March 1 Emoji Combos

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

if you see this have a good day / night !!! ⟡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⟡✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

new day night moonlight star time hour

1⩇:⩇1

new time sassy number clock second day minute hour

CATCH IN MY CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

The room is bathed in a soft
moonlight, the shadows playing
across Plankton's sleeping features. His
body, once taut with tension,
has relaxed into the embrace
of the bed, his arm curled
around a pillow. His antennas
now rest gently on the
pillowcase, no longer quivering
with agitation.

Karen watches him sleep, her
thoughts a jumble of worry and
love. She knows he's tired, that the
weight of the world can be too
much for him to bear at times. But
she also knows that he's strong,
that he'll face tomorrow with
determination.

The first light of dawn filters
through the curtains, painting the
room in soft shades of pink and
orange. Karen gently squeezes his
shoulder before standing, her eyes
never leaving his peaceful face.
She knows that today will be a
day of apologies and
understanding, of teaching Chip
about his dad's autism and how to
navigate the world around him.

With a soft sigh, she heads to
Chip's room, her footsteps silent
on the cool floor. She opens the door
to find him sitting up in bed,
his eyes red and puffy from crying.
He looks at her.

"Is Dad okay?" he asks, his
voice thick with sleep and the
remnants of his earlier distress.

Karen nods, her eyes filled
with a quiet determination. "We'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

The words hang in the air, a gentle
reminder of the conversation that
needs to be had. Chip nods, his eyes
still puffy from crying. He clutches
his pillow, the fabric damp from
his tears.

"But what do I do?" he asks, his
voice small and scared. "How do
I make sure I don't make him
upset again?"

Karen sits on the edge of the bed,
her hand stroking his. "You
just keep being you, Chip," she
says, her voice warm. "Daddy loves
you, and we'll learn together how
to make sure he doesn't get
overwhelmed."

Chip nods, his eyes searching
hers for reassurance. "But what
about my trophy?" he asks, his
voice still shaky.

Karen's hand stops, her gaze
dropping to the shard of plastic
he holds tightly in his fist. "We'll
fix it," she says, her voice
filled with conviction. "Together."

The promise brings a small
smile to Chip's face, his eyes
lighting up. "Really?"

Karen nods, her own smile
genuine. "Of course, honey,"
she says. "We're a family. We
stick together."

With that, she stands up, her
body weary but her spirit
resolute. The room feels
lighter somehow, the air less
charged with tension.

Chip clambers out of bed, his
small hand reaching for hers.
Together, they walk to the
bedroom, the shattered
remnants of the trophy
glinting in the early light.

Plankton is still asleep,
his chest rising and falling in
a steady rhythm. Chip
looks at him, his eyes filled
with a mix of sadness and
curiosity.

"We'll talk to him when he
wakes up," Karen says, her voice
soft.

They sit beside Plankton's
bed, the room still and quiet.
Chip's hand trembles slightly as
he holds the broken piece
of trophy. "But what if he's still
mad?" he whispers, his voice
barely above the silence.

Karen's hand squeezes his.
"He'll understand," she says,
her voice filled with a calm
certainty. "He loves you, and he
knows you didn't mean to hurt
him."

The words are a gentle balm
to Chip's fears, but the doubt
lingers. He nods, his gaze
never leaving his father.

"Remember, Chip," Karen says, her
voice a soft whisper. "Daddy's
brain is different."

Chip nods, his eyes fixed on
his dad's sleeping form. He's
seen Plankton stressed before,
but never like this. He wants to
show him love.

With tentative steps, he moves
closer to the bed, his heart
beating a staccato in his chest.
He reaches out, his hand shaking
slightly as he hovers it over
his dad's arm.

"Chip," Karen whispers, her hand
covering his. "Remember, gentle."
Her words are a gentle
reminder of the invisible lines
that can be crossed.

Chip nods, his eyes on Plankton's
peaceful face. He takes a deep
breath, his hand steadying. Slowly,
so slowly it's almost imperceptible,
he brings his palm to rest
on Plankton's forearm, his touch
as light as a feather.

Plankton's body tenses for a
moment, a reflexive reaction to
the sudden contact. Chip holds
his breath, waiting, hoping.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he feels
his dad's arm relax under his hand.

"It's okay," Karen whispers, her
voice a gentle breeze. "He's okay."

Chip's hand remains hovering, his
heart in his throat. Plankton's
body remains still, his breathing
even. Karen's touch is a guide,
her hand resting on Chip's.

"It's okay," she whispers, her voice
a soft encouragement. "You can
do it."

With a deep breath, Chip's hand
descends, his fingertips brushing
against Plankton's arm.

Plankton's antennas twitch.
Karen watches, her eyes never
leaving her husband's face.

Chip's hand hovers, his
heart racing. He wants to
reassure his dad, to let him
know he's there. He's
learned about space and
understanding, but all he
can think of is the warmth of
his touch, the comfort
he craves to give.

His fingertips graze Plankton's
arm, the contact so light it's
barely there. He watches,
waiting for a reaction, for a
sign that he's crossed the line.
But Plankton remains still,
his breathing unchanged.

Encouraged, Chip presses down
slightly, his hand a soft
weight on his father's arm.
He feels the warmth of his
skin, the steady pulse beneath.
It's a tentative connection,
fragile as spider silk.

Plankton's antennas quiver,
but his body remains still.
Chip's heart hammers in his chest,
his breaths shallow and quick.
He's afraid to move, afraid
to break the spell.

Karen watches, her eyes
filled with a quiet hope.
The air in the room is thick
with anticipation.

Chip's hand hovers over
Plankton's arm, trembling
slightly with nerves and
love. He's unsure if this
small gesture will be met
with anger or acceptance.

Karen's gaze is a silent
cheer, urging him on. Plankton's
breaths remain steady, his body
still. Chip's heart is a
drum in his chest, each beat
a silent plea for
understanding.

With a tremble, he lets his hand
settle, his fingertips barely
grazing the fabric of the blanket.
He feels the heat of Plankton's skin,
the rise and fall of his chest.
It's a gentle touch, the lightest
of caresses.

Karen's hand remains on his,
guiding him, encouraging him.
Plankton's breaths remain steady,
his body still. Chip's eyes
are wide with hope, his hand
poised above the blanket.

With a tremble, he lets his
fingers come to rest on the
cotton, feeling the warmth
of his father's arm beneath.
He holds his breath, waiting
for a reaction, for any sign
that he's done the right thing.

Plankton's body remains still,
his breathing unchanged.
Karen's eyes are glued to
his face, watching for any
hint of distress. But there's
none. Only the gentle rise
and fall of his chest, a testament
to his deep sleep.

Chip's hand is a butterfly
landing on Plankton's arm, his
fingers fluttering slightly
against the warmth of his
skin. He's never felt so
exposed, so vulnerable. But
his love for his dad is stronger
than his fear.

Karen watches the silent
exchange, her heart in her throat.
The moment feels sacred, a
testament to their growing
understanding of each other.

Chip's hand remains on Plankton's
arm, the warmth of his touch a
promise of comfort and love.
He's afraid to move, afraid to
disrupt the delicate balance.
Karen's hand is a soft presence,
guiding him, giving him
the courage to stay.

Plankton's breaths are slow
and even, his body relaxed.
Chip wonders if he's dreaming, if he's
in a world where the sensory
overload doesn't exist. His heart
swells with hope, with the
desire to protect his dad from
the world's harshness.

Karen's hand on his is
a gentle reminder that he's not
alone. She gives him a small,
encouraging nod, her eyes filled
with understanding. He takes a
deep breath, his hand moving
slowly, so slowly, to cover his dad's.

The moment their skin
touches, it's like a dam breaks.
Chip feels a rush of warmth, a
connection that's been missing.
He squeezes Plankton's arm lightly,
his heart pounding. He's afraid to
move, afraid to breathe too loudly.

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, watching for any
sign of distress. But his features
remain relaxed, his antennas
still. The room is a sanctuary
of quiet, the only sound their
melded breaths. Chip feels a
lump form in his throat, his eyes
welling with tears.

He whispers, "Thank you," to
his mom, his voice shaky with
emotion. She nods, her hand
still covering his. "Remember,"
she says, her voice a soft
caress. "Gentle."

With trembling fingers, Chip
tucks the blanket closer around
Plankton, the fabric smoothing
over his shoulders. It's a
tiny act of love, a silent
apology. He wants to crawl into
the bed beside him, to wrap
his arms around his dad..

He looks up at Karen, his
eyes pleading. "Can I?"

Karen nods, her smile sad
but understanding. "Just be
careful not to wake him,"
she whispers.

With the grace of a
cat burglar, Chip slides into the
bed, his movements slow and
calculated. He's careful not
to disturb the sheets, not to
make a sound that could break
the tranquil silence.

Plankton's arm is a warm
mound beside him, and he
reaches out tentatively, his
fingers seeking the comfort
of his dad's skin. He finds it,
his hand coming to rest lightly
on the crook of his elbow.
The connection feels right,
like finding a piece of himself
he didn't know was lost.

He snuggles closer, his head
resting on the pillow beside
Plankton's.

Karen watches, her heart
swelling with love for her son.
"It's ok," she whispers. "Just be
gentle."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II viii

JUST A TOUCH viii
(Autistic author)


After dinner, they
retreat to the living room.
Plankton's eye is glued
to the puzzle book on the
coffee table, his antennae
twitching with unspoken
longing. Karen picks it up,
opening to a new page.

"Would you like to work
on this one together?"
she asks, her voice gentle.
He nods, his eye lighting
up with the familiar challenge.

Together, they tackle the
puzzle, Karen's voice a gentle
narration as Plankton's antennae
move in time with her words.

The patterns on the page
hypnotize him, drawing him in.
Plankton's antennae stop
twitching, his focus solely
on the words before him.

And then the doorbell rings,
breaking the spell. Karen's
heart skips a beat, her hand
tightening around the puzzle
book. Plankton's head snaps up,
his eye wide with alarm. "Who
is it?" he asks, his voice
sharp.

Karen's eyes dart to the clock.
"It's probably SpongeBob,"
she murmurs. Plankton's antennae
perk up at the mention of his
friend's name. "Party," he says,
his voice hopeful. Karen nods,
swiping at the tear that's
managed to escape. "Yes, Plankton.
SpongeBob's probably here
to invite us to a party at the
Krusty Krab. Do you
think you're up for it?" she asks,
her voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae droop
slightly. "Maybe," he says,
his voice unsure. The thought
of the bright lights and loud
noises at the party sends a
shiver of anxiety through
his tiny body. But the
prospect of seeing Sponge
Bob is tempting.

Karen sighs, understanding
his hesitation. She walks
to the door, her movements
slow and deliberate. Sponge
Bob's cheerful greeting floods
the hallway. "Hey,
Karen! Plankton! You guys
coming to the party?"

"Hey, Sponge Bob," she says,
her smile forced. "What's the
occasion?"

Sponge Bob's face lights up
like a Christmas tree, his
spongy body bobbing with
excitement. "Mr. Krabs is
throwing a bash at the
Krusty Krab!" he says, his
hands gesturing wildly. "You
guys are coming, right?"

Plankton's antennae quiver
at the mention of the party.
The thought of the loud
noises and the jostling
crowd makes his stomach
churn, but the prospect of
seeing his friend shines like
a beacon through the fog
of his fear.

Karen watches him,
reading his emotions like
a book. "It's okay," she says,
her voice a gentle reminder.
"We can go for a little bit."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still. "Okay," he says, his voice
barely a whisper. Karen can
see the internal struggle
playing out across his features.
"Just stay as long as you're
comfortable," she adds. "I'll
just stay, you go with him."

Sponge Bob's eyes light up.
"Great!" he says, bending
down to hold his hand. He
holds his finger as they go.

Plankton's grip is tight,
his antennae flat against
his head. The noise of the
Krusty Krab is a cacophony
of sounds, each one
stabbing at his heightened
senses. But the warmth of
Sponge Bob's hand, the
familiarity of their friendship,
anchors him.

Mr. Krabs sees Plankton
clinging to Sponge Bob's 
side.

"What's going on, laddie?"
he asks, his voice gruff but
concerned at the sight of
their hands.

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his gaze darting
to the floor. Mr. Krabs' 
eyes narrow.

"Why did ye invite
Plankton?" he asks
with suspicion.

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "Well,
he's always welcome..."

Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow.
"But he's our enemy.."

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "He's my friend,"
he says firmly. "And I'm watching
to make sure he won't steal any
thing, boss.."

Mr. Krabs' eyes soften,
his suspicion giving way to
reluctant acceptance. "Alright,
but keep an eye on him," he says,
his voice gruff.

Sponge Bob nods, his grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his heart racing at the sudden
influx of stimulation. The
colorful lights, the smells of
frying food, the laughter of
the patrons—it's all so
much. But Sponge Bob's hand is
warm, a lifeline in the chaos.

They move through the
crowd, Plankton's steps small and
careful. His eye darts around,
trying to take it all in without
getting overwhelmed. Sponge
Bob's voice cuts through the
noise like a knife. "You okay,
buddy?" he asks, his smile
concerned. Plankton nods, his
voice a strained whisper. "Good,"
Sponge Bob says, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's.

As they reach the party
area, Plankton's antennae start to
wave erratically. The lights
are too bright, the sounds too
loud. He clutches Sponge
Bob's hand tighter. 
Plankton takes a deep breath,
his chest expanding with the
effort. It's like trying to
swim through jello, his senses
on high alert.

Sponge Bob feels the
change in his friend's grip,
his own heart racing with
concern. "You okay, Plankton?"
he asks again, his voice
barely audible over the din.
Plankton nods, his eye
focused on the floor. The
pattern of the tiles is
soothing, grounding him amidst
the chaos.

A flash of pink darts
through the crowd, and Plankton's
antennas twitch. "Patrick!"
Sponge Bob says, letting go
of Plankton's hand.

Plankton looks around and
sees Squidward doing the
dishes, but in a disorganized
manner that Plankton needs
to correct.

The sight of the
scattered plates, the water spots
on the glasses, sends a jolt of
anxiety through him. His
compulsion to straighten, to
organize, to make it right, is
almost unbearable. So he goes
to Squidward by the sink to interfere.

Squidward glances up, his
tentacles frozen mid-wash. "What
are you doing here?" he snaps.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his gaze fixated on the mess.
"Help," he says, his voice tight.

Squidward rolls his eyes, grabbing
another plate to wash as he ignores
Plankton.

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye darting between the chaos
and Squidward's dismissal. He's
doing the dishes wrong and needs
him to help!

"Squidward, let Plankton assist,"
he says, his voice formal.
Squidward sighs, shaking his
head.

"Look, I don't have time for
this," he says, his tentacles
moving rapidly. Plankton's
body tenses, his need for
meticulousness consuming him.

As Plankton approaches Squidward,
his movements are precise, almost
mechanical. His antennae twitch
in time with his racing thoughts,
his need for order a silent
scream in the noisy room. He
holds out his hand, palm up.
"Wash," he says, his voice firm.
Squidward pauses, eyeing him
warily. "What?"

Plankton's gaze is unwavering,
his voice steady. "Smudges.
Wash dishes. Correct way."

Squidward's grip on the plate
slackens, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean?"

Plankton's antennae wave
frantically. "Correct way,"
he repeats, his voice a
desperate whisper. "No smudges.
Wrong order."

Squidward's tentacles still,
his gaze sharpening. "What's
gotten into you?" he asks, his voice
filled with skepticism.

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"No smudges," he says again,
his voice a mix of urgency and
desperation. Squidward sets
the plate down with a clatter.
"What are you on about, Plankton?"

But Plankton's focus is solely
on the task at hand. He reaches
for the dish soap, his movements
precise.

Squidward watches him, his
expression a mix of annoyance
and curiosity. "What's going on?"
he asks, his voice gruff. Plankton's
antennas twitch, his eye darting
to Squidward. "Just helping,"
he says, his voice flat as he puts
the now clean dish away. But he
sees imperfections on some of the
clean dishes, handing them over
for Squidward to wash as he straightens
up the other plates.

Squidward's eyebrows furrow,
his gaze flicking between Plankton
and the dishes. "What are you
doing?" he asks again. Plankton's
grip on the towel tightens, his
body vibrating with the need for
perfection. "It's not right,"
he says, his voice strained. "Has to be
right."

"Those I've cleaned!" Squidward
says as Plankton puts them in
the sink for him to wash over
again. "Squidward look. No..."

But before Plankton can
finish, Squidward snatches the plate
from his tentacles. "Look, I don't
have time for your... whatever
this is," he says, his voice gruff. He
takes it and haphazardly shoves
it with smaller plates. Plankton
can't take the misalignment!

Plankton's antennae stand on
end, his eye wide with horror.
"No!" he says, his voice rising.
"Wrong order!" His hands
shake as he tries to grab the
plate, his mind racing with
the need to correct the mistake.

Squidward pulls away, his
expression a mix of confusion
and irritation. "Plankton, what's
wrong with you?" he snaps.

"Plankton's centrum semiovale has
restricted inhibitory synaptic
transmission!" Plankton's
voice is a mix of panic and
frustration, his antennae waving
wildly. Squidward's eyes narrow,
his grip on the plate tightening.
"What are you talking about? I
am not going to wash this again,"
he says, his tone firm.

Squidward's words hit a nerve,
triggering a cascade of emotions
in Plankton. "It's not
about Squidward!" he says, his voice
sharp. "It's about the order! Cleanliness..."

"PLANKTON I SAID NO!" Squidward
yells, startling him as he turns back
to the sink.

new just a touch neurodisability viii

GREAT CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new great chip arguecore viii

NEW REALITY viii
(Autistic author)

"I don't
understand," she says, her voice
filled with distress.

Plankton's hand clenches, his
body vibrating with tension.
"Numbers," he repeats, his voice
edging on a scream. "They
make quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen, her smile
fading to a look of horror.
"But Plankton," she says, her voice
shaking, "it's just a clock."

But her words are like fuel
on the fire of his distress.
He steps closer to the clock,
his hand outstretched as if
to will it to silence. "Numbers,"
he whispers, his voice a
plea. "They make quiet."

Hanna's eyes fill with
sympathy, but her words only
worsen his agitation. "Plankton,
it's just a clock," she says,
reaching out to touch him.

Karen's heart hammers in
her chest as she sees his
body tense even further.
"Hanna, don't," she warns, her
voice tight. "Please don't touch
him right now."

But Hanna doesn't hear her,
her own voice rising with
frustration. "It's just a clock,
Plankton," she repeats, her hand
covering his shoulder. "Nothing's
going to hurt you.."

The touch sends him spiraling,
his body convulsing with
overstimulation. "No touch!"
he screams, his hand slapping
at her arm, his face a mask of
fear and anger.

But Plankton's outburst has
ignited something in Hanna,
a spark of anger.

"Why can't you just be normal?"
she snaps, her voice echoing
through the tense room.

Karen's heart breaks as
Plankton's eye goes wide, his
body jerking away from her.
"Hanna, please," she says,
her voice tight with pain.

But Hanna's words keep coming,
a barrage of misunderstanding.
"You can't just ignore us,"
she says, her voice rising. "You have
to interact with the world."

Plankton's body recoils, his
skin seemingly vibrating with each
of her words. "Interact," he echoes,
his voice strained.

Karen's heart is in her throat.
"Hanna, please," she says, her
voice tight with pain. "You're
not helping."

But Hanna's eyes are
glassy with frustration. "How
can I help if he won't even
look at me?" she asks,
ignoring the desperation in
Plankton's gaze as she holds
his arms tightly.

Karen's eyes plead with her,
but Hanna's grip doesn't loosen.
"Let go," Plankton whimpers,
his voice tight with tension.

Hanna's smile is forced,
her grip unyielding. "Look at me,
Plankton," she says, her voice
laced with irritation. "You can't
just..."

But her words cut him like
knives. "Look
away," he murmurs, his voice
strained, his body begging for
the pressure to ease.

Hanna's smile falters, her
grip tightening. "Why can't
you just look at me?" she asks,
her voice edged with annoyance.

Plankton's breath hitches,
his antennae drooping. "Can't," he
whispers, his gaze flickering
between her and Karen.

Hanna's eyes narrow, her
grip on his arms tightening.
"You can," she insists, her
voice firm. "Just..."

But Plankton's whimpers
grow louder, his body
shaking with the effort
to pull away.

Hanna's smile fades, her
grip tightening in frustration.
"Why can't you just be like
everyone else?" she asks, her
tone no longer gentle.

Plankton's whimpers become
sobs, his body shaking with
the effort to break free.
Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she watches
the scene unfold, her heart
breaking for him.

Hanna's grip remains firm,
her expression a mix of
confusion and annoyance.
"Why are you doing this?"
she demands, her voice
sharp. "You're just being
difficult."

Plankton's sobs grow more
desperate, his body
twisting in her grasp.
"Let go," he whispers, his voice
a strained plea.

Hanna's eyes flash with
irritation. "Why ca--"

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Hanna,
please," she says, stepping
between them. "You're
upsetting him."

But Hanna's confusion turns
to anger. "How can I not
be upset?" she retorts, her
grip on Plankton's arms
tightening. "He won't even..."

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Please,
Hanna," she says, her eyes
pleading. "You don't
understand."

Suddenly, Plankton's legs
buckle, his body going slack
as Hanna finally releases
his arms. He crumples to
the floor. He's retreating, Karen
realizes, her heart racing.
He's retreating into himself.

Karen's eyes fill with
fear as she watches him, his
sobs subsiding into quiet
whimpers. "Plankton," she
whispers, her voice a prayer.

Hanna's face falls, her anger
replaced with shock. "What's
wrong with him?" she asks,
her voice trembling.

Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she crouches
beside him. "It's a condition,"
she says, her voice tight with
frustration. "He needs time
and space to process everything."

Hanna's face crumples, her
hands going to her mouth.
"I didn't know," she whispers,
her eyes wide with regret.
"I'm sorry."

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's huddled
form. "It's not your fault,"
she says, her voice thick with
emotion. "But we all have
to learn."

Hanna nods, her eyes
brimming with tears.

Karen wraps her arms
around Plankton, her
touch gentle. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "I'm here."
He trembles against her,
sobbing.

Hanna stands there,
apology etched in every
line of her face. "What can
I do?" she whispers.

Karen looks up, her eyes
wet. "Just give us a moment,"
she says, her voice a gentle
command.

Hanna nods, backing away
slowly, her eyes on Plankton.
"Okay," she murmurs, the weight
of her words heavy in the
silent room.

Karen holds Plankton tightly,
his body a trembling mass
of emotion. "It's okay,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing balm. "You're safe."

He nests his head into
her shoulder, his whimpers
softening to quiet sobs.
The room feels thick with
their shared pain, the air
charged with the tension
of misunderstanding.

Hanna's eyes dart around,
looking for anything that might
soothe him.

Karen's gaze meets hers,
a silent plea for understanding.

"It's called autism," Karen says softly,
her voice a gentle explanation.

Hanna's eyes widen, her face
a canvas of realization. "Oh," she
whispers, the word a soft
exhalation of breath.

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's tear-stained
face. "It's a spectrum,"
she says, her voice calm and
steady. "And he's on a part
of it that's very sensitive to
stimulation."

Hanna nods slowly, her
understanding growing. "I'm
sorry," she says, her voice
full of regret. "I didn't know."

Karen's grip tightens around
Plankton's shoulders. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "We're all still
learning."

Hanna nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's trembling
form. "I'll go," she says, her voice
small. "I didn't mean..."

Karen nods, her gaze
steady. "Thank you," she whispers.
"We can talk soon."

Hanna nods, her eyes filled
with sadness. "Of course," she says,
turning to leave.

The door clicks shut behind her,
leaving Karen and Plankton in the
heavy silence. Karen's arms
remain around him, her body
a protective cocoon against
the harshness of the world.

Plankton's sobs slowly
ease into quiet sniffs, his body
still trembling in her embrace.
Her heart aches for the pain
he's feeling, the fear that
Hanna's misunderstanding
has brought to the surface.

"I'm sorry," she whispers
to him, her voice
shaking.

Plankton's trembles begin
to subside, his breathing
evening out. He pulls back,
his eye searching hers. "No,"
he murmurs, his voice hoarse
from crying. "Not at fault."

Karen's eyes fill with
relief, her grip on him
loosening slightly. "It's
okay," she says, her voice
a gentle caress. "We just need
to find ways to help you."

Plankton nods, his eye
fluttering shut.

Karen's mind races with
thoughts of what more she
can do, what she can say
to make him feel safe.

"We'll get through this,"
she says, her voice a promise.
"Together."

Plankton's eye opens,
his gaze meeting hers.
"Together," he echoes, his
voice a whisper.

Karen's heart swells with
love for him, her eyes
shimmering with determination.
"We'll find what works,"
she says, her voice firm.

Plankton nods, his gaze
dropping to the floor.
"Thanks," he murmurs, his
voice barely audible. "Tired.."

Karen's heart breaks at the
exhaustion etched into his
features. "I got you, you
can rest," she says, her
voice a gentle whisper.

They move to the couch,
Plankton's body curling into
her side. She wraps the
weighted blanket around him,
still within their embrace.

His breathing slows, his body
relaxing against hers. The
whirring fan above offers
a steady rhythm, a lullaby for
his troubled mind.

Karen's hand strokes his
back in gentle circles, her
thumb tracing patterns that
seem to soothe his nerves.

The fan's steady whir
fills the room, a calming
symphony that lulls Plankton's
racing thoughts to a crawl.

Karen's thumb moves in
soothing circles on his back,
each pass sending a ripple
of comfort through him.

Plankton's breathing evens,
his body slack against hers.
The fan's steady hum is a
lullaby in the quiet room,
a metronome for his racing
thoughts.

Karen's hand continues its
soothing dance across his back,
his eye finally closing.

The room is a cocoon of
silence, the fan's whisper the
only sound breaking the stillness.

Plankton's breathing slows,
his body melts into Karen's embrace.
Her hand continues its gentle
caress, a metronome of comfort as
he finally surrenders to sleep.

new new reality hannacore viii

CHIP AND FAIL viii
(Autistic author)

Karen's hand was a lifeline,
her voice a gentle guide. "Chip,"
she called out.
"We need to talk."

Chip stopped in the hallway. 
Why was Dad acting so
weird? He turned to face his
mother, his eyes brimming with
unshed tears. "What's wrong with
him?" he demanded, his voice
filled with accusation. "He doesn't
deserve to be called my dad if
he can't even..."
But that's when it happens.
That's when Plankton started
hyperventilating, and that's
when Plankton can't take
anymore.
That's when it happened.
Chip's words were like a match
striking too close to a powder keg.
Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae
twitching erratically. Karen rushed to
his side, her screen wide with concern.
"Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress. She holds her arms
out to catch Plankton.

But Plankton's mind was a
whirlwind, his body a live wire.
He couldn't answer, couldn't find
the words to explain the chaos
that was his reality. His antennae
trembled as he struggled to
breathe, his body rigid with fear.
He had hoped to keep this
hidden, to protect Chip from the
truth, but it was too much.
The storm inside him grew
wilder, each breath a battle.

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his own confusion
mirroring the chaos in the
room. "What's wrong with you?"
he repeated, his voice a mix of anger
and desperation.

But Plankton's mind was a tornado,
his thoughts swirling too fast
for words. He could feel his chest
constrict, his heart pounding
like a drum.

Karen watched her son's screen,
seeing the hurt in his eyes, the
misunderstanding etched
deep. She took a deep breath,
knowing the moment had arrived.
"Chip," she began, her voice
soft but firm, "there's something
you need to know about your dad."

Chip looked at her, his expression
a mix of anger and confusion. "What
could possibly make him act like
this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why
did you marry him? He's just nothing but..."

"Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his
hands in hers, when Plankton
starts to wheeze heavily, his body
constricting with each shallow breath.

Chip's anger faded, replaced with
fear as he watched his father's
distress. "Dad?" he whispered,
his voice shaking.

Plankton's body trembled as his
legs gave out, collapsing into the
embrace Karen had been ready to offer.

"Dad?" Chip's voice was barely
above a whisper, his eyes wide
with fear and confusion. He had
never seen his father so
overwhelmed, so vulnerable.

Karen knelt beside Plankton, her
hands gentle on his trembling
body. "It's okay, love," she
whispered, her voice a salve
on his raw nerves. "Just breathe."

Chip's eyes were glued to his
father with fear. He had never seen him
like this before, his body a
stranger's under his own touch.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked
again, his voice shaking.

Karen took a deep breath, her
hands trembling as she smoothed
back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your
dad was born with something..."
Her voice trailed off, the words
stuck in her throat like a piece
of unchewed food.

Chip's eyes searched hers, his
confusion a storm cloud
gathering. "What do you mean?"
he asked, his voice small and
scared.

Karen took a deep breath, her
heart aching for both her son
and her husband. "Your dad," she
began, her voice shaking with
the weight of her words, "was born
different, Chip." Plankton's
eye flickered open, filled with a
mixture of fear and hope.

"What do you mean, 'different'?"
Chip asked, his voice small and
scared. He had never heard his
mother talk about his dad this
way before.

Karen took a deep breath,
swallowing the lump in her
throat. "When your dad was born,
Chip," she began, her screen
filled with a sadness that
threatened to spill over, "his brain
was injured during delivery. When
the doctors pulled him out, they
didn't realize how fragile he was
and they..." Her voice trailed off,
the memory too painful to
recount. "They had to get him out
and applied too much force on his
head, which caused some damage.
It gave him a type of condition, where
he's on what's called autism spectrum."

Chip's eyes widened, his grip on
his shirt tightening. "But that's
not his fault, right?" he asked, his
voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't
want to think of his dad as
damaged or broken.

Karen nodded, her screen filled
with love for both her husband and
her son. "No, honey, it's not his
fault," she said, her voice steady.
"It's just how he's. And
it's not something you can see or
touch. It's like having a radio in
your head that's always tuned to the
loudest station, and sometimes
the static gets too much."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II viii

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS viii

(Autistic Author)


They sit in silence for a few moments, 
the sound of Plankton's slowing breaths 
filling the space. Karen's mind races with 
the conversation they need to have with 
Chip.

"How do we explain it?" Plankton asks, 
finally breaking the silence. His 
antennae still, his eye looking at the 
floor.

"We tell him the truth," Karen says firmly. 
"But we also remind him of all the 
wonderful things you do for him, all the 
ways you show him love."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping 
further. "I know I'm not the dad he 
deserves," he murmurs.

Karen's voice is firm, but filled with 
warmth. "You are the dad he needs," 
she corrects. "And we'll get through this 
together."

Finally, Plankton's 
antennae perk up slightly. "I'm sorry," he 
says again, his voice still thick with 
emotion.

Karen nods. "I know," she says softly. 
"But we can't keep hiding this from him. 
He needs to understand."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. 
"I know," he admits. "I just don't know 
where to start."

Karen gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 
"We'll start by talking to him," she says, 
her voice strong and reassuring. "When 
you're ready."

They sit there for a while longer, the 
rhythm of Plankton's breathing slowly 
returning to normal. Karen's mind is 
racing with thoughts of how to navigate this 
chapter in their lives. How to help Chip 
understand his father's condition without scaring 
him or making him feel responsible.

Finally, Plankton turns to her, his antennae still shaky. 
"What do we do now?" he asks, his voice a mix of exhaustion and fear.

Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with resolve. 
"First," she says, "we make sure you're ok."

They sit there, the only sound in the room the distant 
hum of the TV. Plankton's antennae are still, his eye 
focused on the floor. Karen's hand remains on his 
back, a silent promise that she's there for him.

"Let's get you to bed," she says softly. "You need to rest."

With her help, Plankton stands, his legs wobbly from 
the intense episode. Together, they make their way 
to their bedroom, the quiet of the house a stark 
contrast to the emotional upheaval they've just 
experienced.

Once Plankton is tucked into bed, Karen sits beside 
him, her hand resting on his arm. "We'll get through 
this," she says, her voice a gentle reassurance in the 
stillness. "We're a family."

Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of doubt, and 
he looks up at her, his eye searching hers for 
understanding. "But what if I can't?"

Karen's gaze is unwavering. "You can," she says 
firmly. "You're strong, Plankton. And we're here to 
help you."

Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods slowly. 
"Ok," he whispers. "Ok."

Karen leans in, kissing his forehead. "Rest," she 
says. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

With a nod, Plankton closes his eye, and Karen slips 
out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She 
heads to Chip's room, heavy with the weight of the 
conversation they need to have.

Chip is lying on his bed, his small form wrapped in a 
blanket, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are red, and 
he looks up as Karen enters.

"Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. 
"Can we talk?"

Chip nods, his eyes still wet with tears. "What's 
wrong with Daddy?" he asks, his voice shaky.

Karen takes a deep breath, choosing her words 
carefully. "Daddy has something called Autism, 
sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "It makes his 
brain work a bit differently from ours. Sometimes, 
when he's really upset or overwhelmed, his body can 
react in ways that might seem strange or scary."

Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity, and he nods 
slowly. "Is that why he gets so mad?" he asks.

Karen takes a moment before responding. "Sometimes, yes," 
she says. "It's his way of dealing 
with big feelings. But it's not because he's mad at you, ok?"

Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. 
"But why does he get so mad?" he asks again, his 
voice quivering.

Karen sighs, her hand stroking him. "Daddy gets 
overwhelmed by his feelings, and it's hard for him to 
express them," she explains. "Sometimes, when he 
can't find the right words or when things get too 
much, he feels like he's going to break apart. That's 
what we call a meltdown."

Chip sniffs, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "It's like 
when I'm really sad and I don't want to talk?"

Karen nods, her heart swelling with love for her son's 
empathy. "Exactly," she says. "And just like you, 
Daddy needs some space when that happens."

Chip looks at her, his eyes serious. "But what if I 
want to show him my affection?"

Karen smiles sadly. "You can, Chip," she says. "Just 
remember to be gentle, and maybe use words or 
gestures that aren't to overwhelming for him."

Chip nods, his eyes still on the ceiling. "But what if I 
make it worse?" he whispers.

Karen's heart clenches at his fear, and she takes his 
hand in hers. "Sometimes, we just need to learn new 
ways to show and receive love."

Chip nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 
"Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Karen leans in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 
"You're brave," she says, her voice filled with pride.

"But what about the rock he broke?" Chip asks, his 
voice still shaky.

Karen sighs, her eyes meeting his. "Daddy didn't 
mean to scare you," she says. "Sometimes, when 
people are upset, they do things they don't mean to. 
It's part of how they cope."

Chip nods, his grip on her hand tightening. "But 
Dad now," he says again, his voice small.

"We'll give him some time to rest," Karen assures him. 
"And tomorrow, we'll talk about it more."

With that, she tucks the blanket around him and turns 
to leave. As she reaches the door, Chip's voice stops 
her. "Mom," he says, his tone tentative. "Can I go to Daddy?"

Karen's heart skips a beat, and she looks back at 
him, her eyes filled with both concern and hope. "Do 
you think that's a good idea, sweetie?"

Chip nods. "I want to tell him I love him," he says, his 
voice barely above a whisper.

Karen's heart squeezes. "Ok," she says, taking a 
deep breath. "But remember, we need to be gentle 
with him right now. Let's go to his room together."

They tiptoe down the hall, the house eerily quiet. 
Karen can feel Chip's hand in hers, small and warm 
and trembling slightly. When they reach the bedroom, 
she opens the door quietly and peeks in. Plankton is 
lying on his back, his antennae still, his chest rising 
and falling with deep, even breaths.

They approach the bed, and Karen can see the 
tension in Plankton's body, even in sleep. She
whispers to Chip, "Remember, sweetie, just a little. 
And if he wakes up, tell him you love him."

Chip nods solemnly, and together, they tiptoe to the 
bedside. Chip extends a tentative hand and gently 
pats Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but 
he doesn't wake. "I love you, Daddy," Chip whispers, 
his voice quivering.

Karen's eyes fill with tears at the sight of her son's 
bravery and love. She gives Chip's hand a squeeze.
"That was perfect," she says, her voice barely a 
murmur.

They stand there for a moment, watching Plankton's 
chest rise and fall in the dim light of the moon 
peeking through the curtains. Then, with a heavy 
heart, Karen leads Chip back to his room.

Once Chip is tucked in, she kisses his forehead and 
whispers, "You're a brave boy, and I'm so proud of 
you." His eyes, still red and swollen from crying, 
meet hers with a quiet understanding beyond his 
years.

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore viii

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii
(Autistic author)

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his grip on Plankton's wrists
loosening. "What
accident?" he asks, his voice
filled with dread.

Plankton's smile is gone,
replaced by a look of sadness.
"Head," he says, his voice
a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He
touches his forehead gently,
his antennas drooping.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
realization, his grip on Plankton's
wrists loosening entirely. "You
got hurt?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What happened?"

Plankton nods, his antennas
still drooping.

Sponge Bob's confusion
grows, his anger replaced
with worry. "What do you
mean?" he asks, his voice
softening. "What happened to
your head?"

Plankton's antennas twitch, his
smile a distant memory. "Fall," 
he says, his voice a monotone.

Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat.
"You fell?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "When? How?"

Plankton nods, his eye
flickering with something
akin to pain. "Recently," he says,
his voice flat. "Head bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock,
his mind racing with questions.
"You fell and hurt your head?" he
repeats, his voice filled with
disbelief. "Why didn't you tell
me?"

Plankton's gaze drops to his book,
his hands fluttering over the
pages. "No tell," he whispers, his
voice filled with regret. "Shame."

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with
understanding, his anger
evaporating like mist in the sun.
"Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice
soft. "You didn't have to keep
this to yourself."

Plankton's smile is a
pale imitation of his usual
self, his antennas still. "No good,"
he whispers, his voice barely
audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with worry as he tries to
comprehend his friend's cryptic
words. "You're not bad, Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "You've
just had an accident."

Plankton's gaze remains fixed
on the book, his hands
flapping over the pages. "No,"
he says, his voice a sad echo.
"Head bad. Plankton bad." His body
slumps, his usual vibrant energy
dimmed by his distress.

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with sadness as he tries to
comfort his friend. "You're not
bad, Plankton," he says, his voice
soothing. "You're just hurt right?"

Plankton's antennas twitch slightly,
his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt,"
he echoes, his voice a monotone.
"Inside head." He taps his forehead,
his eye searching Sponge Bob's
for understanding. "Grey matter.
Neural pathways."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
confusion growing. "What do
you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What's
going on with your brain?"

Plankton's hand continues to
tap his forehead, his voice
detached. "Neurochemicals," he says,
his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic
connections. Autism." His smile
is a mere memory, his eye
glazed over with a faraway look.

Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his
chest, his mind racing. "You're
talking about your brain," he says,
his voice tentative. "What's wrong
with it?"

Plankton's hand stops tapping,
his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob.
"Wiring," he says, his voice a
monotone explanation. "Neuro-
typical patterns disrupted affect
the parts of brain when result
in autism." His words are precise,
his tone devoid of emotion.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
comprehension, his spongy heart
sinking. "You're saying you have
autism now?" he asks, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton nods, his eye
still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical
divergence," he confirms, his voice
still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic
variance, myelination discrepancies."
He speaks in a monotone, his words
sounding rehearsed and mechanical.

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears,
his heart breaking for his friend.
"What does that mean, Plankton?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
"Does that mean you're not okay?"

Plankton's gaze remains on
the book, his hand tracing the
spine. "Neuro-typical divergence,"
he repeats, his voice a flat
recitation of medical terms.
"Synaptic connections altered.
Atypical neural patterns. Autism."
He speaks as if recounting
a scientific paper, his tone
lacking any personal connection.
"When hit head, damaged the
myelination," he says, his hand
continuing its mechanical movement
against the book. "Myelination is
the insulation around the axons
that speeds up the nerve impulses 
made in a part of brain we call
the cerebral cortex. My cerebral
cortex now restricts, slows
down impulses."

Sponge Bob listens, his
mind racing to keep up with
Plankton's sudden shift in
vocabulary. "But what does that
mean?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "How'd the
damage give you autism?"

Plankton's hand stops
its movement along the book.
"Neurodivergence," he says, his
voice a clinical recount. "My brain
now operates outside typical
parameters. Synaptic pruning,
myelination patterns altered.
Atypical neural networks formed."
He speaks as if discussing a
complex scientific experiment,
his words a jumble of medical
terminology that Sponge Bob
barely understands.

"Does that mean you're not okay?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice
filled with fear.

Plankton's hand stills on the book,
his gaze unfocused. "Functional
diversity," he says, his voice
a hollow echo of the medical
lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence
can lead to unique cognitive
strengths, but also challenges."
He taps the book, his antennas
waving slightly. "My brain's wiring
changed," he says, his voice
a monotone. "Synaptic clefts
widened, neurotransmitters less
efficient. Restricted blood flow to
temporal lobes."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with a mix of confusion and
fear. "Does that mean you can't
be... fixed?" he asks, his voice
small.

Plankton's antennas twitch,
his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix,"
he echoes, his voice a sad
recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes.
Rewire, adapt. But cerebral
cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent."

Sponge Bob's eyes are wide,
his mind reeling with the
complexity of Plankton's words.
"But, Plankton," he says, his voice
quivering. "What about the Krabby
Patties? Your plans?"

Plankton's gaze snaps up, his
hands still. "No plans," he says,
his voice a sad echo. "No more steal."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his heart racing. "You don't want
to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?"
he asks, his voice filled with
hope and disbelief.

Plankton's antennas droop, his
hands flapping slightly. "No more
schemes," he whispers, his voice a
monotone. "No more steal." His eye
meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of
his old mischief briefly shining
through. "But," he adds, his
smile mischievous, "still have
competitive spirit." His hands
begin to flap with excitement.

Sponge Bob's heart soars with
relief, a smile spreading across
his face. "So, you're still
the same Plankton," he says, his
voice filled with hope. "Just...
different. Ok, cool!"

Plankton nods, his smile a
ghostly reflection of his usual
self. "Different," he repeats, his
voice a sad echo. "But still
have friend?" His antennas
wave slightly, his eye searching
Sponge Bob's for reassurance.

Sponge Bob's heart swells with
affection. "Of course, Plankton,"
he says, his voice firm. "We're
still friends. Nothing can
change that." He squeezes
Plankton's shoulder, trying
to convey his support. 

new karen and the autistic journey corpus callosum anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) braincore autismcore headinjuryposting neurodivergentcore neurodisability viii

∩――――∩     ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
||    ∧  ﾍ    ||                       
||    (* ´ ▽`)  ||  < good morning world!!   ♡
|ﾉ^⌒⌒づ`￣  ＼          
(　ノ　　⌒ ヽ ＼
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⚡️search s34ttle for more⚡️

new eltt34s emitdeb gninrom enituo ypperp esirnus deb thgin peels tolc doolb seot ruoh yad fo emit emitpan emityrots emityad

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

ּ ֶָ֢.

new cat hour minute

ANyone know where I can make personalized numbers with this ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

new time personal custom clock minute moment hour private personalized own

🕰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⏳ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

new clock day minute time hour pendulum clock sundial

🎱🎱🎱🎱

new eight ball

⩇⩇:⩇⩇↺⭒

new infinity cute aestetic star eight cute symbols

🇮🇻🇻🇮🇮

new viii sevener xviii iv eighteen 7 8

⏲⏱️

new clock time hour watch timer

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣧⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⣷⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠩⢹⡙⠁⢸⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⢹⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣼⣶⣿⡆⠀⢸⣿⣾⣿⠻⣿⠷⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢈⣿⡄⣰⣴⡀⢀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠸⣧⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣬⣉⣡⠞⢻⣿⣿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠿⠻⣿⠛⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠈⠉⠑⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠹⣦⣻⣿⣆⠀⣠⣿⣿⠀⣠⢀⡀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠀⠀⣰⡀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣏⠙⠋⣸⣿⣮⡏⠀⢳⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⢀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⢶⣤⣠⡏⠱⣄⣠⡀⠹⣿⣄⠘⣿⡿⢿⣰⣦⡏⠀⣈⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⡧⠒⠁⠀⢠⣾⠃⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⢉⡿⢳⠀⠈⠚⠓⠒⢻⣿⣷⣿⠉⠉⠉⢹⠳⡾⠛⠁⠸⣄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⡀⡠⢹⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⣴⡋⠀⠀⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⡿⠷⣄⡀⡎⠀⠉⠢⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⢥⣀⣟⣀⣀⣤⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢦⡀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠠⠬⢧⡤⠞⠛⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⢈⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⠢⠄⠀⣰⣁⣀⣰⣿⣍⠀⣽⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠠⠠⠤⠤⠤⢿⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⢐⠁⠀⠊⡞⠀⢈⠍⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢠⠤⠒⠂⢤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠯⢏⣳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠂⠐⠁⡀⠗⠈⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⡼⠭⠭⢭⣿⣗⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠈⠀⠉⢍⡺⡞⠚⠓⢺⠐⠀⣹⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣟⣒⣒⠠⡿⢭⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠡⠔⠊⠀⠂⡆⠀⢀⡟⠀⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢸⣗⣒⣒⣹⡿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠻⣉⣴⣿⣿⢭⡒⢭⣵⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢸⠃⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢹⡿⠭⠽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢟⣩⡠⢚⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠚⣫⠟⣇⡀⠀⠀⡂⠀⠄⢢⡜⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢈⣯⢏⣙⣿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⡭⠞⣡⠟⠋⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢭⣭⡥⠔⢋⣗⠀⠨⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⡿⢒⣺⡯⠿⠛⠛⠋⡹⠐⢋⡠⠊⣡⠴⣏⡽⠿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣀⡠⢤⣶⡫⣧⠀⢈⠀⠈⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⠥⠒⠋⡴⣻⣄⣾⡉⢳⣤⠾⣿⣟⣋⡡⠔⠋⠸⠊⣸⠀⠀⠁⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⡠⠟⢁⡸⢛⠗⠛⣷⣴⣿⡟⠷⣤⣄⠀⡠⠜⢩⣧⠀⠱⠌⢼⠀⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢞⣹⡤⠤⠄⡊⠤⠒⠋⢀⢾⠀⡠⠛⣶⣿⣧⡀⠈⠑⢥⡀⡠⣿⢿⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⣤⡟⠀⠙⢳⡔⣿⠿⣈⠛⠷⣦⣤⡍⣚⡵⠛⣧⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠟⢆⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠄⠒⣩⠞⠀⢀⠔⠛⣿⣿⣦⡀⠉⠒⠤⣈⠉⡁⠤⠚⠹⡄⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡀⠀⠙⠒⠒⠒⠁⠀⡠⠊⡏⠀⠀⠸⠤⣼⡿⠉⣷⢌⡓⠢⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⡀⢀⣠⣀⡤⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣊⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠁⠀⠈⢶⣾⠷⢦⡤⡉⠁⠐⠂⠈⣽⣧⡀⢀⣼⠟⠀⠀⡿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣟⠒⢚⡭⢀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣄⣀⣹⣦⣄⠙⠚⠷⢶⣶⣺⣿⡿⣷⣾⣯⣤⣤⣴⣷⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷
⠀⣠⣤⣴⣦⣶⣿⣭⣽⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣶⣦⣴⣿⣾⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⡾⠽⣿⣿⣾⣿
⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣿⣟⣿
⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣧⣄⡀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢽⣻
⣤⠿⣴⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣯⣙⣒⣺⣻⡿⠿⠿⠿⢦⣬⣿⡿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⢉⣍⠹⣏
⡽⠒⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⠿⡿⣂

new 43 42 dot art text art ascii art

▶︎ •၊၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|||၊||။‌‌‌‌‌၊||lıl||၊||။‌‌‌‌‌၊||lılıııl|၊၊|၊၊|၊၊၊ıılılııılııl၊၊၊၊|၊|၊|၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌lııl၊၊၊၊|၊|၊|၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|||။‌‌‌‌‌၊• 46:33

new unlawful 37 36 34 38 42 39 43 35 22 16 28 13 15 26 14 11 19 27 10 21 48 49 52 32 41 56 54 46 47 53 51 61 44 55 63 72 74 45 57 82 85 66 62 76 78 58 77 68 73

      ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆
     

new eighteen eight ten girly

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠉⠙⣟⠻⣶⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠒⣆⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣁⣤⠤⠄⠚⠳⠈⢢⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣊⣁⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠉⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⠠⣵⡀⠉⢉⣭⡽⠛⠉⠁⠀⠁⠑⠒⠲⠤⣀⠀⢀⠤⢲⡿⠫⠟⢋⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⢠⡞⣥⢄⡤⠒⠉⠀⠀⢀⡭⢤⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠄⠉⠥⡔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⢉⡽⠆⠀⠀⢇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⡠⠛⡪⠂⠀⢀⠀⡰⠃⣰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⢠⠀⠀⠀⠙⢤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠄⠀⠀⠀⢸
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣠⠊⢠⠞⠀⠀⢠⠋⡸⠁⡼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠊⠀⣠⠃⡄⠀⠀⠀⢄⠘⣦⡀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⢸
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢟⠅⡠⠃⡄⠀⢠⠇⠀⠁⡜⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢹⠀⡃⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠙⢆⢢⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠸
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⢡⣫⡾⠁⡜⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⡜⠐⢸⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡟⠁⠈⡾⣇⠀⠀⡄⠐⣿⡀⠀⠈⠉⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⢄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⣰⠟⢡⠃⢰⠁⢠⠏⢹⠀⡼⠀⣀⣨⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣻⠟⠲⢤⡀⣇⣿⡀⠀⢱⠀⢹⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⣾⠟⣿⠏⠀⡎⢀⡇⠀⡞⢂⣼⣼⡗⠛⠉⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣧⣧⠀⠈⡆⠘⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠏⠆⠀⠀
⠀⣠⣿⠏⣰⡏⠀⠀⣇⡾⡁⡸⠀⠀⠀⠙⠓⠀⠐⠒⠺⣧⡀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡏⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠘⣿⠘⡆⠀⡇⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣰⣿⡏⠀⢿⡇⠀⠀⣿⢀⣷⡇⠀⢀⣀⡀⣀⣀⣀⢀⡀⠈⠛⢄⡀⡼⣿⠀⠠⠤⢀⣀⠀⠀⠹⡇⠹⡀⢃⠀⢸⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡏⡼⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠙⣺⣈⣳⣶⣞⣛⣋⣉⠉⠻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠩⠄⢠⣴⡾⠷⠾⣵⣄⡹⣄⣣⣾⠀⢸⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣸⠁⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢀⠄⡏⠻⢯⣈⣦⣤⡽⣍⠤⣶⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⣙⣦⣄⡠⠭⣿⣿⣿⢹⡄⠂⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠃⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⡜⢸⡇⠀⠀⠉⠉⢉⣀⢤⡴⠛⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠲⣀⡛⠁⠽⠿⡇⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⣰⢃⣾⠆⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⡼⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⣟⣼⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⢠⣿⡏⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⣥⣤⣄⣉⡓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⢠⠏⠀⠀⡄⢀⠋⠻⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢰⣿⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⣼⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⡰⠃⠀⠀⡜⠀⡾⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡿⢻⣄⢰⣿⡟⣿⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⢁⠞⣡⣶⣄⡜⠀⣘⡠⣾⠏⠀⢰⠀⠀
⠀⠇⢸⣿⠀⢹⡿⢿⠂⠈⣧⠀⢀⠖⠉⠈⢱⠀⢿⡿⠉⠀⠈⠁⠀⣹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢋⠀⠀⠀⠛⠓⡶⠀⡘⢁⡔⠁⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀
⠘⠀⠈⣿⡦⢼⡅⠘⡆⣀⣾⣷⡀⠳⢄⣠⠎⠀⠈⢳⣦⣤⣤⡰⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⢋⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢧⣿⠟⡁⠀⢀⢾⠇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡈⡇⠀⣟⠛⠉⠉⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠋⡠⣾⣿⡤⣴⡶⠀⠛⠀⣼⣃⡜⠁⢀⢞⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⣱⠼⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⣠⢖⣩⠔⠋⣠⡋⠁⣀⢋⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠏⠀⢀⣞⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣆⠀⠀⠠⠀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣯⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠐⠒⣛⣻⠭⡔⠒⢉⠉⠁⠀⢨⢉⡀⢀⡞⣼⠏⠀⢦⣿⠏⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀

new .... 43 icicif dot art text art ascii art

𓆩🖤𓆪

new letter second i love you 1000% minute hour time epistle varsity letter s heth

- ❥⃫⇚⃟°•⃟ ɪᴍᷟ-༿⃟ ⃟༾ֆɦɛɨɖǟ⸙❰̶͞ ✨❱ ͞ ͞͞ ̶̷. 44- ➛ᷝ.ᷟ͜. [̶͞ ʂɧɛıɖą ͢|͞⸙̶͟⁵₅⁵ ̽̽ |¼(᙮᙮᙮)▽̶͞. 45- ̶͞⟦̶͞|.͟ ͟.

new sheida ida 43 44 45

✰⩇⩇:⩇⩇

new number time clock time minute hour second

📅🕗𝄜 ✔️⩇⩇:⩇⩇🌐જ⁀➴

new calendar time day year second clock month minute hour date time period

20:03

new hour timer time minute clock moment clock time

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⣁⣀⣀⣈⠉⠁⠀⠻⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣀⠉⠛⢿⣿⠋⢀⡀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡈⠀⢹⣿⡄⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠸⣿⣿⡀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠟⠋⢁⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠋⣉⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⡉⢹⣿⣽⡇⠠⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠸⠏⡿⢷⣦⣄⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣠⣤⡄⠀⠀⠈⢿⡆⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⣉⣥⣶⣶⣶⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣏⣹⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣴⣿⣿⡇⣶⣶⣶⣾⣷⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⢰⣿⠟⠉⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⣼⣿⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠶⣶⣦⣄⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣵⣾⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠓⡆⠀⠀⠹⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⠋⢀⣤⣤⢻⡇⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣾⣿⠁⠀⠐⠊⢿⣿⢻⣿⣤⣤⣾⢱⠟⣺⡇⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⠼⠿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣸⣿⠀⣾⠃⢹⣿⠚⣠⡿⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡄⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⠾⠿⡛⠻⠿⣻⣿⣧⡀⢿⣿⠛⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣶⣶⣤⣄⠀⠀⣠⡴⠊⠈⢻⣦⠾⢿⣭⡶⠞⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⢤⡀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠿⠛⠋⢁⡄⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠐⢷⣾⣿⣿⣷⡖⠻⣇⠀⠀⠉⠀⢸⣏⣡⣤⣶⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢢⡈⢿⣦⣶⣦⡀⠙⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣶⠿⠋⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⢀⡏⣦⣤⣤⣽⠇⠀⣙⣢⣤⣶⡾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠈
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⣠⠶⠒⠒⠾⠱⣼⡇⠀⠒⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⠏⣿⣸⣿⣿⡿⠿⠷⢶⣦⡀⡸⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠈⣽⣿⣷⣿⠃⠀⢠⠋⢀⣠⣶⡷⠶⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⠿⢻⣟⠛⠉⣀⣤⣤⠀⢻⣧⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠓⠢⠏⢠⣿⠋⠈⠛⠛⠋⠙⠳⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠛⠛⣿⠉⠀⠀⠸⣿⡀⠛⠛⠉⠙⠃⣀⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⢸⣷⣄⠀⢶⣶⣾⣶⣶⡤⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣤⣄⣸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣿⣿⣧⠈⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠸⠟⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠚⠁⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣥⣤⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢦⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢀⡴⠚⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢀⡀⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⣄⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿

new FNF friday night funkin hour zank youtube dot art text art ascii art

🏛️

new outbuilding guadalupe

54👩‍💼🧝🏆🏆🏆🌡️

new 79 43 85 julian calendar

🏁

new letter second font kaomoji

🧱🚧

new brick outbuilding rick owens

❄️🌨️

new two hour delay prayer circle

8️⃣8️⃣

new eight

˗ˏˋ ✞ ˎˊ˗

new roman numerals trinity clubhouse god

💗

new three 6 ternion

✿ 𝓼𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓽𝓲𝓮 ✿𝟏𝟑 ❤︎︎✩𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐘 ✰ִ ࣪𖤐mirrorballִ ࣪𖤐「✦Swiftie✦」

new taylor russell outbuilding

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

*( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡💀💀

new time opened second

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new six minutes spam

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM viii

(Autistic author)


Plankton's antennas 
lift slightly. "Game," he 
whispers, his voice 
shaking. "Just game."

Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow, 
his claws tense. "If it's 
just a game, then why 
are you acting so 
strange?" he snaps at
Plankton.

Plankton's antennas 
wobble with effort 
to maintain control.

"Because," he starts, his 
voice shaky, "Plankton... 
different."

Mr. Krabs stares at 
Sponge Bob, his 
expression unyielding. 
"Different?" he echoes, 
his eyes darting to 
Plankton, then back to 
his employee.

Sponge Bob nods, his 
voice trembling. "Yes, 
Mr. Krabs, Plankton's 
been through something 
that's changed him."
He looks at Karen for 
support, but she stays 
silent, her eyes 
reflecting a mix of 
concern and hope.

Mr. Krabs crosses his 
arms, his eyebrow 
quivering with skepticism. 
"What do you mean, 
changed him?" he asks.
"Is he trying to steal 
the Krabby Patty formular 
again?"

Sponge Bob's 
frustration rises. "No, 
Mr. Krabs," he says, 
his voice steady. "It's 
not like that. Plankton 
has... a condition."

Mr. Krabs' 
skepticism turns to 
curiosity. "Condition?" 
he repeats, his voice 
softer.

Sponge Bob nods, 
swallowing the lump 
in his throat. "He's 
been diagnosed with acquired
autism," he explains, 
his voice barely above 
a whisper.

Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, 
his mouth dropping open
as the words sink in.
He turns to Karen, his gaze 
demanding confirmation.
"Is it true?" he asks, 
his voice gruff.

Karen nods solemnly, 
her circuits flickering 
with a mix of 
sadness and hope.
"Yes," she says gently. 
"Plankton has 
an acquired 
form of autism."

Mr. Krabs' expression 
shifts from skepticism 
to shock. He looks 
at Plankton. 
"Autism?" he repeats, 
his voice barely above 
a murmur. "But... but 
how?"

Karen's LED lights 
dim slightly. "I don't
think he'd like to answer
that question" she says, 
her voice clinical. "It's 
caused a significant 
shift in his neural 
functioning."

Mr. Krabs' gaze 
remains on Plankton, 
his expression one 
of dawning 
understanding. "Was 
me fry pan..." he starts, 
his voice trailing off.

Plankton's antennas 
drop, and he 
nods slowly. "Yes," he 
whispers. "Krabs pan."

Mr. Krabs' face 
crumbles, his 
claws clenching into 
fists. "I didn't mean to," 
he stammers, his voice 
choking with regret. "I 
was just trying to keep 
me formular safe."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch, his single eye 
welling with unshed 
tears.

Mr. Krabs' guilt is 
palpable, his eyes 
swimming with 
remorse. "I'm sorry, 
Plankton," he says 
hoarsely. "I had no idea."

But Plankton's gaze 
doesn't soften. His 
stare is unyielding, 
his voice cold.

"Sorry not enough," he says, 
his words clipped. 
"Hurt, Mr. Krabs 
hurt Plankton bad."

Mr. Krabs' heart squeezes 
at the accusation in 
Plankton's voice. He's 
never heard him speak 
like this before, with such 
raw emotion.

"I know," he says 
remorsefully, his 
voice cracking. "I know 
I hurt you, Plankton. I'm 
so, so sorry."

But Plankton's 
unforgiving gaze 
doesn't waver. "No," 
he insists, his voice 
still cold. "Not just sorry.
Mr. Krabs must understand."

Mr. Krabs nods, 
his eyes brimming with 
tears. "I do," he 
chokes out. "I understand.
What can I do to help?"

Plankton's antennas 
still don't move, his 
expression unreadable.

Mr. Krabs' reaches for
Plankton's shoulder.
That's the last straw.
With a burst of 
energy, Plankton 
pushes away the 
clawed hand. "No 
touch," he snaps, his 
voice cold. "Mr. Krabs 
not understand." His 
words are like shards of 
ice, each one cutting 
deeper into Mr. Krabs' 
guilt.

Mr. Krabs' face falls, 
his hand retreating 
quickly. "But I do," 
he insists, his voice 
desperate. "I swear, 
Plankton, I do."

But Plankton's 
expression remains 
stony, his antennas 
rigid. "No," he says 
simply. "Krabs don't." His 
voice is a knife, slicing 
through the tension 
in the room.

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
water, his heart 
heavy with regret. "I 
swear, Plankton," he 
pleads. "I'll do anything 
to make it right."

But Plankton's 
gaze remains 
steady, his 
unforgiving gaze 
bearing into Mr. 
Krabs' soul. "Make right?"
he echoes. "Cannot make 
right. Cannot change. Krabs
fault."

Mr. Krabs' shoulders 
sag with the weight 
of Plankton's words. 
He knows his rival is 
right; he can't reverse 
what's been done, 
no matter how much he 
wishes it. "But I want 
to help," he says 
desperately. "Please, tell 
me how..."

But Plankton's 
expression is a 
mask of coldness, 
his antennas unyielding. 
"Help?" he echoes, his 
voice dripping with 
skepticism. "Krabs 
can't help." His gaze 
slides to the 
discarded chessboard, 
his eyes lingering 
on the scattered 
pieces. "Too late."

Mr. Krabs' shoulders 
sag with the weight 
of Plankton's rejection. 
"Please," he says 
desperately. "I didn't 
know. I just want to 
make it better."

But Plankton's 
unforgiving gaze 
doesn't falter. His 
stare is a mirror 
reflecting Mr. Krabs' 
own guilt and regret. 
"Better?" he repeats, 
his voice devoid of 
emotion. "Cannot be.
No cure. Just stop."

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
well with tears, his 
heart aching with 
the pain of his 
mistake. "But I want 
to fix it," he says 
pleadingly. "I want to 
make it right."

But Plankton's gaze 
doesn't soften. "No fix," 
he says flatly. "Cannot 
change what is." His 
single eye seems to 
bore into Mr. Krabs, 
his voice unyielding.
"Krabs hurt Plankton. 
Krabs must live with."

Mr. Krabs hangs 
his head, his 
shoulders heaving with 
sobs. "I'm sorry," he 
whispers, his voice 
breaking. "I'll do anything."

But Plankton 
simply shakes his 
head, his antennas 
still. "Cannot change," 
he murmurs. "Must live 
with." His eye are 
empty, devoid of the 
malicious spark that 
once fueled his quest 
for the Krabby Patty 
formula. Normally
Plankton would love to 
cause such a reaction
out of Mr. Krabs.

Mr. Krabs' 
sobs grow louder, his 
guilt consuming him. 
"But I didn't mean 
to," he wails. "It was 
just a mistake."

Plankton's antennas 
twitch slightly. "Mistake," 
he echoes, his voice 
still cold. "Mistake 
not enough." His eye 
are unrelenting, his 
stare piercing through 
Mr. Krabs' soul. "You hurt 
me," he says, his 
words a quiet thunder 
clap in the tense silence. 
"Mistake changed me."

Mr. Krabs looks up, 
his eyes red with tears. 
"I know," he says, his 
voice thick with regret. "I 
know I hurt you, Plankton. 
Yet I didn't know how bad..."

But Plankton's 
expression is one of 
resentment, his antennas 
twitching with anger. 
"Hurt," he says, his 
voice cold. "Krabs hurt 
Plankton. Krabs must 
understand." His gaze 
doesn't waver from Mr. 
Krabs, his accusation 
hangs in the air like a 
heavy fog.

Mr. Krabs' sobs 
quiet, his eyes 
swimming with regret. 
He opens his mouth to 
speak, but the words 
catch in his throat. 
"I do underst--"

"No," Plankton 
interrupts, his 
voice like a whip. "You 
don't." His antennas 
wave with agitation, 
his eye flashing with 
a cold fire. "You don't 
understand pain." His 
words are sharp, 
cutting through Mr. 
Krabs' protests.

Mr. Krabs' 
expression falls, his 
claws trembling. "I 
see that now," he 
whispers, his voice 
racked with emotion. "But 
what can I do?" His 
desperation is clear, 
his eyes searching Plankton's 
face for any sign of 
forgiveness. "I'd even give
you a krabby patty.."

But Plankton's 
expression doesn't 
change. His antennas 
remain rigid, his eye 
still cold. "Krabby 
Patty not fix," he says 
simply. "Cannot fix 
brain." His voice is 
matter-of-fact, his 
tone unyielding.

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
widen, his hope 
dashed. "But I'll do 
anything," he insists, 
his voice desperate.

But Plankton's 
unforgiving gaze 
remains unmoved. 
"Anything?" he repeats, 
his tone mocking. "Can 
you give me back my 
mind?" His antennas 
wave in frustration.
"Do leave, Krabs. Can
leave."

Mr. Krabs' 
expression falls, his 
claws hanging limp at 
his sides. "But Plankton," 
he begs. "We can work 
together, I can help 
you get better."

But Plankton's 
face is a wall of 
coldness, his antennas 
waving with anger. 
"No better," he says 
firmly. "Only live 
now." His words are a 
reflection of the stark 
reality that Mr. 
Krabs had ignored.

Mr. Krabs' eyes 
fill with tears, his 
claws clutching at 
his chest. "I hurt you 
so badly, Plankton. But I 
can't live with this," 
he sobs.

"I know Krabs sorry now.
Yet I last registered Krabs
laughter as I fainted from
the impact. Even if Krabs
didn't mean to, Krabs did.
So goodbye, Eugene Krabs."

The room grew silent as
the gravity of Plankton's words
settled heavily upon Mr. Krabs.
He hadn't considered that his
foolishness could lead to such
a profound change in his rival.

Mr. Krabs looked at Plankton,
his eyes brimming with
desperation. "If I can go back
and sacrifice my life to..."

"Can't. Perhaps can find peace
but for now, goodbye."

The finality in Plankton's voice
was a slap to Mr. Krabs' face,
his hope crumbling like
sand through his claws.
He staggered back, his
eyes wide with shock.

Sponge Bob's heart ached,
his hands clenched into fists
at his sides as he watched
the exchange unfold.
He knew Mr. Krabs was 
suffering, but he couldn't 
ignore the pain in 
Plankton's voice either.

Mr. Krabs' sobs grew 
louder, his body 
shaking with the weight 
of his guilt. "Please, 
Plankton," he begged.

But Plankton's gaze 
remained on the 
chessboard, his 
hands tracing the 
pattern of the 
squares, his antennas 
were still, his body 
a statue of cold 
resolve.

Mr. Krabs' sobs 
turned to sniffs as 
he took in Plankton's 
unyielding stance. He 
knew his rival well 
and he could see 
the deep-seated pain 
that lay beneath the 
surface of his words. 
With a heavy heart, he 
nodded. "I'll let ye
space then. I never wanted
to lose ye."

Plankton turns away.

Mr. Krabs' eyes grew 
large with sadness, his 
body quivering with 
the weight of his 
mistakes. "SpongeBob 
I'll give ye time off work as
long as you need to when for
Plankton. Goodbye, 
Plankton," he choked out.
He left the chum bucket.

new a journey to autism plabscore viii

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY viii


(Autistic author)



Just as quiet settled, 
Krabs' booming voice filled
the room. "Plankton,
where are ye!"

Plankton's eye flew open.
Sponge Bob and Karen exchanged
a worried look, knowing that
Mr. Krabs' presence could
easily overwhelm him, not to
mention Krabs caused this.

Krabs marched in, his
beady eyes searching the room.
"Ah, there ye be," he said,
spotting the small figure on
the couch.

Plankton's antennae shot
up, his body tensing. "K-Krabs,"
he stuttered, his voice
shaking with fear and anxiety
despite trying to appear strong.

Mr. Krabs' eyes
twinkling with mischief. "What's
this, Plankton? Too tired to
scheme today?"

Plankton's antennae twitched
nervously. "Just... resting," he
managed to murmur. 

"Resting?
In the middle of the day?
Pish-posh!" He waved a dismissive
claw in the air. "More
like plotting! I know your
tricks, Plankton!"

Sponge Bob stepped in, his
spongy body blocking Krabs'
view. "Hey, Mr. Krabs," he said.
"Plankton's had a rough day. He's
just taking it easy."

Krabs' claws click together. "Rough
day, eh?" he sneered. "I'll give
ye rough!"

Plankton's antennae drooped as
his heart raced. The familiar
threat of his enemy was like
a knot in his stomach, a
reminder of the harsh world
outside his sanctuary, and
what happened last time.

Sponge Bob's voice grew firm.
"Mr. Krabs, can we maybe talk
about this later?"

Mr. Krabs' eyes widened slightly
at the unusual assertion.
"Later? What's the matter with
now?"

Sponge Bob's gaze never left
Plankton's trembling form.
"Plankton's off the clock.."

"Off the clock?" he scoffed.
"There's no 'off the clock'!"

Sponge Bob stepped closer to
his friend, his spongy body a
barrier between the two
adversaries. "Mr. Krabs," he said,
his voice firm, "Can we
reschedule the... uh...
brainstorming session?"

Mr. Krabs' expression grew
skeptical. 

Karen stepped forward, her voice
calm but firm. "Krabs, please.
Plankton's been through a lot."

Mr. Krabs' eyes flicked to
Karen. "Pah!
Plankton's always had boundaries,
but that's never stopped before!"

Plankton's antennae quivered
desperately, tensing
even further. "Please, Krabs,"
he murmured, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Can't."

Mr. Krabs' eyes narrowed, his
claws coming to rest on his
hip. "What do you mean, 'can't'?"
he demanded.

Sponge Bob's voice was firm but
kind. "Mr. Krabs, Plankton's
been diagnosed with something.
It's like a... a... special
condition," he stumbled.

Mr. Krabs' beady eyes narrowed,
sneer remaining. "Special condition?
I'll give ye a special condition!" 

The room grew tense, the
energy palpable. Plankton's antennae
twitched rapidly, his body shrinking
under the weight of Mr. Krabs'
aggression. The memories of the
fight and the subsequent meltdown
flashed through his mind, a painful
reminder of his vulnerability.

Mr. Krabs' shadow loomed over the
couch, his eyes gleaming with
malice. Plankton's breathing grew
shallow, his heart racing. He felt
like a tiny creature trapped under
the gaze of a giant predator. "Please,"
he whimpered, his voice barely
audible.

Sponge Bob stepped in front of
Plankton, his spongy body taut with
tension. "Mr. Krabs," he said, his
tone firm, "Plankton's not ok.
You need to back off."

Mr. Krabs' sneer faltered, his
claws pausing mid-air. He took a
step back, his eyes widening
slightly as he took in Plankton's
state. The small creature's
eye was wide with fear, his
body trembling beneath the
thin blanket.

Sponge Bob watched, his heart
breaking for his friend. "Mr.
Krabs," he said, his voice firm but
not unkind. "What happened
between you two really affected
Plankton. He's been diagnosed
with autism because of it."

Mr. Krabs' expression shifted,
his eyes going wide with shock.
He took another step back, his
claws dropping to his sides. "What?
Autism?" he echoed, his voice
filled with disbelief.

Karen stepped closer. "Yes
Krabs," she said, her voice calm
and patient. "The doctor said
it's a result of the head
injury he sustained during
your fight."

Mr. Krabs' face paled, his
claws dropping to his sides.
"I... I," he stammered, bravado gone.

The room was silent, the weight
of his words hanging heavy in the
air. Karen's unforgiving. Sponge 
Bob watched, his heart heavy with 
hope that his boss might understand.

Mr. Krabs' eyes grew wide with horror
as the realization sank in. The
thought that he could have
caused such harm to his longtime
nemesis was to much to bear. He
swallowed hard, his chest
constricting with guilt.

He looked at Plankton, really
looked at him, for the first time
seeing the fear and pain in
his eye. Plankton
was trembling, his antennae
quivering with each shallow
breath he took.

Mr. Krabs took another step
back, his chest heaving. "Autism?"
he repeated. "Because
of me?"

The room was a silent
witness to the crab's
self-realization. The booming
voice that had so often
filled the Chum Bucket with
threats and taunts was now
just a faint echo of
regret.

Mr. Krabs stared at
Plankton, his beady eyes
shimmering with a
mixture of horror and guilt.
He had never seen the tiny
plankton look so vulnerable,
so broken. It was a stark
contrast to the scheming
genius he had always known.

"I-I..." he
stuttered, his claws
trembling as he struggled
to comprehend the gravity of
his actions.

Karen stepped forward, her
voice firm but measured. 
"The doctor said it's
because of the trauma to his
brain you inflicted. It's all
because of you! You did it."

Mr. Krabs' eyes widened even
further, and he took another
step back. "But... but, I
was just defending the Krabby
Patty!" he protested weakly.

Sponge Bob's gaze was steady
on his boss. "It's more than
that, Mr. Krabs. It's
irreversible with no cure."

Mr. Krabs' face fell, the
implications of his actions
finally sinking in. The
magnitude of his recklessness
was clear, and he couldn't help
but feel a pang of remorse. "What
can I do?" he asked, his voice
small and desperate.

Karen's gaze was steely. "You
can start by giving him space.
And maybe, just maybe, by being
kind for once in your life."

Mr. Krabs looked down at his
claws, which had been poised
for battle, now hanging limply at
his sides. He nodded slowly,
his eyes still on Plankton.

"I'm sorry, Plankton," he said,
his voice gruff. "I never
meant to hurt ye like this."

Plankton's antennae stilled. He
wasn't sure what to make of
Mr. Krabs' sudden apology. His
eye searched the crab's face.

"Mr. Krabs," he began, his voice
still small but growing stronger.
"I know Krabs didn't mean to... to
make me like this." His antennae
twitched slightly as he spoke.

Mr. Krabs' expression grew
soft, his eyes misting with tears.
"But I can't take it back," he
whispered, the weight of his
guilt heavy on his shoulders.

Suddenly, Plankton's tiny hand
reached out, tentatively taking
Mr. Krabs' large claw in his grip.
The gesture was unexpected,
his antennae quivering with the
effort of reaching out despite
his fear. It was a silent
offering of peace, a bridge
over the chasm of their rivalry.

Mr. Krabs looked down at their
joined hands with
surprise. The warmth of
Plankton's touch was a stark
contrast to the coldness of his
own heart, a reminder that
despite their differences, they
were all just creatures trying
to navigate a complex world.
The room held its breath as
Mr. Krabs felt the tremble in
Plankton's grip, a silent
plea for understanding and
compassion. It was a moment of
unexpected connection, a
reminder that even the most
bitter of enemies could find
common ground in pain and
suffering.

Mr. Krabs' eyes grew wet with
tears, his hardened exterior
cracking like a shell under the
pressure of his guilt. "I'm sorry,"
he murmured, his voice thick
with emotion.

Plankton's antennae twitched as
he processed the crab's words.
He knew Mr. Krabs was capable of
empathy, but rarely did it show.
This was a side of him he had
never seen before, and it was as
overwhelming as it was comforting.

"Thank you," he murmured, his
voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes
still on Plankton's hand in
his claw. He took a deep
breath, the weight of his
apology heavy on his chest. "I'll
leave you be," he said, his
voice gruff with emotion.

Plankton's antennae remained
still, his grip on Mr. Krabs'
clawed hand lingering in the
air for a moment before he
slowly withdrew it, his mind
reeling from the exchange.
Sponge Bob and Karen watched,
their expressions a mix of shock
and hope.

Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's. He knew
that words alone wouldn't
erase the pain he had caused,
but it was a start. He took a
step back, his shoulders
slumped with the weight of his
newfound understanding. "I'll
leave you to rest," he said,
his voice gruff but sincere.

Plankton's antennae quivered with
relief, and he nodded slightly.

Mr. Krabs turned to leave, his
steps heavy as he moved
toward the door. But before
he could exit, Plankton's voice
stopped him. "Mr. Krabs," he
called out, his tone firm but
not unkind.

Mr. Krabs paused, his claw
on the doorknob. He looked back
over his shoulder, his expression
a mix of hope and fear.

Plankton's antennae quivered
slightly as he gathered his
thoughts. "I... I forgive you," he
managed to say, his voice
surprisingly steady.

Mr. Krabs' eyes widened in shock,
his claw frozen on the
doorknob. He had never expected
such words to come from
his enemy's lips, especially not
now, in the aftermath of such a
life-altering revelation.

He turned to face Plankton, his
expression a tumult of emotions.
"You... forgive me?" he whispered,
his voice hoarse with
disbelief.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
still. "If you can change,"
he said, his voice firm but not
unyielding. "Be better."

Mr. Krabs' gaze searched
Plankton's face, his own
expression a mirror of the
plankton's. "I'll try," he said,
his voice thick with emotion.

Plankton's antennae drooped in
a gesture of defeat. "Just try,"
he murmured. "That's all I ask."

new autism in the plankton family plabscore viii

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY viii
(Autistic author)

After SpongeBob and Patrick left
Plankton settled for his usual movie 
night. Karen took this time to call 
Sandy, her best friend, a gal pal.

"Sandy, it's Karen," she said, her voice trembling 
slightly. "I need to talk to you about something."

On the other end of the line, Sandy's voice was 
warm and concerned. "Howdy! What's going on
Karen?"

"It's Plankton," Karen began. "He's... changed."

Sandy's voice grew serious. "What happened
Karen?"

"Plankton had an accident," she said, her voice 
shaking. "He hit his head and... well, the doctors 
say he has autism now, and I thought I'd let you know."

Sandy's voice was calm and understanding. "Oh
Karen," she said. "I'm so sorry to hear that. How's 
he handling it?"

Karen sighed heavily. "It's been... a lot," she admitted. 
"He's so focused on jellyfish now, and it's like nothing 
else matters. It's his whole world."

"Wow, that's quite a change," Sandy said, her voice filled 
with empathy. "How's he been with social interactions?"

"Well, that's the thing," she said. "He's been... different. Sometimes, 
it's like he's in his own little world. And other times, like with Patrick, 
he's just... really sensitive."

"Patrick?" Sandy's voice was incredulous. "Patrick made fun of him?"

"Well, not exactly. He just didn't understand," she explained. 
"He said jellyfish were boring, and it really hurt Plankton's 
feelings. The neurodivergence is irreversible, and he's still Plankton."

Sandy's voice was filled with understanding. "But it sounds like he's 
found something that brings him a lot of joy."

"Yeah," Karen agreed, her tentacles relaxing slightly. "But it's hard 
to watch him struggle, you know?"

Sandy's voice was gentle. "I can imagine, Karen. But remember
he's still the same Plankton at heart."

The next day, Sandy arrived at the Chum Bucket, her burly squirrel 
arms holding a treasure trove of various miniature jellyfish figurines. 
She'd spent hours scouring the deepest parts of the ocean for the 
rarest and most detailed jellyfish models she could find. "Hi, Karen!" 
she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

Karen's eyes lit up at the sight of her friend. "Sandy, what's all this?" 
she asked, her tentacles waving in curiosity.

"I heard about Plankton's newfound love for jellyfish," Sandy said 
with a grin, her cheeks red with the excitement of her discovery. "And 
I thought these might help him feel more connected. Where is he?" 
Sandy comes in.

Plankton's sitting in the corner, his jellyfish book open on the floor 
in front of him, surrounded by a sea of scribbled notes and diagrams. 
His gaze didn't leave the page, but his posture straightened at the sound of a 
new presence in the room.

"Plankton," Karen called gently, "Look who's here!"

Plankton's antennae shot up as he looked over at Sandy, his 
eye widening at the sight of a box.

"These are for you," Sandy said, setting the box down in front of him.

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he looked up, his 
monotone voice cracking slightly. "For Plankton?"

Sandy nodded, her smile genuine. "I thought they might make you happy," she 
said, her voice gentle. "They're all different types of jellyfish. Each is unique 
and special, just like you."

Plankton's antennae twitched with excitement as he reached for the box, his 
eye scanning its contents. "Jellyfish," he murmured, his monotone voice filled 
with wonder. "Thanks"

Sandy watched as Plankton carefully removed each figurine, his eye lighting 
up with each new discovery. "You're welcome," she said, her voice warm. "I 
wanted to do something to support you in your newfound passion."

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he examined each jellyfish.
"These are... amazing," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with awe.

Sandy chuckled, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I'm so glad 
you like them," she said, watching him closely. "They're from all over 
the ocean. Some of them are pretty rare."

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he examined each 
figure. "Rare," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a new
found enthusiasm. "Rare jellyfish."

Sandy nodded, her eyes bright. "Yeah, 
some of them are," she said, her 
voice filled with excitement. "Do you 
have a favorite type?"

Plankton's antennae twitched as he thought. "Turritopsis dohrnii," he 
murmured. "The immortal jellyfish. It can revert back to its polyp stage 
and start its life cycle again."

Sandy's eyes widened. "Wow, Plankton," she said, impressed. "That's 
really cool."

Plankton looked up from the box, his antennae waving slightly. "You know 
jellyfish?" he asked, his voice monotone yet filled with hope.

Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. "A bit," 
she said, her tail swishing with 
excitement. "But I'd love to learn more 
from an expert like you."

Plankton's antennae quivered with a hint of pride. "Expert," he murmured, his 
monotone voice cracking slightly.

Sandy sat down next to him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell me more 
about them," she urged, her voice gentle.

Plankton's antennae perked up, and he began to speak with a newfound 
energy. "Turritopsis dohrnii," he recited, his monotone voice cracking with 
excitement. "It's a jellyfish that can live forever. If it's injured or stressed, it 
goes back to being a polyp. It's like a rebirth."

Sandy leaned closer, her eyes wide with fascination. "Really?" she said, her voice 
filled with wonder. "That's incredible!"

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "Yes," he murmured, his monotone 
voice growing more animated. "Immortal jellyfish can survive forever. 
Plankton read in book."

Sandy's eyes grew wide with amazement. 
"That's so fascinating, Plankton," she 
said, her voice filled with 
genuine interest. "How do they do that?"

Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "When Turritopsis dohrnii is 
hurt, it goes back to polyp," he said, holding up a tiny figurine of the species. 
"Polyp is like jellyfish baby, but it's not baby. It's just jellyfish in different shape."

Sandy nodded, her eyes glued to the miniature figures as Plankton spoke. "That's 
so amazing," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "I've never heard of anything 
like that before."

"Jellyfish are fascinating," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly as 
he picked up another figurine. "This one," he said, holding up a mini model of a 
clear jellyfish, "is called a Burgessomedusa phasmiformis."

Sandy's eyes lit up. "It's like a ghost jellyfish," she said, her voice filled 
with excitement. "I've read about these!"

"Yes," Plankton murmured, his monotone voice cracking with pride. "They're 
very rare and very beautiful."

Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. 
"They are," she agreed, reaching for one of 
the figurines. "How did you learn 
so much about jellyfish?"

Plankton's antennae twitched slightly 
as he paused in his examination 
of the ghostly jellyfish. "Plankton read 
book," he murmured.

Sandy nodded, her eyes still 
on the delicate figurine. "What 
else?" she 
asked, her voice filled 
with genuine curiosity.

Plankton's antennae quivered as he searched his memory. "Book say... that 
jellyfish are ancient creatures, with some species over 500 million years old."

Sandy's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Wow, Plankton," she said, her voice 
filled with admiration. "You really know your stuff. Can I ask a question?"

Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with excitement. "Question," he 
murmured.

Sandy took a deep breath, her eyes 
on the book. "What was the accident, 
Plankton?" she asked gently. "How 
did you hit your head?"

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly, 
the excitement draining from 
his voice. "Krabs," he murmured, his 
monotone cracking. "Mr. Krabs. Angry."

"What happened, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennae twitched as he looked up at Sandy, his 
eye wide with the memory. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his 
monotone voice filled with a sudden urgency. "Mr. Krabs 
slammed cash register on Plankton's head, then Plankton 
woke up in hospital."

Sandy's smile faltered, her eyes filled with concern. "Oh
Plankton," she said, her voice gentle.

"Woke up," he murmured. "In hospital. Everything different."

Karen looked at him, her expression gentle. "What do you remember?"

Plankton paused, antennae quivering 
as he tried to piece together 
the jumbled memories. "Car," he 
murmured finally. "Long ride."

"The hospital," Karen said, stroking his back gently. "You were in a 
hospital for a bit after the accident."

Plankton's antennae twitched as he nodded, his monotone 
voice cracking. "Yes, hospital," he murmured. "Doctors talked, 
but Plankton didn't understand."

Sandy leaned in, her eyes filled with sympathy. "They told you 
about your autism?" she asked softly.

Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Karen said it's why 
Plankton thinks differently," he murmured.

Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "It's okay to think 
differently, Plankton," she said.

Plankton's antennae twitched slightly. "Different," he murmured, his 
monotone voice filled with a hint of confusion. "But... Plankton good 
at jellyfish."

Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "You are," she 
said, her voice firm. "And that's something amazing. Your brain 
works in ways that let you understand jellyfish better than anyone 
else."

Plankton looked at her, his antennae perking up slightly. "Better 
than anyone?" he asked, his monotone voice 
filled with a hint of doubt.

"Absolutely," Sandy said, her voice firm. 

new a life of diversity jellyfishcore viii

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new s second lollipop

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆｡˚ ✈︎ ✈️ ⋆

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⠀⠀⠄⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠂⢽⣿⢿⠻⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⡿⢋⡉⢧⡀⠀⢀⣠⠟⠀⠁⠠⠄⠈⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠠⠐⡀⢀⠀⠄
⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠈⠄⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡏⢀⡐⠀⠀⠉⢹⣯⡁⠀⢠⡀⠄⠄⢢⠔⠸⡇⠁⠈⠀⢁⠡⠀⠣⢨⣄⡁⠂⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⡿⠁⢆⠡⢂⠐⡈⠐⠠
⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣁⠂⠄⢿⣷⣤⣤⣤⡄⠘⢧⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠙⣄⠁⠀⠀⠀⡦⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⡷⣿⣴⣿⣿⡋⠀⠌⡀⢒⠠⢁⢂⠉⠄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡰⠈⠠⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠘⠳⣄⣒⣀⣀⣸⠇⠀⠈⠙⠢⡄⣴⣶⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣤⣿⣿⢿⣷⣻⠿⠋⠁⣿⣿⣦⡐⢁⠢⠌⡀⠆⡈⠐
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⡅⠠⢁⠀⠹⢿⣿⡄⣀⢠⣤⣾⡏⣀⠉⡁⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⠶⠛⠟⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⠐⢠⠁⢂⡐⠡
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠈⠀⠄⡈⠐⡀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣟⡿⢿⡽⣞⣷⣤⠐⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⠀⠂⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠿⣿⣾⣯⣿⡀⠂⡌⡐⢠⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣯⠀⠀⠂⡁⠒⠠⠁⠌⠠⠀⠌⡉⡉⡉⡉⣹⣯⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠀⣿⣀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⣿⣶⣄⡘⠠⠌
⠶⠤⠤⠶⠤⠶⠤⠦⠴⠦⠤⢾⣿⡄⠀⢀⠠⢁⠂⠡⠈⠄⣁⠂⣄⣡⡶⢿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡟⠁⠐⠐⣴⠄⣶⠃⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣽⡾⣄⡃

new s letter alphabet second correspondence BABYGRONK dot art text art ascii art

🏝🏖🌊💧☁️🌌🌙

new leash roman numerals trio cute rope ternion ensemble duo puppy

🎄✨️🎉<3

new leash roman numerals trio cute rope ternion ensemble

:3°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
      ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁
     . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ִ݁ ࣪𖤐.☘︎ ݁˖˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗.ᐟ.ᐟ👾👾👾

new construction bricklayer clubhouse 38

There are kids on this website trying to look for cute kaomojis/emojis, and then see inappropriate stuff. If you make these kinds of things then STOP. It's NOT ok. Please copy and paste this and spread the word. Thank you. <3<𝟑<𝟑

please dont put gross stuff here ! keep it to yourself or post it elsewhere, their is kids around 9 and a few years up here just trying to find cute symbols !! this is a safe space ^^ spread the word please :3

11:11

new alarm clock time number clock second minute hour

00:00

new alarm clock time number clock second minute hour

⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜
⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛
⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜
⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜
⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜
⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜
⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛
⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛
⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛

new s second sonic 🌴🌻🌀⚡

😠🤍👌🏽🤔

new second roman alphabet

😉😕🤟

new second roman alphabet phoenician alphabet

the ammount of bios ive used from this website <333
ㅤ         𓈒    ୭ৎ    ᥴᥲ𝗍s  ᥱyᥱs    𝅄    🪡      ۪   ݁   𓈒 

ㅤㅤ ۪      𝅄     ꒰  태형  ꒱    ۪   ݁  𝟷𝟷 : 𝟷𝟷   ݁   ۪    ୧

8𝟖𝟖𝟖ᯓ★⁴⁴⁴⩇⩇:⩇⩇𖦹𑁤

new bio numbers time clock symbols second count total numeral

ֶָ֢

new fyp scheme was first second third last plan

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⢧⣀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠤⠤⡤⠤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠏⢀⣴⡊⠁⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⡖⠈⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⢰⠁⢀⡤⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⡄⠀⠀⢹⣄⠀⠀⢰⡄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⢐⠁⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⡠⠖⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⠀⢰⡋⢳⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⡇⠀⠀⢑⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠋⠸⡇⠀⠈⡟⠀⠀⠀
⠐⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡁⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⡀⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⠠⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⢜⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠠⠀⠈⠁⠐⠆⠀⠸⣍⡀⠀⣠⠤⠤⠤⠋⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢬⣀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⠊⣁⡤⠞⠁⠀⣰⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠒⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⢳⡞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new planet star galaxy second earth gravity Kepler 452B! dot art text art ascii art

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⡴⠶⠷⠶⠶⠾⠷⠻⠶⠷⠿⠾⠶⠷⠿⠳⠷⠾⠾⠷⠷⠾⠾⠷⠿⠶⠿⠞⠷⠶⠷⢦⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡼⠟⠋⠤⣤⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠻⣤⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡧⠀⠁⡀⢀⠉⠙⠠⣄⣀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣘⣛⣧⣤⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠐⠠⠀⣠⣤⡘⠀⠌⡈⣷⡶⠛⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠙⠉⠋⠛⠋⣶⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡧⢐⣶⣶⠙⠋⠃⣴⣮⠁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣄⣤⣠⣄⣤⣤⣤⣠⣤⣤⣤⣠⣤⣤⣤⣠⣤⣤⣤⣄⣤⣠⣄⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡗⢸⠏⢁⡶⣶⡶⠏⠉⡀⣿⠀⠀⠐⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡧⠰⣿⡾⠁⠉⠀⣾⣿⠄⣿⠀⠀⠂⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡧⠐⠉⡁⣰⣶⡆⠉⠉⠀⣿⠀⠀⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢈⠐⠀⠀⠉⡀⢀⠁⠂⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣤⡼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢣⣤⠛⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⢠⣷⣾⣾⣤⣠⡀⠂⡁⣿⠀⠀⠈⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠶⣆⣀⣀⣰⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡃⠄⡀⣿⠀⠀⠐⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠸⣟⣿⣻⣿⣿⡄⠀⠄⣿⠀⠀⠠⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣤
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡗⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠂⠄⠂⣿⠀⠀⢀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣯
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠘⠉⣿⣿⣿⡿⠆⠀⡁⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣧
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠂⠄⣿⠀⠀⠂⠸⢧⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡼⠇⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⡿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡧⠘⠉⠙⠿⠻⠛⠂⢀⠂⣿⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢁⢈⡈⣁⢈⡁⣈⢁⡈⢁⠈⠁⠁⠈⠈⠀⠁⠈⠁⠉⠈⠁⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠠⣿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⣸⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣠⣢⣷⣶⣶⣦⡑⠀⠄⣿⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⢀⣶⣶⠀⠀⠄⠐⠀⠐⣿⣼⠟⢣⣤⣤⠟⠁⣰⠿⠀
⠀⣀⣰⣶⠾⠛⠛⠙⠛⠉⣿⣿⡀⠐⡀⣿⠀⠀⠄⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀⠘⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠄⠈⣿⠙⠶⢧⣀⣀⣰⡾⠋⠀⠀
⣶⠋⠉⣘⣟⢿⣻⣟⡻⠻⠿⣿⠀⠄⡀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠈⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠐⠀⢀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠛⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠀⢹⣟⠀⡀⣿⠀⠀⠈⢀⣀⣻⡏⠉⣇⣀⡐⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠂⠀⢀⠀⣠⡼⠧⣄⠀⣠⣦⠄⠀⢀⠠⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠠⠐⠠⠀⠛⠛⡀⠄⡀⣿⠀⠀⠠⢼⣇⣀⡀⢀⣀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠠⠀⠘⠛⠒⠒⠚⠻⣿⣂⠼⡇⠀⠀⢀⠠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠠⠁⠂⠡⠈⡀⠄⠂⠄⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢇⣠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⡀⠐⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣷⣬⡉⠁⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⢷⣄⠂⣁⠂⠡⢀⠐⡈⠀⣿⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢂⣀⡠⠀⠀⠐⠀⠁⡀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡇⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢳⣤⡄⢁⠂⠐⡀⠁⣿⠀⠀⢀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠘⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠿⠋⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⡶⢦⣀⣄⣿⠀⠀⡀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠈⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⠛⢻⣿⣤⡀⣁⣀⡀⣀⢂⣀⣁⣀⣈⡀⣈⣀⣀⣁⣀⡐⣀⣀⢁⡀⣂⢀⣀⢂⣀⣀⢀⢂⣀⣠⣼⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣻⣿⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣻⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡞⣿⣿⡶⣯⣽⡿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⡟⢩⣟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠿⣧⣾⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new adventure time adventure-time second thefukinbmo dot art text art ascii art

🕧 15 Seconds

new text time clock second

🦅nྀི

new n time cute japanese second dimension clock

ᡣ𐭩

new letter f roman alphabet second voiceless alveolar sibilant randomness butterfly

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠙⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⢀⣤⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣷⡄⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠐⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠈⢻⣿⠀
⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⣿⠀
⣿⡏⠀⢠⣴⣶⠆⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀
⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠀
⣿⠇⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡄⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀
⣿⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠘⣿⣿⠀
⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀
⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀
⣿⡀⠀⢹⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣇⠀⠘⢿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⣉⣿⡟⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⠂⠀⢰⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠙⠻⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⣾⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀

new 1234567890 second amongus dot art text art ascii art

i just saw something really inappropriate and i literally feel like crying it was so bad. ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

new coquet second clock day minute moment hour spacetime past future coquette

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⣠⣦⣯⣽⠿⣿⠿⠯⠯⣖⣖⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣯⣾⡟⠋⠉⡴⠉⠉⠙⠛⣆⣋⢰⢊⠛⢯⡿⡳⡄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣰⣾⣿⡏⠃⠀⠀⠀⣯⠐⢀⢀⢼⠇⠭⠣⡞⢥⡴⢱⣷⣿⣫⠂
⢀⡻⢯⣿⣯⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⣾⣿⠟⡅⢍⠤⠕⠻⠉⡥⡞⡤⠛⣿⠃
⠁⠁⠉⠉⠈⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠹⣏⢠⡕⡽⣉⡎⡦⢤⣳⣿⣽⡶⠟⠃⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠟⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀

new s second eye i drew dot art text art ascii art

her hair is as crispy as bacon bro js wear ur hair normally and ur hair wont be as dead as my great great great grandpas old wwii hair🇳

new letter second latin alphabet alphabet digraph s u greek alphabet minute time

・
🥉🙌⌚⏱💕

new second sulphur siemens dot art

"❤🌸", "love,aesthetic,flower"💔🎀🫶🏻💌💓👁️⃤

new gym workout playground physical fitness gymnastics gymnasium exercise physical exertion jogging clubhouse

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢶⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣴⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⡀⠀⠙⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡾⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⣫⡴⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣷⣾⣿⣠⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠋⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⡟⢻⣿⣿⡿⠏⢻⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⢿⣄⢷⡜⣷⣄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⣠⠟⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⠛⠉⢻⡏⣿⢿⣿⣄⠀⠈⢿⣾⣿⣾⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣾⠋⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⣿⣱⠃⠀⠙⢿⣦⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⡷⠤⠤⢤⡄⠀⠀⠠⢀⡟⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣾⠟⠁⣿⠀⠀⣼⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣾⣯⡭⠤⠤⢟⣷⡶⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠟⠁⠀⣸⣏⣴⣿⣿⣥⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢺⣉⣉⣉⠉⢉⡁⣮⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠶⠦⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⣀⣀⣠⣄⣀⣀⡀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡄⠀⠀⠠⢿⣴⣶⢖⡛⢉⣀⣿⠃⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣡⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡿⠋⠀⠚⠉⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣦⢹⣿⣿⠇⠒⢼⡟⣿⣿⡏⣿⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡌⢿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣠⣴⣿⠀⢀⣿⠃⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢩⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠘⠁⠈⣿⡏⠀⠀⢈⡇⣿⡿⠀⠿⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⠄⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠉⣿⠀⠀⢿⣿⡿⣧⣯⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢽⣿⠭⠓⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠀⢀⣴⡚⠔⢹⠃⡆⠀⠀
⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠟⠓⠻⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡘⣆⠀⢤⣬⡭⠍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠉⣩⡾⠃⠀⠘⠄⠀⠀⠀
⠈⢳⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⢱⣿⠏⣴⢻⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⡹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⡶⠶⢿⣿⢸⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣷⢄⣴⠆⠀⠈⠛⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⡏⠴⠿⢊⡠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠸⠟⠁⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠋⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⡇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣷⡛⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣭⣭⡙⢳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⢤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⡿⢁⡤⠖⠊⠉⠈⠁⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠁⠀⠉⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⣶⣾⠉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠇⢹⠀⣰⠶⠾⣇⠀⢠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠲⠶⠞⢿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⢾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠐⡒⠲⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡇⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢀⣻⡟⡏⠛⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⡊⣀⣤⣬⣷⣶⣄⠀⠀
⠀⣄⢫⡳⣌⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⡄⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⢳⠸⡄⠈⢆⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀
⠀⠘⢷⡻⡜⡆⠈⠻⣝⠻⣿⣿⣷⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⡿⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⣼⡄⠙⣄⠈⣧⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷
⠀⠀⠀⠙⣾⣿⣀⡤⠌⠉⠲⠶⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠙⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⢀⠇⠀⣼⣼⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠹⣦⡀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢽⣶⣤⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢀⡼⢀⣞⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠙⣟⣦⡹⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠹⣷⡝⠎⢎⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢡⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⢧⠹⣦⣌⡓⠦⣝⠦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠸⡀⠘⠶⠉⠙⠺⠷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠈⠣⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⣆⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢞⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new s second omoilol sunny dot art text art ascii art

❤️❤️💓

new second an roman alphabet time

:3 ♡( ^ω^ )🥰3️⃣󠀳🤖🇭🇺🕞

new julian calendar triad trio roman numerals trinity terzetto troika tierce iii leash trine threesome ternion triplet ternary trey three common year starting on monday roman calendar

👉+1➜🎮🕹️👾➜🙌✨+1➜➜🏆🏆📌

new anno domini roman numerals year minutes dot art

↩

new clock spacetime minute time second hour

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣄⢲⣏⢨⣽⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣾⠃⢙⢴⣞⡟⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣻⠡⣀⣄⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⠉⣷⣿⢠⣍⣉⠉⠐⠲⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠏⠏⠸⡄⢻⡏⣏⠀⠂⠄⠀⣈⠒⢠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡈⠁⠹⠆⠄⢀⣼⠻⣠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⢈⣳⠆⣀⣄⣼⠴⠚⠁⠀⠀⢀⣤⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣖⠊⠉⠸⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠲⠬⢿⣿⣦⣤⣄⠀⠈⣿⣿⣟⣛⣩⢿⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣤⣏⢻⣭⣿⡝⢹⣤⣶⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⢻⣿⡄⢿⣿⢁⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡘⠇⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠗⠚⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣛⠿⢿⡫⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣦⣾⣇⢹⣶⣿⢁⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠉⢙⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⢻⣭⣭⡿⣻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡞⣿⣿⢳⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⡸⣏⣾⣿⡟⣿⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⡿⠸⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⣾⣿⣿⠷⠺⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠉⠉⠉⠉⣽⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⢹⣿⣿⣿⠉⠉⠉⠉⢹⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠰⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣏⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣹⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⡏⢹⣿⣿⣯⠸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣿⣿⣿⡧⣿⣿⣿⡧⠤⠤⠤⠤⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⠇⠻⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡟⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣽⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣧⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡏⢸⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⠉⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢄⠀⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠉⣹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠬⢷⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⠿⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣽⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣦⡾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀

new podium winner third second first podium with people dot art text art ascii art

👼🏻

new s sus roman alphabet second

🇭🇮🇰🇧

new s dasdas sec second

3:30 PN

new dot art time evening text art second clock day minute moment set hour greenwich mean time clock time steady

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

new clock time hour

↻ᴖ̈

new time sad clock melancholy sorry hour spacetime second

🎈🎊🎆

new year new year's day 365 day christmas day new year leap year period of time second julian calendar time period today unit of time

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⡋⠑⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠒⠒⠀⠝⡻⢟⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡹⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣴⣦⠶⣤⠤⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡘⡈⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣐⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⠛⠂⠀⠠⠨⠻⣷⡜⢨⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢋⣥⣶⣿⡿⠛⠓⠓⠀⠀⠀⣆⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⡟⣋⣠⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠏⢿⡆⢝⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⡁⣠⣄⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡄⡄⠀⠀⠉⢸⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠰⠯⢻⣿⠐⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠈⢺⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠛⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠻⠿⣇⢁⠈⢻⠰⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⠼⢷⡶⠇⠀⢄⠀⠑⠋⠁⢰⡿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠋⠸⠀⣿⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢰⢰⣾⠀⡀⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⠁⢠⡟⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⢸⡟⢰⡽⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠓⠒⠦⢤⡌⠃⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡀⣿⣧⠀⠘⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠚⠀⠀⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⡄⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠐⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠣⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠭⣉⢤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠟⢠⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new s second pornooo dot art text art ascii art

I　L　Y　A　S　🥀ツ⚛⚛⚛⚛⬆⬆

new roman alphabet second latin alphabet sec sulfur alphabet mho south x

♱𝖋𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖔𝖙♱ᶠᶸᶜᵏᵧₒᵤ!☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐

new cross second chill

⏳⌛️🕰️⏰

new time throwback change fairy clock future hour spacetime past convert clock time second eternity period turn moment switch

🦝

new second day back korean peninsula hour manchuria friend cute

⏱⏱️☄⌛

new second clock measurement while hour kaomoji minute time day

ᴹᵃʸ ²ⁿᵈ, ²⁰²²

new second may 2022

6🦈66️

new second 2

Copy & Paste March 1 Emojis & Symbols 🗓 03 01 2009 🗓 | 🎊🎀1️⃣🫦 | 🌞🍀✨⭐️𓍢ִ໋🌷֒✧ ༘ ⋆

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