Compeer Emojis & Text

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A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i (Autistic author) "You know, Shel, just put yourself out there. You think to much! Just steal a patty from the krusty krab, and bring it back. No inventions, just believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says. Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition often outstripped his grasp, took a deep breath and nodded. It was a simple enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting ingenious contraptions and elaborate schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret formula. Yet here he was, standing in the shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth for any signs of movement. Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her frustration building. Meanwhile, Plankton took a final shaky breath and slid open the kitchen window, his heart racing. The scent of greasy fryers and salty ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached out, his tiny hand trembling, and snatched the Krabby Patty that lay unguarded on the counter. With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's confidence grew. He had done it; the secret was within his grasp! He turned to leave, but his elation was cut short when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze. Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was quick. He dashed under the cash register, the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like a football player crossing the finish line. "You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs was persistent, his claws snapping shut just millimeters from Plankton's antennae. With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy metal contraption off its stand. Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and the cash register came down on him like a guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the kitchen, and the Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp. Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. The impact had been tremendous, and for a moment, he lay dazed and defeated. The cash register's heavy weight had not only knocked him out cold but also left a sizable dent in the floorboards. Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic. as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just as she was about to storm inside, she hears the cash register, which hit Plankton's head. Peering in she saw Plankton lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with panic. Karen opens the door and goes to him. "Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, voice shaking the very foundation of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's eye closed, and his body was completely still. The Patty lay forgotten. Panic set in, and she began to pat his face. "Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing through the deserted kitchen. She knew that Plankton could be dramatic, but this was unlike him. He'd always bounced back from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a bruised ego. There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of desperation and fear. She knew she had to do something, and fast. But what? Her medical expertise was limited to patching up her husband's bruises from past failed schemes, not dealing with a concussion from a cash register to the head. She then managed to scoop up her unconscious husband and sprinted to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. Once inside the hospital, she explained what happened with the cash register. "We'll do a brain scan." They said. Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed. Finally a doctor approached with a solemn expression. "The brain scan results are in." Karen nodded for him to go on. "It seems your husband has suffered significant brain damage from impact," the doctor continued, fidgeting with a clipboard. "The good news is that he will wake up, but... your husband has experienced severe brain trauma. While he will regain consciousness, it appears that he may have developed permanent autism." "What does that mean?" she managed to whisper. The doctor explained that while Plankton would still be able to talk and/or communicate, his interactions and reactions to sensory would be significantly affected. "But he'll still be the same Plankton?" The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. His personality, his memories, they should all be intact. But his ability to process, to understand and respond appropriately... those might be altered. It's a complex condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go home whence he wakes up." Karen nodded numbly, mind racing with the implications. As she sat by Plankton's bedside the hospital lights flickered, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was the only company she had. The quiet was broken her husband's eye fluttering open. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the trauma. Her heart leaped at the sound, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm here," she said, her voice cracking. "How do you feel?" Plankton's gaze darted around the room. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and fear. "You're at the hospital, sweetie," Karen replied, voice gentle and soothing. "You had hit your head on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." Karen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you." Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, voice sounding distant and confused. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at his brain like a thousand tiny needles. "What happened to me?" he asked, voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath preparing herself to explain the gravity of the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and now, the doctor says you have... acquired a neurodisability." Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... what?" he repeated. Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's like your brain is wired differently now. You might see things, hear things, feel things more intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand people, or process differently." "Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice barely a whisper. "No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not broken. You're just... different. And we'll figure this out together."
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A JOURNEY TO AUTISM i (Autistic author) "I've waited long enough, I better go check..." Karen says to herself. Sheldon Plankton, her husband, left earlier to attempt to steal a krabby patty but he hasn't returned. Worried, she makes her way to the restaurant across the street. Meanwhile, Mr. Krabs grabbed a fry pan and swung it at Plankton. The sound of metal hitting flesh echoed through the restaurant, and Plankton crumpled to the ground. Mr. Krabs, his eyes bulging with triumph, looked down at the tiny, unconscious form of his arch-nemesis. "Gotcha, ya tiny troublemaker!" he cackled, waving the fry pan above his head like a trophy. The Krabby Patty recipe remained safe, but Plankton's not. Karen heard the thud from the hit and went in. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Plankton sprawled out on the floor, unmoving. She rushed over. "Plankton!" Karen gasped, her voice trembling with fear as she knelt beside his tiny frame. He was out cold. She gently touched his arm, hoping for a response, but there was none. The fry pan lay a few inches from his crumpled body, a silent testament to the battle that had just taken place. The restaurant's usual chaos was replaced with a tense silence that seemed to thicken the air. Mr. Krabs, still clutching the pan, looked at Karen with a mix of pride and wariness. His victory over Plankton was clear, but he knew that this wasn't the end of the feud between them. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she picked up her husband, cradling his tiny body in her palm. His antennas were limp, and his single eye was closed. She clutched him tightly, desperately. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered, her voice filled with urgency as she lightly shook. But Plankton remained unresponsive, his tiny body as lifeless as the seaweed that clung to the ocean floor. A cold fear gripped Karen's heart, turning her blood to ice. She had seen her husband in many predicaments, but never like this. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gently cradled him, his normally active form now still and heavy in her hand. The Krabby Patty recipe was the last thing on her mind; all she could think about was Plankton and the love they shared. The warmth of his body was fading, and with it, her hope. "I'm sorry," Mr. Krabs said. "This is just business." Karen's gaze snapped up, anger replacing fear. "This isn't just business, it's personal!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the restaurant. "You can't keep doing this to him!" Mr. Krabs took a step back, his claws clutching the fry pan tighter. "I didn't mean for it to go this far," he mumbled, his proud stance wavering. Ignoring his words, Karen rushed to the door, cradling Plankton in her hand. She had to get him to the hospital. The local doctor was known to help all creatures, regardless of their intentions. The Bikini Bottom Hospital was the only place she could think of. The emergency room was a flurry of activity, with fish and crustaceans of all shapes and sizes waiting for their turn. The bright, sterile lights reflected off the polished floors, and the smell of disinfectant stung her nostrils as she raced in. She didn't care about the stares or the whispers that followed them; all she cared about was getting Plankton the help he needed. The receptionist, a sluggish sea star, barely looked up from her crossword puzzle. "Name?" she drawled. "Plankton," Karen replied, her voice shaking with urgency. "He's been attacked." The sea star's eyes widened, and she dropped her pencil. "Oh my!" she exclaimed before hitting a large, red button that read "Emergency." Immediately, the doors to the back swung open, and a team of medical professionals rushed out. The doctor, a stern-looking octopus named Dr. Manowar, took Plankton from Karen's trembling hand. "What happened?" he asks, tentacles moving swiftly to check for vitals. "Mr. Krabs...he hit him with a fry pan," Karen managed to say between sobs. The doctor's expression softened, his tentacles moving more gently. "Bring him to room three, we'll take care of him," he instructed the nurse, a concerned look crossing his face as he examined the unconscious Plankton. Karen followed closely, her heart racing as the medical team whisked Plankton away into the depths of the hospital. The stark white walls and the beeping of machines filled her with dread, but she held onto the hope that Dr. Manowar could save him. The doctor's tentacles worked swiftly, hooking up monitors and administering a series of tests. Karen watched, her own breaths synchronizing with the rhythmic beeps. The hospital room was small, the walls lined with various medical instruments. The sterile smell was overpowering, but she focused on Plankton, willing his tiny body to stir. Dr. Manowar muttered under his breath, his expression a mask of concentration. "Karen," he said, turning to face her, his tentacles stilled. "I need to run some more tests, but it doesn't look good. Your husband has a severe concussion and potential internal damage." Her heart dropped, and she felt like the ocean had swallowed her whole. "What...what can you do?" she asked, desperation clinging to every word. The doctor's expression remained steady, his eyes never leaving hers. "We'll do everything we can. But you should prepare for the worst." Karen felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She couldn't lose Plankton. He was her partner in crime, her confidant, her soulmate. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You can't give up on him." The doctor nodded gravely. "I understand how you feel, but we must be realistic. Let's give him some time." The nurse led Karen to a small waiting area outside the room, where she slumped into a chair. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each second feeling like an eternity. The muffled sounds of the hospital - the beeping machines, the rush of footsteps, the hushed whispers - only served to amplify the deafening silence in her heart. "Your husband is a miracle. The tests came back, and his injuries are less severe than we initially thought." Karen's eyes widened in disbelief, then flooded with relief. "What does that mean?" Dr. Manowar's tentacles unfurled as he spoke. "It means we can treat his injuries, but he'll need to rest for some time. However, during our examination, we noticed some unusual patterns in his behavior and brain activity." Karen felt a sudden knot in her stomach. "What do you mean?" "It seems that during the impact, Plankton's brain has undergone a significant change. He's showing symptoms consistent with a condition known as acquired Autism." Dr. Manowar explained, his tentacles folding into a comforting gesture. Karen felt the world spin around her. "Autism?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "What does that mean for him?" Dr. Manowar sighed, his tentacles waving gently. "It means his interactions and responses to his environment may be different now. It's permanently irreversible but you can help by creating a calm environment." Karen nodded, trying to digest the information. "What can I do?" Her voice was small, trembling. The doctor's eyes softened. "Give him space, patience, and support. It'll be a journey of learning for both of you." The doctor's words hung in the air like a fog, thick and impenetrable. Karen felt a weight settle in her chest, heavier than any she had ever known. The thought of Plankton being different, of not knowing how to communicate with the person she loved most, was almost too much to bear. But she swallowed her fear and nodded, determined to do whatever it took to help him. "Thank you, Dr. Manowar," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "We'll get through this." The doctor nodded solemnly before excusing himself to attend to other patients. Karen was left alone with her thoughts, the beeping of the machines the only company. She took Plankton's hand in hers, feeling the coolness of his skin against her own. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You're going to be okay." She wasn't sure if he could hear her, but she needed to say it. To believe it. To feel the words in the air between them. "I know you can't understand me right now," she continued, her voice barely above the steady beep of the monitors. "But I'm here. And I'll always be here for you." Her eyes searched the room for anything that might bring comfort, but all she found was the cold reality of hospital life. "When you wake up," she whispered, squeezing his hand slightly, "things might be different. But that's okay. We'll figure it out together." The words sounded hollow in the small, sterile room, but she hoped they would reach him somehow. As the hours passed, Karen's mind raced with questions. How would this change their lives? Could they still scheme together? Would he even remember their love for each other? She pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a sign that he was still fighting. Suddenly, Plankton's single eye flitted open, looking around the room with a dazed expression. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice weak and unsteady. "Plankton!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and hope. He was awake! "I'm here, my love."
(\____/) (⁎ᓂ,ᓂ⁎)< I like cats inside a keyboard.𖥔 ݁ ˖ | >< |
THE LIFE OF UNITY i (A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY) (Autistic author; make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first!) Sheldon Plankton wasn't born with autism but acquired neurodisability after a theft gone wrong. Despite interacting differently he's still an intellectual scientist inventor. (A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY) It's perfect day for jellyfishing. SpongeBob, ever eager to help a friend, had been up early preparing the jellyfish nets. When he arrived at the Chum Bucket, he found Plankton reading about jellyfish, his antennae quivering. "Plankton, are you ready to go jellyfishing?" Sponge Bob's voice filled with excitement. Plankton looked up from his book. "Jellyfish fields?" he murmured, his one eye lighting up. "Yeah, jellyfish fields," Sponge Bob said with a grin. "It's going to be amazing. We're going to see jellyfish like never before!" Plankton carefully put his book away. "Let's go," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with an unusual sense of anticipation. As they arrived, the water grew clearer, revealing a breathtaking sight: a vast meadow of jellyfish, their gelatinous bodies pulsing gently in the current, their tentacles trailing like a ballet. Plankton took in the mesmerizing display. But, Sponge Bob's eyes widened in recognition. "Kevin!" he exclaimed. Kevin the sea cucumber, Sponge Bob's long-time rival, surfaced with a smirk. "What's going on here?" he sneered, eyes flicking between them "You guys playing jellyfish keep-away?" Plankton's antennae twitched, monotonous voice tight. "No," he murmured. "Plankton... jellyfish expert." Kevin's smirk grew wider. "Expert, huh?" he sneered. "I bet I know more about jellyfish than you ever will." Sponge Bob's eyes narrow. "Why don't we have a little trivia showdown?" He suggested. "Just a friendly competition to see who knows more." Kevin's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "You're on," he says cracking his knuckles. "But if I win, you leave the jellyfish fields and don't come back." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, but his eye remained focused on the sea cucumber. "If wins," he murmured steady, "Kevin leaves. And brings jellyfish back to Chum Bucket." Kevin's grin faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "Fine," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "But if I win you both leave and never come back to these fields." The stakes were set. "Alright, let's get started," Kevin said, his smugness palpable. "First question: What is the scientific name for the jellyfish you're so fond of, Plankton?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he thought for a moment. "Medusozoa," he murmured with certainty. Kevin's smirk faltered, his confidence visibly shaking. "What? How do you even know that?" Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he replied, "Jellyfish," his monotone voice calm. "Plankton studied." Kevin scoffed. "Fine, then what's the most venomous jellyfish in the sea?" Without missing a beat, Plankton murmured, "Chironex fleckeri." Kevin laughs. "Wrong; it's a Box Jelly!" But Plankton's antennae don't waver. "Chironex fleckeri," he repeats, his monotone voice unshaken. "Box jellyfish, Kevin. Chironex fleckeri." Kevin's eyes widen in surprise, his smugness dissipating. "Alright, show off," he stammers, visibly thrown off his game. "But you don't know this one: What's jellyfish can grow up to 16 inches in diameter?" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly as he considers the question. "Moon jellyfish," he murmurs unshaken. "Aurelia aurita." Kevin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grin faltering. "What? That's... that's right," he admits, his voice trailing off. "Good job, Plankton," SpongeBob cheers. Kevin's smirk turns into a grimace as he tries to regain his footing. "Alright, fine," he says through gritted teeth. "But I've got one more question that'll stump you for sure." Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly, his one eye focused intently on the sea cucumber. "Go on," he murmurs, his monotone voice filled with quiet confidence. Kevin's eyes narrow, his mind racing for the ultimate question to outsmart Plankton. "Ok then," he says, his voice dripping with challenge. "What's the most rare jellyfish species known to Bikini Bottom?" Plankton's antennae twitch as he thinks, his monotone voice measured. "The Bikini Bottom Glowing Jellyfish," he murmurs. "It's not rare everywhere, but here, yes." Kevin's grin fades into a scowl. "Fine," he says, his voice tight. "What's the average lifespan of a jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he considers the question. "Depends on species," he murmurs, his monotone voice unwavering. "Some live weeks, others years." Kevin's smugness returns, his grin stretching wide. "Ah, but I'm not talking about any jellyfish," he says, eyes gleaming. "I'm talking about the Jellyfish of Legend, the one that even SpongeBob can't catch. What's the average lifespan of that one?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, eye narrowing in thought. "Rare. Long lifespan." Kevin's smug expression wavers as he realizes Plankton might actually know the answer. "You're bluffing," he accuses, his voice rising. "There's no way you know that!" But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver as he murmurs, "The average lifespan of a type jellyfish known as Turritopsis dohrnii is... indefinite." Kevin's eyes widen in shock, smugness evaporating. "What? That's impossible!" But Plankton's antennae keep quivering with confidence. "Immortal jellyfish," he murmurs. "Turritopsis dohrnii." Kevin's smugness turns to astonishment. "But that's not possible!" he stammers, his bravado slipping away. "No jellyfish can live forever!" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly as he calmly explains, "Turritopsis dohrnii," his monotone voice unshaken. "It's unique. Can revert to polyp stage, start life cycle again." Kevin stammers, his usual bravado gone. "But... but?" "Plankton studied," Plankton murmurs, his antennae waving slightly. "Jellyfish... interesting." SpongeBob steps forward, eyes glinting with excitement. "I've got one," he says, turning to Kevin. "What's the main diet of jellyfish?" Kevin snorts. "Phytoplankton," Kevin says with glee. "And zooplankton, like your little friend here. Some times other jellyfish." But Plankton's antennae quiver with excitement. "Kevin wrong," he murmurs. "Jellyfish eat... everything." Kevin's smirk falters. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice wary. Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he elaborates. "Jellyfish diet... diverse," he murmurs. "Phytoplankton, zooplankton, even small fish and shrimp. Some, yes, eat other jellyfish. But not all." Kevin's grin turns into a scowl. "That's what I just said!" "But you didn't say everything," Plankton murmurs, his monotone voice filled with a hint of satisfaction. "Jellyfish... adaptable." Kevin's confidence is visibly shaken, his smugness gone. "Fine," he grumbles. "But I bet you don't know their natural predators." Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly. "Natural predators," he murmurs. "Turtles, some fish, sea anemones." Kevin's scoff turns into a growl. "Turtles, sure," he says, his voice mocking. "But what about the big bad..." "Leatherback sea turtles," Plankton murmurs, his antennae quivering slightly. "They love jellyfish." Kevin's smirk fades, his bravado slipping away like sea foam on the shore. "Fine," he says, his voice tight. "What's the most... I don't know, the most useless jellyfish fact you know?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly as he murmurs, "Usefulness... subjective." His monotone voice is calm, unruffled by the challenge. Kevin's scowl deepens. "Alright, then," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "But surely you don't know this one: What's the jellyfish that's immune to its own venom?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his monotone voice unfazed. "Turritopsis nutricula," he murmurs. "Immune to own sting." Kevin's eyes narrow. "Alright, then," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "What's the most bizarre jellyfish fact you can think of?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his monotone voice contemplative. "Bizarre," he murmurs. "Some jellyfish have bioluminescent glow." Kevin's eyes light up with a spark of hope. "That's it," he says, voice smug. "Everyone knows that. I've got a better one: jellyfish don't have brains, just nerve nets. So, what's the point of all this studying?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he considers the question, his monotone voice calm. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, "have complex behaviors. Complex. Have nerve nets. Plankton studied. Brain not necessary for intelligence."
CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS i (Autistic Author) Karen went to the park. Her husband, Plankton, sat by her. Karen glanced over and saw the soft smile on his face, a smile that had greeted her every morning for the past twenty-five or so years. The park was alive with laughter, the distant sound of a ball bouncing off the pavement and the occasional squawk from a seagull. Plankton's eye were closed, his breathing slow and steady. He was enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face. Suddenly, their adopted son Chip burst into their peaceful scene, his cheeks flushed from running. He was holding a frisbee that had strayed from its intended path, and he called out to them with the enthusiasm of a young boy who had discovered something wonderful. "Look what I found!" he exclaimed, oblivious to the delicate moment he was interrupting. Plankton jolts. Karen's notices her husband's sudden movement. His eye open wide, and he stares into the distance unseeing, unblinking. She knows the signs all too well. Plankton is having one of his shutdowns. But Chip's dart between the frisbee and his parents, sensing something amiss. "Dad?" Chip says, tentatively. Karen jumps up and grabs Plankton's arm, gently squeezing to bring him back. "It's ok, honey," she whispers, her voice steady. Chip's smile fades as he sees his father's unresponsive state. He drops the frisbee, forgotten in his grip, and takes a cautious step closer. "What's happening?" he asks, his voice cracking. Plankton's body remains eerily still, like a statue. The only indication that he's alive is the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Karen's eyes dart around the area, checking if anyone has noticed. She doesn't want to draw unwanted attention. "It's ok, Dad's just taking a little break," she murmurs, setting the frisbee aside. He's never seen these before, nor knows the drill. Chip takes in Plankton's unblinking gaze. Karen feels a pang of guilt for keeping this part of Plankton's condition hidden from their kid. But it's a dance they've been performing for years, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy amidst Plankton's condition. Karen focuses solely on Plankton, willing him to come back to her. She feels the warmth of his hand under hers, but there's no response, no squeeze, no recognition of her touch. Karen's gaze is fixed on her husband's face, searching for any hint of life, any flicker of consciousness. She whispers his name, a soft mantra, trying to anchor him to reality. But Chip doesn't understand. His eyes are wide, full of fear and confusion as he watches his dad frozen in place. "What's a 'little break'?" he asks, voice trembling. Karen's heart tightens; she's always shielded Chip, hoping to spare him the worry and fear. "It's like when you zone out," she explains gently, hoping to relate it to something he might have experienced. "Remember when you were playing video games and I had to call you for dinner three times before you heard me?" Chip nods slowly, still glued to Plankton's unmoving form. "It's like that," Karen continues, "But for Dad, it happens without warning." Chip nods again, trying to process this new information. He's always known his dad was different, but seeing him like this is something he's never had to face before. He takes a deep breath and tries to hold back his tears, not wanting to scare Plankton when he wakes up. "What do we do?" he whispers, his voice shaky. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand gently, never leaving his face. "Just wait," she instructs Chip calmly. "These usually don't last long. But if you need to, you can tell anyone who asks that he's okay, just deep in thought." Chip nods, trying to mimic his mother's calm demeanor, but his eyes betray his anxiety. He's never seen his dad like this, never knew that these moments of stillness were a part of him. Plankton's condition, a form of autism, can leave him with anger issues and overload. Karen feels the weight of the secret they've kept from Chip all these years. Plankton's autistic neurodivergence had always been a part of their lives, but they had shielded their son from the full extent of it. They had hoped he would understand when he was older, but now the moment had come unplanned, and she wasn't sure if ready. "Why does Dad zone out?" Chip asks, his voice small. Karen sighs, deciding it's time for the truth. She sits down next to Plankton, keeping her hand on his arm. "Dad has something called 'neurodivergence', Chip. It's like his brain works differently than ours. Sometimes it helps him see the world in amazing ways, but it can also be hard for him. These little breaks are his brain's way of processing." Chip stares at her, trying to grasp the concept. "So, he's not just ignoring us?" "No, sweetie," Karen says. "He's not ignoring us. It's like his brain needs a time-out, like when you play for to long and your phone heats up and/or dies, but will still work eventually." The wind picks up, rustling through the leaves above them, and a chill runs down Chip's spine. He nods slowly, watching his dad's chest rise and fall in the silence. It's strange to see someone so still, so quiet, yet so obviously alive. "But why haven't you told me before?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes well up with tears she quickly blinks away. "We wanted to protect you," she admits. "I didn't want you to be scared and he doesn’t want you to think of him differently." "But it's okay to think differently," Chip argues, his voice growing stronger. "Dad's always been there for me, even if he doesn't hug me a lot." Karen smiles sadly, stroking Plankton's arm. "It's not just about thinking differently, Chip. It's about how his brain processes things. Sometimes, too much sensory input can overwhelm him. That's why he might seem distant or not as affectionate as other dads. It's not because he doesn't like you," she reassures him. "It's because hugging or loud noises can be really intense for him." Chip's eyes widen with understanding. "So, that's why he doesn't like it when I jump on him?" "Yes," Karen nods. "But it doesn't mean he loves you any less. He just shows it in his own way. Like when he spends hours helping you build that Lego castle, or when he makes those amazing sea creature sculptures that you love so much." Chip's shoulders slump, and he sits down on the bench beside his mother, staring at his dad with a newfound curiosity. "Does he know I know now?" "I don't think so, honey," Karen says, her voice still low and soothing. "These episodes usually last just a few minutes. It's like he's somewhere else, but he'll come back to us." The park's sounds swirl around them, muffled by the tension that has settled in the air. Karen watches Plankton's expression, waiting for the telltale twitch of his antennae that signals his return to the present. Finally, Plankton blinks and looks at Karen, his gaze momentarily unfocused before recognition floods back into his eye. He looks around, startled by his surroundings, and then at Chip, who is staring at him. "What happened?" Plankton asks, his voice groggy. Karen releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "You had one of your zoning-out moments," she says, her voice calm and gentle. Plankton looks at her, then at Chip, who is watching him with a mix of curiosity and fear. "I did?" Plankton's antennae twitch, and he rubs his head. "Yes," Karen says, her hand still on his arm. "Chip found a frisbee, remember?" Plankton's gaze shifts to the frisbee lying forgotten on the ground, then back to his son. He nods slowly, piecing the moments before together. "Ah," he murmurs, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. Chip's curiosity outweighs his fear as he looks at his father. "Can I ask?" he asks tentatively. Karen nods, her heart swelling with pride at his bravery. "Of course, Chip." Chip looks at his dad, filled with questions. "Why’d you zone out?" he asks, his voice still hushed. "It's none of your business Chip," Plankton snaps, his eye flashing with a sudden fury that takes both Karen and Chip aback. His voice is harsh, the words cutting through the stillness of the park. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the hurt on Chip's face. Plankton's anger, a common side effect of his overload, surfaces without warning. She knows he doesn't mean it, but the sting is real for their son.
please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
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˙ᵕ˙5𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓎.𝒸𝒶𝓉˙ᵕ˙
💝S♡
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HI GUYS IF YOU LIKE CARETAKER LIKE THIS :) (keep scrolling) keep scrolling its worth it!!! KEEP GOING almost there… here’s your treasure :) 𝔸𝔹ℂ𝔻𝔼𝔽𝔾ℍ𝕀𝕁𝕂𝕃𝕄ℕ𝕆ℙℚℝ𝕊𝕋𝕌𝕍𝕎𝕏𝕐ℤ 𝕒𝕓𝕔𝕕𝕖𝕗𝕘𝕙𝕚𝕛𝕜𝕝𝕞𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕢𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕧𝕨𝕩𝕪𝕫 𝐀𝐁𝐂𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐆𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐊𝐋𝐌𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐐𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐕𝐖𝐗𝐘𝐙 𝐚𝐛𝐜𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐤𝐥𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐪𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐯𝐰𝐱𝐲𝐳 𝙰𝙱𝙲𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙶𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙺𝙻𝙼𝙽𝙾𝙿𝚀𝚁𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚅𝚆𝚇𝚈𝚉 𝚊𝚋𝚌𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚔𝚕𝚖𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚚𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚟𝚠𝚡𝚢𝚣 ᵃᵇᶜᵈᵉᶠᵍʰⁱʲᵏˡᵐⁿᵒᵖᵠʳˢᵗᵘᵛʷˣʸᶻ 𝔞𝔳𝔠𝔡𝔢𝔣𝔤𝔥𝔦𝔧𝔨𝔩𝔪𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔮𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔳𝔴𝔵𝔶𝔷 𝓐𝓑𝓒𝓓𝓔𝓕𝓖𝓗𝓘𝓙𝓚𝓛𝓜𝓝𝓞𝓟𝓠𝓡𝓢𝓣𝓤𝓥𝓦𝓧𝓨𝓩 𝓪𝓫𝓬𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓰𝓱𝓲𝓳𝓴𝓵𝓶𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓺𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓿𝔀𝔁𝔂𝔃 ♚♛♜♞♝♔♕♖♘♗↫⏎✎ᴥ︎↺☏ꕥ✾✑◉𖨆☊✈☘︎︎𓁹♧︎✇¶ ⌖𓇽«✞☾☼™シ༄❝❞»◌【∞】』꧁『꧂ꕤ꧂ Σ∫𖣘❃᯽☢︎︎𖣔۞✫𓆉𓃱𓃰𓃗𐂃𓃮𓆈𓃟𐂂𓅓𓃒 𓀡𓀿𓅷𓂻𓆏𓅿𓄁𓃠𓆙𓂉𓆡𓃹𓆤𓆧𓅨𓆨𓃵𓆦
me ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚
˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊🐬˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚. (
/)/) ( . .) "eatz" /づ🍪 /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (• • ) can i pwease eat that too /づ🍪 vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)No.(• • ) 🍪⊂\ vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)(• • ) give me that! 🍪⊂\ ⊂ \ /)/) (\(\ ( 0 0) Noo! (. . ) / づ 🍪⊂\ "sad" /)/) (\(\ ( . .)"" (• • ) / vv 🍪⊂\ /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (. . ) Ok fine, u can have it. / vv 🍪⊂ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ)thx! (. . )"" / づ🍪 vv \ btw we can share if u want! /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (• • ) huh..? / づ🍪 vv \ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (ᵔ ᵔ ) okay! / づ🍪⊂ \
Rina⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
𓆩♡𓆪🌀🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤
ryu🎂❤️‍🩹🎂🥊🥊
ryu🎂❤️‍🩹🎂🥊🥊🖖
WHEN THE CHIP FALLS i/ii (Autistic author) Karen picks up her son, Chip, from a friend's house. "Hi, mom! Where's dad?" He asks her. "Don't worry, we'll see him soon." They return home. Once inside, Chip throws his book bag on the couch, his sneakers thumping. Karen finds Plankton in his lab, his eye glued to a book. She knows that look, it's his way of hyperfixating. She approaches carefully. "Plankton?" she says gently. He jumps a little, his hands fidgeting with the pipettes. "Chip's home," she continues, watching his eye flicker to the doorway, then back to the beakers. Chip's footsteps echo down the hall, and suddenly, he's there, his body crashing into his father's in a tight, unexpected hug. Plankton's arms hang at his sides. "I missed you," Chip whispers into his father's chest. Plankton's body tenses, his mind racing with unexpected sensory input. He tries to focus on his breath, to slow it down, but it's like trying to swim through a tornado of stimuli. Karen gently pries Chip away, leading them both to the living room. "Is everything ok, Dad?" Chip asks, his face scrunched in concern. Plankton follows them, his movements mechanical. "Just... working on something important," Plankton mutters, his eye dodging Chip's gaze. "I'm fine.." Chip senses the distance, the walls Plankton's put up around himself. He's seen it before, but it still stings. What Chip doesn't know is that his dad's autistic. Plankton fidgets, avoiding his son's gaze. "What's going on?" Chip asks. "Dad's just a little stressed with work." But Chip's not buying it. He notices the way his father's fingers tap a staccato rhythm. Chip tries to hug Plankton again, his arms reaching out like a lifeline. Plankton flinches, the touch sending a jolt of discomfort through his body. He can't help it; his senses are already overwhelmed. "Chip, please," Plankton says, voice sharp as a tack. Chip turns to his father. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asks again, his voice small. He can't find the words to explain. Instead, he does the only thing he can think of to relieve the tension: he prys Chip's arms away, his movements abrupt. "Dad?" Chip's voice is tiny, confused. Plankton's voice booms through the room, sharp and loud. "I said I'm fine!!" The echo of his words hangs in the air, and Chip shrinks back, his arms falling to his sides. Karen sighs, knowing it's time to explain. "Chip," she starts, "Your dad has something that makes him..." "I know, I know," he interrupts, his voice tinged with frustration. "Dad's always like this. Always lost in his own world, never..." "What do you mean 'always like this'?" Plankton demands, the words sharp and pointed. Chip takes a step back. "It's just... you're always so busy with work," he stammers. "I just... I want to spend time with you." Plankton's eye widens, accusation stinging him. He tries to find the words to explain, to bridge the gap between his autistic brain and his son's need for connection. But his thoughts are a jumbled mess of frustration and guilt. He loves, but sometimes, his condition makes it hard to show it. "I'm not 'always like this,'" Plankton snaps, his voice cracking like a whip. "You don't understand!" He slams his fist on the table. "I'm sorry," Chip murmurs, "I didn't mean..." But his words are drowned out by the storm of emotion raging within his father. "You think I choose this?" He gestures wildly. "I'm not 'always like this'! You think it's easy?" Karen's heart aches as she watches the raw pain flash across Plankton's face. Chip takes a tentative step forward. "I just want to understand," he whispers. He reaches out and gently places his hand on Plankton's arm. Plankton's rage doesn't abate, his arm jerking away as if burned. "You think you can just fix me with a pat on the back and a sad puppy look?" He spat out the words. "I'm not something to be fixed," Plankton says, his voice low and dangerous. His fist slams into the table again. Chip's hand retreats to his side. "I didn't say you were," he manages to reply, his voice shaking. "I just want to be with you." "You don't get it," he seethes, his voice rising. "You can't just come in here and demand I change for you!" His fists clench, and the pipettes in his lab coat pockets clink ominously. "Dad I don't know what you're talking about.." Chip's voice is a mere whisper, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton's anger doesn't waver. His body shakes with the intensity of his emotions, his face a mask of fury and pain. "You think you know me?" Plankton's voice is like thunder, his words a torrent of accusation. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me how to feel, how to act?" Chip takes a step back. "I just want to help," he says, his voice a barely audible whisper. Plankton's sarcasm is bitter. "Oh, help," he mocks, his voice a parody of sweetness. "You're so helpful. You know what help would be? Leaving me alone!" "But Dad," Chip starts. "I don't know what I did wrong." Plankton's lashing out at Chip. "Oh, you're just the picture of innocence, aren't you?" he says, his tone a toxic mix of anger and patronizing. "Coming in acting like you know everything, thinking you can just fix me with a hug and a sympathetic look." Chip feels his cheeks burn. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking. "You're sorry?" Plankton repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're sorry? What good is sorry?!" Chip shakes his head. "You think I don't know what you're thinking? That I can't feel your pity?" He scoffs, a cold, brittle sound. "You think I don't know when you look at me like that?" Chip's meeting his father's furious gaze. "I don't..." But Plankton cuts him off, his voice a sneer. "Don't lie to me. I can see it in your screen. You think I'm some thing to be fixed, like one of your toys." Chip feels like being crushed by a heavy weight, his chest tightening with each of his father's words. "That's not what I meant," he stammers. "You think it's easy for me, don't you?" He sneers. "You think I don't wish I could just turn it off, be 'normal' for you?" "No, Dad, I... I just want to understand. And, turn what off?" Plankton's eye narrows, his jaw clenching. "You don't get it, I can't just turn off who I am. I'm not some broken toy!" "I just want to be with you," he repeats, his voice shaking. "I don't care if you're not... like other dads or whatever you're saying.." Plankton's anger doesn't abate, his body stiff as a board. "You think that's it?" he sneers. "You think it's just a matter of me snapping out of it?" "I don't know, Dad," he admits, his voice breaking. "I just... I want to spend time with you." Plankton's face contorts further, his frustration boiling over. "You think that's all it takes?" he shouts. "You want quality time?" His voice cracks. Chip nods, desperate for a connection. "Yes," he whispers. "Quality time," Plankton repeats, his voice dripping with scorn. "You think that's all I need, a little 'quality time' and everything will be fine? You have no idea what I go through every day just to pretend to be like them, for you, for your mother!" Chip's in shock. He's never seen his father like this, so raw and exposed. The room seems to pulse with Plankton's anger, each beat a reminder of the distance between them. "I don't know," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know," Plankton mimics, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think it's just a matter of trying harder, don't you? Like it's a switch I can just flip?" He starts to pace the room, his footsteps heavy and punctuated by his frustration. "You think I enjoy your pity parties?" "Dad, I..." he whispers, but his voice is lost in the tempest. "You think you know what it's like to be me?" he snarls. "You have no idea. You're just a child, playing at being an adult with your little 'I want to understand' nonsense." Karen can't take it anymore. With a gentle but firm voice, she steps between them. "Plankton," she says, her tone a warning. "That's enough." Plankton's rant falters, his eye meeting hers. For a moment, he seems lost, his anger flickering out like a candle in a gust of wind. "You don't know what it's like," he repeats softer, anger morphing into a deep sadness that seeps into the fabric of the room. Chip looks up, his screen glistening with unshed tears. "Tell me," he pleads. "Help me understand." Karen's gaze softens, and sighs heavily. "Your dad has something called Autism," she says gently. "It's like his brain is wired differently. It's not good or bad, it just makes things harder for him sometimes." Chip looks up, his face a canvas of confusion. "Does that mean he can't love me?" he asks, the fear in his voice like a knife. Karen kneels beside him, taking his small hand in hers. "No, baby," she says softly. "It means his love might look different. He feels it just as much, but shows it in his own way." Plankton stands there, his body rigid, his eye darting between Karen and Chip. "I don't know how to do this," he says finally, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't know how to be what you want." "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice trembling. Plankton's eye narrows, his voice like shards of ice. "This," he says, gesturing to his head. "This... thing inside me that makes everything so hard." His hand gestures to his forehead as if to punctuate his words. "This autism!" Chip looks up with confusion and a touch of fear. "But Dad," he says softly, "I don't see it like that. I don't even know what Autism is!" Karen's gaze flickers to Plankton, who stands motionless, his jaw clenched. "It's ok," she reassures her son. "It's not something you can see, Chip. It's just how Daddy's brain works."
👊🏄🏻🏄🏿🙍🏿🐊🤙
𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.
🤟❤🎨🎭🖼️🖌
😂😈🫀🐈😮‍💨YAS💅🧕🧏🇦🇪
☆⋆。𖦹°‧★
👨🏿‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏽💒
👨🏿‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏽💒➜ミ・◦・ミ
° ★ ᥒᥲmᥱ 🎀ྀིྀིྀིྀི
࣪✦ .왕 𝖭𝖺𝗆𝖾/𝖴𝗌𝖾𝗋 ˙. ꒱꒱ ੭୧ㅤ۫ㅤ۪ 𝖼𝗋 : @𝗆𝗒_𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 ౨ৎ
☆⋆。𖦹°‧★˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY i (Autistic author) Karen's husband, Plankton, was arguing with Mr. Krabs as usual. They've had their fair share of disputes over the years, but this one seemed to be escalating fast. Without warning, Mr. Krabs swung the stove from his kitchen with all his might. It connected with a sickening thud against Plankton's head. Karen gasped as her husband crumpled to the ground. Plankton's eye had rolled back and closed, his body going still as Mr. Krabs left back. Karen knelt beside Plankton and gently tapped his cheek. "Wake up," she murmured, voice trembling. No response. She tried again, her voice a little louder. "Honey, can you hear me?" Plankton's eye remained closed, his antennae limp. Panic began to creep in. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. What if his tiny brain had been damaged? What if he was in a coma? What if he never woke up? She cradled his minuscule form. The room grew silent as the gravity of the situation sank in, willing Plankton to stir. A tear trickled down her screen. Karen felt for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. She let out a sigh of relief and picked his tiny body up, cradling him carefully. "I've got to get him to a doctor," she thought. She held Plankton's hand as they performed a brain scan. Karen sat by her husband's side as the machines around Plankton beeped and whirred. The sterile smell of the hospital filled, and the cold white walls seemed to press in around them. Plankton's lying still on the hospital bed. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, and various tubes connected him to monitors that displayed a symphony of lines and numbers, none of which meant anything to her. She squeezed his hand gently, willing him to wake up. The doctor walked into the room, his lab coat fluttering slightly as he moved. He held a clipboard carefully in his tentacles, studying the information with a furrowed brow. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his voice soft, "We've finished scans. The good news is that it's not life- threatening. However, we've noticed some sustained atypical brain activity." Karen's eyes widened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. The doctor sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Autism. His behavior may change. He might become more focused on his routines, have difficulty with social interactions, and exhibit sensory sensitivity. It's permanent, and no cure. We expect him to wake up soon. We'll ask him some questions to assess and then you can take him home." Karen felt her heart drop. She knew about autism, had read about it in magazines, but never thought it would affect her own family. The doctor left the room, and she was alone with her thoughts, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall as they remove the bandage. The hours ticked by in agonizing slowness as she sat there, praying for him to wake up. The only sounds were the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled conversations from the hallway. Finally, Plankton's eyelid fluttered. He groaned softly, and his hand twitched in hers. Karen leaned in, hope surging through her. "Plankton?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she smiled through her tears. "I'm here," she said, voice shaky. "You're in the hospital, but you're ok." Plankton's eye opened, squinting in the bright lights. He looked around the room, confusion etched on his tiny face. Slowly, his gaze landed on Karen. "What happened?" he croaked, his voice weak. "Mr. Krabs hit you with a stove," Karen explained, her voice a mix of relief and sadness. "They diagnosed you with acquired Autism." The doctor approached with a gentle nod. "Plankton, can you tell me your name?" he asked, ready to jot down notes. Plankton's eye searched the room, finally settling on Karen. "Sheldon Jay Plankton." Karen's grip on his hand tightened offering silent encouragement. The doctor nodded and proceeded with questions. "Tell me when you're born?" "July 31, 1999 10:16.08 am ET!" Karen felt a twinge of pride at her husband's precise answer. The doctor nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Tell me more about yourself.." "More about yourself." Plankton echoed. The doctor's offering a gentle smile. "Echolalia. It's a trait that's common in individuals with autism. It can help him process information. Well Plankton has no need for therapy, yet you may want to adjust your daily lives to accommodate. You're free to go!" The drive back to the Chum Bucket was silent, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on Karen's shoulders. He was quiet too, his eye fixed on the passing scenery. He didn't seem to notice the difference in himself, but Karen knew their lives were changed. Once home, Karen helped Plankton into his favorite chair, surrounded by his inventions and gadgets. The room was a mess, but it was his sanctuary, and she didn't want to disturb it. He seemed more at ease, his eye flicking from one object to another with a sense of familiarity. Would Plankton be the same? Would he still laugh at her jokes, or get angry at the Krabby Patty secret formula? Plankton remained silent, his gaze still locked on his surroundings. Karen felt a pang of worry. Would his obsessive nature become more pronounced? "It's getting late, Plankton." Karen's voice was soft as she guided him to their bedroom. He followed without protest, his movements mechanical. She helped him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin with a gentle tuck. Plankton lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a swirl of confusion. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "Stay, Karen stay." He says. Karen nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Of course, I'll stay," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. She took his hand again, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew she'd be by his side. As Plankton's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep, Karen sat there, watching him. She noticed how his grip on her hand had loosened, but didn't dare move. The next day, Karen woke before Plankton did. She hovered over him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. How was she going to wake him up without startling him? She knew that sudden noises could be overwhelming for him now. Karen took a different approach. She stroked his arm with a feather-light touch. His eye brow flinched. Next, she tried speaking his name, starting with a whisper and gradually getting louder. "Plankton," she called, "It's time to wake up." His eyelid twitched, and he blinked his eye open. He looked around. "Karen?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "Good morning, honey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton sat up slowly, his antennae twitching as he took in his surroundings. "Different," he murmured, rubbing his temple. "We're home, Plankton. Remember what happened?" He nodded, his eye glazed over for a moment. "Krabs. The stove." "Yes, but you're ok now," Karen reassured, stroking his cheek with her finger. Plankton nodded again, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen noticed that his movements were more deliberate, his gaze more intense. She decided to keep things simple to avoid overwhelming him with too much information at once. "Let's get breakfast," she suggested. Plankton followed her into the kitchen, his steps slower than usual. The clanking of pans and the sizzle of oil had always been a familiar symphony in their home, but today it felt alien, like a disturbance to his newly heightened senses. Karen moved around the kitchen with precision, keeping the noises to a minimum. As she prepared their meal, Plankton stood by the counter, his gaze fixed. "Breakfast is ready," she said, sliding a plate of chum flapjacks in front of him. The smell usually brought him joy, but today it was overwhelming. Plankton took a step back. Karen's smile faltered, realizing she would have to adjust their meals. "Would you like something else?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody. Plankton nodded, his gaze not leaving the plate. "Different," he whispered. Karen knew she had to find foods that wouldn't overstimulate. She placed the flapjacks aside and found a jar of pureed peas and plain yogurt. She hoped the blandness would be more soothing. Plankton's antennae twitched as he came closer. He stared at the bowl intently, then took a tentative spoonful. The texture was soothing, and the color was calming. He ate slowly, each bite measured and deliberate. Karen watched him with love and concern. She wanted to ask if he liked it, but she knew better than to interrupt his focus. Once Plankton had finished, he looked up at her with a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. It was the closest thing to praise she had heard from him since the incident. Karen cleared the table, her mind racing with questions about what the future held. How would Plankton's new autism affect their daily lives? "Now what would you like to do, Plankton?" She asks. He looks at her. "Read." The old spark seems to flicker back to life, albeit with a different intensity. Karen nods, leading him back to his lab. The room is a mess of wires and gadgets, but Plankton moves through it with purpose. He selects a book from the shelf, a manual on quantum physics that had been collecting dust. His gaze flits over the pages, absorbing the information with fervor. Karen watches him from a distance. This was her Plankton, but also new. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had always been intense, but now his focus was lasered in on the book, his mind racing through equations and theories. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning. Plankton didn't look up from his book, lost in a world of science and theories. Karen knew she had to let him be, to find his new normal.
༘⋆🌷🫧💭 ⋆˙♫₊˚.🎧 ✩。𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖆 ♱
🌷lalat
me*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚°˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧°.🎀༘⋆
👩‍❤️‍👨,💌,❤
Ⓜhi
new a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0
heart (´。• ◡ •。`) ♡ (´。• ◡ •。`) ♡(=♡ ᆺ ♡=)

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⣳⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠦⠄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠠⠴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⡰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢋⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢌⡆⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⡙⢿⣿⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣛⣩⢿⡋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⣴⠿⣿⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠗⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠳⣵⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠦⣤⣤⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⢩⡭⠖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⣲⠯⢸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢌⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⡿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡺⢁⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣧⠀⢈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣝⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠁⠀⢸⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠑⢌⢲⣀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣅⡫⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡽⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢳⣍⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡟⠆⠈⠹⠶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⣀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣴⠿⣛⢝⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠈⢯⡫⡳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠙⠋⠛⠙⢫⣍⡳⢎⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠈⡟⣬⡑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠱⡷⣂⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⣪⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠏⠁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠸⡦⡋⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢎⠙⠕⣓⠂⠤⢀⢠⠄⠀⠀⠜⠳⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢋⡥⠴⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⡢⡹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡖⠔⣒⡠⠄⡭⠃⠀⠀⠐⡺⠁⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⡙⠃⣐⠒⠉⠁⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣧⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠅⡒⠄⢹⡁⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⡋⢠⠑⢀⣃⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
here is the school song (matilda the musical) but in Thai (translated on Google translate): เฮ้ย! เด็กใหม่เหรอ? แล้วคุณคิดว่าคุณสามารถ เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ได้โดยเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง ไม่นานคุณก็จะเห็น ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้ และแม้ว่า คุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามอย่างหนัก คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์ เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักคือประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ ฉันทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้ ฉันติดอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันพยายาม ฉันจะจำได้ ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังเป็นครั้งแรก เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการทนทุกข์ทรมาน ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ และถ้าคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้น คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง ทำไม? ทำไม? ทำไม? คุณได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดไหม? รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน! พละศึกษาคืออะไร? พละศึกษา ความพิเศษของ Trunchbull คุณเป็นใคร? เราเป็นหัวหน้าห้อง เราอยู่ที่นี่เพื่อพาคุณไปเรียน งั้นเราจะเริ่มเรียนกันใช่ไหม? โอ้ คุณจะเริ่มเรียนแล้ว โอเค เยี่ยมเลย! ฉันรู้ตัวอักษรแล้ว! คุณจะไม่รู้ตัวอักษรจนกว่าเราจะเรียนตัวอักษรให้คุณ แล้วคุณก็คิดว่าคุณสามารถ เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ด้วยการเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง ไม่นานคุณก็จะรู้ ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้ และแม้ว่าคุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามมากเพียงใด คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์ เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักนั้นเป็นประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ ฉันต้องทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้ ฉันถูกขังอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันลอง ฉันก็จำได้ ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังลั่นเป็นครั้งแรก เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการที่จะทุกข์ทรมาน ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ และหากคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้นเป็นสองเท่า คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง ทำไม? ทำไม? ทำไม? คุณไม่ได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดเหรอ? ฉันเพิ่งรู้ว่าบางคนยังไม่เข้าชั้นเรียน แก้ไขตรงนี้ คุณมีห้าวินาทีในการปฏิบัติตาม A, B, C, D, E, F, G (ห้า) H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P (สี่!) Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X (สาม) Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y (สอง) ลาเวนเดอร์ มาทิลดา เข้ามา เร็วเข้า! (หนึ่ง!) รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน! Yayyyy!!!. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.
PLANKTON GOING TO THE DENTIST i/Ii "You say you've tenderness in the back of..." "Aw!" Plankton interrupts, as the dentist examines his mouth. "I see your wisdom teeth haven't erupted yet, Mr. Plankton; luckily we can remove them today, if you've a ride home.." "My wife Karen's in the waiting room area, she drove me here." The surgery room is sterile and white, smelling faintly of disinfectant. Plankton's heart races as he sits in the chair, his tiny legs dangling over the edge. The large, looming figures of the dentist and the assistant hover around him, their faces obscured by masks and hats. They guide Karen to a small chair by the wall. "We're going to numb the area," the dentist explains in a soothing voice. "But since you're a bit nervous, we can also offer some to help you relax into sleep before so, not to mention teeth haven't even broke the surface of the gums yet." Plankton nods, gripping the arms of the chair. The dentist administers anesthesia. His grip relaxes. "Just breathe," the dentist instructs. "It'll be over before you know it." Plankton's eye grow heavier as the sedative takes hold. "It's time, Mr. Plankton," the dentist's voice echoes fading into the background like whispers in a distant tide. The chair reclines and he surrenders to dreamless sleep, eyelid shutting. Karen watches, clutching the chair's arm rest. She sees the mask of anesthesia descend over Plankton's face, his breaths slowing to a gentle sigh, matching the rhythm of the sea breeze outside. The assistant's gloved hands move with precision, placing a pillow securing him. Plankton's snores, a gentle rumble, give her some comfort, a sign that he's not in pain. The dentist inserts numbing agents into Plankton's gums. While Plankton remains oblivious to the world, Karen's watching. "Everything's going fine," he assures her. "You can hold his hand if you'd like." Plankton's sleeping mouth is a stark contrast to the towering world around him. Karen follows the steady movements of the dentist's hands, the syringe filled with anesthetic seemingly as large as a harpoon in the sea of Plankton's features. The assistant nods in approval, their expression hidden but the confidence in their stance reassuring. The surgical tools glint in the light reflecting the seriousness of the task at hand. Karen can see the reflection of her own tension in the chrome surfaces, but she forces a smile, trying to be brave for Plankton. It's a gentle gesture, a silent promise that she's there, that she's watching over him. The extraction begins. Karen flinches but Plankton doesn't stir. The dentist's movements are swift and precise, each action deliberate. Karen tries watching her husband's chest rise and fall with the steady rhythm of sleep. The assistant wipes some drool from Plankton's chin with a gentle cloth and Karen suppresses a smile, despite the bleeding. Her little Plankton, so fierce and cunning in his usual world, now so vulnerable. The assistant occasionally looks over to her, offering a reassuring nod as if to say, "Don't worry, he's doing great." The room falls into a quiet rhythm: the steady pulse of the ocean outside, the occasional murmur from the staff, and the soft hiss of the suction tool removing excess saliva. Plankton's snores become more peaceful, his body relaxing as the surgery progresses. Karen watches the blood ooze from the small sockets where the teeth used to be. The assistant quickly places gauze, pressing it down with firm yet gentle fingers, and the bleeding slows. The dentist nods, a job well done, and begins to stitch the wounds with a finesse that belies his size. The dentist starts to stitch up Plankton's gums, the needle moving in and out. The dentist steps back, wiping his hands clean. "Everything went perfectly," he says. "We're just going to keep him asleep for a little while longer, let him rest." Karen nods. The assistant starts to cleanup. Karen's glued to the gauze in Plankton's mouth, now soaked a deep red. She watches as the crimson stain spreads through the fabric, the evidence of his pain and endurance. The room feels hot, the pressure of her concern thickening the water around them. The dentist's assistant notices her distress and offers a kind smile. "He'll be ok," she whispers. Ignoring the instructions to remain silent, Karen leans in closer, reaching out to caress Plankton's cheek. "You're doing great, honey," she whispers, though she knows he can't hear. "You're so brave." She whispers to him again, her voice a soothing melody that fills the otherwise sterile space. "You're going to wake up soon, and it will all be over," Karen tells. The room seems to hold its breath. Karen can feel the gentle tug of Plankton's hand in hers, a silent response to her comforting words. She watches the slow rise and fall of his chest. "You won't remember this, Plankton," she whispers, "but I will. I'll remember how brave you are, even when you don't know it. You know how you always say size doesn't matter?" she says. "Well, I'm here to tell you that even when you're asleep and can't hear, you're still the biggest in my heart. You've got this, Plankton," she whispers. "You're going to wake up, and it'll all be over. And when you do, we'll go back to the Chum Bucket, and you can tell me all about your latest scheme. And I'll smile, and laugh, and pretend to be surprised, just like I always do." The dentist checks Plankton's vital signs and nods to the nurse, who starts to prepare him for waking. "The sedative will wear off soon," Karen tells him, voice low and soothing. "But for now, just rest, my love." She squeezes his hand gently. The assistant nods in agreement and begins to prepare the room for Plankton's recovery. Karen's watching as the sedatives keep him blissfully unaware of the world around him, his mouth slightly open and drooling in to the gauze and down his chin. The sight is both heartbreaking and comforting, a strange mix of vulnerability and strength. She finds herself lost in the rhythm of his breaths, the only sign of life in the otherwise quiet surgery room. The gauze in Plankton's mouth is only a hint of pink. The nurse enters with a gentle smile. "We're going to start bringing him around now," she says. Plankton's snores become less deep. "You did so well, Plankton," Karen says, stroking his forehead. "You're almost done." As the anesthesia begins to wear off, Plankton's eye flicker open but unfocused, lost in a world between sleep and wakefulness. "Hey Plankton," Karen says, her voice a warm embrace. "You're all done. You were so brave." "Mmf," he murmurs. "Whath's 'ppening?" The dentist chuckles lightly. "Just anesthetics wearing off, Mr. Plankton. Your mouth might be a bit numb." Plankton's eye widen, and he tries to speak again, but all that comes out is a series of unintelligible sounds. "Mmph...whath...whath's?" he stammers, voice muffled by the gauze. Karen laughs gently. "Your numb, sweetie," she explains with care. "You're slurring your words a bit." Plankton tries to speak again, his voice still a garbled mess. "Bh-but...my...my...moth," he mumbles. "You're just a bit sleepy," Karen giggles, reaching to gently wipe the drool from his chin. The sight of her husband, normally so sharp and scheming, now reduced to a blubbering mess.
I V X L C D M 1 5 10 50 100 500 1000 🔢 Individual decimal places Thousands Hundreds Tens Units 1 M C X I 2 MM CC XX II 3 MMM CCC XXX III 4 CD XL IV 5 D L V 6 DC LX VI 7 DCC LXX VII 8 DCCC LXXX VIII 9 CM XC IX
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Part 2 you got super confused(╹ -╹)?(╥﹏╥) and you ran away quickly 🏃💨 you decided you didnt wanna stay because... a bunch of girls tried to kill these little kids and you left..but...brought the kids with you.you slashed the girls with your new sword everhelp for more!!!She/herMe 😎×͜×*ੈ𑁍༘⋆
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CONSOLE TONSIL i The anesthesiologist came in. Plankton looked at Karen for assurance. She managed a smile and a nod. "I'll be here," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I won't leave your side." Plankton nodded, his eye never leaving hers as the anesthesiologist began to prepare the equipment. The anesthetic took hold as Plankton's mouth was propped open. His eye grew heavy, his eyelid drooped. "It's ok," she whispered, stroking his arm. "You're doing great." The room grew quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Plankton's breathing grew more regular, and the tension in his hand slowly released. "Just rest going to sleep now," she whispered. "I'm right here." His head lolled to the side and his grip on her hand went slack, and he was asleep as his eye went back in is socket, eyelid closing. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, whispering, "I love you." After surgery, Plankton's snore brought a smile to Karen's face, his mouth hung slightly open. Karen leaned closer, stroking Plankton's arm with her thumb. "Hey, Plankton," she murmured. "You made it through. You're going to be fine now." His snores grew quieter. "Remember the ice cream I promised you?" To her surprise, snores morphed into muffled words. "Ice...cream...Karen...love." "It's called somniloquism. Sometimes patients talk in their sleep as they're coming out of anesthesia. It's normal to mumble a bit after surgery, and it's also a sign they're coming around." Says the nurse. Karen nodded, feeling a mix of relief and amusement. She leaned closer, her hand wrapping around his. "You can have all the ice cream you want when you wake up," she said, her voice filled with warmth. The nurse checked his vitals, nodded in approval, and gave Karen a thumbs-up. "He's going to be ok," she said with a reassuring smile. "The surgery went well, and he's responding nicely to the anesthesia." Plankton's snores grew more regular, and his hand began to twitch slightly in her grasp. "You're ok. The surgery went well." Karen says. It was as if he was trying to respond, to squeeze her hand in agreement. "You're going to wake up, and we're going to get you the biggest ice cream sundae you've ever seen." Plankton's eyebrow began to twitch, and she leaned in closer. “That’s it..” He opens his eye. “Karen..” The nurse had assured her that his brain was just trying to make sense of the world as it woke up from the deep slumber of anesthesia. “You’re finished with tonsillectomy!” His speech was slurred and nonsensical. "Blabber...wha...wha...waffle?" Karen couldn't help but chuckle. The nurse stifled a laugh. "It's common for patients to have a bit of confusion post-op. It'll wear off soon. The nonsense talk is just his brain trying to piece things together." "Do you remember what happened?" Karen asked gently. Plankton's expression grew thoughtful for a moment, then he nodded. "Owies," he said, pointing to his throat. As the moments passed, Plankton's questions grew more frequent, each one a little slice of wonder. "Why is the floor so shiny?" "What makes the lights go?" "Can I have more ice cream?" Karen answered each one with patience and love, enjoying the simplicity of his curiosity. They arrived home, the ride a blur of instructions from the hospital and Plankton's sleepy nap. She helped him into bed, propping his pillows just right and placing a glass of water on the nightstand. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling hospital. The only sound was the occasional tick of the clock in the hallway. Karen settled into the chair beside his bed, ready to keep her vigil. Plankton's eye fluttered open and then closed. "Need...sleep," he murmured. "You go ahead," she said, her voice gentle. "I'll be here when you wake up." The room grew still again as Plankton's eye finally closed for good. Karen took his hand in hers once more, feeling the comforting weight of his head on her shoulder. The doorbell rang, a sudden and jarring intrusion into the quiet sanctuary they had created. Karen looked over at Plankton, whose sleep remained undisturbed. She leans him back on pillow and kissed his forehead gently. She whispered, "I'll be right back." She opened the door to see Hanna, her friend, who’s also a computer like Karen. "Hey," Hanna said, her voice filled with concern. "How's he doing?" "The surgery went well, yet he's still pretty out of it." Hanna's screen went straight to Plankton, who was snoring softly. She gave a small smile. "Looks like he's in good hands," she said. Karen nodded, a hint of gratitude in her voice. "Thanks for coming." A few moments passed in quiet contemplation before Plankton's eye fluttered open, any trace of anesthesia gone. "Wha...where am I?" he croaked, his voice raw and scratchy. "You're home," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You had surgery this morning." "Hi, Plankton! It’s nice to meet you. I'm Hanna, Karen's friend. I just came to check on you." Plankton's gaze drifted from Karen to Hanna, then back to Karen again. "You...told?" "You know I couldn't keep it from her," she said softly. "We tell each other everything." "What...did you tell her?" "Just that you weren't feeling well and had surgery. How you feeling?" "Sore," he managed to croak out. "And... confused." "It's normal," Hanna chimed in. "The anesthesia can mess with your head for a bit." Karen nodded in agreement. "Do you remember anything from the hospital?" Plankton's eye darted around the room, as if trying to recall the events of the day. "You were there, but nothing else at all." "You talked a bit when you were coming out of it," Karen said with a smirk. "Asked for ice cream and waffles." Plankton's eye widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. "Waffles?" Hanna laughed, earning her a glare from Plankton. "It's true," Karen said, her voice filled with mirth. "You kept asking for waffles." "I don't even like waffles," he grumbled, sinking back into the pillows. Hanna chuckled, her laughter a series of light beeps. "Well, maybe you've discovered a love for them." Plankton's glare sharpened, his cheeks flushing with a hint of anger. "I said I don't like waffles," he mumbled, his voice strained. Hanna raised her hands in mock surrender. "Ok, ok," she said, her digital eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'll take your word for it. It’s ok if you don’t recall." Karen felt a pang of worry, the room suddenly thick with tension. She knew Plankton's fiery temper well. "You don't know anything about me." "I just want to be here you know, ease Karen’s burden.." Hanna said. “BURDEN?” Plankton's eyes were on Hanna, his gaze piercing. "How could you say that?" he cried, his voice rising despite the pain. "I'm not a burden to her; I never meant to be burdensome!" Hanna's smile faded, and she looked at with a hint of concern. "I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly. "I just knew she'd be worried about you and I wanted to help." Karen squeezed Plankton's hand, her gaze flicking from Hanna to him. "It's ok," she said soothingly. "You're not a burden, Plankton. We're just looking out for you." But Plankton felt a tear slide down his cheek, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "Don't be," Karen said, her voice firm. "You're not a burden, Plankton. You're my... my everything." Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for the truth in her words. He could feel the weight of the unspoken between them, the fear and the doubt. But what he saw was unwavering love and care. He took a deep, painful breath and nodded. "Ok," he murmured. "But no more waffles." The tension in the room didn't dissipate immediately, but it began to ease as Plankton's gaze drifted back to the ceiling. Karen felt his hand tighten around hers, a silent plea for reassurance. "Look, Plankton," Hanna began, her voice tentative. "I'm sorry if I upset you. That wasn't my intent." He looked at her, and took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't want to talk to you about it!" Hanna's smile faltered, her screens flickering with confusion. "I just..." “It’s alright, Hanna. Plankton’s just really sensitive,” Karen replied, her gaze still fixed on Plankton. Hanna’s screens dimmed slightly, her concern evident. "I didn't mean to..." "I said No," he snaps, his voice tight with emotion. Hanna looked at him, her screens flickering with regret. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she said softly, now knowing her choice of words hit a nerve. "I think he needs some rest," Karen said, her voice low. "Why don't you let me take care of him?" Hanna nodded, her screens dimming with understanding. "Of course," she said. "I didn't mean to overstep." “You didn’t, you just wanted to support. He’s not overly affectionate, even with me. It’s hard for him, not necessarily about you. He doesn’t tend to open up to others, nothing personal. But thank you, Hanna.” Karen told her. “I just hoped I could make it easier for him, I know he’s been through a lot,” Hanna said with sincerity. “You did. Thank you for caring, really. But he’s always had a hard time letting anyone in, even me sometimes,” Karen explained, her gaze lingering on Plankton’s sleeping form. Hanna nodded, her screens swiping through various shades of blue. "I'll leave you to rest," she said quietly, moving towards the door.
TEETHIES i Karen watched as the dentist's thumb depressed the plunger, sending the anesthesia into her husband's system. Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and his body grew slack as his eye rolls back in is socket. "It's ok," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. "It'll all be over soon." The doctor nodded, satisfied with the effectiveness of the anesthesia. Plankton's quiet snoring deep and even, his eye fully closed, and the tightness around his mouth relaxed. Her hand remained tight around his, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm, as if she could somehow transmit her strength to him through their touch. Plankton's hand grew heavy in hers, but she didn't let go. Instead, she squeezed it gently, willing him to feel her presence even in his state. The doctor followed her gaze, giving Karen a brief nod before turning his attention back to the open mouth of her husband. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened, even in sleep, and she gave a gentle squeeze back. Karen's gaze flitted between her husband's serene face and the crimson-stained cloths being replaced with alarming regularity. Plankton's chest rose and fell rhythmically, a testament to the anesthesia's hold on him. Karen focused on that rhythm; despite the chaos of the surgery, he was still with her. "We're almost done," he said. "We'll just clean up the site and close the incisions." Karen watched as the nurse handed the doctor sutures and gauze. The sight of her husband's mouth, swollen and filled with cotton, brought a fresh wave of anxiety. She squeezed his hand again, willing him to come back to her, to wake up and smile and tell her that it was all over. The doctor's movements grew more methodical as he worked, sewing up the small wounds steady. The nurse cleaned Plankton's face, wiping away the crimson smears with a gentle touch. "Everything went well," he said, his voice a balm to her frazzled nerves. "The anesthesia will wear off in about an hour. We'll keep him here for a bit to monitor his vitals, but you can stay." Karen nodded. The nurse began to wheel him out of the surgical suite, and she followed, her hand still clutching his. In the recovery room, she sat by his side, watching, the monitors beeping in a comforting rhythm. The nurse checked his vitals. She reached out tentatively, brushing a stray antenna. The nurse nodded. "He'll be waking up soon," she murmured. "You can talk to him, if you'd like." Karen leaned in closer to Plankton, her voice a soft whisper. "You did it," she said, voice cracking slightly. "It's all over now." She paused, her thumb still tracing circles on his palm. She talked to him as if he were awake. "I know," she continued. "But you're strong. You've always been a strong one. I'll be here, I promise. I'll always be there." A small, sad smile played on her screen, Plankton none the wiser in his sleep. "But we're going to get through this, I know we are." Plankton's eyebrow furrowing for a moment, Karen thought he might wake up. But his breathing remained deep and even, his body unresponsive to her words. She leaned in closer. "I know you're in there," she murmured. "I know you can feel me." Remember the time you tried to build a giant robot to get the recipe?" She searched his face for any sign of recognition, any flicker of understanding. But he remained still, lost in the depths of anesthesia-induced sleep. "You're going to be ok," she assured him, her voice a gentle caress. "We'll go back to our lives, to our little chum bucket of a home." The nurse checked the monitors and made notes before looking up at Karen. "You can sit with him as long as you like," she said kindly. "Just make sure not to disturb the dressings." "You're going to be ok," she whispered, her voice a gentle lullaby in the otherwise silent room. "You're going to wake up and everything will be better." A trickle of drool began to form at the corner of Plankton's mouth, snaking down his cheek. Karen reached for a tissue, carefully dabbing at the drool without disturbing the surgical dressings, a testament to the depth of his unconsciousness, a sign that his body was working to heal itself even as he slept. She found a strange comfort in the mundane task, a reminder that even in the face of surgery and pain, Plankton was still her Plankton, the one who drooled in his sleep when particularly tired. The drool grew more persistent, and Karen used the edge of the bed to lift his head slightly, placing a fresh pillow under it to keep him comfortable. The nurse nodded approvingly before checking the flow of fluids from the IV. "It's normal," she assured Karen. "His body is just reacting." Karen felt the weight of not knowing if everything would be okay once Plankton woke up. Would he be in pain? Would he remember her? Would he be the same? Her thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of doubt and hope, a tumultuous sea that threatened to pull her under. But she remained steadfast, her hand never leaving his. She talked to him, sharing stories of their adventures and their future plans, painting a picture of the life they would have once he was well. The nurse moved quietly around the room, giving them space, but Karen could feel her presence, a comforting presence that reminded her she wasn't alone. As the minutes ticked by, Plankton's breathing grew less artificial, more like the easy breaths of sleep. His face began to lose the slackness that the anesthesia had imparted. She searched for any hint of consciousness, and she thought she saw a flicker behind his closed eyelid. "Plankton?" she whispered, leaning in closer. "Can you hear me?" A low groan was his only response, and she felt his hand tighten around hers. The nurse stepped closer, checking the monitors once more. "He's coming around," she said. "Give him a few minutes, and he'll be back with us." "I'm here," she murmured, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "You're ok." The nurse had left, and the only sounds were the rhythmic beeps of the monitors. She took the cloth from the bedside table and gently wiped the remaining drool from Plankton. His grip on her hand grew stronger, and she felt his fingers twitch. "Hey," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody in the sterile air. "You're ok, Plankton. The surgery is over." She didn't want to startle him, so she kept her voice low, her eyes focused on his. "You're in the recovery room now." His eyelid fluttered, and Karen felt a surge of hope. The nurse had warned her that he might be groggy, that the anesthesia could take a while to wear off completely. But she had to keep talking to him, to keep him grounded. "You were so brave," she whispered, her thumb tracing lazy circles on his palm. "The bravest little plankton I know." The hand in hers grew heavier as Plankton's grip tightened, and she knew he was slowly coming back to her. His eye remained closed, but the tension in his face began to change. She watched as his cheek muscles relaxed, the furrow in his brow smoothed out. The nurse had told her first moments after waking up could be disorienting, so she kept her voice calm and steady. "You're in the hospital," she said, her voice a lifeline. "You had your teeth taken out." The room was a blur of beeps and machines, but all she saw was Plankton, her entire world reduced to the man she had promised to take care of. As minutes ticked by, Plankton's breathing grew stronger, and she watched as his eyelid began to twitch. "That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soft coo. "You're doing great." His hand squeezed hers in response, and she felt a jolt of hope surge through her. With a final, deep inhale, Plankton's eye cracked open, swimming in a sea of confusion. His gaze found hers, and she offered him a gentle smile. "Hey," she said, her voice a warm embrace. "You made it." His eyelid fluttered, the weight of sleep and anesthesia still heavy upon him. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice a confused whisper. "Yes, I'm here," she said, her voice a gentle lullaby. She squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip as he surfaced from unconsciousness. "You did so well, Plankton." With painstaking care, she reached for the cup of water the nurse left by the bed. "Do you want some water?" she asked, holding it to his lips. His eye searched hers, took a sip, swallowed, the muscles in his throat moving with the effort. "Take it slow," she advised, her voice soothing. As the moments passed, Plankton's grip on her hand grew stronger. He took another sip of water and then shifted slightly in the bed, his body trying to adjust to the sudden return of sensation. Karen's heart felt as though it would burst with love and relief as she watched him come back to her. "I'm here," she repeated, her voice a constant in the shifting tides of his consciousness. The nurse returned, checking the monitors once more before looking at Plankton with a smile. "Welcome back," she said cheerfully. "How are you?" Plankton's voice was hoarse, but he managed to croak out a response. "Tiwed," he murmured, eye sliding shut again. "That's normal," she said. "He'll be sleepy for a bit, but we'll keep an eye on him." The nurse dimmed the lights and adjusted the bed, giving Plankton's body a chance to recover from the surgery. Gently, she began to hum a tune she knew Plankton loved, a lullaby from their early days together when they had nothing but their dreams and each other. 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. It was a small victory, but one she cherished deeply.
“g-give credit pwease ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა” hell no
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