Karen the Computer Emojis & Text

CATCH IN MY CHIP iii
(Autistic author)

They sit in silence for a few
moments, Chip's screen glued to
his dad's still form. The only
sound is the steady rhythm of
Plankton's shallow breathing.

As the minutes tick by, Chip's
thoughts swirl with confusion and
guilt. He had no idea that his
dad's quirks and sensitivities were
part of something so complex.
He'd just thought Plankton was
easily annoyed or tired.

Karen notices his son's distress
and decides it's time to explain
more. "You know how sometimes
you get really excited about
something, and you just can't
keep it in?" she asks.

Chip nods. "Yeah, like when I
see a new toy or when I've got
a great idea for a sandcastle."

"Well, for Dad, it's like that
all the time," Karen continues.
"Every little thing can be a
big deal, and sometimes it's just
too much." She pauses, looking at
Plankton with a mix of love and
concern. "But he's also the smartest
person I know, and he loves you
so much. That's what's important."

Chip nods, his eyes filling
with tears as he watches
his mom care for his dad. He'd
always felt a bit left out, not
understanding why Plankton would
sometimes retreat from the world.
But now he gets it. It's not that
his dad didn't want to share in
his excitement, it's just that sometimes,
the world was too much for him.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he whispers, his
throat tight with emotion. "I didn't
mean to make him... like this."

Karen pulls him into a warm
embrace. "You didn't do anything
wrong, Chip. This isn't your fault.
Dad's brain just works differently.
And now that we know, we can help
each other understand."

Chip sniffles against her,
his thoughts racing. "Does
he know what's happening
or can he understand us?"

"Sometimes he can," Karen says,
her voice low and soothing. "But
right now, I don't think he realizes
anything's happening around him."

"What if he doesn't wake up?"
The fear in his voice is palpable.

"He will, honey," Karen says, her
tone reassuring. "It just takes
a little time. It's like when you're
really tired and you need a nap.
His brain needs to rest."

The room is quiet except for
the occasional sound of the
air conditioner kicking in,
a stark contrast to the excitement
that had filled it just moments ago.
Chip watches his dad, feeling a
wave of emotion wash over him.
He wants to laugh and share more
stories, but he knows now that
his dad's brain needs a break.

As they wait, Karen starts to
clean up the mess Chip made.
The sand and papers scattered
across the floor seem so trivial
now, a stark reminder of the chaos
his enthusiasm can create for
his dad. He helps her, carefully
picking up each piece, placing
them back into their rightful
spots. His mind is racing with
thoughts of how to be a better
son, how to make sure his dad
doesn't feel like this again.

They work in silence, the only
sounds the rustling of papers and
the occasional clank of a metal
item being set back on the desk.
The room slowly transforms back
to its usual state of order, a stark
contrast to the turmoil Plankton
was experiencing. Chip's eyes never
leave his dad, hoping to see
any sign of improvement.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity,
Plankton's eye blinks, and the tension
in the room shifts. His breathing
becomes deeper and more regular.
Karen's shoulders relax as she sees
the first signs of Plankton coming
back to himself. She gives Chip's hand
a gentle squeeze. "Look, honey. He's
starting to come out of it."

Chip stares, hope filling his chest.
Plankton's antennas twitch slightly.
He blinks a few more times, as if trying
to bring the room into focus. "What...
what happened?" His voice is weak,
almost a whisper.

Karen's grip tightens on Chip's hand.
"You just needed a little break,
sweetie," she says softly. "It's okay."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II iii

GREAT CHIP iii
(Autistic author)

Karen followed, her screen
on her husband's tentative steps.
"Chip," she called out softly,
knocking gently. "Can we come in?"

There was no immediate response,
just the faint sound of sniffling.
"It's ok, sweetie," she said.
"Your dad and I want to talk to you."

Slowly, the door cracked open,
and Chip's tear-stained screen peeked out.
His eyes searched theirs, looking
for answers, for reassurance.

Plankton's heart twisted at the sight.
He had never wanted to cause his son
any pain, especially not like this.
He felt a wave of self-consciousness
wash over him as he stepped into the room,
his every move feeling clumsy and exposed.

"Chip," he began, 
his voice strained,
"It's just..."

Plankton's words trailed off,
his gaze flitting around the room
as if searching for the right ones.
The air felt thick with tension.

Chip looked up at him, his eyes
swollen with unshed tears.
"Dad, I'm sorry," he managed to say,
his voice thick with emotion.

But Plankton's anger hadn't
subsided entirely. "You shouldn't have
touched me," he snapped, his voice
sharp, his frustration still palpable.
"You now know better than that!"

Chip flinched at his father's tone,
his own eyes brimming with tears.
"But Dad, I didn't mean to," he protested.

Plankton's gaze was unyielding.
"You should know better!" he insisted,
his voice echoing with accusation.
"You're not a baby anymore!"

Chip's eyes fell to the floor,
his shoulders shaking 
with held-back sobs.
"But I didn't know!" he choked out,
his voice small and defensive.

"Well, now you do," Plankton said firmly,
his eye still avoiding Chip's.
"You have to respect my space!"
The room felt too small,
his emotions too big.

Chip's face crumpled, his voice
barely audible. "I just wanted
to..."

But Plankton's anger was like
a storm, unyielding. "I don't care
what you wanted!" he shouted. "You
can't just touch me like that!"

The room felt like it was closing in,
his heart racing faster with each word.
He saw the hurt on Chip's face, but
his own emotions were a tornado
whipping through his thoughts.
He couldn't stop, couldn't apologize.

"It's your fault for not knowing!"
Plankton's voice was like thunder,
filling the room with accusation.
Karen's eyes grew wide with shock,
but she didn't dare to interrupt.

Chip's sobs grew louder, his body
shaking with the weight of his father's
wrath. "But I didn't know, Dad,"
he pleaded, his voice thick with pain.

Plankton's eye was like a stone,
his words cutting through the air.
"That's no excuse!" he bellowed.
"You should've learned by now!
Or are you just to busy with your
silly games and neurotypical friends
to care about your own father?"

Chip's shoulders shook
as he tried to hold back his sobs.
He didn't know what to say,
his mind a jumble of emotions.
All he knew was that he had hurt
his dad, and now his dad was hurt
and mad at him.

"Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered again,
his voice trembling.
"It was an accident, I didn't know!"
But Plankton's anger didn't abate.

"Accident or not, you should've known better!"
Plankton's voice grew louder,
his words piercing the air like knives.
"You're not a baby anymore, so
don't act like one!"

Chip felt his world crumbling.
He didn't mean to upset Dad,
but he didn't know what to do.
He just wanted to help, to show
his love, but it all went wrong.

"But Dad," he tried again, his voice
barely a whisper, "I didn't mean to..."

"I DON'T CARE!" Plankton roared,
his anger a living, breathing entity
that filled the room. His words were
sharp, like shards of glass in the air.

Chip's sobs grew louder, his heart
breaking with each accusation.
He didn't understand why his dad
was so mad at him. "I'm sorry," he choked,
his voice barely audible. "I didn't know..."

Plankton's anger didn't waver.
"You never know!" he spat. "You
never pay attention!" His words were
like a whip, each one stinging Chip's
already bruised heart. "You think
the world revolves around you!"

Chip's eyes were a pool of tears,
his body trembling as he tried to
find the right words. "But Dad,
I just..."

Plankton's anger grew with each
of Chip's stumbling attempts.
"You just what?" he snarled,
his senses overwhelmed by the
emotional turmoil. He felt
the urge to break something,
anything to release the pressure
building in his chest.

With a roar, he swiped
his hand across Chip's desk,
sending papers flying and toys clattering
to the floor. "DO YOU SEE?"
he yelled, his voice shaking
the walls. "DO YOU SEE HOW YOU
MAKE ME FEEL?"

Chip cowered, his eyes
locked on the chaos, his mind
whirling. He hadn't meant to make
his dad feel like this. He didn't
understand why his curiosity
was so wrong. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered again, his voice
tiny and lost in the maelstrom
of Plankton's rage.

Plankton's eye was wild,
his movements erratic. He knew
his anger was a storm, but
he couldn't stop it. The room
spun around him, his thoughts
a jumbled mess. He felt a hand
on his arm, Karen's voice cutting
through the noise in his head.
"Plankton, please," she begged.

But he shrugged her off, his rage
now a living, breathing monster
inside of him. He picked up
a toy, one of Chip's beloved creations,
and threw it across the room.
It shattered against the wall,
the sound piercing the silence
that followed. Chip's sobs
grew quieter, his body trembling
with fear.

"This," Plankton said,
his voice low and dangerous,
"is what you do to me."
He picked up another toy,
his hand shaking with anger.
"This is what your curiosity does!"

Chip's eyes widened with fear
as Plankton's hand arced back,
ready to hurl it. But as
the toy could leave his grip,
his body seized up again,
his legs buckling. Another
absence seizure had struck.

Karen's heart raced as she watched
her husband's uncontrolled
movements. She knew she had to
intervene before things escalated.
She rushed to Plankton's side,
grabbing his arm to steady him.
"Stop," she whispered urgently.

Chip's sobs grew quieter,
his eyes wide with fear.
He had never seen his dad
so out of control before.

Plankton's seizure
was taking over, his body
betraying him once again.

Karen's voice pierced
the chaos, a beacon of calm.
"Chip, let me handle this."

Her son nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's
shaky form.

Karen turned to Plankton's
form, supporting.
"Come on," she said firmly,
guiding his trembling form
to their own bedroom.
"Let's sit down, okay?"

As they do, Plankton's
still caught in the throes
of the seizure.

Chip felt like he was watching
a stranger, his dad's body
twitching uncontrollably.
He didn't know what to do.

new great chip fitscore iii

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iii
(Autistic author)

"It's okay, Plankton," Sponge 
Bob said, his voice soothing. 
"We're just going for a walk. 
Nothing to worry about."

The three of them walked in 
silence for a while, the only 
sounds the lapping of the 
waves and the occasional 
squawk of a seagull. Karen 
could feel the tension, and 
she wondered what was going 
on inside his head.

As they neared the jellyfish fields 
Sponge Bob perked up. "Hey, 
Plankton, you remember jellyfishing
right?" He asked, his tone hopeful.

Plankton's antennae stopped the 
nervous twitching for a moment. 
"Jellyfishing," he murmured, the 
memory sparking a glimmer of 
interest. "Jellyfish sting."

Sponge Bob's smile grew wider. 
"Yeah, but it's fun, right?" He said
trying to keep the conversation 
light. Karen could see the effort 
in his eyes and felt a pang of guilt 
for ever thinking poorly of him.

"Jellyfish... fun," Plankton repeated, his 
voice still flat.

Sponge Bob looked at him, his smile fading 
slightly. "Yeah, jellyfishing's the best!" he said 
trying to keep the energy up. "Remember all 
the good times we had?"

Plankton nodded, his gaze distant. "Good 
times," he echoed.

Sponge Bob's smile faltered, and he shot a 
questioning glance at Karen. "Is everything ok 
with Plankton?" he asked, his voice tinged 
with concern.

Karen took and squeezed Plankton's 
hand. "Hold on, Sponge Bob," she said gently. 
"Plankton, can you find us a rock? A pretty 
sparkly rock."

Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, and she could 
see the gears turning in his head. He nodded, his 
antennae tilting slightly. "Find rock," he said, before 
going in the familiar jellyfish fields.

Sponge Bob watched him go, his expression a 
mix of confusion and concern. "Is Plankton ok
Karen?" he asked.

"He's just... different now," Karen said, voice 
tight with emotion. "He had an accident, and 
the doctor says 
he has acquired autism."

Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "Hey I think 
I have that, too! But what does that mean 
for Plankton?" he asked, his voice filled with 
genuine concern.

"It means he's going to need some help," Karen 
said, her voice calm and measured. "He'll still be 
the same Plankton we know, but his brain works 
differently now."

Sponge Bob's eyes searched hers, trying 
to understand. "Different like how?"

Karen took a deep breath. "Well, he might repeat 
what we say," she began, watching Plankton as 
he picked up rocks and examined them. "It's 
called echolalia. It's a way for him to process 
language now."

Sponge Bob's eyes widened with understanding. 
"Oh, like a parrot!" he exclaimed, nodding.

Karen chuckled, despite the heaviness of the situation. 
"Sort of," she said, "but it's more than just repeating 
words. It's how he processes information now."

Sponge Bob watched Plankton, who had found a 
particularly shiny rock and was now examining it 
with intense focus. "What else, Karen?" he asked.

Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain as best 
she could. "Sometimes, Plankton might need more 
time to understand what people are saying to him."

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving 
Plankton. "How might he act?"

Karen sighed, looking at the ocean. "Well, sometimes 
he might get overwhelmed by sounds, lights, or even 
textures," she said. "It's like his senses are on overload. 
Although he'll have it for the rest of his life, he can 
potentially improve his skills. It happened yesterday, 
I don't think you were working but Krabs hit Plankton's head.."

Sponge Bob's expression grew serious, and he nodded 
solemnly. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Karen," he said, 
his eyes filled with genuine empathy. "Plankton's always 
been pretty tough, but I won't let Mr. Krabs know."

Plankton returned with the sparkly rock, his gaze still a bit 
unfocused. "Pretty rock," he said, holding it out to Karen.

Karen took the rock. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, her 
voice filled with warmth.

"Good find," Sponge Bob added, giving him an 
encouraging thumbs-up.

The walk continued, yet a distant wail of a boat's horn 
created a symphony that seemed to overwhelm him. 
He stopped, his antennae flattening against his head, 
his eye wide with distress.

"Too loud," he murmured, his voice strained.


Karen noticed Plankton's agitation. They guided him 
to a nearby bench, and he sat, his arms wrapped 
tightly around himself, rocking back and forth.

"It's okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice calm. 
"Just breathe, darling."

Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his 
antennae quivering.

"What's wrong, Plankton?" SpongeBob asked, voice 
filled with concern.

Plankton didn't respond, his eye squeezed shut as 
he hummed a tune to himself.

Karen and Sponge Bob sat beside him, giving him 
space and waiting for the overwhelming sound to 
pass. After a few moments, the boat's horn ceased 
and Plankton's breathing began to even out. He looks up,  
gaze still slightly unfocused.

"Plankton ok now?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice gentle.

Karen nodded. "I think so," she said, watching Plankton's 
antennae slowly untangle from their protective pose. 

"Sounds can be really intense for him now."

Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. "We'll keep it down 
then," he said, his voice a whisper.

Karen smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Sponge 
Bob," she said. "It means a lot."

They sat for a few more moments, the sound of the 
waves crashing against the shore acting as a soothing 
lullaby for Plankton. Finally, he spoke up, his voice still 
flat. "Home now," he said, his eye still on the horizon.

Karen nodded. "Alright, let's go home," she said, her voice 
gentle.

"SpongeBob?" Plankton asks, wanting him to come with.

Sponge Bob looks to Karen, who nods with a grateful smile. 
"We'd love for you to come, Sponge Bob," she says. "We can 
all help each other understand."

Plankton's gaze immediately falls on a biology 
book that's been lying on the coffee table, half 
open to a page about jellyfish. His antennae start 
twitching rapidly, and he picks it up with a new
found interest.

"Look, Karen," he says, his voice filled with excitement 
as he points to a picture of a jellyfish. "Jellyfish."

Karen nods. "Yes, Plankton," she says gently. "That's a 
jellyfish."

Plankton opens the book wider, eye scanning the pages 
with a fervor that was almost palpable. His antennae 
quivered with excitement as he absorbed every piece of 
information he could find about jellyfish. It was as if he 
had found a new obsession, a puzzle to solve that could 
potentially drown out the cacophony of the world around 
him. "Jellyfish," he murmurs to himself, his eye scanning 
the text. "Jellyfish sting. Jellyfish pretty."

Sponge Bob's curiosity peaks, and he leans over to look 
at the page Plankton is fixated on. "Jellyfish, huh?" He 
says, his voice soft so as not to disturb Plankton's focus.

Karen nods. "It's like he's trying to make sense of everything 
again," she explains. "It's one of his special interests now."

Sponge Bob nods. 

Karen watches as Plankton traces the outline 
of a jellyfish with his hand. "It's called hyper
fixation," she explains. "It's when extremely 
focused on something to the point where it's 
almost all he can think about."

Sponge Bob nods thoughtfully. "Well, Plankton 
I see you like the book of jellyfish?"

Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering with 
excitement. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his eye 
never leaving the page.

Sponge Bob nods, a smile spreading 
across his face. "I can see you really 
love jellyfish, Plankton," he says, 
trying to keep the conversation flowing.

new a life of diversity jellyfishcore iii

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii

(Autistic author)

Inside, she sets him down 
on their favorite couch, the one 
with the frayed edges and 
the squeaky spring that always 
reminded them of their first date. 
The room is cluttered with 
half-finished inventions and 
plans for Krabby Patty heists. 
She sits beside him.

The silence stretches on, 
heavier than a net full of 
anchovies. Plankton's antennas 
twitch, his eye darting around 
the room, taking in the chaos. 
Karen's mind is racing, 
wondering if he recognizes any 
of it, if it brings back any 
memories of their life together.

"Home," he murmurs, his 
voice filled with uncertainty. 
The room feels smaller, more 
cramped than she remembered, as if 
the walls are closing in on them.
"Do you like it here?" she asks, 
trying to gauge his reaction.

He looks around, his antennas 
moving slightly as he processes 
his surroundings. "Home," he says 
again, his voice a mix of 
curiosity and confusion.

The room is a jumble of 
wires, gadgets, and half-eaten 
chum sticks. Karen's 
with tears as she realizes 
how much she's taken for granted 
their life together. She had 
always loved Plankton's quirks and 
his boundless energy, but now 
his mind seemed to be stuck in a 
loop, unable to move beyond 
the basic functions of 
acknowledgment.

"Home," Plankton says again, 
his antennas drooping. "Home with 
Karen."
The repetition of the words 
stirs something within Karen. 
Echolalia, the doctor had called it, 
a common trait in those with 
autism. It was Plankton's way 
of trying to understand the 
world around him, to find 
comfort in familiar words and 
phrases.

"Yes," she whispers, her 
throat tight with emotion. "This 
is our home."

The room seems to 
shrink around them as Plankton's 
echolalic chant of "home with 
Karen" repeats in a soothing 
loop. Each time he says it, 
Karen feels a pang of hope. 
Maybe, just maybe, he was 
finding comfort in the 
simplicity of their life together.

"Home with Karen," he 
says again, his antennas 
slightly more animated. 
Karen nods, 
brimming with tears. "Yes, 
Plankton, we're home."

But she sees a flicker of 
distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob," 
he whispers, his antennas 
quivering with urgency. "Where's 
Sponge Bob?"

Karen's heart squeezes at the 
mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not 
here right now," she says, 
choosing her words carefully. 
"But he'll come to visit."

Plankton's antennas shoot up, 
his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he 
repeats, his voice gaining 
strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob."
The desperation in his tone is 
heart-wrenching, and Karen knows 
she needs to act fast to soothe his 
anxiety.

"Ok, ok," she says, her voice 
calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob."

Karen picks up the phone, her 
hands shaking slightly as she 
dials the familiar number. The 
phone rings once, twice, before 
it's answered by a cheerful 
voice.

"Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice 
sounds surprised but concerned. 
"Is everything ok?"

Karen takes a deep breath, 
trying to keep her voice steady. 
"It's Plankton," she says. "He's 
asking for you to come over."
There's a pause on the 
other end of the line. "Plankton? 
But we're... I mean?" Sponge 
Bob's voice is filled with 
confusion.
Karen's with 
desperation as she watches 
Plankton rock back and forth 
on the couch, his chant 
growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need 
Sponge Bob."

"Please, Sponge Bob," she 
pleads, her voice cracking.

Sponge Bob's voice on the 
other end of the line softens.
"Of course, Karen. I'll be right 
over."
The line goes dead, and Karen 
hangs up the phone, feeling a 
tiny spark of hope. Plankton's 
cries for Sponge Bob have become 
more insistent, his rocking more 
pronounced. She gently places 
a hand on his shoulder, trying 
to soothe him.
"Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton," 
she says, her voice steady. "He'll 
be here soon."

Plankton's rocking slows, 
his antennas drooping slightly. 
"Sponge Bob," he whispers, 
his eye searching hers. "Safe."
The word hangs in the air, and 
Karen realizes that despite his 
confusion, he feels comfort in 
Sponge Bob's presence.

A few moments later, they 
hear the telltale sound of 
bubbles popping against the 
glass, and a knock on the door. 
With a tremble, Karen 
stands and opens it to reveal 
Sponge Bob, looking slightly 
nervous but determined.

"Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims. 
Plankton's antennas shoot up at 
the sound of his name, and he 
whips his head around to face 
the door. "Sponge Bob!" he 
shouts, his eye lighting up 
with an unmistakable joy.

Sponge Bob steps into the room.

"Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his 
voice a mix of excitement and 
relief. He lunges forward, 
wrapping his tiny arms around 
the larger sponge in an embrace.

Sponge Bob looks surprised but 
quickly returns the hug, his 
spongy form enveloping Plankton 
completely. "Plankton, what's 
going on?" he asks, his eyes 
wide with concern. He's never
seen Plankton like this.

Plankton pulls back, his 
expression a jumble of 
emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says 
again, his voice filled with 
affection. He grabs Sponge 
Bob's hand and tugs him closer.
"Home with Karen. Need you."

Sponge Bob looks to Karen, 
his eyes filled with 
uncertainty, but she nods 
encouragingly. "It's ok," she 
says. "He's just happy you're here."

The sight of Plankton's 
excited state brings a smile 
to Sponge Bob's face, despite 
his confusion. He sits down 
next to him on the couch, 
his own excitement growing.
"What do you want to do?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice 
filled with genuine enthusiasm.

Plankton's antennas twitch 
as he thinks, his eye darting 
around the room.

"Let's play a game," he 
suddenly exclaims, his voice 
filled with a child-like 
excitement that hadn't been 
there before.

"What kind of game, Plankton?"
Karen asks, eager to encourage 
his newfound energy.

"Chess!" he exclaims, pointing 
to a dusty board in the corner 
of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with surprise, but he 
doesn't hesitate. He leaps up 
from the couch and wipes the 
dust from the board with his 
spongy hand, setting up the 
pieces with surprising 
efficiency.

Karen watches from the 
sidelines, her heart swelling 
with love and hope as Plankton's 
enthusiasm grows. 
He moves the pieces with a 
frenetic energy, his eye
alight with a joy she hadn't 
seen since before the accident. 
Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, 
matches his excitement, even 
though he's clearly outmatched 
by Plankton's strategic mind.

"Checkmate!" Plankton cries out, 
his antennas waving with 
each word. Sponge Bob's 
expression is a mix of 
surprise and admiration. "Wow, 
Plankton, you're really good at 
this!"

The room echoes with Plankton's 
laughter, a sound that's both 
familiar and foreign to Karen's 
ears. The old Plankton would 
have gloated.

"Checkmate," he says again, 
his antennas bobbing in 
excitement. "Checkmate, 
checkmate."

Sponge Bob laughs, a 
wonderful, genuine laugh that 
fills the room. "You win, Plankton," 
he says, his hands clapping 
together.

Plankton's antennas stop 
twitching for a moment, and he 
looks at Sponge Bob, his eye 
studying the sponge's reaction. 
"Win," he repeats, a hint of 
understanding in his voice. 
"Win at chess." He claps like
SpongeBob.

Sponge Bob's eyes light up, 
seeing the connection. "Yes, 
Plankton, you won the chess 
game," he says, his voice 
soothing. "You're really good 
at it."

Plankton's antennas start to 
twitch again, his eye darting 
between the board and Sponge 
Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his 
voice filled with a newfound 
sense of pride. "Win with Sponge 
Bob."
The phrase becomes a chant, 
his brain finding solace in 
the repetition. "Win with Sponge 
Bob, win with Sponge Bob."

Sponge Bob smiles warmly, 
picking up the rhythm of 
Plankton's words. "Yes, 
Plankton," he says, his voice 
soothing. "You won the game. 
You're a great chess player."
Plankton's antennas quiver, 
his eye locking onto Sponge 
Bob's. "Great chess player," 
he echoes, his voice a mix of 
pride and amazement. 
"Win with Sponge Bob."

Karen watches from the 
sidelines with hope. 
Maybe, just maybe, this was 
the breakthrough they needed. 
Sponge Bob's presence was 
calming him, bringing out a 
side of Plankton she hadn't 
seen since the accident.

new a journey to autism plankarenbob iii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii
(Autistic author)

"Now let's go 
to the living room 
and I'll go pick up
a smoothie for you.
Can you stay here by
yourself?"

He nodded, his 
expression slightly 
less tense.

"I'll be back 
soon," she assured him, 
squeezing his 
shoulder before 
leaving the 
Chum Bucket.

Just moments later, 
Karen's friend Hanna
came for a surprise
visit. She knew Karen
had a husband named
Plankton, but she never
met him. Plankton was 
now back on the
living room couch.

"Oh, you must be 
Plankton!" Hanna 
exclaimed.

Plankton's eye 
flitted to her, 
his expression 
unreadable.

Hanna walked 
over to the couch, 
her smile wide and 
genuine. "It's so 
nice to finally 
meet you," she said, 
embracing him in
a hug.

Plankton stiffened, 
his eye wide with 
surprise. 
His body tensed, 
his mind racing 
to process this 
new sensory input.

"You ok?" Hanna 
asked, pulling back 
slightly. She had 
noticed his reaction 
but didn't know 
the reason behind 
it.

Plankton nodded, his 
eye darting around 
the room again. 
He wasn't used to 
such spontaneous 
affection, and the 
unexpected sensation 
of Hanna's arms around 
him had thrown him 
off balance.

"Yes, I am Plankton," 
he murmured, his 
voice monotone. 
He wasn't quite 
sure how to respond.
Hanna's smile didn't 
waver, unaware of 
the turmoil within 
his mind. "How are 
you feeling today?"
Plankton's gaze 
flicked to the 
ceiling, his mind 
racing to find 
the right words.

"Today, feeling," 
he echoed, his voice 
still a whisper. 
The repetition 
was a comfort, a 
way to process the 
flood of sensory 
information that 
assaulted him 
continuously.

Hanna looked at 
him with a 
puzzled expression.

"You know, your 
wife Karen tells me 
you're an inventor,"
she said, her tone 
innocently curious.

Plankton's eye 
locked onto hers, 
his mind racing 
to understand 
the context of her 
words. "Inventor," 
he repeated, his voice 
flat. It was a word 
he knew, but it 
felt foreign 
now, as if it belonged 
to someone else.

"Yes, inventor," 
Hanna said, nodding 
enthusiastically. "I've 
heard so much 
about your gadgets 
and contraptions. 
What are you working 
on these days?"

Plankton's eye 
flitted around the 
room again, 
his mind struggling 
to grasp the 
concept of 'working'. 
"Gadgets, contraptions," 
he murmured, his voice 
a broken record.

Hanna's expression 
was one of 
confusion, her smile 
beginning to fade. 
"Well, what do you do 
all day?" she 
prodded gently, 
trying to coax him 
out of his silence.

Plankton's 
reply was 
immediate and 
robotic, "Do, all day, 
all day."

Hanna's brow 
furrowed, 
uncertain how 
to interpret 
his repetitive 
response. She had 
known Karen for 
years, but Plankton's 
behavior was unlike 
anything she had 
ever heard of her 
friend's husband.

"Do you like 
the beach?" she 
asked, hoping to 
engage him in 
conversation.

Plankton's eye 
blinked slowly, 
his mind processing 
the question. 
"Beach," he echoed, 
his voice hollow.

Hanna nodded, 
encouraged by his 
response. "Yes, the 
beach! It's such a 
beautiful place. Do 
you ever go there?"

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to the 
window, the 
memory of sand 
and surf a distant 
whisper. "Go, beach, 
beautiful place," he 
said, his words a 
stuttered echo of hers.

Hanna's smile 
dimmed slightly. 
This wasn't the 
witty banter she 
was expecting from 
Karen's husband. 
"Is there anything 
you'd like to talk 
about?" she asked, 
uncertain.

Plankton's eye 
moved to hers, 
his gaze intense. 
"Talk," he repeated, 
his voice a 
whisper.

Hanna felt a 
twinge of 
discomfort. Something 
was off about 
his responses, but 
she couldn't quite 
put her tentacle on 
what it was. 
"Well, what do you 
like to do for fun?" 
she tried again, her 
tone tentative.

Plankton's eye 
wandered back to 
his own hand, 
fidgeting with his 
fingers. "Do, fun," 
he murmured, the 
words a reflexive 
response to the 
question.

Hanna's eyes 
narrowed slightly. 
"What do you do for 
fun?" she clarified, 
wondering if he had 
simply misunderstood.

Plankton's gaze 
remained on his 
fidgeting hand, 
his mind racing 
to connect the 
concept of 'fun' with 
his new reality.
"Do, fun," he 
repeated, his voice 
devoid of the 
mirth he once 
expressed so freely.

Hanna's smile 
was now forced, her 
confusion growing 
with each 
interaction.

"Plankton, can you 
tell me what you 
enjoy doing?" she 
asked, hoping for 
a clearer response.

He looked up at 
her, his gaze 
slightly less 
focused than before. 
"Enjoy doing," he 
repeated, his voice 
a faint echo.

Hanna's 
twitched with 
concern. "You know, 
like hobbies or 
interests," she 
prompted gently, 
trying to keep her 
voice light.

Plankton's eye 
moved back to 
his fidgeting hand, 
his mind a 
whirlwind of 
thoughts and 
sensory overload. 
"Hobbies, interests," 
he murmured, his 
voice a hollow echo.

Hanna's concern 
was now clear 
on her screen.

"You know, like 
things you like 
to do in your free 
time," she tried again, 
her voice a little 
less bright.

Plankton's eye 
latched onto hers. 
"Free time," he 
repeated, his voice 
a monotone. "Like to 
do."

Hanna's eyes 
widened slightly, 
her confusion 
growing with each 
word he said. 
"Yes, exactly," she 
nodded, her voice 
a little more 
cautious now. "What 
do you like to do 
in your free time?
Well, other than 
repetition.." She 
awkwardly laughs
as she elbows him
multiple times, not 
knowing how her
touch is irritating
Plankton.

Plankton's getting
more frustrated/angry
now, as Hanna goes
to pat his shoulder.
He can't take much 
more now.

Hanna's touch 
was like a brand, 
searing his already 
overwhelmed senses. 
He flinched away, 
his body rigid with 
tension.

"Plankton, are 
you ok?" Hanna 
asked, her voice 
filled with 
concern. She noticed 
his discomfort but 
couldn't pinpoint the 
cause.

He nodded 
slightly, his 
expression unreadable. 
"Ok, ok," he 
mumbled, his voice 
still a monotone.

Hanna looked 
at him with 
concern, her 
smile slipping. 
"Karen said you 
used to be quite 
the conversationalist. 
What happened?" She
says, grabbing his
elbow; but that's the
last straw for Plankton.

Plankton's 
eye snapped up to 
hers, his voice 
sharp. "What happened?
You happened!" He 
snapped, his words 
sharp as a knife. 
The sudden aggression 
in his tone 
was like a slap in 
the face, catching 
Hanna off guard.

She took a step 
back. "I'm sorry, 
I didn't mean to..."
she began, but Plankton 
was on a roll now.

"You don't know 
what happened!" 
his voice grew 
louder, his words 
quickening with 
each syllable. "You 
don't know anything!"

Hanna's eyes went 
wide with shock. 
This was not the 
Plankton Karen had 
described. Her arms 
flailed in the air as 
she tried to placate 
his sudden anger. 
"I'm sorry, Plankton. 
I just didn't know..." 

new neurobehavioral plankton neurodivergentcore iii

JUST A TOUCH iii
(Autistic author)

 ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ

Once home, she helped him
settle into his favorite chair,
his eye scanning the room.
Everything was in its place,
exactly as he liked it. Karen
noticed his breathing slow
as the familiarity washed over
him. She knew that routine
and order could be vital to his
comfort now to avoid
triggering his anxiety.

Then suddenly, Plankton
began to rock back and forth.

Karen recognized the motion.
It was a new behavior, one
she hadn't seen before. His
body swayed with a rhythm that
matched the ticking of the
antique clock on the wall. "It's okay,
sweetie," she said, trying to keep
her voice steady. "We're home now."

The rocking grew more intense,
his eye darting around the room,
his antennae vibrating with each
back-and-forth movement. Karen's
mind raced, trying to remember
the doctor's words. Sensory
overload. He needed calm.

Swiftly, she dimmed the lights,
the neon signs from the Krabby Patty
franchise across the street casting
soothing shadows through the windows.
The glow was just enough to
illuminate the space without
causing further distress, and
she watched as Plankton's rocking
subsided. She sat by him.

She grasped and squeezed
his shoulder. But
this time, he flinched.
"Plankton?" she asked,
concern etching her voice.
He pulled away from her,
his antennae dropping to
his side.

The doctor had
mentioned that some with
autism might have heightened
sensitivity to touch.
Karen felt a knot in her
stomach. "What if he
doesn't like me touching
him anymore?" she thought.
"What if I can't comfort
him when he's upset?"

She decided to
test the waters gently.
Reaching out, she lightly
trailed her finger over his
hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged,
she placed her hand on
his shoulder again,
this time more softly.
He tensed, then relaxed.
It was progress.

"Let's start with simple touch,"
she said, her voice soothing.

The doctor had mentioned that
Plankton might be hypersensitive
to certain types of touch,
and Karen was determined to
navigate this new aspect of their
relationship with care. She placed
a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton
flinched, his antennae retreating.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice
as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen."
Her hand hovered over his, unsure
of the best way to provide comfort.

Karen took a deep breath,
deciding to try again. This time,
she approached with care, her touch
feather-light, gliding over his hand
like the softest of sea breezes.

Plankton's antennae twitched, and
his gaze remained on her hand,
watching the movement as if it were
the most fascinating thing he had
ever seen. Gradually, the tension in
his body eased, and his hand
lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative
touch, his fingers brushing against
hers, testing the waters.

Karen felt a rush of
relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured,
keeping her voice low and even.
Plankton's hand was cold, his grip
firm but not painful. His eye
locked onto hers, searching for
reassurance.

Slowly, she began to stroke his
hand with her thumb, applying
the slightest pressure. His breathing
evened out, his antennae rising slightly.
Encouraged, she tried a different
type of touch—a gentle squeeze.
This time, he didn't flinch. Instead,
his hand returned the gesture,
his own grip matching hers in strength.

Karen felt a flicker of hope.
"Maybe we can find a way
through this," she thought.

They sat in silence for
a few moments, their hands
entwined, as Karen tried to
think of the next step. The
doctor's words echoed in her
mind: find what works for him.

Gently, she began to rub
his hand, her thumb moving in
small, soothing circles. Plankton
seemed to find comfort in the
predictable pattern, his body
unwinding a fraction more.
Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer,
her other hand reaching out
to tap his shoulder. But as soon
as her hand made contact with
his skin, he jerked away, his
eye flashing with fear and
pain.

"I'm sorry," she said
quickly, her heart racing.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
Plankton stared at her, his
expression unreadable. "It's just,
sometimes touch feels..." His words
trailed off, and Karen felt her
own fear rising.

"Painful?" she guessed, her voice
trembling. Plankton nodded,
his antennae drooping. "Some
touches are okay, others..."
He paused, his eye darting
to his hand, which was still
wrapped around hers. "It's confusing."

Karen nodded, her heart
aching for him. She
knew she had to be more mindful
of his sensory needs. Carefully,
she pats his cheek with
the back of her hand, the lightest
of touches.

Plankton's antennae
flinched, but he didn't pull
away until she put both of
her hands on his shoulders. The
sudden pressure was too much,
like an electric shock. "Karen,"
he said, his voice tight with
discomfort, "too much."

Karen nodded, her
hands retreating to her lap.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice
small. "I didn't mean to..."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye searching hers. "It's okay,
Karen," he said, his voice measured.
"But some touches are too much."

Karen nodded, her heart
heavy. She had so much to learn
about this new Plankton, this
person she knew so well yet
barely knew at all. "I'll be
more careful," she promised,
squeezing his hand gently.

Plankton's gaze remained
steady on hers, his expression
neutral. "Thank you, Karen,"
he said, giving her a side hug.

This was a Plankton she had
never seen before, one who
spoke in a staccato rhythm,
his movements precise and
calculated. Yet, in the safety
of their home, Karen saw
glimpses of the man she knew.

Her eyes fell upon a
pamphlet the doctor had
given her, titled 'Understanding
Neurodivergence'. She picked
it up and began to read.

The first few pages were
dedicated to explaining
what it meant to be neurodivergent,
how it wasn't an illness
but a natural variation in the
brain. Plankton's new
condition, Acquired Autism, was one of
the many spectrums that
fell under this umbrella.

Karen read through
the descriptions of different
behaviors, her eyes widening
as she recognized some
of the changes in Plankton—
his need for order, his heightened
sensitivity to stimuli, and his
newfound obsessions. The
pamphlet explained that these were
common in individuals with
his condition and offered
optional suggestions for 
supporting them.

Her gaze fell upon a section titled
'Seizure Protocols'.

Karen's eyes widened as she
read about the different types
of seizures that could occur
due to neurodivergence.
Some were minor, like staring
spells, while others could be
more severe. Her heart raced
as she thought of Plankton,
his body stiffening and shaking.
The pamphlet recommended to
keep any sharp or harmful
objects away from him. It was
important not to restrain him,
but instead, to gently guide him
to the floor if necessary.

The next section discussed
how to communicate with someone
on the spectrum. It suggested
using clear, direct language,
avoiding sarcasm and idioms.
Karen realized that she would
have to learn a new way
of speaking with Plankton.

Her screen skimmed over
the pages, absorbing the
information like a sponge.
The pamphlet highlighted the
importance of individuality
and diversity, emphasizing
that Plankton's brain was not
broken, but simply wired differently.
This was a concept she had
heard of before, but it had
never hit so close to home.

The causes of neurodisability
varied widely, from genetics
to congenital to trauma.
One paragraph caught her
attention—brain injuries
could lead to conditions like
Acquired Autism. The words
swirled in her mind, a stark
reminder of the wrench that
had changed everything.

As Karen read on, she
learned about the complex
interplay of biological factors
and life experiences that can shape
a person's neurodivergence.
It was both overwhelming and
fascinating, a glimpse into a world
she had never truly understood.

new just a touch neurodivergentcore iii

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY iii


(Autistic author)



Karen picked him up, and carried
his limp form to his bed. She
stood there for a moment, watching
his chest rise and fall. The
snores grew quieter as sleep
consumed him.

The weight of what had just
happened settled on her shoulders.

Karen lay him down gently. She
tucked him in, his antennae 
resting against the pillow.

The room was quiet except for
his soft snores, a stark contrast
to the chaos that had filled it
moments before. Karen sat by his
side, her hand on his arm.

After a few moments, she
stood up and walked to the door,
closing it gently behind her. She
found Hanna in the living room,
her eyes red-rimmed and worried.

"Hanna, I need to talk to you,"
Karen said, her voice firm but not
accusing. Hanna looked up, her
expression hopeful for guidance.

Karen sat beside her, her eyes
on her own hands, which were
fidgeting in her lap. "Plankton's
been through a lot," she began, her
voice measured. "He's different now."

Hanna nodded, her eyes wide
with unspoken questions.

"Still coming to terms with it but you're
just fine. It's a rarity, yet he'll be fine."

"I guess I'll head out. I never meant 
to cause Plankton distress."

Karen nodded, her eyes still on her
fidgeting hands. "Thank you for
understanding. I'm pretty sure he
knows you didn't mean to, but I
can still tell him when he wakes up."

Hanna left, and Karen went back
to the bedroom.
Plankton was still asleep, his
breathing steady and peaceful.

Karen sat by the bed.

Plankton's snores were the 
only sound in the room, a 
gentle reminder of the peace 
that sleep brought him from 
his tumultuous world of 
heightened senses.

Karen took a deep breath, 
her thoughts racing. This was 
their new normal, a dance 
of understanding and patience 
they would have to learn.

When Plankton next woke up,
his eye searched the room, 
his antennae twitching slightly.
He looked over to find Karen
sitting in a chair beside the bed,
her gaze on him.

"Hi," she said, her voice gentle.
He sat up slowly, the fabric
of the bed rustling beneath
his weight.

"How are you feeling?" Karen's
concern was palpable, her eyes
scanning his face for any signs
of distress. Plankton took a
deep breath, trying to organize
his thoughts. Karen's presence
was a balm to his soul, her
understanding a lifeline in the
storm of sensory input.

"Where's Hanna?"

Karen sighed, her gaze never leaving
his face. "She left, sweetie. You were
a bit...overwhelmed."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
twitching with the memory of the
sensory assault.

"It's okay," Karen assured him, her
voice a soft whisper. "She just
didn't understand, and felt bad
for the way she treated you."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
still. The room was quiet, a stark
contrast to the chaos from before.
He took a moment to collect himself,
his thoughts racing.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice
barely a whisper. Karen reached out
and took his hand, her grip firm
but gentle. "You have nothing to
apologize for," she said, her tone
soothing. "This is all new to us.
Would you like to eat?"

Plankton nodded.

"I'll get you something quiet and simple," Karen
said, standing up. She knew that too
much stimulation could send him spiraling.

In the kitchen, she prepared a
snack of plain crackers. She
placed the plate on the table
carefully, not wanting to startle
his heightened senses again.

Plankton entered the room, his
movements deliberate and slow.
He sat down across from her, his
eye darting around the room.

"It's ok," Karen reassured him,
handing him the plate of crackers.
"Just food."

"Just food. It's ok; just food." He
repeats back to himself, focusing
on the plate. Each cracker was a
tiny square of safety, a familiar
comfort in a sea of sensory
uncertainty.

He took a deep breath and
selected one. The taste was
comforting, a reminder of
a simpler time. Karen watched
him, her screen filled with love.

Plankton took a sip of water,
his eye never leaving hers. "It's
ok just food," he said again, his 
voice still low. "Karen good and
good food. It's ok."

Karen nodded, her smile a mix
of relief and sadness. She knew
his echolalic tendencies was
the autism, but she's glad he
likes the food as well.

They sat in silence, the only
sound the crunch of crackers
and the occasional sip of water.

Plankton's eye focused on the
cracker in his hand, the patterns
on the surface a comfort. His
autistic brain craved the predictability,
the sameness that calmed his
nerves.

This was the man she knew, yet
he was different. The Plankton who
was always plotting and scheming
was now one who found
comfort in the mundane.

His mind felt clearer
now, the overwhelming chaos of
the earlier encounter with Hanna
beginning to fade.

Karen watched him, her heart
breaking for the silent struggle
she knew he faced every moment.
"I'll talk to Hanna," she said
gently. "I'll explain. What do you
want me to tell her? What'd you
like for her to know?"

Plankton's gaze remained on the
cracker, his thumb tracing the
edge. "Tell her sorry," he
mumbled.

"What else? I mean, is it ok if
I tell her you're autistic now?
Or what about the accident
that lead to the autism?"

Plankton's antennae twitched at
the word 'accident', his mind
reeling with memories of the
stove, the fight with Mr. Krabs,
the pain. But he nodded slowly.
"Ok," he murmured.

Karen's heart ached at the
simplicity of his response. The
complexity of his thoughts was
now a tightly guarded secret, hidden
behind a wall of sensory overload.

"Okay, I will," Karen said, her voice
soft. "But remember, it's ok to be
different." 

Plankton nodded, his eye still on
his food. But as he took another
cracker, he paused. He looked up,
his gaze locking with hers.

"Karen," he said, his voice a
little stronger now. "I, I l-love you."

Karen's eyes widened at the sudden
declaration. "Oh, Plankton," she
whispered, her voice thick with
emotion. "I love you too." 
Plankton nodded, his gaze never leaving 
hers. "Karen making everything okay," he 
murmured.

He took another cracker, his
hands shaking slightly. "You make 
Plankton feel safe," he continues 
with sincerity. "In a world that's too
much, Karen not too much."

Karen's eyes filled with tears
at his heartfelt words. She reached
across the table and took his
hand. "Plankton, I'm here for
you. Always."

Plankton's antennae stopped
twitching. He looked into her screen,
his own filled with a depth of
emotion that hadn't seen
before. "You good, Karen," he said,
his voice steady. "Helping
Plankton."

Plankton was finding his way to
express himself, to connect with
her in a way that was meaningful.
She squeezed his hand.
"I'll always help you," she promised.

"Karen," Plankton began, his
voice tentative. He took a deep
breath, trying to find the words.
"I love you, Karen," he said finally, his
eye intense with feeling. 

Karen swelled with love
and pride. Despite his struggles,
Plankton was learning to express
his emotions in a way that made
sense to him. It was a victory,
small but significant.

"Thank you, Plankton," she said,
squeezing his hand. "Your love makes
me happy." His antennae twitched
slightly, a sign of his awkwardness
with the emotional exchange.

The room was quiet, the only
noise the soft sound of their
breathing and the occasional
crunch of a cracker. Plankton's
eye searched hers, looking for
reassurance.

"Plankton need...space," he 
managed, his voice
shaky. "Too...much emotional
interaction. Still love."

Karen nodded, understanding
dawning. "Okay, sweetie," she said,
releasing his hand. "I'll be right
here. Take all the time you need."

new autism in the plankton family plaren karen plankton iii

CHIP AND FAIL iii
(Autistic author)

"Ok Dad," he said.
"Let's go to your workshop."
Maybe there, he would
be able to come back to himself. But
Plankton's not budging, despite Chip's
efforts to get him up. "Come on,"
he said, his voice gentle, trying to
mask his own fear. "Let's go."
But he sees it's not gonna work.

He hadn't realized that his
excited touches and loud
laughter were only making
things worse. Plankton's condition
meant that even the smallest
disruption could send him spiraling,
and here Chip was, bombarding him
with sensations.

With a tremble in his voice,
Chip tried one more time to
reach his father. "Dad, can you
just come with me?" He asked,
his voice small and hopeful. "We'll
talk in the workshop." But Plankton
still didn't move, his eye
fixed on some unseen horizon.

Chip stood up, wiping the
tears from his screen, trying
to listen for his dad's breathing.

Chip doesn't like this.

Chip's face crumpled, 
realizing that his dad isn't okay.

This was chilling.

The more Chip talked, the
more he touched, the deeper
Plankton's mind spun into a vortex
of overstimulation. 

"Dad, you're not talking," Chip
whispered, his voice cracking with
concern. He had never seen his
father like this, so silent and
still. He didn't know that the
affectionate gestures and loud
stories were only adding to
Plankton's distress.

"Dad, please," Chip said, his voice
small.

This wasn't right.

This is wrong.

Something is very wrong
with his dad.

Chip's eyes
filled with tears,
his mind racing
with fear and confusion.
Something's wrong with
his dad.

"Dad, you're not okay," Chip said,
his voice filled with a new
urgency. But now, he
knew it was something more, something
he didn't know how to fix. But he
needs to try. "Can you tell me
about your week too?"

Absolutely no sign of life
from him. This is bad.
He's getting worse...

Chip didn't know that Plankton's lack of
response was due to his autism, that
his sensory system was in overdrive.
All he knew was that he needed to
help, to do something.

With a tremble in his hands, Chip
gently touched Plankton's shoulder.
"Dad, can you hear me?" He asked, his voice
soft and soothing, hoping to cut through
the storm in his father's mind. But Plankton's
expression remained unchanged, his eye
unfocused. Chip felt like he was
shouting into a void, his words
disappearing without a trace.

The room was spinning, the air
thinning with each shallow breath
Plankton took. Chip's mind raced
with scenarios, trying to piece
together what could've caused
this sudden change. "Is there
something wrong?" He asked, his voice
quavering. "Did something happen?"
But Plankton was lost, the cacophony of Chip's
excitement echoing through his
overstimulated brain like a never-
ending nightmare.

Chip's touches grew gentler, his
laughter fading into a soft
concern. "I don't get it," he said,
his voice thick with confusion. "I
just wanted to tell you about my
week." Plankton felt the pressure but
his mind was a maelstrom of sensation.

"Dad," Chip said, his voice barely
above a whisper, "I don't know what's
going on." He nudged him, and he
remained still and unblinking as the
prod toppled him onto his side, with
no reaction.

The room felt colder, the air
heavier with each passing second.
He had never seen his father so
unresponsive, so utterly lost to the
world around him. "Dad," he tried
again, his voice trembling. "You're
scaring me."

Plankton's eye remained fixed.
The gentle touches from Chip were
now a maelstrom of sensation, each
one a wave crashing against the
shore of his overwhelmed mind.

Chip's smile faded as he watched
his father. "Dad,
you're not okay," he murmured, his
voice laced with concern. He didn't
know about Plankton's condition,
how his brain processed stimuli
differently, how easily it could
be overwhelmed. All he knew was
that his dad, the man he looked
up to, was trapped in a silent
prison of his own making.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II iii

THE LIFE OF UNITY iii
(Autistic author)

Kevin's laughter reaches a crescendo as 
he takes a step closer to Plankton. 
"What don't I know?" he asks, his voice 
sharper than ever. "That PLANKTON 
JUST. DON'T. WUV. THEM. JELLYFISH. 
YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY..."

But his words are cut off by the 
sight of Plankton, his antennae 
drooping, his eye brimming with 
tears. The tiny creature's body 
trembles as Kevin's to 
loud words settle upon him, and 
suddenly, all the pent-up frustration and pain 
come rushing out in a torrent as 
a single tear forms and slides down his face. 
Plankton's antennae quiver uncontrollably, and 
he squeaks out a sob, his tiny 
body convulsing with the weight of Kevin's cruel words.

SpongeBob is shocked.

Kevin's words hang in the water, his 
laughter fading into an awkward silence 
as he watches Plankton's reaction. The sea 
cucumber's eyes widen as he 
takes in the sight of Plankton's tears, his 
own expression morphing from smug 
to surprise, then to something akin to fear.

"Plankton?"

Plankton's antennae quiver as he sniffs, 
trying to compose himself, his 
monotone voice thick with emotion. "Plankton... 
brainless," he murmurs, his 
one eye filled with unshed tears. "Plankton," he 
adds, his voice cracking, 
"Plankton... not like jellyfish."

Sponge Bob's heart squeezes tight 
in his chest. "Hey, Plankton," he says 
softly, "it's ok. Kevin didn't mean it."

But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone 
voice echoing Kevin's hurtful 
words. "Kevin... right," he murmurs, his eye 
glistening with tears. "Plankton... 
brainless. Like jellyfish."

Kevin's expression morphs from 
smugness to shock, his eyes wide as he 
realizes the impact of his words. "It's just... 
you know, a joke."

But Plankton's antennae quiver, his 
monotone voice trembling. "Joke?" he 
murmurs. "Plankton... a joke. Plankton... 
brainless."

Kevin's grin falters, his eyes widening in 
horror as he sees the pain etched 
on Plankton's tiny face. "No," he stammers, 
his voice cracking. "It was just a... I 
didn't mean it like that."

But Plankton's antennae continue to 
quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo 
of Kevin's cruel words. "Plankton... no 
purpose in life," he murmurs, his one 
eye filled with a sadness so profound it 
seems to suck the color out of the 
surrounding waters.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock. 
"Plankton," he says gently, "you 
have friends. You have a purpose."

But Plankton's antennae droop even 
lower, his monotone voice a sad 
echo of his own self-doubt. "Plankton mindless.."

Kevin's smugness evaporates, replaced 
with a flicker of concern as he 
watches the usually unflappable Plankton 
crumple under the weight of 
his words. "Look, Plankton," he says, reaching 
out to touch him.

But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering 
with pain.

"Plankton," Kevin says, his voice a mix of 
surprise and regret, "I didn't mean 
it like that. I was just messing around."

But Plankton's antennae continue to 
quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo 
of Kevin's insults. "Mindless," he murmurs, 
his one eye fixed. "Brainless."

Sponge Bob's eyes wide with shock and 
sadness. "Plankton," he whispers, his 
voice filled with a tenderness Plankton 
rarely hears from anyone. "You're 
not brainless."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
doubt, his monotone voice echoing 
Kevin's words. "Plankton... mindless," 
he murmurs, his one eye unable to 
meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Like jellyfish."

SpongeBob knew that Plankton's obsession 
with jellyfish is more than just a 
hobby; it's a deep connection, a part of 
who he is after the traumatic brain injury. 
And now, Kevin's careless words have struck 
a nerve, leaving him feeling 
exposed and vulnerable.

"Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice gentle, 
"you're not like that. You're 
smart. You're... you're you."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad 
echo of Kevin's words. "Mindless," he 
murmurs, his one eye still avoiding 
contact. "Plankton... like jellyfish."

SpongeBob understood 
that the brain 
trauma has 
affected him, making him 
more vulnerable to words that question 
his intelligence and identity due to his autism.

"Plankton," he says, his voice filled with 
concern, "you know that's not true. 
You're not like jellyfish in that way."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, 
his monotone voice a sad echo 
of Kevin's mockery. "Mindless," he 
murmurs. "Mindless, brainless."

Sponge Bob's heart aches for his friend, 
reaching out to offer 
comfort. "Plankton, you're not like that," 
he says, his voice gentle 
and assuring. "You're brilliant. You 
know more about jellyfish than anyone."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
insecurity, his monotone voice a sad 
echo of Kevin's laughter. "Mindless," 
he murmurs, eye downcast. 
"Plankton... brainless."

Sponge Bob tries to find the right words 
to say. "Plankton," he says gently, 
"you're not like that. You're so much 
more than what Kevin said."

But Plankton's antennae quiver, his 
monotone voice a sad echo of the 
cruel words. "Mindless," he murmurs, 
his one eye avoiding Sponge Bob's 
gaze. "Plankton... no purpose."

Kevin's eyes dart from Plankton to 
Sponge Bob, his grin faltering. "What's going 
on?" he asks, his voice tight with confusion. 
"You guys are acting weird."

Sponge Bob's embrace tighten around 
Plankton's tiny body, his voice firm 
but kind. "Kevin," he says, his gaze fixed 
on Plankton, "you don't know what 
happened to Plankton."

Kevin's laughter fades into a puzzled look. 
"What do you mean?" Kevin's 
smirk fades, his eyes narrowing with 
confusion. "What are you guys talking 
about?" he asks, his voice tight.

Sponge Bob hesitates, glancing at 
Plankton, who nods almost imperceptibly. 
"Kevin," he says, his voice serious, "Plankton 
had a bad accident. He hit his 
head, and now he's... different."

Kevin's tentacles freeze in mid-air, his 
smugness evaporating. "What do you 
mean, 'different'?" he asks, his voice tentative.

Sponge Bob sighs. "Plankton's had a 
brain injury," he says, his eyes never 
leaving Plankton's quivering antennae. 
"He's... autistic now."

Kevin's eyes widen, his tentacles dropping 
to his sides. "What? No way," he 
stammers, his smugness gone. "You're... 
you're joking, right?"

But Sponge Bob's expression is serious, 
gently stroking 
Plankton's antennae. "It's true, Kevin," he 
says, his voice gentle. "Plankton's 
had a tough time, and he's different now."

"Plankton, joke."

Kevin's confusion turns to shock as he 
looks from Sponge Bob to Plankton, 
his tentacles dropping to his sides. "But... 
but why didn't you say anything?" 
he asks, his voice trembling.

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix 
of sadness and determination. "We 
didn't think it was anyone's business,"
he says tightening around Plankton's 
shaking antennae. "But now you know
Kevin. And we need you to be cool 
about it."

new the life of unity bullycore iii

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD iii

He took another sip of water,
his cheeks puffing out as he
swished it around his mouth.
"Mmph, tath's betta," he said,
handing the cup back to the nurse.

Karen couldn't help but chuckle
at his antics. "Okay, let's get
you up," she said, her voice
still filled with laughter. Plankton
nodded, his antennae bobbing.

He swung his legs over the side
of the bed, his movements slow
and clumsy. Karen slipped her arm
under his and helped him stand. His
balance was wobbly, like a newborn
foal taking its first steps. She had to
stifle her giggles as he tried to
navigate the unseen world with his
numbed mouth.

"Mmph... Kahen," he began,
his voice a series of muffled sounds.
"How long wi’ this lafs?"

Karen chuckled at his question.
"It'll wear off in a few hours.
But until then, you're going to
have to be careful."

Plankton's antennae wiggled
with determination. "Mmph, I'm
a bih boy," he slurred.

Karen couldn't help but laugh
at his bravado. "Yes, you are,"
she said, her voice warm and
supportive. "Let's get you to
the car."

With Plankton leaning heavily
on her, they shuffled down the
hallway."

"Mmph... Kahen," Plankton slurred,
his words still thick with the
remnants of the anesthesia. "You know,
I've alwaths wanthed to know...
how youw wove me wath."

Karen raised an eyebrow, her
smile growing.

"What do you mean, Plankton?"
she asked, her curiosity
piqued by his sudden
sentimental turn.

"Mmph, wike, how... how youw...
feww in wove?" he managed,
his tongue thick and clumsy.

Karen's smile grew tender at
his earnest question. "Well, it's
complicated," she began, her voice
soft. "But I guess it started
when we met. Now, let's get in
the car."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving with understanding.
"Mmph, okay."

Karen helped him shuffle
his way out of the hospital,
his feet dragging slightly.
He was still groggy from the
anesthesia, but his curiosity
was in overdrive.

"Mmph, Kahen," Plankton
slurred, his voice barely above
a whisper. "Wha's wove wike?"
Karen glanced down at him,
his expression earnest. "It's like
when two people really, really
like each other," she replied,
her voice gentle.

"Wike... I wove youw tho 
mush." He says.

Karen couldn't help but laugh 
again. "Plankton, you're not
making any sense," she said,
her voice filled with affectionate
exasperation. His antennae
drooped slightly, his eye looking
disappointed.

"Mmph... I'm tawwy," he mumbled,
his mouth still a mess of numbness.
"It's just... I wove youw Kahen."
Karen's heart skipped a beat,
his words a sweet jumble of slurs.
"I know, Plankton," she said,
her voice thick with emotion.

They reached the car, and Karen
gently guided him into the passenger seat.

"Mmph, Kahen, wath's that?"
Plankton asked
pointing to the dashboard.

Karen chuckled. "It's the 
car's dashboard, Plankton.
You're just seeing things differently because
of the medicine." She buckled his seatbelt,
his movements exaggerated.

"Mmph, oh," he murmured, his
interest shifting to the
windshield wipers. "Mow, theath 
things, they'we like... like... arms,"
he said, his speech still a
slurry mess. Karen laughed,
shaking her head.

"They're wipers, Plankton. For
the rain," she corrected, starting
the engine.

He nodded, his antennae still
waving with fascination. "Mmph, wath's
theath wound?" he asked, pointing
at the steering wheel.

Karen couldn't help but laugh.
"That's the steering wheel,
buddy. It's what I use to drive
the car," she said, her voice
still filled with humor. Plankton
stared at it for a moment, his
expression thoughtful.

"Mmph, and theath wound?"
he asked, his finger tracing
the path of the windshield
wipers.

Karen couldn't help but
laugh. "It's to keep the
windshield clear, so we can see
while driving."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
twitching with curiosity.
"Mmph, so many tings in this
big wowld."

Karen couldn't help but laugh,
his innocent wonder bringing
a smile to her face. "Yes,
Plankton, there are so many things
to discover," she said, backing out of
the parking spot.

"Mmph, and wath's wath?"
Plankton asked, pointing out the
window at a passing scallop.
"That's a scallop, Plankton. It flies
in the sky," she explained, her voice
still filled with amusement.

He nodded, his antennae bobbing
as he took it all in. "Wow, so-o
beautiful," he slurred, his eye
gazing out the window like a child
seeing the world for the first time.

Karen couldn't help but be
captivated by his innocent
wonder. "You know, Plankton,
sometimes you say the sweetest things
without even realizing it."

His antennae perked up. "Mmph, do I?"
he asked, his speech still a
garbled mess. Karen nodded,
her smile tender. "You do."

"Mmph, gweat," he says with a
slow nod of his head.

Karen steers the car onto the
road, the sun casting a warm
glow over Plankton's sleepy face.
His antennae wilt slightly as
his eye struggles to stay open.

"Mmph, Kahen, theath sun is so
bright," he complains, his voice
still slurred from the anesthesia.
Karen chuckles, reaching over
to adjust the visor. "Better?"

He nods, his antennae drooping.
"Mmph, yeth. Thanf you." He
said, as drool began to form
again in the corner of his
mouth. Karen reached over
with a tissue, carefully
dabbing it away. Plankton
flinched slightly, his mouth
still too numb to feel the
touch.

"Mmph, I wathn't expehcting
this," he mumbles, his gaze
fixed on the passing scenery.
The world outside the car
was a blur of colors and shapes,
his mind still trying to
make sense of it all. Karen
navigated the road, her eyes
flipping between the road
and Plankton's amusing expressions.

"Mmph, Kahen, wath's thaf?"
he asks, his eye half-closed.

Karen looks over at the
traffic light, its red light a stark
contrast to the bright sun. "It's
a stoplight, Plankton. It tells
me when to stop and go."

Plankton nods, his antennae
barely moving. "Mmph, wike a
twail." His eye closes, and Karen
can feel his weight shift slightly
toward her as sleep begins
to claim him again.

"Mmph, Kahen?" Plankton's voice
interrupts the quiet hum of the
engine, his words a soft whisper.
"Ith wike I'm swimmin' in
molasses," he says, his mouth
still not cooperating.

Karen laughs, keeping one
eye on the road and the other
on his peaceful face. "You're
just tired from the surgery,"
she assures him. "You'll be
fine once you get some rest."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye opening slightly. "But,
Kahen, I don't wan' to sleep,"
he slurred. "I wan' to expehrience
this wowld with you." His words
were earnest, his gaze
firm despite his grogginess.
She watched him fight
the tide of sleep, his eyelid
drooping again.

"Mmph, wath's theath wowndow?"
he asked, pointing at the car's side mirror.

Karen couldn't help but chuckle
at his confusion. "It's a mirror,
sweetheart," she said, her voice
soothing. "So we can see what's behind us."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
barely moving. "Mmph, wike a... wike
a... wookie," he mumbled, his speech
still a garbled mess. Karen laughed,
shaking her head. "It's okay, Plankton.
You're just tired."

His eyes grew heavier, his
lid drooping. "Mmph, I am,"
he admitted, his voice a faint
whisper. The car's gentle rocking
and the hum of the engine began to
lull him into a doze.

Karen watched him, his
snores growing louder as he
succumbed to sleep. His hand
still held hers, the connection
warm and comforting. She felt
his grip loosen slightly, his
body relaxing into the seat.

His breathing grew deep
and even, his antennae
quietly bobbing with each
exhalation. Karen couldn't help
but feel a swell of affection
for this vulnerable side of
Plankton she'd never seen before.

The car ride home was
quiet, punctuated only by
Plankton's gentle snores
and the rhythmic swish of the
windshield wipers. Karen
smiled to herself, her grip on
his hand never loosening.

new the tooth of a child wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore iii

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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

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

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

NEW REALITY i
(Autistic author)

"You never listen to 
me, Karen," Plankton 
groused. "It's a new
analyzer I just built!
It'll reveal the contents
of a patty when I put
one in!"

Karen, ever the skeptical
wife, rolled her eyes. "You
mean IF you put one in.."

Plankton ignored 
her sarcasm, but
with a deafening 
pop, the analyzer
exploded, sending 
shards of metal
flying in all directions. 
One of these
sharp pieces slammed 
into Plankton's
head, causing him 
to stumble back.
Karen rushed to his
side, pushing aside her 
initial irritation.

Plankton's eye rolled back
and closed as he 
crumpled to the 
floor.

"Plankton! Plankton!"
Karen's voice grew
frantic as she cradled
his tiny, limp body. The
analyzer's explosion had
caused more damage
than she could have
ever imagined, the
injury had rewired his
currently unconscious
brain irreversibly: autism.

Karen carries him to
their bedroom, tucking
him in his bed. "Plankton,"
she whispers, brushing
his antennae, "Please wake up."
But Plankton remains still. Karen
sits by the bedside, her eyes
never leaving his face. "I'll
always be here," she murmurs,
squeezing his hand. The quiet
hum of their tiny underwater
apartment is broken only by the
rhythmic pulse of his breathing.

Karen starts to think. If only
she had taken his inventions
more seriously, maybe this
accident could have been
avoided? She looks at the
clock. It's midnight now.

The hours tick by, each one
lonelier than the last. Karen's
thoughts are a tangled web of
regrets and fears. What if
Plankton never wakes up? Karen can't
help but feel like a prisoner
to her own guilt. She wonders
what their life would be like now.
Would Plankton be different?
Would he still be the same
eccentric genius, or would the
injury change him completely?
Will he remember her?

The sun's first light filters through
their bedroom window, casting
a warm glow on Plankton's
face. Karen's eyes snap open,
having dozed off from
exhaustion. She sees him stir,
his eyelid fluttering. He groans,
his eye opening slowly. Karen's
heart races. He's alive! "K-Karen," 
he stammers, confused as to
how he ended up in their room.

The initial relief is quickly
replaced with a knot in her
stomach. His speech is stilted,
his movements jerky. He
tries to sit up, but the effort
seems to overwhelm him. Karen
reaches out to help, but he flinches
at her touch. She notices his eye
scanning the room with an
intensity she's never seen
before, as if he's trying to make
sense of everything around him.
"Plankton, it's okay," she says
soothingly, trying not to let her
anxiety seep into her voice.

He turns to her, his gaze
unfocused. "Karen?" he repeats,
this time with more urgency. "What...
what happened?"

Her heart squeezes tight. "You had
an accident with the new
analyzer," she explains gently,
keeping her voice calm. "It...
it exploded and hit you.."

Plankton looks around,
his eye darting from object 
to object.

"It's okay," Karen says,
desperately trying to hold 
back the tears. "You're 
just a bit dizzy."

But Plankton doesn't seem
to be listening. He's too
busy inspecting his surroundings,
his eye darting around the
room in a way that makes Karen
feel like she's missing something.

"Plankton, do you understand
me?" Karen asks, her voice
trembling slightly. He nods,
but there's a distant look in his
eye that makes her stomach drop.
The way he's acting, it's like he's
seeing their bedroom for the
first time, like every detail is
both fascinating and overwhelming.

Plankton tries to get out of bed,
but his legs wobble like jelly.
Karen jumps up to support him,
her arms wrapping around his
thin frame. "Let's go slow," she
suggests, guiding him back to
the pillows. He simply nods.

"Do you remember me?" Karen asks,
desperation tinging her voice.
His eye focus on her for a moment,
then drift away again. "Yes," he
says, but it's more of a question
than an affirmation. "Karen, wife,"
he adds, his voice flat and devoid
of the usual warmth and sarcasm.

The words hang in the air
like a lead weight, heavy with
implications. Karen swallows
the lump in her throat. "You're okay,"
she insists, as Plankton nods, looking
around their bedroom when his gaze
lands on the ceiling fan. His eye lights up,
focusing intently on it.

"Fan," he murmurs, as if discovering
the concept for the first time. "Spinning.
Round and round."

Karen's heart sinks. "Plankton," she
begins, her voice cracking, "You're acting
different." She doesn't know how to
explain what she's seeing, but she's
scared of what it might mean. His eye
doesn't quite meet hers, and his speech is
so... mechanical.

"Different?" he echoes, his voice a
monotone. "No, the same Plankton."
But the way he says it, like he's trying
to convince himself, sends a chill down
Karen's spine. She tries to shake off
the fear, telling herself he's just groggy
from the hit. But deep down, she knows
it's more than that.

new new reality Karen x Plankton i

NEW REALITY ii
(Autistic author)

He points to the fan again, his
finger trembling slightly. "Fan. Spin."
The words come out in a staccato
rhythm, each syllable a separate entity.
"It's okay," she tells him, her voice
shaky.

Karen tries to distract him, pointing
to various items around the room.
"Look, Plankton, that's our picture
from our wedding day." She shows
him the small, framed photograph
on the nightstand. His eye flits to it
for a second, then back to the fan.
"Picture. 31 July 1999," he says, but
his voice lacks emotion, as if he's
simply reciting words from a dictionary.

"Do you remember the day?"
she asks, her voice hopeful. He nods,
his gaze still glued to the spinning
blades. "Wedding. Married to Karen.
Happy day." The words come out like
a rehearsed script, and the joy that
should have filled his voice is painfully 
absent.

Karen's heart aches. This isn't the
Plankton she knows, the one who
would tease her mercilessly or
whisper sweet nothings when no one
was around. This is a stranger,
trapped in a body that's only
familiar because of the memories
it holds. She decides to keep talking,
hoping that something will spark a
memory, a connection.

"Plankton," she says, her voice
gentle but firm, "I noticed you're
interested in the fan.."

"Fan," he repeats, nodding
his head slightly, his gaze
unwavering. "Spinning. Fast."

Karen tries to hide her
concern. "Do you like it?"
she asks, her voice a careful
balance of casual and hopeful.

"Like?" Plankton echoes, his
eye still transfixed by the fan.
He seems to think for a moment,
then nods. "Yes. Like. Spinning."

Karen tries to smile, but it
feels forced. "Okay," she says,
swiping at a tear that escapes.
"Let's talk about something else."

Plankton's gaze finally breaks
from the fan and lands on her,
his expression unreadable. 
"Else," he repeats, as if trying
to grasp the concept of something
other than the fan. Karen's mind races,
desperately searching for a topic
that might draw him out of his
fugue.

"Remember SpongeBob?" she asks,
thinking of their shared friend
and his successful rival. Plankton's
face twitches, a glimmer of something
resembling recognition flickering
across his features. "SpongeBob,"
he murmurs, his eye focusing on
a spot just over her shoulder.

"Yes," Karen encourages, feeling
a flicker of hope. "You two are
always trying to outdo each other."
But Plankton doesn't react. Instead,
his hands start to wave slightly,
a rhythmic movement that seems
to soothe him. Karen's heart sinks.

"What are you doing?" she asks,
trying to keep the worry from
creeping into her tone.

Plankton's antennae twitch as
he continues to move his hands.

"It's okay," Karen says, her voice
soft and comforting. "You're just
a bit out of it. You'll be okay."

But Plankton doesn't respond.
His hands keep moving in the same
pattern, his eye on the wall. Karen's
stomach churns. This isn't just
dizziness. This is something else.

Panic starts to set in as
Karen realizes she might not
have her husband back. "Plankton,"
she says, her voice trembling. "Look 
at me."

Slowly, his eye shifts from
the wall to her face, and for a
moment, she sees a flicker of the
man she loves. "Karen," he says,
his voice a bit more present, but
his movements still erratic. She
can't ignore the fear that's
building in her chest.

"What happened to you?" she
whispers, her voice thick with
unshed tears.

Plankton's hand stops
mid-wave. "What Karen meant?"
he asks, his tone devoid of any
understanding.

Karen's throat tightens. "It's
just... you're acting a little
different, that's all," she says,
desperately trying to keep her
voice calm.

Plankton's movements become
more erratic, his hands flapping
in an unnerving rhythm. "Different?"
he repeats, his eye darting
around the room. "No, Plankton."

Karen tries to calm him down,
her heart racing as she searches
for a way to explain without
upsetting him. "I just meant,
you're not quite yourself today."

Plankton's movements slow, his
hands stilling in his lap. "Self?"
he questions, his voice a mix
of confusion and curiosity.
"Plankton self, Karen."

Karen nods, trying to keep
the conversation flowing. "Yes,
yourself. You know, your personality,
your... your quirks." She tries to
laugh, but it comes out forced.

Plankton's eye narrows, his
expression unreadable. "Quirks?"
he repeats. "Plankton has quirks.."

Karen nods, her smile strained.
"Everyone does, honey. It's what
makes us who we are."

Plankton seems to ponder
this, his hand resuming its
wave-like motion.

"Plankton, self," he murmurs,
his gaze returning to the fan.
"Spin. Fast. Like."

Karen watches him, her heart
heavy with unshed tears. She doesn't
know what to make of his behavior.
Could he really be okay? Maybe
this is just a phase, a side effect
of the explosion. She clings to the
thought like a lifeline, not ready to
face any alternative.

"Let's get you some water," she says,
forcing a smile. Plankton nods, his
eye still on the fan. As she moves
to the kitchen, she tries to convince
herself that he'll be fine, that this
is just a temporary setback. But the
way he's acting, so detached and
disconnected, it's not like him at all.

The kitchen is a blur as she
fills a glass with water, her mind racing
with questions. What do they do now?
How do they get through this? She
carries the water back to the
bedroom, her hand shaking slightly.
Plankton hasn't moved, still staring
at the fan. She sets the glass on
the nightstand, his eye never
leaving the spinning blades.

"Here you go," she says, offering
the water with a trembling smile.
He takes it, his movements precise
but mechanical, and brings it to his
mouth. As he drinks, Karen watches
his every move, looking for any
sign of the man she loves beneath
the surface of this new, strange
behavior. "Thanks," he says, his voice
devoid of its usual sass. He sets
the glass down, his gaze returning
to the fan. Karen tries focusing
instead on the way the light
dances off the beads of water
on his antennae.

new new reality Karen (SpongeBob) ii

NEW REALITY iv
(Autistic author)

"Plankton," she starts, her voice
shaking, "the explosion changed
your brain. It's called Autism." 
His eye widens slightly
as he takes in the words, his hand
still moving in its repetitive pattern.

He repeats the word, "Autism?"
his tone curious. Karen nods,
wiping her screen. "It's like... your brain
now sees and feels things differently.
It's okay," she adds quickly, trying
to reassure him. "It's just different."

Plankton seems to consider this,
his hand finally still. "Different," 
he whispers.

Karen nods, trying to smile through
her tears. "But we'll get through
this together," she says, her voice
shaking. "We're a team."

Plankton's gaze lingers on her face
for a moment before returning to the
fan. "Team," he echoes, his hand
stilling briefly before resuming
its wave-like motion. Karen
swallows hard, trying to keep her
composure. She needs to find a way
to connect with him, to bridge
the gap that seems to be growing
wider by the second. She brings
his hand to her cheek. "Do you feel that?"
she asks, her voice a soft whisper.

He nods, his hand feeling cold
against her skin. "Feel," he says,
his tone flat. "Karen warm."

Encouraged, Karen tries a gentle
squeeze of his hand. His gaze
doesn't waver from the fan,
but his grip tightens slightly. "Squeeze,"
he murmurs, his voice a monotone.

Her heart racing, Karen decides to
experiment with different types of
affectionate touches. She strokes
his antennae lightly, watching
his reaction. His eye flutters
closed for a moment, then opens
again. "Tickle," he says, his voice a
little more animated.

Encouraged, she gently traces
his back with her fingers. "Yes
good." He says.

Karen's eyes fill with tears
as she feels a glimmer of hope.
"I'm going to try some more
things, okay?"
Plankton nods, his gaze
still on the fan. "More," he 
agrees.

Karen takes a deep breath
and starts with a soft
caress of his cheek, the way
she used to do before they
went to sleep. His eye
flickers slightly, his hand
continuing its motion.
"Okay," he says, his voice
almost a whisper.

Next, she tries a gentle
kiss on his forehead. "Karen,
nice," he murmurs, his antennae
twitching.

Encouraged, she decides to
move to a different type of
pressure.

"How's this feel; good 
or bad?" Karen
asks, placing her 
hand firmly
on his shoulder when
he suddenly flinches
and pulls away.

"No," Plankton says,
his voice sharp. "To hard."

Karen's hand recoils, her
heart racing. She tries to
keep her voice steady.
"I'm sorry, Plankton. Let's try
something else."
Plankton nods, his gaze
unfocused. "Yes, Karen. Try."

Gently, she starts to rub
his back in small, soothing
circles. "How about this?"
she asks, her voice tentative.
Plankton's body relaxes slightly.
"Good," he murmurs.

Encouraged, she tries
a gentle pat on his knee.
"This?"
"Stop," he says.

Karen's hand
freezes mid-air, her heart
racing. "I'm sorry, did I do that
wrong?"

Plankton's gaze remains fixed
on the fan. "Wrong," he confirms,
his voice a monotone.

Karen's face falls, her heart
sinking. She's treading on
thin ice, not knowing what
will trigger his next reaction.
She takes a deep breath, trying
to think of a safe approach.

"How about a hug?" she asks,
slowly opening her arms. Plankton
nods, his gaze still on the fan.
He leans into her embrace, his
body stiff at first, but gradually
softening. "Karen," he murmurs,
his voice a little less flat. Karen
holds him tightly, her heart pounding.
Maybe this is the way to reach
him, through physical affection
that doesn't overstimulate.
She squeezes tighter. "Enough!"
Plankton pulls away, his eye
wide with anxiety. Karen's heart
drops. She'd pushed too hard, too
soon. "I'm sorry," she whispers,
backing off immediately.

She tries again, placing a
hand lightly on his arm. "How
does this feel?" His eye flicks
to her hand, then back to the fan.
"Okay," he says, his voice still
mechanical. Karen keeps her hand
there, willing him to look at her,
to respond more naturally. But
his gaze remains fixed on the
spinning blades.

Despite her fear of pushing too
far, she gently takes his hand
in hers. "Does this feel okay?"
she asks. Plankton nods, his
movements becoming less erratic.
"Yes," he murmurs, his hand
still in the same wave pattern.

Karen decides to keep trying,
moving her thumb in small circles
on the back of his palm. Plankton's
breath hitches, and she sees his pupil
dilate slightly. "This?" she asks.
He nods, a faint smile tugging
at the corner of his lips.

Encouraged, she switches to
interlocking her fingers with
his, feeling the coldness of
his grip. "And this?"
"Good," he says, his voice
a bit softer.

Karen tries a gentle squeeze,
his hand stilling under hers.
"Does this feel okay?"
Plankton nods, his smile
widening a fraction.

Her heart racing with hope,
she presses her cheek to his.
"How about this?" she whispers.
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his body momentarily still.
"Not now," he says, his voice
a bit more present.

Karen nods, her eyes stinging
with tears. "Okay," she says,
trying not to let her voice
crack. She'll keep trying.

Her hand moves to his shoulder,
squeezing gently. "What about this?"
Plankton's body tenses, his
eye flicking to her hand, then
back to the fan. "No," he says,
his voice a firm rejection.

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving
his. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
"I just want to help."

Plankton's hand resumes its
wave-like motion. "Help," he repeats.
"Karen help."

Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving his. "I will," she promises,
determined to find a way to
connect with him. She decides to
try a different approach, one that
might bypass his sensory overload.

"Plankton," she says softly, "Can you tell
me what you're thinking about?"

He nods, his hand still moving. "Fan. Spin. Like."

Karen's chest tightens, but she nods.
"Okay, Plankton. Let's talk about the fan."

He nods eagerly, his hand
stopping for a brief moment.
"Fan," he says, his voice clearer.
"Spin fast. Like."

Karen takes a deep
breath. "What do you like
about the fan spinning?"
she asks, hoping to engage him
in a conversation that doesn't
trigger his anxiety.

Plankton's hand starts moving
again, mimicking the fan's
rotation. "Spin," he says, his
voice still monotone. "Fast. Calm."

Karen's eyes widen as she
understands. "It calms you?"
she asks, her voice tentative.
He nods, his gaze finally
leaving the fan to meet hers.

"Yes," he says, a hint of emotion
seeping into his voice. "Calm."

Karen's mind races. If the
fan's spinning is calming him,
maybe there's something here to
build on. "Can you tell me
more about the calm?"

Plankton nods, his hand
mimicking the fan's movement.
"Inside, quiet," he murmurs,
his voice a bit softer.

Karen's eyes fill with
relief. "It's like white noise,
isn't it?" she suggests,
desperate to build a bridge
between their worlds.

Plankton's hand slows, his
eye focusing on hers. "It's
like white noise isn't it.."

Karen nods, hope blossoming
in her chest. "Exactly,
sweetie. It's like it helps
you focus, like it blocks out
the chaos."

Plankton's hand stops moving,
his antennae drooping slightly.
"Chaos," he whispers, his eye
flicking around the room.

Karen nods, her heart aching.
"Yes, sometimes the world can
be too much, can't it?"

Plankton nods, his gaze
still unfocused. "Too 
much," he agrees.
"Spinning fan, less chaos."

Karen's eyes well up with tears
as she realizes the gravity of
the situation. "I'm sorry,"
she says, her voice trembling.
"I never meant for this to happen."

Plankton nods, his gaze still
unfocused. "Not Karen's fault,"
he says, his voice a robotic
reassurance. "Invention go boom."

Karen's eyes fill with
gratitude, clinging to the
knowledge that he understands.
"I know, but I can't help
feeling responsible," she says,
wiping at her cheeks.

Plankton nods, his hand
starting to wave again. "Fan spin.
Calm. Like Karen."

Karen's heart skips a beat
at the mention of her name.
Maybe, just maybe, he's still in
there somewhere. "You know,
sweetie," she says, her voice
quivering with hope, "sometimes
people have different ways
of seeing things. Like you and
the fan. That's your special way
of finding peace."

Plankton nods, his gaze
finally leaving the fan to focus
on her. "Special," he repeats.
"Plankton special."

Karen smiles through her
tears. "Yes, you are," she says,
squeezing his hand gently. "And we'll
figure this out together."

Plankton nods, his hand still
moving. "Together," he echoes.

new new reality Karen / Sheldon J. Plankton iv

NEW REALITY v
(Autistic author)

Karen watches him for a
moment before speaking again.
"Plankton, can you tell me what's
going on in your head?"
He looks at her, his eye blinking
slowly. "In head?" he repeats.

Plankton's hand starts to move
faster, his thoughts racing.
"Spin, spin, spin," he murmurs
to himself. "Must spin."

Karen watches him, her heart
wrenching at the sight. He's lost
in his own world, one she can't
enter without causing distress.
"Plankton," she says softly, "can you
tell me more about the spinning?"

He nods, his hand moving in
harmony with his thoughts. "Spin, spin,
spin," he murmurs to himself, his
voice low and rhythmic. "Fan spin,
make world still."
"What do you mean, Plankton?"
she asks gently.

He looks at her, his expression
flickering with something akin
to understanding. "Inside,
spin fast, quiet," he explains,
his hand still moving in the air.
"Spin, calm. Like Karen."

Karen's eyes widen, her
heart racing. "Your brain
spins fast, like the fan?"
she asks, trying to follow.

Plankton nods, his gaze
flicking to the spinning
blades. "Inside, fast," he says,
his voice a faint whisper.

"What's fast inside, sweetie?"
Karen asks, her voice
gentle.

Plankton nods, his hand
still moving. "Thoughts," he says.
"Thoughts spin fast. Like fan."

Karen's mind races as she tries to
keep up with his erratic speech. "So,
the fan helps slow down the spinning?"
she asks, hoping to clarify.

Plankton nods, his hand moving
in time with his words. "Fan slow,
thoughts slow."

Karen's heart swells with love
and sadness as she watches him.
"It's okay," she whispers,
wiping away a tear. "We'll find
ways to make things easier
for you."

Plankton nods, his gaze
still on the fan. "Easy," he
agrees. "With Karen."

Karen's eyes fill with love
as she squeezes his hand. "Always,"
she promises. "But what about when
I'm not here?"

Plankton's hand starts to
shake, his gaze darting around
the room. "Karen go?" he asks,
his voice panicked.

Karen's eyes widen, her heart
pounding. "No, Plankton, I'm
right here," she assures him,
squeezing his hand tightly. "I'm not
going anywhere."

But Plankton's gaze remains
unfocused, his breathing quickening.
"Karen go?" he repeats, his voice
rising in pitch.

Karen's heart races as she feels
his panic growing. "I'm here," she
says, her voice soothing. "I'm not leaving.
The fan is spinning, remember?"

But Plankton's eye is wide,
his hand moving frantically in the
air. "Karen go," he whispers, his
body trembling.

Karen's heart squeezes in her chest.
"No, I'm not leaving," she says,
trying to keep her voice calm.

But Plankton's body
starts to shake,
his movements 
becoming more
erratic.

"Plankton, no," Karen says,
her voice filled with fear.
"Stay with me."

But his hand jerks away,
his body convulsing.

Karen's eyes go wide with fear as
she sees him spasm uncontrollably.
"Oh no," she whispers, her heart racing.
This isn't just a panic attack;
it's a seizure. She's read about this,
how some people with autism
can have them.

Her first instinct is to hold him,
to protect him from the chaos of
his own brain, but she knows that's
not what he needs. She needs to keep
his environment calm, to let the
seizure pass without interference.

"Plankton, it's okay," she says,
her voice steady despite the
terror clawing at her insides.
"Just keep watching the fan."

But his body convulses
more violently.
Karen's read about this,
how some with autism can
have seizures triggered by stress.

Her mind races as she
quickly clears the space around
his fragile form, ensuring nothing
can hurt him. She dims the lights,
hoping the reduced stimulation
will help.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispers,
stroking his back in slow, soothing
motion, her voice low and calm.

Plankton's body jerks
less, his breathing evening out
slightly as he focuses on her voice.

Karen watches him, her
heart in her throat, until
his convulsions cease.

Plankton's body relaxes,
his eye closing as his
breathing slows.

Karen watches him, her own
breath held, until she's sure
the seizure has passed.
Her hand shakes as she
runs it over his antennae,
checking for any injury.

Plankton's eye opens,
his gaze unfocused. "Karen,"
he whispers, his voice
weak.

Karen's heart skips a beat
as she squeezes his hand.
"I'm here," she says, her voice
steady. "You had a seizure,
but it's over now."

Plankton nods, his gaze
still not quite meeting hers.
"Tired," he murmurs.

Karen's heart aches. "I know,
sweetie," she says, her voice
filled with concern. "Let's get
you into bed, okay?"

Plankton nods, his body
still trembling slightly.
He allows her to help him up,
his legs wobbly like jelly.

Karen's eyes never leave
his face, her heart in her
throat as she helps him
to the bed, tucking him in.

As she pulls the covers
up to his chin, Plankton's
body starts to twitch,
his head jerking to the
side. Karen's breath catches;
these are new tics, she realizes.
"It's okay," she whispers.

He looks at her. 
"Tired," he repeats.

Karen nods, her own
exhaustion setting in. "I know,
let's get you some rest,"
she says, her voice gentle.

As she sits beside him,
Plankton's head tilts 
slightly. She's read
about tics with 
autism, but
this is the first 
time she's seen
them in him.

Subtle movements,
quick jerks to the side,
like his brain
is trying to shake
off a pesky thought.
Karen's heart 
squeezes with each
tiny spasm, 
wishing she could
soothe his mind.

"Plankton," she says softly.
His head nods down.

Karen's eyes follow the
rhythmic motion, her heart
racing. She's read about these
tics, the involuntary spasms
that can accompany his new
diagnosis. "It's okay," she whispers,
trying to keep her voice calm.
"You're safe here."

But Plankton's eye
closes now, his breathing
deep and even. The tremors
have subsided, and his
hands rest quietly on the
covers. She watches him, her
own breathing slowing to match
his, until she's sure he's
asleep.

Karen sits back, her own
body weary from the rollercoaster
of emotions. The silence
in the room is deafening,
the only sound the steady
hum of the fan.

Her mind races with questions,
with fears about what the future
holds for Plankton, for them.
How can she help him navigate
this new world, where the simplest
interactions are fraught with
potential chaos?

Karen sits in the quiet room,
the only sound the fan's
soothing whirr. She watches
Plankton's chest rise and fall
with each breath.
Her heart swells with love and
determination.

"I'll do whatever it takes,"
she murmurs.

Her eyes never leave
his peaceful face, the gentle
rise and fall of his chest.
Karen knows that the fan
has become a lifeline for him,
but she also knows that she
can't let it become his only
comfort.

With a deep sigh, she stands
up and walks over to the fan,
slowly turning it off. The
silence is stark, but Plankton
doesn't stir. She watches
his face for any sign of
distress, ready to react if
needed.

Karen knows she has to
find a balance, to help
Plankton find other ways
to cope with the world's
overwhelming stimuli. The
fan can't be his only solace.

The room falls silent,
the absence of the fan's
spin a stark reminder of
the challenge ahead.
Her heart in her throat, she
sits back down beside him.

"Karen?" he whispers,
his eye fluttering open.

Her heart jumps. "I'm here,"
she says, her voice gentle.
Plankton nods.

They sit in the quiet,
his gaze drifting around
the room. Karen's mind
whirs with thoughts.

new new reality Sheldon J. Plankton/Karen v

NEW REALITY vi
(Autistic author)

"Plankton," she starts,
her voice tentative.
"Can we try something?"
He nods, his eye
still searching.

Karen reaches over
to the bedside drawer,
pulling out a small,
soft blanket.
"This is called a weighted
blanket," she explains,
unfolding it gently.
"It's like a hug from me
without the pressure."

Plankton's gaze
flickers with curiosity.
He nods slowly, allowing
her to place it over
his body, his eye
closed as he feels the
comforting weight.
"It's good,"
he murmurs, his voice
a mix of wonder and
fatigue.

Karen's heart lifts,
a tiny victory in the
face of the unknown.
"It's like a hug,"
she says, smoothing
the blanket over him.
"It helps some people
feel safe and calm."

Plankton nods, his
body relaxing into
the embrace of the
weighted fabric.

Karen's eyes fill with
relief as she watches
his tension melt away.
"Does it feel better?"
she asks, her voice
gentle.

Plankton nods, his
eye still closed. "Calm,"
he whispers.

Encouraged, Karen pulls
the blanket tighter, mimicking
a gentle squeeze. "Good?"
she asks, her voice a soft
query.

Plankton nods, a smile
ghosting over his lips. "Good,"
he agrees, his voice a faint
whisper.

Karen's heart skips a beat.
"I'm here," she says, her voice
a soothing melody. "I'll always
be here to help you find
your calm."

Plankton nods, his eye
still shut. "Calm," he whispers,
his body sinking deeper into
the blanket's embrace.

Karen's eyes fill with tears
as she watches him. She's
found a way to connect, a way
to bring him comfort in a
world that's become too much
for him. The weight of
the blanket seems to anchor him,
still the storm in his mind.

"I'll get us through this,"
she whispers, her voice filled
with resolve. "We're a team."

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly, a sign of his
agreement. "Team," he murmurs,
his breathing evening out
beneath the blanket.

Karen's eyes shine with
hope. "Yes, we're a team,"
she repeats, leaning down
to kiss his forehead.
"Now, try to get some sleep."

Plankton nods, his hand
reaching up to trace the
edge of the blanket. "Sleep,"
he murmurs.

Karen watches him for a
moment longer, then stands
slowly, not wanting to disturb
his fragile peace. She
moves to the door, her hand
on the knob. "I'll be right
outside if you need me,"
she says softly.

Plankton nods, his hand
still tracing the blanket.
"Karen," he whispers.

Her heart squeezes. "I know,"
she says, her voice a gentle
caress. "I'll be right here."

With one last look at him,
she steps into the hallway,
closing the door behind her.

The house feels eerie in
its quiet, the weight of
the silence pressing down.
Her thoughts race, her mind
a whirlwind of fears and
uncertainty. How do you
navigate a world that's
suddenly become so
overwhelming for someone
you love?

Karen leans against
the closed door, her eyes
brimming with tears. She
can't bear to leave him
alone, but he needs rest.
With a heavy sigh, she
forces herself to step away,
determined to give him
the space he needs to adjust.

new new reality Sheldon J. Plankton & Karen vi

NEW REALITY vii
(Autistic author)

She sleeps at her bed
next to his. The house is quiet,
except for the soft snores
coming from Plankton.

But both of their 
eyes snap open
at the sound of 
the doorbell.

Plankton's body tenses,
his hand shooting up to 
cover his head. Karen
moves quickly, her heart 
racing. She knows that 
sudden sounds can be
overwhelming for him.
"It's okay," she murmurs,
placing her hand over 
his. "Door," he says, his voice
still groggy from sleep.

Her eyes dart to the 
clock. It's early, much 
earlier than anyone would 
usually visit. "I'll go 
see who it is," she says, 
trying to keep her voice 
steady. "You stay here."

Plankton nods, his hand
dropping from his head
to clutch at the blanket.
"Stay," he whispers, his
voice tight with anxiety.

Karen's eyes fill with
concern. "I'll be right
back," she promises, her
voice soft. "Just stay here."

Plankton nods, his grip
on the blanket tightening.
"Stay," he repeats, his voice
less than a whisper.

Karen nods, her heart racing.
"I will," she whispers. "Just rest."

As she opens the door, she's
met with the cheerful face of
Hanna, her book club friend.
"Hey Karen, I hope I'm not too early!"
Hanna says, a word book in hand.

Karen's eyes widen, her heart
racing. "No, not at all," she says,
forcing a smile. "Come in."

Hanna steps into the house,
her eyes bright with excitement.
But as she sees Karen's 
expression, her smile falters.
"Is everything okay?" she asks,
concern etched on her face.

Karen nods, as Plankton
comes into the room, his gaze
fixed on the spinning fan.
"This is Plankton,"
Karen introduces, her voice
calm.

Hanna smiles. "Hi Plankton,"
she says, her voice too bright.

He nods, his gaze still
locked on the fan. "Fan spin,"
he murmurs.

Hanna's eyes widen, unsure
how to respond. Karen
quickly interjects. "Why
don't we take a look at the
work puzzle book.."

Plankton's gaze shifts, his
interest piqued by the
mention of books.

"Puzzles," he repeats,
his voice a bit clearer.

Hanna's smile relaxes,
seeing his interest. "Yes,
puzzles," she says, holding
up the book. "They're like
fun little brain teasers."

Plankton nods, his hand
reaching out to touch the
book. Karen watches, her
heart racing. Will this
be another trigger?

But Plankton's gaze locks onto
the puzzle book, his eye
lighting up with curiosity.

Karen's heart skips a beat.
This could be good for him,
a way to focus his
whirling thoughts.

Hanna opens the book,
showing him a simple word search.
"See if you can find
the hidden words, Plankton,"
she says, her voice gentle.

His gaze scans the page,
his hand moving in time
with his eye. "Words," he murmurs,
his voice filled with excitement.

Hanna nods, her smile growing.
"That's right," she says, her
tone encouraging. "See if
you can find them all."

Plankton nods, his eye
quickly moving over the
page. Karen watches,
her heart swelling with hope.
This might be it, she thinks,
a new way to connect.

Hanna points to a word,
her voice soothing. "What's this?"

Plankton's hand moves over
the letters, tracing them.
"F-A-N," he reads, his
tone monotone. "Fan," he says,
his gaze flicking up to the
whirring object above.

Hanna laughs, misunderstanding.
"No, Plankton, not fan," she says,
pointing to the puzzle. "Find
the words that are hidden."

But Plankton's gaze remains on
the spinning blades. "Fan," he repeats,
his voice taking on a firm tone.

Hanna's smile falters, not
comprehending his 
meaning. "No, Plankton,"
she says, her voice still cheerful.
"Look at the puzzle."

But Plankton's gaze
doesn't waver from the fan.
"Fan," he says, his tone
firm, almost defensive.

Hanna's smile falters,
her cheerfulness waning.
"Plankton," she says gently,
"it's a puzzle, not about
the fan."

But Plankton's gaze remains
fixed on the fan, his
body tensing. "Fan," he repeats,
his voice firm, almost
defensive.

Hanna's smile falters,
uncertain of his meaning.
"It's just a puzzle, Plankton,"
she says gently, her voice
filled with misunderstanding.

But Plankton's tone sharpens.
"Fan," he insists, his voice
raised, his body tense.
"Fan spin, make quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen with
surprise, her smile slipping
away. "It's not about the
fan, Plankton," she says,
her voice still kind but
concerned. "It's about..."

But Plankton's voice cuts
through the air, his tone
sharp. "Fan spin," he says,
his hand moving in
erratic patterns. "Fan make
quiet. Fan important."

Hanna's eyes widen,
taking a step back. "I didn't
mean..." she starts, but
Plankton's agitation is
growing.

"Fan important," he repeats,
his voice echoing in the quiet
room. Karen's heart races as
she tries to defuse the
situation.

"Hanna, it's okay," she says,
her voice calm but firm.
"The fan is special to Plankton.
It helps him feel calm."

But Hanna's confusion
only grows. "It's just a fan,
right?" she asks, her voice
pitching with uncertainty.

Plankton's voice rises, his
hands flailing. "No!" he yells.
"Fan special! Make quiet!
Must spin!"

Hanna's eyes widen with shock,
her cheerful demeanor evaporating.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know,"
she stammers, taking a step back.

Plankton's voice echoes,
his frustration palpable.
"Fan special!" he yells,
his hands slashing the air.

Hanna's smile has disappeared,
replaced by a look of fear.
"I'm sorry," she whispers,
backing away slowly.

Karen's eyes are wide
with worry. She steps
between Hanna and Plankton,
trying to shield her friend
from his distress. "It's okay,
Hanna," she says, her voice
calm but firm. "Let's just
give him some space."

Hanna nods, her eyes
filled with apology.
"I didn't mean to upset him,"
she murmurs, setting the
puzzle book down on the
coffee table.

Karen nods, her gaze
on Plankton. "It's okay,"
she says softly. "He's just
overwhelmed."

Plankton's hands flap like
wings against his sides.
This is stimming, she knows,
his way of coping with
the sensory onslaught.

He rocks back and forth,
his gaze still on the fan.
Karen's heart aches as she
watches him, his body a
whirlwind of energy.

"Fan spin," he murmurs,
his hands fluttering like
butterfly wings. "Spin, spin."

Karen's eyes follow
his erratic movements,
her heart racing.

"Plankton," she says, her voice
calm and soothing. "Look at me."
He doesn't react, his gaze
still glued to the fan.

Karen approaches him,
moving slowly to avoid startling
his heightened senses. "Plankton,"
she repeats, her tone steady.

He doesn't react, his eye
still on the fan, his body
a flurry of movement.
Her heart racing, Karen tries again.
"The fan spins," she says, mimicking
his rhythmic speech.

Plankton's gaze flicks to her,
his body still. For a moment,
his movements cease.
"Spin," he whispers, his eye
searching hers.

Karen nods, understanding
his need for the fan's rhythmic
whirl. "It's okay," she says,
her voice a gentle melody.
"The fan will spin."

Plankton's gaze shifts
from the fan to the digital clock
on the mantle. His eye widens
as he sees the seconds tick by,
restarting each minute.
The numbers, stark and
precise, seem to call to him,
a silent symphony of order
in a world gone haywire.

Hanna looks confused, for
Plankton's gaze shifts to the
digital clock, the seconds
ticking away in a silent
symphony. His hands stop
their erratic movements, his
body stilling as he watches
the precise dance of the
numbers.

Karen sees his fascination,
the way his eye tracks
each second as it passes.
"It's okay," she says softly.
"The clock will keep going."

But Plankton's gaze doesn't
shift. His body is still,
his mind lost in the rhythm
of the ticking digits.

Karen watches, her heart
racing. She's read about
how some with autism
find comfort in patterns,
how the predictability
of something as simple
as a digital clock
can be a lifeline in a
world that's otherwise
so chaotic.

Hanna, however, 
doesn't understand.
Her eyes go to Plankton, her
confusion growing.

"Plankton," she says, her voice
still too bright, "it's just a clock."

His eye snaps to her, his
body rigid with tension. "Clock
important," he murmurs, his voice
a mix of anger and fear. "Numbers
change."

Hanna's smile fades, her eyes
widening with confusion. "It's
just a clock, Plankton," she says,
trying to placate him. But her
words only serve to stir his
distress further.

Plankton's eye darts from the
clock to Hanna, his breath
coming in quick bursts. "No,"
he whispers, his voice tight.
"Clock important. Numbers change."

Hanna's smile is gone, her
expression one of confusion.
"It's just a way to tell time,"
she says, her voice shaking.
But Plankton's agitation is
building, a storm gathering
behind his eye.

"No," he whispers, his hand
trembling as it points to
the clock. "Numbers change,
make brain quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen, her
understanding still elusive.
"But Plankton," she starts,
"it's just a way to keep track
of time."

But Plankton's gaze is
intense, his voice urgent.
"No, no, no," he says, shaking
his head. "Numbers change,
make brain quiet."

Hanna's voice rises, her
confusion thick. "But it's
just a clock, Plankton,"
she repeats, her words
falling on deaf antennae.

Plankton's body is tight
as a spring, his gaze
locked on the digital
dance. "No," he whispers,
his voice strained. "Numbers
make quiet, chronologically."

Hanna's eyes dart between
Plankton and Karen, her
confusion thick. 

new new reality hannacore vii

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TRUTH AND NAIL iii

 Karen felt his weight
shifting, his body swaying
towards sleep again.
“Stay with me, Plankton,”
she murmured, her voice
a gentle prod to keep
his consciousness afloat.

He blinked, his eye
trying to focus on her face.
“Wha...?” he mumbled,
his words trailing off
like a forgotten melody.

Karen's tightened.
“You’re okay, Plankton,”
she whispered, her voice
a gentle caress in the
stillness of the room.
“You’re just tired from
the surgery, that’s all.”

But even as she
spoke, Plankton’s head
lolled to the side,
his mouth open slightly,
drooling. Karen reached over
and wiped it away, her
fingers coming back wet.

"It's normal
for them to nod off
like this," the nurse assured
Karen with a kind smile. “Let’s 
walk to your car..”

But as they shuffled
along, Plankton’s knees
buckled, and he slumped
against Karen, his mouth
falling open in a deep snore.
Her arms tightened around
his waist, her strength
supporting his sudden
weakness.

"Wha...?" Plankton mumbled,
his eye fluttering open,
his mind trying to catch up
with his surroundings.
"You okay?" Karen asked.

His head bobbed slightly,
nodding in sleepy agreement.
But as they shuffled closer
to the exit, his knees
buckled again, and he
was out cold.

Karen's grip tightened,
keeping him from collapsing.
The nurse chuckled softly,
"It's okay, Mrs. Plankton.
This happens a lot after
the anesthesia. Wake
up, Mr. Plankton.."

But Plankton's snores
only grew louder, his head
lolling onto Karen's shoulder.
Her laugh was a gentle
sigh as she looked at
his peaceful face, marred
only by the occasional
dribble of saliva.

"Come on, love," Karen
whispered, her voice a soft
nudge. "Let's get you to the car."
With the nurse's help, they
managed to make him 
stir in his sleep.

Plankton's eye cracked
open, his gaze unfocused
and glazed. "Karen?"
he murmured, his voice a
slurred whisper.

Her eyes searched his,
the love in them a beacon
in the starkness of the
hospital corridor. "You're okay,
sweetie," she said, her voice
a gentle reminder.

But Plankton's response
was a snore, his head
lolling forward again.
Karen's grip tightened,
his weight leaning heavily
on her. "Wake up, Plankton,"
she whispered, her voice a
caress in the air.

The nurse chuckled.
"It's just the anesthesia,"
she assured Karen. "Let's
get him to the car."
Plankton's eye
snapped open, his mind
fighting to wake up.

But each step was a
battle against the fog.
Karen's arms wrapped
around him, her grip
firm and loving. His legs
threatened to give out,
his knees like jelly,
but she held him upright.

"Come on, darling,"
she cooed, her voice a
beacon through the
haze. "Almost there."

They made it to the
car, Plankton's snores
filling the quiet
of the parking lot.
The nurse opened the
back door, and Karen
managed to get him
sitting upright, his head
lolling to one side.

"Wha...?" he mumbled,
his eye opening a crack.
"We're going home," Karen
soothed, her voice a soft
song. She fastened the
seatbelt around him,
his limbs heavy and
uncooperative.

As she drove, Plankton
fought to keep his eye
open, his head drooping
forward before jerking
back up with a snort.

"You okay back there?"
Karen called over her
shoulder, her eyes on the
road.

A faint snore was
his only reply, his
head lolling against
the headrest. She chuckled,
a mix of concern and
affection, her screen
flitting to the rearview
mirror. His mouth was
still open, a string of
drool connecting his
bottom lip to his chin.

Karen reached back,
carefully wiping it away
with a tissue. Plankton's
face twitched in his
sleep, but he remained
oblivious to her touch.
The car's gentle hum
lulled him further, his
snores punctuating
the silence of the drive.

new truth and nail sleepycore iii

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iii
(Autistic author)

The sound of the door opening
interrupted. Sandy
barged in. "Hey,
Karen!" she called out.
"Hi, Sandy; come in.." Karen says.

Sandy looked over at Plankton
sitting at the
kitchen table, his plate empty,
his gaze fixed on the spot where
his food had been. "Hey, Plankton!"
she exclaimed, as he got up to go
sit on the living room floor with a
science book. She followed him.

"What's up, buddy?" she asked,
her voice cheerful. But Plankton
ignored her, his focus solely on the
pages in front of him. Karen watched
their interaction with a mix of
concern and curiosity.

"Plankton, you ok?" Sandy's
voice grew softer, her eyes
narrowing as she studied her friend.
"You seem... different."

Karen tensed, waiting for his
response. Plankton didn't look
up from his book, his eye
scanning the pages.
"Plankton?" Sandy tried again, her
voice a mix of confusion and
concern.

But Plankton remained
oblivious, his new condition
rendering him unable to read social
cues. "Why?" he asked, his tone
matter-of-fact, as if inquiring
about the weather.

Sandy's smile faltered. "Well,
you're just sitting there, not
saying anything," she said, trying
to keep the frustration from her
voice.

Plankton didn't look up from his
book. "Reading," he said, his voice
devoid of any inflection.

Sandy's confusion grew into
hurt. "Is everything ok?" she
asked, her voice tentative.

Plankton, still engrossed in
his book, didn't look up. "Ok,"
he murmured.

Sandy's known
Plankton for years, but his behavior
today was unlike anything she had
ever seen.

Karen prompts him. "Plankton,
say hello to Sandy."

He glances up from his book,
his gaze passing over her without
recognition. "Say, say hi Sandy," he 
says, his voice lacking any warmth.

Sandy's smile fades, her paws
clenching slightly with irritation.

"What's gotten into you, Plankton?"
she snaps, her voice sharper than
she had intended. "You're acting
like you don't even know me!"

Karen's circuits whir with
activity. "Sandy, it's okay," she
hesitates, not quite
sure how to explain
without revealing the truth.
"I'll go pick up some soda
pop drinks." She says, leaving
them both.

Sandy watches her leave, her
expression a mix of anger and
hurt. She turns to Plankton.

"What's your deal, Plankton?"
she asks, her voice tight.
"You've been acting weird
ever since I got here."

Plankton's eye snaps to hers,
his gaze unnervingly intense.
"Weird," he repeats, as if
processing the word for the first
time. "Different."

Sandy's anger bubbles to the
surface. "Yeah, you're different.
You're ignoring me!" she exclaims,
her paws on her hips. Plankton's
expression doesn't change. "Reading,"
he says simply.

Her frustration grows. "You're
always reading, Plankton," Sandy says,
her voice rising. "But you've never
ignored me like this before!"

Plankton's eye blinks, his focus
shifting to her. "Sorry," he says,
the word a mere echo of what
he used to express. It's clear
his social awareness has shifted.
He doesn't understand the subtleties
of her emotions anymore.

Sandy's hurt turns to anger. "You
don't just say sorry and go back
to ignoring me," she snaps. "What's
going on with you?"

But Plankton seems lost in his
own world, the words on the pages
of his book more real to him than
the friend standing before him.
Sandy's patience wears thin. "Why
aren't you listening to me?" she
demands.

"Listening," Plankton murmurs, his
gaze never leaving the book.
Sandy's eyes widen, her anger
building. "I'm right here!" she
says, her voice a mix of frustration
and sadness. "What is so important
that you can't even look at me?"

But Plankton's mind is elsewhere,
his thoughts racing through the
pages of his book. The words
swim before his eye,
each line a puzzle waiting to be
solved. He's oblivious to Sandy's
hurt, his world now filtered through
a new, more intense lens.

Sandy's voice pierces through
his concentration, her tone
sharp. "I said, why aren't you
listening to me?"

Plankton looks up, his eye
dilating slightly as he takes in
Sandy's stance. He tries to
interpret her body language.
"Plankton reading," he says, his voice
still flat, his gaze drifting
back to the book.

Sandy's eyes flash with anger.
"That's not what I asked, Plankton!"
she says, her voice rising. "What's
going on with you? Why are you
ignoring me?"

Plankton's gaze flicks back to
her, his expression still vacant.
"Reading," he repeats. The
word feels like a shield, a way to
explain the inexplicable.

Sandy's eyes narrow, her paws
snatching the book from his grasp.

Plankton's eye widens in surprise
at the sudden movement. He tries to
retrieve the book, body moving in jerky
motions. "Book," he says, his voice
still monotone.

Sandy holds it out of reach. "Look at
me Plankton!" 

Plankton's arms flail, his body
straining to retrieve the book.
"Book," he says, his voice
desperate, his mind overwhelmed.

Sandy, unable to understand feels her
own anger flare up. "What's your
problem?" she snaps, holding the
book higher. "You're acting like
a little kid!"

Plankton's eye locks onto the
book. "Mine," he whispers,
voice strained.

Sandy's seen him at his worst,
but this is something she can't
comprehend.

"I'm not a toy for you to ignore!"
she shouts. She hid the book on a
high shelf. 

Plankton's body tenses.
"Mine," he repeats, his
voice rising in desperation.

Sandy's eyes fill with tears of
frustration. "Why are you acting
like this?" 

He stands up, his body
shaking. "MINE," he shouts.

"What's gotten into you? Why
are you being like this?"

Plankton's eye darts around
the room, unable to hold
Sandy's gaze.

"Plankton, you're acting like a
complete jerk," Sandy says, her voice
shaking. "No wonder Karen is
always so tired with you."
"Karen," Plankton murmurs.
"Karen ok?" he asks, his voice
filled with genuine concern.

Sandy throws her arms in the air,
exasperated. "How can you be so 
selfish? Don't you know that
Karen is sick of you?" "Sick 
of me?" he echoes. "Yes, sick of you," she 
snaps. "Why don't you try acting
normal? Perhaps then
Karen would be happier! Or
better yet, leave her!"

The words hang in the air like a
toxic cloud, their sting hitting
Plankton's core. But his new
brain can't process the depth of
her anger. "Karen happy," he
whispers, his voice a broken
echo of his former self.

Sandy's eyes flash with rage.
"You don't know anything," she
spits out, her words like acid.
"You're just a selfish, self-centered
plankton who doesn't care about
how Karen feels!"

Plankton's concepts of "selfish" and
"sick of" are foreign to his new
way of thinking. He tries to
find the patterns in her words,
the logic in her accusations, but
it's like trying to solve an
impossible equation. "No," he
whispers, his voice trembling. "Karen
not sick of me?"

"You really don't get it,
do you?" she says, her voice
filled with a mix of anger and
sadness. "You're so caught up you
can't see what's right in front of
you! Karen doesn't deserve this!"

Plankton's eye narrows slightly,
his mind struggling to piece
together the puzzle of her
emotions. "Karen happy," he
repeats, his voice strained. 

Sandy's anger turns to
despair. "You don't even know
what you're saying," she says, her
voice heavy. "You're
so wrapped up in your own little
world that you can't see how much
Karen does for you, and how
much you hurt her."

As if on cue, Karen returns 
with coffee. "I'm back," she says, her
voice a gentle hum. She notices
the tension in the room and
Plankton's distress.

"Is everything ok?" she asks,
placing the drinks on the table.
Sandy glares at Plankton.
"No," she says, her voice
shaking. "Everything is not ok.
Plankton's been acting weird
all morning and, I told him how
you're always tired of him,
and he just doesn't get it."

Karen takes in the scene. She tries to
intervene gently. "Sandy, I think
there's something you should
know," she begins, but Sandy cuts
her off, turning to Plankton.

"See? Even Karen
thinks you're a burden!"

Plankton's world
shatters. Sandy's words hit him
like a tidal wave, her accusations
sinking into his new reality.
His teary gaze locks onto Karen,
desperation in his voice. "Burden?"
he croaks.

Karen's 
circuits racing as she tries to
smooth over the situation. "No,
Sandy," she says, her voice calm
but firm. "That's not what I said."

"Don't lie to me, Karen," Sandy
snaps, her eyes never leaving
Plankton. "I can see you've had enough
and if Plankton can't see that, then
perhaps it's best if he just leaves."

Karen's circuits race with
a mix of emotions - anger at
Sandy's accusations, sadness at
Plankton's distress, and fear of
what this means for their friendship.
"That's not true," she says, yet
Plankton's searching for any hint of
deception.

Sandy's eyes are steely, her
body language confrontational.
"Why don't you just leave her alone?"
she spits out, her voice thick with
frustration.

Plankton stands up, his sobs echoed
through the corridor as he runs back 
to the bedroom, shutting the door with
a thud.

"Sandy
that was uncalled for," she says,
trying to keep her voice steady.

Sandy's anger turns to surprise.
"What are you talking about?"
she says. "I'm
just telling the truth.."

Karen's expression is a mix of
sorrow and anger, her
voice tight. "You don't know what
he's going through."

Sandy's anger fades, replaced
by confusion. "What do you mean?"
she asks, her voice softer.

Karen takes a deep breath,
steeling herself for the
conversation she had been dreading.
"Plankton had an accident, hit
his head on the vault and got
knocked out."

Sandy's in shock.
"What? Is he ok?" she asks.

Karen sighs, her shoulders
slumping. "Plankton has
autism now," she says. "He can't
help the way he's acting."

The revelation hits Sandy like a
ton of bricks. The realization of
her own harshness crashes over
her. "Oh no," she murmurs, her
eyes filling with tears. "I had no
idea."

Her gaze drifts to the
closed bedroom door.
"What have I done?"
she whispers, her 
voice cracking.

new karen and the autistic journey readingcore iii

CHIP AND THE DILEMMA iii
(Autistic author)

| ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ |

Chip looks at Plankton, his
dad's face a mask of pain.
He's never seen him look so
vulnerable, and it makes
his own chest ache. "But
why can't you just be like
everyone else?" he asks, not
fully understanding.

Plankton's antennae droop
even further. "Chip, everyone
is different," he says, his voice
weak. "And that's what makes
us all..."

But Chip doesn't want his dad
to be like that..

He looks away. "Chip,"
Plankton says, his voice barely above
a whisper. "Look at me."

When Chip meets his
father's gaze, he sees the pain in
his eye, the desperation to
make his son understand.
But Chip is too caught up
in his own.

"You're not like other dads,"
Chip spits out, the words
sharp and cutting. "You're
weak." The hurt on Plankton's
face is palpable, but Chip's
mind is too clouded with fear
and confusion to care.

Plankton's antennae droop,
his shoulders slumping. "Chip,"
he starts, but his voice cracks.

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his voice harsh. "I don't
want a dad who's unfixable!"
He says, the word sticking in
his throat like a shard of
glass.

The room goes still, the air
crackling with tension. Plankton
recoils as if struck, his antennae
flattening against his head.

"Chip," Karen says, her voice
sharp with warning. "That's not
a nice thing to say."

But Chip's anger isn't
easy to douse. "You're not
my dad," he yells, the words
echoing off the walls. "My
dad is supposed to be strong,
and normal, not... like you, who
should’ve never existed in the 
first place."

The room goes silent, the
weight of Chip's words like a
tonne of bricks on Plankton's
chest. He looks at his son,
his heart shattering into a
thousand pieces. He's never felt
so misunderstood, so...
less.

Karen's screen is a mix of
disbelief and anger. She's
always known Chip to be a
good kid, but this... this is
not her son. "Chip, that's
enough," she says, her voice
shaking.

But Chip's rage has
overtaken him. "Why did
you have to marry him?" he
snaps at her, the tears
spilling over. "Why couldn't
we just get a normal dad?"

Karen's eyes widen in
shock, her hand rising to her
mouth. "Chip," she says, her
voice trembling. "You don't
mean that."

But Chip's anger doesn't
subside. "Yes, I do!" He yells,
his fists clenched at his
sides. "Why can't you be like
other moms and marry a real
dad?"

The room feels like it's
closing in on Plankton, his
heart pounding in his chest.
He's never felt so small, so
unworthy. The air is thick
with the scent of burnt
dinner forgotten in the
kitchen, and the taste of
his own failure is bitter in
his mouth.

He opens his mouth to
speak, but the words are
stuck in his throat. All he
can manage is a weak "Chip..."
his antennae trembling.

Karen stands, her face a
mixture of shock and anger.
"Chip, that's enough," she says,
her voice firm. "You need to
apologize to your father."

Chip turns, his
screen flashing with defiance.
"Oh, sorry," he says, his tone
dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't
realize that marrying a broken
person was a good idea. I
guess I'll just have to deal
with it. I’m sorry Sheldon Plankton was
born wrong. You know, I
might just make sure not to
have any kids who isn’t right in the
head, they don’t deserve to…"

"CHIP!" Karen's voice is a
whipcrack, cutting off his
words. She's never raised
her voice to him like this before,
and the shock of it sends
his anger reeling back.
The room seems to spin around
Plankton, his vision blurring.
He can't believe what he's
hearing—his own son, the
light of his life, speaking
such cruel words. He's failed
as a father, as a husband. He's
failed them all.

Chip's eyes widen,
seeing the devastation on
his dad's face. For the first
time, he truly understands the
power of his words, the
hurt they can cause. "I-I…"

But it’s too late. Plankton
stands, his legs wobbly. "I'll
be in my room," he mumbles,
turning away.

Chip sinks as he
watches his father leave, the
weight of his words pressing
down on him. He looks at his
mother, her screen a mask of
disappointment and hurt. "Mom..."

Karen's eyes are filled
with unshed tears. "You need
to go apologize to your dad,"
she says, her voice shaking.
"What you said was..."

But they hear a
crash from the 
next room.

Karen and Chip rush to
find Plankton in a frenzy.

The sight that greets them is one of
destruction. Chip's school projects,
carefully crafted over weeks, are
scattered across the floor. Plankton,
his eye wild with a mix of anger
and despair, is in the middle of the
wreckage. He's holding one of Chip's
favorite toys in his hand, ready to smash
it against the wall, tears streaming down.

"Dad, no!" Chip yells, his
fear and regret swirling into a
single, desperate plea. But Plankton
doesn't seem to hear him. He's lost
in a world of pain and confusion,
his movements erratic as he
continues to wreak havoc.

Karen rushes to Plankton's
side, her voice firm but gentle.
"Plankton, stop," she says, placing
a hand on his shoulder. But even
her touch is too much. He flinches,
his grip on the toy tightening.

"Leave me alone!" he roars, swinging
his arm wildly. The toy narrowly
misses a picture of the two of them,
shattering the glass frame instead.

"Dad, please," Chip begs, his
voice thick with tears. But Plankton
doesn't stop, his movements growing
more frenzied with each passing
second. It's like he's lost in a
storm of his own making, unable to
see or hear the world around
him.

Karen tries again, her voice
softer now. "Plankton, it's okay.
We're here for you."

He grabs another project,
Chip's solar system model, the
one he was so excited to
help with. It feels like a
mockery now, a symbol of all
the times he's failed to be
the dad he thought Chip
deserved. With a snarl, he
throws it across the room.
The planets scatter like a
handful of dust in the wind.

"Dad, please," Chip whispers,
his screen pleading. But Plankton
can't hear him over the
roar in his own mind. His
body moves of its own
accord, driven by a rage he
can't control.

He snatches up another
project, a robot Chip had
been working on for weeks.
He slams it to the floor,
his eyes glazed over. The robot's
parts fly everywhere, the
sounds of breaking plastic
like a symphony of pain in
the quiet room.

Chip watches in horror. He can't
believe what's happening.
This isn't his dad—his hero,
his rock. This is a stranger,
someone he doesn't know.

He tries to reach for
Plankton, to stop him, but
his mother holds him back.
"Let me," she whispers, her
voice firm but gentle. "He needs
space."

But Chip can't just stand
there and watch his world
fall apart. He has to do
something. "Dad, please,"
he begs, his voice shaking.

Plankton's movements are
sporadic, his breaths coming
in ragged gasps as he
continues to destroy
everything in sight. It's
like he's to erase
his existence from their lives.

Chip's screen follows the
wreckage, each broken piece
of his heart reflected in the
shattered mess. His projects,
his dreams, his connection
to his father—all of it
crushed under the weight of
Plankton's pain.

Plankton's hand hovers over
the last item on the table, a
half-finished puzzle they'd
been working on together.
It's the one thing in the room
that's still intact, a symbol
of their shared moments,
now threatened by his
father's erratic actions.

"Dad," Chip says, his voice
shaking. "It's okay. It's just
stuff. We can fix it."
But Plankton won’t hear him,
his eye wild with a
frenzy that seems to
consume him whole.

He reaches for the puzzle,
his hand shaking. "No,"
Chip whispers,
welling up. But it's too late.
With one swift movement,
Plankton sends the pieces
flying in every direction,
scattering like the
shattered pieces of their
once-happy home.

Chip flinches at the sound,
aching as he watches
his dad's breakdown unfold.
He's never seen Plankton
like this—so out of control,
so lost. And it’s all because of
Chip...

"Dad," he says, his voice
barely audible. "Please stop."
But Plankton's rage is a
freight train, unstoppable.

Karen's screen darts around
the room, searching for a
way to diffuse the situation.
She is breaking for
both her son and her
husband. She knows the
pain Plankton is in, yet she
can't bear to see Chip hurt
like this.

"Chip, go to your
room," she says, her voice
shaking. "I need to talk to
your father."

But Chip can't move. He's
rooted to the spot, his eyes
glued to the heartbreaking
scene before him. Plankton's
breathing is ragged, his
movements jerky as he
picks up another item, a
science book they'd read
together countless times.

"Dad," Chip whispers, his
voice hoarse with fear. "It's okay.
You don't have to..." But Plankton
doesn't hear him. The book
meets the same fate as the
puzzle, pages fluttering like
leaves in a storm.

Karen's screen is wet with
tears as she watches her family
fall apart. She knows she has to
intervene, but how? She's seen
his meltdowns before, but never
like this..

"Plankton," she says firmly,
taking a step forward. "Look at
me." She holds out a hand,
offering him a lifeline in the
chaos he's created.
 

new chip and the dilemma Chip Plankton II iii

<3˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆🤝🔴🖱️©©©

new threesome terzetto iii common year starting on monday foursome

<3👽👽

new threesome terzetto fivesome leash iii

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

🌌⛓

new trinity deity iii

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

new trinity iii god divine

random names to copy paste into wheel of names for story writing
🎀🎀🎀🫶
Olivia
Emma
Charlotte
Amelia
Sophia
Isabella
Ava
Mia
Evelyn
Luna
Harper
Camila
Sofia
Scarlett
Elizabeth
Eleanor
Emily
Chloe
Mila
Violet
Penelope
Gianna
Aria
Abigail
Ella
Avery
Hazel
Nora
Layla
Lily
Aurora
Nova
Ellie
Madison
Grace
Isla
Willow
Zoe
Riley
Stella
Eliana
Ivy
Victoria
Emilia
Zoey
Naomi
Hannah
Lucy
Elena
Lillian
Maya
Leah
Paisley
Addison
Natalie
Valentina
Everly
Delilah
Leilani
Madelyn
Kinsley
Ruby
Sophie
Alice
Genesis
Claire
Audrey
Sadie
Aaliyah
Josephine
Autumn
Brooklyn
Quinn
Kennedy
Cora
Savannah
Caroline
Athena
Natalia
Hailey
Aubrey
Emery
Anna
Iris
Bella
Eloise
Skylar
Jade
Gabriella
Ariana
Maria
Adeline
Lydia
Sarah
Nevaeh
Serenity
Liliana
Ayla
Everleigh
Raelynn

Liam
Noah
Oliver
James
Elijah
William
Henry
Lucas
Benjamin
Theodore
Mateo
Levi
Sebastian
Daniel
Jack
Michael
Alexander
Owen
Asher
Samuel
Ethan
Leo
Jackson
Mason
Ezra
John
Hudson
Luca
Aiden
Joseph
David
Jacob
Logan
Luke
Julian
Gabriel
Grayson
Wyatt
Matthew
Maverick
Dylan
Isaac
Elias
Anthony
Thomas
Jayden
Carter
Santiago
Ezekiel
Charles
Josiah
Caleb
Cooper
Lincoln
Miles
Christopher
Nathan
Isaiah
Kai
Joshua
Andrew
Angel
Adrian
Cameron
Nolan
Waylon
Jaxon
Roman
Eli
Wesley
Aaron
Ian
Christian
Ryan
Leonardo
Brooks
Axel
Walker
Jonathan
Easton
Everett
Weston
Bennett
Robert
Jameson
Landon
Silas
Jose
Beau
Micah
Colton
Jordan
Jeremiah
Parker
Greyson
Rowan
Adam
Nicholas
Theo
Xavier₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.⭐
Lev<3<𝟑

new #silly iii

🪖

new thomas c. lea iii vietnam war vietnam

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

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

new bfdi objectshow inanimate insanity ii hfjone iii

ɛ:

new :3 3 ^3^ uwu ɛ: ꒰꒱ three trio iii triplet

I love object shows🎉🎉🎉🎉

new bfdi battle for dream island ii inanimate insanity hfjone one tnm the nightly manor animatic battle itft it's time for the BFDI iii

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⡝⠻⢿⣻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡶⣻⡿⣟⢽⣫⣧⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⡛⠾⠿⠷⠶⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣡⣾⡿⣽⣵⠿⢋⠉⡄⢢⠘⡌⠱⡐⡀⠆⡐⠠⠀⠄⡁⠉⠛⠿⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⣡⣾⡿⢻⣿⠛⡁⢎⠠⢃⠔⡡⢊⠔⡡⠐⡐⡈⠤⢁⡉⠐⠄⡑⠠⠂⠄⡙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢃⣿⣿⡝⣵⠟⡁⠰⢈⠢⡑⠌⢢⠑⢌⠂⠄⡑⠠⠐⠂⠄⠠⢁⣢⠠⠑⣈⠐⠠⢀⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⣷⣿⣿⣮⡿⢋⠐⡈⢅⠂⢡⠐⡡⢦⣜⣀⡌⠐⠠⢁⢸⣤⣾⠿⠛⢁⠂⠡⢀⠊⣁⠂⠄⢺⣧⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠄⢃⠌⢢⠘⢰⣶⢀⠒⠈⣿⣿⠛⢃⠂⠌⠳⣶⣶⠶⠶⠞⠠⢁⢂⡐⠨⠐⡀⢻⡆⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣾⠣⣿⣿⣾⣿⠁⠜⣈⠰⡈⠆⢌⠈⢻⣧⠀⡡⠘⠃⡐⠠⡈⠄⡁⠻⠟⠠⠁⠌⡐⠂⡄⠄⠃⡔⠠⢘⣿⠀
⠀⠀⣸⡏⢒⣿⣟⣿⠏⡐⠌⠤⠑⠠⠊⡀⠂⠄⠛⣷⣄⠂⠡⢀⠡⠐⣈⠐⠄⡈⠄⡡⠈⢄⠡⠐⣈⠂⠤⢁⠂⣿⠆
⠀⢀⡿⢌⣻⣟⣾⣟⠠⡐⢉⠠⠈⠄⠡⢀⠁⠂⠄⠀⠹⠷⣧⣤⣂⠡⠀⠌⡐⢀⠂⢄⣁⠂⠄⠃⠄⠌⢂⠄⢂⢸⡆
⠀⣸⡇⠦⣹⣯⣿⠇⠀⠄⠂⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⢈⠡⢀⠂⠀⡐⠠⢉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢋⠃⠌⠡⢈⢂⠡⠈⠄⢸⡇
⢠⣿⢡⠒⣉⢿⡿⠀⡈⠄⠡⢈⠐⠠⠈⠄⡁⠂⠀⠠⠁⢀⠡⠂⠄⡡⢈⠂⠡⠈⡄⠑⡠⢈⠄⠃⡄⠂⡌⠡⢈⢸⡇
⠘⢷⣦⣹⠤⣾⡃⢀⠐⠈⢀⡄⠈⠄⡁⢂⠁⠂⢁⣤⣀⠀⢂⠡⢈⠐⠠⢈⠁⠂⠌⡐⡐⠠⠌⢂⠤⠑⠠⢁⠂⢸⡇
⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⠿⠧⣷⣶⣮⣼⣯⣴⣠⣔⣠⢌⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⢶⣶⣾⣶⣿⣧⠁⢂⠡⠠⠡⠌⡀⢂⠡⢁⠂⠌⢸⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢯⣽⠋⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣦⣢⣅⣦⡰⣄⣸⣦⢀⡌⠐⣾⡆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢦⣤⣤⣾⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠈⠉⠙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⠉⠉⢛⡿⠋⠛⠻⠛⠟⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡟⢿⣦⣄⣠⣴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‧₊˚ ⋅(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ‧₊˚ ⋅
     

new II osc BFB inanimate insanity beloved hot british taco british taco love dearest tpot bfdi iii england twosome

:3 ♡( ^ω^ )🥰3️⃣󠀳🤖🇭🇺🕞

new julian calendar triad trio roman numerals trinity terzetto troika tierce iii leash trine threesome ternion triplet ternary trey three common year starting on monday roman calendar

▶

new ter iii

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡐⢀⣀⡛⢿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⣿⣿⣿⣷⣇⣨⣂⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⠈⠘⠛⢿⡏⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠋⠀⠀⠀⠐⠲⣿⣷⢳⢠⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⠅⠨⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠠⠢⡄⢀⣠⠄⢠⣴⣶⡴⢠⠈⣱⠻⡾⣵⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⠀⢘⣿⢋⢁⣏⣾⡦⠙⠒⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠁⠻⠀⠀⠁⠹⠛⠩⠟⠁⢨⠁⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡏⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⣛⠟⠉⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣮⡖⠀⢀⣬⣤⣶⠾⡱⠑⠏⠀⠰⡉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢬⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠿⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⣖⡦⠐⠨⠱⠒⠍⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⢉⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠖⣿⣻⣏⣲⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⣾⣷⣦⡄⠴⠆⣯⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠩⣾⢿⣿⣬⡜⣿⣿⣿
⣿⠟⣁⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣆⡾⣮⣿⢧⢀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡽⠻⢿⣧⠌⢹⣿⣿
⠃⠈⠰⠟⠳⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⠷⣾⡼⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⣱⣾⣿⣾⢇⢿⣿
⠀⠀⢀⠀⠐⢀⡊⠀⠀⠀⢉⡹⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠨⣮⣷⣾⢆⠀⣄⠀⠀⠈⠊⠙⠛⣵⣾⣿⠀
⣆⠀⠐⠂⠀⠁⠈⢠⣦⣄⡐⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣦⣗⡫⣺⠀⢿⣷⠄⠀⠀⢸⣮⣔⣮⢻
⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⢠⣄⡙⠛⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠡⠜⡋⡅⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⣽⣽⣿⣼⡞
⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⡀⠛⠛⢣⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⢈⢽⡿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⠨⠀⠬⠁⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⣿⡍⠇
⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠙⠩⢅⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⣯⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⠢⠻⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣵⣿⣿⠝⢸
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⢄⡆⠀⣸⣿⣧⠀⠀⠈⠈⠚⠻⢀⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⢠⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡨⠂⠁⠐⢻⣿⡿⠁⣀⢠⡀⡠⠴⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠘⠛⠛⠻⠟⢛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠠⡾⡇⣾⣛⠜⢠⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⡙⣣⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣷⣿⣗⡕⡾⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠈⢠⢟⢈⣾⡽⣘⡆⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠸⠂⢸⠟⠁⡆⢱⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣚⣬⣵⣢⠄⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⢀⣠⡮⠁⣿⣷⣤⣬⣥⣤⣥⣾⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢵⡿⣿⣿⣯⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⡟⡾⢿⣃⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀⡭⢯⠻⠋⢀⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⡿⣿⣿⡿⠒⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⡁⣀⡀⢁⣾⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⣈⣀⢁⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠋⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠁⢺⠳⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡰⣶⣶⡆⡈⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢰⣾⣿⣕⠎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣘⣿⣿⠅⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡻⣿⣻⣳⢶⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⢿⣿⡟⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⣨⣿⡿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠈⡡⢫⣿⣅⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⢽⡿⣋⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡟⠼⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢠⠰⡿⠆⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣭⡀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠈⣥⡌⠁⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠉⠁⠚⢁⠀⣠⠔⠁⠀⠀⠻⠛⠀⠀⣿⣿⢃⠁⠀⠖⠀⠀⠈⠆⠀⢀⡑⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠐⠇⠀⠀⢀⡶⠿⡆⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⣸⣶⠀⠘⠙⠎⢊⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢅⡃⠀⠀⠨⢵⠧⠆⢤⡴⠀⠀⠠⣕⡄⠀⠀⠀⣽⣘⠂⠀⠘⣾⣿⠠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣿⣶⣶⣤⣬⣭⣭⣥⣾⣷⣤⣄⣘⣛⣤⣤⣀⣐⣀⣓⣡⣤⣄⣒⣢⣬⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new 3 iii common year starting on monday dot art text art ascii art

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠠⢄⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣄⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⡶⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡄⢀⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⠁⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡏⠰⢿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⡀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡇⠀⠀⠉⠙⠉⣿⠇⠀⠸⣿⠛⠛⠿⢿⠇⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡇⠀⠄⠀⠀⢾⣥⣤⣀⣰⣻⡇⠀⠀⣾⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡼⡿⣥⣄⣠⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠠⣴⣿⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⡿⡿⣿⠷⠟⠓⠶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⡘⢿⣝⠻⠷⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⣿⣦⣿⣤⣀⠘⡉⢉⣽⣏⣠⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⣿⠁⣻⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡾⣿⡇⢹⡄⠀⠀⢢⡛⠁⠀⠀⢹⡿⠀⣼⡏⢸⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⡾⣿⣏⣿⣿⡇⠀⠹⣦⡀⠘⣧⠀⠀⢠⠼⠁⣴⡟⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢾⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠙⣿⠲⢦⣄⣈⢈⣠⣾⠟⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⡶⠛⠋⢠⡏⣻⡞⣧⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡲⢦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣽⡇⠀⠀⣤⣤⣴⣿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣮⣿⣷⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀
⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new me you iii dot art text art ascii art

⣿

new iii ternary kk dot art text art ascii art

please dont put gross stuff here ! keep it to yourself or post it elsewhere, their is kids around 9 and a few years up here just trying to find cute symbols !! this is a safe space ^^ spread the word please :3

There are kids on this website trying to look for cute kaomojis/emojis, and then see inappropriate stuff. If you make these kinds of things then STOP. It's NOT ok. Please copy and paste this and spread the word. Thank you. <3<𝟑<𝟑

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new 3 4 2 four three roman numerals julian calendar 6 8 1 july eight fourth 9 six 0 third year april iii trinity trine march tierce cardinal trey 7 triad 10 june among us

:3✩°｡⋆⸜(˙꒳˙ )🛩☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

new iii 6 4 1 7 9

Karen the Computer Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Karen the Computer Emojis & Symbols NEW REALITY iii(Autistic author)"You know, Plankto

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