Wisdomtoothcore Emojis & Text

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD i Karen had been pacing the waiting room. Finally, the doors swung open and Dr. Castellanos stepped out. Karen rushed over. "How's Plankton?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. Dr. Castellanos offered a small, reassuring smile. "The surgery went well. We removed all four wisdom teeth without any complications. He's in recovery." Karen followed the dentist Dr. Castellanos down the hallway. They entered a small, curtained area. There lay Plankton, his snoring soft and even, surrounded by the beeping monitors. Karen felt a gentle wave of relief wash over her, seeing his usually furrowed brow now relaxed in sleep, his mouth slightly ajar. "We numbed his mouth even though he's slept under the anesthesia, so he might not feel that part of his face for today. The anesthesia can normally cause patients to act a bit peculiar when they first wake up," Dr. Castellanos explained as Karen studied Plankton's slack features, his antennae twitching with each snore. As if on cue, a string of drool slithered out of the corner of Plankton's mouth and dangled. Karen chuckled at the absurdity of it all. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal," Dr. Castellanos assured her with a gentle pat on the shoulder. "The numbness can cause that. It'll wear off by tomorrow. He'll wake up anytime though." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. The surgery was a success, but she knew the real test would be when he came to. Would he be in pain? Would he be groggy or scared? The what-ifs swirled in her mind like a tornado of uncertainty. The room grew quiet, the only sounds the persistent rhythm of the heart monitor and Plankton's slight snores. Karen pulled up a chair and took his hand, her thumb gently stroking the back of his palm. As the minutes ticked by, the curtain around the bed parted and in stepped a nurse, her shoes squeaking softly on the clean, white floor. "Miss?" she said quietly. "When Mr. Plankton wakes up, he might be disoriented. We've prepared a cup of water if he's thirsty." Karen nodded her understanding, squeezing Plankton's hand slightly. The nurse checked the monitors and stayed with them. Karen leaned in, whispering to Plankton, "You're going to be okay." Eventually, Plankton's snoring grew less pronounced, and his eye began to flutter open. He looked around the unfamiliar space with a dazed expression, confused and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her eyes brimming with a mix of concern and relief. Plankton's eye settled on Karen's face. She offered a tentative smile, not wanting to startle him. "Hey, buddy," she whispered, her voice soothing. "You're all done. You're in recovery now." His eyes searched hers, slowly focusing. He tried to mouth a question, but the numbness took hold. All that came out was a muffled, "Mmmm?" Karen's smile grew wider. "You're okay," she assured him, her voice calm and soothing. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. Remember?" Plankton blinked a few times, his gaze flicking from Karen to the unfamiliar surroundings and back again. He attempted to speak again. "Mmph?" It was barely audible, his mouth refusing to cooperate. Karen nodded, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "You're in the dentist, remember? You had surgery to remove your wisdom teeth." Plankton's eye grew wider, his mind trying to piece together the hazy fragments of memory. "Windom eet?" Karen chuckled despite herself. "Yes, all four," she confirmed, nodding. Plankton's eye grew even wider, and he managed to nod, a look of astonishment spreading across his face. The nurse came over. "Here, let's help you sit up," she said, placing a pillow behind his back. As Plankton sat up, his face contorted with confusion, his mouth feeling like it was filled with marshmallows. He tried to talk again. "Mmph... Kahen...?" he slurred, his tongue fumbling over the words. Karen laughed softly. "Yes, I'm here," she said. Plankton's eye lit up at the sound of her voice, and his cheeks puffed up as he tried to smile. "Mmph... gweat," he managed to say, the words a garbled mess. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his endearing attempt to speak, his numbness adding an unintentional comedic twist to the situation. He reached out a wobbly arm, his hand grasping for the cup of water the nurse had left on the tray. Karen carefully lifted it to his lips, supporting his head as he took a sip. The cool liquid trickled down his throat, a welcome reprieve from the dryness. "Mmph, gwood," he murmured. The nurse gave a knowing smile, accustomed to the peculiarities of waking patients. Karen couldn't help but be enchanted by Plankton's delirious state. His usual stern expression was replaced with one of pure joy, his eye twinkling like stars on a cloudless night. He began to flail his arms around, knocking over the surgical tray with a clatter. The nurse quickly intervened, stabilizing the situation with a laugh. "Whoa there, Mr. Plankton! Take it easy," she said, her voice filled with good humor. With great effort, Plankton managed to articulate a slurred sentence, his mouth feeling like cotton. "Kahen, teww me a stoy," he begged, his speech garbled by the anesthesia. Karen was surprised by the childlike innocence in his tone. Karen glanced at the nurse, who nodded with amusement. She took a deep breath, thinking of a simple tale that wouldn't cause any distress. "Once upon a time, there was Plankton, and he gets to go home from the dentist. The end!" Plankton's eye squinted, his antennae waving slightly. "Mmph... wow, a reawy gweat stoy," he slurred, satisfied with the storytelling for now. The nurse, unfazed by the unusual scene, began to prep his discharge papers. Karen couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her chest, watching his vulnerability. The fierce, cunning villain she knew from the cartoons had been replaced by a gentle soul, his words as jumbled as a bowl of alphabet soup. "Mmph, Kahen," Plankton slurred again, his hand reaching for her arm. "Whas' tha... tha...?" He pointed to the monitor, his curiosity piqued by the dancing lines and numbers. "That's your heart rate, buddy," Karen explained, her voice still tinged with amusement. "It's showing that you're okay." Plankton nodded, his antennae waving with excitement. "Mmph... mow...?" he managed, his mouth feeling like it had been stuffed with pillows. Karen leaned in, her laughter bubbling up. "It's okay, you're just talking funny because of the medicine." Plankton's eye grew more curious. He pointed at his mouth with a thumb, his antennae drooping. "I... hoth?" Karen nodded, her smile sympathetic. "No, buddy, you're just numb. It'll go away." Plankton's antennae perked up. "Whuh, wike dis?" he asked, his voice still slurred. He tried to stick out his tongue, only to find it thick and uncooperative. Karen nodded. "Exactly like that. But don't worry, you're doing fine," she said, her tone reassuring. Plankton's cheeks puffed up as he nodded, his eye glued to the monitor with childlike wonder.

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.

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.

☆ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ "You nervous?" Karen asked. Plankton was about to undergo the ordeal of getting wisdom teeth removed. Dr. McStingray entered the room with a gentle smile and a reassuring pat on Plankton's shoulder. "Just breathe in deeply," he instructed. Plankton's eye grew heavy by the time he felt the chair recline, the last sensation he recalled. The room grew quieter as anesthesia took hold and the steady beep of the monitor filled the space like a metronome. Karen remained fixed on her husband's face, a mask of serene oblivion. Now, watching Plankton's open mouth, she felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety. The surgical team moved with precision. Dr. McStingray donned his magnifying glasses, peering into the cavernous mouth. His assistant, a young woman with a gentle touch, prepared the instruments on a gleaming tray. Karen could see the muscles in his jaw twitch slightly, but otherwise, he remained still and silent, his breathing deep and even. The assistant passed Dr. McStingray the necessary instruments with swift, practiced motions. Each item was sterilized, each step carefully explained to Karen to ease her worries. She nodded, trying to focus on the technicalities rather than the reality of her husband's mouth being pried open and his teeth being forcibly extracted. The doctor's hand hovered over Plankton's mouth, his fingers poised like a pianist's. He took one final look at the x-ray before plunging into the surgery. The drill whirred to life once more, a high- pitched sound that seemed to echo in the small space. Karen closed her eyes, not wanting to see the actual extraction, but the sound was too much. She quickly opened them again, forcing herself to watch. The nurse handed Dr. McStingray the forceps. With a swift, confident movement, he clamped down on the first tooth. Plankton's face remained slack, but Karen could almost feel the pressure building in the air around them. The doctor's grip tightened, his knuckles white with focus. He applied gentle force, rocking the tooth back and forth. There was a faint crack, and Karen swallowed hard, her heart racing. The sound grew louder as the doctor worked, the forceps scraping against bone. The tension grew palpable, even though Plankton remained unconscious. Each tug was accompanied by a soft groan from the chair, as if it too sympathized with the struggle. The young assistant offered words of encouragement, her voice low and soothing. The first tooth gave way suddenly, and the doctor lifted it out with a flourish, like a magician pulling a coin from behind an ear. The nurse dabbed at Plankton's mouth with a cotton swab, the crimson stain stark against the white cloth. Karen felt a pang of nausea, but she couldn't look away. The surgical site was a bloody mess, but the doctor's steady hands were already moving on to the next tooth. The dance of instruments resumed, a symphony of clinking steel and suction whirring as they cleared the debris away. The second tooth was stubborn, embedded deeper than the first. Dr. McStingray paused, studying the x-ray once more before diving in. This time, the process was more intense, the chair's hydraulics hissing with each push and pull. Karen's knuckles were white as she gripped the chair, her eyes glued to the scene unfolding before her. The forceps clamped down, the doctor's face a mask of concentration. The room grew silent save for the steady beep of the monitor and the occasional slurp of saliva being suctioned away. Sweat beaded on Dr. McStingray's forehead, and his grip on the tools tightened. He applied more pressure, and Karen could see the muscles in his arms tense. The tooth resisted, rooted like an ancient tree in the rock of Plankton's jaw. The doctor's face grew stern, his brow furrowed in determination. He leaned in closer, his breath misting his mask as he whispered to the assistant, who nodded and passed him a different instrument. The new tool was a wrench-like contraption, designed to grip the tooth more securely. With a swift twist, the doctor applied torque to the wisdom tooth. Karen's heart thudded in her chest, mirroring the tooth's struggle for freedom. The chair's mechanisms groaned in sympathy as Plankton's mouth was opened wider. The young assistant's eyes met Karen's, and she offered a quick nod of reassurance. But the tension didn't abate. The tooth was a stubborn sentinel, refusing to be moved. The doctor's grip was firm, his knuckles bulging against the chrome handle of the tool. He pulled with a slow, steady force, his biceps flexing with the effort. The sound of bone and tooth grating against each other was muffled by the suction's constant whisper. Karen's eyes watered, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of the scene. Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. With a final, decisive yank, the second tooth was freed from its prison. The doctor held it up to the light, inspecting the gnarled root before dropping it into a metal tray with a clink. The nurse swabbed the blood away with a gentle touch, and Karen let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The third tooth was the easiest, sliding out as if it had been waiting for its turn to escape. The room felt lighter, the tension dissipating like the evaporating mist of the antiseptic spray. The last tooth, however, was a different beast entirely. It was lodged in at an angle, trapped by the crowded jaws of its neighbors. Dr. McStingray paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He glanced at Karen, his eyes flickering with concern. "This one might take a bit longer," he said, his voice calm despite the gravity of his words. The nurse applied pressure to Plankton's cheek, pushing his mouth open wider to give the doctor a better angle. The young assistant readied herself, gripping a pair of retractors. The doctor inserted them carefully, spreading the gum tissue to expose the trapped tooth. Karen could see the tiny bead of sweat forming on Plankton's temple, even though he was unconscious. Dr. McStingray selected a slender, curved scalpel and began to cut the gum away from the final tooth. The scalpel was precise, a delicate instrument in the hands of a master. The tissue parted like the pages of an old book, revealing the wisdom tooth's crooked root in all its glory. The doctor's hand was a blur of motion, his scalpel carving a path through the swollen gum tissue. Blood flowed freely, and the assistant quickly placed a gauze pad to. With a flick of his wrist, Dr. McStingray severed the last connective tissue, freeing the final tooth. The nurse suctioned the area once more, the sound of the machine like a sigh of relief. The doctor then picked up a set of stitches, his hands moving with the precision of a seamstress on a tight deadline. He began to sew up the gum, his fingers moving in a quick, delicate dance. The needle glinted under the surgical lights as he pulled the thread through the tender flesh. Karen watched, but she knew this was a crucial part of the procedure. The stitches were tiny, almost invisible. Each one pulled the gum tissue together like the threads on a fine tapestry, weaving a pattern of recovery. The doctor's fingers moved with practiced ease, looping and tying off each suture with a gentle pull. As the final knot was tied, Dr. McStingray stood back, surveying his work with a critical eye. "We're all done," he announced, his voice soft and soothing. The assistant began to clean up the surgical field, the clinking of instruments a familiar symphony that signaled the end of the operation. The doctor turned to Karen, his smile warm. "He'll be waking up soon," he said, his gloved hands coming to rest on the chair's armrest. "The recovery will be a bit uncomfortable, but we've given him the best care possible." Karen nodded, her hands trembling slightly. The nurse began to clean Plankton's face, his breathing remained steady and deep. The anesthesia started to wear off, Plankton's eyes fluttered open. His gaze was hazy, trying to focus on the blurred shapes above him. The room was still, the only noise the faint beeping of the heart monitor. Karen reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's over," she whispered, her voice cracking with relief. The nurse applied pressure to the gauze in Plankton's mouth. He groaned softly, his voice muffled by the cotton wad. The nurse removed the cotton from his mouth, carefully checking the stitches. Dr. McStingray cleaned up the last of the blood, wiping Plankton's face with a cool cloth. His eye fluttered open, and Karen smiled down at him. "It's over," she murmured. "You did so well." Plankton groaned, his eye unfocused as the fog of sleep retreated. The pain was already setting in, a dull throb. "You're ok," she whispered, her hand shaking slightly as she stroked him.

NONE OF THE WISER 1/3 The doctor, noticing Plankton's discontent, injected a painkiller into his IV. Plankton's eye glazed over as the medication took hold. "I feel...floaty," he murmured, his usually sharp gaze clouded with sedation. SpongeBob nodded understandingly. "It's ok, Plankton. The medicine is helping you feel better." Plankton giggled, his tiny body swaying slightly with the effort. "Sponge Bob...you know what?" His speech was slurred, his thoughts scattered by the painkillers. "You're...so...spongy," Plankton giggled, his arm flailing in a lazy arc to poke at Sponge Bob's side. His finger bounced off the soft yellow like a spring. Sponge Bob chuckled. "I've always been spongy, Plankton. It's what makes me, me!" He gently took hold of Plankton's waving hand and held it still. "But, remember, you’re going under for wisdom teeth removal." The giggles grew more frequent, turning into hysteric laughter. "Wisdom teeth," he chuckled, "Why do they call them that? They don't make you smarter, they just make you...oh!" His laughter trailed off as he winced, the pain briefly piercing through the fog of the painkillers. Sponge Bob's smile never wavered. "They're called wisdom teeth because they come in when you're older and wiser, Plankton," he explained patiently. "But don't worry, you'll be fine. The dentist is the best in Bikini Bottom." Plankton's giggles turned into a low, throaty chuckle. "Best...in Bikini Bottom?" He squinted, eyelid drooping. "That's like being the smartest kid in a school for jellyfish." Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. Plankton's usual sharp wit was dulled by the medication, leaving room for unexpected silliness. "Well, you know what they say, Plankton. In the ocean, even a sea cucumber can shine if it tries hard enough." Plankton's chuckles grew quieter as the sedative began to fully take effect. His eyelid drooped further, and a little drool escaped from the corner of his mouth. "Plankton, you're gonna be fine," Sponge Bob reassured, patting him on the shoulder. "Just close your eye and think happy thoughts." "Happy...thoughts," Plankton mumbled, his voice trailing off as he drifted closer to sleep. Sponge Bob watched with a mix of amusement and concern. The usually devious and scheming Plankton looked so vulnerable, lying there giggling about sea cucumbers and wisdom teeth. It was a rare sight, one that made Sponge Bob feel a pang of something unfamiliar. The doctor and nurse returned, their expressions professional but with a hint of a smile at the sight of the odd couple. "It's time to up the dosage," the doctor announced. Plankton's eye snapped open. "Dosage?" he slurred. "But, but, I'm already floating!" He tried to sit up, his body moving in slow, wobbly motions. Sponge Bob chuckled, gently pushing him back down. "It's ok, Plankton. You just need to relax. The more you fight it, the less fun it'll be." The nurse adjusted the IV, increasing the flow of. Plankton's body went slack again, his eye rolling back into his head. "Wooo...I'm going on a magic carpet ride," he mumbled, his voice faint and distant. Sponge Bob couldn't help but smirk at Plankton's dopey state. He'd never seen the tiny villain so out of sorts, and it was almost endearing. "Just keep floating, Plankton," he said, patting his hand. "You're going to the land of nod." Plankton's eye rolled back into his head, and he started to mumble incoherently. "Land of...nod...sounds...like a...a...pirate's treasure map," he babbled. Sponge Bob watched him, a smile playing on his lips. "Just think happy thoughts, buddy," he said, his tone gentle. Plankton's voice grew faint as the sedative deepened. "Happy thoughts...like...like...Karen's secret Krabby Patty recipe," he mumbled, his mind wandering into a cloud of oblivion. Sponge Bob's smile widened. "Well, if that's what floats your boat, Plankton," he said, patting the sea creature's hand again. Plankton's words grew softer, turning into a series of slurred mumbles. "Mm, Krabby Patties...so...so...scrumptious." His eye remained closed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The doctor and nurse exchanged a knowing look. "Looks like he's almost ready for the procedure," the doctor said, nodding to the nurse who began preparing the surgical equipment. Sponge Bob's smile grew. He leaned in closer to hear the last of his friend's delirious words. "And...and...the secret ingredient...is...wuv.." Plankton's mumbles turned into snores, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a laugh. The doctor and nurse moved around the bed, setting up the instruments for the surgery. The doctor, a stern-looking fish with a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck, checked Plankton's vitals. "He's ready," he said, nodding to the nurse who had administered the anesthesia. As Plankton drifted off into sleep Sponge Bob squeezed his hand. "You're just going to sleep for a little while, Plankton. It's time for your wisdom teeth to come out." Plankton's hand went limp in Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob watched the doctor and nurse with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He'd never seen a surgery before, not even on TV. The doctor nodded to him. "You can stay if you want." Sponge Bob nodded bravely, gripping the railing of the bed. He didn't want to leave Plankton's side. The doctor and nurse began to work, their movements swift and precise. The room was filled with the clanking of instruments and the occasional beep from the heart monitor. The doctor leaned over with a scalpel, and Sponge Bob had to look away. The thought of someone poking around in Plankton's mouth was too much, even if it was to make him feel better. He focused on the wallpaper, a pattern of cheerful fish and bubbles, trying to block out the sounds of the surgery. He heard the doctor's voice. "Everything's going smoothly, Sponge Bob. Nothing to worry about." Sponge Bob nodded. He peeked over at Plankton, whose mouth was now open wide, filled with a series of metal instruments that gleamed under the harsh surgical lights. The nurse was busy suctioning out who knows what, keeping the area clear for the doctor to work, all while Plankton’s fully under anesthesia. "Almost done," he announced. Sponge Bob looked back at the bed to see the doctor carefully sewing up the small incisions in Plankton's gums. The nurse was already preparing the recovery room, laying out soft gauze and a cup of water. When the surgery was over, the doctor stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. "It went well," he said, turning to Sponge Bob. "He'll be out for a while, but he'll be good as new when he wakes up." Sponge Bob let out a sigh of relief, his grip on the bed rail easing. "Thank you, doctor," he said, his voice sincere. The nurse moved to the bedside, checking Plankton's vital signs. "You can stay with him if you'd like," she offered. "He'll be waking up soon." Sponge Bob nodded gratefully, taking a seat beside the bed. He picked up Plankton's hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. The doctor and nurse began to clean up, their movements swift and efficient. The doctor and nurse finished up their work, the room now a symphony of orderliness and cleanliness. The doctor turned to Sponge Bob with a kind smile. "He'll be out for about an hour. You can even talk to him while you wait if you'd like." Sponge Bob nodded, even if Plankton couldn't understand him at the moment. The nurse dimmed the lights, leaving Sponge Bob alone with his thoughts and the gentle sounds of Plankton's snoring. A soft beep from the heart monitor brought him back to reality. Plankton's chest was moving faster, and his eyelid began to twitch. Sponge Bob sat up straight, gripping his friend's hand tightly. "Plankton, wake up," he said gently. The snores grew less frequent, and his body began to stir. His eye fluttered open, focusing on Sponge Bob with a confused gaze. "Wh...where...what happened?" Plankton slurred, his mouth feeling thick and uncooperative. Sponge Bob offered a warm smile. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, buddy. You're all done," he said, his voice gentle.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ┃ ┃ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇs, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ "You okay?" Karen's voice was a gentle caress in the cold antiseptic room. Plankton nodded, his eye tightly shut. The nurse had told him it would be quick, that he'd be under before he knew it, but that didn't stop his heart from thudding like a bass drum. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the cold hands fussing over him, the tightening of the blood pressure cuff around his arm. "Count backward from ten," the anesthesiologist's voice was calm and steady, as if he did this a thousand times a day. Plankton obliged, his voice quivering on each number. "Ten... nine... eight..." The world grew fuzzy around the edges, the cold metal of the bed beneath him feeling like it was sinking. "Seven... six... five..." His body grew heavier, each breath more difficult to draw in. Karen squeezed his hand tightly, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. The doctor's face grew distant, his voice a distant echo. With a final exhale, the room faded to black. Plankton was now adrift in a sea of oblivion, his bødy relaxed and weightless. 🦷🦷🦷🦷 The surgical team waited a moment, watching the monitors. The anesthesiologist then nodded to the surgeon, who carefully lifted Plankton's eyelid, revealing a sti̕ll, unseeing eye, then shining a light to his pupil before closing his eyelid again. He then took a reflex hammer and tapped gently on Plankton's knee. No reaction. The nurse noted the time. "He's under," she murmured. They went through the checklist, ensuring his bødy was completely relaxed, his reflexes gone. The surgeon smiled at Karen, who had been watching anxiously from her seat. "Everything's going to be okay," he assured her. She nodded. Karen watched, as Plankton's fac͘e remained peaceful, his breathing steady under the influence of the anesthesia. The surgery began with a whir of instruments. Plankton's mouth was propped open, a rubber dam holding back his tóngue. The surgeon leaned in, peering into the cavern of his møuth, a flashlight illuminating the pearly white teeth and the troublesome wisdom teeth that had been causing him so much pain. He selected a tool, a kind of plier-like instrument, and with a gentle but firm touch, began to probe at the first tooth. Karen's stߋmach clenched as she saw the surgeon's hand move with precision, applying just enough pressure to loosen the tooth. She tried to focus on her breathing, willing her heart to slow down. The room was filled with the faint smell of antiseptic and the metallic scent of dental instruments. Plankton's face remained serene, his chest rising and falling steadily as he lay unaware of the work being performed on him. The first tooth came out with a sudden pop, making Karen flinch. The nurse quickly handed over a small metal tray, catching the tooth as it was extracted. The surgeon worked with a methodical calm, moving on to the next one without pause. Karen squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, only to open them again as she heard the sound of Plankton's snoring, the kind that only came when he was in a deep sleep. It was strange, comforting even, to know that his bødy was oblivious to the paın that had been plaguing him for weeks. The second wisdom tooth proved to be more stubborn. The surgeon muttered something to his assistant, who nodded and handed him a different tool. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightened, her knucklєѕ white with tension. She could feel the sweat beading on his palm despite the coolness of the room. The surgeon's expression grew more focused, his movements more deliberate as he worked to free the tooth from its bony prıson. The tension in the room was almost palpable. The only sounds were the muffled beeps of the heart monitor and the slight sucking noıse as the surgeon worked in Plankton's møuth. Karen's eyes darted around the surgery, taking in the gleaming tools, the blue-green light of the overhead lamp, the masked faces of the medical staff. The nurse noticed her distress and offered a reassuring smile, but it did little to ease her mind. She wanted to scream, to tell them to be careful, but she knew better than to disturb the surgery. With a grunt of effort, the surgeon finally managed to loosen the second tooth. Karen could feel Plankton's hand spasm in hers, a reflexive response that had her heart racing. But his face remained serene, his snores unchanged. She watched as the tooth was lifted out, a tiny drop of b!ood escaping from the gum. It was placed on the tray with its twin, two small, sharp reminders of the paın he had endured. The surgeon moved to the third tooth, his movements now more practiced, more confident. The extraction of the third tooth was swift, almost anticlimactic. The fourth, however, was a different story. It was impacted, buried deep in the bone, and the surgeon's expression grew taut as he attempted to coax it out. Karen could feel the tension in the room, the air thick with it. The whirring of the drill was a steady background noise, punctuated by the occasional spurt of water and the smell of bone dust. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall evenly. The surgeon leaned in closer, his brow furrowed with concentration. Karen watched as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, despite the coolness of the surgıcal suite. The nurse stood by, ready with gauze and more tools. Plankton's face was a mask of peace, his møuth a dısturbıng contrast of serenity and the tug of war taking place within. With a final, firm pull, the fourth tooth gave way, accompanied by a sound that made Karen's stߋmach churn. It was a wet, final release, and the nurse swiftly handed over the tray to catch the tooth. The surgeon wiped the b!ood with a quick, efficient motion, revealing the gaping hole where the tooth once had been. The surgical assistant suctioned the b!ood, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Plankton's bødy jerked slightly, but he remained asleep, lost in the depths of the anesthesia. Karen couldn't help but think about the paın Plankton must have felt before this moment. The constant, throbbing ache that had kept him up at night, the swollen jaw that had made eating a chore. Now, it was over, or at least the worst part was. The surgeon nodded to the nurse, who began to prepare the stitches that would close the wounds. The needle glinted in the harsh light, a stark contrast to Plankton's slack, unfeeling features. The surgical team moved efficiently, their movements choreographed by years of experience. They stitched and cleaned, ensuring that everything was perfect before they allowed him to wake. Karen felt a strange mix of relief and fear. Relief that the ordeal was almost over, fear of the paın that would come once the anesthesia wore off. As the surgeon finished his work, he nodded to the anesthesiologist. "He's all set. We're going to start bringing him out of it now." Karen watched as the anesthetic was turned down. The nurse wiped his face with a damp cloth, gently cleaning the b!ood and saliva. Karen spoke to him in a soothing voice, "Plankton, you're almost done. Time to wake up." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, his hand still in Karen's tight grasp. His eye opened slowly, unfocused at first, then gradually finding her face. He blinked several times, his gaze uncomprehending. The nurse smiled at him, "You did great."

NONE OF THE WISER 2/3 Plankton blinked a few times, his mind foggy with the remnants of the anesthesia. "Wisdom... teeth?" he mumbled, his voice groggy. "Oh...right." He tried to sit up, but the nurse had anticipated his movement and gently pushed him back down. "Take it easy, Mr. Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "You need to rest. The surgery went well, yet your body is still recovering." Plankton looked up at the nurse with a dazed expression, his eye struggling to focus. The world felt wobbly, like jelly. "But, but, I... I don't remember anything," he mumbled, his voice thick with confusion. Sponge Bob chuckled softly. "That's because you were asleep, Plankton," he said, his tone still filled with the gentle patience from earlier. Plankton's eye searched the room, looking for something familiar. "Sponge...Bob?" he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Right here, buddy," Sponge Bob said, patting his hand reassuringly. Plankton's gaze finally found him, and a goofy smile spread across his face. "You...you're...so...spongy," he giggled, his words still slurred from the medication. Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at his friend's loopy state. "You're pretty funny when you're all doped up," he said, his heart swelling with affection. Plankton's usual sharp tongue was now a jumble of nonsensical giggles and random thoughts. "Everything's...so...so...shiny," Plankton mumbled, his eye half-open and unfocused. He tried to lift his head to look around the room, but the effort was too much, and he flopped back down onto the pillow with a contented sigh. Sponge Bob chuckled, watching his friend's antics with amusement. "It's the medicine, Plankton," he said, patting his hand. "It's making everything seem a bit... different." Plankton's eye grew wide as he stared at the ceiling. "Look at those lights! I…" he exclaimed, pointing upwards with a wobbly finger. "They're just lights, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his voice filled with amusement. Plankton's eye rolled around in his head like a marble in a pinball machine. "No, no, they're not just lights," he insisted, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "They're... they're the stars of the sea... twinkling... twinkling... for me." Sponge Bob couldn't hold back his laughter anymore. The sight of his usually cunning adversary reduced to a babbling, star-gazing patient was to much. "You're definitely feeling the effects of that medicine," he said, shaking his head. Plankton's smile grew even wider, if that was possible. "I... I feel like I'm swimming in a sea of marshmallows," he slurred, his limbs moving in a slow, dream like fashion. "Everything's so...so... squishy!" Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at his friend's silliness. "Marshmallows, huh?" he said, gently poking Plankton's arm. "You're definitely feeling the love from those meds." Plankton's smile grew even goofier as he nodded. "Yeah, I... I think I'm in love with this pillow," he mumbled, hugging it tightly to his chest. The nurse chuckled as she checked his chart. "The effects of the anesthesia can be quite entertaining," she said with a wink. Sponge Bob watched as Plankton began to drift off again, his chuckles turning into snores. "Rest up, buddy," he whispered, still holding onto his hand. "You're going to need all the energy you can get for when you wake up." As Plankton slept, Sponge Bob's thoughts turned to the Krabby Patty secret recipe. It had always been a source of contention between them, but in that moment, it didn't seem as important as it once did. He knew Plankton would be back to his old tricks soon enough, but for now, he was just happy to see his friend safe and sound. The nurse returned to the room, her smile just as bright as before. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, it's time for you to go to your recovery room," she said, her voice cheerful. Plankton's eye shot open, and he looked around, his gaze still a bit hazy. "Recovery...room?" he mumbled. "But...but I'm already in a room!" His giggles bubbled up again, and Sponge Bob couldn't help but join in. The nurse, unfazed by Plankton's state, carefully lifted him onto the gurney. "You're going to a special room where you can rest and let the medication wear off," she explained, her voice soothing. "It's like a VIP lounge for post-surgery patients." Plankton's smile grew even dopier as he took in her words. "VIP...lounge...sounds...sounds like...like...a secret lair!" he exclaimed, his imagination clearly still running wild despite the sedatives. Sponge Bob helped the nurse maneuver the gurney out of the surgical room, the wheels squeaking slightly on the linoleum floor. The recovery room was dimly lit, with soft blue lights that reminded him of the ocean at night. Plankton was laid down on a comfortable chair, surrounded by pillows and blankets. "Now, you just stay here and rest," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Your friend Sponge Bob can keep you company." Plankton nodded, his smile never leaving his face. "Friend...Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thoughts were a whirlpool of jellyfish-shaped clouds, each one filled with a different, nonsensical idea. The recovery room was quiet, the only sounds the occasional beep of the heart monitor and the gentle lapping of the waves outside. Plankton's eye, usually sharp and calculating, now glazed over with contentment. "He'll be like this for a while," she said, her voice low so as not to disturb Plankton. "The medication can make people say some pretty out there things." Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze still on Plankton's peaceful face. "It's like he's in his own little world," he said, his voice filled with wonder. The nurse chuckled. "It's the anesthesia. It can do funny things to people," she said, jotting down notes on Plankton's chart. "But don't worry, he'll be back to his usual self in no time." Plankton's face was a picture of pure bliss, his mouth hanging open slightly as he drooled onto the pillow. "Sponge Bob," he mumbled, his voice thick with the aftermath of the anesthesia. "You... you're... so...so...fluffy." Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at Plankton's loopy antics. "Fluffy?" he echoed, gently wiping the drool away with a tissue. "I think you're still a little out of it, buddy." Plankton giggled, his eye half-closed. "Yeah, I... I am," he admitted, his voice a slur. "But, but you're so...so...comfortable!" He leaned into the sponge, his head lolling against Sponge Bob's shoulder. Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh, feeling the warmth of Plankton's body against his own. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement. "So, go ahead, get comfortable." Plankton's giggles grew softer, his eye finally closing all the way. His breathing evened out, and Sponge Bob knew he was asleep. He gently placed the pillow under Plankton's head, making sure he was comfortable. The nurse returned to the room, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the sight of them. "He'll be out for a bit," she said. "You can stay here as long as you like." Sponge Bob nodded, not wanting to leave Plankton's side. He had never seen him so... peaceful. The doctor's words echoed in his mind: "Take it easy, Mr. Plankton. You need to rest." It was strange to hear those words directed at someone who was usually so full of energy and schemes. The nurse dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a gentle glow. The soft hum of the hospital machinery and the distant sound of waves outside the window filled the space. Sponge Bob watched as Plankton's chest rose and fell, his breathing slow and steady. It was like watching a tiny, harmless sea creature, rather than the usual plotting nemesis. Plankton's head lolled to the side, his mouth hanging open slightly. Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle. He'd never seen Plankton so relaxed, so utterly carefree. It was as if all the tension between them had been washed away with the waves of anesthesia. The nurse returned with a cup of ice chips, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet room. "Here you go, Mr. Plankton," she said, her voice gentle as she offered the cup. "These will help with the swelling." Plankton's eye slowly opened, his pupil dilated and unfocused. "Wha... what's that?" he mumbled, his voice still thick with the medication. Sponge Bob looked down at the ice chips in the cup. "It's just some ice to help with swelling," he said, holding it up for Plankton to see. "You're supposed to put in your mouth." Plankton's eye grew wide with excitement, his pupil dilating even further. "Oooh, ice," he murmured, his voice still slurred. He reached for the cup with a wobbly arm, his hand barely missing it several times before finally making contact. Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh as he took the cup from the nurse and held it to Plankton's lips. "Here you go, buddy," he said, his voice filled with kindness. "Just a little bit." Plankton's tongue flicked out, tasting the cold ice. His eye rolled back in his head as he let out a contented sigh. "Ahh... heaven," he mumbled, his speech still thick with the sedatives. He took a few more chips, his chewing slow and methodical. Sponge Bob watched him, his smile never faltering. It was strange, seeing the usually crafty Plankton so doped up and docile. The nurse had warned him that the medication could cause some people to become overly affectionate, but he didn't expect him to be quite this intense.

NONE OF THE WISER 3/3 As Plankton chewed on his ice chips, his grip on reality grew looser and looser. The nurse looked over at them, her smile never faltering. "It's the medication," she assured Sponge Bob, shaking her head. "He'll be fine." Plankton's giggles grew even louder, his eye watering with joy. "You... you're the best... best... best Sponge Bob ever!" he exclaimed, his arm shooting up to give Sponge Bob a high-five. It was a gesture that was met with air, as his coordination was still compromised by the anesthesia. Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh, his heart swelling with warmth. He had never seen Plankton so... so utterly ridiculous. "Thanks, Plankton," he said, his voice filled with affection. "But maybe save the high- fives for when you're not so... wobbly ." Plankton's arm flopped back onto the chair, his smile still plastered on his face. "Wob... wobbly," he repeated, his eye crossing slightly as he tried to focus on Sponge Bob. "You know, I've always... always wondered what it's like to be... to be a jellyfish." He began to sway slightly, his body mimicking the graceful movements of the jellyfish in the sea. Sponge Bob couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. "You're definitely not a jellyfish," he said, his voice filled with mirth. "But I’m afraid I saw you’d bitten your cheek or tongue in your numbed state.." Plankton's grin grew even wider, his cheeks reddening with the effort. "I'm... I'm a sea worm," he said, his voice a drunken slur. "But in my heart, I'm a... a... jellyfish!" He began to wobble his body back and forth, his movements exaggerated and clumsy. Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "You're definitely not a jellyfish," he said, his voice filled with affectionate teasing. "But you're definitely something special Plankton." The nurse checked Plankton's vitals one last time before leaving them to rest. "Remember, Mr. Plankton, don't bite your cheeks," she said, a knowing smile on her face. Plankton nodded solemnly, his eye still half- closed. "I'll... I'll be... careful," he murmured, his voice a slow, lazy drawl. Sponge Bob couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for his well-being. It was a strange feeling, but one that felt oddly right in that moment. Karen standing there, her robotic eyes blinking in surprise at the sight of him. "Karen?" Plankton mumbled, his voice groggy. "You came?" "Of course, I did, you little meatball," Karen said, her voice filled with the usual sass. "I'm your ride home." She looked at Sponge Bob with gratitude. Sponge Bob helped Plankton sit up, who was still groggy from the anesthesia. "Thanks for taking care of him," Karen said, her tone softer than Sponge Bob had ever heard. "No problem, Karen," he replied, his smile genuine. "He's... well, he's not all bad." Karen's expression softened, something Sponge Bob had rarely seen. "Thank you, Sponge Bob," she said, her robotic voice sounding almost warm. "You've always had a way of seeing the best in him." With Karen's help, they managed to get Plankton into the car. The drive to the Chum Bucket was a blur of twinkling streetlights and the soothing hum of the engine. Plankton leaned his head against the window, eye half-closed, mumbling to himself about jellyfish ballet and the beauty of Krabby Patties. Karen chuckled, shaking her head at his nonsensical ramblings. Sponge Bob sat in the back, feeling a strange mix of amusement and concern. He'd never seen Plankton like this before— so vulnerable, so open. It was as if the surgery had peeled back a layer of his tough exterior, revealing the softer core beneath. Karen navigated the streets of Bikini Bottom with ease, the neon lights of the underwater city reflecting off her metallic exterior. Plankton's mumbling grew quieter, his breaths deepening as the painkillers and exhaustion pulled him into a sleep. Sponge Bob watched him, his thoughts swirling with a newfound understanding of the tiny villain. As they approached the Chum Bucket, the garish sign loomed over them, its neon lights flickering like a beacon in the murky water. The car came to a gentle stop outside the grimy building, and Sponge Bob helped Karen unbuckle Plankton from his seat. "Careful," Karen warned, her robotic arm steadying him as they made their way to the door. The inside of the Chum bucket was a stark contrast to the hospital—messy and cluttered with contraptions and half-eaten food. Plankton's eye lit up with a mix of pain and nostalgia as he took in his surroundings. "Home sweet home," he slurred, his smile genuine despite the chaos. Sponge Bob and Karen managed to get him into his bed, the springs groaning under his weight. Plankton looked up at them with a dazed expression. "Than...thank you," he mumbled, his eye already drooping again. Karen turned to Sponge Bob, her robotic eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room. "Thank you for being here," she said, her voice filled with a rare sincerity. "I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but you're a true friend to him." Sponge Bob felt a warmth spread through his pores, his eyes misting over slightly. "It's... it's no problem, Karen," he stuttered, feeling a lump in his throat. "He's... well, he's Plankton." Karen's robotic hand patted his shoulder in a rare gesture of camaraderie. "You're a good sport, Sponge Bob," she said, a hint of affection in her voice. "Now, let him get some rest. He's going to need it." With a nod, Sponge Bob retreated to the living room, his mind racing with thoughts of the day's events. He couldn't shake the image of Plankton's sincere smile, nor the gentle warmth that had filled his heart when he heard the words 'best friend'. It was a side of Plankton he had never seen before— a vulnerable, endearing side. He glanced around the cluttered room, noticing the faded family photos and half-built inventions scattered across the surfaces. There was more to the villain than met the eye. As the hours ticked by, Plankton's snores grew quieter, the anesthesia's grip on him loosening. Sponge Bob sat on the floor, surrounded by a pile of Plankton's favorite comic books and a half-eaten bag of jellyfish jellies. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of belonging in the enemy's lair. It was peaceful, in a chaotic sort of way. The room was a testament to Plankton's life: a mishmash of inventions, half-finished plans, and the ever-present scent of chum. Yet, amidst the clutter, there was a comforting familiarity. The walls were lined with shelves of dusty tomes titled "1001 Ways to Steal a Recipe" and "The Art of the Scheme." Above the bed, a poster of the Krabby Patty looked down, a silent judge of Plankton's many failed attempts to crack its secret. Sponge Bob sat by the bedside, his spongy form hunched over with concern. The light from the hallway cast an eerie glow across the room, illuminating Plankton's sleeping form. The snores were soft and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of his machinations. As the hours passed, Plankton's snores grew quieter, and his eyelid began to flutter open. His pupil were still hazy, but there was a spark of recognition in them as they focused on the yellow sponge hovering over him. "S...Sponge Bob?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse. Sponge Bob jolted to attention, his eyes widening. "You're awake!" he exclaimed, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Plankton squinted, his eye slowly focusing on the sponge above him. "What...what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice groggy and confused. "I brought you home from the hospital," Sponge Bob said, his smile gentle. "You had your wisdom teeth out, remember?" Plankton's eye grew wide as the events of the day flooded back to him. "H-hospital?" he stuttered, his hand flying to his mouth. His cheeks felt puffy and tender, a stark reminder of the surgery he had just undergone. Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes filled with empathy. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice soothing. "You had a bit of a tough day, but you're okay now." Plankton's gaze darted around the room, his brain slowly piecing together the puzzle of the day. "How... how did we get here?" he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. Sponge Bob chuckled, his smile gentle. "Karen picked us up and brought us here," he explained, his voice a soothing lullaby in the quiet room. "You were out of it pretty much the whole time." Plankton's hand fell to the bed with a soft thump. "Karen...right," he murmured, his eye drooping again. The painkillers were still working their magic, but the fog in his head was starting to lift. He vaguely remembered the car ride, the neon lights of Bikini Bottom's streets blurring together in a kaleidoscope of color. Sponge Bob watched with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with a warmth that Plankton hadn't seen in a long time. "Do you need anything?" he offered, his hand hovering over the bedside table, ready to fetch a glass of water or a fresh pillow. Plankton's eye searched Sponge Bob's face, looking for a sign of the usual sarcasm or competitive edge. But all he found was genuine concern. "No, I'm ok," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... stay for a bit?" Sponge Bob's smile grew, and nodded without hesitation. "Of course, Plankton," he said, settling beside the bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

WISDOMS i Plankton had an appointment at the dentist and Karen promised to take him. SpongeBob, an ever-cheerful neighbor, had offered to come along. The trio stepped out of the car, the door of dentist's office chiming a tune that seemed like the 'Jolly Roger' theme. Sponge Bob bounced in place. The door to the room opened, and in waddled Dr. Bubblefish. "Ah, Mr. Plankton, right on time for x-rays!" The room was a stark contrast to the playful tune. It smelled faintly of mint and antiseptic, with the metallic instruments glinting in bright lights. Dr. Bubblefish waddled over, his flippers moving swiftly as he gestured to the chair. Plankton's eye darts around. "Now, Mr. Plankton if you could just open wide," Dr. Bubblefish instructed holding up a contraption. Karen gave a gentle pat on his shoulder. "It's ok, Plankton. It'll be over before you know it," she assured with a comforting smile. Plankton took a deep breath and opened his mouth. Sponge Bob stood by his side. Dr. Bubblefish slid the x-ray plate in to place and positioned the contraption. "Here we go," he announced, as he stepped back and pressed the button. Sponge Bob watched in fascination. "Alright, all done!" The plate was removed, and Dr. Bubblefish took a moment to examine the results. "Hmm," he murmured, holding the film up to the light. "It seems we have a situation with your wisdom teeth." Plankton's eye bulged with alarm. "Wisdom teeth?" he squeaked. "But I'm a microscopic creature! I don't have room for those!" Dr. Bubblefish nodded solemnly. "Which is why we need to remove now them to prevent any issues." Karen's grip tightened on Plankton's shoulder. "Removal?" Dr. Bubblefish nodded. "It's the best course of action, a common procedure." The doctor led them into his office, walls lined with diplomas. Dr. Bubblefish noticed apprehension and offered a smile. "Now, Mr. Plankton, I know this might be a bit daunting, but I assure you, I'm quite skilled at working. Let's go over details of the procedure, shall we?" Karen's grip tightened more. "You're going to be ok," she whispered. Sponge Bob, the optimist, patted Plankton's arm. "Don't worry, buddy!" Plankton swallowed hard as he sat down in the chair. It was like sitting in a moon crater compared to his usual chair at the Chum Bucket. He gripped the chair's armrests. "But how does it work?" Plankton's voice tight with anxiety. "It's quite simple really. We use anesthesia," he explained, "which will drift off to sleep. You won't feel a thing." "It's like a little nap," Karen offered trying to ease his fears. Dr. Bubblefish nodded. "The anesthesia will make you unconscious for duration of the procedure. It's safe painless way to ensure you don't experience discomfort during extraction." The doctor began preparing. Sponge Bob looks through the window, mix of curiosity and concern. He had never seen anything like this. Plankton's eye pleaded with him for assurance, and Sponge Bob gave him a thumbs up. The chair reclined, and Karen held Plankton's hand tightly. "Ready?" Dr. Bubblefish asked, voice a gentle rumble. Plankton nodded, though his eye shut. Karen squeezed his hand. "You can do this, Plankton," she whispered. The doctor approached with what looked like a pair of tiny tongs. "This will help keep your mouth open," he said, inserting the device into Plankton's mouth. The nurse came over. "This is the anesthesia," she said cheerfully, tentacles flicking the air. "It'll make every thing nice and relaxing." Plankton nodded, his grip tightening. He felt the room spin. "Just breathe," Karen said, the only steady thing in the spinning room. "You're great." Sponge Bob watched as Plankton's eye lid grew heavy, his grip on chair armrests loosening. Dr. Bubblefish nods to the nurse. Plankton took a deep breath, eye shut, body went slack. His grip on the chair arm rests loosened and his breaths grew even. Karen felt a mix of relief and anxiety as the doctor nodded in satisfaction. "And he's out," he murmured. The room was silent except for the occasional blip of medical equipment and sound of Dr. Bubblefish preparing for the extraction. Karen's gaze fixed on Plankton, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. Plankton remained still, lost in his anesthesia-induced slumber. "Sponge Bob, you can wait out side now," Karen said gently never leaving her husband. After surgery, Karen calls Sponge Bob from the waiting room. "He's in recovery now," she says. "You can come see him." Sponge Bob bounces in, eyes wide with excitement. He goes in the room, his curiosity piqued by the sight of Plankton lying peacefully on the chair, his mouth slightly open but without the prop anymore. Plankton's hand lies limp on his own lap. The room remained silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor and occasional snore from Plankton. "The surgery went well. He'll wake in a bit." Sponge Bob peers closer at Plankton, noticing drool formed at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out and gently strokes Plankton's forehead. "You're ok," he whispers. But Plankton was deep in the abyss of sleep, breathing even and calm. "What's that?" he pointed to a beeping machine. Karen looked over. "That's a monitor," she said softly. "It makes sure everything's ok with Plankton while he's out." The nurse comes in checking vitals. "He's doing great," she says with a nod. "He'll wake up soon." "Wakey, wakey, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispers, a hint of excitement in his voice. He reaches out a finger, gently poking Plankton's arm. No response. Plankton's chest continues to rise and fall rhythmically. Plankton didn't react. "Wow, he's really out," Sponge Bob murmured. "Just don't startle him. He'll wake up groggy." The nurse gently wiped Plankton's mouth with a damp cloth, cleaning away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side. "Alright, let's get some gauze," Dr. Bubblefish said, voice interrupting the quiet. Sponge Bob's eyes grew even wider as he watched the nurse carefully fold a piece of white gauze in to a minuscule square. It looked like a tiny cloud in her tentacle. She approached Plankton with the utmost care, as if handling some thing incredibly delicate. With a gentle touch, she inserted gauze into Plankton's mouth, pressing it against his gums. Plankton didn't flinch or stir, his breathing deep and even. The nurse stepped back and gave a satisfied nod. "Alright, he's all set," Dr. Bubblefish said, his voice a comforting rumble. "The gauze will help with any bleeding and keep the area clean." Karen nodded. "Thank you, doctor," she murmured. The room remained silent, except for the steady beep of the heart monitor and the occasional snore from Plankton. "Let's get you sitting up, Mr. Plankton," Dr. Bubblefish instructed as he lifted Plankton's head back up. The chair whirred in to an upright position. After a few moments, Plankton's eye lid began to flutter. He blinked, his vision blurry from anesthesia. He groaned, mouth feeling strange and full. "You're all done!" "Plankton," Karen says, voice soft and warm. Sponge Bob nods eagerly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "How do you feel?" he asks. "Wha..." Plankton mumbles, voice muffled by the gauze. "Wh-where am I?" Karen chuckles. "You're in the dentist's office, Plankton. You had wisdom teeth removed." Sponge Bob's face lights up. "Yeah, buddy, you're all fixed up!" Karen gently helps Plankton sit up, supporting him with an arm around his back. "You're going to feel a bit woozy," she warns. Plankton spots Sponge Bob's grinning face. "Hey, Spongey," he says, his voice still slurred. "Hey, Planky!" Sponge Bob says, smile growing wide. "You're done! No more teeth woes for you!" "W-who's Planky?" Plankton mumbles, voice thick from anesthesia. Sponge Bob laughs, his laugh echoing. "That's you, buddy! Planky, Plankton!" "I survived the tooth monster.." Sponge Bob nods. "Yep, the pesky things in your mouth supposed to make smarter were just causing trouble!" "Troub...troub...tweef?" "Yes, Plankton. Your wisdom teeth are gone." "Miwwow, miwwow, on the wawl," he slurred, wobbly. "Do I wook smarter wi’out my tweef?" Patrick Star was waiting outside the dentist office, his large, star-shaped body leaning against the wall. Patrick Star was waiting outside the dentist's office, his large, star-shaped body leaning against the wall. He had heard that Sponge Bob was escorting Plankton and Karen to the appointment. Once Plankton was discharged, the four crammed into the car. Plankton sat in between Sponge Bob and Patrick, but was too groggy to care. Karen took the wheel, her grip firm. "Alright, let's get you home," she said, starting the engine.

WISDOMS ii The car pulled out of the dental office's lot, tires humming against the asphalt. "Hang in there buddy," Patrick said. Plankton's head lolled to the side, a stream of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. "Hey, Plankton, you ok?" Sponge Bob asked nudging him gently. Plankton's only response was a faint, "Mmph," as his head grew heavier and his body leaned in to Sponge Bob's side. Sponge Bob, ever the gentle soul, adjusted his position to accommodate his tiny friend, offering his shoulder as a makeshift pillow. The car's gentle sway and the comforting hum of the engine soon lulled Plankton into sleep. His breathing grew rhythmic as he snored lightly. Patrick leaned over to whisper, "Aw, isn't that cute?" Sponge Bob nodded, a soft smile spreading across his face. He knew Plankton had been nervous about the appointment. They had all been through a lot together but this was the first time Plankton had allowed himself to be this vulnerable. Patrick, ever the opportunist, decided to take advantage of the situation. He leaned over snapping a photo with his phone. "Look at this," he whispered to Karen, showing her the picture with a wide grin. Karen rolled her eyes, keeping her focus on the road. "You do know he's going to get you when he sees that, right?" Patrick just shrugged, his grin unwavering. "It's just a little joke, Karen. Besides, he's out cold." The car ride back to the Chum Bucket was quiet, only interrupted by the occasional snort from Plankton's snores and the soft murmur of the radio. Karen's eyes darted to the rearview mirror, watching the unlikely companions. Sponge Bob felt a strange sense of peace, his arm around his arch-nemesis-turned-friend providing comfort and support. As the car approached the Chum Bucket, Plankton's snores grew louder, echoing in the small enclosed space. Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle quietly, feeling the warmth and weight of his friend against him. It was a peculiar sight, the villainous Plankton, usually so full of energy and cunning schemes, now reduced to a sleeping, drooling mess. But in this moment, all animosity was forgotten. They were just friends sharing a car ride home after a long day. Karen pulled into the Chum Bucket's dilapidated parking lot, the headlights casting eerie shadows across the rusted metal exterior. She turned off the engine and the silence grew thick. Plankton's snores seemed to fill the void, a gentle reminder of the peacefulness that had descended upon them. Sponge Bob carefully lifted Plankton's head off his shoulder. "Hey, Plankton, we're home," he whispered. Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he looked around, momentarily confused. Then, he groaned and rubbed his jaw. "Oh," he mumbled, his voice thick. Sponge Bob and Patrick helped him out of the car, each taking an arm to support him as he swayed on his tiny legs. The anesthesia still had a firm grip on him, making his movements clumsy and awkward. "Careful," Karen warned. The two friends carefully maneuvered Plankton door of the Chum Bucket, his feet barely touching the ground as they shuffled along. Plankton's usual meticulousness had been replaced by post-surgical disarray. Sponge Bob and Patrick gently set him down on the couch. "I got you some new fresh gauze," Sponge Bob offered. "Open up!" Plankton, still groggy, opened his mouth allowed Sponge Bob to place the gauze. "Tanks," he murmured, his voice muffled by the material. He leaned back into the couch cushions, his eye drifting shut again. Patrick and Sponge Bob exchanged a look. "Do you need anything else?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice gentle and concerned. "N-no," Plankton stuttered. "Jush nee... tiwweeddd." "Alright, we'll be right here," Patrick assured him, plopping down onto an armchair. Sponge Bob took a seat on the floor beside the couch. Patrick, ever the one for a good laugh, couldn't resist teasing Plankton. "You know what they say, Plankton," he quipped. "A picture's worth a thousand words!" Sponge Bob shot him a warning look but Plankton was already snoring again, oblivious to the potential embarrassment that awaited him when he woke up. The two friends settled in for an unexpected night at the Chum Bucket. The next morning Plankton's the last to wake up, any trace of anesthesia now gone. He stirred slowly, his single eye blinking open to the harsh reality of daylight filtering through the grimy windows. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and his jaw ached. He tried to sit up. "Whoa, easy," SpongeBob said, placing a comforting hand on Plankton's shoulder. "You had quite the nap." Plankton's eye widened as he took in his surroundings. He was in his own living room, but Sponge Bob and Patrick were sitting there, too. His mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. He touched his mouth gingerly, feeling the gauze. "Wh...what?" he croaked. Plankton's confusion grew as the fog of anesthesia lifted. "You had a little dental work done," Sponge Bob said with a smile. "Remember?" Plankton's eye narrowed as his only memories of yesterday began to flood back. The dentist's chair, the bright lights, and his mouth open for wisdom teeth? "You mean, I actually went through wivv it?" he whispered to himself, hand shooting to his mouth. "Yeah, you did," Patrick said, his grin spreading wider. "And you slept like a baby all the way home." Plankton looked down, his mind racing. "How did I get here?" he asked, his voice still thick with grogginess. "Well, you don't remember?" Patrick said with a smirk. "We had to practically carry you out of the dentist's office and into the car." "What? You... you carried me?" he sputtered, indignation rising in his tone. Sponge Bob nodded trying to keep his laughter at bay. "You were pretty out of it, Plankton." Plankton's eyes grew as realization sank in. "Wait, you thaw me wike that?" He sat up to quickly, wincing as pain shot through his jaw. "What did I do?" Sponge Bob handed him a glass of water. "Don't worry, you just fell asleep." Plankton took the water with a trembling hand, his mind racing. "But... what abou- my... my dignity?" Sponge Bob chuckled. "Don't worry Plankton. You've still got plenty of that. You just needed a little help, is all." Patrick couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. "Yeah, you were so out of it, you didn't even notice when I took a selfie of us all in the car. Sponge Bob was being such a good nurse!" Plankton glowered at the starfish. "You what!" Patrick held up his phone, showing the incriminating photo. Plankton, mouth wide open and drooling, was sandwiched between the two friends. Sponge Bob looked concerned and slightly amused, while Patrick was grinning like he'd just won the Krabby Patty secret formula. "I sent it to ourselves!" "You... you..." he sputtered, unable to form a coherent sentence. The sight of himself drooling and vulnerable was so much. His pride had always been his armor, and it had been dented. Patrick chuckled, enjoying the moment. "Don't worry, Plankton. It'll be our little secret." "You're lucky I don't remember thish," he grumbled. Sponge Bob got fresh gauze for Plankton. "Open up," he instructed. With a begrudging sigh, Plankton complied. His mouth was a cavern of pain. Sponge Bob gently placed the gauze in, and Plankton couldn't help but wince. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice sounding even smaller than usual. The room was quiet for a moment, then, the silence was broken by a notification from Patrick's phone. He picked it up and looked at the screen, his grin growing even wider. "What?" Plankton asked suspiciously, his pride still bruised. Patrick couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst in to laughter, holding out his phone to show the latest meme he'd created from the photo. It was the picture of Plankton drooling onto Sponge Bob's shoulder, with the caption: "When you realize you're too small to get your own wisdom teeth out without snoring through it." Sponge Bob's cheeks turned pink with laughter, despite his efforts to remain serious. "Patrick, that's not nice," he managed to say between chuckles. "What? He did," Patrick exclaimed. Plankton's embarrassed. "I... I did not," he protested weakly. "Oh, but you did," Sponge Bob said, his laughter bubbling up. He couldn't help himself; the sight of Plankton all loopy from anesthesia was to much. "It was kind of adorable." Plankton huffed, but despite his embarrassment, he couldn't stay to mad at them. They had been there for him, and that was worth something. He took a sip of water. "You two are never to speak of this again." Sponge Bob and Patrick nodded solemnly. Eventually, Plankton's eye grew heavy again, and he drifted off into a nap. "Looks like he's out," Patrick said. Sponge Bob nodded, still smiling at the thought of Plankton's uncharacteristic vulnerability. "We should let him rest." Patrick stood up, stretching his arms. "Yeah, I guess we've had our fun for the day. Time to let you get back to your schemes, Plankton." Sponge Bob gently placed a pillow under Plankton's head. "Rest up, buddy. We can check on you later."

"Hi, my boss Mr. Krabs told me I need to work on my people skills and to volunteer.." SpongeBob says in the surgery room before recognizing Plankton and Karen. Plankton lay on the operating table, a small tube delivering medicine that kept him asleep. Karen sat by him. "Plankton‽" "Plankton's had his wisdom teeth removed." She glanced at the sleeping Plankton with affection. Sponge Bob leaned closer. He poked Plankton gently. "Hey, Plankton; wake up, buddy!" No response. Plankton's breathing remained slow and even, the rhythm unchanged by Sponge Bob's nudges. Karen's robotic hand shot up to stop Sponge Bob's poking. "He's not going to wake up anytime soon, Sponge Bob. The anesthesia will wear off in a couple of hours," she explained in her usual monotone. Sponge Bob's bubbly demeanor deflated a bit. He had never seen Plankton so... peaceful. Usually the tiny villain was full of mischief and plotting his next Krabby Patty heist. But the sight of his arch-nemesis helpless and snoring? "Karen, do you think a little light chat would help him wake up?" "Sponge Bob, the purpose of anesthesia is to keep him unconscious during surgery and ensure a painless recovery. Your efforts are futile." Undeterred, Sponge Bob leaned in closer. "Come on, Plankton. Time to wakey-wakey!" He waved his hands in front of Plankton's face, creating a gentle breeze that tickled his antennae. Still, Plankton remained steadfast in his slumber, oblivious to the world around him. Karen sighed again, the closest she ever got to expressing exasperation. "As I said, Sponge Bob, he's under the effects of anesthesia. There's nothing you can do to wake him up." She went back to reading her magazine, the glow from her screen casting a soft blue light on her metallic features. Sponge Bob studied Plankton's sleeping features. His mouth was open just enough to reveal his top row of teeth, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a giggle when a small bubble of drool formed at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he mused aloud, "I never realized Plankton had such a... cute snoring sound." The statement hung in the air, and even the normally stoic Karen couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Cute is hardly the word I'd use," she murmured, but the warmth in her voice belied the affection she had for her partner. Sponge Bob's curiosity grew as he continued to gaze at the unconscious Plankton. He'd seen him in various states before—angry, plotting and occasionally defeated—but never so vulnerable. The sight was strange yet fascinating. He reached out and carefully wiped away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side, but he remained asleep. SpongeBob put his head back up on a pillow. Plankton's snores grew quieter as his head settled into the cushioned embrace. "Don't worry, Plankton," he whispered, patting the villain's arm gently. "I'll watch over you." Sponge Bob's curiosity grew stronger as he watched the drool form at the side of Plankton's mouth. He leaned in closer, studying the phenomenon. He'd never noticed Plankton drool before. "It's like a tiny river," he said to himself. What would happen if he tried to touch it? He tapped it lightly. It wobbled, bulging slightly before collapsing back into its original state. He poked the drool again. This time, it grew slightly larger before popping, leaving a tiny, wet splatter on the pillow. Plankton's snores grew louder for a moment, but didn't stir. Sponge Bob couldn't resist a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he's enjoying his nap," he whispered to Karen who remained engrossed in her magazine. The drool was fascinating—like a living organism, pulsating with every one of Plankton's breaths. He poked it again, gently this time. The drool grew larger, stretching out like a bubble of gum. It was almost mesmerizing. "I wonder if I can make it pop," he thought, eyes gleaming with child-like excitement. Slowly, Sponge Bob poked the drool bubble once more. It grew to the size of a marble before it burst with a tiny splat, splattering on to the pillow. Plankton's snoring remained undisturbed. Sponge Bob could see the light from the ceiling reflecting off the droplet's surface. He waited, the anticipation building, eyes fixed on the wobbling mass. At the last second, he poked it. The bubble popped with a sound that echoed through the quiet room. Plankton's snore caught in his throat for a split second, then resumed with renewed vigor. The splatter was more substantial this time, leaving a wet spot on the pillow. The sudden noise made Karen look up from her magazine. "What on earth are you doing, Sponge Bob?" she asked, voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Just... science," Sponge Bob said, his grin unabated. "I'm studying Plankton's snoring pattern... and drool." Karen rolled her digital eyes. "Fine. Just don't wake him. And for the love of Krabby Patties, please don't make a mess." She returned her focus to her magazine, seemingly unfazed by the sight of her arch-enemy playing with drool. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his eyes lighting up with newfound purpose. He decided to be more strategic in his scientific endeavor. He would need precision and timing. The drool bubble grew again, this time larger and more robust. Sponge Bob waited, his heart beating faster with every pulse of Plankton's snore. He took a deep breath, held it, and at the peak of the snore's crescendo, poked the bubble with a controlled flick. It exploded with a sound like a miniature water balloon, splattering across Plankton's cheek. The pillow was now a Jackson Pollock canvas of drool. Plankton's snoring hitched but he didn't wake. "Oops," Sponge Bob whispered, giggling quietly. He reached for a near by tissue to clean up the mess, his eyes glancing nervously at Karen. She peeked over her magazine, the corners of her robotic mouth curving upward slightly. "If you're going to play, at least be tidy," she said, voice a blend of reprimand and amusement. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course, Karen," he whispered back, dabbing at Plankton's cheek with the tissue. The drool was sticky and clung to the fabric but Sponge Bob managed to clean when Plankton's snoring hitched. This time, Plankton's eyes opened a crack, his single eyelid revealing a sliver of his iris before dropping shut again. "What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily. Sponge Bob froze, tissue in mid-air. "Oh nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just admiring your snoring." Plankton's eyelid quivered but remained shut. "Mmph." His mouth moved around the word. "Don't worry, buddy," Sponge Bob said softly patting Plankton's arm. "You're just resting. Nothing to worry about." The half-awake Plankton mumbled something unintelligible, and Sponge Bob took it as a sign to back off. He retreated to his chair, watching as Karen put down her magazine and began to fuss over Plankton, checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable. For once, he wasn't at odds with Plankton.

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH i "Why do we have to go so early?" he grumbled. "I know, sweetie," Karen said, patting his hand reassuringly. "But it's for the best. You'll be out like a light during the surgery, and you won't feel a thing." The nurse noticed his distress and offered a kind smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Plankton. We're going to make this as comfortable for you as possible. First things first, let's get you in and then we'll start with some anesthesia." Karen watched as Plankton reluctantly climbed into the chair. The nurse dimmed the lights and adjusted the chair's recline. She placed a warm blanket over him, and the softness enveloped him like a comforting embrace, the nurse preparing Plankton for the surgery. She chatted away, "So, any plans for the weekend?" "Not really," he said, "Just recovery." The nurse nodded. She began to insert the IV, talked him through each step, her voice a comforting lullaby guiding him into a state of relaxation. She continued to engage in light conversation, told about her weekend plans, a lifeline to the outside world that seemed so far away in the cold, clinical environment. As the anesthesia began to work, Plankton felt his body grow heavier, his eyelid drooping. "You're doing great," she said softly. "Just keep breathing, ok?" Plankton's thoughts began to blur together. The doctor's voice grew distant, his words melding into a comforting murmur as Plankton felt himself slipping away. The last thing he heard was Karen's voice, a gentle whisper in his ear. "I'm here," she said, her hand holding onto his with a fierce tenderness. "I love you." And then there was nothing, the last sensation he felt before everything went quiet. The anesthetist monitored Plankton's vitals, ensuring he remained safely asleep throughout the procedure. Plankton was a picture of peace, mouth agape as the anesthesia kept him blissfully unaware of the world around him. The nurse's eyes flick from the monitors to Plankton's serene face. Plankton's body didn't even flinch. Plankton's face remained relaxed, his breathing even, as the anesthetic kept him in a state of blissful unconsciousness, ensuring that his comfort remained top priority. Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence that soothed the room. The nurse gently swabbed his mouth, keeping the area clean and clear. The doctor stitched up the small incisions with a gentle touch, while the nurse cleaned Plankton's mouth. The anesthetist monitored the levels, ensuring a smooth and safe emergence from the depths of unconsciousness. The doctor looked at Karen, his eyes weary but his smile reassuring. "It's all done," he said. "Everything went smoothly. He's still sleeping it off, but you can go in and see him." Karen rushed in, her screen searching for Plankton. He was there, lying back in the chair, his mouth slightly open, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked so peaceful, vulnerable. She reached out and touched his hand, for the surgery was over. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept. "He's doing great," she assured her. "The surgery went well." Karen leaned over Plankton, as she brushed his antennae with her hand. She took in the sight of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snorish sounds escaping his mouth. His face was a portrait of peace, a stark contrast to the chaos of the surgery that had just taken place. The nurse finished her work and dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a soft glow that cast shadows across the floor. Karen pulled up a chair and sat down, her hand finding Plankton's again. "You're ok," she murmured, willing him to hear her voice, to feel her presence. "You're going to be ok." Karen's entire world was contained in reassuring her that he was still there. The nurse approached with a wad of gauze. "We need to put this in his mouth to help with bleeding," she explained gently. Karen nodded. The nurse placed the gauze with the same care she had shown throughout the entire ordeal, pressing it gently against the raw, tender spots where Plankton's teeth had once been. The nurse finished her cleanup and checked Plankton's vitals one last time. "He'll come around soon," she assured. "The anesthesia takes a bit to wear off." His breathing was still deep and steady, the gentle rumble of his snores filling the room. She found comfort in the mundane sounds of his slumber. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed to match the beeping of the heart monitor. The anesthesia had done its job well, leaving him in a deep, dreamless sleep. His face was serene. His antennae lay limp on the chair's headrest, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing the gauze the nurse had placed to stem the bleeding. The drool that had pooled at the corners of his mouth began to seep out onto the chair. The nurse noticed and nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's normal," she said. Plankton's snores grew louder, the drool now a small river that trickled down. Karen reached out with a trembling hand, her thumb catching the droplets before they could stain the fabric. The drool was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. Her screen focused on the slow, steady flow of dribble, forming and breaking away, each one a little more substantial than the last. The nurse had said it was normal, but to Karen, it was a sign of his vulnerability, a tangible proof of the surgery's aftermath. As the drool grew into a small puddle on the chair, Karen's resolve to be strong for him grew stronger. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and gently wiped. The nurse looked at her with understanding. "It's alright," she said softly. "He'll wake un his own time." Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. She felt a strange mix of love and pity. Here he was, reduced to a drooling mess in a chair, and yet she had never felt more connected to him. It was a strange intimacy, this moment of vulnerability, a silent pact between them that she would always be there to wipe away his fears, both literal and figurative. The nurse moved around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She checked the machines one last time before turning to Karen. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, patting the chair beside Plankton's. "It'll be a bit before he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable." Karen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled up a chair and held his hand tightly, her thumb brushing back and forth across his knuckles. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You did it, sweetie." She leaned closer. "The teeth are out. You're okay." She waited, watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, and willing him to open his eye. "Remember what I said about ice cream?" she asked, her voice a little louder this time. "You can have as much as you want when we get home." She tried to keep her tone light, despite the gravity of the situation. The thought of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream was supposed to make him smile, but his face remained slack. But she knew he was strong, and he would bounce back. He always did. "I just want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you. We've been through so much together, and I can't imagine my life without you. You're going to wake up soon, and it'll all be over. And then we can go home, and I'll take care of you, just like you always take care of me. Remember when we said 'in sickness and in health'?" she whispered. "Well, this is definitely a 'sickness' moment, but I'm right here. And I'll be here through all the healthy moments too." The nurse quietly left them a moment of privacy. Karen leaned in closer. "You're going to feel a bit funny when you wake up," she said with a soft laugh. "Your mouth will be sore, and your face will be puffy. But I'll be there. And maybe I'll let you win at Scrabble for once." She chuckles. "Just don't let it go to your head." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and a low moan escaped his throat. She squeezed his hand. "That's it, baby," she encouraged. "You're waking up." His eye opened slowly dilated and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the harsh lights of the recovery room. He turned his head to the side, and she knew he was searching for her. "Hi," she said, her voice a warm whisper. "It's me, Karen. You're ok." His gaze found hers, and she saw the flicker of recognition. "Where am I?" he slurred, his voice thick and groggy. "You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had your wisdom teeth out." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," she said. "You need to rest." "But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak. "I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her cool hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications." He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled.

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH ii "You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had wisdom teeth out." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," she said. "You need to rest." "But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak. "I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications." He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't member any ting." His words were slurred. The anesthesia was definitely still working its magic on him. "It's ok," she said, her voice soothing. "You don't need to.." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and his eyelid grew heavy again. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "I'm right here," she assured him, her voice steady and calm. She watched as he tried to lift his hand to wipe at his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the chair's armrest, his fingers brushing against hers. Plankton's eye grew heavy again, and his head lolled to the side. The anesthesia was working its way out of his system, but it was taking its time. She chuckled as she watched him struggle to keep his eye open. "I'm... I'm," Plankton mumbled, his words coming out slurred and sloppy. His eye rolled back in his head, and he let out a snore. "You're a mess," she laughs, her voice filled with love. "But you're my mess." She watched as his chest rose and fell with each snore. It was clear that the anesthesia was still holding him in its grasp, and she knew it would be a while before he was fully awake. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Plankton's snores grew louder. Karen reached out and gently wiped the line of drool from his mouth with a tissue. He stirred, his eye blinking open again. "You're drooling," she whispered, smiling at him. "What's happening?" he asked, his words slurred. "You're coming out of the anesthesia," Karen said, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Everything went fine." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Mmmy...nesia?" he mumbled. Karen's smile grew, understanding his attempt to ask about his sleep during surgery. "You mean the anesthesia?" Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his endeavor. "You're just a little out of it," she said, her voice gentle. "The anesthesia is wearing off." "Thish...thish ish...shomefinny," Plankton tried to say. "What?" Karen asked, her curiosity piqued by his attempt at speech. "Nothin'." Plankton's words were slurred into a single syllable. He looked utterly lost in the haze. Karen leaned closer. "You sure?" Plankton nodded, his smile lopsided. "Jush...jush glad." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his adorable incoherence. "You're so loopy," she said, her voice filled with affection. She squeezed his hand gently. "I love you." "Ish love...love you too, Karen," he slurred. "I know," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and affection. "Tish...tish hard," Plankton mumbled, his cheeks dimpling with his own private joke. The nurse entered the room, checking his vitals with a knowing smile. "It's normal for patients to be a bit out of it after surgery," she said, scribbling notes on her clipboard. "I'm shorry," he said, words still a jumble. Karen couldn't help but lean in closer, her own smile growing wider. "It's ok," she assured him, her voice gentle. The nurse nodded in agreement, her own smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's quite common," she said, her voice professional but kind. "Ish...Ish...it...over?" he managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Yes, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice still filled with love and amusement. "You're all done. They got all your wisdom teeth out." "Thish...thish allll over now-ow." "Almost," Karen said, her voice a gentle melody. "We just need to wait for the anesthesia to wear off a bit more, and then we can go home." Plankton nodded, his eye already drifting shut again. His mouth moved as he attempted to speak, but only slurred sounds came out. Karen leaned in closer, her smile never wavering. "You know, you're pretty chatty for someone who's had their wisdom teeth out." "Ish...Ish always had...shomeshin' to shay," Plankton managed, his speech a series of lisped and elongated sounds. Plankton's eye began to drift closed again, his breathing growing deep and even. The nurse finished her checks and gave Karen instructions for his aftercare. "Make sure he takes it easy," she said. "I will," Karen promised, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. The quiet was filled with the sound of Plankton's snores, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath the blanket. His mouth was still slightly open, and she could see the drool forming at the corner of his lips. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Mr. Krabs, Plankton's rival at the Krabby Patty. "How's he doing?" it read. "Loopy," she replied with a smiley face. She had told Mr. Krabs about the surgery the day before, and despite their rivalry, he had offered to come visit when they get back home. The nurse poked her head back in, checking the clock on the wall. "Alright, he's ready to go," she said, her smile warm. Karen nodded, standing up and gently shaking Plankton's shoulder. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you home." Plankton's eye blinked open slowly, and he looked around the room with confusion. "Home?" he mumbled, his voice still thick. "Yes, we're going home," Karen said, her voice the balm to his disorientation. She helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as he swayed slightly. The drive back home was a blur of sleep. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the vibration of the engine lulling him to a doze. "You okay?" Karen asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Yeah," Plankton mumbled, his voice a sleepy rumble. "Just...tiwed." The drive home was quiet, with only the occasional snore piercing the silence. Karen drove carefully, her eyes flicking between the road and the mirror to check on Plankton. She knew he would be out for the count for a while, and his face was still swollen. As they pulled into their driveway, Plankton stirred. "We're home," Karen said, her voice gentle. He nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Home," he murmured. Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly as he tried to find his balance. She wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting him as they made their way, and he leaned into her, his body heavy with fatigue. The house was quiet as they entered, the only sound the occasional tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Karen guided him to the couch, carefully helping him sit down. "Rest here," she said, her voice a gentle command. Plankton nodded, eye closing again. She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a pillow. "Here," she said, placing the pillow behind his head. He took the glass with a nod, his hand shaking slightly. He took a sip. "Thish...thish ish...good," he managed to say. She knew he was in pain, and the anesthesia was only adding to his confusion. "I'll be right back," she said, her voice a soft whisper. Karen grabbed the pet amoeba puppy, Spot. She carried him back to the living room, where Plankton was slowly coming around. "Look who's here," she said, holding Spot out to him. Spot's blob-like body stretched out in excitement, his little legs waving in the air. Plankton's eye widened at the sight, and a smile spread across his swollen face. "Spot," he murmured, his voice still thick with anesthesia. Karen set Spot on his lap, and the amoeba immediately began to cover him in wet, loving kisses. Plankton chuckled, his hand rising to pet the creature's gelatinous head. "Hey, bubby," he slurred, his speech still compromised. The simple act of touch brought a spark of life to Plankton's eye. "You're good boyth," he said, his voice a mix of affection and pain. Spot's response was a happy wiggle. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight, Plankton's love for their little amoeba was unwavering. She took a seat beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Just rest," she said, her voice a soft command. Plankton nodded, his eyes closing again. Spot continued to shower him with affection, his slimy kisses landing on Plankton. Karen watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. Then she stood up, knowing there was still more to do to ensure Plankton's recovery went smoothly. In the kitchen, she put together a soft meal for him, something that wouldn't irritate his sensitive mouth. She chopped up some fruit into a small bowl and warmed up a cup of soup. The smells of chicken broth and sweet berries filled the air, a comforting aroma that she hoped would ease his pain. When she returned to the living room, Plankton was asleep, Spot curled up with him. She set the food down on the table, the spoon clinking gently against the porcelain bowl. She took a moment to appreciate the peaceful scene before her, the two of them nestled together, the TV playing a low murmur of background noise. Karen decided to let him sleep for a bit longer. Gently, she lifted Spot off Plankton's lap and placed him on the floor. The amoeba pup quickly scuttled back by the couch, but still on the floor. Karen then turned off the TV, not wanting the noise to disturb Plankton's rest. Just as she was about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, his beady eyes looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep." Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. "Thought he might need these," he said, handing them to her. Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room."

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

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

TRUTH AND NAIL i “Karen Plankton‽” Karen stood up as the receptionist at the dental office called her. She’s been in the waiting room as her husband Plankton’s in surgery. She followed the nurse into a brightly lit room where Plankton lay on his back, his mouth agape, snoring gently. The anesthetic had done its job, leaving him completely oblivious to the world around him. The surgeon looked up from his chair, a smile creasing his mask. "Mrs. Plankton, your husband's wisdom teeth extraction was a success," he said. "You can stay with him as he wakes up." Karen sat by his side, her hand resting gently on his arm. The steady hum of the machines filled the space, punctuated by occasional beeps. The nurse adjusted the IV, ensuring the flow of fluids remained steady. The doctor entered, nodded at Karen, and began to check the surgical sites, but he didn't wake up. The surgeon leaned over, his eyes studying the readouts with care. Satisfied, he turned to Karen, "He'll be coming around in time," he assured her. Her screen never left Plankton's peaceful face, his cheeks slightly puffy, his mouth slack and open. A trickle of drool slid from the corner of his mouth, and Karen couldn't help but chuckle softly, even in the tension of the moment. He'd never let her see him like this if he had a choice. The nurse offered a reassuring smile, "It's normal, dear. The anesthesia can do funny things. Just wait. He'll be back to his usual self by tomorrow." Karen nodded. She leaned in closer to Plankton, his normally stern face was relaxed in sleep, his brow unfurrowed. It was strange to see his sharp features softened, his expression one of peace. The nurse left them, and Karen took the chance to whisper, "You're going to be okay." The nurse had warned her about the disorientation that often came with waking up from surgery. Patients could be confused, even a little babyish, as the world swam back into focus. Some had a tendency to say things they didn't mean or remember later. So, when Plankton's eye flickered open, Karen was ready. "Wha... where am I?" he mumbled, his voice slurred and eye glassy. Karen took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're in the recovery room, sweetie. You had your wisdom teeth out." The words seemed to float around him, like bubbles in his befuddled brain. "Wisdom teed?" he muttered, blinking slowly. "Wha awe those?" Karen stifled a laugh, her emotions swelling with love and concern. "They're teeth, darling. Don't worry, you won't miss them." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sterile whiteness and the blinking lights above him. "Teef?" he slurred, his mind still groggy. "Wheh take out teef?" Karen gently stroked his hand. "Just the wisdom ones, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "They were causing you trouble." "Trubble?" Plankton repeated, his speech slurring more with each syllable. His eye closed again, lid heavy with sleep. "I know it's confusing right now, but you'll understand soon," Karen said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton's eye opened again, a bit wider this time, and he squinted at the light. "M'th... m'th... my mouf feels..." He tried to form the words, but his tongue felt thick and clumsy. "It's normal, darling," Karen said, her voice like a gentle breeze. "The anesthesia can make your mouth feel funny." Plankton's eye drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts racing but his words failing to keep up. "Bright wight," he murmured, his voice distant and lost. "It's okay," Karen said, wiping the drool from his chin with a tissue. "The lights are just to help you wake up." "Wake up?" Plankton repeated, his eye trying to focus on her screen. "Wha happened?" "You had a little surgery," Karen said, her voice soothing and calm. "They took out your wisdom teeth. Remember?" Plankton's eye searched hers, confusion and fear swirling in his gaze. "Sur...surgery?" he managed to say, his voice weak and unsure. "Why?" "Don't worry," Karen soothed, her voice a soft caress. "It was just a little thing. They took out some teeth that were causing you pain." Plankton's eyelid flitted, trying to make sense of the words. "Teef? Pain?" he slurred, his hand reaching up to probe his mouth. "No, no, don't touch," Karen hurried to stop him, her grip firm but gentle. "They're still a bit tender." Plankton's hand fell back to the bed, his mind racing but his body slow to respond. "Tends?" he murmured, the word strange and foreign. "Every ting sho..." His thoughts trailed off, the word "different" eluding him. Karen watched him, her smile a blend of amusement and tenderness. "You're going to be okay," she repeated, her voice a constant in the sea of confusion. "You're just a little out of it." "Ooot of it," Plankton echoed, his voice a faint rumble. He tried to sit up, but the nurse had warned Karen about this too. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Take it easy, sweetie," she cooed. His eye searched hers, like a child lost in a supermarket. "Karen?" he murmured, her name sounding like a question. "I'm here," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "You're in the hospital, Plankton. You're okay." "Hospit...hospit...tal?" he slurred, his eye darting around the room again. "Why?" "You had wisdom teeth, Plankton," Karen said, her tone as soothing as a mother's. "Remember?" "Wis...dome tweed?" Plankton slurred, his mind spinning, his thoughts muddled and slow to form. "Ow?" Karen chuckled gently, her screen sparkling with humor. "It's all right, dear," she cooed. "They just removed your wisdom teeth. You're feeling a bit loopy." Plankton's eyebrow knit trying to piece together the puzzle. "Widom...teef?" he repeated, his voice still slurred but with a hint of recognition. "Yes, sweetie," Karen said, smiling down at him. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. You're going to be fine." Plankton's hand wobbled in the air before it fell to his side, his mind a swirl of fog. "Where...where am I?" his voice was a faint murmur, his eye glazed over. "You're in the hospital," Karen said, her voice steady as a lighthouse beam. "You had surgery, darling. Remember?" Plankton's eye fluttered closed, his head rolling to the side as if the weight of the world was too much. "Sur...gury?" he slurred, the syllables like molasses on his tongue. "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a lullaby in the stark room. "It's all over. You're safe now." He mumbled incoherently, his words a jumble of letters and sounds that barely formed coherent thoughts. "Wh...wha...was it?" his mind grasped for understanding, his eye half-closed and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her voice a lifeline in his foggy sea of confusion. "It was just a surgery, Plankton. To remove your wisdom teeth." "Wis...wis...dome...teef?" he murmured, the words still strange in his mouth. He blinked slowly, trying to recall why he was here. Karen nodded, her smile reassuring. "Yes, they took them out. You're all done." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, his body going slack again. "Tek...tum...out?" he mumbled, his mind still swimming in the murky waters of unconsciousness. Karen nodded, her hand still on his arm. "They're gone, sweetie. You're okay." But he’s fallen asleep again, his snores filling the silent room, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. Karen watched him, her love squeezing with a mix of amusement and concern.

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.

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.

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.

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..."

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.

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.

THE LIFE OF UNITY iii (Autistic author) Kevin's laughter reaches a crescendo as he takes a step closer to Plankton. "What don't I know?" he asks, his voice sharper than ever. "That PLANKTON JUST. DON'T. WUV. THEM. JELLYFISH. YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY..." But his words are cut off by the sight of Plankton, his antennae drooping, his eye brimming with tears. The tiny creature's body trembles as Kevin's to loud words settle upon him, and suddenly, all the pent-up frustration and pain come rushing out in a torrent as a single tear forms and slides down his face. Plankton's antennae quiver uncontrollably, and he squeaks out a sob, his tiny body convulsing with the weight of Kevin's cruel words. SpongeBob is shocked. Kevin's words hang in the water, his laughter fading into an awkward silence as he watches Plankton's reaction. The sea cucumber's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Plankton's tears, his own expression morphing from smug to surprise, then to something akin to fear. "Plankton?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he sniffs, trying to compose himself, his monotone voice thick with emotion. "Plankton... brainless," he murmurs, his one eye filled with unshed tears. "Plankton," he adds, his voice cracking, "Plankton... not like jellyfish." Sponge Bob's heart squeezes tight in his chest. "Hey, Plankton," he says softly, "it's ok. Kevin didn't mean it." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's hurtful words. "Kevin... right," he murmurs, his eye glistening with tears. "Plankton... brainless. Like jellyfish." Kevin's expression morphs from smugness to shock, his eyes wide as he realizes the impact of his words. "It's just... you know, a joke." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice trembling. "Joke?" he murmurs. "Plankton... a joke. Plankton... brainless." Kevin's grin falters, his eyes widening in horror as he sees the pain etched on Plankton's tiny face. "No," he stammers, his voice cracking. "It was just a... I didn't mean it like that." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's cruel words. "Plankton... no purpose in life," he murmurs, his one eye filled with a sadness so profound it seems to suck the color out of the surrounding waters. Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock. "Plankton," he says gently, "you have friends. You have a purpose." But Plankton's antennae droop even lower, his monotone voice a sad echo of his own self-doubt. "Plankton mindless.." Kevin's smugness evaporates, replaced with a flicker of concern as he watches the usually unflappable Plankton crumple under the weight of his words. "Look, Plankton," he says, reaching out to touch him. But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering with pain. "Plankton," Kevin says, his voice a mix of surprise and regret, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just messing around." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's insults. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye fixed. "Brainless." Sponge Bob's eyes wide with shock and sadness. "Plankton," he whispers, his voice filled with a tenderness Plankton rarely hears from anyone. "You're not brainless." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's words. "Plankton... mindless," he murmurs, his one eye unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Like jellyfish." SpongeBob knew that Plankton's obsession with jellyfish is more than just a hobby; it's a deep connection, a part of who he is after the traumatic brain injury. And now, Kevin's careless words have struck a nerve, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice gentle, "you're not like that. You're smart. You're... you're you." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye still avoiding contact. "Plankton... like jellyfish." SpongeBob understood that the brain trauma has affected him, making him more vulnerable to words that question his intelligence and identity due to his autism. "Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern, "you know that's not true. You're not like jellyfish in that way." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's mockery. "Mindless," he murmurs. "Mindless, brainless." Sponge Bob's heart aches for his friend, reaching out to offer comfort. "Plankton, you're not like that," he says, his voice gentle and assuring. "You're brilliant. You know more about jellyfish than anyone." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's laughter. "Mindless," he murmurs, eye downcast. "Plankton... brainless." Sponge Bob tries to find the right words to say. "Plankton," he says gently, "you're not like that. You're so much more than what Kevin said." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of the cruel words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye avoiding Sponge Bob's gaze. "Plankton... no purpose." Kevin's eyes dart from Plankton to Sponge Bob, his grin faltering. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight with confusion. "You guys are acting weird." Sponge Bob's embrace tighten around Plankton's tiny body, his voice firm but kind. "Kevin," he says, his gaze fixed on Plankton, "you don't know what happened to Plankton." Kevin's laughter fades into a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" Kevin's smirk fades, his eyes narrowing with confusion. "What are you guys talking about?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob hesitates, glancing at Plankton, who nods almost imperceptibly. "Kevin," he says, his voice serious, "Plankton had a bad accident. He hit his head, and now he's... different." Kevin's tentacles freeze in mid-air, his smugness evaporating. "What do you mean, 'different'?" he asks, his voice tentative. Sponge Bob sighs. "Plankton's had a brain injury," he says, his eyes never leaving Plankton's quivering antennae. "He's... autistic now." Kevin's eyes widen, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "What? No way," he stammers, his smugness gone. "You're... you're joking, right?" But Sponge Bob's expression is serious, gently stroking Plankton's antennae. "It's true, Kevin," he says, his voice gentle. "Plankton's had a tough time, and he's different now." "Plankton, joke." Kevin's confusion turns to shock as he looks from Sponge Bob to Plankton, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "But... but why didn't you say anything?" he asks, his voice trembling. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "We didn't think it was anyone's business," he says tightening around Plankton's shaking antennae. "But now you know Kevin. And we need you to be cool about it."

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.

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."

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

ᴸⁱᵗʰᵖ Part 1 ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉⁿᵗⁱᵉⁿᵗ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵒʳ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵘʳᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵃᵖᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵒᶠ 'ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ' ᵃⁿᵈ 'ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ' ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵈⁱᵛᵉʳˢⁱᵗʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉˣʰⁱᵇⁱᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵖʰᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ⸴ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᵃᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵐᵒˡᵃʳˢ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᔆⁱⁿᶜᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗⁱʳᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘⁿᵃʳᵒᵘˢᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱⁿⁱˢᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵈᵘᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ‧ "ᴰᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ "ᴬˡˡ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ!" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᴴᵉʰ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ!" "ᴴᵉʷʷᵒ‽" "ᴴⁱ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ‧" "ᴵ ᵐᵃʷʷⁱᵉᵈ?" "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʲᵘᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖˢ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂᵘᶻ?" ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ; ᴵ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᶜᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ‧ "ᵀʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʲᵃʷ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵒʷ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵗʰᵃʷ?" "ᴰᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗˢ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵒⁿ‧‧" "ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁿᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ’ ʷⁱᶠᶠ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵘᶠ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵍˡᵒᵇˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵃᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬʳʳⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ⸴ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵇʸ ᵘⁿᵃⁿⁿᵒᵘⁿᶜᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‽" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴾʷᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵒʰ⸴ ᴵ ᶠᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵐᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢᵏ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵐᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʸᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵐᵃʷʷⁱᵉᵈ!" "ᵂⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵒᵒᵗʰ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵃˡ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ‧ "ᴵ ʰᵃᵇ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰⁱᵉˢ? ᵂʰᵉʷᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ?" "ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉˡʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ‧‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉᵉ⸴ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ? ᴵ ʷᵘᵛ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡˡ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ!" "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧‧" ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵉᵉᵐⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ!" "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵉⁿˢⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ?" "ᵀⁱʷᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵘᶜᵏˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ⸴ ʷⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵃᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵘʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵃⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡˢ/ˢⁿᵒʳᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵈ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴮʸᵉ!" ᵀʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ʰᵉ ʷᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ˢᵒʳᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ 'ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ ᴵ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ?' "ᴼʷ‧" 'ᴬʰ ᵐʸ ᵍᵘᵐˢ‧ ᴳᵃʰ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ?' "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ?" ᔆʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵇʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵘⁿᵍʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ?" "ᴵᶜᵉ ᶜʷᵉᵃᵐ⸴ ᵇᵘ’ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘⁿᵍʷʸ ᶠᵒʷ ᵃ ᵐᵉᵃˡ ʸᵉᵗ‧" 'ᵀᵒ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵗᵒᵈᵈˡᵉʳ!' "ᴵ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗᵉ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ 'ᴰⁱᵈ ᴵ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉ?' "ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ?" "ᴳᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ⸴ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʷ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵇ'ᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴵ ᶠⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ?" 'ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢˡᵘʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵉˡˢᵉ‧" "ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᴳᵒᵒᵈ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᵐⁱᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ; ˡᵘᶜᵏⁱˡʸ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ‧ "ᴬᵐ ᴵ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ‽" 'ʸᵉˢ‧' "ᴺᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ‧‧" 'ʸᵉˢ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ‧' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵖᵉˢ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢᵏˢ‧ "ᴳᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢʷᵉᵉᵖ‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ‧ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ⸴ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ⁱᵗ‧" "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧" "ᔆᵒ ᵈᵒ ᴵ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ to be cont. Pt. Two

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GREAT CHIP i (Autistic author) "I'm home," Chip exclaims. His mom Karen looked up. Plankton, his dad, is in the middle of an absence seizure. Plankton only let Karen know about his autism, and she knew their son Chip may eventually find out about it. Chip notices his dad's odd unresponsive stare at the wall, unblinking. "Dad?" Karen knew Plankton's in sensory overload and needs to wait the absence seizure out. But Chip starts to come closer. "Chip, don't touch him," Karen instructs quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. "Dad's just having a moment. He'll be okay in a bit." She tries to distract him with a snack. "Why don't you go eat some chum from the kitchen?" Chip pauses, curiosity piqued. He's seen his dad zone out before, but never like this. He looks at Karen's tightened expression, then back at Plankton's glazed eye, sensing something serious. He nods reluctantly, backing away and heading to the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening and shutting echoes through the house, his mind racing. He eats a piece of chum, but then comes back. "What's wrong with Dad?" he asks, his voice cracking with fear. Karen sighs, bracing herself for a conversation she's been dreading. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip. It's like his brain sometimes gets overwhelmed by things we don't even notice. That's why he zones out. It's called an absence seizure." Chip's eyes widen, trying to process this new information. "But why isn't he talking to me?" Karen's eyes soften with empathy. "It's not because he doesn't want to, sweetheart. When he's like this, his brain just needs a break. It's like when you're watching a movie, and everything else fades away for a moment. For Dad, it happens without his control." Chip nods slowly, watching his dad still frozen on the couch. He wonders what it must be like, to be trapped inside your own mind like that. "Does he know I'm here?" he whispers, his voice barely carrying across the room. "I'm not sure, but let's give him some space," Karen says gently. "It's important not to startle him when he's like this. It could make things worse." Chip nods again, his mind buzzing with questions. He watches from a distance. He's never seen anything quite so... strange. "What do we do when he has one of these?" he asks tentatively, his voice quivering. Karen takes a deep breath. "Just stay calm, and wait. It's like he's in another world. We can't bring him back, but we have to be here for him when he returns." Chip nods, trying to understand. "But when it ends, how will he be?" "It's hard to say," Karen admits. "Sometimes he's a bit confused, sometimes he's tired, sometimes he doesn't remember what happened. We just need to be patient and let him come back to us." Chip's curiosity doesn't wane. "But why does it happen?" Karen sighs, choosing her words with care. "It's part of his autism, his brain processing things differently. Sometimes, it's too much for him, and his body takes a break." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his dad. "But can he hear us?" "I think so," Karen says, trying to keep her tone calm. "But it's like he's in a deep daydream right now. He might not be able to respond or even understand." Chip watches his dad, his curiosity morphing into concern. "Can't we wake him up?" Karen shakes her head. "It's not like sleep, Chip. We can't force him out of it. We just have to wait." Chip nods, but his curiosity is insatiable. "Does Dad like being autistic?" Karen considers the question. "It's not about liking or not liking. It's just who he is. Sometimes it's hard for him, but he's also really good at things because of it. Like fixing those gadgets of yours, or knowing so much about science." Chip looks at his dad's unresponsive form, then at his mom. "But what sets it off? What makes him zone out?" Karen sighs, her gaze lingering on Plankton before returning to Chip. "It's different every time. Sometimes it's too much noise, other times it's a moment of déjà vu.." Chip frowns. "But does he remember what happens to him? Does he know about the seizures?" "Well," Karen starts, her voice measured, "his brain doesn't always keep those memories. Sometimes it's like a blur to him. It's like when you forget a dream right after you wake up. But he's aware that something happens." Chip's gaze shifts to his dad's hand, resting gently on the armrest. "Does he like hugs?" he asks, his voice smaller now, quieter. Karen nods. "He does, but not always. Some days he needs them more than others. Sometimes, it depends on the person.." Chip thinks about this, his screen still on Plankton. "Can I... try giving him a hug now?" Karen looks over, studying her son's innocent expression. "I don't think so, not right now. We have to respect his space." Chip nods, his curiosity not waning. "But when can I hug him?" he asks. "Is there a right time?" Karen looks over, her screen reflecting a mix of pride and sadness. "There isn't a perfect time, but when he's out of his seizure, and if he's in a good mood, try asking. Just remember, his senses are really sensitive. Sometimes, his body needs space more than others." The house remains silent, save for the steady tick of the living room clock. Chip's eyes never leave his father's frozen form, his mind racing.

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CHIP AND THE DILEMMA i (Autistic author) As Chip stepped into the kitchen, Karen looked up from her recipe book, her screen lighting up with a familiar smile. Her apron was dotted with flour. "Hey, buddy," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "How was your day?" Chip shrugged, tossing his backpack on the floor. "It was okay, I guess." He noticed the tantalizing aroma of something baking in the oven. "What's that smell?" Karen chuckled. "Just a little surprise for later. I thought I'd make your favorite - apple crumble. But first, tell me about your day. Did you have any interesting classes?" Chip rolled his eyes. "It was the same old, same old. History was a snooze fest, math was a headache." He pulled a face, but the hint of excitement wasn't lost on Karen. "And what about science?" she prodded, knowing it was his favorite subject. "We started a new unit on space," he said, his voice picking up. "Mr. Jenkins said we might even get to build a model of the solar system." Karen's smile grew. "That sounds like fun!" Chip hugs her and then goes upstairs, looking for Plankton, his father. He opens the door to his dad's room and sees his father asleep, a soft snore rumbling from his chest. The room is a mess of books and papers, the pages of a scientific journal open before him. Chip chuckles silently, tiptoeing closer to peek at the title: "Advanced Quantum Measurements." The sight of Plankton's snoring form brings an odd feeling to Chip’s chest. He’s never seen his dad asleep before! He takes a moment to study his dad's face, so peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the usual whirlwind of energy. The snore turns into a quiet sigh. Chip knows not to disturb him, but he can't help himself. He gently nudges Plankton's arm. "Dad, wake up," he whispers. Plankton's eye shot open in surprise, the book falling to the floor with a thud. "Chip? What is it?" He sits up, blinking quickly to clear his vision. Chip stammers for a moment before speaking. "I-I just wanted to tell you about my day and science class," he says, knowing his dad likes science. Plankton's face relaxes, but there's a hint of self-consciousness in his eye as he glances around the cluttered room. "Ah, yes, science," he says, clearing his throat. "What did you learn today?" Chip's screen darts around, picking up on his dad's embarrassment. He quickly summarizes his school day, leaving out the part about his classmates teasing him for his love of science. He doesn't want to ruin the mood or make his dad feel bad for missing out. Plankton nods along, his mind clearly… somewhere else? As Chip finishes his story, his dad's eye refocus. "A model of the solar system, you say?" He seems genuinely interested, and the tension in the room eases. "Why don't we build one together later tonight?" "Really?" Chip yells, too loud for Plankton. Plankton flinches, his autistic sensitivity to sound making him wince. "Ah, yes, really," he repeats, a tiny smile playing. What Chip doesn’t know? His dad was born with a form of autism, and only Karen knew about it. He’s kept it a secret from Chip, neither of them having ever told. The clutter in Plankton's room isn't just laziness or disorganization—it’s part of his condition. Plankton's autism means that his brain processes the world differently, and the chaos around him is a comforting, familiar pattern. But seeing it through Chip's eyes now, he feels a pang of embarrassment. He wishes he could be like other dads, with tidy spaces and simple interactions. "Yeah, really," Plankton says again, trying to sound more enthusiastic. He knows it's important to Chip, so he'll push through his exhaustion. "Let’s do it later tonight." He's always tried to hide his autism from Chip, not wanting to bother him with the challenges he faces. But now, the clutter, the unexpected touch, it all feels like a spotlight on his differences. But Chip's excitement is apparent, though. Chip nods eagerly, unable to contain his joy. "That sounds amazing!" He yells as he rushes over to hug his dad, not noticing the flinch Plankton gives when his body is touched unexpectedly. Plankton tenses up, his senses overwhelmed by the sudden contact. He's always loved his son, but physical touch, especially sudden ones, are something he's never quite gotten used to. It's like an alarm going off in his brain, sending waves of anxiety through him. Chip feels the tension in his dad but attributes it to excitement. He's always been so focused on keeping his condition hidden that he's never taught Chip about his needs. Now, as Chip's energy radiates from the hug, Plankton is left with the weight of his secret. The room spins around him, though, and he’s unable to think. "Dad, are you okay?" Chip asks, pulling back slightly. He notices the pale tint to his father's skin, the way his eye have gone a bit glassy. Plankton takes a deep breath, forcing a smile. "I'm fine," he says, though it comes out slightly strained. "Just a bit tired. Let's do the solar system project after dinner." Chip's face falls, noticing his dad's discomfort. He's not sure what happened, yet he’s still not quite done with the affectionate touching. So when Chip reaches out and touches his shoulder, Plankton jolts like he’s been zapped by a live wire. The surprise is too much. His body locks up, and he can't help the flinch that crosses his face. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice full of concern. "What's wrong?" Plankton quickly recovers, his smile back in place. "It's nothing," he assures, though his heart races. He's aware his reaction wasn't typical. “Oh ok, good,” Chip says, once again touching him as he pats his arm. Plankton can't help but flinch again, and this time Chip sees it clearly. "Dad, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. Plankton nods, his smile forced. "I'm just tired, Chip. Really." "Are you sure you're sure?" Chip asks, his hands grabbing his father's. "You seem kind of... off." Plankton looks down at their joined hands, and the sensation sends another wave of panic through him. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I'm fine," he says, but Chip isn't convinced. "You can tell me if something's wrong," Chip persists. "I'm your son, I'm here for you." Plankton's eye darts to their hands, then to Chip's intense stare. He feels himself getting disoriented. "Dad, really," Chip says, his voice softer now, his screen filled with concern. "You can tell me." Plankton's chest tightens. This is it. The moment he's been dreading for years. He looks at his son, his face a mirror of his own confusion and pain. How do you tell a child that their father is not like other dads? That his quirks are not just eccentricities, but part of a complex puzzle of the brain… NO. He won’t tell him. He’s kept it a secret, and Chip’s not ready either. Not to mention being to far gone in the ringing of his ears to even think up a coherent thought, nor stay present any longer. But he’s to far gone to move. He feels his heart pounding against his ribcage. His vision starts to blur around the edges. "Dad?" Chip's voice cuts through, adding to the static in his head. "You don't look fine." Plankton's mind races as he tries to find the right words to say, but his mouth won't cooperate. "Dad, what's going on?" Chip asks, his voice tinged with fear. "You look like you're in pain." Plankton's breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. He's having a meltdown. The touch, the noise, the light—it's all too much. He needs to get away, find a quiet space, but his body won't move. Karen rushes in, concern etched on her face. "Plankton, what's happening?" she asks, gently touching his shoulder. But even her touch is a thunderclap in his overwhelmed brain. Plankton jolts and pulls away, his eye wide with fear and confusion. "I-I can't," he stammers, unable to form a coherent sentence.

CATCH IN MY CHIP i (Autistic author) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, just finished with summer camp. He smiled, excitedly going into his home, bursting through the door of the Chum Bucket. "Mom, Dad!" He called out, his voice echoing through the corridors. "Chip!" Karen exclaims rushing over as he runs to her. They hug, and she asks, "How was camp?" He beams. "It was awesome! I learned to surf and made so many friends!" Karen smiles. "I'm so glad you had fun, honey." "Where's Dad?" Chip asks. "He's just having some down time in our bedroom," Karen says. "You can go unpack.." But Chip is already bolting down the hallway, eager to share his adventures. He throws open the door to Plankton's room, expecting to find his dad eagerly awaiting his return. Instead, he finds Plankton just sitting on the bed. "Dad! Dad! You're not going to believe what happened at camp!" Chip's words tumble out in an excited rush. Plankton looks up, a little startled by the sudden onslaught of energy. His eye dance over the pile of equipment Chip's brought back with him, and he tries to focus his scattered thoughts. Chip doesn't notice his dad's flinch, too caught up in his own excitement. He starts unpacking his bag, pulling out his surfboard, a sandy towel, and a shiny, new seashell collection. "Guess what? I was the best in my group at catching waves! And I found this super rare shell on the beach! Look, it's got all these cool patterns!" He holds it out to Plankton's face. Plankton takes a deep breath, his sensory overload building quickly. He tries to smile, forcing his eye to focus on the shell. "That's... that's very interesting, Chip," he says, his voice strained. Chip doesn't catch the subtle tension in his dad's tone. "But wait, there's more!" He grabs a fistful of sandy photos, slapping them onto the bed. "Look at all the fun we had!" Each picture is a blur of smiling kids and splashing water. Plankton's eye darts from one to the next, trying to process the sensory assault. He nods, a bit too quickly, his eye slightly glazed over. "And then there was the talent show!" Chip says, bouncing on the bed. "I did a killer impression of Larry the Lobster!" Plankton winces at the sudden loudness of his son's voice and the rhythmic bouncing. He tries to muster a chuckle, but it comes out forced. "And everyone loved it! They said I was hilarious!" He doesn't see the way Plankton's antenna twitches, a subtle sign of his rising stress. Plankton's mind races as he tries to keep up with Chip's stories. The vividness of the memories, the loudness of his son's voice, and the cluttered space around him all contribute to the sensory storm building inside him. He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself. Chip, oblivious to his father's distress, keeps going. "And you'll never guess what we had for lunch on the last day!" He rummages through his bag, pulling out a half-eaten sandwich. "They made it for me special because I won the sand-building contest!" He can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sensory barrage, his mind racing to find a way to escape the chaos. "And the counselor said I might even be able to compete in the Bikini Bottom surfing championships!" Chip says, jumping up to give him a big bear hug. Plankton stiffens, his antennas drooping slightly. "And then, remember that time we built the sandcastle together? Well, my counselor said it was even better than that one!" He gestures widely, his arms sweeping through the air and knocking over a stack of papers on Plankton's desk. The sound of scattering paper is like nails on a chalkboard to Plankton's sensitive hearing, and he jerks back involuntarily. His meticulously organized desk, ruined, stressing Plankton out even more. Chip laughs, not noticing Plankton's discomfort. He looks around the messy room, his mind spinning. The smell of the musty sandwich mingles with the salty sea air, making him feel nauseous. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to push Chip away. "You're the best dad ever!" Chip squeezes him tighter. Plankton's heart swells with love and pride, but his body tenses under the weight of his son's affection. He can feel his personal space shrinking, his need for order and quiet desperately trying to assert itself. But Chip is still on a high from his summer camp tales and doesn't notice. He keeps talking, his words flowing like a river, each one crashing into the dam of Plankton's overstimulated brain. Plankton's breaths grow shallower, his eye darting around the room as he searches for a way to retreat without hurting his son's feelings. "And the counselor said I might even be able to compete in the Bikini Bottom surfing championships!" Chip says, jumping up to give him a big bear hug. Plankton's body stiffens under the sudden physical contact, his antennas drooping even more. The smell of the salty ocean, the feel of sand on his skin, it's all too much, which is when the shut down happens. "Dad?" Chip pulls back, noticing his dad's reaction. Plankton's eye now wide and unfocused, his breaths quick and shallow. "What's wrong?" Plankton can't bring himself back to consciousness. "Dad?" Chip says again, his voice now laced with concern. Plankton's normally expressive eye is vacant, his body as rigid as a board. The room seems to spin around Chip, his excitement quickly morphing into worry. He's never seen his dad like this before. "Are you okay?" He touches his father's arm with a curious poke, making his unmoving body tip over onto his back, still not budging. Chip's never seen such an unblinking stare. "Dad? Dad, are you okay?" He asks again, voice quivering. Plankton doesn't respond, his eye glazed over, his body motionless. Chip's concern grows with each passing second. He tries to shake his dad, his small hands trembling. "Dad, please, talk to me," he whispers, his voice cracking. He looks at his dad, who lies unresponsive, it's like Plankton's gone somewhere else entirely. He calls out again, louder this time, "Dad? Daddy?" But Plankton doesn't move, doesn't blink. Chip feels a knot form in him, a cold realization starting to sink in. This isn't just tiredness or daydreaming. Panic bubbles up in him. He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it's not good. His thoughts are a jumble of questions: why isn't his dad responding? What did he do wrong? He jumps off the bed and runs to find his mom. "Mom! Mom!" his cries echo through the Chum Bucket. Karen rushes out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "What's wrong?" "It's Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "He's just lying there not moving. I don't know what..." It dawns on her. Plankton's autism often left him like this, a silent retreat into himself when the world was too much. Karen's heart squeezes. Chip had never seen this side of his dad, never understood how much sensory input could overwhelm him. Sure enough, reaching the bedroom, Karen found him in one of his light-headed/dizzy moments. "It's okay, Chip," Karen soothed, kneeling beside her son. "Your dad has something that makes his brain work a little differently from other people's. It's called autism. Sometimes, when he gets too much information at once, it's like his brain needs a little break." Chip looked at her, his screen wide with confusion. "Is he okay?" "Yes, honey," Karen says, her voice calm and gentle. "He's just overstimulated. Sometimes, when there's too much going on, it's hard for him to process everything."

JUST A TOUCH i (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ "You know, I've never seen a sunset quite like this," Karen said, her screen glued to the horizon. Her husband, Plankton, nodded absentmindedly. He was too focused on tightening the bolts on the railing of their Chum Bucket home. As the sun dipped, Plankton's wrench slipped, striking him on the head. With a sharp clang and a muted cry, he staggered back, his eye glazed over with surprise and pain as he falls to the ground, landing on his head with a thud. Karen's hand flew to her screen, stifling a scream as she raced towards him. Plankton's body was eerily still. Her eyes filled with fear and love, she knelt beside him, his head cradled in her slender hands. "Plankton," she whispered urgently, "are you okay?" There was no response, not even a twitch of his antennae. His eye remained closed. "Plankton!" she shouted, louder this time, her voice cracking with concern. The sound of his name echoed through their silent abode. "Wake up, please," she pleaded, tears threatening to spill. The setting sun cast long shadows over his motionless body, the once bright hues of their underwater home now overshadowed by a dark sense of dread. With trembling hands, she checked for a pulse, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating. Relief flooded through her, but she knew she had to act quickly. "I have to get him to a hospital," she thought, her mind racing. Karen carefully scooped Plankton into her arms and went with determination to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. The nurse, a stern-faced starfish, took one look at the unconscious Plankton and ushered them straight through to an examination room, Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tight. The doctor, a squid with a comforting smile, took over, his tentacles moving swiftly over Plankton's tiny frame. "Ma'am, we need to check his head for any damage," he said, gently patting her hand. Karen nodded, swiping at her eyes with the back of her arm. The doctor led them to a room filled with high-tech equipment that whirred and glowed. He placed Plankton on a shiny, cold table. The machines beeped and hummed as they searched for any signs of trauma. Karen held her breath, watching the squid doctor's face for any hint of what he might find. The doctor's tentacles danced over a console, reading the results. Finally, he turned to Karen. "Ma'am, it appears your husband has sustained an irreversible brain condition from his fall," he said softly. Karen's grip tightened on Plankton's hand. "But it's not all bad," he quickly added. "The injury has led to the development of Autism in his brain. The condition's called Acquired Autism." Her eyes widened. "What does that mean for him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The doctor's smile was warm, his tentacles still. "It means his brain will process things differently. It could enhance his cognitive abilities in certain areas, but it may also present challenges in others." The news hit Karen like a tidal wave. Autism. A word she had heard before, but never thought would be a part of their lives. "How will this change him?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. The doctor took a deep breath and began to explain. "Plankton may exhibit behaviors that are different from before, such as repetitive actions or heightened sensitivity to stimuli. His social interactions might be affected as well. But, on the positive side, we've seen patients with Acquired Autism develop extraordinary talents in areas like memory or problem- solving." Karen nodded, trying to absorb the information. The doctor's tentacles curled around a clipboard, jotting down notes. "He can go home tonight, and, he'll be able to adapt to his new reality with your patience and love. You may need to accommodate for his comfort, there's no treatment or cure. You can leave whenever he wakes up shortly after we assess and answer any questions." Karen nods and leaned over Plankton, stroking his cheek. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "Together." As the doctor sat by them, Karen was overwhelmed by a flurry of questions and fears. How would Plankton be different? Would he still love her? Would he remember their life together? The quiet beeps of the hospital machines were a stark reminder of the new reality they faced. The doctor's gentle explanation was a beacon of hope in the storm of uncertainty. Plankton might see the world in a new light, his mind unlocking puzzles and patterns that had eluded him before. But the thought of her husband, the man she had spent her life with, changing so fundamentally... As the doctor finished up, Plankton's single eye fluttered open, focusing on her screen. Karen leaped as she saw the spark of recognition. "Karen?" he said, his voice faint but clear. Her heart soared with relief. "Yes, Plankton, it's me," she said, her voice choked with emotion. But as she watched him closely, she noticed something different. His gaze was intense, his movements precise and calculated. He took in every detail of the room, his eye darting around quickly, absorbing everything. His voice, when he spoke again, had a new rhythm to it, almost as if he was reciting a script from memory. "Where?" he asked, the words clipped and quick. Karen took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're in the hospital, Plankton," she said softly. "You had an accident. You hit your head and it changed your brain." The doctor cleared his throat, sensing her tension. "It's common for patients with Acquired Autism to exhibit heightened focus and a need for routine. It will take time for you to learn how to communicate effectively with him in this new state," he explained. Karen nodded, determined to be there every step of the way.

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

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

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

if u like bfdi or inanimate insanity OR ANY OBJECTSHOW plz dm me on pinterest 😞 Pic0cooreee11😐𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎

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

I 𝓕o®🇬⚬t ♄⚬ω t⚬ 𝐬୧🅰®c♄ 𝐬†∪fƒ in ୧𝓂oj𝒾ℂo𝐌b⚬ 🅰 🇦 𝓐 ⩜ 𝛂 𝖆 𝒶 ß 🅱 🇧 В ₿ 𝑏 𝓫 © 🇨 𝐂 € ☾ 🇩 𝐃 𝒟 ძ 𝒅 𝑬 🇪 𝔼 ୧ 𝑒 🇫 𝓕 𝒥 𝓯 ƒ 🇬 ɢ 𝓖 ℊ 𝓰 Ⓗ 🇭 ℋ |-| 𝓗 ♄ ℌ 🇮𝑰 ┃ 𝒾 ﹗ 𝓣 🇯󠁄 𝐣 ʝ 🇰 𝒦 🅺 ʞ 𝒌 𝑳 🇱 ℒ ʟ | 𝓜 🇲 Ⓜ 𝐌 ᙏ 𝓂 𝐦 🇳 𝓝 Nྀི nྀི 𓎆 И 🇴 𝒐 ⚬ 𝟎 ♡ ☺ 𝓹 🇵 𝐏 ℘ 🇶 𝕢 𝓺 𝖖 ® 🇷 ℛ Ʀ 𝐫 🇸 🆂 𝓢 𝐒 𝐬 𝓼 🇹 𝓣 т ✝ ⚚ 𝓽 🇺 ∪ 𝓾 𝕦 𝖚 𝓥 𝐕 \/ Ⓥ 🅥 🇻 🇼 🆆 𝓦 ω 𝕨 ш 🇽 ✗ ﾒ 𝕏 ༝ × ㄨ 𝓍 א 🇾 𝓨 Ｙ ꪗ 𝕪 ყ 🇿 ☡ 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𝐙 ᴀ ʙ ᴄ ᴅ ᴇ ғ ɢ ʜ ɪ ᴊ ᴋ ʟ ᴍ ɴ ᴏ ᴘ ǫ ʀ s ᴛ ᴜ ᴠ ᴡ x ʏ ᴢ 𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃 𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫 ᗩ ᗷ ᑕ ᗪ E ᖴ G ᕼ I ᒍ K ᒪ ᗰ ᑎ O ᑭ ᑫ ᖇ ᔕ T ᑌ ᐯ ᗯ ᙭ Y ᘔ 🇦‌ 🇧‌ 🇨‌ 🇩‌ 🇪‌ 🇫‌ 🇬‌ 🇭‌ 🇮‌ 🇯‌ 🇰‌ 🇱‌ 🇲‌ 🇳‌ 🇴‌ 🇵‌ 🇶‌ 🇷‌ 🇸‌ 🇹‌ 🇺‌ 🇻‌ 🇼‌ 🇽‌ 🇾‌ 🇿‌ 🅰 🅱 🅲 🅳 🅴 🅵 🅶 🅷 🅸 🅹 🅺 🅻 🅼 🅽 🅾 🅿 🆀 🆁 🆂 🆃 🆄 🆅 🆆 🆇 🆈 🆉 𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷 ᵃ ᵇ ᶜ ᵈ ᵉ ᶠ ᵍ ʰ ⁱ ʲ ᵏ ˡ ᵐ ⁿ ᵒ ᵖ ૧ ʳ ˢ ᵗ ᵘ ᵛ ʷ ˣ ʸ ᶻ

“🫧🎀⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆”

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ . ˚ ◞♡ cutesi little group ! ╭ ˗͡˗˗˗͡˗˗˗͡˗˗꒰ ྀི୨୧ ྀི ꒱˗͡˗˗˗͡˗ ˗˗͡˗˗ ╮ ꒰ྀི ୨୧ our roles ૮ ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷ ୨୧ ꒱ྀི • ( rank) = (info) • (rank)= ( info) • (rank) = (info) • (rank)= (info) •(rank = (info) ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ っ shop ‘til u drop ʚ pls don’t copy desc or ranks 𝜗𝜚 … tested,works in roblox^^ its might tag tho, it rlly js depends on what you put. (roblox grp description)

୨ৎ

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

me📱4️⃣

me📱4️⃣

Wisdoms i i/i Sponge Bob leaned in close. "What you say, Planky?" Plankton's head lolled to the side, eye half-closed. "Bubbles?" "You're gonna have to stay still." "Kay," Plankton mumbled, eye shut again. Karen chuckled. "You're a riot, you know that?" she said. Plankton's head lolled back on the chair. "Don't worry, Plankton. You're going to be just fine. It's all over now." Plankton nodded, trying to keep up. "Th-thank you," he slurred. "I think I need... need a nap." "You've already had nap, Plankton, we can go now." The nurse handed her gauze. "Keep this with you as needed," she instructed. Karen nodded. They helped Plankton into the car. Karen buckled him in, his head lolling to the side. "You're gonna be ok," she said, her voice a comforting hum. "Mm-hmm," Plankton murmured, head lolling to the side. "Mmm, ch...ch...chew some...some ch...ch...chum," Plankton mumbled, eye half-closed. Karen chuckled. "No chum for you, Plankton. You need your mouth heal." Sponge Bob nods. "I can make you a chum-free smoothie without chewing!" Plankton's eye rolled back in his head. "Mm...no...no chewing..." Karen laughed softly. "You're gonna be fine," she said. Plankton nodded, eyelid fluttering open and closed. "Mmm...Karen...my hero," he slurred, speech still thick and wobbly. "Mmm...no...more...tweef...," Plankton mumbled, eyelid drooping again. "Don't worry, Plankton," Karen said. "You're all done." Plankton nodded, eye still half-closed. "Mmm...no more tweef," he murmured, voice distant. Sponge Bob giggled. "That's right, Planky," he said, patting Plankton's arm. Plankton began to snore gently. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "Bet he's going to be so surprised when he wakes up home without tweef!" "Home...," Plankton's voice trails off as he snored. "We're almost," Karen said smiling at his loopy state. Plankton's eye fluttered open, speech still thick. "Tweef...tweef..." Sponge Bob looked with amusement. "Planky, no more tweef for you," he said. Plankton nodded slowly, his mind still in anesthesia. "Mm-hmm," he murmured. Karen pulled the car in their driveway. "Plankton, we're home," she said, her voice gentle. "Come on, Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle coax. "Let's get you in." Plankton leaned heavily on her, eye half-closed. "Mm'kay," he mumbled, his voice a slow drawl. "Home...no tweef." They managed in. "Sit down, Plankton," she instructed. "Mmm...sit," Plankton mumbled, his head lolling as he plopped on the couch. "Planky, I'm going to make you the best chum-free smoothie!" Plankton nodded, his head rolling to the side. "Mm'kay," he murmured, tongue thick in his mouth. "Mmm...no...no chewing," he slurred. Karen laughed softly, stroking his arm. "Voilà!" he exclaimed. "The Chum Bucket's finest, no-chew-required smoothie!" Plankton's eye flickered. "Fru...fruit?" "Yep, Planky's favorite!" Plankton's eye squinted. "Mm...no...no chum?" "Nope, no chum! It's all fruity goodness for you, Planky!" Karen took the glass with a smile, taking a spoon after removing gauze. "Mm...tastes...tastes..." His eye widened as the sweetness hit. "Goooood," he mumbled. Karen chuckled, carefully feeding him another spoonful. "You see, Plankton? No more troublesome tweef." "Mm-hmm," he murmured, eyelid fluttering as he tasted the cool, fruity blend. "M'good." "Just keep sipping," she said, her voice a soothing wave. "It'll help." Plankton nodded, his eyelid drooping. "Mm...good," he took another spoonful, the fruit blend cool and comforting. "You're doing great, Plankton!" "Mm...thanks. Fruit...tastes...tastes like...like...a vacation." Plankton managed to convey his appreciation. "Mm...fank...fank you," he slurred, eye drifting shut. Sponge Bob giggled. Plankton took another spoonful. "Mm...so...so good," he murmured, words still as wobbly as his legs had been. Sponge Bob nods. "See, Planky, I told you no more tweef would be a good thing!" Plankton's eye remained half-closed as he slurred his words. "Mm...good...no...no more tweef." Karen and Sponge Bob exchanged glances, smiles growing wider at the sight of him. "That's right, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle tide. "No more pesky wisdom teeth." Plankton nodded, eyelid still drooping. "Mm...so...so happy," he mumbled. "No...more...owies." Karen chuckled. "You're going to be just fine," she assured. "Mm...fine," Plankton murmured, his head lolling back. "M'glad...glad it's...it's over." Karen chuckled, stroking his arm. "You're gonna need rest, Plankton," she said. "The anesthesia will wear off soon." "Mmm...rest," Plankton mumbled, eye struggling to stay open. "No...no more tweef." "That's right, Plankton." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head. "M'tired," he mumbled. "Wis...wisdom...wis...wis...wis..." Karen laughed. "It's ok, Plankton," she said. "Wis...wis...wis...wis...," Plankton's voice trailed off as his head lolled to the side. Karen laughed softly. "You don't have to say it anymore." Plankton nods. "M'tired," he murmured. "M'going...going to...to..." His sentence trailed off as his eye closed completely, snoring gently as his head slips onto Sponge Bob's shoulder. "Looks like he's out," he said, patting Plankton's back. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight of Plankton's peaceful slumber. "Let's get you cleaned up, Plankton," she said. Sponge Bob carefully lifted Plankton's head, the tiny villain's snores becoming more pronounced. "We need to keep his mouth clean and get him to bed." Karen stood up. "Like this," she demonstrated, placing one hand under Plankton's back and the other under his knees. They shuffled him into the bathroom, his snores echoing down the hall. Karen wet a washcloth with warm water. "Open up, Plankton," she instructed, her voice a gentle wave. Plankton's eye flickered open with effort. He leaned his head back, allowing her to clean his mouth. The warm water felt like a kiss from the ocean, soothing his dull feeling gums. "Good job," Karen praised. "Almost done." Sponge Bob hovered nearby. "You're doing great, Planky," he said, eyes shining with kindness. "Mm...tanks," Plankton mumbled, eyelid fluttering. "M'tired." Karen nodded. "I know, sweetie. Let's get you some gauze." She unwrapped a piece of gauze. "Bite down on this," she instructed gently. Plankton's tiny mouth opened, and he took the gauze between his teeth, his eye fluttering shut as he felt the softness against his swollen gums. The warmth of the water and the gentle pressure of the cloth brought him a semblance of comfort. "Mm...better," he murmured, his voice a sleepy whisper. With Plankton's mouth now clean and gauzed, they carefully guided him to the bedroom. They managed to get Plankton into bed. Karen arranged the blankets around him, her movements careful and tender. Plankton's single eyelid fluttered open. "M'good," he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen chuckled. "Rest now," she said, her voice a gentle tide. "Spongey will stay with you." "M'kay," Plankton murmured, his eyelid slipping shut. Sponge Bob settled into the chair beside the bed, his eyes never leaving his friend. "You just sleep, Planky," he whispered, his voice like the soft lapping of waves. Plankton's snores grew deeper, the sound of his breathing rhythmic and soothing. Karen leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "Rest well, my love," she said, her voice a gentle murmur. Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide as he took in the quiet room. He sat up straight in the chair, his eyes darting to the sleeping Plankton. "Okay, Planky," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble of the ocean floor. "I'm here. No more tweef for you." Plankton's snores grew softer, his body relaxing into the embrace of the bed. In the quiet room, Plankton stirred, his snoreless breathing the only sound. Plankton's single eyelid eventually flickered open. "Mm...wha?" he mumbled, his voice still thick. Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide. "It's ok, Planky," he whispered, his voice a soft ripple. Plankton's eye blinked rapidly, trying to focus on his surroundings. "What...what happen'd?" he mumbled, his speech still wobbly like jelly on a plate. Sponge Bob leaned closer. "You had your wisdom teeth removed," he whispered, his voice a gentle nudge. "Remember?" Plankton's eye squinted, his brain working to piece together the fragments of the day. "Mm...teef?" he murmured, his voice a foggy memory. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. "Yes, Planky, no more tweef," he whispered, his voice a gentle echo in the quiet room. Plankton's eye widened, his mind racing. "I...I don't remember anything," he said, his voice still thick. Sponge Bob nods. "Don't worry, Planky," he whispered, his voice a warm current. "You're all fixed up now. No more tweef to worry about." "But...but how?" he mumbled, his voice a distant echo. Sponge Bob chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You were sleeping like a rock," he whispered, his voice a playful bubble. Plankton's curiosity piqued despite his grogginess. "But...but how did I get here?" he slurred, a slow, meandering stream. "Karen brought you home after the surgery," he explained, his eyes as bright as the moon's reflection on the water. Plankton's eye fluttered as he tried to process the information. "Sur...surgery?" Sponge Bob nodded, his grin as wide as the ocean. "Yeah, Planky," he whispered. "You were out like a light!" Plankton's eye wandered around the room, his mind racing. "But, why'd I agwee to something like that? Nevermind; what are you doin’ here?" "I'm here to take care of you, Planky," he whispered. "And as for the surgery, well, your teeth were causing you a lot of trouble. You were pretty out of it. But Dr. Bubblefish said it's all over now, and you're going to be fine." Plankton's trying to remember. "Dr. Bubblefish? I remember the x-ray.." he mumbled, his voice like a distant echo. "That's right, Planky," he said. "But everything went well. You're all fixed up now."

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| 0:10⋆.˚🦋༘⋆lori yapping 🤫',SH♥''.,.what are we gonna do 𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥,..,'

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

📄×🍊🧃

3️

🥄 x .𖥔💜🕯 ݁˖

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

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

TRUTH AND NAIL iii Karen felt his weight shifting, his body swaying towards sleep again. “Stay with me, Plankton,” she murmured, her voice a gentle prod to keep his consciousness afloat. He blinked, his eye trying to focus on her face. “Wha...?” he mumbled, his words trailing off like a forgotten melody. Karen's tightened. “You’re okay, Plankton,” she whispered, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness of the room. “You’re just tired from the surgery, that’s all.” But even as she spoke, Plankton’s head lolled to the side, his mouth open slightly, drooling. Karen reached over and wiped it away, her fingers coming back wet. "It's normal for them to nod off like this," the nurse assured Karen with a kind smile. “Let’s walk to your car..” But as they shuffled along, Plankton’s knees buckled, and he slumped against Karen, his mouth falling open in a deep snore. Her arms tightened around his waist, her strength supporting his sudden weakness. "Wha...?" Plankton mumbled, his eye fluttering open, his mind trying to catch up with his surroundings. "You okay?" Karen asked. His head bobbed slightly, nodding in sleepy agreement. But as they shuffled closer to the exit, his knees buckled again, and he was out cold. Karen's grip tightened, keeping him from collapsing. The nurse chuckled softly, "It's okay, Mrs. Plankton. This happens a lot after the anesthesia. Wake up, Mr. Plankton.." But Plankton's snores only grew louder, his head lolling onto Karen's shoulder. Her laugh was a gentle sigh as she looked at his peaceful face, marred only by the occasional dribble of saliva. "Come on, love," Karen whispered, her voice a soft nudge. "Let's get you to the car." With the nurse's help, they managed to make him stir in his sleep. Plankton's eye cracked open, his gaze unfocused and glazed. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice a slurred whisper. Her eyes searched his, the love in them a beacon in the starkness of the hospital corridor. "You're okay, sweetie," she said, her voice a gentle reminder. But Plankton's response was a snore, his head lolling forward again. Karen's grip tightened, his weight leaning heavily on her. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered, her voice a caress in the air. The nurse chuckled. "It's just the anesthesia," she assured Karen. "Let's get him to the car." Plankton's eye snapped open, his mind fighting to wake up. But each step was a battle against the fog. Karen's arms wrapped around him, her grip firm and loving. His legs threatened to give out, his knees like jelly, but she held him upright. "Come on, darling," she cooed, her voice a beacon through the haze. "Almost there." They made it to the car, Plankton's snores filling the quiet of the parking lot. The nurse opened the back door, and Karen managed to get him sitting upright, his head lolling to one side. "Wha...?" he mumbled, his eye opening a crack. "We're going home," Karen soothed, her voice a soft song. She fastened the seatbelt around him, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. As she drove, Plankton fought to keep his eye open, his head drooping forward before jerking back up with a snort. "You okay back there?" Karen called over her shoulder, her eyes on the road. A faint snore was his only reply, his head lolling against the headrest. She chuckled, a mix of concern and affection, her screen flitting to the rearview mirror. His mouth was still open, a string of drool connecting his bottom lip to his chin. Karen reached back, carefully wiping it away with a tissue. Plankton's face twitched in his sleep, but he remained oblivious to her touch. The car's gentle hum lulled him further, his snores punctuating the silence of the drive.

NEW REALITY iii (Autistic author) "You know, Plankton," she starts, trying to keep the conversation going, "you've always been so clever with your inventions. Maybe this is just your brain working in overdrive, processing everything faster than ever before." He nods, his eyes still glued to the fan. "Fast," he agrees, his hand moving in the same repetitive motion. "Like fan." Karen tries to keep her voice even as she sits beside him. "You're right," she says, smiling. "It is fast." Plankton's hand stops moving for a moment, then resumes the wave-like motion. "Fast," he agrees, his eye never leaving the fan's rotation. Karen watches him, her mind racing. Could it be that he's just really focused on the fan? Maybe his brain is working differently now, focusing on details that she's always missed. She tries to find comfort in this explanation, but the emptiness in his gaze unsettles her. She reaches for his arm, hoping to ground him, to bring his attention back to her. But his hand jerks away, his movements quick and erratic. "Plankton, honey, are you okay?" she asks, her voice tight with worry. His eye flicks to her for a brief moment before returning to the fan. "Karen," he says, his tone flat and emotionless. "Water. Thanks." He takes another sip, his hand shaking slightly as he sets the glass down. Karen's heart clenches, wishing she could take his pain away. Maybe he's just overwhelmed, she tells herself. Maybe all this spinning is a way for him to calm down, to make sense of the world again. "Plankton," she says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Look at me." He does, his eye meeting hers with a flicker of something she can't quite place. "You know, you can tell me anything." He nods, his gaze flicking back to the fan. "Tell Karen," he repeats, his voice a monotone echo. Karen's mind is racing, but she keeps her tone calm. "Plankton, sweetie, what do you mean?" He points to the fan again. "Fan. Spin. Like." His words come out slowly, as if he's trying to piece together a puzzle. Karen nods, her heart racing. "Yes, the fan spins. It's like when you tell me your grand plans for the Krabby Patty formula," she says, trying to draw him back into their shared world. But Plankton's eye doesn't even flicker at the mention of his lifelong obsession. Instead, he starts to rock slightly, his hand moving back and forth in the same pattern. "Spin. Fan," he mumbles, his voice a distant echo. Karen tries to ignore the fear creeping into her voice. "Plankton, what's going on? Why are you doing this?" Plankton's hand stops moving for a moment, then starts again. "Fan," he murmurs. "Spin." Karen's mind is racing, but she tries to stay calm. "It's okay, Plankton," she says soothingly, her hand still on his shoulder. "The fan is spinning. It's a simple machine, doing what it's meant to do." He nods, his gaze still locked on the fan's blades. "Spin. Yes." His voice is flat. Karen swallows hard, trying to find the right words. Maybe if she can get him to focus on something else, he'll snap out of this strange behavior. "LOOK AT ME!" She grabs his wrists.. Startled, Plankton's eye darts to hers, his pupil wide with shock. "Karen?" he asks, his voice tinged with anger. "Karen scaring Plankton." He says, his eye welling up with tears as he starts crying. Karen's heart shatters, she didn't mean to scare him, she just wanted to get through to his old self. "I'm sorry," she whispers, pulling him into a tight hug. "It's okay." Plankton's sobs are muffled against her chest, his body stiff and unyielding. Her eyes fill with tears as she tries to soothe him, rubbing his back in small, gentle circles. "It's okay," she repeats, desperation lacing her words. "You're okay." He pulls away slightly, looking up at her. "Karen, sad," he says, his voice still flat. "Why Karen sad?" Karen sniffs, wiping away her tears. "I'm just... worried about you." Plankton's eye widens, his expression unchanged. "Worry?" he questions, as if tasting the word. Karen nods, her heart heavy. "Yes, worry. It's when someone cares about you and is concerned about your well-being." Plankton nods, but his gaze slides back to the fan. "Fan spin," he says, his voice monotonous. Karen sighs, trying to redirect his focus. "Plankton, let's talk about something else. Like, what do you want to do today?" He blinks, his hand still waving. "Do today?" he echoes. "Fan spin." Karen's stomach drops. Maybe he's just fixated on the fan, but something in his voice sends a shiver down her spine. "Plankton," she says softly, her hand still on his back. "I know you're not feeling like yourself right now, but can you try to focus on me for one minute?" "One minute, sixty seconds," Plankton murmurs, his hand continuing its rhythmic dance. "Yes, that's right," Karen encourages, despite the sinking feeling in her chest. "Can you tell me what you see?" Plankton looks at her, his expression still eerily blank. "See Karen," he says, his voice devoid of warmth. "See bed. See wall." Karen's eyes widen as realization hits her. He's not just fixated on the fan; he's taking everything she says literally. "Plankton, I'm not sad about the fan spinning. I'm sad because you're not acting like you." He looks at her, then at the fan, then back at her. "Fan spin," he repeats, his eye searching hers for understanding. "No, no, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm sad because you're not okay." She takes a deep breath. "You're not you." He nods, his hand still moving. "Plankton okay," he insists. "Karen sad." Karen's heart breaks a little more. "I know you think you're okay," she says, her voice trembling. "But you're acting differently, sweetie. You're not the same." She decided to scan his brain. The brain scan results come back, and Karen stares. There it is, stark and clear: acquired Autism It's not something they can reverse.

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

🗿

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KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iii (Autistic author) The sound of the door opening interrupted. Sandy barged in. "Hey, Karen!" she called out. "Hi, Sandy; come in.." Karen says. Sandy looked over at Plankton sitting at the kitchen table, his plate empty, his gaze fixed on the spot where his food had been. "Hey, Plankton!" she exclaimed, as he got up to go sit on the living room floor with a science book. She followed him. "What's up, buddy?" she asked, her voice cheerful. But Plankton ignored her, his focus solely on the pages in front of him. Karen watched their interaction with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Plankton, you ok?" Sandy's voice grew softer, her eyes narrowing as she studied her friend. "You seem... different." Karen tensed, waiting for his response. Plankton didn't look up from his book, his eye scanning the pages. "Plankton?" Sandy tried again, her voice a mix of confusion and concern. But Plankton remained oblivious, his new condition rendering him unable to read social cues. "Why?" he asked, his tone matter-of-fact, as if inquiring about the weather. Sandy's smile faltered. "Well, you're just sitting there, not saying anything," she said, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. Plankton didn't look up from his book. "Reading," he said, his voice devoid of any inflection. Sandy's confusion grew into hurt. "Is everything ok?" she asked, her voice tentative. Plankton, still engrossed in his book, didn't look up. "Ok," he murmured. Sandy's known Plankton for years, but his behavior today was unlike anything she had ever seen. Karen prompts him. "Plankton, say hello to Sandy." He glances up from his book, his gaze passing over her without recognition. "Say, say hi Sandy," he says, his voice lacking any warmth. Sandy's smile fades, her paws clenching slightly with irritation. "What's gotten into you, Plankton?" she snaps, her voice sharper than she had intended. "You're acting like you don't even know me!" Karen's circuits whir with activity. "Sandy, it's okay," she hesitates, not quite sure how to explain without revealing the truth. "I'll go pick up some soda pop drinks." She says, leaving them both. Sandy watches her leave, her expression a mix of anger and hurt. She turns to Plankton. "What's your deal, Plankton?" she asks, her voice tight. "You've been acting weird ever since I got here." Plankton's eye snaps to hers, his gaze unnervingly intense. "Weird," he repeats, as if processing the word for the first time. "Different." Sandy's anger bubbles to the surface. "Yeah, you're different. You're ignoring me!" she exclaims, her paws on her hips. Plankton's expression doesn't change. "Reading," he says simply. Her frustration grows. "You're always reading, Plankton," Sandy says, her voice rising. "But you've never ignored me like this before!" Plankton's eye blinks, his focus shifting to her. "Sorry," he says, the word a mere echo of what he used to express. It's clear his social awareness has shifted. He doesn't understand the subtleties of her emotions anymore. Sandy's hurt turns to anger. "You don't just say sorry and go back to ignoring me," she snaps. "What's going on with you?" But Plankton seems lost in his own world, the words on the pages of his book more real to him than the friend standing before him. Sandy's patience wears thin. "Why aren't you listening to me?" she demands. "Listening," Plankton murmurs, his gaze never leaving the book. Sandy's eyes widen, her anger building. "I'm right here!" she says, her voice a mix of frustration and sadness. "What is so important that you can't even look at me?" But Plankton's mind is elsewhere, his thoughts racing through the pages of his book. The words swim before his eye, each line a puzzle waiting to be solved. He's oblivious to Sandy's hurt, his world now filtered through a new, more intense lens. Sandy's voice pierces through his concentration, her tone sharp. "I said, why aren't you listening to me?" Plankton looks up, his eye dilating slightly as he takes in Sandy's stance. He tries to interpret her body language. "Plankton reading," he says, his voice still flat, his gaze drifting back to the book. Sandy's eyes flash with anger. "That's not what I asked, Plankton!" she says, her voice rising. "What's going on with you? Why are you ignoring me?" Plankton's gaze flicks back to her, his expression still vacant. "Reading," he repeats. The word feels like a shield, a way to explain the inexplicable. Sandy's eyes narrow, her paws snatching the book from his grasp. Plankton's eye widens in surprise at the sudden movement. He tries to retrieve the book, body moving in jerky motions. "Book," he says, his voice still monotone. Sandy holds it out of reach. "Look at me Plankton!" Plankton's arms flail, his body straining to retrieve the book. "Book," he says, his voice desperate, his mind overwhelmed. Sandy, unable to understand feels her own anger flare up. "What's your problem?" she snaps, holding the book higher. "You're acting like a little kid!" Plankton's eye locks onto the book. "Mine," he whispers, voice strained. Sandy's seen him at his worst, but this is something she can't comprehend. "I'm not a toy for you to ignore!" she shouts. She hid the book on a high shelf. Plankton's body tenses. "Mine," he repeats, his voice rising in desperation. Sandy's eyes fill with tears of frustration. "Why are you acting like this?" He stands up, his body shaking. "MINE," he shouts. "What's gotten into you? Why are you being like this?" Plankton's eye darts around the room, unable to hold Sandy's gaze. "Plankton, you're acting like a complete jerk," Sandy says, her voice shaking. "No wonder Karen is always so tired with you." "Karen," Plankton murmurs. "Karen ok?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. Sandy throws her arms in the air, exasperated. "How can you be so selfish? Don't you know that Karen is sick of you?" "Sick of me?" he echoes. "Yes, sick of you," she snaps. "Why don't you try acting normal? Perhaps then Karen would be happier! Or better yet, leave her!" The words hang in the air like a toxic cloud, their sting hitting Plankton's core. But his new brain can't process the depth of her anger. "Karen happy," he whispers, his voice a broken echo of his former self. Sandy's eyes flash with rage. "You don't know anything," she spits out, her words like acid. "You're just a selfish, self-centered plankton who doesn't care about how Karen feels!" Plankton's concepts of "selfish" and "sick of" are foreign to his new way of thinking. He tries to find the patterns in her words, the logic in her accusations, but it's like trying to solve an impossible equation. "No," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Karen not sick of me?" "You really don't get it, do you?" she says, her voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "You're so caught up you can't see what's right in front of you! Karen doesn't deserve this!" Plankton's eye narrows slightly, his mind struggling to piece together the puzzle of her emotions. "Karen happy," he repeats, his voice strained. Sandy's anger turns to despair. "You don't even know what you're saying," she says, her voice heavy. "You're so wrapped up in your own little world that you can't see how much Karen does for you, and how much you hurt her." As if on cue, Karen returns with coffee. "I'm back," she says, her voice a gentle hum. She notices the tension in the room and Plankton's distress. "Is everything ok?" she asks, placing the drinks on the table. Sandy glares at Plankton. "No," she says, her voice shaking. "Everything is not ok. Plankton's been acting weird all morning and, I told him how you're always tired of him, and he just doesn't get it." Karen takes in the scene. She tries to intervene gently. "Sandy, I think there's something you should know," she begins, but Sandy cuts her off, turning to Plankton. "See? Even Karen thinks you're a burden!" Plankton's world shatters. Sandy's words hit him like a tidal wave, her accusations sinking into his new reality. His teary gaze locks onto Karen, desperation in his voice. "Burden?" he croaks. Karen's circuits racing as she tries to smooth over the situation. "No, Sandy," she says, her voice calm but firm. "That's not what I said." "Don't lie to me, Karen," Sandy snaps, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "I can see you've had enough and if Plankton can't see that, then perhaps it's best if he just leaves." Karen's circuits race with a mix of emotions - anger at Sandy's accusations, sadness at Plankton's distress, and fear of what this means for their friendship. "That's not true," she says, yet Plankton's searching for any hint of deception. Sandy's eyes are steely, her body language confrontational. "Why don't you just leave her alone?" she spits out, her voice thick with frustration. Plankton stands up, his sobs echoed through the corridor as he runs back to the bedroom, shutting the door with a thud. "Sandy that was uncalled for," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. Sandy's anger turns to surprise. "What are you talking about?" she says. "I'm just telling the truth.." Karen's expression is a mix of sorrow and anger, her voice tight. "You don't know what he's going through." Sandy's anger fades, replaced by confusion. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice softer. Karen takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she had been dreading. "Plankton had an accident, hit his head on the vault and got knocked out." Sandy's in shock. "What? Is he ok?" she asks. Karen sighs, her shoulders slumping. "Plankton has autism now," she says. "He can't help the way he's acting." The revelation hits Sandy like a ton of bricks. The realization of her own harshness crashes over her. "Oh no," she murmurs, her eyes filling with tears. "I had no idea." Her gaze drifts to the closed bedroom door. "What have I done?" she whispers, her voice cracking.

CHIP AND THE DILEMMA iii (Autistic author) | ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ | Chip looks at Plankton, his dad's face a mask of pain. He's never seen him look so vulnerable, and it makes his own chest ache. "But why can't you just be like everyone else?" he asks, not fully understanding. Plankton's antennae droop even further. "Chip, everyone is different," he says, his voice weak. "And that's what makes us all..." But Chip doesn't want his dad to be like that.. He looks away. "Chip," Plankton says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at me." When Chip meets his father's gaze, he sees the pain in his eye, the desperation to make his son understand. But Chip is too caught up in his own. "You're not like other dads," Chip spits out, the words sharp and cutting. "You're weak." The hurt on Plankton's face is palpable, but Chip's mind is too clouded with fear and confusion to care. Plankton's antennae droop, his shoulders slumping. "Chip," he starts, but his voice cracks. Chip's eyes fill with tears, his voice harsh. "I don't want a dad who's unfixable!" He says, the word sticking in his throat like a shard of glass. The room goes still, the air crackling with tension. Plankton recoils as if struck, his antennae flattening against his head. "Chip," Karen says, her voice sharp with warning. "That's not a nice thing to say." But Chip's anger isn't easy to douse. "You're not my dad," he yells, the words echoing off the walls. "My dad is supposed to be strong, and normal, not... like you, who should’ve never existed in the first place." The room goes silent, the weight of Chip's words like a tonne of bricks on Plankton's chest. He looks at his son, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. He's never felt so misunderstood, so... less. Karen's screen is a mix of disbelief and anger. She's always known Chip to be a good kid, but this... this is not her son. "Chip, that's enough," she says, her voice shaking. But Chip's rage has overtaken him. "Why did you have to marry him?" he snaps at her, the tears spilling over. "Why couldn't we just get a normal dad?" Karen's eyes widen in shock, her hand rising to her mouth. "Chip," she says, her voice trembling. "You don't mean that." But Chip's anger doesn't subside. "Yes, I do!" He yells, his fists clenched at his sides. "Why can't you be like other moms and marry a real dad?" The room feels like it's closing in on Plankton, his heart pounding in his chest. He's never felt so small, so unworthy. The air is thick with the scent of burnt dinner forgotten in the kitchen, and the taste of his own failure is bitter in his mouth. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words are stuck in his throat. All he can manage is a weak "Chip..." his antennae trembling. Karen stands, her face a mixture of shock and anger. "Chip, that's enough," she says, her voice firm. "You need to apologize to your father." Chip turns, his screen flashing with defiance. "Oh, sorry," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize that marrying a broken person was a good idea. I guess I'll just have to deal with it. I’m sorry Sheldon Plankton was born wrong. You know, I might just make sure not to have any kids who isn’t right in the head, they don’t deserve to…" "CHIP!" Karen's voice is a whipcrack, cutting off his words. She's never raised her voice to him like this before, and the shock of it sends his anger reeling back. The room seems to spin around Plankton, his vision blurring. He can't believe what he's hearing—his own son, the light of his life, speaking such cruel words. He's failed as a father, as a husband. He's failed them all. Chip's eyes widen, seeing the devastation on his dad's face. For the first time, he truly understands the power of his words, the hurt they can cause. "I-I…" But it’s too late. Plankton stands, his legs wobbly. "I'll be in my room," he mumbles, turning away. Chip sinks as he watches his father leave, the weight of his words pressing down on him. He looks at his mother, her screen a mask of disappointment and hurt. "Mom..." Karen's eyes are filled with unshed tears. "You need to go apologize to your dad," she says, her voice shaking. "What you said was..." But they hear a crash from the next room. Karen and Chip rush to find Plankton in a frenzy. The sight that greets them is one of destruction. Chip's school projects, carefully crafted over weeks, are scattered across the floor. Plankton, his eye wild with a mix of anger and despair, is in the middle of the wreckage. He's holding one of Chip's favorite toys in his hand, ready to smash it against the wall, tears streaming down. "Dad, no!" Chip yells, his fear and regret swirling into a single, desperate plea. But Plankton doesn't seem to hear him. He's lost in a world of pain and confusion, his movements erratic as he continues to wreak havoc. Karen rushes to Plankton's side, her voice firm but gentle. "Plankton, stop," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. But even her touch is too much. He flinches, his grip on the toy tightening. "Leave me alone!" he roars, swinging his arm wildly. The toy narrowly misses a picture of the two of them, shattering the glass frame instead. "Dad, please," Chip begs, his voice thick with tears. But Plankton doesn't stop, his movements growing more frenzied with each passing second. It's like he's lost in a storm of his own making, unable to see or hear the world around him. Karen tries again, her voice softer now. "Plankton, it's okay. We're here for you." He grabs another project, Chip's solar system model, the one he was so excited to help with. It feels like a mockery now, a symbol of all the times he's failed to be the dad he thought Chip deserved. With a snarl, he throws it across the room. The planets scatter like a handful of dust in the wind. "Dad, please," Chip whispers, his screen pleading. But Plankton can't hear him over the roar in his own mind. His body moves of its own accord, driven by a rage he can't control. He snatches up another project, a robot Chip had been working on for weeks. He slams it to the floor, his eyes glazed over. The robot's parts fly everywhere, the sounds of breaking plastic like a symphony of pain in the quiet room. Chip watches in horror. He can't believe what's happening. This isn't his dad—his hero, his rock. This is a stranger, someone he doesn't know. He tries to reach for Plankton, to stop him, but his mother holds him back. "Let me," she whispers, her voice firm but gentle. "He needs space." But Chip can't just stand there and watch his world fall apart. He has to do something. "Dad, please," he begs, his voice shaking. Plankton's movements are sporadic, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he continues to destroy everything in sight. It's like he's to erase his existence from their lives. Chip's screen follows the wreckage, each broken piece of his heart reflected in the shattered mess. His projects, his dreams, his connection to his father—all of it crushed under the weight of Plankton's pain. Plankton's hand hovers over the last item on the table, a half-finished puzzle they'd been working on together. It's the one thing in the room that's still intact, a symbol of their shared moments, now threatened by his father's erratic actions. "Dad," Chip says, his voice shaking. "It's okay. It's just stuff. We can fix it." But Plankton won’t hear him, his eye wild with a frenzy that seems to consume him whole. He reaches for the puzzle, his hand shaking. "No," Chip whispers, welling up. But it's too late. With one swift movement, Plankton sends the pieces flying in every direction, scattering like the shattered pieces of their once-happy home. Chip flinches at the sound, aching as he watches his dad's breakdown unfold. He's never seen Plankton like this—so out of control, so lost. And it’s all because of Chip... "Dad," he says, his voice barely audible. "Please stop." But Plankton's rage is a freight train, unstoppable. Karen's screen darts around the room, searching for a way to diffuse the situation. She is breaking for both her son and her husband. She knows the pain Plankton is in, yet she can't bear to see Chip hurt like this. "Chip, go to your room," she says, her voice shaking. "I need to talk to your father." But Chip can't move. He's rooted to the spot, his eyes glued to the heartbreaking scene before him. Plankton's breathing is ragged, his movements jerky as he picks up another item, a science book they'd read together countless times. "Dad," Chip whispers, his voice hoarse with fear. "It's okay. You don't have to..." But Plankton doesn't hear him. The book meets the same fate as the puzzle, pages fluttering like leaves in a storm. Karen's screen is wet with tears as she watches her family fall apart. She knows she has to intervene, but how? She's seen his meltdowns before, but never like this.. "Plankton," she says firmly, taking a step forward. "Look at me." She holds out a hand, offering him a lifeline in the chaos he's created.

<3˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆🤝🔴🖱️©©©

I love you 💗🫶🏽💕🤍i️

🖌 X 💡 lightbulb x painty!!

CHIP AND FAIL ii (Autistic author) "And then there's my roommate, Jake," Chip went on as he nudged Plankton. Plankton felt the nudge like a sledgehammer, the vibration reverberating through his bones, his body visibly taut. "He's got a pet named Steve," Chip said, laughing, "and he taught me how to play the guitar!" Plankton's eye grew larger, his heart racing as the room spun around him. He felt like his mind was being invaded by a swarm of jellyfish, buzzing with every word, every touch. But Chip was in his element, his words tumbling out. "And we had a food fight!" Chip said, slapping his hand down on the bed, sending waves of pain through Plankton's overstimulated nervous system. He swallowed a cry, his hands gripping the sheets. "It was like a battle royale with spaghetti!" Chip's laughter filled the room, but Plankton couldn't find it in himself to laugh. The noise, the motion, the smells - it was all too much. His mind was racing, trying to keep up but he was losing the battle. He needed silence, darkness, a chance to reset. But Chip was still talking, still touching, still demanding his attention. He felt trapped. "And then, get this, Dad," Chip said, slapping his knee with each new anecdote. "There's this professor..." Plankton knew he needed to tell Chip to slow down, to give him space, but more Chip talked, the less he could comprehend. His mind was a whirlwind of sensory input, spinning out of control. Chip, not noticing, was still grinning, his screen sparkling with joy, voice rising with excitement. But Plankton was no longer listening. His eye had glazed over, his mind a tangled web of sensory overload. He couldn't even hear Chip anymore. Chip, noticing the lack of response, paused. "Dad?" he said, his voice softening with concern as he poked him with his finger, adding to the cacophony of sensory input that engulfed and drowned Plankton. Chip, puzzled by his dad's lack of response, leaned in closer, his face a picture of innocent curiosity. "Isn't that amazing, Dad?" He asked, placing his hand on Plankton's arm again. The room was spinning, the sounds of Chip's voice and the memory of his stories a cacophony, his chest tight. "Dad?" Chip's voice grew quiet, his smile slipping away as he noticed his father's distress. He had never seen Plankton like this before, so still.. "Are you okay?" He asked, genuinely concerned. But his question was like another explosion of light and sound to Plankton. But Chip, in his excitement, misinterpreted. He leaned in even closer, his hand landing gently on Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's body constricted, unblinking. The pressure of Chip's hand was a heavy weight, and the softness of his voice was a scream in Plankton's overwhelmed ears. He couldn't speak, couldn't move.. Chip's eyes grew wide with concern as he watched his dad. He had never seen Plankton like this, so silent and unresponsive. Was he ok? Did he say something wrong? The doubt grew in his chest. "Dad?" He ventured again, his voice smaller than it had been. Plankton's body was a statue, his eye fixed somewhere beyond the room. Chip's hand hovered over his arm, uncertain of what to do. "Dad, are you okay?" He asked, his voice trembling. He had never seen his dad so silent. Plankton's body is rigid and unyielding. He can't understand why his dad isn't responding, why he isn't laughing at the funny stories or asking questions about his college life. "Dad?" Chip says again, his voice more tentative now. He reaches out to shake Plankton's shoulder. Something's wrong, he can feel it. He didn't know Plankton has reached a breaking point, and his mind shuts down in self-defense. He can't process anything, not even the love in Chip's voice. "What's wrong with you!" Chip asks, his eyes wide with confusion and hurt. He had only wanted to share his excitement, to connect with his dad after being away for a week. But Plankton's reaction was like nothing he had ever seen before. Plankton's unable to decipher Chip's words or the concern etched into his features. Chip's scanning Plankton's expression for some clue, some sign of what was happening. "Dad, talk to me," Chip pleads, his hand resting on frozen Plankton's shoulder. Nothing. He's expressionless. Panic starts to bloom in Chip. "Dad, say something!" He begs, his hands shaking. Plankton remains motionless, his eye unfocused. Chip's mind races, trying to understand, trying to piece together what he could've done wrong. The silence stretches between them, taut as a bowstring. Plankton's face remains an unreadable mask. Chip's thoughts tumble over one another, trying to remember anything that could've triggered this. He knew his dad was a bit of an introvert, needy of his space, but this was beyond that. The room felt claustrophobic, the air thick with unspoken words. "Dad, you're scaring me," he whispers, his voice cracking. "What's going on?" Plankton's trapped in his own body, a prison of sensory overload. The room seems to spin faster, the colors bleeding into one another. He can't find the words to explain. He wishes he could tell Chip to stop, to back away, but his tongue is a dead weight in his mouth. But Chip, his mind racing with worry, doesn't understand. He's never seen his dad like this before. "Dad?" He says again, his voice shaking with fear. "You're not moving." In a moment of desperation, Chip grabs Plankton's hand, trying to shake him out of his trance. "Please, Dad, talk to me," he whispers, his grip tight. But Plankton's hand is cold and stiff, like holding onto a mannequin's. Chip's face falls, his eyes filling with tears. "What's wrong, Dad?" He sobs, his voice thick with fear. Plankton feels the warmth of Chip's hand, the pressure of his grip, but he's trapped in a world of sensory overload, unable to move or speak. His heart aches with the pain of his son's distress, but his body won't cooperate. He desperately tries to break through the fog, to tell Chip he's okay, that he loves him. But even his consciousness is frozen now. Chip's sobs grew louder, his shoulders shaking with each breath. "Please, Dad, please," he whimpers, his eyes brimming with tears. The weight of his father's unresponsive hand in his own was like a stone, dragging him down into a pit of fear. He didn't know his dad was autistic, didn't know the silent torture he was enduring. Plankton's heart was a caged bird, flapping its wings against the walls of his overwhelmed mind. He wished he could tell Chip that he was okay, that he loved him, but his thoughts were a tangled web, catching and trapping every sensation until he couldn't move. Chip's grip tightened, his voice desperate. "Dad, please," he sobbed. But Plankton remained unresponsive, his mind a hurricane of stimuli. The weight of Chip's hand on his shoulder was unbearable, each touch a bolt of lightning striking his already fried nervous system. The room was spinning, the colors blurring into a swirl of chaos. Chip's voice grew louder, more insistent, his touches more frequent as he tried to pull his dad out of his silent world, his grip on Plankton's arm tightening. But Plankton's body was a statue. "Dad, please, say something," Chip whispered, his voice choked with sobs. Chip's face crumpled as he concluded his dad wasn't okay. He never saw him like this, so silent and still. But the more Chip talked, the more he touched, the deeper Plankton sank into his overloaded state. Plankton's body remained still. He didn't understand why his dad was so unresponsive. His heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. Chip leaned in closer, his eyes searching Plankton's for some glimmer of recognition, some sign that he was okay, desperate for any sign of life. "Dad, you're scaring me," he choked out, his grip on Plankton's hand becoming frantic. Plankton's heart was racing, but his body remained still as a statue, the storm inside his mind unseen by his son. "Please, Dad, talk to me," Chip pleaded, tears rolling down his cheeks. In his panic, Chip didn't realize his touches were only adding to Plankton's distress. His face crumpled as he realizes his dad, so still and unresponsive, is not okay. The room grew smaller, the air thicker with Chip's sobs. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice shaking. He didn't know how to help, didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that the man he loved was slipping away from him, and he was powerless to stop it. Plankton's mind was a tornado of sensation, each touch, each sound a knife slicing through the fragile silence he needed to survive. He wished he could tell Chip to just give him a minute, to let him find his calm. But the words were stuck in his throat, his mind a whirlwind of panic and confusion. Chip, unable to understand the storm happening inside his dad, felt a sinking dread. He had never seen Plankton like this, and his inability to connect with his father was like a punch to his gut. He tried to lighten the mood, to pull him out of his silent cocoon with a joke. "Remember when I accidentally turned your laboratory blue with that chemistry experiment?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. But it's not working. Plankton remained unmoving, his expression unchanged, lost in his own world of sensory overload. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the tumult in his mind. Chip's words were just more noise, more chaos to process. Chip's eyes searched his dad's face, desperation etched into every line of his youthful features. He didn't know about Plankton's autism, about the need for quiet and predictability to navigate the world. He only knew that his dad wasn't responding, and it was tearing him apart. He took a deep breath, trying to think of what to do. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on them like a heavy blanket. Then, suddenly, he had an idea.

NEW REALITY i (Autistic author) "You never listen to me, Karen," Plankton groused. "It's a new analyzer I just built! It'll reveal the contents of a patty when I put one in!" Karen, ever the skeptical wife, rolled her eyes. "You mean IF you put one in.." Plankton ignored her sarcasm, but with a deafening pop, the analyzer exploded, sending shards of metal flying in all directions. One of these sharp pieces slammed into Plankton's head, causing him to stumble back. Karen rushed to his side, pushing aside her initial irritation. Plankton's eye rolled back and closed as he crumpled to the floor. "Plankton! Plankton!" Karen's voice grew frantic as she cradled his tiny, limp body. The analyzer's explosion had caused more damage than she could have ever imagined, the injury had rewired his currently unconscious brain irreversibly: autism. Karen carries him to their bedroom, tucking him in his bed. "Plankton," she whispers, brushing his antennae, "Please wake up." But Plankton remains still. Karen sits by the bedside, her eyes never leaving his face. "I'll always be here," she murmurs, squeezing his hand. The quiet hum of their tiny underwater apartment is broken only by the rhythmic pulse of his breathing. Karen starts to think. If only she had taken his inventions more seriously, maybe this accident could have been avoided? She looks at the clock. It's midnight now. The hours tick by, each one lonelier than the last. Karen's thoughts are a tangled web of regrets and fears. What if Plankton never wakes up? Karen can't help but feel like a prisoner to her own guilt. She wonders what their life would be like now. Would Plankton be different? Would he still be the same eccentric genius, or would the injury change him completely? Will he remember her? The sun's first light filters through their bedroom window, casting a warm glow on Plankton's face. Karen's eyes snap open, having dozed off from exhaustion. She sees him stir, his eyelid fluttering. He groans, his eye opening slowly. Karen's heart races. He's alive! "K-Karen," he stammers, confused as to how he ended up in their room. The initial relief is quickly replaced with a knot in her stomach. His speech is stilted, his movements jerky. He tries to sit up, but the effort seems to overwhelm him. Karen reaches out to help, but he flinches at her touch. She notices his eye scanning the room with an intensity she's never seen before, as if he's trying to make sense of everything around him. "Plankton, it's okay," she says soothingly, trying not to let her anxiety seep into her voice. He turns to her, his gaze unfocused. "Karen?" he repeats, this time with more urgency. "What... what happened?" Her heart squeezes tight. "You had an accident with the new analyzer," she explains gently, keeping her voice calm. "It... it exploded and hit you.." Plankton looks around, his eye darting from object to object. "It's okay," Karen says, desperately trying to hold back the tears. "You're just a bit dizzy." But Plankton doesn't seem to be listening. He's too busy inspecting his surroundings, his eye darting around the room in a way that makes Karen feel like she's missing something. "Plankton, do you understand me?" Karen asks, her voice trembling slightly. He nods, but there's a distant look in his eye that makes her stomach drop. The way he's acting, it's like he's seeing their bedroom for the first time, like every detail is both fascinating and overwhelming. Plankton tries to get out of bed, but his legs wobble like jelly. Karen jumps up to support him, her arms wrapping around his thin frame. "Let's go slow," she suggests, guiding him back to the pillows. He simply nods. "Do you remember me?" Karen asks, desperation tinging her voice. His eye focus on her for a moment, then drift away again. "Yes," he says, but it's more of a question than an affirmation. "Karen, wife," he adds, his voice flat and devoid of the usual warmth and sarcasm. The words hang in the air like a lead weight, heavy with implications. Karen swallows the lump in her throat. "You're okay," she insists, as Plankton nods, looking around their bedroom when his gaze lands on the ceiling fan. His eye lights up, focusing intently on it. "Fan," he murmurs, as if discovering the concept for the first time. "Spinning. Round and round." Karen's heart sinks. "Plankton," she begins, her voice cracking, "You're acting different." She doesn't know how to explain what she's seeing, but she's scared of what it might mean. His eye doesn't quite meet hers, and his speech is so... mechanical. "Different?" he echoes, his voice a monotone. "No, the same Plankton." But the way he says it, like he's trying to convince himself, sends a chill down Karen's spine. She tries to shake off the fear, telling herself he's just groggy from the hit. But deep down, she knows it's more than that.

WHEN THE CHIP FALLS ii/ii (Autistic author) Karen takes a deep breath, preparing to explain. "You know how sometimes, when somethings made, things don't always develop as planned?" she starts, her eyes never leaving Chip's. "Well, Daddy's brain is like that. It's just how he was born." Plankton's shoulders slump, anger dissipating into a heavy sadness. He looks at his son, his heart aching. "It's hard for me to express how I feel," he says. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel it." Chip stares up at his father. "But why can't you just tell me?" he asks, trembling. "Why can't you just be like... normal dads?" The word "normal" hangs in the air and Plankton feels his rage reignite. "Don't you dare," he growls, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't you ever say that again." Chip takes a step back, his body shaking. "What did I say?" he whispers. But Plankton doesn't answer. He turns away, his movements stiff and jerking, as if he's fighting against invisible chains. Without a word, he storms out of the living room. The bedroom door slams shut with a finality that echoes through the house. Karen's gaze follows him, her heart heavy. Then she looks back at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she says firmly. "You can't just... expect him to change like that." Chip's eyes fill with understanding, his body slumping. "I didn't mean to..." he starts, his voice trailing off. "But I just want to spend time with him," he says, his voice small and defeated. Karen sighs, her gaze softening as she looks at her son. "I know, sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "But using the word 'normal' doesn't help. It makes Daddy feel like something's wrong with him, like he's not good enough." Chip's eyes widen, realizing his mistake. "I didn't mean it like that," he stammers, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I just want us to be happy together." Karen nods solemnly, her eyes holding his. "I know you do," she says, her voice gentle. "But words can hurt, especially when we don't understand the full weight they carry. Your father's not 'normal' in the way you think, but that doesn't mean his love for you is any less." Chip bites his lip, his eyes glued to the floor. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing he's hurt his dad. With a heavy sigh, Karen stands up. "Let's go talk to your father," she says, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. They walk down the hallway to Plankton's bedroom. The door is ajar, and through the crack, Karen can see Plankton's hunched form on the bed, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shake with silent sobs. Her heart aches for his pain. With Chip in tow, she pushes the door open. Plankton doesn't look up, his body wrapped in a cocoon of self-loathing. The room is a mess of discarded lab equipment and half-finished experiments, a visual representation of his tumultuous thoughts. "Plankton," Karen says softly, her voice a lifeline thrown into the sea of his despair. He doesn't move, his body rigid with the weight of his own emotions. Chip takes a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to touch his father's shoulder. "Dad?" he whispers. Plankton's body jolts, his sobs growing louder. Karen's heart clenches at the sound, knowing the depth of his pain. "Dad?" Chip's voice is tiny, his hand hovering over his father's back. He's never seen his dad like this, so vulnerable and broken. Plankton's sobs fill the room, each one a shard of pain that penetrates Karen's soul. Her heart breaks for her husband, for the struggle she knows he faces every day. Chip's hand shakes as he touches Plankton's shoulder, his voice a tiny thread of hope woven through the storm of emotions. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's sobs intensify, his body wracking with the weight of his sorrow. Karen moves to the bed, sitting down beside him, her hand on his back. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle breeze in the storm of his grief. But Plankton is beyond consolation. His sobs are like waves, crashing against the shore of his pride, eroding the barriers he's built up over the years. He can't speak, can't even look at his son. Chip's touch is a soft whisper in the hurricane of his father's pain, but it's enough to make Plankton's shoulders shake even harder. The weight of his emotions is too much, his body unable to contain the torrent. Karen wraps her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm within. She knows the feeling all too well, having been his anchor through so many of these moments. Plankton's sobs are like a language only she can understand. Chip watches, feeling helpless, his hand still hovering over his father's back. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. It's like looking into the eye of a hurricane and wishing you could stop it from spinning. "Daddy," Chip says again, his voice tiny, hopeful. Plankton's body tenses under his touch, and for a moment, it seems like the storm might abate. But the sobs only get louder, the tremors more violent. Karen's heart breaks as she sees the hurt in her son's eyes. "Let's give him some space, okay?" she says gently, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "Go wait, I'll take care of him." With a nod, Chip retreats, his eyes never leaving his father's bent form. Once he's gone, Karen wraps her arms around Plankton, holding him tightly as he cries. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his back in soothing circles. "It's okay. I'm here." Her voice is a lullaby in the tempest of his emotions, a beacon of calm in the chaos. Slowly, Plankton's sobs begin to subside, his body unclenching from its self-imposed prison. He lifts his face, eye red and wet with tears. "I just want..." he whispers, his voice raw with pain. Karen's eyes well up with tears, her heart aching for his suffering. "You are normal, Plankton," she says softly. "You're just different." Plankton's body quakes, his sobs subsiding into hiccups. "But Chip..." he chokes out. "He thinks... he thinks..." Karen's grip tightens, her voice firm and loving. "Chip's young," she says. "He doesn't understand yet. But we'll teach him." Plankton's sobs slowly ease, his breaths coming less ragged. He nods, his body still tense. "I know," he says, his voice a whisper. "But it hurts." Karen pulls him closer, aching for his pain. She kisses his cheek, her touch gentle the way she knows he likes it. "You're a good dad," she whispers, her voice the calm after the storm. "You show Chip that you're here for him, in your own way." Plankton's eye meets hers, his gaze searching for truth in her words. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice still thick with emotion. Karen nods, her heart full of love and sorrow. "Let's go talk to Chip," she says gently, standing up. Plankton wipes his eye, his body still trembling. He nods, following her out of the room, each step a monumental effort. In the hallway, Chip is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He looks up as they approach, his eyes red and swollen. "Dad," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. Plankton's steps falter, his heart in his throat. He forces himself to meet his son's gaze, the weight of his guilt a heavy burden. "I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice shaky. The words are a balm to Plankton's soul, his anger and pain receding like a retreating tide. He looks at Chip, his eye swollen with unshed tears, his heart heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to... I just..." Chip's eyes are red, his cheeks stained with tears. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a mere thread of sound. Plankton's heart clenches at the sight of his son's pain. He sits down next to Chip, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle him. "It's okay," he says, his voice shaky. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm not..." Chip looks up, his eyes swimming with tears. "You're not what?" he asks, his voice hopeful. Plankton sighs, trying to find the words. "I'm not like other dads," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't mean I don't l-love you, or that I don't want to be with you." Plankton's gaze drops to his son's small, trembling hand. "It's hard," he says, his voice tight with emotion. "I... I don't always know how to make you feel what's inside." Chip looks up at him, his eyes searching. "What's inside?" he asks, his voice tiny. Plankton's gaze meets his son's, and he sees the flicker of hope. "Love," he says finally, his voice cracking. "It's just... different." Chip's eyes widen with understanding, the fear fading from his eyes. "Can you show me?" he asks, his voice small but steady. Plankton nods, his body still tense with emotion. He thinks for a moment, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his love and his inability to express it. "Look," he says, pointing to a jar on the shelf. "I only like certain touches from certain people. But I'm the one who recommended we get that ice cream yesterday, right?" Chip nods, his eyes glistening with hope. "Yeah, you always know the perfect flavor." Plankton's smile is forced, but it's a start. He takes a deep, shaky breath. "And remember when you had that science fair project, and I helped you?" Chip nods, his eyes lit with memory. "You stayed up all night, making sure I got it just right." Plankton's smile is a little more genuine this time. "I did that because I care about you. I want you to be happy, even if I can't show it like everyone else." He reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering near Chip's. For a moment, it seems like he might withdraw again, like a snail retreating into its shell at the first sign of danger. But then, with a deep breath, he touches his son's shoulder, his fingers light and unsure. Plankton's hand trembles, his touch as gentle as a feather landing on Chip's shoulder before retreating. "Normal is over rated," he whispers, the word a promise. "But I do, in my own way."

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

Dr. McDermott's dental office. Plankton had been in surgery for wisdom teeth. The receptionist, a young woman named "Samantha," was going up to Karen. "Your husband is to be taken to the recovery," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. Karen nodded. Samantha led her down. Plankton was laid out on a narrow bed, his mouth open slightly. "He's still under," Samantha whispered, "but going to start bringing him out of it now. Waking is a gradual process so.." Karen nodded. She watched as a nurse approached, deftly adjusting tubes and machines connected to him. The nurse flicked a switch and began to decrease the flow. The anesthesia diminished. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically, his eye remained closed. Karen reached out and took his hand, her thumb brushing against his. She squeezed gently, hoping it might provide some comfort, or at least a thread of familiarity, as he began his journey back to consciousness. A few moments later, Plankton's hand twitched ever so slightly in response. "It's ok honey," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. A nurse, named Margaret, offered an assuring smile. "It's normal for it to take time. Just keep talking to him, it'll help." Karen leaned closer, her voice barely above a murmur. "Remember our first date?" she began. Plankton's snore was the only response. "Don't worry, he'll come around soon. Anesthesia can take a while to wear off. And when he does, he'll be groggy. It's like waking up from a deep sleep." Her thoughts drifted to Plankton's snoring, a comforting sound. She squeezed his hand again, trying to will him to wake with her touch. Then, to her surprise, she heard a murmur. "Mm, chum... so... much... chum..." The nurse, Margaret, gave her a knowing look. "It's common for patients to talk in their sleep as they come out of it. Sometimes they say the darndest things." Karen smiles. "Chum?" she repeated, "Is that what you're dreaming about?" "Needff... chum..." "You're ok," she whispered, her voice filled with relief. "You're just dreaming, sweetie." "Chum... I... I nee to... get ith," he slurred. Karen's smile grew, his nonsensical words bringing a small spark of comfort. "You're dreaming about work," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. The nurse, Margaret, checked the monitors and nodded. "His vitals look good. He'll be fine," she assured. "Remember the first time you made me a Patty?" she asked, her voice soothing. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. "Ith... Ith was’at..." he mumbled. It wasn't often she heard him express his feelings so openly, especially not about her. "What was it, honey?" she prompted, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Youw... youwre the... the besht... the... besht..." his voice trailed off again into snores. Karen chuckled with affection. It was clear he was talking about her, despite the garbled speech. She leaned in closer. "I'm right here," she whispered. Plankton's sleep-talk grew, his grip on her hand tightening. "Pro-tec... the secret... chum... fwom... Plankton..." "You're safe," she said, her voice a soothing whisper. "You don't have to worry about the recipe now." Plankton's slurred words continued. "Fwom... Plankton... ith... ith... my... my... hearth..." It was almost as if he was speaking to it, whispering sweet nothings in his sleep. "Your... your heart?" she repeated uncertainly, trying to make sense of his words. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his hand still clutching hers tightly. A faint moan escaped Plankton's lips, and his eye began to flutter open. His eye searched the room, unfocused and glazed. He blinked slowly, a look of confusion spreading across his face. The nurse stood by, monitoring, ready to intervene if needed. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. She squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. "Hi, sweetie. It's all over now. You're in the recovery room." Plankton's eye searched hers, still clouded with sleep. "Wha... wha' happen'd?" he managed to ask. "You had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen said softly. "You're ok now." Plankton's eye grew clearer as his mind slowly surfaced from the depths of unconsciousness. He blinked again, looking around the room. "Why... why awe youw smiling?" "You were talking in your sleep," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. "It was just sweet." Plankton's eye searched hers. "Wha'did I shay?" "You said a lot of things," she replied, her smile lingering. "But the most important part was that you said I was the best." The corner of Plankton's mouth twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice still slurred. "Well, thath's twue." With Margaret's help, Karen managed to get Plankton into a more upright position. His head lolled slightly before he found his bearings, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "How do you feel?" Karen asked, her voice full of concern. "Woozy," Plankton mumbled. With Margaret's guidance, Karen helped Plankton to stand, his legs wobbly. He leaned heavily on her, the anesthesia still clouding his movements. She felt his weight and knew that he would need her support to navigate the short walk to the car. "Let's go slow," she said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-lidded with sleep. They shuffled along the hallway, each step a victory over his grogginess. As they approached the door leading to the parking lot, Plankton swayed. Karen tightened her grip, for his head lolled to the side, and she caught him. "Whoa, honey," she said. Plankton's legs buckled slightly, and his head dropped to her shoulder, his weight pressing against her. Karen steadied him, her arms wrapping around to keep him upright. His breathing was deep and even, eye fighting to stay open. "You can't sleep now," she said, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. "We're not even home yet." With Margaret's help, they made their way to the car, Karen's arm supporting Plankton's weight. "Let's get you buckled in," she said, guiding him to the passenger seat. Plankton complied, his movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. With a gentle push, Karen secured the seatbelt across his chest. His head lolled back against the headrest, and for a moment, she thought he might fall back asleep, but managed to keep his eye open as she starts the engine. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's eye drifted shut. "We're almost home." Karen says as Plankton's head lolled back against the headrest. She took a hand off the wheel to pat his leg reassuringly. "You can sleep when we get there." Yet Plankton's snores filled the car, punctuating the silence. Karen couldn't help but look over at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. "Wake up, sweetie," Karen whispered, gently shaking Plankton. He stirred, his eye blinking open with difficulty. "We're home," she said. Plankton groaned. "Careful," she warned. They shuffled inside, Karen guiding him. The smell of home hit them, a mix of saltwater and the faint scent of cooking from the restaurant next door. "Come on, honey," she said, half-guiding, half-carrying him to their bedroom. Karen helped him lie downs. He let out a deep sigh. "Thathks," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen settled Plankton into bed, his head resting on the soft pillows, his body limp and heavy with the weight of the anesthesia. She took his other hand and squeezed gently. As they lay there, she noticed a small pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Karen couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the day dissipating. She reached for a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped the drool away. Plankton snuffled, his eye shooting open for a moment before closing again. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking his forehead. "You're safe. You can go back to sleep now." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and drool grew more insistent, a silent testament to his deep slumber. Karen grabbed another tissue, wiping the saliva that trickled down his chin, his snores rumbling. With each tissue, the intimacy grew, the act of caring for him in this vulnerable state somehow endearing. She felt a tenderness for him that was usually overshadowed by their daily squabbles and the relentless pursuit of the Krabby Patty's secret recipe. As Plankton's snores grew softer, his grip on her hand loosened. Karen gently pulled her hand free and covered him with the blanket. She took a moment to gaze at his peaceful face. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and she found it surprisingly comforting. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead, whispering, "I love you, even when you're drooling." Karen knew Plankton would be out for hours, so she decided to use the time to prepare a light meal for when he woke. She moved quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. She rummaged, looking for something soft that wouldn't irritate his sore mouth. In the fridge, she found a bowl of Plankton's favorite jellyfish jello, a treat she had made the night before knowing he wouldn't be able to eat much solid food. Then, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly, carefully making a few soft, fluffy sandwiches that she hoped would be easy for him to chew. Next, she grabbed a few of Plankton's favorite books from the living room. She placed them on the bedside table, along with a glass of water, within arm's reach. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over her as she listened to his rhythmic snores. Despite the stress of the day, she was grateful for the quiet moments like these.

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ephemeral, eternal by Bakugods Anime » Ace of Diamond/ダイヤのA Romance & Humor, Eijun S., Furuya S., Miyuki K., Wakana Published: Jun 14, 2015 ephemeral, eternal high as a kite summary: Eijun goes to the dentist and gets his wisdom tooth removed. pairing/s: eijun/wakana, furuya/haruno, tetsu/takako Wakana grabs the car keys and heads out, with her husband following behind her. "W—W—Where are... where are... we..?" Eijun drawls, his eyes looking at every corner of the interior of the car. Wakana glances at Eijun from the road and she giggles. "In the car, Eijun." She answers him, but he still continues to look dazed and his mouth hangs open. "Car... red lights..." he mutters under his breath, his eyes closing to a half but proceeds to look around him. "Huh.. baseball... bat..." He snickers lazily when his half-lidded eyes meet the baseball bat keychain hanging on the rear-view mirror. Wakana observes him with an amused smile on her face and continues to drive, turning to a neighborhood street. "Do you know what day it is?" She asks with a curious tone. Of course she has to ask. She's having too much fun seeing him make a fool out of himself under the influence of a drug. "Day... uhh, it's Christmas, right? 'cause it's really, really..." He pauses and lets out a long, exhausted exhale, "really... hmm... bright." And he rubs his eyes tiredly like a child. "Mmhmm." Wakana replies and parks by the sidewalk, along with other vehicles parked in front of a house. "It's the 1st of July!" She announces, turning off the engine and unbuckling hers and Eijun's seatbelt. "July..." Eijun murmurs, his eyes sleepy and dropping to a close. Until they snap wide open, his pupils shrunk and his eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets. "It's—It's —It's Grocery 20% Sale Month!" He shouts, sitting up on his seat in complete panic. Wakana throws her head back and laughs at his sudden outburst. Okay, she doesn't mind dealing with this kind of Eijun. Tame, innocent, clueless Eijun; compared to the loud, obnoxious Eijun she has to tolerate and control with every single day of her life. She doesn't mind at all. "Uh-huh. What else, sweetheart?" She says this time, muttering a let's get down to Eijun as both of them got off the car—with Eijun almost dropping to his weak knees once his sneaker-clad feet hit the concrete. "It's—uh... a Friday?" Eijun guesses, walking very slowly to where Wakana was standing. She giggles and grabs his arm to guide him before walking towards the house they parked in front of. "Nice try, but give me another guess." She pushes, climbing up the short steps of the front porch of the house. Eijun furrows his eyebrows in confusion and his lips form a childish pout. "...Saturday?" He scratches his cheek, looking around, once again, aimlessly. "Close enough." Wakana reaches up and was about to ring the doorbell when the front door unexpectedly swings open in front of them. "Ah! It's the Sawamuras!" The person who had opened the door—who happened to be Kuramochi—exclaimed in recognition, a sash wrapped across his torso with paint balls in different colors hanging on them and a protective armor stained with paint was protecting his front back. His left hand holds a toy rifle and he was wearing turtle helmet. Wakana stared at him weirdly, "Yoichi-kun?" She says, but said man only huffs through his nose and faces the male Sawamura. "Oi, Bakamura! Are you giving Wakana-chan a hard time again?!" He scolds, grabbing his friend by the ear. But Eijun only falls forward on to Kuramochi and started to murmur things again. "W—Whoa!" Kuramochi yells, grabbing hold of Eijun's shoulders. He glares at him and his eyebrow quirked. Wakana shakes her head in apology, grabbing Eijun and making him stand up straight once more. "Aaa, sorry, Yoichi-kun. He just got back from the dentist and the only time the clinic's open happened to be today so—" "He got his wisdom tooth removed!" A familiar voice says from behind Kuramochi. Wakana looks behind Kuramochi and sees the green-haired man's fiancé walking towards them, wearing the same outfit and weapon as Kuramochi, except his armor barely has any paint on it. "Yeah." Wakana answers, shaking Eijun's arm. "Miyuu~ki?" Eijun says slowly once he sees the former catcher, his tongue rolling clumsily as if testing the name in his mouth for the first time. Miyuki laughs and stands beside Kuramochi, "He's as high as a kite!" He flicks Eijun's forehead, with the latter not reacting and still looking dazed. Miyuki laughs in amusement and calls from the inside of the house, "Hey! Get the camera!" And proceeds to making fun of Eijun's stupefied self. Wakana watches the two of them as she hears shouts from the inside of the house: "This is going to go viral!" Jun. "Oogah!" Masuko. "Ya—ha! Look at his face!" Yoichi. "Ehh? He looks dumber than usual!" Mei. Wakana shakes her head and enters the house, seeing Jun and Yoichi holding a recorder on their hands. The rest of the men were either laughing out loud or cleaning their mess up. She sees her idiotic husband sitting on a couch looking dazed as ever, drool now dripping down his chin. His eyes are half-closed. She laughs again at the hilarious scene, her hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. NEXT DAY "Ha?" Eijun exclaims before wincing at the pain from his teeth, his hand gripping his cheek tenderly. Wakana looks up at him from the fresh laundry she was hanging up on their closet. "What is it?" She sticks her head out from their walk-in closet. "Jun-san tagged me in a video..." Eijun quietly mutters as his hands worked on selecting the video link. Wakana bites her lip in amusement and heads back inside the closet, trying her best to keep herself from laughing. She hums in response and ignores him entirely, making him think that she wasn't listening anymore. She hears the video start and Jun's voice resounded from his phone, "Yo, Eijun!" Eijun buries his face on his phone as he intently watches the clip. "Yaha! How does it feel being high?" Eijun's eye twitches at Kuramochi's remark, his face filled with utter confusion. Then there was laughter at the background. "H—high?" Eijun questions more to himself, until his own face shows up in the video. His face freezes in shock and his eyes widen in exaggeration as he gasps. Wakana purses her lips and gripped the shirt in her hand tightly, restraining herself to laugh as she gives glances at Eijun's expressions. After a few minutes of the video playing, Eijun remains silent. But by every passing second, his face flushes redder and redder than before. All in embarrassment. Diamond no Ace is rightfully owned by Yuji Terajima and Kodansha.

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hey yall please add me on discord i need some friends cryptopotato is my user i dont sleep and i always respond <3

COMPUTER SENSORS ii * * ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * "Plankton?" Hanna's voice called. "You've been in there for a while." But there was no response from the bedroom. Karen's smile faded as she heard the silence. She knew her husband well enough to recognize when he'd reached his limit. She excused herself and went to check. Plankton was indeed on the bed, his eye squeezed shut. His body was rigid breathing shallow. Karen ached for him; she knew he was in the throes of sensory overload. Karen approached the bed gently, not wanting to startle him. She sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Plankton," she said softly. "You ok?" He didn't move, didn't speak. He just lay there, a tense coil of discomfort. Karen knew to recognize the signs of his overwhelm. The way he curled tightly around his body, the shallow breaths that spoke of his struggle to regain control. He was in his own world now, one where the bombardment of Hanna's sounds and touch had become too much. "Plankton," she said again, her voice a gentle whisper in the room. "You don't have to be out there if you don't want to." The touches, the sounds, Hanna— all too much. Karen's expression filled with understanding. "It's alright," she assured him, her hand gently rubbing his back. "You don't have to force it." Plankton nodded, his body slowly relaxing under her touch. He let out a sigh. Karen knew Plankton's not one for crowded spaces or unexpected physical contact. "Hey, guys, everything ok in here?" Hanna's voice was cheerful, but there was a hint of concern that had crept in. She searched the room, her gaze landing on Plankton's rigid form. Her smile faltered for a second, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. "Is he ok?" "He's... overwhelmed," Karen said. She knew Hanna didn't mean any harm, but she also knew her friend's boundless enthusiasm could be to much for Plankton to handle. Hanna's expression grew more puzzled. "What's there to be overwhelmed about?" Her curiosity piqued. "What's going on with you Plankton?" she asked, taking a step closer to the bed. Plankton jolted slightly, but he remained silent, eye still closed. "I don't get it.." Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Plankton's a bit... sensitive to stimulation," she began. "He needs his quiet time. Nothing against you, Hanna; just how he is." Hanna grew more concerned. "But I didn't mean to," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to have a good time." Karen patted Plankton's shoulder, her screen never leaving his face. "It's not you, Hanna," she assured. "It's just that to much noise, touch, all just gets to be to much for him." "How?" "Some people need more space than others. It's not a reflection on you or your company." "But I don't get it," Hanna said, her voice quiet. "What did I do?" "You didn't do anything wrong," Karen assured her, her hand still resting on Plankton's shoulder. "It's just that Plankton's sensory input is overwhelmed easily." Hanna looked from Karen to Plankton, full of questions. "But I didn't do anything weird; did I?" "No," she said, her voice calm and soothing. "It's just that Plankton isn't much... physical affection from anyone but me. And even then, it's on his terms." Hanna's expression softened, starting to reach out to gently touch Plankton's arm. "Don't," Karen said, placing a hand over hers to stop her. Hanna's hand hovered in mid-air, and she looked at Karen with confusion. Karen took a deep breath. "Plankton needs his space to recharge. And when it comes to physical touch, it's something that's... it's not something he's comfortable with, from just anyone." Hanna nods, her gaze still on Plankton. "But, you?" "We've found a balance that works for us. But it's something that took time to figure out. And even then, there are days when he needs more space than usual." Hanna nodded. "But he didn't say anything," she murmured. "I didn't know." "It's not something he talks about. He tries to be strong, to handle it, but sometimes it's just to much for him." "Why does he not flinch if you touch him, if it's sensory?" Hanna asked. Karen sighed. "It's complicated. I've known him for a long time, and we've built a level of trust. He's comfortable with my touch. But even then, it's a balancing act of knowing when he needs more and or when he needs less." Hanna nodded, her gaze thoughtful as she took a step back from the bed. "I had no idea," she murmured. "How long does it take for him to..." "It varies," Karen said. "Sometimes it's just minutes, other times can be hours." "Is he going to remember us talking right now?" Hanna asked. "It's hard to say," Karen replied, her gaze still on Plankton. "When he's like this, he's kind of... in his own world. Sometimes he's aware, sometimes he's not. It's like he's not present. The best thing is to just give him space," Karen said. "Let him come out of it on his own time. Sometimes talking to him helps, but not always." Hanna nodded. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to make him feel included." Karen gave her a small, understanding smile. "It's alright, Hanna," she said. "You couldn't have known. Just remember, Plankton needs space, and for us to respect that." Hanna nodds, her gaze still on Plankton. "So, how does he act coming out of it?" "It depends," Karen said, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "Sometimes he's a bit groggy, other times he's just... tired. And sometimes he's a bit snappy." "What will he remember?" "Probably not much," Karen said, her voice low. "When he's like this, the world kind of... washes over him. He might remember snippets, but it's all pretty fuzzy." Hanna nods. "How do I show him I care?" "Just being a friend—that means the world to him. But sometimes, the best way to show you care is to give him the space he needs." "But I don't want him to think I'm ignoring him." "You're not," Karen assured her, her voice gentle. "Just be mindful of his own boundaries. Sometimes a simple 'How are you feeling?' or even showing interests in his likes, can mean more than any hug. It's a condition where the brain can't process all the information coming in from the senses at once. It's like your brain's circuits are overloaded, and you just... shut down." Hanna nodded, her gaze thoughtful as she took this in. "Is it ok if I can ask Plankton questions about it?" "Of course," Karen said, her voice gentle. "But just be mindful. He might not be up for a lot of talking, especially right now." Hanna took a deep breath and approached, her movements slow and deliberate. "Plankton?" He didn't respond, his body still taut with tension. Hanna looked to Karen for guidance, who offered a smile. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "Can you hear me?" There was no response, but Karen could feel the tension in his body ease slightly. She knew he was listening, even if he couldn't bring himself to respond. "Plankton's born with a condition called sensory sensitivity," Karen began, her voice calm and measured. "It means that his brain has trouble interpreting and responding to all sensory information from his environment. It can be anything from sounds to touch." "So, like, when we were watching the movie, and I was all over the place with my feelings, that was probably a bit much for him?" "Exactly," Karen said, her voice gentle. "Everything's just... too much for him sometimes." Hanna's eyes searched Plankton's face, looking for any sign of discomfort. "But he didn't say any thing," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "He tries not to," Karen said, her eyes never leaving her husband. "He doesn't like to make a fuss. But when it gets to be too much, he just kind of... shuts down." "But how do you know when it's too much?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "It's subtle," Karen said, her eyes still on Plankton. "He'll get tense, his breathing will change, bad mood, his eye might glaze over a bit. And when he gets really overwhelmed, he just... withdraws." "So, I shouldn't have grabbed his hand during the movie?" she asked, her voice filled with regret. "It's ok," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You didn't know. Just remember for next time." Hanna nodded. "But what if I miss the signs?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "It's ok," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We're all learning. Just remember to be patient and pay attention. And if you're ever unsure, just ask." Hanna nodded, her hand now resting gently on the bed next to Plankton. "I'm sorry Plankton," she whispered. He didn't move, but Karen could see the tension in his body start to ease a bit more. She knew he heard Hanna, even if he couldn't respond. "Don't worry, Plankton," Hanna said, her voice gentle. "I'll be more careful next time. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Karen watched as Plankton's antennae slowly twitched, his breathing evening out as he began to come back to the world around him. It's a slow process, one Karen knew well. She gave Hanna a nod, a silent thank you for her understanding. "Why don't you go grab us board games, Hanna?" Karen suggested, voice low. "Give him a few to 'wake up'." Hanna nodded, her gaze lingering on Plankton before she turned and left the room. Karen watched the door close behind her before turning her attention back to Plankton. "It's ok, Plankton," she whispered, stroking his arm. "You're safe here."

I love object shows🎉🎉🎉🎉

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⊹₊˚ꕤ˚₊⊹

⣿⣽⣿⣿⣥⣤⡾⢷⣆⣼⡿⢷⣶⠀⢀⣘⣿⡏⠉⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣭⣽⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⣤⣤⣛⣛⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⡟⠳⠾⠃⠈⢻ ⣿⣿⣟⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢩⣽⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣼ ⣿⠏⢿⣿⡻⡄⠀⠀⣠⣶⣲⣾⣇⣀⣈⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⠋⠛⢻ ⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⣻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣧⣤⣤⣤⣾⡋⣵⠆⠀⠘ ⡇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⠀⠸⣯⣻⢿⣶⣾⣿⠟⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣯⡉⠛⠛⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣦⡄⢱⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣶⣾⠿⠋⠶⠀⠀ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣽⣿⣧⣠⣶⡷⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠙⠳⠦⠴⠶⢾ ⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⢳⡜⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣎⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣯⠙⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⠀⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸

ᴸⁱᵗʰᵖ Part 3 ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ⁿᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵒˡ ᵒᶠ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᵈʳᵃʷᵉʳ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵃ ʲᵒᵘʳⁿᵃˡ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʲᵒᵘʳⁿᵃˡ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵗʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵗᵒ! 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒˢᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡ ʷᵃʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ ᵃʳᵍᵘᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴮᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᴮᵃˢˢ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴬ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘʸ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳʸ ᶜᵒᵒᵏ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʳʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᴵ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ ʳⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʲᵒᵘʳⁿᵃˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ 'ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ‧‧' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴹᵒʳᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧" "ᴵⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʲᵃʷ?" "ᴳᵘᵐˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ˢᵒˡᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈᵃᵐᵖ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ "ᔆᵒᵃᵏᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ⸴ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ? ᴮᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ?" "ʸᵉˢ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ⁱⁿ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ’ʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿ’ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ʷⁱᵛᵛ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᶠʷᵉⁿˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ʰᵉˡᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᵏᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃⁿʸ‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵉʰ ᴵ ᵖˡᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵐⁱˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʷᵃⁿᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡᵒʷˢ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ'ˢ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʷʳⁱˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵖⁱⁿᵏ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈᵃᵐᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ⁿᵉʷ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ‧ "ᴰᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗ⁻ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ⁻ᵃᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗᵃᵇʷᵉ ᶠ⁻ᶠᵒʳ ᵘˢ ᵗ⁻ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ⁱⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵘⁿᵍ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ⸴ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃ ᵗᵒʷᵉˡ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʷᵉᵗ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧" ᵂʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴮʳᵘⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵃˡ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉᵉᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒᶠ ʷʰʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ⁱᵐᵖˡⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈˡʸ‧ ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ‧" ᔆᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ 'ᵉᵐ ᵇᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒʷᵉˡ‧ "ᔆᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒʷᵉˡ⸴ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒᵈᵉ; ᵒʷⁿʷʸ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʷ ᵐʸ ʷⁱᶠᵉ'ˢ ᶠʷᵉⁿˢ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ⁿᵒⁿˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʷ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵃʷᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉⁱʷᵈ‧" "ᴴᵉʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴸᵒᵒᵏ; ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵃ ʷᵉᵉᵏ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵒᵈⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃˡ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳᵗ‧ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵘⁿˡᵉˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵒ ᶠᵒʷ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵖᵉᵗ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧" End Finale

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yall do know theres some nsfw things on here? but, the drama 💀 ✮⋆˙ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷,𝟼𝟸𝟷 Karen walked into the bedroom. Plankton lay on their bed, face half-buried in a pillow. His snores rumbled through the quiet room. She took a moment to appreciate his vulnerability before she gently nudged him awake. He groaned, his eye fluttering open. She offered a soft smile. "It's time," she whispered. "You're fine." He nodded. The drive to the oral surgeon's office was tense. The brightness of the day seemed to mock his anxiety. Karen's hand squeezed his, a silent promise of support. As they checked in, the receptionist's smile was practiced, but kind. The exam room surgeon, a man named Dr. Musselwhite, came in. He explained the procedure once more. The nurse began preparing anesthesia. "You're doing great," Plankton took a deep breath, vision blurring. The last thing he saw was Karen's face before the world went dark. Karen watched the monitors as Plankton's breathing evened out. She clutched his hand, her thumb making small circles on his palm. Plankton's snores had been replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing under anesthesia. She leaned forward to Plankton's still form. Her screen traced the IV line. Plankton's mouth was open Dr. Musselwhite peered into. Plankton twitched slightly in his sleep, but the doctor's hand remained steady. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall steadily, oblivious to the battle being fought within his mouth. Dr. Musselwhite finished stitching. "It's done," he announced. "You did it," she murmured, voice cracking. Plankton lay still, his breathing even and deep. The surgery was over, and he was alive. Karen leaned down to kiss his forehead. The nurse smiles. "He'll be asleep for awhile," she said. Karen nodded. The only sounds were the whispers of medical staff and the hum of machinery. The nurse wheeled him into recovery, and Karen followed, the medication still working its magic. Plankton's features were relaxed in sleep, a stark contrast to the fear that had been etched there just hours before. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a silent testament to the successful procedure by the deep embrace of anesthesia. As he started to stir, the nurse offered a gentle smile as he began to come around. Plankton's eye fluttered open, his gaze unfocused and glassy. He blinked slowly. "Hi, sweetheart," Karen's voice was a warm embrace. "Whaa-...happen'd?" he mumbled. "You're ok," Karen said softly. "They took your wisdom teeth out." Plankton tries to piece together the fragments of his memory. He attempted to speak. "Ow?" he managed. Karen squeezed his hand. Plankton's head lolling slightly against the pillow. His mouth felt like a foreign landscape. Karen helped him sit up, the nurse getting gauze. "You're going to need to bite down," she said, handing him a piece of gauze. "It'll help with the bleeding." He pressed it to his mouth, the pressure sending a dull throb through his jaw. "Hold it there," the nurse instructed, her voice a gentle guide in his foggy world. "Keep the pressure steady. It'll help the bleeding to stop." Plankton nodded, his movements sluggish. The nurse handed Karen an ice pack. "This'll help," she said. "It's ok," she soothed. "You're all done. The hard part is over." Plankton nodded again, his brain still foggy from the remaining anesthesia. He looked around the recovery room, his gaze wondering. "Whath's thith?" Plankton pointed at a machine. Karen chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders. "It's just monitoring you." He nodded, his eye still filled with wonder. He looked down at his hand, studying it as if it was the first time he'd seen it. "Thith...han," he said, his voice trailing off as he wiggled his fingers. "Yes, Plankton. That's your hand." He's mouth filled with gauze and drool slowly seeping out. "Karen?" he mumbles, his voice thick and groggy. "Wha's?" He points to instruments. "They're just tools the doctor used to help you," she explains gently. Plankton nods, his curiosity satisfied for the moment. His eye drift to the ceiling. "Why do the wight hab funny shapes?" Karen follows his gaze. "They're just patterns, Plankton. They help the ceiling look nice." He nods, the concept of aesthetics lost on him. The nurse returns to check his vitals. Plankton watches her with the same curiosity. "Whath thoze do?" He points to the stethoscope around her neck, his speech still slurred. The nurse chuckles. "It's how we listen to your heart." Plankton nodded, his gaze following as she placed the stethoscope on his chest. "Ca-- heaw it?" He asked, his curiosity unquenchable. "That's your heart beating." Plankton's eye grew even wider, the revelation a spark in the haze. "Wow," he whispered, his voice a mere breath. Karen watched his exploration with a mixture of amusement and affection. The nurse returned with discharge instructions, her words a blur to Plankton's still-numb mind. Karen took the papers. "Alright, let's get you ready to go home," she said, helping him to stand. Karen's firm grip on his arm steadied him. Karen helped him into the car. The seatbelt was a puzzle he couldn't solve under the fog of the lingering drugs, but Karen buckles him in before driving out of the parking lot. "Loog ath the treeth," Plankton mumbled. "They're waving hewwo," he said with a sleepy smile. Karen glanced over, her own smile growing. "Yes, sweetheart. They're saying hello." Plankton's gaze shifted to the mirror in the car. He blinked at his reflection, the gauze sticking out of his mouth. "Who thad?" He pointed at his reflection. Karen chuckled. "That's you, with a little extra padding." Plankton nodded, his thoughts a slow river in his sluggish mind. "Thith car...it moveths," he murmured. Karen chuckled. "Yes, dear, it's a car. It takes us places." "Wook ath the clowds," he whispered, his voice slurred. "Thath one...loks wike a...," "It's a cloud," Karen said, smiling at his childlike wonder. "It's just water vapor that looks like something we see in our imaginations." Plankton nodded, his eye drooping. The motion of the car and the gentle hum of the engine lulled him into a doze. His head nodded forward before snapping back up again. "Tired?" Karen asked. "Mm-hmm." His head lolled back against the headrest, his eye slipping shut. The car's AC whispered a gentle lullaby, the cool air playing with the strands of Plankton's antennae. His chest rose and fell in time with the rhythm of the engine, each breath a soft snore. They arrived home. Plankton stirred, his eye blinking open. Karen helped Plankton out of the car. She held him close, his weight a comforting reminder of his presence. Spot, the amoeba puppy, bounded over, his gelatinous body shifting shapes with excitement. "Spoth," Plankton mumbled. The puppy leapedfrogged over, his form morphing into a blur of happiness. Plankton's eye lit up. Plankton reached for Spot with a clumsy hand, his coordination still muddled. Spot nudged his palm with his squishy nose. "Wook, Spoth," Plankton slurred, his eye wide with childlike wonder. "I hav- a booboo." Spot nudges him. Plankton giggled. "Easy, Plankton," Karen cautioned, her voice a gentle reminder of his fragile state. Spot's eyes widened in surprise, his little body shivering with joy. He wriggled closer, his gelatinous tail whipping back and forth in a blur of excitement. Plankton laughed. They made their way to the couch, Plankton's steps uncertain, each movement accompanied by a little giggle. Spot followed. Plankton flopped onto the cushions, his body a limp noodle. Spot jumped up beside him. Plankton leaned onto by Spot, his head lolling. The puppy's a comfort. Plankton's eye grew heavy, the weight of his eyelid too much for his sluggish body to bear, his body going slack. "Rest," Karen said, kneeling beside him. "You've been through a lot today." His hand remained on Spot, the puppy a comforting presence. Plankton's breaths grew steady, his snores once again filling the room. Karen watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling beneath Spot's gentle weight. The house was quiet, the only sound the occasional snort from Plankton's nostrils. He slept all night, only waking up the next morning. Plankton awoke with a start, his mouth wet with drool, his eye focusing slowly. The gauze was still damp from the night's excess saliva. He sat up. "Wha..." Plankton looked around, the room spinning slightly. The couch was his bed, Spot his blanket. He reached up to his mouth, the gauze still in place, the taste of cotton in his mouth. The memory of the surgery was distant. Karen's face swam into view, her smile a warm sunrise. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. Plankton's eye searched his mind, looking for the missing pieces. "I don't... member coming hone," he mumbled, the words slurred. Karen nodded, her smile soft. "You fell asleep in the car, sweetie. I brought you home." But any details were lost, a foggy dream slipping away with each passing moment. "Thish mouth," he said, his tongue probing the empty sockets. The pain was a dull ache, a reminder of his body's battle. Karen handed him a glass of water. "Thank you," he murmured. "You're not supposed to eat solids today," she reminded him, placing a bowl of soup on the coffee table. "But I made some nice, soft scrambled eggs and toast for you to chew." Spot's eyes glued to his owner, his tail wagging. Plankton's jaw felt like it was made of rubber, but the food was a heavenly comfort. Karen sat beside him, her screen never leaving his face, watching for any sign of discomfort. "It'th okay," he assured her, his speech still slurred. He took another bite, his mouth working carefully. The taste was muted, a distant memory of what food used to be. Yet, the warmth and texture brought a sense of normalcy to the post-surgery haze.

ᴸⁱᵗʰᵖ Part 2 ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵘᶜʰ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵖᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ ᵒʳ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ!" 'ᴼʰ‧‧' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵃˡᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ‧ "ᴰⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ?" "ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧" "ᵂʰʸ?" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧" "ᴮᵘˢʸ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ?" "ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗˢ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ⁿᵒᵗ?" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰⁱʳᵈ ᵐᵒˡᵃʳˢ ˢᵘʳᵍⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ‽" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳᵉᵈ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ʰᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ʰʸᵖᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ‧ ᴬˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇʳⁱᵉᶠ ⁿᵃᵖ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᵃᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃᵗ‧ "ᴴⁱ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" 'ᴰⁱᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵒⁿᵈᵉʳˢ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ‧ "ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵏⁱᵈ; ᴵ'ᵐ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ˢⁱᵗ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴮᵃʳᵍ ᴺ ᴹᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴴᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵍˢ‧ "ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵃᶜᵏˢ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰʸ'ᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵏ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶠᵒʷ ᵐᵉ?" "ᴵᵗ'ˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵉʷ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ?" "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴼʰ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍˡᵃᵈ⸴ ᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ?" "ʸᵉˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʸᵒ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᔆᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵉᵈᵍᵉ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" "ʸᵉˢ?" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˡⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ‧" "ᴼʰ‧" "ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒʳ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵘʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ‧" ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ‧ ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ?" "ᴰᵉᵖᵉⁿᵈˢ‧" "ᴵᶠ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵏ ʷʰᵃᵗ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ⸴ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ?" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴵ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ'ᵐ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᔆᵒ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ⁱᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ?" "ᴺᵒᵗ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ ˢᵒ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ'ˢ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ʳᵉᵍʳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᑫᵘⁱʳʳᵉˡ? ᴬⁿᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ! ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ˢᵉᵉ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʷᵒʳᵏˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱˢ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ?" "ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧" "ᴴᵉʸ ᵏⁱᵈ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵍʰᵗᵗᵃ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᴳᵒᵗ ⁱᵗ!" ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᵂʰʸ'ˢ ˢʰᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ʳᵒᵒᵐ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᔆʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵇᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᵛⁱʳᵘˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ!" "ᴱˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ⸴ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵖᵘʳᵖᵒˢᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵘᵖ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ!" ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵘˢ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵒ⁻ᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ!" "ᵂʰ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉⁿˢⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ‧ "ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ‧‧" ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ‧ "ᔆᵒ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵉˡᵗˢ ᵒʳ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵉˢˢ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵖˡᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ˢʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵒ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇˡᵃᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧" "ᵂʰᵃᵗ; ᶠⁱⁿᵉ?" "ᴳᵉᵗ ᵐ⁻ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ⁱ⁻ⁱᵗ ʰ⁻ʰᵘʳᵗˢ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗⁱʷᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰ⁻ʰ⁻ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵇᵒᵗʰ‧ "ᴼʰ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢ⁻ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʷᵉᵃˢᵉ ʷᵉᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧" "ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ!" to be cont. Pt. Three

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

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"Hey, how's Plankton doing?" asked Patrick. SpongeBob looks at Plankton, chest rising and falling with snores. "He's sleeping," he said. "But it's the middle of the day!" "Well, he just had his wisdom teeth out," he explained in a hushed tone. "He's pretty out of it. But be quiet, ok?" He turned his attention back to Plankton, who had somehow managed to dislodge the gauze again. With a sigh, SpongeBob carefully repositioned it. "You're going to have to keep that in, Plankton," he said, his voice a gentle scold. But Plankton’s head lolled to the side, his snores growing louder with each breath, drool seeping through the gauze. "Look at him, SpongeBob," Patrick whispers. "He's snoring." "Patrick, shh. He's still recovering." "Can I...can I poke him?" "No, Patrick," he said, his voice a low whisper. Patrick's finger was already outstretched, hovering over Plankton. "Just a little? I just wanna see if he'll snore louder," he whispered. SpongeBob's grip on Patrick's hand tightened. "Patrick, remember what I said about being quiet," he reminded him. Plankton stirred in his sleep, snores turning to mumbles. Patrick was undeterred. He leaned even closer to Plankton, his hand hovering above the sleeping creature's forehead. "You're okay, buddy," he whispered, his voice a mix of concern and glee. "Just rest up, and when you wake up, we'll have the best party ever!" Plankton's snores remained steady. He reached out and gently poked Plankton's forehead. "Wake up, little buddy," he cooed, his voice a soft whisper. Plankton's eye snaps open, his tiny body jolting upright with a snort. The gauze fell from his mouth, and he looked around the room with a glazed expression, his eye finally settling on Patrick's massive grin. "Wha... what's going on?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Plankton's eye narrowed, his head lolling slightly to the side. "What happened?" he slurred. SpongeBob took a tentative step closer to the couch, his heart racing. "You had your wisdom teeth out," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "You're at my place, just resting." Plankton blinked, his eye focusing on SpongeBob with a look of confusion. "Wisdom teeth?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. SpongeBob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Yes, Plankton, remember? You're all fixed up now," he said, his voice soothing. But Patrick couldn't resist the urge to add his own twist. "And, you snore!" he whispered, his voice filled with mirth. Plankton's confusion grew. "I... I snore?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and mortification. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he assured, SpongeBob eyes Patrick with a warning look. "What's it feel like?" he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and concern. Plankton looked at Patrick with bewilderment. "It feels...weird," he mumbled, his words slurred. "And my mouth is...numb." Drool had formed at the corner of Plankton's mouth. Patrick couldn't resist pointing it out. "Look, Sponge Bob, he's drooling!" Sponge Bob shot him a look that was a mix of annoyance and amusement before turning back to Plankton. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispered, his voice gentle. "It's normal." Plankton's eye grew distant, his mind still clouded by the anesthesia. "Everything's...so...blurry," he murmured, his words slurring together. Sponge Bob and Patrick exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. "It's the medicine," Sponge Bob explained, his voice calm and reassuring. "It'll wear off soon." But Patrick's curiosity was unquenchable. He leaned closer to Plankton. "Hey, Plankton," he whispered. "I... I don't know," he mumbled, his voice groggy. "Everything's all... wibbly wobbly." "Wibbly wobbly?" He looked over at Plankton, whose eye was still open, staring at the ceiling with a look of wonder. "Everything's...so...pretty,". "It's just the living room, Plankton. You're still a bit out of it." Patrick's eyes grew wide with fascination. "Hey, Sponge Bob," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Look at his mouth!" Sponge Bob turned his gaze to Plankton, drooling more than ever. "Patrick, shh," he scolded, his voice a gentle whisper. "Let him rest." Plankton's snores grew quieter for a moment before picking up again, a trail of drool connecting his mouth to the pillow. "Is it...normal?" "It's just his body's way of dealing with the surgery, he can’t help it" he murmured. "It'll go away eventually, all part of the process. It's the stuff that makes you sleep through the surgery, like a really deep sleep so he won’t feel or remember.” "But why does it keep coming out?" "It's because his mouth is numb from the dental surgery, Patrick, it's his mouth muscles still asleep." "Can I...I mean, is it okay to, like, nudge it?" He made contact with the drool, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider. "Patrick," he hissed, his voice a mix of warning and amusement. "You're pushing your luck." His eyes remained fixed on Plankton, watching the drool pool grow and shrink with each snore. He remained blissfully asleep, oblivious to the conversation happening around him "What if I just...dab it with a tissue?" "I guess it’ll help keep him comfortable." He gently touched the tissue to the side of Plankton's mouth, catching the drool before it could fall onto the pillow. The moment the tissue made contact with the saliva Plankton, who was now snoring more heavily, his mouth hanging open even wider, drool cascading onto the pillow, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider., It was a light touch, just enough to make the saliva wobble like a gelatinous blob. It was a tiny movement, but it was enough to make Plankton's snores hitch. "The anesthesia is wearing off, and his mouth is just... reacting. The numbness is normal." With each dab of the tissue, Plankton's snores grew softer, quieted, his mouth twitching slightly, his breathing even. Then Plankton's face twitched slightly, his expression shifting from remaining asleep with breathing deep and steady, to one of slight discomfort as the lingering anesthesia began to wear off. Snores had turned into soft whimpers of discomfort. "It’s normal he's starting to feel the pain." He reached for the medicine. “Just stay still, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispered. Sponge Bob nodded, his smile gentle. "It's just the start," he murmured, his voice a mix of reassurance and experience. "It'll take a bit for the pain to go away." Plankton's mouth was still slack, the drool now a steady stream that pooled on the pillow. Together, they managed to get Plankton into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the couch. "Hey you need to wake up just a little bit to take your medicine." Plankton's head lolls back against the pillows. "Patrick, hold his shoulders," Sponge Bob whispered urgently. "We don't want him to fall over." Plankton's gaze searched the room, his thoughts clearly muddled. "There you go," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with relief. He carefully laid Plankton back down on the pillows, wiping the last of the drool from him. Plankton's eye remained open, blinking slowly as the world swam back into focus. "You did it," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with pride as he swallowed medicine. "Now, just rest. The pain will start to go away soon." Plankton's eye drifted closed again, his snores returning, though softer than before. Sponge Bob gently let Plankton's head back onto the pillow. "He's okay now," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice a mix of relief and pride. "Good job, helping Patrick." Patrick's eyes remained wide with wonder, his mind still racing with the excitement of the past few moments. "What happens next?" he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile was a mix of amusement and reassurance. "Now the medicine will kick in."

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