Fishcore Emojis & Text

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new piranha piranha dot art piranha text art piranha ascii art

.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝

new paysage seascape fish underwatercore watercore oceancore seacore beachcore waterscape pisces bony fish

.•𓇼｡°‧🪼•༊࿐ ͎. 𖦹

new fish sea seacore blue? for you water

꒰ 🫧 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*: 🪷⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌴.°🐚

new mermaid ocean aesthetic seacore ethereal sea water fish siren hydrosphere merman pacific folklore esthetic

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new piranha piranha dot art piranha text art piranha ascii art

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii

(Autistic author)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new a journey to autism plaren memorycore ii

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii

(Autistic author)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sponge Bob steps into the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new a journey to autism plankarenbob iii

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." 

new a journey to autism gamefic iv

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!" 

new a journey to autism gamefic vi

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vii

(Autistic author)

He starts to rock back 
and forth, his 
single eye squeezed shut 
as he tries to cope with 
the sudden change in his 
environment.
Mr. Krabs' confusion 
deepens, his claws 
scratching his head in 
bemusement. "What's 
gotten into you, Plankton?" 
he says.
But Plankton can't 
stop. His rocking 
intensifies, his 
whispered mantra 
becoming more 
desperate. "Fish, fish, 
fish," he repeats, his 
voice rising slightly 
with each iteration.
Mr. Krabs stares at 
Plankton, his confusion
turning. 
"Plankton, you ok?"
he asks.
But Plankton is lost 
in his own world, his 
stimming a way to 
self-regulate. His antennas 
wave back and forth in 
a soothing rhythm, his 
body rocking slightly as 
he murmurs "fish, fish, 
fish."
Sponge Bob's heart 
aches as he watches 
his friend, his own 
hands clenching into 
fists at his side. He 
understands now that 
Plankton's behavior isn't 
a game, it's a coping 
mechanism, a way to 
navigate through the 
chaos in his head.
"Plankton, it's ok," 
Sponge Bob says 
soothingly, approaching 
his friend. He gently 
picks up one of the 
fallen chess pieces, a 
knight, and holds it 
out to him. "Do you 
want to play again?"
Plankton's antennas 
cease their frantic 
motion, his eye 
focusing on the knight. 
He takes it, his 
fingers tracing the 
intricate carvings, 
his breathing 
steadying. "Fish," he 
says, his voice 
calmer.
Sponge Bob watches 
his friend carefully, 
his heart breaking at 
the sight of his 
distress. He 
understands now that 
Plankton's repetition 
is not just a strange 
behavior, but a 
way to cope with 
his new reality.
Mr. Krabs, still 
confused, watches as 
Plankton's  
tracing the lines of 
the chessboard. "What 
are ye doing?" he 
asks, his voice 
annoyed.
Sponge Bob's eyes 
meet Plankton's, and 
he sees the 
desperation in his 
friend's eye. "Mr. Krabs, 
Plankton's just... trying 
to remember how to 
play," he lies gently.

Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
doesn't argue. Sponge 
Bob takes this 
moment to sit next 
to Plankton, placing 
his hand on his 
shoulder. "It's ok," he 
whispers. "We'll play 
again when you're 
ready."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch, his eye
dilating slightly as 
he nods. He clutches 
the knight tightly, 
his thumb stroking 
its smooth surface. 
It's a familiar 
comfort, something 
from before the accident, 
before the world 
became a confusing 
cacophony of sounds 
and sights.

As the moments 
pass, Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on the 
chessboard, the 
pattern of the squares 
providing a 
comforting visual 
stimulation. Sponge Bob 
notices the subtle 
change in his friend's 
demeanor, the tension 
easing from his 
tiny body.

"Fish," Plankton 
murmurs again, but this 
time with less urgency. 
He carefully sets 
the knight back 
down on the board, 
his hand hovering 
above it. Sponge 
Bob's heart swells 
with affection, and 
he knows that 
despite the confusion 
and fear in Plankton's 
eye, his friend is 
trying.

Mr. Krabs, however, is 
far from convinced, his 
eyes narrowing. "If 
this is how you're going to 
be, I'm not playing," he 
declares, crossing his arms 
over his chest.
But Plankton's antennas 
perk up slightly, his 
interest piqued by the 
challenge. He picks up 
the knight again, his 
thumb caressing the piece. 
"Fish," he whispers, 
his gaze flicking to 
Sponge Bob and then 
back to the board. It's a 
plea.
Sponge Bob nods, his 
face a picture of solemn 
reassurance. "It's ok," 
he repeats. "Just..."

"What's wrong 
with you, Plankton?" Mr. 
Krabs exclaims.

Plankton's antennas 
droop, and he looks 
down at his cards again. 
He doesn't know how to 
explain his condition to 
Mr. Krabs, who's always 
so dismissive of him. 

He feels a pang of 
desperation,
racing to find a way 
to bridge 
understanding.
Then, it hits him.
With trembling 
hands, Plankton 
mimics Mr. Krabs' 
crossed arms, his 
voice a poor imitation. 
"What's wrong 
with you, Plankton," he 
repeats firmly.
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
bulge with surprise. 
"What's this now?" he 
mutters, giving way to 
amusement. He chuckles 
deeply, his claws 
unfolding from his 
chest.

Sponge Bob 
understands Plankton. 
"Mr. Krabs," he says 
quickly, trying to 
intercept the situation. 
"Plankton's..."
But Mr. Krabs waves 
his hand dismissively. 
"I know, I know," he says, 
his voice filled with 
mockery. "Just playing 
his little games."

Plankton doesn't want to 
be laughed at, especially 
not by Mr. Krabs. With 
determined effort, he 
mimics Mr. Krabs. 
"I know I know," he says 
again, his tone 
mimicking Mr. Krabs'. 
"Just playing his little
games!"
Mr. Krabs' laughter 
fades, his gaze 
sharp. "What
now, Plankton?" he 
demands, his voice 
hard.

Plankton's antennas quiver 
with determination as he 
picks up Mr. Krabs' 
mannerisms. "I know, I know," 
he repeats, his eye fixed on 
Mr. Krabs. "Just playing his 
little games!"

Mr. Krabs' expression 
sours to 
irritation. "What's your 
game, Plankton?" he snaps.

"Game," he 
repeats, his voice a 
mirror of Mr. Krabs'. "Game, 
game Mr. Krabs."

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
narrow, his 
confusion shifting 
to annoyance. "You're 
not making sense," 
he says, his voice 
sharp.

But Plankton 
doesn't stop. "Game, 
game Mr. Krabs," he 
persists, his antennas 
waving frantically.

Sponge Bob's heart 
squeezes. He 
knows Plankton's not 
trying to annoy; he's 
desperately trying to 
convey something, but 
his brain's wiring isn't 
cooperating. Plankton's repetition 
has turned into a 
mantra, a plea for 
understanding that only 
Mr. Krabs seems to 
ignore.

Mr. Krabs' patience 
snaps. "Enough!" he 
shouts, slamming his 
claws on the table. 
"What do you want 
from me, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennas 
flatten, his eye
filling with tears.

Sponge Bob jumps 
up, his own voice 
shaky. "Mr. Krabs, please, 
don't yell," he begs. 
"It's just a game."

Mr. Krabs' face 
twists in anger. "This isn't a 
game, this is your usual 
scheme to drive me 
crazy!"

"No, Mr. 
Krabs," he says.

new a journey to autism gamefic vii

𓆡𓆝𓆞𓆟𓆜𓆛

new fish sea seacore blue? for you water

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡐⡀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢍⠉
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣿⣿⣿⣷⠏⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⣄⢡⡀⠀⠀⢲⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣟⡻⢏⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡟⠀⡄⠀⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣮⢂⣣⠀⠀⠙⢖⣓⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⡓⠤⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣇⣹⣿⡄⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⠿⡿⣿⣿⢁⣴⠀⡀⠲⡴⡀⠹⢿⡿⣷⣮⡀⠀⣰⣏⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡋⠉⣿⣻⣯⢻⣿⣟⠿⢠⣦⣜⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢙⣓⡶⠿⠿⢿⠀⡸⣴⡇⢹⡀⢻⡀⠀⠉⠳⠄⣈⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⡖⢹⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢀⣠⡶⠛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣄⣸⠀⠓⡟⡇⢸⢣⠈⡟⢄⠀⠀⠀⣬⡑⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣧⣿⣿⢿⣦⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡴⠛⠁⠀⢀⣄⣴⡾⡿⠛⢻⠀⢠⢃⠃⢈⠘⢧⠘⡜⣷⣄⣸⠀⠻⢵⢄⡈⠢⣄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣽⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⡿⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢒⣽⡟⢋⠲⡬⠆⠸⢀⠾⢾⣀⣈⠀⡇⢇⢡⢩⡇⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⢄⠑⠦
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠉⠙⢿⣿⣟⢿⣿⡇⣠⠤⠛⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⡀⠾⡁⣄⠓⢃⡆⣇⡖⢨⣄⠀⠀⠉⠑⠓⠼⣇⣻⣾⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠂
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠘⠦⣠⣾⢿⢿⣆⢷⣿⢀⣀⣀⣀⣙⣿⣿⣮⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⠀⠉⠘⠓⢋⠉⠹⡇⡎⣿⡷⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠤⢀⡙⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡈⢯⠹⣮⣿⡾⢿⠟⡿⠛⠻⣍⣻⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠻⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⡷⠀⣿⡅⠀⠈⢱⡦⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠚⠶⣄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⢾⠑⣟⣳⡖⢶⣄⣱⡌⣯⣿⣿⣧⡘⢆⢧⡻⠇⣸⢰⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢦⣹⣧⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣮⠶⣠⣿⣿⣇⢸⣱⠢⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡇⣼⠀⡿⣿⣆⠈⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠶⢽⣻⢿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡀⠀⠸⡜⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢱⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣇⠀⢸⠈⠑⠢⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣿⠙⡄⢸⠘⡏⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡒⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡄⠀⢹⠀⢳⠀⠀⠈⠁⣠⣟⣽⠀⣿⠏⣿⣽⠃⠈⢇⢸⠀⠀⠐⡟⣢⠤⠄⠉⠉
⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠈⠀⠘⡄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡆⠀⡆⠈⠁⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⠀⡿⢠⡟⡿⡆⠀⠈⢿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠚⠧⣀⡀⠀
⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⢀⠀⡇⠀⠘⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣯⡛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣦⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⡇⠀⠀⠠⠞⢋⣾⡟⢹⠀⠓⠜⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢰⡞⣴⣇⢀⡼⠂⠓⡄⠀⠸⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡒⠬⣉⡋⢉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣼⣷⠇⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⣿⠀⢸⠀⢠⠀⢠⢣⠀⠀⠀⡰⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢸⠋⠁⠀⢹⠧⣀⣠⠇⠀⠀⠰⡸⡿⣿⡟⣿⡻⣿⣟⣶⢮⣝⣢⣝⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⠀⣰⡃⠀⢸⠀⠈⡆⢸⠀⠘⣼⢤⣴⠋⡧⠒⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⠑⡝⠒⠁⠀⡏⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠛⠛⠙⠋⠉⠛⠛⠺⠿⠥⣿⣮⠮⠰⡂⠄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⢹⢱⡀⠈⡆⢀⡇⠈⣇⠀⠁⢸⣿⡄⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡓⢤⣀⡀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠃⠀⠱⡈⠉⠒⠢⠤⠤⠴⠋⠀⡈⠀⠱⠀⢷⠸⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠈⣿⣧⠈⣧⠔⠂⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠈⢇⢻⣉⡩⣷⣋⣳⡴⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⣴⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⢳⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⢹⣿⠀⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠶⠋⠋⠀⠉⠉⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠘⣿⡬⠷⠺⢶⡖⡡⡀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⢀⡾⣷⠀⠘⣿⡇⠈⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⢤⡀⠘⠄⠀⠀⢇⠀⡇⠀⠀⢀⡠⠊⠙⡏⣿⣿⠹⡄⠀⣿⠞⣡⠋⠲⠃⣼⢁⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠏⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⣸⣷⡈⣿⡇⠈⡶⡒⠃⢠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⢹⢀⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⢣⡽⠛⠓⠊⣉⠵⣮⣏⣀⡤⠞⠈⡇⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⡼⣲⠷⣦⣄⠀⢀⡴⣼⡿⣧⢹⣷⠀⣷⣧⠀⠈⢿⠢⡤⠤⢤⡤⠤⠤⠀⠀⠤
⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⢻⣿⠁⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠸⣰⣡⣤⡤⣍⠻⠏⣴⡿⢡⠟⣿⣾⠋⠹⡼⡇⠀⠈⠆⠃⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠖⡇⠀⠀⠈⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠈⣿⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡄⢹⡀⠀⠀⢀⣟⢦⡠⢵⣿⡛⣿⡇⢨⣷⢄⡿⣡⣇⢠⡰⡌⠀⠀⠹⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠤⠚⠁⠀⠀⣇⣄⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⣯⡇⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠸⡇⠀⠰⢿⠀⠹⡙⣾⡿⣿⢯⠁⢉⡆⢀⠷⣹⣾⠀⢰⠃⢀⣠⠔⠙⣧⠀⡄⠀⠀⢀⡠⠛⢆⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠜⡓⠲⡄⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⡿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣀⡸⣃⡞⠀⣿⠋⠑⢞⠉⢻⠀⣇⡀⣸⢧⠧⠒⢺⡉⣇⣀⣸⡄⠀⠀
⠠⣄⣈⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡇⣷⠀⢠⠁⠀⡠⠃⠋⠛⠀⠹⡿⠒⢼⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⡄⢸⢀⡘⣾⣆⠀⠀⡇⢰⡘⣧⠙⡄⠀
⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢳⢸⠀⢸⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠣⣈⢻⡀⢸⠀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠈⡿⠁⠘⣟⣆⠀⢠⠘⣷⠘⣧⠹⡄
⠀⠀⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠘⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣸⣹⢸⠀⠀⢸⣾⠘⣿⠀⡆⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠣⠾⢠⣟⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣿⠀⠃⠀⠀⠘⣿⡆⠘⡆⢻⢣⠹⣧⠱
⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠸⠀⡿⡿⢸⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣿⣆⢇⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⡇⠀⢸⠛⢦⣄⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢸⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣀⠃⠸⢧⣇⠙⡆

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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.”

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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, ♥️.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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."

new a journey to autism headinjuryposting autismcore plaren i

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. 

new a journey to autism plankbobs ix

𓆉︎ ˙ 𝅄 ✩ ˙ 𝅄 𓇽

new seacore turtle starfish tortoise sea turtle

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.

new a journey to autism plabscore viii

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.

new karen plankton fishkin neptunecore bellacore examcore hospitalcore medicalcore medicalpunk sheldon plankton

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