Karen/Chip Plankton II Emojis & Text

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iv
(By NeuroFabulous)


Plankton's face was
now slack with 
sleep. Karen
moved silently, 
not wanting to
disturb him. 
She knew how
important this 
time was,
how much he 
needed it.

The house felt 
heavier with quiet,
but Chip's door was
open a crack, a sliver
of light spilling into
the hallway. Karen 
peeked in.
He looked up,
seeing her in the doorway.

"Mom?"
his voice was small,
his screen searching hers.
Karen walked over,
sitting beside him on his
bed. "Yes, Chip?"
He looked up at her,
his eyes filled 
with unshed tears.
"Is Dad okay?"

Karen took his
hand, giving it a
squeeze. "He will be,
sweetie. Sometimes,
people with disabilities
have moments like this.
It's part of who he is."

Chip nodded, his
throat tight. "But why's
he..."

Karen pulled him into
a warm embrace. "It's okay
to feel scared or confused.
But remember, Dad's still in
there. He loves you so much,
and he's doing his best."

Chip nodded, his
throat tight with unshed
tears. "Does he know
when it happens?"

Karen's gaze remained
steady. "Sometimes he does,
sweetie. It's like when you get
tired and need a nap. His brain
just needs to recharge."

Chip thought about that
for a moment, his thumb
playing with a loose thread
on his blanket. "Does he
remember what happens?"

Karen's hand stilled on
his back. "It's like a
dream, Chip. Sometimes
he remembers snippets,
sometimes it's all a blur."

Chip sat up, his
eyes bright with
questions. "Does he
see us when he's like that?"

Karen shrugs. 
"He might
feel us, but
his brain isn't 
fully here."

Chip's mind raced
with questions. "Mom, how
did Dad get this...
this... brain thing?"
his voice cracked.

Karen took a deep
breath, her hand still
warm on his back. "Well,
sweetie, it's something
he was born with. It's called
autism, and it's a part of him."

Chip's eyes widened.
"But why? Did he do
something wrong?"

Karen sighed, her grip
tightening around him.
"No, Chip, it's not like that.
It's just how his brain was made.
Some people have different
brain wiring, and that's okay. But
in his specific circumstance,
he was born posthumously,
after his mum passed away.."

Chip's eyes grew wider
still, his curiosity piqued.
"But, what? How..."
he whispered, his voice
barely audible.

Karen took a deep
breath, preparing herself
for the explanation she had
never thought she'd have
to give. "Your dad's mum,
she had him after she...
passed away," she said, her
voice gentle.

Chip's eyes grew as
big as saucers. "What
do you mean, 'after she passed
away'?" he whispered, his
voice filled with disbelief.

Karen took a moment,
swallowing hard. "Well, sweetie,
you know how babies are usually
born when their mommies are
alive and well, right?"

Chip nodded, his eyes
fixed on her face. "Yeah, of
course," he said, his voice
barely above a whisper. "But
how's that even physically
possible?"

Karen took a deep
breath. "It's a
rare procedure, Chip. When
his mum was very sick, the
doctors did everything they
could to save her. But when
she passed away, they realized
his heart was still beating
inside her."

Chip's eyes were wide with
horror and fascination. "But
how did they get him out?"
he asked, his voice trembling.

Karen's eyes grew misty as
she recounted the story, her
voice soft and gentle. "They
performed an emergency
procedure called a
post-mortem 'coffin birth'. 
It's very rare, Chip."

Chip's eyes were like
dinner plates, his mind
trying to grasp the concept.
"But how?" he breathed, his voice
barely a whisper.

Karen took a moment to
collect her thoughts, the
story weighing heavily on her.
"The doctors had to be very
quick and careful, Chip.
They knew Plankton had a
chance, so they did what they
could to save him. It was a
miracle he made it out
alive," she said, her voice
filled with wonder and a hint
of sadness. "Yet, because of
the way he was born, his brain
developed differently. That's
what caused his autism. His
brain was deprived of oxygen
for a short time, which can lead
to such conditions."

Chip's hand went to his
chest, his heart racing
with the realization. "But
does that mean he's...
not like other dads?"

Karen wrapped her arms
around her son, holding him
close. "Chip, your dad is
unique, just like you. And yes,
his brain works differently,
but that doesn't mean
he loves you any less. He
might just show it in his
own way."

Chip sniffled, trying to
make sense of everything.
"But why didn't you tell
me sooner?" he asked.

Karen stroked his
back, her heart heavy.
"Because, sweetie, it's a
hard thing to explain.
And we didn't want to scare
you or make you feel
different about him. We
wanted you to understand
his quirks as part of who
he is, not because of some
label. And he's a good
dad in his own way, even if
he doesn't show it like
other dads. Yet he also has
his challenges, like with
his sensory issues."

Chip nodded slowly,
his mind racing with
the new information.
He had noticed how his
dad sometimes flinched at
loud noises or avoided
crowded places.

new chip on the shoulders Karen/Chip Plankton II iv

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS v
(By NeuroFabulous)


"You know how sometimes,
Dad gets overwhelmed with
too much going on around him?"
Karen began, her voice gentle.
"It's because his brain
processes things differently.
He's sensitive to sounds, lights,
even touch. That's why he
can seem a bit... reserved, other
than the fact that he's just shy 
about it."

Chip nodded, his mind
still racing with questions.
"But why's he shy about it?"

Karen took a deep breath,
wiping a stray tear from her eye.
"Because, Chip, your dad's
always been self-conscious.
He's aware of how he's
different, and sometimes,
he just needs his space."

Chip nodded slowly,
his eyes never leaving
his mother's face. "Does
he ever get mad about it?"

Karen's gaze was
steady, her voice gentle.
"Sometimes, Chip. But it's
not at you. It's his way of
dealing with the overstimulation."

Chip nodded,
his curiosity morphing
into understanding. "So,
his brain needs a time-out?"

Karen nodded, her voice
soft. "In a way, yes. It's his
body's way of telling him to
slow down and take a break.
Sometimes, when things get too
much for him, he just needs
to be alone, without any
noise or distraction."

Chip looked at his
mother, his eyes brimming
with emotion. "But what
about when he has these...
episodes? Will he always be like
this?"

Karen squeezed his hand,
her gaze never leaving his.
"Sweetie, we can't predict
the future, but we can help him.
He's gotten better at
managing his overstimulation over
the years, but sometimes it still
happens. It's part of who he is."

Chip nodded, his mind
still racing. He looked
towards the door,
his curiosity about 
his father's condition
growing. He wanted 
to check on him,
to make sure he was okay.

With Karen by his side,
they tiptoed into the
dimly lit room. Plankton
was now fast asleep,
his chest rising and falling
evenly beneath the
covers. The room was
silent except for the
steady rhythm of his
breathing.

Chip felt a pang of
sympathy for his father,
his mind still racing with
questions about the condition
he had just learned of.
He studied Plankton's face,
now peaceful in slumber.
His antennae lay flat against
his pillow, no longer
twitching with the stress
of the shutdown.

Karen put a finger to
her lips, reminding Chip to
be quiet as they approached
the bed.

Plankton's chest rose and
fell in a steady rhythm, his
face finally relaxed, free from
the tension that had held him
captive earlier. The room
was dim, the only light
coming from the hallway.

Karen watched her son
studying his father, her heart
swelling with pride. Chip
was growing up so fast, and
now he was facing something
so complex. She knew he
was strong enough to handle
it, though.

They stood there in
silent vigil for a moment,
until Chip finally
whispered, "Can I talk
to him?"

Karen nodded,
her screen never leaving
Plankton's peaceful face.
"Just keep your voice low,"
she advised.

Chip leaned over, his
whisper a gentle breeze.
"Dad, I'm here," he murmured.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he remained
asleep.

Karen's hand rested
on Chip's shoulder,
guiding him to sit in a chair
beside the bed.

Chip's eyes remained
fixed on his father,
his mind racing with questions
and fears. Yet, there was
also a newfound respect
for Plankton's silent battles.
He watched his chest rise
and fall, the steady beat
of his heart a testament
to his resilience.

"What do we do now?"
Chip asked, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Karen's eyes never
left Plankton's sleeping form.
"We give him time," she said,
her voice soothing. "And when
he wakes from his nap, we'll
be here."

new chip on the shoulders Karen/Chip Plankton II v

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vi
(By NeuroFabulous)


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new chip on the shoulders Karen/Chip Plankton II vi

(Autistic author)

Plankton has autism,
which only he and
Karen know about.
They're able to keep
it a secret, per Plankton's
request, even from
their son Chip.

So when Chip comes
home early from 
football, he's surprised
to see his dad staring
at the blank wall as his
mom rubs his back.

"Is everything okay?"
he asks, stepping
into the room.

Plankton's eye
is unfocused,
his body rigid,
like he's stuck in
some invisible vice.
Karen's hand pauses
on his shoulder,
and she turns to
face Chip, her smile
forced. "Yeah, just a
little...spell," she says.

Plankton's absence seizure
has struck without warning.
It's like a silent storm
passing through the room,
leaving no trace except
the vacant look in his eye.

The room seems to
shrink around them
as Chip takes in his
dad's unblinking stare.
He's never seen this.
"Should I get help?"
Chip's voice cracks.

Karen shakes her head
quickly, her eyes
swimming with unshed
tears. "No, it's fine.
Just...give us a
minute." She waves
a hand, trying to
dismiss the concern
that has etched itself
on Chip's features.

But Chip lingers,
his gaze flickering
between his parents.
"What's happening?"
he whispers.

Karen sighs, her
hand dropping to her
side. She looks at
Plankton. "It's
just something your
dad has," she says,
choosing her words
carefully. "It's like
his brain goes on
pause for a bit."

Chip watches as
his dad's chest rises
and falls in a steady
rhythm, the only
indication that he's
still present in the
physical world. "But
what do you mean?"
his eyes search hers
for understanding.

Karen's eyes flit to
Plankton before returning
to Chip's. She takes a
deep breath, bracing
herself. "It's
not dangerous, just a
little scary-looking."

The silence stretches
until it feels like a
rubber band about to
snap. Chip's curiosity
overpowers his fear.
He takes a tentative
step closer.

"Does he know we're
here?" Chip whispers.

"Not really," Karen murmurs,
"But he'll come back to us."

Chip reaches out, a tremor
in his fingertips, and
touches Plankton's arm,
but the seizure doesn't
seem to notice.

"Dad?" Chip whispers,
his voice a soft echo
in the stillness.

Plankton's body remains
stiff as a statue,
his gaze fixed on a
spot somewhere beyond
the wallpaper's pattern.
Karen's hand moves to
cover Chip's, her touch
warm and reassuring.
"It's okay," she whispers
back, "It's part of him.
Don't poke or shake him,
just let it pass."

The seconds tick by,
each one feeling heavier
than the last. Chip's
heart thuds in his chest,
his mind racing with
questions and fear.
He's never seen his
dad like this before,
so...so vulnerable.

As the seizure slowly
releases its grip, Plankton
blinks, his eye refocusing
on the room. He looks
confused, like he's waking
from a deep sleep. Karen's
smile relaxes, the tension
in her shoulders easing.
Plankton turns to her,
his gaze flickering with
recognition before
falling on Chip.

"Chip?" His voice is
raspy.

Karen nods at Chip,
silently urging him to
speak. "Yeah, Dad, it's me."

Plankton's expression
shifts. "What...what happened?"
his voice is frail.

Chip opens his mouth,
but Karen steps in
quickly. "You had a little
moment, that's all. Nothing
to worry about," she says, her
tone light. But her hand is
still on Plankton's back,
ready to provide support
if needed.

Plankton's eye darts around,
his hands clenching and unclenching
as if trying to remember
how to interact with the
world again. He notices
Chip's hand reaching out and
flinches slightly, his discomfort
with physical contact clear.

Chip, sensing this, pulls his
hand back, his cheeks flushing.
He's always known his dad was
a bit...different. Quirky.
But he's never seen this side
of him.

"It's okay," Karen says, her voice
soothing as she squeezes Plankton's
hand. "You're okay."

Plankton nods, his mind
slowly untangling from the
cotton wool fog of the seizure.
He looks around the room,
familiar objects snapping back
into focus. His eye lands
on Chip, who's watching him
with a mix of worry and curiosity.
He clears his throat. "Just a...moment.
I'm fine now." He tries to smile,
but it feels awkward and forced.

Chip's eyes don't leave him. 
"What was that?"
he asks, his voice still low.

Karen looks at Plankton. It's time.
"Your dad has something
called autism, Chip," she says.
"It's like his brain works in
a special way."

Chip's eyes widen. "What does
that mean?"

Karen sits down beside Plankton,
who's still gathering himself.

"It's like...sometimes, his brain
takes a little break from the world,"
she explains gently, her hand still
on his shoulder. "It can be
overwhelming, with all the sounds,
sights, and people around."

Chip nods slowly, trying 
to grasp the concept.

Plankton swallows hard,
his mind racing. He's always
been so careful to hide
this part of himself, not
wanting to be seen as
less than or weird.

But as he looks at Chip,
his heart swells with a mix
of fear and hope. What if
his son can't understand?
What if this changes
everything?

Karen gives him a nod,
encouraging him to go on.
With a deep breath, Plankton
starts to speak. "You know
how sometimes you get really
focused on something and
the world just fades away?"

Chip nods.

"Well, for me, it's like 
that," Plankton says, his voice
steadying. "But sometimes, my brain does it
without me asking. It's like my thoughts are a TV
with too many channels playing at once, and it
just...shuts off for a bit to give me a break."

Chip nods, trying to 
imagine what that's like.
"Does it hurt?"

Plankton shakes his head.
"Well, it's just...different.
Sometimes I don't realize,
sometimes it's tough."

Chip looks up at him,
his eyes full of questions
and a nascent empathy.
"Can you control..."

"No Chip, I can't 
'control' it!" He
snaps back.

"Hey hey, it's okay," Karen whispers,
meeting his gaze. "He's
not judging you, Plankton."

Plankton takes a deep breath,
his eye fluttering shut. "I know,"
he murmurs, but his tone is
anything but convinced.

Chip's gaze softens, his
fear replaced with a
determined curiosity.
"What's it like?" he asks,
his voice gentle.

Plankton's shoulders rise
and fall with a sigh.
"It's like being in a
little bubble," he says,
his eye distant. "Everything's
far away, muffled. And when
it's over, it's like...like
popping back into reality."

Chip's curiosity grows,
his mind racing with questions.
"But why do you keep it a secret?"
he asks, his voice tentative.

Karen looks to Plankton,
who's still visibly shaken.
"We didn't want it to define you,"
she says softly. "We wanted you
to see him as just your dad,
not as someone with a label."

Plankton nods. "And I didn't
want to be different," he adds,
his voice barely above a whisper.

Chip considers this, his gaze
flitting from his dad to the
ground. "But you are," he says,
his voice earnest. "You're 
my dad, even with your..."
He stumbles over the word
"...seizures."

Karen's eyes fill with pride
at her son's acceptance.
Plankton's tension how
ever, heightens at Chip's
description.

"It's not a seizure,"
he corrects, his voice
slightly defensive.

Chip looks confused.
"But it looks like it,"
he says, frowning.

Karen nods. "It's similar,
but not the same," she explains
before Plankton can interject.
"It's part of your dad's autism."

Chip looks at Plankton, his
eyes searching for something
he's never noticed before.
"But why did you keep it
a secret?" he asks again.

Plankton's gaze drifts
to the floor, his voice
soft. "Because people
can be cruel, son," he says,
his words heavy. "They
don't always understand."

Chip nods, his eyes
welling up with tears. "But I
do," he says, his voice
shaking. "I mean, I don't get
it all, but I understand
that you're still you."

Plankton's expression
softens, his fear of
rejection dissipating slightly.
He looks up at Karen,
his gaze filled with
gratitude. She gives him
a small smile, her eyes
telling him it's okay to be
his true self.

new Written by AI Karen x Plankton Karen/Chip Plankton II plankton

⟡ pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

→ AI Story Generator ←

completely free, NO signup required (ever), and unlimited!

WHEN THE CHIP FALLS i/ii

(Autistic author)


Karen picks up 
her son, Chip, 
from a friend's 
house. "Hi, mom!
Where's dad?" He
asks her. 

"Don't worry, we'll
see him soon." 
They 
return home.

Once inside, Chip
throws his book bag
on the couch, 
his sneakers thumping.

Karen finds Plankton
in his lab, his
eye glued to a
book. She knows
that look, it's his way
of hyperfixating. She
approaches carefully.

"Plankton?" she says
gently.
He jumps a little,
his hands fidgeting
with the pipettes.
"Chip's home," she
continues, watching
his eye flicker to
the doorway, then
back to the beakers.

Chip's
footsteps echo down
the hall, and
suddenly, he's there,
his body
crashing into his
father's in a tight,
unexpected hug.

Plankton's arms
hang at his sides.

"I missed you," Chip
whispers into
his father's chest. 

Plankton's body tenses,
his mind racing with
unexpected sensory input.
He tries to focus
on his breath, to
slow it down, but
it's like trying to
swim through
a tornado of stimuli.

Karen gently pries
Chip away, leading
them both to the
living room.

"Is everything ok,
Dad?" Chip asks, his
face scrunched in
concern. Plankton
follows them, his
movements mechanical.

"Just... working
on something
important," Plankton
mutters, his eye
dodging Chip's gaze.
"I'm fine.."

Chip senses the
distance, the
walls Plankton's put
up around himself.
He's seen it before,
but it still stings.
What Chip doesn't
know is that his dad's
autistic.

Plankton fidgets,
avoiding his
son's gaze. "What's
going on?" Chip
asks. 

"Dad's just a
little stressed with
work." But Chip's
not buying it. He
notices the way
his father's fingers
tap a staccato rhythm.

Chip tries
to hug Plankton again,
his arms reaching out
like a lifeline. Plankton
flinches, the touch
sending a jolt of
discomfort through
his body. He can't help it;
his senses are already
overwhelmed.

"Chip, please,"
Plankton says, voice
sharp as a tack.

Chip turns to his
father.

"What's wrong, Dad?"
he asks again,
his voice small.

He can't find the
words to explain.
Instead, he does the
only thing he can think
of to relieve the tension:
he prys Chip's arms away,
his movements abrupt.

"Dad?" Chip's voice is
tiny, confused. 
Plankton's voice
booms through the room,
sharp and loud. "I said I'm
fine!!"
The echo of his words
hangs in the air, and
Chip shrinks back,
his arms falling to his
sides.

Karen sighs, knowing
it's time to explain.

"Chip," she starts,
"Your dad has something
that makes him..."

"I know,
I know," he interrupts,
his voice tinged with
frustration. "Dad's always
like this. Always lost in his
own world, never..."

"What do you mean 'always 
like this'?" Plankton
demands, the words
sharp and pointed.

Chip takes a step
back.
"It's just... you're
always so busy with
work," he stammers.
"I just... I want to
spend time with you."

Plankton's eye widens,
accusation stinging him.
He tries to find the words
to explain, to bridge
the gap between his
autistic brain and his
son's need for connection.
But his thoughts are a jumbled
mess of frustration and guilt.
He loves, but sometimes,
his condition makes it hard
to show it.

"I'm not 'always like this,'"
Plankton snaps, his voice
cracking like a whip.
"You don't understand!"
He slams his fist on the
table.

"I'm sorry," Chip murmurs, 
"I didn't mean..." 
But his words are
drowned out by the storm
of emotion raging within
his father.

"You think I choose this?"
He gestures wildly.
"I'm not 'always like this'!
You think it's easy?"

Karen's heart aches as she watches
the raw pain flash across Plankton's face.

Chip takes a tentative step forward.
"I just want to understand," he whispers.
He reaches out and gently places his
hand on Plankton's arm.
Plankton's rage doesn't abate,
his arm jerking away as if burned.
"You think you can just fix me
with a pat on the back and a sad puppy look?"
He spat out the words.
"I'm not something to be fixed,"
Plankton says, his voice low and
dangerous. His fist
slams into the table again.

Chip's hand retreats to his side. 
"I didn't say you
were," he manages to reply, his voice
shaking. "I just want to be with you."

"You don't
get it," he seethes, his voice rising.
"You can't just come in here and demand
I change for you!" His fists clench, and
the pipettes in his lab coat pockets
clink ominously.

"Dad I don't know what 
you're talking about.."
Chip's voice is a mere
whisper, his eyes brimming
with tears. Plankton's anger
doesn't waver. His body
shakes with the intensity
of his emotions, his face
a mask of fury and pain.

"You think you know me?"
Plankton's voice is like
thunder, his words a
torrent of accusation.
"You think you can just waltz
in here and tell me how to
feel, how to act?"

Chip takes a step back. 
"I just want to help,"
he says, his voice a barely
audible whisper.

Plankton's sarcasm is
bitter. "Oh, help,"
he mocks, his voice a
parody of sweetness. "You're
so helpful. You know what
help would be? Leaving me
alone!"

"But Dad," Chip starts.
"I don't know what I did
wrong."

Plankton's lashing out at Chip.
"Oh, you're just the picture
of innocence, aren't you?"
he says, his tone a toxic mix
of anger and patronizing.
"Coming in acting
like you know everything,
thinking you can just fix
me with a hug and a
sympathetic look."

Chip feels his cheeks burn.
"I'm sorry," he
whispers, his voice cracking.

"You're sorry?" Plankton
repeats, his voice dripping
with disdain. "You're sorry?
What good is sorry?!"

Chip shakes his head.

"You think I don't know
what you're thinking? That I
can't feel your pity?"
He scoffs, a cold, brittle sound.
"You think I don't know
when you look at me like that?"

Chip's meeting
his father's furious gaze. "I
don't..."

But Plankton cuts him off,
his voice a sneer. "Don't lie
to me. I can see it in your
screen. You think I'm some
thing to be
fixed, like one of your toys."

Chip feels like
being crushed by a heavy
weight, his chest tightening
with each of his father's
words. "That's not what I
meant," he stammers.

"You think it's easy
for me, don't you?" 
He sneers.
"You think I don't wish
I could just turn it off,
be 'normal' for you?"

"No, 
Dad, I... I just want
to understand. And,
turn what off?"

Plankton's eye narrows,
his jaw clenching. "You
don't get it, I can't
just turn off who I am.
I'm not some broken toy!"

"I just want to be with you,"
he repeats, his voice
shaking. "I don't care
if you're not... like other
dads or whatever you're
saying.."

Plankton's anger doesn't
abate, his body stiff as
a board. "You think that's
it?" he sneers. "You think
it's just a matter of me
snapping out of it?"

"I don't know,
Dad," he admits, his voice
breaking. "I just... I want
to spend time with you."

Plankton's face contorts
further, his frustration
boiling over. "You think
that's all it takes?" he
shouts. "You want
quality time?" His voice
cracks.

Chip nods, 
desperate for a
connection. "Yes," 
he whispers.

"Quality time," Plankton repeats, his
voice dripping with scorn. "You think
that's all I need, a little 'quality
time' and everything will be fine?
You have no idea what I go through
every day just to pretend to be like
them, for you, for your mother!"

Chip's in shock. He's
never seen his father like this,
so raw and exposed. The room
seems to pulse with Plankton's anger,
each beat a reminder of the distance
between them. "I don't know," Chip says,
his voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't know," Plankton mimics,
his voice dripping with contempt.
"You think it's just a matter of
trying harder, don't you? Like it's
a switch I can just flip?" He starts to
pace the room, his footsteps heavy
and punctuated by his frustration.
"You think I enjoy your pity
parties?"

"Dad, I..." he
whispers, but his voice is lost
in the tempest. "You think
you know what it's like to
be me?" he snarls. "You have
no idea. You're just a child,
playing at being an adult with
your little 'I want to understand'
nonsense."

Karen can't take it anymore.
With a gentle but firm voice,
she steps between them. "Plankton,"
she says, her tone a warning.
"That's enough."

Plankton's rant falters,
his eye meeting hers. For a
moment, he seems lost,
his anger flickering out like a
candle in a gust of wind.




"You don't know what it's like,"
he repeats softer,
anger morphing into a
deep sadness that seeps into
the fabric of the room.

Chip looks up, his screen
glistening with unshed tears.
"Tell me," he pleads. "Help me
understand."

Karen's gaze softens,
and sighs heavily. "Your
dad has something called
Autism," she says gently. "It's like
his brain is wired differently.
It's not good or bad, it just
makes things harder for him
sometimes."

Chip looks up, his
face a canvas of confusion.
"Does that mean he can't love me?"
he asks, the fear in his voice
like a knife.

Karen kneels beside him,
taking his small hand in hers.
"No, baby," she says softly. "It means
his love might look different.
He feels it just as much, but shows
it in his own way."

Plankton stands there, his
body rigid, his eye darting
between Karen and Chip.
"I don't know how to do this,"
he says finally, his voice
cracking with emotion. "I don't
know how to be what you want."

"What do you mean?" he asks,
his voice trembling.

Plankton's eye narrows,
his voice like shards
of ice. "This," he says,
gesturing to his head.
"This... thing inside me
that makes everything
so hard." His hand
gestures to his forehead
as if to punctuate his words.
"This autism!"

Chip looks up with confusion
and a touch of fear. "But
Dad," he says softly, "I don't
see it like that. I don't even
know what Autism is!"

Karen's gaze flickers to
Plankton, who stands
motionless, his jaw clenched.
"It's ok," she reassures her
son. "It's not something
you can see, Chip. It's just
how Daddy's brain works."

new when the chip falls Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II i

WHEN THE CHIP FALLS ii/ii

(Autistic author)


Karen takes a deep breath,
preparing to explain. "You know
how sometimes, when somethings
made, things don't always
develop as planned?"
she starts, her eyes never
leaving Chip's. "Well, Daddy's
brain is like that. It's just
how he was born."

Plankton's shoulders slump,
anger dissipating into
a heavy sadness. He looks
at his son, his heart aching.
"It's hard for me to express
how I feel," he says. "But
that doesn't mean I don't feel it."

Chip stares up at his
father.
"But why can't you just tell me?"
he asks, trembling.
"Why can't you just be like...
normal dads?"

The word "normal" hangs in the air
and Plankton feels
his rage reignite.

"Don't you dare," he growls, his
eye flashing with anger. "Don't
you ever say that again."

Chip takes a step back, his body
shaking. "What did I say?"
he whispers.

But Plankton doesn't
answer. He turns away,
his movements stiff and
jerking, as if he's fighting
against invisible chains.
Without a word, he storms
out of the living room.
The bedroom door slams
shut with a finality that
echoes through the house.

Karen's gaze follows him,
her heart heavy. Then she
looks back at Chip, her eyes
filled with a mix of love
and disappointment. "Chip,"
she says firmly. "You can't
just... expect him to change
like that."

Chip's eyes fill with
understanding, his body
slumping. "I didn't mean
to..." he starts, his voice
trailing off. "But I just
want to spend time with
him," he says, his voice
small and defeated.

Karen sighs, her gaze
softening as she looks at
her son. "I know, sweetie,"
she says, her voice gentle.
"But using the word 'normal'
doesn't help. It makes
Daddy feel like something's
wrong with him, like he's
not good enough."

Chip's eyes widen, realizing
his mistake. "I didn't mean it
like that," he stammers, his
cheeks flushing with
embarrassment. "I just want
us to be happy together."

Karen nods solemnly, her
eyes holding his. "I know
you do," she says, her voice
gentle. "But words can hurt,
especially when we don't
understand the full weight
they carry. Your father's
not 'normal' in the way you
think, but that doesn't mean
his love for you is any less."

Chip bites his lip, his eyes
glued to the floor. He feels
a pang of guilt, knowing
he's hurt his dad.

With a heavy sigh, Karen
stands up. "Let's go talk to
your father," she says,
placing a comforting hand
on Chip's shoulder. They
walk down the hallway
to Plankton's bedroom.

The door is ajar, and
through the crack, Karen
can see Plankton's hunched
form on the bed, his face
buried in his hands. His
shoulders shake with silent
sobs. Her heart aches for
his pain.

With Chip in tow, she
pushes the door open. Plankton
doesn't look up, his body
wrapped in a cocoon of
self-loathing. The room is
a mess of discarded lab
equipment and half-finished
experiments, a visual representation
of his tumultuous thoughts.

"Plankton," Karen says softly,
her voice a lifeline thrown
into the sea of his despair.

He doesn't move, his
body rigid with the weight
of his own emotions.

Chip takes a tentative step
forward, his hand reaching
out to touch his father's
shoulder. "Dad?" he whispers.

Plankton's body jolts,
his sobs growing louder.
Karen's heart clenches at the
sound, knowing the depth
of his pain.

"Dad?" Chip's voice is
tiny, his hand hovering
over his father's back.
He's never seen
his dad like this,
so vulnerable and broken.

Plankton's sobs
fill the room, each one
a shard of pain that
penetrates Karen's soul.
Her heart breaks
for her husband, for
the struggle she knows
he faces every day.

Chip's hand shakes
as he touches Plankton's
shoulder, his voice a
tiny thread of hope
woven through the
storm of emotions.
"Dad, I'm sorry," he says,
his voice barely a whisper.

Plankton's sobs
intensify, his body
wracking with the weight
of his sorrow. Karen
moves to the bed, sitting
down beside him, her
hand on his back. "It's
okay," she whispers, her
voice a gentle breeze in the
storm of his grief.

But Plankton is
beyond consolation. His
sobs are like waves,
crashing against the
shore of his pride,
eroding the barriers he's
built up over the years.
He can't speak, can't
even look at his son.

Chip's touch is
a soft whisper in
the hurricane of
his father's pain, but
it's enough to make
Plankton's shoulders
shake even harder.
The weight of his
emotions is too much,
his body unable to
contain the torrent.

Karen wraps her
arms around him,
trying to soothe the
storm within. She
knows the feeling
all too well, having
been his anchor through
so many of these
moments. Plankton's
sobs are like a language
only she can understand.

Chip watches, feeling
helpless, his hand
still hovering over
his father's back. He's
seen his dad upset before,
but never like this. It's
like looking into the
eye of a hurricane and
wishing you could stop
it from spinning.

"Daddy," Chip says
again, his voice
tiny, hopeful. Plankton's
body tenses under
his touch, and for a
moment, it seems like
the storm might abate.

But the sobs only
get louder, the tremors
more violent. Karen's
heart breaks as she sees
the hurt in her son's eyes.
"Let's give him some
space, okay?" she says
gently, her hand on
Chip's shoulder.
"Go wait, I'll take
care of him."

With a nod, Chip retreats,
his eyes never leaving
his father's bent form.
Once he's gone, Karen
wraps her arms around
Plankton, holding him
tightly as he cries.

"Shh," she whispers,
stroking his back in soothing
circles. "It's okay. I'm
here." Her voice is a
lullaby in the tempest
of his emotions, a beacon
of calm in the chaos.

Slowly, Plankton's sobs
begin to subside, his
body unclenching from its
self-imposed prison. He
lifts his face, eye red
and wet with tears.

"I just want..." he whispers,
his voice raw with pain.

Karen's eyes well up with
tears, her heart aching for
his suffering. "You are
normal, Plankton," she says
softly. "You're just different."

Plankton's body quakes, his
sobs subsiding into hiccups.
"But Chip..." he chokes out.
"He thinks... he thinks..."

Karen's grip tightens,
her voice firm and loving.
"Chip's young," she says.
"He doesn't understand
yet. But we'll teach him."

Plankton's sobs slowly
ease, his breaths coming
less ragged. He nods, his
body still tense. "I know,"
he says, his voice a whisper.
"But it hurts."

Karen pulls him closer,
aching for his
pain. She kisses
his cheek, her touch
gentle the way she knows
he likes it.

"You're a good dad,"
she whispers, her voice
the calm after the storm.
"You show
Chip that you're here for him,
in your own way."

Plankton's eye meets hers,
his gaze searching for truth
in her words. He nods
slowly, his shoulders
slumping as he takes a deep,
shuddering breath. "Thank
you," he whispers, his voice
still thick with emotion.

Karen nods, her heart
full of love and sorrow.
"Let's go talk to Chip,"
she says gently, standing up.

Plankton wipes his eye,
his body still trembling.
He nods, following her out
of the room, each step
a monumental effort.

In the hallway, Chip is
sitting on the floor, his
back against the wall.
He looks up as they approach,
his eyes red and swollen.
"Dad," he says, his voice
cracking with emotion.

Plankton's steps falter,
his heart in his throat. He
forces himself to meet his
son's gaze, the weight of
his guilt a heavy burden.
"I'm sorry," Chip says,
his voice shaky.

The words are a balm
to Plankton's soul, his
anger and pain receding
like a retreating tide.

He looks at Chip, his
eye swollen with
unshed tears, his heart
heavy with regret.
"I didn't mean to... I just..."

Chip's eyes are red,
his cheeks stained with
tears. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he whispers, his voice
a mere thread of sound.

Plankton's heart clenches
at the sight of his son's
pain. He sits down next
to Chip, his movements
slow and deliberate, not
wanting to startle him. "It's
okay," he says, his voice
shaky. "I shouldn't have
snapped at you. I'm not..."

Chip looks up, his eyes
swimming with tears. "You're
not what?" he asks, his
voice hopeful.

Plankton sighs, trying
to find the words. "I'm
not like other dads," he
admits, his voice barely
above a whisper. "But that
doesn't mean I don't l-love
you, or that I don't want
to be with you."
Plankton's gaze drops to
his son's small, trembling
hand. "It's hard," he says,
his voice tight with emotion.
"I... I don't always know
how to make you feel
what's inside."

Chip looks up at him, his
eyes searching. "What's
inside?" he asks, his voice
tiny.

Plankton's gaze meets
his son's, and he sees the
flicker of hope. "Love," he
says finally, his voice
cracking. "It's just... different."

Chip's eyes widen with
understanding, the fear
fading from his eyes. "Can you
show me?" he asks, his voice
small but steady.

Plankton nods, his body
still tense with emotion. He
thinks for a moment, trying to
find a way to bridge the gap
between his love and his
inability to express it. "Look,"
he says, pointing to a jar
on the shelf. "I only like certain
touches from certain people.
But I'm the one who recommended
we get that ice cream yesterday, right?"

Chip nods, his eyes
glistening with hope. "Yeah, you
always know the perfect flavor."

Plankton's smile is
forced, but it's a start. He takes
a deep, shaky breath. "And remember
when you had that science fair
project, and I helped you?"

Chip nods, his eyes
lit with memory. "You stayed
up all night, making sure I got
it just right."

Plankton's smile is a little
more genuine this time. "I did
that because I care about you.
I want you to be happy, even if I
can't show it like everyone else."

He reaches out tentatively,
his hand hovering near Chip's.
For a moment, it seems like
he might withdraw again,
like a snail retreating into
its shell at the first sign of
danger. But then, with a
deep breath, he touches
his son's shoulder, his
fingers light and unsure.

Plankton's hand trembles,
his touch as gentle as a
feather landing on Chip's shoulder
before retreating.
"Normal is over
rated," he whispers, the word
a promise. "But I do, in my own way."

new when the chip falls Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II ii

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS i
(By NeuroFabulous)


Chip, son of Karen
and Plankton, came
home from summer
camp early one day.

Chip's mother, Karen,
greeted Chip. Plankton, his
father, was a quirky
little fellow, known
for his ingenious
inventions that often
failed, but never
dampened his spirit. So
Chip decides to go find
his father eagerly.

Plankton was on his
own bed in the room
he shared with Karen.

The door swung open,
slamming against the
wall, and in burst Chip.
He threw himself onto
Plankton's bed, not
noticing his father's
flinch at the sudden
noise and movement.

"Dad! Dad! You
won't believe what I
learned at camp! I
made a new friend, and
we did the coolest science
project together! It's like
you're always saying, science
can make anything taste
good!" Yet it was too much for his
overwhelmed body to handle. Plankton's
eye glazed over, his body
still as a statue, frozen in
the midst of his usual
frenetic energy. Chip's chatter
trailed off as he stared at his
father, confused. "Dad? Are
you okay?" Chip stepped closer,
noticing the way he didn't
move, not even to blink. Panic
clawed at his chest.

The room grew
silent, save for the
ticking of a clock in
the corner. The vivid
colors of Chip's camp
t-shirt seemed to dull in
contrast to Plankton's unnatural
stillness. The boy's mind raced,
trying to understand what was
happening. He knew his dad
was quirky, but this was different.
It was like the gears in Plankton's
brain had stopped turning, leaving
his body an empty shell.

Chip reached out with a
trembling hand, placing
it on Plankton's shoulder.
The cold, unyielding feel of his
father's skin sent a shiver
down his spine. "Dad?" he
whispered, voice shaking with
fear. "Wake up, please." His voice
was a mere echo in the room,
bouncing off the walls and
returning to him, unheard.

Panic swelled in his
chest, pushing aside
the excitement from moments
before. Chip knew his dad
was different, had always been
different, but this... this was
new, this was terrifying.
Here, in their tiny house
in the Chum Bucket, Plankton's
breathing remained steady,
but his eye were vacant.

The young boy's mind
whirred, trying to piece together
his father's sudden stillness.
Plankton had always been
a whirlwind of ideas and
energy, but now he sits there,
silent and unresponsive. Chip's
fingers tightened on Plankton's
shoulder.

"Dad, please," Chip
began to plead, his voice
cracking with emotion. He
shook him gently at first,
then more urgently, but the
small figure remained unmoved.

He tried to shake his
father again, more firmly
this time, but Plankton was
still as stone. His eye were
open, but there was no spark of
life. The only sound
was the frantic panting of
his own breaths.

"Dad, come on! You're scaring
me!" Chip's voice grew
desperate. He felt tears
prickling at the corners of his
eyes, but he blinked them
back. He couldn't let fear
overtake him now. He had to
help his dad.

He patted Plankton's cheek,
then called out louder, "Daddy,
snapshot out of it!" Still no
response.

He tried calling again, louder
now, but Plankton remained eerily
silent. He grabbed the nearest
item, a rubber spatula from
his dad's invention bench, and
waved it in front of his father's
face. Nothing. Not a blink, not
even a twitch. "Dad, wake up!" But Plankton
just sat there, his gaze
fixed on some unseen point
on the wall.

Chip's thoughts spun out
of control. He had to get
his mother. She'd know what to
do. "Mom,
something's wrong with Dad.
He won't wake up!"

Karen rushed in. She
took in the scene and
immediately knew that Plankton
was in the grip of a shutdown.
An intense reaction
to overstimulation for someone
on the spectrum, like his
autism. "Chip, sweetie,
back away," she said gently, pushing
his hand off Plankton's shoulder.

Karen had
always tried to protect her son
from the reality of his father's
condition. But now, she realized,
it was time for Chip to learn.

Her voice was calm and
soothing as she approached
Plankton. She sat beside him
on the bed, her hand resting
on his cold, stiff arm. "Chip,
sometimes Daddy's brain gets
too full." She looked
up at her son, her screen filled
with both sadness and love.

Chip stared at her,
his mind racing. "What do we do?"
he asked, his voice a whisper.

"We just need to wait," Karen
replied, her voice steady. "It's like
his brain's gone on a little vacation.
Give him some space, okay?"

Chip nodded, though he didn't
fully understand. He stepped back
and watched his mother gently
stroke Plankton's arm.

Curiosity began 
to bubble up
inside him, mixing 
with the fear.

Chip stepped
back from the bed,
his screen wide with
wonder and worry.
He studied his father
intently, as if trying
to solve a puzzle.

Oblivious to his own
fear, Chip tiptoed closer
once more, his curiosity
getting the better of him.

He leaned in, peering
closely at Plankton's
expressionless face. "What's
happening to him, Mom?"

Karen took a deep breath,
trying to find the right words.
"It's like his brain needs
a break, Chip. Sometimes,
his mind gets too busy, and
his body just stops so he can
recharge."

Chip's screen searched his
mother's, looking for more.
"But why is he so still?"
he pressed, his curiosity
refusing to be quenched.

Karen sighed softly, her
fingers still moving in soothing
circles on Plankton's arm. "It's like
his brain is taking a nap," she
explained. "When he gets too
much information or feels too much,
his body just stops to help him cope."

Chip nodded, his
young mind working overtime.
"Can I talk to him?"

Karen looked down at
Plankton, her gaze filled with
concern. "You can," she said
softly, "but he might not
hear you right now. Give him
some quiet."

Chip nodded, but
his curiosity couldn't be
stilled. "Can't I tell him
about my day?"

Karen squeezed
his hand gently. 
"You can, but remember,
his brain is resting. 
He might not
understand everything 
you say. But it's
okay to whisper comforts 
to him. Sometimes
just hearing your voice 
can be comforting."

With a nod, Chip
whispered his questions,
his voice barely audible
above the clock's tick.
"Dad, can you hear me?
What's it like when your
brain takes a nap?"
He paused, waiting
for some sign of life,
but Plankton remained
still.

Karen watched her son
carefully. She knew
this was a crucial moment
for him, learning to navigate
his father's complex world.

new chip on the shoulders autistic author Karen/Chip Plankton II Chip Plankton II & Sheldon J. Plankton i

CHIP AND FAIL vii
(Autistic author)

Plankton's body tensed, his
eye squeezing shut as he tried to
block out the onslaught of
sensations. "Chip," he murmured,
his voice strained, "I can't."
"What do you mean?"
He didn't know his touch, his
words, his very presence was a
storm in Plankton's mind. He
just wanted to share his week,
his joy, with his dad.

Plankton took a deep, shaky
breath, his antennae twitching.
"I have... I have something
that makes it hard for me to...
to handle..."

But Chip's excitement was unable to
comprehend the distress he was
causing. "Handle what, Dad?" he
asked, his voice filled with
eagerness. "You can tell me anything!"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye flickering with pain.
He knew he had to find the
words, to explain the storm
that raged in his mind, his 
voice trembling. "I
can't... I just..."

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his hands reaching out
again. 
But Plankton was already
slipping away, his mind a tornado of
sensations. He couldn't find the
words, the storm too loud.

Chip, oblivious to the turmoil,
pressed on. "Dad, you can tell me
anything," he said, his voice
bubbling over with eagerness. His
hands reached out again, his touch
like a lightning bolt in Plankton's
overstimulated world.

Plankton's antennae quivered
with the effort of maintaining
his composure. He didn't know
how to explain the maelstrom
that was his mind, the way each
touch and sound felt like a
thunderclap. "Chip," he began again,
his voice strained, "I'm..."

But Chip was a hurricane,
his enthusiasm unyielding. "Is it
because of the college?" he
asked, his screen sparkling. "Or
Nutmeg?" He didn't realize that
his words, his touch, were the
fuel for the storm.

Plankton's eye searched
his son's, desperate for a
moment of calm. "Chip, no,
it's not about..." His voice
was a whisper, lost in the wind
of his son's excitement.

But Chip didn't hear the
desperation, his mind a kaleidoscope
of thoughts and memories.
He didn't see the pain he was
causing, only his own need
for connection. "But Dad,
I just wanted to..."

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his body tensing like a bowstring.
"Chip," he said, his voice
a whipcrack of agony. "P-please."

But Chip was in his own
world, racing with
the excitement of his week. "Come
on, Dad," he said, his voice
filled with cheerful oblivion. "It's
so cool, you've gotta see it!"
He grabbed Plankton's hand, pulling
him to hard.

Plankton's body jerked, his
eye wide with pain. The sudden
contact was like a sledgehammer
to his overstimulated mind, his
thoughts scattering like leaves
in a storm. "Chip," he managed,
his voice strained, "please."

But Chip's excitement was a
freight train, barreling forward
without a care for the tracks.
He didn't see the agony etched
in Plankton's features, didn't feel
the tension in his father's
body. "Come on, Dad," he said,
his grip tightening. "It's going
to be amazing, I..."

Plankton's body spasmed at the
contact, his antennae vibrating
wildly. The room grew too bright,
the sounds too loud, the air too
thin. He couldn't move, couldn't
think. His mind was a cacophony
of sensations, a symphony of
overload. "Chip," he choked out,
his voice a plea. "I... I can't."

Chip's face fell, not realizing how
angry his dad's getting. "What do you..."

But Plankton was already
spiraling, his mind a tornado of
sensory assault. He didn't know
how to make Chip understand,
his voice a thunderclap of despair.
"I CAN'T!" he shouted, his antennae
waving erratically.

Chip's smile faltered, his eyes
wide with shock. He had never
seen his dad like this before,
his touch a match to a fuse. He
took a step back, his hands up in
surrender. "You mean, you won't!"
he asked, his voice shaking.

Plankton took a deep, shuddering
breath, his antennae drooping.
"Chip," he said, his voice tight with
frustration. "I can't. Not right
now. I need..."

But Chip's crashing over the delicate
barriers Plankton had built to
keep his world in order. "But Dad,
it's just a story!" he exclaimed,
his voice booming in the quiet
living room. "It's not a big deal,
you're just being..."

The room grew smaller, the walls
closing in on Plankton as Chip's
words echoed in his mind. Just a
story? To Chip, it was a simple
tale of adventure, but to Plankton,
it was a minefield of sensory input
his brain couldn't process. "Chip,
please," he murmured, his antennae
twitching wildly. "I'm trying..." "You're
not trying hard enough!" Chip said,
his voice filled with the kind of
innocent exasperation that only
a child can muster. "But if you're
trying to break our family, congratulations!
You..."

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his body rigid with tension. The
accusation hit him like a tidal
wave, threatening to drown him
under the weight of his own
failure. "Chip," he said, his voice
a desperate plea. "It's not..."

But Chip's screen filled
with accusation, his voice
loud in the suddenly too-small
room. "Why can't you just be
normal?" he demanded, his grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his eye squeezed shut against
the assault. "I'm sorry," he
whispered, his voice breaking.
"I'm not... I'm not like other
dads."

"Well DUH! You just can't handle it,
can you?" Chip said, his voice
filled with frustration. He didn't
see the pain in Plankton's eye,
the way his antennae drooped with
each accusation. "But it's just a
story, Dad. It's not that..."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his body trembling with the effort
to stay calm. "Chip, you don't
understand," he said, his voice
barely above a whisper. "My mind
is like a... a... "

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his expression a mix
of confusion and anger. "What?
What's wrong with you? Let me
guess, you're just being dramatic
again," he said, his voice
harsher than he intended. Plankton
flinched at the accusation, his
antennas stiffening.

Karen watched from the
sidelines, aching. She knew
this moment was inevitable, but
seeing the pain was like a knife to her.
She took a deep breath,
steeling herself for the conversation
that needed to happen.

"Chip, sweetie," she began, her voice
soft and gentle, "Dad's not
being dramatic." She took a step
forward, placing a hand on her
son's shoulder, feeling the tension
beneath his skin. "Your dad has..."

"Mom, my 'dad' has no place 
in OUR family! Your life is a lie!"
Chip's words, fueled by confusion
and hurt, echoed through to
Plankton, his voice shaking.

Karen's hands shook as she reached
for Chip. "No, honey," she said,
her voice trembling, "it's not
that simple." But Chip was already
storming out of the room, his
footsteps like thunder in the quiet
hallway.

Plankton slumped back against
his chair, his antennae drooping.
He had hoped Chip would never
have to know, never have to feel
the way he did. The way his mind
was like a cluttered room, with no
way to organize the chaos. He
closed his eye, the weight of
his secret heavy on his shoulders.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II vii

CHIP AND FAIL viii
(Autistic author)

Karen's hand was a lifeline,
her voice a gentle guide. "Chip,"
she called out.
"We need to talk."

Chip stopped in the hallway. 
Why was Dad acting so
weird? He turned to face his
mother, his eyes brimming with
unshed tears. "What's wrong with
him?" he demanded, his voice
filled with accusation. "He doesn't
deserve to be called my dad if
he can't even..."
But that's when it happens.
That's when Plankton started
hyperventilating, and that's
when Plankton can't take
anymore.
That's when it happened.
Chip's words were like a match
striking too close to a powder keg.
Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae
twitching erratically. Karen rushed to
his side, her screen wide with concern.
"Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress. She holds her arms
out to catch Plankton.

But Plankton's mind was a
whirlwind, his body a live wire.
He couldn't answer, couldn't find
the words to explain the chaos
that was his reality. His antennae
trembled as he struggled to
breathe, his body rigid with fear.
He had hoped to keep this
hidden, to protect Chip from the
truth, but it was too much.
The storm inside him grew
wilder, each breath a battle.

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his own confusion
mirroring the chaos in the
room. "What's wrong with you?"
he repeated, his voice a mix of anger
and desperation.

But Plankton's mind was a tornado,
his thoughts swirling too fast
for words. He could feel his chest
constrict, his heart pounding
like a drum.

Karen watched her son's screen,
seeing the hurt in his eyes, the
misunderstanding etched
deep. She took a deep breath,
knowing the moment had arrived.
"Chip," she began, her voice
soft but firm, "there's something
you need to know about your dad."

Chip looked at her, his expression
a mix of anger and confusion. "What
could possibly make him act like
this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why
did you marry him? He's just nothing but..."

"Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his
hands in hers, when Plankton
starts to wheeze heavily, his body
constricting with each shallow breath.

Chip's anger faded, replaced with
fear as he watched his father's
distress. "Dad?" he whispered,
his voice shaking.

Plankton's body trembled as his
legs gave out, collapsing into the
embrace Karen had been ready to offer.

"Dad?" Chip's voice was barely
above a whisper, his eyes wide
with fear and confusion. He had
never seen his father so
overwhelmed, so vulnerable.

Karen knelt beside Plankton, her
hands gentle on his trembling
body. "It's okay, love," she
whispered, her voice a salve
on his raw nerves. "Just breathe."

Chip's eyes were glued to his
father with fear. He had never seen him
like this before, his body a
stranger's under his own touch.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked
again, his voice shaking.

Karen took a deep breath, her
hands trembling as she smoothed
back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your
dad was born with something..."
Her voice trailed off, the words
stuck in her throat like a piece
of unchewed food.

Chip's eyes searched hers, his
confusion a storm cloud
gathering. "What do you mean?"
he asked, his voice small and
scared.

Karen took a deep breath, her
heart aching for both her son
and her husband. "Your dad," she
began, her voice shaking with
the weight of her words, "was born
different, Chip." Plankton's
eye flickered open, filled with a
mixture of fear and hope.

"What do you mean, 'different'?"
Chip asked, his voice small and
scared. He had never heard his
mother talk about his dad this
way before.

Karen took a deep breath,
swallowing the lump in her
throat. "When your dad was born,
Chip," she began, her screen
filled with a sadness that
threatened to spill over, "his brain
was injured during delivery. When
the doctors pulled him out, they
didn't realize how fragile he was
and they..." Her voice trailed off,
the memory too painful to
recount. "They had to get him out
and applied too much force on his
head, which caused some damage.
It gave him a type of condition, where
he's on what's called autism spectrum."

Chip's eyes widened, his grip on
his shirt tightening. "But that's
not his fault, right?" he asked, his
voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't
want to think of his dad as
damaged or broken.

Karen nodded, her screen filled
with love for both her husband and
her son. "No, honey, it's not his
fault," she said, her voice steady.
"It's just how he's. And
it's not something you can see or
touch. It's like having a radio in
your head that's always tuned to the
loudest station, and sometimes
the static gets too much."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II viii

CHIP AND FAIL xi
(Autistic author)

Karen made chum for dinner and
they all sat at the table.

"Thanks," Plankton says to Karen
as she hands him his plate.
She sits down with her own
plate after serving Chip his.

"Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, 
his voice a whisper in the 
stillness of the room.

Plankton's antennae twitched, but
his eye remained fixed on his
plate. The silence was a wall
between them, thick as seaweed and
just as impenetrable. Chip's heart
felt like it was sinking into his
stomach, the weight of his father's
silence heavier than any words
could have been.

Karen's screen darted between them,
a silent plea for peace. She knew
this was Plankton's way of dealing
with his overwhelm, but it was
torture for Chip, who craved
understanding and connection.

"So, how's your friends?" Karen
asks Chip.

Chip shrugs, his screen
darting to Plankton, who remains
silent, his antennae still. "They're
okay," he says, his voice
lacking its usual enthusiasm.

Karen sighs internally, the
tension at the dinner table
a heavy fog that seemed to
smother their usual banter. 

"Karen, can you pass the napkins?"
Plankton says. "Sure," she says
as she puts them in the middle.

"Dad, how do you feel about
the food?"

Plankton's antennae twitched but
his gaze remained on his plate,
his mouth a tight line. The silence
was a thick stew that no one knew
how to digest. Chip's eyes were
filled with hope, searching for
any sign of his father's usual
playfulness, but all he found
was a wall of quiet.

Chip's voice was a feeble
ripple in the vast ocean of their
silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?"
he offered.

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he remained silent,
his eye never leaving his plate.
The air was thick with tension, like
seawater saturated with the
weight of their unspoken words.

Chip churned with
anxiety, each bite of chum a
reminder of the gap that had
suddenly widened between him and
his father. 

"Please, Dad," he murmured, his
voice barely audible above the
clink of their forks. Plankton's
antennas remained still, his eye
focused on the food before him.

Karen's heart was a tight knot in
her chest, her eyes darting
between her husband and son.
The silence was a living creature,
a Kraken of tension coiled around
them, squeezing the joy from the
room. She took a deep breath,
forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us
about your week," she said, her
voice too bright, too forced.

Chip took a tentative bite of his
chum, his eyes on Plankton's
unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a
good time at the carnival," he
began, his voice a sad echo of
his usual excitement. "I won
at the ring toss."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he said nothing, his
silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip
felt like a deflated balloon,
each of his words a futile attempt
to pierce the silence.

"And I met a new friend," Chip
continued, his voice a feeble thread
trying to weave through the
stillness. "She's a dolphin. She
was really cute." 

Plankton's antennae twitched again,
just a little, but it was enough to
keep Chip's hope afloat. 

Chip's voice grew stronger,
his words a lifeline thrown into
the turbulent sea of silence.
"Her name's Daisy," he said, a
tiny smile tugging. "We
played in the bubbles."

But Plankton's antennae remained
still, his eye on his plate. It
was as if Chip's words were bouncing
off an invisible shield, unable to
penetrate the fortress of his father's
mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen
filling with unshed tears. He
wanted so badly to share his joy
with Plankton, but the wall of
silence was too high, too thick.

He took a deep breath, his
hands clenching around his fork.
"Dad, I know you're mad at me,"
he said, his voice trembling. "But I
just want to understand."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he said nothing, his
face a mask of indifference.

The silence grew heavier
with each passing moment,
weighing down on Chip like an
oversized sponge soaked in
regret. He knew he had to
try again, to bridge the gap.

"Dad," he began, his voice
shaky but determined. "I know
I messed up today, but I want to
make it right." He took a deep
breath, willing the words to come.
"Can you tell me more about
your...about what happened to
you?" His voice was a tiny
bubble of hope rising in the
deep sea of their dinner.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye flickering up to meet
Chip's for a brief moment before
dropping back to his plate. The
silence stretched on like a tight
rubber band, threatening to snap.

Karen's screen a tempest of
concern, torn between her love
for her husband and her
desire to help her son. She knew
Plankton needed his space, but
seeing the pain in Chip's screen was
like watching a piece of coral
being slowly eroded by the sea.

Chip's words hung in the air,
like a message in a bottle lost
at sea. Plankton's silence was a
reef that Chip's words couldn't
navigate around. He took a
deep breath, his heart a conch shell
echoing with hope. "Dad, I know
it's hard for you," he tried again,
his voice a gentle wave. "But if
you don't tell me, how can I
understand?"

The room was a pressure
cooker of unspoken emotion,
the tension rising with each
passing second. Karen's screen
pleaded with Plankton, willing him
to respond. But he remained
still, his antennae unmoving, his
eye a storm cloud over their meal.

Chip's heart felt like it was
being crushed in a vice, his words
falling on deaf antennae. "Dad,
please," he whispered, his voice
desperate. "I just want to help."

But Plankton's antennae remained
motionless, his eye averted.
The silence was a deep-sea trench
between them, vast and unbridgeable.
Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope
leaking away like water through
a sieve. He took another bite of
his chum, the taste of it suddenly
bitter on his tongue.

The clock on the wall ticked
loudly, each second a tiny hammer
on the anvil of his heart. Chip
forced a swallow, his throat tight
with emotion. "Dad," he said again,
his voice a tiny ripple in the vast
ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room
held its breath, waiting for a
response, but none came. The
silence was a thick kelp that
choked, suffocating any
attempt at conversation.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xi

CHIP AND FAIL xii
(Autistic author)

Karen knew her
husband's withdrawal was a defense
mechanism, a way to cope with the
sensory overload. But watching
Chip's pain was like watching a
school of fish caught in a net,
thrashing against the confines of
their misunderstanding.

Chip pushed his chum around his
plate, his appetite lost in the
whirlpool of emotions. "Dad," he
tried again, his voice a soft
wave breaking on the shore of
Plankton's silence. "I don't know
what to do." Chip
felt like a tiny fish adrift in
the vast sea of his father's
displeasure. "I just want to be
there for you," he murmured, his
words a desperate plea.

But Plankton's antennae remained
still, his eye unreadable. The silence
was a dense fog, obscuring the
usual warmth between them. Chip's
heart felt like it was trapped in a
fishnet of doubt and confusion.

Karen watched the exchange with a
heavy heart, her own plate of chum
barely touched. She knew Plankton's
silence was a form of self-protection,
his way of reeling in the chaos
that had engulfed him. But she
couldn't help but feel the barb of
it, stinging Chip with each
unanswered question.

"Dad," Chip whispered again, his voice
now a soft ripple in the vast sea
of their dinner. "I know you're upset,
but I'm trying." He took another
tentative bite, his screen never
leaving Plankton's still form. "Can
we talk about it? What part of today d..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
as stiff as coral, his eye unyielding.
The silence was a thick kelp
forest, entangling any attempt at
communication. Chip didn't know
what else to say, what else to do.

Karen's screen searched the horizon
of Plankton's face, looking for any
sign of relenting. But he was an
isolated island, unreachable. She
knew the storm inside him was
still raging, and she could feel the
waves of pain crashing against the
shore of her own.

Chip's voice was a sad melody,
his words a school of fish lost
in a sea of misunderstanding.
"Dad," he whispered again, his voice
a soft ripple in the vast ocean of
silence. "I know I said the wrong
things, but I'm here. I'm listening."

Plankton's antennae remained
still, his eye a clouded pool. The
dinner table was a coral reef of
tension, their plates untouched.
The only sound was the distant
lapping of waves against the shore
of their unspoken words.

Chip's voice was a lone seagull
calling out into the vast sea of
silence. "Dad," he tried again,
his voice a desperate cry. "I'm
sorry for what I said." But the
words fell into the abyss,
unheard by the father who was
deaf to his son's pain.

Plankton's antennae remained
still. The
tension at the dinner table was
thick, obscuring any
chance of understanding.

"Dad," he said. "I 
didn't mean to hurt
you." Chip's hope
was fading.

"I'm sorry," Chip murmured again.
He didn't know what else to say,
his words a futile attempt. 
His father's antennae
twitched slightly.

The room was thick with
unspoken words. Karen's screen
flitted between them, her gaze
a beacon of understanding for
Chip in the abyss of Plankton's
silence. She knew her husband's
pain, had seen the storms he
weathered in solitude. But she also
saw the desperation in Chip's
screen, the yearning for
connection.

"Dad," Chip whispered.
"I know I don't understand it all,
but I want to learn."

Plankton's antennae remained
unmoved, the
silence a crushing weight that
threatened to drown them both.

Chip's voice was tiny.
He took another bite of chum,
his mouth moving mechanically,
his screen never leaving Plankton's
still form. "Dad," he tried again,
his voice a soft whisper. "What
can I do?"

Plankton's antennae twitched once.
He took a deep breath, his chest
expanding then letting it out in a slow sigh.

Chip was trapped. He had
never seen his father so closed
off, his usual vibrant spirit
dimmed.

Karen's eyes were a lifeline,
her gaze a gentle nudge towards
patience. She knew Plankton's
silence was not rejection but a
cry for space, a retreat into 
his own mind. "It's okay," she
mouthed.

Chip nodded, his screen never
leaving Plankton's still form. He
could see the pain etched in the
lines of his father's face, the
way his antennae drooped.
He took a deep breath.
"Dad," he said, his voice a soft
current. "I just want to help."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
just once, but it was enough for
Chip to hold onto. "I'll learn so I can be
there to help during temper tantrums.."
And there it is. His eye
flinched, and suddenly, he was
no longer in the quiet room with
his son and wife. He was back in
elementary school, the laughter of
his classmates as they called
his meltdowns "tantrums." The taste
of the chum in his mouth turned
sour. His school teachers had never
understood, had never seen the silent
storm that raged beneath his calm
surface.

"Plankton?" Karen's voice was
a soft echo, reaching out to him.
He blinked, coming back to the
present, his gaze meeting hers.
Her eyes were calm.

Chip's voice was a gentle
nudge. "Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't
mean to..." But Plankton's mind
was tangled within his thoughts of his
past. The word "tantrum" echoed in
his head, a reminder of his
vulnerability.

Karen's eyes searched her
husband's, understanding. She
reached over, her hand soft 
on his arm. "Take a moment," she
whispered. "We're here for you."

Plankton felt the warmth of her
touch, grounding him. His antennae
twitched slightly, acknowledging
her support.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xii

CHIP AND FAIL xiii
(Autistic author)

Chip's voice was soft. "Dad,
I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton was stuck. His antennae
twitched, a silent signal of his
distress.

Karen's hand on his arm was a
lifeline. She had seen the way the
world had treated him, the way
his own son didn't understand.

"I mean, it's not like you can't just
turn it off," Chip said, his voice
naive and hopeful. "Why can't you just
deal with it? Why do you always have to be
so sensitive? You'll get used to it. If
not, then you're just being dramatic. So
just stop with the tantrums, and be
normal." Plankton's unable to 
take it.

"Chip, that's enough," Karen's voice
was firm, cutting through the
silence, but Plankton's already
simmering emotions boiled over.

"What?" Chip looked at her,
confusion in his screen. "What's
wrong with what I said? He's
just overreacting.."

Karen's eyes were a tempest
of emotion. She knew Chip didn't
mean to be hurtful, but his words
cut through Plankton like a knife.
Her hand tightened on his arm, a gentle
reminder to think before he spoke.
"Chip," she said, her voice firm but
kind. "You need to understand that
what you just said is not okay."

But Chip was oblivious, his
screen a puzzle of confusion. "What?
I just want to know why you chose
to be like a..." "CHIP," Karen interrupts.
But Plankton's already in tears, as
Chip's gotten to him.

"Dad," Chip says.
"You know I..."

But Plankton can't take 
it anymore. "How could you?" 
he chokes out, tears flowing.

Chip's eyes widened. He had
never seen his father like
this.

"Dad?" He reached out, his
hand hovering, unsure if he
should touch him.

Plankton looked up, his
single eye brimming with
sorrow. "Why? How dare you 
say that?" he whispered, now
getting up from the kitchen
table.

Chip's hand fell to his side, his
mouth a sad 'o' of regret.
"Dad, no, that's not what I..."

But Plankton was already
retreating, his antennae
drooping with each step.
The kitchen door closed with
a soft click, leaving Chip
and Karen in the wake of his
withdrawal.

Chip's eyes were wide with
disbelief, his heart heavy
in his chest. "What did
I do?" he asked, his voice
breaking the surface of their
shared shock.

Karen's eyes were pools of
disappointment and sadness.
"You don't know what you
just said," she murmured, her
voice a gentle rebuke.

"What?" Chip's voice was
a sad echo, his confusion
palpable.

Karen's eyes were a tempest
of frustration and sadness.
"Chip, what you said was not
only hurtful, it was ignorant,"
she said, her voice a soft
wash of disappointment. "You
can't tell someone to 'just
deal with it' when it comes to
autism."

Chip's shoulders slumped, his
face a mask of regret. "But I
just want to understand," he
mumbled, his voice a sad echo.

Karen's voice tightens with emotion. "You
have to learn to listen without
speaking," she said, her words
carefully chosen. "Your dad's
autism is not something he can
just 'turn off'."

Chip's eyes were wide with shock.
"I didn't know," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

"You have to understand, Chip. Your father's
not being dramatic. He's in pain,"
she said, her voice cracking. "You can't just
tell him to 'deal with it'. That's not how
this works."

The words stung Chip. He had never
seen his mother so upset. "But I didn't know,"
he protested. "You have
to learn to listen," she repeated, her
voice soft yet firm. "You can't just
assume you understand because you want to."

He had wanted to connect, but instead,
he had only pushed his father further
away. He took a deep breath, the weight of
his ignorance heavy on his shoulders. "What
can I do?" he asked.

Karen took a moment before responding. "Give
your father space," she said. "And ask about
it first. Understand that his reactions are not
his choice."

Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. He knew he had
messed up, but he didn't know how to fix it. Karen
stood, her movements a gentle sway as she walked
to Plankton's room, leaving Chip alone with his
guilt.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xiii

CHIP AND FAIL xiv
(Autistic author)

Karen opened the 
door. Plankton's sobs filled
the room. She
approached him slowly, 
her movements careful not
to startle him.

"Plankton?" she whispered,
her voice gentle. He was curled
up on the bed, his antennae
shaking with each gasp.

His single eye 
looked up at her.
"I'm sorry," he 
choked out.

Karen sat
beside him, her hand 
on his back in a comforting
motion. "You have nothing to
apologize for," she 
murmured, her voice soothing.
"It's Chip who needs to
understand."

Plankton's antennae stopped
shaking, his eye focusing on
her. "Why doesn't he get it?"
he whispered.
"Why can't he see..."

"Chip loves you," she said.
"But he's never had to deal with
this before. He's trying to
understand."

Plankton's antennae quivered.
He knew she was right, but the
pain of his son's ignorance...

The door creaked open, and Chip's
face appeared, his eyes red and
swollen. "Dad," he began. "Can we talk?"

Plankton felt a wave of anger
crash over him. How could he
forgive his son for not
understanding? For not seeing
the struggle he faced every
single day? "What
do you want, Chip?" he snapped.

Chip took a tentative step into
the room, his screen on Karen.
"I just...I didn't know," he
mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae shot up. "How
could you not know?" he snarled.
"How could you be so ignorant?"

Chip took a step back. "I didn't mean to
make it worse," he said, his voice
shaking. "I just wanted to be
close to you Dad, and have you..."

Plankton's antennae trembled with
frustration. "You think I don't
want that?" he spat. "You think I enjoy
being like this?"

Chip's eyes widened. "No, Dad," he
said quickly. "I just want to help
you show..."

But Plankton was drowning in
anger. "You think you can help?"
he sneered. "You think your
naive attempts at bonding
can fix what's broken?"

Chip felt the sting of his father's
words. "Dad, I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
still. "Get out," he said, his voice
cold. "Just leave me alone."

Chip's eyes filled with tears. He had
never heard such hostility from his
father. "Dad," he pleaded. "I'm
trying..."

"I WON'T HAVE YOU PITY ME!
I've lived with this my whole life, 
and you think you can just waltz 
in and 'help'? WELL, YOU CAN'T!"
Plankton hissed. Karen can tell
he's getting overwhelmed.

With a gentle but firm tone,
Karen stepped between Chip and
Plankton. "Both of you, stop,"
she said. "This isn't helping."
Her eyes met Chip's and then Plankton's.

"Chip, your father is not mad at
you, he's just overwhelmed," Karen
explained.
"And Plankton, your son is just trying
to understand."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xiv

CHIP AND FAIL xv
(Autistic author)

"But Dad," Chip began, his voice
trembling, when Plankton
interrupts. "BUT DAD," Plankton
mimics, his voice high-pitched
and mocking. "You think you know
how I feel, but you have no
idea!"

Karen stepped back. 
She knew Plankton needed to
express his anger, and Chip needed
to learn from it.

"Dad, I'm sorry," Chip whispered,
his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to
make it about..."

But Plankton's antennae were a
flurry of agitation. "You think your
stupid need to touch me can just
make everything okay? WELL
GUESS WHAT, CHIP? IT CAN'T!" He
was shouting now, his voice echoing
through the room.

Chip's eyes filled with hurt. "Dad,
I just wanted to tell you about my
week," he said, his voice quivering.
"I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's just starting. "You
think your convenience more important
than my comfort?" he snapped.

"Dad," Chip says. "I just wanted 
to be close..."

But Plankton's anger was a raging
storm. "YOUR VERSION OF CLOSE IS 
Suffocation!" he yells, his antennae
shaking violently. "You're nothing
but a child. All you know is your
own need for attention, yet 
you expect me to be
fine with your constant 
poking and prodding?"

Chip's cheeks burned with 
shame. "That's not fair," he
managed to say, his voice 
barely above a whisper. "I'm trying
to understand..."

But Plankton's antennae 
were a blur of anger. "Understand?
You can't even begin to understand
what it's like!" he spat. "You live
your life in a bubble, Chip. You've
always had everything you've ever
wanted, and now you want to 'understand'
me? And don't come crying about
fairness..."

"PLEASE Dad..."

But Plankton's anger was 
unstoppable. "You think 
you're so clever," he sneered 
with rage. "With your fancy 
friends and your easy life. 
You wouldn't know what it's 
like to have to fight for every 
little thing."

Chip felt the sting. 
"Dad," he choked 
out, "That's not..."

But Plankton's words were a
tidal wave, crashing down. "You're 
selfish," he accused. "Always
thinking of yourself."

Now Chip's getting upset.
"I'm selfish? At least I'm
not the one who's too busy being a
drama queen to see how much I
care!" he retorts, his voice a mix
of pain and anger.

Plankton's antennae shot up.
"You dare call me that?" he roared.
"You have no idea what it's like to
drown in sensory overload, to have
your brain betray you every single
day!"

Chip took a step back, his
cheeks red with anger. "You think
because I don't understand, I don't
care?" he yelled back. "You're the
one who's never there for me because
of your 'condition'! You're just a shallow, 
spoiled little..."

"ENOUGH! Both of
you, stop it right 
now!" Karen says.

Her voice cuts through the
argument like a knife,
silencing the room. She
could feel the anger, the
frustration, the hurt in
each of their voices.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xv

CHIP AND FAIL xvi
(Autistic author)

"Both of you, sit down," Karen
ordered, her voice firm but
not unkind. They complied,
their movements jerky with
emotion.

"Chip, your father's autism
is not an excuse for this
behavior, but it's also not
something to mock," Karen began,
looking at her son with
serious eyes. "It's a part of
him, and we need to respect it."

Chip's anger subsided slightly. "But
you saw what happened earlier," he
said, his voice still shaking. "It's like
he doesn't even want to be around me."

But Plankton's not quite done.
"Why do you think that is, Chip? Go
on, smarty, enlighten..."

Karen's patience had run out. "Plankton,"
she said, her voice stern.
"That's enough."

He glared at Chip, his antennae
quivering with anger. Chip looked
away from him.

"And Plankton," Karen's voice was
a gentle reprimand, "Your son's
ignorance is not an excuse for
anger. We all need to communicate
better."

Plankton's antennae drooped.
"I know," he murmured, his anger
easing slightly. "It's just..."

Karen's voice was firm. "I know it's
frustrating, but we need to work
together." She turned to Chip.
"And Chip, your father's feelings are
valid. You can't ignore them."

Chip looked at his father, his
eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he murmured. "I didn't
mean to hurt you."

Karen's voice was calm as
she interceded. "Plankton, can
you tell Chip what happened
today? Help him understand?"

Plankton's antennae stopped
shaking. He took a deep breath.
"When you touch me without
asking," he began, his voice
still sharp, "my body can't
always handle what yours can."

Karen's eyes were a gentle
reminder of the lesson she had
tried to teach earlier. She nodded
for him to continue.

"When you poke me 
or touch me without
asking," Plankton said, 
"it's overwhelming."

"I just barely touched you
for one second, Dad!"

"To you, it's one second," Plankton
replied, his antennae drooping. "To me,
it's an eternity of discomfort."

Karen stepped in. "Chip," she said,
"You need to understand that for
him, it's not just about
physical contact. It's about
respecting his boundaries."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xvi

CHIP AND FAIL xvii
(Autistic author)

Plankton quivered with
the effort to contain 
his anger.

"Chip, your dad's right,"
Karen said, her voice
a soft current of calm
amidst the storm. "You
have to learn to respect
his boundaries."

Plankton's antennae twitched.
He looked at Karen, his
eye filled with a mix of
gratitude and pain. "It's not just
the touch," he whispered, his voice
raw. "It's the types of touch,
the expectations... It's like I'm
drowning every day."

Karen nodded, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "And
Chip," she said, turning to her son,
"you need to learn to swim
without pushing him under."

Chip's eyes were wide with
understanding. "What can I do?"

Karen took a deep breath. "Just
ask before you touch," she said.
"And if he says no, respect it.
Give him space."

Chip's eyes searched his father's.
"Dad," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae twitched, a
sign of his internal struggle.
Karen's hand squeezed his.

"Okay, Chip," she said, her voice
a gentle guide. "Ask your questions."

Chip took a deep breath. "What do
you mean by 'ask before I touch'?"
he ventured, his eyes on Plankton,
his antennae still a blur of agitation.

Plankton took a moment before
replying. "It means," he began,
his voice still sharp, "that I need
space. My brain can't handle
what yours can!"

"But Mom," Chip's voice was
still tentative, "How do we
know what touch..."

But Plankton's antennae shot up,
his eye a storm of agitation. "Just ask!"
he snapped. "It's not rocket
science, Chip. Just. Ask."

Chip took a deep breath, his
cheeks still flushed with anger.
"I'm asking what types of..."

But Plankton's antennae were
already back to their usual
calm state. "I know you're curious,"
he said, his voice softer. "But I can't
just list them. It's different every
day. Sometimes, a simple pat on the
back is too much. Other times, I
crave a hug."

Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing
with questions. "So, it IS a choice..."

But Plankton's antennae drooped. "No,
Chip," he said, his voice weary. "It's not
a choice. It's survival."

"Survival? Dad, a touch 
won't kill you.."

But Plankton's antennae 
twitched again. "It's not just 
about living," he said, his voice
sad. "It's about living without pain."

Chip's eyes searched his 
father's, seeing the weariness 
and hurt. He took a step closer,
his hand outstretched. "Can I?"
he asked, his voice tentative.

Plankton flinched, his antennae
shooting up. "What are you doing?"
he snapped, his voice tight with
anxiety.

"Just asking if it's okay," Chip said,
his hand hovering in midair. "I don't
want to..."

Plankton's antennae stopped
twitching. "If you're going to ask,
make it genuine," he said, his voice
softening. "Don't just do it because
you think it's the right thing to do."

Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering. "I want to learn,"
he said, his voice earnest. "What
can I do to make it better?"

Plankton's antennae quivered
slightly, a hint of softening.
"You can start by listening," he said,
his voice a little less sharp.

"What do you mean?" Chip
asked, his hand slowly lowering.

"I mean," Plankton began, his antennae
calming slightly, "that I need you to
understand that my boundaries are not
up for negotiation."

"But what if I want to hug you?"
Chip's voice was hopeful, his 
arms outstretched and already
reaching him.

Plankton's antennae shot
up again. "Chip, I said no!"
he yelled, his voice sharp with
pain. "How many times do I have to
tell you?"

Chip's eyes widened, his hands
falling to his side. "But I just..."

But Plankton's antennae were
a blur of agitation again. "You don't
get it!" he shouted. "It's not about
what YOU want, it's about what I need!"

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his mind racing. "But Dad, I just
want to show you that I care," he
said, his voice quivering. "Is there
no way to do that without making
you uncomfortable?"

Plankton's antennae twitched. "Chip,"
he began, his voice weary, "just
because you don't see my struggle
doesn't mean it's not there."

Chip's eyes searched his father's, his
hands clenched at his sides. "But
how can I show you that I care?"

"Sleep, for now," Karen 
says. "We're all
tired. We can 
talk about this
another time."

Plankton's antennae
dropped slightly, his 
body visibly
deflating. Chip 
nodded, his eyes 
on the floor.

"Okay," he murmured.
"I'll just go to
my room."

Karen watched him go,
her heart heavy with the
knowledge that she had
to be the one to mend
the fracture between
father and son. She
turned to Plankton.

"Bedtime," she said, her
voice a gentle nudge. "We're
all exhausted. It's late."

The next morning, Chip 
awoke early.

He could feel the tension
in the air, thick and palpable.
The house was eerily silent.
He knew he had to make things
right for his dad.

Chip tiptoed to his parents's
room, his heart racing.
He pushed the door open.

Karen was sitting on the
edge of the bed. Plankton
was curled up, his antennae
twitching slightly.

Chip swallowed his pride. "Mom,
I'm sorry for what I said," he
mumbled. "Can you help me talk
to Dad?"

Karen's eyes softened. "Your father's
still sleeping," she said. "But I'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

Chip nodded. "I'll wait," he said,
his voice barely a whisper. "I'll do
whatever it takes."

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the determination in them.
"Alright," she said, her voice a
soft caress. "But remember, it's not
about fixing him. It's about
understanding him."

Chip nodded solemnly. "I know,"
he said. "I just want to be
there for him."

Karen's eyes filled with
pride. "That's all we can
ask for," she said. "But you
have to be patient."

Chip goes to his mom's
bed, sitting down.

"I'll wait," he says.
"I'm not leaving until
we talk."

Karen nods, her eyes filled with
understanding. "I'll stay with
you," she says. "But remember, we
have to give him space."

Chip nods, his gaze never leaving
his father's sleeping form. He
studies Plankton, his antennae
twitching slightly in his sleep.
He tries to imagine what it's like
for his dad, to live in a world
where a simple touch could be
torture.

He watches the rise and fall
of Plankton's chest, the gentle
sway of his antennae. He notices
how peaceful he looks when
his mind isn't bombarded by the
world's sensory assault, the way his
mouth is slightly open.

"Mom," Chip says, his voice
barely above a whisper. "What
does Dad's autism mean for his
sleep?"

Karen sighs, her eyes still
on Plankton. "It means that
his brain is always on alert,"
she explains. "Sleep can be
elusive for him. Sometimes, the
smallest sound can keep him
awake for hours."

Chip nods, his gaze still
on Plankton. "What
happened yesterday when I...
Dad was unresponsive?"

Karen sighs. "Sensory overload,"
she says. "It's like your brain
has too much to process, so
it just shuts down."

Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton. "Was he
like, awake?" he asks.

"Sort of," Karen replies,
her eyes never leaving
Plankton's restless form. 
"It's like he's trapped
in his own head."

"Could he hear me?" Chip's voice
was a mix of fear and hope.
"Could he feel anything?"

Karen looked at her son, her
heart heavy with the knowledge
that she was about to reveal a
painful truth. "He heard you," she
said gently. "But his brain couldn't
process it all."

Chip felt a lump in his throat.
"Could he see?" he asked,
his voice tight with emotion.

Karen nodded, her eyes
still on Plankton. "He could see
you," she said. "But it's like
his brain was stuck in a loop,
replaying the same scene over 
and over."

Chip felt the weight of his
father's pain, his own chest
constricting. "How long do
they usually last?"

Karen's gaze remained on
Plankton. "It varies," she
said. "Sometimes just seconds,
other times hours. It all depends
on how overwhelmed he gets."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xvii

CHIP AND FAIL xviii
(Autistic author)

Chip's eyes grew wide with
realization. "So that's why
he..."

But before he could finish,
Plankton's antennae began to stir,
his body shifting slightly in the
bed. Chip's breath caught in his
throat as he watched his father's
face contort. "It's
not uncommon for someone with
autism to have trouble with
sleep." Karen whispers.
"He's okay."

Chip's eyes remained glued
to his father, watching as the
twitching grew more pronounced.
Plankton's antennae quivered and he
let out a soft whine.

Karen's hand reached
for Plankton's, her thumb
stroking his gently, her
voice a gentle coo. "It's okay,
Plankton," she whispered, her
hand stroking his arm.

Karen's voice remained
steady, her hand never
leaving Plankton's arm.
"It's okay," she whispered,
her eyes on Chip. "He's just..."

Chip took a tentative step
forward, his hand reaching
out to mirror Karen's. His
fingertips brushed Plankton's
arm. "Dad?" he
whispered, looming
over him.

With a gasped jolt, Plankton's
eye flew open, his antennae
shooting straight up with a yelp
at the sight of Chip looking over him.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed,
his voice a mix of fear and anger.

Chip's hand shot back as if burned.
He stepped away quickly, his eyes
wide with shock. "Dad," he began,
his voice shaky.

But Plankton's antennae were a
blur of agitation. "I said no!" he
shouted. "Can't you just leave me
alone?"

Chip's eyes filled with hurt, but
he stepped back, his arms dropping
to his sides. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Karen's voice was a soft
whisper, trying to soothe Plankton.
"It's okay, honey," she said, her
hand still on his arm. "Chip's just
trying to help."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye darting from Karen to
Chip and back again. "I don't
want his help," he said, his
voice tight with anger. "I just want
to be left alone."

Chip felt his heart sink. "But Dad,"
he protested, his voice cracking.

Plankton's antennae stopped moving.
He took a deep, shaky breath. "Chip,
you have to understand," he said, his
voice strained. "I need my space."

Karen's eyes were filled with
compassion as she turned to
Chip. "Give him some time,"
she said gently.

Chip nodded, his eyes
still on his father. "But
what if he doesn't want
me to come back?"

Karen's voice was firm. "He
doesn't have to be ready
right now," she said. "But we'll
work on it."

Chip's eyes searched hers,
seeking reassurance. "But what
if he never is?"

Karen's voice was a gentle
reminder. "He's your father,
Chip. And you love him.
Give him the space he needs,
but don't give up."

Chip nodded, his eyes
still on Plankton's rigid
form. "Okay," he murmured.
"But how do I..."

But Karen's voice was firm. "You'll
learn," she said. "We'll all learn
together." She stood, her hand
sliding off Plankton's arm. "For now,
let him rest. We'll talk more later."

Chip nodded, his gaze
lingering on his father's tense
form. He turned to leave the room,
his shoulders slumped with the weight
of his newfound understanding.

As he closed the door softly behind
him, he heard Plankton's muffled
sobs, and it was like a dagger to his
heart. He leaned against the wall,
his eyes brimming with tears. "What
have I done?" he thought.

Karen's hand was a warm
comfort on Plankton's shoulder,
guiding him back to the bed.
"Let's sit," she said, her voice
soft and soothing.

Plankton's antennae slowly
lowered as he sat down, his body
still tense with emotion. "I just...
I can't," he said, his voice
breaking.

Karen pulled him into a gentle
embrace, her arms a warm cocoon
around his trembling form. "You
don't have to," she whispered. "You've
been through enough."

Plankton's antennae quivered against
her shoulder. "But what about Chip?"
he managed through his sobs. "He
deserves better."

"He deserves to understand,"
Karen said, her voice a gentle
lullaby. "And we'll help him get there."

Plankton's sobs quieted, his antennae
still quivering against her shoulder.
He took a shaky breath. "I don't
know if I can," he said. "Every time
I think we're making progress..."

"Shh," Karen whispered. "We're
getting there." She held him tighter.

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
body relaxing slightly into
the warmth of her embrace. He
closed his eye, his breathing
evening out. Within minutes,
his antennae were a gentle sway
against her neck, a sign that
sleep was claiming him.

Karen held him tightly, her own
body tense with the weight of
his pain. She knew this was a
small victory, but it was a
step in the right direction.
As she felt him drift off,
she whispered, "We'll get
through this together."

Plankton's antennae stilled
completely, his body finally
giving in to the comfort of
his wife's embrace.

Karen's heart ached as she felt
his tension melt away, his breaths
evening into the rhythm of sleep.

The room was a canvas of early
morning light, casting soft shadows
on their intertwined forms.

Plankton's antennae had finally
stilled, their gentle sway a testament
to his deep slumber. His body was
relaxed, no longer a battleground
for sensory overload.

Karen's arms remained wrapped 
around Plankton's shoulders, her 
grip gentle yet firm. His antennae,
which had been a maelstrom of 
anxiety, now laid calmly against 
her neck, each twitch replaced by 
a steady breath.

The room, bathed in the soft 
glow of early dawn, was a sanctuary 
of quietude. The tension from 
the previous night had been 
replaced by the serene rhythm of 
his snores, a melody that spoke of
his body's surrender to rest.

Chip tiptoed back to the bedroom
door, his heart a drum in his chest.
He peeked in, his eyes immediately
finding his father, still asleep. 
Karen was there, her arms
around Plankton's shoulders.

The sight of them together,
his mother's comforting embrace,
his father's peaceful rest,
was a stark contrast to the
chaos of the night before.

Chip's heart clenched in his chest,
his eyes stinging with unshed
tears. He wanted so badly
to be a part of that peace,
but he knew he had to earn it.

He took a tentative step into
the room, his eyes never
leaving his father's sleeping
form. Karen looked up, her eyes
heavy with the weight of the
night's events. She offered a
small smile, a silent gesture of
support.

"How is he?" Chip asked, his
voice a whisper in the early
morning stillness.

"As well as can be," Karen replied,
her eyes never leaving Plankton.
"But we need to talk."

Chip nodded, his heart racing
as he stepped closer to the bed.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his
eyes on his father's still form.

Karen's gaze met his, her
expression a mix of love and
concern. "We all are, Chip," she
said, her voice a gentle breeze.
"But it's important to learn
from this."

Chip nodded, his eyes
still on his father. "What can I do?"
he asked, his voice tentative.

Karen looked up at him,
her eyes filled with understanding.
"For now, just give him space,"
she said. "He needs to wake up
on his own terms. You've
apologized," she said. "Now you
have to show it."

Chip nodded, his heart
heavy. "What do you mean?"

Karen took a deep breath.
"It means," she began, "that
you need to respect his boundaries.
Ask before you touch him. Give
him time to process what's happening.
And when he says no, accept it."

Chip nodded, his eyes
still on Plankton. "But what if
I accidentally..."

Karen's voice was a firm,
yet gentle, guide. "You'll learn,"
she said. "It's about paying
attention, Chip. Watching his
body language, his antennae.
They'll tell you when he's
reaching his limit."

Chip nodded, his eyes still
on Plankton's sleeping form. "But
what if I miss the signs?"
his voice filled with fear.

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the earnestness in
them. "You won't always get it
right," she admitted. "But the
important thing is that you
keep trying."

Chip nodded, his gaze
falling to his father's antennae.
They were still, no longer a
whirlwind of distress. "I will,"
he promised.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xviii

CHIP AND FAIL i
(Autistic author)

Chip, adopted at birth
by Karen and Sheldon
Plankton, had spent a
week with some college
buddies and is coming
home!

Getting off the bus, he
goes to open the front
door, eager to see his
family.

"I'm home!" he called
out, going inside.

The house was unusually
silent, but Chip knew
his mom was probably
busy in the kitchen, and
his dad, Plankton, was
likely in their room,
lost in his mechanical
reveries. Chip dropped his
backpack by the door to find
his mom.

"Mom! I'm back!" he shouted,
his voice echoing through
the hallway. Karen poked
her head out. She looked surprised,
then a bit nervous as she
quickly turned off the oven.
"Oh, Chip, sweetheart, I'm
so glad you're home," she
said, her smile forced and
eyes darting towards the
closed door of Plankton's bedroom.

Chip noticed the tension and
frowned. "Where's Dad?"
Karen's smile faltered. "He's
fine," she assured him,
forcing a lightness into her
tone.

Karen never told Chip
about Plankton being
on the autism spectrum.
It's something he never
shares, and only Karen
knew about it. They don't
intend for Chip to know
even though Karen feels
bad about not saying anything.
Chip thus didn't know that any sudden
interaction could send him into a
tailspin of sensory overload.

"Dad?" he called out,
his voice tentative. 
Karen's eyes widened. She
moved swiftly, placing a hand
on Chip's shoulder. "Why
don't you go unpack?" she
suggested, guiding him back to
the living room.
The tension in her voice
was palpable, but Chip
was too excited to question
it. He sat down on the couch,
his thoughts racing. It had
been a week since he last saw
his dad, and he had so much
to tell him about his college
adventures. He could almost
hear the enthusiastic questions
Plankton would ask about his
studies and new friends! So
Chip decides to go see him.
Plankton was sitting at his bed.
"Surprise!" Chip exclaimed,
thrusting open the door and
stepping in. Plankton flinched,
but Chip doesn't notice. Chip was
like a puppy eager to share love.

Plankton's head felt like it was
about to split open with the
onslaught of stimuli.
Chip didn't realize that the
suddenness of his entry was a
problem. Plankton's eye grew
wider as Chip rushed over.

"Whoa, Dad, guess what?" Chip
asked, his voice full of life.
He sat down beside Plankton,
his heart thumping with excitement.
Plankton's eyes darted around the
room, his breaths shallow and quick.
"I made friends with a squirrel!
Her name's Nutmeg. She's the
smartest animal on campus.
And she loves physics! Can you
believe it?"

Plankton's condition meant that
sudden noises and intrusions
could overwhelm him. But the
sensory assault was making
it difficult to form coherent
thoughts, let alone respond with
the enthusiasm Chip deserved. He
needed time to process his
surroundings, to prepare for
interaction. But Chip was
always so full of life, so eager
to share, and he had no way
of knowing the effect his
enthusiasm could have.
He placed a hand on Plankton's 
shoulder, not knowing about his
sensory disorder.

"I've missed you so much, Dad,"
Chip said, leaning in to give
his father a hug. The sudden
contact was like a thunderclap
in Plankton's mind, and he
recoiled slightly. But Chip was already
deep into his story about a
physics experiment gone wrong
that had left the lab in a tizzy.
He talked with his hands,
gesturing wildly as he
described the chaos. Plankton
sat rigidly beside him, trying to
focus on the words, trying not
to let the noise and motion
consume him.

"So, we had to build a catapult
to launch a watermelon across
the quad," Chip continued,
laughing at the memory of the
mess they had made. Plankton's
face remained expressionless,
his eye unfocused.

"It was so cool!" Chip said,
his hand landing on Plankton's knee.
The sudden touch sent a jolt
of sensation through Plankton's body,
like an electrical current. He
swallowed hard, trying to keep
his composure. "You should've seen
it fly!" Chip, oblivious
to his father's distress, just
beamed wider, eager for more
reaction. Plankton was
battling to stay present, to
connect with his son, but the
environment was turning toxic
for him, the
sensory input bombarding.
Chip's eyes lit up even more. "Oh,
Dad, you won't believe it! There's
this guy, Larry, he's like the
human encyclopedia of comic books.
And Sally, she's a whiz at chemistry,
and she makes the best
slime! We're going to start a
science club together!" The
colors in the room seemed to
intensify, the sounds of Chip's
voice and the rustle of his clothes
like a symphony of chaos.

Plankton felt the world closing
in. His thoughts were a jumbled
mess, trying to process the
flood of new faces and names and
ideas. He desperately wished he
could share in Chip's excitement,
but the effort was exhausting.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II i

CHIP AND FAIL x
(Autistic author)

Plankton's antennae quivered, his
body trembling. "You want to help?"
he demanded, his voice a thunderclap.
"Then LISTEN!" His antennae shot
straight up, his body rigid with
tension. "Just because I freeze
up, it doesn't mean you get to
paw at me like a sea urchin
without a care in the world!"

Chip's screen filled with hurt, his
hands dropping to his sides. "But
Dad," he began, his voice trembling.
"I just wanted to make it better, seeing
you're not acting like an adult or even
a good dad with your dramatically fitful
tantrum." His words were like salt on
an open wound, but he didn't know
better, his innocence a blunt weapon.

Plankton's antennae snapped back,
his eye narrowing. "Out," he said, his
voice a glacial wind. "You don't get
to be in here right now."

Chip's eyes filled with shock, then
hurt, as the reality of his father's
words sank in. "But Dad, I didn't
mean..."

But Plankton was a wall of ice,
his antennae stiff and unyielding.
"No, get out," he repeated, his voice a
chilling wind that sliced through
Chip's protests. "I want you out of
my sight, Chip. Just go." His eye was
a storm cloud, threatening rain.

Chip felt the sting of his dad's
words, the coldness of his rejection.
He took a step back, his hand
dropping to his side. "But Dad,
I just want to..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
stiff, his voice unyielding. "Out," he
repeated, his eye a storm cloud
ready to burst. "You don't get to
stay here after saying that."

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his own filled with a mix of hurt
and bewilderment. "But Dad," he
whispered, "I don't..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
rigid, his voice like ice. "I said,
OUT." His anger was a palpable
thing in the room, a force that
pushed Chip backward, despite
his father's physical stillness.

With a final look of hurt and
disbelief, Chip turned and left,
his footsteps echoing down the
hallway like the ghosts of all
the moments he had hoped to
share with his father. Plankton
watched him go, his heart a leaden
weight in his chest. Those words 
Chip used might as well be
unforgivable.

Karen's eyes were wide with
concern, but she knew better than
to push him in that moment. She
knew his triggers, and how Chip
inadvertently said the wrong thing.
She knew he actually doesn't want
to bring attention, and
being told his pleas for boundaries
have been called tantrums, by his
own son, in his own room...

Karen knew how his moments of
'twitching' and 'freezes' and 'mishaps'
and 'venting' as he preferred to call
them, being called tantrums...

Plankton closed his eye,
his body trembling with the effort of
holding back his own tears.

Karen approached him cautiously,
her screen filled with worry. "Honey,
are you okay?" she asked, her voice
gentle as a summer breeze.

Plankton's antennae drooped, his body
slumped in the chair. "No," he murmured,
his voice thick with pain. "But I will be."
He took a deep, shuddering breath,
his chest rising and falling like the tides.

Karen watched him, her heart in her
throat. She knew the storm would
pass, but the wreckage it left
behind was always the same. She
reached out a tentative hand, her touch
feather-light on his shoulder. "Do
you want me to explain to Chip?"
she offered, her voice a whisper.

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
body still trembling. "No," he
managed to say, his voice a rasp. His
eye remained closed, his breaths
coming in shallow gasps.

Karen's hand hovered for a
moment before retreating, her
heart breaking for her husband.
"Okay," she murmured, giving him the
space he needed. She knew the
importance of respecting his boundaries
now more than ever. "He just didn't know
how much his wording hurt you.."

"I know," Plankton said, his voice
barely audible. "But that doesn't
make it sting any less." He took
another deep breath, his antennae
twitching with the effort of calming
his racing thoughts.

Karen's hand hovered over him,
wanting to comfort but knowing
not to push. "If he asks, can I tell
him? You know, so he doesn't..."

Plankton's antennae twitched again,
his eye finally opening. "Only if he
specifically asks about it," he said,
his voice stronger now. "Otherwise he 
needs to understand for himself and
figure it out if he wants to help so bad."

Karen nodded, her screen filled with
understanding. She knew her husband's
pride and the importance of their
son coming to terms with his condition
without being forced to. She gave him
a gentle squeeze. "I'll be here," she said.
"For both of you."

The room remained silent
for a long moment, the only sound the
soft ticking of the clock on the wall.
Plankton took another deep breath,
his antennae slowly unfurling. "Thank
you," he murmured, his voice a whisper.

Karen's eyes searched his, her hand
still on his shoulder. "Do you want
to talk about it?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress.

Plankton took a moment to
consider. The storm in his head
was beginning to abate, the pain
lessening with each passing
second. "I'd just like some
time to myself."

Karen nodded, her screen
filling with love and sadness.
"I'll make sure he doesn't bother
you," she promised, her voice a
soft whisper. She knew how
important it was for Plankton to
have space.

Chip stood in his room, the
closed door a barrier between him
and his father's pain. He felt like
a sea urchin thrown onto the
sharp rocks of misunderstanding,
his spikes no match for the
storm of emotions that had just
erupted. He couldn't help but
wonder if he had made things
worse. He had wanted to connect,
but instead, he had hurt the one
person he loved most.

His mind raced, trying to
piece together the puzzle of his
father's behavior. The words "autism
spectrum" echoed in his thoughts,
a mysterious code he hadn't
known existed. He had heard the
term before, but it had always
been a distant concept, not
something that could affect his
own life. 

He sat down on his bed, his
hands shaking. He felt like he had
just been handed a treasure map
without knowing how to read it. His
dad's condition was a treasure, a
key to understanding the man he
idolized, but the map was written
in a language he hadn't learned.

With each passing second, the
weight of his father's words grew
heavier. He had never thought
about the world from Plankton's
perspective, had never considered that
his touch could be anything but
comforting. The realization hit him
like a tidal wave, knocking the
wind out of him.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II x

CHIP AND FAIL vi
(Autistic author)

Karen's eyes searched Plankton's,
looking for the spark that
meant he was coming back to her.
Slowly, the panic in his gaze
faded, replaced by the familiar
look of love and confusion. "I'm
here," she said, her voice barely
above a whisper. "It's okay."

Plankton's body finally
unclenched, his muscles relaxing
under her gentle touch. The storm
in his mind was receding, leaving
behind a quiet beach of clarity.
He didn't know what had
happened, only that it was bad.

Karen knew the routine, the
dance of calming Plankton after
a meltdown. But Chip didn't know.
He was just trying to share his
excitement, to reconnect with
his father after a week apart.
He didn't know that his touch, his
laughter, his stories, were all too
much for Plankton to handle.

As Karen worked to bring
Plankton back to reality, she
couldn't help but feel a pang of
sorrow for Chip. He had no idea
how his love was received, no way
to understand that his actions
could cause such pain. She had to
find a way to explain, to help
both her husband and her son find
a way to connect without setting
off the sensory bombs that lurked
just beneath the surface.

"K-Karen?" Plankton murmurs
as he slowly returns to himself.
The room stops spinning, the noises
dulling to a gentle hum. He looks
around, confusion etched in every line
of his face.

"You're okay," she whispers.
Her heart breaks for her husband,
for the silent battles he fights
every day. She knows Chip
doesn't understand, that his love
and excitement are a minefield
for Plankton's sensitive mind.

But she also feels a pang
of anger. How could she have
let this happen? She had hoped
that Chip's visit would be a
celebration, a chance for them
to bond. Instead, it had become
a reminder of the chasm that
sometimes separated them, a stark
reality of Plankton's condition.

Chip's sobs from the next room
were a constant reminder of the
pain he had inadvertently caused.
Karen knew she had to talk to
him, to explain.

"Chip, sweetheart," she called,
her voice carrying a gentle
authority. "Can you come out
here, please?"

Chip's heart was still racing,
his eyes red and puffy from crying.
He wiped his nose with the back
of his hand and stepped out of
his room, his gaze flickering to
his dad, then back to his mom. "Is he
okay?" he asked, his voice
small and unsure.

Karen nodded, her screen filled
with a mix of love and
exhaustion. "He's okay," she said,
"Honey, it's time we tell Chip. Can
I help you sit up, so you can tell him?"

Plankton nodded weakly, his body
still feeling like it was made
of lead. Karen helped him into
a sitting position, her eyes
never leaving his. "You're okay,"
she repeated, her voice a gentle
reminder.

Chip stared at
Plankton. "Dad?"
he asked, his 
voice tentative.

Plankton looked up at him,
his eye still clouded with the
aftermath of the storm.

"Chip," he began, his voice
weak, "I'm sorry." But Chip was
already there, kneeling beside
his dad, his screen wide with
relief and confusion.

"What happened?" Chip asked, his
voice trembling. "Why didn't you
answer me? You just ignored me!"

Karen's screen filled with
compassion as she placed a
comforting hand on Chip's shoulder.
"Your dad's not ignoring you,"
she said gently. "He has something
to tell you."

Plankton took a deep, shaky
breath, the words sticking in his
throat. He had always been
afraid of this moment, of the
day Chip would find out. "I...
I, I just..."

Karen squeezed his hand, her
gaze filled with understanding. "It's
okay," she said softly. "You can
tell him."

Plankton took another deep
breath, his voice trembling as
he began. "Chip, I'm... I..."

"Dad?" Chip leaned in, his screen
filled with hope and concern.

Plankton swallowed hard, the
weight of his secret heavy
on his shoulders. "I have...
I've got..."

"Tell me, Dad," Chip said, his
hands going to clutching his dad's 
arm. 
Plankton winced at the sudden
contact, his body tensing again.

Karen saw it, the brief
flicker of pain in his eye. She
quickly stepped in, placing a hand
on Chip's arm. "Give him a
moment, honey," she said, her
voice filled with gentle guidance.

Chip's screen searched hers. He
slowly removed his hand,
backing away slightly.

"Dad, tell me," he said, his voice
desperate. "What's wrong?"

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae drooping. "Chip," he
managed, "I've..."

But Chip was already there, his
hands on his father's shoulder.
"Dad, tell me," he said, his voice
filled with urgency. Plankton's
body tensed at the touch.

Karen stepped in quickly,
guiding Chip's hand away. "Let him
speak, honey," she said softly.

Plankton took another deep
breath, his antennae quivering
as he gathered his thoughts. "I have
a..."

"Dad, if it's something bad..."

Plankton's antennae quivered, his
face a mask of pained effort. "Chip..."

Chip's eyes were glued to his dad,
his mind racing with questions.
Why can't Dad just tell me?
He's always been so strong, so
independent. Why is this so hard
for him?

Plankton took a moment, his
eye searching for the right
words. "It's just..."

Chip leaned in closer. All he 
knew was that his
father was in pain and he needed to
fix it. "Just tell me, Dad!" he said,
his voice earnest. "Whatever it is..."

But Plankton was lost again, his
mind swirling with sensations. He
could feel Chip's screen on him,
hear his desperate pleas, but the
words remained trapped. He
closed his eye, trying to gather
his thoughts.

"Chip," he finally managed,
his voice a mere whisper. "I'm not..."

"You're not what?" Chip's voice
was filled with concern and a hint
of impatience.

Plankton opened his eye with a
sigh, his gaze meeting Chip's. "Son..."

"Dad, please, tell me!" Chip's
excitement was palpable, his
body vibrating with the need
for connection.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae drooping slightly.
"Chip, I'm..."

But Chip, fueled by his
eagerness to connect, didn't
give him the space. "Come on, Dad,"
he said, his hands landing on
Plankton's shoulders again.

Plankton flinched, his eye
squeezing shut as the touch sent
a shockwave through his body. "Chip,"
he groaned, his voice strained.
"Please..."

But Chip's enthusiasm didn't
wane, his voice growing more
desperate. "Dad, tell me!" He didn't
understand the pain he was causing,
his need for a response only adding
to the pressure on Plankton, irritating
his frustration as he squeezed his
shoulders harder. "Just..."

Plankton's eye snapped open,
his body recoiling from the
intensity of his son's touch.
The words he had been trying
to form shattered like glass
under the weight of his sensory
overload. "Chip, STOP!" he
yelled, his voice cracking with
frustration and pain.

The sudden outburst shocked both
Karen and Chip into stillness. His dad had
never talked to him like that before. "What..."

But Plankton's agony was like a
dam bursting. He pushed Chip away,
his voice a shout of desperation.
"I CAN'T, CHIP!"

Chip staggered back, his
expression a mix of shock and
hurt. "But why?" he asked, his
voice trembling.

Plankton took a deep, shaky
breath, his body still reeling,
his voice strained. "I have...
I have..."

Chip's eyes searched 
his father's. Why couldn't
his dad just tell him what was
going on? "What, Dad?"

But Plankton was retreating
back into himself, his mind a
whirlwind of sensation and
frustration. "It's too much,"
he managed, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Your..."

"What's too much?" Chip
interrupted, his voice rising
with confusion. "My what?"

Plankton's antennae drooped
as he searched for a way to explain.
He had always kept his condition
to himself, fearful of the
misunderstanding it might bring.
"Chip," he began, his voice
trembling with the effort of
finding the words. "You..."

But Chip's excitement was a
wave, crashing over the delicate
barriers Plankton had built. "You're
not telling me something," he said,
his voice filled with accusation.
"What is it!" His touch was
like sandpaper on sunburned skin,
each word a jab at Plankton's
already overwhelmed mind.

Plankton's eye darted around the
room, his antennae twitching
wildly. The pressure was too
much, the noise of Chip's voice
like a siren. He
could feel the beginnings of a
panic attack, his chest tightening.

"Chip, please," he managed, his voice
barely above a whisper. "I need a
moment." But Chip's excitement
was a force of nature, unyielding
and relentless. "But I just
want to tell you about my week,
about the robot and Nutmeg!"
He didn't know that his words,
his touch, were like a tornado in
Plankton's mind, a storm he couldn't
weather.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II vi

──────▄▄───────────▄▄───────
───────██─────────██────────
────────██───────██─────────
─────────██─────██──────────
──────────██───██───────────
───────────██─██────────────
───────▄▄██████████▄────────
──────█▀░░░░░░░░░░░▀█───────
──────█░▄░░░▄░▄░░░▄░█───────
──────█░░█████████░░█───────
──────█░░▄█▀───▀█▄░░█───────
██────█░░█──▄█▄──█░░█─────██
███───█░░█──███──█░░█───▄███
█░██──█░░█──▀█▀──█░░█──▄█░█─
▀█░██─█░░▀█▄───▄█▀░░█─▄█░█▀─
─▀█░█▄█░░░░▀███▀░░░░█▄█░█▀──
──▀█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█▀───
───▀██░░░▄█▄▄▄▄▄▄█▄░░░█▀────
─────▀█░▀▌─▌─▐──▌─▐▀░██─────
──────█░░▌─▌─▐──▌─▐░░█──────
──────█░░██████████░░█──────
──────█░░██████████░░█──────
──────█░░██████████░░█──────
──────█░░▀████████▀░░█──────
──────█░░░▌─▐──▌─▐░░░█──────
──────█░░░▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀░░░█──────
──────██░░░░░░░░░░░░██──────
───────██░░░░░░░░░░██───────
────────█░▄██████▄░█────────
────────█░█──────█░█────────
────────█░█──────█░█────────
────────██▀──────▀██────────

new plankton plankton text art plankton ascii art

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

new spongeblog planktonkin plankton

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

new planktoncore spongeblog plankton

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

🔢

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

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

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

new spongeblog plabscore plankton

THE DAȲ̴̧̱̭̯̹̗̥̬̬̭̠̉͆́̋͌̐̈̈ ̷̹͕̘͖̽͂̃͒̂́̊͗͂̔͝T̸͛̊HA̸͎͉̺͇͛̅̉̈́̈̎͝͝ͅͅT ̸̡͎̣̙͔͉͕̙͉̩̦͈̘͈̊͑͆͊̏͒̀̉̽̕͝͝Ķ̶̧̨̡̘͚̘͖̭͓͇̬̲̹̩̂́̆͂̎̌̅͒Ȓ̶̡̲͚͈͓̪̘̗̬̪̪͚̹͈Â̸̔BS ̴̢̨̰͓͍̝̯̥̤͈̖̪̹̏̏͂͛̈́̃̾͊̉̓̅̋̏F̴̻̳͚͖̞̤͍̥̫̤̀̃̀́͒̽͆̕R̸̃̀̎̈̌̏̕IẸ̸̡̦̹̤̼͉͕͙̗̠̤̼̖̬̈́͋̋̆S̴̨͍͉͙̻͉̼̩̯͕̽ͅ

new spongebob squarepants the spongebob squarepants movie plankton krusty krab spongebobcore

Your Warranty Has Now Expired by Butterfrogmantis

Cartoons » SpongeBob SquarePants 


"Stand down Krabs! Or prepare to meet your 
doom!"

"Yeah right , yer'll never get yer hands on me 
secret formula!"

"My little friend here says otherwise, eheheh! 
Now hand over the formula Krabs and no-
one gets hurt!"

Plankton was holding a large ray gun. "I can 
already smell the patties! COME TO PAPA" 
He yelled, pressing the trigger.

Nothing.

He pressed again.

Hm, Maybe something was broken?

He shook the gun, then aimed it back at the 
safe and hit release. Nothing. Nothing, 
nothing, nothing.

"BARNACLES" He screeched, and 
squeezed the trigger as hard as he could..

Plankton next woke up in the hospital.

"Whaah?"

He was aware of a small heart monitor next 
to him, and the overpowering scent of 
disinfectant. There was a squeaking trolley 
moving down the hall, and a slight 
murmuring from either side of his white 
curtains. He looked to the left, and then to 
the right, confused. He had JUST been in 
the Krusty Krab, hadn't he? Yes, he was 
trying to melt the safe, so what on earth was 
he doing in here, he'd been seconds away 
from blasting the door off of that thing. Ah 
yes, his ray gun had jammed. Weird. Hadn't 
done that before. He tapped the side of his 
head, trying to see if he recalled anything 
other than pulling the trigger, but his memory 
was patchy at best.

"Sheldon? Oh good, you're alive!"

The microorganism looked up to see a very 
familiar face. Well, screen at the very least.

"Ah, Karen! My computer wife – tell me, uh, 
what happened?"

"You exploded, that's what happened. Well, 
your gun did anyway, I thought you'd died!"

"Hm, weird, my trusty old laser shouldn't 
have gone like that, especially not when I 
was so CLOSE to getting the secret 
formula!" He cursed, causing his heart rate 
monitor to speed up rapidly next to him.

Later that evening, once Plankton had been 
thoroughly checked and confirmed ready for 
discharge by Nurse Daisy Bazooka, the two 
returned to the Chum Bucket. The same 
night, he dreamt about the day. And to think, 
just like his laser gun, it had all started with 
the same-

"Wires!" Plankton sat up in bed, having been 
woken up by his thoughts. 

"Sheldon? What are you doing up at this 
time? Your left antenna's been twitching ever 
since I brought you home from the hospital. 
It only twitches like that when you're 
stressed or thinking reallll hard about 
something."

"It does?" Plankton blinked, looking up at his 
own antenna, which was twitching rapidly. 
"Huh, I wonder why I never noticed". He 
rubbed his head to get over his daze and 
turned with a groan to see a familiar yellow 
sponge bounding up to them from across the 
other side of the street. He was holding a 
large balloon. "Hello Karen, Hello Plankton – 
sorry about your laser the other day."

The two of them turned to look out of the 
window and across the street, to where the 
sign for the Krusty Krab had just turned from 
'closed' to 'open'.

"Shall we?"

Sheldon grinned a most delighted grin.

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13876443/1/Your-Warranty-Has-Now-Expired

new karen plankton Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton fanfiction.net

👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚👁️⚠️🧪💚

new planktoncore weirdkin plankton

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

new heartcore planktonwave plankton

𖦹ଳ𓂁𓇼𓂃𓆉.𓆉.𓆉𓂃𓇼𓂁ଳ𖦹

new turtle jellyfish star fish divider ocean tortoise worm reptile sea turtle shark whale dolphin crocodile mammal plankton eel snake

Best PLANKBOB Episodes


Season 1
10b "F.U.N."
15a "Sleepy Time"
16a "Valentine's Day"

Season 6
109b "The Krabby Kronicle"
122b "Single Cell Anniversary"

Season 7
137a "One Coarse Meal" 
139a "Gramma's Secret Recipe"
141b "The Main Drain" 

Season 8
168b "Fiasco!" 
177b "Move It or Lose It" 

	The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water

Season 9
198b "CopyBob DittoPants"
203a "Pineapple Invasion" 

Season 10
207a "Mimic Madness"
207b "House Worming"
209b "Plankton Gets the Boot"
210b "Burst Your Bubble"
228b "Grandmum's the Word"
230b "Bottle Burglars" 
232b "Shopping List"
235a "Plankton Paranoia"
238b "Karen's Virus"

	The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run

Season 12
246a "Plankton's Old Chum"
254-255 "SpongeBob's Big Birthday Blowout"
259a "The Ghost of Plankton" 
259b "My Two Krabses" 
264a "Plankton's Intern"

Season 13
272 "SpongeBob's Road to Christmas"
284a "The Flower Plot"
285a "Delivery to Monster Island" 
289a "My Friend Patty"

Season 14
294a "Single-Celled Defense"
305b	"Sheldon SquarePants"

new spongeblog plankbob spongeton the spongebob movie: sponge out of water plankton

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

new losercore spongeblog plankton

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

new 😴 code page 437 plankton

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣶⣆⣤⣴⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠋⠉⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣦⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⡀⢀⣤⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣼⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣽⣿⣿⠻⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⣿⣦⣾⣿⡿⠟⠛⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣄⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣷⣴⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠙⠿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣮⣝⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣾⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀⢀⣤⣾⣷⣿⠿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠉⠻⢷⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠋⢹⣿⠋⢀⣠⣴⣾⠿⣻⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⣀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠹⠋⢻⣿⣦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⢁⣀⣠⣤⣄⣀⣉⠙⠻⢿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣩⣽⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠟⠁⠀⣶⣿⡿⠛⠛⠙⠛⠛⠿⢿⣶⣶⣌⠛⢿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠹⣿⣧⣄⣀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠉⣿⡋⠙⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣫⡆⠀⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣯⣿⣿⣦⠈⢻⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣶⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣇⣤⣤⣬⣽⣿⣿⣟⣛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠇⣿⠁⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣾⣿⣦⠀⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⠉⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣶⣴⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣆⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠻⠿⣿⣆⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⠟⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⡿⠿⢿⡇⡀⠀⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣼⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⢰⣿⠟⠁⣹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢻⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠷⠿⠇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⣉⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⢿⣶⣿⣉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⢠⣶⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢹⣿⣿⡿⠹⢿⣿⣟⠛⠿⠿⠷⢶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣦⡀⠀⢀⣿⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣌⠉⠛⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣟⠿⠆⠙⢿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⢿⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⡟⠋⠉⣉⣉⣭⣭⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣻⣿⣿⠷⠀⠘⣿⠈⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣶⡾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣾⡿⠿⣿⣦⣶⡀⠙⢿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣶⣾⣿⣋⢠⣶⣿⠟⠛⠉⢩⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣶⣶⣶⣀⠀⠘⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⢿⣷⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣷⣦⣝⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣟⡁⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠻⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠻⠿⣿⣯⣼⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⢫⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣆⡀⠈⠉⢻⣿⣤⣾⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⡇⠀⠈⢻⣷⣾⡿⠀⠀⠈⣻⣷⣶⠆⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿⠃⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣤⣠⣴⣶⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣙⣿⣷⣼⣃⣀⣀⡀⠀⣴⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⢀⣴⣿⡟⠉⠀⠀⣠⣼⡿⠏⠁⠀⣀⣴⣿⡟⠀⢀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣻⣿⣿⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣴⣶⣾⣟⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⠿⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⢷⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new chum bucket the chum bucket plankton dot art text art ascii art

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

new tumblrcore planktoncore plankton

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

new planktoncore worldkin plankton

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

new plankton spongeton plangebob plankbob bobplank splankton villaincore garywestern plongebob home is where the heart is

⠀⠀⢀⣤⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢰⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢸⣿⣿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀

new xi xi dot art xi text art xi ascii art dot art text art ascii art

🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻
🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩⬛⬛🟥🟩🟩🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥⬛⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟩🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛⬛🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🟧🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🟧🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🏻🏻
🏻⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥⬛⬛🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛🏽🏽⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛🏽⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛🟩⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛⬜⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛🟩⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏻🏻
🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛⬛⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬛🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻
🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻

new plankton spongebob emoji art text art ascii art

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

new plankton plankton dot art plankton text art plankton ascii art dot art text art ascii art

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

new plankton spongebob the spongebob squarepants movie spongebob squarepants MARCH 14 dot art text art ascii art

⋆₊‧꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ଳ.𖥔 ݁ ˖

new jellyfish starself fish cnidaria plankton freshwater starfish box jellyfish ocean squid

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

new 2020s spotcore plankton

>⨀)

new plankton planktoncore asciicore mr. lawrence spongebob

GREAT CHIP vii
(Autistic author)

Karen's eyes searched their faces,
picking up on the unspoken tension.
"I see you two had a talk," she said gently,
her gaze lingering on Plankton. "How are 
you feeling?"

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly.
"Tired," he admitted. "But better."

Karen stepped closer to the bed,
her hand reaching out to cover
his own. "I'm here," she said softly.
"Do you remember what happened
in Chip's room before coming in here?"

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously. "Bits and pieces,"
he admitted, his eye avoiding hers.
"I know I had a...moment. And I...
I was mad."

Karen's hand squeezed his gently.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice
soothing. "You don't have to be ashamed.
It's just your brain's way of coping."

Plankton's eye searched hers, his antennae
still. "But the things I said..."
his voice trailing off.

Karen's expression remained calm,
understanding. "They were the seizure's words,
not yours," she assured him. "We're just
glad you're okay."

Chip's gaze flitted between
his parents, his heart aching for his dad.
He knew he needed to be strong, to support
his father through this. "Can we talk more
about it tomorrow?" he suggested, his voice
filled with hope.

Plankton's antennae nodded wearily.
"We can," he said, his voice a mix
of relief and exhaustion. "But for now,
I need to rest. It's bedtime, so.."

Chip felt a twinge of sadness
at the thought of his dad's struggle,
but he also felt a spark of hope.
Maybe tomorrow would bring a new
understanding, a way to bridge
the gap between them.

The next morning, the sun streamed
through the blinds of their small, cluttered
bedroom, casting patterns on the floor.
Chip stirred, his mind filled with the
memories of the previous night's conversation.
He checked on Plankton, who was
still asleep, his antennae twitching slightly.
He knew today would be a new day,
a chance to start anew with his father.

Carefully, Chip padded out to the kitchen,
his thoughts racing with the promise
of understanding.

He found Karen at the counter,
sipping her morning coffee, her eyes
red-rimmed from the night's worry.

"Mom," he began, his voice
still thick with sleep. "Can we talk?"

Karen turned, her eyes
filled with the same
exhaustion he saw in Plankton's.
"Of course, honey," she said,
placing her mug down gently.

Chip took a deep breath,
his words spilling out like
water from a broken dam.
"I want to understand Dad's
condition," he said, his voice
determined. "I don't want
to make it worse for him."

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the sincerity in his gaze.
"That's a big step, Chip,"
she said, her voice filled
with pride. "But it's not
going to be easy. It'll take
patience and practice."

Chip nodded, his expression
resolute. "I'm ready," he said.
"I just don't want Dad to be
alone in this."

Karen's face softened, her hand
resting on his shoulder. "You're
such a good son," she said, her
voice warm with affection. "But 
remember, he might not always
know how to ask for help. Sometimes,
you'll have to read between the lines."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with questions and concerns.
"But what if I mess up?"
he asked, his voice trembling.

Karen's hand gave his shoulder
a gentle squeeze. "You might,"
she said, her voice filled with
experience. "But that's okay. Just
keep trying, and we'll figure
it out together."

Her words echoed in Chip's head
as he sat down at the kitchen
table, his eyes never leaving
his mother's. "But how do I know
what to do?"

Karen took a deep breath, her
eyes filled with a quiet strength.
"You'll learn," she said, her voice
calm and reassuring. "It's about
patience and observation. And
most importantly, communication."

Chip nodded, feeling the
weight of her words. "Okay," he said.
"I'll do my best."

Karen's hand squeezed his
shoulder gently. "You already are,"
she said, her smile warm.

Chip felt a surge of determination.
He was going to be there for his dad,
no matter what it took. "What can I do
now?" he asked, eager to start.

Karen's eyes searched his, a hint
of sadness in them. "Now, we wait,"
she said. "Let him sleep. When he wakes,
be there, but don't overwhelm him."

Chip nodded, his mind racing with
questions and fears, feeling a mix of emotions:
fear, love, and a newfound
determination to be the best
son he could be.

As he waited for Plankton to
wake up, he tried to remember
the cues his dad had mentioned:
twitching antennae, a sudden
quietness, a look of overwhelm.
He promised himself to be more
aware, more attuned to his father's needs.

new great chip tiredcore vii

GREAT CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

When Plankton finally came out
Chip approached with caution. He didn't want to scare
his dad, didn't want to cause another seizure.
"Hey, Dad," he said softly. "How are
you feeling today?"

Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye
flicking towards Chip. "Tired," he murmured,
his voice hoarse from sleep. "But okay."

Chip felt his chest tighten with relief.
He'd been worried about his dad all night,
scared that another seizure would strike 
without warning.

"Can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice
gentle as he approached Plankton.
He didn't want to push, but he needed
to make sure they were okay.

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
eye searching Chip's face. "Of course,"
he said, his voice still groggy.
He sat down at the kitchen table,
his body language open but cautious.

Chip took a deep breath, his heart
racing with the need to get this right.
"Dad, I know last night was...
scary," he began, his voice shaky.
"But I want to be there for you."

Plankton's antennae waved slightly,
his expression a mix of confusion and
fatigue. "What do you mean?" he asked,
his voice still thick with sleep.

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to find the right words. "I mean,
I want to understand your seizures
and what you go through," he said,
his eyes never leaving his father's.
"So that maybe I can help."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye
narrowing slightly. "What do you want
to know?" he asked, his voice a mix
of curiosity and caution.

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his thoughts racing. "Everything," he said,
his voice earnest. "What happens
before, during, and after. What you feel,
what you see..."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
face scrunching up slightly. "Why?"
he snapped, his voice sharp. "What's
the point of reliving it?"

Chip took a step back, surprised
by his father's sudden irritation.
"I just want to understand,"
he said, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae waved erratically,
his eye flashing. "It's not a show, Chip,"
he snapped. "It's not something to be
poked and prodded at."

Chip felt his cheeks flush with heat,
his hands balled into fists at his sides.
"I'm not trying to pry," he said, his voice
shaking with frustration. "I just want to help!"

Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye
narrowed. "You can't help," he said,
his voice cold. "You don't get it."

Chip's heart sank, feeling the distance
between them growing wider. "But Dad,"
he began, his voice trembling. "I'm trying."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his face a mask of agitation. "You can't,"
he said, his voice clipped. "You don't know
what it's like!"

Chip felt a wave of frustration
crash over him, his hands
clenching into fists. "That's why
I'm asking!" he exclaimed. "I'm not
trying to make it about me!"

Plankton's focusing solely on Chip.
"You don't get it," he said, his voice
softening slightly. "It's not about you,
but it's also not something you can fix."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his heart racing with a mix of anger
and hurt. He knew Plankton wasn't
trying to be cruel, but the words stung.
"I just want to be there for you,"
he said, his voice shaky. "To make
sure you're okay."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his eye flashing with agitation. "I don't
need you to fix me," he snapped, his voice
sharp as a knife. "I just need you to leave me
alone sometimes."

Chip took a step back, his eyes
watering with the sting of his father's
words. "I just want..."

"I know what you want," Plankton cut
in, his antennae vibrating with irritation.
"But you can't fix this, Chip. It's not a puzzle
you can solve with a pat on the back or a hug."

The room grew tense, the air thick
with unspoken words. Chip felt his throat
tighten, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
He knew his father's snappy tone was a defense
mechanism, a way to keep the world at bay
when it all became too much. But it still hurt.

new great chip arguecore viii

CATCH IN MY CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

The room is bathed in a soft
moonlight, the shadows playing
across Plankton's sleeping features. His
body, once taut with tension,
has relaxed into the embrace
of the bed, his arm curled
around a pillow. His antennas
now rest gently on the
pillowcase, no longer quivering
with agitation.

Karen watches him sleep, her
thoughts a jumble of worry and
love. She knows he's tired, that the
weight of the world can be too
much for him to bear at times. But
she also knows that he's strong,
that he'll face tomorrow with
determination.

The first light of dawn filters
through the curtains, painting the
room in soft shades of pink and
orange. Karen gently squeezes his
shoulder before standing, her eyes
never leaving his peaceful face.
She knows that today will be a
day of apologies and
understanding, of teaching Chip
about his dad's autism and how to
navigate the world around him.

With a soft sigh, she heads to
Chip's room, her footsteps silent
on the cool floor. She opens the door
to find him sitting up in bed,
his eyes red and puffy from crying.
He looks at her.

"Is Dad okay?" he asks, his
voice thick with sleep and the
remnants of his earlier distress.

Karen nods, her eyes filled
with a quiet determination. "We'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

The words hang in the air, a gentle
reminder of the conversation that
needs to be had. Chip nods, his eyes
still puffy from crying. He clutches
his pillow, the fabric damp from
his tears.

"But what do I do?" he asks, his
voice small and scared. "How do
I make sure I don't make him
upset again?"

Karen sits on the edge of the bed,
her hand stroking his. "You
just keep being you, Chip," she
says, her voice warm. "Daddy loves
you, and we'll learn together how
to make sure he doesn't get
overwhelmed."

Chip nods, his eyes searching
hers for reassurance. "But what
about my trophy?" he asks, his
voice still shaky.

Karen's hand stops, her gaze
dropping to the shard of plastic
he holds tightly in his fist. "We'll
fix it," she says, her voice
filled with conviction. "Together."

The promise brings a small
smile to Chip's face, his eyes
lighting up. "Really?"

Karen nods, her own smile
genuine. "Of course, honey,"
she says. "We're a family. We
stick together."

With that, she stands up, her
body weary but her spirit
resolute. The room feels
lighter somehow, the air less
charged with tension.

Chip clambers out of bed, his
small hand reaching for hers.
Together, they walk to the
bedroom, the shattered
remnants of the trophy
glinting in the early light.

Plankton is still asleep,
his chest rising and falling in
a steady rhythm. Chip
looks at him, his eyes filled
with a mix of sadness and
curiosity.

"We'll talk to him when he
wakes up," Karen says, her voice
soft.

They sit beside Plankton's
bed, the room still and quiet.
Chip's hand trembles slightly as
he holds the broken piece
of trophy. "But what if he's still
mad?" he whispers, his voice
barely above the silence.

Karen's hand squeezes his.
"He'll understand," she says,
her voice filled with a calm
certainty. "He loves you, and he
knows you didn't mean to hurt
him."

The words are a gentle balm
to Chip's fears, but the doubt
lingers. He nods, his gaze
never leaving his father.

"Remember, Chip," Karen says, her
voice a soft whisper. "Daddy's
brain is different."

Chip nods, his eyes fixed on
his dad's sleeping form. He's
seen Plankton stressed before,
but never like this. He wants to
show him love.

With tentative steps, he moves
closer to the bed, his heart
beating a staccato in his chest.
He reaches out, his hand shaking
slightly as he hovers it over
his dad's arm.

"Chip," Karen whispers, her hand
covering his. "Remember, gentle."
Her words are a gentle
reminder of the invisible lines
that can be crossed.

Chip nods, his eyes on Plankton's
peaceful face. He takes a deep
breath, his hand steadying. Slowly,
so slowly it's almost imperceptible,
he brings his palm to rest
on Plankton's forearm, his touch
as light as a feather.

Plankton's body tenses for a
moment, a reflexive reaction to
the sudden contact. Chip holds
his breath, waiting, hoping.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he feels
his dad's arm relax under his hand.

"It's okay," Karen whispers, her
voice a gentle breeze. "He's okay."

Chip's hand remains hovering, his
heart in his throat. Plankton's
body remains still, his breathing
even. Karen's touch is a guide,
her hand resting on Chip's.

"It's okay," she whispers, her voice
a soft encouragement. "You can
do it."

With a deep breath, Chip's hand
descends, his fingertips brushing
against Plankton's arm.

Plankton's antennas twitch.
Karen watches, her eyes never
leaving her husband's face.

Chip's hand hovers, his
heart racing. He wants to
reassure his dad, to let him
know he's there. He's
learned about space and
understanding, but all he
can think of is the warmth of
his touch, the comfort
he craves to give.

His fingertips graze Plankton's
arm, the contact so light it's
barely there. He watches,
waiting for a reaction, for a
sign that he's crossed the line.
But Plankton remains still,
his breathing unchanged.

Encouraged, Chip presses down
slightly, his hand a soft
weight on his father's arm.
He feels the warmth of his
skin, the steady pulse beneath.
It's a tentative connection,
fragile as spider silk.

Plankton's antennas quiver,
but his body remains still.
Chip's heart hammers in his chest,
his breaths shallow and quick.
He's afraid to move, afraid
to break the spell.

Karen watches, her eyes
filled with a quiet hope.
The air in the room is thick
with anticipation.

Chip's hand hovers over
Plankton's arm, trembling
slightly with nerves and
love. He's unsure if this
small gesture will be met
with anger or acceptance.

Karen's gaze is a silent
cheer, urging him on. Plankton's
breaths remain steady, his body
still. Chip's heart is a
drum in his chest, each beat
a silent plea for
understanding.

With a tremble, he lets his hand
settle, his fingertips barely
grazing the fabric of the blanket.
He feels the heat of Plankton's skin,
the rise and fall of his chest.
It's a gentle touch, the lightest
of caresses.

Karen's hand remains on his,
guiding him, encouraging him.
Plankton's breaths remain steady,
his body still. Chip's eyes
are wide with hope, his hand
poised above the blanket.

With a tremble, he lets his
fingers come to rest on the
cotton, feeling the warmth
of his father's arm beneath.
He holds his breath, waiting
for a reaction, for any sign
that he's done the right thing.

Plankton's body remains still,
his breathing unchanged.
Karen's eyes are glued to
his face, watching for any
hint of distress. But there's
none. Only the gentle rise
and fall of his chest, a testament
to his deep sleep.

Chip's hand is a butterfly
landing on Plankton's arm, his
fingers fluttering slightly
against the warmth of his
skin. He's never felt so
exposed, so vulnerable. But
his love for his dad is stronger
than his fear.

Karen watches the silent
exchange, her heart in her throat.
The moment feels sacred, a
testament to their growing
understanding of each other.

Chip's hand remains on Plankton's
arm, the warmth of his touch a
promise of comfort and love.
He's afraid to move, afraid to
disrupt the delicate balance.
Karen's hand is a soft presence,
guiding him, giving him
the courage to stay.

Plankton's breaths are slow
and even, his body relaxed.
Chip wonders if he's dreaming, if he's
in a world where the sensory
overload doesn't exist. His heart
swells with hope, with the
desire to protect his dad from
the world's harshness.

Karen's hand on his is
a gentle reminder that he's not
alone. She gives him a small,
encouraging nod, her eyes filled
with understanding. He takes a
deep breath, his hand moving
slowly, so slowly, to cover his dad's.

The moment their skin
touches, it's like a dam breaks.
Chip feels a rush of warmth, a
connection that's been missing.
He squeezes Plankton's arm lightly,
his heart pounding. He's afraid to
move, afraid to breathe too loudly.

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, watching for any
sign of distress. But his features
remain relaxed, his antennas
still. The room is a sanctuary
of quiet, the only sound their
melded breaths. Chip feels a
lump form in his throat, his eyes
welling with tears.

He whispers, "Thank you," to
his mom, his voice shaky with
emotion. She nods, her hand
still covering his. "Remember,"
she says, her voice a soft
caress. "Gentle."

With trembling fingers, Chip
tucks the blanket closer around
Plankton, the fabric smoothing
over his shoulders. It's a
tiny act of love, a silent
apology. He wants to crawl into
the bed beside him, to wrap
his arms around his dad..

He looks up at Karen, his
eyes pleading. "Can I?"

Karen nods, her smile sad
but understanding. "Just be
careful not to wake him,"
she whispers.

With the grace of a
cat burglar, Chip slides into the
bed, his movements slow and
calculated. He's careful not
to disturb the sheets, not to
make a sound that could break
the tranquil silence.

Plankton's arm is a warm
mound beside him, and he
reaches out tentatively, his
fingers seeking the comfort
of his dad's skin. He finds it,
his hand coming to rest lightly
on the crook of his elbow.
The connection feels right,
like finding a piece of himself
he didn't know was lost.

He snuggles closer, his head
resting on the pillow beside
Plankton's.

Karen watches, her heart
swelling with love for her son.
"It's ok," she whispers. "Just be
gentle."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II viii

JUST A TOUCH viii
(Autistic author)


After dinner, they
retreat to the living room.
Plankton's eye is glued
to the puzzle book on the
coffee table, his antennae
twitching with unspoken
longing. Karen picks it up,
opening to a new page.

"Would you like to work
on this one together?"
she asks, her voice gentle.
He nods, his eye lighting
up with the familiar challenge.

Together, they tackle the
puzzle, Karen's voice a gentle
narration as Plankton's antennae
move in time with her words.

The patterns on the page
hypnotize him, drawing him in.
Plankton's antennae stop
twitching, his focus solely
on the words before him.

And then the doorbell rings,
breaking the spell. Karen's
heart skips a beat, her hand
tightening around the puzzle
book. Plankton's head snaps up,
his eye wide with alarm. "Who
is it?" he asks, his voice
sharp.

Karen's eyes dart to the clock.
"It's probably SpongeBob,"
she murmurs. Plankton's antennae
perk up at the mention of his
friend's name. "Party," he says,
his voice hopeful. Karen nods,
swiping at the tear that's
managed to escape. "Yes, Plankton.
SpongeBob's probably here
to invite us to a party at the
Krusty Krab. Do you
think you're up for it?" she asks,
her voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae droop
slightly. "Maybe," he says,
his voice unsure. The thought
of the bright lights and loud
noises at the party sends a
shiver of anxiety through
his tiny body. But the
prospect of seeing Sponge
Bob is tempting.

Karen sighs, understanding
his hesitation. She walks
to the door, her movements
slow and deliberate. Sponge
Bob's cheerful greeting floods
the hallway. "Hey,
Karen! Plankton! You guys
coming to the party?"

"Hey, Sponge Bob," she says,
her smile forced. "What's the
occasion?"

Sponge Bob's face lights up
like a Christmas tree, his
spongy body bobbing with
excitement. "Mr. Krabs is
throwing a bash at the
Krusty Krab!" he says, his
hands gesturing wildly. "You
guys are coming, right?"

Plankton's antennae quiver
at the mention of the party.
The thought of the loud
noises and the jostling
crowd makes his stomach
churn, but the prospect of
seeing his friend shines like
a beacon through the fog
of his fear.

Karen watches him,
reading his emotions like
a book. "It's okay," she says,
her voice a gentle reminder.
"We can go for a little bit."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still. "Okay," he says, his voice
barely a whisper. Karen can
see the internal struggle
playing out across his features.
"Just stay as long as you're
comfortable," she adds. "I'll
just stay, you go with him."

Sponge Bob's eyes light up.
"Great!" he says, bending
down to hold his hand. He
holds his finger as they go.

Plankton's grip is tight,
his antennae flat against
his head. The noise of the
Krusty Krab is a cacophony
of sounds, each one
stabbing at his heightened
senses. But the warmth of
Sponge Bob's hand, the
familiarity of their friendship,
anchors him.

Mr. Krabs sees Plankton
clinging to Sponge Bob's 
side.

"What's going on, laddie?"
he asks, his voice gruff but
concerned at the sight of
their hands.

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his gaze darting
to the floor. Mr. Krabs' 
eyes narrow.

"Why did ye invite
Plankton?" he asks
with suspicion.

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "Well,
he's always welcome..."

Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow.
"But he's our enemy.."

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "He's my friend,"
he says firmly. "And I'm watching
to make sure he won't steal any
thing, boss.."

Mr. Krabs' eyes soften,
his suspicion giving way to
reluctant acceptance. "Alright,
but keep an eye on him," he says,
his voice gruff.

Sponge Bob nods, his grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his heart racing at the sudden
influx of stimulation. The
colorful lights, the smells of
frying food, the laughter of
the patrons—it's all so
much. But Sponge Bob's hand is
warm, a lifeline in the chaos.

They move through the
crowd, Plankton's steps small and
careful. His eye darts around,
trying to take it all in without
getting overwhelmed. Sponge
Bob's voice cuts through the
noise like a knife. "You okay,
buddy?" he asks, his smile
concerned. Plankton nods, his
voice a strained whisper. "Good,"
Sponge Bob says, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's.

As they reach the party
area, Plankton's antennae start to
wave erratically. The lights
are too bright, the sounds too
loud. He clutches Sponge
Bob's hand tighter. 
Plankton takes a deep breath,
his chest expanding with the
effort. It's like trying to
swim through jello, his senses
on high alert.

Sponge Bob feels the
change in his friend's grip,
his own heart racing with
concern. "You okay, Plankton?"
he asks again, his voice
barely audible over the din.
Plankton nods, his eye
focused on the floor. The
pattern of the tiles is
soothing, grounding him amidst
the chaos.

A flash of pink darts
through the crowd, and Plankton's
antennas twitch. "Patrick!"
Sponge Bob says, letting go
of Plankton's hand.

Plankton looks around and
sees Squidward doing the
dishes, but in a disorganized
manner that Plankton needs
to correct.

The sight of the
scattered plates, the water spots
on the glasses, sends a jolt of
anxiety through him. His
compulsion to straighten, to
organize, to make it right, is
almost unbearable. So he goes
to Squidward by the sink to interfere.

Squidward glances up, his
tentacles frozen mid-wash. "What
are you doing here?" he snaps.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his gaze fixated on the mess.
"Help," he says, his voice tight.

Squidward rolls his eyes, grabbing
another plate to wash as he ignores
Plankton.

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye darting between the chaos
and Squidward's dismissal. He's
doing the dishes wrong and needs
him to help!

"Squidward, let Plankton assist,"
he says, his voice formal.
Squidward sighs, shaking his
head.

"Look, I don't have time for
this," he says, his tentacles
moving rapidly. Plankton's
body tenses, his need for
meticulousness consuming him.

As Plankton approaches Squidward,
his movements are precise, almost
mechanical. His antennae twitch
in time with his racing thoughts,
his need for order a silent
scream in the noisy room. He
holds out his hand, palm up.
"Wash," he says, his voice firm.
Squidward pauses, eyeing him
warily. "What?"

Plankton's gaze is unwavering,
his voice steady. "Smudges.
Wash dishes. Correct way."

Squidward's grip on the plate
slackens, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean?"

Plankton's antennae wave
frantically. "Correct way,"
he repeats, his voice a
desperate whisper. "No smudges.
Wrong order."

Squidward's tentacles still,
his gaze sharpening. "What's
gotten into you?" he asks, his voice
filled with skepticism.

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"No smudges," he says again,
his voice a mix of urgency and
desperation. Squidward sets
the plate down with a clatter.
"What are you on about, Plankton?"

But Plankton's focus is solely
on the task at hand. He reaches
for the dish soap, his movements
precise.

Squidward watches him, his
expression a mix of annoyance
and curiosity. "What's going on?"
he asks, his voice gruff. Plankton's
antennas twitch, his eye darting
to Squidward. "Just helping,"
he says, his voice flat as he puts
the now clean dish away. But he
sees imperfections on some of the
clean dishes, handing them over
for Squidward to wash as he straightens
up the other plates.

Squidward's eyebrows furrow,
his gaze flicking between Plankton
and the dishes. "What are you
doing?" he asks again. Plankton's
grip on the towel tightens, his
body vibrating with the need for
perfection. "It's not right,"
he says, his voice strained. "Has to be
right."

"Those I've cleaned!" Squidward
says as Plankton puts them in
the sink for him to wash over
again. "Squidward look. No..."

But before Plankton can
finish, Squidward snatches the plate
from his tentacles. "Look, I don't
have time for your... whatever
this is," he says, his voice gruff. He
takes it and haphazardly shoves
it with smaller plates. Plankton
can't take the misalignment!

Plankton's antennae stand on
end, his eye wide with horror.
"No!" he says, his voice rising.
"Wrong order!" His hands
shake as he tries to grab the
plate, his mind racing with
the need to correct the mistake.

Squidward pulls away, his
expression a mix of confusion
and irritation. "Plankton, what's
wrong with you?" he snaps.

"Plankton's centrum semiovale has
restricted inhibitory synaptic
transmission!" Plankton's
voice is a mix of panic and
frustration, his antennae waving
wildly. Squidward's eyes narrow,
his grip on the plate tightening.
"What are you talking about? I
am not going to wash this again,"
he says, his tone firm.

Squidward's words hit a nerve,
triggering a cascade of emotions
in Plankton. "It's not
about Squidward!" he says, his voice
sharp. "It's about the order! Cleanliness..."

"PLANKTON I SAID NO!" Squidward
yells, startling him as he turns back
to the sink.

new just a touch neurodisability viii

NEW REALITY viii
(Autistic author)

"I don't
understand," she says, her voice
filled with distress.

Plankton's hand clenches, his
body vibrating with tension.
"Numbers," he repeats, his voice
edging on a scream. "They
make quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen, her smile
fading to a look of horror.
"But Plankton," she says, her voice
shaking, "it's just a clock."

But her words are like fuel
on the fire of his distress.
He steps closer to the clock,
his hand outstretched as if
to will it to silence. "Numbers,"
he whispers, his voice a
plea. "They make quiet."

Hanna's eyes fill with
sympathy, but her words only
worsen his agitation. "Plankton,
it's just a clock," she says,
reaching out to touch him.

Karen's heart hammers in
her chest as she sees his
body tense even further.
"Hanna, don't," she warns, her
voice tight. "Please don't touch
him right now."

But Hanna doesn't hear her,
her own voice rising with
frustration. "It's just a clock,
Plankton," she repeats, her hand
covering his shoulder. "Nothing's
going to hurt you.."

The touch sends him spiraling,
his body convulsing with
overstimulation. "No touch!"
he screams, his hand slapping
at her arm, his face a mask of
fear and anger.

But Plankton's outburst has
ignited something in Hanna,
a spark of anger.

"Why can't you just be normal?"
she snaps, her voice echoing
through the tense room.

Karen's heart breaks as
Plankton's eye goes wide, his
body jerking away from her.
"Hanna, please," she says,
her voice tight with pain.

But Hanna's words keep coming,
a barrage of misunderstanding.
"You can't just ignore us,"
she says, her voice rising. "You have
to interact with the world."

Plankton's body recoils, his
skin seemingly vibrating with each
of her words. "Interact," he echoes,
his voice strained.

Karen's heart is in her throat.
"Hanna, please," she says, her
voice tight with pain. "You're
not helping."

But Hanna's eyes are
glassy with frustration. "How
can I help if he won't even
look at me?" she asks,
ignoring the desperation in
Plankton's gaze as she holds
his arms tightly.

Karen's eyes plead with her,
but Hanna's grip doesn't loosen.
"Let go," Plankton whimpers,
his voice tight with tension.

Hanna's smile is forced,
her grip unyielding. "Look at me,
Plankton," she says, her voice
laced with irritation. "You can't
just..."

But her words cut him like
knives. "Look
away," he murmurs, his voice
strained, his body begging for
the pressure to ease.

Hanna's smile falters, her
grip tightening. "Why can't
you just look at me?" she asks,
her voice edged with annoyance.

Plankton's breath hitches,
his antennae drooping. "Can't," he
whispers, his gaze flickering
between her and Karen.

Hanna's eyes narrow, her
grip on his arms tightening.
"You can," she insists, her
voice firm. "Just..."

But Plankton's whimpers
grow louder, his body
shaking with the effort
to pull away.

Hanna's smile fades, her
grip tightening in frustration.
"Why can't you just be like
everyone else?" she asks, her
tone no longer gentle.

Plankton's whimpers become
sobs, his body shaking with
the effort to break free.
Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she watches
the scene unfold, her heart
breaking for him.

Hanna's grip remains firm,
her expression a mix of
confusion and annoyance.
"Why are you doing this?"
she demands, her voice
sharp. "You're just being
difficult."

Plankton's sobs grow more
desperate, his body
twisting in her grasp.
"Let go," he whispers, his voice
a strained plea.

Hanna's eyes flash with
irritation. "Why ca--"

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Hanna,
please," she says, stepping
between them. "You're
upsetting him."

But Hanna's confusion turns
to anger. "How can I not
be upset?" she retorts, her
grip on Plankton's arms
tightening. "He won't even..."

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Please,
Hanna," she says, her eyes
pleading. "You don't
understand."

Suddenly, Plankton's legs
buckle, his body going slack
as Hanna finally releases
his arms. He crumples to
the floor. He's retreating, Karen
realizes, her heart racing.
He's retreating into himself.

Karen's eyes fill with
fear as she watches him, his
sobs subsiding into quiet
whimpers. "Plankton," she
whispers, her voice a prayer.

Hanna's face falls, her anger
replaced with shock. "What's
wrong with him?" she asks,
her voice trembling.

Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she crouches
beside him. "It's a condition,"
she says, her voice tight with
frustration. "He needs time
and space to process everything."

Hanna's face crumples, her
hands going to her mouth.
"I didn't know," she whispers,
her eyes wide with regret.
"I'm sorry."

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's huddled
form. "It's not your fault,"
she says, her voice thick with
emotion. "But we all have
to learn."

Hanna nods, her eyes
brimming with tears.

Karen wraps her arms
around Plankton, her
touch gentle. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "I'm here."
He trembles against her,
sobbing.

Hanna stands there,
apology etched in every
line of her face. "What can
I do?" she whispers.

Karen looks up, her eyes
wet. "Just give us a moment,"
she says, her voice a gentle
command.

Hanna nods, backing away
slowly, her eyes on Plankton.
"Okay," she murmurs, the weight
of her words heavy in the
silent room.

Karen holds Plankton tightly,
his body a trembling mass
of emotion. "It's okay,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing balm. "You're safe."

He nests his head into
her shoulder, his whimpers
softening to quiet sobs.
The room feels thick with
their shared pain, the air
charged with the tension
of misunderstanding.

Hanna's eyes dart around,
looking for anything that might
soothe him.

Karen's gaze meets hers,
a silent plea for understanding.

"It's called autism," Karen says softly,
her voice a gentle explanation.

Hanna's eyes widen, her face
a canvas of realization. "Oh," she
whispers, the word a soft
exhalation of breath.

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's tear-stained
face. "It's a spectrum,"
she says, her voice calm and
steady. "And he's on a part
of it that's very sensitive to
stimulation."

Hanna nods slowly, her
understanding growing. "I'm
sorry," she says, her voice
full of regret. "I didn't know."

Karen's grip tightens around
Plankton's shoulders. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "We're all still
learning."

Hanna nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's trembling
form. "I'll go," she says, her voice
small. "I didn't mean..."

Karen nods, her gaze
steady. "Thank you," she whispers.
"We can talk soon."

Hanna nods, her eyes filled
with sadness. "Of course," she says,
turning to leave.

The door clicks shut behind her,
leaving Karen and Plankton in the
heavy silence. Karen's arms
remain around him, her body
a protective cocoon against
the harshness of the world.

Plankton's sobs slowly
ease into quiet sniffs, his body
still trembling in her embrace.
Her heart aches for the pain
he's feeling, the fear that
Hanna's misunderstanding
has brought to the surface.

"I'm sorry," she whispers
to him, her voice
shaking.

Plankton's trembles begin
to subside, his breathing
evening out. He pulls back,
his eye searching hers. "No,"
he murmurs, his voice hoarse
from crying. "Not at fault."

Karen's eyes fill with
relief, her grip on him
loosening slightly. "It's
okay," she says, her voice
a gentle caress. "We just need
to find ways to help you."

Plankton nods, his eye
fluttering shut.

Karen's mind races with
thoughts of what more she
can do, what she can say
to make him feel safe.

"We'll get through this,"
she says, her voice a promise.
"Together."

Plankton's eye opens,
his gaze meeting hers.
"Together," he echoes, his
voice a whisper.

Karen's heart swells with
love for him, her eyes
shimmering with determination.
"We'll find what works,"
she says, her voice firm.

Plankton nods, his gaze
dropping to the floor.
"Thanks," he murmurs, his
voice barely audible. "Tired.."

Karen's heart breaks at the
exhaustion etched into his
features. "I got you, you
can rest," she says, her
voice a gentle whisper.

They move to the couch,
Plankton's body curling into
her side. She wraps the
weighted blanket around him,
still within their embrace.

His breathing slows, his body
relaxing against hers. The
whirring fan above offers
a steady rhythm, a lullaby for
his troubled mind.

Karen's hand strokes his
back in gentle circles, her
thumb tracing patterns that
seem to soothe his nerves.

The fan's steady whir
fills the room, a calming
symphony that lulls Plankton's
racing thoughts to a crawl.

Karen's thumb moves in
soothing circles on his back,
each pass sending a ripple
of comfort through him.

Plankton's breathing evens,
his body slack against hers.
The fan's steady hum is a
lullaby in the quiet room,
a metronome for his racing
thoughts.

Karen's hand continues its
soothing dance across his back,
his eye finally closing.

The room is a cocoon of
silence, the fan's whisper the
only sound breaking the stillness.

Plankton's breathing slows,
his body melts into Karen's embrace.
Her hand continues its gentle
caress, a metronome of comfort as
he finally surrenders to sleep.

new new reality hannacore viii

"Honey, did you 
take out the trash?" 
Karen called out 
to the living room. 
The only reply was 
the distant sound 
of the TV playing 
a sitcom laugh track. 
She sighed.

Going into the 
living room, Karen 
found her husband, 
Plankton, sprawled 
out on the couch, 
snoring lightly.

The TV's blue light 
flickered over his face. She looked 
around the room, 
the piles of laundry, 
the dusty bookshelves, 
and the half-eaten 
sandwich on the 
coffee table. It was 
a mess, but she knew 
better than to wake him.

Plankton had been 
working long hours 
at the chum factory 
lately, trying to 
make ends meet. His 
snoring grew louder, 
and she felt a 
wave of affection 
mixed with concern.

Gently, she covered 
his legs with a blanket 
and bent to kiss 
his forehead.
He stirred slightly 
but didn't wake up.

In the kitchen, 
Karen grabbed a 
cup of coffee, 
the warmth and 
aroma grounding her 
for the evening ahead. 
The fridge hummed 
a low lullaby, 
reminding her of 
the chores left to do.

The sink was full 
of dirty dishes, 
remnants of dinner.
A pot with half-eaten 
chum congealed 
on the stovetop.

Karen rolled up 
her sleeves, 
determined to tackle 
the chaos. She knew 
Plankton was 
exhausted from work.

The clanking of 
pots and pans 
echoed through the 
tiny kitchen as she 
washed and sorted, 
her mind racing with 
thoughts of their future.

A knock at the door 
startled her. She dried 
her hands on a towel, 
leaving wet spots like 
tears on the fabric.

It was Hanna, her 
best friend since high 
school.

Karen had not seen 
Hanna in weeks, and 
the sight of her brought 
a smile. Hanna 
was a burst of energy.

"Hi, Karen! How's it 
going?" Hanna's voice 
was a mix of sweetness 
and the sharpness of 
someone who had seen 
too much of the world.

She scanned 
the room, taking 
in the clutter, the 
stale smell of 
overworked air, and 
Plankton's snoring.

"Hey, Hanna," Karen 
managed, her voice 
soft to not disturb 
his sleep. "It's been 
a bit hectic, but we're 
making do."

Hanna stepped in, 
eyeing the mess 
sympathetically. "Looks 
like you could use a 
hand," she said, already 
grabbing a dish towel.

Karen's smile grew.
"You read my mind. Thanks."

Hanna tossed the 
towel over her shoulder, 
ready to jump into 
the fray. "You know me,"
she said with a wink. "I've 
never been one to shy 
away from a mess."

The two of them worked 
side by side, the rhythm 
of their movements 
harmonizing as they 
cleared the kitchen. Karen
felt the tension in her 
shoulders begin to ease 
as Hanna filled the room 
with stories of her latest 
adventures, a welcome 
distraction from the 
monotony of chores.

As the last plate was 
put away, the fridge 
closed with a satisfying 
click, Karen leaned against 
the counter. Hanna looked 
at her.
"You've been carrying 
a lot, haven't you?" she 
asked, her voice gentle.

Karen nodded, her eyes 
welling up. "It's just 
that with Plankton's job, 
and the bills..."

Hanna pulled her into 
a tight hug. "I know, 
sweetie. You're doing 
the best you can."

They sat down in the 
living room, the clean 
kitchen a testament to 
their friendship's strength. 
Hanna's screen searched 
Karen's for 
a sign of the spark 
that used to be there.

"I can't remember 
the last time we 
went out together," 
Hanna said. "You two 
deserve a break."

Karen's screen lit up 
at the suggestion, but 
quickly dimmed. "We can't 
afford it," she said, 
sighing. "Not with the 
overtime Plankton's 
been doing."

Hanna leaned in, a 
mischievous glint in 
her eye. "Well, I might 
have a little surprise 
for you," she said.

Karen looked up, 
curiosity piqued. "What do 
you mean?"

Hanna pulled out a 
small envelope from 
her pocket and 
handed it to her friend. 
"A gift," she said with 
a sly smile. "A check
from my winning 
lottery ticket."

Karen's eyes widened 
as she opened the 
envelope. "Hanna, no!"
she protested. "You can't
just give us your 
winnings!"

Hanna's smile didn't 
waver. "I can, and I 
want to. You've been 
there for me through 
everything. It's about 
time I returned the favor.
Besides," she said with 
a wink, "what's a 
little chum between 
friends?"

Karen's hands trembled 
as she read the check.
It was more than enough 
to cover their rent and 
bills for several months. 
Tears slipped down 
her cheeks, and she 
hugged Hanna tightly. 
"Thank you," she whispered.

The weight of financial 
stress lifted slightly 
from her shoulders, 
replaced by a warmth 
that spread through 
her chest. For a moment, 
the world didn't seem 
so overwhelming.

Hanna pulled back, her 
own eyes shining with 
unshed tears. "Now, 
don't spend it all in one 
place," she teased.

Karen laughed, the 
sound small but genuine. 
"I won't," she promised, 
the check clutched in 
her hand. "We'll use it 
wisely."

The two of them sat 
quietly for a while, 
enjoying the rare moment 
of peace. The TV had 
switched to the news, 
and the low murmur of 
the anchor's voice filled 
the room. Plankton's 
snoring had become a 
comforting white noise.

Hanna looked at 
Plankton, her expression 
thoughtful. "You know, 
I've always admired 
the way you take care 
of him," she said. "It can't 
be easy."

Karen nodded, her 
thumb tracing the 
edges of the check. "It's 
not," she admitted. "But 
he's my Plankton. I love 
him, even when he's 
exhausting."

Her gaze drifted to 
the sleeping form of 
her husband. Plankton's 
snores grew more even, 
his face finally relaxed.
The lines of stress that 
usually pinched his 
features had smoothed 
out in sleep.

Karen knew that 
Plankton had always 
dreamed of more than 
his life at the chum 
factory could offer. 
He was a man of ambition, 
his spirit too large for 
the cramped quarters 
they called home.

Her thoughts turned 
to the gift from Hanna. 
The check represented 
more than just money; 
it was a beacon of hope 
that maybe, just maybe, 
they could finally start 
working towards those 
dreams.

new AI Story Generator Family & Friends Karen x Plankton karen plankton POV Karen hanna

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vii

(Autistic Author)



The film starts, and for a while, the only 
sound is the muffled dialogue and the 
occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's 
hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it 
a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but 
then relaxes slightly, allowing her 
contact.

Plankton's antennae still
and he turns to look at Chip, who's 
staring at the screen, lost 
in the fantasy.

Karen watches them both, torn 
between anger and pity. She knows 
Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, 
but it's hard to see her son hurt.

The movie plays on, the sound of 
laughter and adventure a stark contrast 
to the heavy silence that hangs over 
them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he 
glances at Chip, his eye flickering with 
regret.

Karen feels the tension in the room 
begin to ease as Chip becomes 
engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to 
Plankton, seeking comfort without 
words. Plankton's antennae droop 
slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the 
armrest of the couch tightening.

The film starts, and for a while, the only 
sound is the muffled dialogue and the 
occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's 
hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it 
a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but 
then relaxes slightly, allowing her 
contact.

Plankton's antennae still
and he turns to look at Chip, who's 
staring at the screen, lost 
in the fantasy.

Karen watches them both, torn 
between anger and pity. She knows 
Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, 
but it's hard to see her son hurt.

The movie plays on, the sound of 
laughter and adventure a stark contrast 
to the heavy silence that hangs over 
them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he 
glances at Chip, his eye flickering with 
regret.

Karen feels the tension in the room 
begin to ease as Chip becomes 
engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to 
Plankton, seeking comfort without 
words. Plankton's antennae droop 
slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the 
armrest of the couch tightening.

During a particularly suspenseful scene, 
Chip reaches out and grabs Plankton's 
arm instinctively.

But the sudden touch sends Plankton 
spiraling. His antennae shoot up, and he 
starts to shake uncontrollably.

"Daddy?" Chip asks, his grip tightening 
in concern.

Plankton's body jolts, his antennae 
flailing wildly as his eye roll back. 

"Daddy!" Chip's voice is filled with fear 
as he clutches his father's arm tighter. 
Plankton's tremors only worsen, his 
body convulsing in a way that's both 
frightening and heartbreaking.

Karen's realizes what's happening. 
"Chip, let go!" she cries.
"Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice 
trembling with fear.

Plankton's shaking becomes more 
intense, his antennae flailing as if trying 
to escape the confines of his own body. 
His mouth opens in a silent scream.

Karen's knows this isn't a ‘seizure’ but 
something else entirely—a meltdown, a 
result of the overwhelming emotions 
he's been trying to hold in. She rushes 
to his side with worry.

"Chip, let go of him," she says, her voice 
urgent. Plankton's shaking becomes 
more intense, his antennae thrashing 
about like seaweed in a storm.

Karen quickly moves closer, her own 
hands gentle as she pries Chip's tight 
grip from Plankton's arm. "Chip, sweetie, 
let Daddy breathe," she says, her voice 
firm yet filled with empathy.

"What's wrong with him?" he stammers, 
voice trembling.

Karen's full of sadness as she 
takes Chip into her arms, gently peeling 
him away from Plankton's convulsing 
form. "It's ok, baby," she murmurs, her 
voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Daddy's 
just having a hard time right now."

Her movements are swift and sure as 
she guides Chip away from the couch, 
her gaze never leaving Plankton. His 
body is still racked with tremors, his 
antennae a wild mess of emotions. She 
knows that touch can be overwhelming 
for Plankton in moments like these, so 
she keeps her distance, giving him the 
space he needs.

"Why is he doing that?" Chip 
whispers, his voice shaky with fear. 
Karen's heart aches as she holds him 
close, trying to shield him from the 
harshness of the world.

"It's called a meltdown, sweetie," she 
explains gently, her voice a soothing 
balm. "Sometimes, when some 
neurodivergent people get really upset 
or overwhelmed, their bodies may react like 
this."

Karen's on Plankton, who's still 
trembling on the couch, his antennae a 
blur of distress. She knows he needs 
space, yet her instinct is to comfort him. 
With Chip in her arms, she keeps a safe 
distance, speaking softly so as not to 
add to the sensory overload.

"Plankton," she says, her voice steady 
despite the turmoil in her heart. "It's 
ok. Just breathe."

Plankton's body continues to spasm, his 
antennae a frantic tapestry of emotions. 
Karen's filled with a fierce determination 
as she carefully approaches him, her 
movements slow and calculated to avoid 
triggering more distress.

"Plankton," she whispers, her voice a 
gentle lullaby amidst the chaos. "I'm 
here."

Slowly, his antennae begin to still, his 
body calming as he registers her 
presence. "It's ok," she repeats. 
With trembling hands, she reaches out 
to stroke his back, the barest touch. 
Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his 
breaths coming in deep, shaky gasps.

"Just breathe," she whispers again, her 
hand moving in a soothing rhythm. "It's 
ok, you're ok."

Plankton's antennae slow their erratic 
dance, his body following suit. The 
tremors subside, leaving him drained 
and panting.

"Daddy?" Chip whispers, peering over Karen's shoulder.

Karen nods, still on Plankton. "He's ok 
now," she says softly. "It's just his brain's 
way of letting out all the big feelings."

Chip watches, his grip on Karen 
tightening. "Is he going to be ok?" he 
asks, his voice small.

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving 
Plankton. "Yes," she murmurs. "Just give 
him a moment."

The room is silent except for Plankton's 
uneven breathing. The colors from the 
TV flicker across their faces, painting 
them in a strange, unsettling light. Karen 
can feel Chip's little heart beating 
against hers, and she knows he's 
scared.

"It's ok," she whispers again, her voice a 
beacon of calm in the storm. "Daddy just 
needs some
time."

Plankton's antennae droop, his body 
finally still. His eye meets hers, a silent 
apology in the depths of his gaze. Karen 
nods, her hand still on his back, offering 
assurance without words.

"Chip," she says, her voice still low, "can 
you go to your room for a bit?"

He nods, eyes still glued to his 
father, but he doesn't protest. With a 
heavy heart, Karen watches her son 
disappear down the corridor, the door 
clicking shut behind him.

Turning her full attention to Plankton, 
she sits down beside him, her hand 
resting lightly on his back. His breathing 
is still ragged, his antennae barely 
moving.

"I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice 
hoarse.

Karen nods with 
understanding. "We'll talk to him," she 
says gently. "But first, let's make sure 
you're ok."

Plankton's body still 
trembling slightly. Karen keeps her hand 
on his back, her touch a silent promise 
that she's there for him.

Karen's hand moves in gentle circles, 
trying to soothe him. "You don't have to 
apologize," she says firmly. "You are 
who you are, and we love you for it."

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he 
looks up at her, his single eye brimming 
with unshed tears. "But I don't know how 
to be a good dad like this," he chokes 
out.

Karen's heart breaks at his words, but 
she keeps her voice steady. "You're 
already a great dad, Plankton," she 
says. "You just need to find a way to 
show Chip that."

He looks at her, hope and doubt warring 
in his expression. "How?" he asks, his 
voice barely a whisper.

Karen takes a deep breath, gathering 
her thoughts. "By teaching him," she 
says gently. "By letting him in, just like 
you're letting us in now."

Plankton's antennae droop, and he 
nods. "I know," he says, his voice filled 
with regret. "But it's hard. I don't want 
him to see me like this."

Karen squeezes his hand. "He already 
does," she says gently. "And he loves 
you anyway."

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore vii

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS viii

(Autistic Author)


They sit in silence for a few moments, 
the sound of Plankton's slowing breaths 
filling the space. Karen's mind races with 
the conversation they need to have with 
Chip.

"How do we explain it?" Plankton asks, 
finally breaking the silence. His 
antennae still, his eye looking at the 
floor.

"We tell him the truth," Karen says firmly. 
"But we also remind him of all the 
wonderful things you do for him, all the 
ways you show him love."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping 
further. "I know I'm not the dad he 
deserves," he murmurs.

Karen's voice is firm, but filled with 
warmth. "You are the dad he needs," 
she corrects. "And we'll get through this 
together."

Finally, Plankton's 
antennae perk up slightly. "I'm sorry," he 
says again, his voice still thick with 
emotion.

Karen nods. "I know," she says softly. 
"But we can't keep hiding this from him. 
He needs to understand."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. 
"I know," he admits. "I just don't know 
where to start."

Karen gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 
"We'll start by talking to him," she says, 
her voice strong and reassuring. "When 
you're ready."

They sit there for a while longer, the 
rhythm of Plankton's breathing slowly 
returning to normal. Karen's mind is 
racing with thoughts of how to navigate this 
chapter in their lives. How to help Chip 
understand his father's condition without scaring 
him or making him feel responsible.

Finally, Plankton turns to her, his antennae still shaky. 
"What do we do now?" he asks, his voice a mix of exhaustion and fear.

Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with resolve. 
"First," she says, "we make sure you're ok."

They sit there, the only sound in the room the distant 
hum of the TV. Plankton's antennae are still, his eye 
focused on the floor. Karen's hand remains on his 
back, a silent promise that she's there for him.

"Let's get you to bed," she says softly. "You need to rest."

With her help, Plankton stands, his legs wobbly from 
the intense episode. Together, they make their way 
to their bedroom, the quiet of the house a stark 
contrast to the emotional upheaval they've just 
experienced.

Once Plankton is tucked into bed, Karen sits beside 
him, her hand resting on his arm. "We'll get through 
this," she says, her voice a gentle reassurance in the 
stillness. "We're a family."

Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of doubt, and 
he looks up at her, his eye searching hers for 
understanding. "But what if I can't?"

Karen's gaze is unwavering. "You can," she says 
firmly. "You're strong, Plankton. And we're here to 
help you."

Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods slowly. 
"Ok," he whispers. "Ok."

Karen leans in, kissing his forehead. "Rest," she 
says. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

With a nod, Plankton closes his eye, and Karen slips 
out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She 
heads to Chip's room, heavy with the weight of the 
conversation they need to have.

Chip is lying on his bed, his small form wrapped in a 
blanket, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are red, and 
he looks up as Karen enters.

"Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. 
"Can we talk?"

Chip nods, his eyes still wet with tears. "What's 
wrong with Daddy?" he asks, his voice shaky.

Karen takes a deep breath, choosing her words 
carefully. "Daddy has something called Autism, 
sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "It makes his 
brain work a bit differently from ours. Sometimes, 
when he's really upset or overwhelmed, his body can 
react in ways that might seem strange or scary."

Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity, and he nods 
slowly. "Is that why he gets so mad?" he asks.

Karen takes a moment before responding. "Sometimes, yes," 
she says. "It's his way of dealing 
with big feelings. But it's not because he's mad at you, ok?"

Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. 
"But why does he get so mad?" he asks again, his 
voice quivering.

Karen sighs, her hand stroking him. "Daddy gets 
overwhelmed by his feelings, and it's hard for him to 
express them," she explains. "Sometimes, when he 
can't find the right words or when things get too 
much, he feels like he's going to break apart. That's 
what we call a meltdown."

Chip sniffs, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "It's like 
when I'm really sad and I don't want to talk?"

Karen nods, her heart swelling with love for her son's 
empathy. "Exactly," she says. "And just like you, 
Daddy needs some space when that happens."

Chip looks at her, his eyes serious. "But what if I 
want to show him my affection?"

Karen smiles sadly. "You can, Chip," she says. "Just 
remember to be gentle, and maybe use words or 
gestures that aren't to overwhelming for him."

Chip nods, his eyes still on the ceiling. "But what if I 
make it worse?" he whispers.

Karen's heart clenches at his fear, and she takes his 
hand in hers. "Sometimes, we just need to learn new 
ways to show and receive love."

Chip nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 
"Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Karen leans in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 
"You're brave," she says, her voice filled with pride.

"But what about the rock he broke?" Chip asks, his 
voice still shaky.

Karen sighs, her eyes meeting his. "Daddy didn't 
mean to scare you," she says. "Sometimes, when 
people are upset, they do things they don't mean to. 
It's part of how they cope."

Chip nods, his grip on her hand tightening. "But 
Dad now," he says again, his voice small.

"We'll give him some time to rest," Karen assures him. 
"And tomorrow, we'll talk about it more."

With that, she tucks the blanket around him and turns 
to leave. As she reaches the door, Chip's voice stops 
her. "Mom," he says, his tone tentative. "Can I go to Daddy?"

Karen's heart skips a beat, and she looks back at 
him, her eyes filled with both concern and hope. "Do 
you think that's a good idea, sweetie?"

Chip nods. "I want to tell him I love him," he says, his 
voice barely above a whisper.

Karen's heart squeezes. "Ok," she says, taking a 
deep breath. "But remember, we need to be gentle 
with him right now. Let's go to his room together."

They tiptoe down the hall, the house eerily quiet. 
Karen can feel Chip's hand in hers, small and warm 
and trembling slightly. When they reach the bedroom, 
she opens the door quietly and peeks in. Plankton is 
lying on his back, his antennae still, his chest rising 
and falling with deep, even breaths.

They approach the bed, and Karen can see the 
tension in Plankton's body, even in sleep. She
whispers to Chip, "Remember, sweetie, just a little. 
And if he wakes up, tell him you love him."

Chip nods solemnly, and together, they tiptoe to the 
bedside. Chip extends a tentative hand and gently 
pats Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but 
he doesn't wake. "I love you, Daddy," Chip whispers, 
his voice quivering.

Karen's eyes fill with tears at the sight of her son's 
bravery and love. She gives Chip's hand a squeeze.
"That was perfect," she says, her voice barely a 
murmur.

They stand there for a moment, watching Plankton's 
chest rise and fall in the dim light of the moon 
peeking through the curtains. Then, with a heavy 
heart, Karen leads Chip back to his room.

Once Chip is tucked in, she kisses his forehead and 
whispers, "You're a brave boy, and I'm so proud of 
you." His eyes, still red and swollen from crying, 
meet hers with a quiet understanding beyond his 
years.

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore viii

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vii


(Autistic author)



The movie ended with the
snails crossing the finish line.
Sponge Bob reached for the remote,
fingers hovering over the
button. "Would you like to watch
something else?" he asks, voice
soft. 

Sponge Bob noticed his
friend Plankton's gentle
snores. He had fallen asleep,
his body slack. "Plankton?"
he whispered. 
Sponge Bob leaned closer,
his heart skipping a beat as he
noticed Plankton's gentle
snores. Plankton didn't stir, his
body slumped slightly curled up.
Sponge Bob's gaze
softened as he realized
he had fallen asleep
likely for the night.

Sponge Bob felt a wave of
relief wash over him, for Plankton
found comfort in their shared
experience.
He gently cradles him.

Karen, watching from the doorway,
smiled softly as she saw Sponge
Bob's gentle care. She knew that
Sponge Bob had always had a
special bond with Plankton, but
now, it seemed that bond had grown
deeper, more meaningful.

He had always been
there for Plankton, through
their many adventures and
misunderstandings. Now, in the
face of Plankton's new reality,
he remained steadfast, offering a
steady hand in the storm of change.

"Let's get him to bed," Karen
whispered, stepping into the room.
Her eyes met Sponge Bob's, her gaze
filled with warmth and thanks.
Together, they carefully lifted
Plankton from the couch, his
body limp with sleep. His antennae
twitched slightly at the sudden
movement, but his snores remained
steady, a testament to his deep sleep.
Sponge Bob walked down the hallway,
his steps light, carrying 
Plankton with ease.

Karen had prepared the bed.
They laid him down, his antennae
flailing briefly before settling
against the pillow. Sponge Bob
tucked the blanket around him,
his movements careful not to
disturb his friend.

Plankton's snores grew quieter as
his body settled into the cool
embrace of the sheets. His antennae
twitched one last time before
going still, his mouth slightly parted.

Sponge Bob and Karen stepped back,
exchanging a look of shared
relief. "He's asleep," Karen
murmured, her voice a soft
caress in the quiet room.

Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze
lingering on Plankton's peaceful
face. "Thanks for today,
Karen," he said, his voice
grateful.

Karen's smile was warm. "Anytime,
Sponge Bob," she replied. "You're
such a good friend to him."

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
still on Plankton's sleeping
form. "Always will be," he said.

The next morning, Plankton woke
up, and his antennae
twitched as he registered the
events of the previous day.
He sat up, the blanket sliding
off his body, and looked around.

Sponge Bob stirred from the
armchair, where he had dozed off
watching over him. "Morning,
Plankton," he said, his voice
slightly rough with sleep.

Plankton's antennae quivered as
he looked around, his gaze
falling on Sponge Bob. 

Sponge Bob yawned, stretching his
spongy body, his voice gentle. "You 
fell asleep."

Plankton's antennae twitched as
his eye focused on Sponge Bob,
his brain slowly piecing together
the events of the previous evening.

Sponge Bob's smile was warm. "You
tired out, buddy?" he asked, his
voice gentle.

Plankton nodded slowly, his antennae
twitching slightly. "Tired," he
murmured, his voice still thick with
sleep.

Sponge Bob nodded, understandingly.
"How about we start with a quiet
morning?" he suggested. 

Plankton's antennae quivered
slightly before he nods. "Quiet
morning," he murmured, his voice
agreeable.

Sponge Bob nodded, his
expression filled with concern.
"How about some pancakes?" he offered.
"They're nice and easy on the
stomach."

Plankton's antennae perked up at
the mention of food. "No pancakes,"
he murmured, his voice still
sluggish with sleep.

Sponge Bob's eyes widened. "No
pancakes?" he repeated,
surprise evident in his tone.
"But you love pancakes!"

Plankton's antennae quivered as
he thought, his voice a soft
whisper. "Pancakes... no," he said,
his gaze drifting to the
window where the early morning
sun peeked through the curtains.
The light was gentle, not yet
harsh enough to cause him pain. 
"Toast," he decided, his voice
final.

Sponge Bob nodded, his smile
slightly saddened but respectful
of Plankton's new boundaries. "Okay,
toast it is," he said, standing up
from the chair and heading to
the kitchen.

Karen met SpongeBob. "Good
morning! How's everything?"

Sponge Bob's expression was a
mixture of hope and trepidation.
"Plankton's okay," he said. "He's just
really tired."

Karen nodded, her gaze
following her husband as he
slowly made his way to the kitchen.
"It's going to take some time for
us to figure this out," she said.
"But we'll get there."

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's
reclined form. "We will," he said,
his voice firm with resolve.

He returned to the kitchen,
his spongy feet padding softly
against the floor. The room was
bathed in the gentle light of dawn,
the quiet hum of the
refrigerator the only sound. He
pulled out a loaf of bread,
his mind racing with thoughts
of Plankton's new needs.

Sponge Bob carefully sliced
two pieces of toast, placing them
in the toaster with a soft click.

"Morning!" Karen says as Plankton
sits down. She gives him milk, as
she knew it soothes him.

"Stayed up late for movie. Still am
tired. Love Karen and SpongeBob."

The toaster's ding pierced the
silence, and Plankton's antennae
shot straight up, his body
stiffening at the sudden noise.

"Easy, Plankton," Sponge Bob called
from the kitchen, his voice
soothing. "It's just the toast."

"Toast," he murmured. "Toast."

Sponge Bob carefully brought the
toast to the table, placing it
before Plankton. The scent of warm
bread filled the air, mingling with
the comforting aroma of Karen's
brewing coffee. Plankton's antennae
twitched as he took in the sight, his
body visibly relaxing at the
familiar smells.

"Yesterday's crazy, autistic or not. And
you're still getting used to it all."
Karen says as Plankton eats the toast.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
twitching slightly, still exhausted.

The milk Karen had given him was
warm, the perfect temperature to
soothe his still-frazzled nerves. He
brought the cup to his lips, his
hands trembling just a bit.

As the creamy liquid slid down his
throat, Plankton felt a gentle
wash of calm spread through him.
His antennae, which had been
twitching in anticipation of the
morning's noises, grew still.
It usually helps calm him, which is
what it did today.

Sponge Bob sat opposite him,
his eyes filled with concern.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice
soft and gentle.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
drooping as he took another sip of
his milk. "Tired," he murmured.

Karen sat next to him, her hand
resting lightly on his shoulder. "It's
okay," she said, her
voice a gentle reminder of his
new reality.

SpongeBob helped Karen clean
up the kitchen.

Plankton sat in the chair, his
body slumped, his antennae
still. His eye was closed, his
tiny chest rising and falling in
the slow, steady rhythm of
sleep. His head tilted back
and a soft snore escaped
his open mouth.

Karen noticed. The past 
few days had taken a
toll on him, but she knew
that with time and patience,
they would find their new
normal.

"Let's get you to the couch,"
she murmured, her voice
soft. She gently took the
cup from Plankton's hand,
his grip loose with sleep.
Sponge Bob helped her lift
his tiny form from the chair.

Together, they carried him
to the living room, his body
relaxed in their grasp.
They placed him on the couch,
his antennae twitching slightly
as he settled into the pillows.

Sponge Bob tucked the blanket
around Plankton, his eyes
never leaving his friend's
sleeping face. "Rest, Plankton,"
he whispered. "We're here."

Karen nodded, her pixel eyes
misting with emotion. "Thank
you, Sponge Bob," she said. "For
being here."

Sponge Bob's smile was genuine.
"Always, Karen," he said, his
spongy hand giving hers a gentle
squeeze. "Always."

new autism in the plankton family sleepicore vii

CATCH IN MY CHIP vii
(Autistic author)

the only sound the steady
rhythm of their breaths. Plankton's
body slowly relaxes, his
eye unclenching, his antennas
stilling. Karen's hand remains
poised, ready to offer comfort
should he need it.

As his breathing evens,
Plankton's eye flutter open.
He looks at Karen, her face a
picture of love and concern.
He feels a pang of guilt for
his earlier outburst, but also a
wave of gratitude for her
understanding. He knows she
doesn't push or harm, she just gets it.

Karen sees the shift in
his gaze, the anger
giving way to something softer.
"Do you want to
talk about it?" she 
asks, her voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton shakes his
head slightly, his antennas
drooping. "No," he murmurs,
his voice hoarse. "Just...
needing a moment."

Karen nods, her hand
still hovering, a silent
offer of comfort. "Take all
the moments you need,"
she says, her voice gentle.

Plankton's gaze lingers
on her hand for a
moment before he nods.
He understands her unspoken
offer, her respect for his boundaries.

Karen knows that touch can
sometimes be too much for him,
a sensation that turns comforting
into overwhelming. So, she waits,
letting the air between them
remain unbroken by physical
contact, allowing him the space
he desperately needs.

The room is a canvas of shadows
and quiet, the only sound the
soft rustle of their breaths. Plankton
slowly uncoils, his body no longer
a taut wire ready to snap.

"Do you want me to let
you alone?" Karen asks, her voice
soft as a whisper in the night.
Plankton shakes his head, his eye
meeting hers. The anger is gone,
replaced by a weary sadness.

She nods, her hand still hovering,
a silent question mark. "Okay,"
she says, her voice a gentle
caress. "But if you need anything,
just tell me."

Plankton takes a deep breath,
his shoulders rising and falling
like waves on the shore. "Thank
you," he murmurs, his eye
brightening slightly.

Karen nods, her hand
still hovering but not
touching. "I'm here," she says.
"Always." Her voice is a
lullaby in the quiet room,
a gentle reminder that
she's his anchor in the
storm of sensory overload.

Plankton's antennas twitch
slightly, a flicker of
understanding passing between
them. He's aware of her presence,
but the weight of his guilt
and frustration is to much.

"I'm sorry," he whispers,
his voice a frayed thread of
his usual bravado.

Karen's hand remains hovering,
a silent question, a gentle offer.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asks,
her voice a soft breeze in the stillness.

Plankton nods, his antennas
still drooping. "Yeah," he murmurs,
his voice a whisper of relief.

Karen's hand lowers slowly,
coming to rest on the bed between
them. She's careful not to
cross the invisible barrier of his personal
space, her touch a gentle
promise of support.

"You don't have to be sorry,"
she whispers, her voice a soft
caress. "You're doing the best
you can, Plankton."

He nods, his antennas
twitching slightly. "But I
snapped," he says, his voice
filled with regret.

Karen's hand remains still,
just outside his personal space.
"It's okay," she whispers, her
tone filled with empathy. "You're
overwhelmed. It happens."

Plankton nods, his antennas
barely moving. "But I shouldn't
have yelled," he says, his voice
barely above a murmur. "I'm sorry."

Karen's eyes fill with
understanding. "It's okay, sweetie,"
she says. She reaches out
slowly, her hand hovering an inch
from his shoulder. "May I?" she asks,
her eyes searching his for consent.

Plankton's antennas twitch, his
body still tense, but he nods.
It's a small gesture, but it's
enough. Karen's hand settles on
his shoulder, her touch feather-light.

He flinches at first, his body
remembering the pain of the
unexpected touch, but her gentle
pressure is a soothing balm.
He leans into it slightly, his
body language speaking louder
than his words ever could.

Her hand on his shoulder is
the bridge between them, a
testament to their love and
understanding. Plankton's breathing
gradually deepens, his body
softening into the mattress. Karen's
touch is a lullaby, a promise that
everything will be okay.

The room is a cocoon of quiet,
their breaths the only sound.
Plankton's eye droops, his
body finally succumbing to
exhaustion. The weight of his
head shifts slightly, his trust
in Karen unspoken but palpable.

Her hand remains on his
shoulder, a gentle reminder of
her presence. She watches
his chest rise and fall, his
body slowly relaxing under
the soft blanket of sleep. His
features smooth out, the lines
of anger and frustration
disappearing into the pillow.

As his breaths become
even, Karen can't help but feel
a mix of sadness and love.
Her heart goes out to him,
this man she's spent her life
with, who fights battles she
can never fully understand.

The room is a sanctuary
of quiet, the air thick with the
scent of their unspoken
words. Plankton's hand twitches
slightly, and she wonders if he's
dreaming of a world where the
noise isn't so loud, where the
colors aren't so bright, where
his mind can rest without
fear of being bombarded.

Karen watches as her
husband's chest rises and falls,
his breaths deepening into
the steady rhythm of sleep.
The lines of his face relax,
his antennas droop slightly.

Her gaze shifts to the
shattered trophy on the floor,
the sand scattered like a
tiny desert. The room is a
testament to the storm that
was his sensory overload.

Karen's hand tightens slightly
on Plankton's shoulder, her
heart aching for both her
husband and son. She knows the
road ahead won't be easy, that
they'll need to navigate this
new terrain with care. But as
she watches Plankton's chest
rise and fall, she feels a
spark of hope.

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II vii

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vii

(Autistic author)

He starts to rock back 
and forth, his 
single eye squeezed shut 
as he tries to cope with 
the sudden change in his 
environment.
Mr. Krabs' confusion 
deepens, his claws 
scratching his head in 
bemusement. "What's 
gotten into you, Plankton?" 
he says.
But Plankton can't 
stop. His rocking 
intensifies, his 
whispered mantra 
becoming more 
desperate. "Fish, fish, 
fish," he repeats, his 
voice rising slightly 
with each iteration.
Mr. Krabs stares at 
Plankton, his confusion
turning. 
"Plankton, you ok?"
he asks.
But Plankton is lost 
in his own world, his 
stimming a way to 
self-regulate. His antennas 
wave back and forth in 
a soothing rhythm, his 
body rocking slightly as 
he murmurs "fish, fish, 
fish."
Sponge Bob's heart 
aches as he watches 
his friend, his own 
hands clenching into 
fists at his side. He 
understands now that 
Plankton's behavior isn't 
a game, it's a coping 
mechanism, a way to 
navigate through the 
chaos in his head.
"Plankton, it's ok," 
Sponge Bob says 
soothingly, approaching 
his friend. He gently 
picks up one of the 
fallen chess pieces, a 
knight, and holds it 
out to him. "Do you 
want to play again?"
Plankton's antennas 
cease their frantic 
motion, his eye 
focusing on the knight. 
He takes it, his 
fingers tracing the 
intricate carvings, 
his breathing 
steadying. "Fish," he 
says, his voice 
calmer.
Sponge Bob watches 
his friend carefully, 
his heart breaking at 
the sight of his 
distress. He 
understands now that 
Plankton's repetition 
is not just a strange 
behavior, but a 
way to cope with 
his new reality.
Mr. Krabs, still 
confused, watches as 
Plankton's  
tracing the lines of 
the chessboard. "What 
are ye doing?" he 
asks, his voice 
annoyed.
Sponge Bob's eyes 
meet Plankton's, and 
he sees the 
desperation in his 
friend's eye. "Mr. Krabs, 
Plankton's just... trying 
to remember how to 
play," he lies gently.

Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
doesn't argue. Sponge 
Bob takes this 
moment to sit next 
to Plankton, placing 
his hand on his 
shoulder. "It's ok," he 
whispers. "We'll play 
again when you're 
ready."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch, his eye
dilating slightly as 
he nods. He clutches 
the knight tightly, 
his thumb stroking 
its smooth surface. 
It's a familiar 
comfort, something 
from before the accident, 
before the world 
became a confusing 
cacophony of sounds 
and sights.

As the moments 
pass, Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on the 
chessboard, the 
pattern of the squares 
providing a 
comforting visual 
stimulation. Sponge Bob 
notices the subtle 
change in his friend's 
demeanor, the tension 
easing from his 
tiny body.

"Fish," Plankton 
murmurs again, but this 
time with less urgency. 
He carefully sets 
the knight back 
down on the board, 
his hand hovering 
above it. Sponge 
Bob's heart swells 
with affection, and 
he knows that 
despite the confusion 
and fear in Plankton's 
eye, his friend is 
trying.

Mr. Krabs, however, is 
far from convinced, his 
eyes narrowing. "If 
this is how you're going to 
be, I'm not playing," he 
declares, crossing his arms 
over his chest.
But Plankton's antennas 
perk up slightly, his 
interest piqued by the 
challenge. He picks up 
the knight again, his 
thumb caressing the piece. 
"Fish," he whispers, 
his gaze flicking to 
Sponge Bob and then 
back to the board. It's a 
plea.
Sponge Bob nods, his 
face a picture of solemn 
reassurance. "It's ok," 
he repeats. "Just..."

"What's wrong 
with you, Plankton?" Mr. 
Krabs exclaims.

Plankton's antennas 
droop, and he looks 
down at his cards again. 
He doesn't know how to 
explain his condition to 
Mr. Krabs, who's always 
so dismissive of him. 

He feels a pang of 
desperation,
racing to find a way 
to bridge 
understanding.
Then, it hits him.
With trembling 
hands, Plankton 
mimics Mr. Krabs' 
crossed arms, his 
voice a poor imitation. 
"What's wrong 
with you, Plankton," he 
repeats firmly.
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
bulge with surprise. 
"What's this now?" he 
mutters, giving way to 
amusement. He chuckles 
deeply, his claws 
unfolding from his 
chest.

Sponge Bob 
understands Plankton. 
"Mr. Krabs," he says 
quickly, trying to 
intercept the situation. 
"Plankton's..."
But Mr. Krabs waves 
his hand dismissively. 
"I know, I know," he says, 
his voice filled with 
mockery. "Just playing 
his little games."

Plankton doesn't want to 
be laughed at, especially 
not by Mr. Krabs. With 
determined effort, he 
mimics Mr. Krabs. 
"I know I know," he says 
again, his tone 
mimicking Mr. Krabs'. 
"Just playing his little
games!"
Mr. Krabs' laughter 
fades, his gaze 
sharp. "What
now, Plankton?" he 
demands, his voice 
hard.

Plankton's antennas quiver 
with determination as he 
picks up Mr. Krabs' 
mannerisms. "I know, I know," 
he repeats, his eye fixed on 
Mr. Krabs. "Just playing his 
little games!"

Mr. Krabs' expression 
sours to 
irritation. "What's your 
game, Plankton?" he snaps.

"Game," he 
repeats, his voice a 
mirror of Mr. Krabs'. "Game, 
game Mr. Krabs."

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
narrow, his 
confusion shifting 
to annoyance. "You're 
not making sense," 
he says, his voice 
sharp.

But Plankton 
doesn't stop. "Game, 
game Mr. Krabs," he 
persists, his antennas 
waving frantically.

Sponge Bob's heart 
squeezes. He 
knows Plankton's not 
trying to annoy; he's 
desperately trying to 
convey something, but 
his brain's wiring isn't 
cooperating. Plankton's repetition 
has turned into a 
mantra, a plea for 
understanding that only 
Mr. Krabs seems to 
ignore.

Mr. Krabs' patience 
snaps. "Enough!" he 
shouts, slamming his 
claws on the table. 
"What do you want 
from me, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennas 
flatten, his eye
filling with tears.

Sponge Bob jumps 
up, his own voice 
shaky. "Mr. Krabs, please, 
don't yell," he begs. 
"It's just a game."

Mr. Krabs' face 
twists in anger. "This isn't a 
game, this is your usual 
scheme to drive me 
crazy!"

"No, Mr. 
Krabs," he says.

new a journey to autism gamefic vii

CATCH IN MY CHIP xi
(Autistic author)

Karen leans in closer to
Plankton, her voice a gentle
whisper. "It's okay," she says,
her eyes filled with warmth.
"You're okay." Plankton's breaths
are shallow, his chest rising
and falling with effort as he
shakes.

The room is a cocoon of
quiet, the outside world
muted by the thick walls
of their sanctuary. Karen's
hand is a constant, her
touch a reminder that he's
not alone. Plankton's gaze
flits to Chip, the question in
his eye unspoken.

"Chip," Karen says, her voice
a balm to Plankton's raw
nerves. "Your dad is in need
of some quiet time, okay?"
Her words are a gentle nudge,
guiding them through the
delicate dance of recovery.

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's face. "I
understand," he murmurs, though
his heart feels like it's been
tied in knots. He swallows
his questions, his fear for
his dad a lump in his throat.

Plankton's antennas twitch
slightly, his breathing
easing a fraction. He nods, the
gesture almost imperceptible. "Thank
you," he whispers, his voice
raspy with exhaustion. The
relief in his eye is palpable.

Chip watches, his own
emotions a tapestry of confusion
and concern. He wants to
reach out, to hold his dad close,
but he knows it's not the time.
Instead, he squeezes Karen's hand,
his silent promise to be
patient and understanding.

Plankton's eye closes, his body
slowly relaxing into the pillow.
The ringing in his ears
fades, the world coming back
into focus like a camera
lens slowly adjusting to the light.
The warmth of Karen's hand
on his forehead is a comfort,
his anchor in the sea of
sensation.

Her voice is a gentle lullaby,
guiding him back to shore.
"You're okay," she repeats,
each word a wave lapping
against the shore of his mind.
The room stops spinning, the
colors coalescing into
distinct shapes.

Plankton's gaze darts around
the room, seeking solace.
His eye lands on a spot on the
wall, a patch of
unblemished white. He focuses
on it, his breaths coming
slower, deeper. It's a sanctuary,
a place of peace amidst
the chaos. The spot becomes
his beacon, the world around
it a blurry periphery.

Karen's hand on his forehead
is cool, a balm to his racing
thoughts. "Look at the spot,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing melody. "Just the
spot." He nods, his eye
locking onto the white, his
breaths syncing with hers.

The spot is a lifeline in the
storm, a beacon of calm in
his sensory chaos. Plankton
stares at it, willing the
world to recede. The colors
around it blur, the sounds
of the room dull to a
whisper. It's just him and
the spot, a silent pact
between them to conquer
the tempest.

Karen's voice is a gentle
wave, lapping at the edges
of his mind. "When you're
ready, take a deep breath.
In, out. Slowly." She
guides him through the
exercise, her tone soothing.
Plankton tries to focus,
his body responding to the
familiar rhythm.

The spot on the wall
becomes clearer, the edges
sharper. The world around it
softens, the colors bleeding
back into the fabric of the
room. His breathing slows,
his chest rising and falling
in time with Karen's gentle
prompts. The spot is his
sanctuary, a bastion of
calm in the overwhelming
storm.

But then, it starts. The
tic, a twitch of his antenna.
A reminder that his mind
is not entirely his own,
his body a marionette to the
whims of his neurodiversity.
Plankton's antennas begin to
still, his body gradually
relinquishing the tension
that had held it hostage. The
tic in his left antenna, a
quick spasm that had
become more frequent.

Karen's eyes don't leave his
face, her gaze a silent
support. She knows the
dance of his tics all too
well, a choreography
that they've lived with
for years. She squeezes his
hand, her touch a silent
promise to stand by him
through the storm. It's
his body's way of releasing
the tension that builds
up like pressure in a volcano.
The tic is a tide, rising
and falling, unpredictable and
uncontrollable.

Plankton's head jerks to
the side, the sudden
movement a stark contrast
to the stillness of the
room. Chip's eyes go wide
with concern.

"It's okay," Karen murmurs,
squeezing Plankton's hand. "It's
just your body. It's okay."
Her voice is a lullaby, a gentle
reminder that he's not alone.
The tic subsides, his
antennas returning to their
usual state.

Chip's eyes dart from his
dad to his mom, his mind
whirring with questions. "What
was that?" he asks, his voice
quiet, afraid to disturb the
fragile peace.

Karen's hand moves to
Plankton's antenna, her thumb
tracing the line of his twitch.
"It's just his body's way
of dealing with the
overstimulation," she
explains, her voice calm
but tinged with sadness. "It's
a tic, Chip. It's part of
his autism."

Chip nods, his eyes wide
with understanding. "Will
he be okay?" he asks, his
voice small in the face of his
father's struggle.

Karen's grip on Plankton's
hand tightens, her voice a
steady stream of comfort. "Yes,
he will," she says with
confidence. "This happens
sometimes. We just need to be
patient and give him time."

Plankton's antennas still
slightly, the tremor a
reminder of the storm
that had passed through
his mind. His breaths come
more evenly now, the spot on
the wall his silent companion
as he finds his way back
to the world.

Chip's eyes are full of
questions, his heart heavy with
concern. He watches as his
dad's body relaxes, the tension
easing like a retreating tide.
"I'll get him some water,"
Karen says, her voice a
whisper. She squeezes Plankton's
hand once more before rising,
leaving the two of them
alone in the quiet.

Plankton's eye meets Chip's,
his gaze apologetic.

Chip swallows his fear.

"Daddy?" he whispers, his
voice cracking. Plankton's
eye flutters open, the panic
gone, replaced by a
fatigue that seems to
weigh down his very soul.

"I'm okay," he manages,
his voice a rasp. "Just tired."

Chip nods, his hand
tentatively reaching out to
touch his dad's arm. The
contact is tentative, a
question and a comfort all
in one. Plankton's antennas
twitch again, but this time
it's with the beginnings of
a smile. "Thanks, buddy," he
says, his voice hoarse.

The room is a cocoon of
silence, the air thick with
unspoken words. Plankton
swallows hard, the weight
of his own emotions pressing
down on his chest like a
leaden blanket. "I'm sorry," he
whispers, his gaze never
leaving Chip's.

Chip's eyes are pools of
concern, the question in his
eyes unspoken but potent.
"For what?" he asks, his
voice barely above a whisper.

Plankton's antennas droop
slightly, his eye reflecting the
shame he feels. "For scaring
you," he says, his voice
hoarse. "For not being
able to control it."

Chip's hand tightens around
his dad's arm, his eyes
brimming with tears he's too
proud to shed. "It's okay,
Daddy," he says, the words a
soft whisper. "You don't have
to be sorry."

Plankton's smile is weak,
his antennas still. "I know," he
replies, his voice a
whisper. "But it's hard not
to be." He swallows, his
throat dry from the battle
his body has just endured.

Karen returns with a
glass of water, her steps
silent on the soft carpet. She
hands it to Plankton, who
gratefully takes a sip, the
cool liquid soothing his
parched throat. The tension in
the room is a palpable
entity, a third person in
their silent conversation.

"What happened?" Chip asks,
his voice small, the question
a balloon of curiosity
floating in the heavy air.

"It's just part of who
I am," Plankton says, his
voice still hoarse from his
episode. He takes another
sip of water, the coldness
of it a stark contrast to
his fevered skin. "My
autism, it makes my brain
work differently."

Chip's hand is still on
his arm, a silent
offer of comfort. "But
you're okay now," he
says, his voice hopeful.
Plankton nods, the
motion almost imperceptible.

"Thanks to Mom," he murmurs, his
eye swiveling to Karen, who
smiles at him with a mix of
relief and love. "She's the
reason I made it through."

Chip looks at Karen with a newfound
respect, his young mind trying to
comprehend the gravity of what he's
just witnessed. "You're both
strong," he says, his voice
steady, the fear momentarily
pushed aside by admiration.

Karen's smile is a soft glow,
the pride in her eyes unmistakable.
"We all have our moments," she
says, her hand resting on
Plankton's shoulder. "It's
how we face them that makes
us who we are." She glances
at the clock, the ticking a
reminder of the time they've lost
to the sensory storm. "Why don't
you go play for a bit, Chip?
Your dad needs some rest, and I
think we could all use a
moment to process."

Chip nods, his eyes
still filled with unspoken
questions. But he trusts
his mom, and he can see the
exhaustion etched into
Plankton's face. He slides off
the bed, his feet silent on
the floor. With one last look
at his dad, he heads for the
door, the weight of the
moment heavy on his
shoulders.

Karen watches him go,
her heart aching for the
fear he must be feeling.
But she knows that with
time and patience, he'll
understand. He'll grow to
see his dad not as a
mystery to be solved, but as
a person to be loved and
supported, just like anyone
else.

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II xi

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

new dab squid giant squid colossal squid jellyfish ocean fish genus tentacle pat coral crabs bioluminescence octopus sea invertebrate water plankton squidward dabbing dot art text art ascii art

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vii
(Autistic author)

"We're just going to do what you want. How about a trivia game?"

Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the mention of 
a game, his love for competition never truly forgotten. 
"Trivia," he echoed, his voice still monotone but with a 
hint of interest.

"Yes, trivia," Karen said, stroking his back gently. "You can 
show us all how much you know."

Plankton looked up at Patrick.

"I'm sorry," Patrick said, voice sincere 
for once. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Plankton sniffled, his antennae twitching slightly. "Patrick 
mean," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled with hurt.

"I know, buddy," Sponge Bob said, placing a comforting hand 
on his shoulder. "But he didn't know. Sometimes, Patrick doesn't 
think before he speaks."

Patrick nodded, his eyes downcast. "I guess I'm not the best 
at understanding things," he mumbled.

Sponge Bob leaned closer to Plankton. "Why don't we start our 
game now?" he suggested, his voice gentle. "We can play a 
game about random trivia. Does that sound okay?"

Plankton nodded slowly, antennae still drooping. "Okay," he murmurs.

They around the table, the jellyfish book open to a random page. 
Plankton's gaze remained fixed on it, his mind racing with facts 
and figures. Karen took a deep breath, her tentacles still tense 
from the confrontation with Patrick. "Alright, let's start with 
something easy," she suggested. "What's the scientific name 
for jellyfish?"

Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye lighting up with excitement. 
"Jellyfish scientific name," he recited, "Cnidaria."

"Cnidaria?" Sponge Bob repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's 
right, Plankton!"

Patrick looked at the book, then at Plankton, his eyes wide. "How do you 
know all this stuff?"

Plankton's antennae wiggled slightly. "Plankton read book," he said, his 
voice monotone but with a hint of pride.

"Patrick, I'll ask you a question," Sponge Bob said, his smile genuine.

Patrick nodded, eager to make amends. "Shoot."

Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Okay, Patrick," he said, "What's 
the square root of 120?"

Patrick's eyes widened, his brain scrambling. He took a deep breath and 
announced, "It's 12?"

"No, Patrick," Plankton said, his voice a monotone but with a hint of 
amusement. "It's 10.190565... but Plankton rounds to 10."

Patrick's face fell as he realized he'd been outsmarted. "Oh," he murmured. 
"Guess I should've studied more at boating school."

"It's okay, Patrick," Karen said.

Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with encouragement. "Let's keep 
playing, Plankton," he said. "You're doing great."

Plankton nodded, his antennae slightly less droopy.

"Your turn, Plankton," Sponge Bob said. "What's something interesting 
about yourself?"

Plankton paused, his antennae twitching as he searched for words. 
"Interesting?" he echoed.

Sponge Bob nodded encouragingly. "Yes, something that makes you 
special or unique. Tell us all about Plankton."

Plankton's antennae quivered as he thought. "Plankton... good at 
science," he said finally, his monotone voice revealing his pride. 
"Especially jellyfish."

"That's fantastic, Plankton!" Karen exclaimed.

Patrick nodded in agreement. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice still 
subdued. "You're a real jellyfish genius."

Plankton's antennae twitched with a hint of satisfaction. "Jellyfish 
have 24 eyes," he said, his voice monotone yet filled with a newfound 
confidence. "But no brain."

"What?" Patrick's eyes widened. "How can they see without a brain?"

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he began to elaborate. 
"Jellyfish have simple nervous system," he said, his voice still flat but 
gaining momentum. "Eyes detect light, not images. Help them avoid 
predators and find food."

Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Wow
Plankton," he said. "That's so cool!"

"Plankton born cycloptic one eye."

Patrick's jaw dropped as he stared at Plankton. "That's... really cool," he 
murmured, his mind racing to keep up.

Sponge Bob nodded eagerly. "Yeah, Plankton," he said, his voice 
filled with excitement. "Tell us more!"

Plankton's antennae perked up at the genuine interest from his 
friends. "Plankton own Chum Bucket," he said, his voice monotone 
but proud. "Serve chum, best food in Bikini Bottom."

Patrick's eyes lit up. "You're like a chef, Plankton! That's so cool!"

But Plankton's gaze remained on the jellyfish book, his thoughts 
drifting. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled 
with a hint of anger. "Has Krabby Patties.."

Karen and Sponge Bob exchanged a glance, knowing the mention of Mr. Krabs.
"Plankton," Karen began cautiously, "we don't have to talk about Krabby Patties 
if you don't want to."
But Plankton's antennae shot up, his voice taking on a new, almost manic energy. 
"No, no," he murmured, his monotone cracking. "Mr. Krabs. Krabby Patties. 
Plankton's purpose."
Sponge Bob's smile faltered, the mention of Krabby Patties bringing back 
memories of their long-standing rivalry. "Plankton," he said gently, "you don't 
have to steal Krabby Patties anymore. You have jellyfish now."
But Plankton's antennae quivered with a strange intensity. "Krabs," he murmured, 
his monotone voice filled with a newfound urgency. "Gave Plankton brain damage. 
Accident," Plankton murmured, his voice low. "Mr. Krabs... Krabby Patty... 
Plankton's brain... changed."

Sponge Bob's smile faded, his heart sinking as he realized 
the gravity of the situation. "Plankton," he said, his voice filled sadness.
But Plankton didn't seem to hear him, lost in his own thoughts. "Plankton 
not same," he murmured. "But jellyfish... jellyfish make Plankton happy."

Karen's eyes filled with understanding. "It's ok, Plankton," she said, her voice 
soothing. "You can still have a purpose. Maybe not with Krabby Patties, but 
with jellyfish."

Plankton's antennae quivered as he repeated her words back to her. "Purpose 
with jellyfish," he murmured.

"Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her tentacles stroking his back gently. "Your purpose 
can be whatever makes you happy."

"Happy," Plankton echoed, his antennae twitching as he repeated her word.

"Yes, happy," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We're here to support you, Plankton."



"Support Plankton," he echoed, his antennae drooping slightly. "But 
Krabs... Plankton's enemy."

Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, her own filled with a gentle warmth. 
"Mr. Krabs doesn't have to be your enemy anymore," she said, her tone 
soothing. "You can find joy in other things."

"Other things," Plankton echoed, his antennae still.

"Yes," Karen said, her tentacles waving gently. "Like jellyfish. You can focus 
on learning about them and sharing your knowledge with others."

"Share knowledge," Plankton repeated, his antennae quivering 
with curiosity.

"Exactly," Karen said, her tentacles gesturing encouragingly. "You can 
start a jellyfish club, remember?"

Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed her words. "Jellyfish 
club," he murmured.

"Yeah, buddy," Sponge Bob said, his voice filled with excitement. "We can all join 
and learn together!"

Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, and a glimmer of hope entered his eye. 
"Club," he murmured, his voice monotone but with a hint of excitement. 

new a life of diversity gamefic vii

GREAT CHIP xi
(Autistic author)

After a moment, she turned and walked
towards the workshop door, her steps slow
and deliberate. She paused, her hand
on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a
mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check
on your father," she said, her voice a whisper.
"You... you clean up here."

Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving
his mother's. He knew she was hurting too,
but she was putting on a brave face for him.
As she disappeared into the workshop,
his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never
seen his parents like this before.

The kitchen was a mess of shattered
dishes and splattered jelly, a stark
contrast to the usually pristine space.
He took a deep breath and began to
collect the broken pieces, his mind racing
with thoughts of his father's pain.

Karen's footsteps were quiet
as she approached the workshop,
the door slightly ajar. She could
hear Plankton's muffled sobs from
inside, his tiny body hunched
over his workbench. She took a
deep breath, steeling herself for
what she might find.

The room was a whirlwind of
half-finished inventions, wires
and gadgets scattered about.
Her heart broke at the sight of her
husband, the usually stoic and
resourceful Plankton, reduced to a
tiny, shaking figure, his antennae
drooped like the wilted leaves of
a forgotten houseplant.

"Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft
whisper, cutting through the quiet.
He didn't look up, his sobs the
only sound in the cluttered room.
Slowly, she approached, her eyes
taking in the chaos around them.
"Honey," she began, her voice
trembling. "I know you're upset, but..."

Plankton's sobs grew louder,
his body shaking with the force of
his emotions. Karen reached out,
her hand hovering over his shoulder,
uncertain whether to touch him.

Finally, she decided that in this moment,
space was what he needed most. She
stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence
a gentle reminder that she was there
for him. "Plankton," she said softly,
her voice a balm in the storm of his
rage. "Can I get you anything?"

Plankton's sobs grew quieter,
his tiny frame heaving with the
weight of his emotions. "No,"
he said, his voice muffled.

Karen took a step closer,
her hand still hovering. "Do you
want me to stay?" she asked, her
tone gentle.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his head nodding slightly. It was the
barest of movements, but it spoke
volumes to Karen. She stepped
forward, wrapping her arms around
his shoulders, careful not to press
too hard. He stiffened at first, but
then, ever so slightly, leaned into her.

Her embrace was gentle, her touch
like a soft breeze, offering comfort without
smothering his pain. "I always love you."

The words hung in the air,
their quiet strength a stark contrast
to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton
felt his body begin to relax, his sobs
easing as Karen's warmth seeped in.

He took a deep, shuddering breath,
his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry,"
he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
"I didn't mean to... I don't know..."

Karen's grip tightened, her hand
sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay,"
she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby.

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously against her, but he didn't pull away.
He knew she was there for him, even when
his own mind was a tempest of confusion.

"You don't have to apologize," Karen
whispered.

Her words were a balm to Plankton's
raw nerves, and he leaned into her
embrace. She knew he was
sensitive post-episode, his emotions
like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap.
Her heart ached for him, for the fear
and frustration he felt in those moments.

Karen's eyes scanned the room,
noticing the chaos of Plankton's
workshop, his mind's refuge.
Usually, the disarray was organized,
each gear and wire in its place. Now,
it was as though a tornado had swept
through, leaving a trail of half-finished
inventions in its wake.

Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his
body still tense under her touch.
"I just... I don't want you to look
at me and see something broken
and unlovable.."

Karen's eyes filled with tears.
"You are you, and that is all 
I've ever loved."

The words hung in the air,
a gentle rebuttal to the harshness
of the earlier scene. Plankton's
sobs grew quieter, his breathing
evening out. Chip hovered at the
entrance, his heart a tumultuous
sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt
his father, and he didn't know
how to fix it.

He took a tentative step into
the workshop, his eyes scanning
the room. The mess was a stark
reminder of the turmoil Plankton
was feeling, and it only served
to amplify Chip's own guilt.
He watched his mother's careful
movements, her gentle touch,
and he desperately wanted to do
the same.

new great chip familycore xi

"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement.

Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She 
didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice 
calm and measured.

Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. 
Everyone's going to be there!"

Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's 
hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of 
fun."

Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her 
friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of 
passage or something."

Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular 
rite."

Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human 
behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study."

Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll 
need to establish some ground rules."

Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?"

Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I 
control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want."

Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable 
taste."

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's 
dress code that requires negotiation."

Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her 
phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative 
fashion choices" for the prom.

As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had 
carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would 
resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress
—a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been 
plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a 
choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose.

The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own 
outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. 
"Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child 
who had just discovered a secret treasure.

Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting 
spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It 
was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of 
thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her 
slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath.

"It's... " she began, searching for the right word.

"Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing.

Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."

new AI Story Generator POV Wednesday Addams addams family references school dances Holidays/Celebrations modern 2020s helping others wenclair autistic author

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii
(Autistic author)

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his grip on Plankton's wrists
loosening. "What
accident?" he asks, his voice
filled with dread.

Plankton's smile is gone,
replaced by a look of sadness.
"Head," he says, his voice
a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He
touches his forehead gently,
his antennas drooping.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
realization, his grip on Plankton's
wrists loosening entirely. "You
got hurt?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What happened?"

Plankton nods, his antennas
still drooping.

Sponge Bob's confusion
grows, his anger replaced
with worry. "What do you
mean?" he asks, his voice
softening. "What happened to
your head?"

Plankton's antennas twitch, his
smile a distant memory. "Fall," 
he says, his voice a monotone.

Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat.
"You fell?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "When? How?"

Plankton nods, his eye
flickering with something
akin to pain. "Recently," he says,
his voice flat. "Head bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock,
his mind racing with questions.
"You fell and hurt your head?" he
repeats, his voice filled with
disbelief. "Why didn't you tell
me?"

Plankton's gaze drops to his book,
his hands fluttering over the
pages. "No tell," he whispers, his
voice filled with regret. "Shame."

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with
understanding, his anger
evaporating like mist in the sun.
"Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice
soft. "You didn't have to keep
this to yourself."

Plankton's smile is a
pale imitation of his usual
self, his antennas still. "No good,"
he whispers, his voice barely
audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with worry as he tries to
comprehend his friend's cryptic
words. "You're not bad, Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "You've
just had an accident."

Plankton's gaze remains fixed
on the book, his hands
flapping over the pages. "No,"
he says, his voice a sad echo.
"Head bad. Plankton bad." His body
slumps, his usual vibrant energy
dimmed by his distress.

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with sadness as he tries to
comfort his friend. "You're not
bad, Plankton," he says, his voice
soothing. "You're just hurt right?"

Plankton's antennas twitch slightly,
his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt,"
he echoes, his voice a monotone.
"Inside head." He taps his forehead,
his eye searching Sponge Bob's
for understanding. "Grey matter.
Neural pathways."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
confusion growing. "What do
you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What's
going on with your brain?"

Plankton's hand continues to
tap his forehead, his voice
detached. "Neurochemicals," he says,
his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic
connections. Autism." His smile
is a mere memory, his eye
glazed over with a faraway look.

Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his
chest, his mind racing. "You're
talking about your brain," he says,
his voice tentative. "What's wrong
with it?"

Plankton's hand stops tapping,
his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob.
"Wiring," he says, his voice a
monotone explanation. "Neuro-
typical patterns disrupted affect
the parts of brain when result
in autism." His words are precise,
his tone devoid of emotion.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
comprehension, his spongy heart
sinking. "You're saying you have
autism now?" he asks, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton nods, his eye
still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical
divergence," he confirms, his voice
still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic
variance, myelination discrepancies."
He speaks in a monotone, his words
sounding rehearsed and mechanical.

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears,
his heart breaking for his friend.
"What does that mean, Plankton?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
"Does that mean you're not okay?"

Plankton's gaze remains on
the book, his hand tracing the
spine. "Neuro-typical divergence,"
he repeats, his voice a flat
recitation of medical terms.
"Synaptic connections altered.
Atypical neural patterns. Autism."
He speaks as if recounting
a scientific paper, his tone
lacking any personal connection.
"When hit head, damaged the
myelination," he says, his hand
continuing its mechanical movement
against the book. "Myelination is
the insulation around the axons
that speeds up the nerve impulses 
made in a part of brain we call
the cerebral cortex. My cerebral
cortex now restricts, slows
down impulses."

Sponge Bob listens, his
mind racing to keep up with
Plankton's sudden shift in
vocabulary. "But what does that
mean?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "How'd the
damage give you autism?"

Plankton's hand stops
its movement along the book.
"Neurodivergence," he says, his
voice a clinical recount. "My brain
now operates outside typical
parameters. Synaptic pruning,
myelination patterns altered.
Atypical neural networks formed."
He speaks as if discussing a
complex scientific experiment,
his words a jumble of medical
terminology that Sponge Bob
barely understands.

"Does that mean you're not okay?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice
filled with fear.

Plankton's hand stills on the book,
his gaze unfocused. "Functional
diversity," he says, his voice
a hollow echo of the medical
lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence
can lead to unique cognitive
strengths, but also challenges."
He taps the book, his antennas
waving slightly. "My brain's wiring
changed," he says, his voice
a monotone. "Synaptic clefts
widened, neurotransmitters less
efficient. Restricted blood flow to
temporal lobes."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with a mix of confusion and
fear. "Does that mean you can't
be... fixed?" he asks, his voice
small.

Plankton's antennas twitch,
his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix,"
he echoes, his voice a sad
recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes.
Rewire, adapt. But cerebral
cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent."

Sponge Bob's eyes are wide,
his mind reeling with the
complexity of Plankton's words.
"But, Plankton," he says, his voice
quivering. "What about the Krabby
Patties? Your plans?"

Plankton's gaze snaps up, his
hands still. "No plans," he says,
his voice a sad echo. "No more steal."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his heart racing. "You don't want
to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?"
he asks, his voice filled with
hope and disbelief.

Plankton's antennas droop, his
hands flapping slightly. "No more
schemes," he whispers, his voice a
monotone. "No more steal." His eye
meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of
his old mischief briefly shining
through. "But," he adds, his
smile mischievous, "still have
competitive spirit." His hands
begin to flap with excitement.

Sponge Bob's heart soars with
relief, a smile spreading across
his face. "So, you're still
the same Plankton," he says, his
voice filled with hope. "Just...
different. Ok, cool!"

Plankton nods, his smile a
ghostly reflection of his usual
self. "Different," he repeats, his
voice a sad echo. "But still
have friend?" His antennas
wave slightly, his eye searching
Sponge Bob's for reassurance.

Sponge Bob's heart swells with
affection. "Of course, Plankton,"
he says, his voice firm. "We're
still friends. Nothing can
change that." He squeezes
Plankton's shoulder, trying
to convey his support. 

new karen and the autistic journey corpus callosum anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) braincore autismcore headinjuryposting neurodivergentcore neurodisability viii

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

new planktoncore plàncton plankton

We only have one shot at life, make it count. Here are some bible verses about loving your enemies. Follow the word of god :) * Matthew 5:44: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"  || * Luke 6:27-28: "But I say to you: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you || Please stop this drama, it is not of god. Drink water, eat food, prioritize your mental health, and have a great day everyone ✝️🙏🏻❤️

new akemi akemi avatar ranking ari lottie xi blair !loving 4_Lauren lauren hazel rion

"We removed Plankton's
wisdom teeth. He's still
asleep, you can stay with
him." Said the oral surgeon
to Karen. They've just finished
and lead Karen into the room.

Plankton is lying in 
the hospital bed, his 
face a mask of peace, 
the only signs of the 
recent surgery being 
the gauze in his mouth 
and the drool seeping 
out the side. His cheeks 
are slightly swollen, and she 
wonders when he'll wake 
up. The doctor said 
it could take a while.
The IV line snakes up 
his arm.

Karen pulls a chair 
up beside the bed. She 
takes his hand and holds 
it gently, feeling the 
warmth of his skin 
contrast with the coolness 
of her own palm. The room 
is sterile, the air 
conditioning humming 
steadily in the background. 
The faint smell of 
disinfectant fills the 
space. She looks around 
the room, noticing the 
monitors beeping in 
rhythm with Plankton's 
breathing and heart rate.

The nurse comes in 
and checks the machines, 
making a few quiet notes 
on a clipboard. She 
smiles at Karen, "He's 
doing well. Just let him 
sleep. It's the best thing 
right now." Karen nods, 
squeezing Plankton's hand 
slightly, willing him to 
feel her presence. She 
wonders what dreams he's 
having, if any, behind 
his closed lid.

Time seems to crawl 
as Karen watches him 
sleep. She tries to 
read a book, but the 
words blur together. Her 
thoughts drift to their 
lives before this moment, 
their shared laughter, their 
arguments, the quiet 
moments of understanding. 
Her gaze lingers on 
his swollen cheeks, 
his chest rising and 
falling with each 
breath.

A soft groan escapes 
his lips and his eye
begins to flutter open. 
Slowly, Plankton comes 
to, his vision blurred 
by the anesthesia's last 
hangover. He blinks, 
trying to focus on 
Karen's face. She sets 
aside her book and 
smiles at him, her screen 
welcoming him back to 
the world of the conscious.

"Hi," she says softly. "How
are you feeling?" Plankton 
makes a sound that's 
somewhere between a 
whine and a grunt.
His eye wanders the 
room before finally 
settling on hers.

"What...what happened?"
he slurs, the words 
barely audible through 
the gauze. Karen's smile 
widens a bit. "You had 
your wisdom teeth removed, 
remember?" He nods slightly.

The nurse reappears, 
checking his vitals again 
with a gentle touch. "Time 
to go home," she says, 
removing the gauze.

They make their way out of 
the hospital, Karen 
supporting Plankton 
gently as he stumbles, 
his legs still wobbly from 
the anesthesia. The sun 
is setting, casting 
long shadows across the 
parking lot. Karen helps 
Plankton into the car, 
buckling him in and 
adjusting the seat so 
he can lean back and 
rest. He nods off almost 
immediately, his breathing 
evening out as the car starts 
and they pull away from 
the hospital.

The drive home is quiet, 
Plankton's snores punctuating 
the hum of the engine. Karen 
keeps glancing over, 
checking on him, her 
concern etched into every 
line on her screen. The 
pain medication is strong, 
keeping him in a 
half-awake state. Each 
time he wakes, he looks 
around, disoriented, before 
his eye finds hers and 
his expression relaxes.

Once they arrive, Karen 
guides him to the couch, 
his body feeling heavier 
than ever before. He 
slumps into the cushions 
and she grabs the ice pack 
from the cooler. "Hold this 
to your cheeks," she 
instructs, placing the 
cold compress against 
his skin. He nods 
obediently, his eye already 
glazing over with the 
promise of sleep.

The TV flickers on, 
its blue light washing 
over the room. Karen 
finds a sitcom they both 
enjoy, hoping the 
familiar laughter will 
ease his pain and keep 
them both company. But 
Plankton's snores soon 
overpower the TV's 
audio, his head lolling 
to the side. She smiles, 
knowing he's in a deep 
slumber, and covers him 
with a blanket.

The house is eerily 
quiet except for the 
steady tick of the 
clock on the wall. 
Karen moves around the 
kitchen, preparing a 
soft meal for when 
he wakes, her mind 
racing with thoughts of 
what the next few days 
will be like. Plankton's 
recovery will be slow, but 
she's ready to take care 
of him. She's his rock, his 
support, and she'll do 
anything to help him 
feel better.

new karen plankton dentistcore dentalcore sleepycore sleepcore sleepicore hospitalcore surgicalcore ivcore wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore plankton

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi

(Autistic Author)


The wind whispers through the leaves of 
the nearby trees, carrying with it the 
scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant 
sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, 
but one that Plankton has often missed 
in his quest to protect his son from the 
storms in his own mind.

Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a 
ball comes hurtling through the air, 
narrowly missing Plankton's head. He 
flinches, his antennae shooting straight 
up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an 
abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The 
children playing nearby laugh, unaware 
of the chaos their game has brought to 
the quiet corner of the playground.

Plankton's eye darts around, trying to 
process the sudden assault of sound 
and movement. His breath comes in 
quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can 
see the beginnings of a panic attack 
forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip 
shouts, jumping off his swing and racing 
to his side.

With surprising speed and grace, Chip 
leaps into action, catching Plankton just 
as he starts to topple off the swing.

"Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with 
urgency as he gently guides Plankton's 
unresponsive body to the soft grass 
below. The love rock still clutches in his 
small hand.

Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with 
concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling 
beside them.

Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has 
an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice 
shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, 
his eyes filled with fear and confusion. 
"What do we do?"

Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and 
love as she takes in the sight of 
Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, 
his antennae limp. She's been here 
before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," 
she says, her voice calm despite her 
racing heart. "Just give him a moment. 
He'll come back to us."

Chip nods, his grip on the love rock 
tightening as he watches his father. The 
world seems to slow down around them, 
the laughter of the other children fading 
into a distant memory. Plankton's 
breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen 
reaches out, placing a gentle hand on 
his back, feeling the rise and fall of his 
chest.

The seconds tick by like hours, each 
one filled with the weight of uncertainty. 
Chip clutches the love rock, willing his 
dad to come back. He's seen this 
before, but it never gets easier. He 
remembers the first time it happened, 
the fear that had gripped him, the feeling 
of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed 
over. But now, he knows what to do. 
He's not as scared; he's prepared.

With trembling hands, Chip takes out the 
love rock, its smoothness a comforting 
reminder of their conversation. He 
places it gently in Plankton's palm, 
curling the slender fingers around it. 
"You're ok," he whispers, his voice 
steady despite the storm of emotions 
inside. "We’re here."

Plankton's body remains still, a stark 
contrast to the vibrant world around 
them. The squeaks of the swings, the 
laughter of the children, the distant 
crash of waves, all seem to fade into the 
background as they wait for him to 
return from his brief retreat.

Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his 
shoulder, offering silent support.

Time seems to stand still as they wait, 
the rock in Plankton's hand a silent 
testament to their newfound bond. The 
park's vibrant sounds muffle into a 
distant symphony, the world holding its 
breath for Plankton's return. Above 
them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, 
the shadows dancing as if in a silent 
ballet of concern.

The seconds stretch into eternity, each 
one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes 
never leave his father, willing him back 
with all his might. The rock in Plankton's 
palm is a symbol of love and 
understanding, a bridge connecting 
them through the stormy seas of his 
mind.

As Plankton's body remains frozen, the 
world around them seems to hold its 
breath. The rustling of the leaves above, 
the distant laughter of children, even the 
crash of waves in the background seem 
to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the 
universe itself is offering a quiet 
sanctuary for Plankton's return.

Chip's eyes never leave his father's 
face, his grip on the love rock in 
Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart 
races with fear, but he squeezes the 
rock tighter, trying to channel the love 
and support he feels into his dad's 
unresponsive hand. Chip decides to 
whisper comforting words.
"Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're 
safe here with me and Mom."

Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear 
and admiration for her son's courage. 
She watches as Chip decides to 
continue.

"Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip 
whispers. "It's my way of saying I love 
you."

Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a 
glimmer of recognition in his eye. The 
world around them seems to hold its 
breath, the very air thick with 
anticipation. Chip's voice is the only 
sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony 
of the playground.

The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, 
almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love 
Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches 
as Plankton's antennae slowly start to 
wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to 
them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice 
barely audible. "I'll always be here."

Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her 
eyes glistening with tears she's trying 
hard to hold back. The sight of her son's 
unwavering support is both 
heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. 
Plankton's chest rises and falls more 
steadily, his breathing evening out.

The rock in Plankton's hand seems to 
pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent 
acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen 
sees the tension in Plankton's features 
begin to ease, his antennae drooping 
slightly as he starts to come back to 
them. It's a delicate process, like waking 
a sleeping dragon. Any sudden 
movement could send him back into the 
storm.

Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding 
Plankton through the fog. 
"It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice 
soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's 
antennae twitch again, and Karen can 
see the spark of understanding in his 
eye.

Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. 
The tension in his shoulders eases, and 
his antennae twitch in a way that tells 
Karen he's listening, that he's with them 
again. His breathing evens out, and his 
eyelid flickers closed.

For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, 
Plankton's hand tightens slightly around 
the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 
'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes 
shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s 
asleep," she whispers, her voice filled 
with a mix of humor and love.

Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like 
that for a while, the three of them, in the 
quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The 
storm in Plankton's mind has passed, 
leaving them in a gentle lull.

The playground's sounds slowly start to 
filter back in, the chatter of children, the 
distant hum of the city, the rustling of 
leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps 
whispering, his voice a gentle caress in 
the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're 
safe."

Karen watches her son with a mix of 
love and sadness, knowing the weight 
he now carries. He's growing up too fast, 
she thinks, but he's handling it with more 
grace than anyone could ask for. 

Plankton's hand relaxes around the 
rock, his breathing deep and even. The 
storm inside him has passed for now, 
leaving them with a quiet, precious 
moment.

Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. 
"Is he going to be ok?"

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," 
she says. "Rest is sometimes the best 
thing for him after an episode."

Chip nods, his grip on the rock in 
Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He 
looks around the park, the world coming 
back into focus. The other kids are 
playing, their laughter a gentle reminder 
of the life that goes on outside their little 
bubble of concern.

"Should we go home?" Chip asks, his 
voice still hushed.

Karen nods. "Let's get him into the 
shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby 
tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him 
good."

Together, they gently lift Plankton and 
carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip 
is careful not to jostle him too much, his 
little hands supporting Plankton's head.

Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on 
the ground and they place him down. 
His antennae are still now, no longer 
dancing with the stress of the seizure. 
His breath is deep and even, his 
features relaxed in sleep.

Chip watches him intently, his thumb 
tracing the smooth surface of the love 
rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he 
asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. 
Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce 
protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," 
she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."

new chip off the old talks familycore xi

‘Yᴏᴜ ʙʟᴀsᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴀʀɴᴀᴄʟᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ!’

new spongeblog spongeton plankton

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░▓▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒
▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

Karen/Chip Plankton II Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Karen/Chip Plankton II Emojis & Symbols

Related Text & Emojis