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୨୧ 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 ୨୧
𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐲 🍃📚

𝟭. 𝗽𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲. 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 + 𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼, 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻-𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴. 

𝟮. 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲.

𝟯. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝘀/𝗺𝗮𝗽𝘀/𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 (𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁). 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁. 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗻-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 

𝟰. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀, 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗲. 

𝟱. 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗯𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗼𝘀, 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗹𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 

𝟲. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴; 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱𝘄𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱, 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 (𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿), 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 

𝟳. 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. 

𝟴. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 (𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲/𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻). 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 . 

𝟵. 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀/𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗗𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗪𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗮. 

𝟭𝟬. 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗿𝗲-𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗼𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗱𝗱 𝗽𝗵𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱/𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸.

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤:

• when you are exhausted mentally

• when you are desperate or impatient

• when emotions are getting on your way

• when you are in total disbelief of yourself

• when makes you feel uncomfortable

• when you feel like it

𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕡 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕡𝕤 𝕒𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 (✯◡✯)

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✦. ⊹ ˚ S T U D Y : 𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒
💻 𐄉 ⌨️ ✜ 🩶 ˚
📼𓈒𐄉 ᝰ🖋️*˚🧾⟢
.☘︎ ݁˖⋆˚๋࣭⭑ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ🐾˖°
*🎒 𓇼 ⋆･✏️๑ﾟ✧ 📚⊰ ⊹

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new chip plankton Chip Plankton II chip

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new chip plankton code page 437 chip

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new Chip Plankton II chip plankton chip

Friday, October 26, 2007
balance

you see the spirit of architecture is an inspiration 

for everybody, involved in the building process to 

 be creative!

Antonia at 10:13 PM

new schoolcore homecore studycore churchcore balance

23 March 2009
Weird Science Words
Science Dictionary
Here are some weird science words. Be careful how you use them.

Auscultation—Listening. Especially listening to the sounds of the internal organs, as with a stethoscope.

Borborygmus, pl. borborygmi—Rumbling and gurgling noises from hunger. Stomach "growling".

Bromhidrosis—Body odor, B.O. From the Greek bromos, a stench, and hidros, sweat.

Cacophony—Jarring, discordant sound. Cacophonous: having a harsh, discordant sound. From the Greek kakophnos, kakos, bad+ phōnē, sound. Kakos goes back to one of the oldest words we still use, the Indo-European root kakka-, to defecate.

Cacodyl—The arsenic group (CH3)2As, or a poisonous oil (As2(CH3)4) with a strong garlicky odor. Same root as cacophony.

Emesis, pl. emeses—The act of coughing up

Eructation— burbing

Flatus—The gas that comprises

Formication—A sensation that feels like insects crawling on the skin, a type of paresthesia. From formica, Latin for "ant".

Googol—The number 10 raised to the power 100 (10100), written out as the numeral 1 followed by 100 zeros. Not to be confused with "Google", a trademark of Google Inc.

Mastication—chewing

Micturation—Potty

Osculant—Intermediate in characteristics between two similar or related taxonomic groups. Closely adhering or joined; embracing

Osculation—Kissing; a kiss

Oscitancy—the act of yawning

Pandiculation—The act of stretching and yawning at the same time. 

Radicle—A small root, specifically the part of a plant embryo that develops into the root. Not to be confused with "radical", meaning the root (e.g. of a word), at the root, the mathematical root sign (√) or a highly reactive atom, molecule or person. Nor with "ridicule".

Sternutation—Sneezing

Stertor—The sound of snoring

Syzygy—Lots of meanings in different sciences (and in poetry, rhetoric etc.) generally having something to do with being paired, joined, aligned or something. From the Greek zugon, yoke

Wamble—To turn or roll (said of the stomach), an upset stomach, nausea

new schoolcore studycore synonym

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                ░░░░░░░     ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒          ░█▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒█▓          
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              ▓▒░▒░     ░▒▓█▒░░░░░█▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓          ▒██▓▒▓░░░▓▓░░▒▓         
             ░█▒░▒▓█▒░     ▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▓░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▓▒           ▒▒░░▓▓▒█▒░░░░         
             ░█░░▒▒░▒▓▒    ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒           ▓▓▓▒                 
           ░▓▓▒░░▒▒▓▒█▒    ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓░                               
          ░█▒▒▒░▒░░▓▒      █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▓▒░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▓█░                              
           ▓▓▓█▓▓███░     ░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒                              
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                             ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓░                             
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new code page 437 chip plankton chip

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new chip plankton Chip Plankton II chip

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new chip plankton Chip Plankton II chip

　 𓏲　 ˚ 　　　 ⋆ ⟡　　 　　𓏲 ˚ 　　　 ⋆ ⟡　　 　　𓏲 ˚ 　　

𝖩𝗎𝗇𝖾 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟨 — 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿

　 𓏲　 ˚ 　　　 ⋆ ⟡　　 　　𓏲 ˚ 　　　 ⋆ ⟡　　 　　𓏲 ˚

new studycore girlbloggercore

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀 ; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 .

new studycore learncore wordscore factkin kiss

hatake.kaede Oct 20 @ 12:31pm 
✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱
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✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱
𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔞 
𝔣𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢
- 𝔒𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔢

new studycore kaoemojis oscar wilde

⠾⡿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠟⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣀⣈⣀⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣠⣀⣿⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡧⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠉⠋⠙⠉⠋⠙⠉⠋⠙⢻⣽⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠗⠀⠀⠀
⡄⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠑⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⠿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new cabby osc inanimate insanity ii cabby inanimate insanity dot art text art ascii art

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

new object-show osc object show inanimate insanity ii cute dot art text art ascii art

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⡤⠶⠖⠒⠒⠶⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⠤⣦⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣤⣤⠤⠤⠶⠖⠚⠛⠉⠉⠀⣸⡏⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⣰⡿⢿⡆⠀⢸⣿⢦⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⢞⣫⣭⣭⣉⡙⢿⣄⠘⣿⣄⠀⣿⡶⢛⣉⣉⡙⠳⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡝⣧⠈⠻⣦⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⡤⠤⠤⠶⠶⠒⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣧⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣻⡇⠀⠀⠺⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡆⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣾⠟⠀⢸⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠋⢿⣆⡛⠿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢋⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⣍⣉⣉⣭⡶⠛⣽⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢦⣄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠀⠀⣈⠛⠶⠤⠤⠴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠄⠒⣰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠞⠋
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣄⡓⠄⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠋⠉⠛⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢳⡶⠶⠤⢤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠤⠤⠶⠖⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⢶⣆⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⢠⡿⠚⠛⣾⠛⠋⠉⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣟⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⠴⠶⠛⠋⠁⢸⡟⣠⡾⠃⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠇⠀⠀⢀⣟⢦⡀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⣇⠈⣲⡄⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⢤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣈⣇⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠶⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⣶⣦⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠒⢰⠆⠀⠐⠃⢒⠐⠂⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠟⢋⠥⢀⣴⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣥⣒⡲⢤⡙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⢶⣶⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣛⣹⣿⣤⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣛⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⢛⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⢷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠁⡰⠀⠀⢠⠃⡴⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠉⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡇⠐⠠⠒⣩⣤⠶⠶⠾⠿⢿⣷⠶⢤⣄⣀⠀⠂⠀⠄⠈⢻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠁⣠⠞⠋⠁⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡐⠲⢌⠙⠻⣦⡁⠀⡐⢸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⣼⢳⠃⠀⡁⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⡿⠞⠗⠀⠈⠻⣦⢢⣹⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣴⣿⣧⠀⠀⠻⣿⡟⣸⠀⣸⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡀⠰⠀⠂⢀⢸⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⣿⠀⠌⡀⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣷⣶⡶⠀⣐⢢⣼⣷⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣟⣲⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⢡⠟⠀⠄⠐⣠⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⡶⠀⠀⡝⠻⣿⡿⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡟⢸⣧⡀⠙⢶⣿⡟⢀⣀⣤⠤⢤⣄⢿⣷⠀⢃⡏⢰⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣶⡆⢠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠶⠿⠻⠦⢀⠀⠄⢯⡠⢄⡘⢀⡆⣿⣿⣔⢸⠃⣼⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣶⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠻⠤⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⡇⠀⡂⠐⠠⢈⠐⡀⠳⣄⡼⢀⣾⣿⢣⢾⡘⠀⣿⣿⣿⣻⡝⣯⢫⡝⡞⣬⣿⣽⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠿⠛⠛⠛⠿⢶⣄⡀⢸⡿⢰⠃⠀⠁⠌⡐⢀⣂⣄⣡⣤⣷⠿⠟⡁⢊⢰⡃⢀⣿⣿⣯⢳⡟⣖⡫⢼⣽⣿⣽⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠃⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣾⡇⢸⠀⠠⠁⠂⠄⡈⢉⠉⡉⠉⠄⢂⡐⢠⠁⢊⡀⢸⣿⡿⣞⡽⣞⣭⡷⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠴⠾⠃
⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⡎⠀⢀⠡⠈⡐⢀⠂⠌⠠⠁⡌⠠⠐⣀⠊⢼⠀⣽⣿⣟⣻⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⢿⣷⣿⣻⢿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡀⡿⢀⠠⢀⠡⢀⠂⠌⠠⢁⠂⠄⡁⠒⠤⢈⡇⢀⣿⣿⠾⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣞⣧⢟⡼⣹⡛⢿⡻⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠇⠀⡀⠂⠄⢂⠈⠄⡁⠂⠌⡐⠠⢁⠒⢠⠇⢸⣿⣗⣫⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣳⢥⣛⣶⣻⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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MONDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2011
Organization Tip: Bucket Budgets
Trying to organize finances can be frustrating and stressful.  Budgets are about as much fun as dental work, but how can we track our spending without them?

My solution is a percentage budget, or what I call my Bucket Budget.  It has been such a huge stress relief for me that I thought I'd share it.    

The details of percentage budgets vary, but the general idea is the same.  Your income (based on gross or net) is divided into three or four categories or "buckets" of money:
taxes (if basing on gross income)
savings
living expenses
fun money

As long as money is going in and out of the appropriate buckets, you don't need to track every dollar.  And if you set it up so your buckets don't mix, it's like putting your finances on autopilot.

To get started, determine how much money you need for your living expenses, which include all of the basic costs of living -- mortgage or rent payment, transportation, utilities, food, etc. -- that you have to pay every month.  Base this amount on recent spending history.  BE REALISTIC.  Add a little for contingencies if you want.

Whew!  That concludes the complex calculations portion of this process.  You can use round percentages for the other categories.  Let's say your net income (take-home pay) is $3000 per month.  You've determined your living expenses are $2100, or 70% of your monthly pay.  That leaves 30%.  Most financial experts I've read suggest putting 20% into savings, so we'll go with that.  That leaves you with 10% ($300) for you to spend on whatever you want.  In summary, your breakdown is
savings 20%
living expenses 70%
fun money 10%

Now to put those finances on autopilot.  Set up two or three bank accounts:
savings
checking for living expenses
checking for fun money (you can skip this if you prefer to use cash for your fun money)

When you receive your paycheck, divide the money into the appropriate buckets.  You can use direct deposit from your employer or set up recurring transfers to make this completely automatic.
deposit 20% ($600) into your savings account
deposit 70% ($2,100) into your living expenses account
deposit 10% ($300) into your fun money account (or take it as cash if you prefer)

Because your setup is automatically covering savings and living expenses, you can spend your bucket of fun money -- every cent if you want to -- without worrying about how it's going to impact your financial situation. :D

Your budgeted percentages may vary depending on your personal financial situation and goals.  If you live outside the U.S., you might need to change the categories.  But I think the general principle can be useful in most cases.
Posted by J.Bane

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Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective.
Saturday 26 November 2011
Cliques, Judging and Subcultures
Most goths, at some point, will have been judged for how they look. At the darkest end there are things like when people get beaten up and even killed for how they look, and at the other there's assumptions made such as "goths are rude and pretentious" etc. We don't like being judged for being goths. We shouldn't do it to other groups. Just because someone wears fashionable clothes, that doesn't make them snobby and elitist about those who don't. Just because someone wears over-sized plastic-rim glasses and plimsols does not make them vacant and pretentious. Just because someone is wearing tracksuit bottoms and hooded jumper, that does not make them rude and violent (maybe they're going to the gym!). Just because someone wears skinny jeans and has dyed black hair does not mean they are histrionic attention-seekers. Goths aren't inherently nicer than everyone, that's why I have to make this post. 
Really, there is no reason for me to elaborate this into a vast wall of text. Yes, there are a disproportionate amount of certain types of bad behaviour in certain groups which is why some of these stereotypes exist in the first place, but even if there are more thugs that wear tracksuit bottoms and hooded jumpers than wear designer jeans, that doesn't mean that wearing a tracksuit makes someone a thug. That same logic goes for the other things. I may not LIKE any of those other styles, and think that a lot of them look terribly hideous, but I deal with that by NOT WEARING THEM and wearing things I don't think look hideous. I do not hate other styles, although I do think they are sometimes rather amusing (like when people wear logo or slogan t-shirts and have no idea what they represent, or when they walk around with their trousers halfway down their rears) but I also realise I'm probably amusing trying to run for the bus in platform boots. Other people are entitled to the same freedom of expression as we are. 

new gothgoth peoplecore humancore studycore schoolcore 2011

TEETHIES ii

The nurse dimmed lights and adjusted the bed, giving Plankton's body a chance to recover from the wisdom tooth surgery. 

Gently, Karen began to hum a tune she knew Plankton loved. The melody filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm blanket. His breathing grew a little easier, the tension in his hand loosening slightly. 

Plankton stirred, eye fluttering open to reveal a world still blurred by the fog of anesthesia. "Where... what...?" Plankton slurred. "Who... who are you?" 
"The dentist had to get your wisdom teeth out in surgery." Karen told him. "Wis...dommm...surgery? I don't...I don't remembe--- much." Plankton says. "Had to take them out. You've been asleep for a while." The nurse said. 

The door to the room creaked open to SpongeBob, his face a picture of concern. "Plankton!" he exclaimed. "How are ya?"

Plankton, still groggy from the surgery, tried to form a coherent sentence. "S-SpongeBob," he slurred. "M-more wike... 'Arrr, matey' than usual, I s'pose." 

Karen rolled her pixel eyes. "It's the anesthesia."

Plankton chuckled. "Ahoy ther- Spongey! Aye, it's awh’ 'cause of tweasare... I mean, surgery," he corrected, his speech still swaying. 
"You two are always so... " Karen trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Inseparabubble?" Plankton suggested.  
Sponge Bob's laughter bubbled up again. "You mean, no Krabby Patty stealing schemes?"

"Thath's righ'. No mow... Krabby... Patties... fow awhile." The words came out in a drawn-out slur, his head lolling slightly on the pillow. "Thath's... wath I wath thhinking," his speech still slurred but fading as his eyelid growing heavy.

"Arr, thith... thith way, me... hearty," Plankton mumbled, as the nurse helped 'em into the car.  "Arr, me... tweasuwe... home,".

Sponge Bob watched his eyelid grew heavier. Plankton's head lolled back against the seat and his mouth fell open slightly, emitting a soft snore. 

"He's gonna be out for a bit," Karen said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "The anesthesia usually takes a few hours to wear off completely. He'll be fine."

He reached out and gently patted Plankton's arm, whispering, "Don't worry, buddy. We're almost there."

"We're home, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle nudge.

Sponge Bob turned to see Plankton's chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths, his mouth open in snore's. His usually scheming eye were shut tight. Karen carefully opened the door. Sponge Bob looked at Plankton, who was still out cold. Sponge Bob leaned over the seat, his arms wrapping around Plankton's frail body. Plankton's head lolled back, his mouth still open in snore's.
"Should we... should we wake him?" "Let him rest, Sponge Bob. He's had a rough day." Karen puts him on the couch.

"Do you think he'll... you know, remember any of this?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice low and tentative.
Karen's smile was a gentle wave. "I doubt it. The anesthesia usually wipes out memories for a bit."

"Rest well, honey," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You've had a long day."

Suddenly Plankton stirs in his sleep, his snores morphing into a groan as he shifts beneath the blanket.
"Is he okay?" SpongeBob asks.
"He's okay," she nods, her voice a gentle lullaby in the stillness. "Just anesthesia wearing off." She stood by him. "Easy, Plankton," Karen cooed, gently rubbing Plankton's back. "You're okay."

The little villain's body twitched, and his eye fluttered open. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his gaze before he spotted Sponge Bob and Karen. "W-wha... whass happening?" Plankton's words were slurred, his lisp more pronounced than ever.

"You're home, Plankton. You had wisdom teeth removed."

"W-what? Did I miss... somefink?" He tried to sit up, his body moving as if through syrup.

"You've been out for a bit," Karen said. "But you're home now." 

Plankton blinked. "Home?" he mumbled.

"Yes, sweetie," Karen said, her voice a gentle caress. "You had your wisdom teeth out. You're going to be fine."
 "Oww... wha’ happened to my mouf?"

"Your wisdom teeth were out." "Oh... wight," he murmured.
"Need anything?" "Could... could I have some... ice... cweam?" His voice was a whispered plea. They get him some. "Thath's... thoothing. So, how'd I get home?" 
"Karen and I brought you back," Sponge Bob said. "You were out cold. Didn't even wake up when we carried you in."
"Did... did you two... take care of me?" His voice was a mix of surprise and vulnerability.

"Of course, Plankton!"

He turned to Plankton. "Want me to pick something to watch?"

"Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, eye already closing again.

Sponge Bob flicked through the tv channels, finally settling on a rerun of their favorite show, "Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy." The familiar theme song filled the room, and Karen took a seat next to Plankton on the couch, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

As the adventure unfolded on the screen, Plankton's breathing grew deeper and more regular, his body gradually relaxing into the cushions.

"Looks like he's out again," Karen said softly.  

Sponge Bob nodded, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall rhythmically. "Guess the surgery really took it out of him."

The room grew quiet, save for the distant laugh track of their favorite show and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles. At night, turning the tv off, 
Spongebob picked Plankton up, cradling him. His friend's head lolled back, his mouth slightly open in a peaceful snore. Sponge Bob carefully made his way to his bed, setting him down. He pulled the blanket up to Plankton and gave him a soft pat. 
They both settled into the makeshift beds they had set up next to Plankton's. 

The next morning, both woke up before Plankton. Karen chuckled. "We should take a picture."
Spongebob snapped a picture of Plankton, still asleep with his mouth slightly open, a trail of drool escaping onto the pillow.

"Morning, Captain Snores-a-lot," Sponge Bob whispered with a smirk, rousing Plankton.
Plankton's eye opened, only to wince. "Oww... wath... what's happening?"
"It's morning, Plankton," Karen said, her tone still gentle.
"Look your post-surgery glamour shot," Spongebob teased, holding the phone out of reach. "You were out cold last night."
Plankton's eye widened as he took in the image. "You... you took a picture of me?!" He was half horrified, half amused.

"Couldn't resist," Karen said, grinning.

Plankton rolled his eye and wiped his mouth, then winced. "How wong hav- I been out?"

"Overnight," Sponge Bob said, unable to hold back a chuckle. "You had quite the ride home yesterday."

Plankton groaned, his hand reaching up to gingerly touch his swollen cheek. "Whath happened?"

"You had your wisdom teeth out," Karen reminded him, her voice filled with a touch of amusement. "It's normal to be a bit out of it after surgery."

"Wisdom teeth?" Plankton echoed, his voice still groggy. "Oh, wight. The dentist."

Karen chuckled. "Yeah, you don't remember much, do you?"

Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You talked like a pirate all the way home, matey."

Plankton's eye widened in horror. "I did what?"

Sponge Bob nodded. "Yeah, you kept calling me 'Spongey' and said we were 'inseparabubble'."

Plankton blushed. "Oh, come on," he mumbled, trying to hide his face in the pillow.

Sponge Bob and Karen shared a knowing look, their laughter subsiding into a comfortable silence. They could both tell that despite his tough exterior, Plankton was a bit embarrassed.

Plankton sighed, his small body sinking deeper into the pillows. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But if I don't get to do anything, can I at leash wash TV?"
"Of course," Karen said, handing him the remote. "But take it easy today, okay?"
With a groan, Plankton managed to sit up, his hand still tentatively exploring his tender cheeks. He squinted at the TV, searching for something to watch. His eye lit up when he found a science fiction marathon. "Jackpot," he murmured.

new teethies post awakening plankarenbob AI Story Generator ii

🖌 X 💡 lightbulb x painty!!

new lightbulb paintbulb painty ii OBJECTSHOW

📄×🍊🧃

new paper x oj inanimate insanity ii objectshows OBJECTSHOW couple pair duo 2

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ii
(Autistic author)

The next morning, Karen woke up to
find Plankton still asleep, his hand
still clutching hers. She gently
pulled her hand away and stood up.

Plankton's snores echoed 
through the quiet room. Karen 
studied his peaceful expression, his 
features softer in sleep, and felt a
surge of affection for the man she
had married so many years ago.

In the cold light of day, the reality
of his condition settled in. 
He was different, but she 
would not let that change the way
she saw him. As a robot, Karen
understood the importance of
adjusting to new situations, and
this was no exception.

As Plankton stirred, she quickly
moved to his side, ready to face
whatever challenges the day 
might bring. His eye opened,
looking around the room
before settling on her.

"Karen," he said, his voice
still flat, but with a hint of
recognition.

"Good morning, Plankton," she
replied.
This was their first day facing
his autism together, and she had
spent the night
preparing.

Plankton sat up, his eye
locking onto hers. "Morning," he
repeated. His movements were
slow, deliberate, as if his brain
was processing each action. "Would
you like some breakfast?" she asked.

He nodded.
"No vault," he murmured, and she
could see the beginnings of a frown.
Karen nodded, knowing that
his obsessions might become more
pronounced. "It's okay," she said.
"We don't need the vault."

Plankton's eye searched her face,
his expression unreadable. "No
vault," he repeated, his voice
rising slightly. "Good."

Karen nodded. "Let's start the
day," she suggested, trying to
shift the focus. She led him to the
tiny kitchen area, the smell of
chum wafting through the air.

Plankton followed her, his steps
measured and precise. His gaze
flitted around the room, taking
in every detail. 

"Would you like eggs or chum?"
she asked.
"Both," he said, his voice clearer 
than before.

Karen nodded, cracking an egg
over the sizzling pan. Plankton sat
at the table, rocking back and forth
slightly. It was clear that
his senses were heightened, every
sound and smell more intense than
before.

"Here's your breakfast, Plankton,"
she said, placing the plate in front
of him. His gaze fixated on the
food, his eye narrowing as if
studying a complex puzzle. "Thank
you," he said, the words coming out
mechanically.

But as Karen stirred the chum and
eggs together, something shifted in
his demeanor. He stiffened in his
chair, his rocking coming to an
abrupt halt. "What's wrong?" she
asked, noticing the sudden change.

Plankton's eye grew wide. "No," he
whispered, his voice strained. "Not
together. Separate," he
demanded, his voice growing more
urgent.

Karen paused, her circuits racing.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I'll
fix it." She carefully scraped the
food onto two separate places, one
with egg, one with chum. She placed
it in front of him, hoping she
was interpreting his needs correctly.

Plankton stared. "Different plate,"
he murmured. "And a new spoon.
And new eggs not touching new chum."

Karen nodded, quickly moving to
comply with his requests. She knew
that routines and sensory preferences
could be crucial for individuals with
autism, and she wanted to make sure
his first breakfast post-diagnosis was
as comfortable as possible. She
replicated his meal with meticulous
precision, ensuring every detail was
exactly as he had specified, ridding of
the old food.

The new plate was set before him,
the eggs and chum neatly separated.
Plankton's shoulders relaxed slightly.
He picked up the spoon, his gaze
intensely focused on the task at
hand. Karen watched as he took a
tiny bite in what seemed like pleasure.

"Good?" she ventured.

Plankton nodded, his eye not
leaving the plate. "Good," he echoed,
his voice still monotone.

Karen observed him as he
methodically ate his breakfast,
each bite the same size, each chew
lasting the same amount of time.
It was fascinating and slightly
disconcerting to watch the man
she knew so well now engaging with
the world in such a different way.

Plankton's routine was always
important, but now it had taken
on a new level of significance.
The clink of the spoon against the
plate was the only sound in the
room, the rhythm of it almost
hypnotic. 

As Plankton finished his meal,
his head snapped up, his gaze
sharp and focused on her. "Karen,"
he said, his voice now clear and
concise.

"Yes, Plankton?" she replied,
wiping down the counter.

"Thank you," he said, his eye
fixed on the now-empty
plate.

Karen nodded, taking the
dishes to the sink. She could feel
his eye on her as she moved about
the room, the weight of his
silence a stark contrast to his
usual incessant chatter. She knew
that autism would bring
challenges, but she was
determined to be there for him.

new karen and the autistic journey breakfastcore ii

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii

(Autistic author)

His eye took a moment to focus 
on her, and when it did, she saw a 
flicker of confusion, followed by 
a glimmer of recognition. "Karen?" 
he repeated, his voice still faint.

"Yes, it's me, 
Plankton. You're ok."

But his gaze remained distant, 
his focus unsteady. "Where...where 
are we?"
"We're at the hospital, sweetheart," 
Karen said softly, stroking his antenna. 
"You had an accident."

The confusion in Plankton's eye grew, 
and he tried to sit up, but a wave of 
dizziness forced him back down. "What 
kind of accident?" His voice was 
still weak, but there was an urgency 
to his words that hadn't been there 
before.

Karen took a deep breath, her 
grip on his hand tightening. "Mr. 
Krabs...he hit you with a fry pan."
The words tasted bitter 
but she had to tell him the 
truth. Plankton's eye widened 
slightly, and she watched as the 
puzzle pieces of the situation 
slowly clicked into place in his 
mind.

"Krabby Patty," he murmured, 
his voice distant.
"Yes, Plankton, you were trying to 
get the recipe again," Karen 
whispered, aching at 
the memory. "But it's over now. 
You need to rest."

His eye searched hers, and 
for a moment, she thought she saw a 
flicker of his old self, the cunning 
and ambitious man she had married. 
But it was gone as quickly as it 
appeared, replaced by a vacant 
stare.
"Don't... don't remember,"
he mumbled, his antennas drooping.
This wasn't the 
Plankton she knew, the one who 
schemed with a glint in his eye 
and a plan in his pocket.
"It's ok, Plankton," she 
soothed, her voice trembling.
She took a deep breath, 
trying to compose herself. "Do you 
remember me?"

Plankton's gaze remained 
steady for a moment, and then he 
nodded slowly. "Karen," he said, 
his voice a hoarse whisper. But 
the spark of recognition 
was tinged with confusion, as if 
he wasn't quite sure how he knew her.

Karen's felt like 
breaking into a million tiny pieces. 
But she knew she had to stay 
strong. For Plankton. For them. 
"You don't remember what happened, 
do you?" she asked gently. "What else
do you remember?"

Plankton's antennas twitched 
slightly, his eye searching hers. 
"Don't know," he admitted, 
his voice barely above a whisper. 
Karen's chest tightened as she 
held back a sob. "It's ok," 
she reassured him, her voice 
shaky.

"Do you remember your name?" 
she asked, her voice hopeful.
He blinked slowly, his gaze 
fading in and out of focus, his brow 
furrowing as he concentrated. 
"Sheldon... Plankton?"
The sound of his voice saying 
his own name brought a small 
smile to Karen's face. "Yes, that's 
right," she said, her voice filled 
with relief.

"Do you remember where we live?"
she continued, her tone gentle.
Plankton's eye searched the 
ceiling of the hospital room, as if 
the answer was written there. 
"The Chum Bucket," he murmured, 
his voice unsure. Karen nodded, 
encouraged by his response.
"Good, good," she said, smiling 
weakly. "What about our friends?"

Again, the confusion clouded his 
gaze. "Friends?" he repeated, 
his voice tentative. "SpongeBob, 
Sandy...?"
"Yes," Karen said, her voice 
soft. "Do you remember them?"

Plankton's expression grew more 
distressed, his antennas drooping.
"Square...SpongeBob. And a 
squirrel, yes?" He paused, trying 
to piece together the fragmented 
memories.

Karen nodded, brimming 
with unshed tears. "Yes, SpongeBob 
SquarePants and Sandy Cheeks. They're 
friends."

Plankton's antennas twitched as he 
processed the information, his brow 
furrowing with the effort. "Friends," 
he repeated, the word sounding 
foreign. Karen could see 
the gears turning in his tiny head, 
his brain desperately trying to 
make connections to his past.

"Do you remember anything about 
your life before the accident?" Karen 
asked, her voice trembling with 
anticipation.

Plankton's eye searched hers, 
uncertain. "Life...before?"
Her heart sank. "You know, our 
adventures, our home, our love?"

He stared at her, his expression 
unreadable. "Love?" The word was 
barely a whisper.

"Yes, Plankton," she said, her 
voice cracking. "We love each other. 
We've been married for a long time, 
and we've had so many adventures 
together." She paused, willing 
the words to resonate with him, to 
ignite a spark of memory. "Do you 
remember any of that?"

Plankton's gaze remained 
vacant for a moment before he 
nodded slightly. "Married," he murmured, 
as if tasting the word for the first 
time. "To Karen." His antennas lifted 
slightly, a glimmer of something 
familiar flickering in his eye.
"Karen Plankton computer wife."
"Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her 
voice thick with emotion.
"Does that mean something to you?"
she asked, her heart in her throat.

He nodded slowly, his antennas 
waving slightly. "Computer wife,"
he murmured again, his voice 
gaining a hint of warmth. "Karen."

Karen felt a flicker of hope. 
"Yes, Plankton, I'm your 
wife." She leaned closer, her voice 
gentle. "Do you remember anything
about us?"

Plankton's antennas twitched as he 
thought. "Wife," he said slowly, 
his voice a faint echo of the man 
she knew. "Wife...Karen. Married
July 31, 1999."

That was their 
wedding day, a date they had 
celebrated every year since. "Yes," she 
whispered, her voice choking. "We
got married on July 31, 1999."

The hospital room felt thick with 
silence as she waited for his next 
words. Plankton's eye searched 
the room, his antennas twitching 
as he tried to piece together the 
shards of his past.

"Plankton, can you tell me about 
yourself?" Karen asked, her voice 
gentle. "What do you like to do?"

Plankton's antennas twitched as he 
thought. "Invent," he said, his voice 
still weak but with a hint of pride. 
"Science?"
The words came out as a question, 
as if he wasn't quite sure of his 
own identity.

"Yes," Karen said, her voice 
brightening slightly. "You're a 
genius inventor. You've made so 
many wonderful things." She 
paused, hoping to see some spark of 
recognition in his eye. "Do you 
remember any of your inventions?"

Plankton's antennas waved in 
the air, as if searching for the 
memories that remained elusive. 
"Inventions," he murmured, his 
single eye searching the ceiling. 
"Gadgets...machines."
"That's right," Karen encouraged, 
squeezing his hand. "You've created 
so many amazing machines. Can you 
describe one of them?"

He blinked, his antennas 
stilling for a moment. "Chum...Chum 
Dispenser 3000," he said, his voice 
picking up a bit. "It makes...makes 
food for fishies."
Karen's smile grew despite the 
pain. The Chum 
Dispenser 3000 was one of 
his earlier inventions, a 
failed attempt to lure customers 
to their restaurant, but it was a 
testament to his ingenuity. 
"That's wonderful, Plankton," she 
said, her voice thick with emotion.
"How about something more 
recent?" she prompted, eager to 
see how much of their shared 
history remained with him.

Plankton's antennas twitched as 
his brain worked overtime. "Um... the 
Incredibubble," he said, his voice 
picking up speed as he talked. "It's a 
bubble that can shrink things down to 
microscopic size."

Karen felt a jolt of excitement. 
"That's right!" she exclaimed, 
squeezing his hand. "You used it to 
get to find a secret plan."

Plankton's gaze remained 
distant, but there was a hint of 
curiosity in his eye. "Computer... 
plan?"
"Yes," Karen said, her voice 
shaking. "We've had so many 
adventures together, Plankton. We've 
faced so much together."

He nodded, his antennas 
twitching slightly. "Together," he 
repeated, as if testing the word 
on his tongue.

"Do you remember any of 
those adventures?" Karen 
asked, her voice trembling.
"Adventures?" Plankton's eye 
flickered, and she could almost see 
the wheels turning in his mind.
"With Karen... wife?"

"Yes, with me. We've 
traveled the ocean, faced so 
many challenges together."

The doctor came in. "You can go
home now," he said.

Karen nodded, never 
leaving Plankton's face. She had 
spoken to the doctor about his 
condition, about the autism, but 
she still wasn't sure how to 
process it all. How would their 
life change now?

"Come on, Plankton," she said, 
helping him sit up gently. "Let's 
get you home."

She buckles him into his side of the car, 
his newfound passivity making the 
usual struggle unnecessary. The 
engine of the tiny vehicle roars to 
life, and Karen guides them out of the 
hospital parking lot. 

The ride back to the Chum 
Bucket is quiet, the only sound 
being the hum of the car's engine 
and the occasional splash from 
the waves outside. Karen keeps 
glancing at Plankton, his antennas 
listless as he stares out the 
window. His mind seems to be 
somewhere else, lost in a world of 
his own making.

When they arrive, she helps 
Plankton out of the car and 
supports him as they make their 
way to the door. The neon sign 
flickers in the gloom, casting 
erratic shadows across the 
sand. The once bustling 
environment now feels eerie and 
desolate. Karen's mind is racing 
with thoughts of how to make 
this place feel like home again for 
Plankton.

new a journey to autism plaren memorycore ii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii
(Autistic author)

The doctor stepped in, 
his tentacles moving 
gently as he spoke. 
"Mr. Plankton, it's 
important to stay 
calm. This is a 
big change. Can
you tell me your name?"

Plankton's gaze 
flicked from Karen 
to Dr. Kelp, his 
expression a mask 
of confusion. 
"I'm Plankton," he 
managed to say, his 
voice shaky.

The doctor nodded, 
his tentacles still 
and calm. "Good. That's 
good, Mr. Plankton. Do 
you know where you 
are?"

Plankton's eye 
darted around the 
room again, his 
breathing growing 
rapid and shallow. 
He looked down
and then back up at 
Karen. "What's happening?"
he repeated for the third 
time, his voice 
now a little more 
frantic.

Karen's heart 
was in her throat. 
The doctor's 
explanation was 
beginning to take 
root in her mind, 
and she could see 
the stark reality 
of their situation. 
Plankton's repetition, 
his difficulty with 
understanding new 
surroundings and his 
increased sensitivity 
to sound—these were 
all hallmarks of his 
new autism.

The doctor 
continued his 
assessment.

"Mr. Plankton, 
can you tell me 
your wife's name?" 
he prompted.

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to Karen, 
his expression 
becoming more 
focused, as if her 
presence was the 
only familiar 
thing in the room. 
"Karen," he said, 
his voice 
softening slightly.

The doctor 
nodded, making 
a note on his 
clipboard. "Good. 
Now, can you tell 
me what happened 
before you woke up?"

Plankton's eye 
flitted back to 
Karen, searching 
for answers. 

He began to 
rock slightly, his 
body moving in 
a rhythmic 
motion, a common 
self-soothing behavior 
for those on the 
autism spectrum. 
Karen recognized 
it immediately
but seeing it in 
Plankton was 
jarring.

His gaze darted 
around the room, 
his pupil dilating 
with every new 
sound or movement. 
The doctor's tentacles 
were a blur of 
activity making notes.

"Mr. Plankton, I 
see you're feeling 
You're almost ready
to go back home
with Karen." Dr. Kelp 
says calmly. "Just
one more question, 
if you don't mind. Now, 
can you tell me if you
have any pets?"

Plankton's eye
flitted around the 
room. "Pets? Spot!
Yes, Spot. Amoeba
puppy; Spot.."

The doctor nodded, 
his tentacles 
still scribbling notes. 
"Very good, Mr. Plankton. 
It seems like your long-term 
memory is intact, which is a 
positive sign. Now Karen can
take you home!"

Karen felt a 
wave of relief 
crash over her, but 
it was tinged with 
the stark reality that 
their life was never 
going to be the same. 
Plankton's autistic 
mannerisms were 
now a constant 
reminder of the 
accident—his 
newfound need for 
routine, his heightened 
sensitivity to 
surroundings, and the 
way his eye would 
dance around the room 
as he tried to 
make sense of 
his environment.

As they arrived home, the 
stark reality of their new 
life hit Karen like a wave. 
His once-quick steps had 
been replaced with a 
cautious shuffle, as if the 
very floor beneath him was 
unpredictable.

Inside, Plankton 
was drawn to the 
rhythmic ticking of the 
grandfather clock, 
his eye fixated on the 
second hand's journey. 
Karen watched him. His 
newfound need for 
predictability was 
overwhelmingly apparent.

"Let's sit down," 
she suggested, 
guiding him to their 
couch, which was 
now occupied by
Spot.

Plankton's gaze 
flitted around the 
living room, 
his eye alighting 
on his beloved
amoeba puppy
Spot.

"Spot," he murmured, 
his voice tentative, 
as if unsure if 
his words would 
have the same 
effect they once did.
The pup looked up 
at him, its blob-like 
form shifting 
slightly with excitement.

But instead of the
weariness Plankton 
has shown today, he
joyfully watched Spot's 
movements. Karen felt a 
moment of warmth—
his love for Spot hadn't
changed, nor their usual
interactions.

The doctor had 
told her that routines 
were vital for those 
with his condition. So,
she decided to start 
their day with a 
familiar activity: 
breakfast.

Plankton's eye
lit up at the 
sight of the 
familiar kitchen. 
He took his usual 
seat at the table, 
his hands fidgeting 
with the napkin. Karen
noticed his meticulous
arrangement of his 
silverware, the way 
he lined up his plate 
and cup perfectly 
parallel to the edges.

As she prepared 
their meal, she 
could feel his 
gaze on her, 
his eye darting 
between her and 
Spot, who was now 
playfully chasing 
his own tail in a 
loop around the 
living room.
He began to 
hum a tune, 
his voice off-key 
and repetitive. 
Karen's with love 
despite the 
pain she felt.

The clanging 
of pans was 
loud in the 
silence, making 
Plankton flinch—this 
was going to be 
so much harder 
than she had 
anticipated.

The doctor's 
instructions echoed 
in her mind: 
stick to routine, 
keep things simple.

Karen set the 
breakfast plates 
down carefully, 
each item placed 
exactly where 
Plankton liked it.
His eye grew wide 
as she slid his plate 
closer. He stared at 
the food for a 
moment, then picked 
up his spoon.

The clink of 
metal on porcelain 
was like a gunshot 
to his heightened 
sensitivity. He 
dropped the spoon, 
his hands shooting up 
to cover his head in
distress.

"It's okay, 
sweetheart," Karen 
soothed, moving 
quickly to 
his side. She 
retrieved the 
spoon and set it 
aside, her hand 
trembling slightly.

"You don't 
have to eat 
right now," she 
said softly, her voice 
a gentle caress 
against the tension 
in the room.

Plankton 
nodded slightly, his 
breathing slowing as 
his hands uncovered 
his ears. He 
fidgeted in his 
chair, his eye
darting to the 
ceiling as if 
searching for something.

"Let's go read
a book," Karen suggested, 
desperate to find 
anything that might 
calm his nerves.

Plankton nodded 
slightly, his gaze 
still unfocused. He 
stood up carefully, 
his body moving 
with the precision 
of a man who knew 
his world had changed.

As they approached 
the bookshelf, 
his eye caught 
a glint of metal 
from the corner 
of the room. 
The invention 
that had brought 
them here lay in 
a tangled heap, 
its wires and gears 
silent and 
ominous, giving
him déjà vu.

Plankton stopped, 
his body rigid, 
his gaze locked 
on the machine. 
He stared unblinking, 
his mind racing 
back to the crash.

Karen notices his
suddenly unmoving
form and gets concerned.

"Plankton?" she calls
softly, but he doesn't
react.

His entire being 
seemed to be 
consumed by the 
wreckage of his 
former life.

The invention, a 
testament to his 
former brilliance, 
now a grim 
reminder of the 
accident.

"Plankton, honey," 
Karen's voice was 
barely a whisper 
as she tried to 
get him to talk. 
He didn't move.

The invention, a 
tangled web of 
wires and gears, 
seemed to hold 
his gaze captive. 
It was the very 
machine that had 
caused this 
transformation.

Karen followed 
his gaze, her heart 
sinking as she 
realized the source 
of his distress.

"Let's go to 
another room," she 
suggested gently, 
her hand resting 
on his arm. 
But he didn't move.

Karen felt the 
weight of the 
moment settle 
heavily on her 
shoulders. It was 
time to face the 
reality of their new 
life together—a 
life where Plankton's 
once sharp wit and 
innovative spirit 
were now clouded by 
a disorder she 
was only beginning to
understand.

Her heart 
swelled with 
sorrow as she 
observed his 
interaction with 
the inanimate objects 
around him. The 
love she had for 
him remained 
unshaken, but the 
thought of what 
they had lost—what 
he had lost—was 
almost too much to 
bear.

"Come on," she 
coaxed, her voice 
gentle as a lullaby. 
"Let's go to the 
living room. I'll 
read you a story?"

Yet Plankton remains
frozen. So Karen made a 
decision. She 
couldn't bear the 
thought of that 
accursed machine 
looming over them, 
a constant 
reminder of the 
tragic turn their lives 
had taken.

With a fierce 
determination she 
hadn't felt in 
ages, she strode 
over to the invention 
and began to dismantle 
it, piece by painful 
piece.

The metal 
clanked and clattered 
as she worked, 
her movements 
quick and sure, 
each part coming 
off with a 
satisfying crunch. 
Plankton's eye 
followed her, his 
expression unreadable.

When the last 
piece was removed, 
his gaze lifted 
to meet hers, 
his eye filled 
with something 
that looked akin 
to gratitude.

"Thank you, Karen," 
Plankton murmured, 
his voice a 
quiet rumble in 
the stillness of the 
now bare room.

Karen paused in 
her task, her eyes 
meeting his with a 
surprised expression. 
This was the first
time since the 
accident that he had 
spoken to her with 
anything other than 
fear or confusion.

"You're welcome," 
she said, her voice 
choked with emotion.

new neurobehavioral plankton plaren ii

📔🖋️☕️📻☕🍪🤎📜🧸🎞📜📼

new vintage studycore

positivity ꔛ

                              🌸  you can do great things

                              🫧  you are important

                              🌸  you are amazing 

                              🫧  you deserve happiness

                              🌸  the best is yet to come

                              🫧  you deserve flowers

new studycore schoolcore

GREAT CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

When Plankton finally came out
Chip approached with caution. He didn't want to scare
his dad, didn't want to cause another seizure.
"Hey, Dad," he said softly. "How are
you feeling today?"

Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye
flicking towards Chip. "Tired," he murmured,
his voice hoarse from sleep. "But okay."

Chip felt his chest tighten with relief.
He'd been worried about his dad all night,
scared that another seizure would strike 
without warning.

"Can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice
gentle as he approached Plankton.
He didn't want to push, but he needed
to make sure they were okay.

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
eye searching Chip's face. "Of course,"
he said, his voice still groggy.
He sat down at the kitchen table,
his body language open but cautious.

Chip took a deep breath, his heart
racing with the need to get this right.
"Dad, I know last night was...
scary," he began, his voice shaky.
"But I want to be there for you."

Plankton's antennae waved slightly,
his expression a mix of confusion and
fatigue. "What do you mean?" he asked,
his voice still thick with sleep.

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to find the right words. "I mean,
I want to understand your seizures
and what you go through," he said,
his eyes never leaving his father's.
"So that maybe I can help."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye
narrowing slightly. "What do you want
to know?" he asked, his voice a mix
of curiosity and caution.

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his thoughts racing. "Everything," he said,
his voice earnest. "What happens
before, during, and after. What you feel,
what you see..."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
face scrunching up slightly. "Why?"
he snapped, his voice sharp. "What's
the point of reliving it?"

Chip took a step back, surprised
by his father's sudden irritation.
"I just want to understand,"
he said, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae waved erratically,
his eye flashing. "It's not a show, Chip,"
he snapped. "It's not something to be
poked and prodded at."

Chip felt his cheeks flush with heat,
his hands balled into fists at his sides.
"I'm not trying to pry," he said, his voice
shaking with frustration. "I just want to help!"

Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye
narrowed. "You can't help," he said,
his voice cold. "You don't get it."

Chip's heart sank, feeling the distance
between them growing wider. "But Dad,"
he began, his voice trembling. "I'm trying."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his face a mask of agitation. "You can't,"
he said, his voice clipped. "You don't know
what it's like!"

Chip felt a wave of frustration
crash over him, his hands
clenching into fists. "That's why
I'm asking!" he exclaimed. "I'm not
trying to make it about me!"

Plankton's focusing solely on Chip.
"You don't get it," he said, his voice
softening slightly. "It's not about you,
but it's also not something you can fix."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his heart racing with a mix of anger
and hurt. He knew Plankton wasn't
trying to be cruel, but the words stung.
"I just want to be there for you,"
he said, his voice shaky. "To make
sure you're okay."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his eye flashing with agitation. "I don't
need you to fix me," he snapped, his voice
sharp as a knife. "I just need you to leave me
alone sometimes."

Chip took a step back, his eyes
watering with the sting of his father's
words. "I just want..."

"I know what you want," Plankton cut
in, his antennae vibrating with irritation.
"But you can't fix this, Chip. It's not a puzzle
you can solve with a pat on the back or a hug."

The room grew tense, the air thick
with unspoken words. Chip felt his throat
tighten, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
He knew his father's snappy tone was a defense
mechanism, a way to keep the world at bay
when it all became too much. But it still hurt.

new great chip arguecore viii

GREAT CHIP ix
(Autistic author)

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to compose himself. "I know I can't
fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking.

Plankton's antennae stopped moving,
his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity
that made him feel like he was being x-rayed.
"You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you
can support me. You can be there without
trying to change me."

Chip nodded, swallowing the lump
in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say.
"But I want to understand. I want
to be here for you."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?"
he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your
brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds
fun, right?"

Chip felt a smile tug at the corner
of his mouth despite the tension,
which only adds to Plankton's anger.
"Well, when you put it that way..."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye squinting at his son's response.
"What?" he barked, his voice
sharp.

Chip tried to hold onto his smile,
his heart racing. "I mean,
if it's like a pinball machine, I can
learn the patterns," he said, his tone
carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video
games, so..."

Plankton's antennae waved wildly,
his eye flashing with anger. "You think
this is a game?" he shouted, his voice
filling the room. "You think
I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN
PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING
WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!"

Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide
with shock at his father's outburst.
He took a step back, his hands up
in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry,"
he said quickly, his voice trembling.
"I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I
just..."

"You just what?" Plankton spat, his
small body vibrating with rage. "You just
don't get it! You can't get it! You're not
autistic, you don't know what it's like to have
your brain turn on you like that!"

Chip's eyes filled with tears,
his heart breaking at the accusation.
"I know, Dad," he said, his voice
barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying."

Plankton's antennae quivered with
the force of his rage. "You don't know,"
he said, his voice cold. "You can't know.
All I see is a little child playing pretend,
thinking he can understand what I go 
through! And yet you're the one asking
for help! Face it, you're never going to get 
it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!"

Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting
like a sledgehammer. He had never seen
his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want 
to help."

Plankton's antennae stopped their wild
movements, his eye focusing on his son with
a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated,
his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to
help by poking fun at my condition?"

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it
like that," he said, his voice trembling.
"I just wanted to lighten the mood."

Plankton's antennae waved, his eye
still cold and distant. "Don't," he said,
his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten
it. And don't you DARE make fun of it."

Chip's eyes fell to the floor,
his heart aching with the weight of his
father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered,
his voice trembling. "I di-"

"You're sorry?" Plankton's voice
was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry
doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist
on the table, causing their plates to rattle.
"You think an apology is enough
when you belittle what I go through?"

Chip's eyes widened with fear
as his dad's anger grew. He'd never
seen Plankton like this before, his
tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae
thrashing like live wires. The kitchen
felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in.

"Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice
shaking. "I didn't mean it that way."

But Plankton was beyond listening, his
tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to
make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae
whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to
reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!"

Chip took another step back, his heart
pounding in his chest. He had never seen
his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-"
he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop.

"You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted,
his antennae a blur of motion. "You think
it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew
louder, his words sharper. "You think it's
easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?"

Chip's eyes filled with tears as
his father's anger grew, his voice
crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make
light of his dad's condition, but now it
seemed as if he'd made everything worse.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands
shaking.

Plankton's antennae whipped around
his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't
make it go away!" he screamed, his voice
bouncing off the walls. "You think you can
make it better with a laugh?" He slammed
his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot.
"It's not a joke, Chip!"

Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched
his father's outburst, his heart pounding.
He had never seen Plankton like this,
his anger a living, breathing thing that filled
the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered,
his voice shaking. "But I want to help."

Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his
body shaking with the force of his emotions.
"Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want
to help? Then stop making it about you!"

Chip's eyes grew wide with fear
as he watched his father's anger
boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please,"
he whispered, his heart racing.

Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly,
his body vibrating with uncontrollable
rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the
coffee mug from the table,
flinging it across the room
where it shattered against the wall.
Shards of ceramic flew everywhere,
puncturing the silence like shrapnel.

"Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing
faster than it ever had before. He had
never seen Plankton this out of control.
And Karen knew she had to act fast.

Her voice was calm but firm as
she approached Plankton. "Sweetie,
it's okay," she said, her hands up in a
non-threatening gesture. "Let's go
to your workshop. You know that's your
safe space."

Plankton's antennae thrashed, his
eye darting around the room, seeking
anything to target his anger. "I don't
want to go anywhere!" he roared, his
body shaking with the intensity of
his emotions. "It's not okay!"

Karen stepped closer, her voice
steady. "It's okay to be upset,"
she said, her eyes never leaving
his. "But Chip..."

But Plankton's rage was unstoppable.
He lunged for the nearest object,
a framed photo of Chip,
his grip tightening as he raised it
over his head, ready to smash it
against the floor.

Karen's eyes widened, her heart
pounding in her chest. She had
to defuse the situation before it
got any worse. "Plankton, no," she
pleaded, her voice steady. "Please,
don't."

But Plankton's rage had taken over,
his body moving on autopilot as he
swung the photo frame with all his might.
It crashed to the floor, the shattering
glass echoing in the small room.
Chip's eyes grew round with shock,
his body frozen in place as he watched
his father's tantrum unfold.

"Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice
cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!"

But Plankton's rage was a runaway train,
his antennae quivering with the intensity
of his anger. He stomped over to the counter,
grabbing a plate and flinging it against
the wall, where it shattered into a hundred
tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force
of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine.

Karen stepped in front of Chip,
placing herself between him and the storm
of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly,
her voice a calm oasis in the chaos.
"You're scaring him."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye focusing on Karen with a mix
of anger and confusion. For a moment,
his body seemed to pause, his arm
still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly
in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it,
the soft fabric landing limply on the floor.

Karen's eyes searched her husband's,
seeing the turmoil behind the rage.
"Please, Plankton," she said, her voice
soothing. "Let's talk about this."

But Plankton's anger was like a
wildfire, consuming everything in its path.
He picked up another mug, his arm
winding up to throw it, when Chip
suddenly stepped forward, his eyes
locked on his father's. "Dad," he said,
his voice shaking. "Please don't."

Plankton's antennae paused, his
arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled,
his eye wild with anger. "You think
you can just tell me what to do?" And
then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction,
Plankton hurled the mug in front of
Chip, purposefully missing him.

The room seemed to hold its breath
as the mug spun through the air,
the shattering of porcelain on the
tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad,"
Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not
about control. It's about us. Our fam..."

But Plankton was beyond words,
his rage a living entity that
consumed him. He grabbed a toaster,
his grip white-knuckled, and hurled
it at the fridge, the metallic clang
a cacophony in the small kitchen.
"I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!"
he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

new great chip familycore ix

THE LIFE OF UNITY ii
(Autistic author; make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first!)

Kevin scoffs. "Yeah, right," he says, voice 
dripping with disdain. Kevin 
snorts. "So jellyfish are smarter 
than you? You're saying you're like a jelly
fish; Brainless and just floating around?"

Plankton's antennae stiffen, taking on edge. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, "Jellyfish have nerve nets. 
Complex behaviors. 
Brainless? Not brainless. Different."

Kevin's eyes narrow, his grin fading into a sneer. 
"So, what you're saying is 
that you're like a jellyfish?" he taunts. 
"Just with no real purpose?"

The silence that follows is thick with tension. 
Plankton's antennae quiver. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, 
eye flashing, "have purpose. Plankton has purpose."

Kevin snickers, unaware of 
the impact of his words. 
"Sure, Plankton," he says, his 
voice dripping with sarcasm. 
"Your purpose is to annoy me
I guess."

Plankton's antennae stiffen. "Purpose," 
he murmurs, his one eye narrowing. 
"Annoying Kevin... not Plankton's purpose
you don't understand."

Kevin's sneer turns into a full-blown laugh. 
"Understand what?" he asks, his 
voice dripping with disbelief. "That you 
think jellyfish are your friends? That 
you're obsessed with them because 
you're just like them?"

Plankton's antennae quiver 
with a mix of anger 
and sadness, his monotone 
voice tight. "Jellyfish. Different."

Kevin's laughter echoes through the 
jellyfish fields, his ignorance fueling 
the flames of Plankton's anger. "Oh
come on," he says. "You're just mad 
because you can't outsmart a jellyfish."

Plankton's antennae quiver violently, his 
monotone voice filled with a 
rare emotion: insecurity. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, "you don't know what 
you're saying."

But Kevin's laughter doesn't cease, eyes 
sparkling with mischief. 
"What, are you going to get all sensitive 
on me now?" he asks, his voice 
filled with mock concern. "Is Plankton thinking 
with his 'jellyfish brain'?"

Plankton's antennae droop, the barb of Kevin's 
words hitting too close to home. 
"It's not funny," Plankton murmurs, 
antennae drooping.

SpongeBob steps 
forward, fists 
clenched. "Kevin, that's 
not cool," he says 
firmly. "You don't know 
what you're talking about."

Kevin's laughter falters, his smirk fading. 
"What do you mean?" he asks, his 
voice defensive. "It's just a joke."

"No," Plankton murmurs, his antennae drooping 
further. "Not funny."

Kevin's sneer fades, his expression shifting 
to confusion. "What's your 
problem, Plankton?" he asks, his 
voice tinged with annoyance.

"Kevin," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix 
of concern and reprimand. "That's 
not nice. Plankton's interest in jellyfish 
is special to him."

But Kevin's sneer only deepens. "Oh, I 
get it," he says, his voice dripping 
with condescension. "You're all playing 
along with his little game. Well, I'm 
not. Jellyfish are just mindless blobs. 
And if you're so obsessed with them
Plankton, maybe that's all you are, too."

Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye blinking rapidly. 

But Kevin, fueled by his own ignorance, continues 
to laugh, his words 
cutting deeper. "What's the 
matter, Plankton?" he sneers. 
"Can't take a 
little ribbing?"

Plankton's antennae quiver with each insult, his
monotone voice strained. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye wide with hurt. 
"Not a game."

Kevin's laughter echoes 
through the jellyfish fields, 
his eyes gleaming 
with cruel amusement. "Oh, I see," he 
says, his voice dripping with 
sarcasm. "You're just to sensitive 
for a little teasing."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with a 
mix of anger and sadness, his 
monotone voice tight. "Jellyfish... complex," 
he murmurs, his eye flashing 
with determination. "Not brainless. Not like 
your jokes."

"What's the matter?" Kevin asks, his smirk 
growing. "Can't handle the truth?"

"Truth?" Plankton's antennae quiver with emotion. 
"Jellyfish," he murmurs, his 
monotone voice filled with a rare passion. 
"Jellyfish... beautiful. Complex."

Kevin's eyes narrow, his laughter fading. "Beautiful?" 
he scoffs. "They're 
just jellyfish, Plankton. They don't have feelings. 
They don't have brains. 
Just like you."

Plankton's antennae quiver.

But Kevin's smirk only widens, his 
laughter bouncing 
off the surrounding 
coral, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You
can't talk without 
getting all worked up. What kind of brainless 
blob are you?"

Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone 
voice strained. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, "you don't understand."

"Understand what?" Kevin sneers, eyes gleaming with malicious 
amusement. "That jellyfish are just mindless blobs of jelly? That you're 
just like them?"

Plankton's antennae droop. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, "you don't know."

"Know what?" Kevin's laughter is cruel, his 
eyes sparkling with mischief. 
"That jellyfish are just mindless animals 
and you're obsessed with them 
because you're just a brainless creature 
who can't get a life?"

Plankton's antennae droop even further, his 
one eye blinking 
rapidly. "Not mindless."

Kevin's laughter turns into a cackle. "Oh, so you 
think you're better than 
jellyfish now?" he asks, his voice dripping 
with sarcasm. "Maybe if you 
had a brain, you could actually catch one of those 
Krabby Patties you're 
always after! Maybe if you had a brain, you'd realize THAT 
YOU'LL NEVER 
BE MORE THAN A TINY, BRAINLESS BOTTOM FEEDER!"

The words hit Plankton like a tidal wave, antennae drooping 
even further.

"Kevin," Plankton murmurs, his monotone voice thick 
with emotion, "you don't know."

new the life of unity jellyfishcore ii

Any moment now...
Are you sure this is what you want?
(Scoff) Oh spare me your spin, you tablet tabloid.
If you want to psychoanalyze someone, don't look at me-

Look at them! It's so pathetic,
How they run to fetch their sticks…
Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic,
At least I know other tricks!

Look at me and all you'll see is the debris of some defective outcast,
A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) little iconoclast,
But I won't live in the past.

(I almost won this game once, you know.)
But.

History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory,
So reality is changed in the edit when they spin the story,
And we choose, to feel this pain,
And we lose, more than we gain...

But I will BREAK this cycle,
Of mistakes, unlike all,
Of these SNAKES whom I call to condemn!

If I can't win the prize,
I'll play this last reprisal!
Just to bring their lies all to an end… -Ack!

You need regeneration.
Unfortunately, I don't have much faith in that process.
Of course not.
Why "of course not?".
You believe yourself to be incapable of starting over, in more ways than one.
I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back?

"Clear the slate, start again",
Are you hearing how preposterous that sounds?
How do you not comprehend that for someone with my MONSTROUS BACKGROUND,
the whole slate has fallen apart!

Taco that is not true.
There are other ways to-

IT’S TOO LATE-

It's not too late,

FOR ME TO RESTART!

But it's not I, its they,
(Let us talk about it when your),
Who deign to play this game, so,
(head is not so clouded. You're no),
Cruel & inhumane, base & uncouth,
(menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?)
(Please think this through)

I think they're too afraid to,
(Feeling double-crossed is part of),
Bear the bed they've made,
(Dealing with a loss, yes, but the),
Can't bring themselves to face the awful truth.
(Healing is a process, that's the truth)

So I'm turning up the heat to "sauté",
I've a beef to get grilled,
But I fully guarantee today that all the beans that get spilled,
Won't be mine,
No I'm fine,

I-

Shhhh...
Now it's time...

new ii inanimate insanity osc

WHERES ALL THE YOYLE CAKE LOVING BFB/BFDI/II/BFDIA/TPOT 
FANZ >_< ;; NEW WRITTER MIMI<3

*teleportz to mimi* you hav zummoned me. (im a bfb fan and im ztarting to watch hfjone lulz)
-zombie gutz ^_^

new zombie gutz bfb ii object shows bfdi bfdia tpot hfjone one

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

𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡 ♡
୨୧ gunne sax cottagecore dresses
୨୧ moving to the wealthiest part of my town, having a swimming pool at home
୨୧ becoming a master at drawing ruffles, ribbons and lace
୨୧ creating my own fashion brand and being extremely successful
୨୧ excellent grades
୨୧ cute knitted sweaters for winter, a knit bonnet hat, a pair of chunky mary jane shoes, more american apparel basic pleated skirts
୨୧ a reading corner, larger bookshelf, more books, making cute annotations, writing excellent book reviews and being rewarded gifted books because of it, loved ones buying books and gift cards for bookshops
୨୧ not caring about being on my phone at all
୨୧ becoming more flexible, building muscle and getting stronger
୨୧ being able to drink coffee without feeling jittery, anxious and sweating

new studycore homecore cottagecore

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𝟿
𝟷𝟶
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𝟷𝟺
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𝟷𝟽
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𝟸𝟻
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𝟸𝟽
𝟸𝟾
𝟸𝟿
𝟹𝟶
𝟹𝟷
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𝟺𝟺
𝟺𝟻

new studycore listcore mathcore

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ii
(Autistic author)

The drive back 
to the Chum 
Bucket was quiet, 
the only sound the 
hum of the car engine 
and the occasional 
splash of a jellyfish 
passing by. Karen 
gripped the steering 
wheel tightly, her 
knuckles white with 
tension. She glanced 
over at Plankton in the 
passenger seat, his eye 
glazed over and staring 
out the window.

"You ok?" she asked 
tentatively.

Plankton nodded, his gaze 
still fixed outside the car window.

"Everything looks the same, but 
feeling... different."

"You're going to be ok," she said. 
"We'll get through this."

By the time Karen pulls up in the 
driveway, Plankton had fallen asleep, his 
head lolling against the car window. 
She gently lifts him out of the car and 
carries him into their bedroom, laying 
him down with care. As she watches 
him sleep, she whispers, "We'll get through 
this."

The next day dawns with the promise of a 
new challenge. Karen wakes up to the 
sight of Plankton, obsessing with the pattern 
of the floor tiles.

"You ok?" Karen asked, voice soft.

Plankton looked up, his 
gaze slightly unfocused. 
"The floor," he said, his 
voice still quiet.

"What, the floor?" Karen asked.

"The floor," Plankton repeated.

"What about it?" Karen asked.

Plankton's gaze remained fixed 
on the tiles. "Plankton not same, 
Plankton different," he murmured.

Karen sat down beside him. "How 
are you feeling?" 

"Plankton feel... weird," he said, antennae 
drooping slightly. "Things to loud. Things 
to bright." He paused, looking at her with 
a flicker of his old mischief. "But Plankton 
still love Krabby Patty."

Karen couldn't help but chuckle through tears. 
"I know you do, sweetie," she said, her voice 
warm with love. "But maybe it's time we focus 
on something else for a while."

Plankton nodded slowly, gaze still on the floor. 
"Plankton... try," he murmured, fidgeting nervously.

"Do you want for breakfast, Plankton?"

Plankton's eye didn't leave the floor.

Karen tries asking again. "Does Plankton wanna eat?"

Plankton nods, his gaze finally shifting from the floor 
to meet hers. "Hungry," he said, his voice monotone 
and detached.

Karen sighs and heads to the kitchen. She could 
feel the weight of the new reality settling on her 
shoulders, but she was determined to make things 
work.

As she flipped through the recipe book, Plankton's 
voice, distant yet clear, floated through the air. 
"Plankton... Plankton different," he said to himself, 
gaze still locked onto the floor. Karen knew he was 
trying to process his new sense of self.

"Plankton still smart," he murmured, as if reassuring 
himself. "But Plankton... not same." He paused, tiny body 
trembling slightly. "Plankton think to loud. Plankton hear 
to much." The world had become a symphony of 
overwhelming stimuli, each sound and light a crescendo 
that pounded against his newfound sensitivity.

Karen looked up from her cooking with empathy. "It's ok 
Plankton," she said gently. "We'll learn to adapt. Maybe 
we can make some changes around here to help you 
feel more comfortable."

Plankton nodded, but doubt remained. "Plankton... 
not know," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. 
"What if Plankton mess up?"

Karen set the frying pan aside and knelt down 
beside him, taking his hands in hers. "You won't," 
she said firmly. "We'll face this together. I'll always 
be here to help you, no matter what."

Plankton nodded, his gaze finally shifting from the 
floor to meet hers. "Thank Karen," he said, voice 
a little clearer.

"The chumbalaya is ready." She says, serving him 
his favorite chum dish.

Plankton looks up from the floor, his gaze lingering 
on the plate before him. "Plankton eat now?" he asks, 
his voice still distant.

"Yes, sweetie," Karen says with a smile, pushing the 
plate closer to him. "Eat your breakfast."

"Eat breakfast," Plankton parrots back, his tone flat. 
He picks up a spoon and stares at it, his hand 
shaking slightly. The simple task of bringing it to 
his mouth seems daunting under the weight of his 
new reality.

Karen's smile falters a little 
but she keeps the conversation 
going. "It's a beautiful day out
side, Plankton. Would 
you like to go for a walk?"

"Walk outside," Plankton repeats
echoing the monotone rhythm 
of hers. He stands up, his 
movements stiff and deliberate 
as if he's not quite sure of his 
body's new limitations.

"Oh I meant after finishing breakfast," 
Karen says.

"Walk after breakfast," Plankton echoes.

Karen nods encouragingly. "Yes, after 
you eat." She watches as he carefully 
brings the spoon to his mouth, his 
movements tentative and slow. Each 
bite is a victory, a declaration of normalcy 
in a world that had suddenly become any
thing but.

"Good boy," she says, voice filled with pride. 
Plankton looks up, his eye searching hers. 
"Good boy," he repeats, his voice a mirror of 
hers, but the words don't quite fit. Karen 
noticed how he just repeated the phrase she's 
said. It's called echolalia, a trait often seen in 
those with autism, and it's something they're 
going to have to navigate together. She 
decides to keep her words positive and 
encouraging, hoping it'll help him feel more 
at ease. "Yes, let's go for a walk," she confirms.

They step outside into the vibrant world of Bikini 
Bottom, and they start their slow stroll down the 
boardwalk.

The sun was shining, casting a warm glow over the 
coral reefs and the colorful fish swimming by. The 
smell of the ocean was a soothing balm to Karen's 
frayed nerves, and she hoped it would have the same 
effect on Plankton. He walked beside her, his steps 
halting and unsure, his antennae twitching at every 
new sound.

As they approached the boardwalk, they saw a familiar 
figure in the distance. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her 
voice a mix of excitement and trepidation, "it's SpongeBob."

Plankton's antennae shot up, and his eye widened. "Sponge... 
Bob," he murmured, recognizing him.

Karen took a deep breath and tightened her grip 
on Plankton's hand. She knew SpongeBob had 
a heart of gold, but she also knew he could be 
potentially overwhelming.

As they approached, Sponge Bob spotted them 
and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Karen! Hi, Plankton!" 
His voice was a welcome sound in the quiet morning 
and Karen braced herself for whatever would come next.

"Hi, Sponge Bob," she says.

Sponge Bob's face lit up. "Oh boy, Plankton! What's shakin'?"

Plankton stiffened, antennae quivering as he tried to process 
the sudden influx of sensory input. "Sponge Bob," he said 
slowly, his voice measured and careful. "Plankton... walk."

Sponge Bob looked from Karen to Plankton, his expression 
growing concerned. "Is everything ok, Plankton?" he asked, 
eyes full of genuine care. "You seem a bit... off your game to
day."

Plankton stared at him, composing response.

"Walk," Plankton repeated. "Plankton walk."

Sponge Bob looked confused but nodded, his eyes filled with 
concern. "Ok Plankton," he said gently. "Would you like to walk 
with me?"

Plankton's antennae twitched 
and he nodded. "Walk with Sponge 
Bob," he agreed, his 
voice still monotone.

Sponge Bob took Plankton's 
other hand, and together, the 
three of them began their 
leisurely stroll 
along the boardwalk. 

new POV Karen a life of diversity plankarenbob ii

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⢟⣭⣶⣶⣽⣿⣄⠈⢿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣞⡷⠦⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠈⠛⠶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡤⠶⠚⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣦⠀⠻⠿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⢉⣾⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠞⠛⢁⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠻⢿⣍⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠈⠻⠶⠦⠤⠶⠾⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠾⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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new cute silly adorable chip dot art text art ascii art

✧˖° 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 ✧˖°

🌷𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓼

🩰𝓘 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝔃𝔃𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼

💌𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓵𝔂 

🍒𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴

💖𝓜𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼

🎁𝓢𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓸 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓲𝓽

🦢𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴

🎧𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼

🌹𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓪𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼

new schoolcore studycore school

These are the Spanish words of the week! 🪱: Gusano 🐿️: Ardilla ✏️: Lápiz 👶: Bebé

new schoolcore studycore spanish

These are the Spanish words of the week! 🍄:Champiñón ☂️: Paraguas 🐸: Rana 🎳: Boliche

new studycore schoolcore spanish

TOOTH AFTERNOON ii

Karen leaned closer, her
laughter dying down to a
soft giggle. “You’re going to
have to be careful with
that mouth, Plankton. It’s going
to be sore for a few days.
But don’t worry, I’ve got all
the soft foods you’ll need
once we get home. Ice cream,
soup, mashed potatoes...”

Plankton’s eye lit up at
the mention of ice cream.
“Ish...cweam?” he mumbled,
his mouth moving awkwardly.

Karen nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, Plankton. Ice cream,
and anything else you want.
Just no crunchy things, okay?”

Plankton’s eye searched her
face, his thoughts swimming.
“Cweam...no...crunchy?”

Karen nodded, her smile
sympathetic. “Just until
you heal up, love. No crunchy
food for a bit. But we’ll manage.
You’ll have your favorites, I
promise. Just not the crunchy
snacks for now.”

The nurse returned to check
his vitals and gave Karen a knowing
look. “It’s going to be a long
afternoon, isn’t it?”

Karen nodded, wiping
away a tear of laughter. “I’m
ready for whatever comes next,”
she said, her voice filled with
determination.

Plankton’s eye finally
locked on hers, and he managed
a wobbly smile. “Karen...” he
whispered, his voice barely
audible.

“What is it, Plankton?” she asked,
her tone filled with warmth.

His voice was a barely-there murmur.
“Whath...is...this...placsh?” His eye
shifted.

Karen’s laughter had subsided,
leaving a warm smile in its place.
“It’s the recovery room, Plankton.
You’re at the dentist’s office.
You had your wisdom teeth taken
out.” She hoped the repetition
would help him understand.

But Plankton’s gaze remained
cloudy. “Denthis...tish...” he
slurred, his tongue a traitor to
his speech. “Whewe the...the
...lobby?”

Karen’s smile grew. “The lobby is
right outside this door,
sweetie.”

Plankton’s eye searched hers
desperately, as if she held
the key to his sanity.
“Whish way?”

Karen pointed to the
closed door, her voice a gentle
guiding force. “Just through there,
love. You’re not going anywhere
until you’re feeling better.”

Plankton’s gaze drifted to
the door and back to Karen,
his mind a tangled web of
half-formed thoughts. “Buth I
wan...I wanna...to...thee...the...
lobby...nowww,” he protested, his
words trailing off into a sleepy
whine.

Karen’s heart ached with a mix
of pity and love for her
disoriented husband. She
squeezed his hand, her voice calm
and firm. “Just stay here with me.
We’re going to wait for the
medicine to wear off a bit more,
and then we’ll go home, okay?”

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his thoughts a jumbled mess.
“Buh...buth...my teefh... shaw I?”

Karen nodded, her smile
soft. “Yes, Plankton, your teeth.
They’re okay.”

Plankton’s eye searched the
ceiling as if the answers
were written there. “Whath...whath
time ishit?” he mumbled.

Karen checked her watch,
trying to keep her voice steady.
“It’s three in the afternoon,
honey. You’ve been asleep for a
while now.”

Plankton’s eye drifted to
the ceiling again. “Tee...tree
in the afternish...” he repeated,
his words slurred and slow.

Karen nodded, her smile
lingering. “Yes, Plankton.
Three in the afternoon.
It’s time to wake up now, okay?”

Plankton’s gaze drifted
down to her, his eye
half-lidded. “But...I’m not still
sleepsh,” he protested, his
speech still thick with anesthesia.

Karen chuckled softly,
squeezing his hand. “You’re awake
now, Plankton. Just a bit
sleepy and loopy, that’s all.
The doctor said you’d be like
this for a little while.”

Plankton’s mouth moved as
his brain worked to form
words. “Loopy? Whath’s loopy?”
he asked, his voice a mix of
curiosity and irritation.

Karen’s chuckle was a warm
wave that washed over him.
“It means you’re not quite all
there yet, honey. The anesthesia
is still in your system, so
you’re a bit out of it.”

Plankton’s mouth twisted
as he processed her words.
“Anesh...thia?” he slurred.

Karen nodded. “Yes, Plankton.
The medicine they gave you to
help you not feel pain during
the surgery. It makes you a
little loopy when you wake up.”

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his curiosity piqued despite
his muddled thoughts. “Mishine...”
he mumbled, his tongue thick in
his mouth. “Whath’s...whath’s...thish?”

Karen followed his gaze to
the IV in his arm. “That’s just
the medicine that helped you
sleep through the surgery, Plankton.
It’s ok, it’s almost done.”

Plankton’s eye grew wide.
“Shurgery? Did...did I...?”

“Yes, sweetie, you had surgery.
But it’s all done now. You’re
going to be just fine,” Karen
reassured him, her voice a gentle
lullaby.

Plankton’s eye grew wide
with realization. “Shergy? Did
it hurt?”

Karen’s smile was a soft
caress. “No, Plankton. You
slept through it all. You
don’t remember a thing, thankfully.
It was quick and painless for you,”
she said, hoping to ease his
worries.

Plankton’s gaze drifted to
his swollen cheeks, his hand
coming up to tentatively touch
the numbness. “Cheek...hurt?”
he mumbled, his voice a
slurred mess of syllables.

Karen nodded gently. “Yes,
sweetie, it’s going to be a bit
sore for a while. But you’re
doing great. Just stay still and
let the medicine do its work,”
she soothed, her voice a
comforting melody.

Plankton’s hand dropped
back to the chair’s armrest, his
eye heavy with the weight
of the anesthesia. 
“Karen, what’s...what’s that 
beep...beep...beep?”
he asked, his voice trailing
off into sleepiness.

Karen looked at the monitor
behind him, the rhythmic
beeping a comforting lullaby.
“It’s just the heart rate monitor,
Plankton. It’s making sure
everything’s ok,” she
explained, her voice a gentle
reminder of the world outside
his drugged haze.

Plankton’s eye squinted as
he tried to focus on the
steady green line that blipped
with each pulse. “Hearth
hate?” he slurred, his tongue
still uncooperative.

Karen nodded. “It’s your
heartbeat, Plankton. It’s making
sure you’re ok. It’s all part of
the recovery process,” she said,
keeping her voice calm and steady.

Plankton’s eye searched her
face, his thoughts a tapestry
of confusion. “Hearth...hate?”
he repeated, the words a jumble
of sounds that didn’t quite make
sense.

Karen’s smile was warm and
understanding. “It’s your heart,
Plankton. It’s beating, which is
a good thing. It means you’re ok,”
she said, her voice a soothing
balm to his bewilderment.

Plankton’s eye searched hers
again, his mind a foggy maze.
“Heath...beep...beep...” he murmured,
his words a sleepy mantra.

Karen’s smile remained, her
patience unwavering. “It’s ok,
sweetie. It’s just the machine
making sure you’re ok. It’s your
heart, beating nice and steady,” she
explained, her voice a gentle
whisper.

Plankton’s eye blinked slowly.
“Heath...beep...beep...good?” he
managed to ask, his voice a soft
mumble.

Karen nodded, her smile a
constant reassurance. “Yes,
Plankton, your heart is good.
It’s beating nice and strong.
You’re going to be ok,” she
said, her voice a warm embrace.

But Plankton’s curiosity had
not yet been sated. His gaze
drifted to his hand, his mind trying
to make sense of the strange
shapes. “Whath...whath
awe...thish?” he pointed to
his hand, his finger waving
weakly.

Karen’s smile grew wider, her
eyes filled with love and
patience. “That’s your hand, Plankton.
It’s ok, it’s all part of
you,” she said, her voice a
soothing balm to his confusion.

Plankton stared at the
foreign appendage, his mind
still a whirlwind of anesthesia.
“Han’...hand?” he repeated, his
finger twitching slightly.

Karen nodded, her smile
never leaving her screen.
“Yes, Plankton. That’s your hand.
You can use it to do lots of
things. Like hold ice for your
sore mouth,” she said, her voice
a gentle guide through his haze.

But Plankton’s curiosity had
taken a turn. “Ish...moufh...hurt?”
his words still slurred and
slow.

Karen’s smile was understanding.
“Yes, sweetie, your mouth might
be sore from the surgery, but
the ice will help with that,”
she said, her voice a gentle guide
through the fog of anesthesia.

Plankton’s eye searched her
face, his thoughts a jumble.
“Ish...cweam...loobypop?”
he murmured, his mouth still
numb and uncooperative.

Karen couldn’t help but
laugh at his garbled words.
“Ice cream and loopy bop?”
she asked, her voice a soft
caress of humor.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his thoughts a foggy haze.
“No...no...floobydust...bishbath...”
he mumbled, his words a
nonsensical jumble.

Karen’s smile grew, her screen
twinkling with affection.
“Floobydust and bishbath?” she
repeated, her voice a gentle
mockery of his slurred speech.
“What on earth…”

Plankton’s mouth moved in a
slow, sleepy attempt at speech.
“Thish...thish...thish...” he
muttered, his words a stream
of nonsense that seemed to
make sense only to him.

Karen watched him with
amusement, his random
word association a cute side
effect of the anesthesia.
“What are you saying,
love?” she asked, her voice
a soft chuckle.

Plankton’s eye rolled
back into his head as his
eyelid grew heavy.

“Stay with me, Plankton,” Karen
urged, her voice a gentle prod
against the tide of sleep.

“Mmm...Karen...tiwed...”
his voice trailed off, his eye
trying to focus.

Karen leaned in, her smile
warm and gentle. “You’re fine,
Plankton. You’ve just had
surgery. Try to stay awake
for a little while longer.”

But Plankton’s body had
other plans. His head lolled
back, his snore a soft
counterpoint to the steady
beep of the monitor.

new tooth afternoon floobydust ii

PLUSH ONE ii
(By NeuroFabulous)

"What's your favorite thing to do?"
Karen continues, her voice gentle.
He looks around the room, his gaze
finally settling on the metal container,
his project before the accident.
"Fix," he says, his hands 
moving in small, repetitive
gestures. "Invent. Invent," he murmurs.
It's a start.

The paramedics nod, jotting down
their observations. "It seems like
his long-term memory is intact,"
the first one murmurs to the other.
"Okay, Plankton, we're all done here;
we'll be heading on out."

Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand
tightening as she watches them leave,
their boots echoing down the hall.
The door clicks shut, and suddenly
the room feels much emptier, the
silence suffocating. She looks back
at her husband. She's never
dealt with someone with severe autism,
let alone the man she loves. She takes
a deep breath. "Come on," she says,
her voice a gentle coax. "Let's sit up."
With surprising ease, he allows her
to help him into a sitting position.

He looks at her,
his gaze warm and affectionate. "Karen,"
he says, his voice gentle.
It's the first time he's called her by
name since the accident, and it fills
her with a hope so profound it hurts.

They sit there for a while, Karen
stroking his arm, Plankton's eye
closed as he leans into her touch.
He seems to find comfort in her
presence, and she in his. She whispers
softly, "I love you, Plankton."

He opens his eye, a ghost of a smile
playing on his lips. "Love... Karen,"
he echoes. "You, I... I lo-ove you
Karen."

It's not eloquent, but it's enough.
It's more than enough. Karen feels
tears sting her screen as she leans in
and kisses his forehead. "I love you
too, Plankton."

His hand, stiff and unpracticed,
moves to hers, tracing the outline
of her palm. The simple gesture
speaks volumes, a silent promise
that they'll navigate this new world
together.

Karen's eyes well up, a smile
forcing its way through the tears.
"You're going to be okay," she whispers,
trying to tell herself as much
as him. Plankton nods, his gaze
on their joined hands.

He starts to fiddle with her fingers,
his touch tentative but earnest.
It's a simple gesture, but it speaks
volumes. He's trying, and she loves
him for it. The world outside feels
muted as they sit together, sharing
this quiet moment of understanding.

Their bond, though altered by his
new condition, remains strong. Karen
can see it in the way he looks at her,
his eye searching hers for comfort.
And she's there, offering it in spades.
"We'll get through this," she says,
her voice steady "We'll figure it out."

Plankton nods, his hand still tracing
the lines of her palm. His movements
are methodical, almost ritualistic.
It's clear that touch is a way to connect, in
a world that's suddenly become more
confusing. Karen runs her thumb
over the back of his hand.

He looks up at her, his gaze intense,
his eye searching hers for reassurance.
Karen smiles through the tears. "We're in
this together," she whispers, leaning
in to pat his shoulder.

But the second her hand makes
contact, he flinches away, his
body taut with discomfort. It's a stark
reminder of the sensory challenges
he now faces.

"I'm sorry," Karen says quickly,
retracting her hand. She's read
about sensory issues in autism,
but experiencing it firsthand is
overwhelming. She's eager to
learn what will soothe him, what
will help him navigate this new
reality without causing him discomfort.

"It's ok" Plankton mumbles, his
hands moving in a soothing
motion over the blanket.

Karen's determined 
to learn.
"What do you 
need, honey?" she asks,
her voice gentle.

Plankton's hand stops 
its erratic movement. 
He looks at her, 
his expression 
unreadable. "Karen," he 
whispers.

Her eyes fill with 
hope, clutching onto 
his words like a 
lifeline. "What do
you need, Plankton?"
she asks again, her 
tone soft and patient.

He turns his head 
slightly, his gaze 
fixed on the couch. Karen
gently guides him to the
couch, placing a pillow
under his head. She grabs
his favorite blanket, and 
drapes it over him.

He stiffens for a moment, 
then relaxes into the softness.
His hands resume their
repetitive stroking, this 
time on the fabric. Karen 
notices his eye is drawn 
to the patterns, and she
wonders if the visual
stimulation helps him 
focus.

Gently, she sits beside 
him, keeping a 
respectful distance.

Karen's mind is a storm
of thoughts and questions,
but she forces herself to
be present, to be patient.

Plankton's hand continues to
move over the blanket.
He's in his own world, yet
she's eager to understand it.

new plush one neurodivergentcore ii

..._...|..____________________, ,
....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D
...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/
.....), ---.(_(__) /
....// (..) ), ----"
...//___//
..//___//
.//___//
ιf уσυ ωσυℓ∂ נυмρ ιи fяσит σf α вυℓℓєт fσя уσυя gιяℓfяιєи∂, вσуfяιєи∂,
єχ-gιяℓfяιєи∂, єχ-вσуfяιєи∂, вєѕт fяιєи∂, fαмιℓу мємвєя, σя נυѕт α
ρєяѕσи уσυ ℓσνє, яє ρσѕт тнιѕ σитσ уσυя ραgє!

new lovecore livecore excore familycore riskycore boyfriendcore girlfriendcore lifecore

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

vicenarian (20–29)
tricenarian (30–39)
quadragenarian (40–49)
semicentenarian (50)
quinquagenarian (50–59) 
sexagenarian (60–69)
septuagenarian (70–79)
octogenarian (80–89)
nonagenarian (90–99)
ultracentenarian (100+) centenary
semisupercentenarian (105–109)
supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian 
centevicenarian  ages 120-129

↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓

sesquicentenarian (150–159)
bicentenarian (200–299)
multicentenarian (200+)
tricentenarian (300–399)
quadricentenarian (400–499)
quincentenarian (500–599)

new oldcore agecore grandparentcore familycore mathcore centenarianism

My family        
Story by Pansyk            

I died eight years ago.

It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life.

It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful.

If anything, I’m the opposite..

↓Keep reading ↓

31ST OCT 2020 

u/Pansyk

I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and

lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe.

It's not his fault.

I am not vengeful.

I’m the opposite.

You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her.

I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home.

Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her.

As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent,  so they weren’t afraid or angry.

They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family.

Someone is trying to force the door.

Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family.

The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that.

The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin.

Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

new familycore twistedcore carcrashcore ghostkin revengecore obsessivecore excore loricore jackcore lilycore lostcore my family

https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide
Foeticide, of a fetus
Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life
Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months
Avunculicide, one's uncle
Fratricide, one's brother
Mariticide, one's husband or significant other
Matricide, one's mother
Nepoticide, one's nephew
Parricide, of one's close relative
Patricide, of one's father
Sororicide, of one's sister
Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend
Nepticide, of one's niece
Amiticide, of one's aunt
Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide

new amicide murdercore familycore https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_types_of_killing

░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░
▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░
░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░
░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░
▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░

I 🤍 DAD

new dadcore familycore

July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM

Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents.

Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me.

I smiled and asked, “How do you know?”

He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.”

Love GMH

new lgmh boyfriendcore familycore lovecore LoveGivesMeHope

Repost this If you miss
someone right now.

July 27, 2015

new memorycore friendcore familycore tumblrcore instagram

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝔃𝓮: 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 & 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 
𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮. ଓ

new girlcore familycore romancecore femalekin romanticise

r/TwoSentenceHorror
2 hr. ago
villianrules
 
After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer.

It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.

new horrorposting horrorposters familycore

Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM

Mom 

<Your great aunt just passed away. LOL

Why is that funny?>

<It's not funny! Wht do you mean? 

Mom lol means laughing out loud!>

<Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.

new familycore smscore smartphowned

i turned to the guy who 
k1lled my wife
✨
He cried so 
desperately, scared for what was to come. 
If only he had talked to me and tried to 
reason, maybe I could have spared him. 
But that was impossible. After all, he was 
born just a few moments ago...

new familycore twistedcore horrorposting ✨ horrorbuff

Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active?

You may not necessarily require, unless...

You want to plan on having offspring
To check for as*ault (such as ab*se)
A family relation has had female reproductive cancer
if contemplating feticidal abort1on
If getting some reproductive apparatus


if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different
regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active

The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus
which is transmitted vía such contact

If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap 
checks you for) dormant in your system

new papcore testcore viruskin femalekin abusecore abortioncore familycore healthcore pap

r/shortscarystories
4 yr. ago
RVKony
Join

The Blind Child

"Stãbbing."

Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went.

The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered.

Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops.

My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying.

One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?"

I did.

Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school.

The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water.

Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me:

"He was…my partner…my soulmate."

While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room.

"Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?"

She hesitated.

"Honey, you know you can talk to me."

She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy."

My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant.

Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said.

My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child—

I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter.

My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked.

He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape."

That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?"

The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered:

"Poisoning."

new reddit blindcore familycore horrorbuff the blind child

http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/stmaryscem.htm

new familycore cemeterycore st. mary's cemetery burials

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then
I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. 
The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them.
I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out.
I called them and told them to not get on the plane. 
The sand in the hour-glasses refilled.
—Human_Gravy

new timecore shockcore airplanecrashcore familycore glasscore terrorwave twistedcore

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀
🚩⠀
One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀
⠀
Both brothers were 17 when they died. 

new hamilton taxicore bikercore 1970s brothercore familycore

“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding 
our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead 
girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer

new horrorposting girlfriendcore familycore

🔵
The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover
was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to
during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 -
- also on December 20.
🔵

new hoover tierney familycore

𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 ~ 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷

new momcore blesscore blessedkin blessedcore familycore babywave unknown

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 1
Chip, adopted at birth
by Karen and Plankton,
came home from summer
camp an hour early since
the traffic was better than
originally expected.

The house was unusually quiet,
his parent's bedroom door ajar.
He overheard Karen talking to
Plankton in a hushed tone. "It's 
ok, sweetie. You're going to be ok."
Chip decides to eavesdrop on them.
He saw Plankton sitting in bed,
his body still, eye unblinking. Karen
was stroking his hand, looking
to calm.

Chip tiptoed closer to the door.
Karen's voice grew clearer. "It's ok,
just a little longer, and you'll be
back with me." Plankton's hand
twitched slightly under hers. Chip
swallowed hard. It wasn't his
imagination; something was off.

Curiosity gnawed at him as
he listened, his heart thumping
louder than the ticking clock.
Plankton's face remained frozen,
his eye vacant. Chip had never
seen him like this before. Was he
sick? In pain? Chip felt his own
body tense up as he strained to
make sense of the scene.
"Remember," Karen whispered,
"it's like daydreaming, but your
body is here with me."

Chip leaned in closer, trying to
make out the words. "It's ok,"
she repeated, her voice soothing.
"I'm here. You're safe." Plankton's
hand moved again, slightly, as if
to squeeze hers back. It dawned on
Chip that this was like a regular
event for them behind closed doors.

The mystery grew heavier in the
air. Chip had heard of people
fainting, getting dizzy, or even
having seizures before, but never
anything so... quiet. His mind
raced with questions, each more
confusing than the last. What was
happening to Dad? Why hadn't
his parents ever mentioned this?

He watched, unnoticed, as 
Plankton's chest rose and fell
evenly, but he was utterly 
unresponsive.

Chip's curiosity turned to 
concern. He knew he should 
probably leave, but his feet
were rooted to the floor.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains
closed to keep the afternoon sun
from piercing through, as Plankton
finally starts to stir. His eye blinks
slowly, as if waking from a deep
sleep, and his hand grips Karen's
firmly despite his grogginess.

"Welcome back," Karen says with
relief, her voice no longer a
whisper. She kisses his forehead
gently.

Chip's eyes widened. He'd never
seen his dad come out of such a
strange state before. It was eerie,
yet somehow comforting to see
his mom's tender care. He felt like
an intruder, but his worry for
his dad overpowered his guilt. 

Plankton's voice was weak when
he finally spoke. "Was it... I had
another one didn't I.."

Karen nodded solemnly, her
grip on his hand tightening. "It's
okay. You're okay now. I still
think we should tell Chip abou–"

"No," Plankton cut her off, his
voice stronger now, but filled with
a hint of fear. "Not yet." Chip held his
breath, not wanting to alert them
to his presence.

The room remained silent for a
moment, thick with the weight
of the unspoken. Chip's heart
raced as he tried to piece together
the puzzle of his father's condition.
He felt a twinge of guilt for not
noticing anything amiss before,
but the scene was so surreal, so unlike
anything he'd ever witnessed.

Plankton took a deep breath and
shifted in bed, the sheets rustling
beneath him. "We can't," he said,
his voice gaining strength. "He's
no-" "Plankton, your disability is
a part of you," Karen interrupted, her
tone firm but gentle. "Our son deserves
to know, to understand."

Chip's stomach clenched. Disability?
Was that what this was? He felt
a mix of fear and confusion. What
kind of disability could cause
this?

He leaned closer to the crack in the
door, his heart thumping like a
drum in his chest. Plankton looked
up at Karen, his single eye filled
with a determination Chip hadn't
seen before in such a vulnerable
moment. "Karen," he said, his voice
steady, "Chip might sta-" "We can't
keep it from him forever. He's
not a little kid anymore."

He leaned in further, his ear
pressed to the crack in the door.
"Karen," Plankton's voice was
insistent, "Chip won't understand.
I don't want him to see me like this."

Karen sighed, her hand stroking
his arm in a comforting manner.
"He's growing up."

"He's not grown up," Plankton protested,
his voice still weak. "What if he decides
not to love me anymore?"

Karen's eyes searched 
Plankton's, filled with
sorrow and love. "Chip 
loves you for who you
are, not for what you 
can or cannot do. You 
know that."

The silence grew heavier,
but Plankton's expression didn't
ease. Chip's mind raced, trying to
understand what he was hearing.
Disability? How could his dad have
a disability? He had always been so
active, so strong, so...normal?

new to see or not to see chip plankton 1

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 3

Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous

https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all

Read the Autism And All one first!


Plankton's mouth feels
like it's been stuffed with
cotton, his tongue thick.
He tries to form words. 
"Ma...ma..." he
whispers, his voice a
slur. Karen's eyes light up at
the sound. "You're ok,"
she says, her voice a
balm to his frayed nerves.
"You had your teeth out.
You might feel funny for a
little while." He looks at
Karen, his eye searching hers.
"Wh...wh...whath?" he stammers,
his speech jumbled.

Karen leans closer, her
smile reassuring. "Your wisdom
teeth, Plankton. They took
them out so you won't have
any trouble with them later."
But the words don't
make sense to him, his
brain still fuzzy from
the anesthesia.

He tries to speak again.
"Wi...wis...wis..." he stammers.
Karen nods.

"Wisdom teeth," Karen repeats
slowly. "They're out now.
You're all done!"

The words swirl in Plankton's
head, not quite making sense.
He feels his mouth, the
cottony feeling replaced
by the pressure of gauze.
He giggles. "My moufs
fweel funmy," he says, his
words slurred.

Karen laughs softly. "It's
because of the surgery,
sweetie. Your mouth is
healing." She coos. "I fink I
sownd funny," he says, his
eye glinting with mirth.

The nurse returns, checking
his vitals. "How are you
feeling?" she asks.

Plankton looks up, his eye
glassy. "Wibidy wobidy," he
slurs, his speech a mess of
sounds and syllables. Karen
can't help but laugh, despite
the situation. "You're doing
great," she says with love for his
confused silliness.
The nurse chuckles, too.
"It's the anesthesia," she
explains. "It'll wear off
soon."

His gaze darts
to his own fingers.
"Wook at my fingews,"
he says to Karen, his speech
slurred from the anesthesia.
Karen nods, smiling. "Oh
yeah?" Plankton nods,
his cognitive abilities still
under the fog. "Yeth," he
slurs, trying to sit up. "Take
it easy," she says. "You're still
woozy."

The room feels like it's spinning
as Plankton tries to sit up, his
brain struggling to keep up with
his body's movements. "Wha...?"
he mumbles, his gaze unfocused.

But Plankton's curiosity
wins out. He reaches up to
touch a finger to his mouth,
feeling the thickness of the
gauze. "Fingews," he repeats,
his voice still slurred.

Karen laughs with affection. "It's ok
honey," she says. "You're
doing great." Plankton looks around
the room, his eye still
unfocused. "Wheh...wheah awe
we?" he mumbles.

The nurse explains patiently,
"You're in the recovery room
at the dentist's office. You
just had your wisdom teeth
removed." But the words don't
quite register, and he nods
slowly, his mind racing
with confusion and curiosity with
wonder, taking in the world
as if seeing it for the first
time. The colors, the shapes,
the sounds—everything is
fresh and new. He looks at his
hands as if it's an alien appendage.

"Wook ath dis," he says to Karen,
his voice a mix of amazement
and bewilderment. His fingers
spread wide, then close into
a fist, then open again.
"Wook whath I can do!"

Karen swells with love.
It's like watching him discover
the world anew, like a baby
seeing his own hands for the first
time. She can't help but smile
at his innocent fascination.

The nurse nods at Karen.
"You can take him home
now. Just make sure he rests
and takes it easy."

Karen nods, her smile
never leaving her screen.
She helps Plankton up. 
"Hi," he says, his voice a 
slurred mumble.

As they make their way
to the car, Plankton's
steps are unsteady, his 
body still fighting the 
remnants of the anesthesia.
He looks around with
wonderment, as if seeing
the world in a new light.
"Mowah?" he asks, pointing
to the sky.

Karen laughs gently. "It's
the sun, honey. It's ok."
Plankton nods, his mind
trying to piece together
the puzzle of his reality.
"We're gonna pick up Chip
from the park. He's with
Hanna.." "Chip...Chip, Chip," he 
repeats, the word rolling off
his tongue.

The car ride is a blur of
sounds and sensations that
Plankton tries to filter out.
He leans his head against
the cool window, watching
the world pass by in a haze.
Karen keeps glancing back at
him in the rearview mirror,
amusement etched on her face.
"You ok?" she asks.

Plankton nods, his eye
heavy. "Tiwed," he murmurs.
"Try not to fall asleep," she says.
"Because we're almost there."

His eye drifts to the
passing scenery. Trees whiz by.
He counts the telephone poles,
his slurred voice mumbling the
numbers. "One, two, free, four..."

"Almost there," Karen says. Plankton
nods, his hand finding the seatbelt
buckle, tracing its edges. "Five,
sis, seb..."

But alas, Plankton's efforts to
stay alert are in vain. His
lid flutters and his head nods.
"Plankton, keep your eye open,"
Karen says, her voice a gentle
reminder. But his body has
other plans, succumbing to
the sedative's embrace.

"Wake up, Plankton," Karen
says, a hint of laughter in her
tone. She knows he can't help
it. His slumber is deep,
his snores a soft echo in the
car. She watches him in the
mirror, his face relaxed in
sleep. It's a rare sight.

Plankton's normally alert and
active demeanor is replaced
by a peaceful stillness that
fills the car. The surgery was
a success, yet the anesthesia
has taken its toll. 

Karen pulls into the
parking lot of the park, the
sun casting a warm glow.
"Wakey, wakey," she sings.
Plankton's snores hitch, but
his eye stays shut.

She opens the car door
and the chilly air fills the
car, carrying with it the
laughter of children playing.
"Plankton," she calls, her voice
gentle but firm. He stirs, his
body protesting the interruption.
"Chip?" he mumbles, his voice
still thick with sleep.

Karen laughs softly. "Yes,
we're here to get Chip. Time
to wake up." She reaches
over and squeezes his hand.
His eye blinks open, the
pupil dilating as he takes in
his surroundings. "Wha...?"
he mumbles, his brain still
fighting the anesthesia.

Hanna and Chip look up 
as their car approaches. 
"What happened?" Chip 
asks as he gets in the car.
Karen starts to answer,
but Plankton's slurred 
interjection stops her. 
"Dey hook my teefs!" he says,
his words a jumble.
Chip's eyes widen.
"He had his wisdom teeth
out," Karen explains.
Hanna looks at Plankton,
her expression one of
concern. "How are you
feeling?" she asks.
"Wibidy wobidy,"
he slurs. "Buh I dunno."

Karen smiles. "So, we
went to the dentist," she says,
waving bye to Hanna.
"They had to take his
wisdom teeth out." Chip
looks confused. "What does
that mean, Mom?" He asks Karen.

"Well Chip, your dad had 
some teeth that were 
gonna cause problems, 
so they took them out," 
Karen starts. "But the 
medicine they gave him 
makes him feel funny. It's 
like when you have a 
sleepover and wake up 
groggy." Chip nods. "What
medicine?" He continues.

Plankton tries to answer,
but his speech is still 
slurred. "Dey gabe me 
sumpin' to sleep," he 
mumbles, his eye
half-closed. "It's called
anesthesia," Karen says,
her voice calm and steady.
"It's what helps people not
feel pain during surgery."
Chip nods, watching his
dad with a mix of
curiosity and concern.
"But it makes him
a bit loopy," Karen adds
as they pull away.

"Chip," Plankton starts. 
"Whath thad?" "It's my 
hand, Dad," Chip answers,
confused. "Chip's hamv?" 
Plankton persists, his 
mind still fuzzy. Karen 
chuckles, seeing his 
curiosity piqued.

"Chip's hamv?" Plankton
repeats, his speech still 
slurred. Chip holds
up his hand. "It's just a 
hand, Dad," he says.
Karen laughs. "It's 
his hand, Plankton. It's ok.
You're just a bit loopy."

"Wook ath the clows," Plankton says,
lazily pointing at the clouds.
Karen smiles.
"They're just clouds," she says.

Plankton giggles,
his eye glazed with a childlike
wonder. Karen knows this phase
won't last, but she cherishes it. 

new to change the world loopycore chip

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS v

(Autistic Author)



Karen watches the exchange, her heart 
heavy with the weight of their 
conversation. "Plankton," she says 
gently. "What can Chip do to help you?"


"Just be
patient," he says. "And maybe don't 
touch me to much."

Chip's eyes widen at the admission, and 
he nods solemnly. "Okay," he says. "But 
what if you don't look okay?"

Plankton's antennae twitch in what 
Karen recognizes as a sign of 
discomfort, but he answers. "Inform 
Karen, I mean uh ‘Mommy’, but just wait 
for me to come back I guess," he says. 
"Don't call panicked attention to it."

Chip nods, his eyes searching 
Plankton's face. "But what if you fall 
down or something?"

Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Well, 
if that happens," he says, his voice gruff 
but gentle, "you can offer to help me up, 
yet also same thing. But then just 
remember to give me some space, 
okay?"

Chip nods, his eyes never leaving 
Plankton's face. "I will, Dad," he says, 
voice earnest.

Karen feels a knot in her throat, 
watching the two of them. Plankton's 
vulnerability is a rare sight, but she 
knows it's a step in the right direction. 
She decides to push the conversation a 
bit further.

"Chip," she says softly. "Do you have 
any more questions?"

Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes 
searching. "Why’d you get so mad when 
asking you questions?"

Plankton's antennae twitch again, a hint 
of frustration in his eye. "It's just... it's 
hard to explain," he says, his voice tight.
"I know you're trying to help, but 
sometimes it feels like you're poking at a 
sore spot."
Chip's expression falls, his lower lip 
trembling. "But I didn't mean to hurt you, 
Dad," he says, his voice a whisper.
Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping 
to his side. "I know you didn't," he says, 
his voice softer. "It's just that sometimes, 
when people ask questions about it, it 
feels like they're not accepting me the 
way I am."

Karen's heart breaks a little at her 
husband's words, but she knows this is 
a breakthrough. "Chip," she says, her 
voice gentle. "What Daddy's trying to 
say is that sometimes, it's hard for him 
to talk about."

Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. 
"But you're still my dad," he says, his 
voice firm. "I'll always love you, no 
matter what."

Plankton's antennae twitch as he nods 
and for a 
moment, Karen sees a flicker of emotion 
in his eye. The room is silent, the air 
thick with unspoken words. Karen's 
heart is racing, knowing this is a pivotal 
moment. Plankton has always struggled 
with expressing his emotions, especially 
with their son. The words "I love you"
are as foreign to him as the surface 
world.

"I know you do, buddy," Plankton says, 
his voice gruff. He clears his throat, 
looking down at the rock on the coffee 
table. "But for me, it's not always easy to 
say those words." He looks up at Chip, 
his eye filled with something Karen can't 
quite place—pain, perhaps, or regret. 
"But just because I don't say it, doesn't 
mean I don't feel it, okay?"

Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his 
dad's face. "But why can't you say it?" 
he asks, his voice small.

Plankton's antennae droop, and he 
looks away, his eye avoiding contact 
with both Karen and Chip.

"I just want to make sure you know that I 
love you," Chip says, his voice a mix of 
hope and desperation. "Isn't that what 
families do?"

The room seems to shrink around them, 
the air charged with anticipation. 
Plankton's antennae shoot straight up, 
and his eye narrows into a glare. Karen 
can almost see the cogs turning in his 
mind, the struggle to find the right 
words.

"Why do you keep asking?" Plankton 
snaps, his voice sharp as a knife.

Chip flinches, but Karen squeezes his 
hand, giving him the courage to keep 
asking. "I just want to understand," Chip 
whispers.

Plankton's eye flashes with irritation. 
"Why does it matter so much?" he 
snaps, his antennae quivering. "Why do 
you have to know everything?"

Chip shrinks back, his voice trembling. 
"Because I don't want you to be sad," he 
says, his eyes brimming with tears.

Plankton processes Chip's words. His 
antennae quiver, his eye flitting between 
his son and Karen, who's watching with 
a silent plea for patience.

"Why do you keep asking?" Plankton 
repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What's 
so important about me saying it?"

Karen's eyes are filled with a silent 
apology as she sees the confusion and 
hurt on Chip's face. She knows 
Plankton's words are a defense 
mechanism, a way to keep his own fears
at bay. But she also knows how much 
their son needs to hear those words.

"Plankton," she says gently, her voice a
soft reminder of the love in the room. 
"Chip just wants to understand."

Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping in 
defeat. "I know," he murmurs. "I just... I 
don't know how to explain it so he gets 
it."

Karen nods, her heart aching for both 
her son and her husband. "Chip," she 
says, her voice soft. "Daddy's trying, okay?"

But Chip's eyes are on Plankton, 
searching for answers that Plankton 
seems unwilling to give. Plankton's 
antennae are a blur of movement, his 
frustration palpable in the air. "I don't 
know how to explain it so you'll get it!" 
he snaps, his voice echoing off the 
walls.

Chip's eyes widen, and he withdraws 
further into himself, clutching the rock 
tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice 
shaking.

Karen's grip on Plankton's hand 
tightens, a silent plea for calm. 
"Plankton," she says gently, "you don't 
have to explain everything right now. We 
just want to help."

But Plankton's antennae are a blur of 
agitation, his eye darting around the 
room as if searching for an escape. "I 
don't know what you want from me," he 
says, his voice tight. "I'm trying to be 
honest, but it feels like no matter what I 
say, it's not enough."

Karen can see the frustration in her 
husband's movements, his antennae 
waving erratically. "You don't have to 
have all the answers right now," she 
soothes, her voice a gentle reminder of 
the love in the room.

Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae 
stiff with tension. "But Chip expects me 
to," he murmurs, his voice filled with a 
hint of accusation. "You want me to just 
lay it all out, like it's simple."

Karen can feel the frustration rolling off 
of him, and she knows that pushing him 
further won't help. "I know it's hard," she 
says, her voice soothing. "But we can 
take it slow, okay?"

Plankton's antennae quiver, and he 
nods, his eye still narrowed in irritation. 
"Fine," he grumbles. "But don't expect 
me to be good at it."

The tension in the room is thick, but 
Karen refuses to let it linger. She takes a 
deep breath, her eyes on Chip. "Why 
don't we start by talking about what 
happened today?" she suggests, her 
voice calm and even.

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he 
nods, his eye flicking to Chip before 
looking away again. "Ok," he says, his 
voice tight.

"Do you remember what happened at 
the park today?" Karen asks, keeping 
her voice gentle and steady.

Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods 
stiffly. "Yes," he says, his voice tight. "I 
had one of my... moments."

Chip looks at him, his eyes wide with 
concern. "Is it okay with Dad…"

"I'm right here, buddy," Plankton 
interrupts, his antennae still, his eye 
fixed on the floor. "And I'm okay."

But Chip isn't convinced. "But you 
weren't okay at the park," he says, his 
voice quivering. "You were scared I 
think.."

Plankton's antennae shoot up in 
frustration. "I was not scared!" he snaps, 
his voice echoing through the room. "It's 
just... it's hard to explain!"

Karen's heart squeezes, watching her 
husband's distress, but she knows they 
need to keep the conversation going. 
"Chip," she says gently, "why don't you 
tell us what you felt when you saw 
Daddy's moment?"

Chip looks at Karen, his eyes glistening. 
"I was scared," he admits, his voice 
shaky. "I didn't know what to do, and 
everyone was looking."

Plankton's antennae droop, his eye 
flicking to the floor. He's visibly upset, 
and Karen can see the anger bubbling 
beneath the surface.

"I just want to know," Chip says, his 
voice trembling, "I wanna know why 
you…"

But before he can finish, Plankton's 
antennae shoot up in anger, his eye 
flashing with a fury. "Why do you keep 
poking at me like that?" he yells, his 
voice echoing through the room. "Can't 
you just leave me alone?"

Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he jumps 
back, his small body trembling. Karen's 
heart sinks as she sees the fear in her 
son's eyes, and she knows that 
Plankton's outburst isn't helping.

"Plankton," she says firmly, her voice 
cutting through the tension.

new chip off the old talks familycore

r/TwoSentenceHorror
34 min. ago
MistStarz


“Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” 
mother comforted her terrıfıed 
daughter.

“So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”

new dollkin dollcore familycore sitcore twistedcore terriblecore horrorbuff

July 1996

. Twins can be conjoined at the:

Abdomen (omphalopagus).
Chest (thoracopagus).
Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus).
Head only (craniopagus).
Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus).
Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus).
Rump-to-rump (pygopagus).
Vertebral column (rachipagus).

Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs.

Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs.

Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) 

Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused.

Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses 

Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end

Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions 

Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects.

Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos 

new familycore healthcore surgerycore conjoint

22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby.

Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned.

Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later.

Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH.

 Dec 1st, 2014

new lgmh neighborcore familycore abortioncore gmh

In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later.

Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby.

Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy.

Mom, your LGMH

 Dec 1st, 2014

new lgmh miscarriagecore abortioncore familycore gmh

Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones

Amicicide:  of one’s friend  (amicus - friend)  

Avunculicide:  of one’s uncle  (avunculus - maternal uncle)  

Familicide:  of one’s family (spouse and children)  (familia - family)  

Filicide: of one’s daughter or son  (filia - daughter; filius - son)  

Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling)  

Mariticide:  of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse)  

Matricide:  of one’s mother  (mater - mother)  

Neonaticide:  of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born)

Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father)

Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring)

Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man)

Sororicide:  of one’s sister (soror - sister)

Uxoricide:  of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse)

Amiticide:  of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt)

Aniclicide:  of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman)

Avicide:  of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather)

Conjicide:  of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife)

Nepticide:  of one’s niece (nepti - niece)

new murdercore familycore friendcore grandparentcore friendscore

WIFE 

"Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner
table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook,
a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you
mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...'
I shrug, and start to eat dinner.
"Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile.
She races upstairs, and I continue eating.
escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really
take that long to put away clothes?
So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife
and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.*
"What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife
into her chest.

new familycore twistedcore wife

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 2
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ 
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ 
ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

"You had a little episode,
sweetheart," Karen says, her voice
warm and reassuring. "It's okay,
just another one..." "Karen, wh-what
is Chip doing here? Did he se-"

Plankton's question is cut
short as he notices Chip's
expression, and he realized
Chip must've indeed seen the
whole thing. How long did
it last?

Embarrassment washed over
Plankton. He'd managed to
keep his condition from his
son for so long, but now the
secret was out. His heart
raced, his cheeks flushing a
deep shade of red. "Chip," he
stammers, "I-"

But Chip's eyes are wide. "What was
that, Dad?" he asks, his tone
innocent. Plankton's never talked
about his autism to anyone
other than Karen before.
He's not sure how his son
will react. Will Chip look at
him differently now?

"It's nothing, Chip," Plankton
mumbles, avoiding eye contact.
He wishes he could just sink into
the bed and vanish.
Chip, however, isn't one to
back down easily. "No, Dad,
what happened?" He insists, his voice
still shaking from the fear that had
just gripped him. "You were
just sitting there, not moving
or anyth-"

"It's nothing," Plankton insists,
his voice a bit more firm now.
He doesn't want to admit it,
but he feels a twinge of
embarrassment at having been
found out. He's always been
so good at hiding his autistic traits
from Chip. But now,
his son is staring at him with a mix
of curiosity and concern.
Karen sighs, knowing it's time
for Chip to have 'The Talk'.

"Chip," she starts, her voice
careful, "Your dad sometimes
has moments like this. It's part
of who he is, something he can't
help." Chip's screen shifts to Karen,
his eyes searching for
understanding. "What do you
me—"

"It's NOTHING
Chip," Plankton 
repeats, his voice 
more insistent.
"Just... just DROP 
IT, OKAY‽"

The sharpness in his tone
surprises Chip. He's never
heard his dad snap like that.
He takes a step back, his
expression a mix of 
confusion and hurt. "I just
wanted to know if you
were okay," he mumbles.

Plankton's eye darts to
Karen, silently pleading.
"It's okay, Plankton," she
says, her voice calm. "We can
talk about it." But Plankton
shakes his head, his cheeks
flushing even more. "No, no,
not now," he says, his voice
smaller, almost defeated.

The silence in the room
stretches taut like a wire.
Plankton's antenna starts to
twitch erratically. It's a
familiar sight to Karen, a
tic. She's seen it before,
yet never when Chip's been
around. The tic again manifests
as a twitch, his head jerking
to the side in a small, rapid
movement. "Dad? What's
going on?" Chip's voice is
smaller now, fear creeping in.
Plankton's always been self-conscious
about his condition. But now,
his son looks at him with those
innocent, questioning eyes.

He swallows hard, trying to
keep his anxiety in check.
He doesn't know how to explain
the tics and the stims that
accompany his autism.
He's always been so careful
around Chip, hiding them as
best as he could. "It's... it's just
a... nothing," Plankton stammers.
But Chip's curiosity is
piqued. "What's happening
to yo-" "CHIP!" Plankton's voice is
sharp. Chip jumps back, his eyes wide.
He's never seen his dad this
upset. Karen's hand moves to
Plankton's, her grip tight.
"Plankton, it's okay," she says,
her voice steady.

Chip's eyes follow 
Plankton's head as
it jerks slightly to 
the side again.
"What's happening to
your head?" Chip asks.
He's never talked about
his autism with anyone 
other than Karen, and 
certainly not with Chip.
Plankton's antennae twitch
in agitation. "I told you,
it's tck tck nothing, Chip," he says,
his voice strained.

Karen squeezes Plankton's
hand. "Let's just sit 
and talk, ok?" "I'm sorry,"
Plankton says to Karen.
Karen's screen filled with
sympathy. "You don't have
to apologize, Plankton." She
knows how much Plankton
has struggled with his
autism, how much he's
worked to fit in and
keep it hidden from Chip.
"But he's going to want
to know," Plankton says, his
voice cracking. "I don't
want hi-" "I know, love," Karen
interrupts gently. "But we'll
explain it to him. He's a
smart boy. He'll understand."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still twitching. He takes
a deep breath, preparing
to face the reality that
his secret is no longer
safe. He looks at Chip, who's
still hovering at the
edge of the room, his eyes
filled with uncertainty.
"Chip, come here," Karen calls,
patting the bed. "Your dad 
has something to tell you."

Chip approaches cautiously,
his heart thumping. Plankton
looks up at him, his eye
shimmering with unshed tears.
Karen takes a deep breath,
and then starts to explain. "Chip,
your dad's brain is special. It
does some things differently
than ours. Sometimes, it
can get overwhelmed and
he needs a little time to...
recalibrate." Plankton's gaze
shifts to the floor, his antennae
twitching. Chip can see the
shame etched on his father's
face, the fear of rejection.
"Is that why you just
moved your head like that?"
he asks tentatively, pointing at
the twitch. Plankton sighs, his
body tense.

"Yes," Karen admits, "that's part
of it. And sometimes, he has
moments where he just... zones out.
It's like his brain goes to
another place and can't come
back right away."
Chip's eyes are glued to his
dad. "But why?" he asks her.
Plankton's antennae twitch
again, a silent plea for her
to handle this. Karen's eyes
soften. "It's called an
absence seizure," she says.
"It's part of his condition."
Chip frowns, "What condition?"

Plankton's gaze snaps up to
his son, his heart racing.
He's always been so careful
to keep his autism hidden
from Chip. But now, the
moment of truth is here.
"I'm... I-I-I-I…."

Karen gives his hand a
comforting squeeze. "It's
called autism," she says.
Chip's brow furrows. "What's
autism?" His voice is small,
his eyes searching his
mother's face for answers.

Plankton's heart feels like it's
in a vice. He's avoided this
conversation for so long. 
But now, the truth is
out, and he's not sure if he
can face his son's reaction.
Karen smiles gently. "It's a
way of being," she says. "Some
people's brains work differently.
They see the world in a
unique way, and they have to
deal with things like...
episodes."

Chip looks from his mother
to his father, trying to
comprehend. "But Dad,
aren't you okay?" he asks,
his voice small. Plankton's
throat tightens. He's never felt
so exposed. "I'm fine," he
forces out. Plankton
wishes he could just hide,
disappear into the wallpaper.
But he's trapped under the
spotlight of his own son's
curiosity.

new autism and all chip plankton ii 2

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 1
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ 
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ 
ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Chip was adopted at
birth by Plankton and
Karen, who raised him.
But Plankton's autistic,
which he only shared
with Karen. He managed
to 'mask' or hide some
of his neurodivergence
from Chip, who's got no
idea his dad's neurodisabled.

Chip walks in the door
to his parent's room is
slightly ajar. He peeks in,
expecting to find his mom
tidying up or his dad
fiddling with one of his
inventions. Instead, he
sees his dad sitting
still on the edge of his
bed, his eye glazed over,
his body stiff. "Dad?" But
Plankton doesn't move, nor
does he acknowledge
his son's presence. Chip
takes a step closer.
He tries to shake him,
but Plankton is like a
doll, unresponsive. "Dad,
are you ok?" Chip's voice
cracks, fear starting to
creep in.

The room feels eerily
silent, sans the
steady tick of the clock
on the wall. Chip
tries to recall if he's ever
seen his dad like this.
It dawns on him that he
might be hurt.

"Dad?" he whispers again,
his voice trembling. The
only response is the
persistent tick-tock of the
clock, echoing in the
silence. Chip's mind races,
trying to make sense of the
unexpected scene before
him. Plankton's absence
seizure had always been
a closely guarded secret,
shared only with Karen. But
now, Chip's the one who's
stumbled upon it, and he
doesn't know what it is, nor
what to do.

He reaches out to touch
his father's shoulder,
his hand shaking, but Plankton
doesn't flinch, despite his
discomfort. His eye
is open, yet unseeing. The
realization hits Chip like
a ton of bricks. Something
is wrong, terribly wrong. "Mom,
you need to come to your
bedroom. Something's
happened to Dad!"

Karen rushes in, a look
of concern etched on her
screen as she takes in
the scene. She quickly
assesses Plankton and
knew exactly what was
going on. She knows Chip
has never noticed Plankton's
autistic traits. They kept the
autism a secret from Chip as
per Plankton's request.

"It's ok, sweetie," she says
calmly, placing a gentle hand
on Chip's shoulder. "Your
dad's just having a little...
episode." Her voice is soft,
but firm, trying to ease
his panic without causing
alarm. She's seen this
hundreds of times. And
she knew Chip doesn't have
the faintest idea of his dad
having a condition.

"What do you mean?" Chip's
eyes are wide with fear, his
hands still hovering over
his father's unresponsive
body. He's never seen his
dad so lifeless before.
"It's like he's not even there,"
he whispers.

Karen takes a deep breath
and sighs. "Your dad doesn't know 
it's happening, but he'll be fine soon."

Chip's eyes dart 
around the room,
his gaze returning 
to Plankton. "But why?"
he asks, voice 
shaking. "What's
going on?"

Karen's eyes are
filled with a mix of
sorrow and 
determination as she
explains, "Your 
dad's brain does
things differently from
other people's, and
this is one of those
times." Chip's confusion
deepens. "But wh-"

"Remember how sometimes
you get really focused
on a video game and
can't hear me right away?"
Chip nods. "Well, this is like
that, but his body goes
still and he's not really
aware of what's around
him.."

Chip watches as Karen
carefully helps Plankton
to lie down, placing a
pillow under his head and
covering him with a
blanket. Plankton's eye
remains open, but it's
not looking at anything
specific, just glazed over.
Chip's fear turns to
curiosity, questions 
racing through
his mind.

He's seen his dad in
his 'work mode' before,
where he's so focused on
his inventions that it's like
he's in another world. But
this seems different. This is
scary. Karen sighs. "We'll talk
later, ok?" Chip nods, yet
his curiosity overpowers his
fear. He watches as Karen sits
by Plankton's side.
"It's ok, Plankton," she
whispers, stroking his antennae.
"You're safe here; I'm here."

Karen's screen never left
Plankton's face, her gaze
filled with love and
understanding. She knows
his silent battles, his secret
world of challenges.

"Plankton, it's me, Karen,"
she says gently. "You're
safe. I'm right here." She
speaks softly. Chip, still hovering,
can't help but notice the
tenderness in her touch as
Plankton's body remains still,
his eye unblinking.
Suddenly, Plankton
speaks. "Must...the...yes."
Plankton mumbles in a tone 
that's distant. The words make
no sense to Chip, but
Karen nods as if she
understands. "It's ok
Plankton," she soothes. "You're
right here with me."

The sight of his dad
talking to himself sends
a shiver down Chip's spine.
He's seen Plankton mumble
things before, lost in
his thoughts, but this is
different. It's as if he's
in a trance, his eye
seeing something only
he can perceive. Chip feels
his own anxiety spike,
wondering what could be
going through his dad's
mind in this state. "Dad?"
"Let him be," Karen says
softly. "Sometimes he
talks like that when he's
coming out of it. It's part of
his... process."

Plankton continues. "The...
...has to be..."

His words are fragmented,
his voice trailing off as if
his thoughts are racing
faster than his mouth can
keep up. "What...what is he
saying?" Chip asks Karen.

Karen's eyes stay locked
on Plankton, her expression
both concerned and calm.
"He's not really talking to
anyone," she explains. "It's
just something that can
happen during these
episodes."

Plankton's mumbling 
turns into a murmur. 
"The... the... it's all..."

Karen leans in closer, her 
voice soothing, "It's okay,
sweetheart. You're okay. Just
let it happen." Karen
knows from experience that
the words are not for them,
but rather a cerebral dance he
has no control over. Chip, on the
other hand, is utterly bewildered.

The room seems to shrink
around them, the air thick
with unspoken questions
and a palpable tension.
Karen's hand never leaves
Plankton's antenna, her
thumb brushing it gently.
"You're safe, Plankton," she
repeats, her voice a lullaby.
"You're here with me." "The...
the... it's..." Plankton says. Chip
can't help but lean closer,
his hand reaching. Karen's hand
shoots out to stop him.
"Chip, no!" she says firmly.
"Don't. It could make it worse."
Her eyes are filled with a
knowledge that Chip lacks, a
fear that he's only just
beginning to understand. Karen
sighs. "It's just his
brain... recalibrating."

The silence stretches out,
stifling. Chip watches his
father, his mind racing.
He's seen his dad's
inventions come to life,
but this... this is a
mystery he can't solve.
Plankton's antenna starts to
twitch slightly, the first
sign of movement since
the episode began. "It's over, love,"
she whispers. "You're okay."
Plankton's eye blinks,
once, twice, and then focuses
on Karen. Recognition
slowly dawns on his face,
confused. "Whaa-"

"You had a moment, Plankton,"
she says gently. "It's okay."
Plankton looks around,
spotting Chip. "Chip? K-Karen,
what's going on?" His voice
cracks with confusion. "What's
wrong? Did I...?"

Chip feels a surge of relief
seeing his dad's eye blink and
his dad's voice return to
normal. But the question in
his dad's voice tells him that
Plankton doesn't remember.

new autism and all chip plankton 1

r/shortscarystories
10 hr. ago
KieranWriter


Family Photo


The father stood at the front of the 
family photo and beamed a huge smile.

The kids were seated in front of 
the father on little stools.

His wife Deborah was at his side 
and he had his arms around her.

The camera was an automatic one 
the father had set before quickly 
running to get in to the frame.

Click. Big smiles.

The father walked over to the camera.

Just one more. Click. Big smiles.

It was done. A perfect family portrait. 
Get this up in a frame and he can take 
it with him wherever he goes...

The father put the kids to their beds 
and then his wife in front of the TV. 
It was Desperate Housewives; her favourite!

It made the father smile.

Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. 
I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV.

The father was a perfect husband. He did 
everything that he said he would. A real 
whizz around the house.

The house was sparkling 
by the time he had finished.

There was a chime on Deborah’s phone.
It was her sister Mary
 - Hey, not heard from you all day. You ok?

Deborah won’t mind, I will just shoot off a 
short message so that Mary isn’t too alarmed.

 - Hey all good, just watching TV, really tired. 
Long day. Off to bed soon xx.

It’s fine. They look at each other’s phones all 
the time. There’s trust in this relationship.

A reply from Mary
 - OK call me tomorrow xx

The father thought for a moment, just a moment, a 
flicker of worry, then replied
 - sorry better I don’t, I’ve caught a bad sore throat.

The father went into the living room to Deborah and 
gave her a big kiss on the forehead...

The next day, the father puts the frame up in 
the hallway, it will be the first thing that people 
will see when they walk into the house - the beautiful 
family, everybody’s dream...

Then he spent about an hour mowing the lawn.

After everything around the house was sorted, the father 
knew he could relax, finally relax and that the pressure 
was on for anything unexpected visits, so they don't walk 
into a dirty home...

He got into the car and took it out of the garage, turned it 
around and hit the road heading out of suburbs and through the city.

He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes a man needs a change 
and this father needs a fresh start. It wasn’t his first change of scenery.

He looked at the copy of the picture of his wife and kids on the dash
board and he felt a stab of pain...

If only he had taken that picture when they were still alive...

new familycore hometowncore horrorkin family photo

r/TwoSentenceHorror
11 hr. ago
SkullStar

“I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled.

The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.

new familycore pregcore twincore feticidal

I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little
brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old
cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your
keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him.
Amen."
Little kids GMH

Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR

new familycore kgmh gmh

https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B

Francis Edmund Bessette
Male 1904 - 1917  (~ 12 years)

Name	Francis Edmund Bessette 

Father	Augustin Seymour Bessette,   b. 1870,   d. 28 Aug 1948  (Age 78 years) 
Mother	Marie Louise Poulin 

Born	Jul 1904 	Richford, Vermont  
Gender	Male 
Died	1917 	Richford, Vermont

 	
The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919
Boy Suffocates In Elevator
Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car

Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath.
The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours.
The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation.

Buried	All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont

https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B

new familycore vermontcore bessette

Today my aunt found out she's having a girl 
She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as
wonderful"
My aunts love for me GMH:)

Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S

new lgmh familycore gmh

Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying
for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with
YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it".
Loving families like this GMH !

Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E,
Nashville, TN

new yesterdaycore familycore gmh

Go to TwoSentenceHorror
r/TwoSentenceHorror
13 hr. ago
Classic-Dog8399

 ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵖˡˢ ⬇️

When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her.

It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.

new soulcore horrorpost horrorposters horrorbuff familycore mentalcore acrania

GREAT CHIP vii
(Autistic author)

Karen's eyes searched their faces,
picking up on the unspoken tension.
"I see you two had a talk," she said gently,
her gaze lingering on Plankton. "How are 
you feeling?"

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly.
"Tired," he admitted. "But better."

Karen stepped closer to the bed,
her hand reaching out to cover
his own. "I'm here," she said softly.
"Do you remember what happened
in Chip's room before coming in here?"

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously. "Bits and pieces,"
he admitted, his eye avoiding hers.
"I know I had a...moment. And I...
I was mad."

Karen's hand squeezed his gently.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice
soothing. "You don't have to be ashamed.
It's just your brain's way of coping."

Plankton's eye searched hers, his antennae
still. "But the things I said..."
his voice trailing off.

Karen's expression remained calm,
understanding. "They were the seizure's words,
not yours," she assured him. "We're just
glad you're okay."

Chip's gaze flitted between
his parents, his heart aching for his dad.
He knew he needed to be strong, to support
his father through this. "Can we talk more
about it tomorrow?" he suggested, his voice
filled with hope.

Plankton's antennae nodded wearily.
"We can," he said, his voice a mix
of relief and exhaustion. "But for now,
I need to rest. It's bedtime, so.."

Chip felt a twinge of sadness
at the thought of his dad's struggle,
but he also felt a spark of hope.
Maybe tomorrow would bring a new
understanding, a way to bridge
the gap between them.

The next morning, the sun streamed
through the blinds of their small, cluttered
bedroom, casting patterns on the floor.
Chip stirred, his mind filled with the
memories of the previous night's conversation.
He checked on Plankton, who was
still asleep, his antennae twitching slightly.
He knew today would be a new day,
a chance to start anew with his father.

Carefully, Chip padded out to the kitchen,
his thoughts racing with the promise
of understanding.

He found Karen at the counter,
sipping her morning coffee, her eyes
red-rimmed from the night's worry.

"Mom," he began, his voice
still thick with sleep. "Can we talk?"

Karen turned, her eyes
filled with the same
exhaustion he saw in Plankton's.
"Of course, honey," she said,
placing her mug down gently.

Chip took a deep breath,
his words spilling out like
water from a broken dam.
"I want to understand Dad's
condition," he said, his voice
determined. "I don't want
to make it worse for him."

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the sincerity in his gaze.
"That's a big step, Chip,"
she said, her voice filled
with pride. "But it's not
going to be easy. It'll take
patience and practice."

Chip nodded, his expression
resolute. "I'm ready," he said.
"I just don't want Dad to be
alone in this."

Karen's face softened, her hand
resting on his shoulder. "You're
such a good son," she said, her
voice warm with affection. "But 
remember, he might not always
know how to ask for help. Sometimes,
you'll have to read between the lines."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with questions and concerns.
"But what if I mess up?"
he asked, his voice trembling.

Karen's hand gave his shoulder
a gentle squeeze. "You might,"
she said, her voice filled with
experience. "But that's okay. Just
keep trying, and we'll figure
it out together."

Her words echoed in Chip's head
as he sat down at the kitchen
table, his eyes never leaving
his mother's. "But how do I know
what to do?"

Karen took a deep breath, her
eyes filled with a quiet strength.
"You'll learn," she said, her voice
calm and reassuring. "It's about
patience and observation. And
most importantly, communication."

Chip nodded, feeling the
weight of her words. "Okay," he said.
"I'll do my best."

Karen's hand squeezed his
shoulder gently. "You already are,"
she said, her smile warm.

Chip felt a surge of determination.
He was going to be there for his dad,
no matter what it took. "What can I do
now?" he asked, eager to start.

Karen's eyes searched his, a hint
of sadness in them. "Now, we wait,"
she said. "Let him sleep. When he wakes,
be there, but don't overwhelm him."

Chip nodded, his mind racing with
questions and fears, feeling a mix of emotions:
fear, love, and a newfound
determination to be the best
son he could be.

As he waited for Plankton to
wake up, he tried to remember
the cues his dad had mentioned:
twitching antennae, a sudden
quietness, a look of overwhelm.
He promised himself to be more
aware, more attuned to his father's needs.

new great chip tiredcore vii

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 6
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ 
ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

The sounds Plankton makes
shift again. "Skrink, skrink."
Karen's eyes light up with
understanding. "It's his brain's
new way of saying 'I'm okay',"
she whispers. "It's a 
'stim'." Chip looks at his dad,
his curiosity piqued.

Plankton's antennae wriggle,
his eye glazed over. "Skrink,
skrink, skrink." The sounds are
soothing, almost hypnotic.
"It's like he's playing a tune,"
Chip murmurs. Karen nods.
"In a way, he is," she says. "It's
his brain's symphony."

The room is bathed in the
glow of Plankton's stims, his
autism's unique melody.
"Dad?" Chip asks tentatively,
his voice a whisper. Plankton's
head tilts slightly, his antennae
still. "Skrink skrink skrink," he
repeats. It's like he's in a
trance, lost in a world only he
understands. Plankton's eye flickers.
"It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers.
"You can keep making your
sounds."

And then it happens. Plankton's
voice shifts, echoing Karen's words.
"It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs.

Chip looks at his mom, his eyes wide.
"Is he... is he okay?" Karen nods.
"It's his way of processing," she says.
"It's called 'echolalia'." Chip nods,
his gaze never leaving his father's.
"It's when his brain mimics the words
he hears to make sense of them," she explains.
"It's like when you repeat something
until it feels right."

Plankton's antennae twitch in time with
his echoes. "It's okay, Plankton," he says,
his voice a mirror of Karen's soothing tone.
Chip smiles. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he repeats, trying to enforce his dad's calm.

But Plankton thinks 
Chip's making fun of
him. His antennae shoot 
straight up, his eye wide 
with hurt anger at Chip.

"It's not a game, Chip!"
Plankton snaps. "It's not 
something to tck tck... to
mock!" Karen sighs,
knowing this conversation
needs to be handled with
care. "Sorry, Dad," Chip says, his
voice shaking. "I just... I
thought it would he-"
"It's not for you to think
about!" Plankton cuts him off.

Karen puts a hand on
Chip's shoulder, her gaze
on Plankton. "Chip didn't mean
anything by it," she says calmly.
"He just wants to understand
and connect." She turns
to Chip, her screen filled with
compassion. "I know it's hard to
see Dad like this," she says.
"But remember, his autism is
part of him, and we need to
respect it. He doesn't like it
when you mimic his sounds
like that."

Chip nods, feeling a
wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad,"
he whispers. Plankton's antennae
droop slightly, but he doesn't
look at Chip. "It's okay," Karen
says, her voice soothing. "We're
all learning here."

Plankton's hand starts to
move again, tracing patterns
on the blanket. Karen watches.
"It's his 'stimming', Chip,"
she says. "It's his way of
self-soothing, and these movements
and sounds help him to cope."

Chip nods, his eyes still
wet. "But why did he get
so mad when I do it?" he
asks. Karen sighs. "Because
it's his own personal language,
his way of understanding the
world," she explains. "When you
address it, he feels like you're
invading his space, like you're
not taking his feelings seriously.
It's something his brain does for
himself only." Karen smiles
gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she
whispers. "Chip's just trying to
understand everything. You
can keep making your sounds."

Chip wants to help, but he doesn't
know how. "Just let him be,
Chip," Karen says, her voice
soothing. Plankton shifts again,
his eye teary. "It's okay,
Plankton," he murmurs, echoing
Karen's words from earlier.
Chip clenches. He didn't
mean to upset him, seeing his
dad's eye welling up with tears.

Karen's hand finds Plankton's,
squeezing it gently. "It's okay,
Plankton," she says. "You don't
have to hide it from us."

Plankton's tears spill 
over, tracing a silent 
river down his cheek.
Karen's eyes never leave
his. "You don't have to hide,
Plankton," she whispers. "We're
here for you." Chip watches. He
doesn't know what to do,
his mind racing. "Mom," he says,
his voice shaking, "What can
I do?" Karen turns to him, her
expression gentle. "Just be here,"
she says. "Just listen and
learn."

Plankton's tears stream down.
"It's okay, Plankton," he hears
his wife say again. The
words echo in his mind, a
comforting mantra. "It's okay,
Plankton," Plankton murmurs, trying
to mimic her tone. But it
sounds forced, wrong. He
swallows hard. "That's right, 
Plankton," Karen says,
smiling. "You're okay. You're
safe, Plankton," she repeats.
"You're here with us."

Chip watches his dad, his heart
breaking. "Mom, why is he...?"
Karen's eyes are filled with
pain. "It's his way of
telling us he's okay," she says.
"He's using my words because
right now, his brain can't find
his own." Chip nods, his eyes
on his father. Plankton's
hand is still moving, tracing
the patterns on the blanket.
"It's okay, Dad," Chip whispers.

Plankton's crying intensifies,
his tics becoming more
pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he
murmurs, his antennae flailing.
Karen reaches for him, but
he flinches away. "It's okay,
Plankton," she says, her voice
calm. "We're here."

Chip watches, his own
screen wet with tears. He's never
seen his dad like this before.
He feels like an outsider in a
conversation he's always been a
part of. "You don't have to hide
your tears," Karen whispers to
Plankton. "We're a family."

Plankton's sobs become
louder, his tics more pronounced.
"Tck tck tck," he says, his
body convulsing slightly.
Karen's hand is firm but gentle
on his back, offering silent
support. "It's okay," she murmurs.
"Let it out."

Chip watches. "Why is he...?"
his voice trails off. Karen looks
at him, her screen full of love.
"It's his way of saying
he's overwhelmed, Chip," she
whispers. "When he repeats
my words, it's his brain trying
to find the comfort it needs."

Plankton's cries become
louder, his tics more erratic.
"Tck tck tck," he sobs, his
body shaking. Chip feels
helpless, his mind racing.
He wants to make it stop,
but he doesn't know how.
"Just be here, buddy," Karen
says, her voice calm. "Sometimes,
that's all he needs."

Plankton's tics morph into
full-body shudders, his cries
now muffled by the blanket.
"It's okay, Plankton," Karen
whispers, her hand still rubbing
his back. "We're with you."
Chip watches as his father's
sobs echo in the room, each
one a heartbreaking testament
to the weight he carries. "You're
not alone," he whispers, his voice
tiny in the face of Plankton's
distress.

The words tumble from
Plankton's mouth, a mix of
Karen's soothing tones and
his own raw pain. "It's o-okay,
P-Plankton," he repeats, his voice
broken. "It's o-okay." Karen's eyes
well up too, but she remains
steadfast. She's seen this before.

"Tck tck tck," Plankton says,
his body convulsing with
each sob. "You don't have t-to
tck tck hide it-t." Karen nods, her
thumb brushing away a tear. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "We love you just
as you are." Plankton's sobs
turn into hiccups, his antennae
twitching. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he says, his voice mimicking hers.
Karen's hand moves in gentle
circles on Plankton's back, her
eyes never leaving his.
"It's okay, Plankton," Karen says.
"You're safe here." Plankton's sobs 
subside slightly. Karen nods. "That's
right," she whispers. "Your sounds,
your tics, they're part of you."

Chip watches. He's never seen his dad
so vulnerable. "But... but why?"
he asks. Karen takes a deep
breath. "His autism, Chip," she
says. "It's like his brain has
its own language, and when
he's overwhelmed, it comes out."
Plankton's tics become less
erratic, his breathing even.
"It's okay, Dad," Chip says,
his voice trembling. "You're not
alone." Karen smiles sadly.
"He knows that, Chip," she says.
"But sometimes, his brain just
needs to speak its own words."

Plankton's eye meets 
his wife's, the panic
receding slightly as Chip 
watches. 

new autism and all Plankton & Chip Plankton II stimcore 6

What GENS are y’all? 🤨

Lost Gen – 1883-1900 😩 

Greatest Gen – 1901-1927 👵🏽👴🏾

Silent Gen – 1928-1945 🤫 

Baby Boomer Gen – 1946-1964 👩🏽‍🍼👶🏽👨🏾‍🍼
 
Gen X – 1965 - 1980 ❌ 

Millennial – 1981-1996 💎 

Gen Z – 1997-2012 💤

Gen Alpha – 2013 - present 🎁

new familycore listcore peoplecore gens

r/shortscarystories
3 yr. ago
deontistic

Unnatural Birth

ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ

There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance.

Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed.

I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın.

I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . .

I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .

new familycore surgerycore reddit

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢉⣉⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣠⣤⡘⠟⠉⠀⣄⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣈⣩⣤⣤⣤⡀⢨⡴⠋⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⡄⢿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢉⣁⠈⣹⣿⣾⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣯⡅⢠⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⡀⢙⣿⣿⣤⣼⣿⣿⡟⡉⠻⣿⣿⣷⣤⣿⣿⣿⠅⣬⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠃⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠟⢀⠩⢿⠻⠛⢻⣿⣷⣶⣶⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⣿⠍⠐⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣉⢹
⡄⢷⣄⠙⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠋⣠⣶⣾⣿⣶⣤⡙⢿⡿⢋⣤⣶⣾⣷⣦⣄⠻⣿⣾⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣩⣴⠇⣸
⢀⣌⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣌⡙⠃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠙⢡⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣉⡄⢹
⣄⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣉⡙⢿⣿⣷⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⢋⣥⣌⢻⣷⡶⠿⠟⢁⣾
⣿⣇⠲⠶⠾⢿⠸⣿⣿⣮⣿⡟⢀⠹⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⡈⢿⣿⣬⣿⡿⢸⡋⠵⠒⣀⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣧⣈⣛⣀⣉⣙⣉⣡⣴⣧⡄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⣼⣷⣄⣙⣋⣩⣄⣉⣉⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣄⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢋⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣉⠻⢿⡿⠛⣉⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new ii iv l dot art text art ascii art

r/shortscarystories
1 day ago
CBenson1273

My Aunt Tried To Protect Me From My Mother
My childhood was a nightmare. My mother hated me and took every chance to show it. Nothing I ever did was good enough. ‘B’s on report cards were because I was stupid. Unfinished chores were because I was lazy. Any beatings I got were because I deserved them. And my father was just as bad.

Fortunately, her sister was my refuge. When things got too bad, I could go over there to escape for a day or two. Perhaps that was why my mother didn’t like Aunt Lisa. The feeling was mutual.

So I was surprised when my aunt told me she’d invited my parents over for tea tomorrow.

“Why would you invite them here? The whole reason I come here is to get away from them!!”

“I know,” she replied. “But that all ends tomorrow. I’m going to have a talk with them; they aren’t going to mistreat you anymore.”

I knew in my heart they’d never change, but she was determined to try.

The next day, I sat in the corner as my parents entered.

“There you are, you wretched child,” my mother said. “Come home this instant and stop causing trouble!”

“Now, now, Lydia,” replied my Aunt. “That behavior is exactly why I called you over today. It’s quite enough.”

“HOW DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO RAIS—!”

“Do calm down, Lydia. All that screaming isn’t good for your blood pressure. What’s say we all relax, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss this like adults?”

My mother still looked furious, but she took the proffered cup and retook her seat.

“How you treat Annie isn’t right. It needs to stop.”

“You have no say in what I do in MY home. And whatever MY daughter gets, I can assure you it’s deserved.”

“So you aren’t open to change, then?”

“Absolutely not - that girl’s gotten exactly what she deserves.”

“Very well, then. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Come to wh—“ my mother started when she suddenly began to foam at the mouth and grasp at her throat.

“Don’t mind that,” my Aunt said. “Just a bit of poison I placed in your cups. I was hoping you’d agree to change your ways, but clearly you never will. Goodbye, sister.”

After my parents had collapsed on the floor, I looked over at my aunt. “What did you do?”

“What needed to be done,” she replied.

“But what if they’d agreed to stop?”

“Then I’d have given them the antidote I was keeping in my purs—“

A look of shock crossed her face as her throat closed, replaced by panic as she rifled desperately through her purse.

“Looking for this?” I asked, holding up her syringe.

“But…. why?” my aunt asked as she collapsed.

“Remember all those times you saw my bruises and scars and sent me back there anyway?”

“But I loved you like a daughter,” she gasped with her final breath.

“Then you should’ve done better,” I said

new familycore unaliving reddit

r/shortscarystories
3 mo. ago
Intrepid_Wanderer

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ

Delivery Room

My grandparents were worried when I said I'd decided to get the tablet.

They're a bit old-fashioned, but they mean well. The thing is, it's 2084. 

Most people who can get the tablet just go ahead and accelerate 

through all nine months of pregnancy. The baby can be born as soon 

as the parents like- no need to endure mornıng sickness or false 

warnings for labor. And miscarriages are nearly a thing of the past- 

most babies are accelerated at the first warning. Medical technology 

is truly amazing.

Not everyone accelerates. Some people worry about those obscure 

studies on bonding ability in accelerated babies, some consider a 

"natural" course an unmissable experience and some just don't have 

access to it. Most of the time, though, people accelerate.

I was so excited to get to the hospital. I didn't even get an ultrasound 

done first- the test was positive, and I was about to see my baby 

anyway in a few minutes.

There were the occasional horror stories. Most of them were urban 

legends, tales of some quack who messed up and made horrific 

things happen. Truth was, there was very little to mess up, especially 

at a nice clinic like this one. With today's medications, I could 

expect to hardly feel the labor and go home with my family on the 

same day.

They said I'd feel a tingling in my abdomen, maybe even some light 

kicking. At first I did, but it was more uncomfortable than I'd imagined. 

It was like a twisting, stretching sensation inside of me. I hated to 

imagine what it might have been like if the tablet didn't also act as an 

aesthetic.

I tried to close my eyes and breathe through it. Something was 

soaking through the bed- must be my water breakıng. But it smelled 

metallic, and I was so dizzy. Why didn't I hear crying? Shouldn't it have 

worked by now?

Someone started shouting, but I couldn't open my eyes to see why. 

The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a doctor 

asking about ultrasounds and the words "ectopic pregnancy."

new familycore Science Fiction & Fantasy delivery room

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 3
Plankton notices the shift in Chip's
expression and his own face falls.
He's been so scared of this moment,
of being seen as less than. He's
always tried to keep his stims
under wraps, to appear as 'normal'
as possible. But now it's all out
in the open, and he can't hide anymore.

Karen reaches for Plankton's hand,
squeezing it gently. "It's okay, love.
You don't have to be afraid. Chip's
smart, he'll understand." She looks
back at Chip, her eyes pleading.
"Remember what we talked about,
Chip. Your dad's stimming is his way
of coping with the world, and it's
something that makes him feel
safe and comfortable. Yet we need
to understand that when he's doing
it, it's his personal time. It's just not
for us to intrude on. Because for
him, it's like a secret conversation he's
having with himself."

Chip nods slowly, his eyes
flicking from his dad's face to
his mom's, trying to digest the
new reality that's being laid out
before him. Plankton takes a
deep, shuddering breath, his
rocking coming to a stop.

Karen stands up, walking over to
Plankton, and kisses him on the
cheek. "Why don't you go wash up,
sweetie?" she suggests gently. "I'll
talk to Chip." Plankton nods, his
expression a mix of relief and fear.
He slides out of bed, his legs
shaky, and heads to the bathroom.

The moment the door clicks shut,
Karen turns to Chip, her eyes filled
with a quiet determination. "You
see, Chip," she starts, her voice
softer now, "Your dad's stimming is
like his private conversation with
his brain. Sometimes, he'll start
saying random things, talking to himself,
working through his thoughts
and feelings. So when you
commented on it, it was like
you interrupted a conversation he
was having to himself, which can be
upsetting."

Chip nods, his eyes following the
path his dad took to the bathroom.
"But what if he's hurt?" he asks,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"How do we know if it's okay?"

Karen sighs, her expression
softening. "That's a good question,
Chip. We just need to be observant.
If he's happy or upset, his stims
might be different. And if he ever
looks like he's in pain, or if he's distressed,
that's when we step in, but first ask."

She takes a deep breath,
preparing herself for the next part
of their conversation. "But it's also
important to remember that even
though we can't always understand
what he's feeling or why he stims,
it's his way of dealing with the world.
So we need to be respectful, and not
make him feel weird or uncomfortable."

Chip nods, his gaze still on
the bathroom door. "I don't want
to make him feel bad," he says, his
voice sincere. Karen sits back down
beside him, her arm wrapping around
his shoulders. "We know" she
assures him. "You're a good kid,
Chip. You'll learn to read him
better than anyone else."

As Plankton emerges from
the bathroom, his face is washed
clean, but the fear lingers in
his eye. He sits back down on
the edge of the bed, his posture
rigid. Karen looks at him with
love and patience, waiting for him
to speak.

"Chip," she starts, her voice
careful. "You know how everyone
has their own ways of dealing with
stuff, right?" Chip nods, his gaze
flipping between his parents. "Well,
your dad's brain works a bit
differently than ours. Sometimes,
he needs to do things like rocking
or making sounds to help him
think and feel better. He may
even repeat words or phrases,
which is called echolalia. It's all
part of his autism, and it's his way of
navigating through the world."

Karen's eyes are filled with a
mixture of love and hope as she
speaks. "These are his stims, and
they're very personal to him. It's like
his own secret language, a way
to communicate with himself. So
when you see him doing these things,
it's important to remember that he's
not doing it for show, or for
attention. It's his brain's way of
talking to him, of keeping him calm."

Plankton nods slowly, his eye
dull with the weight of his secret
now out in the open. "And sometimes,"
Karen adds, "I've seen him come out
of seizures while talking to his brain."

"Seizures?" Chip asks, his voice
laced with fear. Plankton winces at
the word, but Karen nods. "They're not
like the seizures you might think of,
sweetie. They're a part of his autism.
It's like his brain's way of restarting,
of reorganizing itself when things
get too much."

Plankton finally speaks up, his
voice shaky. "I don't like it when you
saw me like that Chip," he admits.
"Now I'm... exposed. So just GO 
AHEAD AND STARE." He throws 
his hands up in a dramatic
gesture, his sarcasm clear. Chip
flinches, feeling a pang of guilt.

Karen puts a gentle hand on 
Plankton's knee. "Chip wasn't 
staring, sweetie. He was just 
trying to understand." She turns 
to Chip. "It's okay to be curious,
but remember, Dad's stims are like
his personal bubble. They help
him feel safe when the world 
is too loud or confusing. So unless
he's really upset or in pain, we
respect that space."

Chip nods, feeling a mix of
understanding and awkwardness.
He's never thought about his dad's
quirks as being part of something
so... significant. "Okay," he says,
his voice small. "I'll try not to
stare or interrupt."

Karen smiles warmly at him.
"That's all we ask, buddy. Just
love him the way you always have.
And if you have any questions, you
can always come to us. We're a team,
and we're all here for each other."

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 17
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Karen's eyes are filled with love
and understanding. Plankton
slowly nods, his antennae dropping.
"I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice
barely a whisper.

But Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his eye cold. "You need to go,"
he says, his voice firm. Chip's screen
flickers with hurt. "What?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
Plankton's gaze is unyielding.
"I don't want you here," he says.
"Not right now." His words are like
a dagger to Chip's heart, but
Karen's screens flicker with a
message of patience. "Dad, what
do you mea-"

But Plankton cuts him off,
his antennae rigid. "I mean it,"
he says, his voice hard. "I don't
want you here." Chip's screen
reflects confusion and pain.
He doesn't understand. "But why?"
he asks. "We're fa-"

"Don't," Plankton says, his voice
sharp. "Don't pretend to care."
His eye is cold, his antennae
quivering with anger. "You made
fun of me. You think my world
is a joke." Chip's screen flickers
with confusion and guilt. "Dad,
no," he says, his voice shaking. "That's
not what I meant." But Plankton's
not listening, his words cutting
through the air like shards of
glass. "You think you know," he says,
his voice rising. "But you don't. You
can't. You're not like me."

Karen's screens are a
swirl of emotions, her heart
aching for both her son and
her husband. "Plankton, please,"
she says, her voice a gentle
plea. But he's not listening.
He's too lost in his own
hurt, his own frustration.
"You think you can just play
along?" he says, turning to Chip.
"You think it's that easy?"
Chip's screen shows his fear
growing, his mind racing. He didn't
mean to hurt his dad, but now
he feels like he's being pushed
away. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says,
his voice barely a whisper. "I just
made a mis-"

"Mistake? Hah. The only
mistake was thinking
you could ever understand!"
Plankton's words are a harsh
reminder of their earlier
misunderstanding. Chip's screen
reflects his hurt, his eyes
filling with tears. "You think
you can just pretend?"
Plankton continues, his voice
bitter. "You think you know what
it's like to be me?" His antennae
wave wildly in accusation.

Chip's voice is barely a squeak.
"I just wanted to help, Dad,"
he says, his screen a jumble
of sadness and confusion.
"But you didn't," Plankton
says, his voice cold. "You 
hurt me. And I can't just
shake it off." Karen's screens
flicker with pain for her husband,
but she knows Plankton's anger
is a shield, a way to protect
his tender heart.

"You don't get it," Plankton
continues, his antennae jutting
forward. "You think you can
just pretend to understand?"
His words are a knife in the dark,
twisting in Chip's gut. "Dad,"
Chip says, his voice trembling.
"I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll
learn." But Plankton's eye
narrows, his antennae waving.
"It's not about you," he says,
his voice harsh. "It's never been.
You don't get to cry victim. I can
forgive accidentally touching me
and such, but this... I can't.
I saw you mocking me. I heard you
laughing." Chip's eyes widen.
"No," he says, his voice desperate.
"I didn't mean t---"

But Plankton's not listening.
"You think because you're sorry,
everything's okay and 
make it go away? You don't
get to decide that," he says, his voice
shaking. "You don't get to tell me
how I feel. Because right now, you
don't understand a thing. You're
not a part of this. You're not
being a good son. And I don't
think I can trust you."

The words hit Chip like a wave,
his screen flashing with disbelief.
He feels like he's drowning,
his mind racing for a way to
make it right. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he says again, his voice choked
with tears. "I'll do anything.
I'll learn, I'll change." But
Plankton's antennae droop, his
body defeated. "It's too late,"
he murmurs. "You had your
chance. But honestly, I don't think
you'll ever be the son I need."

Karen's screens pulse with pain,
seeing the rift between
them grow wider. She knows
how much Plankton values trust,
how hard it is for him to give it
once it's been shattered.

Chip's screen flickers with
desperation. "Dad, I'll be here," 
he begs, whimpering. "I'll try anyth—"

But Plankton's antennae are
rigid with finality. "No," he says,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"I now know better than to let
you in again. I hoped we'd be 
closer, but now I... I don't think
you belong in my life, Chip."

The words hang in the air,
each one heavier than the last.
Chip's screen is a whirlwind
of emotions: guilt, sadness,
fear. "Dad," he says, his voice
a broken plea. "Please, I'll do
better. I promise." But Plankton's
gaze is unyielding. "I'm letting go
Chip. We're done now. You'll never
be the son I adored again. You
failed to accept me, so I won't
accept your façade. So good
bye, Chip. I hope you find peace.."
Plankton then turns around, leaving
Karen and Chip in the living room
as he walked down the hall.
Chip's eyes are wide with shock,
his screen flickering with tears.

Karen's screens dim with sadness
as she looks at her son. "Chip,"
she says, her voice gentle. "It's not
you. It's just his way of coping."
But Chip's not listening. He's
thinking about the moments
his dad's eyes had lit up, the
times Plankton had laughed,
his antennae waving with joy.
And now, it's gone, replaced by
a coldness that scares him.

He tries to imagine what it's like
for Plankton, to live in a world
that's too loud, too bright, too
much. A world where even the
smallest touch can send him spiraling.
Where every interaction is a minefield
of misunderstandings. And he wonders
how he could have missed the signs.
How could he have hurt his father so
much without even realizing it?

new autism and all familycore chip

To my dear darling baby.
Author: Anonymous
Baby Name: Baby Zepeda
Birth Date: May 2011
Abortion Date: October 2010

The pain sometimes is so hard to bear, even after 11 years. I regretted it all the moment I woke up from the procedure. I screamed, “My baby!”. I’m so sorry I was weak and insecure. Your dad didn’t want to keep you because we were barely making it and didn’t want to give you a bad life. I was scared, no one would love me like your dad and he would leave me if I kept you. How wrong we were. He wouldn’t have left me. He would have loved you so much. Baby, you are missed every second of my life. Both your dad and I regret our decision. He also hurts for you too even tho he doesn’t show it. You have 2 sisters and 1 brother. I can’t wait to hug you and hold and kiss you in heaven. Oh my baby. How could I have been so stupid and weak. I know you are with God, Jesus y tu bisabuela y tus tios! I love you with all my being and hope you can forgive me. Your passing lead me to God. The only positive. I love you!

Posted: Jul 6, 2022

new familycore abortioncore

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 4
Plankton looks at Chip, his
eye searching for any sign of
judgment or fear. But all he sees
is confusion and concern. "I-I-I-I… I just..."

Karen takes over, her voice
soothing. "It's okay, Plankton.
You don't have to explain everything
right now. Chip just needs to
understand that your stimming is
private." "But why does he have to know?"
Plankton asks, his voice tight with
anxiety. "Why can't it just be our
secret?" Karen's expression is one
of compassion.

"Because, love," she says, her
hand still on his knee, "Chip is
part of our family, and he deserves
to know who you really are. And
his knowing won't change how
much we love you." Plankton nods
slowly, but the fear in his eye
doesn't dissipate entirely.

Chip sits quietly, watching his
parents interact. He's never
seen this side of his dad before,
and it's unsettling. But he
doesn't want to make things
worse. "I won't say anything, Dad,"
he promises, going to hug him.
"And I'll try to underst--"

"Don't!" Plankton recoils, his
body stiffening at the sudden
touch. Chip freezes, his arms
outstretched, unsure of what
just happened.

Karen's face falls. "Chip, remember.
Let him come to you when he's
ready." She looks at Plankton,
apology in her eyes. Plankton nods
slightly, his cheeks reddening.

"It's okay," Chip says, pulling away
and sitting back down on the bed.
"I just wanted to tell you that I
love you, Dad." Plankton's eye
softens, but he turns away, now
talking to himself, his voice low and
quick. "I told him not to stare," he
mumbles. "Doesn't he
understand." His eye darts around
the room, focusing on nothing.

Karen watches him, her heart
aching. Plankton's stims had
always been their secret, something
they'd navigated together. Now,
it was witnessed by Chip.

Plankton's voice grew louder,
his words a jumbled mess as he
spoke to himself. "I shouldn't have
let him see, no," he said. "Not. Today."

Karen watched him, her heart
breaking for her husband. She knew
how much he valued his privacy,
how much his autism was a part of
his identity, and now it was out in
the open for their son to see.

Chip looked at his mom, his eyes
full of confusion and concern.
Karen squeezed Plankton's hand
and turned to Chip. "Remember,
buddy, sometimes Dad needs to talk
to himself to make sense of things.
It's his way of organizing his thoughts."

Chip nodded, trying to
understand. "But why 
can't I hug you, Dad?" 
he asked softly.

Karen's voice was calm as
she explained. "Sometimes,
when people with autism
get overwhelmed, physical
contact can be too much for
them to handle, even if it's from
someone they love. And your
dad's sensitive to certain touch
Chip, okay?" Chip nodded, his
throat tight with emotion.

"It's okay, Chip," Karen said, her voice
soft. "Dad's just talking to himself,
like I said. It's his way of making
sense of things." She watched as Chip
processed this, his eyes never leaving
his father. "But remember, it's his
conversation. We should let him
have it without interrupting. And
right now, he's okay. He's just...
thinking out loud." She glanced at
Plankton, whose eye had stopped
darting around and was now focused
on the floor.

Chip nodded, his curiosity
getting the better of him. "But 
Mom, why does he need to st-" 
"I don't need to explain myself to
you!" Plankton snapped, cutting him
off. "You wouldn't understand 
anyway!" His voice was sharp,
like a knife slicing through
the quiet of the room.

Chip's eyes widened, and
he took a step back, his hands
raised in a placating gesture. "I'm 
sorry," he said, his voice small. "I just 
wanted to kno—"

"Chip," Karen interjected, her voice
gentle but firm. "Remember what you
learned. Dad's stimming is his private
time. We need to respect that." She
turned to Plankton, her expression
full of understanding. "It's okay,
love. You don't have to explain."

Plankton took a deep breath,
his rocking starting up again. "But
what if he doesn't respect me
anymore?" he whispered, his voice
shaking. Karen leaned in, her
eyes filled with love. "Chip loves
you, Plankton. And now he knows
a little more about you. That's all."

But Chip's questions didn't stop.
He was like a detective piecing
together a puzzle, his curiosity
unyielding. "What about the sounds
yo--"

"Chip," Karen's voice was firm but
kind. "Remember what we said.
Dad's stims are personal. Let's
give him space." But Chip's
mind was racing, trying to
make connections. "But does he
make sounds wh-"

"Chip," Plankton cut 
him off, his voice
strained. "Just KNOCK 
IT OFF and leave me 
alone, okay?" Chip felt
the sting of his dad's
words, his heart sinking.
He'd never seen Plankton
so agitated. Karen's grip
on his shoulder tightened.
"Chip," she said softly,
turning him to face her.
"Your dad's had a lot to
process today. Let's just
give him some space, okay?"

With a nod, Chip backed
away from the bed, his
eyes on his dad, who had
resumed rocking. He retreated to
his room. He'd always
thought his dad was just
quirky, a bit odd at times, but
now it all made sense. The
way he'd get lost in his
thoughts, the way he'd repeat
things, and how he'd sometimes
need his space. It was all part
of this... 'autism'. It was a lot to take
in, but he was determined to
understand.

Karen sat beside Plankton,
her hand resting lightly on his
back. "It's okay, sweetie," she
whispered, her voice soothing.
"Chip just needs time to
understand." Plankton's rocking
slowed, his breathing returning
to normal. "But what if he's
embarrassed?" he asked, his
eye still fixed on the floor.
"Embarrassed?" Karen echoed,
her voice gentle. "Why would
he be embarrassed? You're his
dad, and he loves you just as
you are. This is just something
new for him to learn." Plankton's
shoulders slumped, and he let
out a sigh.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 8
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) 

As she pulled the blankets up
to his chin, Plankton's hand
reached out, grasping for hers. "Stay,"
he murmured, his voice
barely above a whisper. Karen squeezed his
hand gently. "Always," she promised.

They sat in the quiet of
the room, the only sound the
rhythmic squeezing of the fidget
toy. Plankton's eyelid grew
heavy, his breathing deepening.
"It's ok," Karen whispered,
stroking his forehead. "Rest now."
Plankton's hand tightened briefly
around hers before his grip
slackened. His eye fluttered
closed, and she watched him
slip into a deep, much-needed
sleep.

During the week, Plankton got
more comfortable as Karen 
helped make adjustments. She
let him stim safely without any
judgment, even suggesting
different ways to fidget. And
she saw Plankton's old self shine
through, too. As usual, he stayed
up late watching movies. He'd
sigh and lightly tease Karen when
it came to mundane matters. Yet
she knew when it came to sensory
matters and potential triggers, it's
unnegotiable. He did open up to her
more due to his fears which came
from the autism. He didn't try to
steal the krabby patty formula any
more, but that didn't stop him from
spying on the krusty krab.

But their son Chip, whom they
adopted at birth, was going to
come home. Chip had left during
the beginning of the week before
Plankton acquired autism, to a
week long camp with some school 
mates of his. But now it's the
weekend, and Chip will be coming
back from his trip today.

Karen felt a pang of anxiety
as she thought about Chip
seeing Plankton. Would he
understand? Would he be scared?
Would he still love him? "Plankton,
Chip's old enough to underst--"

"No," Plankton said firmly,
his voice clear. "I don't want
anyone to know." Karen knew
his fear of change, of being
different. "But, Plankton,"
she began, her voice gentle.
"Chip is our son, and he might
notice changes..."

Plankton's eye grew stormy.
"No," he repeated. "I don't want
to be..." Plankton trails off as
Chip himself came in excitedly.
"Mom; Dad!"

Plankton's gaze darted to their
son, his hand tightening around
his fidget toy. She watched as
Chip rushed over, his eyes full
of excitement from his camp
adventures. "Hi, I'm home!" Chip
says, hugging Karen before turning
to Plankton.

Plankton's body tensed, his
eye avoiding Chip's gaze. "Hi,
son," he murmured, his voice
forced, But Chip, ever cheerful, 
doesn't seem to notice.
"Dad!" Chip said, launching
himself at Plankton.

"Welcome home," Plankton said,
his voice a monotone. Chip's
expression fell a little, but
his excitement was too great
to be dampened.

"How was camp?" Karen asked,
trying to ease the tension.
Chip's enthusiasm was
infectious. "It was amazing!
We did archery, and I even
made a new friend!"

Plankton's gaze remained
on the fidget toy, his thumb
flicking the switch back and
forth. "That's... nice," he
managed, his voice tight. Karen
could see the effort he was
making to engage.

Chip chattered away, not
noticing the strain in Plankton's
voice. "Her name's Luna, and she's
super cool! We're gonna be
pen pals!"

Plankton's gaze flicks up to
meet Karen's. She gave him an
encouraging smile, willing him to
find his place in the conversation.
"Cool," he murmured, his mind
racing to process the sudden
flood of information. "Pen pals."

Karen watched as Chip's
eyes searched Plankton's face,
his youthful innocence unable to
comprehend the gravity of the
situation. "Why don't you show
us if you've any pictures
you took?" she suggested,
trying to shift the focus.

Chip nodded, eagerly pulling out
his phone. He sat beside
Plankton, scrolling through the
photos, his excitement a stark
contrast to his father's
detached demeanor. Plankton's
eye flicked to the screen, his
heart racing at the thought
of impending touch.

Karen watched as Chip's
fingers hovered over a picture
of himself and Luna. "Look,
Dad," he said, holding out the
phone. Plankton blinked. "Oh
nice," he says.

But as Chip's hand reached
out to hug, Plankton's arm shot
up, his antennae quivering.
"Don't," he murmured, his voice
barely audible. "Don't touch me."
Chip's hand hovered in the
air, confusion clouding his
features. "But, Da-"

Karen stepped in quickly.
"It's ok," she whispered. "We're
all family."

new familycore lunacore brain chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 5
The next morning, Chip
decided to go into his
parent's shared bedroom.
Karen was sitting beside
Plankton, who was in his bed.
Her hand was gently tracing
patterns on his arm. Plankton's
eye was closed, and the only 
sound in the room was his
softly rhythmic snoring.

The sight of his dad lying
there, peaceful and quiet, was
comforting. Plankton's chest
moved up and down with
each breath, and Chip felt
his own anxiety start to ease.
He sat down on the edge of
the bed, watching his dad
sleep, his curiosity now
tempered with empathy. Karen
smiled at him, her eyes full of
understanding. "It's okay," she
whispered. "He's just resting."
Chip nodded, watching
Plankton's antenna twitching
ever so slightly with each
breath. He'd never seen his
dad so still, so... peaceful.

The room was bathed in the soft
glow of the morning sun, and the
quiet was almost sacred. Chip
could see now how Plankton's
stims were like a shield,
how they protected him from a
world that could be too much at
times. And in sleep, that shield
was down, revealing the
vulnerable man beneath. Karen's
hand continued to trace gentle
patterns on his arm. Chip reached out,
his own hand hovering over
Plankton's arm, unsure if he
should touch him.

"It's okay," Karen mouthed,
seeing the uncertainty in Chip's
eyes. "He's sleeping." So Chip
placed his hand lightly on Plankton's
arm, mimicking his mom.

The warmth of Plankton's skin
under his palm felt surprisingly
normal. For a moment, Chip
forget about the storm of the
previous night and the revelation
of his dad's autism. He watched
the steady rise and fall of
his chest, the soft snores
that punctuated the silence.

Karen's eyes remained on her
husband, a tender smile playing
on her lips. Her hand never
ceased its gentle motion, the
love in the action palpable.
The sun painted the room
in soft, warm light, casting
a gentle glow across the
crumpled bedcovers and the
slightly open mouth of the
sleeping Plankton.

The rhythmic sound of his
snores filled the space, a
comforting symphony to
Karen's ears. She'd heard it
a thousand times before,
each inhale and exhale a
testament to his survival in
a world that often felt too
much for him. Chip sat
silently, his hand tentatively
resting on Plankton's arm.

In sleep, Plankton's armor
was down, revealing the
softness beneath. His
stims, the protective
shells he'd built around
his thoughts, had ceased.
The tension in his body
was replaced by a gentle
relaxation, as if even in
his subconscious, he knew
he was safe.

Karen's hand on
Plankton's arm was a silent
testament to their bond, a
wordless conversation that
transcended the barriers of
his condition. The gentle
movements, almost imperceptible
to an outsider, were a
soothing balm to Plankton's
nervous system. Chip felt a
wave of love and protectiveness
for his father wash over him,
a feeling that grew stronger
as he watched his mom's
caring ministrations. He studied the
contours of Plankton's face,
his sleep-slackened jaw and
the soft snores that rumbled.

He thought about the stims he'd
seen the night before, the
rocking, the muttering. Now,
his dad's quietude spoke
volumes about his need for
space and understanding. Chip
swallowed hard, his own
thoughts racing. He knew
his curiosity could sometimes
be intrusive, but he couldn't
help it. He wants to know
everything about his dad,
now more than ever.

As the minutes ticked by,
Plankton's snores grew softer,
until they were just a faint
whisper in the room. Karen's
hand never stopped moving,
her eyes never leaving his
face. It was like watching a
dance, a silent conversation that
only the two of them understood.

Chip felt a lump in his
throat, the gravity of the
situation starting to hit him.
He'd always known his dad
was different, but now he knew
why. Autism was a part of
Plankton that couldn't be
fixed or ignored, it was
a piece of him, as essential
as his antennae or his love
for Krabby Patties.

He watched as Karen
continued her silent vigil, her
touch a gentle reminder of
his dad's humanity amidst
his neurodivergence. Plankton
was still the same person,
his quirks and tics a part of
his identity, not a flaw to
be hidden. Chip's mind was
full of questions.

How had his dad managed to
keep this a secret for so long?
Why did he feel the need to
mask his true self? He knew
his dad was different, but he'd
never fully grasped the extent
of it. Plankton had always
been a whirlwind of energy,
his brain firing on all cylinders.
But now, watching him sleep,
his body at peace, Chip saw the
weight that Plankton carried
each day. The effort it took
to navigate a world that
wasn't built for him. The stims
were his crutch, his way of
finding balance. And Karen,
his rock, always there, offering
comfort with just a touch.

Karen looked up, her eyes
meeting Chip's. "You know,"
she said softly, "your dad's
always been like this. Since
before you were born. And I
fell in love with him knowing
of it, not despite it." Chip felt
his eyes sting with tears. He'd
never thought about his
parents' relationship in this
light before, the quiet strength
that must have been there
from the start.

He watched as Karen leaned
forward and kissed Plankton's
forehead. "He's always been
my hero," she whispered. "And
now, I want you to see him that
way too." Chip nodded, his
throat tight with emotion.

He took a deep breath and
moved closer to the bed, his hand
still hovering above Plankton's
arm. "What can I do?" he asked,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"What do you need from me?"

Karen's eyes never left Plankton's
face, but she squeezed Chip's hand.
"Just love him, Chip," she said,
her voice filled with warmth. "Be
his rock, just like I am."

Chip nodded, understanding
dawning. He leaned in and
kissed his dad's cheek, his
hand now resting gently on
his arm. Plankton's snores
hitched at the contact, and
Chip froze, his heart racing
as Plankton's eye fluttered open.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 12
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) 

But Plankton was too lost in
his rage to hear her. "Get
OUT!" he screamed, his antennae
thrashing. "I don't need Chip!"
The words were a knife in
Karen's, but she knew they
were not truly his own.

"Dad," Chip's voice was small,
his eyes wide with shock. "I didn't
mean to..."

But Plankton's anger was a
beast that had been unleashed,
his words cutting like a knife.
"I said get out!" he roared, his
body vibrating with rage.

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, looking for the man
he knew beneath the storm of
emotions. But all he saw was a
stranger, a creature of fear and
frustration. He took another
step back, his heart racing. "But
Dad," he whispered, his voice
barely audible. "I didn't do anything
wrong.."

Plankton's antennae stilled,
his breathing erratic. "You're
right," he murmured, his voice
deflating like a balloon. "You
haven't done anything wrong, in
fact, you're pretty perfect." The
words were laced with sarcasm, a
bitterness that made Karen's fists
clench. "After all, it's not like
you called me burdensome or
anything," he added, his voice
dripping with false sweetness.

Chip's eyes widened, the
impact of his father's words
hitting him like a slap. He
looked at Karen, his eyes
pleading for help, for
understanding. "Dad," he said,
his voice shaking. "That's not
what I me-"

But Plankton's anger had
become a living entity in the
room, feeding off his fear and
frustration. "Oh, I'm sorry,"
he said, his voice thick with
sarcasm. "Did my little falling
accident hurt your precious wittle
feelings?" His antennae twitched,
his eye glinting with rage.

Chip took another step back,
his chin quivering. "But Dad,"
he protested, his voice shaking.
"I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't mean it,"
Plankton interrupted, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "You're
so innocent, so pure." His antennae
waved erratically. "But let me tell
you a secret, Chip. You see, there's
a wonderful thing called tact.
Maybe you should try it sometime!"

Chip felt his screen burn with
embarrassment, his eyes filling
with tears. "But Dad," he whispered,
his voice shaky. "I just wanted
to-"

"Oh, I know what you wanted,"
Plankton sneered, the sarcasm
dripping from his words like acid.
"You wanted to be the hero,
didn't you? The big strong
boy who saves his daddy from
his own brain!" His antennae
twitched erratically. "But let me
tell you something, Chip. You can't
fix this. You can't make it all
better with your toys and your
stupid questions. So why don't
we all just praise perfect little
Chip for trying, shall we.." The
words were a slap in the face, each
one hitting Chip harder than the
last.

Chip's eyes filled with tears,
his body trembling. "But Dad,"
he whispered, his voice
desperate. "I just want to help."
"Oh, how noble," Plankton said,
his voice thick with sarcasm.
"Want a medal?" His antennae
quivered with anger, his eye
glinting with spite.

"I just want to be with
you," Chip said, his voice
breaking. "To make you happy."
"Well, you're doing a fine job,"
Plankton said, his voice like
a whip. "Keep it up, Chip.
You're a regular miracle worker."
His words were barbed, each one
designed to cut deep.

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
desperate for some sign of the
love he knew was there. But
all he found was anger, a wall
so thick it was suffocating.
"Dad," he said, his voice
shaking. "I'm sor-"

"Don't," Plankton interrupted, his
voice cold. "Don't you dare say
you're sorry. You don't get to
feel sorry for me. You don't get
to pity me." His antennae
twitched with agitation. "You don't
even get to be upset about what
you said. Because it's all true,
isn't it?" His eye bore into
Chip's, his voice like ice. "I'm a
burden. That's all I am. That's all
I'll ever be."

Chip's breath hitched, the
weight of his father's words
crushing him. "Dad," he managed,
his voice a whisper. "That's not
what I-"

But Plankton talked over him,
his voice a sneer. "Oh, I see.
You're going to play the innocent
now, are you? Pretend like you didn't
just say I'm a burden?" His antennae
were a blur of movement, a silent
testament to his rage. "How
convenient."

Chip felt his world crumbling,
his heart shattering into a
thousand pieces. "But Dad," he
whispered, his voice shaking.
"I didn't-"

"Don't you dare lie to me,"
Plankton's voice was like a
knife, cutting through the air.

Chip felt the room close in, his
throat tight. "But Dad," he choked
out, "I didn't mean-"

"Oh, the poor little hero,"
Plankton said, his voice a mocking
whisper. "So misunderstood."
He rolled his eye dramatically.
"It's always about you, isn't it?"
The sarcasm was a knife twisting
in Karen, but she knew
it was the fear and pain speaking.

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his own brimming with tears. "But
Dad, I just want to help," he
whispered, his voice shaking.
"To make things right."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
gaze cold. "You want to make
things right?" he echoed, his
voice laced with condescension.
"How sweet! Why don't you go
play the hero somewhere else!"

Chip felt the sting of his
father's sarcasm, his eyes
welling up. "But I'm your son,"
he whispered, his voice
breaking. "I'm supposed to-"

"Oh, I know your role,"
Plankton said, his tone biting.
"The golden child, always
trying to fix things." His antennae
quivered with disdain. "Dad,"
Chip protests, "I just want
you to be happy."

Plankton's eye narrowed, his
face a mask of condescension.
"How sweet," he said, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "But you
see, Chip, happiness is a
concept lost to me. I'm just
a broken toy now, remember?"
He twirled the fidget toy in
his hand, his thumb moving
compulsively over the patterns.

Chip's cheeks flushed, his eyes
filling with tears. "But Dad,"
he whispered, "you're more than that."

Plankton's antennae shot up, his
face a contorted mask of
disdain. "Oh, really?" he said,
his voice thick with patronizing
sarcasm. "Enlighten me, oh great
and wise Chip. Tell me what I
am." He leaned back in his chair,
his antennae waving in the air
as if inviting a lecture from
his son.

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to keep his voice steady. "You're
my dad," he said, his eyes
shining with unshed tears. "And
you're... you're still you, even if
you're a little different now."

But Plankton's sarcasm was
a shield he couldn't penetrate.
"Ah, yes," he said, his voice
dripping with mockery. "The
ever-elusive 'you're still you'
argument. How original." His
antennas twitched in disdain.

"You don't get it," Chip's voice
was desperate, his eyes
pleading. "I don't care if
you're different. I just want
you to be happy."

But Plankton's anger had
become a shield, his words a
barbed wire fence keeping his
son at bay. "Oh, you don't
care?" he said, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "How
magnanimous of you." His antennae
twitched in a mock salute. "Well,
let me tell you something,
Chip. You can't just ignore
the fact that your perfect
little world has been shaken
up, can you?"

Chip felt the sting of his
father's patronizing tone, his
eyes burning with unshed tears.
"But Dad," he said, his voice
quivering. "I just want to-"

"Oh, I know what you want,"
Plankton interrupted, his voice
dripping with condescension.
"You want the perfect little
storybook ending where we all
hold hands and skip off into the
sunset." His antennae waved in
the air dramatically. "But life
doesn't work that way, Chip.
Sometimes, bad things happen to
good people, and there's no
magical cure for it." His eye
was cold, his antennae stilled.
"So save your pity for someone
wh-"

Karen stepped in, her voice
calm and firm. "Plankton, that's
enough." She knew his words
were a defense, a way to push
away the pain. "Chip's just
trying to help."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
breath hitching. He looked at
his wife, his anger momentarily
fading. "I know," he murmured.
"But I don't want his pity."

Karen's gaze was filled with
understanding. "It's not pity,
Plankton," she said, her voice
soothing. "It's love."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
expression softening slightly.
"But what good is love when I can't
eve-"

"Love is more than just
touch," Karen interrupted, her
voice gentle. "It's understanding,
it's patience, it's being here
for you." She took another step
towards him, her hand outstretched.
"It's about connecting in
other ways."

Plankton's antennae quivered, his
eye flicking to her hand and then
back to her face. He knew she was
right, but the fear was a beast
that ruled him. "But I don't
know how to," he murmured, his
voice barely audible. "How do
I connect without... without
the things I used to do?"

Karen ached, her hand
still extended. "We'll find a
way," she assured him, her voice
steady. "Together."

new familycore emotionalcore brain chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 6
For a moment, Plankton looked
confused, his gaze fuzzy with sleep.
But then recognition set in. "Chip?"
he murmured, his voice thick with
sleep. Chip swallowed the lump
in his throat. "Yeah, Dad," he
managed to say. "I just came to say
good mo-"

Before he could finish, Plankton's
eye widened, his body tensing. "What
are you doing?" he demanded, his
tone sharper than Chip had ever
heard it. The room seemed to
shrink around them, the air thick
with the sudden tension.

"I-I just wanted to tell you I love
you," Chip stuttered, his hand
retreating from his dad's arm.
Plankton's gaze searched Chip's
face, looking for something,
anything that would explain this
invasion of his personal space.

Karen stepped in, her voice
calm. "It's okay, Plankton.
Chip just wanted to show
his love, that's all." But Plankton
wasn't easily soothed. His eye
narrowed at Chip, his mind racing.

"But why?" Plankton's voice was
low, almost a growl. "Why do
you need to do it like that?"
Chip felt the weight of his dad's
question, the unspoken fear behind
the words. It was a question about
boundaries, about the unspoken
rules that Plankton had always
followed.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Chip said, his voice
quiet. "I didn't mean to scare
you." He looked to Karen for
guidance, but she just nodded,
encouraging him to find his own
words. Plankton's eye searched Chip's
face, looking for sincerity.

"I just wanted to tell you that I
understand now," Chip continued.
"I know you have to do those
things to feel okay. I promise, I won't
make you feel weird about i---"
But Plankton was already sitting
up, his face flushed with anger.

"Weird?" he snapped, his voice
sharp. "Is that what you think of me?"
He pushed the covers away, his
body vibrating with agitation. "Is that
how you'll tell your neurotypical friends?"

Chip's heart sank, his words
unintentionally striking a nerve.
"No, Dad," he said quickly. "I didn't
mean it like that. I just want to
make sure I don't do anything that
makes you uncomf-"

"Uncomfortable?" Plankton
finished for him, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "Well, how
considerate of you."

Chip felt a pang of guilt, his
words sticking in his throat.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured,
his eyes filling with tears. "I
just... I didn't know how to... "

Plankton took a deep breath,
his hands clenching into fists
at his sides. "You don't get
it," he said, his voice tight.
"You can't just... touch me
like that." His eye searched
the room, as if seeking
a retreat from the sudden
onslaught of emotion.

Karen stepped closer, her voice
soothing. "Chip didn't mean
to upset you, Plankton. He's
just trying to understand."
But Plankton couldn't hear her,
his mind racing with a barrage
of thoughts. He'd always been so
careful to keep this
hidden from his son, fearful
of the rejection he'd faced
in the past.

Chip's eyes were wide with
apology and confusion. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he said again, his voice
shaking. "I just wanted to show
you that I care. I mean, you let
Mom to-"

"It's different," Plankton
interrupted, his voice strained.
"Your mom knows me. She
understands me." His hand
went to his chest, where his
heart felt like it was racing.
"But you... don't you DARE
ever touch me again without
asking," he spat out, his voice
shaking with a mix of anger
and fear. Chip nodded, his
eyes downcast.

Karen sighed, her heart
heavy with the weight of the
conversation. "Plankton, honey,"
she began, her voice gentle.
"Chip just wants to support
you. He's trying to be there
for you in his own way."

Plankton's eye narrowed, his
body still tense. "But he doesn't
understand," he said, the
frustration evident. "No one
does, except for you." Karen
reached for his hand, but he
pulled away, his movements
quick and jerky.

Chip watched, feeling like
he'd just walked into a minefield
without a map. He didn't know
what to say, how to make it right.
He just knew he didn't want his
dad to feel this way. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered, his voice hoarse.
"I'll do better. I'll le-"

"Don't," Plankton said, his voice
sharp. "Don't make promises you
can't keep." He swung his legs
over the side of the bed, his
body language closed off. "I don't
want your pity, Chip." His words
were like a slap in the face, and
Chip felt his cheeks burn with
shame.

Karen stepped between them,
her hand on Plankton's shoulder.
"It's not pity, sweetie," she said,
her voice firm but gentle. "It's love
and support." Plankton's eye
flitted to hers, then back to Chip.
"I don't need Chip's help," he said,
his voice quivering.

"But Dad," Chip 
began, "I just-"
"I SAID DON'T!" 
Plankton's voice 
boomed through 
the room, his face 
a mask of fury. His 
antennae quivered 
with agitation, and 
he retreats to the
corner of the room.
A sign Karen knew
was his way of
shutting down. But
Chip doesn't realize this as
he tries to go to Plankton's
writhing body on the floor.

"Chip," Karen's voice 
was firm, "He's not
with us right now.
Let me only."
Chip stepped back,
his eyes wide with
concern as he watched.

Plankton was 
in a pose that 
screamed 'don't 
touch me'.

His legs were 
curled tight to his 
body, his arms 
wrapped around
his knees, and his 
eye squeezed shut,
his antennae 
pressed against 
his head. It was 
a position that 
spoke of overwhelm,
a silent scream for
space and solitude.

Karen watched him
carefully, her heart 
breaking into a 
million pieces. She
wanted to go to him,
to wrap him in her arms
and tell him everything
was okay. But she
knew better. This was
his retreat, she had to
respect it.

"Give him some space,"
she whispered to Chip,
who was hovering 
uncertainly. "He needs
time to regulate." Chip
nodded, his eyes still
glued to his dad's 
shaking form. He looked
so small, so lost in
his own little corner.

Plankton's breathing
was shallow and fast,
his antennae twitching
eratically. Karen knew
this was his safe place,
his retreat from a world
that often felt too loud, too
much. She walked over,
sat down next to him, but
not too close. She knew
better than to invade
his bubble.

"It's okay," she whispered,
her voice barely a breath.
"You're safe here."
Plankton's body didn't
react, but she saw his
hand, which had been
gripping the floor, relax
ever so slightly. It was a
small victory, but one she'd
take.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 13
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) 

Plankton's antennae drooped, his
eye focusing on the fidget toy
in his hand. It was a silent
testament to his internal
turmoil, his mind racing with
thoughts and fears. He knew Karen
was right, that love didn't need
to be physical, but the concept
was still so alien to him, so
difficult to grasp in his current
state. "I'm trying," he murmured,
his voice tight. "But it's just..."

Karen's hand reached out to
cover his, her touch gentle. "We
all are," she said, her voice
soothing. "And that's all we can
do." Her gaze was filled with
understanding, her eyes speaking
volumes without a single word.
"We're all just trying to
navigate this new world,
together."

Chip watched his parents. He knew
his father was struggling, but he
also knew that love didn't have to
be about touch. He took a step
forward, his hand hovering..

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his eye wide with fear. Karen
quickly intervened, placing a
hand on Chip's shoulder. "Not
now," she whispered, her screen
meeting her son's. "Let's give
Dad some space."

Chip nodded, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's, the
desire to connect with his
father a palpable force. But
Plankton's reaction was a stark
reminder of the invisible barriers
his injury had erected, the
sensory minefield that surrounded
him. The room was thick with
silence, the only sound the
steady tick of the clock on the
wall.

Karen's hand remained on
Plankton's, her touch a gentle
reminder of her presence. "It's
ok," she murmured, her voice
soft. "We're all learning
together."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye meeting hers with a glimmer
of hope. "I know," he said, his
voice tight. "But it's so hard."
The words were a confession,
his vulnerability laid bare.

Karen ached, her grip
on his hand firm. "I know," she
said, her voice understanding.
"But we'll get through this.
Together."

Chip took a deep breath, his
eyes still locked on his father's.
He knew that his dad's reactions
were not personal, that his
brain was just trying to make
sense of the world in a way
that was different now. He
forced a small smile, his voice
steady. "We're here for you, Da-"
But Plankton's antennae shot
up, his body stiffening. "Don't,"
he murmured, his voice tight.
"Just... don't."

Karen stepped in, her voice
calm and firm. "Plankton," she
said, her eyes never leaving
his. "Chip's just trying to
tell you that he loves you."
Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye flicking to his son and
back to Karen. The words hung
in the air, a bridge between
his old life and his new reality.
He knew his son was trying,
but the fear was a thick fog
that clouded his mind, making
it difficult to see the love
beyond the barrier of his own
emotions.

Chip knew his father was in
pain, and his words had only
added to it. "Dad," he said,
his voice shaking. "I don't
want you to feel li—"

"Don't," Plankton interrupted,
his antennae drooping. "I know
what you're trying to do."
His voice was a mix of
fatigue and frustration. "But it's
not that simple."

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, the depth of his pain
mirrored in the tremble of his
chin. "But Dad," he said, his
voice shaking. "I just want to
make you happ..."

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his body stiffening like a board.
"Don't," he murmured, his voice
strained. "I don't want your pity."
The words were a warning, a
reminder that his love was not
conditional on his ability to
function in the traditional sense.

Karen's gaze remained
steadfast on her husband's face,
seeing the raw pain beneath
the anger. She knew his
frustration was a shield, a way
to protect himself from the
overwhelming sensory assault that
his brain was still trying to
comprehend. "It's getting late,"
she said. "Let's all get to bed."
Plankton's antennae drooped, his
body slumping in defeat. He
was tired, so tired of fighting, of
trying to make sense of this new
world of sensory overload and fear.
He nodded, his voice a whisper.
"Ok." The silence that followed
was heavy, filled with the
unspoken words that hung in the
air like a thick fog. As they
made their way to their separate
rooms, the weight of the evening's
interaction settled on Chip's
shoulders. He knew his father's
reaction wasn't personal, but it
was hard not to take it that way.
He lay in bed, his mind racing
with thoughts of his dad, his
heart heavy with the knowledge
that their relationship was
forever changed.

The next morning, Chip awoke
and went to his parents room.

The door was open, the light
filtered through the blinds. Plankton
was sitting on the edge of the bed,
his antennae drooped low. He looked
up as Chip entered, his eye
wary, as if expecting another
onslaught of emotions he couldn't
comprehend. Chip paused.
He knew he had to tread carefully,
his father's sensory issues a
delicate dance they were all still
learning. "Hey," he said, his
voice soft. "How are you?"
Plankton's antennae twitched, a
sign of his internal struggle.
He took a deep breath, his eye
flicking to the fidget toy
resting on the bedside table.
"I'm... ok," he murmured, his
voice tentative. "Just tired."

Chip took a step closer, his
movements deliberate and slow. "Do
you want to talk?" he asked, his
tone gentle.

Plankton's antennae quivered, his
expression a mix of fatigue and
frustration. "Talking doesn't change
anything," he said, his voice
flat. "But if it makes you feel
better..." His eye met Chip's, the
unspoken challenge clear.

Chip took a deep breath,
his mind racing. He knew his dad
was in pain, knew that he needed
to be patient. He sat down on
the bed, his movements careful.
"It's not about making me feel
better," he said. "It's about...
understanding."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his
eye focusing on Chip. For a
moment, the anger and fear
receded, replaced by a hint of
curiosity. "Understanding what?"
his voice was gruff, but there
was a crack in the armor, a
glimpse of the man he used to be.

Chip took a deep breath, his
heart racing. "Understanding...
how to be there for you," he
said, his voice earnest. "How to
love you in a way that doesn't...
hurt." He swallowed hard, his
throat tight. "I know it's different
now, but I still want to be your
son."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
eye flicking to the floor. He
was quiet for a long moment,
his thoughts racing. He knew Chip
meant well, but the concept of
nonverbal love was so foreign
to him. "I know you do," he
murmured, his voice tight. "But it's
not your job to fix me." "I don't want to
fix you, Dad," he said, his voice
shaking. "I just want to be with
you." He reached out tentatively,
his hand hovering over the
fidget toy. "Can I?"

Plankton's antennae shot up, his
eye wide with fear. "No," he said,
his voice sharp. "Don't touch it."
He knew the toy was a lifeline, a
way to ground himself in a world
that felt like it was spinning
out of control. But he also knew
his son meant well.

Chip's hand retreated, his eyes
filling with tears. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered. "I just want to...
connect."

Plankton's antennae drooped, his
eye closing briefly. He knew his
son's intentions were pure, but
his own fear was a cage he couldn't
seem to escape. "I know," he said,
his voice softer. "But it's not that
simple."

Chip felt his chest tighten, his
desire to help his father a physical
ache. "But there must be a way,"
he said. "We'll find it."

Plankton's antennae quivered, a
tiny spark of hope igniting in
his eye. "Maybe," he murmured,
his voice tentative. "But you have
to be patient." He picked up the
fidget toy, his thumb tracing
the patterns.

Chip nodded, his eyes never
leaving his father's. "I can
do that," he said, his voice
determined. "I'll do whatever it
takes."

 Plankton's antennae twitched, a
tiny glimmer of appreciation in
his eye. "Thank you," he murmured.
The words were a lifeline, a
connection in the storm of his
emotions. "But you have to
understand," he continued, his
voice strained. "Sometimes, I just
need to be left alone."

Chip nodded, his eyes never
leaving his father's. "I get it,"
he said. "But I'll always be
here when you're ready."

new familycore emotionalcore brain chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 7
The room was silent, save
for Plankton's shallow breaths.
Karen could almost hear
his thoughts racing, his mind
a whirlwind of sensory input
and emotions. She sat
still, her eyes never leaving
his form, her hand staying
close but not touching.

Chip hovered by the door, his
hands clenched into fists. He
wanted to help, to fix this, but
his mom's words echoed in his
mind: 'respect his space'. It was
a concept that was hard to grasp,
but he knew it was important.
He watched as his dad's legs
shook, his whole body a
testament to the storm
inside him.

Karen's eyes never left
Plankton's shaking form. Her
heart broke for him, for the fear
and frustration that she knew
was churning within. She reached
out a tentative hand, letting it hover
just above his shoulder. "It's ok,"
she whispered. But Plankton flinched,
his body stiffening at the uninvited
contact as he turned his back to them,
now facing the wall. She knew
this look well, had seen it before.

The room was suffocating with
silence, the tension thick like a
layer of fog. Chip felt his own
anxiety rising, unsure of what to do.
He'd never seen his dad like this,
so... vulnerable. He took a tentative
step forward, his hand reaching out.
"Dad?" he asked softly.

Plankton's spasms grew more
erratic, his antennae quivering like
leaves in a storm. He didn't look up,
his breathing shallower with each
passing second. It was as if he'd
shrunk in on himself, retreating into
his own world where no one could
follow. Chip's heart ached, watching
his dad's body convulse with silent
sobs, his shoulders heaving as he
tried to regain control.

The room was a tableau of pain,
each second stretching into an eternity.
Karen sat with her back against the
wall, her hand still hovering, but not
daring to make contact again. Her eyes
were filled with a blend of love and
despair, the same look she'd worn
so many times before when Plankton's
autism had overwhelmed him. But
Chip had never seen this side of his
dad, had never known the depth of
his struggle.

Plankton's body was a maelstrom
of movements, each spasm a silent cry
for help. His antennae thrashed
against the floor, his legs kicked
out in a frantic dance. It was a
sight that would have been terrifying
to anyone who didn't understand,
but Karen's eyes never left him, her
expression calm and knowing. She'd
seen this before, had held the line
between panic and peace for her
husband countless times.

And then, through the chaos,
a sound. Plankton's voice, barely
above a murmur, speaking to himself.
"My stims," he whispered, his
hands moving in the air, mimicking
his own motions. "They're just...
they're just a part of it." The words
seemed to hang there, suspended
in the heavy silence of the room.

Karen watched him, her heart
breaking a little more with each
word. She knew he was trying to
make sense of it all, to reconcile
his fear of being different with
his need to be understood.
Chip's eyes widened in surprise,
his curiosity piqued by this
unexpected moment of
self-reflection from his dad.

"They're just... they're just
a part of it," Plankton murmured
again, his voice a little louder this
time. His antennae stilled, his body
slowly uncoiling from the tight
ball he'd curled into. Karen took this
stimming as a sign that the storm
is passing.

"What's a part of it, Dad?"
Chip asked, his voice tentative.
Karen shot him a warning look, but
Plankton didn't seem to hear.

"My fidgets," Plankton said,
his voice still barely above a
whisper. "My autism... it is
just part of it." His hand
continued to mimic the
movements, a silent conversation
with himself. Chip's mind raced.

"You're not to weird, Dad,"
Chip blurted out, the words
tumbling from his mouth
before he could stop them.

Plankton's movements stilled,
his antennae dropping to his side.
He turned to look at Chip, his eye
filled with something akin to
surprise. "What did you say‽"

Chip took a deep breath, his heart
racing. "I said you're not weird,
Dad," he repeated, his voice
slightly stronger. "Your stims are
just part of who you are." Plankton's
expression turned angry, his
body taut with tension.

"Don't patronize me, boy!"
Plankton snapped, his voice
sharp as a knife. "I DON'T
NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" His
body was a tightly wound
spring, ready to snap at any
moment. Chip felt a flare
of anger in response, but
swallowed it down.

"Dad, I'm not," he said, his voice
calm despite his own turmoil.
"I'm just saying that I see you,
all of you. And I love you.
I don't think your stims are
weird. They're just... you."

Plankton's body 
remained tense.
"STOP talking
about it!" he yelled,
his voice echoing
off the walls.

Chip took a
step back, his eyes
wide with shock.
He'd never seen
his dad like this.
He didn't know
how to fix it.
"Dad, I-" he
started to say, but
Plankton cut him
off.

"I said stop!"
Plankton's voice
was a roar, his
body trembling with
anger and embarrassment.
He didn't want Chip
to see him like this,
so vulnerable, so out of
control. The room felt
like it was closing in
on him, the walls
pressing against his skin.

Karen's heart clenched
at the raw pain in
Plankton's voice. She
knew this moment was
about more than just
his stims, it was about
his fear of rejection, of
being seen as less than.

"Plankton, honey, look at
me," she said gently,
trying to cut through
the maelstrom of his
emotions. "Chip's just
trying to understand.
We all are." But Plankton's
eye remained locked
on the floor, his breaths
quick and shallow.

He felt like an
exhibit in a museum,
his private world laid
bare for his son to see.
The fear of rejection
was a living, breathing
entity in the room,
wrapped around him like
a suffocating blanket. He'd
managed to hide his stims
for so long, to keep that
part of him hidden away.
Now, it was out in the
open, raw and exposed.

Plankton's eye darted
between Karen and Chip,
his mind racing with a
thousand thoughts. He
wanted to shrink away,
to disappear into the
cracks of the floorboards.
But he knew he couldn't.
Not now. Not when Chip
kept looking at him with
such confusion and concern.

"Dad, I just-" Chip
started again, his voice
filled with earnestness.
But Plankton couldn't take it.
The words felt like a
knife twisting in his gut.
"I SAID, STOP!" he yelled,
his voice echoing through
the room. The sound was
like a gunshot, and Chip's
words died in his throat.

Karen watched the exchange,
her heart heavy with sadness.
She knew Plankton's anger
was a defense mechanism,
his way of dealing with the
overwhelming emotions that
threatened to drown him. But
seeing her son hurt by it
was almost more than she could
bare. She took a deep breath,
steeling herself for the storm.
"Plankton," she said calmly,
moving closer to him, her hand
outstretched but not touching.
"It's okay, sweetie. Chip's just
trying to be here for you." But
Plankton's eye was wild, his
body a coil of tension. He
was in full meltdown mode,
and Karen knew better than to
push him.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 14
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) 

Karen's voice was gentle
but firm. "Plankton," she
said. "Chip's right. We'll
find a way to connect that
works for all of us. We just
have to keep trying. Why don't
we all go drive to the new
sensory park they just opened?"
It was a place designed for
those with sensory processing
disorders, with areas that catered
to different sensory needs. "It's a
bit of a drive across town, but
do you wanna try going?" They
both nodded.

They parked the car. "Let's 
go slow, ok?" Plankton nodded. 
They approached the sensory
garden, a place designed to be
calming. The scent of lavender
was thick in the air, and the
soft crunch of gravel beneath
their feet was a comforting
contrast to the harshness of the
city.

As they walked through the
gates, Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye scanning the area. 
The sensory park was a
symphony of soft colors and
soothing sounds, designed to
minimize the overstimulation that
so often triggered his seizures. "This
is nice," he murmured.

Chip watched his father, his
heart in his throat. He knew
how much this meant to him,
how much Plankton was struggling.
"It is," he said, his voice
matching his dad's quiet tone.
He took a deep breath, his
sensors tuned to his father's
every movement. "Do you want to go
on the swings?"

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
eye flicking to the swing.
He nodded slowly.

Chip led the way, his
movements cautious. He knew
his dad needed space, needed to
feel safe. They approached the
swing set, a simple metal frame
with plastic seats. Plankton
closed his eye, the rhythm
familiar and comforting as 
he swings.

Chip took the swing 
next to Plankton, his 
movements tentative. 
He knew his father's 
fear of touch was a 
battleground, and he 
didn't want to cross 
any lines.

The squeak of the
chains and the gentle
breeze through the leaves
of the nearby trees were
the only sounds that 
accompanied them as
they swung back and 
forth, side by side.

Chip watched his father. He
wanted so badly to reach
out, to hold Plankton's
hand, but he knew the
boundaries. Instead, he
focused on matching his
swing to Plankton's, their
motion in sync. He hoped
the rhythm would be a
comfort to his dad, a
small piece of the connection
they used to share.

As they swung, the tension
slowly began to ease from
Plankton's antennae. The
back-and-forth movement
was soothing, a gentle rocking.

After a while, they got off
the swings.

Plankton's antennae were still
twitching with the residual
energy of the movement, his
body craving the sensory input
that had become so rare. Chip
noticed and searched the park for
a suitable activity. His eyes
lit upon the sandbox. "How
about playing in the sand?"
he suggested, his voice hopeful.
Plankton's antennae quivered
with interest, his eye lighting
up slightly. He had always
enjoyed the feel of sand
between his... well, the
equivalent of fingers. Karen
smiled, seeing the potential
for a positive interaction.

They approached the sandbox,
the fine grains glinting in the
sunlight. Chip took a seat on
the wooden bench beside it,
watching as Plankton tentatively
placed his hand into the cool
sand. His antennae quivered with
pleasure at the sensation, his
body relaxing slightly. Chip
followed suit, his movements
deliberately slow and cautious,
mirroring his father's. He
knew that sudden movements or
touch could send Plankton spiraling,
so he remained still, his eyes
on the sand.

Together, they began to
sculpt the sand, their hands moving
in harmony without any need
for words. The gentle scrape
of the grains against their
hands was a soothing balm, a
silent conversation that
transcended the barriers of
language and injury. Plankton's
fears and anger from the night
before seemed to melt away with
each mound of sand that took shape.
Chip watched his father, his
heart swelling with hope. He had
found a way to connect, a
sensory experience that didn't
overwhelm Plankton. As they
played, he noticed his father's
breathing slow, his antennae
relaxing slightly. It was a
small victory, but it felt like a
huge step in the right direction.

The sun grew higher in the
sky, casting warm rays down
on the sandbox. Karen sat
beside them, her eyes filled with
gratitude for this moment of
peace.

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he focused on the
sand, his movements precise. Chip
watched, mimicking his father's
careful touch. The sand was a
bridge between them, a shared
experience that didn't require
words. They built sandcastles
together, their hands working
in harmony despite the unspoken
fear that hung in the air.

Chip felt a weight lift from
his shoulders as he saw Plankton's
eye light up with each new
creation. The sand was a
therapy in itself, a gentle
reminder that love didn't need
to be loud or physical to be
felt. They built a sandcastle
together, their silent
companionship a balm to the
wounds of the previous night.

After a while, they 
finished. "Want to
try something else?" Chip
asked, his voice soft.
Plankton's antennae quivered,
his eye flicking to the nearby
beach ball. "Maybe a
game of catch?" Plankton 
suggested, his voice tentative.
Chip nods. He knew
his dad's fear of the 
unexpected, so he rolled it
gently to him.

Plankton caught the
ball. He tossed
it back to Chip, his eye
watching the arc of its
flight with a hint of 
excitement.
Chip's throw was
careful, underarm, 
keeping it within
Plankton's visual
comfort zone. He knew
his dad's limits,
his fear of fast
movements.

Plankton's antennae
twitched as he caught
the ball again. The
sensation of the cool,
smooth plastic was a
comfort in his hands.
He threw it back to Chip,
his movements calculated,
his mind focused on the
game. It was a simple
activity, but it was one
where he felt in control.
Chip watched his father, his
movements mirrored. He knew
his dad's fear of the
unexpected, so he
threw the ball with a gentle
underhand toss, keeping it
slow and predictable. Plankton
smiled slightly, his eye
tracking the ball's
trajectory.

Later, Karen told them it's
time to go, to start the drive
back home. She got in the
driver's seat as Plankton and
Chip sat in the back together.

Chip's eyes were on his dad,
his heart racing with
excitement. The car's
movement was a gentle rocking,
akin to the swing. Plankton watched
the world pass by. The
sensation of the car's vibrations
was soothing.

Karen glanced in the rearview
mirror, her eyes searching for any
sign of distress. But Plankton was
calm, his antennae still. The drive
was a quiet reprieve, a chance for
them to process the newness
of their relationship. Chip knew that
his dad's sensory issues made
the world a minefield, but in this
moment, the steady hum of the
car was a comfort.

As Karen drove, Plankton's
eyelid began to droop, his 
antennae slowing.

The gentle vibration of the
car and the predictable rhythm
of the road was a balm. He
leaned back, his head resting
against the seat, his hand 
clutching the fidget toy.
Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, his eye
half-closed, head dropping.
Chip felt his heart swell
as Plankton's head slowly
dropped onto his shoulder.
And as Plankton starts to
snore gently, Chip realized
his dad had fallen asleep,
his head resting heavily on
his shoulder. He stiffened for a
moment, fearing that any
sudden movement might
wake his father, might
disrupt the fragile peace
they had found. But Plankton's
snores grew deeper, the tension
leaving his body.

Karen glanced in 
the rearview
mirror. "It's ok,"
she murmured. 
"You're doing a
good job."

Chip felt his muscles
relax slightly, the weight of
his father's head a comfort.
He knew that this moment
was precious, a sign that
his efforts were not in vain.
He leaned into the warmth of
his dad's body, his hand
finding its way to the fidget
toy. His thumb traced the
patterns, mimicking the
rhythm that Plankton had
found soothing. Chip then
decides to take a selfie. He
holds up his phone after looking
at his dad, who started to drool
at the corner of his open mouth.
He chuckles quietly, snapping the
photo as Plankton remains asleep.

Chip posts the picture with
adding this caption:
"Went to the park with my
dad @ Sheldon Plankton
today 💙👨‍👦💨 "

Plankton still
snored softly against Chip's
shoulder. Chip noticed more
drool escaping the corner
of his mouth and felt a
surge of affection mixed with
concern. "Mom, he's drooling,"
he whispered to Karen, his voice
barely audible over the car's
hum. Karen chuckled, her eyes
meeting Chip's in the mirror.
"It's ok," she said softly.
"It's a sign of his tiredness.
Let him sleep."

new familycore emotionalcore brain chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 8
Chip took another step back,
his own emotions a tangled mess.
Guilt, fear, and confusion
battled within him as he watched
his dad's pain. "I'm sorry," he
whispered, his voice cracking.
"I didn't mean to make yo--"

"I SAID STOP!" Plankton's
voice was like a whip crack,
slicing through the air with
frustration. Chip flinched, the
force of his dad's anger palpable.
"Dad," he began, his voice
shaking, "I just-"

"JUST?" Plankton spat, his eye
blazing. "You just don't get
it, do you?" His words were
sharp as knives, each one
cutting deeper into the silence.
"You think you can just... touch
me, hug me, and it'll all be fine?"
He sneered, his body trembling
with the effort to control his
emotions. "Well, it's not that
simple, is it?"

Chip's cheeks burned with a
mixture of embarrassment
and anger. "I'm sorry," he said
stiffly. "I didn't know it was
such a big de-"

"Don't tell me what I know,
boy!" Plankton snapped. His voice
was a whipcrack of sarcasm,
each word a stinging rebuke.
"I've been doing this dance
my whole life, and now
you think you can make me
your little science project?"
Chip's eyes filled with hurt,
his hand dropping to his side.
"That's not what I'm doing,"
he protested, his voice barely
above a whisper. "I just... I just
want to he--"

"Want to help?" Plankton
interrupted, his tone dripping
with bitterness. "You think I
need your help? Your pity?"
His antennae twitched with anger.
"I've managed just fine without
you!" His voice was a storm,
his words thunderous in the
silence of the room. "So don't
you dare act like you get to be
part of this now!"

Now Chip felt his own 
emotions flare up.

"What the barnacles is your
problem?" Chip snapped, his
frustration boiling over. "You're
always so... so sensitive. Can't
I just show you that I love
you without you throwing a
fit? Don't you know that you're
just being ridiculously over-
dramatic? I can't have a father
who's so autistic and so..." He trailed
off, his eyes searching for the
right word, and then it hit him; the slur
is a term he'd heard use to describe
someone acting unsmart, not knowing
the impact it would have.

The moment the insult left his
lips, the room went cold. Karen
gasped, her hand flying to cover
her mouth. Plankton's body
went rigid, his antennae shooting
straight up as if electrified. Chip
felt a sinking feeling in his gut,
like he'd just swallowed an anchor.
He knew he'd crossed a line,
but he didn't know where it was or
how to get back. "Dad, I didn't mean-"

"GET OUT!" Plankton roared.
Chip had never seen his dad like this,
his eye blazing with fury and
hurt. He stumbled backwards,
his heart racing as he tried to
make sense of the horror on
his dad's face. "I didn't know,"
he murmured, his voice small
and lost.

Karen's eyes were wide, her
cheeks wet with tears. She'd
heard the word, the one that
cut deeper than any knife. The one
that reduced her Plankton to a
joke, a problem to be solved.
"That's enough," she said, her voice
firm but trembling. "You've
hurt him enough, Chip."

Chip's eyes were filled with shock,
his mind reeling from his dad's
reaction. He didn't mean to say
it, didn't even know it was bad.
"But I just..." He couldn't find the
words. "I didn't know it was... I just
wanted to tell him..."

Karen's voice was firm, but
underneath, Chip heard the
sorrow. "Your dad's autism isn't
something to be fixed," she said,
wiping at her own tears. "It's part
of who he is. And calling him
that... it's like telling him that
part of him isn't good enough."
Plankton was still in his corner,
his body taut with tension.

Chip felt the weight of his
mother's words, the gravity of
his mistake. He'd hurt his dad,
the one person he never wanted
to cause pain. "I didn't mean it
like that," he whispered.

But Plankton was beyond words,
his body trembling with rage.
He'd been called that name before,
by those who didn't understand,
who didn't care. His antennae
quivered with the effort to hold
back the storm of emotions
threatening to unleash.

Karen stepped between them,
her hand on Chip's shoulder.
"Out," she said firmly, her voice
a whip of authority. "Now."

Chip didn't argue. He knew
he'd done wrong, and he knew
his place wasn't here right now.
He turned and left the room,
his heart heavy with regret. 

As the door clicked shut,
the tension in the room didn't
disappear. It grew thicker,
like a fog that clung to their
skin, suffocating them both.
Karen sat next to Plankton,
her hand hovering near his shoulder
but not making contact. She knew
better than to push, to force him
to face his pain. Instead, she offered
silent support, her presence a
beacon of love in the storm.

Plankton's body was a tight
coil of anger and hurt
as he rocked back
and forth. "Plankton," Karen said
softly, her hand still hovering.
"I know we're upset, but Chip's
just trying to understand.
He didn't mean to be ableist."
Her words were met with
silence; she didn't push.

The room felt like it was
spinning around him, the
words echoing in his head.
He knew his son hadn't meant
to wound him, but the sting
was there all the same. "Why
can't he just leave me alone?"
Plankton whispered, his voice
small and defeated. "Why does
he have to make everything
about him?"

Karen's eyes filled with
understanding. "It's not
about him, Plankton," she said
gently. "It's about love and
connection. He just doesn't
know how to give it in a way
that doesn't overwhelm you."
Her hand touched his shoulder
lightly, and he flinched. She
withdrew it immediately, her
heart aching.

"I know, I know," he murmured,
his voice tight. "But it hurts."
Karen nodded, her own eyes
brimming with tears. "I know it does,"
she said. "And I'm so sorry."
Plankton leaned into her, his
body still shaking.

"Why can't he just get it?"
he whispered, his antennae
drooping. "Why does he have
to make everything so hard?"
Karen wrapped her arm around
his shoulders, holding him close.
"Because he loves you, Plankton.
And he's scared of losing you."
Plankton's body stiffened at her
words.

He knew she was right.
Chip had always been like that,
so eager to please, so desperate
for attention. And Plankton had
always been there for him, his
rock in a stormy sea. But now,
the tables had turned, and he didn't
know how to navigate these
uncharted waters of vulnerability.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae drooping. "I know,"
he murmured, his voice thick with
unshed tears. "I know he loves me."
Karen's grip tightened around
his shoulders. "Then we need
to find a way to help him understand,"
she said, her voice a soft caress.
"We need to show him that love
doesn't have to be loud or overwhelming."

They sat in silence for a
moment, the only sound the
steady rhythm of their breathing.
Plankton's body began to relax,
his tremors subsiding. "I'm sorry,"
he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"I just... I don't know how to do this."
Karen leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss
to his cheek. "We'll do it together,"
she said. "One step at a time."

Chip stood outside the door, his
fist pressed against the wood. He could
hear their muffled voices, the low tones
of their conversation. He felt like a
stranger in his own home, unsure of
how to navigate the sudden shift in
his relationship with his dad. His mind
raced, trying to piece together what had
gone wrong, how he'd missed the cues.
He knew he'd hurt his dad, but he
couldn't shake the feeling that there was
more to it than just a misunderstanding.
He didn't realize how the ableist slur
he'd used had pierced Plankton's armor.

He leaned his head against the
door, his breaths coming in short, painful
gasps. The weight of his ignorance
was like an anchor, dragging him down.
He'd always thought of his dad as... well,
his dad. Strong, capable, a little quirky. But
now, he saw the cracks in that facade,
the raw vulnerability beneath the surface.
He knew he had to apologize, but the
fear of making it worse held him back.

new to see or not to see ableisms chip

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