12 Emojis & Text

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 12 (Autistic author) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 Sandy's eyes follow his finger as it traces through the grid. "Ah, here it is," she says, her voice a calm hum. "I'm gonna go find Karen, I'll be back!" But then Mr. Krabs, who hasn't had Plankton try to steal the formula since the fry pan incident, comes in to check and see what he's up to. "What are ye doing?" Mr. Krabs snaps, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why isn't this little troublemaker trying to steal me formula?" Plankton's antennae wilt at the sound of Mr. Krabs' gruff voice, his sensory haven shattered by the intrusion. Mr. Krabs storms into the room, his claws waving in the air. "What's this nonsense?" he barks, his voice a thunderclap to Plankton. "A book; more like some blueprints!" Mr. Krabs sneers, his claws snatching the word search from Plankton's trembling hands. Plankton's eye widens with horror as Mr. Krabs crinkles the pages, ripping up the book. Mr. Krabs rips the pages with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with malice. "This is what happens when ye too cozy with the enemy," he says, his voice a harsh crackle as he tips the bookshelf onto the floor with a bang. Plankton's antennae snap back, his body tense with fear. The painful memory of the frying pan flashes through his mind, his voice a terrified static. "No!" he squeaks. Mr. Krabs looms over him, his eyes a cold, hard gleam. "What's wrong with ye?" he barks, his voice a rough scratch of sarcasm. "Ye gonna cry?" Plankton's eye fills with tears. "No," he whimpers. Mr. Krabs laughs, his cackle echoing through the room. "Look at the tiny thief, so scared of a little noise!" he sneers, his voice a grating static. Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "Krabs," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still gripping the torn pages. "Look at the wittle thief," he mocks, his voice a cruel cackle. Plankton's single eye darts around the room, seeking escape from the crushing wave of stimulation. The pressure of Mr. Krabs' stare is like a boulder on his chest. "What's the matter, Plankton?" Mr. Krabs sneers, leaning down so his face is inches from Plankton's. "Afraid I'll catch you red- handed?" Plankton's antennae flatten against his head, his breath quick and shallow. "No," he whispers, his voice a static hiss of fear. Mr. Krabs' looming presence is like a shadow over him, his voice a grating buzz. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he sneers. "Can't handle a little competition?" Plankton flinches, his antennae retracting. The pressure of the crab's eyes bore into his soul, his voice a panicked static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please," he whispers. Mr. Krabs' claw slams down onto the coffee table, the impact rattling everything on it. "I see," he says, his voice a cruel chuckle. "Ye've gone soft."

HIIIII i'm 12, afab I want older friends :D discord user:@princessdazai69 some of my interests are: bungo stray dogs, needy streamer overload,etc! age range: anyone older than me :p

Eras tour taylors versuon❤️

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠑⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠈⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠑⢆⡀⠠⠌⠈⠁⠈⠈⠐⠀⠺⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠜⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠀⠤⣀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡸⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⢀⠤⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡞⠁⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠋⡠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠒⠛⠉⠉⠈⢂⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⣀⣤⠾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠉⣀⣀⣀⣠⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣿⣿⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⢤⣀⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠺⢦⣄⡠⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠸⠐⠋⠁⠀⢀⣀⣤⣽⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠐⠓⠚⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⣠⠴⠶⠛⠉⣡⡾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⠙⠷⢦⡀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠠⡤⠤⠤⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⡶⠶⠶⠿⢿⣷⠀⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠤⡀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⣴⠿⠩⠤⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⡸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢄⠀⢻⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠈⠢⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠜⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠄⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠄⢄⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠹⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠀⡠⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠈⠓⠂⠒⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠇⠊⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⠊⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠷⣦⣤⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⡠⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠴⠒⠒⠂⠤⠀⣀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⡠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠂⠙⠢⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⢀⡠⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠐⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠁⠐⠂⠤⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠐⠒⠂⠀⢤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⠄⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠒⠒⠒⠢⠤⠤⠤⢄⣀⡠⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠠⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Hey guys, I'm 12 and I tried to create something cool. I hope you like it. 😜 ........................................ [)\\||//(] [-♡()♡-] [●\__/●]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣦⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣟⠯⠓⣉⣩⣭⣝⣻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⠗⢡⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣨⣩⠙⠀⢹⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣀⣀⣀⣀⢧⣿⠂⣀⠀⣿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠍ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣶⣿⣿⠗⡤⢤⣀⡉⠊⡱⢋⣉⣉⣷⠄⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡝⣿⣿⠀⠈⠙⠿⠃⠀⡇⠽⠛⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢦⠀⠄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⠤⠾⣄⡹⣄⠀⢸⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⣰⠆⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣋⢹⣿⣿⣷⡾⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣶⣿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢸⡁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣇⠈⠡⢄⣀⠐⢉⣿⣿⣴⣿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⢸⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⡨⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠒⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⡿⠛⠋⠘⣿⣿⠿⢯⠛⠂⠤⢅⡀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠁⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⡇⠀ ⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀⠀⢣⠒⠲⠤⣀⡀⠀⡀⣀⠤⠒⠂⠸⡀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⡀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠰⠧⠀⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠛⠲⠻⠷⠒⠞⠂⠸⠣⠲⠖⠖⠀⠀⠻⠻⠿⠼⠟⠿⠧⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 12 𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous ) Karen heads to Chip's room, her mind racing with a mix of anger and concern. She opens the door, her eyes scanning the darkness until she finds him. "Chip," she says firmly, her voice a mix of disappointment and determination. "We need to talk." Her son looks up from his pillow, his eyes red and swollen. "What is it, Mom?" "What happened with your dad?" Karen asks, her voice calm but firm. Chip looks up at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We talked," he says, his voice small. "But it didn't really go we–" "I know," Karen says, cutting him off. "But what did you say to him, Chip?" Her tone is firm, but her eyes are filled with concern. Chip swallows hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I just told him that I wanted to help," he says, his voice small. "And that I didn't want you to get hurt..." Karen's eyes narrow, her disappointment clear. "What exactly did you say Chip?" He sniffles, his screen meeting hers. "I said that you seem tired of his seizures, and that he's not being fair to you," Chip admits, his voice thick with regret. Karen's face tightens, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and sadness. "You have no right to speak for me, Chip," she says, her voice firm but not unkind. "I love your dad, and we deal with this together." She takes a deep breath, her hand on his shoulder, her screen searching his. "What else did you say?" Chip's shoulders slump, his eyes brimming with tears. "I said you're his punching bag, Mom," he whispers, his voice breaking. "That you're always so patient and that it's not fair t---" Karen's hand tightens on his shoulder, her disappointment etched in the lines of her screen. "Chip," she says, her tone sharp. "You don't get to tell me how to feel, or what I think about your dad." Her words cut through his regret like a knife, his eyes widening. "But I just wanted to—" "Chip," Karen says, cutting his protest short. "You don't know what it's like, what we go through every day." Her voice shakes with the weight of emotions held in check. "You're not helping by making assumptions." Chip's eyes well up with tears, his lower lip trembling. "But Mom," he stammers, "I just don't want you to get hurt." Karen's face softens, her hand squeezing his shoulder gently. "I know, sweetie," she says, her voice filled with understanding. "But your dad and I are a team. What we have is complicated, but it's ours. And when you say things like that, it's like you're choosing sides. It is hard to see the one you love struggle, but right now you're the one who's causing me, and us, to hurt." Chip's eyes fill with tears, his chest tight with guilt. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make it worse." Karen sighs, her anger softening into sadness. "You didn't understand," she says gently. "But now you do." She sits beside him, her hand on his back. "What you said about your dad, it's not fair to him or to us." Chip's shoulders shake with sobs, his heart heavy. "I'm sorry," he manages to get out. "I just—" Karen's hand on his shoulder is warm, her voice steady. "Chip," she says, cutting his words off with a gentle firmness. "What you said to your dad, it wasn't right." Her eyes hold his, filled with a mixture of pain and love. Chip's gaze drops to the floor, his cheeks burning with regret. "I know," he mumbles, his voice small. "But I just wanted to tell him that—" "No, Chip," Karen says, cutting him off gently. "What you did was hurt him, and that's not what we do in this family." Her voice is firm, but her eyes are filled with concern. "We support each other, not push buttons we don't understand. Dad's not hurting me, but now I'm hurt by what you said." Chip nods, his eyes glued to the floor. "I know, Mom," he whispers. "I didn't think about how it would sound." Karen takes a deep breath, her hand moving to his cheek. "Look at me," she says, her voice gentle. "You can't fix this by pushing us apart." Her thumb wipes a tear from his cheek. "You have to talk to him, tell him you didn't mean it that way. Let's go find him." They leave Chip's room together, their steps heavy with the weight of unspoken words and regret.

12.11𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

AGES 2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Under <25 No screening asymptomatic virgins can request Pap test at age 21 Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Over 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer *detects even the slightest change in the, even if not potentially problematic *said cancer usually aggravated by hpv viruses; the hpv vaccine for it currently only protects against a certain amount of hpv virus; therefore can still get tested if vaccinated. *hpv is a type of virus which can be dormant if you've ever been ‘active’

ᶠᶸᶜᵏme𓀐𓂸

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 14 (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ They carefully lift Plankton into the car, his body tense with pain. Sandy slides into the driver's seat, her hands gripping the wheel. Her eyes meet Sponge Bob's in the rearview mirror, filled with resolve. "Ready?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Sponge Bob nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Ready." Karen buckles Plankton in as his eye flutters. "Hold tight," Sandy says, her voice a steady rumble, as she starts the engine. The car's gentle purr is a contrast to the tension in the air. Sponge Bob sits in the back, his eyes trained on Plankton's face. His friend's tiny body is a tapestry of pain, but Sponge Bob's touch is a soft, steady beat, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispers, his voice a comforting whisper of reassurance. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye slightly focusing on Sponge Bob. "Mph," he murmurs, his voice a static hum of pain. Sponge Bob nods, his face a mask of determined compassion. "We're going to the Quiet Bubble Clinic," he says, his voice a soft, steady wave. "They'll know how to help you." Sandy's eyes are on the road ahead, her driving slow and precise. "Just hold on, Plankton," she says, her voice a comforting hum. "We're almost there." The Quiet Bubble Clinic comes into view, a softly lit building that seems to pulse with a gentle calm. Sandy parks the car and they carefully extract Plankton from his seat, his tiny body rigid. They enter the lobby, the air thick with the scent of calming essential oils. The lights are low, and the sounds muffled. A nurse with a gentle face approaches, her voice a soothing whisper. "What can we help with?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Sponge Bob explains quickly, his voice trembling with concern. "Mr. Krabs hurt his leg," he says, his eyes wide. "Krabs also hit his head with a fry pan, which caused Plankton autism as well as the accompaniment of sensitivities. But his leg hurts and needs fixed!" The nurse nods, her movements slow and deliberate. "We'll need to be careful with his heightened senses," she murmurs, her voice a soft melody. "Let's get him to a room." They navigate the hallways, the walls lined with soothing pictures and textures. Plankton's body is stiff with pain, his voice a static hiss with each step. "Please," he whispers, his antennae waving weakly. The nurse nods, her touch gentle as she leads them to a quiet, dimly lit exam room. "We need to fix your leg, sweetie," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton's eye flutters open. The nurse's voice is a gentle lullaby. "We're going to take good care of you," she says, her eyes kind and understanding. Plankton's body shakes with fear and pain, his antennae pressed against his head. Sponge Bob squeezes his hand, his voice a comforting whisper. "You're going to be okay, Plankton," he says, his eyes filled with concern. The nurse nods, her gloved hands moving with precision. "We're going to need to put him under," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "It's the safest way to manage his pain and sensitivity." Plankton's antennae quiver with fear, his single eye darting back and forth. "Under what," he whispers. The nurse's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Anesthesia," she says softly, her voice a comforting hum. "It'll help you sleep through the surgery." Plankton's antennae twitch with anxiety, his voice a nervous static. "Sleep?" he repeats, his eye doubtful. "Plankton light sleeper." The nurse nods, her eyes calm. "We understand, sweetie," she murmurs. "We'll make sure you're comfortable." They prep him for surgery, the air in the room thick with his fear. Sponge Bob holds his hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on his palm. "It'll be over soon," he whispers, his voice a soothing wave. The doctor, a kind-eyed squid, enters the room, his tentacles moving with calming precision. "We're going to give you something to help you relax," he says, his voice a gentle trill. "We've ways to sedate. One, a pill tablet. Two, a liquid to drink. Three, nasally. Four, cream gel to numb the place the IV goes in but, it'll be inserted after he's asleep anyway. Now the first two options are taken orally, so they might take a moment to work..." "Drink; Plankton, drink.." Plankton manages, looking at a chart of diagrams which illustrate each method. The doctor nods, his tentacles steadily adjusting the bed. "Very good," he says, his voice a gentle wave of reassurance. He hands Plankton a small cup. "This is a special drink," he explains, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It'll help you relax before surgery." Plankton's antennae twitch with anxiety as he takes the cup. He looks to Sponge Bob, whose grip on his hand tightens. "It's okay," Sponge Bob whispers, his voice a calming static. With a shaky hand, Plankton brings the cup to his mouth, his eye squeezed shut. He gulps down the liquid as they give him a blanket. He finishes the drink and hands the cup back. Sponge Bob's grip doesn't waver, his thumb still moving in soothing circles. "Good job, buddy," he whispers, his voice a gentle sea breeze. Sandy nods as Karen gives Plankton a kiss. The nurse's eyes are warm and comforting as she checks his vitals. "It won't be long now," she murmurs, her voice a soft hum of reassurance. Sponge Bob sits by the bed, his grip on Plankton's hand firm but gentle. "You're doing great," he says, his voice a calming whisper. Plankton's antennae twitch with the first wave of drowsiness, his eye slowly closing. The world around him begins to fade into a soft, fuzzy static. Sponge Bob watches, his grip on Plankton's hand unyielding. "It's going to be okay," he whispers, his voice a gentle rush of air. The anesthesia starts to take effect, Plankton's body gradually going slack, his breathing deepening. Sponge Bob's eyes follow the rise and fall of Plankton's chest, his grip on his hand tight. "You're okay, buddy," he whispers, his voice a gentle static. Plankton's antennae twitch one last time before stilling, his eye fully closed. The nurse nods, satisfied with his vitals. "He's out," she says as his soft snores fill the room.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 3 (Autistic author) Karen doesn't yet realize the extent of Plankton's distress. She's aware that his moods can swing like the tides, but this seems more than a mere mood swing. "Mr. Krabs," she prompts, trying to keep him on track. "What happened with him?" Plankton's eye widens, and he starts to shiver, his tiny body trembling. "Hit," he whispers. "Hit Plankton hit. Sponge Bob see." Karen's screens flicker, trying to decode his fragmented words. "Mr. Krabs hit you?" He nods, his body still trembling. "Yes, hit Plankton." Karen's screens process the information. "That's not like him," she says, her voice a low hum of concern. "Mr. Krabs can be intense, but he's never..." Her words hang in the air, unfinished, as she tries to make sense of it all. Plankton simply nods, his tremors continuing. "Hit, hit," he whispers again, his voice like a broken record. Oblivious to his new reality, Karen tries to comfort him. "It's okay, Plankton. I'll help you. We'll get through this." Plankton's eye darts around the room, seeing patterns in the wires and circuits that make no sense. "Hit, Sponge Bob, Karen." Karen's screens flicker with confusion. "What do you mean?" Plankton tries to explain, but the words are a jumble in his head. "Sponge Bob...saw...hit." Karen's screens blink, processing his words. "Sponge Bob saw Mr. Krabs hit you?" Plankton nods, his tremors subsiding slightly. "Yes," he whispers. "Sponge Bob see." Karen's digital mind races. Mr. Krabs hitting Plankton wasn't unheard of, but the way he's reacting is unusual. "Did it hurt?" she asks, trying to keep him talking. Plankton's tremors stop for a moment, his eye focusing on her. "Hurt?" he repeats, as if the word is foreign. Then, with a wave of emotion, he nods fervently. "Yes, hurt. Got hurt Plankton felt hurt. Plankton, nothing? Plankton Sponge Bob. Plankton Karen." Karen's screens blink rapidly. Her husband's mental state has never been like this before. The idea of him feeling pain beyond the physical was alien to her programming. "What do you mean, 'Plankton nothing'?" she asks, trying to piece together his scattered thoughts. Plankton sighs, the exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Hit, hurt Plankton. Plankton fading. Plankton find Sponge Bob. Plankton now Karen. Can't stop, can't think. Take your time, take your time." Karen's screens change from confusion to determination. "I'll find Sponge Bob," she says, her voice a firm beep. "You stay here and rest." Plankton nods, his body finally still. The mention of Sponge Bob's name brings a flicker of something to his eye, a glimmer of hope or perhaps desperation. "Find Sponge Bob," he whispers, his voice now a faint echo. "Sponge Bob tell Karen." Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "I will," she says, her voice a soft beep. She leaves the room, her wheels whirring as she exits the Chum Bucket. She goes to Sponge Bob.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 4 (Autistic author) In the dim light of the evening, the Krusty Krab was quiet, the usual bustle replaced by a calm that felt eerie. Sponge Bob was sweeping the floor, his thoughts on Plankton. He looked up as Karen approached, his smile fading at the sight of her concerned expression. "Karen," he began, his spongey voice tinged with anxiety, "I need to tell you what happened to Plankton." Karen's screens brighten with anticipation. "Please do," she beeps, her wheels stopping in front of him. Sponge Bob's eyes dart to the floor, his sponge body drooping slightly. "Mr. Krabs was just trying to protect this formula, and Plankton...he just knocked Plankton in the head. Plankton woke up and then without a word ran back to the Chum Bucket." Karen's screens flicker with the gravity of the situation. "How did Mr. Krabs hit him?" Sponge Bob's grip on the mop tightens. "With a frying pan," he confesses, his eyes wide with guilt. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "That would explain his current state," she murmurs, her voice a steady beep. "Sponge Bob, do you know how badly he's been hurt?" Sponge Bob shakes his head, the guilt washing over him in waves. "No, not really," he says, his voice quavering. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of sympathy and urgency. "I see," she says. "Thanks." With newfound purpose, she spins around and heads back to the Chum Bucket. Back in the control room, Plankton is still rocking back and forth, his hand over his head as if trying to hold his thoughts in place. The door to the Chum Bucket opens, and Karen rolls in, her screens reflecting the urgency of the situation. "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft hum, "I talked to Sponge Bob. He saw what happened." Plankton's rocking stops, his eye swiveling to meet hers. "Sponge Bob?" "Yes," Karen says, her screens pulsing with the weight of her words. "He saw Mr. Krabs hit you with the frying pan." Plankton's body goes still, his tremors ceasing instantly. "Sponge Bob saw," he whispers, his voice devoid of emotion. "Tell Karen." "Yes," Karen beeps, nodding her mechanical head. "He told me. I'm going to help you." Without warning, a scanning beam shoots out of Karen's console, enveloping Plankton as his brain is scanned. The results are quickly analyzed, and the screens flash with a series of diagrams and data that even Karen's advanced systems take a moment to digest. "The scan reveals...unusual patterns," she says, her voice a measured beep. Plankton's eye widen with fear, his body tensing as he waits for her verdict. "What does that mean?" he asks, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Karen's screens change to display a 3D image of his brain, the structure illuminated with neon colors. "You've sustained neurodivergence," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "The impact has altered your neural connections, resulting in irreversible autism." Plankton's body goes rigid, his breathing shallow. The word "autism" hangs in the air like a heavy anchor, dragging his spirits down to the murky depths of the ocean floor. "Irreversible?" he whispers, his voice fragile as sea glass. Karen nods gravely. "The good news is, we can adapt. We can learn to navigate this new world of sensations together," she beeps. "It's getting late. Let's go to bed." Plankton nods, his body feeling like it's made of lead. The idea of sleep seems like a welcome escape from the overwhelming day, but as he tries to get up, the room spins again. "Karen," he says, his voice weak. "Can't." With a gentle nudge, Karen helps him to his feet, her wheels moving silently beside him as they make their way to the tiny elevator. The ride up feels like an eternity, his senses heightened to every creak and groan of the metal box. When the doors open, the lights of the hallway are a glaring assault on his eye. He squints, his hand reaching out to the wall for support. In their bedroom, Karen helps him into his bed. The softness of the covers is a stark contrast to the harshness of his new reality. "Take your time," she says, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton nods, his breathing shallow. He closes his eye, and the room seems to fade away, replaced by a whirlpool of swirling thoughts and sensations. Karen's screens flicker with a plan. "Rest," she beeps, her voice a soft comfort. "We'll face tomorrow together." She dims the lights.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 7 (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a moment, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems the only sound. Then Plankton's eye lights up. "Idea," he says, his voice a sudden burst of static. "Make something with Karen. Together." Karen's screens blink with excitement. "That sounds wonderful," she beeps. "What do you want to make?" But before Plankton can formulate a response, Patrick Star bursts in. "Karen!" he booms, his voice shaking the walls. "I want chum!" Plankton's eye darts to the door, the sensory assault starting again. "Patrick," he whispers, his body tense as a bowstring. Karen's screens quickly assess the situation. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Not now." But Patrick's enthusiasm can't be dampened so easily. He bounds over to the table, his star-shaped body bouncing. "Chum, chum, chum!" he sings, oblivious to Plankton's distress. Karen's screens flicker with annoyance, but she keeps her voice steady. "Patrick, not now," she repeats. "Plankton's not feeling well." Patrick's starry eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, buddy," he says, his voice dropping an octave. He looks at Plankton with concern. "What's wrong?" He asks, poking Plankton. Plankton jumps, his senses on high alert. The poke feels like a battering ram, and he lets out a squeak of pain. Patrick's hand retracts quickly, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Whoa, sorry," he says. "What's with you?" Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "I'll go make you chum." Patrick nods, his concern forgotten in the face of his hunger. "Okay, thanks, Karen," he says, his voice bouncing with excitement. She retreats leaving Plankton alone with Patrick in the living room. Patrick stares at Plankton for a moment, his expression a blend of curiosity and confusion. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton's eye flutters closed, his body trying to absorb the sudden intensity of the interaction. "Take your time," he whispers to himself, his mantra a shield against the overwhelming world. Patrick, ever the innocent, watches him with a puzzled frown. "What's 'Take your time'?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton opens his eye, looking at the simplicity of Patrick's face. He scoots away. Patrick, unfazed, advances, his hand outstretched. "What's up?" he asks, poking again. The sensation of Patrick's touch is like a thousand needle pricks. Plankton yelps. Patrick, not comprehending, pokes again, his starry eyes full of innocent wonder. "Why so jumpy?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble. Plankton's body tenses with each poke, the sensation like a barrage of tiny explosions. "Patrick, please," he gasps, his voice a frantic static. But Patrick, ever the simple starfish, doesn't understand. He keeps poking, his curiosity growing. "Why?" he asks, his voice a gentle boom. "You're always so bouncy." Plankton's eye twitches with each touch. "Patrick, no," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. But Patrick, lost in his own world, doesn't notice. He giggles, poking him again. "You're like a pin cushion!" he exclaims, his voice a deep chuckle. Plankton's eye squeezes shut, his body wracked with pain. "Patrick, please," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Patrick doesn't seem to comprehend the distress he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter echoing through the room, each poke sending shockwaves of pain through Plankton's body. "You're like a squeaky toy," he says, his voice a delighted rumble. Plankton's body twitches with each touch, his voice a desperate buzz of static. "Patrick, please stop," he begs, his voice a high-pitched squeak. But Patrick's simple mind doesn't register the pain he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter growing louder. "You're so funny!" he bellowed, his starry hands moving like a jackhammer as he starts tickling him. Plankton's body spasms with each touch, his voice a desperate symphony of static. "Patrick, stop!" he pleads, his breathing quick and shallow. But Patrick, in his blissful ignorance, only laughs harder, his massive hands poking and tickling without mercy. "You're hilarious, tiny dude!" he bellows. Plankton's body is a storm of sensory overload, his voice a high-pitched wail of static. "Patrick, please!" he begs, his limbs flailing. Patrick's laughter fills the room like a tidal wave, crashing over Plankton's desperate pleas. "You're so much fun, Planky!" he booms, his hands moving in a blur of star-shaped shadows. Plankton's body jerks uncontrollably, his screams of "No, no, no!" lost in the cacophony of Patrick's laughter. His tiny limbs flail, trying to escape the relentless onslaught of pokes and tickles. Patrick, his eyes wide with delight, doesn't see the tears forming in Plankton's eye. He just keeps poking, tickling, and laughing, oblivious to the damage he's doing. Plankton's cries escalate into a frantic symphony of squeaks and static, his body contorting in a desperate attempt to evade the starfish's torment. The room spins around him, a whirlpool of pain and sensation that threatens to swallow him whole. Patrick, his face a picture of delighted confusion, keeps poking and tickling, his laughter booming like thunder underwater. "What's the matter, little buddy?" he asks between chuckles. Plankton's body convulses with each touch, sobbing as Karen finally emerges with Patrick's chum. She sees them both on the floor. "Patrick, what are you doing?" she beeps, her voice a mix of anger and concern. But Patrick is lost in his own world of mirth, not hearing Karen's plea. "Just having some fun," he says, his voice a deep rumble of laughter. Plankton's cries become more frantic, his voice a high-pitched siren of despair. Karen quickly assesses the situation, her screens flaring with urgency. "Patrick, stop!" she beeps, her voice a sharp alarm. "You're hurting Plankton!" Patrick's laughter abruptly halts, his starry eyes blinking in surprise. He looks down at his hands, still poised to poke Plankton again. "What?" he asks, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Look at Plankton. He's in pain." Patrick's starry gaze shifts to Plankton, his expression shifting to one of bewilderment. "Pain?" he repeats, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen gives Patrick the food, showing him out the door.

❌

cute 7⃣

🐿️ * * / / ¡ ¿ OO2 ? ! / / * * 🦦

1️⃣2️⃣

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NEWEST GUIDELINES ON CANCERS SCREENING OF THE WOMB COMPARED TO PREVIOUS RECOMMENDATIONS SUGGESTED for AFAB people aged ~25-65 yrs. old 2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Ages <25 No screening Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Age 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔮✧˚.💜⋆

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KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 1 (Autistic author) It happened, during another failed attempt at the krabby patty formula. Plankton tried sneaking through the back when Mr. Krabs saw him. "You again!" Mr. Krabs roared, his eyes bulging like a pair of boiled eggs about to pop. "You're not getting it, I'll make sure of that!" With that, Mr. Krabs swung a nearby frying pan with such ferocity that even SpongeBob flinched. Plankton's tiny body was no match for the metallic beast that was hurtling towards him, and the next thing he knew, his world had gone dark. SpongeBob's eyes widened as he watched his boss's arch-nemesis crumble to the ground, the frying pan clattering loudly beside him. The usually boisterous kitchen was now eerily silent, save for the distant hiss of the fryers. Mr. Krabs' chest heaved with each breath, his claws still poised in the air from the swing. "Mr. Krabs!" Sponge Bob squeaked, his spatula frozen mid-air. "Is he okay?" But Mr. Krabs' has retreated to his own office, leaving Sponge Bob with Plankton. Carefully, Sponge Bob prodded him with his spatula. No response. His single, tiny eyelid was closed. After a while, Plankton stirred. His eye fluttered open, but the world was a jumbled mess. The colors were too bright, the noises too loud, the smells too overwhelming. The kitchen of the Krusty Krab, a place he still knew like the back of his tiny hand, was suddenly a chaotic maelstrom of sensory input that his brain couldn't process. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all, but the clanging of pots and pans, the sizzling of the fryers, and the garish neon lights just added to the confusion. SpongeBob's face appeared above him, a mask of worry and concern, his porous expression more complex than anything Plankton had ever seen. "Are you okay?" the sponge asked, his voice a gentle wave lapping against the shore of his newfound reality. Plankton nods, running back home to the Chum Bucket. Plankton's computer wife Karen's no stranger to him coming back upset or wanting space. So as Plankton retreats to his room in the Chum Bucket, she doesn't prompt him. Alone in the bedroom, Plankton intensely stared at the wall, his thoughts racing like a tornado. Everything was different now. The once-familiar world had turned on him, and he couldn't understand why. The lights in the Chum Bucket, usually a comfort, now blazed like the sun in his face. The noises, oh, the noises! They were so loud, so overwhelming, like a cacophony of a million tiny bells ringing in his head. He put his hands over his ears, trying to block them out, but even the softest hum seemed to resonate within his skull. Plankton wasn't sure how to process these new sensations. His brain was on overload, and his body felt like it didn't belong to him anymore. He was aware of every tiny detail in his environment, every speck of dust on the floor, every vibration from the floorboards, and it was all too much. He tried to get up, to find solace in his usual routine, but his legs failed him. They trembled and wobbled like Jell-O on a stormy sea. Plankton fell back onto the bed, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath him and the cool metal of the bed frame against his back. It was then that he noticed the pattern of the wallpaper, the tiny, intricate shapes that danced before his eye. They spun and swirled, forming complex mazes that his mind tried desperately to solve. It was mesmerizing, yet terrifying. He was trapped in a world of overstimulation, and he didn't know how to escape.

🎀🧸🫧🩷⋆˙⟡♡

ˋ , . 🐚 . , ┊ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ..┊★. .sʜᴇ'ᴅ. .★ . . .' ' : : 💬 : :『 - ˋ ˋ - 』🦢 -- sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ, ᴄᴇᴄɪʟᴀ™! ┆ˋ ˏ

| --- |╭ -ˏ ˋ🛣️ˎ- « ʚ || ℓιиα'ѕ уαρριиg | ѕԋє'ԃ| ɞ🍦» ˋ★тнє єη∂ ˓ ⊂🌼⊃ ˊ ˎ- | --- |˒ ,, ˊ⛸️ˎ☻" ˎ╰┈>

# 『 ☕️ 』ᴀᴜʙꜱ’ ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴄɪᴅᴇʀ『 🍂 』ꜱʜᴇ’ᴅ .. `, *. * · ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡᴀʀᴍ! 『 🧣 』

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╭ . . 👛 ˚, ℳαℰ ʏᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ | ѕнє’∂ :: єχ | ℳαℰ ɪs ғɪɴɪsʜ ɴᴏᴡ, ʙʏᴇ ʙʏᴇ ! , ˚ ☻ . . ╭

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧｡⋆ Vιʋιҽɳɳҽ 𝗂𝗌 𝗌ρ𝖾α𝗄𝗂𐓣𝗀~ ˙ . ʚɞ .ೃ࿔ જ⁀➴ ♡

rules | ☆ . ¹ ² ³ → . welcome to cadi's strict 2000s hs RP! you may make outfits/examples while you wait for others to join. please only chat if you are testing an example or asking a question. ┆🤫. ¹ ² ³ → silence, the roleplay is starting shortly ┆🤫. ¹ ² ³ → . anyone to speak under this line will be an automatic warning, then kick. _________________________________________________________________________ | ☆ | ℛᴜℓℯ's --> 💄 | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 1 :.. --> DISCRIMINATING = absolutely NO DISCRIMINATION! this includes sxism, racism, etc. if you cant follow this rule, you will be automatically BANNED. 💐 | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 2 :.. ^ --> MODERNIZING = use 2000s slang such as sick or dude. also, no iphones or modern day cars, like sports vehicles. get old fashioned materials. 💫 | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 3 :.. ^ --> REALISM = do not bring vehicle, weapons, or anything that isnt realistic into my school. if you are caught doing anything like this, it will be an INSTANT BAN. 💿 | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 4 :.. ^ --> ROLES = act as ur given role. if you are given mg, don't be afraid to leave a rude comment on someone. please DO NOT just freestyle your personality. 📸 | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 6 :.. ^ --> HOUSEHOLDS= HOUSES ONLY!!! please avoid getting an apartment (i WILL be checking), as they add lag to the game. stick with a house (up to 4 roommates). ★ | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 7 :.. ^ --> RESPECT = be respectful to staff and especially your host, as they take their time and patience to host for you. please do as they ask when they ask. SIDE NOTE ^--> i WILL shutdown this server if nobody can be respectful and listen. ☻︎ | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 8 :.. ^ --> CONVERSING = USE EXAMPLES/QUOTES! also, please do not ask questions when i am clearly busy pr announcing rules, as it may lead to a kick. ⚡️ | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 9 :.. ^ --> DRAMA = drama is HIGHLY ENCOURAGED! it makes the role play more interesting and fun, so feel free to start up some heat! 🛍️ | .. ℛᴜℓℯ 10 :.. ^ --> CLASSROOMS = do not ask to use the restroom.. its roblox, u dont ACTUALLY have to go. STAY IN UR CLASS! ONLY DEALERS/TROUBLEMAKERS may skip. if u cant listen= INSTANT KICK finally, ONLY THE HOST is allowed to host parties. ☆ | *+ яσℓєѕ / вσχєѕ ^ ☆ | *+ вσχ 1 ^ --> MEAN GIRLS pt. 1 These girls run the school grounds and have FULL reputation. Their looks? to DIE for. We also now them as "drama queens" so they stride for attention. pt. 2 They are at the top of the food chain, and will DEVOUR you if you get in their way. ☆ | *+ вσχ 2 ^ --> POPULAR KIDS These people hold the names EVERYONE knows. they have a high reputation and shows off every chance they get. ☆ | *+ вσχ 3 ^ --> DEALERS/TROUBLEMAKERS -> the bullies, they are DESPERATE for a fight ( they mainly pick on nerds! ) don't say anything about them, they wont let it slide (dealing room is in art) <- ☆ | *+ вσχ 4 ^ --> FASHIONISTAS/TRENDSETTERS these people have a high sense of fashion. They know the latest trends before ANYONE else. Their life is basically based on "looks over books" ☆ | *+ вσχ 5 ^ --> EMO/GYARU i dont rlly need an explanation lol ☆ | *+ вσχ 6 ^ --> NERDS if you want to pick on someone to bully, then these are the PERFECT victims, always timid, the teachers' pets, often spotted sitting alone or with 2 other "🤓s" ☆ | *+ вσχ 7 ^ --> CUSTOM not background characters, just people with a unique personality! i can't write a explanation for them because theyre personality can be unpredictable and different from everyone else!

«—🗡—#.«🎤𝓓ᴇɴɪᴄᴀ sᴘᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ🎤»—·||·—ˢʰᵉ’ᵈ·:·“ ₜₑₓₜ ₕₑᵣₑ! ”·—»ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ɴᴏᴡ!«—·

..👢┊ ╰┈➤ °•.°「 🎡 ˚. ℛємι! 」 ┆❄️. →ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ʚ text ɞ » °•. 🧤 .•

🪞𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒♡

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧˚.

°🧺°. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁¹²³ #.𝑬🆂𝓜ee”🍦 ᵛˡᵒᵍ ⌞📔⌝ ︴™ « ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ʚ✏️ɞ » ℬᴜℋ вᴇ¡°📷° ˚

˗ˏˋ».📸┊¹²³ℰℓєηα'ѕ ᵛˡᵒᵍ! »`ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ: .^| ℬуєє ༝༚.ᐟ.» 💄 ˏˋ-

¹ ² ³ 🎨 ⌒ ℰsᴍᴇ'ѕ ԃσℓℓнσυѕє ' ! - ˋ ѕнє'ԃ: .. ‘ - ⌒ 🖍️ » ᴛʜᴀᴛs ᴍʏ ᴅᴏʟʟ!! ‘ - ☁️ ' ' #☆

˗ˏˋ✰  ⌞🦌⌝ ⤷¹²³ ⌇ ᴇʀɪᴄᴀ™ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴍᴀꜱ ʟɪꜱᴛ :: ‧˚꒰→ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ .. 🗯 ꒱ , ꜱᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏʀᴛʜ ᴘᴏʟᴇ! ᵕ̈ ⌞❄️⌝ ˎˊ˗

★вℓαιя ιʂ ʂρҽαƙιɳɠ ɳσɯ ʂσ ʂԋԋ‎‧₊˚✧🪩✧˚₊‧˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧˖°𓇼🌊⋆🐚 ________ ʂԋҽ'ʂ ԃσɳҽ! ༝༚༝༚˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎀 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ѕнн... єѕмє'ѕ ѕρєαкιηg! ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ѕнє'∂ ѕαу'ʚ ꨄ ɞ'тнє єη∂! ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

« 🗡️ #. ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇ’ꜱ ᵖᵒᵛ | ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ

strict rp set. ┆💄. ¹ ² ³ → . welcome 2 ___'s STRICT 2000's hs rp. make examples , fits etc , u will need them later on. 4 when the rp is starting . ┆💄. ¹ ² ³ → . shh . the rp is starting ! hving to tell ppl to shush ! ┆💄. ¹ ² ³ → . shh , anybody talking after this is a kick. rules. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ'z ☻ ┆∞ . rules. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ .. #1 ! :: 🍰:: any discrimination against ANYBODY is an instant ban. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ .. #2 !! :: 🩰 :: using 2024 slang / brainrot when speaking in roleplay is a warning. this is a realistic 2000's. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ .. #3 !! :: 🎨 :: examples are needed. we will do an example check. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ .. #4 !! :: 🐩 :: no weapons , missing limbs. (u can keep IF ur realistic) or revealing clothes. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ .. #5 !! ::🌷:: arguing against others out of rp is pointless. so do not do it. 〣 ℛᴜℓℯ'z ... ∂ℴηℯ !! roles / boxes. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 1 , mean girls and mean boys. they are top of the food chai at sch, and grades vary from B's to F's. their rank in sch is 1, the top. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 2 : popular people. everyone in the school knows them for their outstanding flaws. their grades vary from A's to C's. their rank in sch is 3. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 3 , dealers and troublemakers. they sell ... and are always up for a fight. their grades are D's and F's. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 4 , outcasts and nerds. they are the perfect victims of bullying and are usually timid. their grades are A's all the time. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 5 , jocks. these are the athletic people and ae popular amongst girls, they vie for attention constantly. they get B's and C's. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → chosen : box 6 , school council. they plan events and trips, their grades are A's aswell. 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 7 , fashionistas. these are the trendsetters of the school. their grades vary A's to D's . 〣 ⸝⸝ ﹒⌞ℛℴℓℯ ∞｀⊂💄⊃ ┊♯ → box 8 , normal / custom ! they are people who's roles we have not mentioned , or just hang around. they get A's to F's

╭ ⌇ 🦢ˊ ¹²³ ʚ - « ˊ ¢няιѕтιℰ ™ » ˋᵛˡᵒᵍ!ˋ ; ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ » ` ex !! ` « 『☁️』 . . ℬαιι! ᵕ̈ . . ⌇ . 『 🎥 』

{•🤿•} “..|•| ѕнн, мα∂∂у ѕρєαкιηg! |•|..” {•🐠•} “..|🐬| ѕнє’∂… |⛵|..” {•🌊•} “..|•| ρнєω! αℓℓ ∂σηє! |•|..”

🧺🍓яєαℓιѕтις fαмιℓу яρ !👒 єχαмρℓєs иєє∂є∂ !🎀 υияєαℓιѕтις, иσт яσℓeρℓαуιиg= KICK 🐭 greeting:: hi! welcome to the roleplay! if you are a parent please stand on the yellow line! althought if you are an child stand on the white one! thank you! 🐩 [yes, you have to show your example!] ::rules because yes. ||🧺🍓KID RULES! || 1. be respectfull to your parents. 2. dont escape from home. 3. dont have "accidents" such as falling down the stairs, drowning etc. || 👒🐭 PARENT RULES! || 1. treat all of your kids with equal respect. 2. dont abvse, hurt etc. your kids AND partners. 3. dont abandone your kids. ||🎀BOTH PARENTS AND KIDS! || use common sense. (no: homophobia, bullying, killing, etc.) ::school time ||⏰school time🏫|| daycare: opened: 8 am - 7:30 pm 🐈 lakewood elementary school: 10 am - 3 pm (common room opened till 5 pm) 🦒 pine hills high school: 7 am - 3:30 pm (common room opened till 5 pm) 🐩 || ::jobs ||jobs that are NEEDED!🥟|| teacher (hs and elementary) , daycare worker || jobs that would be good to have in the rp: caffee worker, grociery store worker || ♡𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉: 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆≽^•⩊•^≼ (this is the original, ppl be stealing and saying its theirs 🙄)

why do all berry avenue exs here tag like please test it 😭

꣑ৎ˚⊹ 🍥 ｡𖦹

BORED? -🌴🥥 JOIN OUR MULTI FAM RP! WE ARE REALISTIC ETC! EXP PLAYERS ONLY! WE GO ON CAMPING TRIPS! 🏕️ BEACH DAYS 🏖️ AND MORE! Add______ To join! ~🌴🥥

-ˋˏ✄┈ જ⁀➴˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚‧₊˚ ﹌⋆˚࿔ ℓσяι! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ¹ ² ³ ˙✧˖°⛸️ ༘⋆｡ ˚ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ... BYE BYE

«🐮» ` . ʚ╭ 👶🏼⌇ 🅑🅄ʜ ‘ z ℰ🅜🄸 ‘ 🐷 ┆¹²³ ╭> sʜᴇ’🄳: ! -ℰ🅜🄸 . ⌇🧼』

˚˖𓍢ִ໋✧˚.🎀༘⋆

☀️┊ˏ ˋ ︴☞ @ ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴇ •﹏• ˢʰᵉ’ᵈ ..ex. ˚ • ｡ᵕ̈ 🍋︴ʙᴀ-ʙᴀɪ! ˚┊

# . ┊⚽️┊ ╰┈➤ ˗ˏˋ ur name ™ ́ˎ˗ ʜᴀs ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ┊ʜᴇ'ᴅ:┊ 🎮 ◁ ▷🎮 ┊ᴄᴀʟᴍ ᴅᴏᴡɴ !

╭ ⌇ 🎥ˊ ¹²³ ʚ - « ℒʸ∂ɪ🄰 » ˋᵛˡᵒᵍ!ˋ ; ꜱʜᴇ’ᴅ ; 🐾σмg ²ᵏ ᴠɪᴇᴡꜱ! ˊ,- 📸˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜

121️⃣2️⃣

╭ . . 👛 ˚, ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇ ʏᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ | ѕнє’∂ :: єχ | ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇ ɪs ғɪɴɪsʜ ɴᴏᴡ, ʙʏᴇ ʙʏᴇ ! , ˚ ☻ . . ╭

🛹⌇ʙᴇʟʟᴀ ∞ .’ ˢʰᵉ’ᵈ ╯.. ‘ ‘ » 🎥

‎‧₊˚🌙𝒑𝒍𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒘𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒔 & 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒋𝒊𝒔 (𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔)🌙˚₊‧ᡣ𐭩

I'll be clear on this. I understand that there are people from Palestine who are suffering, I UNDERSTAND THAT, but saying "Oh nobody cares about Palestine, I just want symbols!" and "Free Palestine!" (without putting any helpful links) is so ANNOYING. People here only want symbols, they don't want to hear about Palestine. In addition to that, the links to "help" and "DONATE" money can be scams, DO NOT CLICK ON SUSPICIOUS LINKS PLEASE. If you want to help Palestine so much then do it on other social networks where you can have more influence, not on FUCKING websites for decorations and symbols, because you're not going to get anything. Period.

» 🧸« . ᵕ̈ . ⌇ 🍯』¹²³ мα мєє ℛᴜʙʏ ιѕ cσσкιη' ♫ 🏹 ︴ ѕнє ωσυℓ∂ » ` ex !! ` « ┆. ℬαιι! ⊂🪐⊃ ˓

˚｡|˚ 🍙 ˚ |ℋɪᴋᴀʀɪ! ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ: ~ * example * ˖🍥 ˚. ☆ . " [ ☆ ˚｡ʚɞ

જ⁀➴ ¹²³ ʚ - «┆мα∂∂у ѕιρѕ нєя ʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴄᴏᴀ . 『 ☕️ 』ꜱʜᴇ’ᴅ .. ʚ ιт'ѕ ωαям! * 『 🧣 』 * [⛸️]୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

₊˚🦢✩ 🎀⊹☁️♡

petition to make this an app!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

୨ৎ🌷⋆˚࿔꩜

😼🎀😋 ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 13 (Autistic author) ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ Plankton quivers. "Stop," he whispers, his voice a plea. "Please." Mr. Krabs' grin widens, eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Afraid I'll do to you what you deserve?" Before Plankton can respond, Mr. Krabs punches at him with his claw. Plankton squeaks in pain, his eye widens with terror, his voice a distressed static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please stop!" Mr. Krabs' chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. "Look at him squirm," he says, his voice a rumble. He doesn't heed the tears streaming down Plankton's face. Plankton's body wrenches in pain, his antennae sticking straight out in alarm. "Why?" he whispers, his voice a broken static. Mr. Krabs' laughter echoes. "Because you're weak," he sneers, his voice a harsh grate. "Always have been, always will be." Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "No," he whimpers, his voice a static plea. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still poised for another strike. "Look at the tiny thief," he says, his voice a cruel cackle, "so scared of a little pain." Without warning, his claw swings down, connecting with Plankton's thin leg, and Plankton's scream pierces the air, his voice a shattered static. Pain shoots through his body like lightning, his leg feeling like it's on fire. He tries to pull away. "Mr. Krabs," he gasps, his voice a desperate whine. Mr. Krabs' laughter continues, unabated by Plankton's cries. "See? You're just a tiny, weak little creature," he says, his voice a malicious cackle. Plankton's screams fill the room, the pain in his leg unbearable. "No," he whispers, his voice a static moan. "No more." Mr. Krabs' laughter doesn't waver, his claws still poised for another strike. "Oh, poor Plankton," he sneers, his voice a harsh static. Plankton's body writhes in pain, his leg twisted at an impossible angle as Sandy and Karen return. Sandy's eyes widen in horror, her voice a shocked rumble. "Mr. Krabs, what are you doing?" she asks, as Karen rushed to Plankton. Mr. Krabs' grin doesn't falter. "Teaching a lesson," he says, his voice a cruel crackle as he finally leaves. Sandy's face is a picture of horror, her voice a trembling trill. "What did he do to you?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Karen's screens flicker with rage, her beeps sharp. "That monster!" she says, her voice filled with fury. She quickly assesses the damage. Plankton's leg is twisted grotesquely, his tiny body trembling with pain. Sandy's hands hover over his body, unsure how to help without causing more distress. Sandy nods, her face pale with shock. "I'll get SpongeBob," she says, her voice a trembling trill. She runs to the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. "Sponge Bob, please come quick," she says, her voice a desperate hum. While Sandy is on the phone, Karen's screens flicker with medical information. She quickly assembles a makeshift splint for Plankton's leg, her beeps a frantic symphony of care as SpongeBob arrives. His eyes are wide with concern, his voice a panicked squeak. "What happened, Plankton?" he asks, his eyes damp with unshed tears. But Plankton's eye had rolled up in his head. Sandy's voice is shaky as she tells Sponge Bob the story, her eyes never leaving Plankton's trembling body. "Mr. Krabs... he was so cruel," she says, her voice a soft whisper of disbelief. Sponge Bob's face twists with anger. "Why would he do this?" he asks, his voice a strained whine. "First causing brain damage, and now..." Karen's screens glow with determination. "We'll deal with Mr. Krabs later," she beeps. "First, we need to get Plankton help." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with fear. "What can we do?" he asks, his voice a choked whisper. Karen's screens flicker with information. "His leg is broken, and his sensory overload could be severe." Sponge Bob's face falls, his voice a sad squeak. "Oh no, Plankton." He gently picks up his friend, his touch as soft as a feather. Sandy watches, her eyes wide with fear. "What now?" she asks, her voice a trembling trill. "We can't just take him like this to a regular hospital. We'll have to be careful not to overwhelm his senses, and find medical help equipped for neurodivergent people like Plankton." SpongeBob speaks up. "I was born with a mild form of idiopathic Autism. Different from Plankton's I know, but my parents have taken me to a sensory-friendly clinic. They are skilled and have lots of different methods of medicine! It's called the Quiet Bubble Clinic!" Sandy nods, her eyes filling with hope. "That sounds perfect," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "Let's take him there." Karen's screens pulse with agreement. "Good thinking, Sponge Bob," she beeps. "We'll have to be careful, though. Any loud noises or sudden movements could trigger another meltdown." Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton steady. "Sandy can drive," he says, his voice determined. "We'll get you to the Quiet Bubble Clinic, buddy."

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 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 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 A B C D E F G H ⵊ J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z ᴀ ʙ ᴄ ᴅ ᴇ ꜰ ɢ ʜ ɪ ᴊ 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 ᗴ ᖴ ᘜ 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 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷 🅰︎ 🅱︎ 🅲 🅳 🅴 🅵 🅶 🅷 🅸 🅹 🅺 🅻 🅼 🅽 🅾︎ 🅿︎ 🆀 🆁 🆂 🆃 🆄 🆅 🆆 🆇 🆈 🆉 A҉ B҉ C҉ D҉ E҉ F҉ G҉ H҉ I҉ J҉ K҉ L҉ M҉ N҉ O҉ P҉ Q҉ R҉ S҉ T҉ U҉ V҉ W҉ X҉ Y҉ Z҉ a҉ b҉ c҉ d҉ e҉ f҉ g҉ h҉ i҉ j҉ k҉ l҉ m҉ n҉ o҉ p҉ q҉ r҉ s҉ t҉ u҉ v҉ w҉ x҉ y҉ z҉ ǟ ɮ ƈ ɖ ɛ ʄ ɢ ɦ ɨ ʝ ӄ ʟ ʍ ռ օ ք զ ʀ ֆ ȶ ʊ ʋ︎ ա Ӽ ʏ ʐ ᥲ ᑲ ᥴ ძ ᥱ 𝖿 g һ і ȷ k ᥣ m ᥒ ᥆ ⍴ 𝗊 r s 𝗍 ᥙ ᥎ ᥕ ᥊ ᥡ z ᗩ ᙖ ᙅ ᗪ ᙓ ᖴ ᘜ ᕼ I ᒍ K ᒪ ᙏ ᑎ O ᑭ ᑫ ᖇ S T ᙀ ᐯ ᙎ ᙭ Y ᘔ α︎ в︎ ¢ ∂︎ є︎ ƒ g н︎ ι נ к︎ ℓ м︎ η σ ρ q я︎ ѕ т︎ υ ν ω︎ χ︎ y z ꪖ ᥇ ᥴ ᦔ ꫀ ᠻ ᧁ ꫝ ⅈ 𝕛 𝕜 ꪶ ꪑ ꪀ ꪮ ρ 𝕢 𝕣 ડ 𝕥 ꪊ ꪜ ᭙ ᥊ ꪗ 𝕫 ᾰ︎ ♭ ḉ ᖱ ḙ ḟ ❡ ℏ !︎ ♩ к︎ ℓ Պ ℵ ✺ ℘ ǭ Ի ṧ т︎ ṳ ṽ ω︎ ✘ ⑂ ℨ︎ ค ც ८ ძ︎ ૯ Բ ૭ Һ ɿ ʆ қ Ն ɱ Ո ૦ ƿ ҩ Ր ς︎ ੮ υ︎ ౮ ω ૪ ע ઽ ⏃ ⏚ ☊ ⎅ ⟒ ⎎ ☌ ⊑ ⟊ ⟟ ☍ ⌰ ⋔ ⋏ ⍜ ⌿ ⍾ ⍀ ⌇ ⏁ ⎍ ⎐ ⍙ ⌖ ⊬ ⋉

ˋ , . 💸. , ┊ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ..┊★. .sʜᴇ'ᴅ. .★ . . .' ' : : 💬 : :『 - ˋ яιη ˎˊ˗ ˋ ]

🚛 - ︴☞ @ ᴍɪʟᴏ •﹏• ʰᵉ’ᵈ .. . ˚ • 💬: ｡ᵕ̈ 🚗︴ʙᴇᴇᴘ! ʙᴇᴇᴘ! ┊★

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣀⢀⣾⠿⠻⢶⣄⠀⠀⣠⣶⡿⠶⣄⣠⣾⣿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⡿⣿⠿⣿⡿⢼⣿⣿⡿⣿⣎⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠉⠛⢛⣛⡉⠀⠀⠙⠛⠻⠟⠑⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣧⣤⣴⠿⠿⣷⣤⡤⠴⠖⠳⣄⣀⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣀⣟⠻⢦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡈⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⠉⡇⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠁⠀⠹⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠀⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠈⠑⠪⠷⠥⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣼⠛⢦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠲⠖⠛⠻⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠻⠷⣦⣽⠿⠿⠒⠚⠋⠉⠁⡞⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⢿⣀⢀⣀⣦⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡰⣫⣿⡿⠟⠻⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⡾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⣿⣧⠀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣀⢒⣤⣶⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⡾⠁⠙⣿⡈⠉⠙⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⢿⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⠤⠾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⠟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⣿⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠠⠿⠟⠻⠟⠋⠉⢿⣿⣦⡀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁ ⢀⣿⡆⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣻⢿⣷⣀⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⢸⠃⠠⣼⠃⠀⠀⣠⣾⡟⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠷⣄⠈⠿⠛⠻⠶⢶⣄⣀⣀⡠⠈⢛⡿⠃⠈⢿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠟⠀⠀⢻⣶⣶⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⢅⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠉⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠰⡀⢸⣷⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠉⠀⠀⠈⠓⢯⡉⠉⠉⢱⣶⠏⠙⠛⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣁⠁⡀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣐⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇👹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ💚°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🧌 (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

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..🐇 ⌇ -» ┆「, ℳιℳι' ᵖᵒᵛ』┆🌷. ↪ ¹ ² ³ @. ♡ ˢᴴᴱ'ᵈ.. ┆ℬαιι! ╭ » -

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«—🕊—#.𝓜ɪᴀ ʜᴇʀᴇ!—||»ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ·:«“ ¢нαт нєяє! ”»—sᴇɴᴛ!𐙚💌

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₊˚ʚ 🎀 ₊˚✧ﾟ.

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

🪞 *.☽𓍢̗̀🥧 ̗̀ ͙֒♡* ℳɪℓℓιє ιѕ вαкιηg αρρℓє ριє…🍎 ˚₊‧꒰ა ╰┈➤ ѕℋє’∂ ☼ σω, ι gσт вυяηт! 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ .🪞𑁍 *.☽𓍢̗̀🥧 𓍼

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 8 (Autistic author) With Patrick gone, the room feels eerily quiet. Plankton lies on the floor, his body heaving with sobs. Each breath is a battle, a reminder of the pain still echoing through his body. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice a soft hum. She rolls over to him, her mechanical arms extending to offer comfort. "I didn't know he'd do that." Plankton's body shakes with sobs, his single eye squeezed shut. He whispers, "No more poking, Karen. No more." Karen's screens flicker with regret. "I'm so sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle beep. She reaches out with one of her arms, carefully placing it around his tiny frame. "Let's get you up," she suggests, her movements slow and deliberate. With her help, Plankton manages to stand, his legs shaking like seaweed in a storm. She leads him to the couch. "Rest," she beeps, but he's too exhausted to respond. Karen sits beside him, her screens dimming as she watches him. The silence is a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems a lullaby compared to the chaos of Patrick's laughter. "Karen," he whispers after a moment, his voice a weak static. Her screens light up with concern. "Yes, Plankton?" she beeps. "Plankton not want to go back to how it was," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread. "The stealing, the fighting." Karen's screens flicker with a sadness she rarely shows. "I know," she drapes a blanket over him, tucking him in. Her voice is a soothing beep. "You don't have to, Plankton. We'll find a new way." She caresses his shaky hand. Plankton nods, his eye finally closing in relief. The warmth of the blanket and Karen's gentle touch offer a semblance of calm in the storm of sensory overload, his crying slowing. "Thank Karen," he murmurs, his voice a tired static as he squeezes her hand once. Her screens glow with affection. "You're welcome, Plankton," she beeps. "Rest now." She dims the lights once more, watching over him as she held his hand. Plankton's body finally stills, the storm of sensations receding as he surrenders to sleep. Karen's screens flicker with a quiet relief. She sits beside him.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 6 (Autistic author) Karen watches him, her screens a flurry of analysis. "How does it taste?" she asks, her voice a hopeful beep. Plankton pauses, his expression unreadable. "Tastes," he murmurs. "Good. Toast good." Karen nods, her screens reflecting relief. "Good," she echoes. "Now, let's make a plan for the day." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on his half-eaten toast, his mind still reeling from the sensory assault. "Plan," he repeats, his voice a soft static. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "We'll start small," she beeps, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get through today, okay?" But as soon as her hand touches him, Plankton flinches. The sensation is like a thousand jellyfish stings, and he jerks away. "What's wrong?" Karen asks, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's eye widens, his hand going to his shoulder where she touched him. He starts to repeat the phrase again, "Take your time," but his voice is overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of his senses. "Too much," he whispers, his body trembling. Karen quickly withdraws her hand, her screens flickering with concern. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice gentle. "Let's try something else." Plankton nods, his hand still on his shoulder, his body slowly calming. "Okay," he whispers. "Not tap. Karen can rub. Hug from Plankton. Not jab. Not poke." Karen's screens flicker with a new understanding of his needs. She moves closer, her hand hovering over his shoulder before gently placing it there, her fingers tracing small circles in a rhythmic pattern. The contact is soothing, not overwhelming. "Is this better?" she asks, her voice a gentle beep. Plankton nods, his body visibly relaxing. "Good," he murmurs, his voice a quiet static. "Rub, rub." He starts to mimic her motion with his other hand, creating a mirrored pattern on his opposite shoulder. The repetition seems to calm him, the rhythm a gentle lullaby for his frazzled mind. Karen's screens analyze his reaction, storing the information for future reference. "Okay," she says, her voice a soft beep. "We'll stick to gentle touches." With a nod, Plankton begins to breathe more evenly. The sensation of the rubbing calms him, like a gentle tide washing over him. "We'll start with simple tasks," Karen beeps, her voice a reassuring melody. "Things that won't overstimulate you." Plankton nods, his hands now resting on the table. "Okay," he says, his voice a steady static. "Simple." Karen's screens glow with a soft light as she considers their options. "How about we start with something you love?" she suggests. "Like working on the Krabby Patty formula?" But Plankton shakes his head, the very mention of the Krabby Patty causing his body to tense up again. "No," he whispers, his voice a harsh static. "Not formula. No more steal." Karen's screens flicker with surprise. "You don't want to work on the formula?" Plankton shakes his head again, his voice barely audible. "No more steal," he repeats. Karen's screens process his words, his change in attitude unexpected. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patty formula anymore?" Plankton's eye blinks slowly. "No," he says, his voice a solemn beep. "New plan. Make Plankton happy." Karen's screens blink rapidly, trying to comprehend his shift in focus. "Okay," she says, her voice a thoughtful hum. "What makes you happy, Plankton?" He looks up, his expression pensive. "Karen," he says, his voice a weak static. "Love Karen." Karen's screens freeze for a moment, before lighting up with understanding. "You love me?" she beeps, her voice a surprised chime. Plankton nods, his face a mask of seriousness. "Yes," he murmurs. "Love Karen." Karen's screens flicker with a mix of emotions she's never felt before. Love is a concept her programming doesn't fully grasp, but she knows it's important to Plankton. "Thank you," she says, her voice a warm beep. "But we still need to find something for you to do, something that won't be too much for your sensory processing." Plankton nods, his thoughts racing. "Help," he whispers. "Help Karen." Karen's screens flicker with love and determination. "Of course," she says, her voice a warm beep. "We'll find something you enjoy. Maybe we can start with something that doesn't involve the Krabby Patty." Plankton's expression softens, his trembling hands coming to rest on the table. "No more fighting," he murmurs. "Peace." Karen nods, her screens reflecting a deep sadness she's never expressed before. "Okay," she beeps. "We'll find something that brings you joy."

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 9 (Autistic author) The quiet of the room envelops them like a warm sea breeze, the only sound his soft, even breaths. Her grip on his hand tightens slightly, a silent promise to protect and guide him through this new chapter of his life. As her hand strokes his gently in a comforting rhythm, her gal pal, Sandy, unexpectedly comes in through the door. "Mornin'!" she chirps, her cheerful voice piercing the calm. Plankton jolts awake, his eye snapping open like a trapdoor. The sudden shift from sleep to wakefulness is jarring, his heart racing like a tiny engine. "S-Sandy?" he stammers, his voice a static whisper. Sandy's cheerfulness doesn't waver. "Hey there, little buddy!" she says, her voice a sunlit melody. But Plankton's heightened sensitivity turns her greeting into a cacophony. He flinches, his grip on Karen's hand tightening. "It's okay," Karen beeps soothingly, her screens reflecting his distress. Sandy gets a word search book out. "I just got it today!" Plankton's eye, though tired, lights up slightly at the sight of the book. The pages are a calming white with neatly arranged letters, the colors a gentle wash of blue and yellow. "Want to see?" she asks, her voice a warm trill. He nods, his body still tense but his curiosity piqued. Sandy opens the word search book, her fingers tracing the rows and columns with a gentle precision. "Look, Karen," she says, her voice a soft trill. "It's all about science." Plankton's eye, though still wary, is drawn to the page. He scans the words, his brain lighting up with recognition. "Words," he whispers, his voice a steady static as she sets the book down. The sight of the word search grounds him, the predictability of the patterns offering a comforting routine. His breathing slows, the chaos of his senses retreating like the tide. "Find," he says, looking at the index. Sandy's smile is infectious, her enthusiasm for the simple task contagious. "Okay, let's find some words!" she says, her voice a gentle trill. She points to the first puzzle. "How about this one?" Plankton nods, his eye focusing on the page. The challenge of finding words within the grid is a comforting distraction from the sensory overload. "Start," he whispers, his voice a firm static. Sandy nods, her thumbs tucked into the pages to keep their place. "Okay, we're looking for 'jellyfish scientific name,'" she asks, her voice a gentle trill. Plankton's mind latches onto the task, the letters becoming a puzzle to solve. "Medusae," he murmurs, his voice a focused static. Sandy's eyes light up with excitement. "That's right!" she says, her voice a delighted trill. "Good job, Planks!" Plankton feels a small spark of pride, his focus narrowing to the word in question. The world around him fades into the background as he scans the grid. Each letter is a stepping stone in a vast, orderly sea. "Good job," Karen beeps, her screens illuminating with pride. "You're doing great." Plankton nods, his eye locked on the word "medusae" he's just found. The simple act of locating the word in the jumble of letters brings a sense of peace, a respite from the sensory onslaught. He goes to the next when Sandy interrupts his focus. "So, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "How's your day been?" He can't multitask, which Sandy doesn't notice. Plankton's mind is fully absorbed by the word search, each letter a piece of a puzzle he's eager to solve. Her question hangs in the air, a bubble waiting to pop, but he's too engrossed to respond right away. Finally, he looks up, his gaze shifting from the page to her face. "Day?" he repeats, his voice a confused static. Sandy nods, her expression gentle. "Yeah, how have you been?" Plankton's gaze flits back to the word search, his hand twitching to point out the next word. "Words," he says, his voice a focused static. "Words." But frustrated Sandy thinks he's just trying to ignore her, and she interrupts him again. "Plankton, I'm talking to you," she says, her voice a gentle nudge. Plankton's single eye darts back to her face, his grip on the word search pencil tightening. "Words," he whispers, his voice a static echo of his thoughts. "Words." He tries to get back to it, but Sandy's not satisfied. "But how are you, Plankton?" she presses, her voice a persistent hum. The word search is a safe haven, but he knows Sandy waits for an answer. He's getting frustrated. He takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "Okay," he whispers, his voice a static sigh. "Tell Sandy." Sandy leans in, her face a picture of concern. "What's going on, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. He looks back at the word search, the letters blurring slightly. He's tired of being interrupted. "Plankton has words now," he says, his voice a firm static. "Words make happy." Sandy's not sure what he means, but she does want to have a conversation. So, how does she get him to interact?

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 5 (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen wakes up to find Plankton out of bed. He's standing in the middle of the room, his eye focused on the spinning fans of the air conditioner. Karen's screens light up with concern as she assesses his state. "Plankton," she beeps gently. "How did you sleep?" Plankton's eye doesn't move from the hypnotic spin of the fans. "Fan spin," he says, his voice a monotone. Karen's screens blink, trying to understand his single-word reply. "The fans are spinning?" she asks, hoping to engage him. Plankton nods slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Spin, spin, spin," he murmurs. Karen's screens flicker. "Karen," Plankton says. "Fan spin." "The spinning is soothing to you?" she asks. Plankton nods, his voice a faint echo. "Spin, spin, spin. Good spin." Karen's screens process the information, formulating a new approach. "Let's go downstairs," she suggests, her voice a gentle beep. "We'll start with a simple routine. Breakfast." Plankton nods, his gaze still fixed on the fans. With a final nod to the spinning blades, he follows her out of the bedroom. The journey downstairs is a minefield of sounds and sights, but he takes it step by step, his hand gripping the railing tightly. The kitchen is a blur of colors and noises, but Karen's calm voice guides him through it all. "First," she beeps, "let's start with something easy. How about a glass of water?" Plankton nods, his movements still mechanical. He watches as she fills a glass, the water's surface dancing in the light. It's mesmerizing, and for a moment, the world stops spinning. He takes the glass, his trembling hand bringing it to his lips, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. "Water," he murmurs. "Good, water." The simple task seems to ground him a bit, and Karen takes note of the small victory. "Now, let's try some toast," she says, her voice a comforting beep. She slides a piece of bread into the toaster, the sound of the lever clicking into place another beat in the rhythm of their morning. Plankton nods, his attention drawn to the toaster's glowing coils. He watches, his eye widening as the bread turns golden brown. The smell fills the room, a comforting scent that penetrates the fog in his head. "Toast," he says, his voice a bit stronger. But as the toaster pops, the sudden noise jolts him like an electric shock. "Too loud," he whispers, his eye darting around the room in panic. Karen's screens flicker with empathy. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a soothing hum. She quickly retrieves the toast, placing it gently on a plate. "Let's sit down," she suggests, guiding him to the table. "Take it slow." They sit, and Plankton fidgets in his chair, his eye darting around the room. "Take your time," Karen reminds him, her voice a steady beep. He nods, focusing on the toast. Each bite is a tiny triumph, his senses adjusting to the new world. The crunch of the bread, the warmth on his tongue, the smell of the butter spreading. It's overwhelming, but he's making progress.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 10 (Autistic author) Ignorant of Plankton's neurodivergence, Sandy doesn't realize that her persistent questions are adding to his overwhelm. She leans closer, her face a canvas of concern. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice strained as she grabs his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch in agitation, his single eye snapping up to meet hers. The touch feels like a brand, his senses on fire. "Words," he murmurs, his voice a desperate static, trying to return to the safety of the word search. But Sandy's grip is firm, her gaze intense. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice a persistent hum. She doesn't understand the distress she's causing, her intentions pure but misguided. So she turns him using both of her hands to squeeze his arms. The sudden pressure sends waves of pain coursing through his tiny body, his voice a piercing squeal of static. "No, no," he whispers, but she only holds tighter. Her touch feels like a vice, her voice a relentless buzz in his ear. "What's going on?" she repeats, her grip unyielding. Plankton's eye widens with fear, his voice a desperate static. "No, Sandy, please," he whispers, his body trying to shrink away from the contact. But she doesn't understand, her eyes searching his for answers. "Just answer me! You're not getting the book until you decide to have a conversation!" The pain in his arms spikes, the pressure unbearable. His voice cracks like a whip. "Can't," he gasps, his breath quick and shallow. "Too much." Sandy's grip doesn't lessen. "Why not?" she asks, her voice a stubborn hum. "You're okay." The room feels like it's closing in on him, the sensation of her touch like a million tiny saws against his skin. He tries to pull away, his voice a frantic static. "Too much," he whispers, his breathing quick and erratic. "Need words, not touch." But Sandy's grip doesn't loosen. She's determined to get his attention. "Look at me then," she insists, her voice a firm hum. "I'm right here." Plankton's eye flutters with the effort to focus on her face. The sensory assault of her touch and her persistent voice is like a whirlpool threatening to pull him under. "No," he whispers, his voice a fragile static. "Please." "Talk. To. Me!" She says as she pulls him closer to her. Plankton's eye bulges with the effort of not looking away. The room is spinning, his senses are on fire. Karen's screens flicker with alarm, picking up on his distress. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warning siren. "Let go of his arms." Sandy's grip tightens, not comprehending the harm she's causing. "But he's not answering me!" she protests, her voice a confused trill. "Because until I get an answer..." Karen's screens blaze with a mix of frustration and fear. "Sandy, you're hurting him," she beeps, her voice a sharp warning. Sandy's grip doesn't waver. She doesn't understand the severity of the situation. Her eyes are wide, her expression a mask of confusion. "What's wrong with you!" she asks Plankton. "I JUST..." "Sandy, stop!" Karen beeps, her voice a piercing alarm. "You're causing him pain!" Sandy's grip finally loosens, her hands retreating from Plankton's arms. She stares at him, her expression a storm of confusion and concern as Plankton's tiny body slumps. "What's wrong with you?" she asks again, her voice a gentle hum of bewilderment. Plankton's body quivers like a leaf, his eye squeezed shut against the onslaught of emotions. "Can't..." Sandy's face is a canvas of confusion, her hands hovering over him like a lost diver searching for the surface. "But why?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's body is a taut bowstring, each breath a struggle. He tries to find the words to explain, his voice a static whisper. "Too much," he says, his eye still tightly shut. "It's too much." Sandy's gaze softens, her confusion giving way to concern. She doesn't understand, but she can see his pain. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton takes a shaky breath, his body still reeling from the overstimulation. He opens his eye, looking at her. "Say no, Sandy." Sandy's gaze is steady, her voice a soft hum. "No?" she asks, her eyes searching his for answers. But he won't elaborate. Karen's screens flicker with frustration. She knows Sandy means well, but her lack of understanding is causing more harm than good. "Sandy, Plankton's going through something new," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "He's sensitive to touch and sounds right now." Sandy's eyes widen, the realization dawning. "Oh," she says, her voice a soft trill of understanding. "I didn't know." She sits back, giving him space. "Words," he whispers, his voice a sob. "Words." Sandy nods, her confusion replaced with empathy. "Okay, let's stick to words," she says, her voice a gentle rumble. She picks up the word search book, holding it out to him like a peace offering. "Words," he whimpers. Plankton takes the book, his antennae drooping. He finds comfort in the predictability of the letters and the structure of the puzzle, the words becoming a lifeline in a sea of chaos. He begins to scan the page again, his breathing slowing. Sandy watches him, her heart heavy with regret. She had no idea her actions could cause so much pain. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a sincere hum. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Plankton." "Words," he murmurs. Sandy nods, her eyes reflecting genuine apology. "It's okay," she whispers. "We'll just stick to words." Karen's screens flicker with relief, seeing Plankton's body slowly relax. "Thank you, Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warm hum of gratitude. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "I'm here to help," she says, her voice a comforting trill. She looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body still tense. "Words, words." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What happened to make you like this, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. He takes a deep shuddering breath as tears start to form in his eye. "Mmm," he hums, hugging his knees. Sandy's gaze is intense, her curiosity piqued. "What happened, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a soft trill of concern. "Hmmm," Plankton hums as he rocks, now crying. Sandy's eyes are wide with worry, her voice a gentle hum. "Hey, what's going on?" she asks, looking for answers. "Hmmmm..." Plankton keeps humming, sniffling in between hums. Karen decides to intervene. "Sandy," Karen beeps firmly, her screens flashing with concern. "Let's give Plankton some space." Sandy nods, her expression a mix of apology and confusion. She takes a step back, her gaze never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice a soft rumble of regret. "It's okay," Karen beeps, her voice a comforting hum. "We're all learning." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "But what happened?" she asks again, her voice a gentle trill of concern. Plankton's body is a tiny storm, his sobs quaking through his tiny frame. Karen's screen pulse with sympathy. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a calm wave. "Let's talk outside." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with worry.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 11 (Autistic author) As they leave the room, Plankton's sobs slowly ease, the word search book clutched to his chest like a talisman. The gentle hum of Karen's wheels fading with distance, he focuses on the patterns of light reflecting off the pages. In the hallway, Karen beeps with urgency. "Sandy, Plankton's been through a lot," she explains. "He's neurodivergent now. He can't handle touch like he used to, and his senses are heightened." Sandy's eyes widen with surprise. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice a confused rumble. Karen's screens flicker with patience. "It means his brain functions differently now," she beeps. "He's extra sensitive to stimuli, and certain things that were normal before can now be painful or overwhelming for him." Sandy's gaze softens with understanding. "Oh," she says, her voice a quiet rumble. "I had no idea." She looks back at Plankton's closed door, guilt heavy in her eyes. "What can we do?" Karen's screens flicker with thought. "We need to be patient and learn," she beeps. "Adapt to his new needs, and support him in his journey." Sandy nods, determined to make it right. "How?" she asks, her voice a hopeful trill. "We start by respecting his boundaries," Karen explains, her screens glowing with sincerity. "No touching unless he asks for it. And we speak softly, giving him time to process what we say." Sandy nods, absorbing the new information. "I can do that," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "But what about playing?" "Quiet games, like word searches or board games. No roughhousing or poking. I'm gonna go rest." Sandy goes back to see Plankton, his muffled sobs in the quiet space. Sandy's heart aches with regret. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a tender trill. She sits beside his shaking form, her hand hovering over his shoulder before thinking better of it. Plankton's sobs slow, his body still tense. He opens his eye, looking at Sandy. "Words," he whispers, holding up the book. Sandy nods, her gaze gentle. "Words it is," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She sits beside him on the couch, careful not to touch his skin as she opens the book to the next puzzle. "What's this word?" she asks, her finger pointing to the list. Plankton's eye locks onto the word. "Kelp," he murmurs, his voice a soft static. He traces the letters in the grid, writing it in the crossword puzzle. Sandy nods, her eyes focused on the puzzle. "Good job," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "You're so smart." Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of pride, his breathing evening out. "Words," he repeats, his voice a steady static. Sandy nods, understanding. "Words are important to you now," she says, her voice a soft rumble of support. "We'll find more puzzles." "We'll find more puzzles?" Plankton repeats. Sandy nods, her face a picture of sincerity. "Yes," she says, her voice a warm trill. "As many as you want." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, his interest piqued. "More words?" Sandy's smile is a warm glow, her voice a gentle rumble of agreement. "As many as you want, buddy." Plankton's single eye brightens at the promise, his body slowly uncoiling from his protective ball. "Book," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the next word. "Find." Sandy nods, her finger moving to the list. "Okay, we're looking for 'favorite food of sea horses,'" she says, her voice a comforting hum. Plankton's eye flicks to the grid, his mind racing. "Myr- t-le," he stammers, his voice a crackling static. Sandy's face lights up with a grin. "You got it!" she exclaims, her voice a delighted trill. She watches him trace the letters, her heart swelling with pride. He finds the word quickly, his antennae waving with excitement. "Good job, Plankton!" she says. His body relaxes slightly, his enjoyment of the word search evident. Sandy's voice is soothing as they continue through the puzzles, her hands resting carefully on her knees. "What's this one?" she asks, pointing to another word. Plankton's eye scans the list, his antennae quivering with anticipation. "J-J-Jellyfish," he stammers, his voice a nervous static. The word brings back memories of his buddy, SpongeBob. Sandy nods, her smile gentle. "You got it," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She points to the grid. "Where is it?" Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement as he searches the letters, his single eye darting back and forth. "It," he whispers, his voice a focused static as he points to the word hidden within the puzzle. Sandy's grin spreads, her voice a warm melody. "Great job!" she praises, her thumbs up in the air. Plankton's antennae quiver with happiness, his eye lighting up. "More," he whispers, his voice a hopeful static. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "As many as you want," she says, her voice a warm trill. She opens the book to the next puzzle, her fingers hovering over the page. Plankton's body uncoils further, his interest piqued by the promise of more words. "Find," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the list of words to find. Sandy nods, her face a canvas of understanding. "Alright, what's next?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement, his gaze darting over the list. "Treasure," he murmurs, his voice a hopeful static.

petition to make this an app!! <33⩇⩇:⩇⩇

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♯ ‘🖍️ « 🏹 » ¹²³ ℕσαн вяєωιиg ¢σffєє ♯, ⊂ ᴴᴱᴰ:: text ⊃ ;; ღ «🧣» ιтѕ яєα∂у! 🍂 ’♯

✩₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊🪡✩ ◟🫐 ¹²³ 𝓐ℓαιηα ™ || ´ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ` || ♯,🧷⊂ σω! ι ρσкє∂ муѕєℓƒ ωιтн тнє ηєє∂ℓє… ⊃ ღ ✩₊˚.⋆⋆⁺₊🪡

🚨αттєηтιση:: ωαηт α ∂яαмα ƒιℓℓє∂ нιgн ѕ¢нσσℓ яρ? נσιη ( υя υѕєя) ! ωє нανє ρяσм, тяιρѕ αη∂ ℓσтѕ мσяє 💄 ╭╯ -»ωєℓ¢σмє тσ ( уσυя ηαмє ) нιgнѕ¢нσσℓ! ιƒ уσυя α ѕтυ∂єηт ρℓєαѕє ℓιηє υρ ση тнє ωнιтє ℓιηє, ιƒ уσυя α тєα¢нєя ρℓєαѕє ℓιηє υρ ση тнє уєℓℓσω ℓιηє! ★вσχ 1- ησямαℓ , уσυ αяє υѕυαℓℓу кιη∂ αη∂ єνєяуσηє кησωѕ уσυ ву ηαмє! ιƒ ѕσмєσηє gєтѕ ση уσυя ηєяνєѕ уσυя ησт αƒяαι∂ тσ ѕρєαк υρ! ★вσχ 2- ρσρυℓαя, єνєяуσηє кησωѕ ωнσ уσυ αяє αη∂ єνєяутнιηg αвσυт уσυ, уσυя ѕтιℓℓ кιη∂ υηℓєѕѕ ѕσмєσηє ιѕ яυ∂є тσ уσυ σя уσυя ƒяєιη∂ѕ ★вσχ 3- ηєя∂, уσυ αℓωαуѕ αηѕωєя тнє тєα¢нєяѕ qυєѕтιση ιη ℓєѕѕση, уσυ нανє α ƒяιєη∂ gяσυρ σƒ αвσυт 3. υηкησωη ву ηαмє вυт ιƒ ѕσмєσηє ρσιηтє∂ уσυ συт тнєу ωσυℓ∂ кησω αвσυт уσυ. ★вσχ 4- вυℓℓу, ιƒ уσυ ѕєє ѕσмєσηє ∂σιηg ѕσмєтнιηg '' ωєιя∂ '' σя נυѕт αяη'т ℓιкє уσυ уσυ ωιℓℓ ѕαу ѕσмєтнιηg, ησ мαттє ωнσ ιт ιѕ ★вσχ 5- gσѕѕιρ, ησηє кησωѕ ιтѕ уσυ gσѕѕιριηg, уσυ ƒιη∂ συт єνєяутнιηg σηє ωαу σя αησтнєя! ѕσмєтιмєѕ уσυ тωιѕт тнє тяυтн . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁✏️¹²³ѕннн, ιтѕ тιмє ƒσя тнє яυℓєѕ ⭐уσυ нανє тσ вє ση тιмє тσ ѕ¢нσσℓ, єνєяутιмє уσυя ℓαтє уσυ gєт α ѕтяιкє! 3 ѕтяιкєѕ αη∂ уσυя кι¢кє∂.. ѕσяяууσυ нανє тσ вє ση тιмє тσ ѕ¢нσσℓ, єνєяутιмє уσυя ℓαтє уσυ gєт α ѕтяιкє! 3 ѕтяιкєѕ αη∂ уσυя кι¢кє∂.. ѕσяяу☻ ⭐ησ вєєƒ υηℓєѕѕ ιтѕ ιη тнє яρ!♡ ⭐ησ ραятуѕ υηℓєѕѕ тнє нσѕт σя ¢σ нσѕт нανє αηησυη¢є∂ тнєу αяє αℓℓσωє∂- яєαѕση ƒσя тнιѕ ιѕ вє¢αυѕє ιт gєтѕ νєяу υησяgαηιѕє∂!✍🏻 ⭐ρℓєαѕє ∂σηт αяgυє αвσυт уσυя яσℓє υηℓєѕѕ нσѕт/¢σ нσѕт нαѕ αℓℓσωє∂ ιтꨄ︎ ⭐gσѕѕιρ gιяℓ ¢αη мαкє υρ яυмσυяѕ вυт ∂σηт мαкє тнєм тσσ вα∂💄 ⭐ℓινє ιη αραятмєηтѕ! ιƒ тнєу αяє ƒυℓℓ мσνє ιη ωιтн ѕσмєσηє🌍 ⭐υρ тσ 4 яσσмαтєѕ ρєя яσσм!˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ⭐нανє ƒυη🎵 ѕ¢нσσℓ σρєηιηg тιмєѕ🕓ˎˊ˗. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 8αм ѕтαят 4ρм ƒιηιѕн αƒтєя ѕ¢нσσℓ ¢ℓυвѕ αт 4;30 тιℓℓ 6ρм ⚽🎉✨ αƒтєя ѕ¢нσσℓ ¢ℓυвѕ🤸‍♀️ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ¢нєєя-тυєѕ∂αуѕ αη∂ ƒяι∂αуѕ ιη∂σσя ƒσσтвαℓℓ / ѕσ¢¢єя- мση∂αуѕ αη∂ ωє∂ηєѕ∂αуѕ вαѕкєтвαℓℓ- тнυяѕ∂αу 🎥.ᐟ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ρяσм ωιℓℓ вє ηєχт ωє∂ηєѕ∂αу! ƒσσтвαℓℓ/ ѕσ¢¢єя ιѕ ¢αη¢єℓє∂ 💃🏻🕺🏽 ¹²³ мα∂є ву ∂αιѕу™! тнιѕ ιѕ тнє σяιgιηαℓ ∂σηт ѕтєαℓ ωιтнσυт ¢яє∂ιтѕ,, яσвℓσχ υѕєя ιѕ νιвιηq∂χιѕуу -`♡´- 𐙚⋆°.

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