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❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜ 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝙸𝚏 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜, 𝙸 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝙼𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚢, 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜.

As a neurodivergent person I find emojicombos.com a favourite site. I also write here to make others happy and to make stories inspired by events similar to my experiences, so I can come back to them on any device to. Also, I hope any person reading has a great day! -NeuroFabulous (my search NeuroFabulous)

hopefully my writing posts help ppl to feel understood or at least get a glimpse of all the possibilities neurodiverse ppl may experience (: (my search NeuroFabulous)

ㅤ🔐 ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘⡣🧠ㅤ𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖨𝖲 𝖬𝖸 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖣?ㅤ║▌│█ ║▌

🌈🧠🤷🏼‍♀️

┌ ⃟🧠̶͞⇣

🧠 ͜ (－‸ლ)

🧠ᵗᶤʳᵉᵈ ᵇʳᴬᶤᶰ 🧠

🧠⃤🍄⃤

🏹 🧠 🏹

ː ׅ 🧠 ᭢

"You're going to be okay," Karen assured Plankton. He clutched her hand. "I'm right here." The receptionist's voice echoed through the large waiting room. "Plankton?" Karen's heart jumped. She squeezed her husband's hand. They walked down the hallway, Plankton's breaths shallow, eye darting around the white, sterile walls. The nurse led them to a small room. "Just a few questions," the nurse smiled, her voice soothing as she helped him in the recliner. The nurse, noticing his agitation, spoke slowly and clearly. "We're just going to take your blood pressure, okay?" The nurse wrapped the cuff around his bicep, her movements gentle. The hiss of the air pump filled the tense silence. "Look at me, Plankton," Karen whispered, her calming gaze meeting his. "Take deep breaths." He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a deliberate rhythm. The nurse waited patiently, giving them space. As the cuff tightened, Plankton's eye squeezed shut. The nurse completed her task quickly, her voice steady. "Good job," she said, patting his hand. Karen felt his fear spike, but his grip on her hand remained firm as the oral surgeon walked in. Dr. Marquez nodded at them, his demeanor calm and professional. "Hello, Plankton. I see we're getting ready for your wisdom teeth." He noticed Plankton's tension and turned to Karen. "You earlier mentioned his neurodisability. Is there anything special we can do to help make him comfortable?" Karen's screen lit up with gratitude. "Yes, thank you." She explained his need for calm and his sensory sensitivities. Dr. Marquez nodded thoughtfully. "We can use a weighted blanket to help with that. It provides a gentle pressure that can be quite comforting for some of my patients." He turned to the nurse. "Could you please bring one?" The nurse nodded and left the room. When she returned, she carried a soft, blue weighted blanket they warmed. They placed the blanket over Plankton, the weight evenly distributed. His body visibly relaxed under its soothing embrace. "It's okay," Karen whispered, stroking his antennae. "This will help." Plankton felt the warmth of the blanket, the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders and chest. But it did little to ease his dread. "Thank you, Dr. Marquez," Karen managed a smile, relief washing over her. She knew how important these accommodations were for her husband. The doctor explained the procedure, using simple terms that Plankton could understand. Karen noted how he tailored his explanation to avoid overwhelming details that might trigger anxiety. The anesthesiologist entered, her smile kind. "We're going to give you some medicine to help you sleep," she said gently, "and then you'll wake up without feeling a thing." Plankton nodded, his eye wide. Karen leaned in, her voice low. "You can hold my hand as you fall asleep." The anesthesiologist prepared the IV, but Plankton's grip on Karen's hand grew tighter. Dr. Marquez noticed his distress and suggested a different approach. "How about some laughing gas first?" he offered. "And perhaps a topical numbing agent.." The nurse quickly set up the gas mask, explaining each step. "This will help you relax," she said, placing it over him. "Just breathe normally." The sweet smell of the nitrous oxide filled him, yet he still remained awake. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen said soothingly. "Just keep breathing." He took a tentative breath, feeling the gas fill his lungs. The room began to spin, but not in the scary way he'd feared. It was more like floating. The weight of the blanket now felt like a gentle hug from the ocean depths, a warm embrace from his childhood home. Dr. Marquez waited until Plankton's breathing steadied, each gesture carefully calculated to avoid any sudden movements that might startle his patient. "You're doing great," he assured Plankton, his voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore of his anxiety. "You're almost there." Plankton inhaled another lungful of gas, his eye fluttering closed. The nurse gently began applying the topical numbing agent, her movements carefully choreographed to avoid any sudden jolts. Karen held his other hand, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm. "You're safe," she whispered. "I'm here." The gas grew heavier, his mind drifted further from the cold reality of the room. He felt himself sinking into the chair, the weighted blanket now a warm sea of comfort. His grip on Karen's hand grew looser, his breaths deepening. The doctor nodded to the anesthesiologist, who began the IV drip after using the topical numbing agent. Plankton's fear didn't vanish, but it became manageable, a distant thunderstorm rather than a hurricane in his face. His eye closed completely, his body going limp under the blanket. Karen watched as the surgical team moved with precision, their masks and caps dancing in her peripheral vision. The beeping of machines and the murmur of medical jargon filled her ears, but all she focused on was the rhythm of Plankton's breathing. The anesthesiologist checked the monitors and gave a nod. "He's ready," she said quietly. Dr. Marquez took his position, his gloved hands poised over Plankton's now open mouth after removing the gas mask. Karen's gaze was steady, her love and support unwavering as the surgical team moved in unison. The whirring of the instruments began, a soft mechanical lullaby to the background of Plankton's deep, even breaths. The surgery itself was a dance of precision, each gesture a step carefully choreographed to minimize discomfort. The doctor's hands were steady as he removed the wisdom teeth. Karen could see the tense lines in Plankton's face soften under the influence of the anesthesia. The anesthesiologist checked the monitors continuously, ensuring his vital signs remained steady. The nurse offered Karen a chair, but she chose to stand, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. As the surgery progressed, Karen felt the tension in the room ease. The surgical team worked with efficiency, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. Dr. Marquez spoke in hushed tones with his assistants, each word a gentle whisper in the symphony of medical sounds. Plankton's breaths steadied, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor a soothing reminder that he was still with her, that his anxiety had been replaced by the peacefulness of deep sedation. The doctor's instruments continued to dance, a silent ballet of precision and care. The nurse occasionally glanced at Karen, offering a reassuring smile as they suture his gums with dissolving stitches. "Alright, we're all done," Dr. Marquez announced, his voice a gentle interruption to the symphony of beeps and whirs. "Let's wake him up slowly." Karen felt her own heart rate spike as the anesthesiologist began reversing the medication. They removed the IV drip and the nurse wiped Plankton's mouth with a soft cloth, her touch as gentle as a sea anemone caressing his skin. His eye flickered open, unfocused and hazy. He blinked slowly, taking in the surroundings. Karen's screen was the first thing he saw, a beacon in the medical fog. "You're okay," she murmured, her voice the gentle hum of a distant lighthouse guiding his consciousness back to shore. Plankton blinked again, his vision swimming into focus. The weighted blanket was still wrapped around him, the comforting pressure now a grounding reminder of her presence. His mouth felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. The nurse offered him water, and he sipped it slowly, feeling the coolness soothe his throat. "How do you feel?" Dr. Marquez asked, his voice a soft wave breaking over the shore of Plankton's awareness. Plankton nodded, his grip on Karen's hand firm. "Good," he managed to murmur, his voice thick with the aftermath of the anesthesia. Karen could see the relief in his eye, the storm of fear now a distant memory. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

᭨ ⃟🧠

『🧠🔥𝕭𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓 🧠🔥』 (my search NeuroFabulous)

🥀 ⃟▬▬▭🧠

ᥬ🤯᭄

🧟∙ 🧠 🧟∙

🧠

“Neurodivergent Umbrella”* Beneath the umbrella, it lists: ADHD DID & OSDD ASPD BPD NPD Dyslexia CPTSD Dyspraxia Sensory Processing Dyscalculia PTSD Dysgraphia Bipolar Autism Epilepsy OCD ABI Tic Disorders Schizophrenia Misophonia HPD Down Syndrome Synesthesia * non-exhaustive list

TIPS For CHECKs Feel the instruments and get comfortable with them. Ex: at the dentist, you’re weary of the suction straw. If no plastic cups for rinsing, ask them for some or, have them turn the suction on a low setting and feel it with your finger before they use it in your mouth. Perhaps they can put something on if you don’t like the sucking noise. See how you feel with the specific doctor. Ex: Dr. A seems hurried and strict, but Dr. B seems more empathetic. Or perhaps ask if a nurse can be in the room with you to. Try having the doctor teach you how much you can do. Ex: for a strep throat test, ask if you can swab your own throat, even have them hold your hand whilst you do it in a mirror. Or tell them the way your throat’s structure may find it easier to tilt, etc. (my search NeuroFabulous)

DOCTORs APPOINTMENTs Before a procedure, get to meet the physician and acknowledge their authority before you mention your sensitivities. Find a way to make a compromise. Even request more time for an appointment if you want to have topical numbing agents wait to work, to discuss alternatives, etc. Before a procedure, look up the physician and/or the clinic website. Find pictures of the inner building and search for FAQ, policies, procedures, reviews, etc. Before a procedure, bring a fully charged phone and any sensory necessities such as plastic cups for water, ice pack, self testing kits, written notes and copies, etc.

𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 (𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍) :♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴ 𝙿𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕𝚜. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚋𝚕. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔, 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝙼𝚢 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍. 𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚢. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚅𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜. 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚣𝚒. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛, 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢. 𝚡𝚘𝚡𝚘

please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word, also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love <3 bye!!

𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒, 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦’𝑠 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑒, 𝐵𝑢𝑡, 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒, 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑦. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠, 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑑’𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡’𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑙, 𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑇ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑒, 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑’𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐴𝑛𝑑, 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑙, 𝑚𝑎𝑘’𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑛𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑃𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑, 𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒— 𝑇𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑’𝑠 𝑑𝑢𝑒, 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑔𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑖𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦’𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑, 𝑇ℎ𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦, 𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑇𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑊𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑙-𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒. 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦’𝑠 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑟 “𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑢𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒,” 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙’𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑁𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑊ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑, 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑏 𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑑𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑦 ℎ𝑢𝑠𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑦? 𝑂𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑏 𝑂𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦? 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝐴𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒; 𝑆𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒, 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒, 𝐷𝑖𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒.

For your mental health, it is OKAY to: • Cancel plans • Set boundaries • End friendships • Change your mind • Take a break

SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 1/2 (By NEUROFABULOUS) The morning light peeked through the blinds, painting stripes on the bedroom floor. Karen stirred in her sleep, sitting up. Her husband, Plankton, slept peacefully beside her, his arms wrapped around a pillow. Karen looked over at him, his face calm and serene. The digital alarm clock read 7:00 AM. She carefully slid out of bed, trying not to disturb his slumber. "Karen," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. She paused, half in and half out of the bed. Did he wake? But Plankton's snores grew softly, his breathing even. She sighed with relief. Their son Chip, a lanky teenager, was already up. Karen could hear his footsteps thundering down the hallway, his energy palpable even through the closed bedroom door. He burst into the room, a tornado of teenage angst and excitement. "Mom! Dad!" he shouted. "It's the day!" Karen winced at his volume. Plankton stirred, his eye slitting open. "What is it?" he asked, his voice groggy. "The science fair!" Chip exclaimed, his screen flushed with excitement. Plankton's eye shot open and he sat up instantly, his mind racing. The patty heist. Today was the day he had been meticulously planning for weeks. He had overheard Mr. Krabs, his rival at the Krabby Patty, bragging about their restaurant's dominance over the competition. Plankton had to have it. "Chip, buddy," he said, his voice a mix of sleep and urgency. "I will try to make it, but can’t guarantee it. But Karen, I mean ‘Mom’ can.." Karen's eyes widened, but she nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Her husband’s obsession with Krabby Patties had taken over again. "I'll be there for you, buddy," she assured Chip, trying to mask her own disappointment. Plankton threw the covers off, swinging his tiny legs over the side of the bed. His eye was sharp with focus, his mind already racing with the complexities of his heist. "I'll make it quick," he told Karen, kissing her screen. Plankton tiptoed, his heart pounding. The office door was closed, but unlocked. He eased it open, his eye darting around the room, searching for any signs of movement. Mr. Krabs and SpongeBob were deep in conversation, their backs to the door. Plankton took a deep breath and slipped in, his tiny frame barely making a sound. "Halt!" Mr. Krabs spun around, his beady eyes locking onto Plankton. His face grew red with anger. "What do ye think yer doing here?" Plankton froze, his heart thumping in his chest. "I... I... was just looking for a... a... " He searched for a plausible lie, but his mind was a whirlwind of panic. Mr. Krabs' glower deepened. "Don't lie to me, ye tiny scoundrel! I know what yer after, and ye'll not get it!" Mr. Krabs lunged forward, brandishing a heavy spatula. Plankton squeaked in alarm, trying to dodge the blow. But his reflexes weren't quick enough. The metal spatula connected with his head with a sickening crack, sending him crashing to the floor. The room spun around Plankton as darkness closed in. The last thing he heard was SpongeBob's startled, "Mr. Krabs!" before the world went silent. Mr. Krabs looked down at Plankton's crumpled form, his expression a stormy mix of anger and triumph. He turned to his trusty fry cook. "SpongeBob," he barked. "Take this...this... tiny troublemaker out of me office.." Sponge Bob looked at Mr. Krabs, then at Plankton, his face a mask of confusion and concern. He gently scooped Plankton up with one spongy arm, his eyes filled with concern for the unconscious villain. The weight of the situation hit him, and his steps were heavy as he carried his friend out of the office. He could feel the tension in the room as Mr. Krabs watched them go, his glower never leaving Plankton's form. Sponge Bob's mind raced with questions and worry. He had known Plankton for a long time, despite their rivalry over the Krabby Patty formula. They had shared laughs and schemes in the past, but this... He couldn't believe his boss would stoop so low as to attempt to hurt Plankton. As he stepped into the hallway, Sponge Bob quickly scanned for any prying eyes. The corridor was empty, the usual bustle of the Krabby Patty silenced by the early morning hour. Carefully, he navigated through the kitchen, trying not to jostle him. "What have you done?" Sponge Bob whispered to the unconscious Plankton, his voice tight with concern. He couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at his friend's usual foolishness, but his primary thought was to get him to safety. He carefully maneuvered Plankton's limp body past the kitchen appliances. The sizzle of the frying oil and the faint scent of sea salt filled the air, but Sponge Bob's thoughts were elsewhere. With a heavy heart, he carried Plankton's limp form down the narrow alley between the Krabby Patty and the Chum Bucket. The morning was still cool, the sun not yet high enough to warm the concrete. The journey was quick, but it felt like an eternity to Sponge Bob. Each step was precise, each breath measured. He didn't want to cause his friend any more harm. He reached the Chum Bucket, the neon lights flickering weakly in the early morning. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside, the smell of stale chum and machinery assaulting his nostrils. "Karen!" he called out softly, his voice echoing in the small space. "Karen, it's Sponge Bob; I need your help!" Karen rushed to the front of the Chum Bucket, her eyes widening at the sight of her husband's lifeless body. "What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling. Sponge Bob gently laid Plankton down on their couch, his eyes filled with remorse. "He... he tried to steal the Krabby Patty formula again," he stammered. "Mr. Krabs... he hit him." Karen's screen paled as she took in the sight of her injured husband. She quickly moved to his side, feeling for a pulse. It was there, still present. "Oh, Plankton," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Sponge Bob watched, his eyes brimming with apology. "I didn't know what to do," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Krabs... he just lost it." Karen's eyes were cold and hard. "Thank you for bringing him home, Sponge Bob," she said, her words clipped. “It’s not your fault..” Her voice trailed off as she turned her attention to Plankton. She gently shook his shoulder. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered. He didn't move. Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of consciousness. "Wake up," she said, a bit louder this time, her voice laced with desperation. The silence was deafening. The room felt like it was closing in on them, the air thick with the scent of concern and fear. Karen's voice grew desperate. "Plankton, wake up!" she shouted, patting his cheek gently. There was no response. Panic began to creep into her voice. "Come on, you can do it," she urged, shaking him slightly. "You've got to wake up." Plankton's body remained motionless, his single eye closed tight. Sponge Bob felt the panic swell inside him like a wave crashing against the shore. His heart raced as he watched Karen's desperate efforts to revive her husband. "Maybe we should call a doctor," he suggested, his voice quivering. Karen's eyes snapped to his, a mix of fear and determination. "No," she decided firmly. "We can't involve anyone else. Not yet." The two of them stood silently for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a clock hanging on the wall. They waited, every second seemingly stretching into an eternity. Each tick was a silent plea for Plankton to regain consciousness. Karen's hand hovered over her husband's forehead, feeling for any sign of life. Sponge Bob looked on, his usually cheerful expression now etched with worry. They waited, each second stretching into an eternity, as the morning sun began to creep into the Chum Bucket, casting a pale light over the disheveled scene. The only sounds were the soft whir of the refrigerator and the distant calls of seagulls. Then, a twitch from one of his antennas. It was so slight that Sponge Bob almost missed it. But Karen's gaze was trained on Plankton, and she noticed immediately. Her eyes lit up with hope. "Plankton?" she whispered, her hand moving to his cheek, her voice barely audible. There was another twitch, this time in his brow. Karen's heart leaped in her chest. "Sponge Bob, I think he's coming to." Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on Plankton's face. "Plankton," he whispered, his voice full of hope. "Can you hear us?" Plankton's eye cracked open, battling against the brightness of the morning. His vision was blurry, and the world spun around him. He moaned softly, his head throbbing with pain. "What happened?" he managed to croak, his voice hoarse and weak. Karen's eyes filled with relief. "You're awake!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You got hurt at the Krabby Patty."

SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 2/2 (By NEUROFABULOUS) Plankton's memory was a jumble of images and sounds, but he recaled the confrontation with Mr. Krabs, the spatula, and the pain. He sat up slowly, his head spinning. The pain was intense, but his mind was racing even faster. Plankton looked around the room, his eye trying to make sense of the scene. The Chum Bucket was a mess, his usual order thrown into chaos. Karen's face was a blur of concern, and Sponge Bob hovered close by, his expression filled with a mix of fear and pity. Plankton's mind raced, his thoughts scattered like sand in a storm. He felt a deep disconnect from the world around him, as if he was watching a play in which he was a reluctant participant. His head throbbed, but not just from the blow. It was the pressure of his own thoughts, his brain working overtime to process what had just occurred. Karen noticed the confusion in his expression and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You had an accident, sweetie," she said softly. "It's okay. You're home now." Plankton's eye darted around the room, his mind struggling to understand the sudden shift in his reality. The noise was overwhelming, each sound a needle pricking his sensitive nerves. "Karen," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What's happening?" Her gaze softened. "You got hurt, Plankton," she explained gently. "But the science fair," he mumbled, his thoughts jumbled. Karen's expression grew even more concerned. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," she soothed. But Plankton's mind was stuck in a loop, repeating her words. "The science fair can wait Plankton," he echoed, his voice frail and distant. Karen's eyes grew wet with worry. "Yes, dear," she said, stroking his arm. "Your wellbeing is more important." Plankton's eye narrowed as he repeated her words, his voice a mix of stubbornness and determination. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured, his thoughts racing. The words echoed in his head, a maddening loop. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," he whispered to himself, his voice taking on a rhythmic pattern. "Can wait, can wait..." Sponge Bob watched, his heart heavy with concern. He had never seen his friend like this, his usual confidence and scheming reduced to repetitive mumbles. "Plankton," he ventured cautiously, placing a spongy hand on his shoulder. Plankton's eye snapped to his, the loop breaking for a brief moment. "Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice still weak. Sponge Bob's heart leaped with hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm here," he said gently. But Plankton's gaze was distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured again, the words coming out in a staccato rhythm, his mind locked in the grip of echolalia. Karen's heart clenched with fear. This wasn't just disorientation from his injury. This was something more. "Sponge Bob," she whispered urgently. "I think he's in shock." Sponge Bob nodded, his face a mask of concern. "I'll get some water," he said, rushing to the sink. He filled a glass and hurried back, careful not to spill a drop. Plankton's eye followed the glass, his gaze unfocused. He began to rock back and forth slightly. Karen noticed the change in his behavior, her concern deepening. "Here, drink some water," she urged, offering the glass to his shaking hand. Plankton took it without a word, his motions mechanical. He brought the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so badly that water sloshed out, spilling down. The moment the cool liquid hit the floor, a strange look passed over his face. It was as if he had seen a ghost, his single eye going wide with alarm. "The water," he stammered, his voice shaking. Karen's heart sank as she watched her husband's distress. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed. "It's just water..." But Plankton's eye were glued to the spilled water, his entire body trembling. "It's... it's not right," he muttered, his voice filled with a childlike fear. Karen looked confused, the spilled water seemingly a minor issue. “Plank…” “It’s not right!” Plankton’s voice was urgent now, his trembling hand gesturing at the spill. His mind was a whirlwind of disturbing thoughts, each more distressing than the last. Sponge Bob and Karen exchanged worried glances. “What do you mean, Plankton?” Sponge Bob asked, kneeling beside the couch, his eyes full of concern. Plankton's breathing grew rapid, his chest heaving. "The... the... water," he stuttered, pointing at the puddle. "It's too... too... much!" Karen's gaze flitted to the floor, then back to her husband. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice quaking with fear. "It's just a little spill." But Plankton's agitation only grew. He flung the glass aside, the remaining water splattering against the wall. "No!" he shouted, his voice high and desperate. "Too much!" Karen and Sponge Bob watched in horror as Plankton collapsed into a sobbing mess, his tiny body wracked with tremors. His hands fluttered in his face, his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. The room grew claustrophobic, the air thick with his panic. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her voice shaking. "It's just water, Plankton." But his anguished cries only grew louder. Sponge Bob's heart ached as he watched his friend fall apart before his eyes. Plankton's behavior was unlike anything he had ever seen, his usual cunning replaced with a raw, overwhelming fear. The room grew smaller as Plankton's sobs filled the space, his body convulsing with the intensity of his breakdown. Karen looked at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of despair and determination. They both knew they had to calm him down, but how? Sponge Bob took a deep breath, trying to think. "Plankton," he said softly, his voice a gentle coax. "Look at me, buddy. It's just a spill. It's okay." Plankton's cries grew louder, his body shaking uncontrollably. Karen wrapped her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm raging inside his mind. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible over his cries. Sponge Bob's heart was in his throat as he watched his friend's breakdown. Plankton was not his usual self. The usually scheming, sneaky scientist was reduced to a quivering mess, his sobs echoing off the walls of the tiny Chum Bucket. His face was a mask of fear and confusion, his single eye wide with panic. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, her voice trembling. "You're scaring me." She scans his brain. The results were not what she expected. The blow from Mr. Krabs had caused more damage than she could have imagined. The injury had altered his brain chemistry in a way that was both profound and irreversible. Plankton had developed a rare condition called acquired autism, a disorder that could occur after a severe head trauma. It was a cruel twist of fate for a man whose life had been consumed by the desire for the Krabby Patty formula. The realization hit Karen like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered the diagnosis to Sponge Bob and Plankton. His expression mirrored her shock and sadness. Sponge Bob sat silent for a moment, his usually cheerful face contorted with sympathy and concern. "What do we do?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you clean the mess?” Karen asks him. He nodded solemnly, his movements slow and deliberate as he stood up to mop the spilled water. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow for his friend. Plankton had always been the troublemaker, the one who pushed boundaries. But now, his world was shattered. The silence in the room was only broken by Plankton's sobs and the swish of the mop. Sponge Bob's heart felt heavy as he cleaned up the water, his thoughts racing. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His best friend, his rival, his... his family. Plankton had always been there, through thick and thin, and now he was... different. And yet, that’s ok.

:¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . 𝒮𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 ℰ𝒲𝒲 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝓂𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇 💅. .

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======================================================================== [5] What font do you use for ASCII art? ======================================================================== ASCII art is created using a fixed-width font (like on a traditional typewriter), because this is the only way to make it portable. However, several Usenet readers now display messages in a proportional font (where different characters are different widths). The following two lines tell you which kind of font you're using. The arrow ends up in a different place for different font types and is right most of the time: You are using a [Proportional] [Monospaced] font ................................. --^-- Also, to see what your program is doing, look at these two lines: iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii| WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW| If they look the same length, you're using a fixed-width font and all should be ok. If the second line is longer than the first, you need to change your settings to use a fixed-width font. […] That was a text excerpt from the text file "[FAQ]_ASCII_Art_-_answers_to_frequently_asked_questions" Follow the links to find the full text: https://www.asciiart.eu/faq https://web.archive.org/web/20200210154745/https://www.ludd.ltu.se/~vk/q/ada/ mewbies.com/geek_fun_files/scarecrow_ascii_art_archive/00000000_Alt.ASCII-Art FAQ.htm https://members.tripod.com/tissue_2/faq.html

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lidocaine ointment that can apply beforehand?

Karen had always loved her husband Plankton. His mind was a bastion of order in a world that often seemed too noisy and chaotic for him. Plankton had a way of seeing patterns and connections that she never could. He'd spend hours meticulously categorizing his collections. It was his way of making sense of the world, a comforting rhythm she learned to appreciate. But today was one of those days where Plankton's brain seemed to betray him. It was a silent, unassuming morning until Plankton froze. His eye glazes over, and his body stiffened like a plank. Karen's heart skipped a beat, knowing all too well what was happening. Her mind raced as she quickly took action. She guided him to the safe spot they'd designated for these moments, a corner padded with cushions and devoid of sharp edges. His body began to convulse, a symphony of uncontrolled movements that didn't match the calmness of the surroundings. She felt her own heart race, her palms sweating, but she knew she had to be his rock, his anchor. Suddenly his friend Sponge Bob came in; he's never seen nor heard of Plankton like this before. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice quivering with concern. Karen took a deep breath. "He has autistic seizures," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's like his brain gets overwhelmed with stimuli, and it just... short-circuits." SpongeBob's eyes widened beyond belief, taking in the scene before him. Plankton's tiny frame jerked and tremored. It was a stark contrast to the precise, orderly Plankton he knew. "Is he okay?" Sponge Bob stammered, his hands waving in the air, unsure what to do. "Just stay calm," Karen instructed, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "These usually pass quickly. I need to make sure he doesn't hurt himself." She moved swiftly, carefully placing pillows under his head. Sponge Bob nodded, his concern growing as he watched his friend suffer. He wished he could do something, anything to help. "Can I talk to him?" he asked tentatively, his thumbs tucked into his pants, fidgeting. "It's better to let him be," Karen advised gently. "He can't process much during this. But once it's over, you can." When Plankton's convulsions finally ceased, his body limp, and his eye flutters closed. Karen checked his pulse, sighing in relief when she found it steady and strong. She looked up at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of worry and fatigue. "Just be there for him when he wakes up," Karen said. "He'll be disoriented. He might not understand what happened." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Plankton, trapped in his own mind during these episodes. As Karen tended to Plankton, Sponge Bob felt a surge of curiosity. With a newfound determination, Sponge Bob turned to Karen, his eyes brimming with hope. "Could he maybe like... can he understand me now?" Karen looked at Plankton, still twitching, but clearly drained. She nodded slowly. "He can hear you. Just keep it simple and soothing." Sponge Bob approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on his friend. He knelt down and took Plankton's hand in his spongy grip. "Plankton," he whispered, "It's me, Sponge Bob. You're safe now." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, a hint of recognition flickering across his face. Karen offered Sponge Bob a small, grateful smile. She knew how much Plankton valued his friendship. Sponge Bob cleared his throat, his words gentle and measured. "Remember when we played catch with jellyfish?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the best at catching them, Plankton. Your reflexes are so fast, it's like you're a jellyfish ninja." Karen smiles. Plankton's eye is open, but unfocused, as if looking through Sponge Bob instead of at him. His pupil is dilated, and his gaze is distant. Sponge Bob's heart swells with a mix of hope and concern. "Plankton?" he calls again, a little louder this time. No response, just the slightest twitch. He's there, but not really. Karen watches closely, a silent guardian making sure her husband doesn't slip back into the chaos that had consumed him. The room feels eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual symphony of sounds that filled their lives. Karen's eyes are filled with love and fear, a potent mix that's all too familiar. She's seen this before, Plankton's mind retreating into itself when the world becomes too much. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand, trying to ground him in reality, but his friend's hand is cold and limp. "You know, Plankton," he starts again, his voice quivering slightly, "you're like a tiny superhero with a giant brain. Nothing gets past you." Then, as if a switch was flipped, Plankton's body starts to jerk again, but this time, the movements aren't the violent convulsions of a seizure. They're smaller, faster - tics. His head tilts quickly. Karen's eyes narrow slightly as she recognizes the signs. This was a common aftermath of his seizures, his brain's way of recalibrating itself. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle melody that pierced through the tension. "Just ride it out." Karen's eyes never leave his, her gaze a silent promise of protection and patience. She knew these tics were a part of his autism, a way for his body to cope with the overwhelming input. It was as if the world was too loud for him, and his body had found its own rhythm to try to drown out the noise. The tics grew more frequent, his head jerking in quick, spasmodic movements. Sponge Bob's grip tightens on his hand, his own heart racing. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew his friend needed him now more than ever. Karen's voice remained soothing, a constant in the storm of Plankton's neurological maelstrom. "It's okay," she said softly. "Let it happen." Sponge Bob watched, his eyes wide with concern. He'd never seen his friend like this before. The tics grew in intensity, Plankton's head snapping to a nod, his limbs twitching erratically. It was like watching a tiny, trapped bird, desperately trying to find its way out of a cage made of its own nervous system. "It's okay," Karen repeated, her voice a beacon of calm in the chaos. "These are just his tics. They're part of his autism. It's his brain's way of adjusting after a seizure." Sponge Bob nodded, trying to absorb the information. He'd known Plankton for years but had never known or seen him like this. Then Plankton's eye focused on Sponge Bob. A flicker of recognition sparked in the depths. "Sp...Sponge Bob?" he stuttered, his voice weak and tremulous. Sponge Bob's smile grew wider, relieved to hear his friend's voice. "Hey, buddy," he said. Plankton's head continued to twitch in a nodding motion, his eye blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Sponge Bob's face. The tics were less intense now, but they were still present, a subtle reminder of the storm that had raged within him moments ago. Karen knew that this was the part where he'd start to come back to them. Karen explained, "The tics can last for a bit, but he'll be back to normal soon." Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand steadying as he watched his friend's eye refocus. He didn't understand it, but he knew Plankton needed time. As the tics began to subside, Plankton's hand squeezed Sponge Bob's in weak acknowledgment. Sponge Bob felt a wave of relief crash over him. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice quiet and reassuring. Plankton's breathing grew more even, his body finally relaxing. The twitches gradually slowed until they were barely noticeable. It was like watching a tightly wound clockwork toy slowly unwinding. Karen reached over to stroke Plankton's arm, her touch feather-light. "You're going to be okay," she said. (my search NeuroFabulous)

Anonymous asked: autism culture is feeling like a nuisance when you’re overstimulated because you don’t want to be mean to anyone or have a meltdown but you can’t keep masking and everything is too much

Anonymous asked: Undiagnosed autism culture is your family can't comprehend that you are also autistic because you have a family member that was diagnosed as a child and has different support needs than you.

@ username ┃ 𝗔𝗡𝗚𝟯𝗟 ꕀ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ ✶ ━━ 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄 , ⤷ ┇ ⌒ 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 ꒱꒱ 彡 ꒰୨୧꒱ ┃ ◞⁺⊹．prns .

˚୨୧₊♱if i see one more rant, vent, or bs sayinf “oh don’t be innapropriate guys!” im gonna do a lobotomy on myself..𖥔 ݁ ˖˚୨୧₊♱˚୨୧₊♱˚୨୧₊♱˚୨୧₊♱👎🏼🖕🏼👎🏼👎🏼