Vim Emojis & Text

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✝️️✞☦✝✟♱⛪🛐🙏📿👼🧔🏽

I V X L C D M 1 5 10 50 100 500 1000 🔢 Individual decimal places Thousands Hundreds Tens Units 1 M C X I 2 MM CC XX II 3 MMM CCC XXX III 4 CD XL IV 5 D L V 6 DC LX VI 7 DCC LXX VII 8 DCCC LXXX VIII 9 CM XC IX

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠁⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠁⢠⣾⣶⣦⠀⢸⣿⣿⢠⣾⣿⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠤⠘⠀⠘⠼⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡀⢹⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢟⣁⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠖⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣦⡘⠢⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠒⠉⠁⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⠟⠉⠢⣄⣢⠐⣄⠠⣄⢢⣼⠞⠉⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠚⠓⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡰⠉⠈⠑⠠⢀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡠⠊⠀⢀⠐⡀⠈⠄⠂⡐⠀⢂⠐⠈⠠⢀⠀⠀⢻⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⠀⢀⠛⡛⢫⠑⡄⢃⡐⢈⠐⡀⠄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡇⠂⠀⠀ ⢠⢁⠀⠄⢂⡐⠠⡁⠌⡐⠠⢁⠂⠌⢠⢁⠂⡐⠀⠘⣿⣳⢤⡀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⠠⡀⠤⣁⢿⠀⠄⣂⠑⡂⠥⡘⢠⠐⢂⠰⠀⠌⡐⢈⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢄⠀⠀ ⠈⢧⡘⡐⢂⠤⠑⡠⢁⠆⡁⠆⠌⣂⠁⡂⠌⡐⠀⠀⢹⣿⣷⣧⣝⣢⠱⡰⣈⢆⢡⢃⠴⡱⣌⣾⠈⡐⢠⠘⡠⢁⠆⡡⢘⠠⡁⠎⡐⡈⢄⠢⢀⠡⢀⠈⠂⠀⠑⡀ ⠀⠀⠙⢵⣊⠴⡁⢆⠡⢂⠅⡊⠔⡠⠘⢄⠒⡀⢁⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⣾⣶⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⡄⠢⢁⠆⡘⢄⠡⢂⠱⢠⠑⡨⢄⠢⣁⠒⡄⢊⠄⣂⢀⡡ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣍⢢⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⠔⡉⢄⠒⠄⢂⠀⢀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠂⢄⠣⠌⣂⠱⡈⢆⠡⢊⠄⢣⠐⢢⠑⡄⢣⡘⢆⡳⣬⠞⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡞⡰⢈⠆⡱⢈⠔⡨⢘⡈⠆⢌⠀⡐⠨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠠⢉⠄⢢⠑⡄⢣⠘⡄⠣⢌⢊⡔⡉⢦⠩⡜⣡⢞⡷⠋⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢶⡉⢆⡱⢈⠆⡑⠢⢌⡘⢄⠣⡐⣡⠏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠍⠉⠉⢳⢁⠊⡜⢠⠃⡜⢠⠃⣌⠱⣈⠦⢰⡉⢆⡳⣼⠟⠁⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠹⣖⡰⢃⡜⢄⠳⣠⠚⣌⠖⣥⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣎⠴⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⡠⢃⠖⣌⠣⣜⢣⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢯⡼⣬⣓⣦⣟⣼⡿⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣶⣉⢆⠳⡌⡜⢢⠱⡩⢜⣤⢻⡼⠋⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⡀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢾⣳⣼⣜⣧⣳⡽⣞⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⣉⢉⣉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⠀⠈⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠒⠒⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠲⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣠⠶⠶⠄⠱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠴⠾⠶⣆⡀⠹⠄⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢠⡶⠛⠻⣷⡀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠟⠉⠓⢶⣥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⢹⢃⣀⣀⡸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⢷⣄⣴⣾⣿⣿⣷⣼⣿⣦⣄⡠⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠰⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣵⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢰⡉⣙⣛⣛⣛⣛⣭⣵⣾⠟⣋⣥⣦⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⡀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣸⣿⣦⡘⢩⠋⠟⢍⣓⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡿⢟⣻⣫⣯⣽⣭⢀⣴⣷⣶⣶⣷⣿⣾⣭⣝⣋⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⣰⠃⠀⣤⣶⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠉⠲⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⢠⠇⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⢠⠏⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠙⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢠⠏⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⡏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⣸⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠹⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢏⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⣀⣠⣀⠙⠦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿⢀⡔⠋⠁⠀⠈⠙⡄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣱⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢽⣿⣶⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⢀⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⢛⡛⣛⠛⢋⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢼⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣷⠌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣺⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⡻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠱⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣎⠻⣿ ⣿⡇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⢤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⢐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡮⡊ ⡟⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣘⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⢏⠳⣰ ⡸⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠆⡀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⢯⡙⠆⣙⣠⣶⣿⣿ ⣴⣃⠏⢿⡹⣟⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⡃⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡻⣍⠓⡉⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣬⣦⣝⣢⠙⠜⠭⡛⢿⡻⣿⢿⡿⡿⣏⠳⠀⣠⣶⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠀⠘⡌⢳⡙⢮⠱⢋⠔⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣑⡈⠣⢉⠑⠀⣁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⣀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢁⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣶⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣛⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⣿⣿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠿⣿⣿⡆⠀ ⡰⠟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢆

♆༒︎𓄋❟❛❟ψꑭ

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vi (Autistic author) "Why don't we stay in, Plankton?" Sponge Bob suggested, noticing his friend's lingering anxiety. "We can still have fun." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he considered the proposal. The thought of going outside was overwhelming. "Okay," he agreed, his voice soft. "Inside." Sponge Bob nodded, his smile reassuring. "How about a board game?" he offered. Plankton's antennae twitched in consideration. "Game," he echoed, his voice tentative. Sponge Bob's smile grew. "Yeah! Which one do you want to play?" Plankton's antennae perked up at the mention of something familiar. "Game," he murmured, his voice a little more steady. "Choose." Sponge Bob beamed at him, happy to see his friend willing to participate. He picked a simple game of checkers from the shelf, knowing it would be less overwhelming than the loud, bright electronic games that Plankton had once enjoyed. Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as Sponge Bob set up the board, his eyes fixated on the red and black pieces. "Checkers," he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation. Sponge Bob nodded, placing the checkers in their starting positions. "You go first," he said, his voice calm and steady. Plankton's antennae quivered as his eyes focused on the board. He picked up a black piece, his hand shaking slightly. "Checkers," he whispered to himself, echoing Sponge Bob's words. He placed it with precision on the board. Sponge Bob watched him. "Good job, Plankton," he said, his voice soothing. "You're doing great." Plankton's antennae twitched with each word, echoing the comfort. "Great," he murmured, his gaze never leaving the checkers. He moved a piece, his mind working quickly to calculate his next move. The repetitive nature of the game was calming, a familiar rhythm that helped him find a moment of peace in the chaos. "Checkers," he said again, his voice a little more stable. The game was a dance of strategy, and it was a dance Plankton had always loved. But now, it was more than that—it was a lifeline. The game continued, the quiet clicks of the pieces moving across the board providing a soothing rhythm to the otherwise silent room. Plankton's antennae stayed mostly still, only twitching when he felt the need to move a piece. His eye flitted from the board to Sponge Bob and back again, seeking reassurance that he was doing this right. Sponge Bob watched him, his face a mask of concentration, his spongy body still. "Your turn, Plankton," he said, his voice calm and steady. Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering slightly as he reached for a piece. He moved it with careful deliberation, his gaze never leaving the board. "Good move," Sponge Bob said, his voice a gentle encouragement. Plankton's antennae twitched in response, his eyes lighting up for a moment. "Good move," he repeated, his voice echoing Sponge Bob's tone. The words comforted him, a familiar refrain in a world that had become unpredictable. Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "Your turn," he prompted gently. Plankton's antennae quivered as his hand hovered over the board. "Good move," he murmured, echoing Sponge Bob's words from moments before. His eyes focused intently on the board, his mind racing to find the perfect place for the checker. The echo of their shared phrase was like a soft lullaby in the quiet room, a gentle reminder of their longstanding friendship. Sponge Bob noticed the comfort it brought to Plankton, the way his body relaxed slightly with each repetition. "Good move," Sponge Bob said again, his voice soft and encouraging. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye focusing on the board. He moved a piece, whispering "good move" under his breath. Sponge Bob watched him, his expression a mix of wonder and concern. Plankton had always been so sharp, so quick-witted, and now, his brain was navigating a new kind of maze. But in this moment, as the game progressed, it was clear that Plankton's strategic mind was still sharp. His moves were calculated, precise. He was winning, and Sponge Bob could see the pride in his tiny friend's eye. Sponge Bob felt a swell of happiness as Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "King me," he murmured, placing his checker on the board's edge. Sponge Bob did so, his heart swelling with pride for his friend. "You're really good at this," he said, his voice gentle. Plankton's antennae curled with satisfaction. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice a little more stable now. Sponge Bob watched as Plankton placed the kinged piece back on the board, his eyes never leaving the game. The tension in the room had dissipated, replaced by the rhythmic exchange of checkers and echoing affirmations. "Good move," Plankton murmured again, his voice a testament to his focus. His antennae quivered slightly as he anticipated Sponge Bob's next play. Sponge Bob studied the board, his yellow brow furrowed. He knew that Plankton had always been smart, but this was something else—a silent, intense concentration that seemed to have taken over his friend's tiny form. With a soft click, he moved his piece, watching as Plankton's antennae followed the move, his eye calculating. Plankton's response was swift and confident, his antennae barely twitching. "Good move," Sponge Bob said, echoing Plankton's words. He felt a sense of awe as Plankton countered with a move that won the game. Sponge Bob's cheer was sudden, his spongy hands slapping together with joy. "You did it, Plankton!" he exclaimed. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening at the unexpected noise. His eye grew wide, the world around him seeming to shrink for a moment as he was jolted out of his focused trance. Sponge Bob's cheer had unintentionally startled him, his sudden movement a stark contrast to the calm rhythm of the game. "Sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob apologized, quickly lowering his voice, his expression softening. "I forgot." Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae slowly lowering. Sponge Bob watched him closely, his own excitement dimming in the face of his friend's distress. "It's ok," he whispered. "You won, Plankton." Plankton's antennae gradually stilled, his breathing slowing down. He nodded, his voice small. "Won," he murmured, his eye refocusing on the board. Sponge Bob's smile faltered, his heart heavy at the sight of Plankton's distress. He knew his cheer had been too much, too soon. "Sorry," he whispered, his hand hovering above the board, unsure if he should clean up the pieces or not. Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze lingering on the game. "Enough checkers." Sponge Bob nodded, his expression understanding. "Okay, Plankton," he said, his voice gentle. "Let's do something else." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he considered his options. "Movie?" he suggested, his voice tentative. Sponge Bob's eyes lit up. "Yea! What do you want to watch?" Plankton's antennae twitched. "Simple story," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "No loud noises." Sponge Bob nodded eagerly, quickly searching through the DVDs for a film that would be comfortable for his friend. "How about 'The Great Snail Race'?" he suggested, holding up the case. Plankton's antennae twitched with consideration. The film was a classic, a story of endurance and friendship, and his brain processed the quiet nature of the plot. "Yes," he murmured. "Snail Race." Sponge Bob's smile grew as he inserted the DVD into the player. The familiar tunes of the opening credits filled the room, and Plankton's antennae swayed gently to the rhythm, his body visibly relaxing into the soft cushions of the couch. Karen watched from the sidelines, her eyes misty with relief. Sponge Bob had always known how to reach Plankton in a way she couldn't. His simple, understanding nature seemed to break through the barriers that autism had constructed around his friend. Sponge Bob pressed play, the screen flickering to life. The soft light from the TV cast a glow, Plankton's eye fixed on the snails that began to race across the screen. Sponge Bob sat next to Plankton. He knew he had to tread carefully, to be a source of comfort without overwhelming his friend. As the snails moved slowly across the screen, Plankton's antennae stilled, the story's gentle pace a balm to his overstimulated mind. The movie's quiet humor elicited a small chuckle from Plankton, a sound that was music to Karen. She watched from the kitchen doorway. Sponge Bob had always been there for Plankton, and was grateful for his unwavering support.

𓆩🖤𓆪 DEVIL ×͜×𓆩❤️‍🔥ﾒﾒ

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠿⣿⣷⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣶⣾⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣭⣭⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣍⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠟⣉⣉⣻⣎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣁⣉⠹⢿⣆⣻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⢉⣤⣄⠈⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣠⣶⣬⡉⠚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⡆⡼⠿⠿⢇⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⡈⠻⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⠃⠀⠙⠻⢟⠁⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠊⠁⣰⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡏⢶⠦⠤⠤⠤⠤⠒⠊⠁⣠⠴⠚⠙⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠇⠀⠙⢧⡖⣴⣠⡲⠬⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢀⡠⠄⠔⠐⠂⠒⡿⠋⠈⠉⠉⠈⠀⠁⠒⠢⠴⣿⣿⣷⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠏⣼⣿⠛⠉⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⣿⣶⣍⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡟⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣎⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡟⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣦⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⣰⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡿⢰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠇⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣆⢹⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡰⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠿⠟⠿⣦⣙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⡿⢫⣴⣾⣿⣷⣦⢻⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡂⠀⠉⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣸⡿⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡤⢤⠤⣤⡴⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡃⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠅⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣎⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠱⣄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢑⢵⠀ ⠀⢠⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠧⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⡰⣌⠏⠀ ⠀⢇⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣹⢿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⡐⢦⣹⠦⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠋⠼⣰⡀⢆⠠⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⢼⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢄⠲⣬⢶⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⠙⠢⠝⣦⣣⣒⢤⡀⢄⠀⡀⢀⢀⠰⣌⣿⠟⠉⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⢿⣿⣧⢳⡌⢦⡑⣎⡴⣫⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠮⢷⣜⡶⣮⣿⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠹⠿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡾⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠇

Jesus is king 📖🙏⛪🕊️†

†

👹😈🔥

aestheic⋆♱✮⋆

-` IUseArchbtw@arch .o+` ---------------- `ooo/ OS: Arch linux x86_64 `+oooo: Model: ASUS TUF Gaming F15 FX506HC_FX506HC 1.0 `+oooooo: Kernel: 6.8.5-zen1-1-zen -+oooooo+: Uptime: 7 hours, 49 mins `/:-:++oooo+: Packages 1244 (pacman), 13 (flatpak) `/++++/+++++++: Shell: bash 5.2.26 `/++++++++++++++: Resolution: 1920x1080 `/+++ooooooooooooo/` DE: LXQt 1.4.0 ./ooosssso++osssssso+` WM: Openbox .oossssso-````/ossssss+` Theme: Breeze [GTK2/3] -osssssso. :ssssssso. Icons: breeze [GTK2/3] :osssssss/ osssso+++. Terminal: qterminal /ossssssss/ +ssssooo/- Terminal Font: Source Code Pro 12 `/ossssso+/:- -:/+osssso+- CPU: 11th Gen Intel 15-11400H (12) @ 4.500GHz `+sso+:-` `.-/+oso: GPU: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 3050 Mobile `++:. `-/+/ Memory: 8546 / 15731MiB .` ` ⬛🟥🟩🟫🟦🟪🟦⬛ 🟩🟥🟩🟨🟦🟪🟦⬜

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓𖤐⚚

👿😈𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

🧿

👹😈🩸☠

✞♱

♱

📿

JUST A TOUCH vi (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. His eye dart to the clock on the wall. "Must rest," he murmurs, his voice low. Karen nods, her hand squeezing his shoulder gently, which makes him flinch. "I'm sorry," she says, quickly withdrawing it. They sit in the quiet, Plankton's mind racing, trying to process the onslaught of the day. Karen's eyes are on him, a mix of sadness and love. He can feel it, even through the wall of his new condition. He reaches out, tentatively, his hand hovering over hers. It's a peace offering, a silent request for the comfort she always provided. Karen's eyes widen, surprise and hope flickering in their depths. She places her hand under his, allowing him to guide it to his cheek. "Plankton can, may I ask you something?" Karen says quietly. He nods once, his antennae still. "Yes," he says. "What were you experiencing when you froze today? You know, before we came to our bed? When Hanna was..." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze shifting to hers. "Too much," he murmurs. "Could tell you're here and talking but, cannot comprehend. Plankton felt dizzy in the head. Was present yet not present." Karen's eyes fill with understanding. "It's like your brain was on overload," she says, her voice soft. "And my touch...it helped?" Plankton shrugs, his antennae lifting slightly. "Familiar. Soothing." He looks at her, his gaze intense. "Needed more of you." Karen's eyes water, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'm here now," she whispers. But Plankton notices the tears in her eyes. "Why sad?" he asks, his voice still flat. "Karen crying. Crying sad. Thus, Karen's sad.." Karen sniffles, her thumb wiping away a tear. "I'm just overwhelmed," she says. "I'm trying to understand and be there for you, but sometimes it's hard." Plankton's antennae droop. "Karen not at fault," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. "Plankton's brain... different, now." Karen nods, her hand still in his. "I know," she whispers. "But I'm here to learn with you." Her words hang in the air, a promise of support and patience. Plankton's gaze lingers on their joined hands, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm. The sensation grounds him, a lifeline in the storm of his new reality. He tries to formulate his next words, his mind racing. "Thanks," he finally says, his voice a barely-there whisper. Karen smiles softly, her eyes never leaving his. "For what?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "For... being... understanding." The words are forced, but the sentiment is clear. Karen's heart swells with love and determination. They sit in silence for a moment, the gentle pressure of their joined hands speaking louder than any words could. Plankton's gaze shifts from their interlocked hands to Karen's eyes. He can see the love and concern in them, and it calms him in a way nothing else can. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. "Karen," he says, his voice still monotone but with a hint of longing. "Can... be in your arms?" Karen's eyes widen with understanding. She nods, moving closer to him. "Of course," she whispers, opening her arms. Plankton shifts his body, his movements stiff but deliberate as he slides closer to her. He nestles into her embrace, his antennae resting on her shoulder. Her arms close around him, enveloping his small form in warmth. He takes a deep breath, his body finally beginning to unwind. Plankton's antennae still, his breathing evening out. Karen holds him. Her hand gently strokes his back— a soothing motion. Plankton's eye closes. Karen's heart swells with relief as Plankton's body gradually relaxes into her embrace. The weight of the day's stresses seems to melt away as she holds him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breaths. This is a new chapter in their relationship, one filled with unexpected challenges and a deeper understanding of each other's needs. She's aware that his autism isn't something to be cured or fixed, but a part of who he is now, something to be accepted and supported. She strokes his back, her movements slow and measured, mimicking the calm she wishes to impart. His breaths deepen, and she can feel his body grow heavier in her arms. Plankton's antennae droop with fatigue, his eyelid flickering as he succumbs to sleep. His tiny hand remains in hers, a silent plea to not let go. Karen squeezes gently, her screen never leaving his face. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the shadows playing across the wall like a silent guardian. The only noise is the steady tick of the clock and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen watches him sleep, his tiny form nestled in the crook of her arm. His antennae rest peacefully against her shoulder, his breaths deep and even. Her heart swells with a mix of love and fear. She's afraid for him, for the world he's woken up to, a place where every sound, every touch, every interaction is a minefield. But she's also proud of him, the way he's trying to navigate this new reality with a stoicism that belies his size. Plankton stirs slightly, his eyelid fluttering. Karen holds her breath, afraid to disturb his fragile peace. His hand tightens on hers, and she knows he's aware of her presence. It's a small victory in a day filled with confusion. He opens his eye, looking up at her with a gaze that's both familiar and foreign. "Karen," he says, his voice still monotone. Karen's screen brightens with relief. "Yes, Plankton?" He shifts, his gaze drifting to the book on the nightstand. "Book," he says, his voice barely audible. "Read." Karen nods, understanding his need for the familiar. She picks up the book, her eyes skimming over the pages. "Which one?" she asks softly. Plankton's eye darts to the title. "The... puzzle," he murmurs, his voice a mere echo. Karen opens the book to the puzzle they'd been working on. His gaze follows her finger as she traces the words. His antennae twitch. "Would... you like to hear it?" she asks tentatively. He nods, his body still tense. Karen clears her throat, her voice gentle as she reads the words aloud. Plankton's eye drifts closed again, the sound of her voice a comforting lullaby. His hand relaxes in hers, the tension in his body dissipating. Karen reads on, her voice a steady rhythm that fills the silent room. The words from the puzzle book form a bridge between them, connecting them in a way that's both new and comfortingly familiar. Plankton's mind focuses on the patterns and sequences, the logical structure a sanctuary in the chaos. As she reads, Karen can feel his muscles relaxing further, his breathing deepening into sleep. The room's quietude wraps around them like a cocoon, their shared history a warm blanket. It's a stark contrast to the panic and confusion that had gripped him earlier. The puzzle's words weave themselves into a tapestry of comfort, each syllable a stitch in the fabric of their new reality. Plankton's love for order and patterns hasn't changed, but the way he interacts with them has. The autism has transformed his world, but not the essence of who he is. As Karen reads, her voice soothing his frayed nerves, she can't help but feel a sense of awe at his resilience. He's still her Plankton, the same being she's known for so long, but now he's also someone new, someone she's just beginning to understand. His mind operates on a different wavelength, one that she's eager to tune into. Then the door bell rings. It's Sandy! Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body stiffening in Karen's arms. "Who is it?" he asks, his voice sharp with anxiety. Karen's eyes dart to the clock on the wall. "It's just Sandy," she says, her voice calm. "It's okay." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye searching hers for reassurance. "Sandy?" he repeats, his voice unsure. Karen nods, her smile gentle. "It's okay," she says, her voice a whisper. "We'll take this slow." Plankton's gaze locks onto Sandy as she enters the room, his eyes darting around to assess the new presence. Sandy watches him, her face a mix of curiosity and concern. "Howdy, Plankton," she says, her voice soft. "How are y'all?" Plankton's antennae twitch. He's heard her voice before, but it's different now. Too loud, too bright. He shrinks back into Karen's embrace. "Good," he says, his voice tight. "Good." Sandy's eyes dart between them, her smile fading. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice gentle. Karen sighs. "Plankton's had an... accident," she says carefully. Sandy's eyes widen with shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "What happened?" Karen's gaze doesn't waver from Plankton's. "He's been diagnosed with Acquired Autism," she says softly. "From a head injury." Sandy's eyes widen in disbelief. "Oh no," she whispers. "I had no idea." Karen nods, her screen reflecting the weight of the last few hours. "It's a lot to take in," she says. "We're still learning." Sandy steps closer, her movements slow and deliberate. "What can I do?" she asks. Karen's shoulders slump with relief. "Just... be patient with him," she says. "He's still the same Plankton, but... different." Sandy nods solemnly. "I will," she promises.

GREAT CHIP vi (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae twitched, his face etched with lines of fatigue. "It's not that I don't want your affection," he said, his voice hoarse. "I just need it in a way that doesn't make me feel... like I'm in a minefield." Chip's eyes searched his dad's, his mind racing to understand. "How do you mean?" he asked, his curiosity genuine. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae twitching as he searched for the right words. "It's like... sometimes, a simple touch can feel like an electric shock," he began, his voice strained. "Or like I'm being smothered by a heavy blanket of sound." Chip's eyes widened, trying to comprehend. "But you've always hugged mom," he said, his voice filled with confusion. Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "It's different with your mother," he explained, his voice a little less strained. "She knows me, she knows my limits. And she's... patient." He paused, his eye flickering with something resembling sadness. "But others, it's..." Chip leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "What about others?" he asked gently. Plankton's antennae twitched, his expression tightening. "With others, it's... unpredictable," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation. "Some days I can handle a pat on the back, and others, it's like being stabbed." Chip's eyes widened, his hand instinctively moving to his chest. "It's that intense?" he whispered. Plankton nodded, his antennae waving slightly. "Some days are worse than others," he said, his voice soft. "But when it's bad, it feels like I'm being bombarded from all sides. It's...overwhelming." Chip's brow furrowed as he tried to imagine the intensity his dad described. "What can I do to make sure I don't hurt you?" he asked, his voice earnest. Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, his eye searching Chip's face. "Just be mindful," he said, his voice softer than before. "Watch for my cues. If I look overwhelmed, if I flinch, just...give me space." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's. "What are the cues?" he asked, eager to learn. "How do I know when you're in that 'minefield'?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching for the right words. "Well, my antennae might twitch a lot, I might get really quiet, or I might get louder. It's different every time." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "So, if you're in that 'minefield', I should just...?" "You can be there," Plankton finished for him, his antennae still. "But not too close. Make sure to get your mother." Chip nodded, his mind racing with the new information. He'd always known his dad was special, but this was a new kind of understanding. "What about sounds?" he asked, his voice tentative. "What noises set you off?" Plankton sighed, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's not just about the loudness," he began, his eye searching the ceiling as if for an answer. "It's more about the pitch, the suddenness. Like when you scratch or drop something.." Chip's eyes grew wide with realization. "Oh," he murmured. "So, it's like a surprise attack?" Plankton's antennae nodded. "Exactly," he said, his voice sounding a bit less strained. "But it's not just about the sounds themselves. It's about how my brain interprets them." Chip leaned in, his eyes filled with curiosity. "But how did you get it, Dad?" he asked, his voice soft. "Was it from something you caught or something that happened?" Plankton's antennae waved in frustration. "It's not like that," he said, his voice sharp. "I was born with it. It's just the way my brain is developed, and it's not like getting a cold!" His eye was intense, his voice rising. Chip's eyes widened, taking in his father's outburst. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae dropping slightly. "I know you didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice softer. "But it's important to understand that it's not something I can just get over. It's a part of how I am." Chip nodded, feeling the weight of his father's words. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "I..." Plankton's antennae waved gently, his eye softening. "It's okay," he said. "I know you didn't mean to upset me. It's just...it's a lot to explain." Chip nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. He knew his dad wasn't mad at him, but it was still hard to see him so upset. Plankton's eye searched his son's face, the anger slowly fading into something softer. "Look," he said, his voice low. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I need you to know that I l-love you." Chip felt a tear slide down his cheek. "I love you too, Dad," he managed to say, his voice choking with emotion. "But I don't want you to be in pain." Plankton's antennae waved gently, his expression a mix of love and sorrow. "I know," he said. "And that's why we're talking about this. So you can understand, so you know." Chip sniffled, trying to hold back his tears. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, his voice small. Plankton's antennae drooped, his face etched with regret. "I was afraid," he admitted. "Afraid that you'd think I was broken. That you'd... not love me the same. And I don't usually like to talk about it to much." Chip felt his heart ache. "Dad," he said, his voice steady despite his emotions. "I could never think of you as broken. You're the smartest person I know. And you're my hero." Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the words, his eye filling with warmth. "But you don't see me like that when I'm... in that state," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You stared at me like I'm to be feared." Chip's eyes widened, a look of horror crossing his face. "Dad, no!" he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to!" Plankton's antennae drooped, his expression one of defeat. "It's okay, Chip," he said, his voice resigned. "It's hard to explain. It's not like I can control it." Chip nodded, his mind racing with questions and fears. He knew his dad wasn't broken, but he wished there was something he could do to ease his pain. "What happens when you're in that state?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye closed as he tried to explain. "It's like my brain's in a whirlwind, and I can't get out," he said. "Everything's spinning, and I can't focus on anything." "But why do you get so upset when it happens?" he pressed. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae stilling. "Because I don't know what's happening," he said, his voice strained. "And when it's over, I don't remember." Chip's eyes searched his dad's, his heart breaking for him. "But why don't you remember?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye opening slightly. "It's like waking up from a deep sleep," he murmured. "I know I've been somewhere, but the details are always fuzzy." Chip nodded, trying to imagine his dad's world. "What do you see?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye focusing on a spot on the wall. "It's like...colors and shapes," he said, his voice distant. "They're all swirling around, so fast that I can't make sense of them." Chip's eyes grew wide with wonder. "Is it like a kaleidoscope?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye opening a bit wider. "In a way," he murmured. "But it's more... dis..." The door to the room creaked open, interrupting his thought. Karen stepped in, her eyes darting between Chip and Plankton. The tension in the air was palpable, but she offered a small smile of encouragement. "Chip, Plankton; how long have you been up?" Chip glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "A while, Mom," he said, his voice thick with the weight of their conversation.

CATCH IN MY CHIP vi (Autistic author) Plankton's gaze shifts to Chip, his eye filled with regret, but the words won't come. Despite his leftover anger, he felt a bit bad about it. He just wanted to show Chip what it meant to be bombarded! He didn't have it in him to say he's sorry, and he's still tense. Karen feels the weight of the moment, her eyes moving between her husband and her son. "Why don't you sit with Daddy, Chip?" she suggests, her voice soft. "Give him some space, but let him know you're here. I'll be downstairs." With a nod, Chip approaches the bed, his eyes still filled with uncertainty. He sits down gingerly beside Plankton, who's staring at the shattered mess of their evening. The room is a silent testament to their unspoken words and the battle that raged within Plankton. For a moment, neither of them moves, the air thick with unspoken regret and confusion. Then, slowly, Chip reaches out with his small hand. Plankton looks at him, his eye reflecting a tumult of emotions—anger, guilt, fear, frustration. Chip's hand hovers over his dad's, unsure if he'll flinch or pull away. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. Plankton's antennas droop, his eye still cast down at the wreckage of their evening. "I know," he says, his voice still tight with anger. Chip's hand hovers over his arm. "Ca--" But Plankton cuts him off. "Don't," he says, his voice raw with emotion. "Just don't." He turns away, his body a wall of tension. Chip's hand falls to his side, his eyes wide with hurt. "But Dad," he says, his voice breaking. "I di-" "I said don't," Plankton snaps, his voice harsh. "I can't do this right now." His antennas twitch, his body language a clear indication that he needs space. Chip's eyes fill with tears, his hand retreating to his lap. "But Dad," he starts again, his voice shaking. Plankton's eye snaps up, his anger a living flame. "I said don't!" he shouts, his voice echoing in the small room. "But I'm just trying to-" "I SAID DON'T!" The words are a thunderclap, silencing Chip's protests. He pulls his legs up to his chest, hugging his knees tightly, as if to shield his heart from the pain. "Dad I promise I won't overwhelm you again," Chip whispers. Plankton's antennas quiver, his shoulders hunched. But Chip takes that as a green light. Remembering how his mom put her hand on his back, he tries to replicate it. So with a trembling hand, Chip reaches out and touches Plankton's shoulder with hope.. But Plankton's reaction is not what he expects. With a shriek of overstimulation, Plankton jumps away, his body convulsing as if he's been electrified. "Don't touch me!" he yells. The room seems to tilt, and Chip's eyes widen with shock. He's never seen his dad like this before, so raw and exposed. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers, his hand retreating as if burned. Plankton's face contorts, his body wracked with a tremor that shakes him to the core. Chip's eyes widen in horror, his hand hovering in the space between them, frozen. Karen steps back into the room, her gaze taking in the snapshot of pain and regret. Her heart aches for both her husband and son. She knows Plankton didn't mean to scream, that his senses are still on high alert. And she knows Chip is just trying to bridge the gap with his love. Her eyes lock onto Plankton's, and she can see the desperation behind the anger. He's scared and overwhelmed, and she understands that feeling all too well. She moves towards the bed, her steps measured and calm. "Plankton, sweetie," she says, her voice a soothing melody as she reaches out to touch his back. But the moment her hand makes contact, Plankton's body tenses further, his eye squeezing shut. "No!" he yells. Karen's hand retreats as if she's been burned, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and concern. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice barely audible above Chip's sniffles. Plankton's body is a coil of tension, his eye squeezed shut as if trying to block out the world. The room seems to spin around him, each sound and sensation a needle prick in his overloaded brain. "K-Karen, I...," he gasps, his voice strained. "I-I-I-I… can't..." Karen's realizes the gravity of the situation. She understands that her husband has hit a point of no return, where even the gentle touch of her hand is too much. With a deep sigh, she sits down on the bed, her eyes on Plankton's trembling form. Her heart is torn between concern for him and the knowledge that Chip is watching, trying to make sense of the chaos. "Okay, honey," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "It's okay. We'll give you some space." Chip looks up at her, his face a question mark. "But Dad?" he says, his voice small. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's okay, Chip," she says, her voice steady. "Daddy needs some alone time." With a heavy heart, Chip slides off the bed, the shattered pieces of his trophy crunching under his feet. He looks at his dad one last time, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and longing. "Okay," he whispers, his voice thick with unshed tears. Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton. "I'll come find you when Dad's feeling a bit better." Chip's eyes dart to his dad, who's still shaky, his body curled into a tight ball. The sight breaks Karen's heart, but she knows that this is the best they can do for now. Karen's gaze lingers on Plankton, understanding the silent cry for help in his eye. She's seen this before, the way his autism can consume him during moments of overwhelm. She nods gently, her eyes conveying her love and patience. Plankton's breathing starts to even out, his body slowly unwinding from the tight coil of tension. He's aware of her presence, the steady rhythm of her breathing a comforting metronome in the chaos of his thoughts. Karen knows that space is crucial for him, but she also understands that a quiet companion can be just as healing. "It's okay," she whispers, her hand hovering close but not touching him. "You can take your time." Her voice is a gentle reminder that he's not alone. Plankton's eye flickers to her, his breaths still ragged. Karen's understanding is a lifeline in the storm of his emotions. Karen knows that pushing him now would only make things worse, so she sits quietly beside him, offering her silent support. Her love for him is a balm to his soul, even if he can't express it in words.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vi (Autistic author) Sponge Bob's heart swells with compassion. "It's ok, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "We don't have to play anymore." Plankton's antennas drop, and he nods slowly. "No fish," he repeats, his voice a sigh of relief. Sponge Bob's hand freezes in mid-air, his eyes searching Plankton's face for any sign of anger or disappointment. But all he sees is a glimmer of understanding in his friend's eye. "Thank Sponge Bob for being patient." Plankton says to him. Sponge Bob nods, his eyes still filled with concern. "I'll be patient, Plankton," he promises. "Can I ask how you hit your head?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly. "Pan," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fry pan, Mr. Krabs. Only Karen and SpongeBob know." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with shock. "What?!" he exclaims. "Mr. Krabs hurt you?" Plankton nods, his antennas still low. "Pan," he repeats, his voice shaking. "Pan," he says again, his voice softer. "Krabs hit on head." Sponge Bob's anger towards Mr. Krabs is immediate and intense. "I can't believe he'd do that to you," he says, his voice low and teary. "Mr. Krabs did to protect the krabby patty." Karen interjects quickly, sensing the tension. "He doesn't know how badly he hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob's eyes narrow, his thoughts racing. He can't believe Mr. Krabs could do something like that, even in the heat of the moment. "I'll talk to Mr. Krabs," he says firmly, his voice laced with determination. "He needs to know what..." "No!" The sharpness of Plankton's voice cuts through the air like a knife, his antennas shooting up in alarm. "Mr. Krabs no," he says, his eye wide with fear. "No tell." Sponge Bob's anger fades slightly, replaced by confusion. "Why not?" he asks, his voice gentle. "He needs to know so he can understand.." Plankton's antennas quiver anxiously. "Krabs not know," he whispers, his eye pleading with Sponge Bob. "Safe here." Sponge Bob's confusion deepens. "But Plankton, if Mr. Krabs doesn't know, how will he make it up to you?" Plankton's antennas droop, his eye darting back and forth between Karen and Sponge Bob. "No make up," he murmurs. "Just no satisfaction for Krabs." Sponge Bob's mind spins with the implications. He knows Mr. Krabs would never hurt anyone that much intentionally, even Plankton; but the thought of his boss not knowing the extent of his actions troubles him. "I won't tell him," Sponge Bob says, his voice soft with reassurance. But of course, Mr. Krabs comes in. "What in the name of Neptune are ye doing? I gave ye the day off yesterday!" "The Krusty Krab is closed on Sunday, and it's Sunday today." SpongeBob reminds his boss. "Oh, right." Mr. Krabs looks at Plankton and his eyes narrow. "What's going on here?" he asks, suspicion heavy in his voice. Plankton's antennas droop even lower, and he looks down at the floor. Plankton speaks first. "Go fish," he whispers, his eye darting up to meet Mr. Krabs'. Sponge Bob steps in quickly, trying to cover for his friend. "We were just playing a game," he says, forcing a smile. Mr. Krabs eyes them both skeptically. "Well, I hope it wasn't about stealing me secret formular," he says, his claws tapping nervously. "No, Mr. Krabs," Sponge Bob says quickly, "just a friendly game." Plankton's antennas twitch slightly at the mention of the Krabby Patty formula, but he remains silent. Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow further. "What's wrong with you, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with concern and a touch of irritation. "You're acting strangely quiet even for you." Plankton's antennas quiver. Sponge Bob's heart paces. He doesn't want to betray Plankton's trust. "It's nothing," Plankton says, his voice forced. "Just a little game, Krabs wanna play." "Fine I'll play, but I got my eye on ye, Plankton." Mr. Krabs says, his tone still suspicious as he sits down to join them. Sponge Bob's eyes dart to Karen, who gives a nod of understanding. They'll keep the secret and hope Mr. Krabs doesn't figure it out. "Let's play Uno!" Sponge Bob says, getting out the new card game, dealing the cards. Plankton's antennas perk up at the mention of a new game, and he eagerly takes his cards. Mr. Krabs grumbles but plays along, eyeing Plankton carefully. Then, it happens. Mr. Krabs slaps a card down on the pile and excitedly yells, "Uno!" Plankton's antennas shoot straight up, and his eye widen with sensory overload. Sponge Bob's concerned, but Mr. Krabs is too busy gloating to notice. "Yee-haw!" he crows. "I win again!" Plankton's antennas quiver as he tries to process the sudden loudness and change in the atmosphere. Mr. Krabs looks at him, his expression puzzled. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he asks, his voice laced with disdain. "Lost your competitive spirit?" Sponge Bob's eyes widen. "Plankton's just excited, Mr. Krabs," he says quickly. "Isn't that right, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas wave erratically, and his voice is a mix of fear and confusion. "Yes, Krabs," he stammers, his eye darting around the room. "Uno. Fish. Yes." Mr. Krabs looks at him oddly but shrugs it off, his attention already returning to the game. "Alright, let's keep playing," he says, dealing out more cards. But Plankton's mind is elsewhere, his antennas twitching with the effort to keep up. "Fish," he murmurs to himself, trying to find a familiar word. His hands shake as he holds his cards, the world around him a cacophony of sensory overload. Sponge Bob notices Plankton's distress and quickly changes the topic. "Hey, Mr. Krabs, have you ever played Chess?" Mr. Krabs' eyes light up. "Chess? The game of kings and conquers!" he exclaims. "I'd love a round!" SpongeBob gets the chess game. The chess pieces are set up, and Mr. Krabs begins to play, his claws clacking against the board as he moves his pieces. Plankton watches, his antennas still, his eye focused. "Your move, Plankton," Mr. Krabs says, his claws tapping the edge of the board impatiently. But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring at the chessboard, his cards forgotten in his hand. "What's with you?" Mr. Krabs asks, his voice filled with exasperation. "You're taking forever!" Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat. He knows he can't let Mr. Krabs see how much Plankton's been affected by the accident. "It's ok Mr. Krabs," he says quickly. "Plankton's just thinking of his next move." Mr. Krabs grumbles but doesn't push the issue. He's too focused on his own strategy, his claws moving pieces with calculated precision. But Plankton remains frozen, his gaze unwavering on the board. His antennas twitch slightly, a sign of his racing thoughts. After several moments of silence, Mr. Krabs finally snaps. "Plankton, it's your turn!" he says, his patience wearing thin. Plankton's antennas twitch, and his eye flits to the board. "Fish?" he asks, his voice unsure. Mr. Krabs stares at Plankton, his eyes narrowing. "What do fish have to do with chess?" he asks, confusion etched deeply on his face. Sponge Bob's heart sinks as he sees the puzzlement in Mr. Krabs' eyes. He quickly jumps in. "Oh, Plankton was just thinking out loud," he says, trying to lighten the mood. Mr. Krabs grunts, but his suspicion doesn't fade. "You've always been a weird little fellow, Plankton, but this is something else," he says, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation. Sponge Bob's heart thumps in his chest as he tries to diverge the conversation. "Why don't we talk about something else?" he suggests, his eyes darting back to the chessboard. Mr. Krabs' gaze remains on Plankton, his eyes narrowed. But Plankton's antennas remain still, his expression vacant. "Fish," he murmurs, his voice distant. Mr. Krabs' patience thins to a thread. "Fish?" he repeats, his confusion palpable. "What's going on with you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas wobble, his eye still fixated on the board. "Fish," he says again, his voice uncertain. Mr. Krabs leans forward, his eyes studying Plankton closely. "You okay, tiny fry?" he asks, hinting concern despite the sarcasm. Plankton's antennas quiver slightly. "Fish," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob's heart clenches at the word, understanding now that it's not just a game for Plankton; it's his way of trying to make sense of the world around him. Mr. Krabs, however, simply sighs and shakes his head. "You always have to make everything so complicated," he mumbles, his voice tired. "Why can't you just play the game like everyone else?" He yells tipping the board over to where the chess pieces fall to the ground by Plankton. Plankton's antennas shiver at the sound, and his eye dart to the upset board, his expression one of deep distress. "No fish," he whispers, his voice breaking. Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, his suspicion growing. "What's going on with you?" he asks again. "Fish, fish, fish!"

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY vi (Autistic author) Plankton holds up the science book he had been clutching, the pages fluttering in his excitement. Sponge Bob's eyes flick to the book, then back to Plankton's face. "You're acting different." Plankton's smile falters, his hands stilling momentarily. "No bad," he insists, his voice a bit too cheerful. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's eyes search Plankton's, trying to read the truth behind his words. "But you've never been this... affectionate before," he says, his voice tentative. Plankton's smile widens. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice a sing-song. "You are good friend." He leans in closer, his antennas quivering. "Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen further, his spongy cheeks reddening. "Plankton, what's going on?" he asks, his tone filled with confusion. "You've never said that before." Plankton's smile only grows broader. "No bad," he repeats, his voice still monotone. "Good day. Happy." He starts to rock back and forth on the bed, his hands flapping in a pattern that seems almost... happy? Sponge Bob's confusion deepens. Plankton had never been one to show affection, let alone so openly. "What's going on?" he asks again, his voice laced with concern. Plankton's response is a repetitive giggle, his eye locked on Sponge Bob's face. "Good day," he says, his hands flapping in a pattern that matches his words. "Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen in surprise. Plankton nods vigorously, his hands flapping rapidly. "Very happy," he says, his voice high and excited. "Best friend happy." Sponge Bob's confusion turns to concern. "Plankton, are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's giggle turns to a laugh, a sound Sponge Bob rarely hears from him. "Yes," he says, his voice still monotone. "Happy." Sponge Bob watches his friend, his heart racing. "What happened to you?" he asks, his concern growing with each passing moment. Plankton's laughter fades into a grin. "No bad," he says, his hands still fluttering in the air. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with worry. "What's really going on?" Plankton's grin turns into a frown, his hands stopping their motion. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "No bad. Happy." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with confusion, but he can't ignore the desperation in Plankton's tone. He reaches out, his hand resting gently on Plankton's arm. "But why are you so happy?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. Plankton's frown deepens, his mind racing to find the right words. "Because," he says, his voice strained. "I have friend. Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his hand still on Plankton's arm. "But we've always been friends," he says, his voice filled with confusion. Plankton's smile is wide, his eye unblinking. "Yes," he says, his voice still monotone. "Best friends. Happy." Sponge Bob's mind races. Something is clearly different about Plankton, but he doesn't know what. "But, Plankton," he starts, his voice tentative. "What happened to make you so... so...?" He struggles for the right word. Plankton's smile fades slightly, his gaze dropping to the book in his lap. "Book," he says, his voice flat. "Good book." Sponge Bob nods, trying to follow the conversation. "Yeah, it looks interesting," he says, his eyes searching for a clue. But Plankton's gaze is fixed on the book, his hands resuming their rhythmic flapping. "Good book," he repeats, his voice a gentle mantra. Sponge Bob's eyes flick from the book to Plankton's hands, his mind racing to connect the dots. "Is something wrong, Plankton?" he asks, his voice soft with worry. Plankton's hands stop their flapping abruptly, his eye snapping to Sponge Bob's face. "No wrong," he says, his voice earnest. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's expression is one of bewilderment. "But you've always liked your science books," he says, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the situation. "What's different about this one?" Plankton's smile returns, his hands resuming their flapping. "This one," he says, his voice filled with a newfound enthusiasm. "Good book. Happy book." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy heart swelling with a mixture of joy and concern. "What makes this one so special?" Plankton's hands flutter with excitement as he opens the book to a random page. "Look," he says, his voice a high-pitched squeak. "See?" Sponge Bob leans in, his eyes scanning the dense text filled with scientific terms. He nods, trying to appear engaged, though he has no clue what he's looking at. "Wow, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with forced enthusiasm. "That's... really interesting." Plankton's smile widens, his hands flapping in excitement. "Yes," he says, his voice a cheerful monotone. "Good book." Sponge Bob nods, still confused but not wanting to rain on his friend's parade. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it," he says, his voice warm. Plankton's hands stop moving momentarily. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "You are best friend." He leans in closer, his antennas quivering with excitement. Sponge Bob's eyes widen in surprise as he feels a sudden wave of warmth and affection from Plankton, something that's never been present in their usually antagonistic friendship. "What's going on, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Plankton's smile doesn't waver. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice still monotone. "You are good. You make Plankton happy." "What's happened to make you so affectionate, Plankton?" Sponge Bob's question hangs in the air, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected warmth from his usually adversarial friend. Plankton's response is a repetitive giggle, his hands resuming their flapping. "No bad," he says, his voice cheerful. "Good day." He pats the bed next to him. "Sit, Sponge Bob. Read book." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy body frozen in place. "I don't think I can read that, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with uncertainty. "It's really complicated." Plankton nods, his smile remaining constant. "It's okay," he says, his voice soothing. "You try." He pushes the book closer to Sponge Bob, his hand guiding him to the page. Sponge Bob hesitates, his thumb flipping through the pages. The words are a blur of symbols and numbers, his mind struggling to make sense of them. "But, Plankton, I don't understand any of this," he admits, his voice filled with frustration. Plankton's hand stops him, his eye wide with excitement. "Doesn't matter," he says, his voice cheerful. "You are here. Best friend." Sponge Bob's confusion turns to concern. "But Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "You're not acting like yourself." Plankton's smile fades slightly, his hands stilling. "Self," he repeats, his voice contemplative. He looks at Sponge Bob, his eye searching his friend's face for understanding. Sponge Bob's expression is one of confusion and concern. "Is this a joke?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's smile falters for a moment before growing wider. "No joke," he says, his voice a singsong. "Happy." He pats the bed again, his hand a silent invitation. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with compassion. He sits down beside his friend. "Plankton," he starts, his voice tentative. "Is everything ok?" Plankton nods vigorously, his hands flapping with excitement. "Everything is good," he says, his voice a monotone cheer. "Best day." Sponge Bob's gaze lingers on his friend, searching for any sign of distress. "But, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with uncertainty. "You're not usually like this." Plankton's smile never fades. "Don't know," he says, his voice calm. "But now, happy." Sponge Bob's heart clenches, his fears for his friend's well-being growing stronger. "But what about your schemes?" he asks, his voice hopeful. Plankton's eye blinks, the thought of his usual plans of world domination momentarily forgotten. "Schemes?" he repeats, his voice confused. Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, you know, your plans to steal the Krabby Patty secret formula," he says, his tone light. Plankton's smile falters, his hands stopping their flapping. "Krabby Patty?" he asks, his voice distant. "No want Krabby Patty. Happy." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy mind racing. "You don't want to steal the formula?" he asks, his voice incredulous, now really suspicious. Plankton shakes his head, his antennas swaying slightly. "No," he says, his voice still monotone. "Only happy." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with confusion, but he can't ignore the genuine smile on his friend's face. "Okay, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "If you're happy, then I'm happy for you." Plankton's eye lit up, his hands flapping with excitement. "Thank you," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "Best friend."

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vi (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Plankton's eye closed slowly, his breathing evening out under her calming touch. His body relaxed into the cushions of the couch, his mind still racing but his body succumbing to the siren call of sleep. The smoothie and Karen's comforting presence had worked their magic. Karen sat beside him, wrapped protectively around his small form. She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, her heart heavy with the weight of the day's events. The Chum Bucket was quiet now, the silence a stark contrast to the shouts and sobs that had filled it moments before. Karen's heart breaks for Plankton yet she knows Hanna's never met him, never heard of the accident nor diagnosis. With a sigh, she picked up the phone that lay on the end table and dialed Hanna's number. The line rang once, twice, three times before Hanna's voice filled the line. "Hello?" Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she had to have. "Hanna, it's me," she said, her voice calm despite the whirlwind inside her. "I need to talk to you about what happened." Hanna's tone shifted immediately, concern lacing her words. "Is Plankton okay?" Karen's grip on the phone tightened. "No," she admitted, her voice a whisper. "He's asleep now, but he's not okay." Hanna's voice was a mix of shock and disbelief. "What do you mean?" Karen took another deep breath, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "There was an accident," she began, her voice steady. "He hit his head and..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder." The line was silent for a moment before Hanna's voice came back, filled with horror. "Oh Neptune, I had no idea!" Karen's tentacles trembled slightly as she recounted the doctor's words, the diagnosis that had turned their world upside down. "It's permanent," she whispered. "They said his corpus callosum and cerebellum were damaged. He's...he's not the same, Hanna." On the phone, Hanna's voice was a mix of sympathy and confusion. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" Karen's sigh was heavy with regret. "We've been dealing with this alone," she explained, her tentacle tracing patterns on the couch cushion. "It's so new, so overwhelming." Hanna's voice was gentle now, understanding in a way that made Karen feel less alone. "I'm so sorry, Karen," she said, her concern genuine. "I had no idea." Karen's eyes remained locked on Plankton's face, his chest rising and falling with each breath. "It's been a rollercoaster," she admitted, her voice tight. "But we're trying to make the best of it." Karen hangs up and turns her focus back to Plankton, his small body curled tightly under the blanket. She notices the way his antenna twitches as if he's dreaming. Her hands gently adjust the blanket, her touch feather-light against his skin. Plankton's face is a mask of peace in sleep, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the waking world. His snores are faint, a soothing rhythm that fills the otherwise silent room. Just as Karen begins to relax, the door to the Chum Bucket bursts open, letting in a rush of sunlight and SpongeBob's unmistakable laughter. "Plankton?" he calls out, his voice high and cheerful. Sponge Bob's entrance is a whirlwind of energy, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hangs over the laboratory. He doesn't notice the tension in the air as he bounds towards the couch, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Plankton's unusual position. "Whoa, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice a chirp of curiosity. "Looks like you're taking a siesta!" He laughs, not comprehending the depth of emotion that has just played out in the room. Karen looks up from her watchful vigil, her eyes tired but determined. "Sponge Bob," she says, keeping her voice steady, "Plankton's not feeling well." Sponge Bob's face falls, his cheerfulness dimming. "Oh no," he says, his concern genuine. He approaches the couch with caution, his eyes fixed on Plankton's peaceful form. "What happened?" he asks, his voice hushed. "Is he okay?" Karen's eyes meet Sponge Bob's, full of a sorrow he can't quite comprehend. "It's been a...difficult day," she says, her tentacles tightening slightly around Plankton. "He had an accident." Sponge Bob's expression shifts from confusion to alarm. "Is he going to be okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. Karen sighs, her tentacle stroking Plankton's forehead in a soothing motion. "He's just...different now," she says, her voice tight. Sponge Bob frowns, his bubbles popping with worry. "What kind of different?" Karen's expression is guarded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "He's been diagnosed with... autism," she whispers, the word sounding foreign even to her. "Hey, I was born with idiopathic Autism!" Sponge Bob says. "Well Plankton's got an acquired form, it's a rarity," Karen explains to Sponge Bob, her voice barely a murmur so as not to disturb the sleeping Plankton. Sponge Bob nods slowly, his understanding of the situation deepening with each word. "So his accident gave him autism; when?" "Yesterday, when he hit his head on an invention." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with realization. "Oh," he says, his voice filled with sympathy. He sits down on the floor beside the couch. "It's okay, Karen," Sponge Bob says softly, his eyes full of understanding. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton stirs beneath the blanket, his small form shifting slightly. Karen's gaze snaps to him. "Plankton?" she whispers, her tentacles poised to comfort him if his distress resurfaces. But his eye remains closed, his breathing even. Sponge Bob's expression is thoughtful as he looks at the sleeping Plankton. "You know, Karen, being different isn't so bad," he says gently. "I mean, look at me." Karen's tentacles relax slightly as she looks at Sponge Bob, his optimism a balm to her weary spirit. Karen smiles. "Tell that to Hanna," Karen mutters to herself. "Who's Hanna?" "A friend," Karen explained, her voice still tight. "She came over today, didn't know about Plankton's diagnosis. She said things she shouldn't have." Sponge Bob's frown deepens. "What kind of things?" "She said he's a burden, that maybe I should put him in an institution," she whispers, her voice shaking with anger. Sponge Bob's face falls in shock. "That's not right, Karen," he says firmly. "You don't have to listen to her. What's an institution?" "It's a place where clinically crazy people are sent to rehabilitation be 'taken care of.' But it's not like that really for neurodivergent people. It's more like a...a prison where they deprive them, and often...never make it. But mostly it's for people who are violent, which isn't the case for..." Her voice trails off as Plankton stirs again, his antennae twitching slightly. Sponge Bob looks at Plankton, his eyes filled with compassion. "He's not going anywhere, Karen," he says firmly. "You guys are like family to me. I'll help you take care of him." Plankton's single eye opens slightly, his gaze unfocused. "Shh, it's okay," she whispers, her voice a soothing caress. Plankton blinks slowly, his eye coming into focus as he sees Sponge Bob. A smile spreads across his face, a rare expression of pure joy that lights up his features. His body uncoils from its tense curl, his antennae perking up with excitement. "Sponge Bob," Plankton whispers, his voice filled with a warmth that surprises Karen. He sits up slowly, his movements calculated to avoid any jolts to his sensitive system. Sponge Bob's face splits into a beaming smile, his eyes shining with joy. "Hey, Plankton!" He says. Plankton's gaze remains fixed on Sponge Bob, his expression a mixture of gratitude and comfort. "You're here," he says simply, his voice a rough whisper. Sponge Bob nods, his smile never wavering. "Of course I am," he says, his voice gentle. He reaches out a hand tentatively, his movements slow and deliberate. Plankton's antennae twitch, then he reaches out, his grip firm but not too tight. The two of them sit there, the silence comforting rather than oppressive. **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vi (Autistic author) Plankton's sobs grew softer in Karen's embrace, his tiny body trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I-it's okay," Karen whispered, stroking his antennae gently. "You can like jellyfish all you want, sweetheart." Sponge Bob watched from a distance, his heart heavy. He had never seen Plankton like this, vulnerable and hurt. He knew the two of them had their differences, but this was different. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, but the pain didn't leave his eye. Karen held him tight, filled with a fiery determination. "Plankton," she whispered soothingly. "You don't have to change who you are because of this." He pulled away slightly, his antennae drooping as he looked at her. "But what if jellyfish are all Plankton good for?" he murmured, his voice still monotone but filled with a depth of emotion that tugged at Karen's heartstrings. "Plankton, you're more than just jellyfish," Karen said, voice firm yet gentle. "You're a smart, resourceful, and determined little creature. You've always been so much more than that." The room was still, the only sound was Plankton's sniffs. His antennae drooped, and he looked up at her, his single eye red and puffy from crying. "But Karen," he whispered, his voice monotone yet filled with emotion, "it's all Plankton know now." Karen's eyes shone with empathy. "That's not true, darling," she said, her voice soothing. "You're capable of so much more. We just have to figure out how to navigate this new world together." Sponge Bob hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered. Karen nodded, her tentacles tightening around Plankton. "Could you be with him while I admonish Patrick?" "Of course," Sponge Bob said, moving closer to Plankton. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he nodded. "I'll be right outside," Karen said, her voice gentle. Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze focused on Plankton's small trembling form. "I've got him," he said, his eyes filled with understanding and a newfound respect for the tiny creature before him. As Karen left to talk to Patrick Sponge Bob sat down beside Plankton, his own heart aching for his friend's pain. He knew that Plankton was going through a difficult time, and he wanted to be there for him. Meanwhile, outside the Chum Bucket, Karen found Patrick still standing there, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. "Patrick," she began, her voice sharp, "You need to understand something." Patrick looked at her with his usual vacant stare. "What's up, Karen?" "You have to understand, Patrick," she began, her voice tight with tension. "Plankton's... he's different now." Patrick's smile faded as he met Karen's stern gaze. "Different?" Karen sighed, trying to find the words. "Plankton's had an... accident," she said. "It's changed him." Patrick's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean, changed?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain the complex situation in a way that would make sense to someone like Patrick. "Plankton's had a... a bump on the noggin," she said, her tentacles gesturing to her own head. "It's affected the way he thinks, the way he sees the world." Patrick's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa, that's heavy, Karen," he said, his tone more serious than it had been in a long time. "Is he ok?" "Well, he's alive," Karen said, her voice tight with frustration. "But he's not the same, Patrick. He's... different." Patrick's smile faded as he took in her words, his eyes finally showing a glimmer of understanding. "What happened?" he asked, his tone serious for once. "It's complicated, Patrick," Karen said. "But the important thing is he's a new version of himself. So you can choose to be nice to him or just leave." Patrick's face fell, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. "But I didn't know, Karen," he protested, his voice small. "How was I supposed to know?" "It's not about knowing, Patrick," Karen said, her voice firm. "It's about being a good friend. And if you can't do that, then maybe it's time for you to rethink what friendship really means." Patrick's expression grew contemplative. "But Karen," he began, his voice tentative, "what if Plankton's... you know, not right in the head anymore?" "Patrick, that's not funny," she snapped. "This isn't a game. This is real life. And Plankton's life has changed in ways you can't even begin to understand." Patrick looked down at his feet, his usual jovial expression replaced by one of contemplation. "I didn't mean to be a jerk," he mumbled. "I know you didn't mean to," Karen said, her tone softening slightly. "But you need to be more considerate." Patrick nodded, his cheeks flushing. "I'll be nicer," he promised, his eyes darting to the Chum Bucket door. "Good," Karen said firmly, then turned back to the Chum Bucket. She opened the door to find Plankton still on the floor, clutching the jellyfish book. His antennae perked up as she entered. Sponge Bob looked up, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. "I think he's okay." Plankton sniffled, his antennae drooping. "Jellyfish," he murmured, his voice a monotone whisper. Karen's expression softened as she saw the pain in his eye. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her tentacles reaching out to comfort him. "You don't have to be anything other than who you are." Sponge Bob nodded in agreement. "You're still the same Plankton we know and love."

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†˚₊‧꒰ა✞🅙🅔🅢🅤🅢✞໒꒱ ‧₊˚†

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡯⣝⠼⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⣱⢮⣙⠾⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⢳⢱⡎⡎⣷⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡳⢎⡳⢎⣝⡲⢭⣻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢭⡛⡼⣍⠶⣍⡳⣜⣻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡷⣄⡀⠪⣶⣩⠞⣥⠳⣎⢵⣻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢿⡱⢫⡝⡶⠄⠹⠿⣎⡳⢭⡲⢣⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢯⢧⣙⢧⣹⢚⡝⢦⠐⣲⢭⠳⣍⡏⣞⣻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠿⣩⠶⣩⢖⣣⢏⡞⡵⣚⠵⣪⢛⡴⡹⢆⡳⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣏⢻⠴⣫⠵⢮⡱⢞⡼⡱⡭⢞⣱⢫⣜⠳⣭⠳⣍⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡳⢎⡝⡮⣕⢫⠮⣕⣫⡶⠟⠷⢯⣜⣣⢞⣹⠲⡝⣎⡳⣻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡱⣍⠯⡼⣱⢎⣏⣳⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣾⣜⢲⢫⠵⣎⡵⢣⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢷⣱⢎⡹⡶⢇⡾⣆⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⡏⣇⠿⡰⣉⠏⣎⣹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣏⡳⡜⢮⠵⣍⡏⢶⣽⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡜⣎⡳⡕⣤⡈⠊⡵⡻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡗⢮⣱⢫⡝⡺⣜⠼⣣⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣝⣲⡝⡼⣩⢟⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡻⣜⠳⣬⢓⡞⡵⣪⢝⣲⣿⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣞⡴⡹⣜⢣⡞⢦⢫⢟⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢭⠳⣜⢫⢖⣫⣼⡵⠟⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠯⢾⣼⣩⢳⣚⡴⢫⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⡝⢮⣝⡮⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠷⣮⣏⢮⢽⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣟⡧⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢮⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠼⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣦⣶⣦⣄⠀⠀⣦⣶⡆⣠⣴⣶⡗⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣦⣤⠀⠀⣿⣿⡿⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣰⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡄⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⣰⡿⠿⠟⠿⢿⣿⣿⡄⠀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⣧⡶⠛⠛⠛⠿⣧⡀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠻⣧⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⣰⣶⣿⣿⣷⣶⣼⣿⡇⠀⢿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠙⢷⣄⣼⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿⡇⠀⢿⣿⣗⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢿⣿⣷⣀⣀⣀⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣷⣄⣀⣀⣀⣴⣆⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢽⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⣴⡿⠃⠙⣷⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣫⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠙⣿⣦⣤⣤⣴⠟⢹⡇⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡆⠀

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NEW REALITY vi (Autistic author) "Plankton," she starts, her voice tentative. "Can we try something?" He nods, his eye still searching. Karen reaches over to the bedside drawer, pulling out a small, soft blanket. "This is called a weighted blanket," she explains, unfolding it gently. "It's like a hug from me without the pressure." Plankton's gaze flickers with curiosity. He nods slowly, allowing her to place it over his body, his eye closed as he feels the comforting weight. "It's good," he murmurs, his voice a mix of wonder and fatigue. Karen's heart lifts, a tiny victory in the face of the unknown. "It's like a hug," she says, smoothing the blanket over him. "It helps some people feel safe and calm." Plankton nods, his body relaxing into the embrace of the weighted fabric. Karen's eyes fill with relief as she watches his tension melt away. "Does it feel better?" she asks, her voice gentle. Plankton nods, his eye still closed. "Calm," he whispers. Encouraged, Karen pulls the blanket tighter, mimicking a gentle squeeze. "Good?" she asks, her voice a soft query. Plankton nods, a smile ghosting over his lips. "Good," he agrees, his voice a faint whisper. Karen's heart skips a beat. "I'm here," she says, her voice a soothing melody. "I'll always be here to help you find your calm." Plankton nods, his eye still shut. "Calm," he whispers, his body sinking deeper into the blanket's embrace. Karen's eyes fill with tears as she watches him. She's found a way to connect, a way to bring him comfort in a world that's become too much for him. The weight of the blanket seems to anchor him, still the storm in his mind. "I'll get us through this," she whispers, her voice filled with resolve. "We're a team." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a sign of his agreement. "Team," he murmurs, his breathing evening out beneath the blanket. Karen's eyes shine with hope. "Yes, we're a team," she repeats, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Now, try to get some sleep." Plankton nods, his hand reaching up to trace the edge of the blanket. "Sleep," he murmurs. Karen watches him for a moment longer, then stands slowly, not wanting to disturb his fragile peace. She moves to the door, her hand on the knob. "I'll be right outside if you need me," she says softly. Plankton nods, his hand still tracing the blanket. "Karen," he whispers. Her heart squeezes. "I know," she says, her voice a gentle caress. "I'll be right here." With one last look at him, she steps into the hallway, closing the door behind her. The house feels eerie in its quiet, the weight of the silence pressing down. Her thoughts race, her mind a whirlwind of fears and uncertainty. How do you navigate a world that's suddenly become so overwhelming for someone you love? Karen leans against the closed door, her eyes brimming with tears. She can't bear to leave him alone, but he needs rest. With a heavy sigh, she forces herself to step away, determined to give him the space he needs to adjust.

⣠⣀⣄⣄⣤⣠⣠⣀⣄⣠⣀⣄⣠⣀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢼⡹⣞⡼⣲⢧⡳⣝⢮⡳⣝⢮⡳⣭⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢺⡵⣫⡜⣧⢏⡷⣹⢎⡷⣹⢎⡷⣹⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢣⣟⣱⢻⡜⣏⢾⡱⣏⢾⡱⣏⢾⡱⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡹⣜⢧⡻⣼⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⢮⡝⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣹⢎⡷⣹⢶⣹⡮⠷⣽⠮⠷⣝⢧⡻⣽⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡸⣏⡾⣱⠏⠀⣀⣰⠇⠀⠀⢹⡎⣷⣹⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣽⣲⡽⠷⢴⡯⢯⡝⡷⣤⣤⠋⢻⣖⣻⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣽⣧⣴⡶⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⠀⠀⣤⣴⠶⡶⣤⡀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡦⡴⠆⠀⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤ ⣿⢿⠀⠀⢈⣟⢧⡻⢵⡳⢞⡇⢘⣮⢟⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⠀⢸⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⢼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣿⣫⢷⡒⠻⣝⡮⣝⡧⠿⢿⡀⣸⢧⡿⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠄⠀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣿⡱⣏⢷⣄⡈⠙⢻⡀⠀⠀⡿⣝⢮⣽⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣄⡀⠀⣀⣼⠟⠀⠀⣹⡇⠀⠀⣀⣴⠏⠀⠀⢿⣄⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡄⠀⢸⣇⡀⠀⣀⠀⢻⣄⡀⠀⢀⣿ ⣿⡵⣫⠾⣜⢯⡳⣟⢷⡲⢾⡹⣎⢷⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠉⠙⠋⠉⠀⠀⠉⠙⠋⠉⠉ ⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

TRUTH AND NAIL vi Karen couldn't believe the transformation. This was not the Plankton she knew, not the one who was always scheming or complaining. This was a Plankton who was loose, free from his usual inhibitions, and it was both endearing and a little unnerving. But mostly, it was just funny. He poked Sponge Bob's side again, his giggle a strange sound in the quiet living room. "Still squishy," he murmured. Sponge Bob's laughter was like a bubble bursting. "Plankton, you're loopy!" he exclaimed. Plankton's eye fluttered open, his gaze unfocused. "Loopy?" he repeated, his voice slurred. "I'm not a loop, I'm a...a...a...sea creature!" He giggled, the sound like a leaky faucet. Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh harder, his eyes watering with mirth. "You're right, Plankton," he said, his voice shaking with amusement. "You're a sea creature. A very loopy one." Plankton giggled, his body jerking with each laugh. "Loopy, loopy," he murmured, his hand still on Sponge Bob's side. His eye lit up with an idea. "Peekaboo!" he exclaimed, hiding his eye behind his hand. Sponge Bob's laughter was like a symphony of bubbles, filling the room with joy. "Oh, Plankton, you're a riot," he said, his voice a delighted chuckle. He played along, covering his eyes. "Where did you go?" Plankton's giggle was a strange, wobbly sound. "I'm still here," he slurred, his voice muffled by his hand. "I'm...I'm right here." He peeked through his fingers, his eye twinkling with mischief. Sponge Bob chuckled, his voice warm and welcoming. "Where'd you go, Plankton?" he asked, playing along. Plankton's eye peeked out from behind his hand, his grin wide and goofy. "Boo!" he exclaimed, his voice a sloppy whisper. Sponge Bob's laughter was a delightful sound, echoing in the quiet room. "You got me, Plankton!" he said, his voice filled with surprise. Encouraged by the reaction, Plankton's hand dropped to his lap, his gaze turning to Karen. "Wanna...wanna play?" he asked, his voice still thick with anesthesia. Her eyes danced with laughter. "What game, love?" Plankton's smile grew, his voice a sleepy whine. "Pat-a-cake?" Karen's laugh was a gentle surprise. "Pat-a-cake?" she echoed, her hand moving to his. "Okay, darling." Their palms met with a slap, Plankton's movements slow and awkward. "Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake," he murmured, his voice slurred. They played the game, their hands moving in a clumsy dance, a silent reminder of his groggy state. Sponge Bob watched, his laughter a gentle wave in the background. "Looks like someone had a bit too much fun at the dentist," he teased, his voice a soft caress. Plankton's gaze found his, his smile a sleepy grin. "Dentith?" he slurred, his hand waving vaguely. "No, no, not dentith...." Sponge Bob nodded, his laughter subsiding to a gentle chuckle. "Alright, not the dentist," he said, his voice understanding. "What game do you want to play then?" Plankton's head lolled to the side, his eye half-closed. "You know...the one with... the animals," he murmured, his words thick and slow. But Plankton's head was already lolling back, his snores a soft rumble in the quiet room. Sponge Bob looked at Karen, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. "Should we...?" he began, his voice trailing off. Plankton's snore was his only reply, his mouth open wide and drool spilling onto the couch. Karen chuckled, patting his hand. "He's just tired," she said, her voice a gentle excuse. Karen covered him with a soft blanket, his snores growing louder as he sank deeper into sleep. “You can sleep on the other couch across by him,” Karen told Sponge Bob. The anesthesia worn off over night, and Plankton only woke up the next morning on the couch at the same time as SpongeBob. Plankton sat up with a start, his eye wide. "Wha... where...what...?" his words tangled in a slurry mess. Sponge Bob stirred on the couch across from him, his eyes blinking sleepily. "Morning, Plankton," he said. Plankton's eye focused on his friend, his mind racing. "Sponge Bob?" he said, his voice sharp and clear. "Wath...what's going on here?!" Sponge Bob stretches his limbs. "Well, good morning to you too, Plankton," he said, his voice filled with cheerful energy. "You had your wisdom teeth out, remember?" “I know I went to the dentist but, what happened after I came home?” He said, mostly to himself. Sponge Bob sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Well, you were pretty out of it," he said, his voice still a bit groggy from sleep. "But you were also pretty funny." Plankton's gaze darted around the room, his mind spinning. "What...what do you mean?" His voice was sharp, his usual snappiness creeping back in. Sponge Bob chuckled, his body still relaxed from his nap. "You don't remember?" he asked, his voice a tease. "You were so affectionate, calling me your best buddy and all." Plankton's eye narrowed, his confusion morphing into suspicion. "I did no such thing," he said, his voice a firm rebuttal. "I'm not that...that..." Karen stepped in, her laugh light. "You don't remember?" she asked, her voice a gentle tease. "You were so lovely and affectionate last night." Plankton's face scrunched up in disbelief. "Affectionate?" he repeated, his voice rising. "To him?" His thumb jerked towards Sponge Bob, who was now watching him with a knowing smile. "I...I can't have said that." Sponge Bob shrugged, his laugh bubbly. "You sure did, Plankton. You were poking me and calling me your best buddy." Plankton's disbelief grew, his eye wide with shock. "I...I did not!" he protested, his voice a high-pitched squeak. "That's...that's not me!" Karen couldn't hold back her laughter, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Oh, it was definitely you, darling," she said, her voice a sweet contrast to his indignation. Plankton's expression shifted from shock to outrage. "But...but why?" he sputtered, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "I don't...I don't do that sort of...that sort of thing!" Karen's laugh was like a melody, light and playful. "You did, love," she said, her voice a soft reminder. "You were just a little...loopy." Plankton's hand flew to his mouth, his eye wide with horror. "No, no, no," he murmured, his voice muffled by his palm. "That can't be right." He looked at Sponge Bob with an accusatory glare. "Who put me up to this?" Sponge Bob's laugh was like a burst of bubbles. "You don't remember?" he asked, his voice full of delight. "It was all you, buddy. You were feeling the med..." "The medicine!" Plankton exclaimed, his face paling as realization hit him. "The anesthesia made me say those things.." His voice was a mix of relief and horror. Sponge Bob's chuckle was infectious. "Don't worry, Plankton," he said, his voice warm. "We all have our moments." But Plankton was not to be swayed. "That's not like me," he insisted, his voice a mix of dismay and irritation. "I'm not...I'm not like that!" Sponge Bob's chuckles turned into a full-blown laugh. "Well, you were last night," he said, his voice a gentle ribbing. "You were all warm and fuzzy. But you did eventually fall asleep and started snoring.." Plankton's face was a picture of disgust. "Snoring?!" he said, his voice a mix of outrage and embarrassment. Karen's laugh was like a small wave on the shore. "It's okay, honey," she said, patting his leg. "You were just really tired." "I...I don't snore," he asks, his voice firm. Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle, his laugh bubbly. "Well, you did last night," he said, his voice a gentle reminder. Plankton's eye narrowed, his usual snappiness returning with full force. "I...I snored?" he asked, his voice skeptical. Karen's smile was sympathetic. "You did, darling," she said, her voice soothing. "But it's all right. It's just what happens when you're tired." Plankton's eye shot to hers, his expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. "But I...I never snored," he insisted, his voice a protest. “Right, Karen?” Her laugh was a gentle tide, washing over his protests. "You do snore, Plankton," she said, her voice a warm caress. "But it's nothing to be embarrassed about." Plankton's face was a mask of disbelief, his voice a tight knot of denial. "I snore?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to his vocabulary. Sponge Bob's laughter was a delightful sound, his body shaking with mirth. "Yes, Plankton," he said, his voice full of affection. "But don't worry, it's not so bad. I mean, you're not as loud as Patrick." Karen's giggle joined his, the two of them laughing gently at Plankton's expense. But their laughter wasn't cruel, it was the kind that comes from knowing someone so well that their quirks become endearing. "I...I do?" Plankton asked, his voice barely above a murmur. Sponge Bob nodded, his laughter subsiding into a knowing smile. "But hey, we all have our little quirks, right?" Karen's eyes sparkled with amusement. "It's part of who we are, love," she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the truth.

༆

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crist𓃶 🜏 𖤐 𐕣 ⁶⁶⁶

CHIP AND FAIL vi (Autistic author) Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, looking for the spark that meant he was coming back to her. Slowly, the panic in his gaze faded, replaced by the familiar look of love and confusion. "I'm here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay." Plankton's body finally unclenched, his muscles relaxing under her gentle touch. The storm in his mind was receding, leaving behind a quiet beach of clarity. He didn't know what had happened, only that it was bad. Karen knew the routine, the dance of calming Plankton after a meltdown. But Chip didn't know. He was just trying to share his excitement, to reconnect with his father after a week apart. He didn't know that his touch, his laughter, his stories, were all too much for Plankton to handle. As Karen worked to bring Plankton back to reality, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for Chip. He had no idea how his love was received, no way to understand that his actions could cause such pain. She had to find a way to explain, to help both her husband and her son find a way to connect without setting off the sensory bombs that lurked just beneath the surface. "K-Karen?" Plankton murmurs as he slowly returns to himself. The room stops spinning, the noises dulling to a gentle hum. He looks around, confusion etched in every line of his face. "You're okay," she whispers. Her heart breaks for her husband, for the silent battles he fights every day. She knows Chip doesn't understand, that his love and excitement are a minefield for Plankton's sensitive mind. But she also feels a pang of anger. How could she have let this happen? She had hoped that Chip's visit would be a celebration, a chance for them to bond. Instead, it had become a reminder of the chasm that sometimes separated them, a stark reality of Plankton's condition. Chip's sobs from the next room were a constant reminder of the pain he had inadvertently caused. Karen knew she had to talk to him, to explain. "Chip, sweetheart," she called, her voice carrying a gentle authority. "Can you come out here, please?" Chip's heart was still racing, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and stepped out of his room, his gaze flickering to his dad, then back to his mom. "Is he okay?" he asked, his voice small and unsure. Karen nodded, her screen filled with a mix of love and exhaustion. "He's okay," she said, "Honey, it's time we tell Chip. Can I help you sit up, so you can tell him?" Plankton nodded weakly, his body still feeling like it was made of lead. Karen helped him into a sitting position, her eyes never leaving his. "You're okay," she repeated, her voice a gentle reminder. Chip stared at Plankton. "Dad?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton looked up at him, his eye still clouded with the aftermath of the storm. "Chip," he began, his voice weak, "I'm sorry." But Chip was already there, kneeling beside his dad, his screen wide with relief and confusion. "What happened?" Chip asked, his voice trembling. "Why didn't you answer me? You just ignored me!" Karen's screen filled with compassion as she placed a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Your dad's not ignoring you," she said gently. "He has something to tell you." Plankton took a deep, shaky breath, the words sticking in his throat. He had always been afraid of this moment, of the day Chip would find out. "I... I, I just..." Karen squeezed his hand, her gaze filled with understanding. "It's okay," she said softly. "You can tell him." Plankton took another deep breath, his voice trembling as he began. "Chip, I'm... I..." "Dad?" Chip leaned in, his screen filled with hope and concern. Plankton swallowed hard, the weight of his secret heavy on his shoulders. "I have... I've got..." "Tell me, Dad," Chip said, his hands going to clutching his dad's arm. Plankton winced at the sudden contact, his body tensing again. Karen saw it, the brief flicker of pain in his eye. She quickly stepped in, placing a hand on Chip's arm. "Give him a moment, honey," she said, her voice filled with gentle guidance. Chip's screen searched hers. He slowly removed his hand, backing away slightly. "Dad, tell me," he said, his voice desperate. "What's wrong?" Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae drooping. "Chip," he managed, "I've..." But Chip was already there, his hands on his father's shoulder. "Dad, tell me," he said, his voice filled with urgency. Plankton's body tensed at the touch. Karen stepped in quickly, guiding Chip's hand away. "Let him speak, honey," she said softly. Plankton took another deep breath, his antennae quivering as he gathered his thoughts. "I have a..." "Dad, if it's something bad..." Plankton's antennae quivered, his face a mask of pained effort. "Chip..." Chip's eyes were glued to his dad, his mind racing with questions. Why can't Dad just tell me? He's always been so strong, so independent. Why is this so hard for him? Plankton took a moment, his eye searching for the right words. "It's just..." Chip leaned in closer. All he knew was that his father was in pain and he needed to fix it. "Just tell me, Dad!" he said, his voice earnest. "Whatever it is..." But Plankton was lost again, his mind swirling with sensations. He could feel Chip's screen on him, hear his desperate pleas, but the words remained trapped. He closed his eye, trying to gather his thoughts. "Chip," he finally managed, his voice a mere whisper. "I'm not..." "You're not what?" Chip's voice was filled with concern and a hint of impatience. Plankton opened his eye with a sigh, his gaze meeting Chip's. "Son..." "Dad, please, tell me!" Chip's excitement was palpable, his body vibrating with the need for connection. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae drooping slightly. "Chip, I'm..." But Chip, fueled by his eagerness to connect, didn't give him the space. "Come on, Dad," he said, his hands landing on Plankton's shoulders again. Plankton flinched, his eye squeezing shut as the touch sent a shockwave through his body. "Chip," he groaned, his voice strained. "Please..." But Chip's enthusiasm didn't wane, his voice growing more desperate. "Dad, tell me!" He didn't understand the pain he was causing, his need for a response only adding to the pressure on Plankton, irritating his frustration as he squeezed his shoulders harder. "Just..." Plankton's eye snapped open, his body recoiling from the intensity of his son's touch. The words he had been trying to form shattered like glass under the weight of his sensory overload. "Chip, STOP!" he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration and pain. The sudden outburst shocked both Karen and Chip into stillness. His dad had never talked to him like that before. "What..." But Plankton's agony was like a dam bursting. He pushed Chip away, his voice a shout of desperation. "I CAN'T, CHIP!" Chip staggered back, his expression a mix of shock and hurt. "But why?" he asked, his voice trembling. Plankton took a deep, shaky breath, his body still reeling, his voice strained. "I have... I have..." Chip's eyes searched his father's. Why couldn't his dad just tell him what was going on? "What, Dad?" But Plankton was retreating back into himself, his mind a whirlwind of sensation and frustration. "It's too much," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your..." "What's too much?" Chip interrupted, his voice rising with confusion. "My what?" Plankton's antennae drooped as he searched for a way to explain. He had always kept his condition to himself, fearful of the misunderstanding it might bring. "Chip," he began, his voice trembling with the effort of finding the words. "You..." But Chip's excitement was a wave, crashing over the delicate barriers Plankton had built. "You're not telling me something," he said, his voice filled with accusation. "What is it!" His touch was like sandpaper on sunburned skin, each word a jab at Plankton's already overwhelmed mind. Plankton's eye darted around the room, his antennae twitching wildly. The pressure was too much, the noise of Chip's voice like a siren. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack, his chest tightening. "Chip, please," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need a moment." But Chip's excitement was a force of nature, unyielding and relentless. "But I just want to tell you about my week, about the robot and Nutmeg!" He didn't know that his words, his touch, were like a tornado in Plankton's mind, a storm he couldn't weather.

ִֶָ𓂃˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐࣪ ִֶָ☾.

☠️😈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ™️

⁶⁶⁶ ⁶⁶⁶

👹😈

𓃶 🜏 𖤐 𐕣 ⁶⁶⁶𓃶 🜏 𖤐 𐕣 ⁶⁶⁶

can you dirty christians go away? txxx 𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

😈,👿,👹

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.

፝֟፝֟፝֟፝֟፝֟፝

şeytan

𓆩🖤𓆪

🪬

👿

𖤐

😈,😭

devil𓆩♡𓆪⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

😈🔥❄️

𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐦

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

😈😭

.----. (҂꒪ཀ꒪) (ა ૮) ꒦︶꒷

˗ˏˋ ✞ ˎˊ˗

⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠙⢷⣤⣀⣠⣴⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⣦⣄⣀⣤⡾⠋⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠈⠛⠿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠛⠁⠀⣴⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣦⣄⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⣠⣴⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣤⣄⠀⣿⡆⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⣿⠀⣠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⠿⣿⡇⢳⣦⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣴⣟⠀⣿⠿⢻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⡇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡃⠀⣿⡇⠹⣷⣍⣽⡿⠛⠛⢿⣯⣩⣾⠟⠀⣿⠇⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠶⣿⡇⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⠶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⡇⠀⠀⠺⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡁⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⠀⠀⢀⡖⢻⠀⠀⡤⠖⠒⠒⢆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸⠀⠀⢀⡤⠤⠒⠦⣄⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡀⠀⠘⣿⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⡏⠀⢀⡤⣄⡀⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⣇⣠⠤⠤⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢧⠀⡏⠀⠀⣀⣤⡀⠀⠙⢦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣶⣤⣈⣁⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡖⠋⠓⠋⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⡇⠀⡇⠀⣯⡀⣸⠀⠈⡇⡀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⡇⠀⡥⢤⠤⠤⡄⠀⠈⢳⠀⡜⠀⠀⡇⡇⠀⢸⠁⠀⠀⠙⡆⢰⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣴⠾⠃⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠘⠷⣦⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⡼⠁⢰⠋⢹⠀⡼⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠳⡄⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⣷⡈⠛⠁⠀⢸⠀⡞⠀⠈⠑⠒⠢⠴⠃⠀⢰⠃⢀⡇⢰⠃⠸⣄⠀⠉⠑⠒⠋⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⡾⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⢧⡀⠉⠉⠁⢠⡇⠀⢧⣀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠓⠦⠤⠴⠚⠁⠓⠒⠚⠉⠀⠀⠧⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⠒⠋⠀⠀⣸⠥⢼⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

😈,👁️⃤😈😈

Demon 👿

𖤐𓃵

𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙

♱🧛🏿‍♀️⋆♱✮♱⋆🦇♡💲💀🙂🐰⁶⁶⁶

😈👿