Insecuritywave Emojis & Text

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON i
(Autistic author)

Karen stood, watching 
from a distance
her husband Plankton, 
whose passion for 
inventing often 
overshadowed his love 
for the simple things 
in life, was deeply 
engrossed in his 
latest project.

He was a man of 
small stature but 
enormous ideas, and 
his tiny fingers 
moved with a grace 
and precision that 
belied their size. and
Karen knew better than to 
disturb him when he 
was in the throes 
of creation.

Suddenly, with a 
deafening crash, 
the machine toppled 
over. It hit Plankton's 
head with a sickening 
thud. He crumpled 
to the floor, 
his eye rolling 
back in the
socket before
closing, and 
his body went 
still.

Panic flooded 
Karen as 
she sprinted to his 
side. "Plankton!" she 
shouted, her voice 
bouncing off the 
metal walls of 
their underwater 
laboratory.

Gently, she nudged 
him, but he remained 
unresponsive.

"Wake up," she 
whispered, tears 
forming in the 
corners of her 
eyes, her voice 
barely audible above 
the echoes of the 
metal chamber.

Her gentle shakes 
turned to frantic 
pats. 
"Wake up, Plankton, 
please," she 
pleaded.

She knew basic 
first aid, but nothing 
for something like 
this—whatever "this" 
was.

"You can't do this to me," 
she murmured, 
desperation seeping into 
her voice.
She searched 
his lifeless form for 
any sign of movement. 
His chest was rising, 
as she found a pulse.

He was alive, but 
barely. 
Her fear grew 
with every second 
that ticked away 
without his 
eye opening.

The hospital was 
their only hope.

She scooped him 
up in her arms and 
raced through the 
corridors of their 
underwater abode.
The bubble-mobile 
was docked outside, 
a sleek contraption 
that Plankton had 
designed himself. She 
placed him gently inside, 
his head lolling 
back against the 
seat.

Her trembling 
hands gripped the 
wheel, and with a 
quick glance at 
his still face, she 
revved the engine.

The bubble-mobile shot 
forward, leaving a trail 
of bubbles in its 
wake. The journey to 
the Bikini Bottom Hospital 
was fraught with tension, 
each second feeling 
like an eternity.

The neon lights of 
Bikini Bottom blurred 
together in her 
tears, creating a 
disorienting mosaic 
of color and light. 
Her eyes darted 
between the 
road and Plankton, 
his chest rising 
and falling with 
breaths.

Parking the bubble-mobile 
in the hospital's emergency 
dock, Karen leapt out, 
carrying Plankton with a 
strength born of 
desperation.

The doors of the hospital 
slammed open as she 
burst through, the sound 
reverberating through the 
calm aquatic corridors.

The medical staff, 
accustomed to the occasional 
drama of Bikini Bottom, 
quickly surrounded 
them, a flurry of 
fins and hands reaching 
to assist.

"Dr. Kelp," Karen 
gasped, "my husband—he's 
been hurt."

The doctor's eyes 
widened with 
concern as he 
quickly assessed 
Plankton's condition. 
"Bring him in 
immediately," he 
ordered, his voice 
sharp and urgent.

Karen felt a 
wave of relief 
wash over her 
as the hospital staff 
took over, 
whisking Plankton 
away on a stretcher.
Her legs wobbled 
as she followed 
them into the brightly 
lit emergency room, 
her heart racing in 
her chest.

Dr. Kelp, a 
squid with a calm 
and reassuring 
demeanor, 
instructed the 
nurses to prepare 
for a potential 
concussion. 
Karen hovered 
nervously, watching 
them work with 
efficient precision.

After a tense 
moment of 
silence, the 
machine beeped 
and the doctor's 
face fell.
They had found
something more
serious than any 
concussion.

The brain scan 
revealed that 
Plankton had 
suffered severe 
damage to his 
brain —a rare 
but well-documented 
condition called 
"Acquired Autism 
Spectrum Disorder."

The news hit Karen 
like a ton of bricks.
Her mind raced with 
questions and 
worries as she 
tried to process 
what this meant 
for their future.

Acquired Autism 
Spectrum Disorder—
a condition she had 
only ever heard 
about in whispers.
The doctor 
explained that 
it was rare, but 
not unheard of, and that 
it could change 
Plankton's behavior, 
his ability to 
interact with 
others, and even 
his cognitive functions.

Karen felt a 
swirl of emotions—
fear, anger, and a 
deep, gnawing sadness.
Her mind was 
a tumultuous storm 
of what-ifs and 
worst-case scenarios.

"What caused this?"
she demanded, her 
voice shaking with 
desperation.

"It appears to be 
a result of the 
trauma from the 
fall," Dr. Kelp 
replied solemnly, 
his tentacles 
waving to illustrate 
his explanation. 
"The brain can be 
a delicate organ, 
even for someone 
as resilient as 
your husband."

Karen's eyes 
narrowed as she 
focused on the 
term 'Acquired Autism 
Spectrum Disorder'.

The doctor elaborated.
"The corpus callosum, 
a bridge of nerve 
fibers connecting 
the two hemispheres 
of the brain, had 
suffered significant 
damage. His prefrontal 
cortex (PFC) circuits are
now compromised, 
and his cerebellum's 
tissue has been 
affected, too. Also
it's irreversible with
no cure; he'll have it
for as long as he lives.
What you can do is
make sure he's happy
and be mindful of any
new behaviors, providing
your love and support."

Karen felt a 
wave of anger 
toward the invention 
that had taken 
his attention so 
completely.
Why did he have to 
push so hard? 
Why couldn't he just 
enjoy their life 
together without 
always striving for 
more?

But anger quickly 
gave way to 
determination. 
They would face this 
together, just as they 
had faced every 
challenge that had 
been thrown at 
them.

"We'll let you both stay
here together overnight.
But yes, autism can vary 
widely. You'll need to be 
prepared for anything,"
Dr. Kelp said gently.

The hospital room 
was cold and sterile, 
the only sound the 
steady beep of the 
monitor beside Plankton's 
bed. Karen pulled a 
chair closer, her screen 
never leaving her husband's 
face as she held his hand.

The sun had barely 
risen outside when 
his eye fluttered open.

"Plankton," Karen 
whispered.

His eye opened 
slowly as the
doctor came in, 
his tentacles moving 
quickly to check 
the monitors.
Plankton's gaze 
was distant, 
unfocused, as he 
tried to make sense 
of his surroundings.

Karen watched him, 
his eye searching 
the room with a 
childlike curiosity, 
his grip on her 
hand tightening. 
Plankton's gaze 
finally fell upon 
her, and she 
smiled, hoping it 
would bring him 
comfort.

But his 
eyebrow furrowed 
as he studied her 
intently. 
He blinked rapidly, 
his mind trying to 
make connections 
that no longer 
existed in the 
same way.

"Karen?" he 
mumbled, the 
word thick and 
slurred, as if 
his mouth had 
forgotten how to 
form the syllables.

"You're ok," 
she assured him, 
squeezing his hand.

But his confusion 
was palpable
as he scanned 
the unfamiliar 
environment.

"You had an accident," 
she began, her voice 
soothing as she 
tried to explain 
what had happened. 
Plankton's eye 
widened as he 
tried to piece together 
the events that had 
led them here.

The doctor stepped 
forward. "Mr. Plankton, 
you've suffered a 
traumatic brain 
injury. You have a 
condition called 
Acquired Autism Spectrum 
Disorder. It means 
your brain works 
differently now."

Plankton's eye 
blinked slowly, taking 
in the doctor's 
words.

He tried to sit up, 
his body rigid, 
but the doctor's firm 
touch on his shoulder 
kept him in place.

Plankton's eye 
landed on Karen, 
his grip tightening 
around her hand. 
He stared at her, 
his expression 
a mix of fear and 
confusion. 
"What's happening?" 
his voice was a 
whisper, his usual 
boisterousness muted.
He was trying to 
make sense of the 
words, to understand 
the gravity of his 
condition.

"What's happening?" 
he asked again, 
his voice a little 
louder, more 
insistent.

Karen tried to 
explain. "You've 
been hurt, Plankton. 
You're different now, 
but we're going to 
get through this 
together."

new neurobehavioral plankton headinjuryposting neurodivergentcore i

SHELF IMPROVEMENT v
(Autistic author)

They sat together, the 
morning light filtering 
through the kitchen 
window, casting a warm 
glow over their quiet meal. 
Karen watched Plankton 
closely, noticing the subtle 
differences in his 
behavior. The way his 
eye would dart around the 
room, as if searching 
for something. The way his 
antennas would stiffen 
whenever a noise pierced 
their sanctuary.

"No more noise," he 
whispered, his voice tight 
with anxiety.

Karen nodded, 
swiping at her eyes. 
"I'll be quiet, Plankton.
I'm here."

They ate in 
companionable silence, 
each lost in their 
own thoughts. Karen's 
mind raced with the 
implications of this 
new development. She had 
read about autism before, 
but it had always 
felt like something that 
happened to other 
people. Now it was 
right here, in their 
kitchen, changing the 
dynamic of their 
relationship.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he 
chewed, his focus 
completely on his food. 
Every now and then, he'd 
look up at Karen, his 
eye searching for 
reassurance. She gave it 
without hesitation, her 
smile genuine, 
full of love.

As they finished 
breakfast, Karen's mind 
raced with what their 
day would look like now. 
Would they still go 
about their usual 
routine, or would 
everything be different?

"Plankton," she said 
gently, placing her hand 
on his shoulder. "Do 
you w..."

He flinched at 
the sudden contact, 
his antennae shooting 
straight up. She 
had to be more careful, 
more sensitive to his 
new reality. She pulled 
her hand back, giving him 
space.

"Plankton," she 
started again, her voice 
softer this time. "Do you 
want to find a quiet 
place to sit for a while?"

He nodded, his 
antennas still. "Quiet," he 
whispered, his eye 
flickering to the living 
room.

Together, they moved 
to the couch, the sunken 
cushions welcoming them 
like an old friend. Karen 
knew Plankton liked the 
feeling of being enveloped, 
and she hoped it would 
offer him some comfort, and 
moved a throw blanket 
over his legs.

Plankton leaned into 
the cushions, his antennae 
twitching slightly as 
his eye darted around 
the room. Karen sat beside 
him, not sure what to 
say or do next. "Would you 
like to read a book?" 
she offered tentatively.

Plankton's antennae 
stopped moving for a 
moment, his gaze 
locking onto hers. "Book," he 
mumbled, his voice 
lacking the enthusiasm 
he usually had. Karen 
selected a simple story, 
hoping the familiar 
words would comfort him.

As she read, Plankton 
remained still, his 
eye half-closed. The words 
were a gentle lullaby to 
his overwhelmed mind. Karen 
noticed that he didn't 
react to the plot twists 
or the punchlines, his 
expression unchanged. 
It was as if he was listening, 
but not quite there.

"The end," she said 
softly, closing the book. 
Plankton's antennae quivered 
slightly, and he turned 
his gaze to her. "Book," he 
mumbled. It was the first 
word he had said in what 
felt like hours. This 
wasn't the Plankton she 
knew, the one who could 
spout complex sentences and 
wield his wit like a 
weapon. This was a 
Plankton lost in a world 
of sensory overload and 
confusion.
She knew that autism 
was a spectrum, and that 
Plankton was still 
himself, but it was 
difficult to see him 
this way.

"Let's try something 
else," she suggested, 
desperation tinting her 
voice. She searched 
his face for any sign 
of recognition or interest.

Plankton nodded, his 
antennas drooping slightly. 
"Okay," he murmured, his 
eye unfocused. "How 
about we play a game?" 
she suggested.

new shelf improvement karen plankton v

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY v
(By NeuroFabulous)

Karen held Plankton tightly,
his sobs shaking both of them.
"It's okay," she murmured,
stroking his back. "You're still
my husband. You're still Chip's
dad." Her voice was a salve
to his soul, but the wound
was deep.

In Chip's room, the silence
was deafening. He sat on
his bed, staring at the wall,
his thoughts racing. He had
never meant to hurt Plankton
like that. He had just wanted
his dad to be like everyone
else's. He didn't understand
why it had to be so hard.

Outside, the sound of Karen
trying to comfort Plankton's
sobs drifted under the door,
each one a knife in Chip's heart.
He had never heard his dad
cry before, and it made him feel
like the biggest jerk in the sea.
What had he done? He didn't
want Plankton to go anywhere.
He just wanted all to be okay.

He sat on his bed, his eyes
blurring with tears as he tried
to piece together what had just
happened. His mind raced with
thoughts of his dad, his hero,
his rock, now a crumbling
mess in his mother's arms. He
couldn't bear to think of the
pain he had caused. He stood up, his legs
shaking slightly as he approached
the door.

Karen looked up at him, her eyes
red-rimmed and tired, but filled with
a fierce love that never wavered. Plankton
was still sobbing into her shoulder,
his body trembling with the force of
his pain. Chip felt like he couldn't breathe,
his chest tight with regret.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice
small and shaky. "I didn't mean it.
I just..." But the words trailed off,
his throat thick with unshed tears.

Karen looked up at him, her eyes
brimming with a mix of love and
disappointment. "Chip," she said, her
voice firm but gentle, "you need to
understand. Your dad can't just turn
his autism off." She took a deep
breath, her gaze never leaving
Chip's. "And we love him just the way
he is."

Plankton's body convulsed with
each sob, his fear palpable in the
tiny room. He had always known
his condition set him apart, but
to hear his son say such things...
It was more than he could bear.

Karen looked at Chip, her
expression a mix of anger and sadness.
"Chip, what you said was hurtful,"
she began, her voice shaking with
emotion. "But you need to know
that your dad's autism is just
part of who he is."

Plankton's sobs grew quieter,
his body slowly calming down
as he heard Karen's words.
He knew she was right, but the
fear remained, a cold knot in his
stomach. Fear of rejection, fear of
being seen as a burden, fear
of losing the ones he loved most.

Chip's eyes were glued to the
floor, the weight of his words
pressing down on him like a
heavy stone. He felt like a
monster, a creature that had
lashed out without thought for the
consequences. He took a tentative
step forward.

"Dad," he whispered, his voice
choking with tears. "I didn't mean it.
I didn't mean any of it."

Plankton's convulsions slowly
subsided, his body still tense
against Karen's embrace. His eye
was closed tightly, as if trying to
block out the painful reality.

Plankton's convulsions grew less
intense, his body slowly relaxing into
Karen's embrace. His breathing was ragged,
his antennas quivering slightly with each
exhale. The look in his eye spoke volumes, a
swirl of emotions that seemed to
mirror the turmoil in Chip's own heart.

The room was a stark contrast to the chaotic
underwater world outside, the silence
interrupted only by the occasional
sniffle from Plankton. Karen's gaze never
left Chip's face, her expression a mix
of love and disappointment.

"Your father's autism is 
a part of him, Chip,"
she continued, her voice 
measured. "It's like
his brain has its own 
language, and sometimes
it's hard for him to 
translate it to ours. But
that doesn't make him any 
less of a person,
or any less of a dad."

Chip felt a knot in his
stomach, his regret growing
with every word Karen said.
He had never thought about
it like that before—his dad
wasn't broken or weird, just
different. And he had hurt
him so badly.

"But I just want him to be
normal," he whispered, his voice
cracking. "Why ca--"

"Normal?" Plankton's voice was
harsher than Chip had ever heard it.
He pulled away from Karen, his
eye blazing with a fierce intensity.
"Chip, maybe you're the one who 
needs to leave.."

"Plankton," Karen said, her voice a
plea. "This isn't helping." But Plankton's
face was a mask of pain and anger.

Chip's heart raced, his dad's words
cutting deeper than any insult he
had ever heard. "Dad," he said,
his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it."

But Plankton was beyond
reason, his emotions a swirling
maelstrom of anger and hurt. "Get out,"
he said, his voice cold and final.

Karen's eyes widened with shock,
but she knew better than to argue
with him when he was like this. She
stood, carefully setting Plankton aside.
He didn't move, just sat there,
his body rigid with pain. "Come on,
Chip," she said gently, her hand on his
shoulder. "Let's give your dad some
space."

Chip's eyes were filled with tears,
his heart breaking at the sight of his
father's pain. He didn't know what to do,
his mind racing with fear and regret.
He allowed Karen to lead him out of the
room, the door clicking shut behind
them, leaving Plankton alone with his
thoughts.

new a plankton family story NeuroFabulous v

⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

new y font v

NEW REALITY v
(Autistic author)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his hand jerks away,
his body convulsing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new new reality Sheldon J. Plankton/Karen v

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON viii

(Autistic author)


The room grew quiet as they
all digested the information.
Sponge Bob's gaze never left
Plankton's, his expression
filled with a fierce loyalty.
He knew his friend was
different, but that didn't
change the love he had for
the tiny creature.

Sensing the tension, Sponge
Bob took a deep breath and
smiled his wide, welcoming smile.
"You know what, Plankton?" he
said, his voice a gentle rumble.
"You're still my best buddy, no
matter what."

Plankton's antennae perked
up, his eye focusing on
Sponge Bob's earnest expression.
The sponge's words were a
comforting lullaby, a gentle
reminder of their unbreakable bond.
He felt the warmth of their
friendship wash over him, a
comforting blanket against the
coldness of Hanna's accusations.

Sponge Bob's hand found its
way to his shoulder, the
touch a familiar comfort that
his overstimulated senses craved.
Plankton leaned into the warmth,
his body responding to the
soothing pressure. "Best buddies,"
he echoed, his voice a soft
affirmation.

The room grew quiet as
Sponge Bob's hand remained
steady on his shoulder, his
presence a calming force in
the storm of his emotions. Plankton
closed his eye, his body
relaxing into the gentle embrace.

"We're gonna get through this,"
Sponge Bob said, his voice a
soothing lullaby. "We'll figure
it out, buddy. I'm here for
you."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, the warmth of his friend's
words seeping into his soul.
Sponge Bob had always had
a way of making him feel safe,
but now, with this new
knowledge, their friendship
felt even more vital.

"Thank you," Plankton murmured,
his voice a soft echo of
gratitude. Sponge Bob's
thumb rubbed circles on his
back.

The two friends sat in
silence, the warmth of their
companionship a stark contrast
to the chill of Hanna's words.
Plankton felt the tension in
his body slowly melt away,
his breaths evening out. The
steady beat of Sponge Bob's
heart was a comforting lullaby
that helped him find peace.

Sponge Bob's thumb continued
its circular dance on his back, a
wordless communication of
his love and support. Plankton
sighed, his body growing
heavier with each comforting
pressure point. "Thank you," he
murmured, his voice a gentle
whisper.

Sponge Bob's eyes searched his
face, a flicker of understanding
dawning. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he said. "We'll get through this
together." His hand didn't
move, his touch a silent
promise of his unwavering
support.

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, the comfort of his
friend's presence a warmth
against the coldness of his fear.
He knew Sponge Bob would
always be there for him, even
if he didn't fully understand
his condition. The sponge's
love was a constant, a beacon
of light in his otherwise
confusing world.

Sponge Bob's eyes never left
his friend's, his smile a gentle
reminder of the joy they
shared. "You know, Plankton,"
he began, his voice a soft
caress. "You're still
the same little guy I've
always known."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
body leaning into the warmth of
Sponge Bob's embrace.

The steady beat of the sponge's
heart was a comforting metronome
that helped him find his rhythm
again. He felt the tension in
his body slowly melt away, each
breath growing deeper and more
even. The room, once a battlefield
of accusations and misunderstandings,
was now a haven of quiet comfort.

The rustling of pages grew
softer, the candle's glow dimming
as the minutes ticked by. Karen
and Hanna watched from afar,
heavy with regret
and hope. They saw the change in
Plankton, the way he leaned into
Sponge Bob's touch, the way his
body slowly relaxed.

Sponge Bob, ever the
comforting presence, began to
hum a gentle tune, a melody
that Plankton had heard a
thousand times. The familiar
notes were a lullaby that
soothed his frazzled nerves,
his antennae dropping to rest
against the sponge's shoulder.
The tune was a bridge to
his past, a time before the
accident, before the world had
shifted on its axis.

Plankton's breaths grew deeper,
his body swaying slightly with
the rhythm. His eye closed.
Sponge Bob's humming grew softer,
his hand never leaving Plankton's
back. The warmth of his
companion's embrace was a
soothing balm.

The room, once a prison
of accusations, was now a sanctuary
of friendship. The candle's
flame danced, casting shadows
that played across the walls,
their flickering a gentle reminder
of the warmth in their hearts.

Sponge Bob's hum grew softer,
his melody a gentle whisper that
lulled Plankton into a peaceful
reverie. His body molded
into the sponge's embrace,
his antennae drooping with
the weight of his eyelid. The
world outside faded away,
replaced by the safety of Sponge
Bob's arms.

Karen watched from the
distance, shimmering with
unshed tears. She knew the
importance of this moment, the
power of a friend who
understood without words. Her heart
swelled with gratitude for
Sponge Bob's unwavering support.

Hanna, too, felt the
weight of her own words, the
realization of her ignorance
heavy on her shoulders. She
longed to reach out, to be
part of this healing embrace, but
felt the boundary that she had
unwittingly created. Her screen
followed the tender scene, her
thoughts racing with a
desire to apologize, to explain.

But she knew that now was not
the time for words. Instead, she
sat quietly, watching the
dance of friendship unfold. The
steady beat of Sponge Bob's
heart, the gentle rustle of his
body against Plankton's, the
soothing hum that filled the
air—it was a symphony of care.

Hanna's gaze drifted to the
candle, its flame a flickering
reminder of the warmth that
was slowly seeping into the
room. She watched as Plankton's
body grew heavier, his breaths
deepening. The anger and fear
that had once dominated the
space were now replaced with a
comforting quietude.

Karen's hand found Hanna's,
squeezing gently. "He's ok,"
she whispered. "We're going
to be ok." Her voice was a
calm sea, offering a gentle
buoyancy to the storm of
emotions that had ravaged
them all.

Hanna's screen searched hers,
uncertainty warring with hope.
"I'm sorry," she murmured,
her voice a soft apology. "I
just didn't know."

Karen nodded, her gaze
compassionate. "It's a journey,"
she said. "We're all just
trying to understand."

The humming grew softer, until
it was only a faint echo in
the room. Plankton's antennae
twitched with the last
remnants of his anxiety,
before they too stilled. His
body grew heavy, his breaths
deep and even. The gentle
sway of Sponge Bob's embrace
was a lullaby that rocked him
into a peaceful slumber.

Sponge Bob felt the
change in Plankton's tension,
his friend's body becoming
a soft weight against his. He
smiled, his heart swelling
with love and relief. Carefully,
he adjusted his hold, cradling
the tiny creature against his
chest. His thumb continued its
comforting strokes, his eyes
never leaving the closed eye.

Karen stepped forward, her
movements graceful and silent.
Her hand rested on Sponge
Bob's arm, her screen a gentle
thank you. Hanna quietly left.

The room was now bathed in
the soft glow of the candle,
its flicker the only sound.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly in his sleep, his
breaths deep and even. Sponge
Bob held him tight, his
heartbeat a gentle rhythm that
soothed the tiny creature's
slumber.

Karen watched the two,
aching with love and
gratitude. She knew that
Sponge Bob's simple act of
comfort was a powerful
statement of friendship and
support. It was moments like
this that reminded her of the
strength in their bond.

The candle's flame danced
gently, casting shadows that
played across Plankton's sleeping
face. His antennae, once a
whirlwind of anxiety, were now
still, resting against Sponge
Bob's chest. His breaths were
even and deep, a testament
to the peace he had found
in his friend's embrace.

Sponge Bob looked down at
his sleeping companion, his
face a picture of quiet contentment.
He knew that Plankton was
safe here, that his slumber was
a reprieve from the storm of
emotions that had ravaged
his day. The room was a
sanctuary of calm, the candle's
warmth a gentle guardian.

The sponge's heart swelled with
love as he watched his friend's
tiny chest rise and fall, each
breath a whispered promise
of support. He knew that
Plankton's world was now
different, that the ASD had
brought with it challenges that
neither of them could have
foreseen. But in this moment,
their bond was stronger than
ever, a beacon of understanding
in a sea of uncertainty.

Karen's eyes searched
Sponge Bob's, her own heart
heavy with the weight of what
Plankton had endured. "Thank
you," she murmured, her voice a
soft wave of appreciation.
"For being there for him."

Sponge Bob's gaze never left
Plankton's sleeping form, his
thumb still tracing comforting
patterns. "Always," he said, his
voice a gentle promise. "No
matter what."

new neurobehavioral plankton plankbobs viii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iv
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
But Plankton's 
frustration had 
reached a boiling 
point. His voice 
was a thunderclap 
in the small room, 
his eye flashing 
with a rage he 
couldn't contain. 
"You don't know!"
he roared, his 
body shaking.

Hanna took another 
step back, her 
heart racing. "I'm 
sorry, Plankton, I 
truly didn't mean to 
upset you," she said, 
her voice shaking.

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to the door, 
his mind racing 
to the safety of 
his solitude. "You 
don't know," he 
murmured, his anger 
subsiding slightly. 
The sudden silence 
was like a balm 
to his raw nerves.
But Hanna's curiosity
angered him further.
"Plankton, what..."

"I DON'T KNOW!" Plankton's 
voice pierced the 
silence, his frustration 
at an all-time high.
Hanna's eyes grew 
wider.

"I'll leave you 
alone," she said 
quickly, her voice 
quiet and soothing. 
But as she turned 
to go, she 
accidentally brushed 
against his arm.

Plankton's reaction 
was instant and 
explosive. He 
jerked away, his 
body tensing, his 
eye flashing with 
anger. "Don't touch me!" 
he snapped, his voice 
sharp and jagged.

Hanna's eyes wide with 
shock. "Plankton
tell me what's..."

But Plankton had 
reached his limit. 
The touch, the 
questions, the 
expectation of 
normalcy—it was 
all too much. He 
felt personally
attacked, now on
a roll.

"You don't know 
what's what?" he 
spat out, his 
voice a whip crack. 
"You come in here, 
invading my space, 
without a care in 
the world for 
what I'm going 
through!"

Hanna took 
another step 
back, retracting 
quickly. "I'm sorry, 
I didn't know," she 
whispered, her eyes 
filling with 
sorrow. "Karen never 
mentioned..."
But Plankton's 
frustration had 
become anger, 
his next words cutting 
like a knife.

"You don't know 
anything," he 
snarled, his 
voice laced with 
bitterness. "You come 
in here, asking your 
stupid questions, 
expecting me to be 
the same person I 
was before!" 
"Before what, Plankton?"
Yet Plankton's not wanting
to answer Hanna so he
yells his next words at 
the top of his lungs.
"Before I...I...
YOU KNOW
WHAT? IT'S
NONE OF YOUR
BUSINESS!" Plankton's
voice cracked with
the effort of
his outburst, but he's
just getting started,
now he's on a roll, his
next words being worse.
"I don't want you 
here. I don't need 
you here," Plankton 
spat out, his 
frustration a 
palpable force 
in the room.

Hanna took 
another step 
back, her 
eyes brimming 
with unshed tears. 
"I'm sorry," she 
whispered, her voice 
barely audible. "I 
was just trying 
to..."

But Plankton's 
anger had taken 
over. "You're not 
helping!" he 
shouted, his voice 
raw with emotion. 
"You don't get to 
decide what I need!" 
He was on his 
feet now, his 
body rigid with 
frustration. "I don't 
want you to know!"
"Know what, Plankton?
You don't get 
to decide what I 
can and can't know," 
she said, her voice 
firm. But Karen's
now returned with
the smoothie, both
Hanna and Plankton
too wrapped up to
notice her presence.
"You think you can 
just waltz in here 
and fix everything?" 
his voice was a 
growl now. "You think 
you know what it's 
like to be trapped 
in here?" He tapped 
his head with 
his finger, his 
eye wild. "You don't 
know anything!"
Now Hanna's getting
real angry.
"You think you're 
the only one 
suffering?" Hanna 
countered, her 
voice rising. "What 
about Karen? What 
about the people 
who actually care 
about you?"
Plankton's 
gaze snapped to 
hers, his anger 
fueled by her words. 
"You don't know 
what it's like!" he 
shouted, his voice 
echoing through 
the empty space 
of the Chum 
Bucket. "You don't 
know what it's like 
to have the world 
make no sense! 
To be trapped 
in your own head!"
Hanna's 
expression softened 
slightly. "I'm 
sorry," she said 
gently. "I really am. 
But you can't just 
push everyone away."
"Why not?" Plankton 
demanded, his 
voice a whip crack. 
"Why do I have to 
explain?"
But Hanna's 
concern for 
Karen overrode 
her own fear. 
"Karen's my friend 
and she deserves
better than you
and your little 
tantrums," Hanna 
snapped back.
"Tantrums? TANTRUMS?" 
Plankton's voice 
was a roar now. 
"This isn't a tantrum, 
it's reality!"
Hanna's in a 
defensive posture, 
her eyes flashing with 
anger. "You think 
I don't know what 
real pain is?" she 
shouted back. "You're 
so caught up in your 
own world that you 
can't see what you're 
doing to her, just 
because you're too 
stubborn and acting 
like a child who can't 
deal with the real
world! YOU'RE NOTHING
BUT A BURDENSOME
WASTE OF SPACE! So,
if you can't get your
act together, maybe 
you should just go to
an institution where 
people can handle 
your..." "That's 
enough!" Karen 
snapped. Her voice 
was a whip crack 
across the tension 
filled room, startling both 
Plankton and Hanna. She
couldn't stand
silent any longer. Yet
Plankton's face 
crumpled at
Hanna's threat,
his anger giving 
way to despair. 
Tears began to 
stream down his 
face, his 
body shaking with 
sobs he couldn't 
control.
The sudden shift 
from rage to sorrow 
was like a punch 
to Hanna. 



**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought 
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site 
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*

new neurobehavioral plankton bullycore iv

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vii
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Sponge Bob's 
thumb begins to 
move in slow, 
soothing circles 
against Plankton's 
skin. "Thank you," 
he says, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper.
Sponge Bob 
simply nods, 
his thumb 
continuing its 
soothing motion. 
He doesn't know 
how to explain 
the depth of his 
feelings, but 
his actions speak 
louder than words. 
His friendship 
with Plankton has 
always been 
unconventional, but 
now, in the face of 
this new 
challenge, it feels 
more precious than 
ever.

Just as the 
moment of 
connection seems 
to solidify, the door 
to the Chum 
Bucket opens again, 
and Hanna tentatively 
steps inside, 
a pamphlet clutched 
in her hand.

"I brought 
this," she says, 
her voice shaking 
slightly as she 
holds out the 
pamphlet. "It's about 
autism...and 
rituals that might 
help get rid of the 
autistic behaviors."

Karen's snatching the 
pamphlet from 
Hanna's grip. Her 
eyes scan the 
pages, her anger 
building with 
each word. "What 
are you thinking?" 
she demands, her 
voice like a 
whipcrack.

Hanna takes a 
step back. "I just...I 
thought it might 
help you get him 
back to normal," 
she stammers, 
clearly not expecting 
the ferocity of 
Karen's reaction.

But Karen's 
anger is a 
volcano, erupting 
with the force 
of her 
love for Plankton. 
"These are not 'behaviors' 
to get rid of," she 
snaps, 
shaking the 
pamphlet in the 
air. "This is who 
he is now!"

"But Karen, don't you 
think life would 
be easier if he 
wasn't...you know, 
like this?" Hanna 
tries to explain.

"This isn't 
about making life 
easier for me," she 
snaps. "It's about 
supporting him!"

"Karen, Plankton just 
needs to be fixed," 
Hanna says, her voice 
smaller now, her 
expression pleading. 
"We both know 
how difficult it is to 
be around someone 
with...problems."

The words hit 
Karen. "Fixed?" she 
repeats, her voice 
low and dangerous. 
"Plankton isn't 
broken. He's not a 
machine to be 
tinkered with! These 
are dangerous, 
deadly suggestions!"

Plankton flinches 
at the sound, his mind 
whirling. 
He feels a 
tiny spark of 
defiance in his 
chest.

"You dare 
suggest that he 
doesn't deserve 
to live because 
he's autistic? You 
don't get to decide 
his worth!"

Plankton's 
grip on Sponge 
Bob's  
tightens, his 
body stiffening, 
his heart racing.

"How 
could you?" she 
demands, her eyes 
spitting fire. "You 
want me to just...to 
just get rid of him?"

Hanna's eyes 
fill with tears as 
she takes another 
step back, her 
hands coming up 
in a defensive 
gesture. "I didn't 
mean it like that," 
she says, her voice 
quavering. "I just 
want to help!"

But Karen's 
fury is a 
freight train, 
unstoppable. "Help?" 
she spits. "This is 
not help!" She 
gestures at the 
pamphlet, now a 
mangled mess on 
the floor. "This 
is hate, Hanna! 
This is saying 
he's not worth it 
because he's not 
like everyone else!"

Plankton looks 
down, his antennae 
drooping. Was he 
really such a 
burden? Was his 
life not worth 
living?

Sponge Bob 
squeezes Plankton's 
hand, his 
grip a silent 
reassurance.

Karen's fury 
doesn't waver. "You 
call yourself a 
friend?" she says, her 
voice laced with 
disgust. "You'd throw 
his life away because 
it's inconvenient 
for you?"

Hanna's sobs fill 
the room, her 
body trembling 
under the weight 
of Karen's accusations. 
"I didn't mean it 
like that," she 
whimpers. "I just...I 
don't know what to do."

Karen's anger 
doesn't abate, but 
it turns into a 
deep sadness. She 
looks at Hanna, her 
eyes filled with 
disappointment. "You 
don't 'fix' someone 
because they're 
different," she 
says, her voice 
deadly calm. "You 
support them."

Plankton watches 
the exchange. He feels 
tiny, insignificant 
under the weight 
of their words.

Karen turns to 
Sponge Bob. 
"Take him to his 
room," she says, her 
voice barely above 
a whisper. "I need 
to talk to Hanna."

Sponge Bob nods 
slowly, his eyes 
filled with 
understanding. He 
gently helps Plankton 
to his feet, a 
steadying presence 
against Plankton's 
uncertain steps.

As they walk 
to the bedroom, 
Plankton's gaze 
remains glued to 
the floor, his mind 
whirling with 
thoughts he can't 
quite grasp.

Once Plankton is 
safely in bed, 
Sponge Bob 
tucks the blanket 
around him, his 
movements gentle and 
soothing. Plankton's 
body relaxes slightly 
under the comforting 
weight, his 
eye closing with 
a sigh.

Karen turns 
to Hanna, 
unfurling from  
defensive pose. "You 
don't understand," 
she says, her voice 
calmer now, though 
still tinged with 
frustration. "The 
things you're 
suggesting, they're 
not just cruel, they're 
dangerous."

Hanna's 
sobs slow, her 
eyes red and 
swollen. She looks 
at Karen with 
desperation, 
clearly lost in the 
ignorance. "What do 
you mean?"
Karen's
determined. "Straightjackets 
are used," she 
says, her words 
carefully measured. "They 
restrain patients, 
not help them." She 
pauses. "And 
those rituals you 
found, the ones 
that suggest 
them to 
make him 'normal'... 
They could 
kill.."

Hanna's 
sobs stop 
abruptly, her 
breath hitching. "What?" 
she asks, 
shock etched 
on her features.

Karen's eyes 
never leave 
Hanna's, her 
voice cold and 
devoid of pity. "You 
don't get to decide 
his worth, Hanna," 
she says, each 
word a bullet. "And 
you certainly don't 
get to decide his 
fate."

Hanna's 
shoulders slump. "I'm 
so sorry," she 
whispers, her 
tears flowing freely. 
"I didn't know."

Karen's 
expression softens 
slightly, the anger 
fading to 
disappointment. "You 
have to understand," 
she says. "Plankton 
is still Plankton. 
He just...sees the 
world differently 
now."

Hanna 
sniffs, wiping 
away her tears. "But 
what if he's in 
pain?" she 
whispers. "What if 
his autism is 
making him miserable?"

Karen 
sighs, her 
frustration 
dissipating. "He's 
not in pain," she 
explains. "He's 
just...sensitive. To 
everything. Sounds, 
smells, touch... exactly
what the institutions
expose them to, will cause
pain."
Hanna
absorbs Karen's 
words. "Oh, I didn't..."
she trails off, 
overwhelmed by the 
gravity of her 
mistake. "I'm so 
sorry, Karen. I didn't 
know."

Karen nods,  
relaxing slightly. 
"I know," she says, 
her voice softer now. 
"It's a lot to take 
in, and it's 
scary when 
someone you love 
becomes...different."

Hanna nods. "But 
you still love him," 
she says, a question 
and a statement 
wrapped in one.

"More than 
anything," Karen 
replies without 
hesitation, her 
tentacles tightening 
around Hanna. "And 
I need you to love 
him too, Hanna."

Hanna nods, 
swiping at her 
tears with the 
back of her hand. 
"I do," she 
whispers. "I just...I 
want him to be happy."

Karen's tentacles 
give Hanna a gentle 
squeeze. "He is," 
she says, her voice 
filled with 
determined love. "And 
we'll make sure he 
stays that way."


The two of them 
stand there, the 
silence of the 
moment heavy 
between them. Karen's 
eyes drift to the 
closed bedroom door, 
beyond which 
Plankton sleeps 
peacefully. The 
sounds of the 
Chum Bucket are 
muted, the only 
noise the distant 
hum of the 
laboratory equipment.

In that quiet, 
Karen's tentacles 
relax slightly, 
the anger of the 
confrontation 
dissipating. She 
looks back at Hanna, 
her expression 
softening. "Thank 
you for coming," 
she says, her voice 
still firm but 
lacking the sharp 
edge of anger. "But 
you have to understand 
that this isn't 
something to be 
fixed. It's part 
of him now. Let's
go check on him."

They find SpongeBob 
sitting on the 
foot of the bed, 
his hand 
still entwined with 
Plankton's, their 
fingertips barely 
touching. Plankton's 
breathing is deep 
and even, a stark 
contrast to the 
turmoil of moments 
before. His antennae 
twitch occasionally,
his mouth barely 
parted in a quiet 
snore.
Hanna follows 
Karen into the 
room, her eyes 
wide and 
frightened. She 
sees Sponge Bob and 
his gentle touch 
with Plankton and 
her expression 
softens slightly. 
This is new to her, 
this quiet 
understanding, but 
she can't help but 
be moved by the 
sight.
Sponge Bob looks 
up, his eyes 
filled with a 
certain sadness 
that mirrors 
Karen's. He nods 
silently, 
acknowledging her 
thanks. Hanna's 
eyes dart to 
Plankton, who 
remains fast asleep, 
his single eye 
closed peacefully.

Karen sits 
beside the bed, 
reaching out to 
stroke Plankton's 
forehead. His 
skin is cool to the 
touch, his breathing 
steady. She 
whispers to Hanna, 
"We need to be 
careful with him. 
He's...fragile."

Hanna nods, 
swallowing her 
tears. She 
moves closer, her 
own hand tentatively 
reaching out to 
touch Plankton's 
hand. His antennae 
twitch but he 
doesn't wake.

The room is 
bathed in a soft 
glow, the 
dimmed lights 
designed to reduce 
stimulation and 
ease his sensory 
overload. Karen's 
breathing slows as 
she watches the 
scene before her, 
her heart swelling 
with love and 
gratitude for the 
support Sponge 
Bob is 
providing.

Hanna's tentative 
touch seems to 
soothe Plankton, 
his 
snoring growing 
slightly more 
rhythmic.

Sponge Bob 
smiles softly at 
Hanna, his 
thumb still 
moving in gentle 
circles around 
Plankton's. 
"You're doing 
good," he whispers. 
"He just needs 
us to be patient 
and understanding."

Hanna nods, 
her eyes never 
leaving Plankton's 
face. "I'll try," 
she says, her voice 
quiet and earnest. "I 
really will."

Karen looks at 
Hanna, her eyes 
softening. "It's not 
easy," she admits. 
"But it's worth it."



**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought 
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site 
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*

new neurobehavioral plankton autismcore vii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii
(Autistic author)

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

He nodded, his 
expression slightly 
less tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hanna looked at 
him with a 
puzzled expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hanna's concern 
was now clear 
on her screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new neurobehavioral plankton neurodivergentcore iii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vi
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Plankton's eye 
closed slowly, his 
breathing evening out 
under her calming 
touch. His body 
relaxed into the 
cushions of the couch, 
his mind still racing 
but his body succumbing 
to the siren call of 
sleep. The smoothie 
and Karen's comforting 
presence had 
worked their magic.

Karen sat beside 
him, 
wrapped protectively 
around his small 
form. She watched 
his chest rise and 
fall with each 
breath, her heart 
heavy with the weight 
of the day's events. 
The Chum Bucket 
was quiet now, the 
silence a stark 
contrast to the 
shouts and sobs that 
had filled it moments 
before. Karen's
heart breaks for Plankton
yet she knows Hanna's
never met him, never heard
of the accident nor diagnosis.

With a sigh, she 
picked up the phone 
that lay on the 
end table and 
dialed Hanna's number. 
The line rang once, 
twice, three times 
before Hanna's 
voice filled the 
line. "Hello?"

Karen took a 
deep breath, 
steeling herself for 
the conversation 
she had to have. "Hanna, 
it's me," she 
said, her voice 
calm despite the 
whirlwind inside her.
"I need to talk to 
you about what 
happened."

Hanna's tone 
shifted immediately, 
concern lacing her 
words. "Is Plankton 
okay?"

Karen's grip 
on the phone 
tightened. "No," she 
admitted, her voice 
a whisper. "He's 
asleep now, but he's 
not okay."

Hanna's voice 
was a mix of 
shock and 
disbelief. "What do 
you mean?"

Karen took 
another deep 
breath, her eyes 
never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful 
face. "There was 
an accident," she 
began, her voice 
steady. "He hit his 
head and..." She 
swallowed the lump 
in her throat. "Acquired 
Autism Spectrum Disorder."

The line was 
silent for a 
moment before 
Hanna's voice 
came back, filled 
with horror. "Oh 
Neptune, I had 
no idea!"

Karen's tentacles 
trembled slightly 
as she recounted 
the doctor's words, 
the diagnosis that 
had turned their 
world upside down. "It's 
permanent," she 
whispered. "They said 
his corpus callosum 
and cerebellum were 
damaged. He's...he's 
not the same, Hanna."

On the phone, 
Hanna's voice 
was a mix of 
sympathy and 
confusion. "But 
why didn't you tell 
me sooner?"

Karen's sigh 
was heavy with 
regret. "We've 
been dealing with 
this alone," she 
explained, her tentacle 
tracing patterns 
on the couch cushion. 
"It's so new, so 
overwhelming."

Hanna's voice 
was gentle now, 
understanding in a 
way that made Karen 
feel less alone. 
"I'm so sorry, Karen," 
she said, her 
concern genuine. "I 
had no idea."

Karen's 
eyes remained 
locked on Plankton's 
face, his chest rising 
and falling with 
each breath. "It's 
been a rollercoaster," 
she admitted, her 
voice tight. "But 
we're trying to 
make the best of it."

Karen hangs up and
turns her focus back to
Plankton, his small 
body curled tightly 
under the blanket.
She notices 
the way his 
antenna twitches 
as if he's dreaming.

Her hands 
gently adjust the 
blanket, her touch 
feather-light against 
his skin. Plankton's 
face is a mask of 
peace in sleep, a stark 
contrast to the 
turmoil of the 
waking world. His 
snores are faint, a 
soothing rhythm 
that fills the 
otherwise silent room.

Just as Karen 
begins to relax, 
the door to the Chum 
Bucket bursts open, 
letting in a rush 
of sunlight and 
SpongeBob's 
unmistakable 
laughter. "Plankton?" 
he calls out, his 
voice high and 
cheerful.

Sponge Bob's 
entrance is a 
whirlwind of 
energy, a stark 
contrast to the 
heavy silence that 
hangs over the 
laboratory. He 
doesn't notice the 
tension in the 
air as he bounds 
towards the couch, 
his eyes widening 
in surprise when he 
sees Plankton's 
unusual position.

"Whoa, Plankton," 
Sponge Bob says, 
his voice a 
chirp of curiosity. 
"Looks like you're 
taking a siesta!" 
He laughs, not 
comprehending the 
depth of emotion 
that has just 
played out in 
the room.

Karen looks 
up from her 
watchful vigil, 
her eyes tired but 
determined. "Sponge 
Bob," she says, 
keeping her voice 
steady, "Plankton's 
not feeling well."

Sponge Bob's 
face falls, his 
cheerfulness 
dimming. "Oh no," 
he says, his 
concern genuine. 
He approaches 
the couch with 
caution, his eyes 
fixed on Plankton's 
peaceful form.

"What happened?" 
he asks, his 
voice hushed. 
"Is he okay?"

Karen's eyes 
meet Sponge Bob's, 
full of a sorrow 
he can't quite 
comprehend. "It's 
been a...difficult 
day," she says, her 
tentacles tightening 
slightly around 
Plankton. "He had 
an accident."

Sponge Bob's 
expression shifts 
from confusion to 
alarm. "Is he 
going to be okay?" 
he asks, his voice 
filled with 
concern. Karen 
sighs, her tentacle 
stroking Plankton's 
forehead in a 
soothing motion. 
"He's just...different 
now," she says, her 
voice tight.

Sponge Bob 
frowns, his 
bubbles popping 
with worry. "What 
kind of different?"

Karen's 
expression is 
guarded, her 
eyes never leaving 
Plankton's sleeping 
form. "He's been 
diagnosed with... 
autism," she 
whispers, the word 
sounding foreign 
even to her.

"Hey, I was born with
idiopathic Autism!" 
Sponge Bob says.

"Well Plankton's got
an acquired form, it's
a rarity," Karen 
explains to Sponge
Bob, her voice 
barely a murmur so 
as not to disturb 
the sleeping Plankton.
Sponge Bob nods 
slowly, his 
understanding of 
the situation 
deepening with 
each word.

"So his accident gave
him autism; when?"

"Yesterday, when he hit 
his head on an invention."

Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with realization. 
"Oh," he says, 
his voice filled with 
sympathy.

He sits down 
on the floor 
beside the couch.

"It's okay, Karen," 
Sponge Bob says 
softly, his eyes 
full of 
understanding. "We'll 
figure this out 
together."

Plankton stirs 
beneath the 
blanket, his 
small form 
shifting slightly.

Karen's gaze 
snaps to him.

"Plankton?" she 
whispers, her 
tentacles poised 
to comfort him if 
his distress 
resurfaces. But his 
eye remains closed, 
his breathing even.

Sponge Bob's 
expression is 
thoughtful as he 
looks at the 
sleeping Plankton. 
"You know, Karen, 
being different isn't 
so bad," he says 
gently. "I mean, 
look at me."

Karen's tentacles 
relax slightly 
as she looks at 
Sponge Bob, his 
optimism a balm 
to her weary 
spirit. Karen smiles.
"Tell that to Hanna,"
Karen mutters to
herself.

"Who's Hanna?"

"A friend," Karen
explained, her 
voice still tight. 
"She came over 
today, didn't know 
about Plankton's 
diagnosis. She said 
things she shouldn't 
have."

Sponge Bob's 
frown deepens. 
"What kind of 
things?"

"She said 
he's a burden, 
that maybe I should 
put him in an 
institution," she 
whispers, her voice 
shaking with anger.

Sponge Bob's 
face falls in shock. 
"That's not 
right, Karen," 
he says firmly. "You 
don't have to 
listen to her. What's an
institution?"

"It's a place where 
clinically crazy people
are sent to rehabilitation
be 'taken care of.' But 
it's not like that 
really for neurodivergent
people. It's more like 
a...a prison where they 
deprive them, and 
often...never make it.
But mostly it's for people
who are violent, which isn't
the case for..."

Her voice trails off as
Plankton stirs again, 
his antennae twitching 
slightly.

Sponge Bob looks at 
Plankton, his eyes 
filled with 
compassion. "He's not 
going anywhere, Karen," 
he says firmly. "You guys 
are like family to 
me. I'll help you 
take care of him."

Plankton's single 
eye opens slightly, 
his gaze unfocused.

"Shh, it's okay," 
she whispers, her 
voice a soothing 
caress.

Plankton blinks 
slowly, his eye 
coming into focus 
as he sees Sponge 
Bob.

A smile 
spreads across his 
face, a rare 
expression of pure 
joy that lights up 
his features. His 
body uncoils from 
its tense curl, 
his antennae 
perking up with 
excitement.

"Sponge Bob," 
Plankton whispers, 
his voice filled with 
a warmth that 
surprises Karen. 
He sits up slowly, 
his movements 
calculated to 
avoid any jolts 
to his sensitive 
system.

Sponge Bob's face 
splits into a 
beaming smile, 
his eyes 
shining with 
joy. "Hey, Plankton!" 
He says.

Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on 
Sponge Bob, his 
expression a 
mixture of 
gratitude and 
comfort. "You're 
here," he says 
simply, his voice 
a rough whisper.

Sponge Bob nods, 
his smile never 
wavering. "Of course 
I am," he says, 
his voice gentle. 
He reaches out 
a hand tentatively, 
his movements 
slow and deliberate.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, then he 
reaches out, 
his grip firm but 
not too tight. 
The two of them 
sit there, 
the silence 
comforting rather 
than oppressive.



**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought 
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site 
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*

new neurobehavioral plankton comfortfic vi

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii
(Autistic author)

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

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

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

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

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

The doctor 
continued his 
assessment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Karen notices his
suddenly unmoving
form and gets concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new neurobehavioral plankton plaren ii

               𓏵
✖₊⊹⚠₊⋆ 𖥂⋆₊⚠ ⊹✖
               𓏵

new murder drones murder cyn n v uzi j null nullified x caution solver absolute solver dividers

😈⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆𓆩𓆪ffﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

new derive converge v proceeds fl descend

(select(0)from(select(sleep(15)))v)/*'+(select(0)from(select(sleep(15)))v)+'"+(select(0)from(select(sleep(15)))v)+"*/

CHIP IN MY BOX v
(Autistic author)


As Chip watches, Plankton's
body starts to twitch, his
snores growing louder and
more erratic. Chip's heart
leaps into his throat, his
stomach clenching with fear.
Is he having another episode?

Karen notices the shift in
his breathing and gently
squeezes Chip's hand. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "He's just
waking up."

Plankton's eye flutters open,
his gaze unfocused. For a
moment, he seems lost, then
his gaze sharpens as he sees
his wife and son. The
fear and anger from before
are replaced with a weary
resignation. He sits up, rubbing
his eye with the heels of
his hands.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs to Karen,
his voice thick with sleep and
regret. "I didn't mean to scare
you." He looks at her,
his eye searching for
forgiveness.

Karen's eyes are filled with
compassion as she nods.
"It's okay," she whispers,
her hand still in his. "We just
need to find a way to help
you through these moments."

Plankton takes a deep breath,
his shoulders dropping. "I know,"
he says, his voice a mix of
exhaustion and resignation.

Chip's eyes are glued to his
father, his curiosity a
constant thrum. "But why do
you have these moments?"
He asks, his voice laced with
concern.

Plankton sighs, his eye
dropping to the floor. "It's
complicated," he says, his
voice heavy with weariness.

Chip's curiosity doesn't waver.
"But what causes it?" He
asks, his voice persistent.
He wants to understand, to
help, to be there for his
dad in a way he never has
before.

Plankton looks at his son,
his eye filled with a mix of
pride and frustration. "It's
my brain," he says, his voice
strained. "It's just... wired
differently." His antennae
twitch nervously. "Sometimes,
it gets too much, and I need to
step back, to find a way to...
recalibrate."

Chip frowns, his curiosity
deepening. "But what happens
when you have those moments?"
He asks, leaning in closer.
Plankton's gaze is on his
sensory box. "It's like...
everything's too loud, too
bright," he says, his voice
barely audible. "I can't...
I can't filter it out."

Karen's eyes are filled with
understanding as she nods.
"It's like your brain is
a radio," she says, "And
sometimes all the channels
are on at once."

Chip's eyes go to Plankton's
box. "So, the box..."

Plankton nods, his antennae
drooping slightly. "The box
helps me focus," he says,
his voice still quiet. "It's got
things that calm me down."
He sets the box down next
to himself.

Chip's eyes light up with
renewed interest. "Can I
see?" He asks, leaning in.

Plankton hesitates, his hand
on the box. It's his sanctuary,
his shield against the world's
assault on his senses. But he
sees the earnestness in Chip's
eyes, the need to understand.
With a sigh, he opens the box.

Chip's eyes widen as he takes
in the contents: a velvet
curtain, a weighted blanket,
a stress ball. "What are these
for?" He asks, his voice filled
with wonder.

Plankton's antennae twitch
nervously. "The velvet's for
touch," he says, his voice
still low. "It's soothing."
He picks up the weighted
blanket, his hand shaking.
"This one's for when I get
overwhelmed, it grounds me."

Chip's eyes widen as he
looks at the items, his
fingers itching to touch.
He looks at the fidgets. "And
these?" He asks, his voice
hopeful.

Plankton watches his son,
his antennae still. "It's for
when my hands need to do
something," he says, his voice
a whisper. "When I'm...
overwhelmed."

Chip's hand reaches out,
his curiosity overruling his
fear. He grabs the fidgets,
his eyes wide with wonder.
He turns one over in his
small hands, feeling it's texture.

Karen watches
them both, her 
heart in
her throat.

Chip picks up some of the
fidgets, his thumb tracing the
smooth edges. He looks up,
his eyes shining with
determination. "What if...
what if we could make a
game out of this, li—"

His words are cut off by a
sharp clatter as the fidgets
slip from his grasp. They hit
the open sensory box, landing
on the other items with a series
of clinks and cracks as every
thing inside shatters into
tiny, unrecognizable pieces.

The room seems to hold its
breath, the echoes of the
destruction hanging in
the air. Plankton's eye widens.
Karen gasps, her hand flying
to her mouth as she sees
the shattered remnants of
Plankton's coping mechanisms.

Chip's eyes fill with horror
as the reality of what he's
done sinks in. The fidgets
lie scattered, broken and
useless, a stark reminder of
his own carelessness. His
hands are shaking as he
reaches for the box, his heart
racing with regret...

Plankton's eye widens, his
body going rigid with shock.
He's seen his sanctuary
desecrated, the one thing
that brings him peace shattered
under his own son's curiosity, 
a knife cutting through
the thick silence.
The room feels like it's spinning,
his senses bombarding him with
the sight of the destroyed box,
the feel of his heart racing,
the sound of his wife's
stifled gasp. He can't breathe,
his chest tight with an unspoken
rage that builds with each
passing second. Plankton's 
expression is unreadable.

"Chip!" Karen's voice is a
desperate whisper, a plea for
their son to understand,
but Plankton's mind is a
whirlwind of chaos.

"Dad, I'm sorry," Chip
stammers, his eyes wide with
fear as he looks at the
wreckage before him.

Plankton's breathing is
quick and shallow, his eye
darting from shard to shard
of the broken fidgets. He
can't speak, the words
trapped in his throat by the
onslaught of sensory assault.
His mind races, trying to
find a way to escape the
chaos that's invaded his
safe space.

Karen knows what this means for
him, the turmoil that must
be raging inside.

Plankton's breath comes
in short, sharp gasps, his
body trembling with
suppressed fury. The world
around him is a cacophony
of sounds and lights, his
sensory overload reaching a
new peak. He can't focus,
his mind a blur of images
and emotions.

new chip in my box chip plankton ii v

PLUSH ONE v
(By NeuroFabulous)

They sit there in silence, their
hands clasped. Karen can
feel the steady rhythm of his
breath, his hand twitching slightly
with each exhale. She squeezes
his hand, a silent promise of
support.

"I'm here," she whispers again,
her voice a balm to the raw
edges of his fear. Plankton's
body relaxes into hers, his gaze
fixed on their intertwined fingers.

Karen's mind races, trying
to understand the complex web
of sensory input that now dictates
his reality. Every touch, every
sound, every sight could be
either a comfort or a cacophony.

"I'm gonna go clean up the
metal container." Karen
says, giving him a kiss on the
forehead before going.

After she left, Plankton thought
about his rivalry with Krabs. He
didn't want Krabs to be suspicious
if he suddenly stops trying to steal
his formula. He doesn't want Krabs
to find out or figure out about his
autism. So he wrote down "I went
across the street" on a note if
Karen came back. Then, he went
to the Krusty Krab restaurant.

The bright lights and the noise
of the kitchen now overwhelms him.
He found a corner and sat down,
his eye squeezed shut. His heart
raced as he tried to think about
the mission. It's a place he's been
in countless times, but he's autistic
now. Yet he knew and remembered
the environment, despite the new
sensory experience.

Plankton took a deep breath
and forced his eye open, his gaze
darts around, trying to find the safety
vault he knew so well.

He saw the familiar soda machine,
the greasy counters, and the gleaming
spatulas, but everything felt wrong.
The smell of cooking oil was too intense,
the clatter of pans too loud. His mind
raced, trying to process the cacophony
of sensory input. He needs to focus on
getting the recipe out of that safe!

Slowly, Plankton stood, his legs wobbly
from the effort to filter out the chaos.
He knew he had to keep moving, to
complete his task. Now to figure out
the combination.

He approached the safe, his hands
trembling with the effort to block
out the noise. The buttons on the safe
were cold under his fingertips, and he
felt the familiar thrill of a challenge.
His mind raced, trying to remember
his past schemes and the patterns
that had always come so naturally to him.

But it was like trying to recall a dream.
The numbers and sequences danced
just out of reach, taunting him with
their elusiveness. His eye darted around,
catching sight of the menu board, the
colorful condiments, and the glint of
the cash register. It was all too much.

He stepped back, his breaths coming
quick and shallow. He needed to find
his center, to focus on the task at hand.
He closed his eye and thought of Karen,
the feel of her hand in his, the sound
of her voice. It grounded him, calmed
the storm in his head. With renewed
determination, he opened his eye.

The safe was a monolith, a silent
witness to his tumultuous thoughts.
He studied the buttons, the cold
metal under his fingertips. He knew
the pattern had to be simple, something
Krabs would think secure.

Plankton's mind raced, trying to
decipher the sequence that had
once come to him so easily. He
closed his eye, trying to
concentrate, but the sounds and
smells of the kitchen crashed over
him like a wave. The cacophony
was unbearable, a stark contrast
to the quiet orderliness of his
laboratory.

He took a deep breath, focusing
on the cool metal of the safe.
He had to get the Krabby Patty
formula. For Karen, for himself.
This was a purpose, his
obsession. But now, everything felt
different. The familiar had
become strange, the simple
complex.

With trembling hands, Plankton
started to press buttons on the safe,
his mind racing with the patterns
of his past attempts. But
his brain didn't respond in the
usual way. The numbers jumbled,
the sequences slipped away.
He felt the weight of his failure
pressing down on him, the kitchen
sounds amplifying his anxiety. What
numbers would Krabs put in?

He took a deep breath and tried
to visualize their conversations, the
tiny details that might hold the key.
But every memory was now
filtered through the lens of his new
autistic brain. It was like trying
to solve a puzzle with half
the pieces missing. His hand hovered
over the dial, his eye blinking rapidly.

"Krabs," he murmured to himself.
"What would Krabs say?"

The name echoed in his head, a
beacon in the fog. Plankton knew
his rival's patterns, his obsessions.
He thought of Krabs' parsimony,
his love for his secret formula.
It had to be something significant
to him, something that made sense
in his own peculiar way. Plankton's
thumb tapped the side of the safe,
his mind racing through memories.

And then it clicked. Krabs had
always talked about his mother's
birthday, a sacred number, a key
to his heart. Plankton tried the
combination, his heart pounding.
The dial spun smoothly, the clicks
sounding like a symphony in his
heightened hearing. 14-6-82. The safe
whirred to life, the door popping open.

Plankton's eye widened in amazement,
his heart racing. He'd done it.
He reached in and grabbed the
precious envelope. The Krabby Patty
formula, in Krabs' own scrawl.
It was within his grasp. Now to
get out of here! But how? What's
made him always get caught before?

The chaos of the kitchen faded
away, and he saw the pattern. It was
his lack of disguise, his hasty
exits. This time would be different.
He needed to blend in, to become
part of the background. He needed to
calm down, to think through his
actions logically. He couldn't let
his excitement overwhelm him.

Plankton had to get out without
drawing attention to himself.
He thought back to the times he'd
seen Krabs interact with his
employees, the casual way he'd
moved through the kitchen...

Plankton then spotted the air
vent! Sure enough, he and the
recipe both fit through.

He emerged into the alley,
his heart racing. The cold
air was a slap in the face,
but it also brought with it
a sense of clarity. He knew
his sensory overload would
make a hasty retreat impossible.
But he's out of the Krusty Krab!
He ran back to his own place
across the street.

Plankton stumbled into his lab,
his eye taking in the familiar
sights with new intensity. The
colors were too bright, the smells
too potent, the sounds of his
own inventions too loud. But here,
he knew he was safe.

He laid the envelope on his workbench,
his hand shaking with excitement.
This was his life's work, the
elixir to his problems. But
now, with the Krabby Patty formula
in his grasp, he wasn't sure
what to do next. His mind
raced with the sensory input
from the kitchen, making it
difficult to think clearly.

The lab's chaos seemed to
calm him, though. The familiar
sounds of beeping machines
and the faint scent of chemicals
soothed his overwhelmed senses.
He took a deep breath, his hand
steadying.

The envelope sat there, a
symbol of his old life. His obsession
with the Krabby Patty formula had
been the driving force behind
their rivalry for so long. Now, 
his autism didn't erase his past,
it just colored it differently.
The desire to be successful,
to have what Krabs had, remained.

But the way he approached
the world had changed. He knew
the taste, the smell, the very essence
of a Krabby Patty. It was a
part of him now, a memory that
could never fade. He stared at
the envelope, his heart racing.

Plankton took a deep breath, his
eye focusing on the paper. His
hands trembled as he opened it, the
formula's secrets were written in a
made up code by Krabs. But 
Plankton's autism made it decipherable
to him!

The letters and numbers danced
on the page, but instead of the jumbled
mess he'd expected, they formed
patterns, beautiful patterns that his
brain craved. He saw the structure,
the order, the way each ingredient
intertwined with the next. It was like
a symphony of flavors, and he was the
conductor. His heart raced as he
read through the document, his mind
whirling with the possibilities.

He threw away the handwritten
note from before as he brought
the formula into the bedroom with
him.

Plankton sat on the bed, his mind
racing. The code was complex,
but he could see the patterns. It was
like the universe had laid bare
its secrets to him. 

new plush one autismcore v

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qArdko?¸Bye🤫🧏🏻‍♂️Bye🗿Ligmaballs🥵
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     ΔΜØŇǤ ỮŞ ඞඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞRonaldo 𓃵Ronaldo 𓃵ඞyou are gඞyඞyou are gඞyඞyou are gඞyNİG🤞🏾GER$ųçķ mý bäłł§NİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERAccccctualy🤓Accccctualy🤓NİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERඞyou are gඞyNİG🤞🏾GERඞyou are gඞyඞyou are gඞy

🕸️👽⃤

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠄⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⢀⡶⠳⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠉⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡆⠀⠀
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𖥂𓏵MurderDrones𓏵𖥂

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new hi hello v dot art text art ascii art

TRUTH AND NAIL v

Finally, the car pulled
into the driveway, and
Karen turned off the engine.
She looked back
at Plankton, his chest
rising and falling with
each snore.

"We're home," she said,
her voice a gentle nudge.
His eye flickered open,
his gaze still unfocused.

Karen stepped out of
the car, opened the door and
unbuckled his seatbelt,
his body still limp.

"Wha..." Plankton mumbled
as she gently nudged him
awake. His eye blinked
slowly, the world coming
back into focus. "Home?"
he asked, his voice a
hoarse whisper.

Karen nodded, a soft
smile playing on her
screen. "Yes, darling, we're
home," she said, her voice
like a warm embrace.
"Let's get you inside."

But then Sponge
Bob shows up at
their door. “Hi
guys! Where have
you been?”

Karen's smile was
bright despite her
exhaustion. "Plankton
just had his wisdom
teeth out," she
explained, her voice
a gentle whisper as
Plankton noticed Sponge
Bob.

Sponge Bob's face lit up.
"Oh no, buddy!" he exclaimed,
his voice full of concern
and empathy. "How ya feeling?"

Plankton blinked at him,
his gaze unfocused, his mouth
half open in a sleepy smile.
"Wis...dom...teef?" he slurred.
Karen couldn't help but laugh
at the sight, her heart
swelling with love for
her goofy husband.

"Yeah, buddy," she said,
helping him to his feet.
He swayed a bit, his legs
still wobbly from the anesthesia.
"Let's get you to the couch."

Plankton leaned heavily
on her, his steps
exaggerated and unsteady.
Everything was a blur,
but the warmth of Karen's
body was a comforting
constant. Sponge
Bob goes in with them.

"Let's get you comfortable,"
she murmured, guiding him
to the couch. His eye
closed, his head lolling
back. "No, no," she
laughed gently, pushing him
forward. "Just a bit more."

Plankton's snores grew
softer as she maneuvered
his body, his weight
sagging against her.

"Karen?" he mumbled,
his voice a sleepy whisper
as SpongeBob sat by him. 
Her smile grew, her screen
twinkling. "Yeah, honey?"

Plankton's eye rolled
back, his words slurred
but earnest. "I love you."
It was a declaration
so out of place and
so unexpected that Karen
froze for a moment,
her heart swelling.
Sponge Bob's smile grew
wider, his eyes sparkling.
"Aw, Plankton," he said,
his voice full of warmth.
"You're feeling the love
of the anesthesia, aren't ya?"

Karen couldn't help but
laugh, the tension of
the day lifting slightly.
"I guess he's feeling
extra affectionate,"
she said, her voice a
playful tease.

Sponge Bob chuckled,
his laughter bubbly and
infectious. "Looks like
it," he said, patting
Plankton's shoulder. "You
take it easy, buddy."

But Plankton's mind
was stuck in a loop,
his words a jumble of
slurred affection.
"Spongey...Spongey..." he
murmured, his eye half-
closed and his smile
lopsided.

Sponge Bob leaned in,
his face a mask of
concern. "You okay, Plankton?"

Plankton's eye rolled to
meet his, a sleepy smile
spreading across his
swollen face. "You...Spongey...
youw my besht...besht...buddy,"
he slurred, his voice
a thick, sloppy mess of
words. His arm flopped
over, slapping Sponge Bob
on the side with a
half-hearted pat.

Sponge Bob's laughter filled
the room, bubbly and
genuine. "Aw, Plankton,
you're too much," he said,
his voice full of affection.

Plankton's smile grew
slower, his head lolling
to one side. "Yew...yew are...are
my besht...buddy," he
managed, his arm flopping
around like a ragdoll's.
Sponge Bob took his
hand, holding it tight.
"And you're mine too, buddy,"
he said, his voice warm.

"Besh...buddy...Spongey,"
Plankton murmured, his voice
like a sleepy child's. He
tried to focus, his
eye blinking in the bright
living room light.

Sponge Bob's smile was a
beacon in the fog. "You had
a big day."

Plankton's head nodded
slowly, his eye half-closed.
"Big...day," he echoed, his
voice a slur. His hand
found its way to Sponge
Bob's arm, gripping it
with surprising strength.
"You...you...were there."

Sponge Bob looked at
Karen, his expression a
mix of confusion and
amusement. "Yeah, I'm
here for ya," he said,
his voice gentle.

Plankton's grip tightened,
his eye still half-closed.
"No, no," he murmured,
his words thick and slow.
"You...you were...were...were
there...always." His voice
trailed off, a hint of
emotion in the slurred
sentence.

Sponge Bob's confusion
deepened, his gaze flicking
to Karen for guidance.
Her laugh was a soft
chime, her screen alight with
joy. "It's just the meds,
Sponge Bob," she said, her voice
a gentle reminder. "He's
still pretty out of it."

Plankton's head lolled
back. "They
took...my...teefth," he
slurred dramatically, his voice
a theatrical whine. "All
four of them!" His arms
flailed in the air like
he was recounting a battle
with a sea monster.

Sponge Bob's eyes went wide.
"All at once?" he gasped,
his sponge-like form leaning
forward with curiosity.
"How'd you manage that?"

Plankton's hand waved
dramatically.

"They...they...they put
me in a chair," he slurred,
his voice rising with each
word. "And then...then
they...took...my...TEefth!"
He pronounced it with
the gravity of a Shakespearean
actor, drawing out the 'f'
for maximum impact.

Sponge Bob's eyes grew
rounder, his smile
still plastered on his
face. "Wow, Plankton,
sounds like you had
quite the adventure!"

Plankton's chuckle was
a strange sound.
He threw his hands up,
his body swaying with the
motion. "They...they had
these...these...things!"
He paused dramatically,
his eye squinting as if
trying to remember. "Needleth?"

Sponge Bob's eyes went wider,
his curiosity piqued. "Needles??"

Plankton's head nodded
exaggeratedly, his smile
now a full-on grin. "Yes,
yes needleths!"

Sponge Bob leaned in, his
eyes wide with fascination.
"How’d they you to sleep
with needles?" he asked, his voice
filled with wonder.

Plankton's eye closed, his
face a mask of dramatic
remembrance. "They...they put
this...this...tube," he said, his
fingers tracing an invisible
line on his arm, "and then...
whoosh!" His arm fell
lifelessly to his side, his
head lolling back. "I was in...
space... then...the
I was...gone." His smile
was serene, his mind lost
in the fog of the anesthesia.

Sponge Bob's eyes sparkled
with laughter. "Then what
happened as you woke up?"

Plankton's head jerked
up, his gaze wild. "Woke
up?" he murmured, his voice
dreamy. "They...they had
these lights..." He waved
his hand in the air,
describing a constellation
that only he could see.
"Bright lights...so bright...
like stars...stars in my
veins!"

Sponge Bob leaned back,
his laughter bubbling up.
"Stars in your veins?"
he repeated, his voice
full of delight.

Plankton nodded, his
expression earnest. "Yes,
yes stars," he murmured,
his eye half-closed. "They
shone so brightly, and
then..." He paused, his
fingers twitching.
"They...they...took my
teefth!" His voice grew
loud with accusation.

Sponge Bob couldn't help
but laugh, his giggles
filling the room. Karen
just watched, her heart
full. Plankton was rarely
this affectionate, especially
with Sponge Bob. It was
a side of him she hadn't
seen in ages, and she found
it strangely charming.

Plankton leaned into
his newfound friendliness,
his arm sliding over
Sponge Bob's shoulder. "You...you
make me...happy," he slurred,
his eye half-closed.
Sponge Bob's smile grew
even wider, his laughter
now a full-on chuckle.
"Well, that's what
friends are for," he said,
his voice warm and gentle.

Karen watched, her heart
swelling with joy at the
sight of her husband,
usually so stern and
focused, being this tender
and open. "You're so
funny when you're like this,"
she said, her voice a soft
laugh.

Plankton's smile grew
slower, his hand reaching
out to poke at Sponge
Bob's side. 
Plankton's face lit up
with glee. "So...squishy,"
he murmured, his voice
full of wonder as he
gave him a gentle pat.

Sponge Bob's laughter
was a delighted squeak.
"What's gotten into
you, Plankton?" he
asked, his eyes twinkling.

Plankton's grin was
silly and wide, his
head lolling to one side.
"The...stars...Spongey,"
he murmured, his voice
a sleepy whisper. "They're
still in me." His hand
reached out again, poking
Sponge Bob's side with
a gentle touch. "So squishy..."

Sponge Bob giggled, his
laughter like bubbles
in the ocean. "You're
a funny guy, Plankton,"
he said, his voice
full of amusement.

Plankton's hand paused,
his finger hovering over
Sponge Bob's side. "Am...am I?"
he asked, his voice a
slurred question. "I feel...
funny." His head tilted,
his eye looking at his
finger with curiosity.

Sponge Bob nodded, his
laughter bubbling up. "You
sure are, buddy," he said,
his voice filled with warmth.

new truth and nail plankbobs v

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS v
(By NeuroFabulous)


"You know how sometimes,
Dad gets overwhelmed with
too much going on around him?"
Karen began, her voice gentle.
"It's because his brain
processes things differently.
He's sensitive to sounds, lights,
even touch. That's why he
can seem a bit... reserved, other
than the fact that he's just shy 
about it."

Chip nodded, his mind
still racing with questions.
"But why's he shy about it?"

Karen took a deep breath,
wiping a stray tear from her eye.
"Because, Chip, your dad's
always been self-conscious.
He's aware of how he's
different, and sometimes,
he just needs his space."

Chip nodded slowly,
his eyes never leaving
his mother's face. "Does
he ever get mad about it?"

Karen's gaze was
steady, her voice gentle.
"Sometimes, Chip. But it's
not at you. It's his way of
dealing with the overstimulation."

Chip nodded,
his curiosity morphing
into understanding. "So,
his brain needs a time-out?"

Karen nodded, her voice
soft. "In a way, yes. It's his
body's way of telling him to
slow down and take a break.
Sometimes, when things get too
much for him, he just needs
to be alone, without any
noise or distraction."

Chip looked at his
mother, his eyes brimming
with emotion. "But what
about when he has these...
episodes? Will he always be like
this?"

Karen squeezed his hand,
her gaze never leaving his.
"Sweetie, we can't predict
the future, but we can help him.
He's gotten better at
managing his overstimulation over
the years, but sometimes it still
happens. It's part of who he is."

Chip nodded, his mind
still racing. He looked
towards the door,
his curiosity about 
his father's condition
growing. He wanted 
to check on him,
to make sure he was okay.

With Karen by his side,
they tiptoed into the
dimly lit room. Plankton
was now fast asleep,
his chest rising and falling
evenly beneath the
covers. The room was
silent except for the
steady rhythm of his
breathing.

Chip felt a pang of
sympathy for his father,
his mind still racing with
questions about the condition
he had just learned of.
He studied Plankton's face,
now peaceful in slumber.
His antennae lay flat against
his pillow, no longer
twitching with the stress
of the shutdown.

Karen put a finger to
her lips, reminding Chip to
be quiet as they approached
the bed.

Plankton's chest rose and
fell in a steady rhythm, his
face finally relaxed, free from
the tension that had held him
captive earlier. The room
was dim, the only light
coming from the hallway.

Karen watched her son
studying his father, her heart
swelling with pride. Chip
was growing up so fast, and
now he was facing something
so complex. She knew he
was strong enough to handle
it, though.

They stood there in
silent vigil for a moment,
until Chip finally
whispered, "Can I talk
to him?"

Karen nodded,
her screen never leaving
Plankton's peaceful face.
"Just keep your voice low,"
she advised.

Chip leaned over, his
whisper a gentle breeze.
"Dad, I'm here," he murmured.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, but he remained
asleep.

Karen's hand rested
on Chip's shoulder,
guiding him to sit in a chair
beside the bed.

Chip's eyes remained
fixed on his father,
his mind racing with questions
and fears. Yet, there was
also a newfound respect
for Plankton's silent battles.
He watched his chest rise
and fall, the steady beat
of his heart a testament
to his resilience.

"What do we do now?"
Chip asked, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Karen's eyes never
left Plankton's sleeping form.
"We give him time," she said,
her voice soothing. "And when
he wakes from his nap, we'll
be here."

new chip on the shoulders Karen/Chip Plankton II v

TOOTH AFTERNOON v

With care, Karen spooned
a small amount of
ice cream into a bowl,
the coldness a stark contrast
to the room’s warmth. She brought
it to his mouth. “Here,
just a little bit at a time.
Let it melt a bit, okay?” she
instructed, her voice a soft
reminder of the care he needed.

Plankton’s eye widened
as the chilled sweetness
touched his tongue. He took
small, tentative licks, the taste
familiar yet foreign in his
numbed mouth. “Mmh...goog,”
he murmured, his words still
slurred.

Karen watched with
affection, her heart swelling
with love as she fed him.
The simple act of caring for
him in this vulnerable state
was a testament to their bond,
stronger than the Krabby
Patties they’d fought over countless
times. She knew he’d be back
to his usual antics soon enough.

“Tank...you,” he
managed, his 
voice still thick.

Karen’s smile was a
soft embrace. “You’re welcome,
Plankton. Now, let’s get you
comfortable. Here, lie back down,”
she said, her voice a gentle
reminder of the care he needed.

Plankton’s body complied, his
head sinking back into the
pillow with a sigh. Karen
carefully placed the bowl of
ice cream on the bedside table.

“Rest now, Plankton. I’ll be
right here if you need
anything,” she whispered.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his thoughts slowly coming into
focus. “Ish...okay, Karen,”
he mumbled, his speech still
slurred as he closed his eye again.

Karen watched him, her
heart a gentle symphony of
relief and love. She knew the
recovery would be long, but
the worst was over. With
careful movements, she stood and
dimmed the light, leaving just
a soft glow from the lamp
in the corner. She sat back
down, her chair a silent sentinel
in the quiet room.

The hours ticked by, and
Plankton’s snores grew more rhythmic,
his body finally relaxing into
deep sleep. Karen’s thoughts
wandered to the days ahead,
planning his care, his meals,
his pain relief, and the moments
of joy she’d weave into his recovery.

The soft glow of dawn
filtered through the curtains.
Plankton’s eye fluttered open,
his mouth throbbed with the echoes
of the surgery.

Karen stirred in the chair beside him,
her eyes opening to the sight of him
awake. She had spent the night
in vigil, ready to ease his pain.
“Morning, Plankton. How’re you feeling?”
she asked, her voice a gentle melody.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his thoughts groggy from the
remnants of sleep. The anesthesia
worn off overnight, leaving him
more aware.

“Morning...whath...whath’sh...”
his voice was a croak.

Karen’s smile was a gentle
awakening. “Good morning,
sweetie. You had your
wisdom teeth removed. Do you
remember?” she asked.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his mind a foggy haze. “Tesh?” he
mumbled, his mouth a swollen
cavern. “I only remember getting
set up for surgery, then...nothing.”

Karen’s smile was a warm
comfort. “Don’t worry, love. That’s
normal. The anesthesia can
make everything after that
a bit fuzzy. But you’re home now,
and you’re going to be ok,”
she assured him, her voice a gentle
caress in the early morning quiet.

Plankton’s gaze searched
the room, the unfamiliarity
of his surroundings briefly
unsettling him before he
recognized the comfort of
their bedroom. He shifted slightly,
his jaw protesting with a
dull throb. “Whath time ish it?”
he mumbled, his speech still
slow and thick. “And what the 
barnacles happened?”

Karen’s chuckle was a soft
symphony of amusement. “It’s
morning, Plankton. And as for
what happened, after you had your
wisdom teeth removed, you had a bit
of a loopy day. But now you’re home,
and it’s time to star…”

Plankton’s eye grew wide with
realization. “Loopy?” he
repeated, his voice still
slurred. “How loopy?”

Karen’s laugh was a soft
symphony of memories. “Oh,
you were quite the entertainment,
Plankton. You talked about
floobydust and bishbath, and
thought it was still morning
all afternoon. You even
tried to sit up and look around
while you had that IV in your
arm!” she said, her voice filled
with gentle teasing.

Plankton’s eye grew wider with
each word, his mind racing to
fill in the gaps. “IV? Did it
hurt?” he mumbled, his voice
a sluggish river.

Karen’s smile was a gentle
reminder of his bravery. “No,
sweetie. You were asleep for
the surgery. You don’t remember
because of the anesthesia. But
don’t worry, I’m here to fill you
in on the details you miss,” she
said.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his curiosity piqued. “Tell meh...
whath happened?” he asked, his
voice a slurred plea for clarity.

Karen’s smile grew, her voice
a gentle stream of words. “Well,
you were a bit out of it. You talked
about wanting to see the lobby,
even though we were in the
recovery room. But I’ll start with
the anesthetic. After they set up,
they administered the sleepy juice,
and you were out like a light, then
they took your teeth out, no problem at all,”
she recounted, her words a soothing
balm to his confusion.

Plankton’s eye searched hers.
“Out like a light? How…”

Karen’s smile was a soft
reminder of his resilience. “Yes,
you were out cold. Right after
they put the IV in, you just
closed your eye and went to sleep
with an adorable snore. And the
surgery went perfectly. No
complications at all,” she said,
her voice a gentle reminder
of his strength. “And right before
you first woke up from the anesthesia,
I noticed you had a bit of drool.
It was cute, really,” she added,
trying to lighten the mood with a
chuckle.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his mind racing with questions.
“What else...Drool?” he asked.

Karen’s chuckle was a warm
symphony of shared moments.
“Don’t worry; you were so tired,
you didn’t even wake up when
I had to change your gauze,”
she said, her voice a gentle
reminder of his vulnerability.

Plankton’s hand reached up to
his mouth, his fingers
exploring the foreign presence.
“Gauze? Why?” he mumbled, his
speech still thick with sleep.

Karen’s voice was a soft
explanation. “It’s to help
the bleeding stop, love. After
they took your teeth out, they put
some gauze in to help with
the clotting. You had to keep
it in for a bit, but you slept
through most of it. You were
a real trooper, barely even stirred,”
she said, her words a gentle
reminder of the surgery’s aftermath.

Plankton’s mind was a
whirlwind of confusion and
questions. “What about the
lobby and the ice cream?” he asked,
his words still slurred but growing
clearer with each passing minute.

Karen’s smile was a gentle
reminder of his delirious state.
“You kept asking to see the
lobby because you were still
under the anesthesia’s influence.
And the ice cream was for later,
once we got home. It’s still in the
freezer, waiting for you to wake up
and have it for yourself,” she said,
her voice a soft narrative of
his hazy day.

Plankton’s mind slowly
pieced together the puzzle.
“But why did I want to see
the lobby?” he asked, his
speech clearer now.

Karen’s smile was a soft
illumination. “You were just
confused, love. Sometimes
after anesthesia, people say
things that don’t quite make
sense. It’s normal,” she said, her
voice a gentle guide through
his foggy memories.

Plankton’s gaze searched hers,
his thoughts a tapestry of
question marks. “But why did I
drool?” he slurred, his curiosity piqued.

Karen’s laugh was a sweet
symphony of care. “It’s just a side
effect of the anesthesia. Don’t
worry, you were out cold. You
didn’t even know it was there,”
she said, her voice a gentle
reminder of his oblivion.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his mind still trying to make
sense of the day. “But the
ice cream? Did I get any?”
he asked, hope in his voice.

Karen’s smile grew, her eyes
twinkling. “Oh, Plankton. You
can have some now, if you
want,” she said, standing up to
fetch the frozen treat.

Plankton’s eye lit up with
anticipation. “Yesh, pleash,”
he murmured, his mouth still
uncomfortable.

Karen returned with the
chocolate chip cookie dough
ice cream, a spoonful held out
for him. She watched as he took
it into his mouth, the coldness
causing him to flinch before
his expression softened into one
of pure bliss. The sweetness
and the coldness of the ice cream
was a soothing balm to his sore
mouth, and he took another spoonful.

new tooth afternoon recoverypunk v

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠄⠄⠖⠃⠁⠀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠁⠀⠘⠡⠔⠀⡆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⠠⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⡀⠀⡁⡂⠭⠁⠀⢙⠀⢴⠀⢄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡂⠁⠀⠀⠂⠄⠡⠂⠀⠀⠃⠂⢁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠁⠁⠂⠐⠲⠂⠡⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠄⠀⢂⣏⠀⠀⠐⠀⠅⢈⠀⠫⢨⠀⠀⠀⢠⠁⠄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠕⠅⠀⠂⠠⠀⠄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⠂⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠒⠙⡏⠠⠂⠄⠄⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠂⠀⠈⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠁⠐⠀⠀⠀⡍⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⡬⢽⣵⣄⠁⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠁⠀⢀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠄⠸⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠱⣿⣗⠂⣉⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠄⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠀⢥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠆⠀⠀⠁⠈⠀⣼⡘⠿⢿⣶⣄⣀⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⣀⣤⣶⡿⠟⠋⢹⣷⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢂⣿⡇⡀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢟⣶⣆⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⢿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠠⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠂⠚⠙⠀⢢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⡿⢟⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠠⠄⡀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠙⠈⠂⠲⠒⠠⣀⣀⣀⢈⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠊⠀⠀⠡⠁⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀
⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⣿⡆⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡀⡀⡤⠡⡘⠘⢙⠛⠛⠛⠟⠟⠻⠿⢿⣿⣦⣈⡀⠀⡑⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀
⠂⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⡞⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠠⠀⠀⠂⠓⠄⠀⠠⠋⠪⠝⠿⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⢸⣿⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢽⣧⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠂⠂⡀⠀⠀⠄⢀⠁⠄⠀⠑⣀⣮⠶⠖⠶⡬⡄⠀⠀⠞⠂⠠⠈⡛⢿⣷⣬⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⠠⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣞⡄⠁⢄⡔⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⡈⠂⠁⠐⠀⣀⡾⠋⠁⠀⠄⠉⠀⠙⢱⣄⡈⠐⠀⠂⠀⡁⡿⣿⣦⣤⣴⡿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⢋⠂⢔⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⣽⡁⢠⣤⠡⠀⠃⣇⣆⠀⣾⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠊⠜⣿⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠂⠀⠈⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠄⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠒⠀⠀⠀⠅⡀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢹⣆⢸⠻⡀⠄⠀⠻⡥⣀⢂⠀⠙⡀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠛⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠨⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⣄⠦⠀⠀⠀⠠⡐⠠⠄⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⣄⠻⣷⢯⡤⣖⠢⢂⣦⡝⠀⣤⣄⢁⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⣀⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠠⠀⢐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⡁⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡲⠕⠊⠉⠉⠙⠻⠷⢿⣻⣿⣩⣿⢣⡗⠗⠩⠉⠐⡵⣷⣄⠀⠠⡄⢸⡇⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⡿⠉⣿⣀⡀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠍⡁⠩⠀⠀⠀⠀⢑⠠⢂⠀⢢⢇⠂⢀⣷⡇⠀⡀⠂⠀⠀⠀⢈⠂⠀⠈⠨⠀⠀⠆⣀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠸⣯⡄⠀⠀⣰⡗⠠⠀⢉⢃⡄⢘⠄⠄⠄⠀⠔⠀⠈⠂⠃⠀⠀⢠⣧⣝⢼⡂⠈⠀⣸⡄⣰⣾⠠⠀⠀⡀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠈⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢵⣄⠄⠃⡅⠠⠀⠰⣄⡁⡼⠀⢑⠀⠀⠀⣁⣀⠐⠀⢂⠢⡘⣵⡿⣧⠄⠀⠀⢿⣷⣿⠋⠐⠀⠀⠠⡌⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠂⠐⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠅⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡹⡿⣧⣿⣤⡀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⡴⢿⣹⡏⡄⠀⠁⠀⠀⡀⠁⠈⠄⢠⣿⡋⠀⠆⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠍⠀⠈⡀⠀⡀
⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠚⣻⣵⣄⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⣿⣴⢮⣗⢁⡈⠀⡅⠁⠀⠀⠁⠻⠟⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠐⡀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠦⣆⣂⢀⣭⣿⣿⣦⣾⢤⣤⣥⠾⠉⠉⠙⢳⣍⠈⠹⢢⣕⣔⡛⢒⢌⣱⡠⢬⡍⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⠀⠨⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⢢⠾⠿⠬⠾⠿⢷⢱⠀⠉⠘⢿⡂⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⣹⣧⣽⣀⢠⣽⢾⣵⣶⠇⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠄⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠅⠀⡈⠀⠀⠁⠀⢰⣶⣲⣤⣠⠴⠀⠁⢀⣀⣄⡾⠛⠀⣠⣴⡔⠖⠂⠀⣎⠞⢳⡁⠀⡁⠈⢽⡚⠚⠀⠀⠭⠇⠀⠀⠄⡀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠈⠀⡀⠀⡀⠔⠀⢸⣯⣰⡺⣷⡀⠀⠀⢸⠁⢈⡟⢿⣛⡉⠁⢀⠁⣠⡿⠃⠂⠈⢿⣅⠖⢠⡜⠀⠀⠁⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡐⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⠤⠀⡆⡀⠀⠀⠀⡸⡿⢿⣆⡙⢣⡦⣤⣠⣫⠪⠀⠉⠉⠻⠙⠚⠣⠃⠀⢀⠀⠁⠀⠉⠉⠻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⢀⠁⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡻⢧⢼⣿⠿⠿⢂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢄⢴⠚⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⡀⠁⢐⡁⠀⠀⠠⠀⡀⠀⠁⢄⠁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⡀⠀
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new d v dot art text art ascii art

🇼🇭🇾 🇾🇺 🇫🇴🇷🇬🇴🇹?

new letter v

☺️🎄🇦🇮🇦🇮🇷🇳🇲🇸🇴🇪🇹🇱🇫🇰🇭🇬🇺🇩🇨🇵🇧🇯🇾🇼🇿🇻🇶🇽🇽𝓐𝓑𝑳𝒅ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥sᴜʙsᴄʀɪʙᴇ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎R☆ckstar𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍:()_()---OMG•˚ 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴 ˚•˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡°

new a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z berry avenue

"This needs to be
 an app!!" It is guys it has 
an app>:D

new e a o s c z w h k r n j l g f v xi u mu abc qoph gimel zayin in which bio q b p at by for along into to during with since from the letter

"૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა( • ᴗ - ) ✧󠁁😉

new v act playact

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES v

Plankton's eye drifts
closed again, his mouth
still moving slightly as he
makes an attempt at speech. "Buh
my... my moufs..."

The nurse nods. "It's
normal to feel funny. Just
let the anesthesia wear off."

Plankton's hand flaps
weakly in the air. "But... buth...
my mouf... mouthie... mouthie
not wooking," he mumbles, his 
fingers trying to feel his
swollen cheeks.

Karen and the nurse exchange
a knowing smile. "It's okay,
babe," Karen says, taking his hand
in hers and guiding it back to
his lap. "You're going to be fine."

Plankton opens his eye. 
"Whath... whath youw... 
wooking ath?"

The nurse chuckles. 
"We're just checking to
make sure you're okay, Mr.
Plankton," she says, her voice
gentle.

Plankton's head wobbles
slightly. "Mmph... check... check...
my mouthie," he slurs, his
hands reaching up to his face.
Karen can't help but laugh
quietly, her nerves finally
starting to ease.

The nurse gently takes his
hands away. "We've already
checked, Mr. Plankton. Everything
is fine."

Plankton's eye rolls
back slightly, his head lolling
as he tries to process her
words. "Mouf... mouthie," he
slurs, his tongue thick in his
mouth. "Thish... thish chair...
comfortabwe?"

Karen laughs softly, her
anxiety dissipating with each
slurred syllable. "It's supposed
to be," she reassures him,
adjusting his head so that it
rests comfortably against the
chair.

Plankton's mouth opens and
closes, his tongue lolling out
like a tired puppy's. "Buth...
buth... is not... not
comfowtable," he mumbles, his
cheeks bulging with the effort
to speak.

The nurse and Karen exchange
glances, the humor of the
situation not lost on them.
"It's the anesthesia," the nurse
explains gently. "It'll wear
off soon. Just keep talking
to him, Karen. It'll help him
stay with us."

Karen nods, stroking his antennae.
"Remember, Plankton," she says,
enunciating clearly, "you're
in the dentist's office."

Plankton's eye rolls to meet
hers, his gaze still unfocused.
"Dentish... office?" he repeats,
his voice a slurred mess. "Whath...
whath I do heaw?"

Karen smiles warmly, her
hands continuing to gently
stroke his antennae. "You had
your wisdom teeth taken out," she
reminds him, her voice clear
and calm.

Plankton's eye rolls in his
head, trying to comprehend
the words. "Tish... teethies?" he
repeats.

"Yes, your wisdom teeth," Karen
says with a gentle smile, her voice
a beacon of clarity in the fog
of his confusion.

Plankton blinks heavily, his
eye struggling to focus on her.
"Windom teethies... takesh out...
my... my... mouthie," he
slurs, his hand moving to his
swollen cheek.

The nurse nods, her smile
still in place. "That's right,
Mr. Plankton. Dr. Finnegan
took them out for you."

But Plankton's not ready
to concede. His hand
moves to his mouth, his
fingers probing the swollen
gums. "Buth... buth... I
can't... I can't feel them,"
he mumbles, his voice filled
with skepticism.

The nurse and Karen share
a knowing look. This was
part of the anesthesia's charm,
the temporary loss of sensation
that came with the territory.
"They're gone," Karen says, her
voice filled with love and patience.

But Plankton isn't
convinced. He opens his mouth
again, his tongue sliding out
like a slug. "Where'd they
goeth?" he slurs, his voice a
comical blend of sleepiness
and bewilderment.

Karen laughs softly, her
heart swelling with affection.
"They're gone, sweetie.
Dr. Finnegan took them out and
now your mouth will feel much
better."

Plankton's tongue lolls out
of his mouth, his eye still
half-closed. "But... but... mouthie
feesh funmy," he murmurs, his
words a drunken mess.

Karen can't help but laugh.
"It's just the anesthesia,
babe," she says, her voice a
soothing balm. "You're
going to be okay."

Plankton's tongue rolls
around his mouth, his eye
half-closed. "Fish... finny...
fish... I'm not a fish," he mumbles.

Karen's laughter fills the
room, her heart warmed by
his nonsensical ramblings.
"No, Plankton, you're not a
fish," she says, her voice
laced with amusement. "You're
just a little out of it."

Plankton's head wobbles as
he tries to form words. "Fishy...
not... not fishy," he slurs,
his tongue thick and uncooperative.
The nurse can't help but giggle,
finding his confusion endearing.

"No, Plankton, you're not a fish,"
Karen repeats, her voice filled with
affection. "You're just feeling
a bit funny because of the
medicine."

Plankton blinks slowly, his
eye focusing on her for a brief
moment before it wanders again.
"But... buth... I'm not a fish," he
mumbles, his voice barely audible.

Karen laughs, her nerves
completely at ease now. "No,
honey, you're not a fish," she
reassures him, her voice gentle.
"You're just groggy from the
surgery."

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly. "Sur... surgery?"
he repeats, his voice a mere
whisper. He looks around
the room, his gaze unfocused
and bewildered. "Whath... whath
was’at that... that sownd?"

The nurse and Karen
share a confused smile. 
"What so—"

But Plankton cuts her off
again, his mouth moving in
slow motion. "Thish chair...
fishy chair... not... not comfowt," he
mumbles, his tongue slipping
over his teeth.

Karen can't contain her
laughter. "It's not a fishy
chair, Plankton," she says, her voice
full of mirth. "It's just a chair."

Plankton's eyelid flaps
weakly, his gaze shifting to
Karen. "Buth... buth... ith's...
it's mooving," he insists, his voice
slurred and sleepy.

Karen wipes away the last
of his drool with a tissue,
trying not to laugh. "The chair
isn't moving, babe," she says,
her voice filled with humor. "It's
just the anesthesia playing
tricks on you."

But Plankton's not buying it.
"Fishy chair... mooving," he
slurs, his hand flapping
weakly at the chair. The nurse
stifles a giggle, while Karen
shakes her head, her smile
widening.

"It's not moving, Plankton,"
she says, her voice filled with
affectionate amusement. "It's
just the anesthesia. Remember,
you're at the dentist."

Plankton's head lolls to the
side, his gaze unfocused. "Den...
tish?" he repeats, his tongue
fighting the thickness of his
mouth. "Wha... wha for?"

Karen's laughter is soft and
warm. "For your mouth to
feel better," she says, her voice
patient. "So you can eat all the
soft foods you like."

Plankton's eye rolls back
slightly. "Foo?" he mumbles, his
mouth working around the word.
"Can I... can I eated... fishies?"

Karen laughs, her heart
full. "You'll need to
stick to soft foods for a
few days."

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore v

ʜʜʜHHACHU ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ sᴏ I'ᴍ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ɢɪᴏɴɪᴏᴜʀᴍᴏʀ ɢɪɢᴏᴛɪɴᴏᴜʀᴍs GIGNO0URMOUS (ᴍʏ ɢᴏsʜ 😡😡) ɢɪɢᴏʙᴜᴍᴜs ɢᴇᴇᴄᴇᴇ because yes, ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ "Eᴅɪʙɪʟʟɪᴛʏ" ᴛᴀɢ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʏᴀᴅᴀʏᴀᴅᴀ ɪ ᴅᴏɴɴᴏ💔(ᴀʟsᴏ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ, ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ at the very bottom ɪɴ ᴜʀ ᴍᴇssᴀɢ PLEASE 🦧🦧) -Rᴇɪɴ

[RULES]
-There are none, just don't be innapropriate, there are miners :P
-allwyasy put ur naem after uyour emessarge!!!!1 (not uor real one😡)

-ᴅᴄ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴀᴅᴅ-(Rᴇɪᴢᴀɴᴛ) [ᴘʟᴇᴀs ɪᴍ ʟᴏɴʟɪ 🤣🤣]

(sᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ Eᴅɪʙɪʟɪʟʟɪᴛʏ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴇ ᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ғᴇʟʟᴏᴡ sᴛʀᴀɴɢʀs)

4/5

new edibillity the broker broke i'm broke we're broke roman alphabet break up break in break down split up fracture brain fracture smash v go die

*+*Welkom in SNM (name)
Dont forget to rad the rules🌺✨
      𐙚
     👫
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     ʟ
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     

new w latin alphabet discord welcome message template greek alphabet v cyrillic

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY v
(Autistic author)

The door to the Chum Bucket creaked 
open, and Patrick Star 
waddled in, a quizzical expression 
on his face as he took in 
the scene before him. "What's with 
the library vibe?" he asked
looking from the book-laden table to 
Plankton's intense gaze.

Plankton looked up from the book, antennae stilling 
for a brief moment before he resumed his recitation 
of pi. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..."

Patrick's eyes grew wide as he took in Plankton's intense 
focus and the unwavering rhythm of his voice. "Plankton, 
buddy, what's got you in such a tizzy?" he asked, his usual 
lazy drawl replaced with curiosity.

Plankton's antennae twitched as he broke from recitation.

Patrick looked at Plankton with genuine curiosity.

"Patrick," Plankton said, his voice flat but his antennae 
twitching slightly. "Jellyfish club."

Patrick blinked, his star-shaped pupils dilating in surprise. 
"Jellyfish club?" he echoed, his voice rising an octave.

Karen nodded. "Yes, we were just talking about starting a 
jellyfish club," she explained, gesturing to the book. "Since 
Plankton's really interested in them now."

Patrick looked from Karen to Plankton, then back again. 
"But Plankton, jellyfish sting," he said, his brow 
furrowed in confusion.

"Jellyfish sting," Plankton agreed, his voice still monotone. "But 
Plankton have plan. Jellyfish in jar."

Patrick's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish in a jar? What's the point 
of that, buddy?"

"Safe jellyfish," he murmured, his voice tight.

"What's that supposed to mean, Plankton?" Patrick asked.

"Mean jellyfish safe," he said, his voice a little less monotone. 
"In jar."

Patrick chuckled, mistaking Plankton's seriousness for a joke. 
"Yeah, right, Plankton. You're not seriously gonna start a jellyfish 
club, are you?"

The room's atmosphere shifted, and Plankton's antennae 
drooped slightly. "Why not?" he asked, his voice 
devoid of its earlier excitement.

Patrick's chuckles died in his throat as he realized Plankton wasn't 
joking. "Well, I didn't mean to laugh," he said, his voice tinged with
awkwardness. "It's just, jellyfish are kind of... boring, don't you think?"

Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he closed the book with a thud. 
"Boring?" he echoed, his voice devoid of its previous enthusiasm.

"It's just... jellyfish aren't exactly the most exciting creatures," Patrick 
said, trying to recover from his faux pas. 
"They just float around, right?"

The room went quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped further, and 
he stared at Patrick, his eye unblinking. "Boring," he murmured, his 
voice a mix of hurt and disappointment.

Patrick, not realizing the depth of Plankton's newfound interest
continued, "I mean, come on, Plankton. 
There's more to life than jellyfish."

Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he looked at Patrick with 
a mix of confusion and hurt. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice 
monotone yet filled with a hint of challenge.

"Well, yeah," Patrick said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean
jellyfish are for tourists and little kids, right?"

The words hung in the air like a thick fog, and the room grew 
tense as Plankton's antennae quivered with a mix of anger 
and hurt.

"Patrick, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say," Karen said, 
her voice a gentle warning.

But Patrick, oblivious to the tension building in the room, shrugged 
again. "I'm just saying, jellyfish aren't exactly the coolest things in 
the ocean, Plankton," he said, his voice still filled with cheerfulness. 
"Why don't you jus-"

Plankton's antennae shot up, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Jellyfish 
cool," he said, his voice a monotone, but with a hint of steel.

"Oh, come on, Plankton," Patrick said, waving a dismissive hand. 
"You're smarter than this. Why waste your time with jellyfish?"

"Jellyfish interesting. Plankton like jellyfish."

Karen stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Patrick, Plankton's 
just found something that he really enjoys," she said. "We should 
support him in his new interest."

But Patrick, still not grasping the gravity of the situation, chuckled.

"Oh, Plankton, always so dramatic. It's just a phase. And you can't 
talk like that forever, right?" He then mimicked Plankton's flat tone 
saying, "Plankton wike jellyfish," which sent him into a fit of giggles.

The room grew quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped, and a single 
tear formed at the corner of his eye, sliding down his face.

"B-but, Plankton thought..." Plankton's voice broke as Patrick 
interrupts him again mimicking him.

"B-but, Plankton thought," Patrick said, his voice a high-pitched 
parody of Plankton's monotone. "Jellyfish cool," he continued, his 
giggles echoing in the room.

Plankton's antennae shot up. "Jellyfish cool," he repeated, his 
voice firm and unwavering.

Patrick's giggles didn't stop, and he leaned closer 
to Sponge Bob, whispering, "Is he for real?"

But Plankton's tears didn't fall in vain. The moment his sobs 
filled the room, the atmosphere shifted. Karen's with horror 
at the sight of her husband's pain, and she rushed over to 
him, wrapping around his tiny frame. "Plankton, no," she 
whispered, her voice filled with a motherly concern that was 
more powerful than any Krabby Patty recipe.

Sponge Bob's expression grew solemn as he watched the scene 
unfold. He had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, so raw. The 
villain he knew was now a creature in pain, and his heart swelled 
with emotion.

"Patrick, that's enough," she said, his voice firm.

But the damage was done. Plankton's sobs grew 
louder, and he buried his face in Karen, his body 
trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen 
glared at Patrick, her screen flashing with a fiery 
protectiveness that was uncharacteristic of her 
usual calm demeanor.

"Patrick, you need to leave," she said, her voice a 
low hiss. "Now."

Patrick, taken aback by the sudden shift in mood, backpedaled 
awkwardly. "But, I didn't mean to-"

"Just go," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "Outside. I'll talk 
to you in a moment."

Patrick, still chuckling nervously, shuffled to the door. "But, I 
didn't mean to make him-"

"Out!" Karen's voice was sharp, cutting 
through the air like a knife. 
The urgency in her tone was clear, leaving 
no room for argument.

Patrick, still looking confused, shrugged and waited outside. 

new a life of diversity jellyfishcore v

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new introvert shyness sigma RIZZ fyp cool aethetic timid leave me alove a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z. LEAVE. dot art text art ascii art

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     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆-1 waitfor delay '0:0:15' -- 

CATCH IN MY CHIP v
(Autistic author)

The silence is heavy, filled
with the echoes of shattered
shell and shredded photos.
Karen's gaze is on her husband,
her heart aching as she sees
the turmoil in his eye. She knew to
tread carefully. She turns to him,
as he's hyperventilating.

"Plankton," she says firmly,
but her voice is gentle. 
He doesn't respond at 
first. But eventually,
he turns to her.

"I know you're upset, but you
can't talk to Chip like that,"
Karen says, her voice steady.
"He's just a kid, and he loves
you. He's trying to understand."

Plankton's breaths come in
quick, harsh gasps, his chest
heaving.

Karen approaches him, her
movements deliberate and calm.
"Plankton," she says, her voice
even. "Look at me."

Plankton's breaths slow,
his eye flicking to hers. He's
still trembling with anger, but
the storm seems to be passing.
"I know you're upset," she
continues. "But you can't take
it out on Chip. He loves you."

Plankton's shoulders slump,
his body deflating like a balloon.
"I know," he murmurs, his voice
barely a whisper. "I just... I can't..."

Karen nods, her eyes filled
with understanding. "It's okay,
sweetie," she says, her hand on his
back. "It's a lot to handle." She
guides him back to the bed, her touch
gentle and soothing. "Let's talk about
this when you're feeling better."

Plankton nods, his body still
shaking with the aftermath of
his outburst. He sits down heavily,
his eye cast down at the mess
around him. "I just wanted to show..."
he starts, but his voice trails off.

Karen sits beside him, her hand
still on his back. "I know you did,
dear," she says, her voice filled
with compassion. "But you have to
understand that Chip doesn't know
how to help you yet. And throwing
things and yelling isn't going to
make it better."

Plankton's breaths slow, his
body still tense. "But he...
he doesn't get it," he murmurs.
"He just kept pushing."

Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving his. "I know, Plankton.
And it's our job to teach him.
To help him understand." She
speaks softly, her voice a gentle
reminder of the love that fills
the room despite the chaos.

Plankton's eye meets hers,
his anger slowly receding. He nods,
his shoulders slumping. "I know,"
he says, his voice ragged with
emotion. "I just... I want him to
see me, not just... this."

Karen sighs, her hand still
on his back. "He does see you,
Plankton. He sees the amazing
person you are. But he's
just learning about autism."

Plankton's eye narrows, his antennas
drooping slightly. "But why
can't he just be careful?"
He asks, his voice filled
with pain. "Why does he have
to be so... much?"

Karen's heart breaks at the
sorrow in his voice. "He's just
excited, Plankton. He doesn't
understand the way you do."

Plankton sighs, his antennas
drooping. "I know," he murmurs.
"But it's so... overwhelming."

Karen nods, her eyes filled with
understanding. "I know, sweetie,"
she says. "But we can't expect
Chip to understand everything
right away."

She gets up and goes to the
closed bathroom door, her knuckles
lightly rapping against the wood.
"Chip, honey," she calls out, her voice
soft. "Can you come out?"

The door opens slowly, and Chip's
face is a mess of sand and tears.
Karen's heart clenches at the sight.
"Come here," she says, her tone gentle.

She pulls him into her arms,
his small body shaking with sobs.
"It's okay, baby," she whispers. "Daddy's just
having a hard time right now."

Plankton's eye follow them,
his own anger now replaced with regret.
He opens his mouth to apologize,
but no words come out. Karen nods
towards the bed, a silent invitation
for him to join them.

With a heavy sigh, Plankton
moves to sit on the edge, his
body still trembling with the
residual rage. Chip's sobs
subside into quiet sniffles, but
his face is still a picture of
hurt and confusion.

"Chip," Karen starts, her voice
calm and steady, "what happened
today is because Daddy's brain works
differently, remember?" She
looks at Plankton, whose gaze is
now on the floor, filled with
remorse. "And sometimes, we all
have to learn how to communicate
better."

Chip nods, his eyes red from crying,
still not fully understanding.
"But Daddy broke my trophy," he
whispers, holding a shard of it
in his hand.

Karen sighs, her gaze flicking to
Plankton. "Yes, and that was
wrong of him. But we need to
talk about why it happened."
She looks back at Chip, her eyes
filled with compassion. "Sometimes,
when Daddy gets too overwhelmed,
he doesn't know how to handle it.
It's like when you're really upset
and you don't know what to do with
all those big feelings."

Chip looks up at her, his eyes still
wet with tears. "But why did he yell?"

Karen takes a deep breath, her
hands stroking Chip's back in gentle
circles. "Because, honey, Daddy's brain
sometimes gets too full, like a jar of
sand with too many shells. And when that
happens, he needs a little help to
make room again."

Chip looks up at her, his eyes
searching hers for understanding.
"But I didn't mean to make him
mad," he says, his voice shaky.

Karen nods, her eyes never leaving
his. "I know, sweetie," she says,
her voice a gentle caress. "But sometimes,
even when we don't mean to, we can
overwhelm people. It's not your fault."

She glances at Plankton, who's still
staring at the floor, his body
a taut bow of tension. "Daddy just
needs some time," she says, her voice
soothing. "We all do sometimes."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II v

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     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
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      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
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e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
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     🗣️🔤😕☆-1 waitfor delay '0:0:15' -- 

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆

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

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
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      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
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     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
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     🗣️🔤😕☆

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     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
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      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆'"

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆

if(now()=sysdate(),sleep(15),0)

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆Px4XjdnP') OR 441=(SELECT 441 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆����%2527%2522\'\"

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆dkP09ox0'; waitfor delay '0:0:15' -- 

𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓪

new v a l alphabet

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆0'XOR(if(now()=sysdate(),sleep(15),0))XOR'Z

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆0"XOR(if(now()=sysdate(),sleep(15),0))XOR"Z

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟnྀི󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆'"

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆0"XOR(if(now()=sysdate(),sleep(15),0))XOR"Z

e^᪲᪲᪲.☘︎ ݁˖»  ♡  🇹🇬🇭🇹🇨🇲〽️🔡
      𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄
     Damarlı kalpEᥫ᭡Ǝ.ᐟ󠁩󠁱󠁨󠁈.ᐟ📧❌
      ᡣ𐭩
     🗣️🔤😕☆SgXOZ5X3')) OR 544=(SELECT 544 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

m EMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎMEMINƎM♍♍♍♍♍♍♍♍²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³²⁰²³·⁰¹·¹³ƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦƦ(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡εつ▄█▀█●

new greek alphabet thousand elevation cubic j v kibibyte

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣄⣄⣄⣀⣠⣀⡄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠾⠿⠿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⣿⣁⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣦⣤⣄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡈⢻⣿⣿⡷⣿⣟⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣟⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣿⣾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡷⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣯⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣂⣨⡿⠿⠿⣿⣊⡷⡟⠙⠛⠋⠉⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⠀⡀⣀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣟⡷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣷⣫⣾⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣀⣤⡤⣾⣭⣹⣶⣾⡇⢸⣅⢀⠯⣉⣻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣧⡔⣠⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢰⣿⣿⣿⣜⣿⣷⣷⣿⢿⣿⣎⠙⢿⣶⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣏⣁⠂⠠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⡠⠞⠁⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣵⡿⣻⣁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠊⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢠⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣄⣄⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⢀⣤⡊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠻⢷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⠏⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣛⣦⡀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠙⣿⠿⠿⠭⣷⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢁⠘⣤⣉⡙⣉⠁⢀⠠⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⣁⠻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣞⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢏⡈⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣦⡀⢉⣦⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⡓⣶⣾⣿⣿⣧⣠⣴⠚⣿⣟⣼⡟⠻⣿⣾⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣾⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣟⠋⠉⠉⡆⠀⠀
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new murder drones text art character v dot art ascii art

❤️⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆❀❀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🚧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

new blood group v

M˃̵ᴗ˂̵❌

new v distance english alphabet wingspread

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.

new a journey to autism fishcore auties v

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠖⣀⠉⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣛⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣛⠛⠛⣟⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡉⣁⣘⣀⣀⡛⠀⠉⠀⠀⠉⠉⠳⢽⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠡⠤⠤⢄⡀⠉⠉⡿⣷⣆⠀⠀⡇⠈⣿⡇⢈⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣶⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣷⡎⢿⣄⣴⣧⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢩⣯⣝⢿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣴⣿⣥⣼⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⠁⢤⡈⣿⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⡷⠿⠻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣼⡏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣄⣶⣷⢻⡀⠀⠸⡆⢹⡇⠀⠈⠙⠛⠋⠃⣨⡿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢨⣿⡿⠋⢀⣼⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠃⢸⣇⠀⠀⠻⣾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣁⣤⣴⣞⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡟⢷⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠓⠛⢛⢛⣭⠄⠀⠀⠀⡀⢹⣿⣿⣧⣤⡈⢻⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡶⣽⣿⡾⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠳⣤⣤⣤⣤⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣯⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⢿⣷⠀⠀⠿⠂⠀⠀⢸⣿⣠⣴⣿⣿⣦⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣟⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠰⢲⠄⣦⣤⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣷⡀⣼⠀⢸⢡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡏⢷⣼⡄⠈⢸⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⠻⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠃⠈⠁
⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⢠⣍⣉⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠈⠻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠋⠉⣉⡉⠉⠉⠉⣉⡩⠯⠉⠁⣄⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣁⣠⣄⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠸⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣤⣴⣶⣄⡉⢿⠶⠁⣠⣶⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠
⣬⣿⣏⣹⣿⣭⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⢹⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣯⠉⠉⠀⣠⣴⣷⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⢀⣉⢀⡀⠛
⣁⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠙⣿⣿⣷⣤⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢀⡀⠈⠛⠛
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢙⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⣿⣦⡀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣄⣸⣿⣿⡿⠀⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⡔⣽⣟⠿⣿⣿⣛⢷⡄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣉⠉⠉⢉⣛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣛⠛⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new i t y u o p a s d f g h j k l z x c v b n m 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 meth letter english language roman alphabet latin alphabet vowel w not my turkish alphabet him me you myself e phoenician alphabet alphabet one

Ⓜhi

new a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

🛼⋆˚ {insert name here} 🎀 ˚ ̟ ༄

new discord name discord name roblox aesthetic kawaii bow christmas pastel funfetti adorable slay a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z kaomoji strife refer nickname street name call title dissension appoint surname cite disagreement

I	V	X	L	C	D	M
5	10	50	100	500	1000

🔢

Individual decimal places
Thousands	Hundreds	Tens	Units
M	C	X	I
MM	CC	XX	II
MMM	CCC	XXX	III
CD	XL	IV
D	L	V
DC	LX	VI
DCC	LXX	VII
DCCC	LXXX	VIII
CM	XC	IX

new 🔢 listcore schoolcore i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii xviii xix roman alphabet operating system

here is the school song (matilda the musical) but in Thai (translated on Google translate): 
เฮ้ย! เด็กใหม่เหรอ?
แล้วคุณคิดว่าคุณสามารถ
เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ได้โดยเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง
ไม่นานคุณก็จะเห็น
ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้
และแม้ว่า
คุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามอย่างหนัก
คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์
เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักคือประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ
ฉันทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้
ฉันติดอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน
นรกบนดินแห่งนี้!
แต่ถ้าฉันพยายาม ฉันจะจำได้
ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง
ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง
ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังเป็นครั้งแรก
เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น
ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม
แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการทนทุกข์ทรมาน
ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ
สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง
คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก
คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ
และถ้าคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้น
คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา
และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง
ทำไม?
ทำไม?
ทำไม? คุณได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดไหม?
รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน!
พละศึกษาคืออะไร?
พละศึกษา
ความพิเศษของ Trunchbull
คุณเป็นใคร?
เราเป็นหัวหน้าห้อง เราอยู่ที่นี่เพื่อพาคุณไปเรียน
งั้นเราจะเริ่มเรียนกันใช่ไหม?
โอ้ คุณจะเริ่มเรียนแล้ว โอเค
เยี่ยมเลย! ฉันรู้ตัวอักษรแล้ว!
คุณจะไม่รู้ตัวอักษรจนกว่าเราจะเรียนตัวอักษรให้คุณ
แล้วคุณก็คิดว่าคุณสามารถ
เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ด้วยการเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง
ไม่นานคุณก็จะรู้
ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้
และแม้ว่าคุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามมากเพียงใด
คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์
เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักนั้นเป็นประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ
ฉันต้องทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้
ฉันถูกขังอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน
นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันลอง ฉันก็จำได้
ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง
ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง
ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังลั่นเป็นครั้งแรก
เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น
ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม
แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการที่จะทุกข์ทรมาน
ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ
สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง
คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก
คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ
และหากคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้นเป็นสองเท่า
คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา
และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง
ทำไม?
ทำไม?
ทำไม? คุณไม่ได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดเหรอ? ฉันเพิ่งรู้ว่าบางคนยังไม่เข้าชั้นเรียน
แก้ไขตรงนี้ คุณมีห้าวินาทีในการปฏิบัติตาม
A, B, C, D, E, F, G (ห้า)
H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P (สี่!)
Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X (สาม)
Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y (สอง)
ลาเวนเดอร์ มาทิลดา เข้ามา เร็วเข้า!
(หนึ่ง!) รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน!
Yayyyy!!!. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

new strawb_mxlks imveyhappy1234 matilda matilda the musical lyrics translation a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z school song

GREAT CHIP v
(Autistic author)

Eventually, Plankton stirs, his 
antennae twitching slightly. 
His eye opens, and for a 
moment, he's disoriented. He 
looks at Chip, then at his hand 
on his own, and a flicker of 
memory passes through his eye. 
He then pulls his hand 
away. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says 
softly. "I'm here."

Plankton's expression shifts.
He sighs, his eye dropping to 
his son's hand.

"Chip," he murmurs. "Wh-what 
happened?"

Chip's heart skips a beat.
He wasn't sure how much to say,
but he knew he couldn't lie. "You had
another... moment," he says carefully.

Plankton's face falls, the weight
of his own reality crashing down
on him like a heavy fog. He nods slowly,
his eye searching the room as if
trying to piece together the puzzle
of his lost time.

"I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice
barely above a whisper. "I didn't know."

Plankton's eye meets his, the anger
dissipating like the fog. 
"It's not your fault,"
he says, his voice weary. 
"I just... I can't handle
much sometimes."

Chip nods, feeling a lump
in his throat. "Can I hug you?"
he asks tentatively, remembering
his mother's advice.

Plankton's antennae droop,
his eye searching Chip's face.
After a moment, he nods. "Yes,
but just for a second."

Chip leans in 
carefully, wrapping
his arms around 
his dad's shoulders.
Plankton tenses, 
his body
a coil of nerves.

The hug is brief, but 
it feels like
an eternity to Chip. 
He pulls back,
his eyes searching 
Plankton's face.
"Are you okay?"

Plankton's eye blinks 
slowly. "I will be,"
he says, his voice 
weary. "I just need some
time to regroup."

Chip nods, his mind racing
with questions and fears.
He didn't know what to say,
how to fix this.
He just knew he didn't want
his dad to feel like this.

Karen watches from the doorway,
her heart heavy with the weight of
the unspoken words between them.
She wishes she could take the pain
away, but she knows that this
moment belonged to her husband
and her son.

Chip's hand lingers in the space
where Plankton's was, feeling
the warmth that's no longer there.
He swallows hard, trying to push
his fears aside. "What can I do?"
he asks, his voice trembling.

Plankton takes a deep breath,
his antennae twitching as he tries
to gather his thoughts. "Just maybe
try not to touch me... unless I ask."

The words hang in the air,
a stark reminder of the chasm
that's opened between them.
Chip nods solemnly, his heart heavy.
He doesn't fully understand
his dad's condition, but he knows
it's real and it's painful. And he knows
he played a part in it today.

"Dad," he starts 
tentatively, 
"Can we talk
about your... 
moments?"

Plankton's antennae 
droop. "What do you
want to know?" he 
asks, his voice
sounding more 
tired than defensive.

Chip takes a 
deep breath, trying
to formulate his
thoughts. "Well, I just
want to understand
what you go through.
What happens during
those moments?"

Plankton looks away, his
face contorting with the
effort of explaining.
"It's like my brain goes
on a vacation without me,"
he says finally. "Everything's
too much, and I just...
zone out."

Chip nods, trying to
picture it. "What's it like?
The zoning out, I mean."

Plankton sighs, his antennae
waving slightly. "It's like...
being in a movie theater, but
instead of watching the movie,
the lights and sounds are all around me.
They're too bright, too loud. And when I come
back, it's like the movie's still playing
in fast forward. I miss parts of it,
and I can't rewind."

Chip's eyes widen with
understanding. "So, it's like a break,
but it's not fun for you?"

Plankton nods. "It's more like
a reboot. My brain needs it,
but it's scary not knowing
when it'll happen or how
long it'll last."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
seeing the vulnerability behind
the usual bravado. "But why do
you get so mad sometimes?"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his face contorting with the effort
of explaining. "It's like...
everything's too much, and then
I can't stop it," he said. "It's like
being stuck in a loop of noises
and feelings, and I just need to
make it stop. And sometimes, that
means getting angry."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
trying to understand. "But why
does it make you so mad?"

Plankton's antennae drooped.
"It's not just from 
anger," he corrected gently.
"It's overstimulation. My brain
can't process everything at once,
so it shuts down to protect itself."

Chip nodded, his eyes
wide with realization.
He'd never thought of it
like that before. "So, it's like
you're in a crowded room,
and everyone's talking at you
at the same time?"

Plankton's eye lit up
slightly. "Exactly," he said,
his voice a mix of relief
and exhaustion. "And when
you touch me afterward,
it's like someone turning
the volume up even louder."

Chip's hand retreated to
his lap, understanding
dawning on his face. "So, it's like...
sensory overload?"

Plankton nodded, his eye
closing briefly. "Yes, it's like my
brain's circuits are fried, and I just
need a reset."

Chip sat quietly,
absorbing his father's words.
He'd never thought about it
from that perspective before.
He knew his dad was different,
but he didn't understand
the depth of his struggle.

"What about the seizures?"
Chip asked, his voice tentative.
"Do they feel like that too?"

Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving slightly. "They're like...
a storm in my head," he said,
his voice strained. "They come
without warning, and I can't do
anything to stop them. It's like
everything's too much, and my brain
has to shut down to protect itself."

Chip's eyes grew wide
with empathy. "That sounds 
scary. But I've seen you hug
mom.."

Plankton sighed, his antennae
waving slightly. "It's different
with your mom. She knows 
how to touch me without making
it too much."

Chip's mind raced, trying to grasp
the complexities of his dad's
neurodivergence. "But how?"
he pressed, eager to learn.

Plankton took a moment to gather
his thoughts. "It's like...everything
is too loud or too bright,
and I can't just turn it down.
So, when I get overwhelmed,
my brain goes to 'sleep' for a bit."

Chip nodded slowly, his eyes
fixed on his father's antennae
which had stopped their erratic twitching.
"But what if I want to hug you?"
he asked, his voice tentative.

Plankton's eye opened, a glimmer
of something akin to hope flickering
within its depths. "Then you ask,"
he said simply. "You ask, and if I say
yes, you hug me gently. Like this."
He demonstrated by placing
his own hand on Chip's shoulder,
his grip firm but not tight. "But only
if I'm okay with it, okay?"

Chip nodded, feeling a weight
lift slightly from his chest.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice
shaky with emotion.

new great chip learncore v

vꨄ︎

new v alphabet

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⢹⣿⠉⣿⠹⢷⣬⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⡤⠷⣄⣿⣴⠟⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠋⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⢠⣿⡏⠁⠀⢛⡶⠇⠀⣼⣯⣿⠃⣠⣴⣿⣋⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠧⢤⠈⠳⠋⢘⠆⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡀⢀⣠⡆⠘⠢⠴⠋⠋⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠛⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⣄⣀⣴⡿⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣤⣤⣤⣄⣠⣾⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣆⣀⣀⣀⡀
⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣶⡿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠃
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣀⣀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⡿⠛⠛⠃⠀
⢴⣾⠿⠿⣿⡟⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣤⣤⠄⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣥⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣽⣿⡿⢿⣷⣦⡀⠀
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new kitten 猫猫咪 v dot art text art ascii art

JUST A TOUCH v
(Autistic author)


Hanna's confusion is clear
as she watches Karen crouch
before Plankton, her hand hovering
an inch from his shoulder.
"Plankton, sweetie," Karen says,
her voice a gentle coax. "It's just
me." No indication from Plankton
though.

Hanna's eyes dart from
Karen to Plankton and back,
trying to piece together what
has happened. "What's wrong with
him?" she whispers.

"He's just overwhelmed,"
Karen says, her voice tight with
frustration.

Hanna looks 
from Karen 
to Plankton,
his body rigid.

"What happened?"
she asks again, her voice
laced with concern. Karen
sighs heavily, her eyes
full of pain. "Plankton
has Acquired Autism."

The words hang in
the air like a heavy
cloud, casting a shadow
over the room. Hanna's
face falls, her hand
covering her mouth in shock.

"Oh no," she murmurs,
realizing her mistake. "I didn't know."
Her eyes dart to Plankton,
his body still frozen, his
gaze vacant. "I'm so sorry."
She says, reaching for him
again as Karen's.

Karen's hand shoots out,
stopping her mid-air. "No, don't,"
she says firmly. "He's hypersensitive
now. Sometimes touch can be...
painful."

Hanna's hand retreats, her eyes
widening. "I didn't know," she
whispers, her voice filled with regret.
"I just wanted to be friendly."

Karen's expression softens slightly.
"It's okay," she says, her voice
calming. "You couldn't have
known." But Plankton remains
still, his eye unblinking.

"Plankton," Karen whispers,
her hand reaching for his.
He doesn't flinch this time,
his body still as stone. She
squeezes gently, hoping the
familiar gesture will bring him
back. "You're safe at home."

Hanna watches, her
heart heavy with guilt. She had
no idea her enthusiasm could
have such a profound effect on him.
"What can I do?" she asks,
her voice shaky.

Karen looks up, her eyes
tired. "Just give us some
space," she says. "Let me...
let me help him."

Hanna nods, her own screen
brimming with unshed tears.
"Of course," she murmurs, backing
away.

Plankton remains frozen,
his gaze locked on the floor.
Karen wraps her arms around
his shoulders.

"It's okay, Plankton," she whispers,
her voice soothing. "You're
safe here." She rubs his arm
lightly, the way she's learned
not to cause him discomfort.

He doesn't move, but she
can feel the tension slowly
leaving his body. His antennae
lift slightly.

"You're okay," Karen repeats,
her voice a gentle murmur. "Just
breathe."

Slowly, Plankton's body begins
to relax, his antennae
twitching as he takes in her
words. Hanna watches from
a distance. "I'm sorry," she says,
her voice quieter. "I didn't
know. I didn't mean to..."
Her words trail off, but Karen
simply nods, her eyes not
leaving Plankton's. "It's okay,"
she repeats. "We're still
learning."

Hanna sits on the edge of the
sofa, her eyes never leaving
them. She feels like an intruder,
a bull in a china shop. She
had come to offer support,
but instead, she'd triggered something
deep within him. The room
feels heavy with unspoken words.

"I didn't mean to push him,"
she says, her voice barely a whisper.
"I just didn't know." Karen's grip
on Plankton tightens slightly,
but she doesn't look up. "It's okay,"
she says again, her voice a lifeline
in the quiet. "It's a lot to take in."

Hanna nods, her screen filling
with tears she quickly wipes away.
"But I'll learn," she says, her
determination clear. "I want to be
a good friend to both of you."

Plankton's antennae quiver, a
faint glimmer of recognition
flickering in his eye. Karen
nods.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice
barely audible. Hanna watches
as Karen's gentle touch seems to
break through the barriers Plankton
has erected. His body slowly
unfurls from his rigid stance,
his gaze shifting from the floor
to meet Karen's.

"It's okay," Karen repeats,
her voice a balm. "Let's go to
our room. You need to rest."
Plankton nods slightly, allowing
her to guide him away from
the living room.

Hanna watches them go, her heart
aching for her friend. She knows
she's overstayed her welcome,
but she can't bear to leave without
apologizing to Plankton. "I'll go,"
she says, her voice thick.

Karen turns, her screen
swimming with unshed tears.
"Thank you, Hanna," she says,
her voice hoarse.

Hanna nods, her own eyes
shimmering. "Call me if you
need anything," she says, her
voice thick with emotion. She
stands, her legs feeling like
jelly, and makes her way
to the door, her heart
heavy with the weight of
what she's done.

The moment the door clicks shut,
Karen feels the tension in the
room dissipate slightly. Plankton's
body relaxes a fraction, his
eye no longer staring blankly
at the floor. She leads him
to their bedroom, the familiar
surroundings seeming to soothe
his frazzled nerves.

Once inside, she helps him
into bed, the softness of the
covers a stark contrast to the
rigidness of his body. She pulls
the curtains shut, dimming the
lights to reduce the sensory
stimulation. Plankton's antennae
twitch, a sign of his relief.
Karen sits beside him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers,
her voice thick with emotion.
"I didn't know she'd..."

Plankton's gaze meets hers,
his eye less intense now. "It's okay,"
he says, his voice monotone. "Just need...
quiet."

Karen nods, her hand
still resting on his shoulder.
"I'm here," she says. "I'm always here."

new just a touch hannacore v

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY v


(Autistic author)



Sandy had always known him as
quick-witted and sharp-tongued,
now he was a shell of his
former self, retreating at the
slightest touch.

Plankton's antennae twitched.
Karen stepped in, her voice firm
but gentle. "It's ok, Sandy.
We're all still learning."

Sandy looked at the plate of
cookies on the floor, regret
flooding her features. She
knew Plankton had liked her
cookies before, but now...

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her
voice thick with emotion. "I had
no idea." She reached for him
again, but Karen stepped in,
shaking her head gently.

"It's okay," Karen said, her tone
soothing. "But remember, he's not
the same Plankton anymore."
Sandy's hand hovered in the
air, her eyes pleading with
Karen for guidance.

Plankton's antennae continued to
twitch as he stared at the
floor, his body a tightly coiled
spring. Karen stepped closer to him,
placing a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay," she whispered to him.

Sandy looked at him, her eyes
filled with a mix of pity and
confusion. "Come on, Plankton,"
she said, her voice softening.

But Plankton's antennae remained
still, his gaze fixed on the
floor. Karen knew he was lost
in his own world, unable to
process Sandy's words through the
sensory overload.

Sandy tried again, her voice a
soft coo. "Look at me, Plankton,"
she said, her hand reaching out
once more. But Plankton flinched,
his antennae flattening against
his head.

"No," he murmured, his voice
trembling. "No."

Sandy's face fell, her eyes
wet with regret.

"I didn't mean to scare him,"
she murmured, her voice barely
above a whisper.

"It's ok, Sandy," Karen said,
her hand still on Plankton's
shoulder. "You just need to be
patient with him."
Karen took a deep breath, her
thoughts racing. "It was a fight
with Mr. Krabs," she said, her
words measured. "It...
changed how his brain works."
Plankton's more
sensitive to sounds, lights,
and touch," she explained. "And
his communication is different
now."

Sandy looked from Karen to Plankton,
her eyes filled with
understanding. "I'm sorry," she said,
her voice gentle. "I didn't know."

Hanna, who had been quietly
observing from the corner,
approached the trio, her gaze
filled with empathy. "It's okay,
Sandy," she said. "We're all still
learning."

The door burst open again, and
SpongeBob bounded in, his usual
cheerfulness a stark contrast to
the solemn mood in the room.
"Hi, everyone!" he exclaimed, his
spongey body bouncing with
energy. "What's all the hub..."

"SpongeBob," Plankton 
exclaimed, his antennae
perking up slightly.

SpongeBob's eyes widened in
surprise at the rare display of
joy from Plankton.

The sudden change in Plankton's
demeanor was like a switch had
been flipped. His antennae
stopped twitching, his body
uncoiled slightly. "Sponge Bob,"
he said again, his voice a little
louder this time.

Sponge Bob looked at him with
wonder. "Hi, Plankton!" he said,
his eyes wide. "How are you
feeling?"

Plankton's gaze locked onto
Sponge Bob, and a tentative smile
spread across his face. "Sponge Bob,"
he murmured, his voice filled with
longing.

Sponge Bob's eyes widened with
surprise. "Plankton!" he exclaimed,
his usual cheerfulness amplified.
He moved closer to his friend, his
body language open and welcoming.

Plankton's antennae quivered slightly
as he watched Sponge Bob give
him a gentle pat on the back.
But Plankton didn't flinch this
time. Instead, his antennae curled
forward slightly, as if reaching out for
contact.

Sponge Bob, noticing the subtle
change in his friend, took a seat
beside him. "You okay, buddy?"
he asked, his voice a gentle
whisper.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
quivering with the effort to
stay still. "Sponge Bob good," he
murmured, his eye focusing
on the familiar figure.

Sponge Bob's touch was
comforting, a gentle reminder of
times when the world wasn't so
overwhelming. Plankton's
body slowly relaxed under the
warmth of the friendship.

Sandy and Hanna watched in
silence as Sponge Bob's gentle
presence seemed to soothe Plankton.
His antennae stilled, his body
unfurling slightly from its tight
coil of anxiety.

Sponge Bob, ever the optimist,
beamed at Plankton. "I brought
you some jellyfishing nets," he
offered, holding up a small
sack. "Thought we could go for a
catch, like old times!"

Plankton's antennae shot
straight up, his excitement palpable.
"Jellyfishing?" he asked, his voice
filled with hope.

Sponge Bob's grin grew wider.
"You bet, Plankton!" he exclaimed.
"Just like the good old days!"

Plankton's antennae quivered with
excitement. "Good," he murmured,
his eye lighting up. The mention
of jellyfishing brought back
memories of simpler times, before
his world had been turned upside
down. "Yes," he murmured, his voice
eager. "Jellyfishing."

Karen watched the interaction
between Sponge Bob and Plankton,
relief washing over her. She knew
how much Sponge Bob had always
meant to Plankton, and seeing
his positive effect was a
comforting balm.

Sponge Bob's presence had
calmed the storm of emotions and
sensory overload that had been
building within Plankton. He was
now sitting up straight in his
chair, his antennae waving slightly
with excitement.

Karen watched them, her heart
swelling with gratitude for Sponge
Bob. She knew that Plankton
needed friends who understood him,
who could navigate the choppy
waters of his new reality. She took
a deep breath, her eyes meeting
Sponge Bob's.

"Sponge Bob," she began, her
voice shaky. "There's something
important I need to tell you."

Sponge Bob looked at her with
concern. "What's up, Karen?"

Karen took a deep breath,
preparing to share the news. "Plankton's
been diagnosed with autism,"
she said softly.

Sponge Bob's smile faltered for a
moment, but he quickly regained
his composure. "What's that, Karen?"
he asked, his voice filled with
curiosity rather than fear.

Karen took a deep breath, her eyes
welling with tears. "It's a condition
that makes his brain work
differently," she explained. "It's like
his senses are on overload, and
sometimes, the world is just too
much for him to handle."

Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with
concern. "Too much?" he echoed.
"But Plankton's always been so...
so...spirited!"

Karen nodded, her eyes
moist with unshed tears. "It's not
his spirit, Sponge Bob," she said.
"It's just that now, his brain needs
more time to process things.
And some things that didn't bother
him before are really hard for
him now."

Sponge Bob's gaze drifted to
Plankton, who was now playing with
a jellyfishing net, his antennae
still quivering with excitement.

"It was an accident," Karen
continued, her voice thick with
emotion. "A fight with Mr. Krabs."

"A fight?" he echoed, his
spongy body stiffening.

Karen nodded, her gaze
firm. "Mr. Krabs hit him really
hard," she said. "And it changed
his brain."

Sponge Bob looked at Plankton,
his eyes filled with a new
understanding. He reached out
his hand, and Plankton took it,
his antennae relaxing slightly.
"I'm here for you, buddy," he said,
his voice gentle.

"You can stay, but perhaps save
jellyfishing for another day." Says
Karen, as Sandy and Hanna left.

Sponge Bob nodded, his grip
on Plankton's hand firm. "Whatever
you need, Plankton," he said.

new autism in the plankton family plankarenbob v

Luna

      ✈︎

new v roman alphabet letter

CHIP AND FAIL v
(Autistic author)

"Mom, something's wrong with Dad!"
Karen rushes into the room.

Karen's gaze falls on Plankton,
her heart aching at the sight
of her husband's distress. She knows
his limits, knows the signs of
his overstimulation. She had hoped
this wouldn't happen, had hoped that
Chip's visit would be a gentle one,
that they could find a way to
connect without pushing Plankton too
far. But she had underestimated
Chip's excitement, his need for
physical closeness. Her heart 
broke for both her son and
her husband. He had never
seen his dad like this, never
known that his boundless enthusiasm
could have such a profound effect. She
knew this moment might come
someday. She's had to handle
Plankton's meltdowns before, but
not with Chip in the room. She
quickly assesses the situation,
seeing the confusion and fear
in Chip's screen.

"MOM, PLEASE..."

Karen rushes over, her screen
wide with fear and concern. She
sees Plankton's unblinking eye,
his unresponsive state. She
understands immediately.

"PLEASE MOM..."

Karen's screen darted between her
son's frantic expression and
Plankton's unresponsive form. She
knew she had to act fast. She could
see the confusion in Chip's screen,
the desperation to understand.

"But Mom, I..."

Yet Karen, who's priority is
Plankton's urgency, cuts Chip off.

"Chip," she says firmly, her voice
filled with a calm urgency. She
doesn't have time to explain.
"Listen to me, honey. You need to
let me handle this. Go to your
room and wait." She knows
how hard this is for him, but
his safety, and Plankton's, is
what's most important right now.

Chip nods, his screen never leaving
his father's unresponsive form.
He takes one last, lingering look
before retreating to his room, his
heart heavy with confusion and
fear.

As soon as the door clicks shut,
Karen springs into action. She
knows the signs of an autistic
meltdown, the sudden retreat into
self, the inability to communicate.
Her own heart racing, she gently
sits beside Plankton, her screen
filled with understanding. She
speaks softly, her voice a balm
to his overstimulated mind.
"Shh, Plankton," she whispers, her
hands moving in slow, deliberate
motions, "It's ok."

Chip's footsteps fade away as
Karen focuses on her husband. She
knows he's in there, somewhere,
battling a storm of sensations.
Her voice is a lighthouse in the
chaos, guiding him back to the
shore. "Take a deep breath, love,"
she says, demonstrating with a
slow inhale and exhale of her
own. Plankton's chest rises
slightly, matching her rhythm.

The room is a minefield of
potential triggers, but Karen's
been here before. She knows to
keep her movements minimal, her
voice low and soothing. She starts
to gently rub Plankton's back,
finding the steady rhythm that
calms his frayed nerves. His
breathing evens out, the color
slowly returning to his cheeks.

But Chip, in his room, is
anything but calm. His mind is a
whirlwind of confusion and guilt.
Why isn't Dad ok? Isn't
something wrong? He paces, his
heart racing. He still didn't know
his dad was autistic.
In the quiet of his room, Chip's
thoughts raced like a tornado.
Why wasn't Dad ok? Why did I
have to leave like that? Was it
my fault? He didn't know about
his dad's autism, how his mind
worked differently, how easily it
could be overwhelmed. He didn't
know that his enthusiastic touches
and loud laughter could cause such
distress.

Meanwhile Karen, with her gentle touch 
and calming voice, began to 
guide Plankton back to reality.

"Plankton, love, you're okay," Karen 
whispers, her voice a gentle lullaby 
in the chaos. Plankton's eye slowly 
refocus, the storm in his mind 
beginning to subside. His breathing 
slows, the panic retreating. She 
continues her soothing motions, her 
touch a lifeline in the sensory tempest.

Plankton's eye blinked, his antennae
twitching as his gaze
focused on her, his breathing
evening out as he felt her calming
presence. He didn't know how long
he had been lost in the storm, but
he was grateful for her guidance.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II v

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠁⠀⢀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣟⠿⠿⠿⡿⠋⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣶⣶⣿⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣿⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⣹⣿⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣽⣿⡿⠟⠃
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠛⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⠿⢿⣷⣀⢀⣿⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new cute funny aethetic people latin alphabet phosphorus элемент aesthetic phoenician alphabet v

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠤⠒⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣶⡶⠖⠒⠒⢐⠒⠒⠲⢦⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠈⠉⠐⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠂⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠁⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣨⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠈⠢⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠉⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⠁⠈⠈⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣄⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢊⡼⠟⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠓⠤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠆⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠁⠀⠈⠉⠒⢄⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣦⡤⠔⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠑⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣿⣇⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡽⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣼⣿⣻⢷⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⣽⣻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⢥
⠀⠀⠀⢰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⣼⣟⡾⣽⣫⢾⡽⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡷⣯⣟⠗⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠸
⠀⠀⢀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⡠⠾⠻⢽⣛⡷⣽⣫⣟⣳⢿⡷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡛⠀⠈⠳⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀
⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣠⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⣽⡳⣷⣹⢯⡾⣝⣯⢿⡶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠢
⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠀⠁⢀⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣳⢯⣟⣮⢷⣻⢽⢮⡷⣻⣟⣦⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⡴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⣯⣞⢾⡽⣞⡯⣷⣛⣧⣟⣮⢷⣻⢟⡿⣶⢶⡶⣶⢶⡒⠓⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠐⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⢴⣾⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢶⣫⣟⢾⣭⢷⢯⡽⣞⣮⠷⣏⡿⢾⡽⣭⢷⣻⣭⠿⣵⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣇⠉⠙⠒⠒⠒⢐⠒⠒⠊⢹⠀⠀
⢀⣀⣠⠤⠔⠒⠂⠉⠀⠀⢸⡿⣾⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡽⣞⣳⣭⣟⣞⡯⣯⢷⣛⣾⢻⡽⣽⣏⡿⣭⣿⣱⣞⢿⣳⣻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⣽⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡼⠀⠀
⠁⢰⢧⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣿⡽⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⢯⣻⣝⣧⡟⣞⣾⠽⠓⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠚⠫⠷⣯⢿⣹⣟⡷⣶⣶⢾⣟⣷⣻⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⢀⠞⠀⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠸⡈⢧⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣽⣟⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⢿⡽⣯⢷⣞⡧⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠫⢿⣳⣯⣟⣾⣳⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠆⢸⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⡇⠀⠳⡄⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡾⣽⣻⣟⡿⣟⡿⣯⣟⣯⡿⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠀⠀⠐⠀⣀⠞⠁⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢳⡀⢁⠈⠣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⡿⢷⣻⣾⡽⠯⠟⠓⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠂⠒⠒⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⢀⡤⢚⠁⠀⢀⢈⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⢧⡀⠄⠀⠈⡗⠢⣄⠀⠀⠘⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⣡⠔⠊⠁⠀⢸⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠈⠙⠒⠂⠭⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⠇⢀⠴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⢋⡮⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠊⡾⠃
⠀⠀⠀⢰⣤⡀⠀⠈⠑⠦⢵⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⠊⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠀⣸⠀⠃
⠀⠀⠀⢘⣻⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠔⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣥⣰⣿⣤⠀
⠳⡀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠀⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠄⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠛⠛⣿⡿⠀
⠀⠙⢦⡀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠙⢡⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠐⠒⠒⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⣀⣀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡁⠚⠙⠱⢤⣀⣸⡁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠙⢦⡳⡄⠀⠀⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡴⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠲⠀⠀⢙⠀⠀⣠⡎⠈⠀⢈⡀⠊⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣴⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣔⠢⣾⠿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⢯⠟⡿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new v md murder drones silly goofy dumb dumb v dot art text art ascii art

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

new md murder drones v silly v murder drones dot art text art ascii art

HI GUYS IF YOU LIKE CARETAKER LIKE THIS :) (keep scrolling)

keep scrolling its worth it!!!

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here’s your treasure :)
𝔸𝔹ℂ𝔻𝔼𝔽𝔾ℍ𝕀𝕁𝕂𝕃𝕄ℕ𝕆ℙℚℝ𝕊𝕋𝕌𝕍𝕎𝕏𝕐ℤ
𝕒𝕓𝕔𝕕𝕖𝕗𝕘𝕙𝕚𝕛𝕜𝕝𝕞𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕢𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕧𝕨𝕩𝕪𝕫
𝐀𝐁𝐂𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐆𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐊𝐋𝐌𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐐𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐕𝐖𝐗𝐘𝐙
𝐚𝐛𝐜𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐤𝐥𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐪𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐯𝐰𝐱𝐲𝐳
𝙰𝙱𝙲𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙶𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙺𝙻𝙼𝙽𝙾𝙿𝚀𝚁𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚅𝚆𝚇𝚈𝚉
𝚊𝚋𝚌𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚔𝚕𝚖𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚚𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚟𝚠𝚡𝚢𝚣
ᵃᵇᶜᵈᵉᶠᵍʰⁱʲᵏˡᵐⁿᵒᵖᵠʳˢᵗᵘᵛʷˣʸᶻ
𝔞𝔳𝔠𝔡𝔢𝔣𝔤𝔥𝔦𝔧𝔨𝔩𝔪𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔮𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔳𝔴𝔵𝔶𝔷
𝓐𝓑𝓒𝓓𝓔𝓕𝓖𝓗𝓘𝓙𝓚𝓛𝓜𝓝𝓞𝓟𝓠𝓡𝓢𝓣𝓤𝓥𝓦𝓧𝓨𝓩
𝓪𝓫𝓬𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓰𝓱𝓲𝓳𝓴𝓵𝓶𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓺𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓿𝔀𝔁𝔂𝔃
♚♛♜♞♝♔♕♖♘♗↫⏎✎ᴥ︎↺☏ꕥ✾✑◉𖨆☊✈☘︎︎𓁹♧︎✇¶
⌖𓇽«✞☾☼™シ༄❝❞»◌【∞】』꧁『꧂ꕤ꧂
Σ∫𖣘❃᯽☢︎︎𖣔۞✫𓆉𓃱𓃰𓃗𐂃𓃮𓆈𓃟𐂂𓅓𓃒
𓀡𓀿𓅷𓂻𓆏𓅿𓄁𓃠𓆙𓂉𓆡𓃹𓆤𓆧𓅨𓆨𓃵𓆦

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡝⣍⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣦⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠘⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠸⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠅⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡄⢠⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⡹⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⡟⠱⢓⠌⠻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡙⠢⣀⠁⡷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣍⠀⣈⣙⢺⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠳⣾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠈⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⣥⣿⣯⣷⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣍⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⢯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣷⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⡅⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⣿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠹⢿⡿⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠉⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢹⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⡿⣫⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⡤⣍⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠁⠄⡈⢽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⢘⠠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new murder drones Serial designation V v dot art text art ascii art

Layo(ꪜ)er

new BTS v layover

v₊˚⊹♡

new v sparkle heart cute

(,,⩌ _ ⩌,,) ..? ( ,,● ̮ ●,,)♡ (//_ ///)

new unmoving cold unemotional unresponsive uninviting expressionless imveyhappy1234 strawb_mxlks kaomojj kaomojis a b c d e f h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z emotionless unenthusiastic

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⢠⠞⠁⠀⣀⣠⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣣⠔⠚⠻⣄⣡⣞⣄⣠⣆⠀⢼⣼⣄⣀⣀⣠⣆⠜⡘⡻⠟⠙⣲⠦⣈⢳⡀⠀⠀
⡇⠒⢲⡤⡜⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠤⣖⠬⠓⠂⠉⣿⠇⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⢢⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠒⢋⡝⠁⢀⣀⣤⠂⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠷⠆⠶⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠮⠤⠟⠉⠀⢰⠱⡾⣧⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠒⡏⠀⡡⠣⢖⣯⠶⢄⣀⣿⡾⠋⢸⢀⡶⠿⠲⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣹⠃⣀⣤⠞⠋⠀⠉⠢⣿⣿⡄⠀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠐⢣
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new smurf cat q ww e r t g h a s m nb b v c x z smurf at dot art text art ascii art

petition to make this an app!!
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

tᦓꪻ᥅ꪖꪗ ᛕ꠸ᦔᦓ๋࣭ ⭑‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡󠁤

new hebrew alphabet latin alphabet v a w pyrimidine

k 
      ᡣ𐭩
     

new letter v heart

Un🇺🇳🇺🇸૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა✅🤔૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა🇩🇪🇳🇦🇧🇷🇬🇧🇺🇲🌏👎💥👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎👎૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿

new f united states washington d.c. w california letter cute cold war u hawaii v nato alaska mississippi river china republican party s thirteen colonies u.s. state florida great lakes

🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི

new k kiss with cute bear v bts bio

˙v˙

new smile kaomoji v kaomoji smile v

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY v
(Autistic author)

The room falls into a tense
silence, the air thick with
the unspoken words of regret
and uncertainty. Plankton's
humming becomes the only
sound in the room. 
Sandy's eyes are glued to
Plankton, watching his
hands move in a mesmerizing
pattern. His humming grows
slightly louder, filling the
space around them with a
comforting buzz. Despite the
simplicity of the act, it's a
powerful declaration of his
new reality.

"Plankton are you ok?" Sandy
asks him.

Plankton's humming stops abruptly,
his gaze snaps to her. "Book," he says
with longing. "Want book."

Sandy nods, her eyes glistening
with newfound understanding.
"Of course," she says, standing up.

She and Karen move to the shelf
where she had placed the book earlier.
Karen reaches up, her hand
carefully retrieving it.

"Here," she says, her voice calm,
handing the science book to him.

He opens it, his gaze
immediately drawn to the index
table in the back. His eye
scans the rows, his
brain finding comfort in the
predictability of the page
numbers. 
He starts to read the
index aloud, his voice a monotone
that fills the room with a
strange rhythm.

"Quantum Mechanics... 134," he reads,
his finger tracing the line. "Relativity,
Special and General... 212."

Karen and Sandy listen, their
expressions a mix of wonder and
concern. They've never seen
Plankton so engrossed in anything
other than his own schemes before.

Sandy's gaze follows the
movement of his finger as it
traces the numbers, her mind
trying to grasp the significance
of his actions. "Why does he
read the index like that?" she
whispers to Karen.

Karen's smile is filled with
both love and pride. "It's
his way of finding order,"
she concurs. "The numbers,
the patterns, it brings him
comfort."

Sandy nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton. His focus
on the book is intense,
his voice a steady rhythm as
he reads off the page
numbers. "Biology... 37.
Chemistry... 101," he drones.

Karen sits beside him, her
hand on his back, providing
the gentle pressure he craves.
The sound of his voice, the
comfort of the book's familiar
weight, it's all part of his
new routine.

Sandy sits opposite, her paws
clasped in her lap, watching
intently. Her gaze flickers from
Plankton to Karen and back again.
She's learning, trying to
understand.

Plankton's voice rises in excitement
as he reaches the physics
section. "Quantum Entanglement...
543!" he exclaims, his
hands flapping. His
eye lit up, a rare smile
spreading across his face.

Karen's smiles. This was the
Plankton she knew, the one
who found delight in the
complexity of the universe.

He reads on, his voice
picking up speed. "String Theory...
621! Gravity Waves... 784!" His
stimming becomes more animated,
his hands fluttering like the
wings of a butterfly, each
flap a silent declaration of his
newfound obsession with order.

Sandy's curiosity is
piqued, but she's careful not to
interrupt, instead watching him
with a newfound respect. Karen
smiles, her hand still on his
back, feeling the warmth of
his excitement through her metal
shell.

"Plankton, why do you like
the index so much?" Sandy asks,
keeping her voice soft, when
the doorbell rings.

Karen's head snaps up, the
interrupted moment forgotten. "I'll get it,"
she says, standing quickly.

SpongeBob's face appears
in the doorway.

"Hi, Karen!" he says, his
voice bright and cheerful.
"Hi, Sandy!"

Sandy's eyes dart to the
closed bedroom door, then back
to Karen. "I should go," she says,
standing up. "Let you guys
have some space."

Karen nods, her gaze
following Sandy's. "Thank you," she
whispers. "Bye Sandy. Sponge
Bob, come on in; Plankton's in the
bedroom.."

SpongeBob's now going in,
his eyes wide with excitement.

"What's up, Plankton?" he says,
his voice a bubbly burst of
enthusiasm.

Plankton's head snaps up, his
eye wide. "SpongeBob," he says, his
voice excitedly affectionate.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen at the
sight of Plankton's intense focus
on the book. "Wow, Plankton,
you're really into that, huh?"

Plankton's hands stop moving,
his gaze shifting from the
index to Sponge Bob's smiling
face. "Sponge Bob," he says, his
voice filled with glee. He jumps
up from the bed, the book
forgotten as he rushes to embrace
his friend.

Sponge Bob stumbles backward,
surprise etched on his features
as Plankton's arms wrap around
his waist. "Whoa, buddy," he says,
his eyes wide. "What's gotten into
you?"

Plankton's grip tightens, his
body vibrating with joy. "Sponge
Bob," he repeats, his voice a
high-pitched squeak.

Sponge Bob's smile falters, his
hands awkwardly patting Plankton's
back. "It's ok, Plankton," he says,
his voice gentle. "I'm just here
to visit."

Plankton pulls away, his
eye shining with joy
with a warmth Sponge Bob isn't
used to seeing from him.

"Come, sit," he says, his voice
eager. He pats the spot on the
bed next to him. Sponge Bob's
expression is a mix of
happiness and concern.

Sponge Bob sits down, his
body tense. "Plankton, you
ok?" he asks, his eyes
searching Plankton's.

Plankton nods, his hands
still flapping in excitement.
"Good," he says, his voice
monotone yet earnest.

new karen and the autistic journey splankbob splankaren v

١٥٧٤♡

new roman alphabet alphabetic latin alphabet v

💐🌷

new i miss her l miss you letter roman alphabet latin alphabet v z w n litre p g d alphabet 50 m liter i q u x o f h b k r e s c j

ᡣ𐭩

new letter f roman alphabet second voiceless alveolar sibilant randomness butterfly alphabet varsity letter greek alphabet v s

v🅥

new v five slack ascii art

Insecuritywave Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Insecuritywave Emojis & Symbols NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON v(Autistic author) (see n

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