Fishcore Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Fishcore Emojis & Symbols 🐟 🎣 🐠 | 🐟 👴🏻 🐟 | 🐠 🎣 🐟 | ❮˖ ◌ 𓆡 ⸼ * ❯

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM v (Autistic author) SpongeBob picks up his cards and looks for any twos. "Got any twos?" he asks, trying to keep the peace. But Plankton's focus has shifted, his eye no longer on the game. "Fish," he says again, his voice desperate. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a dry twig. "Plankton, enough with the fish!" he exclaims, tossing his cards down onto the floor. The sudden movement startles Plankton, and his antennas retract slightly. "What's wrong with you!" Sponge Bob asks, his voice shaking with frustration. "You're not the same, Plankton." Plankton's antennas wobble, and his eye darts around the room, unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Fish," he whispers, his voice lost. SpongeBob's frustration was palpable in the tense air of the Chum Bucket, his eyes wide with confusion. He had always known Plankton to be a master of manipulation and cunning wit, so seeing him in such a repetitive state was unsettling. He didn't understand why his friend's world had narrowed down to a simple game of Go Fish and the repeated question for more of the same card. "Plankton, I don't get it," Sponge said, his voice tight with the effort to stay calm. "What's with all the fish?" Plankton's antennas drooped further, his eye cast downward. "Fish," he mumbles again, his voice deflated. "Need more fish." Sponge Bob's mind races to understand the change in Plankton's behavior. He's known Plankton for so long, they've had countless battles over the Krabby Patty formula, but this, this is different. The way Plankton's voice echoes his own words, how he can't seem to let go of the word "fish," it's almost as if he's a different person entirely. "Plankton, please," Sponge Bob pleads, his voice cracking. "Why do you keep saying that?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and sadness. "Fish," he repeats, his voice a mere whisper. "Need fish." "I told you Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained with patience, "I don't have any more twos, so I can't give you any fish." Plankton's antennas droop, his eye sad. "No fish," he whispers. Sponge Bob's at his wit's end. "Look, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "This isn't fun anymore. Why do you keep asking for fish when I don't have any?" Plankton's antennas shoot up again, his eye widening in surprise. "Fish?" he asks, as if the concept has just been introduced. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a rubber band. "Yes, fish!" he yells, his spongy body trembling with frustration. "But I don't have any!" Plankton flinches at the loudness of Sponge Bob's voice, his antennas retreating into his body. "Fish?" he whispers, his eye wide with fear. Sponge Bob's frustration remains. "Why do you keep asking for fish?" he asks. "What's happening to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas twitch erratically, his expression a mix of pain and confusion. "Don't know what's happening to you Plankton." Plankton says. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his voice shaking. "I just want my friend back," he whispers. "I don't know what happened to you." Plankton's antennas drop, his eye filling with sorrow. "Friend," he repeats, his voice small. "Sponge Bob friend." Yet Sponge Bob doesn't understand. He only sees his friend acting strange and distant, and he can't stay calm anymore. "Why can't you just be normal!" Sponge Bob exclaims, his voice shaking with emotion. Plankton's antennas tremble, and his eye fills with uncertainty. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice shaking. But SpongeBob's frustration was only growing. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaky. "You're not my friend like this, Plankton. I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to snap out of it!" Plankton's antennas wilt at Sponge Bob's anger, his eye filling with a sorrow that seems to mirror Sponge Bob's own. "Fish," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Need fish." Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend's distress. He's so tired of the echoing words, the endless loop of "fish." With a sigh, Sponge Bob gathers the scattered cards, his movements deliberate and careful. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice gentler now. "But we can't keep playing this way." Plankton's antennas droop as he watches Sponge Bob clean up. "Fish?" he asks, his voice small and hopeful. Sponge Bob turns, his face a mask of anger and hurt. "No, Plankton," he says firmly. "We're not playing anymore; I'm tired of it!" Plankton's antennas wobble at the harshness of Sponge Bob's tone. "No fish?" he asks, his voice small and trembling. Sponge Bob cannot hold back anymore, as his frustration won't let up. "Plankton," he says, his voice tight with emotion, "I don't have any more fish! Can't you understand that?" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice shaking. That's the last straw. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears of anger and frustration. He's had enough of Plankton's strange behavior, his incessant echoing of words. "You're not listening!" he yells, slamming the cards down on the floor. "I don't have any more fish Plankton, so just stop it!" Plankton's antennas shiver at the harshness of Sponge Bob's words, his body shrinking under the weight of the accusation. "Fish?" he asks again, his voice cracking. Sponge Bob's fists clench, his knuckles turning white. "No more fish!" he says, his voice shaking with anger. "I've had enough of you and your fish!" Plankton stops but Sponge Bob's anger still burns bright. He doesn't know what's happening to Plankton, but he can't tolerate this strange behavior any longer. "What's wrong with you?" Sponge Bob yells, his eyes wide with desperation. "Why can't you just play normally, huh? How hard is it to just ask for a card without all the fish nonsense? I didn't come here to play your weird games!" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye swelling with unshed tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Sponge Bob's anger continues to build, his frustration spilling over like boiling water. "You're not even trying!" he accuses, his voice rising. "What happened to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas droop, his body slumping. "Fish," he mumbles, his voice broken. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching for his friend. "I don't understand," he says, his voice cracking. "What's wrong with you?" Plankton's antennas barely move, his expression a mask of sorrow. "Fish," he whispers, his eye searching Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob's anger grows, his voice raised. "You're just saying the same thing over and over! Why can't you talk to me normally?" Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he says again, his voice shaking. Sponge Bob's fists clench tighter, his knuckles white with frustration. "I don't know what's going on with you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But this isn't how we talk to each other. We're friends!" Plankton's antennas barely twitch, his expression lost. "Fish," he whispers, his voice desolate. Sponge Bob's anger reaches its peak, his eyes flashing. "I don't have any fish!" he yells, his spongy body quivering with rage. "Why can't you just talk to me?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye wet with unshed tears. "Fish," he murmurs, his voice a plea. Sponge Bob feels like his patience has been stretched to its breaking point. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaking with the effort to control his emotions. He turns away, his back to Plankton. "We're not playing anymore," he declares. "We're not playing anything until you start making sense! So you can either stop acting weird and talk to me like a normal being or, I'm leaving!" He kicks the cards, and then Karen decides to intervene. Her voice is firm but kind. "Sponge Bob," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Plankton's not doing this on purpose. Plankton can I tell Sponge Bob?" Plankton nods slowly, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's back. "Sponge Bob," Karen continues, her voice soothing, "Plankton had a bad accident, and..." Her words hang in the air, but Sponge Bob doesn't turn around. "What?" he asks, his voice small and defeated. Karen's voice is soft but steady. "Plankton hit his head and it affected his brain," she explains. "He has something called Autism now." Sponge Bob turns, his eyes wide with shock. "What's that?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's a condition," Karen says gently, her gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "It makes it hard for him to understand certain things, like how to play games without getting stuck on one word." She gestures to Plankton, who's shedding tears rolling down his cheeks. Sponge Bob's anger evaporates, replaced by sympathy. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice full of sadness. He steps towards his friend, his hand reaching out. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Plankton's antennas wobble as he looks up at Sponge Bob, his single eye brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to get so mad." Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's with gratitude. "Fish," he whispers, but it's not a demand this time. It's more of a statement of understanding.
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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.
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii (Autistic author) Inside, she sets him down on their favorite couch, the one with the frayed edges and the squeaky spring that always reminded them of their first date. The room is cluttered with half-finished inventions and plans for Krabby Patty heists. She sits beside him. The silence stretches on, heavier than a net full of anchovies. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye darting around the room, taking in the chaos. Karen's mind is racing, wondering if he recognizes any of it, if it brings back any memories of their life together. "Home," he murmurs, his voice filled with uncertainty. The room feels smaller, more cramped than she remembered, as if the walls are closing in on them. "Do you like it here?" she asks, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks around, his antennas moving slightly as he processes his surroundings. "Home," he says again, his voice a mix of curiosity and confusion. The room is a jumble of wires, gadgets, and half-eaten chum sticks. Karen's with tears as she realizes how much she's taken for granted their life together. She had always loved Plankton's quirks and his boundless energy, but now his mind seemed to be stuck in a loop, unable to move beyond the basic functions of acknowledgment. "Home," Plankton says again, his antennas drooping. "Home with Karen." The repetition of the words stirs something within Karen. Echolalia, the doctor had called it, a common trait in those with autism. It was Plankton's way of trying to understand the world around him, to find comfort in familiar words and phrases. "Yes," she whispers, her throat tight with emotion. "This is our home." The room seems to shrink around them as Plankton's echolalic chant of "home with Karen" repeats in a soothing loop. Each time he says it, Karen feels a pang of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was finding comfort in the simplicity of their life together. "Home with Karen," he says again, his antennas slightly more animated. Karen nods, brimming with tears. "Yes, Plankton, we're home." But she sees a flicker of distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his antennas quivering with urgency. "Where's Sponge Bob?" Karen's heart squeezes at the mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not here right now," she says, choosing her words carefully. "But he'll come to visit." Plankton's antennas shoot up, his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice gaining strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob." The desperation in his tone is heart-wrenching, and Karen knows she needs to act fast to soothe his anxiety. "Ok, ok," she says, her voice calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob." Karen picks up the phone, her hands shaking slightly as she dials the familiar number. The phone rings once, twice, before it's answered by a cheerful voice. "Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice sounds surprised but concerned. "Is everything ok?" Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's Plankton," she says. "He's asking for you to come over." There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Plankton? But we're... I mean?" Sponge Bob's voice is filled with confusion. Karen's with desperation as she watches Plankton rock back and forth on the couch, his chant growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need Sponge Bob." "Please, Sponge Bob," she pleads, her voice cracking. Sponge Bob's voice on the other end of the line softens. "Of course, Karen. I'll be right over." The line goes dead, and Karen hangs up the phone, feeling a tiny spark of hope. Plankton's cries for Sponge Bob have become more insistent, his rocking more pronounced. She gently places a hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe him. "Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "He'll be here soon." Plankton's rocking slows, his antennas drooping slightly. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his eye searching hers. "Safe." The word hangs in the air, and Karen realizes that despite his confusion, he feels comfort in Sponge Bob's presence. A few moments later, they hear the telltale sound of bubbles popping against the glass, and a knock on the door. With a tremble, Karen stands and opens it to reveal Sponge Bob, looking slightly nervous but determined. "Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims. Plankton's antennas shoot up at the sound of his name, and he whips his head around to face the door. "Sponge Bob!" he shouts, his eye lighting up with an unmistakable joy. Sponge Bob steps into the room. "Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of excitement and relief. He lunges forward, wrapping his tiny arms around the larger sponge in an embrace. Sponge Bob looks surprised but quickly returns the hug, his spongy form enveloping Plankton completely. "Plankton, what's going on?" he asks, his eyes wide with concern. He's never seen Plankton like this. Plankton pulls back, his expression a jumble of emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says again, his voice filled with affection. He grabs Sponge Bob's hand and tugs him closer. "Home with Karen. Need you." Sponge Bob looks to Karen, his eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nods encouragingly. "It's ok," she says. "He's just happy you're here." The sight of Plankton's excited state brings a smile to Sponge Bob's face, despite his confusion. He sits down next to him on the couch, his own excitement growing. "What do you want to do?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. Plankton's antennas twitch as he thinks, his eye darting around the room. "Let's play a game," he suddenly exclaims, his voice filled with a child-like excitement that hadn't been there before. "What kind of game, Plankton?" Karen asks, eager to encourage his newfound energy. "Chess!" he exclaims, pointing to a dusty board in the corner of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with surprise, but he doesn't hesitate. He leaps up from the couch and wipes the dust from the board with his spongy hand, setting up the pieces with surprising efficiency. Karen watches from the sidelines, her heart swelling with love and hope as Plankton's enthusiasm grows. He moves the pieces with a frenetic energy, his eye alight with a joy she hadn't seen since before the accident. Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, matches his excitement, even though he's clearly outmatched by Plankton's strategic mind. "Checkmate!" Plankton cries out, his antennas waving with each word. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of surprise and admiration. "Wow, Plankton, you're really good at this!" The room echoes with Plankton's laughter, a sound that's both familiar and foreign to Karen's ears. The old Plankton would have gloated. "Checkmate," he says again, his antennas bobbing in excitement. "Checkmate, checkmate." Sponge Bob laughs, a wonderful, genuine laugh that fills the room. "You win, Plankton," he says, his hands clapping together. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, and he looks at Sponge Bob, his eye studying the sponge's reaction. "Win," he repeats, a hint of understanding in his voice. "Win at chess." He claps like SpongeBob. Sponge Bob's eyes light up, seeing the connection. "Yes, Plankton, you won the chess game," he says, his voice soothing. "You're really good at it." Plankton's antennas start to twitch again, his eye darting between the board and Sponge Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his voice filled with a newfound sense of pride. "Win with Sponge Bob." The phrase becomes a chant, his brain finding solace in the repetition. "Win with Sponge Bob, win with Sponge Bob." Sponge Bob smiles warmly, picking up the rhythm of Plankton's words. "Yes, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You won the game. You're a great chess player." Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye locking onto Sponge Bob's. "Great chess player," he echoes, his voice a mix of pride and amazement. "Win with Sponge Bob." Karen watches from the sidelines with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the breakthrough they needed. Sponge Bob's presence was calming him, bringing out a side of Plankton she hadn't seen since the accident.
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iv (Autistic author) "Let's play again," Plankton says, his voice eager. Sponge Bob nods, his smile genuine. "Ok, Plankton pick a board game." Karen watches as Sponge Bob sorts through the disarray of their game collection, his spongy fingers touching each box before finally settling on a card game. "Go Fish!" Sponge Bob exclaims, holding up the battered cards. Plankton's face lights up at the familiar phrase, his antennas waggling with excitement. "Fish, fish, fish," he repeats, his voice echoing the words. The two sit cross-legged on the floor, the cards spread out in front of them. Plankton's hands tremble slightly as he picks up his cards, but his concentration is intense. "Fish," he whispers, holding his hand out to Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob nods, understanding the game despite Plankton's simplified request. "Go Fish," he responds, placing a card into Plankton's outstretched palm. Plankton's eye brightens, and he repeats the action, placing a card into Sponge Bob's hand. "Fish," he says again, his voice slightly more confident. "Plankton you gotta take a card from the pile.." Sponge Bob starts to explain, but Plankton's antennas shoot up, and he interrupts. "Fish from the pile," he repeats, his voice eager. He reaches for the deck and draws a card, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob nods. "That's right, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "Go Fish." Plankton repeats the phrase, his antennas bobbing with each word. "Go Fish," he murmurs, his eye scanning the cards. Sponge Bob nods, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Good job, Plankton," he encourages. "Your turn to ask for a card." Plankton's antennas wiggle as he thinks, his eye darting to his hand. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and focus. "Got any...?" He pauses, his brain searching for the right word. "Got any...?" "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob prompts, his smile never wavering. "Fish," Plankton repeats, his antennas bobbing. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob nods, understanding dawning. "Do you have any twos?" Plankton's antennas twitch in excitement. "Two," he echoes, his voice triumphant. "Do you have any twos?" Sponge Bob's smile falters slightly as he nods, looking at his own cards. He's not sure how to proceed. He decides to keep the game simple. "I don't have any twos," he says. "Now it's your turn to Go Fish." Plankton nods, his concentration unbroken. He scans his cards again. "Got any fish?" he asks, his voice determined. Sponge Bob's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with understanding. "No fish here," he says, placing a card face down. "Go Fish." Plankton's antennas twitch rapidly as he processes the new information, his brain working to keep up with the game's flow. "Go Fish," he repeats, his voice gaining confidence with each exchange. Sponge Bob's eyes widen slightly but he nods along, playing his part. "Okay, Plankton," he says, placing a card on the pile. "Your turn." Plankton's antennas wobble as he considers his next move. "Got any fish?" he asks again, his voice a mix of excitement and challenge. Sponge Bob's smile becomes a bit forced. "Nope," he says, his voice still cheerful. "Go Fish." Plankton's eye dart to the cards in his hand, then back to Sponge Bob. His antennas wave erratically as he tries to formulate his next question. "Got any...?" Sponge Bob waits patiently, his heart aching for his friend. He's never seen Plankton like this before, for SpongeBob doesn't know about the accident nor the diagnosis. "Got any fish?" Plankton's words echo in the silence of the room. Sponge Bob's confusion mounts as he looks into his friend's eye, searching for a clue to what's going on. "No, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained. "I don't have any fish." Plankton's antennas drop slightly, his expression one of disappointment. "Go Fish," he murmurs, his gaze drifting to the card pile. Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend, trying to understand this new, strange behavior. "Do you want to play something else?" he asks, hoping to distract Plankton from his obsession with the game. But Plankton's antennas spring back to life. "More fish," he insists, his voice almost a command. Sponge Bob nods, his mind racing to comprehend what's happening. He knows Plankton's mind is sharp, so why the repetition? "Got any fish?" Plankton asks again, his voice growing more urgent. Sponge Bob's smile falters. He's never seen Plankton act this way before. The urgency in Plankton's voice, the repetition of words, it's all so strange and disconcerting. "I don't understand," he says, his voice small and unsure. "What's going on with you?" Plankton's antennas quiver slightly at Sponge Bob's question, but his eye remains fixed on the cards. "I don't understand," he says, voice soft but firm. "What's going on with you." Sponge Bob's smile falters, his eyes searching Plankton's face for answers. "It's just a game, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You don't have to keep asking for fish." This isn't the Plankton he knows, the cunning and scheming arch-nemesis who always has a plan up his sleeve. This is someone else entirely, someone lost and confused. But Plankton doesn't seem to hear him. "Fish," he whispers, his antennas twitching in time with his words. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob feels a knot form in his stomach. Is Plankton trying to annoy him? "Plankton, are you ok?" he asks gently, his voice filled with concern. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, his gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "Plankton are you ok," he echoes, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for a clue. "Fish." Sponge Bob's brow furrows deeper, his confusion growing. "You don't have to keep asking for fish, Plankton," he says again. But Plankton's mind is stuck on the pattern, his voice insistent. "Fish," he repeats. Sponge Bob's now getting irritated. The echoing of his words, the intense stare, and the persistent demand for "fish" are unlike anything he's ever seen. "Plankton, please," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "I don't have any fish. Let's play a different game." But Plankton's antennas only wiggle more rapidly. "Fish," he insists. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob's patience is wearing thin, his cheery demeanor slipping away. "I said no!" he snaps, his voice a little too loud. Plankton recoils at the sudden change in tone, his antennas drooping. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice filled with uncertainty. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with regret at his outburst. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, his voice softening. "I didn't mean to yell. But Plankton, I don't have any more fish!" Plankton's antennas sag, and his eye becomes unfocused. "No fish," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob's never seen Plankton like this, his behavior so repetitive and unresponsive to his words. It was as if the game had become the center of Plankton's entire world, and Sponge Bob's refusal to play along had shattered it. "I'm sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice trembling with frustration. "I just don't understand why you're so obsessed with fish." Plankton looks up, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's, a hint of hurt flickering across his expression. "Fish," he says again, his voice smaller this time. "Need fish." Sponge Bob sighs, his hands going to his face. "Ok," he says, his voice muffled. "Let's just finish this game."
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vi (Autistic author) Sponge Bob's heart swells with compassion. "It's ok, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "We don't have to play anymore." Plankton's antennas drop, and he nods slowly. "No fish," he repeats, his voice a sigh of relief. Sponge Bob's hand freezes in mid-air, his eyes searching Plankton's face for any sign of anger or disappointment. But all he sees is a glimmer of understanding in his friend's eye. "Thank Sponge Bob for being patient." Plankton says to him. Sponge Bob nods, his eyes still filled with concern. "I'll be patient, Plankton," he promises. "Can I ask how you hit your head?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly. "Pan," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fry pan, Mr. Krabs. Only Karen and SpongeBob know." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with shock. "What?!" he exclaims. "Mr. Krabs hurt you?" Plankton nods, his antennas still low. "Pan," he repeats, his voice shaking. "Pan," he says again, his voice softer. "Krabs hit on head." Sponge Bob's anger towards Mr. Krabs is immediate and intense. "I can't believe he'd do that to you," he says, his voice low and teary. "Mr. Krabs did to protect the krabby patty." Karen interjects quickly, sensing the tension. "He doesn't know how badly he hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob's eyes narrow, his thoughts racing. He can't believe Mr. Krabs could do something like that, even in the heat of the moment. "I'll talk to Mr. Krabs," he says firmly, his voice laced with determination. "He needs to know what..." "No!" The sharpness of Plankton's voice cuts through the air like a knife, his antennas shooting up in alarm. "Mr. Krabs no," he says, his eye wide with fear. "No tell." Sponge Bob's anger fades slightly, replaced by confusion. "Why not?" he asks, his voice gentle. "He needs to know so he can understand.." Plankton's antennas quiver anxiously. "Krabs not know," he whispers, his eye pleading with Sponge Bob. "Safe here." Sponge Bob's confusion deepens. "But Plankton, if Mr. Krabs doesn't know, how will he make it up to you?" Plankton's antennas droop, his eye darting back and forth between Karen and Sponge Bob. "No make up," he murmurs. "Just no satisfaction for Krabs." Sponge Bob's mind spins with the implications. He knows Mr. Krabs would never hurt anyone that much intentionally, even Plankton; but the thought of his boss not knowing the extent of his actions troubles him. "I won't tell him," Sponge Bob says, his voice soft with reassurance. But of course, Mr. Krabs comes in. "What in the name of Neptune are ye doing? I gave ye the day off yesterday!" "The Krusty Krab is closed on Sunday, and it's Sunday today." SpongeBob reminds his boss. "Oh, right." Mr. Krabs looks at Plankton and his eyes narrow. "What's going on here?" he asks, suspicion heavy in his voice. Plankton's antennas droop even lower, and he looks down at the floor. Plankton speaks first. "Go fish," he whispers, his eye darting up to meet Mr. Krabs'. Sponge Bob steps in quickly, trying to cover for his friend. "We were just playing a game," he says, forcing a smile. Mr. Krabs eyes them both skeptically. "Well, I hope it wasn't about stealing me secret formular," he says, his claws tapping nervously. "No, Mr. Krabs," Sponge Bob says quickly, "just a friendly game." Plankton's antennas twitch slightly at the mention of the Krabby Patty formula, but he remains silent. Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow further. "What's wrong with you, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with concern and a touch of irritation. "You're acting strangely quiet even for you." Plankton's antennas quiver. Sponge Bob's heart paces. He doesn't want to betray Plankton's trust. "It's nothing," Plankton says, his voice forced. "Just a little game, Krabs wanna play." "Fine I'll play, but I got my eye on ye, Plankton." Mr. Krabs says, his tone still suspicious as he sits down to join them. Sponge Bob's eyes dart to Karen, who gives a nod of understanding. They'll keep the secret and hope Mr. Krabs doesn't figure it out. "Let's play Uno!" Sponge Bob says, getting out the new card game, dealing the cards. Plankton's antennas perk up at the mention of a new game, and he eagerly takes his cards. Mr. Krabs grumbles but plays along, eyeing Plankton carefully. Then, it happens. Mr. Krabs slaps a card down on the pile and excitedly yells, "Uno!" Plankton's antennas shoot straight up, and his eye widen with sensory overload. Sponge Bob's concerned, but Mr. Krabs is too busy gloating to notice. "Yee-haw!" he crows. "I win again!" Plankton's antennas quiver as he tries to process the sudden loudness and change in the atmosphere. Mr. Krabs looks at him, his expression puzzled. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he asks, his voice laced with disdain. "Lost your competitive spirit?" Sponge Bob's eyes widen. "Plankton's just excited, Mr. Krabs," he says quickly. "Isn't that right, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas wave erratically, and his voice is a mix of fear and confusion. "Yes, Krabs," he stammers, his eye darting around the room. "Uno. Fish. Yes." Mr. Krabs looks at him oddly but shrugs it off, his attention already returning to the game. "Alright, let's keep playing," he says, dealing out more cards. But Plankton's mind is elsewhere, his antennas twitching with the effort to keep up. "Fish," he murmurs to himself, trying to find a familiar word. His hands shake as he holds his cards, the world around him a cacophony of sensory overload. Sponge Bob notices Plankton's distress and quickly changes the topic. "Hey, Mr. Krabs, have you ever played Chess?" Mr. Krabs' eyes light up. "Chess? The game of kings and conquers!" he exclaims. "I'd love a round!" SpongeBob gets the chess game. The chess pieces are set up, and Mr. Krabs begins to play, his claws clacking against the board as he moves his pieces. Plankton watches, his antennas still, his eye focused. "Your move, Plankton," Mr. Krabs says, his claws tapping the edge of the board impatiently. But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring at the chessboard, his cards forgotten in his hand. "What's with you?" Mr. Krabs asks, his voice filled with exasperation. "You're taking forever!" Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat. He knows he can't let Mr. Krabs see how much Plankton's been affected by the accident. "It's ok Mr. Krabs," he says quickly. "Plankton's just thinking of his next move." Mr. Krabs grumbles but doesn't push the issue. He's too focused on his own strategy, his claws moving pieces with calculated precision. But Plankton remains frozen, his gaze unwavering on the board. His antennas twitch slightly, a sign of his racing thoughts. After several moments of silence, Mr. Krabs finally snaps. "Plankton, it's your turn!" he says, his patience wearing thin. Plankton's antennas twitch, and his eye flits to the board. "Fish?" he asks, his voice unsure. Mr. Krabs stares at Plankton, his eyes narrowing. "What do fish have to do with chess?" he asks, confusion etched deeply on his face. Sponge Bob's heart sinks as he sees the puzzlement in Mr. Krabs' eyes. He quickly jumps in. "Oh, Plankton was just thinking out loud," he says, trying to lighten the mood. Mr. Krabs grunts, but his suspicion doesn't fade. "You've always been a weird little fellow, Plankton, but this is something else," he says, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation. Sponge Bob's heart thumps in his chest as he tries to diverge the conversation. "Why don't we talk about something else?" he suggests, his eyes darting back to the chessboard. Mr. Krabs' gaze remains on Plankton, his eyes narrowed. But Plankton's antennas remain still, his expression vacant. "Fish," he murmurs, his voice distant. Mr. Krabs' patience thins to a thread. "Fish?" he repeats, his confusion palpable. "What's going on with you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas wobble, his eye still fixated on the board. "Fish," he says again, his voice uncertain. Mr. Krabs leans forward, his eyes studying Plankton closely. "You okay, tiny fry?" he asks, hinting concern despite the sarcasm. Plankton's antennas quiver slightly. "Fish," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob's heart clenches at the word, understanding now that it's not just a game for Plankton; it's his way of trying to make sense of the world around him. Mr. Krabs, however, simply sighs and shakes his head. "You always have to make everything so complicated," he mumbles, his voice tired. "Why can't you just play the game like everyone else?" He yells tipping the board over to where the chess pieces fall to the ground by Plankton. Plankton's antennas shiver at the sound, and his eye dart to the upset board, his expression one of deep distress. "No fish," he whispers, his voice breaking. Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, his suspicion growing. "What's going on with you?" he asks again. "Fish, fish, fish!"
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vii (Autistic author) He starts to rock back and forth, his single eye squeezed shut as he tries to cope with the sudden change in his environment. Mr. Krabs' confusion deepens, his claws scratching his head in bemusement. "What's gotten into you, Plankton?" he says. But Plankton can't stop. His rocking intensifies, his whispered mantra becoming more desperate. "Fish, fish, fish," he repeats, his voice rising slightly with each iteration. Mr. Krabs stares at Plankton, his confusion turning. "Plankton, you ok?" he asks. But Plankton is lost in his own world, his stimming a way to self-regulate. His antennas wave back and forth in a soothing rhythm, his body rocking slightly as he murmurs "fish, fish, fish." Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend, his own hands clenching into fists at his side. He understands now that Plankton's behavior isn't a game, it's a coping mechanism, a way to navigate through the chaos in his head. "Plankton, it's ok," Sponge Bob says soothingly, approaching his friend. He gently picks up one of the fallen chess pieces, a knight, and holds it out to him. "Do you want to play again?" Plankton's antennas cease their frantic motion, his eye focusing on the knight. He takes it, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings, his breathing steadying. "Fish," he says, his voice calmer. Sponge Bob watches his friend carefully, his heart breaking at the sight of his distress. He understands now that Plankton's repetition is not just a strange behavior, but a way to cope with his new reality. Mr. Krabs, still confused, watches as Plankton's tracing the lines of the chessboard. "What are ye doing?" he asks, his voice annoyed. Sponge Bob's eyes meet Plankton's, and he sees the desperation in his friend's eye. "Mr. Krabs, Plankton's just... trying to remember how to play," he lies gently. Mr. Krabs grumbles but doesn't argue. Sponge Bob takes this moment to sit next to Plankton, placing his hand on his shoulder. "It's ok," he whispers. "We'll play again when you're ready." Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye dilating slightly as he nods. He clutches the knight tightly, his thumb stroking its smooth surface. It's a familiar comfort, something from before the accident, before the world became a confusing cacophony of sounds and sights. As the moments pass, Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the chessboard, the pattern of the squares providing a comforting visual stimulation. Sponge Bob notices the subtle change in his friend's demeanor, the tension easing from his tiny body. "Fish," Plankton murmurs again, but this time with less urgency. He carefully sets the knight back down on the board, his hand hovering above it. Sponge Bob's heart swells with affection, and he knows that despite the confusion and fear in Plankton's eye, his friend is trying. Mr. Krabs, however, is far from convinced, his eyes narrowing. "If this is how you're going to be, I'm not playing," he declares, crossing his arms over his chest. But Plankton's antennas perk up slightly, his interest piqued by the challenge. He picks up the knight again, his thumb caressing the piece. "Fish," he whispers, his gaze flicking to Sponge Bob and then back to the board. It's a plea. Sponge Bob nods, his face a picture of solemn reassurance. "It's ok," he repeats. "Just..." "What's wrong with you, Plankton?" Mr. Krabs exclaims. Plankton's antennas droop, and he looks down at his cards again. He doesn't know how to explain his condition to Mr. Krabs, who's always so dismissive of him. He feels a pang of desperation, racing to find a way to bridge understanding. Then, it hits him. With trembling hands, Plankton mimics Mr. Krabs' crossed arms, his voice a poor imitation. "What's wrong with you, Plankton," he repeats firmly. Mr. Krabs' eyes bulge with surprise. "What's this now?" he mutters, giving way to amusement. He chuckles deeply, his claws unfolding from his chest. Sponge Bob understands Plankton. "Mr. Krabs," he says quickly, trying to intercept the situation. "Plankton's..." But Mr. Krabs waves his hand dismissively. "I know, I know," he says, his voice filled with mockery. "Just playing his little games." Plankton doesn't want to be laughed at, especially not by Mr. Krabs. With determined effort, he mimics Mr. Krabs. "I know I know," he says again, his tone mimicking Mr. Krabs'. "Just playing his little games!" Mr. Krabs' laughter fades, his gaze sharp. "What now, Plankton?" he demands, his voice hard. Plankton's antennas quiver with determination as he picks up Mr. Krabs' mannerisms. "I know, I know," he repeats, his eye fixed on Mr. Krabs. "Just playing his little games!" Mr. Krabs' expression sours to irritation. "What's your game, Plankton?" he snaps. "Game," he repeats, his voice a mirror of Mr. Krabs'. "Game, game Mr. Krabs." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow, his confusion shifting to annoyance. "You're not making sense," he says, his voice sharp. But Plankton doesn't stop. "Game, game Mr. Krabs," he persists, his antennas waving frantically. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes. He knows Plankton's not trying to annoy; he's desperately trying to convey something, but his brain's wiring isn't cooperating. Plankton's repetition has turned into a mantra, a plea for understanding that only Mr. Krabs seems to ignore. Mr. Krabs' patience snaps. "Enough!" he shouts, slamming his claws on the table. "What do you want from me, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas flatten, his eye filling with tears. Sponge Bob jumps up, his own voice shaky. "Mr. Krabs, please, don't yell," he begs. "It's just a game." Mr. Krabs' face twists in anger. "This isn't a game, this is your usual scheme to drive me crazy!" "No, Mr. Krabs," he says.
𓆡𓆝𓆞𓆟𓆜𓆛
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡐⡀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢍⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣿⣿⣿⣷⠏⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⣄⢡⡀⠀⠀⢲⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣟⡻⢏⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡟⠀⡄⠀⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣮⢂⣣⠀⠀⠙⢖⣓⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⡓⠤⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣇⣹⣿⡄⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠿⡿⣿⣿⢁⣴⠀⡀⠲⡴⡀⠹⢿⡿⣷⣮⡀⠀⣰⣏⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡋⠉⣿⣻⣯⢻⣿⣟⠿⢠⣦⣜⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢙⣓⡶⠿⠿⢿⠀⡸⣴⡇⢹⡀⢻⡀⠀⠉⠳⠄⣈⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⡖⢹⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢀⣠⡶⠛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣄⣸⠀⠓⡟⡇⢸⢣⠈⡟⢄⠀⠀⠀⣬⡑⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣧⣿⣿⢿⣦⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡴⠛⠁⠀⢀⣄⣴⡾⡿⠛⢻⠀⢠⢃⠃⢈⠘⢧⠘⡜⣷⣄⣸⠀⠻⢵⢄⡈⠢⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣽⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⡿⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢒⣽⡟⢋⠲⡬⠆⠸⢀⠾⢾⣀⣈⠀⡇⢇⢡⢩⡇⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⢄⠑⠦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠉⠙⢿⣿⣟⢿⣿⡇⣠⠤⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⡀⠾⡁⣄⠓⢃⡆⣇⡖⢨⣄⠀⠀⠉⠑⠓⠼⣇⣻⣾⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠘⠦⣠⣾⢿⢿⣆⢷⣿⢀⣀⣀⣀⣙⣿⣿⣮⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⠀⠉⠘⠓⢋⠉⠹⡇⡎⣿⡷⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠤⢀⡙⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡈⢯⠹⣮⣿⡾⢿⠟⡿⠛⠻⣍⣻⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠻⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⡷⠀⣿⡅⠀⠈⢱⡦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠚⠶⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⢾⠑⣟⣳⡖⢶⣄⣱⡌⣯⣿⣿⣧⡘⢆⢧⡻⠇⣸⢰⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⣹⣧⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣮⠶⣠⣿⣿⣇⢸⣱⠢⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⣼⠀⡿⣿⣆⠈⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠶⢽⣻⢿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡀⠀⠸⡜⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢱⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣇⠀⢸⠈⠑⠢⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⠙⡄⢸⠘⡏⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡒⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡄⠀⢹⠀⢳⠀⠀⠈⠁⣠⣟⣽⠀⣿⠏⣿⣽⠃⠈⢇⢸⠀⠀⠐⡟⣢⠤⠄⠉⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠈⠀⠘⡄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡆⠀⡆⠈⠁⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⠀⡿⢠⡟⡿⡆⠀⠈⢿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠚⠧⣀⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⢀⠀⡇⠀⠘⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣯⡛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⡇⠀⠀⠠⠞⢋⣾⡟⢹⠀⠓⠜⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⡞⣴⣇⢀⡼⠂⠓⡄⠀⠸⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡒⠬⣉⡋⢉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣼⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⣿⠀⢸⠀⢠⠀⢠⢣⠀⠀⠀⡰⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠋⠁⠀⢹⠧⣀⣠⠇⠀⠀⠰⡸⡿⣿⡟⣿⡻⣿⣟⣶⢮⣝⣢⣝⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⣰⡃⠀⢸⠀⠈⡆⢸⠀⠘⣼⢤⣴⠋⡧⠒⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠑⡝⠒⠁⠀⡏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠛⠛⠙⠋⠉⠛⠛⠺⠿⠥⣿⣮⠮⠰⡂⠄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⢹⢱⡀⠈⡆⢀⡇⠈⣇⠀⠁⢸⣿⡄⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡓⢤⣀⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠃⠀⠱⡈⠉⠒⠢⠤⠤⠴⠋⠀⡈⠀⠱⠀⢷⠸⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠈⣿⣧⠈⣧⠔⠂⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠈⢇⢻⣉⡩⣷⣋⣳⡴⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⣴⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⢳⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⢹⣿⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠶⠋⠋⠀⠉⠉⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠘⣿⡬⠷⠺⢶⡖⡡⡀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⢀⡾⣷⠀⠘⣿⡇⠈⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢀⡀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⢀⠔⢰⠃⡰⠁⢶⣤⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⢰⣯⣤⣴⡞⢹⠀⠘⡇⠀⢸⢀⡤⠤⠓⠒⠒⠒⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⢤⡀⠘⠄⠀⠀⢇⠀⡇⠀⠀⢀⡠⠊⠙⡏⣿⣿⠹⡄⠀⣿⠞⣡⠋⠲⠃⣼⢁⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠏⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⣸⣷⡈⣿⡇⠈⡶⡒⠃⢠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⢹⢀⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⢣⡽⠛⠓⠊⣉⠵⣮⣏⣀⡤⠞⠈⡇⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⡼⣲⠷⣦⣄⠀⢀⡴⣼⡿⣧⢹⣷⠀⣷⣧⠀⠈⢿⠢⡤⠤⢤⡤⠤⠤⠀⠀⠤ ⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⢻⣿⠁⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠸⣰⣡⣤⡤⣍⠻⠏⣴⡿⢡⠟⣿⣾⠋⠹⡼⡇⠀⠈⠆⠃⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠖⡇⠀⠀⠈⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠈⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⢹⡀⠀⠀⢀⣟⢦⡠⢵⣿⡛⣿⡇⢨⣷⢄⡿⣡⣇⢠⡰⡌⠀⠀⠹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠤⠚⠁⠀⠀⣇⣄⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⣯⡇⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠸⡇⠀⠰⢿⠀⠹⡙⣾⡿⣿⢯⠁⢉⡆⢀⠷⣹⣾⠀⢰⠃⢀⣠⠔⠙⣧⠀⡄⠀⠀⢀⡠⠛⢆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠜⡓⠲⡄⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⡿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣀⡸⣃⡞⠀⣿⠋⠑⢞⠉⢻⠀⣇⡀⣸⢧⠧⠒⢺⡉⣇⣀⣸⡄⠀⠀ ⠠⣄⣈⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡇⣷⠀⢠⠁⠀⡠⠃⠋⠛⠀⠹⡿⠒⢼⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⡄⢸⢀⡘⣾⣆⠀⠀⡇⢰⡘⣧⠙⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢳⢸⠀⢸⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠣⣈⢻⡀⢸⠀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠈⡿⠁⠘⣟⣆⠀⢠⠘⣷⠘⣧⠹⡄ ⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠘⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣸⣹⢸⠀⠀⢸⣾⠘⣿⠀⡆⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠣⠾⢠⣟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⠀⠃⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠘⡆⢻⢣⠹⣧⠱ ⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠸⠀⡿⡿⢸⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣿⣆⢇⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⡇⠀⢸⠛⢦⣄⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢸⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣀⠃⠸⢧⣇⠙⡆
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago GuyAwks Take Her Swimming on the First Date Fake lips, fake eyelashes, fake brows, fake complexion, fake curves and fake hair. All that and no wonder blokes don’t trust women nowadays. I ring the doorbell and my date answers, looking just as stunning as when I’d asked her out at the pub. Anthea is a Mediterranean beauty, dark blondie hair framing her bandage dress, her olive skin radiant. But that’s just how she looks. Me and my mates know looks can be deceiving. The amount of foundation some of these stuck-up birds in our neighbourhood trowel on is atrocious. Who gave them the idea that vain cakefaces are what guys dig? Everyone always jokes about how, if you don’t want to wake up next to a 2, you need to take her swimming first. Well, I’m not joking tonight. “Where are we heading?” Anthea coyly asks from my passenger seat. “I hope I’m not overdressed.” “Hmm” I reply. “I was thinking we could take a walk by the shore, sit on the pier and...just relax.” “Sure, that sounds like a nice first date! Just...no swimming okay?” Typical princess, I think smugly as I nod. What Miss Perfect doesn’t know is that I’m actually planning a midnight dip in the sea for her. It’ll be the ultimate gag— of an ice queen melting after I’ve tossed her off the pier. “Tonight was wonderful, Alfie” Anthea swoons to me later that evening, dangling her legs over the jetty. Now it’s finally showtime. Interlocking my fingers with hers, I suddenly send the two of us lurching into the water. As I surface, I expect to see running mascara and waterlogged extensions. Indeed, my date’s form is beginning to melt away. But what I’m glimpsing is...skin shedding into scales...fingers melding into webbed claws. I can only tread water as the woman metamorphosizes into a serpentine monster before my eyes. Whatever illusion this creature had going, seawater has clearly broken it—and Anthea is not happy. “We could have had so much more fun together” she hisses, incensed. “This is premature.” With that, the sea siren viciously seizes me and drags me underneath the waves, her voice echoing on as water fills my lungs. “I only take men to sea on the last date.”
Hello! This is an ad for my therian alphabet translator. More information once you actually click on the link! (scroll down once you get to the website) here is the link!: https://lingojam.com/TherianCodeTranslator2-0 here is a sentence from the translator, click on the link to translate it!: ᵕ! 𖥧 ♡ 𖤐 𓋼 𓆣 ⑅ 𖤐 ☆ 𓆣 𓃦 𖤣 𖤐 ⑅ ☆ 𖤓 𖥧 𓃦 𓃠 ➤ ♡ 𖥧 𖤓 ➤ ✧ ∆ 𓃦 𖤓 ✮ ∆ ➤ 𖤐 ✧! ∆ 𓃦 ★ ✧ 𓆣 𓃢 𓆣 𓃢 ☾ 𓆣 ✧, 𓃦 𖤐 𓃢 ∆ ➤ ➤ 𓆣 ✧ 𓅬 ♡ ∆ ➤ ⑅ 𖤐 ☆ ✧ 𖡼 𖥧 𓃦 ➤ ⑅ 𓋼 𓆣, 𖤓 𓆣 𓆃 ☆ ∆ ✮ 𖥧 ➤ ⑅, 𖤐 ✧ 𓃠 𓆣 𓃦 ★ 𓆣 ✧ 𖥧 𖤓, ♥️.
Coast mystery: Cow washes up on beach San Francisco Chronicle ^ Posted on 1/12/2005, 4:51:43 PM The highest tide of the year brought an unusual visitor to Ocean Beach Tuesday afternoon -- a dead cow. While it is not unusual for dead sea animals such as sea lions and whales to wash up on the beach, this was the first time anyone could remember that a cow ended up on the coast of San Francisco. The all-black animal is bigger than a calf and smaller than a dairy cow. It ended up at the foot of Noriega Street and was reported to the National Park Police by a visitor at about 4 p.m. Where the animal came from or how it got in the ocean is a mystery. "We've never had a dead cow on the beach before,'' said National Park Service spokesman Rich Wideman.
Exercises to Increase Height Here are some of the common exercises that you can try if you are wondering how to grow height in one week— 1. Hanging Hanging on a bar for 15-20 minutes can help increase height as it stretches your muscles. It will also strengthen your core muscles. 2. Cycling Cycling may also help increase height as it stretches your calf muscles. You can adjust the height of your cycle's seat for the best effects. 3. Skipping Skipping is another easy exercise to increase height. As you jump, it expands and contracts your leg muscles. It might increase your height. You can try jumping for a few days before you start skipping with a rope. 4. Swimming Swimming is one of the best exercises for overall fitness. This exercise stretches your muscles and also helps tone them. There is no scientific research that suggests swimming can guarantee height gain. However, many people believe that muscle stretching while swimming can increase height.
ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵉʳᶤᵃ ⁽ˢᵖᵃᶰᶤˢʰ: ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵉʳᶤᵃ; ᶜᵃᵗᵃˡᵃᶰ: ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵉ̀ʳᶤᵃ; ᴼᶜᶜᶤᵗᵃᶰ: ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵉᶤʳᵃ; ᶠʳᵉᶰᶜʰ: ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵗᵉʳᶤᵉ; ᴾᵒʳᵗᵘᵍᵘᵉˢᵉ: ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵉ́ʳᶤᵃ⁾ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ˢᵉᶜᵒᶰᵈ⁻ᶜᵉᶰᵗᵘʳʸ ᵛᶤʳᵍᶤᶰ ᵐᵃʳᵗʸʳ ᵃᶰᵈ ˢᵃᶤᶰᵗ ˢᵃᶤᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉᶰ ᵇᵒʳᶰ ᶤᶰ ᴮʳᵃᶜᵃʳᵃ ⁽ᶰᵒʷ ᴮʳᵃᵍᵃ˒ ᴾᵒʳᵗᵘᵍᵃˡ⁾ ᵗᵒ ᴸᵘᶜᶤᵘˢ ᶜᵃᵗᶤˡᶤᵘˢ ˢᵉʳᵛᵉˢ˒ ᴿᵒᵐᵃᶰ ᵍᵒᵛᵉʳᶰᵒʳ ᵒᶠ ᴳᵃˡˡᵃᵉᶜᶤᵃ ᵃᶰᵈ ᴸᵘˢᶤᵗᵃᶰᶤᵃ˒ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶜᵃˡᶜᶤᵃ˒ ʰᶤˢ ʷᶤᶠᵉˑ ᵠᵘᶤᵗᵉʳᶤᵃ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ "ᴺᵒᶰᵘᵖˡᵉᵗ ˢᶤˢᵗᵉʳˢ˒" ʷʰᵒ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶰᵃᵐᵉᵈ ᴱᵘᵐᵉˡᶤᵃ ⁽ᴱᵘᵖʰᵉᵐᶤᵃ⁾; ᴸᶤᵇᵉʳᵃᵗᵃ ⁽ᵛᶤʳᵍᵉᶠᵒʳᵗᵉ⁾; ᴳᵉᵐᵃ ⁽ᴹᵃʳᶤ́ᶰᵃ ᵒᶠ ᴬᵍᵘᵃˢ ˢᵃᶰᵗᵃˢ˒ ᴹᵃʳᵍᵃʳᶤᵈᵃ⁾; ᴳᵉᶰᵉᵛʳᵃ; ᴳᵉʳᵐᵃᶰᵃ; ᴮᵃˢᶤˡᶤˢˢᵃ; ᴹᵃʳᶤᶜᵃ; ᵃᶰᵈ ᵛᶤᵗᵒ́ʳᶤᵃ ⁽ᵛᶤᶜᵗᵒʳᶤᵃ⁾ˑ ᵀʰᵉˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵒʳᶰ ᶤᶰ ᴹᶤᶰʰᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵃᶰ ᶤᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃᶰᵗ ᴿᵒᵐᵃᶰ ᵐᶤˡᶤᵗᵃʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠᶤᶜᶤᵃˡˑ ᵀʰᵉᶤʳ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ˒ ᵈᶤˢᵍᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵍᶤᵛᵉᶰ ᵇᶤʳᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᶰᶤᶰᵉ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵃᵗ ᵒᶰᶜᵉ ᵃˢ ᶤᶠ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒᶰ ᵖᵉᵃˢᵃᶰᵗ ⁽ᵒʳ ᵃᶰ ᵃᶰᶤᵐᵃˡ⁾˒ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵐᵃᶤᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʳᶤᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐˑ ᴬˡᵗᵉʳᶰᵃᵗᵉˡʸ˒ ᶜᵃˡᶜᶤᵃ˒ ᵗʰᵉᶤʳ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ˒ ᶠʳᶤᵍʰᵗᵉᶰᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃᶰᵈ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶤᶰᵗᵉʳᵖʳᵉᵗ ᵗʰᶤˢ ᵐᵘˡᵗᶤᵖˡᵉ ᵇᶤʳᵗʰ ᵃˢ ᵃ ˢᶤᵍᶰ ᵒᶠ ᶤᶰᶠᶤᵈᵉˡᶤᵗʸ˒ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵉʳᵛᵃᶰᵗ ˢᶤˡᵃ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᶤʳˡˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴹᶤᶰ̃ᵒʳ ᴿᶤᵛᵉʳˑ ᴼᵗʰᵉʳ ᴾᵒʳᵗᵘᵍᵘᵉˢᵉ ᵗʳᵃᵈᶤᵗᶤᵒᶰˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵃ ᶰᵃᵗᶤᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴮʳᵃᶜᵃʳᵃ ⁽ᴮʳᵃᵍᵃ˒ ᴾᵒʳᵗᵘᵍᵃˡ⁾ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖᶤᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒʷᶰ ᶤᶰᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵃˑ ᵀʰᶤˢ ˡᵉᵍᵉᶰᵈ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵉʳᵍᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ʷᶤᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᶤᶰ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃᶰᵈˢ˒ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶤˢ ᵗʰᵘˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗᶤᵐᵉˢ ʳᵉᵖʳᵉˢᵉᶰᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢᵘᶜʰˑ ᴴᵉʳ ˢᶤˢᵗᵉʳ ᴱᵘᵐᵉˡᶤᵃ˒ ᵘᶰᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˢᶜᵃᵖᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒˡᵈᶤᵉʳˢ ʷʰᵒ ᵖᵘʳˢᵘᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ˒ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᶜˡᶤᶠᶠ ˢᶤᵗᵘᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ᴾᵉᶰᵉᵈᵃ⁻ᴳᵉʳᵉ̂ˢ ᴺᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰᵃˡ ᴾᵃʳᵏ ⁽ᶤᵗ ᶤˢ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᴾᵉᶰᵉᵈᵒ ᵈᵃ ˢᵃᶰᵗᵃ˒ ᶜˡᶤᶠᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᶤᶰᵗ⁾ˑ ᴬ ʳᵒᶜᵏ ᵒᵖᵉᶰᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃᶰᵈ ˢʷᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵒᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵖʳᵃᶰᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ʰᵒᵗ ˢᵖʳᶤᶰᵍ ᵒᶰ ᴶᵃᶰᵘᵃʳʸ ¹⁸˒ ¹³⁹ˑ
🐙 🧜‍♀️ 🐙 🧜‍♀️ 🐙 🧜‍♀️ 🐙 🧜‍♀️
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."
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ix (Autistic author) The silence in the room was suffocating, the echo of Mr. Krabs' footsteps the only sound as he retreated to his home, his heart feeling heavier than his treasure chest. Sponge Bob's heart torn between pity and frustration. He looked at Plankton, his friend's gaze still locked on the chessboard, his body a portrait of rejection. "Plankton," he whispered, his voice full of pain. But Plankton didn't move, his antennas twitching slightly. Sponge Bob felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes brimming with tears. He didn't know what to do, what to say, to make things right. He glanced at Karen, her lights dimming slightly with sadness. "I'll leave you two to talk." With a nod to Sponge Bob, she left the room, leaving them alone in the stifling silence. Sponge Bob approached Plankton cautiously, his heart pounding. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he didn't look up. "Nothing," he murmured, his voice flat. "Cannot change." Sponge Bob's eyes welled with tears. "I mean right now, I can do what you want me to," he pleaded. "You're my best friend, Plankton." Plankton's antennas lifted, his single eye meeting Sponge Bob's gaze. "We can talk, we can play a game, we can watch some thing..." Plankton's antennas remained still, his expression unreadable. "Watch," he said finally, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. Sponge Bob nodded, his heart heavy with disappointment. He knew his friend needed space, and he would give it to him. The screen flickered to life. Sponge Bob felt a pang of despair, his hand hovering over the remote. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his gaze unfocused. "Okay," he murmured. Sponge Bob selected a nature documentary, knowing Plankton. They sat in silence as the soothing sounds of the ocean filled the room, the TV's blue light washing over them. Plankton's body relaxed slightly, his antennas still as he watched. Sponge Bob felt a tiny spark of hope when Plankton scoots up next to him. The documentary played on, the narrator's soothing voice detailing the lives of jellyfish. Sponge Bob watched Plankton from the corner of his eye, his heart aching at the sight of his friend's vacant gaze. He reached over and gently placed his hand on Plankton's shoulder, his touch tentative. Plankton didn't flinch, his eye never leaving the screen. Sponge Bob swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, "I'm here for you." Plankton's antenna twitched slightly, a barely perceptible acknowledgment. The silence stretched on, the only sound the rhythmic pulse of the jellyfish through the speakers. Sponge Bob's hand remained on Plankton's shoulder, his thumb making small, comforting circles. As the documentary droned on, Plankton's antennas gradually lost their rigidity, drooping slightly with each passing moment. The rhythmic pulse of the jellyfish on the screen seemed to lull him into a state of quiet contemplation. His gaze grew unfocused, his eyelid fluttered once, then twice, before finally settling shut. Plankton's tiny frame relaxed into SpongeBob's side, breathing evening out. His hand remained on Plankton's shoulder, his thumb continuing to make small circles as his friend slipped into slumber. When SpongeBob turned off the tv, he noticed Plankton's head drooped to the side with a soft snore, his body gone slack. Plankton was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. The yellow sponge felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized that his friend had finally found some peace. He carefully scooted Plankton closer. He knew Plankton needed his rest, especially with his brain trying to adjust to this new reality. Karen came back in to see Plankton's antennas limp and Sponge Bob's hand on his shoulder. She nodded gently at the sponge, who looked up and sighed. "It's ok to let him rest. He's been through a lot." She says. Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening slightly. "I know. I just want to help," he replies, his voice barely audible over Plankton's soft snores. Karen's lights flicker gently. "You are helping by being here, Sponge Bob. Just give him time and space to adjust." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping face. "I'll do anything for him." Karen's light blips. "I know you will. But for now, let's get him to his bed." Sponge Bob nods, carefully scooping up Plankton, cradling him like a fragile shell. He carries him to the bedroom. He lays him down, tucking the blanket under his chin with extra care. Plankton's snores soften into a gentle purr, his antennas twitching slightly in his sleep. Sponge Bob pulls up a chair beside the bed, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. He feels a heavy responsibility, a desire to be there for Plankton in ways he's never had to before. As the minutes tick by, Sponge Bob begins to feel the weight of the day's events. His eyes grow heavy, his body swaying with exhaustion. Despite his resolve, he can't keep his lids open any longer. With a yawn, he collapses into the chair beside Plankton's bed, his head lolling to the side. His eyes close. Plankton opens his eye to find Sponge Bob asleep next to him. Plankton's gaze lingers on the sponge, his expression unreadable. He moves his antennas slightly, testing the boundaries of his new reality. The weight of Mr. Krabs' apology and his own words hang heavy on him. With a deep sigh, he knew that his relationship with Mr. Krabs was irrevocably changed, but he hadn't expected the sadness that accompanied the realization. He watched as Sponge Bob's chest lifted and fell in a steady rhythm, his grip on the blanket tight. A strange warmth spread through Plankton's heart, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Sponge Bob had always been his friend, even when he was at his worst. But this... This was different. This was someone sticking by him, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. The warmth grew, spreading through Plankton like a gentle current. It was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He had felt it before, with Karen. Yet this was a different kind of warmth. This was friendship, pure and untainted by the greed that usually consumed him before... He studied Sponge Bob's peaceful face, his mind racing. This sponge, his enemy's best worker, had shown more kindness and understanding in the past few hours than anyone else in his life, other than Karen. And for what? A chance at the Krabby formula? No, for him. For Plankton. The warmth grew stronger, pushing out the coldness that usually dominated his thoughts. He felt a strange urge to reciprocate, to be... nicer. Sponge Bob stirred, his eyes fluttering open. "Plankton?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his single eye focusing on the yellow form beside him. "Yes, Sponge Bob," he replies, his voice gentler than before. Sponge Bob sits up with a start. "How long have you been up?" he asks, his eyes searching Plankton's face for any sign of pain or distress. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. "Not long," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob's expression is a mixture of relief and concern. "Do you want to talk?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's antennas wave slightly, a tiny nod of his head. "Talk," he echoes, his voice soft. Sponge Bob takes a deep breath, trying to form the words he desperately wants to say. "I just... I want you to know that I'm here for you, Plankton," he says, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennas wave slightly, and his eye narrows. "Here for Plankton," he echoes, his voice flat. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears. "Yes, Plankton," he whispers. "Always." Plankton's antennas twitch again, the word "always" echoing in his mind. "Always," he murmurs.
𓆉︎ ˙ 𝅄  ✩ ˙ 𝅄 𓇽
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷.𝟶𝟼ᴋ At the Neptune Medical Center, Karen parks the car and goes with her husband Plankton into the building after an injury to his antenna. "I still don't see why you didn't press charges against Krabs, Sheldon," Karen sighs, as they walk through the gleaming, sterile corridors of the medical center. "Karen I'm not gonna give him the satisfaction." Plankton's antenna now hangs limp and damaged. The doctor had assured him it was a simple repair job, yet Plankton's nerves were as frayed as the antenna itself. They enter the reception area, the automatic doors whispering shut behind them, as if sealing off the outside world's chaos. The smell of antiseptic fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of fear and hope. The receptionist, a young squid with a friendly smile, looks up from her computer screen. "Mr. Plankton, your appointment is with Dr. Marlin, the antenna specialist," she says, her tentacles typing efficiently. "You can go straight to the third floor, room 304." The elevator ride is silent, save for the rhythmic ding of each passing floor. Karen notices his distant gaze and squeezes his arm reassuringly. "You'll be fine, Sheldon," she whispers. Plankton nods. They arrive at room 304, and Karen opens the door, revealing a state-of-the-art examination room. Dr. Marlin, an octopus with a gleaming scalpel in one tentacle and a clipboard in another, looks up from his notes. "Ah, Mr. Sheldon Plankton, right on time," he says, his eight eyes blinking in unison. "I understand you've had a bit of an injury?" Plankton nods, his voice tight. "Krabs... he... snapped it." Dr. Marlin's tentacles twitch in concern. "Mr. Eugene Krabs, eh? He's had his share of accidents around here." He scribbles something on the clipboard. "Well, let's get you fixed up. I've seen worse, and you're in good hands." The doctor leads Plankton to the examination chair, which is surprisingly comfortable for someone so tiny. He adjusts the chair's height and angles the light to shine on the antenna. Plankton winces as the doctor gently prods the damaged area. "It's definitely snapped," Dr. Marlin says, his voice calm and professional. "But the good news is, it's not to far gone. We can repair it with a simple procedure." "You'll need to be under for this," he explains. "It's nothing to worry about. You'll be out Before you know it." Plankton's heart races as he lies back in the chair, the cold metal pressing against his back. He glances at Karen, who gives him a forced smile, her screen filled with concern. The doctor notices and pats his shoulder reassuringly. "It's just a little sleep," he says. "You'll be back in no time." Karen reaches for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. The anesthesiologist, a bluefish with a gentle demeanor, enters the room, pushing a trolley with a variety of bottles and tubes. She introduces herself as Nurse Bella and explains that she'll be administering the anesthesia for the surgery. Plankton swallows hard, eye darting from her to Karen's screen and back again. Karen's gaze follows the anesthesiologist, Nurse Bella, as she meticulously prepares. "Ready? Count as high as you can," she asks, her voice as soft as a lullaby. Plankton nods, his grip on Karen's hand tightening. "One... two... three..." Plankton's voice starts strong, but the medicine's effect begins to take hold. His eyelid grow heavy, and the numbers begin to slur. Karen watches as Plankton's count descends into a whisper. "Five... six... sev..." His tiny hand relaxes in hers, and his body goes slack. She watches the rise and fall of his chest slow as he succumbs to the anesthesia. Karen squeezes his hand one last time. The door to the exam room opens again, and Dr. Marlin's head pokes out. "Everything's gone well," Dr. Marlin says, peering over his mask. "We're to halt anesthesia." "You're okay," Karen whispers, her voice cracking. "You're okay." "He's doing great," the nurse whispers. "You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes they can hear you." Karen leans closer, her voice low and soothing. "Hey, Plankton, it's Karen. You're safe now. They've fixed your antenna. No more pain, okay?" Her thoughts are interrupted by a soft groan from the bed. Karen's screen snap to Plankton, who's beginning to stir under the blankets. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his arm. "You're safe." "K...Karen?" His eye opens. "Yes, it's me. You're okay, you're in the hospital. They've fixed your antenna." "Karen... antenna... Krabby Patty... wait, what?" He giggles, the words jumbling together in a way that makes no sense. Plankton's eye widen with childlike excitement. "Oh, right! The antenna!" He tries to touch the bandage but ends up nearly slapping himself in the face with his own arm. "Oops!" He giggles again, the sound echoing through the quiet room. He tries to sit up, but cannot. "Whoa, Nelly!" "Easy," Karen laughs. "I'm the king of the jellyfish prom! They got no flair!" Once in the car, Karen buckles him in with care, double-checking the seatbelt. "Remember, no funny business," she warns. Plankton's eye droop, and his head lolls to the side. "You're going to sleep, aren't you?" she says, her voice a mix of amusement and exhaustion. "M'not sleeping," Plankton mumbles, his eyelid fluttering, his voice fading into a snore. The drive home is peaceful, with Plankton snoring lightly beside her. As they approach their place, she gently shakes him awake. "We're home, Sheldon," she says, her voice gentle. "Can you wake up for me?" Plankton's eye blink open, and he looks around in confusion. "Home?" he mumbles. "Already?" Karen nods with a smirk. "Yeah, you slept through the whole drive. Came out of it just in time." They get out of the car, and Plankton wobbles slightly on his legs, the after-effects of the anesthesia still lingering. Karen wraps an arm around his waist, supporting him as they make their way to the front door. With a chuckle, Karen helps him inside, the warm light of their living room washing over them. Plankton's snores become more pronounced as they move through the hallway. "Come on, you need to get to bed," she says, leading him to their bedroom. The room is cozy, with a large bed that seems to swallow Plankton whole as he collapses into it. Karen carefully pulls the covers up to his chin. "Rest now," she whispers, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
A JOURNEY TO AUTISM viii (Autistic author) Plankton's antennas lift slightly. "Game," he whispers, his voice shaking. "Just game." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow, his claws tense. "If it's just a game, then why are you acting so strange?" he snaps at Plankton. Plankton's antennas wobble with effort to maintain control. "Because," he starts, his voice shaky, "Plankton... different." Mr. Krabs stares at Sponge Bob, his expression unyielding. "Different?" he echoes, his eyes darting to Plankton, then back to his employee. Sponge Bob nods, his voice trembling. "Yes, Mr. Krabs, Plankton's been through something that's changed him." He looks at Karen for support, but she stays silent, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and hope. Mr. Krabs crosses his arms, his eyebrow quivering with skepticism. "What do you mean, changed him?" he asks. "Is he trying to steal the Krabby Patty formular again?" Sponge Bob's frustration rises. "No, Mr. Krabs," he says, his voice steady. "It's not like that. Plankton has... a condition." Mr. Krabs' skepticism turns to curiosity. "Condition?" he repeats, his voice softer. Sponge Bob nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He's been diagnosed with acquired autism," he explains, his voice barely above a whisper. Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, his mouth dropping open as the words sink in. He turns to Karen, his gaze demanding confirmation. "Is it true?" he asks, his voice gruff. Karen nods solemnly, her circuits flickering with a mix of sadness and hope. "Yes," she says gently. "Plankton has an acquired form of autism." Mr. Krabs' expression shifts from skepticism to shock. He looks at Plankton. "Autism?" he repeats, his voice barely above a murmur. "But... but how?" Karen's LED lights dim slightly. "I don't think he'd like to answer that question" she says, her voice clinical. "It's caused a significant shift in his neural functioning." Mr. Krabs' gaze remains on Plankton, his expression one of dawning understanding. "Was me fry pan..." he starts, his voice trailing off. Plankton's antennas drop, and he nods slowly. "Yes," he whispers. "Krabs pan." Mr. Krabs' face crumbles, his claws clenching into fists. "I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice choking with regret. "I was just trying to keep me formular safe." Plankton's antennas twitch, his single eye welling with unshed tears. Mr. Krabs' guilt is palpable, his eyes swimming with remorse. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he says hoarsely. "I had no idea." But Plankton's gaze doesn't soften. His stare is unyielding, his voice cold. "Sorry not enough," he says, his words clipped. "Hurt, Mr. Krabs hurt Plankton bad." Mr. Krabs' heart squeezes at the accusation in Plankton's voice. He's never heard him speak like this before, with such raw emotion. "I know," he says remorsefully, his voice cracking. "I know I hurt you, Plankton. I'm so, so sorry." But Plankton's unforgiving gaze doesn't waver. "No," he insists, his voice still cold. "Not just sorry. Mr. Krabs must understand." Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes brimming with tears. "I do," he chokes out. "I understand. What can I do to help?" Plankton's antennas still don't move, his expression unreadable. Mr. Krabs' reaches for Plankton's shoulder. That's the last straw. With a burst of energy, Plankton pushes away the clawed hand. "No touch," he snaps, his voice cold. "Mr. Krabs not understand." His words are like shards of ice, each one cutting deeper into Mr. Krabs' guilt. Mr. Krabs' face falls, his hand retreating quickly. "But I do," he insists, his voice desperate. "I swear, Plankton, I do." But Plankton's expression remains stony, his antennas rigid. "No," he says simply. "Krabs don't." His voice is a knife, slicing through the tension in the room. Mr. Krabs' eyes water, his heart heavy with regret. "I swear, Plankton," he pleads. "I'll do anything to make it right." But Plankton's gaze remains steady, his unforgiving gaze bearing into Mr. Krabs' soul. "Make right?" he echoes. "Cannot make right. Cannot change. Krabs fault." Mr. Krabs' shoulders sag with the weight of Plankton's words. He knows his rival is right; he can't reverse what's been done, no matter how much he wishes it. "But I want to help," he says desperately. "Please, tell me how..." But Plankton's expression is a mask of coldness, his antennas unyielding. "Help?" he echoes, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Krabs can't help." His gaze slides to the discarded chessboard, his eyes lingering on the scattered pieces. "Too late." Mr. Krabs' shoulders sag with the weight of Plankton's rejection. "Please," he says desperately. "I didn't know. I just want to make it better." But Plankton's unforgiving gaze doesn't falter. His stare is a mirror reflecting Mr. Krabs' own guilt and regret. "Better?" he repeats, his voice devoid of emotion. "Cannot be. No cure. Just stop." Mr. Krabs' eyes well with tears, his heart aching with the pain of his mistake. "But I want to fix it," he says pleadingly. "I want to make it right." But Plankton's gaze doesn't soften. "No fix," he says flatly. "Cannot change what is." His single eye seems to bore into Mr. Krabs, his voice unyielding. "Krabs hurt Plankton. Krabs must live with." Mr. Krabs hangs his head, his shoulders heaving with sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I'll do anything." But Plankton simply shakes his head, his antennas still. "Cannot change," he murmurs. "Must live with." His eye are empty, devoid of the malicious spark that once fueled his quest for the Krabby Patty formula. Normally Plankton would love to cause such a reaction out of Mr. Krabs. Mr. Krabs' sobs grow louder, his guilt consuming him. "But I didn't mean to," he wails. "It was just a mistake." Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. "Mistake," he echoes, his voice still cold. "Mistake not enough." His eye are unrelenting, his stare piercing through Mr. Krabs' soul. "You hurt me," he says, his words a quiet thunder clap in the tense silence. "Mistake changed me." Mr. Krabs looks up, his eyes red with tears. "I know," he says, his voice thick with regret. "I know I hurt you, Plankton. Yet I didn't know how bad..." But Plankton's expression is one of resentment, his antennas twitching with anger. "Hurt," he says, his voice cold. "Krabs hurt Plankton. Krabs must understand." His gaze doesn't waver from Mr. Krabs, his accusation hangs in the air like a heavy fog. Mr. Krabs' sobs quiet, his eyes swimming with regret. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. "I do underst--" "No," Plankton interrupts, his voice like a whip. "You don't." His antennas wave with agitation, his eye flashing with a cold fire. "You don't understand pain." His words are sharp, cutting through Mr. Krabs' protests. Mr. Krabs' expression falls, his claws trembling. "I see that now," he whispers, his voice racked with emotion. "But what can I do?" His desperation is clear, his eyes searching Plankton's face for any sign of forgiveness. "I'd even give you a krabby patty.." But Plankton's expression doesn't change. His antennas remain rigid, his eye still cold. "Krabby Patty not fix," he says simply. "Cannot fix brain." His voice is matter-of-fact, his tone unyielding. Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, his hope dashed. "But I'll do anything," he insists, his voice desperate. But Plankton's unforgiving gaze remains unmoved. "Anything?" he repeats, his tone mocking. "Can you give me back my mind?" His antennas wave in frustration. "Do leave, Krabs. Can leave." Mr. Krabs' expression falls, his claws hanging limp at his sides. "But Plankton," he begs. "We can work together, I can help you get better." But Plankton's face is a wall of coldness, his antennas waving with anger. "No better," he says firmly. "Only live now." His words are a reflection of the stark reality that Mr. Krabs had ignored. Mr. Krabs' eyes fill with tears, his claws clutching at his chest. "I hurt you so badly, Plankton. But I can't live with this," he sobs. "I know Krabs sorry now. Yet I last registered Krabs laughter as I fainted from the impact. Even if Krabs didn't mean to, Krabs did. So goodbye, Eugene Krabs." The room grew silent as the gravity of Plankton's words settled heavily upon Mr. Krabs. He hadn't considered that his foolishness could lead to such a profound change in his rival. Mr. Krabs looked at Plankton, his eyes brimming with desperation. "If I can go back and sacrifice my life to..." "Can't. Perhaps can find peace but for now, goodbye." The finality in Plankton's voice was a slap to Mr. Krabs' face, his hope crumbling like sand through his claws. He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. Sponge Bob's heart ached, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he watched the exchange unfold. He knew Mr. Krabs was suffering, but he couldn't ignore the pain in Plankton's voice either. Mr. Krabs' sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the weight of his guilt. "Please, Plankton," he begged. But Plankton's gaze remained on the chessboard, his hands tracing the pattern of the squares, his antennas were still, his body a statue of cold resolve. Mr. Krabs' sobs turned to sniffs as he took in Plankton's unyielding stance. He knew his rival well and he could see the deep-seated pain that lay beneath the surface of his words. With a heavy heart, he nodded. "I'll let ye space then. I never wanted to lose ye." Plankton turns away. Mr. Krabs' eyes grew large with sadness, his body quivering with the weight of his mistakes. "SpongeBob I'll give ye time off work as long as you need to when for Plankton. Goodbye, Plankton," he choked out. He left the chum bucket.
ღ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔞 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔣𝔱, 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔞𝔳𝔢'𝔰 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔅𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔰. ℌ𝔦𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔖𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱, 𝔐𝔶𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔴. 𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔦𝔡𝔢’𝔰 𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢, 𝔒𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔫’𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔲𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔑𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢'𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔤.
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