3 Emojis & Text

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3 border cute curvy bumpy frame
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heart 3 4
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march 3 yak
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:3 3 ^3^ uwu ɛ: ꒰꒱ three trio iii triplet
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A TOOTHY STORY pt. 3 Moments later, a groan escapes Plankton as he starts to stir, his eye fluttering open. "Hey, how's it going?" Karen asks him. "Mmm?" he mumbles, his voice thick as his eye flutters. "The surgery's over," she tells him, keeping her voice low and soothing. "We're just waiting for you to wake up properly before we go home." "Mmph," is all that comes out. Karen laughs gently, wiping his numb mouth. Plankton's eye blinks. "W-what?" He slurs. "You're okay," she repeats, smoothing his antennae. "You had your wisdom teeth out. They're all gone. You're in recovery." Plankton tries to speak. "Mmh... mmf... m-much?" Karen chuckles. "You'll feel better soon." Plankton's mouth feels like it's filled with wet cotton. He tries to form words, his tongue clumsy against the numbness. "Wh-wha?" Karen laughs gently, her screen sparkling with love and amusement. "You just had surgery." Plankton blinks, trying to focus. "Gah?" he attempts, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen laughs softly, her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, just take it easy." "Mmph... m-more?" Plankton slurs. Karen's eyes widen with surprise and laughter. "No, honey, all four are out. You're all done." "Mm-hmm?" He tries again, his voice a mere vibration in his throat. The nurse, Nina, smiles at him, her eyes crinkling with kindness. "You're doing great, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle melody that seems to soothe his jumbled thoughts. "Just a little while longer and you'll be feeling more like yourself." He nods, his movements sluggish, his antennae flopping slightly. "Mmh... mmf," he mumbles again, his eye searching hers for clarity. Karen nods and smiles, understanding his unspoken question. "You're okay. The surgery went well. We just need to wait for the anesthesia to wear off." Karen leans in closer, her voice a lifeline in the sea of confusion. "You can't eat solids for a few days. But we've got plenty of smoothies and soups at home. You're going to love it." "K-Karen?" He croaks, his voice barely audible. She nods, smiling, her screen still filled with love and concern. "Wh-what... thine?" He slurs, his speech still slurred by the lingering effects of the anesthesia. Karen glances at the clock on the wall. "It's early," she says. "Don't worry about it." Plankton's antennae twitch, his mind grasping for coherence. "M-morning?" He mumbles, his eyes searching the room. The nurse, Nina, nods, her smile reassuring. "Yep, it's morning. The surgery's done. You're all set, Mr. Plankton." "I... I had... had... had surgery?" he asks, his speech still thick. Karen nods, her smile warm. "Yes, you did. Dr. Marlin said it went really well." "W-where's the... the... the...?" His words are slurred, and he can't quite remember what he was trying to ask. "Hmm?" He says, noticing Becky the receptionist. Karen nods. "The dentist took them out. Your mouth will feel a bit funny for a while, but it's all over." Plankton's eye widen in comprehension, and he attempts to smile, drool escaping his numb lips. "Mmph... m-mouth," he says, his voice a pitiful excuse for speech. Karen laughs, her worry melting into relief. "You're okay," she repeats. "Just give it some time. Your mouth will get back to normal soon." "Mmph... mmf... m-morning Becky," Plankton tries to greet the receptionist as she walks by, his voice barely a whisper. She laughs lightly, her cheerfulness a stark contrast to the post-surgery haze that hangs over him. "Good morning, Mr. Plankton. How are you feeling?" Becky's words float around him like bubbles in the sea, each one popping with a burst of understanding as his mind starts to clear. "Mmh... mm... m-morning," he mumbles. He tries to sit up straighter. Karen helps him, her movements quick and sure. "M-mouth..." Plankton's words are still slurred, but he's trying his best to communicate. The nurse, Nina, laughs gently. "Your mouth will feel funny for a bit," she says, "But it'll get better." Karen watches as Plankton's eyes try to focus on her. "Mmf... home?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. She nods, smiling. "As soon as you're ready to go." He nods, his antennae waving weakly. The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals one more time before nodding to Becky, the receptionist. "Looks like he's coming around," Becky says, scribbling something on a clipboard. "You guys can go once you're ready."
a toothy story karen plankton 3
A TOOTHY STORY pt. 3 Nina nods in approval, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she turns back to the monitors. "Just a few more minutes," she assures, adjusting the gauze in his mouth. The doctor speaks up. "Let's get him into recovery. We'll keep an eye on him there." Two burly starfish, who must be orderlies, come in with a wheelchair. They gently lift Plankton's slack body, transferring him from the surgical chair to the wheelchair. Karen watches as they wrap a comfortable blanket around him, tucking it under his chin. His head lolls to the side, his drool-slicked mouth open as he snores softly. Karen follows, her hand in his. The recovery room is quiet, dimly lit to reduce any stimulation that could cause discomfort. Plankton's snores fill the space, echoing off the walls. The nurse, Nina, checks his vital signs and nods to Karen. "You can stay with him. Just keep talking to him, it'll help him wake up." Karen takes a seat next to his chair, holding his hand. "Plankton, wake up," she says gently, but there's no response. She tries again, a little louder. "Wake up, it's time to go home." The nurse, Nina, smiles as she lifts him up from the wheelchair. They move him to the recovery bed, the soft pillows cradling his head. His eye remain closed, and his breathing is still slow and steady. Karen sits beside him, her heart racing. "You did it," she whispers, "You're so strong." Nina, the nurse, checks his monitors. "Looks good," she says. "Just a bit longer, and he'll be ready to wake up." Karen nods, stroking his hand. She looks at Plankton's face, serene in sleep, and whispers, "Wake up, sweetheart. We're almost done here." Still no response. The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals one more time. "His body's just taking its time to metabolize the medication. Give him a moment." The room is quiet except for the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen watches his chest rise and fall, his antennae twitching slightly. She squeezes his hand, willing him to wake up. The nurse, Nina, notices Karen's anxiety. "It's okay," she says, "Sometimes the anesthesia can take a little longer to wear off. He'll be fine. Just keep talking to him." Karen nods and leans closer, her voice a gentle hum. "We're almost there, Plankton," she says, her eyes never leaving his still form. She can see his chest rising and falling. The drool has slowed, yet his mouth is still open slightly. The nurse, Nina, checks the clock. "It's been about twenty minutes. He should start to come around now." Karen nods with a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispers, squeezing his hand a little tighter. The beeping of the heart monitor remains a steady metronome in the background, a comforting reminder that he's okay. Plankton's snores start to become less pronounced. A faint groan escapes him as his body starts to shift. Karen leans closer, her voice a soft chant of encouragement. "Wake up, honey, wake up." The nurse, Nina, nods in approval. "Good, keep it up. It'll help him wake up gently." Karen's voice is a soothing whisper in the quiet room. "Plankton," she repeats, "You're almost there. Time to wake up." His snores taper off, and his body starts to twitch slightly. Karen's eyes light up, hope flickering like the fluorescent lights above them. The nurse, Nina, watches the monitors intently. "Good, his body's starting to respond." Karen nods, her heart racing as Plankton's snores grow quieter. His eyelids flutter, and for a moment, she thinks he might be waking up. But his body relaxes again, and the snores resume, though softer. "Plankton," she calls out, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness of the room. "Wake up, love," she whispers, her voice a sweet song of comfort. The nurse, Nina, checks the monitors again, her expression calm. "It's okay," she assures Karen, "Sometimes the body needs more time to come out of the anesthesia." Karen nods, stroking his hand. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispers, her voice filled with gentle urgency. "We're all done here. Time to go home." His chest continues to rise and fall, his antennae still and his snores soft and steady. "You've got this, Plankton," she whispers. "Wake up." The nurse, Nina, watches the monitors closely, her fins poised. "He's waking up," Nina murmurs. Karen's glued to Plankton's face. His eye finally opens, but glazed over, unfocused. She squeezes his hand. "Plankton?" He blinks slowly, his antennae twitching as if trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. His mouth moves, but only garbled sounds come out. "Mmph... wha...?" he mumbles, his tongue thick in his mouth. Karen smiles, her heart swelling with relief. "You're okay," she says, wiping his drool with a tissue. Plankton's eye slowly focus on her, confusion swirling in their depths. "Wheh?" he slurs, his voice thick and sluggish. Nina, the nurse, chuckles softly. "It's the medication," she explains. "He'll be a bit out of it." Karen laughs lightly, her relief palpable. "It's okay, sweetheart," she says, her voice like a warm blanket. "You're at the dentist. You had your wisdom teeth removed." Plankton blinks again, his eyes focusing on her. "W-what?" he asks, his voice still slurred. Nina, the nurse, nods. "It's normal. The anesthesia can make you groggy." Karen smiles, her voice soft as a lullaby. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. Do you remember?" Plankton blinks again, his eyes finally focusing on her face. "T-teeth?" he mumbles, his mind swimming in the fog of the anesthesia. His mouth feels full, the gauze pressing against his numb gums like a soggy cotton ball. "Yes, your wisdom teeth," Karen says, her voice still soothing. "They're all out." Plankton's eye widen, and he tries to sit up, but the nurse, Nina, gently pushes his shoulders back down. "Easy, Mr. Plankton," she says. Karen laughs softly, her hand on his shoulder. "You're still woozy from the anesthesia." Plankton tries to speak, but it's as if his tongue is too large for his mouth. "W-wis...what?" Karen laughs, the sound musical in the quiet recovery room. "They took your wisdom teeth out, Plankton. Remember?" He blinks, his eye finally focusing on her. "Teef?" he slurs, his voice like a tired child's. The nurse, Nina, chuckles again. "It's okay," she says.
a toothy story recoverycore recoverypunk 3
SWEET CWEAM pt. 3 The car ride home was a blur of sights and sounds that Plankton struggled to make sense of. The sun was bright, piercing through the numbness like a needle. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, watching the world slide by like a slow-moving painting. "Muh face ith funny," he mumbled, poking at his cheek with a finger. The skin felt like it didn't belong to him, a puffy alien appendage attached to his face. Karen just smiled, her eyes on the road. "You're just a bit swollen, Plankton. It'll go down soon," she soothed. "Buh ith wobbly," he laughs. "Muh tongue feelth bith," he complained. Karen's smile grew wider, her eyes never leaving the road. "It's the anesthesia, sweetie. It'll wear off." Plankton's eye grew even wider at her words, his mouth moving in silent protest. "Ith not funny," he slurred, his voice a comical mix of indignation and innocence. Karen couldn't help but laugh a little, the tension of the day finally easing. "I know, I know," she soothed, her eyes dancing with mirth. "But you're so cute when you're all sleepy and confused." Plankton's eye narrowed, the childish innocence fading a touch. "Cuth?" he repeated, his voice a mix of hurt and indignance. "I'm not cuth. I'm in pwain," he whined, his words slurring together like wet paint. Karen's laughter filled the car, a soothing balm to his bruised ego. "I know you are, Plankton," she said, her voice a warm caress. "But you're also really adorable." Plankton pouted, his cheek pressing against the window. The cold glass felt good against his swollen skin. "I'm not thorable," he murmured. Karen's laughter was a gentle melody that floated through the car, turning into their driveway. "You're not a baby. You're my brave husband." Plankton's pout turned into a lopsided smile at the praise. "Thathks," he murmured. The garage door rumbled open, and Karen helped him into the Chum Bucket. Once inside, the coolness of their living room washed over him like a wave. He looked around with fresh eyes, as if seeing their home for the first time. "Wook at the wawws," he said, stumbling over to them. "They'we so big." Karen followed, shaking her head and smiling at his disjointed words. "Yes, dear, they're the same walls as always." He looked at her with wonder, his thoughts racing like a child's. "Buth they'we nah alwaysth big," he insisted, his voice filled with awe. Karen just smiled, leading him to the couch. "You're feeling a bit loopy from the medicine," she said, helping him sit down. Plankton's eye lit up as he examined the cushions. "Theth awe soggy," he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight. Karen chuckled, helping him settle into the plush seat. The numbness was slowly receding, but his tongue remained a traitor, tripping over every word. He looked around the room with fresh curiosity, his thoughts swirling like colored sugar in a cup of tea.
sweet cweam plaren 3
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 acquired autism author is neurodivergent 3
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new top 3
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new 9 tree 3
KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 3 (Autistic author) KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 3 (Autistic author) "Sorry," Plankton says, his tone still flat. "Plankton, sorry. Plankton's brain different now. Difficult for Karen?" Karen shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Plankton, you're still you," she says, trying to smile. "I just wanted to understand." Plankton nods, his gaze returning to the brain scan. "Understanding important," he says. "Plankton still loves Karen. Just different now. Permanent." Karen breaks at his words, but she knows he's trying. They sit in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Karen takes a deep breath. "I love you, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what." Plankton nods, his expression unchanged. "Karen love Plankton," he responds. "Plankton love Karen." They sit together on the couch, the silence between them heavy with the weight of their new reality. Karen tries to find comfort in the familiar rhythm of his words, but it's like hugging a statue. There's no warmth, no give. But she can tell by the look in his eye that it's present. "Plankton," she says softly, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you want to go to the anniversary dinner?" He pauses, his gaze unwavering from the brain scan. "Anniversary dinner," he repeats, as if tasting the words. Then, with a sudden nod, "Plankton will accompany Karen." Karen swells with hope. Maybe this wasn't the end of their connection. Maybe they could find a new way to be together. "But Plankton," she says, her voice tentative. "I need you to be comfortable. If going out is too much for you, we can do something else." Plankton's antennae twitch, his face contemplative. "Understood," he says after a moment. "Home dinner preferred. Less stimulating." Karen nods, feeling a weight lift slightly from her chest. "Okay," she says, swiping at a stray tear. "We can have dinner here. I'll make your favorite." Plankton's antennae perk up at the mention of food. "Karen cook?" he asks, his voice betraying a hint of excitement. Karen smiles, relieved at his interest. "Yes, I'll cook," she says. "How about some Chum?" Plankton nods eagerly. "Chum. Yes." Karen rises from the couch, determined to make the best of the situation. She heads to the kitchen, her mind racing with ideas for a simple yet delicious meal that would be easy on his senses. She chooses a recipe that doesn't have too many ingredients or smells that might overwhelm him. As she starts cooking, Plankton watches her with his newfound detachment, his eye following her movements with a clinical interest. It's as if he's studying her, trying to understand her actions. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to engage him, "can you help me set the table?" Plankton nods, his movements mechanical as he rises from the couch. He takes the plates and utensils she hands him and arranges them with meticulous precision. Each item is placed exactly 1.5 centimeters apart, the forks and knives aligned at a perfect right angle. It's something she's never noticed him do before, but it's a part of him now. As she stirs the pot of simmering chum, she glances over at him, his single eye focused intently on the task at hand. She wipes a tear from her eye, her heart heavy. But she can't dwell on the sadness. They have a life to live, and they'll figure this out together. "Plankton," she calls out, trying to keep her voice light. "Could you please grab the napkins?" He nods and heads to the drawer, his steps measured and deliberate. When he returns, he doesn't hand them to her but instead counts them out loud. "One, two." He holds up both napkins, one for each place setting. "Is this correct?" Karen nods, her smile tight. "Yes, thank you." She tries not to let the sadness seep into her voice. This was their new norm, a dance of understanding and patience that they were still learning. As they sit down to eat, Karen notices that Plankton doesn't touch his food until she does. "You don't have to wait for me," she says gently, trying to ease into their new routine. "You can start whenever you're ready." Plankton nods, his movements precise and deliberate as he takes his first bite. Karen watches him carefully, noticing that he's chewing his food much slower than normal. She wonders if it's because his sensory input has changed or if it's just part of the neurodivergence. They eat in silence, the only sound being the occasional clink of their utensils and the bubbling of the chum. Karen tries to think of something to say, something that won't cause him discomfort or confusion. But her mind is a whirlwind of questions and fears. "Plankton," she says tentatively, "Do you like the chum?" He nods, his movements methodical. "Chum. Yes. Good." His voice is still flat, but she can see the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his eye. They continue their meal, Karen forcing down bites while her mind spins with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, sadness, hope, and love all intermingling in a tumultuous storm. "Plankton," she says, her voice soft and tentative. "What are you thinking about?" He looks up from his plate, his eye focusing on her for a moment before returning to his food. "Thinking," he says, his voice monotone. "Plankton thinking about Karen. And Plankton with Karen." Karen aches at his response, but she tries to keep her expression neutral. "Do you like spending time with me?" she asks, desperation tingeing her voice. Plankton pauses, his eye flicking up to meet hers. "Plankton enjoys Karen's company." Karen clenches at his words, so devoid of the warmth they once held. But she knows she has to be patient, to give him space to navigate this new world. "Do you enjoy talking to me, Plankton?" He considers this for a moment before nodding. "Talking is good. Plankton learns things. Plankton feels safe." Karen feels a tear roll down her screen. "That's all I want," she whispers, reaching out to squeeze his hand. His grip is firm, but there's no warmth in it. It's as if he's trying to mimic the physical cue of comfort without understanding the emotional connection. "Karen crying sad?" He asks retreating his hand. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to hurt you earlier. I just wanted to spend our anniversary together." Plankton nods, his expression unreadable. "Understood," he says. "Anniversary. Special."
karen has a lesson Karen x Plankton Karen & Sheldon J. Plankton plaren 3
⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠐⠒⠂⠂ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF
new 3 roman numerals numerals ARF RF ARF ARF dot art text art ascii art
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3 iii common year starting on monday dot art text art ascii art
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i t y u o p a s d f g h j k l z x c v b n m 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 meth letter english language roman alphabet latin alphabet vowel w not my turkish alphabet him me you myself e phoenician alphabet alphabet one
There are kids on this website trying to look for cute kaomojis/emojis, and then see inappropriate stuff. If you make these kinds of things then STOP. It's NOT ok. Please copy and paste this and spread the word. Thank you. <3<𝟑<𝟑
triad leash tercet tierce ternary troika ternion threesome deuce-ace triumvirate trey three trine common chord terzetto mafia trilogy yakuza underworld figure restraint collar 3 lead triplet iii trio trinity tether rope kaomoji
ヾ(•ω•`)o
3 cute bear cute kaomoji
-`♡´-
3 three roman numerals trio
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ᡣ𐭩➤
3 tiga number three
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⠖⠶⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡇⠠⣄⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣏⠉⠉⠙⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⠀⠒⠾⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠄⣴⣃⡀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⢀⣧⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠉⢉⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠉⠘⣆⠀⠀⡿⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⢸⢁⣿⡀⢠⣷⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣀⣠⠾⠂⢷⠈⣿⠈⠓⠘⠋⣿⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⣧⡏⠀⠢⠘⣄⣿⢏⠉⠉⠻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⡆⠉⣧⢀⡗⣿⠿⣿⢯⣧⠀⠀⠀⣙⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡂⢀⣠⠷⠀⠻⠏⠙⠏⠀⢿⣌⣿⣅⢄⣀⠤⣼⠿⠶⣦⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠚⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣇⢻⠀⠈⣇⢀⡀⢻ ⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⡀⢤⡤⠩⣿⣶⣶⡿⢤⣄⣼ ⣶⠛⠋⠉⠙⠓⠲⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢦⠘⢦⣤⣤⣤⡀⠙⣦⣔⣻⢛⡃⢀⡈⢿⡿⣶⣷⠞⠋ ⠀⢷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠌⢙⣿⠉⠙⠷⣿⡄⠀⠙⣧⣟⠀⠈⢻⣦⠛⠲⢤⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠷⠶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠙⠲⣤⣾⣥⠖⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢⣄⠀⠙⠛⠶⣾⣿⣿⣆⣸⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠲⠶⠦⡤⠀⠀⠀⢷⠀⠀⠛⢤⠀⠠⠤⣤⠉⠙⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠓⠀⠀⠉⠁⢢⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡶⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣦⡉⠋⠛⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠄⢋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠀⠀⠦⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠿⢿⣦⣤⣀⣀⣤⣠⠤⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⣿⠿⠚⣃⣀⣀⣠⠤⠲⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
serb serbian 3 3fingers fingers serb 3 fingers dot art text art ascii art
3❸
3 common year starting on monday roman numerals
✞°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･"૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა
bailey 3 pasquale
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⣽⣷⣆⡀⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠶⠋⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣉⣉⣿⠙⣿⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠴⡟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣦⡀⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠟⡿⠻⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢹⣿⣿⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣼⣷⡶⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠸⣿⣿⡿⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡿⣦⢀⣿⣿⣄⡀⣀⣰⠾⠛⣻⣿⣿⣟⣲⡀⢸⡿⡟⠹⡆⠀⢀⢠⠔⠯⠟⠛⠛⠒⠲⡤⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠞⣾⣿⡛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⡧⠂⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⣺⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⣿⡽⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠿⣍⣿⣧⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢣⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣽⣿⣷⣙⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⢖⡵⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣹⡿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠠⠴⣶⣶⡿⠾⠭⠮⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠽⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⡴⠞⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠞⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣠⣤⠶⠚⠉⠉⠀⢀⡴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠁⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢓⠶⠟⠷⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⣾⣿⠋⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⢀⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣆⣼⣿⠁⢠⠃⠈⠓⠦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣦⣄⣀⣀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠻⣿⣰⠻⠀⠸⣧⡀⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⣦⣼⡏⢻⣿⣿⠇⠀⠁⠀⠻⣿⠙⣶⣄⠈⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣐⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡘⣿⡟⣀⡠⠿⠶⠒⠟⠓⠀⠹⡄⢴⣬⣍⣑⠢⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢀⣀⠐⠲⠤⠁⢘⣠⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣏⠉⠉⠂⠉⠉⠓⠒⠦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣷⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢦⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣄⠀ ⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⢹⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳ ⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣸⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣽⡟⢶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠯⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⠈⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡀⣼⣤⡟⣬⣿⣷⣤⣀⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡄⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣄⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀
3 tiga dot art text art ascii art
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3 three : 3
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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 3 (Neurodivergent author) After breakfast, Plankton looks up from his plate, his gaze meeting Karen's. "Karen," he says, his voice clearer now. "Plankton want outside." Karen nods, recognizing the need for a change of environment. They head out to the backyard, where the morning air is cool and the sun's rays cast dappled patterns on the grass. Plankton sits on a bench, his eye scanning the garden, taking in the sights. He points to a scallop, its wings a blur of color. "Beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. Karen nods, understanding that his heightened senses are allowing him to experience the world in a way she can't fully comprehend. The sound of Mr. Krabs’s lawnmower starts up, and Plankton flinches, his hands flying to cover his head. Karen quickly moves to his side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's ok," she says, her voice calm and soothing. "It's just Mr. Krabs." Plankton's humming starts up again, his body rocking slightly with each engine's roar. She squeezes his shoulder, reminding him of her presence. Together, they sit on the bench, Karen's hand on his back, as he tries to ground himself with the feel of her touch and the rhythm of his humming. The lawnmower's noise gradually becomes louder. Plankton's body tenses, and he starts to rock faster, Karen notices. "Let's go inside," she suggests gently, reading his distress. The moment they step back into the house, the noise dims. He leans into her, his body seeking the comfort of her nearness. Karen leads him to the couch, where he curls into a small ball, his hands over his ears. "It's ok," she repeats, her voice a lullaby. "We can go to the quietest room." They move to the study, a place where Plankton's favorite books reside. He nods, his body still tense with the memory of the mower's invasive sound. Karen closes the door, cutting off the outside noise, and sits beside him on the floor. She opens a drawing book she knows he loves, filled with scenes from his favorite movies. Plankton's hands drop from his ears as he focuses on the images, his breathing steadying. Karen picks up a pack of colored pencils, handing them to him without a word. He selects a blue one and starts to trace the outline of a jellyfish, his hand shaking slightly. The mower's drone outside becomes a distant hum, the pages of the book a barricade against the sensory assault. He colors in the jellyfish, his strokes becoming more confident, his breaths deep and even. Karen watches him, seeing the world through his eye, feeling his discomfort slowly ebb away. The blue pencil moves with purpose, filling in the intricate details of the jellyfish's bell. Plankton's focus is so intense it's as if he's drawing a map to navigate his new reality. Each stroke is deliberate, a silent protest against the chaos that had invaded their morning. The mower's noise grows fainter, a fading memory. In the quiet of the study, his mind finds refuge. The colors swirl and blend, a symphony of order amidst the cacophony of sensations. Karen watches him, her own hands resting in her lap, giving him the space he needs. His coloring becomes a form of therapy, a way to communicate without words, to express his feelings when speech fails. The blue pencil moves to a green one, then a red, each color adding layers to the picture. The jellyfish comes to life under his touch, a silent companion that doesn't judge or overwhelm. The doorbell rings, a sharp intrusion into their sanctuary. Plankton's body jerks at the sound, his hand slipping, leaving a smudge on the page. Karen sighs, knowing it's Mr. Krabs, probably coming over to check on them. She glances at Plankton, his body coiled tightly, his eye fixed. "It's okay," she whispers, placing a hand on his arm. "It's just Mr. Krabs." The doorbell rings again, more insistent this time. Plankton's antennae droop, his body taut with anxiety. He starts to rock, his humming picking up speed. Karen rises, leaving the colored pencils behind. She moves to the door, each step deliberate. Mr. Krabs's face appears through the peephole, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the interaction she's read so much about. How to explain Plankton's condition without causing more stress? When she opens the door, Mr. Krabs's eyes widen, noticing Plankton. "Ye drawing a jellyfish? Absurd!" He cackles, causing further distress; Plankton sees where his drawing messed up and the harsh sound of Krabs laughter, and can't take it anymore. He throws the colored pencils across the room, each one a silent shout of frustration. "Leave me alone!" he yells, his voice cracking. Mr. Krabs's laughter dies instantly, his face morphing into one of shock. "Plankton, buddy, what's gotten into ya?" he asks, his voice thick with amused confusion. The question is a spark to Plankton's already frayed nerves. He feels his body tense further, his voice rising. "You don't know anything about me!" Plankton shouts at Mr. Krabs, his words a jumbled mess of anger and hurt. "You think you can just come in here and laugh at me?" Mr. Krabs's claws freeze in midair, his laughter choked off by the unexpected outburst. He stammers, trying to find the words to respond, but Plankton cuts him off. "You think I'm a joke? That my brain is a punchline for your entertainment?" Plankton's voice is a mix of anger and pain, each word a knife thrown with precision. Mr. Krabs, taken aback, takes a step backward. His face is a mask of surprise, his mouth agape like a fish out of water. "No, no, Plankton," he stammers, his claws raised in a defensive gesture. "I didn't mean to—" But Plankton isn't listening, his eye blazing with a fury Karen's never seen before. "You never knew me!" he cries, his voice echoing through the hallway. "You just saw what you wanted to see!" Each word is a whip crack in the tense silence. Mr. Krabs opens his mouth to speak, but Plankton's words continue to fly like shrapnel. "You only see what you want to see!" Plankton's voice cracks with emotion. "You see a business rival, not a friend, not someone who's hurting!" He stands up, his body trembling. Karen steps in, her hand on his arm, trying to calm him. "Let's go back to the study," she tries to suggest. But Plankton is beyond listening. The dam of his emotions has broken, and he's lost in a flood of words and accusations. "You only cared about your Krabby Patties, your greed!" Plankton's voice rises, each syllable a dagger. Mr. Krabs's eyes dart around, unsure how to respond to the raw pain in his friend's words. So he reaches his claw out hoping to calm him, but it's giving the opposite effect. "My whole life, you've used me!" Plankton's accusations fly like shrapnel in the quiet room. Karen's heart aches, but she knows this is a release he needs. She remains silent, her hand a comforting weight on his back, grounding him.
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