?" she asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. Plankton paused, his eye blinking thoughtfully. "Good," he said finally, his voice still subdued. He took another sip, his expression unreadable. Karen's smile grew wider, genuine this time. "I'm so glad. Why don't you sit down?" She gestured to the kitchen table. "I'll get you some toast." Plankton nodded slowly, his movements deliberate. He sat at the table, his gaze fixed on the smoothie. Karen felt the weight of his silence as she busied herself with the toaster. But the pop of the bread springing up snapped his attention to her. "Too much noise," he mumbled, flinching at the sound. Karen sank. She had forgotten how sensitive his hearing might become. She quickly turned off the toaster and approached the table. "I'm sorry," she said softly, placing the plate of toast before him. "Did the toaster bother you?" Plankton nodded, his antennas quivering slightly. "Noise," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen felt a pang of guilt. "I'll be more careful," she promised, placing a gentle hand on his back. She watched as he took a deep breath, visibly trying to regain his composure. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the new normal pressing down on them like a thick fog. Karen wanted to fill the air with words, to reassure him and herself, but she knew that sometimes silence was the best comfort. As Plankton took a bite of toast, she observed his every move, looking for any signs of distress. His antennae were still, his eye focused on his food. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them and their quiet breakfast. But then, she heard Plankton's words. "Breakfast," he murmured, his antennae twitching. "Did the toaster bother you." It took Karen a second to realize that Plankton was actually responding to his own thoughts. She watched as he paused, his antennae twitching again. "Noise," he said, his voice echoing in the silent room. Was he talking to himself? Or was this a new part of his autism, a way of processing information? "No," she said gently, sitting down beside him. "The toaster is okay now. It's quiet." Plankton nodded, his antennas stilling. He chewed slowly, his gaze flickering to Karen before returning to the bread. "Karen," he said after a moment, his voice clearer now. "The toaster okay says it's quiet, Karen said no is okay now." He was parroting her words, but with a slight delay. It was as if he was trying to make sense of them, to process the conversation in his own time. "Yes, Plankton," she replied. "The toaster is quiet now." Plankton nodded again, his antennae still. He took another bite of toast, chewing slowly. Then, out of the blue, he spoke again, his voice stronger this time. "Karen loves Plankton?" "Yes, Plankton, I do," she replied, her voice steady. "Karen loves you very much." Plankton's antennae twitched once before going still. He took another sip of his smoothie, his face a canvas of contemplation. "Plankton loves Karen," he murmured, almost to himself. It was as if he was reassuring himself of their bond. Karen felt a warmth spread through her. This was a new aspect of his autism, but it was also a sign that he was trying to understand his feelings, to make sense of the world around him. "Yes," she said, squeezing his hand. "And Karen loves Plankton right back." Plankton nodded, his gaze returning to his food. Karen could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to comprehend the change. He took another sip of his smoothie, his antennae twitching slightly as he swallowed. "Different," he said again. "But same love." Despite the confusion, he had managed to articulate his feelings with a simplicity that was both heartbreaking and beautiful. She squeezed his hand, her screen shimmering with unshed tears. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with love. "Same love, no matter what." Plankton's gaze shifted to her, his eye focusing on her damp screen. His antennae stood straight up, and he frowned slightly. "Tears," he said, his voice concerned. "Karen sad?" "No, Plankton," she said softly. "These are happy tears." But she knew that might not make sense to him, so she tried to explain further. "They're because I'm feeling a lot of love for you right now, and my body..." "Love makes Karen sad?" he interrupted. Karen sighed, knowing that explaining emotions to a suddenly autistic Plankton was going to be tough. "No, not sad," she corrected. "They're just tears that come when I'm really happy or overwhelmed with love. It's a good thing, I promise." Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed this information. "Good tears," he murmured. "Karen love making good tears." Karen couldn't help but smile, despite the heaviness of the situation. His childlike innocence was a beacon of light in the darkness. "Yes," she nodded, her voice steady. "Good tears," she said again, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "Now, let's eat our breakfast, okay?"

CATCH IN MY CHIP iii (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a few moments, Chip's screen glued to his dad's still form. The only sound is the steady rhythm of Plankton's shallow breathing. As the minutes tick by, Chip's thoughts swirl with confusion and guilt. He had no idea that his dad's quirks and sensitivities were part of something so complex. He'd just thought Plankton was easily annoyed or tired. Karen notices his son's distress and decides it's time to explain more. "You know how sometimes you get really excited about something, and you just can't keep it in?" she asks. Chip nods. "Yeah, like when I see a new toy or when I've got a great idea for a sandcastle." "Well, for Dad, it's like that all the time," Karen continues. "Every little thing can be a big deal, and sometimes it's just too much." She pauses, looking at Plankton with a mix of love and concern. "But he's also the smartest person I know, and he loves you so much. That's what's important." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears as he watches his mom care for his dad. He'd always felt a bit left out, not understanding why Plankton would sometimes retreat from the world. But now he gets it. It's not that his dad didn't want to share in his excitement, it's just that sometimes, the world was too much for him. "Mom, I'm sorry," he whispers, his throat tight with emotion. "I didn't mean to make him... like this." Karen pulls him into a warm embrace. "You didn't do anything wrong, Chip. This isn't your fault. Dad's brain just works differently. And now that we know, we can help each other understand." Chip sniffles against her, his thoughts racing. "Does he know what's happening or can he understand us?" "Sometimes he can," Karen says, her voice low and soothing. "But right now, I don't think he realizes anything's happening around him." "What if he doesn't wake up?" The fear in his voice is palpable. "He will, honey," Karen says, her tone reassuring. "It just takes a little time. It's like when you're really tired and you need a nap. His brain needs to rest." The room is quiet except for the occasional sound of the air conditioner kicking in, a stark contrast to the excitement that had filled it just moments ago. Chip watches his dad, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. He wants to laugh and share more stories, but he knows now that his dad's brain needs a break. As they wait, Karen starts to clean up the mess Chip made. The sand and papers scattered across the floor seem so trivial now, a stark reminder of the chaos his enthusiasm can create for his dad. He helps her, carefully picking up each piece, placing them back into their rightful spots. His mind is racing with thoughts of how to be a better son, how to make sure his dad doesn't feel like this again. They work in silence, the only sounds the rustling of papers and the occasional clank of a metal item being set back on the desk. The room slowly transforms back to its usual state of order, a stark contrast to the turmoil Plankton was experiencing. Chip's eyes never leave his dad, hoping to see any sign of improvement. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Plankton's eye blinks, and the tension in the room shifts. His breathing becomes deeper and more regular. Karen's shoulders relax as she sees the first signs of Plankton coming back to himself. She gives Chip's hand a gentle squeeze. "Look, honey. He's starting to come out of it." Chip stares, hope filling his chest. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. He blinks a few more times, as if trying to bring the room into focus. "What... what happened?" His voice is weak, almost a whisper. Karen's grip tightens on Chip's hand. "You just needed a little break, sweetie," she says softly. "It's okay."

GREAT CHIP iii (Autistic author) Karen followed, her screen on her husband's tentative steps. "Chip," she called out softly, knocking gently. "Can we come in?" There was no immediate response, just the faint sound of sniffling. "It's ok, sweetie," she said. "Your dad and I want to talk to you." Slowly, the door cracked open, and Chip's tear-stained screen peeked out. His eyes searched theirs, looking for answers, for reassurance. Plankton's heart twisted at the sight. He had never wanted to cause his son any pain, especially not like this. He felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him as he stepped into the room, his every move feeling clumsy and exposed. "Chip," he began, his voice strained, "It's just..." Plankton's words trailed off, his gaze flitting around the room as if searching for the right ones. The air felt thick with tension. Chip looked up at him, his eyes swollen with unshed tears. "Dad, I'm sorry," he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. But Plankton's anger hadn't subsided entirely. "You shouldn't have touched me," he snapped, his voice sharp, his frustration still palpable. "You now know better than that!" Chip flinched at his father's tone, his own eyes brimming with tears. "But Dad, I didn't mean to," he protested. Plankton's gaze was unyielding. "You should know better!" he insisted, his voice echoing with accusation. "You're not a baby anymore!" Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders shaking with held-back sobs. "But I didn't know!" he choked out, his voice small and defensive. "Well, now you do," Plankton said firmly, his eye still avoiding Chip's. "You have to respect my space!" The room felt too small, his emotions too big. Chip's face crumpled, his voice barely audible. "I just wanted to..." But Plankton's anger was like a storm, unyielding. "I don't care what you wanted!" he shouted. "You can't just touch me like that!" The room felt like it was closing in, his heart racing faster with each word. He saw the hurt on Chip's face, but his own emotions were a tornado whipping through his thoughts. He couldn't stop, couldn't apologize. "It's your fault for not knowing!" Plankton's voice was like thunder, filling the room with accusation. Karen's eyes grew wide with shock, but she didn't dare to interrupt. Chip's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the weight of his father's wrath. "But I didn't know, Dad," he pleaded, his voice thick with pain. Plankton's eye was like a stone, his words cutting through the air. "That's no excuse!" he bellowed. "You should've learned by now! Or are you just to busy with your silly games and neurotypical friends to care about your own father?" Chip's shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his sobs. He didn't know what to say, his mind a jumble of emotions. All he knew was that he had hurt his dad, and now his dad was hurt and mad at him. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice trembling. "It was an accident, I didn't know!" But Plankton's anger didn't abate. "Accident or not, you should've known better!" Plankton's voice grew louder, his words piercing the air like knives. "You're not a baby anymore, so don't act like one!" Chip felt his world crumbling. He didn't mean to upset Dad, but he didn't know what to do. He just wanted to help, to show his love, but it all went wrong. "But Dad," he tried again, his voice barely a whisper, "I didn't mean to..." "I DON'T CARE!" Plankton roared, his anger a living, breathing entity that filled the room. His words were sharp, like shards of glass in the air. Chip's sobs grew louder, his heart breaking with each accusation. He didn't understand why his dad was so mad at him. "I'm sorry," he choked, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know..." Plankton's anger didn't waver. "You never know!" he spat. "You never pay attention!" His words were like a whip, each one stinging Chip's already bruised heart. "You think the world revolves around you!" Chip's eyes were a pool of tears, his body trembling as he tried to find the right words. "But Dad, I just..." Plankton's anger grew with each of Chip's stumbling attempts. "You just what?" he snarled, his senses overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil. He felt the urge to break something, anything to release the pressure building in his chest. With a roar, he swiped his hand across Chip's desk, sending papers flying and toys clattering to the floor. "DO YOU SEE?" he yelled, his voice shaking the walls. "DO YOU SEE HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL?" Chip cowered, his eyes locked on the chaos, his mind whirling. He hadn't meant to make his dad feel like this. He didn't understand why his curiosity was so wrong. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice tiny and lost in the maelstrom of Plankton's rage. Plankton's eye was wild, his movements erratic. He knew his anger was a storm, but he couldn't stop it. The room spun around him, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He felt a hand on his arm, Karen's voice cutting through the noise in his head. "Plankton, please," she begged. But he shrugged her off, his rage now a living, breathing monster inside of him. He picked up a toy, one of Chip's beloved creations, and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound piercing the silence that followed. Chip's sobs grew quieter, his body trembling with fear. "This," Plankton said, his voice low and dangerous, "is what you do to me." He picked up another toy, his hand shaking with anger. "This is what your curiosity does!" Chip's eyes widened with fear as Plankton's hand arced back, ready to hurl it. But as the toy could leave his grip, his body seized up again, his legs buckling. Another absence seizure had struck. Karen's heart raced as she watched her husband's uncontrolled movements. She knew she had to intervene before things escalated. She rushed to Plankton's side, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Stop," she whispered urgently. Chip's sobs grew quieter, his eyes wide with fear. He had never seen his dad so out of control before. Plankton's seizure was taking over, his body betraying him once again. Karen's voice pierced the chaos, a beacon of calm. "Chip, let me handle this." Her son nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's shaky form. Karen turned to Plankton's form, supporting. "Come on," she said firmly, guiding his trembling form to their own bedroom. "Let's sit down, okay?" As they do, Plankton's still caught in the throes of the seizure. Chip felt like he was watching a stranger, his dad's body twitching uncontrollably. He didn't know what to do.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT iii (Autistic author) As the minutes ticked by, Plankton's trembling subsided. He looked up at her, his antennae still twitching slightly. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Plankton sorry Karen." This wasn't like him. Plankton had his quirks, sure, but this was something else entirely. It was as if the fall had shaken something loose in his mind, revealing a part of him she had never seen before. Her arms tightened around his slight frame, and she pressed her screen to his forehead. "Don't be sorry," she whispered. "You're scared, and that's okay." Plankton nodded, his single eye squeezing shut as if to hold in his fear. He leaned into her embrace, his body finally going limp. Karen felt his wetness on her neck, and realized he was crying. "It's okay," she whispered again, her voice the only sound in the silent room. "You're safe with me." Plankton's antennae stilled against her, and she felt his breathing grow calmer. The quiet was unusual for their home, but in this moment, it was a welcome balm. Her mind raced, trying to recall any signs she might have missed, any indication that Plankton was suffering from something deeper than the physical trauma of the fall. Was this a sudden onset of a condition? Or had it been there all along, masked by his quirks and his usual bravado? "Karen," Plankton murmured again, his eye squeezed shut. "Karen Plankton." "It's okay," she soothed. "You're okay." But the silence grew louder, and she knew it was more than just the quiet of their usual bickering. This was a new Plankton, one she wasn't sure how to reach. His repetition of her name was like a mantra, a lifeline to the world he knew. Karen held him closer, her own eyes now brimming with tears. They had been through so much together, and she had always been his anchor, the one constant in his life. But now, she felt adrift, uncertain of how to navigate these uncharted waters. Plankton's grip around her tightened, his breath hitching in sobs. His muttered repeating of her name grew louder, almost frantic. "Karen, Karen, Karen..." It was like he was stuck in a loop, his mind unable to comprehend the sudden change around him. "Shh," she soothed, stroking his back. "It's okay, we're here, together." Plankton's repetition of her name grew more frantic. "Karen, Karen, Karen," he chanted, his voice rising in pitch. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice steady despite her internal turmoil. "Everything's going to be okay." But his chanting continued, growing louder and more desperate. She knew she couldn't just sit here forever, she had to do something. But what? Her mind raced, thinking of all the times Plankton had fixed her when she was broken. Now it was her turn. She had to find a way to reach him. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "Look at me." She gently lifted his chin so he was forced to meet her screen. "You're okay, we're together." His eye searched hers, desperation clear in its depths. The chanting of her name grew softer, but didn't cease. Karen's mind raced, trying to think of anything that could help him snap out of this state. "Remember the chum?" she said, her voice trembling slightly. "The time we had a picnic and the seagulls came?" Plankton's chanting paused for a moment, and his eye flickered with recognition. It was a memory from their early days, a moment of shared joy amidst their usual bickering. "Chum," he murmured, his antennae twitching slightly. "Seagulls." Karen's screen lit up with hope. It was a start, a crack in the facade of his fear. "Yes, the seagulls," she said, smiling through her tears. "Remember how we laughed when they stole our sandwiches?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, and a tiny smile graced his lips. "Seagulls," he repeated, his voice a little less shaky. Encouraged, Karen pressed on. "And remember how we chased them together?" Plankton's smile grew slightly, and his antennae moved a bit more naturally. "Chased," he agreed, his voice still wobbly but with a hint of his usual spirit. Karen felt a wave of relief wash over her. He was remembering, engaging with her. "Yes, we chased them, and we got the chum back," she said, trying to keep the conversation going. Plankton's antennae moved slightly, and he nodded, his eye focusing more clearly on her. "Chum," he murmured, his voice stronger now. "Good chum." Karen took a deep, shaky breath, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. She had to keep him grounded, keep him with her. "Yes," she said, her voice determined, "good chum." Plankton's antennae stilled, and he took a deep, ragged breath. "Karen," he said, his voice a little stronger. "Chum." Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the flicker of the man she knew. "Yes, Plankton, chum." The room remained silent, except for the sound of Plankton's deepening breaths. The word "chum" seemed to have a calming effect on his agitated state. He repeated it to himself, his antennae finally stilling. Karen watched him, relief and sadness mingling within her. This was a side of Plankton she had never seen before, a raw vulnerability that made her ache. He was like a lost child, seeking comfort in familiar words. "Chum," he murmured once more, his eye shutting. Karen nodded. "Yes, chum," she said, her voice soothing. Plankton's body relaxed in her arms, his breathing evening out. For a moment, the room remained still, save for the steady rhythm of his breath. But then, his antennae began to move again, not with fear this time, but with something else. It was almost as if his mind was racing, trying to process the world around him. Karen felt his grip on her loosen, his body shifting slightly in the couch cushions. "Plankton?" she asked, her voice tentative. He didn't respond, but his eye fluttered open, his gaze focused on a spot on the wall. "Looks like he's in a trance," Karen thought aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. "What's going on with you?" Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly, as if trying to capture invisible signals. His face was a mask of concentration, his body tense and poised like he was ready to flee. Karen felt a cold wave of understanding wash over her. This wasn't just fear or confusion, it was something deeper. She scanned his brain, and then she saw the results. "Oh, Plankton," she breathed. He had developed autism. The fall had triggered something within his brain, irreversible damage to. She felt a mix of shock and sorrow, but also a fierce determination to support him. "Autism. You're autistic now." He looked at her, his eye blinking in understanding. "Autism," he echoed. "Different." Karen nodded. "Yes, but you're still my Plankton." Plankton's expression was a jumble of emotions. Recognition, fear, confusion, and a tiny spark of hope. "Different," he repeated. "But... same?" Karen nodded, squeezing his hand. "Different, but still my Plankton." She swiped at her tears, determined to be strong for him. "We'll get through this, I promise." Plankton looked at her with a mix of relief and fear. "Karen... love." Karen felt love and pain. "I love you, Plankton," she whispered, her voice shaking. "We'll get through this together." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching for a moment, and he squeezed her hand. "Together," he repeated, his voice small but firm. Karen nodded, swiping at her tears. "We'll face this together, I promise. Now, it's late; let's get to sleep.." She cleaned up the remnants of the shelf.

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY iii (Autistic author) Karen picked him up, and carried his limp form to his bed. She stood there for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall. The snores grew quieter as sleep consumed him. The weight of what had just happened settled on her shoulders. Karen lay him down gently. She tucked him in, his antennae resting against the pillow. The room was quiet except for his soft snores, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled it moments before. Karen sat by his side, her hand on his arm. After a few moments, she stood up and walked to the door, closing it gently behind her. She found Hanna in the living room, her eyes red-rimmed and worried. "Hanna, I need to talk to you," Karen said, her voice firm but not accusing. Hanna looked up, her expression hopeful for guidance. Karen sat beside her, her eyes on her own hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. "Plankton's been through a lot," she began, her voice measured. "He's different now." Hanna nodded, her eyes wide with unspoken questions. "Still coming to terms with it but you're just fine. It's a rarity, yet he'll be fine." "I guess I'll head out. I never meant to cause Plankton distress." Karen nodded, her eyes still on her fidgeting hands. "Thank you for understanding. I'm pretty sure he knows you didn't mean to, but I can still tell him when he wakes up." Hanna left, and Karen went back to the bedroom. Plankton was still asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful. Karen sat by the bed. Plankton's snores were the only sound in the room, a gentle reminder of the peace that sleep brought him from his tumultuous world of heightened senses. Karen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. This was their new normal, a dance of understanding and patience they would have to learn. When Plankton next woke up, his eye searched the room, his antennae twitching slightly. He looked over to find Karen sitting in a chair beside the bed, her gaze on him. "Hi," she said, her voice gentle. He sat up slowly, the fabric of the bed rustling beneath his weight. "How are you feeling?" Karen's concern was palpable, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress. Plankton took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. Karen's presence was a balm to his soul, her understanding a lifeline in the storm of sensory input. "Where's Hanna?" Karen sighed, her gaze never leaving his face. "She left, sweetie. You were a bit...overwhelmed." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with the memory of the sensory assault. "It's okay," Karen assured him, her voice a soft whisper. "She just didn't understand, and felt bad for the way she treated you." Plankton nodded, his antennae still. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos from before. He took a moment to collect himself, his thoughts racing. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Karen reached out and took his hand, her grip firm but gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said, her tone soothing. "This is all new to us. Would you like to eat?" Plankton nodded. "I'll get you something quiet and simple," Karen said, standing up. She knew that too much stimulation could send him spiraling. In the kitchen, she prepared a snack of plain crackers. She placed the plate on the table carefully, not wanting to startle his heightened senses again. Plankton entered the room, his movements deliberate and slow. He sat down across from her, his eye darting around the room. "It's ok," Karen reassured him, handing him the plate of crackers. "Just food." "Just food. It's ok; just food." He repeats back to himself, focusing on the plate. Each cracker was a tiny square of safety, a familiar comfort in a sea of sensory uncertainty. He took a deep breath and selected one. The taste was comforting, a reminder of a simpler time. Karen watched him, her screen filled with love. Plankton took a sip of water, his eye never leaving hers. "It's ok just food," he said again, his voice still low. "Karen good and good food. It's ok." Karen nodded, her smile a mix of relief and sadness. She knew his echolalic tendencies was the autism, but she's glad he likes the food as well. They sat in silence, the only sound the crunch of crackers and the occasional sip of water. Plankton's eye focused on the cracker in his hand, the patterns on the surface a comfort. His autistic brain craved the predictability, the sameness that calmed his nerves. This was the man she knew, yet he was different. The Plankton who was always plotting and scheming was now one who found comfort in the mundane. His mind felt clearer now, the overwhelming chaos of the earlier encounter with Hanna beginning to fade. Karen watched him, her heart breaking for the silent struggle she knew he faced every moment. "I'll talk to Hanna," she said gently. "I'll explain. What do you want me to tell her? What'd you like for her to know?" Plankton's gaze remained on the cracker, his thumb tracing the edge. "Tell her sorry," he mumbled. "What else? I mean, is it ok if I tell her you're autistic now? Or what about the accident that lead to the autism?" Plankton's antennae twitched at the word 'accident', his mind reeling with memories of the stove, the fight with Mr. Krabs, the pain. But he nodded slowly. "Ok," he murmured. Karen's heart ached at the simplicity of his response. The complexity of his thoughts was now a tightly guarded secret, hidden behind a wall of sensory overload. "Okay, I will," Karen said, her voice soft. "But remember, it's ok to be different." Plankton nodded, his eye still on his food. But as he took another cracker, he paused. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "Karen," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I, I l-love you." Karen's eyes widened at the sudden declaration. "Oh, Plankton," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you too." Plankton nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "Karen making everything okay," he murmured. He took another cracker, his hands shaking slightly. "You make Plankton feel safe," he continues with sincerity. "In a world that's too much, Karen not too much." Karen's eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Plankton, I'm here for you. Always." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching. He looked into her screen, his own filled with a depth of emotion that hadn't seen before. "You good, Karen," he said, his voice steady. "Helping Plankton." Plankton was finding his way to express himself, to connect with her in a way that was meaningful. She squeezed his hand. "I'll always help you," she promised. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice tentative. He took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I love you, Karen," he said finally, his eye intense with feeling. Karen swelled with love and pride. Despite his struggles, Plankton was learning to express his emotions in a way that made sense to him. It was a victory, small but significant. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, squeezing his hand. "Your love makes me happy." His antennae twitched slightly, a sign of his awkwardness with the emotional exchange. The room was quiet, the only noise the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional crunch of a cracker. Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for reassurance. "Plankton need...space," he managed, his voice shaky. "Too...much emotional interaction. Still love." Karen nodded, understanding dawning. "Okay, sweetie," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll be right here. Take all the time you need."

CHIP AND FAIL iii (Autistic author) "Ok Dad," he said. "Let's go to your workshop." Maybe there, he would be able to come back to himself. But Plankton's not budging, despite Chip's efforts to get him up. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle, trying to mask his own fear. "Let's go." But he sees it's not gonna work. He hadn't realized that his excited touches and loud laughter were only making things worse. Plankton's condition meant that even the smallest disruption could send him spiraling, and here Chip was, bombarding him with sensations. With a tremble in his voice, Chip tried one more time to reach his father. "Dad, can you just come with me?" He asked, his voice small and hopeful. "We'll talk in the workshop." But Plankton still didn't move, his eye fixed on some unseen horizon. Chip stood up, wiping the tears from his screen, trying to listen for his dad's breathing. Chip doesn't like this. Chip's face crumpled, realizing that his dad isn't okay. This was chilling. The more Chip talked, the more he touched, the deeper Plankton's mind spun into a vortex of overstimulation. "Dad, you're not talking," Chip whispered, his voice cracking with concern. He had never seen his father like this, so silent and still. He didn't know that the affectionate gestures and loud stories were only adding to Plankton's distress. "Dad, please," Chip said, his voice small. This wasn't right. This is wrong. Something is very wrong with his dad. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his mind racing with fear and confusion. Something's wrong with his dad. "Dad, you're not okay," Chip said, his voice filled with a new urgency. But now, he knew it was something more, something he didn't know how to fix. But he needs to try. "Can you tell me about your week too?" Absolutely no sign of life from him. This is bad. He's getting worse... Chip didn't know that Plankton's lack of response was due to his autism, that his sensory system was in overdrive. All he knew was that he needed to help, to do something. With a tremble in his hands, Chip gently touched Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, can you hear me?" He asked, his voice soft and soothing, hoping to cut through the storm in his father's mind. But Plankton's expression remained unchanged, his eye unfocused. Chip felt like he was shouting into a void, his words disappearing without a trace. The room was spinning, the air thinning with each shallow breath Plankton took. Chip's mind raced with scenarios, trying to piece together what could've caused this sudden change. "Is there something wrong?" He asked, his voice quavering. "Did something happen?" But Plankton was lost, the cacophony of Chip's excitement echoing through his overstimulated brain like a never- ending nightmare. Chip's touches grew gentler, his laughter fading into a soft concern. "I don't get it," he said, his voice thick with confusion. "I just wanted to tell you about my week." Plankton felt the pressure but his mind was a maelstrom of sensation. "Dad," Chip said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what's going on." He nudged him, and he remained still and unblinking as the prod toppled him onto his side, with no reaction. The room felt colder, the air heavier with each passing second. He had never seen his father so unresponsive, so utterly lost to the world around him. "Dad," he tried again, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me." Plankton's eye remained fixed. The gentle touches from Chip were now a maelstrom of sensation, each one a wave crashing against the shore of his overwhelmed mind. Chip's smile faded as he watched his father. "Dad, you're not okay," he murmured, his voice laced with concern. He didn't know about Plankton's condition, how his brain processed stimuli differently, how easily it could be overwhelmed. All he knew was that his dad, the man he looked up to, was trapped in a silent prison of his own making.

JUST A TOUCH iii (Autistic author) ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ Once home, she helped him settle into his favorite chair, his eye scanning the room. Everything was in its place, exactly as he liked it. Karen noticed his breathing slow as the familiarity washed over him. She knew that routine and order could be vital to his comfort now to avoid triggering his anxiety. Then suddenly, Plankton began to rock back and forth. Karen recognized the motion. It was a new behavior, one she hadn't seen before. His body swayed with a rhythm that matched the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're home now." The rocking grew more intense, his eye darting around the room, his antennae vibrating with each back-and-forth movement. Karen's mind raced, trying to remember the doctor's words. Sensory overload. He needed calm. Swiftly, she dimmed the lights, the neon signs from the Krabby Patty franchise across the street casting soothing shadows through the windows. The glow was just enough to illuminate the space without causing further distress, and she watched as Plankton's rocking subsided. She sat by him. She grasped and squeezed his shoulder. But this time, he flinched. "Plankton?" she asked, concern etching her voice. He pulled away from her, his antennae dropping to his side. The doctor had mentioned that some with autism might have heightened sensitivity to touch. Karen felt a knot in her stomach. "What if he doesn't like me touching him anymore?" she thought. "What if I can't comfort him when he's upset?" She decided to test the waters gently. Reaching out, she lightly trailed her finger over his hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged, she placed her hand on his shoulder again, this time more softly. He tensed, then relaxed. It was progress. "Let's start with simple touch," she said, her voice soothing. The doctor had mentioned that Plankton might be hypersensitive to certain types of touch, and Karen was determined to navigate this new aspect of their relationship with care. She placed a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen." Her hand hovered over his, unsure of the best way to provide comfort. Karen took a deep breath, deciding to try again. This time, she approached with care, her touch feather-light, gliding over his hand like the softest of sea breezes. Plankton's antennae twitched, and his gaze remained on her hand, watching the movement as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Gradually, the tension in his body eased, and his hand lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative touch, his fingers brushing against hers, testing the waters. Karen felt a rush of relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured, keeping her voice low and even. Plankton's hand was cold, his grip firm but not painful. His eye locked onto hers, searching for reassurance. Slowly, she began to stroke his hand with her thumb, applying the slightest pressure. His breathing evened out, his antennae rising slightly. Encouraged, she tried a different type of touch—a gentle squeeze. This time, he didn't flinch. Instead, his hand returned the gesture, his own grip matching hers in strength. Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Maybe we can find a way through this," she thought. They sat in silence for a few moments, their hands entwined, as Karen tried to think of the next step. The doctor's words echoed in her mind: find what works for him. Gently, she began to rub his hand, her thumb moving in small, soothing circles. Plankton seemed to find comfort in the predictable pattern, his body unwinding a fraction more. Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. But as soon as her hand made contact with his skin, he jerked away, his eye flashing with fear and pain. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, her heart racing. "I didn't mean to scare you." Plankton stared at her, his expression unreadable. "It's just, sometimes touch feels..." His words trailed off, and Karen felt her own fear rising. "Painful?" she guessed, her voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Some touches are okay, others..." He paused, his eye darting to his hand, which was still wrapped around hers. "It's confusing." Karen nodded, her heart aching for him. She knew she had to be more mindful of his sensory needs. Carefully, she pats his cheek with the back of her hand, the lightest of touches. Plankton's antennae flinched, but he didn't pull away until she put both of her hands on his shoulders. The sudden pressure was too much, like an electric shock. "Karen," he said, his voice tight with discomfort, "too much." Karen nodded, her hands retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching hers. "It's okay, Karen," he said, his voice measured. "But some touches are too much." Karen nodded, her heart heavy. She had so much to learn about this new Plankton, this person she knew so well yet barely knew at all. "I'll be more careful," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. Plankton's gaze remained steady on hers, his expression neutral. "Thank you, Karen," he said, giving her a side hug. This was a Plankton she had never seen before, one who spoke in a staccato rhythm, his movements precise and calculated. Yet, in the safety of their home, Karen saw glimpses of the man she knew. Her eyes fell upon a pamphlet the doctor had given her, titled 'Understanding Neurodivergence'. She picked it up and began to read. The first few pages were dedicated to explaining what it meant to be neurodivergent, how it wasn't an illness but a natural variation in the brain. Plankton's new condition, Acquired Autism, was one of the many spectrums that fell under this umbrella. Karen read through the descriptions of different behaviors, her eyes widening as she recognized some of the changes in Plankton— his need for order, his heightened sensitivity to stimuli, and his newfound obsessions. The pamphlet explained that these were common in individuals with his condition and offered optional suggestions for supporting them. Her gaze fell upon a section titled 'Seizure Protocols'. Karen's eyes widened as she read about the different types of seizures that could occur due to neurodivergence. Some were minor, like staring spells, while others could be more severe. Her heart raced as she thought of Plankton, his body stiffening and shaking. The pamphlet recommended to keep any sharp or harmful objects away from him. It was important not to restrain him, but instead, to gently guide him to the floor if necessary. The next section discussed how to communicate with someone on the spectrum. It suggested using clear, direct language, avoiding sarcasm and idioms. Karen realized that she would have to learn a new way of speaking with Plankton. Her screen skimmed over the pages, absorbing the information like a sponge. The pamphlet highlighted the importance of individuality and diversity, emphasizing that Plankton's brain was not broken, but simply wired differently. This was a concept she had heard of before, but it had never hit so close to home. The causes of neurodisability varied widely, from genetics to congenital to trauma. One paragraph caught her attention—brain injuries could lead to conditions like Acquired Autism. The words swirled in her mind, a stark reminder of the wrench that had changed everything. As Karen read on, she learned about the complex interplay of biological factors and life experiences that can shape a person's neurodivergence. It was both overwhelming and fascinating, a glimpse into a world she had never truly understood.

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD iii He took another sip of water, his cheeks puffing out as he swished it around his mouth. "Mmph, tath's betta," he said, handing the cup back to the nurse. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "Okay, let's get you up," she said, her voice still filled with laughter. Plankton nodded, his antennae bobbing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements slow and clumsy. Karen slipped her arm under his and helped him stand. His balance was wobbly, like a newborn foal taking its first steps. She had to stifle her giggles as he tried to navigate the unseen world with his numbed mouth. "Mmph... Kahen," he began, his voice a series of muffled sounds. "How long wi’ this lafs?" Karen chuckled at his question. "It'll wear off in a few hours. But until then, you're going to have to be careful." Plankton's antennae wiggled with determination. "Mmph, I'm a bih boy," he slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his bravado. "Yes, you are," she said, her voice warm and supportive. "Let's get you to the car." With Plankton leaning heavily on her, they shuffled down the hallway." "Mmph... Kahen," Plankton slurred, his words still thick with the remnants of the anesthesia. "You know, I've alwaths wanthed to know... how youw wove me wath." Karen raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. "What do you mean, Plankton?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by his sudden sentimental turn. "Mmph, wike, how... how youw... feww in wove?" he managed, his tongue thick and clumsy. Karen's smile grew tender at his earnest question. "Well, it's complicated," she began, her voice soft. "But I guess it started when we met. Now, let's get in the car." Plankton nodded, his antennae waving with understanding. "Mmph, okay." Karen helped him shuffle his way out of the hospital, his feet dragging slightly. He was still groggy from the anesthesia, but his curiosity was in overdrive. "Mmph, Kahen," Plankton slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wha's wove wike?" Karen glanced down at him, his expression earnest. "It's like when two people really, really like each other," she replied, her voice gentle. "Wike... I wove youw tho mush." He says. Karen couldn't help but laugh again. "Plankton, you're not making any sense," she said, her voice filled with affectionate exasperation. His antennae drooped slightly, his eye looking disappointed. "Mmph... I'm tawwy," he mumbled, his mouth still a mess of numbness. "It's just... I wove youw Kahen." Karen's heart skipped a beat, his words a sweet jumble of slurs. "I know, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. They reached the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. "Mmph, Kahen, wath's that?" Plankton asked pointing to the dashboard. Karen chuckled. "It's the car's dashboard, Plankton. You're just seeing things differently because of the medicine." She buckled his seatbelt, his movements exaggerated. "Mmph, oh," he murmured, his interest shifting to the windshield wipers. "Mow, theath things, they'we like... like... arms," he said, his speech still a slurry mess. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "They're wipers, Plankton. For the rain," she corrected, starting the engine. He nodded, his antennae still waving with fascination. "Mmph, wath's theath wound?" he asked, pointing at the steering wheel. Karen couldn't help but laugh. "That's the steering wheel, buddy. It's what I use to drive the car," she said, her voice still filled with humor. Plankton stared at it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Mmph, and theath wound?" he asked, his finger tracing the path of the windshield wipers. Karen couldn't help but laugh. "It's to keep the windshield clear, so we can see while driving." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with curiosity. "Mmph, so many tings in this big wowld." Karen couldn't help but laugh, his innocent wonder bringing a smile to her face. "Yes, Plankton, there are so many things to discover," she said, backing out of the parking spot. "Mmph, and wath's wath?" Plankton asked, pointing out the window at a passing scallop. "That's a scallop, Plankton. It flies in the sky," she explained, her voice still filled with amusement. He nodded, his antennae bobbing as he took it all in. "Wow, so-o beautiful," he slurred, his eye gazing out the window like a child seeing the world for the first time. Karen couldn't help but be captivated by his innocent wonder. "You know, Plankton, sometimes you say the sweetest things without even realizing it." His antennae perked up. "Mmph, do I?" he asked, his speech still a garbled mess. Karen nodded, her smile tender. "You do." "Mmph, gweat," he says with a slow nod of his head. Karen steers the car onto the road, the sun casting a warm glow over Plankton's sleepy face. His antennae wilt slightly as his eye struggles to stay open. "Mmph, Kahen, theath sun is so bright," he complains, his voice still slurred from the anesthesia. Karen chuckles, reaching over to adjust the visor. "Better?" He nods, his antennae drooping. "Mmph, yeth. Thanf you." He said, as drool began to form again in the corner of his mouth. Karen reached over with a tissue, carefully dabbing it away. Plankton flinched slightly, his mouth still too numb to feel the touch. "Mmph, I wathn't expehcting this," he mumbles, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. The world outside the car was a blur of colors and shapes, his mind still trying to make sense of it all. Karen navigated the road, her eyes flipping between the road and Plankton's amusing expressions. "Mmph, Kahen, wath's thaf?" he asks, his eye half-closed. Karen looks over at the traffic light, its red light a stark contrast to the bright sun. "It's a stoplight, Plankton. It tells me when to stop and go." Plankton nods, his antennae barely moving. "Mmph, wike a twail." His eye closes, and Karen can feel his weight shift slightly toward her as sleep begins to claim him again. "Mmph, Kahen?" Plankton's voice interrupts the quiet hum of the engine, his words a soft whisper. "Ith wike I'm swimmin' in molasses," he says, his mouth still not cooperating. Karen laughs, keeping one eye on the road and the other on his peaceful face. "You're just tired from the surgery," she assures him. "You'll be fine once you get some rest." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye opening slightly. "But, Kahen, I don't wan' to sleep," he slurred. "I wan' to expehrience this wowld with you." His words were earnest, his gaze firm despite his grogginess. She watched him fight the tide of sleep, his eyelid drooping again. "Mmph, wath's theath wowndow?" he asked, pointing at the car's side mirror. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his confusion. "It's a mirror, sweetheart," she said, her voice soothing. "So we can see what's behind us." Plankton nodded, his antennae barely moving. "Mmph, wike a... wike a... wookie," he mumbled, his speech still a garbled mess. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "It's okay, Plankton. You're just tired." His eyes grew heavier, his lid drooping. "Mmph, I am," he admitted, his voice a faint whisper. The car's gentle rocking and the hum of the engine began to lull him into a doze. Karen watched him, his snores growing louder as he succumbed to sleep. His hand still held hers, the connection warm and comforting. She felt his grip loosen slightly, his body relaxing into the seat. His breathing grew deep and even, his antennae quietly bobbing with each exhalation. Karen couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for this vulnerable side of Plankton she'd never seen before. The car ride home was quiet, punctuated only by Plankton's gentle snores and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. Karen smiled to herself, her grip on his hand never loosening.

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iv (Autistic author) Sandy feels the full weight of her words crash down upon her. The accusations she had thrown at Plankton now felt like sharp stones in her own stomach. Her mind reels as she tries to comprehend what she had just learned. Autism? Plankton? How could she have been so blind, so cruel? Her gaze falls to the floor, avoiding Karen's. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, her voice thick with guilt. "I didn't know." Karen nods, her own emotions swirling. "But we need to be more careful with him." Sandy's eyes are glued to the floor, her tail flicking nervously. "I didn't mean to hurt him," she says, her voice small and ashamed. "I just thought he was being weird." Karen nods, understanding. "I know," she says, her voice gentle. "But now we know better, and we have to help him." She moves towards the bedroom, her steps determined. "Let's go check on him." They enter the room quietly. Karen's optical sensors scan his tiny form, noticing the slight rise and fall of his chest. He's asleep, she realizes, exhausted from the emotional turmoil. Sandy's gaze follows hers, her expression a mix of regret and curiosity. She's never seen Plankton like this before, his features softer, almost peaceful in repose. "Is he okay?" she asks, her voice a whisper. Karen nods, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "He's sleeping," she says, her voice filled with tenderness. "It's been a big day for him." Sandy steps closer, her gaze taking in Plankton's sleeping features. His face, usually twisted with plotting and schemes, is now slack with exhaustion. His eye, usually alive with cunning, is closed, and his breaths come in deep, even snores, his mouth slightly agape. "What do we do now?" Sandy asks, her voice hushed. Karen sits beside him on the bed, her hand still on his shoulder. "We help him," she says, her voice firm. "We learn about his autism and how we can support him." They spend the next few moments in silence, the air heavy with the weight of what has been said. Karen's hand continues to gently stroke Plankton's shoulder. Sandy sits down on the opposite side of the bed. Her gaze is fixed on Plankton, her thoughts racing. She had known him for so long, and yet she had never considered this possibility. "What does this mean for him?" she whispers, her voice filled with concern. Karen sighs, her hand still stroking Plankton's shoulder. "It means we'll have to make some changes," she says softly. "He'll need routines, and patience, and understanding." Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can do that," she says, her voice filled with determination. "But what about... us?" Karen looks up, her gaze meeting Sandy's. "What do you mean?" she asks, her hand pausing in its soothing motion. Sandy swallows, her eyes still on Plankton. "Our friendship," she says. "How do we handle this without making him feel... different?" Karen nods, understanding her concern. "We just need to be there for him," she says. "He's still the same Plankton, just with some new challenges." They sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythm of Plankton's snores. Sandy reaches out tentatively, her paw hovering over his arm. "Is it ok to touch him?" she asks. Karen nods. "Yes, Sandy. Just be gentle," she whispers. Sandy's paw touches Plankton's arm, her touch light and tentative. He stirs slightly, but doesn't wake. She leaves her paw there, offering comfort without intrusion. Karen watches them with a mix of love and fear for the future. Plankton's autism was still a mystery to them, a labyrinth they were just beginning to navigate. She knows it won't be easy, but she's determined to be by his side. "We're a team," she says, squeezing Plankton's shoulder. Sandy nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "A team," she repeats, her voice filled with resolve. For the first time since the diagnosis, the three of them are united in a common goal: to understand and support Plankton as he navigates his new reality. Sandy and Karen exchange a look, each one filled with a determination that mirrors the other. They've been friends through thick and thin, through Krabby Patty heists and jellyfish stings, and now they're facing a challenge none of them had ever anticipated. Sandy's paw remains on Plankton's arm, her touch steady and reassuring. Plankton stirred, his sleep disturbed by the unfamiliar weight of Sandy's paw on his arm. His eye fluttered open, and he was met with the sight of Sandy and Karen, their faces contorted with a mix of concern and confusion. He sat up quickly, his body jolting with fear. "Plankton, it's ok," Karen soothes, her hand reaching out to calm him. "You're safe." "Karen sad?" he asks, his voice cracking. Sandy's paw tightens on his arm, which makes Plankton feel uncomfortable enough to get him to snap at her. "What Sandy want?" he asks, his voice sharp, his body tense with anxiety. Sandy's eyes fill with tears. "I didn't mean to make you upset," she says, her voice shaking. "I just didn't know." Plankton's gaze flits between them, trying to read their expressions, but his brain struggles to interpret their complex emotions. "Karen sad?" he repeats, his voice a mix of fear and confusion. Karen's hand moves to cover Sandy's, her grip firm but gentle. "No, Plankton," she says, her voice soothing. "We're just concerned about you." Sandy takes a deep breath, forcing back her tears. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Plankton's gaze flickers between them, his mind racing to understand the situation. "No hurt," he says, his voice shaky. "Sandy say Karen sad. No sad." Karen's circuits pulse with a mixture of relief and sadness. "Sandy didn't mean it, Plankton," she says, her voice filled with compassion. "We're all just trying to understand what's happening." Sandy's eyes are cast down, her paws fidgeting in her lap. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice heavy with regret. "I didn't know." She grabs Plankton in a hug, unaware of how the tight embrace might feel to him. Plankton stiffens, his senses getting overwhelmed. "No touch," he says, his voice tight. Sandy quickly releases him, her eyes wide with apology. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to help." Karen nods, her gaze softening. "We all do," she says. "But we have to learn how to help in ways that don't overwhelm him." Plankton's eye darts around the room, with the need to regulate himself. He starts to rock in a rhythmic motion, a self-soothing behavior his new autism craves. The sensation of his own movements helps to calm the storm of thoughts and emotions swirling within him. Karen notices the change immediately and nods understandingly. "It's ok, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "You do what you need to do." Sandy watches, her curiosity piqued by the rhythmic rocking "What's he doing?" she asks, her voice hushed. Karen sighs, her gaze filled with understanding. "It's his way of self-soothing," she explains. "It's called stimming." Sandy's eyes widen, taking in Plankton's rhythmic rocks. "Stimming?" she repeats. "What's that?" Karen nods, her voice calm and patient. "It's a way for him to regulate his sensory input," she explains. "It helps him feel safe and in control." Sandy watches. He starts to hum, a low buzz that resonates in the quiet room, his way of finding comfort in the chaos of his thoughts. "It's ok," Karen whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "We're here." Plankton's eye lock onto her hand, the pressure of her touch offering a semblance of comfort. He starts to rock back and forth again. The movement calms him slightly. Sandy watches. She had never seen Plankton like this before. The sharpness of her words from earlier stings her now, as she realizes the depth of his distress. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice quiet. "I didn't know." Plankton's humming turns to a soft melody, his body still moving in a soothing pattern. The words echo in his head, a reminder of the world's expectations he can never quite meet. Sandy watches him, her own world now forever changed. She had always known Plankton to be eccentric, but this was different. This was real. Her mind reels with questions and fears. How would this affect their friendship? Could they ever return to the easy banter they once shared? Would he still be the same friend she had always known? But as she watches him stim, the reality of the situation starts to set in. Plankton was still Plankton, but with a new set of rules and a new way of seeing the world. Sandy makes a silent vow to learn those rules, to understand his world as much as he had tried to understand hers.

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🖌 X 💡 lightbulb x painty!!

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

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

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

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

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

https://youtu.be/Ais36ApfOnY?feature=shared duck://player/Ais36ApfOnY

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

"We removed Plankton's wisdom teeth. He's still asleep, you can stay with him." Said the oral surgeon to Karen. They've just finished and lead Karen into the room. Plankton is lying in the hospital bed, his face a mask of peace, the only signs of the recent surgery being the gauze in his mouth and the drool seeping out the side. His cheeks are slightly swollen, and she wonders when he'll wake up. The doctor said it could take a while. The IV line snakes up his arm. Karen pulls a chair up beside the bed. She takes his hand and holds it gently, feeling the warmth of his skin contrast with the coolness of her own palm. The room is sterile, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background. The faint smell of disinfectant fills the space. She looks around the room, noticing the monitors beeping in rhythm with Plankton's breathing and heart rate. The nurse comes in and checks the machines, making a few quiet notes on a clipboard. She smiles at Karen, "He's doing well. Just let him sleep. It's the best thing right now." Karen nods, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly, willing him to feel her presence. She wonders what dreams he's having, if any, behind his closed lid. Time seems to crawl as Karen watches him sleep. She tries to read a book, but the words blur together. Her thoughts drift to their lives before this moment, their shared laughter, their arguments, the quiet moments of understanding. Her gaze lingers on his swollen cheeks, his chest rising and falling with each breath. A soft groan escapes his lips and his eye begins to flutter open. Slowly, Plankton comes to, his vision blurred by the anesthesia's last hangover. He blinks, trying to focus on Karen's face. She sets aside her book and smiles at him, her screen welcoming him back to the world of the conscious. "Hi," she says softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton makes a sound that's somewhere between a whine and a grunt. His eye wanders the room before finally settling on hers. "What...what happened?" he slurs, the words barely audible through the gauze. Karen's smile widens a bit. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, remember?" He nods slightly. The nurse reappears, checking his vitals again with a gentle touch. "Time to go home," she says, removing the gauze. They make their way out of the hospital, Karen supporting Plankton gently as he stumbles, his legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Karen helps Plankton into the car, buckling him in and adjusting the seat so he can lean back and rest. He nods off almost immediately, his breathing evening out as the car starts and they pull away from the hospital. The drive home is quiet, Plankton's snores punctuating the hum of the engine. Karen keeps glancing over, checking on him, her concern etched into every line on her screen. The pain medication is strong, keeping him in a half-awake state. Each time he wakes, he looks around, disoriented, before his eye finds hers and his expression relaxes. Once they arrive, Karen guides him to the couch, his body feeling heavier than ever before. He slumps into the cushions and she grabs the ice pack from the cooler. "Hold this to your cheeks," she instructs, placing the cold compress against his skin. He nods obediently, his eye already glazing over with the promise of sleep. The TV flickers on, its blue light washing over the room. Karen finds a sitcom they both enjoy, hoping the familiar laughter will ease his pain and keep them both company. But Plankton's snores soon overpower the TV's audio, his head lolling to the side. She smiles, knowing he's in a deep slumber, and covers him with a blanket. The house is eerily quiet except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Karen moves around the kitchen, preparing a soft meal for when he wakes, her mind racing with thoughts of what the next few days will be like. Plankton's recovery will be slow, but she's ready to take care of him. She's his rock, his support, and she'll do anything to help him feel better.

(Autistic author) Plankton has autism, which only he and Karen know about. They're able to keep it a secret, per Plankton's request, even from their son Chip. So when Chip comes home early from football, he's surprised to see his dad staring at the blank wall as his mom rubs his back. "Is everything okay?" he asks, stepping into the room. Plankton's eye is unfocused, his body rigid, like he's stuck in some invisible vice. Karen's hand pauses on his shoulder, and she turns to face Chip, her smile forced. "Yeah, just a little...spell," she says. Plankton's absence seizure has struck without warning. It's like a silent storm passing through the room, leaving no trace except the vacant look in his eye. The room seems to shrink around them as Chip takes in his dad's unblinking stare. He's never seen this. "Should I get help?" Chip's voice cracks. Karen shakes her head quickly, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "No, it's fine. Just...give us a minute." She waves a hand, trying to dismiss the concern that has etched itself on Chip's features. But Chip lingers, his gaze flickering between his parents. "What's happening?" he whispers. Karen sighs, her hand dropping to her side. She looks at Plankton. "It's just something your dad has," she says, choosing her words carefully. "It's like his brain goes on pause for a bit." Chip watches as his dad's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the only indication that he's still present in the physical world. "But what do you mean?" his eyes search hers for understanding. Karen's eyes flit to Plankton before returning to Chip's. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself. "It's not dangerous, just a little scary-looking." The silence stretches until it feels like a rubber band about to snap. Chip's curiosity overpowers his fear. He takes a tentative step closer. "Does he know we're here?" Chip whispers. "Not really," Karen murmurs, "But he'll come back to us." Chip reaches out, a tremor in his fingertips, and touches Plankton's arm, but the seizure doesn't seem to notice. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice a soft echo in the stillness. Plankton's body remains stiff as a statue, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere beyond the wallpaper's pattern. Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay," she whispers back, "It's part of him. Don't poke or shake him, just let it pass." The seconds tick by, each one feeling heavier than the last. Chip's heart thuds in his chest, his mind racing with questions and fear. He's never seen his dad like this before, so...so vulnerable. As the seizure slowly releases its grip, Plankton blinks, his eye refocusing on the room. He looks confused, like he's waking from a deep sleep. Karen's smile relaxes, the tension in her shoulders easing. Plankton turns to her, his gaze flickering with recognition before falling on Chip. "Chip?" His voice is raspy. Karen nods at Chip, silently urging him to speak. "Yeah, Dad, it's me." Plankton's expression shifts. "What...what happened?" his voice is frail. Chip opens his mouth, but Karen steps in quickly. "You had a little moment, that's all. Nothing to worry about," she says, her tone light. But her hand is still on Plankton's back, ready to provide support if needed. Plankton's eye darts around, his hands clenching and unclenching as if trying to remember how to interact with the world again. He notices Chip's hand reaching out and flinches slightly, his discomfort with physical contact clear. Chip, sensing this, pulls his hand back, his cheeks flushing. He's always known his dad was a bit...different. Quirky. But he's never seen this side of him. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing as she squeezes Plankton's hand. "You're okay." Plankton nods, his mind slowly untangling from the cotton wool fog of the seizure. He looks around the room, familiar objects snapping back into focus. His eye lands on Chip, who's watching him with a mix of worry and curiosity. He clears his throat. "Just a...moment. I'm fine now." He tries to smile, but it feels awkward and forced. Chip's eyes don't leave him. "What was that?" he asks, his voice still low. Karen looks at Plankton. It's time. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain works in a special way." Chip's eyes widen. "What does that mean?" Karen sits down beside Plankton, who's still gathering himself. "It's like...sometimes, his brain takes a little break from the world," she explains gently, her hand still on his shoulder. "It can be overwhelming, with all the sounds, sights, and people around." Chip nods slowly, trying to grasp the concept. Plankton swallows hard, his mind racing. He's always been so careful to hide this part of himself, not wanting to be seen as less than or weird. But as he looks at Chip, his heart swells with a mix of fear and hope. What if his son can't understand? What if this changes everything? Karen gives him a nod, encouraging him to go on. With a deep breath, Plankton starts to speak. "You know how sometimes you get really focused on something and the world just fades away?" Chip nods. "Well, for me, it's like that," Plankton says, his voice steadying. "But sometimes, my brain does it without me asking. It's like my thoughts are a TV with too many channels playing at once, and it just...shuts off for a bit to give me a break." Chip nods, trying to imagine what that's like. "Does it hurt?" Plankton shakes his head. "Well, it's just...different. Sometimes I don't realize, sometimes it's tough." Chip looks up at him, his eyes full of questions and a nascent empathy. "Can you control..." "No Chip, I can't 'control' it!" He snaps back. "Hey hey, it's okay," Karen whispers, meeting his gaze. "He's not judging you, Plankton." Plankton takes a deep breath, his eye fluttering shut. "I know," he murmurs, but his tone is anything but convinced. Chip's gaze softens, his fear replaced with a determined curiosity. "What's it like?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "It's like being in a little bubble," he says, his eye distant. "Everything's far away, muffled. And when it's over, it's like...like popping back into reality." Chip's curiosity grows, his mind racing with questions. "But why do you keep it a secret?" he asks, his voice tentative. Karen looks to Plankton, who's still visibly shaken. "We didn't want it to define you," she says softly. "We wanted you to see him as just your dad, not as someone with a label." Plankton nods. "And I didn't want to be different," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip considers this, his gaze flitting from his dad to the ground. "But you are," he says, his voice earnest. "You're my dad, even with your..." He stumbles over the word "...seizures." Karen's eyes fill with pride at her son's acceptance. Plankton's tension how ever, heightens at Chip's description. "It's not a seizure," he corrects, his voice slightly defensive. Chip looks confused. "But it looks like it," he says, frowning. Karen nods. "It's similar, but not the same," she explains before Plankton can interject. "It's part of your dad's autism." Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching for something he's never noticed before. "But why did you keep it a secret?" he asks again. Plankton's gaze drifts to the floor, his voice soft. "Because people can be cruel, son," he says, his words heavy. "They don't always understand." Chip nods, his eyes welling up with tears. "But I do," he says, his voice shaking. "I mean, I don't get it all, but I understand that you're still you." Plankton's expression softens, his fear of rejection dissipating slightly. He looks up at Karen, his gaze filled with gratitude. She gives him a small smile, her eyes telling him it's okay to be his true self.

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

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

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

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

‘Yᴏᴜ ʙʟᴀsᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴀʀɴᴀᴄʟᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ!’

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣿⣿⣿⡿⠆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⣤⠾⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣄⠀⠈⢻⣿⣏⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⡿⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⢼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⢻⣧⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣧⠀⢻⣷⡄ ⠈⠻⠯⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⠷⠦⠀⢤⡿⢻⠀⡼⠇⠑

SHELF IMPROVEMENT v (Autistic author) They sat together, the morning light filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over their quiet meal. Karen watched Plankton closely, noticing the subtle differences in his behavior. The way his eye would dart around the room, as if searching for something. The way his antennas would stiffen whenever a noise pierced their sanctuary. "No more noise," he whispered, his voice tight with anxiety. Karen nodded, swiping at her eyes. "I'll be quiet, Plankton. I'm here." They ate in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Karen's mind raced with the implications of this new development. She had read about autism before, but it had always felt like something that happened to other people. Now it was right here, in their kitchen, changing the dynamic of their relationship. Plankton's antennae twitched as he chewed, his focus completely on his food. Every now and then, he'd look up at Karen, his eye searching for reassurance. She gave it without hesitation, her smile genuine, full of love. As they finished breakfast, Karen's mind raced with what their day would look like now. Would they still go about their usual routine, or would everything be different? "Plankton," she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Do you w..." He flinched at the sudden contact, his antennae shooting straight up. She had to be more careful, more sensitive to his new reality. She pulled her hand back, giving him space. "Plankton," she started again, her voice softer this time. "Do you want to find a quiet place to sit for a while?" He nodded, his antennas still. "Quiet," he whispered, his eye flickering to the living room. Together, they moved to the couch, the sunken cushions welcoming them like an old friend. Karen knew Plankton liked the feeling of being enveloped, and she hoped it would offer him some comfort, and moved a throw blanket over his legs. Plankton leaned into the cushions, his antennae twitching slightly as his eye darted around the room. Karen sat beside him, not sure what to say or do next. "Would you like to read a book?" she offered tentatively. Plankton's antennae stopped moving for a moment, his gaze locking onto hers. "Book," he mumbled, his voice lacking the enthusiasm he usually had. Karen selected a simple story, hoping the familiar words would comfort him. As she read, Plankton remained still, his eye half-closed. The words were a gentle lullaby to his overwhelmed mind. Karen noticed that he didn't react to the plot twists or the punchlines, his expression unchanged. It was as if he was listening, but not quite there. "The end," she said softly, closing the book. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, and he turned his gaze to her. "Book," he mumbled. It was the first word he had said in what felt like hours. This wasn't the Plankton she knew, the one who could spout complex sentences and wield his wit like a weapon. This was a Plankton lost in a world of sensory overload and confusion. She knew that autism was a spectrum, and that Plankton was still himself, but it was difficult to see him this way. "Let's try something else," she suggested, desperation tinting her voice. She searched his face for any sign of recognition or interest. Plankton nodded, his antennas drooping slightly. "Okay," he murmured, his eye unfocused. "How about we play a game?" she suggested.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠤⡤⠀⣤⡤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠊⠑⠀⠀⠁⢀⡀⠀⠀⡀⠉⠒⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⡞⠱⠂⣀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⠳⠆⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠁⡆⠀⡀⢔⡢⣛⢮⠳⣂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠤⠤⠤⠤⢄ ⠈⢆⠀⠀⠔⠱⡪⠄⣃⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⢀⡠⠤⠟⠒⠒⢋⣉⣉⣹⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⣔⡾ ⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⠀⡇⡀⠸⡌⢷⣀⡸⠐⠋⠁⠀⢀⠤⡒⢉⡃⠤⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⠲⣟⡨⠕⠊⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠤⢡⠻⣄⠜⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠞⠚⠛⢅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠒⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠋⠁⠀⠀⢀⡤⡖⠋⢁⡠⠤⠒⢀⡸⠀⠀⣀⣀⠠⠤⠐⠒⡆⠁⠀⣀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡰⠉⠀⠸⡏⣀⡶⠶⠿⡷⠶⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠶⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⢀⡴⢋⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⡀⠀⢠⠃⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠰⡯⣀⣤⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡑⠆⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣥⡀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⡧⠤⠤⠐⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢟⡈⣲⠁⠀⡇⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠁⠀⠀⢀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠯⣁⡠⠔⡇⠀⠀⠈⠓⠶⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡼⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠠⠤⠤⠤⠤⡤⠕⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢚⠖⠒⠂⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

✨🌒✨You are made of stardust and galaxies and I love you. Send to your ten favourite people on your website. 💫🌔🌟

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY v (By NeuroFabulous) Karen held Plankton tightly, his sobs shaking both of them. "It's okay," she murmured, stroking his back. "You're still my husband. You're still Chip's dad." Her voice was a salve to his soul, but the wound was deep. In Chip's room, the silence was deafening. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He had never meant to hurt Plankton like that. He had just wanted his dad to be like everyone else's. He didn't understand why it had to be so hard. Outside, the sound of Karen trying to comfort Plankton's sobs drifted under the door, each one a knife in Chip's heart. He had never heard his dad cry before, and it made him feel like the biggest jerk in the sea. What had he done? He didn't want Plankton to go anywhere. He just wanted all to be okay. He sat on his bed, his eyes blurring with tears as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His mind raced with thoughts of his dad, his hero, his rock, now a crumbling mess in his mother's arms. He couldn't bear to think of the pain he had caused. He stood up, his legs shaking slightly as he approached the door. Karen looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, but filled with a fierce love that never wavered. Plankton was still sobbing into her shoulder, his body trembling with the force of his pain. Chip felt like he couldn't breathe, his chest tight with regret. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice small and shaky. "I didn't mean it. I just..." But the words trailed off, his throat thick with unshed tears. Karen looked up at him, her eyes brimming with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "you need to understand. Your dad can't just turn his autism off." She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving Chip's. "And we love him just the way he is." Plankton's body convulsed with each sob, his fear palpable in the tiny room. He had always known his condition set him apart, but to hear his son say such things... It was more than he could bear. Karen looked at Chip, her expression a mix of anger and sadness. "Chip, what you said was hurtful," she began, her voice shaking with emotion. "But you need to know that your dad's autism is just part of who he is." Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body slowly calming down as he heard Karen's words. He knew she was right, but the fear remained, a cold knot in his stomach. Fear of rejection, fear of being seen as a burden, fear of losing the ones he loved most. Chip's eyes were glued to the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a heavy stone. He felt like a monster, a creature that had lashed out without thought for the consequences. He took a tentative step forward. "Dad," he whispered, his voice choking with tears. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." Plankton's convulsions slowly subsided, his body still tense against Karen's embrace. His eye was closed tightly, as if trying to block out the painful reality. Plankton's convulsions grew less intense, his body slowly relaxing into Karen's embrace. His breathing was ragged, his antennas quivering slightly with each exhale. The look in his eye spoke volumes, a swirl of emotions that seemed to mirror the turmoil in Chip's own heart. The room was a stark contrast to the chaotic underwater world outside, the silence interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from Plankton. Karen's gaze never left Chip's face, her expression a mix of love and disappointment. "Your father's autism is a part of him, Chip," she continued, her voice measured. "It's like his brain has its own language, and sometimes it's hard for him to translate it to ours. But that doesn't make him any less of a person, or any less of a dad." Chip felt a knot in his stomach, his regret growing with every word Karen said. He had never thought about it like that before—his dad wasn't broken or weird, just different. And he had hurt him so badly. "But I just want him to be normal," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why ca--" "Normal?" Plankton's voice was harsher than Chip had ever heard it. He pulled away from Karen, his eye blazing with a fierce intensity. "Chip, maybe you're the one who needs to leave.." "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a plea. "This isn't helping." But Plankton's face was a mask of pain and anger. Chip's heart raced, his dad's words cutting deeper than any insult he had ever heard. "Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it." But Plankton was beyond reason, his emotions a swirling maelstrom of anger and hurt. "Get out," he said, his voice cold and final. Karen's eyes widened with shock, but she knew better than to argue with him when he was like this. She stood, carefully setting Plankton aside. He didn't move, just sat there, his body rigid with pain. "Come on, Chip," she said gently, her hand on his shoulder. "Let's give your dad some space." Chip's eyes were filled with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of his father's pain. He didn't know what to do, his mind racing with fear and regret. He allowed Karen to lead him out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving Plankton alone with his thoughts.

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES i Karen sat by her husband Plankton, who's in the dentist chair. They numbed his arm where the Iv's to go in; today Plankton gets his wisdom teeth surgically removed. The dentist, a man named Dr. Finnegan, leaned in and said, "Plankton, you're going to start to feel sleepy now." Dr. Finnegan started the Iv. "Are you sure? I'm still awake and not to mention a light sleeper," Plankton says, "I don't feel anyth—" His voice trails off as his eye flutters closed, his mouth opens slightly, revealing his tiny white teeth, and his body goes limp. His head tips to one side, and Karen reaches over to gently push it back to a more comfortable position. Plankton's snoring echoes softly in the surgical room. Karen watches Dr. Finnegan as he starts to prep for the procedure. He's all smiles and nods, assuring her that everything will be fine. The smell of antiseptic fills the room as Dr. Finnegan cleans the area around Plankton's mouth with a cool, minty solution. Karen's grip on her husband's hand tightens instinctively, even though he doesn't stir, lost in the depths of sleep. Dr. Finnegan's assistant, a slender young man with a gentle touch, carefully inserts the mouth prop to keep Plankton's mouth open. Plankton's snores change pitch slightly, but he still doesn't wake. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand, even though he's unconscious. The assistant nods at Dr. Finnegan, who begins to explain the procedure to Karen. She nods, trying to focus on his words, but her eyes keep drifting to her snoring husband. She can't help but feel a mix of anxiety and affection. Plankton, ever the worrier, had been so nervous about the surgery. Now he's out like a light, blissfully unaware of the impending extraction. The assistant places a soft bib under Plankton's chest to absorb any excess saliva. His snoring gets a little louder, and Karen can't resist the urge to smile. Dr. Finnegan then starts the actual surgery, making an incision in Plankton's gum. The sound of the drill starts to fill the room, a high-pitched whine that makes Karen's teeth ache in sympathy. She watches as the assistant suctions the area to keep it clean. Plankton's body remains still, his breaths deep and even. The tension in the room is palpable, even though Plankton is completely oblivious to it. Karen's thumb rubs his knuckles in a soothing rhythm as she watches Dr. Finnegan's steady hand make the first incision, and Plankton's snores hitch slightly before resuming their normal rhythm. The assistant, noticing Karen's nervousness, gives her a reassuring smile. "It's normal for any snoring to change a bit. He's still deep in sleep." Plankton's snores become more rhythmic as the surgery progresses. Dr. Finnegan's expert hands navigate the tight space of his mouth with ease. Karen's gaze shifts from the dental tools to the monitor above them. It displays an X-ray of Plankton's mouth with the wisdom teeth highlighted, their jagged edges pressing against the other teeth. The reality of the procedure sets in, but she trusts the dentist. Her thumb continues to stroke his hand. The drill's whine grows louder, and the smell of bone dust mingles with the antiseptic. Plankton's snores remain unfazed, a testament to the anesthesia's effectiveness. The assistant periodically wipes away the blood and saliva that collects in the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving his task. Karen's eyes dart to the clock. Time seems to crawl as the minutes pass. Each snore from Plankton is a comforting metronome, keeping her anxiety in check. The surgical team works with precision, their movements choreographed from years of practice. The nurse keeps a close watch on the monitors, noting Plankton's vitals with a nod of approval. Dr. Finnegan's concentration is unbroken, his expression a mask of focus. The sound of the drill pauses, and Karen's heart skips a beat, but it's quickly followed by the crunch of bone as the first wisdom tooth is exposed. Plankton's snoring doesn't miss a beat. She swallows hard, her eyes stinging slightly from the tension. The nurse notices her discomfort and offers a kind word, "You're all doing great." Karen nods as Dr. Finnegan gently probes the tooth with a tiny pair of forceps, his brow furrowed in concentration. The drill starts up again, cutting through the bone. Karen's eyes dart between her husband's face, the X-ray monitor, and the clock, each tick another step closer to the end of this ordeal. Plankton's snores don't even hitch as Dr. Finnegan applies gentle pressure to the tooth. The forceps clamp down, and the tooth gives a little. Karen holds her breath, her eyes wide with anticipation. The tension in the room is like a tightrope, but Plankton remains completely relaxed, unshaken by the invasion in his mouth. With a final, almost ceremonial scraping, the first wisdom tooth is free. Dr. Finnegan's smile widens as he holds it up for Karen to see before disposing of it. "One down, three to go," he says cheerfully, as if removing teeth is as simple as plucking daisies.

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°•. °🚀 ✯.•★ *° .🛰· .•🪐

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and his friend Alex go to the Chum Bucket, where Chip lives with his parents Karen and Plankton. Chip had been looking forward to this moment all week. His friend Alex, the new kid in school, was finally coming over to his place. Chip's thought about the endless possibilities of what they could do together. Would they play video games? Maybe build a fort? Or, if they were lucky, his mom Karen might let them have ice cream before dinner.. The door swung open. "Welcome to the Chum Bucket," Chip said with a proud smile, leading Alex inside. Karen looked up from her book. "Hi," Alex said nervously. Karen's eyes widened. "Oh, hello!" She hadn't been expecting company. But she put down her book. "You must be Alex!" Alex nodded. "Hi, Chip's mom," they mumbled. "Just call me Karen, sweetie," she replied, her voice as warm as a freshly baked pie. "You two have fun!" She turned back to her book, her screen dancing with curiosity as they climbed the stairs. Chip's room was at the end of the hall, but they weren't going there yet. "C'mon," he whispered to Alex, his screen sparkling with excitement. "I want to show you my Dad!" He led him to the bed room door. They tiptoed closer. Plankton's on the bed. Alex peered around the doorframe, their curiosity piqued. "Surprise!" Chip shouted, jumping forward. Plankton's antennas shot straight up, a mix of shock and annoyance. But Plankton didn't move. He remained frozen in place, his eye vacant and unblinking. Alex took a step back, concerned. Chip's excitement faded into puzzlement. "Dad?" he called out, nudging Plankton's arm. No response, not even a twitch. They both stared at him, the room silent except for the faint buzz of a neon sign outside. Plankton's body was rigid. Chip felt a twinge of fear. This wasn't like his dad, who was always bursting with ideas and energy. Alex's grip on the doorknob tightened. They approached the bed slowly. Plankton remained unblinking. "Dad, are you ok?" Chip asked, his voice cracking. He reached out to shake him gently. Plankton's arm was cold and stiff, like a mannequin. Chip's heart raced. He'd never seen his dad like this before. Alex's eyes widened in alarm, their grip on the doorknob turning white. They stepped back, exchanging glances. "Chip, what's going on?" Alex whispered, fear seeping into their voice. Chip's eyes searched the room, his heart racing. "I don't know," he replied, "but we have to do something!" He rushed to the bedside, his hands trembling as he touched his dad's face. "Dad! Dad!" Alex hovered near the door, unsure of what to do. "Should we get your mom?" Chip nodded, his voice shaking. "Yeah, we need to tell." They both bolted out of the room and sprinted down the stairs. "Mom!" Chip yelled, "Something's wrong with Dad!" Karen looked up from her book, her face puzzled. "What do you mean, Chip?" But when she saw the look on his face, she set the book aside and followed them upstairs. In Plankton's room, she paused. The silence was heavy, and the tension was almost palpable. She could see the fear in Chip's eyes, mirrored in Alex's wide gaze. They pointed to the bed, where Plankton still sat, unmoving. Karen took a deep breath. She had known about Plankton's secret for years—his autism. But moments like these were always difficult to navigate. "It's okay," she assured them, her tone calm and steady. "Sometimes Daddy has these moments where he goes into his own world. It's part of who he is." She approached the bed slowly, her movements deliberate and gentle. Plankton's chest rose and fell with his breath, but he didn't acknowledge their presence. Karen placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Plankton?" she called softly, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. No response. Her heart ached for her husband, trapped in his own thoughts. She had learned over the years to recognize the signs of his episodes, but seeing him like this never got easier. Carefully, Karen sat down beside him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "It's okay, sweetie," she murmured, her voice soothing. "You're safe." Slowly, she began to rub his back in small, comforting circles. Chip and Alex watched, silent and worried, from the doorway. Minutes ticked by like hours. Karen's gentle persistence never wavered. Then, almost imperceptibly, Plankton's shoulders relaxed, his eye blinking back into focus. He looked around the room, bewildered. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip and Alex breathed out in relief. Karen smiled warmly, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You're back with us." Plankton's gaze found hers, his mind slowly returning from its solitary adventure. He looked from her to the two in the doorway, confusion etched on his face. Alex took a tentative step forward, their heart still racing. "Are you okay?" Plankton blinked. "What happened?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice scratchy from his silent reverie. Karen stood, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "You had one of your episodes, sweetheart," she explained gently. "But it's okay. You're back now." Chip stepped into the room, his eyes brimming with relief. "What's an episode?" Alex asked softly, their curiosity overcoming their fear. Karen turned to them, her expression gentle. "It's like his brain goes on a little trip," she said, trying to simplify it. "It's part of him. Sometimes he needs time to come back." Alex nodded, their eyes still glued to Plankton. "Does he know he does it?" they asked, their curiosity genuine. Karen squeezed Plankton's hand. "He knows, honey," she explained. "But sometimes it's like he can't stop it." Chip felt a pang of sadness, his earlier excitement now replaced with a deep concern for his father. He knew that his dad was different from other parents, but he had never seen him like this. It was as if Plankton had been taken from them for a brief moment, leaving a shell in his place.

please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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🌙:: [★] { your text here } [🌕] ::★

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જ⁀➴Ultimate Space theme!♡ -Emoji Pack 🔭🌀🌌🌑🌙⭐️🌕💫🪐👁️‍🗨️💤🖲️🌃🛸🛰️🎮🌝🌚🕷️👩‍🚀👣👾 -Server template ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶ ♡⸝⸝Welcome!•🌑• ♡⸝⸝Intro!•🌃• ♡⸝⸝Announcements!•⭐️• ♡⸝⸝Boost!•🐾• ♡⸝⸝Rules!•🛰️• ♡⸝⸝Goodbye!•🌙• ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶ ♡⸝⸝General-Chat!•🌀• ♡⸝⸝Photo-Dump!•🔭• ♡⸝⸝Links!•🌌• ♡⸝⸝QOTD!•💫• ♡⸝⸝Space!•🚀• ♡⸝⸝Bots!•🍙• ♡⸝⸝Diary!•🌘• ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶ ♡⸝⸝Voice-Chat!ˎˊ˗ ♡⸝⸝Sleeping!ˎˊ˗ ♡⸝⸝All-nighters!ˎˊ˗ ♡⸝⸝Ranting!ˎˊ˗ ♡⸝⸝AKF!ˎˊ˗ -Roles ☆Member₊ ⊹ ☆Mod｡𖦹°‧ ☆Owner✮⋆˙ - ☆Red₊ ⊹ ☆Orange｡𖦹°‧ ☆Yellow✮⋆˙ ☆Green✮⋆˙ ☆Blue₊ ⊹ ☆Purple｡𖦹°‧ ☆Pink｡𖦹°‧ - ☆QOTD-Pings₊ ⊹ ☆Announcements-Pings｡𖦹°‧ ☆Boost-Pings₊ ⊹ ☆Welcome-Pings｡𖦹°‧ - ☆SpaceX-Pings₊ ⊹ ☆NASA-Pings｡𖦹°‧ -Bios 🌌﹐ıllı name ﹒ ♡ ʬ﹐prns/prns # ᶻz﹕ ＞＜﹐🔭 MBIT @ :: ┆text﹒♡ ✦. ⊹ ˚ . text : 💫 ꒰🐾 ⊹ ˚ . age ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💫꒱ ♡ ･ ✧ 🌘˖ / 🌙 ꒰ text꒱ ᘏ (🌌) . ˚◞🌀꒱ 𖥦 ✧ ˚ ࿔ @user.!! · ˚ * ୨୧ ✧ ˚🌑       ♡⊹.* name ┆★ ˙ᵕ˙      prns/prns !? ᰔ age ᰔ zodiac       ╰┈➤ link / / ♡ -Usernames ୨ . ࣪User﹚ 🌀 ! ꒰୨⭐️୧◞ 。name⠀.ᐟ ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 user ˚ ୨🔭୧ ⊹ ₊˚ ୨🖤ৎ name !! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 -Extra! Please stop arguing on here people are trying to find stuff and its not OUR problem children might be on here theres porn everywhere now♡ And the point of this website is to steal emojis and stuff so arguing about it is petty~♡ -Made by bloody.lover on discord! Search 🥩🪓💌 for more!~