🔢 Emojis & Text

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

New year affirmations ♥︎ 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♥︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ♥︎𝑖’𝑚 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑙s ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑗𝑜𝑦， 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ ♥︎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♥︎𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤 ♥︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒 ♥︎𝐼’𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟 ♥︎ 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑑𝑎𝑦 ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠 ♥︎ 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 ♥︎ 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑡

𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙞𝙩! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙩, 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡!. 𝙉𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙮𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬, 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙖 “𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 !” 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮! 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝘿𝙊 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛! 𝙉𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙉𝙊𝘽𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛! 𝙍𝙚𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡? 𝙄𝙩𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝘽𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙚! 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙭 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙝ar𝙙𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝘽𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙚!!! 𝘹𝘰𝘹𝘰!, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

My best friend has the most beautiful hair. People always comment on it. This year, when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, she was the first person I told. A week later she came into school with all of it gone. Mar 19, 2011 at 5:00pm by Rebecca, California

__________________________________________________________________________ Periodic Table of Elements __________________________________________________________________________ 1A 2A 3A 4A 5A 6A 7A 8A ----- ----- 1 | H | |He | |---+---- --------------------+---| 2 |Li |Be | | B | C | N | O | F |Ne | |---+---| |---+---+---+---+---+---| 3 |Na |Mg |3B 4B 5B 6B 7B | 8B |1B 2B |Al |Si | P | S |Cl |Ar | |---+---+---------------------------------------+---+---+---+---+---+---| 4 | K |Ca |Sc |Ti | V |Cr |Mn |Fe |Co |Ni |Cu |Zn |Ga |Ge |As |Se |Br |Kr | |---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---| 5 |Rb |Sr | Y |Zr |Nb |Mo |Tc |Ru |Rh |Pd |Ag |Cd |In |Sn |Sb |Te | I |Xe | |---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---| 6 |Cs |Ba |LAN|Hf |Ta | W |Re |Os |Ir |Pt |Au |Hg |Tl |Pb |Bi |Po |At |Rn | |---+---+---+------------------------------------------------------------ 7 |Fr |Ra |ACT| ===--------------------------------------------------------------------=== Lanthanide |La |Ce |Pr |Nd |Pm |Sm |Eu |Gd |Tb |Dy |Ho |Er |Tm |Yb |Lu | |---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---| Actinide |Ac |Th |Pa | U |Np |Pu |Am |Cm |Bk |Cf |Es |Fm |Md |No |Lw | ------------------------------------------------------------- __________________________________________________________________________

‘Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...

Saturday 20 October 2012 Teacher's Day SMS Teacher's Day SMS → уσυ αяє тнє вєѕт тєα¢нєя ιη тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂. ωнєяєνєя ι мαу gσ ιη му ℓιƒє, ι ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ яємємвєя тнαт ι нα∂ αη єχ¢єℓℓєηт gυι∂є ιη тнє ƒσям σƒ α тєα¢нєя, уσυ. → ωнєη ιт ¢σмєѕ тσ тєα¢нιηg ησ σηє ¢αη ¢σмρєтє ωιтн уσυ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу. → ∂єαя тєα¢нєя, тнαηкѕ ƒσя мαкιηg υѕ ωнαт ωє αяє тσ∂αу. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → уσυ gυι∂є∂ мє ωнєη ι ωαѕ ℓσѕт уσυ ѕυρσятє∂ мє ωнєη ι ωαѕ ωєαк уσυ нανє єηℓιgнтєηє∂ мє αℓℓ тняσυgн.. → тσ∂αу . ωнαт ι αм ιѕ נυѕт вє¢αυѕє σƒ уσυ ѕιя нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → ι мαу ησт ѕαу ιт αℓωαуѕ. вυт, ι мєαη ιт ωнєηєνєя ι ѕαу ιт. тнαηк уσυ тєα¢нєя ƒσя αℓℓ тнє тнιηgѕ тєα¢нєя нανє ∂σηє ƒσя мє. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → уσυ αяє α ωση∂єяƒυℓ тєα¢нєя ωнσ ρяσνє∂ тнαт ℓєαяηιηg ¢αη вє נσуσυѕ αη∂ ρℓєαѕαηт єχρєяιєη¢є ωιѕнιηg уσυ α нαρρу тєα¢нєя’ѕ ∂αу → ι ƒσυη∂ gυι∂αη¢є, ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρ, ∂ιѕ¢ιρℓιηє αη∂ ℓσνє, єνєяутнιηg, ιη σηє ρєяѕση. αη∂ тнαт ρєяѕση ιѕ уσυ (ηαмє σƒ уσυя тєα¢нєя) “нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу!” → тєα¢нιηg ѕнσυℓ∂ вє ƒυℓℓ σƒ ι∂єαѕ ιηѕтєα∂ σƒ ѕтυƒƒє∂ ωιтн ƒα¢тѕ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → тнє αωαя∂ ƒσя тнє мσѕт ωση∂єяƒυℓ тєα¢нєя нαѕ вєєη ∂є¢ℓαяє∂ αη∂ ιт gσєѕ тσ уσυ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу!! → ωє αяє ƒσятυηαтє ωє нα∂ α тєα¢нєя αѕ ωση∂єяƒυℓ ℓσνιηg αη∂ ¢αяιηg αѕ уσυ.... нαρρу тєα¢нєя\'ѕ ∂αу...!! → тнαηкѕ ƒσя вєιηg α тяυє мєηтσя σƒ συя нєαятѕ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → ωє ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє тнαηкƒυℓ тσ уσυ ƒσя αℓℓ тнє нαя∂ ωσяк αη∂ єƒƒσятѕ уσυ нανє ρυт ιη, ƒσя є∂υ¢αтιηg υѕ. “нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу!” → тєα¢нєя ιѕ α ρєяѕση ωнσ αℓωαуѕ нєℓρѕ єνєяувσ∂у тσ gєт тнє кησωℓє∂gє αη∂ αℓωαуѕ ѕтαη∂ѕ вєѕι∂є тнє ѕтυ∂єηтѕ ωнєη тнєу нανє ρяσвℓємѕ тнαηкѕ ƒσя вєιηg тнєяє мα∂αм/ѕιя…. “нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу” → тнє ∂яєαм вєgιηѕ ωιтн α тєα¢нєя ωнσ вєℓιєνєѕ ιη уσυ, ωнσ тυgѕ αη∂ ρυѕнєѕ αη∂ ℓєα∂ѕ уσυ тσ тнє ηєχт ρℓαтєαυ, ѕσмєтιмєѕ ρσкιηg уσυ ωιтн α ѕнαяρ ѕтι¢к ¢αℓℓє∂ “тяυтн. → мαу ησт ѕαу ιт αℓωαуѕ вυт, ι мєαη ιт ωнєηєνєя ι ѕαу ιт. тнαηк уσυ тєα¢нєя ƒσя αℓℓ тнє тнιηgѕ уσυ нανє ∂σηє ƒσя мє. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → тнє тяυє тєα¢нєя ∂єƒєη∂ѕ нιѕ ρυριℓѕ αgαιηѕт нιѕ σωη ρєяѕσηαℓ ιηƒℓυєη¢є. нє ιηѕριяєѕ ѕєℓƒ-∂ιѕтяυѕт. нє gυι∂єѕ тнєιя єуєѕ ƒяσм нιмѕєℓƒ тσ тнє ѕριяιт тнαт qυι¢кєηѕ нιм. нє ωιℓℓ нανє ησ ∂ιѕ¢ιρℓє. → α gσσ∂ тєα¢нєя ιѕ α мαѕтєя σƒ ѕιмρℓιƒι¢αтιση αη∂ αη єηєму σƒ ѕιмρℓιѕм. → тнє ωαу уσυ тєα¢н… тнє кησωℓє∂gє уσυ ѕнαяє… тнє ¢αяє уσυ тαкє… тнє ℓσνє уσυ ѕнσωєя.. мαкєѕ уσυ… тнє ωσяℓ∂’ѕ вєѕт тєα¢нєя… “нαρρу тєα¢нєя’ѕ ∂αу!” → яємємвєя αℓℓ ωσя∂ѕ нє ѕαу ωσя∂ѕ тσ мαкє уσυ ѕσ¢ιαℓ ωσя∂ѕ тσ мαкє уσυ ѕρє¢ιαℓ нє ιѕ συя тєα¢нєя нє ιѕ συя gυι∂є ℓєтѕ мαкє нιм ƒєєℓ ρяι∂є → тнє вєѕт тєα¢нєя ιѕ тнє σηє ωнσ ѕυggєѕтѕ яαтнєя тнαη ∂σgмαтιzєѕ, αη∂ ιηѕριяєѕ нιѕ ℓιѕтєηєя ωιтн тнє ωιѕн тσ тєα¢н нιмѕєℓƒ. → тнє ∂яєαм вєgιηѕ ωιтн α тєα¢нєя ωнσ вєℓιєνєѕ ιη уσυ, ωнσ тυgѕ αη∂ ρυѕнєѕ αη∂ ℓєα∂ѕ уσυ тσ тнє ηєχт ρℓαтєαυ, ѕσмєтιмєѕ ρσкιηg уσυ ωιтн α ѕнαяρ ѕтι¢к ¢αℓℓє∂ “тяυтн.” → тєα¢нιηg ιѕ тнє ρяσƒєѕѕιση тнαт тєα¢нєѕ αℓℓ тнє σтнєя ρяσƒєѕѕισηѕ. → ωє єχρє¢т тєα¢нєяѕ тσ нαη∂ℓє тєєηαgє ρяєgηαη¢у, ѕυвѕтαη¢є αвυѕє, αη∂ тнє ƒαιℓιηgѕ σƒ тнє ƒαмιℓу. тнєη ωє єχρє¢т тнєм тσ є∂υ¢αтє συя ¢нιℓ∂яєη → уσυ αяє ησт σηℓу συя тєα¢нєя уσυ αяє συя ƒяιєη∂, ρнιℓσѕσρнєя αη∂ gυι∂є αℓℓ мσℓ∂є∂ ιηтσ σηє ρєяѕση ωє ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє gяαтєƒυℓ ƒσя уσυя ѕυρρσят нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → ωє ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє тнαηкƒυℓ тσ уσυ ƒσя αℓℓ тнє нαя∂ ωσяк αη∂ єƒƒσятѕ уσυ нανє ρυт ιη, ƒσя є∂υ¢αтιηg υѕ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → тєα¢нιηg ιѕ ℓєανιηg α νєѕтιgє σƒ σηє ѕєℓƒ ιη тнє ∂єνєℓσρмєηт σƒ αησтнєя. αη∂ ѕυяєℓу тнє ѕтυ∂єηт ιѕ α вαηк ωнєяє уσυ ¢αη ∂єρσѕιт уσυя мσѕт ρяє¢ισυѕ тяєαѕυяєѕ. → ωнєη ιт ¢σмєѕ тσ тєα¢нιηg ησ σηє ¢αη ¢σмρєтє ωιтн уσυ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → тєα¢нιηg ιѕ тнє σηℓу мαנσя σ¢¢υραтιση σƒ мαη ƒσя ωнι¢н ωє нανє ησт уєт ∂єνєℓσρє∂ тσσℓѕ тнαт мαкє αη ανєяαgє ρєяѕση ¢αραвℓє σƒ ¢σмρєтєη¢є αη∂ ρєяƒσямαη¢є. ιη тєα¢нιηg ωє яєℓу ση тнє “ηαтυяαℓѕ,” тнє σηєѕ ωнσ ѕσмєнσω кησω нσω тσ тєα¢н. → σηє ℓσσкѕ вα¢к ωιтн αρρяє¢ιαтιση тσ тнє вяιℓℓιαηт тєα¢нєяѕ, вυт ωιтн gяαтιтυ∂є тσ тнσѕє ωнσ тσυ¢нє∂ συя нυмαη ƒєєℓιηgѕ. тнє ¢υяяι¢υℓυм ιѕ ѕσ мυ¢н ηє¢єѕѕαяу яαω мαтєяιαℓ, вυт ωαямтн ιѕ тнє νιтαℓ єℓємєηт ƒσя тнє gяσωιηg ρℓαηт αη∂ ƒσя тнє ѕσυℓ σƒ тнє ¢нιℓ∂. → ιƒ α ∂σ¢тσя, ℓαωуєя, σя ∂єηтιѕт нα∂ 40 ρєσρℓє ιη нιѕ σƒƒι¢є αт σηє тιмє, αℓℓ σƒ ωнσм нα∂ ∂郃єяєηт ηєє∂ѕ, αη∂ ѕσмє σƒ ωнσм ∂ι∂η’т ωαηт тσ вє тнєяє αη∂ ωєяє ¢αυѕιηg тяσυвℓє, αη∂ тнє ∂σ¢тσя, ℓαωуєя, σя ∂єηтιѕт, ωιтнσυт αѕѕιѕтαη¢є, нα∂ тσ тяєαт тнєм αℓℓ ωιтн ρяσƒєѕѕισηαℓ єχ¢єℓℓєη¢є ƒσя ηιηє мσηтнѕ, тнєη нє мιgнт нανє ѕσмє ¢ση¢єρтιση σƒ тнє ¢ℓαѕѕяσσм тєα¢нєя’ѕ נσв. Posted by Kiran Bele at 21:56

Tuesday 6 November 2012 Cool SMS → ωнєη уσυ вєℓιєνє ιη ѕσмєσηє ∂єєρℓу, мιѕ-υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηgѕ αяιѕє, вυт ∂ση’т ƒєєℓ ƒσя ιт… вє¢αυѕє ѕσмє мιѕ-υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηgѕ αяє ηєє∂є∂ ƒσя gσσ∂ υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηg.. → ιƒ ι ¢συℓ∂ ρυℓℓ ∂σωη тнє яαιηвσω ι ωσυℓ∂ ωяιтє υя ηαмє ωιтн ιт & ρυт ιт вα¢к ιη тнє ѕку тσ ℓєт єνєяувσ∂у кησω нσω ¢σℓσяƒυℓ му ℓιƒє ιѕ ωιтн α ƒяιєη∂ ℓιкє υ!! → тнιѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ тσσ ѕнσят тσ мαкє αη∂ α¢¢єℓєяαтє яєℓαтισηѕ, вυт ι ∂ση’т кησω ωну ρєσρℓє вяєαк тнє ∂єνєℓσρє∂ яєℓαтισηѕ. тнιѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ тσσ ѕнσят тσ ѕαу ѕσмєтнιηg тσ ℓσνє∂ σηєѕ, вυт ι ∂ση’т кησω ωну ρєσρℓє кєєρ ѕιℓєη¢є ƒσя α ℓσηg ρєяισ∂. тнιѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ тσσ ѕнσят тσ мαкє яєαℓ ƒяιєη∂ѕ, вυт ι ∂ση’т кησω ωну ρєσρℓє вяєαк ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρѕ. → ℓιƒє ιѕ ησт נυѕт ωαιтιηg ƒσя ѕσмєσηє ωнσ ιѕ мα∂є ƒσя уσυ. вυт ℓιƒє ιѕ ℓινιηg ƒσя ѕσмєσηє, ωнσ ℓινєѕ вє¢αυѕє σƒ уσυ. → ƒℓσωєяѕ ηєє∂ ѕυηѕнιηє, νισℓєтѕ ηєє∂ ∂єω, αℓℓ αηgєℓѕ ιη нєανєη кησω ι ηєє∂ υ. → ι ℓσνє ρнσтσѕ. вє¢αυѕє тнє вєѕт тнιηg αвσυт тнєм ιѕ тнєу ηєνєя ¢нαηgє, єνєη ωнєη тнє ρєσρℓє ιη тнєм ¢нαηgє “ωιℓℓιαм ѕнαкєѕρєαяє”. → ωє ℓσνє συяѕєℓƒ єνєη αƒтєя мαкιηg ѕσ мαηу мιѕтαкєѕ. тнєη нσω ¢αη ωє 4 тнєιя ѕмαℓℓ мιѕтαкєѕ? ѕтяαηgє вυт тяυє! ѕσ мαкє нαвιт σƒ ƒσяgινιηg. → єνєяу∂αу, єνєяуωнєяє, єνєяутιмє, ι мαу ησт вє ωιтн уσυ, вυт му тнιηкιηg, му ¢αяє, му ѕмѕ, му ρяαуєяѕ ; му ℓσνєℓу ωιѕнєѕ αяє αℓωαуѕ ωιтн уσυ. → υ мαу вє συт σƒ му ѕιgнт, вυт ησт συт σƒ му нєαят, υ мαу вє συт σƒ му яєα¢н вυт ησт συт σƒ му мιη∂.ι мαу мєαη ησтнιηg тσ υ вυт υ ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє ѕρє¢ιαℓ тσ мє! → ιƒ єνєя уσυ gєт ℓєѕѕ ѕмѕ ƒяσм мє, ∂ση’т тнιηк тнαт ι ∂ι∂η’т ¢αяє ƒσя уσυ. ιт мєαηѕ тнαт ι αм ѕєαя¢нιηg тнє вєѕт ѕмѕ ƒσя α вєѕт ρєяѕση ℓιкє уσυ → ρєσρℓє ℓινє ∂ιє ℓαυgн ¢яу ѕσмє gινє υρ ѕσмє ωιℓℓ тяу ѕσмє ѕαу нι ѕσмє ѕαу вує σтнєяѕ мαу ƒσяgєт уσυ вυт ηєνєя ωιℓℓ ι. → ι ηєνєя єχρє¢т σтнєяѕ тσ ѕмѕ мє. вυт ι’ℓℓ αℓωαуѕ ∂яσρ му ѕмѕ ιηтσ тнєιя ιηвσχ тσ ѕнσω ι ѕтιℓℓ “ℓσνє & яємємвєя” тнєм ωιтн σя ωιтнσυт тнєιя ѕмѕ → ƒєєℓ gσσ∂ ωнєη ѕσмєвσ∂у мιѕѕ υ. ƒєєℓ вєттєя ωнєη ѕσмєвσ∂у ℓσνєѕ υ. вυт ƒєєℓ вєѕт ωнєη ѕσмєвσ∂у ηєνєя ƒσяgєтѕ υ. → тωσ тнιηgѕ ¢αη ηєνєя вє ∂єƒιηє∂ ιη ωнσℓє ℓιƒє, ℓσνє: вє¢αυѕє уσυ ηєνєя кησω ωнσ ℓσνєѕ уσυ нσω мυ¢н. &; ƒяιєη∂: вє¢αυѕє уσυ ηєνєя кησω нσω ∂єєρℓу тнєу ¢αяє αвσυт уσυ. → αℓωαуѕ αѕк gσ∂ тσ gινє υ ωнαт υ ∂єѕєяνє, ησт ωнαт уσυ ∂єѕιяє. в¢σz уσυя ∂єѕιяєѕ мαу вє ƒєω, вυт уσυ ∂єѕєяνєѕ α ℓσт! → ѕσмє яєℓαтισηѕ αяє ℓιкє тσм αη∂ נєяяу. тнєу тєαѕє єα¢н σтнєя, кησ¢к ∂σωη єα¢н σтнєя, ιяяιтαтє єα¢н σтнєя вυт тнєу єνєη ¢αη’т ℓινє ωιтнσυт єα¢н σтнєя! → αη єχ¢єℓℓєηт яσα∂ ѕєηтєη¢є ωяιттєη ση ηαтισηαℓ нιgнωαу: gσ ѕℓσω, υηℓєѕѕ υ нανє αη υяgєηт αρρσιηтмєηт ωιтн gσ∂! → нαя∂ тιмєѕ αяє ℓιкє α ωαѕнιηg мα¢нιηє, тнєу тωιѕт, тυяη &αмρ; кησ¢к υѕ αяσυη∂, вυт ιη тнє єη∂ ωє ¢σмє συт ¢ℓєαηєя, вяιgнтєя &αмρ; вєттєя тнαη вєƒσяє… → ѕσмєтιмєѕ уσυ нανє тσ яυη αωαу. ησт נυѕт тσ ¢яєαтє ∂ιѕтαη¢єѕ. вυт тσ ѕєє ωнσ ¢αяєѕ єησυgн тσ яυη вєнιη∂ уσυ! → му ωαу σƒ ℓιƒє . ρєσρℓє ℓαυgн вє¢αυѕє ι αм ∂郃єяєηт, ι ℓαυgн вє¢αυѕє тнєу αяє αℓℓ тнє ѕαмє, . тнαтѕ ¢αℓℓє∂ ‘αттιтυ∂є’… “ℓινє ιт уσυя σωη ωαу” → α ρσρυℓαя ιηѕριяαтισηαℓ ѕρєαкєя ѕαι∂: вєѕт уєαяѕ σƒ му ℓιƒє ωєяє ѕρєηт ιη αямѕ σƒ α ωσмαη ωнσ ωαѕη’т му ωιƒє! αυ∂ιєη¢є ωαѕ ѕнσ¢кє∂ αη∂ ѕιℓєη¢є. нє α∂∂є∂: ѕнє ωαѕ му мσтнєя! αυ∂ιєη¢є αρρℓαυѕє αη∂ ℓαυgнтєя! → συя вσ∂у ιѕ ƒυℓℓу мα∂є σƒ ωαтєя вυт ωнєηєνєя ιт нυятѕ вℓσσ∂ ¢σмєѕ συт. συя нєαят ιѕ ƒυℓℓ σƒ вℓσσ∂ вυт ωнєηєνєя ιт нυятѕ, ωαтєя ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм συя єуєѕ. → ℓιƒє ιѕ α σηє ωαу яσα∂. ωнєяє ¢αη ѕєє вα¢к. вυт уσυ ¢αη ησт gσ вα¢к. ѕσ ∂σ ησт мιѕѕ αηутнιηg. єηנσу єνєяу ѕє¢ση∂ σƒ ℓιƒє! → ιƒ αη єgg вяєαкѕ ∂υє 2 συтѕι∂є ƒσя¢є! “ιηѕι∂є ℓιƒє єη∂ѕ!” вυт… ιƒ ιт вяєαкѕ ƒяσм ιηѕι∂є! “ℓιƒє вєgιηѕ!” gяєαт тнιηgѕ αℓωαуѕ вєgιη ƒяσм ιηѕι∂є! ѕσ тяу тσ мαкє уσυя ιηѕι∂є gσσ∂! → α ℓιттℓє ∂郃єяєη¢є вєтωєєη ρяσмιѕєѕ &αмρ; мємσяιєѕ. ρяσмιѕєѕ: ωє вяєαк тнєм &αмρ; мємσяιєѕ: тнєу вяєαк υѕ. → кєєρ α ѕρє¢ιαℓ ρℓα¢є ƒσя мє ιη уσυя нєαят, ησт ιη уσυя мιη∂! кєєριηg мє ιη уσυя мιη∂ ¢αη вє ∂αηgєяσυѕ ƒσя уσυ вє¢αυѕє ρєσρℓє ѕαу ι αм мιη∂ вℓσωιηg… → нαρριηєѕѕ ¢αηησт вє ƒσυη∂ ωнєη уσυ ѕєєк ιт ƒσя уσυяѕєℓƒ вυт ωнєη уσυ gινє ιт тσ σтнєяѕ, ιт ωιℓℓ ƒιη∂ ιт’ѕ ωαу вα¢к тσ уσυ тнαт’ѕ тнє муѕтєяу σƒ нαρριηєѕѕ ιт gяσωѕ ωнєη ѕнαяє∂. → тнє нαρριєѕт σƒ ρєσρℓє ∂ση’т ηє¢єѕѕαяιℓу нανє тнє вєѕт σƒ єνєяутнιηg. тнєу נυѕт мαкє тнє мσѕт σƒ єνєяутнιηg, тнαт ¢σмєѕ αℓσηg тнєιя ωαу. → ∂єαтн ιѕ ησт тнє gяєαтєѕт ℓσѕѕ ιη ℓιƒє тнє gяєαтєѕт ℓσѕѕ σƒ ℓιƒє ιѕ ωнєη яєℓαтισηѕнιρ ∂ιєѕ αмσηg υѕ ωнιℓє ωє я αℓινє ѕσ в ѕтяσηg ιη уσυя яєℓαтισηѕ. → єχρяєѕѕιση σƒ тнє ƒα¢є ¢συℓ∂ вє ѕєєη ву єνєяуσηє. вυт тнє ∂єρяєѕѕιση σƒ нєαят ¢συℓ∂ вє υη∂єяѕтσσ∂ σηℓу ву тнє вєѕт σηє. ∂ση’т ℓσѕє тнєм ιη ℓιƒє. → тнσυѕαη∂ѕ σƒ ℓαηgυαgєѕ αяσυη∂ тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂ вυт “ѕмιℓє” ¢αη вєαт тнєм αℓℓ. вє¢αυѕє “ѕмιℓє” ιѕ тнє ℓαηgυαgє єνєη α вαву ¢αη ѕρєαк.. → ѕσмє ρєσρℓє ∂ση’т кησω нσω ιмρσятαηт тнєιя ρяєѕєη¢є ιѕ. нσω gσσ∂ ιт ƒєєℓѕ тσ нανє тнєм αяσυη∂. нσω ¢σмƒσятιηg тнєιя ωσя∂ѕ αяє. αη∂ нσω ѕαтιѕƒуιηg ιѕ тнє νєяу тнσυgнт тнαт тнєу єχιѕт. тнєу ωσυℓ∂η’т кησω υηℓєѕѕ ωє тєℓℓ тнєм ℓιкє ι αм тєℓℓιηg уσυ ησω. уσυ αяє тяυєℓу ναℓυє∂…!! → вєѕт ℓιηєѕ ву α вєѕт ƒяιєη∂: “ιт нυятѕ мє υ тαℓк тσ ѕ0мє0ηє єℓѕє η η0т мє.. .. ιт нυятѕ єνєη м0яє ωєη ѕ0мє1 єℓѕє мαкєѕ υ ѕмιℓє η ι ¢αη’т . . .” → gσт α gιƒт ƒσя уσυ! ησ ¢σѕт, єχтяємєℓу ρєяѕσηαℓ! ƒυℓℓу яєтυяηαвℓє! ιтѕ α нυg ƒяσм мє тσ уσυ!! → υ мαу мєєт ρєσρℓє, вєттєя тнαη мє, ƒυηηιєя тнαη мє, мσяє вєαυтιƒυℓ тнαη мє, вυт σηє тнιηg ι ¢αη ѕαу 2 υ _ _ ι ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє тнєяє 4 υ ωнєη тнєу αℓℓ ℓєανє υ. → мσвιℓєѕ αяє ιяяιтαтιηg, ∂αιℓу ¢нαяgιηg, мσηтнℓу яє¢нαяgιηg, αηησуιηg вєєρѕ, αℓωαуѕ ∂ιѕтυявιηg, вυт ѕтιℓℓ ι ℓσνє му мσвιℓє вє¢αυѕє ιт ¢σηηє¢тѕ “υ & мє” → ωнєη ѕσмєσηє нυятѕ υ . . . . ∂ση’т ƒєєℓ вα∂ вє¢αυѕє ιтѕ тнє ℓαω σƒ ηαтυяє тнαт тнє тяєє тнαт вєαяѕ тнє ѕωєєтєѕт ƒяυιтѕ gєтѕ мαχιмυм ηυмвєя σƒ ѕтσηєѕ → α нυg ιѕ α gιƒт σηє ѕιzє ƒιт αℓℓ ιт ¢αη вє gινєη ιη αηу σ¢¢αѕιση ѕσ ι αм ѕєη∂ уσυ тнιѕ нυg тσ тєℓℓ уσυ ι ℓσνє уσυ. → ωнєη υ ƒα¢є ¢нσι¢єѕ… נυѕт тσѕѕ α ¢σιη.. ησт נυѕт вє¢αυѕє ιт ѕєттℓєѕ тнє qυєѕтιση, вυт ωнιℓє тнє ¢σιη ιѕ ιη αιя, υ ωιℓℓ кησω ωнαт υя нєαят ιѕ нσριηg ƒσя !!! → тнє ℓσνєℓιєѕт ∂αу ¢σмєѕ ωнєη уσυ ωαкє υρ αη∂ ƒιη∂ тнαт ℓσνє ѕтιℓℓ ¢σℓσяѕ уσυя ωσяℓ∂ тняυ ρєσρℓє ωнσ тяυℓу ¢αяє αη∂ ηєνєя ƒαιℓ тσ яємємвєя уσυ. → тнєяє ιѕ αℓωαуѕ α яєαѕση 4 єνєяутнιηg α яєαѕση 2 ℓινє 2 ∂ιє 2 ¢яу, вυт ιƒ υ ¢αη�т ƒιη∂ α яєαѕση тσ ѕмιℓє ¢αη ι вє тнє яєαѕση 4 α ωнιℓє:) → ℓιƒє + ℓσνє = нαρρу ℓιƒє – ℓσνє = ѕα∂ α∂∂ιηg αвσνє 2, ℓιƒє + ℓσνє = нαρρу ℓιƒє – ℓσνє = ѕα∂ ——————– 2ℓιƒє = нαρρу + ѕα∂ ѕσ, ℓιƒє = 1/2нαρρу + 1/2ѕα∂ → ι ѕмιℓє αт ωнσм ι ℓιкє; ι ¢яу 4 ωнσм ι ¢αяє; ι ѕнαяє ωιтн ωнσм ι ℓσνє; ι ℓαυgн ωιтн ωнσм ι єηנσу; ι ѕєη∂ ѕмѕ σηℓу 2 тнσѕє ωнσм ι ηєνєя ωαηт 2 ℓσѕє → яєαℓιzє тнιηgѕ вєƒσяє ιт’ѕ тσσ ℓαтє. α¢¢єρт тнιηgѕ тнαη ∂єℓαу тнєм. ℓσνє ρєσρℓє вєƒσяє уσυ ℓσѕє тнєм. ℓιƒє נυѕт ¢σмєѕ ση¢є. ℓσνє ιт ωнιℓє уσυ ℓινє ιт. → ι ∂є¢ι∂є∂ тσ ѕєη∂ уσυ тнє ¢υтєѕт αη∂ ѕωєєтєѕт gιƒт σƒ тнє ωσяℓ∂. вυт тнє ρσѕтмαη ѕнσυтє∂ αт мє ѕαуιηg, gєт συт σƒ тнє ρσѕт вσχ. → ℓιƒє ωιтнσυт ℓσνє ιѕ ℓιкє α ƒяυιтℓєѕѕ тяєє, вυт ℓιƒє ωιтнσυт ƒяιєη∂ѕ ιѕ ℓιкє яσσтℓєѕѕ тяєє. тяєє ¢αη ℓινє ωιтнσυт ƒяυιт вυт ησт ωιтнσυт яσσт! → ¢αяяу α нєαят тнαт ηєνєя нαтєѕ, ¢αяяу α ѕмιℓє тнαт ηєνєя ƒα∂єѕ, ¢αяяу α тσυ¢н тнαт ηєνєя нυятѕ, αη∂ αℓωαуѕ ¢αяяу α яєℓαтισηѕнιρ тнαт ηєνєя вяєαкѕ. → αѕ ρяє¢ισυѕ αѕ υ я тσ мє, αѕ ρяє¢ισυѕ ησ σηє ¢αη єνєя вє, ι кησω ƒяιєη∂ѕ я нαя∂ тσ ¢нσσѕє, вυт υ я α ƒяιєη∂ ι ηєνєя ωαηт тσ ℓσѕє. → мσηєу ѕαуѕ єαяη мє ℓσт, тιмє ѕαуѕ ρℓαη мє ℓσт, ƒℓσωєя ѕαуѕ ℓσνє мє ℓσт, ѕтυ∂у ѕαуѕ ℓєαяη мє ℓσт, ѕмѕ ѕαуѕ ѕєη∂ мє ℓσт, αη∂ ℓ ѕαу яємємвєя мє ℓσт. → υ ωαηт αη∂ υ gєт υ ωαηт αη∂ υ gєт тнαт ιѕ ℓυ¢к, υ ωαηт αη∂ υ ωαιт тнαт ιѕ тιмє, υ ωαηт вυт υ ¢σмρяσмιѕє тнαт ιѕ ℓιƒє → мємσяιєѕ нανє тнєιя ѕтяαηgє ωαуѕ. тнєу ℓєανє уσυ αℓσηє. ωнєη уσυ αяє ιη α ¢яσω∂. вυт ωнєη уσυ αяє αℓσηє. тнєу ѕтαη∂ αяσυη∂ уσυ ℓιкє α ¢яσω∂. → ιƒ υя α ¢нσ¢σℓαтє υя тнє ѕωєєтєѕт, ιƒ υя α тє∂∂у вєαя υя тнє мσѕт нυggαвℓє, ιƒ υ αяє α ѕтαя υ я тнє вяιgнтєѕт, αη∂ ѕιη¢є υ я му �ƒяιєη∂� υ я тнє �вєѕт�! → яσѕє ιѕ ƒαмσυѕ 4 gяα¢є… α∂νσ¢αтє ιѕ ƒαмσυѕ 4 нιѕ ¢αѕє… нσяѕєѕ я ƒαмσυѕ 4 яα¢є… вυт υ я ƒαмσυѕ 4 ѕмιℓє ση υя ƒα¢є…! нανє α ηι¢є ∂αу → “ι тяυѕт уσυ” ιѕ α вєттєя ¢σмρℓιмєηт тнαη “ι ℓσνє уσυ” вє¢αυѕє уσυ мαу ησт αℓωαуѕ тяυѕт тнє ρєяѕση уσυ ℓσνє вυт уσυ ¢αη αℓωαуѕ ℓσνє тнє ρєяѕση уσυ тяυѕт. → ι ωαηηα кєєρ3 тнιηgѕ: . . тнє ѕυη тнє мσση & му ƒяιєη∂ѕ ѕυη 4 ∂αутιмє мσση ƒσя ηιgнт тιмє &αмρ; υ.му ∂єαя ƒяιєη∂ 4 ℓιƒєтιмє → ιƒ уσυ ℓσνє ѕσмєтнιηg, ℓєт ιт gσ. ιƒ ιт ¢σмєѕ вα¢к тσ уσυ, ιтѕ уσυяѕ ƒσяєνєя. ιƒ ιт ∂σєѕη’т, тнєη ιт ωαѕ ηєνєя мєαηт тσ вє. → ωнєη α мєѕѕαgє ιѕ ѕєηт ƒяσм α ∂ιѕтαη¢є, уσυ ¢αη’т ѕєє тнє ƒα¢єѕ, уσυ ¢αη’т ѕєє тнє ѕмιℓєѕ, вυт уσυ ¢αη ѕєє тнє ¢αяє тнαт тяυℓу ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм нєαят ! → ∂ση’т ℓєт ѕσмєσηє вє¢σмє уσυя єνєяутнιηg, вє¢αυѕє ωнєη тнєу’яє gσηє уσυ нανє ησтнιηg! → ѕρєαкιηg ωιтнσυт єgσѕ, ℓσνιηg ωιтнσυт ιηтєηтισηѕ, ¢αяιηg ωιтнσυт єχρє¢тαтισηѕ &αмρ; ρяαуιηg ωιтнσυт ѕєℓƒιѕнηєѕѕ, ιѕ тнє ѕιgη σƒ “тяυє яєℓαтιση”. → яєℓαтισηѕнιρ яєqυιяєѕ ℓιттℓє єƒƒσятѕ……….. єνєη ωнєη ƒяιєη∂ѕ αяє вυѕу ωιтн тнєιя σωη ℓινєѕ, α ѕιмρℓє ѕмѕ яємιη∂ѕ єα¢н σтнєя тнαт……. “υ я ησт ƒσяgσттєη” → вє ¢ℓσѕє ωιтн ѕσмєσηє ωнσ мαкєѕ уσυ нαρρу…! вυт вє мυ¢н ¢ℓσѕєя тσ тнαт ρєяѕση ωнσ ¢αη’т вє нαρρу ωιтнσυт уσυ…! → ѕσσσσσσ…. ѕιмρℓє вυт ѕσ αттяα¢тινє. ѕσ.. єηℓιgнтηιηg вυт ѕσ ¢σσℓ. ѕσ мσνιηg вυт ѕσ ѕтιℓℓ. ѕσ… qυιтє вυт ѕσ ρσρυℓαя. ѕσ яσмαηтι¢ вυт ѕтιℓℓ ѕιηgℓє. ιт’ѕ тнє тяαgє∂у σƒ мσση:-

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 + make a wishlist so you’ll be prepared when it’s your birthday/Christmas + do five or more journal prompts + start a new hobby or make a list of new hobbies you’d like to try + write a letter to your future self or film a video for your future self + digital redecorating: change the theme/layout of your devices + reread a book you haven’t read in 3 or more years + watch a show or film in a genre you don’t usually watch + go on YouTube and make a playlist of your favorite self improvement/advice videos to watch when you’re down or need a push + learn a favorite song on an instrument + paint or draw the view outside your bedroom window + make a Pinterest board that perfectly captures the vibe(s) you wish to embody + organize your desk + go on a walk when the sun sets + watch a YouTuber you used to love + plan your ideal trip! it’s super fun to dream up possible vacations!! + look for a new podcast to listen to 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

୨୧ 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 ୨୧ 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 — 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐲 🍃📚 𝟭. 𝗽𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲. 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 + 𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼, 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻-𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝟮. 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝟯. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝘀/𝗺𝗮𝗽𝘀/𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 (𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁). 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁. 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗻-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝟰. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀, 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗲. 𝟱. 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗯𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗼𝘀, 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗹𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 𝟲. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴; 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱𝘄𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱, 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 (𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿), 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝟳. 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. 𝟴. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 (𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲/𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻). 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 . 𝟵. 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀/𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗗𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗪𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗮. 𝟭𝟬. 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗿𝗲-𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗼𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗱𝗱 𝗽𝗵𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱/𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸.

Today my school had a fire drill. I was standing outside with one of the most popular football players, when a Down Syndrome girl came up to him and wanted to hold his hand because she was scared. Happily, he held her hand in front of all his friends back to class. His soft side in front of his boys GMH May 16, 2010 at 12:00pm by Rachel, Griffith IN

Smileys & Emotion Face Smiling 😀 Grinning Face 😃 Grinning Face With Big Eyes 😄 Grinning Face With Smiling Eyes 😁 Beaming Face With Smiling Eyes 😆 Grinning Squinting Face 😅 Grinning Face With Sweat 🤣 Rolling on the Floor Laughing 😂 Face With Tears of Joy 🙂 Slightly Smiling Face 🙃 Upside-Down Face 🫠 Melting Face 😉 Winking Face 😊 Smiling Face With Smiling Eyes 😇 Smiling Face With Halo 😘 Face Affection 🥰 Smiling Face With Hearts 😍 Smiling Face With Heart-Eyes 🤩 Star-Struck 😘 Face Blowing a Kiss 😗 Kissing Face ☺️ Smiling Face 😚 Kissing Face With Closed Eyes 😙 Kissing Face With Smiling Eyes 🥲 Smiling Face With Tear 😛 Face Tongue 😋 Face Savoring Food 😛 Face With Tongue 😜 Winking Face With Tongue 🤪 Zany Face 😝 Squinting Face With Tongue 🤑 Money-Mouth Face 🤭 Face Hand 🤗 Hugging Face 🤭 Face With Hand Over Mouth 🫢 Face With Open Eyes And Hand Over Mouth 🫣 Face With Peeking Eye 🤫 Shushing Face 🤔 Thinking Face 🫡 Saluting Face Ezoic 😑 Face Neutral Skeptical 🤐 Zipper-Mouth Face 🤨 Face With Raised Eyebrow 😐 Neutral Face 😑 Expressionless Face 😶 Face Without Mouth 🫥 Dotted Line Face 😶‍🌫️ Face in clouds 😏 Smirking Face 😒 Unamused Face 🙄 Face With Rolling Eyes 😬 Grimacing Face 😮‍💨 Face exhaling 🤥 Lying Face 🫨 Shaking Face 🙂‍↔️ Head Shaking Horizontally 🙂‍↕️ Head Shaking Vertically

morning routine as a teenage girl ༉‧₊˚✧ ⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯ ୨୧ . wake up at 6:30am. ୨୧ . drink some water! ୨୧ . go and feed my downstairs neighbor’s cat. ♡ ୨୧ . brush my teeth. ୨୧ . do my skin care (cleanser , toner , serum , eye cream , moisturiser , sunscreen ) ୨୧ . make my mum’s bed & my bed. ୨୧ . straighten up my room a bit! ୨୧ . do my makeup. ୨୧ . get dressed. ୨୧ . style my hair! ୨୧ . get backpack together. ୨୧ . deodorant , lotion , perfume. ୨୧ . out the door , time for school

Easypose (FREE) The proportions are very much anime but nothıng anatomy studies can’t fix!! Also love that its free and isnt subscription based. Lil warning though the asset library is very lımıted. there are DLCs but they’re not as detailed as what you’d see in Magic poser and/or Clip studio. But still the basic shapes still help a lot! Canva (Free & Paid Subscription) THE Graphic Design for͘ dummies!!! KRITA Krita is free software available for Windows, macOS, and Linux. Krita is free, open-source software that works for Windows, Mac, and Linux users. Like other sketching apps, it's pen-based but is especially useful for creating comic art with premade panels. Krita supports animation functions, including audio, and comes with premade templates. If you want to get the most out of this free program, you can import textures from third-party sources. You can choose to us̀e Krita for free, but you can also pay͘ for premium options via Steam and the Microsoft Store. The paid version includes the same features, but it provides automatic updates and support. There’s also a mobile Krita app in beta, so keep an eye out for more information if you like to work̀ on the go. FIREALPACA FireAlpaca is a very͞ easy-to-use drawing tool that’s free forever for Windows and Mac users, or you can pay to remove the ads on Steam. AUTODESK SKETCHBOOK If you don’t need to edit photos or refine existing images, consider a draw-only app like Autodesk’s Sketchbook. It boasts easy-to-master tools that will help you turn your big graphics ideas into reality. Use Sketchbook to draw on your tablet, Mac, or desktop PC. You can also export your project to Photoshop when you’re done without losing layer data. Sketchbook is totally free to use, too, so it’s the perfect tool for those just getting started with stylus pen art. A free Sketchbook mobile app is available for iOS and Android devices. Also, Sketchbook Pro is available for Mac and Windows desktops for $19.99 BLENDER Blender is open-source 3D animation software for creating 3D models and big-budget movıe animations. However, it’s gaining popularity among those who just want to draw. One of Blender’s cooler features is the grease pencil mode, which lets you create artwork from simple lines. You can use the mode to make all kinds of vector-based artwork, sculptures, storyboards, animations, comics, and more. And if you need inspiration or a starting place, Blender hosts a ton of templates from its community. Even better, this PC drawing app is always free to use. INKSCAPE Inkscape is free to download, use, and share, and the source code is available for inspection. You can download it for Linux, Windows, and macOS platforms. Inkscape is an entirely vector-based drawing program that lets you draw and manipulate objects. It’s also perfect for creating shapes and designing logos. It’s open-source and completely free, too, and has become popular for both nonprofit and commercial uses. Users love it for creating clip art, typography, flowcharts, diagrams, and infographics, as well as simple cartoons. The items you create in Inkscape are the SVG file format, but you can also export in PNG, OpenDocument Drawing, DXF, sk1, PDF, EPS, and PostScript. You have the option to draw free-hand with your pen or you can use the shape tools to get a just-right look to your drawings. The Boolean operatıon make it easy to convert selected objects in the file to “paths” using simple directions like “exclusion, combine, or b͞reak apart.” You can render as you draw, too, and watch your drawings come alįve. Inkscape is available for Linux, Mac, and Windows users. ARTRAGE With Artrage, you can create realistic-looking paintings with only̕ your stylus. Use the multiple brush customization settings to create oil, watercolor, or pastel finishes. You can also record as you work, so you can show off your entire process. Artrage makes it feel like working on a real canvas, and it includes blending modes. The app is available in the Lite version as an iOS and Android mobile app, or you download the full-featured desktop version (Vitae) for Mac or Windows. Glorify Glorify has a free forever plan and two pricing plans – Pro and Business. It is an all-in-one desıgnıng tool, a love child of Canva and Photoshop. It is easy enough to use but still powerful enough for demanding users.

Pierwszy dzień w szkole Autor: BradDracV Źródło: First Day of School Tłumaczenie: Puck Norris Rosie szarpała zamkiem jej plecaka w kwiatki, czekając na autobus, który miał ją zabrać do szkoły. Stojący za nią rodzice byli równie nerwowi jak ona, próbowali jednak tego po sobie nie okazywać. Chcieli, żeby pierwszy dzień w szkole Rosie był dla niej nowym przeżyciem pełnym ekscytacji, a nie obaw. Mogli ją zaprowadzić do szkoły osobiście, nie mieszkali od niej daleko, ale chcieli, żeby jej urocza córka mogła zawrzeć nowe przyjaźnie i poznać innych ludzi. Zresztą, jasny, żółty autobus zatrzymał się przed ich domem jeszcze zanim zdążyli zmienić zdanie. Co dziwne, autobus był pusty. To tylko sprawiło, że niepokój rodziny jeszcze bardziej urósł. Po zbiorowym uścisku i wielu pocałunkach wymienionych z mamą i tatą, Rosie wsiadła do pojazdu i zajęła miejsce z przodu. Pulchny kierowca pomachał jej rodzicom, praktycznie nie patrząc w ich kierunku. Drzwi zapiszczały i zamknęły się za ich małym skarbem. Mama uroniła małą łzę, obserwując razem z tatą jak autobus znika za zakrętem na końcu ulicy. "Będzie się dzisiaj świetnie bawiła." tata pocieszył mamę całusem w czoło. "Wiem" zgodziła się mama, nie brzmiąc zbyt przekonywująco. "Idę wziąć prysznic" powiedziała i skierowała się do domu. Kiedy tylko tata wszedł za nią do środka, zaskoczony usłyszał głośne trąbienie. Poczuł, że żołądek podchodzi mu do gardła, gdy tylko się odwrócił i zobaczył inny autobus, wypełniony szczęśliwymi uczniami i stojący na jego podjeździe. Szerokie drzwi rozwarły się. "Dzień dobry, panie Thomas" powiedział starszy kierowca o miłym uśmiechu kochającej babci. "Czy Rosie jest gotowa na swój pierwszy dzień?"

Common Experiences How has the semester been going for you? Do you understand the assignment that Professor gave us in class? .. . .. What did you do over break? What sort of plans do you have for break? What did you do over the weekend? Anything interesting happen this week? How has work been? What did you think about the school team's last game? Do you know who's going to s party on day? Interests • What sort of movies have you seen lately? Have any goad boak recommendations? Have you been to any great concerts lately? Have you seen any good plays? What did you think about the ball game on day? Non-Question Topics Your surroundings: the weather, an interesting painting or decoration, a peculiar scenic detail Interesting or humorous Current events or news • officials, shared neighbors, new attractions that have recently opened Compliments on appearance changes: hairstyle, clothing, shoes, accessories Recent experiences with friends or family • Humorous story about something that happened earlier in the day or week CONVO.. Common Experiences How has the semester been going for you? Do you understand the assignment that Professor gave us in class? .. . .. What did you do over break? What sort of plans do you have for break? What did you do over the weekend? Anything interesting happen this week? How has work been? What did you think about the school team's last game? Do you know who's going to s party on day? Interests • What sort of movies have you seen lately? Have any goad book recommendations? Have you been to any great concerts lately? Have you seen any good plays? What did you think about the ball game on day? Non-Question Topics Your surroundings: the weather, an interesting painting or decoration, a peculiar scenic detail Interesting or humorous Current events or news • officials, shared neighbors, new attractions that have recently opened Compliments on appearance changes: hairstyle, clothing, shoes, accessories Recent experiences with friends or family • Humor about something that happened earier in the day or week

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: :¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . ꔫ To all the people who had a rough day, week or month, remember to focus on what you can control, you are enough and you deserve all your desires♡

glow up schedule ✨🎀📚🧖‍♀️ 2 weeks before: 💗 hair appt for highlights & cut 💗 do face masks 2-3x per week 💗 apply hair oil & mask before each wash 💗 implement my morning/ night routine 1 week before: 💗 fresh mani & pedi 💗 wardrobe refresh to clear out old clothes & invest in new pieces 💗 buy supplies 💗 reach out to friends + classmates to catch up & compare schedules 💗 practice daily makeup routine the night before: 💗 review all my first day schedule 💗 pack my bag 💗 pick out my outfit 💗 wash my hair & style for overnight curls 💗 relax & get excited!!!

AGE APPELLATIVE 10-19: denarian 20-29: vicenarian 30-39: tricenarian 40-49: quadragenarian 50-59: quinquagenarian 60-69: sexagenarian 70-79: septuagenarian 80-89: octogenarian 90-99: nonagenarian 100-109: centenarian 110-119: centeni denarian 120-129: centeni vicenarian 130-139: centeni tricenarian 140-149: centeni quadragenarian 150-159: centeni quinquagenarian 160-169: centeni sexagenarian 170-179: centeni septuagenarian 180-189: centeni octogenarian 190-199: centeni nonagenarian 200-209: ducenarian 210-219: duceni denarian 220-229: duceni tricenarian 230-239: duceni tricenarian 240-249: duceni quadragenarian 250-259: duceni quinquagenarian 260-269: duceni sexagenarian 270-279: duceni septuagenarian 280-289: duceni octogenarian 290-299: duceni nonagenarian 300-309: trecenarian 310 - 319: treceni denarian ... 400-409: quadringenarian 410-419: quadringeni denarian ... 500-509: quingenarian ... 600-609: sescenarian ... 700-709: septingenarian ... 800-809: octingenarian ... 900-909: nongenarian ... 980-989: nongeni octogenarian 990-999: nongeni nonagenarian 1000-1009: millenarian

A girl in my class is Autistic We were playing volleyball in P.E one day and she wanted to serve. Everyone cheered for her even though the ball barely rose above her head My classmates' kindness GMH. Jan 4, 2015 at 11:00am by Anonymous

WHISPERS @scarystoriesargh My best friend confided in me one day about one of her worries. She told me about how, in the middle of the night, she would keep hearing whispers in her bedroom. These whispers would repeat the same number over and over, but each night the number would become one lower. A few weeks later, on a Tuesday my friend told me that the numbers were getting lower and lower. It was due to be the number seven that night. My friend had no idea what those whispers were counting down to, but she told of how anxious she had been feeling ever since the whispers started several months ago. It's Wednesday today. My friend isn't in school. She didn't tell me that she was going to be absent. And then I realise. Last night, the voices would have been whispering the number Zero..

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝑀𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ daily affirmations ˙ᵕ˙ ❤︎ i won’t be so hard on myself ❤︎ i belong here ❤︎ i am worthy of what i desire ❤︎ i love me always ❤︎ happiness is in my hands

𝓐𝓯𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ✮ - Im truly true beauty! ✮ - Everyone thinks im perfect, and I am! ✮- The compliments I get are endless! ✮ - I attract postivity and can get people immediately attached to me! ✮ - Im usually the one who starts trends! ✮ - I have a skinny tall b0dy! *Please remember weight does NOT matter!! ✮ - Everyone trips as soon as they see me! ✮ - Im the quote “beauty and brawns” ✮ - I have always had perfect grades! ✮ - Im me and your you! ✮ - they way everybody falls for me as soon as they see me is concerning! ✮ - I know im better than all these people but I stay humble for their own sake! ✮ - I have the perfect positve mindset! ✮ - Im very beautiful… Its amazing! ✮ - Everyone wants to be me or be with me! ✮ - My energy enters before I even enter the room! ✮ - My posture is perfect always! ✮ - You’ll never catch me with bad posture! ✮ - I don’t care about my haters, their obsessed anyways! ✮ - My life revoles around me only! *ˢˡᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇʸᵉ♥

A: Ⱥ Д ∆ ₳Ꭿ Ꭺ B: ℬ Ᏸ 乃 ط ъ C: 匚 ང Ꮳ D: ƌ Ꭰ Ꮄ ⅅ ⅆ E: ε ཇ Σ Ξ Ꭼ Ꮛ ⅇ F: ན ƒ G: Ꮹ 𠂎 ɠ ʛ Ꮆ Ᏻ H: ħ ℌ Ꮋ Ꮒ Ᏺ I: ༏ ༑ ༐ ⅈ Ꮠ J: 𠃌 Ꭻ Ꮰ ℑ ⅉ K: ƙ L: ℒ Ꮮ ɭ Ꮭ ℓ M: ཀ Ꮇ ᙢ ℳ N: ₪ ת מ ה ས π ℵ O: Ꮎ P: ρ や 尸 Ꮅ Q: Ꭴ R: ર ℜ ཞ ༉ Ꭱ S: Ꭶ T: τ Ꮖ ϯ ד Ꮏ ե Ꭲ U: Ꮜ V: Ꭷ Ꮴ W: Ꮤ ᙡ Ꮚ ש ཡ ш щ ϣ Ꮗ X: ℵ א ж Y: ע ч ɤ ɣ Ꮍ Z: Հ ʑ Ꮓ ℤ

https://www.domestika.org/es/schools

Achluophobia: Fear of darkness Acousticophobiaz: Fear of noise Acrophobia: Fear of heights Aerophobia: Fear of aircraft or flying Agoraphobia: Fear of open places Agyrophobia: Fear of crossing streets Aichmophobia: Fear of sharp or pointed objects Ailurophobia: Fear of cats Algophobia: Fear of pain Amaxophobia: Fear of riding in a car Ancraophobia: Fear of wind or drafts Androphobia: Fear of adult men Anginophobia: Fear of angina or choking Anthophobia: Fear of flowers Anthropophobia: Fear of people or the company of people Aphenphosmphobia: Fear of being touched Aquaphobia: Fear of water. Arachnophobia: Fear of spiders Arithmophobia: Fear of numbers Astraphobia: Fear of thunder and lightning Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness Atelophobia: Fear of imperfection Autophobia: Fear of isolation Bacteriophobia: Fear of bacteria Barophobia: Fear of gravity Bathmophobia: Fear of stairs Batrachophobia: Fear of amphibians Belonephobia: Fear of needles or pins Bibliophobia: Fear of books Botanophobia: Fear of plant Cacophobia: Fear of ugliness Catagelophobia: Fear of being ridiculed Catoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors Carcinophobia: Fear of cancer Chemophobia: Fear of chemicals Cherophobia: Fear of happiness Chionophobia: Fear of snow Chiroptophobia: Fear of bats Chromophobia, chromatophobia: Fear of colors Chronomentrophobia: Fear of clocks Chronophobia: Fear of time and time moving forward Cibophobia, sitophobia: Fear of food Claustrophobia: Fear of being trapped with no escape Coimetrophobia: Fear of cemeteries Colorphobia: Chromophobia Coprophobia: Fear of feces or defecation Coulrophobia: Fear of clowns Cyberphobia: Fear of computers, the Internet, and new technologies Cynophobia: Fear of dogs Decidophobia: Fear of making decisions Defecaloesiophobia: Fear of painful bowel movements Dementophobia: Fear of insanity Demonophobia, daemonophobia: Fear of demons Dendrophobia: Fear of trees Dentophobia: Fear of dentists and dental procedures Diabetophobia: Fear of diabetes Dipsophobia: Fear of drinking Domatophobia: Fear of houses Dromophobia: Fear of crossing streets Dysmorphophobia: Fear of physical defects (either real or imagined) Dystychiphobia: Fear of accidents Ecclesiophobia: Fear of church Ecophobia: Fear of the home Electrophobia: Fear of electricity Elurophobia: Fear of cats Eisoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors or seeing one’s reflection in a mirror Eurotophobia: Fear of female genitals Emetophobia: Fear of vomiting Enochlophobia: Fear of crowds Entomophobia: Fear of insects Ephebiphobia: Fear of youth Epistaxiophobia: Fear of nosebleeds Equinophobia: Fear of horses Ergophobia, ergasiophobia: Fear of work or functioning Erotophobia: Fear of love Erythrophobia, erytophobia, ereuthophobia: Fear of the color red, or fear of blushing Euphobia: Fear of hearing good news Febriphobia: Fear of fevers Francophobia: Fear of France or French culture Frigophobia: Fear of becoming too cold Gamophobia: Fear of commitment, including cohabitation, marriage or nuptials Geliophobia: Fear of laughter Gelotophobia: Fear of being laughed at Geniophobia: Fear of chins Gephyrophobia: Fear of bridges Genophobia: Fear of honeymoons Genuphobia: Fear of knees or the act of kneeling Gerascophobia: Fear of growing old or aging Gerontophobia: Fear of growing old, or fear of the elderly Globophobia: Fear of balloons Glossophobia: Fear of speaking in public or of trying to speak Gnosiophobia: Fear of knowledge Gymnophobia: Fear of having no clothes Gynophobia: Fear of women Hadephobia: Fear of helll Halitophobia: Fear of bad breath Haphephobia: Fear of being touched Hedonophobia: Fear of obtaining pleasure Heliophobia: Fear of the sun or sunlight Hemophobia: Fear of blood Herpetophobia: Fear of reptiles Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia: Fear of the number 666 Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Fear of long words Hodophobia: Fear of travel Homichlophobia: Fear of fog Hoplophobia: Fear of firearms Hydrophobia: Fear of water Hylophobia: Fear of forests Hypnophobia, somniphobia: Fear of sleep Hypochondria: Fear of illness Iatrophobia: Fear of doctors Ichthyophobia: Fear of fish Ideophobia: Fear of ideas Iophobia: Fear of poison Isolophobia: Fear of being alone Kakorrhaphiophobia: Fear of failure Katagelophobia: Fear of ridicule Kenophobia: Fear of empty spaces Kleptophobia: Fear of stealing Kopophobia: Fear of fatigue Koinoniphobia: Fear of rooms full of people Koumpounophobia: Fear of buttons Kynophobia: Fear of rabies Lachanophobia: Fear of vegetables Leukophobia: Fear of the color white Lilapsophobia: Fear of tornadoes or hurricanes Limnophobia: Fear of lakes Linonophobia: Fear of string Liticaphobia: Fear of lawsuits Lockiophobia: Fear of childbirth Logizomechanophobia: Fear of computers Logophobia: Fear of words Lutraphobia: Fear of otters Lygophobia: Fear of darkness Lyssophobia: Fear of rabies Mageirocophobia: Fear of cooking Megalophobia: Fear of large things Melanophobia: Fear of the color black Melissophobia, apiphobia: Fear of bees Meteorophobia: Fear of meteors Methyphobia: Fear of alcohol Microphobia: Fear of small things Monophobia: Fear of being alone Mottephobia: Fear of moths Musophobia: Fear of mice Mycophobia: Fear or aversion to mushrooms Myrmecophobia: Fear of ants Mysophobia: Fear of germs, contamination or dirt Necrophobia: Fear of death or the dead Neophobia: Fear of newness, novelty, change or progress Nephophobia: Fear of clouds Noctiphobia: Fear of the night Nomatophobia: Fear of names Nomophobia: Fear of being out of mobile phone contact Nosocomephobia: Fear of hospitals Nosophobia: Fear of contracting a disease Nostophobia, ecophobia: Fear of returning home Numerophobia: Fear of numbers Nyctophobia: Fear of darkness Obesophobia: Fear of gaining weight Octophobia: Fear of the figure 8 Oikophobia: Fear of home surroundings and household appliances Odontophobia: Fear of dentists or dental procedures Ombrophobia: Fear of rain Oneirophobia: Fear of dreams Ophidiophobia: Fear of snakes Ophthalmophobia: Fear of being stared at Ornithophobia: Fear of birds Osmophobia, olfactophobia: Fear of odour Panphobia: Fear of everything or the constant fear of an unknown cause Papyrophobia: Fear of paper Pathophobia: Fear of disease Pedophobia: Fear of babies and children Phagophobia: Fear of swallowing Phallophobia: Fear of masculinity Pharmacophobia: Fear of medications Phasmophobia: Fear of ghosts or phantoms Philophobia: Fear of love Phobophobia: Fear of fear itself or of having a phobia Phonophobia: Fear of loud sounds or voices Podophobia: Fear of feet Pogonophobia: Fear of beards Porphyrophobia: Fear of the color purple Pteridophobia: Fear of ferns Pteromerhanophobia: Fear of flying Pyrophobia: Fear of fire Radiophobia: Fear of radioactivity or X-rays Ranidaphobia: Fear of frogs Rhypophobia: Fear of defecation Rhytiphobia: Fear of getting wrinkles Rupophobia: Fear of dirt Samhainophobia: Fear of Halloween Scolionophobia: Fear of school Scopophobia: Fear of being looked at or stared at Selenophobia: Fear of the moon Sexophobia: Fear of the organs for romantic activities Siderodromophobia: Fear of trains or railroads Siderophobia: Fear of stars Sociophobia: Fear of people or social situations Somniphobia: Fear of sleep Spectrophobia: Fear of mirrors Spheksophobia: Fear of wasps Stasiphobia: Fear of standing or walking Tachophobia: Fear of speed Taphophobia: Fear of the graves or being buried alive Tapinophobia: Fear of being contagious Taurophobia: Fear of bulls Technophobia: Fear of computers or advanced technology Teratophobia: Fear of disfigured people Tetraphobia: Fear of the number 4 Thalassophobia: Fear of the sea, or fear of being in the ocean Thanatophobia: Fear of dying Thermophobia: Fear of high temperatures Tokophobia: Fear of childbirth or pregnancy Tomophobia: Fear of invasive medical procedure Toxiphobia: Fear of being poisoned Tremophobia: Fear of trembling Triskaidekaphobia, terdekaphobia: Fear of the number 13 Tonitrophobia: Fear of thunder Trypanophobia, belonephobia, enetophobia: Fear of needles or injections Trypophobia: Fear of holes or textures with a pattern of holes Uranophobia, ouranophobia: Fear of heaven Urophobia: Fear of urine or urinating Vaccinophobia: Fear of vaccination Vehophobia: Fear of driving Venustraphobia: Fear of beautiful women Verminophobia: Fear of germs Vestiphobia: Fear of clothing Virginitiphobia: Fear of abuse Wiccaphobia: Fear of witches and witchcraft Xanthophobia: Fear of the color yellow Xenophobia: Fear of strangers, foreigners, or aliens Xerophobia: Fear of dryness. Xyrophobia: Fear of razors. Zelophobia: Fear of jealousy Zeusophobia: Fear of God or gods Zemmiphobia: Fear of the great mole rat.

An Alphabetical List of Phobias A Achluophobia: Fear of darkness Acousticophobiaz: Fear of noise Acrophobia: Fear of heights Aerophobia: Fear of aircraft or flying Agoraphobia: Fear of open places Agyrophobia: Fear of crossing streets Aichmophobia: Fear of sharp or pointed objects Ailurophobia: Fear of cats Algophobia: Fear of pain Amaxophobia: Fear of riding in a car Ancraophobia: Fear of wind or drafts Androphobia: Fear of adult men Anginophobia: Fear of angina or choking Anthophobia: Fear of flowers Anthropophobia: Fear of people or the company of people Aphenphosmphobia: Fear of being touched Aquaphobia: Fear of water. Arachnophobia: Fear of spiders Arithmophobia: Fear of numbers Astraphobia: Fear of thunder and lightning Ataxophobia: Fear of disorder or untidiness Atelophobia: Fear of imperfection Autophobia: Fear of isolation B Bacteriophobia: Fear of bacteria Barophobia: Fear of gravity Bathmophobia: Fear of stairs Batrachophobia: Fear of amphibians Belonephobia: Fear of needles or pins Bibliophobia: Fear of books Botanophobia: Fear of plans C Cacophobia: Fear of ugliness Catagelophobia: Fear of being ridiculed Catoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors Carcinophobia: Fear of cancer Chemophobia: Fear of chemicals Cherophobia: Fear of happiness Chionophobia: Fear of snow Chiroptophobia: Fear of bats Chromophobia, chromatophobia: Fear of colors Chronomentrophobia: Fear of clocks Chronophobia: Fear of time and time moving forward Cibophobia, sitophobia: Fear of food Claustrophobia: Fear of being trapped with no escape Coimetrophobia: Fear of cemeteries Colorphobia: Chromophobia Coprophobia: Fear of feces or defecation Coulrophobia: Fear of clowns Cyberphobia: Fear of computers, the Internet, and new technologies Cynophobia: Fear of dogs D Decidophobia: Fear of making decisions Defecaloesiophobia: Fear of painful bowel movements Dementophobia: Fear of insanity Demonophobia, daemonophobia: Fear of demons Dendrophobia: Fear of trees Dentophobia: Fear of dentists and dental procedures Diabetophobia: Fear of diabetes Dipsophobia: Fear of drinking Domatophobia: Fear of houses Dromophobia: Fear of crossing streets Dysmorphophobia: Fear of physical defects (either real or imagined) Dystychiphobia: Fear of accidents E Ecclesiophobia: Fear of church Ecophobia: Fear of the home Electrophobia: Fear of electricity Elurophobia: Fear of cats Eisoptrophobia: Fear of mirrors or seeing one’s reflection in a mirror Eurotophobia: Fear of female genitals Emetophobia: Fear of vomiting Enochlophobia: Fear of crowds Entomophobia: Fear of insects Ephebiphobia: Fear of youth Epistaxiophobia: Fear of nosebleeds Equinophobia: Fear of horses Ergophobia, ergasiophobia: Fear of work or functioning Erotophobia: Fear of love Erythrophobia, erytophobia, ereuthophobia: Fear of the color red, or fear of blushing Euphobia: Fear of hearing good news F Febriphobia: Fear of fevers Francophobia: Fear of France or French culture Frigophobia: Fear of becoming too cold G Gamophobia: Fear of commitment, including cohabitation, marriage or nuptials Geliophobia: Fear of laughter Gelotophobia: Fear of being laughed at Geniophobia: Fear of chins Gephyrophobia: Fear of bridges Genophobia: Fear of honeymoons Genuphobia: Fear of knees or the act of kneeling Gerascophobia: Fear of growing old or aging Gerontophobia: Fear of growing old, or fear of the elderly Globophobia: Fear of balloons Glossophobia: Fear of speaking in public or of trying to speak Gnosiophobia: Fear of knowledge Gymnophobia: Fear of having no clothes Gynophobia: Fear of women H Hadephobia: Fear of helll Halitophobia: Fear of bad breath Haphephobia: Fear of being touched Hedonophobia: Fear of obtaining pleasure Heliophobia: Fear of the sun or sunlight Hemophobia: Fear of blood Herpetophobia: Fear of reptiles Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia: Fear of the number 666 Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Fear of long words Hodophobia: Fear of travel Homichlophobia: Fear of fog Hoplophobia: Fear of firearms Hydrophobia: Fear of water Hylophobia: Fear of forests Hypnophobia, somniphobia: Fear of sleep Hypochondria: Fear of illness I Iatrophobia: Fear of doctors Ichthyophobia: Fear of fish Ideophobia: Fear of ideas Iophobia: Fear of poison Isolophobia: Fear of being alone K Kakorrhaphiophobia: Fear of failure Katagelophobia: Fear of ridicule Kenophobia: Fear of empty spaces Kleptophobia: Fear of stealing Kopophobia: Fear of fatigue Koinoniphobia: Fear of rooms full of people Koumpounophobia: Fear of buttons Kynophobia: Fear of rabies L Lachanophobia: Fear of vegetables Leukophobia: Fear of the color white Lilapsophobia: Fear of tornadoes or hurricanes Limnophobia: Fear of lakes Linonophobia: Fear of string Liticaphobia: Fear of lawsuits Lockiophobia: Fear of childbirth Logizomechanophobia: Fear of computers Logophobia: Fear of words Lutraphobia: Fear of otters Lygophobia: Fear of darkness Lyssophobia: Fear of rabies M Mageirocophobia: Fear of cooking Megalophobia: Fear of large things Melanophobia: Fear of the color black Melissophobia, apiphobia: Fear of bees Meteorophobia: Fear of meteors Methyphobia: Fear of alcohol Microphobia: Fear of small things Monophobia: Fear of being alone Mottephobia: Fear of moths Musophobia: Fear of mice Mycophobia: Fear or aversion to mushrooms Myrmecophobia: Fear of ants Mysophobia: Fear of germs, contamination or dirt N Necrophobia: Fear of death or the dead Neophobia: Fear of newness, novelty, change or progress Nephophobia: Fear of clouds Noctiphobia: Fear of the night Nomatophobia: Fear of names Nomophobia: Fear of being out of mobile phone contact Nosocomephobia: Fear of hospitals Nosophobia: Fear of contracting a disease Nostophobia, ecophobia: Fear of returning home Numerophobia: Fear of numbers Nyctophobia: Fear of darkness O Obesophobia: Fear of gaining weight Octophobia: Fear of the figure 8 Oikophobia: Fear of home surroundings and household appliances Odontophobia: Fear of dentists or dental procedures Ombrophobia: Fear of rain Oneirophobia: Fear of dreams Ophidiophobia: Fear of snakes Ophthalmophobia: Fear of being stared at Ornithophobia: Fear of birds Osmophobia, olfactophobia: Fear of odour P Panphobia: Fear of everything or the constant fear of an unknown cause Papyrophobia: Fear of paper Pathophobia: Fear of disease Pedophobia: Fear of babies and children Phagophobia: Fear of swallowing Phallophobia: Fear of masculinity Pharmacophobia: Fear of medications Phasmophobia: Fear of ghosts or phantoms Philophobia: Fear of love Phobophobia: Fear of fear itself or of having a phobia Phonophobia: Fear of loud sounds or voices Podophobia: Fear of feet Pogonophobia: Fear of beards Porphyrophobia: Fear of the color purple Pteridophobia: Fear of ferns Pteromerhanophobia: Fear of flying Pyrophobia: Fear of fire R Radiophobia: Fear of radioactivity or X-rays Ranidaphobia: Fear of frogs Rhypophobia: Fear of defecation Rhytiphobia: Fear of getting wrinkles Rupophobia: Fear of dirt S Samhainophobia: Fear of Halloween Scolionophobia: Fear of school Scopophobia: Fear of being looked at or stared at Selenophobia: Fear of the moon Sexophobia: Fear of the organs for romantic activities Siderodromophobia: Fear of trains or railroads Siderophobia: Fear of stars Sociophobia: Fear of people or social situations Somniphobia: Fear of sleep Spectrophobia: Fear of mirrors Spheksophobia: Fear of wasps Stasiphobia: Fear of standing or walking T Tachophobia: Fear of speed Taphophobia: Fear of the graves or being buried alive Tapinophobia: Fear of being contagious Taurophobia: Fear of bulls Technophobia: Fear of computers or advanced technology Teratophobia: Fear of disfigured people Tetraphobia: Fear of the number 4 Thalassophobia: Fear of the sea, or fear of being in the ocean Thanatophobia: Fear of dying Thermophobia: Fear of high temperatures Tokophobia: Fear of childbirth or pregnancy Tomophobia: Fear of invasive medical procedure Toxiphobia: Fear of being poisoned Tremophobia: Fear of trembling Triskaidekaphobia, terdekaphobia: Fear of the number 13 Tonitrophobia: Fear of thunder Trypanophobia, belonephobia, enetophobia: Fear of needles or injections Trypophobia: Fear of holes or textures with a pattern of holes U Uranophobia, ouranophobia: Fear of heaven Urophobia: Fear of urine or urinating V Vaccinophobia: Fear of vaccination Vehophobia: Fear of driving Venustraphobia: Fear of beautiful women Verminophobia: Fear of germs Vestiphobia: Fear of clothing Virginitiphobia: Fear of abuse W Wiccaphobia: Fear of witches and witchcraft X, Y, Z Xanthophobia: Fear of the color yellow Xenophobia: Fear of strangers, foreigners, or aliens Xerophobia: Fear of dryness. Xyrophobia: Fear of razors. Zelophobia: Fear of jealousy Zeusophobia: Fear of God or gods Zemmiphobia: Fear of the great mole rat.

school 👩‍💼✏️📈🧠🎀 ❥ folder (one per class) ❥ planner ❥ lined paper ❥ pencil pouch (contains mechanical pencils, pens, & eraser) ❥ laptop & charger ❥ earbuds ❥ snacks ❥ 32 oz water bottle ❥ advil ❥ feminine products ❥ lip gloss ❥ wallet ❥ a book ❥ travel size body spray

Weekly Affirmations ♡ I’m confident that there is a bright future ahead of me. ♡ I have everything I need to succeed. ♡ I am capable of reaching my goals. ♡ I will let go of the things that are not serving me. ♡ I am deserving of happiness. ♡ I attract success and prosperity with all my ideas. ♡ Wealth is pouring into my life. ♡ my possibilities are endless. ♡ My future ahead is bright and I am ready to grow.

𝒃𝒚 “𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒎”! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ Ｓｔｕｄｙ ｔｉｐｓ ｆｒｏｍ ｓｏｍｅｏｎｅ ｗｈｏ: ｇｅｔｓ ｈｉｇｈ ｇｒａｄｅｓ ａｎｄ ｉｓ ａ ｔｅａｃｈs ｆａｖ！: ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɴᴏ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!: ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ! ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴠɪᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜰᴀʀ ᴅʀᴀᴡᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏʙ ᴡᴏɴᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ! ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏ ɪꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ! (ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ/ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴇᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴘᴘꜱ!), ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ: ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰꜰꜰꜰꜰ!!!! ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ʟᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ! ɪᴛꜱ ꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴅɪꜱᴘʟɪɴᴇ! ꜱᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ “ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴜᴘ ʏ/ɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ɢʀᴀᴅᴇꜱ, ɴᴏ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ᴠᴀɪʟᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏʟ’ ꜱʟᴀᴘ, ᴊᴏʙ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ!” ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ᴍᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʟᴏʟ! ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ᴛʜɪʀᴅ!: ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴏʀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴇᴅ ɪꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ! ᴇᴠᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ:( ʙᴜᴛ! ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ɪɴꜱᴘᴏꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ! ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ɴᴏᴛɪɴɢ! ɪᴛꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴇꜱꜱᴏɴꜱ ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ! ɪᴛꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʟʟ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ! ᴘʟᴜꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ!: ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ! ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏɴ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀꜱ! (ᴇx: “ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴀꜱꜱɪɢɴᴍᴇɴᴛ”, “ɪɴ 2:50ᴘᴍ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴜᴍʙɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴛʜ ᴀꜱꜱɪɢɴᴍᴇɴᴛ”) ᴜꜱᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ! ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜʀᴏᴍᴇ ʟᴀᴘ! ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴠ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇʟᴘᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇ! (ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ ᴜᴘ!, ᴛɪᴅʏ ᴜᴘ! ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, “ᴀ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ ʀᴏᴏᴍ = ᴀ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ” ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʀᴜᴇ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ! ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴇʟᴘ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏɪɴɢ! ᴏʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ Qᴜᴏᴛᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜰᴏᴄᴜꜱᴇᴅ!) ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏꜰ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ!, ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴀʟʟ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ʙʏᴇ!! <3 ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

◌ 🌟 ⠀ׅ⠀⠀ׁ⠀ New week — start fresh ◌ 💭 ⠀ׅ⠀⠀ׁ⠀ New mindset — think positively ◌ 🌸 ⠀ׅ⠀⠀ׁ⠀ New opportunities — be grateful ◌ 🫧 ⠀ׅ⠀⠀ׁ⠀ New possibilities — be optimistic ◌ 🩰 ⠀ׅ⠀⠀ׁ⠀ New attitude — be kind, be loving

𝑀𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝐽𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑠 what are 3 things i want to accomplish this week? what are 3 ways i can improve from last week? what can i let go of this week? what drained my energy last week? how can i prevent that from happening this week? list 3 things i’m grateful for my affirmation for this week is?

ᴬᵛᵃ ᶠᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁽ᵇⁱᵍ ˢʰᵒᵗ⁾ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴬᵛᵃ ᵖᵒᵛ ⁱⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ⁽ᴬˡˢᵒ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵘⁿⁿᵃᵐᵉᵈ ᵛᵒˡˡᵉʸᵇᵃˡˡ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉʳˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵒⁿᵈⁱᵉ ᵍⁱʳˡ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇʳᵃⁱᵈ ᴱᵛⁱᵉ ʷʰᵒᵐ ᴬᵛᵃ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ⁿᵒˢᵉ ᵗᵒ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᴬᵛᵃ'ˢ ᵗᵉᵃᵐᵐᵃᵗᵉ ᴺᵃᵗᵃˡⁱᵉ⁾ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵖᵒʳᵗˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ⁱⁿᵛᵒˡᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵛᵒˡˡᵉʸᵇᵃˡˡ‧ ᴹʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᴬᵛᵃ ᴺᵃᵛᵃʳʳᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴺᵃᵗᵃˡⁱᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᴱᵛⁱᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵍᵘʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶠᵒᶜᵘˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʳᵘⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃˡˡ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵒⁿ ᴱᵛⁱᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵘᵈⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍⁱʳˡ ˢᵃⁱᵈ 'ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ' ᵃˢ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ⁿᵒˢᵉ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶠ ᵇˡᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰⁱˢᵗˡᵉ‧ 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ? ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁱᵈᵈⁱⁿᵍ? ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿ!' ᵀʰᵉ ʳᵉᶠ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ʸᵉᵗ‧ 'ᴴᵉʸ; ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ!' 'ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵐʸ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᴺᵃᵛᵃʳʳᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ!' ᔆᵒ ᴵ ᵍʳᵃᵇᵇᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖᵉᶜᵗᵃᵗᵒʳˢ ᵍᵃˢᵖ‧ 'ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ!' ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᴺᵃᵗᵃˡⁱᵉ'ˢ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵛᵒˡˡᵉʸᵇᵃˡˡ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉʳˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ᵉˣⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵐ ˢᵖᵒᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵃᶜʰ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵃˡˡ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠⁱᵗ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʳᵉᶜʳᵘⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵂᵉˢᵗᵇʳᵒᵒᵏ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵇᵃˢᵏᵉᵗᵇᵃˡˡ ᵗᵉᵃᵐ‧

⠀⠀⢀⣤⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀

⠾⡿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠟⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠚⠛⠛⠛⠓⠛⠛⠛⢛⠛⠛⠛⠚⠛⢺⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⣥⣀⣀⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⢤⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣧⣶⣴⣦⣦⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣇⡶⠶⠶⠾⢯⡿⠶⠶⠶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣴⣤⣄ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⠤⠌⢻ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣦⢤⣤⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣆⣀⢀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣸⣿ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⡇⠀⠁⠀⠉⠉⠁⢛⣿⠋⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠛⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠶⠳⠞⠶⠳⠞⠶⠳⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⠐⡂⢆⠰⣀⠢⡐⢄⠢⡐⢄⠢⡐⢠⠀⡄⣶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠾⠯⠿⠽⠿⠽⠯⠿⠿⠿⠽⠿⠯⠿⠯⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡘⠐⢂⠒⣀⠒⠰⢈⠰⠐⢂⢂⠑⠂⠥⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⣆⡈⣉⢉⡈⣀⢁⣈⢀⡁⣉⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣬⣥⣦⣬⣤⣬⣤⣥⣦⣭⣤⣦⣬⣥⣦⣥⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢈⠀⠡⠈⠄⠡⠈⠄⠡⢈⠠⠁⡈⠄⠁⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⣤⡾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣀⣈⣀⣁⢂⡠⢁⣂⡐⣀⢂⡐⣀⣈⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⢄⣧⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠠⢀⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⢀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⡿⣿⣄⣤⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠐⡀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠂⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⡟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠙⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣀⣈⣀⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣠⣀⣿⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠉⠋⠙⠉⠋⠙⠉⠋⠙⢻⣽⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠗⠀⠀⠀ ⡄⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠑⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⠿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

ᴳʳᵒʷ ᵁᵖ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖʳᵉᑫᵘᵉˡ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍʳᵒʷ ᵘᵖ?" ᵀʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᴬⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ!" ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵇˡᵘʳᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴬ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵃⁿᵗᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧" ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ʷᵃˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ!" "ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵃᵘᵗ!" "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗ!" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᶜʰⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" @ALYJACI

🤡 Clown Face 👹 Ogre 👺 Goblin 👻 Ghost 👽 Alien 👾 Alien Monster 🤖Robot 💋 Kiss Mark 💯 Hundred Points 💢 Anger Symbol 💥 Collision 💫 Dizzy 💦 Sweat Droplets 💨 Dashing Away 🕳️ Hole 💬 Speech Balloon 👁️‍🗨️ Eye In Speech Bubble 🗨️ Left Speech Bubble 🗯️ Right Anger Bubble 💭 Thought Balloon 💤 Zzz 👋 Waving Hand 🤚 Raised Back of Hand 🖐️ Hand With Fingers Splayed ✋ Raised Hand 🖖 Vulcan Salute 🫱 Rightwards Hand 🫲 Leftwards Hand 🫳 Palm Down Hand 🫴 Palm Up Hand 🫷 Leftwards Pushing Hand 🫸 Rightwards Pushing Hand 👌 OK Hand 🤌 Pinched Fingers 🤏 Pinching Hand ✌️ Victory Hand 🤞 Crossed Fingers 🫰 Hand With Index Finger And Thumb Crossed 🤟 Love-You Gesture 🤘 Sign of the Horns 🤙 Call Me Hand 👈 Backhand Index Pointing Left 👉 Backhand Index Pointing Right 👆 Backhand Index Pointing Up 👇 Backhand Index Pointing Down ☝️ Index Pointing Up 🫵 Index Pointing At The Viewer 👍 Thumbs Up 👎 Thumbs Down ✊ Raised Fist 👊 Oncoming Fist 🤛 Left-Facing Fist 🤜 Right-Facing Fist 👏 Clapping Hands 🙌 Raising Hands 🫶 Heart Hands 👐 Open Hands 🤲 Palms Up Together 🤝 Handshake 🙏 folded hands

ᏂᎥ!, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘵𝘰 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚!!

𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓮𝓽🌷 I honestly dont care about what others think of me, my life revolves around me, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒆 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ii (Autistic author) The drive back to the Chum Bucket was quiet, the only sound the hum of the car engine and the occasional splash of a jellyfish passing by. Karen gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white with tension. She glanced over at Plankton in the passenger seat, his eye glazed over and staring out the window. "You ok?" she asked tentatively. Plankton nodded, his gaze still fixed outside the car window. "Everything looks the same, but feeling... different." "You're going to be ok," she said. "We'll get through this." By the time Karen pulls up in the driveway, Plankton had fallen asleep, his head lolling against the car window. She gently lifts him out of the car and carries him into their bedroom, laying him down with care. As she watches him sleep, she whispers, "We'll get through this." The next day dawns with the promise of a new challenge. Karen wakes up to the sight of Plankton, obsessing with the pattern of the floor tiles. "You ok?" Karen asked, voice soft. Plankton looked up, his gaze slightly unfocused. "The floor," he said, his voice still quiet. "What, the floor?" Karen asked. "The floor," Plankton repeated. "What about it?" Karen asked. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the tiles. "Plankton not same, Plankton different," he murmured. Karen sat down beside him. "How are you feeling?" "Plankton feel... weird," he said, antennae drooping slightly. "Things to loud. Things to bright." He paused, looking at her with a flicker of his old mischief. "But Plankton still love Krabby Patty." Karen couldn't help but chuckle through tears. "I know you do, sweetie," she said, her voice warm with love. "But maybe it's time we focus on something else for a while." Plankton nodded slowly, gaze still on the floor. "Plankton... try," he murmured, fidgeting nervously. "Do you want for breakfast, Plankton?" Plankton's eye didn't leave the floor. Karen tries asking again. "Does Plankton wanna eat?" Plankton nods, his gaze finally shifting from the floor to meet hers. "Hungry," he said, his voice monotone and detached. Karen sighs and heads to the kitchen. She could feel the weight of the new reality settling on her shoulders, but she was determined to make things work. As she flipped through the recipe book, Plankton's voice, distant yet clear, floated through the air. "Plankton... Plankton different," he said to himself, gaze still locked onto the floor. Karen knew he was trying to process his new sense of self. "Plankton still smart," he murmured, as if reassuring himself. "But Plankton... not same." He paused, tiny body trembling slightly. "Plankton think to loud. Plankton hear to much." The world had become a symphony of overwhelming stimuli, each sound and light a crescendo that pounded against his newfound sensitivity. Karen looked up from her cooking with empathy. "It's ok Plankton," she said gently. "We'll learn to adapt. Maybe we can make some changes around here to help you feel more comfortable." Plankton nodded, but doubt remained. "Plankton... not know," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "What if Plankton mess up?" Karen set the frying pan aside and knelt down beside him, taking his hands in hers. "You won't," she said firmly. "We'll face this together. I'll always be here to help you, no matter what." Plankton nodded, his gaze finally shifting from the floor to meet hers. "Thank Karen," he said, voice a little clearer. "The chumbalaya is ready." She says, serving him his favorite chum dish. Plankton looks up from the floor, his gaze lingering on the plate before him. "Plankton eat now?" he asks, his voice still distant. "Yes, sweetie," Karen says with a smile, pushing the plate closer to him. "Eat your breakfast." "Eat breakfast," Plankton parrots back, his tone flat. He picks up a spoon and stares at it, his hand shaking slightly. The simple task of bringing it to his mouth seems daunting under the weight of his new reality. Karen's smile falters a little but she keeps the conversation going. "It's a beautiful day out side, Plankton. Would you like to go for a walk?" "Walk outside," Plankton repeats echoing the monotone rhythm of hers. He stands up, his movements stiff and deliberate as if he's not quite sure of his body's new limitations. "Oh I meant after finishing breakfast," Karen says. "Walk after breakfast," Plankton echoes. Karen nods encouragingly. "Yes, after you eat." She watches as he carefully brings the spoon to his mouth, his movements tentative and slow. Each bite is a victory, a declaration of normalcy in a world that had suddenly become any thing but. "Good boy," she says, voice filled with pride. Plankton looks up, his eye searching hers. "Good boy," he repeats, his voice a mirror of hers, but the words don't quite fit. Karen noticed how he just repeated the phrase she's said. It's called echolalia, a trait often seen in those with autism, and it's something they're going to have to navigate together. She decides to keep her words positive and encouraging, hoping it'll help him feel more at ease. "Yes, let's go for a walk," she confirms. They step outside into the vibrant world of Bikini Bottom, and they start their slow stroll down the boardwalk. The sun was shining, casting a warm glow over the coral reefs and the colorful fish swimming by. The smell of the ocean was a soothing balm to Karen's frayed nerves, and she hoped it would have the same effect on Plankton. He walked beside her, his steps halting and unsure, his antennae twitching at every new sound. As they approached the boardwalk, they saw a familiar figure in the distance. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a mix of excitement and trepidation, "it's SpongeBob." Plankton's antennae shot up, and his eye widened. "Sponge... Bob," he murmured, recognizing him. Karen took a deep breath and tightened her grip on Plankton's hand. She knew SpongeBob had a heart of gold, but she also knew he could be potentially overwhelming. As they approached, Sponge Bob spotted them and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Karen! Hi, Plankton!" His voice was a welcome sound in the quiet morning and Karen braced herself for whatever would come next. "Hi, Sponge Bob," she says. Sponge Bob's face lit up. "Oh boy, Plankton! What's shakin'?" Plankton stiffened, antennae quivering as he tried to process the sudden influx of sensory input. "Sponge Bob," he said slowly, his voice measured and careful. "Plankton... walk." Sponge Bob looked from Karen to Plankton, his expression growing concerned. "Is everything ok, Plankton?" he asked, eyes full of genuine care. "You seem a bit... off your game to day." Plankton stared at him, composing response. "Walk," Plankton repeated. "Plankton walk." Sponge Bob looked confused but nodded, his eyes filled with concern. "Ok Plankton," he said gently. "Would you like to walk with me?" Plankton's antennae twitched and he nodded. "Walk with Sponge Bob," he agreed, his voice still monotone. Sponge Bob took Plankton's other hand, and together, the three of them began their leisurely stroll along the boardwalk.

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.

🎓🍎

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS ix (Autistic Author) As Karen heads back to her own bed, her mind is a whirlwind of emotions. She can't help but feel a twinge of anger at the cruel hand life has dealt Plankton, making something as simple as expressing love a monumental challenge. But she quickly pushes it aside, focusing on the love she feels for her husband and the determination to help their family navigate through this. The night passes slowly, filled with restlessness and worry. When dawn breaks, Karen is already preparing breakfast, hoping that the routine might offer a semblance of normalcy. The smell of pancakes fills the house, a silent promise that today will be better. Plankton emerges from the bedroom, his antennae drooping slightly, evidence of his fatigue. He meets Karen's gaze, and she offers him a soft smile. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice gentle. He shrugs, his antennae twitching nervously. "Tired," he admits. "But ready to talk to Chip." Karen nods with a mix of concern and admiration. "I'll get him up," she says, heading to Chip's room. When they all gather at the breakfast table, the tension in the air is palpable. Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae barely moving, as if afraid to break the delicate silence. Chip looks between them, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Chip," Karen says gently, taking a deep breath. "Remember what we talked about last night? About Daddy's meltdowns?" Chip nods, his eyes darting to Plankton, who's pushing his pancake around with a syrupy look of dread. "Daddy?" he says, his voice tentative. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks up, his gaze meeting Chip's. The fear and confusion in Chip's eyes is almost too much to bear, but he steels himself. "Yes, buddy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from the previous night's outburst. "I made you this," Chip says, pushing a plate of perfectly formed pancakes towards his father. "To make you feel better." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly at the gesture, his eye focusing on the food with a hint of curiosity. "Thanks, buddy," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his heart pounding in anticipation of a reaction. "Do you like them?" he asks, hope blooming in his voice. Plankton nods, his antennae waving slightly. "They look delicious," he says, and there's a hint of a smile in his voice. He takes a bite, chewing slowly. The room holds its breath, waiting. "They're great," he finally says, and Chip's face lights up. The tension in the room eases ever so slightly, the sweetness of the maple syrup mingling with the salty scent of fear that still lingers. Karen watches the exchange, her heart swelling with pride for both of them. Plankton's effort to engage, despite his exhaustion, is clear. Chip, for his part, seems to understand the unspoken rules of their new reality. They're all learning together, stumbling in the dark but finding their way through the maze of neurodivergence. "Daddy," Chip says after a moment, his voice filled with courage. "I know you have meltdowns sometimes. But I still love you." Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his chewing slowing. He looks at his son, his single eye filled with a mix of emotions: love, regret, and a hint of fear. "I know, buddy," he whispers. "And I too." The room remains quiet, the only sound the soft clinking of silverware against plates. Plankton clears his throat. "Chip, I need to tell you something." Chip looks up, his eyes wide and expectant. "What is it, Daddy?" Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "I have something," he says slowly. "It's like... it's like my brain works differently than yours and Mommy's." Chip's eyes never leave his dad's, nodding slightly. "Ok," he says, his voice steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks down at his plate, his voice quivering. "It's called Autism," he says. "It means that sometimes, I get really, really upset, and my body reacts in ways that might scare you." Chip's expression is a blend of confusion and curiosity. "But why do you get upset, Daddy?" he asks. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he searches for the right words. "Sometimes, things that don't bother you or Mommy can feel really, really big to me," he explains. "It's like when you're scared of a thunderstorm, and the thunder feels like it's right next to you." Chip's brow furrows, and he nods. "But you're not scared of storms, Daddy," he points out. "It's different, bud," Plankton says, his antennae stilling for a moment. "It's like... sometimes my brain gets a storm inside, and I don't know how to make it stop." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "But you're ok now?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton nods, his antennae moving in a way that Karen knows means he's trying to be brave. "I'm ok," he says, his voice a little stronger. "But I might have more storms. And when I do, I might need some space." Chip looks at him seriously, his young mind working to understand. "Ok," he says, his voice a soft echo of Plankton's earlier apology. "I won't make it stormy for you, Daddy." Plankton's antennae twitch with a mix of love and relief. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "That means the world to me." Karen watches them, her heart swelling with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a new understanding. "And you know," she adds, her voice gentle, "Whenever you have questions or if you're scared, you can come to me and/or Daddy, and we'll explain as best as we can." Chip nods, his gaze still focused on Plankton. "But what if I don't know when I’m irritating you?" Plankton's antennae droop, and he sighs. "That's the hard part," he admits. "Sometimes I don't know either. But we can learn together, ok?" Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad's. "Ok," he says, his voice a little shaky. Karen pours them both a glass of juice, hoping to lighten the mood. "Why don't we talk about what you can do to help?" she suggests, handing a glass to Chip. Chip takes a sip, his eyes still on Plankton. "What can I do?" he asks, his voice earnest. Plankton's antennae twitch thoughtfully. "Well," he says, "sometimes, all I need is a little space, like when I'm in the middle of a big idea." Chip nods, remembering the times when Plankton would get so focused on his latest contraption that the slightest disturbance would send him into a tizzy. "I can do that," he says, his voice filled with determination. Plankton's antennae lift slightly. "And when you do freeze, Dad," Chip continues, his voice soft, "How can I tell if you need a hug or if you just need me to sit with you?" Karen's eyes fill with pride as she watches her son's bravery. Plankton looks at Chip, his antennae moving in a way that she knows means he's trying to find the right words. "If I freeze," he says slowly, "it's ok to just be there, to wait until I come back. I might not be able to hug you right then, but I'll know you're there." Chip nods, his grip on his juice glass tightening slightly. "What about meltdowns?" he asks, his voice quivering. Plankton's antennae droop, and he takes a deep breath. "Those are harder," he admits. "But if you can give me space and maybe some quiet, it'll help me calm down faster." Chip nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "I'll try," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Dad, what types of touch do you like and what types of affection do you dislike?” Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks at Karen for a moment, unsure of how to answer. She gives him a gentle nod of encouragement. "Well," he starts, "I'm not a big fan of surprise hugs or pats on the back, especially when I'm working or thinking hard. But a hand on my shoulder or a quiet 'I love you' is always nice." Chip nods, processing the information. "So, like when you're stressed, I should just tell you I love you?" Plankton's antennae wobble with the weight of his nod. "Yes," he says. "That's right. Just remember, buddy, everyone shows love differently." Karen's eyes are filled with hope as she watches the conversation unfold. It's not perfect, but it's a start. A start to understanding and acceptance. "And if you need more than that, Daddy?" Chip asks, his voice small but earnest. Plankton looks at him, his antennae moving in a way that Karen can't quite read. "If I need more than that," he says, "I'll tell you. Or Mommy will help you understand." Chip nods, taking another sip of his juice. "Ok," he says, his voice small. "But what if I don't know what to say?" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly, and he looks down at his plate. "That's ok, Chip," he says. "Sometimes, just sitting with me is enough."

CATCH IN MY CHIP vii (Autistic author) the only sound the steady rhythm of their breaths. Plankton's body slowly relaxes, his eye unclenching, his antennas stilling. Karen's hand remains poised, ready to offer comfort should he need it. As his breathing evens, Plankton's eye flutter open. He looks at Karen, her face a picture of love and concern. He feels a pang of guilt for his earlier outburst, but also a wave of gratitude for her understanding. He knows she doesn't push or harm, she just gets it. Karen sees the shift in his gaze, the anger giving way to something softer. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton shakes his head slightly, his antennas drooping. "No," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "Just... needing a moment." Karen nods, her hand still hovering, a silent offer of comfort. "Take all the moments you need," she says, her voice gentle. Plankton's gaze lingers on her hand for a moment before he nods. He understands her unspoken offer, her respect for his boundaries. Karen knows that touch can sometimes be too much for him, a sensation that turns comforting into overwhelming. So, she waits, letting the air between them remain unbroken by physical contact, allowing him the space he desperately needs. The room is a canvas of shadows and quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of their breaths. Plankton slowly uncoils, his body no longer a taut wire ready to snap. "Do you want me to let you alone?" Karen asks, her voice soft as a whisper in the night. Plankton shakes his head, his eye meeting hers. The anger is gone, replaced by a weary sadness. She nods, her hand still hovering, a silent question mark. "Okay," she says, her voice a gentle caress. "But if you need anything, just tell me." Plankton takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling like waves on the shore. "Thank you," he murmurs, his eye brightening slightly. Karen nods, her hand still hovering but not touching. "I'm here," she says. "Always." Her voice is a lullaby in the quiet room, a gentle reminder that she's his anchor in the storm of sensory overload. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, a flicker of understanding passing between them. He's aware of her presence, but the weight of his guilt and frustration is to much. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a frayed thread of his usual bravado. Karen's hand remains hovering, a silent question, a gentle offer. "Do you want me to stay?" she asks, her voice a soft breeze in the stillness. Plankton nods, his antennas still drooping. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice a whisper of relief. Karen's hand lowers slowly, coming to rest on the bed between them. She's careful not to cross the invisible barrier of his personal space, her touch a gentle promise of support. "You don't have to be sorry," she whispers, her voice a soft caress. "You're doing the best you can, Plankton." He nods, his antennas twitching slightly. "But I snapped," he says, his voice filled with regret. Karen's hand remains still, just outside his personal space. "It's okay," she whispers, her tone filled with empathy. "You're overwhelmed. It happens." Plankton nods, his antennas barely moving. "But I shouldn't have yelled," he says, his voice barely above a murmur. "I'm sorry." Karen's eyes fill with understanding. "It's okay, sweetie," she says. She reaches out slowly, her hand hovering an inch from his shoulder. "May I?" she asks, her eyes searching his for consent. Plankton's antennas twitch, his body still tense, but he nods. It's a small gesture, but it's enough. Karen's hand settles on his shoulder, her touch feather-light. He flinches at first, his body remembering the pain of the unexpected touch, but her gentle pressure is a soothing balm. He leans into it slightly, his body language speaking louder than his words ever could. Her hand on his shoulder is the bridge between them, a testament to their love and understanding. Plankton's breathing gradually deepens, his body softening into the mattress. Karen's touch is a lullaby, a promise that everything will be okay. The room is a cocoon of quiet, their breaths the only sound. Plankton's eye droops, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion. The weight of his head shifts slightly, his trust in Karen unspoken but palpable. Her hand remains on his shoulder, a gentle reminder of her presence. She watches his chest rise and fall, his body slowly relaxing under the soft blanket of sleep. His features smooth out, the lines of anger and frustration disappearing into the pillow. As his breaths become even, Karen can't help but feel a mix of sadness and love. Her heart goes out to him, this man she's spent her life with, who fights battles she can never fully understand. The room is a sanctuary of quiet, the air thick with the scent of their unspoken words. Plankton's hand twitches slightly, and she wonders if he's dreaming of a world where the noise isn't so loud, where the colors aren't so bright, where his mind can rest without fear of being bombarded. Karen watches as her husband's chest rises and falls, his breaths deepening into the steady rhythm of sleep. The lines of his face relax, his antennas droop slightly. Her gaze shifts to the shattered trophy on the floor, the sand scattered like a tiny desert. The room is a testament to the storm that was his sensory overload. Karen's hand tightens slightly on Plankton's shoulder, her heart aching for both her husband and son. She knows the road ahead won't be easy, that they'll need to navigate this new terrain with care. But as she watches Plankton's chest rise and fall, she feels a spark of hope.

CATCH IN MY CHIP xi (Autistic author) Karen leans in closer to Plankton, her voice a gentle whisper. "It's okay," she says, her eyes filled with warmth. "You're okay." Plankton's breaths are shallow, his chest rising and falling with effort as he shakes. The room is a cocoon of quiet, the outside world muted by the thick walls of their sanctuary. Karen's hand is a constant, her touch a reminder that he's not alone. Plankton's gaze flits to Chip, the question in his eye unspoken. "Chip," Karen says, her voice a balm to Plankton's raw nerves. "Your dad is in need of some quiet time, okay?" Her words are a gentle nudge, guiding them through the delicate dance of recovery. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I understand," he murmurs, though his heart feels like it's been tied in knots. He swallows his questions, his fear for his dad a lump in his throat. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, his breathing easing a fraction. He nods, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice raspy with exhaustion. The relief in his eye is palpable. Chip watches, his own emotions a tapestry of confusion and concern. He wants to reach out, to hold his dad close, but he knows it's not the time. Instead, he squeezes Karen's hand, his silent promise to be patient and understanding. Plankton's eye closes, his body slowly relaxing into the pillow. The ringing in his ears fades, the world coming back into focus like a camera lens slowly adjusting to the light. The warmth of Karen's hand on his forehead is a comfort, his anchor in the sea of sensation. Her voice is a gentle lullaby, guiding him back to shore. "You're okay," she repeats, each word a wave lapping against the shore of his mind. The room stops spinning, the colors coalescing into distinct shapes. Plankton's gaze darts around the room, seeking solace. His eye lands on a spot on the wall, a patch of unblemished white. He focuses on it, his breaths coming slower, deeper. It's a sanctuary, a place of peace amidst the chaos. The spot becomes his beacon, the world around it a blurry periphery. Karen's hand on his forehead is cool, a balm to his racing thoughts. "Look at the spot," she whispers, her voice a soothing melody. "Just the spot." He nods, his eye locking onto the white, his breaths syncing with hers. The spot is a lifeline in the storm, a beacon of calm in his sensory chaos. Plankton stares at it, willing the world to recede. The colors around it blur, the sounds of the room dull to a whisper. It's just him and the spot, a silent pact between them to conquer the tempest. Karen's voice is a gentle wave, lapping at the edges of his mind. "When you're ready, take a deep breath. In, out. Slowly." She guides him through the exercise, her tone soothing. Plankton tries to focus, his body responding to the familiar rhythm. The spot on the wall becomes clearer, the edges sharper. The world around it softens, the colors bleeding back into the fabric of the room. His breathing slows, his chest rising and falling in time with Karen's gentle prompts. The spot is his sanctuary, a bastion of calm in the overwhelming storm. But then, it starts. The tic, a twitch of his antenna. A reminder that his mind is not entirely his own, his body a marionette to the whims of his neurodiversity. Plankton's antennas begin to still, his body gradually relinquishing the tension that had held it hostage. The tic in his left antenna, a quick spasm that had become more frequent. Karen's eyes don't leave his face, her gaze a silent support. She knows the dance of his tics all too well, a choreography that they've lived with for years. She squeezes his hand, her touch a silent promise to stand by him through the storm. It's his body's way of releasing the tension that builds up like pressure in a volcano. The tic is a tide, rising and falling, unpredictable and uncontrollable. Plankton's head jerks to the side, the sudden movement a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. Chip's eyes go wide with concern. "It's okay," Karen murmurs, squeezing Plankton's hand. "It's just your body. It's okay." Her voice is a lullaby, a gentle reminder that he's not alone. The tic subsides, his antennas returning to their usual state. Chip's eyes dart from his dad to his mom, his mind whirring with questions. "What was that?" he asks, his voice quiet, afraid to disturb the fragile peace. Karen's hand moves to Plankton's antenna, her thumb tracing the line of his twitch. "It's just his body's way of dealing with the overstimulation," she explains, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "It's a tic, Chip. It's part of his autism." Chip nods, his eyes wide with understanding. "Will he be okay?" he asks, his voice small in the face of his father's struggle. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, her voice a steady stream of comfort. "Yes, he will," she says with confidence. "This happens sometimes. We just need to be patient and give him time." Plankton's antennas still slightly, the tremor a reminder of the storm that had passed through his mind. His breaths come more evenly now, the spot on the wall his silent companion as he finds his way back to the world. Chip's eyes are full of questions, his heart heavy with concern. He watches as his dad's body relaxes, the tension easing like a retreating tide. "I'll get him some water," Karen says, her voice a whisper. She squeezes Plankton's hand once more before rising, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet. Plankton's eye meets Chip's, his gaze apologetic. Chip swallows his fear. "Daddy?" he whispers, his voice cracking. Plankton's eye flutters open, the panic gone, replaced by a fatigue that seems to weigh down his very soul. "I'm okay," he manages, his voice a rasp. "Just tired." Chip nods, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch his dad's arm. The contact is tentative, a question and a comfort all in one. Plankton's antennas twitch again, but this time it's with the beginnings of a smile. "Thanks, buddy," he says, his voice hoarse. The room is a cocoon of silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Plankton swallows hard, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on his chest like a leaden blanket. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his gaze never leaving Chip's. Chip's eyes are pools of concern, the question in his eyes unspoken but potent. "For what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennas droop slightly, his eye reflecting the shame he feels. "For scaring you," he says, his voice hoarse. "For not being able to control it." Chip's hand tightens around his dad's arm, his eyes brimming with tears he's too proud to shed. "It's okay, Daddy," he says, the words a soft whisper. "You don't have to be sorry." Plankton's smile is weak, his antennas still. "I know," he replies, his voice a whisper. "But it's hard not to be." He swallows, his throat dry from the battle his body has just endured. Karen returns with a glass of water, her steps silent on the soft carpet. She hands it to Plankton, who gratefully takes a sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. The tension in the room is a palpable entity, a third person in their silent conversation. "What happened?" Chip asks, his voice small, the question a balloon of curiosity floating in the heavy air. "It's just part of who I am," Plankton says, his voice still hoarse from his episode. He takes another sip of water, the coldness of it a stark contrast to his fevered skin. "My autism, it makes my brain work differently." Chip's hand is still on his arm, a silent offer of comfort. "But you're okay now," he says, his voice hopeful. Plankton nods, the motion almost imperceptible. "Thanks to Mom," he murmurs, his eye swiveling to Karen, who smiles at him with a mix of relief and love. "She's the reason I made it through." Chip looks at Karen with a newfound respect, his young mind trying to comprehend the gravity of what he's just witnessed. "You're both strong," he says, his voice steady, the fear momentarily pushed aside by admiration. Karen's smile is a soft glow, the pride in her eyes unmistakable. "We all have our moments," she says, her hand resting on Plankton's shoulder. "It's how we face them that makes us who we are." She glances at the clock, the ticking a reminder of the time they've lost to the sensory storm. "Why don't you go play for a bit, Chip? Your dad needs some rest, and I think we could all use a moment to process." Chip nods, his eyes still filled with unspoken questions. But he trusts his mom, and he can see the exhaustion etched into Plankton's face. He slides off the bed, his feet silent on the floor. With one last look at his dad, he heads for the door, the weight of the moment heavy on his shoulders. Karen watches him go, her heart aching for the fear he must be feeling. But she knows that with time and patience, he'll understand. He'll grow to see his dad not as a mystery to be solved, but as a person to be loved and supported, just like anyone else.

JUST A TOUCH ix (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae quiver with frustration. "It's about the order," he repeats, his voice strained. "Everything needs order." Squidward sighs, his tentacles flapping in exasperation. "Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but we need to get these dishes done, and we can't do that if you're going to micromanage every single one!" Plankton's antennae droop. "Needs thorough..." Squidward throws his tentacles up in the air. "I don't care about your 'thoroughness' right now!" he exclaims. "Just let me do my job!" Plankton's antennae flatten. "No!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the stainless steel walls. Squidward turns, his tentacles poised for a fight. "What is your problem?" he snaps. Plankton's eye darts around, his heart racing. He can't explain the sudden urgency, the need for order that's consuming him. The need to be perfectly cleansed without blemish. "It's just... it's just..." Plankton stammers, his antennae drooping. Squidward's eyes narrow, his tentacles still. "What's the matter with you?" he asks, his voice edged with irritation. Plankton swallows, his throat tight. "Needs good.." But before he can say more, his gaze locks onto a speck of dirt on a plate. The world around him fades away as he reaches for it, his movements slow and deliberate. Squidward watches him, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. "What is that?" he asks, his tone sharp. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing on the speck. "Dirt," he whispers, his voice laced with distress. "Has to be gone." His hand shakes as he reaches for the plate, his mind consumed by the need to remove the imperfection. Squidward snatches the plate, his tentacles firm. "It's just a tiny speck!" he says, his voice loud. Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body stiffening. "Can't have dirt," he murmurs. The room seems to close in, his heart hammering in his chest. The need for order, for everything to be just so, is a wave crushing down on him. Squidward's face swims in his vision, a blur of impatience. "Squidward," he says, his voice steadying. "It's dirty." Squidward's grip on the plate doesn't waver. "It's not dirty," he says, his tone firm. "It's a tiny speck." But to Plankton, that speck is a boulder, a symbol of the chaos he can't control. His antennas quiver as he stares at the offending spot, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The world narrows to just the dish, the speck, and the overwhelming need to erase it. Squidward reaches out a tentacle, to move him aside, reaching to touch Plankton's shoulder. But before he can make contact, Plankton flinches, his eye snapping up to meet Squidward's. "Don't," he says, his voice sharp. "No touch." "Then move so I can mix the dishes.." The words hit Plankton like a wave, sending him spiraling. He can't explain it, but the thought of Squidward's tentacle touching him sends a shiver down his spine. But the only alternative is to result in disordered dishes! Squidward's grip on the plate doesn't change, his tentacle poised to push Plankton aside. "Please," Plankton whispers, his voice trembling. "No..." SpongeBob watches from a distance, his smile fading. He's noticed the changes in Plankton, the way his movements have become so precise, his speech so formal. But he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Squidward's tentacle hovers, his gaze flicking from the plate to Plankton's face. "I'm in charge, not you!" He says shoving Plankton as he mixes the dishes. That's it. The room spins around Plankton, his vision blurring with the sudden assault. The clatter of plates, the smell of grease, the touch of Squidward's tentacle— it's too much. His body reacts before his brain can catch up, the partygoers' laughter a distant echo in Plankton's ringing ears. "Plankton?" Squidward asks, his voice a distant rumble as SpongeBob comes in. Plankton's vaguely aware of his surroundings, but it's all just white noise, his gaze going blank as the absence seizure starts up.

GREAT CHIP vii (Autistic author) Karen's eyes searched their faces, picking up on the unspoken tension. "I see you two had a talk," she said gently, her gaze lingering on Plankton. "How are you feeling?" Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Tired," he admitted. "But better." Karen stepped closer to the bed, her hand reaching out to cover his own. "I'm here," she said softly. "Do you remember what happened in Chip's room before coming in here?" Plankton's antennae twitched nervously. "Bits and pieces," he admitted, his eye avoiding hers. "I know I had a...moment. And I... I was mad." Karen's hand squeezed his gently. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "You don't have to be ashamed. It's just your brain's way of coping." Plankton's eye searched hers, his antennae still. "But the things I said..." his voice trailing off. Karen's expression remained calm, understanding. "They were the seizure's words, not yours," she assured him. "We're just glad you're okay." Chip's gaze flitted between his parents, his heart aching for his dad. He knew he needed to be strong, to support his father through this. "Can we talk more about it tomorrow?" he suggested, his voice filled with hope. Plankton's antennae nodded wearily. "We can," he said, his voice a mix of relief and exhaustion. "But for now, I need to rest. It's bedtime, so.." Chip felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of his dad's struggle, but he also felt a spark of hope. Maybe tomorrow would bring a new understanding, a way to bridge the gap between them. The next morning, the sun streamed through the blinds of their small, cluttered bedroom, casting patterns on the floor. Chip stirred, his mind filled with the memories of the previous night's conversation. He checked on Plankton, who was still asleep, his antennae twitching slightly. He knew today would be a new day, a chance to start anew with his father. Carefully, Chip padded out to the kitchen, his thoughts racing with the promise of understanding. He found Karen at the counter, sipping her morning coffee, her eyes red-rimmed from the night's worry. "Mom," he began, his voice still thick with sleep. "Can we talk?" Karen turned, her eyes filled with the same exhaustion he saw in Plankton's. "Of course, honey," she said, placing her mug down gently. Chip took a deep breath, his words spilling out like water from a broken dam. "I want to understand Dad's condition," he said, his voice determined. "I don't want to make it worse for him." Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. "That's a big step, Chip," she said, her voice filled with pride. "But it's not going to be easy. It'll take patience and practice." Chip nodded, his expression resolute. "I'm ready," he said. "I just don't want Dad to be alone in this." Karen's face softened, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You're such a good son," she said, her voice warm with affection. "But remember, he might not always know how to ask for help. Sometimes, you'll have to read between the lines." Chip nodded, his mind racing with questions and concerns. "But what if I mess up?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's hand gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You might," she said, her voice filled with experience. "But that's okay. Just keep trying, and we'll figure it out together." Her words echoed in Chip's head as he sat down at the kitchen table, his eyes never leaving his mother's. "But how do I know what to do?" Karen took a deep breath, her eyes filled with a quiet strength. "You'll learn," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "It's about patience and observation. And most importantly, communication." Chip nodded, feeling the weight of her words. "Okay," he said. "I'll do my best." Karen's hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "You already are," she said, her smile warm. Chip felt a surge of determination. He was going to be there for his dad, no matter what it took. "What can I do now?" he asked, eager to start. Karen's eyes searched his, a hint of sadness in them. "Now, we wait," she said. "Let him sleep. When he wakes, be there, but don't overwhelm him." Chip nodded, his mind racing with questions and fears, feeling a mix of emotions: fear, love, and a newfound determination to be the best son he could be. As he waited for Plankton to wake up, he tried to remember the cues his dad had mentioned: twitching antennae, a sudden quietness, a look of overwhelm. He promised himself to be more aware, more attuned to his father's needs.

GREAT CHIP xi (Autistic author) After a moment, she turned and walked towards the workshop door, her steps slow and deliberate. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check on your father," she said, her voice a whisper. "You... you clean up here." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his mother's. He knew she was hurting too, but she was putting on a brave face for him. As she disappeared into the workshop, his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never seen his parents like this before. The kitchen was a mess of shattered dishes and splattered jelly, a stark contrast to the usually pristine space. He took a deep breath and began to collect the broken pieces, his mind racing with thoughts of his father's pain. Karen's footsteps were quiet as she approached the workshop, the door slightly ajar. She could hear Plankton's muffled sobs from inside, his tiny body hunched over his workbench. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she might find. The room was a whirlwind of half-finished inventions, wires and gadgets scattered about. Her heart broke at the sight of her husband, the usually stoic and resourceful Plankton, reduced to a tiny, shaking figure, his antennae drooped like the wilted leaves of a forgotten houseplant. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft whisper, cutting through the quiet. He didn't look up, his sobs the only sound in the cluttered room. Slowly, she approached, her eyes taking in the chaos around them. "Honey," she began, her voice trembling. "I know you're upset, but..." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Karen reached out, her hand hovering over his shoulder, uncertain whether to touch him. Finally, she decided that in this moment, space was what he needed most. She stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence a gentle reminder that she was there for him. "Plankton," she said softly, her voice a balm in the storm of his rage. "Can I get you anything?" Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his tiny frame heaving with the weight of his emotions. "No," he said, his voice muffled. Karen took a step closer, her hand still hovering. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her tone gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his head nodding slightly. It was the barest of movements, but it spoke volumes to Karen. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to press too hard. He stiffened at first, but then, ever so slightly, leaned into her. Her embrace was gentle, her touch like a soft breeze, offering comfort without smothering his pain. "I always love you." The words hung in the air, their quiet strength a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton felt his body begin to relax, his sobs easing as Karen's warmth seeped in. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I don't know..." Karen's grip tightened, her hand sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby. Plankton's antennae twitched nervously against her, but he didn't pull away. He knew she was there for him, even when his own mind was a tempest of confusion. "You don't have to apologize," Karen whispered. Her words were a balm to Plankton's raw nerves, and he leaned into her embrace. She knew he was sensitive post-episode, his emotions like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Her heart ached for him, for the fear and frustration he felt in those moments. Karen's eyes scanned the room, noticing the chaos of Plankton's workshop, his mind's refuge. Usually, the disarray was organized, each gear and wire in its place. Now, it was as though a tornado had swept through, leaving a trail of half-finished inventions in its wake. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body still tense under her touch. "I just... I don't want you to look at me and see something broken and unlovable.." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "You are you, and that is all I've ever loved." The words hung in the air, a gentle rebuttal to the harshness of the earlier scene. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his breathing evening out. Chip hovered at the entrance, his heart a tumultuous sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt his father, and he didn't know how to fix it. He took a tentative step into the workshop, his eyes scanning the room. The mess was a stark reminder of the turmoil Plankton was feeling, and it only served to amplify Chip's own guilt. He watched his mother's careful movements, her gentle touch, and he desperately wanted to do the same.

GREAT CHIP ix (Autistic author) Chip took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I know I can't fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving, his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you can support me. You can be there without trying to change me." Chip nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say. "But I want to understand. I want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?" he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds fun, right?" Chip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite the tension, which only adds to Plankton's anger. "Well, when you put it that way..." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye squinting at his son's response. "What?" he barked, his voice sharp. Chip tried to hold onto his smile, his heart racing. "I mean, if it's like a pinball machine, I can learn the patterns," he said, his tone carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video games, so..." Plankton's antennae waved wildly, his eye flashing with anger. "You think this is a game?" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "You think I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!" Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide with shock at his father's outburst. He took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I just..." "You just what?" Plankton spat, his small body vibrating with rage. "You just don't get it! You can't get it! You're not autistic, you don't know what it's like to have your brain turn on you like that!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at the accusation. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying." Plankton's antennae quivered with the force of his rage. "You don't know," he said, his voice cold. "You can't know. All I see is a little child playing pretend, thinking he can understand what I go through! And yet you're the one asking for help! Face it, you're never going to get it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!" Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting like a sledgehammer. He had never seen his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae stopped their wild movements, his eye focusing on his son with a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to help by poking fun at my condition?" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Plankton's antennae waved, his eye still cold and distant. "Don't," he said, his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten it. And don't you DARE make fun of it." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his heart aching with the weight of his father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I di-" "You're sorry?" Plankton's voice was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing their plates to rattle. "You think an apology is enough when you belittle what I go through?" Chip's eyes widened with fear as his dad's anger grew. He'd never seen Plankton like this before, his tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae thrashing like live wires. The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in. "Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean it that way." But Plankton was beyond listening, his tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!" Chip took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-" he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop. "You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted, his antennae a blur of motion. "You think it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew louder, his words sharper. "You think it's easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?" Chip's eyes filled with tears as his father's anger grew, his voice crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make light of his dad's condition, but now it seemed as if he'd made everything worse. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands shaking. Plankton's antennae whipped around his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't make it go away!" he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You think you can make it better with a laugh?" He slammed his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot. "It's not a joke, Chip!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched his father's outburst, his heart pounding. He had never seen Plankton like this, his anger a living, breathing thing that filled the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But I want to help." Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want to help? Then stop making it about you!" Chip's eyes grew wide with fear as he watched his father's anger boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please," he whispered, his heart racing. Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body vibrating with uncontrollable rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the coffee mug from the table, flinging it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere, puncturing the silence like shrapnel. "Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He had never seen Plankton this out of control. And Karen knew she had to act fast. Her voice was calm but firm as she approached Plankton. "Sweetie, it's okay," she said, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Let's go to your workshop. You know that's your safe space." Plankton's antennae thrashed, his eye darting around the room, seeking anything to target his anger. "I don't want to go anywhere!" he roared, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "It's not okay!" Karen stepped closer, her voice steady. "It's okay to be upset," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "But Chip..." But Plankton's rage was unstoppable. He lunged for the nearest object, a framed photo of Chip, his grip tightening as he raised it over his head, ready to smash it against the floor. Karen's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Plankton, no," she pleaded, her voice steady. "Please, don't." But Plankton's rage had taken over, his body moving on autopilot as he swung the photo frame with all his might. It crashed to the floor, the shattering glass echoing in the small room. Chip's eyes grew round with shock, his body frozen in place as he watched his father's tantrum unfold. "Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!" But Plankton's rage was a runaway train, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his anger. He stomped over to the counter, grabbing a plate and flinging it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen stepped in front of Chip, placing herself between him and the storm of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly, her voice a calm oasis in the chaos. "You're scaring him." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Karen with a mix of anger and confusion. For a moment, his body seemed to pause, his arm still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it, the soft fabric landing limply on the floor. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, seeing the turmoil behind the rage. "Please, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's talk about this." But Plankton's anger was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He picked up another mug, his arm winding up to throw it, when Chip suddenly stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father's. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't." Plankton's antennae paused, his arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled, his eye wild with anger. "You think you can just tell me what to do?" And then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction, Plankton hurled the mug in front of Chip, purposefully missing him. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mug spun through the air, the shattering of porcelain on the tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not about control. It's about us. Our fam..." But Plankton was beyond words, his rage a living entity that consumed him. He grabbed a toaster, his grip white-knuckled, and hurled it at the fridge, the metallic clang a cacophony in the small kitchen. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

CATCH IN MY CHIP viii (Autistic author) The room is bathed in a soft moonlight, the shadows playing across Plankton's sleeping features. His body, once taut with tension, has relaxed into the embrace of the bed, his arm curled around a pillow. His antennas now rest gently on the pillowcase, no longer quivering with agitation. Karen watches him sleep, her thoughts a jumble of worry and love. She knows he's tired, that the weight of the world can be too much for him to bear at times. But she also knows that he's strong, that he'll face tomorrow with determination. The first light of dawn filters through the curtains, painting the room in soft shades of pink and orange. Karen gently squeezes his shoulder before standing, her eyes never leaving his peaceful face. She knows that today will be a day of apologies and understanding, of teaching Chip about his dad's autism and how to navigate the world around him. With a soft sigh, she heads to Chip's room, her footsteps silent on the cool floor. She opens the door to find him sitting up in bed, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks at her. "Is Dad okay?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep and the remnants of his earlier distress. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a quiet determination. "We'll talk to him when he wakes up." The words hang in the air, a gentle reminder of the conversation that needs to be had. Chip nods, his eyes still puffy from crying. He clutches his pillow, the fabric damp from his tears. "But what do I do?" he asks, his voice small and scared. "How do I make sure I don't make him upset again?" Karen sits on the edge of the bed, her hand stroking his. "You just keep being you, Chip," she says, her voice warm. "Daddy loves you, and we'll learn together how to make sure he doesn't get overwhelmed." Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But what about my trophy?" he asks, his voice still shaky. Karen's hand stops, her gaze dropping to the shard of plastic he holds tightly in his fist. "We'll fix it," she says, her voice filled with conviction. "Together." The promise brings a small smile to Chip's face, his eyes lighting up. "Really?" Karen nods, her own smile genuine. "Of course, honey," she says. "We're a family. We stick together." With that, she stands up, her body weary but her spirit resolute. The room feels lighter somehow, the air less charged with tension. Chip clambers out of bed, his small hand reaching for hers. Together, they walk to the bedroom, the shattered remnants of the trophy glinting in the early light. Plankton is still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Chip looks at him, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. "We'll talk to him when he wakes up," Karen says, her voice soft. They sit beside Plankton's bed, the room still and quiet. Chip's hand trembles slightly as he holds the broken piece of trophy. "But what if he's still mad?" he whispers, his voice barely above the silence. Karen's hand squeezes his. "He'll understand," she says, her voice filled with a calm certainty. "He loves you, and he knows you didn't mean to hurt him." The words are a gentle balm to Chip's fears, but the doubt lingers. He nods, his gaze never leaving his father. "Remember, Chip," Karen says, her voice a soft whisper. "Daddy's brain is different." Chip nods, his eyes fixed on his dad's sleeping form. He's seen Plankton stressed before, but never like this. He wants to show him love. With tentative steps, he moves closer to the bed, his heart beating a staccato in his chest. He reaches out, his hand shaking slightly as he hovers it over his dad's arm. "Chip," Karen whispers, her hand covering his. "Remember, gentle." Her words are a gentle reminder of the invisible lines that can be crossed. Chip nods, his eyes on Plankton's peaceful face. He takes a deep breath, his hand steadying. Slowly, so slowly it's almost imperceptible, he brings his palm to rest on Plankton's forearm, his touch as light as a feather. Plankton's body tenses for a moment, a reflexive reaction to the sudden contact. Chip holds his breath, waiting, hoping. Then, almost imperceptibly, he feels his dad's arm relax under his hand. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle breeze. "He's okay." Chip's hand remains hovering, his heart in his throat. Plankton's body remains still, his breathing even. Karen's touch is a guide, her hand resting on Chip's. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a soft encouragement. "You can do it." With a deep breath, Chip's hand descends, his fingertips brushing against Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennas twitch. Karen watches, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. Chip's hand hovers, his heart racing. He wants to reassure his dad, to let him know he's there. He's learned about space and understanding, but all he can think of is the warmth of his touch, the comfort he craves to give. His fingertips graze Plankton's arm, the contact so light it's barely there. He watches, waiting for a reaction, for a sign that he's crossed the line. But Plankton remains still, his breathing unchanged. Encouraged, Chip presses down slightly, his hand a soft weight on his father's arm. He feels the warmth of his skin, the steady pulse beneath. It's a tentative connection, fragile as spider silk. Plankton's antennas quiver, but his body remains still. Chip's heart hammers in his chest, his breaths shallow and quick. He's afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. Karen watches, her eyes filled with a quiet hope. The air in the room is thick with anticipation. Chip's hand hovers over Plankton's arm, trembling slightly with nerves and love. He's unsure if this small gesture will be met with anger or acceptance. Karen's gaze is a silent cheer, urging him on. Plankton's breaths remain steady, his body still. Chip's heart is a drum in his chest, each beat a silent plea for understanding. With a tremble, he lets his hand settle, his fingertips barely grazing the fabric of the blanket. He feels the heat of Plankton's skin, the rise and fall of his chest. It's a gentle touch, the lightest of caresses. Karen's hand remains on his, guiding him, encouraging him. Plankton's breaths remain steady, his body still. Chip's eyes are wide with hope, his hand poised above the blanket. With a tremble, he lets his fingers come to rest on the cotton, feeling the warmth of his father's arm beneath. He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction, for any sign that he's done the right thing. Plankton's body remains still, his breathing unchanged. Karen's eyes are glued to his face, watching for any hint of distress. But there's none. Only the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a testament to his deep sleep. Chip's hand is a butterfly landing on Plankton's arm, his fingers fluttering slightly against the warmth of his skin. He's never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But his love for his dad is stronger than his fear. Karen watches the silent exchange, her heart in her throat. The moment feels sacred, a testament to their growing understanding of each other. Chip's hand remains on Plankton's arm, the warmth of his touch a promise of comfort and love. He's afraid to move, afraid to disrupt the delicate balance. Karen's hand is a soft presence, guiding him, giving him the courage to stay. Plankton's breaths are slow and even, his body relaxed. Chip wonders if he's dreaming, if he's in a world where the sensory overload doesn't exist. His heart swells with hope, with the desire to protect his dad from the world's harshness. Karen's hand on his is a gentle reminder that he's not alone. She gives him a small, encouraging nod, her eyes filled with understanding. He takes a deep breath, his hand moving slowly, so slowly, to cover his dad's. The moment their skin touches, it's like a dam breaks. Chip feels a rush of warmth, a connection that's been missing. He squeezes Plankton's arm lightly, his heart pounding. He's afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loudly. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's face, watching for any sign of distress. But his features remain relaxed, his antennas still. The room is a sanctuary of quiet, the only sound their melded breaths. Chip feels a lump form in his throat, his eyes welling with tears. He whispers, "Thank you," to his mom, his voice shaky with emotion. She nods, her hand still covering his. "Remember," she says, her voice a soft caress. "Gentle." With trembling fingers, Chip tucks the blanket closer around Plankton, the fabric smoothing over his shoulders. It's a tiny act of love, a silent apology. He wants to crawl into the bed beside him, to wrap his arms around his dad.. He looks up at Karen, his eyes pleading. "Can I?" Karen nods, her smile sad but understanding. "Just be careful not to wake him," she whispers. With the grace of a cat burglar, Chip slides into the bed, his movements slow and calculated. He's careful not to disturb the sheets, not to make a sound that could break the tranquil silence. Plankton's arm is a warm mound beside him, and he reaches out tentatively, his fingers seeking the comfort of his dad's skin. He finds it, his hand coming to rest lightly on the crook of his elbow. The connection feels right, like finding a piece of himself he didn't know was lost. He snuggles closer, his head resting on the pillow beside Plankton's. Karen watches, her heart swelling with love for her son. "It's ok," she whispers. "Just be gentle."

CATCH IN MY CHIP iii (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a few moments, Chip's screen glued to his dad's still form. The only sound is the steady rhythm of Plankton's shallow breathing. As the minutes tick by, Chip's thoughts swirl with confusion and guilt. He had no idea that his dad's quirks and sensitivities were part of something so complex. He'd just thought Plankton was easily annoyed or tired. Karen notices his son's distress and decides it's time to explain more. "You know how sometimes you get really excited about something, and you just can't keep it in?" she asks. Chip nods. "Yeah, like when I see a new toy or when I've got a great idea for a sandcastle." "Well, for Dad, it's like that all the time," Karen continues. "Every little thing can be a big deal, and sometimes it's just too much." She pauses, looking at Plankton with a mix of love and concern. "But he's also the smartest person I know, and he loves you so much. That's what's important." Chip nods, his eyes filling with tears as he watches his mom care for his dad. He'd always felt a bit left out, not understanding why Plankton would sometimes retreat from the world. But now he gets it. It's not that his dad didn't want to share in his excitement, it's just that sometimes, the world was too much for him. "Mom, I'm sorry," he whispers, his throat tight with emotion. "I didn't mean to make him... like this." Karen pulls him into a warm embrace. "You didn't do anything wrong, Chip. This isn't your fault. Dad's brain just works differently. And now that we know, we can help each other understand." Chip sniffles against her, his thoughts racing. "Does he know what's happening or can he understand us?" "Sometimes he can," Karen says, her voice low and soothing. "But right now, I don't think he realizes anything's happening around him." "What if he doesn't wake up?" The fear in his voice is palpable. "He will, honey," Karen says, her tone reassuring. "It just takes a little time. It's like when you're really tired and you need a nap. His brain needs to rest." The room is quiet except for the occasional sound of the air conditioner kicking in, a stark contrast to the excitement that had filled it just moments ago. Chip watches his dad, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. He wants to laugh and share more stories, but he knows now that his dad's brain needs a break. As they wait, Karen starts to clean up the mess Chip made. The sand and papers scattered across the floor seem so trivial now, a stark reminder of the chaos his enthusiasm can create for his dad. He helps her, carefully picking up each piece, placing them back into their rightful spots. His mind is racing with thoughts of how to be a better son, how to make sure his dad doesn't feel like this again. They work in silence, the only sounds the rustling of papers and the occasional clank of a metal item being set back on the desk. The room slowly transforms back to its usual state of order, a stark contrast to the turmoil Plankton was experiencing. Chip's eyes never leave his dad, hoping to see any sign of improvement. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Plankton's eye blinks, and the tension in the room shifts. His breathing becomes deeper and more regular. Karen's shoulders relax as she sees the first signs of Plankton coming back to himself. She gives Chip's hand a gentle squeeze. "Look, honey. He's starting to come out of it." Chip stares, hope filling his chest. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. He blinks a few more times, as if trying to bring the room into focus. "What... what happened?" His voice is weak, almost a whisper. Karen's grip tightens on Chip's hand. "You just needed a little break, sweetie," she says softly. "It's okay."

JUST A TOUCH viii (Autistic author) After dinner, they retreat to the living room. Plankton's eye is glued to the puzzle book on the coffee table, his antennae twitching with unspoken longing. Karen picks it up, opening to a new page. "Would you like to work on this one together?" she asks, her voice gentle. He nods, his eye lighting up with the familiar challenge. Together, they tackle the puzzle, Karen's voice a gentle narration as Plankton's antennae move in time with her words. The patterns on the page hypnotize him, drawing him in. Plankton's antennae stop twitching, his focus solely on the words before him. And then the doorbell rings, breaking the spell. Karen's heart skips a beat, her hand tightening around the puzzle book. Plankton's head snaps up, his eye wide with alarm. "Who is it?" he asks, his voice sharp. Karen's eyes dart to the clock. "It's probably SpongeBob," she murmurs. Plankton's antennae perk up at the mention of his friend's name. "Party," he says, his voice hopeful. Karen nods, swiping at the tear that's managed to escape. "Yes, Plankton. SpongeBob's probably here to invite us to a party at the Krusty Krab. Do you think you're up for it?" she asks, her voice tentative. Plankton's antennae droop slightly. "Maybe," he says, his voice unsure. The thought of the bright lights and loud noises at the party sends a shiver of anxiety through his tiny body. But the prospect of seeing Sponge Bob is tempting. Karen sighs, understanding his hesitation. She walks to the door, her movements slow and deliberate. Sponge Bob's cheerful greeting floods the hallway. "Hey, Karen! Plankton! You guys coming to the party?" "Hey, Sponge Bob," she says, her smile forced. "What's the occasion?" Sponge Bob's face lights up like a Christmas tree, his spongy body bobbing with excitement. "Mr. Krabs is throwing a bash at the Krusty Krab!" he says, his hands gesturing wildly. "You guys are coming, right?" Plankton's antennae quiver at the mention of the party. The thought of the loud noises and the jostling crowd makes his stomach churn, but the prospect of seeing his friend shines like a beacon through the fog of his fear. Karen watches him, reading his emotions like a book. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle reminder. "We can go for a little bit." Plankton nods, his antennae still. "Okay," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Karen can see the internal struggle playing out across his features. "Just stay as long as you're comfortable," she adds. "I'll just stay, you go with him." Sponge Bob's eyes light up. "Great!" he says, bending down to hold his hand. He holds his finger as they go. Plankton's grip is tight, his antennae flat against his head. The noise of the Krusty Krab is a cacophony of sounds, each one stabbing at his heightened senses. But the warmth of Sponge Bob's hand, the familiarity of their friendship, anchors him. Mr. Krabs sees Plankton clinging to Sponge Bob's side. "What's going on, laddie?" he asks, his voice gruff but concerned at the sight of their hands. Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze darting to the floor. Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow. "Why did ye invite Plankton?" he asks with suspicion. Sponge Bob's smile doesn't waver. "Well, he's always welcome..." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow. "But he's our enemy.." Sponge Bob's smile doesn't waver. "He's my friend," he says firmly. "And I'm watching to make sure he won't steal any thing, boss.." Mr. Krabs' eyes soften, his suspicion giving way to reluctant acceptance. "Alright, but keep an eye on him," he says, his voice gruff. Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Plankton's antennae quiver, his heart racing at the sudden influx of stimulation. The colorful lights, the smells of frying food, the laughter of the patrons—it's all so much. But Sponge Bob's hand is warm, a lifeline in the chaos. They move through the crowd, Plankton's steps small and careful. His eye darts around, trying to take it all in without getting overwhelmed. Sponge Bob's voice cuts through the noise like a knife. "You okay, buddy?" he asks, his smile concerned. Plankton nods, his voice a strained whisper. "Good," Sponge Bob says, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. As they reach the party area, Plankton's antennae start to wave erratically. The lights are too bright, the sounds too loud. He clutches Sponge Bob's hand tighter. Plankton takes a deep breath, his chest expanding with the effort. It's like trying to swim through jello, his senses on high alert. Sponge Bob feels the change in his friend's grip, his own heart racing with concern. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks again, his voice barely audible over the din. Plankton nods, his eye focused on the floor. The pattern of the tiles is soothing, grounding him amidst the chaos. A flash of pink darts through the crowd, and Plankton's antennas twitch. "Patrick!" Sponge Bob says, letting go of Plankton's hand. Plankton looks around and sees Squidward doing the dishes, but in a disorganized manner that Plankton needs to correct. The sight of the scattered plates, the water spots on the glasses, sends a jolt of anxiety through him. His compulsion to straighten, to organize, to make it right, is almost unbearable. So he goes to Squidward by the sink to interfere. Squidward glances up, his tentacles frozen mid-wash. "What are you doing here?" he snaps. Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze fixated on the mess. "Help," he says, his voice tight. Squidward rolls his eyes, grabbing another plate to wash as he ignores Plankton. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye darting between the chaos and Squidward's dismissal. He's doing the dishes wrong and needs him to help! "Squidward, let Plankton assist," he says, his voice formal. Squidward sighs, shaking his head. "Look, I don't have time for this," he says, his tentacles moving rapidly. Plankton's body tenses, his need for meticulousness consuming him. As Plankton approaches Squidward, his movements are precise, almost mechanical. His antennae twitch in time with his racing thoughts, his need for order a silent scream in the noisy room. He holds out his hand, palm up. "Wash," he says, his voice firm. Squidward pauses, eyeing him warily. "What?" Plankton's gaze is unwavering, his voice steady. "Smudges. Wash dishes. Correct way." Squidward's grip on the plate slackens, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?" Plankton's antennae wave frantically. "Correct way," he repeats, his voice a desperate whisper. "No smudges. Wrong order." Squidward's tentacles still, his gaze sharpening. "What's gotten into you?" he asks, his voice filled with skepticism. Plankton's antennae twitch. "No smudges," he says again, his voice a mix of urgency and desperation. Squidward sets the plate down with a clatter. "What are you on about, Plankton?" But Plankton's focus is solely on the task at hand. He reaches for the dish soap, his movements precise. Squidward watches him, his expression a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice gruff. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye darting to Squidward. "Just helping," he says, his voice flat as he puts the now clean dish away. But he sees imperfections on some of the clean dishes, handing them over for Squidward to wash as he straightens up the other plates. Squidward's eyebrows furrow, his gaze flicking between Plankton and the dishes. "What are you doing?" he asks again. Plankton's grip on the towel tightens, his body vibrating with the need for perfection. "It's not right," he says, his voice strained. "Has to be right." "Those I've cleaned!" Squidward says as Plankton puts them in the sink for him to wash over again. "Squidward look. No..." But before Plankton can finish, Squidward snatches the plate from his tentacles. "Look, I don't have time for your... whatever this is," he says, his voice gruff. He takes it and haphazardly shoves it with smaller plates. Plankton can't take the misalignment! Plankton's antennae stand on end, his eye wide with horror. "No!" he says, his voice rising. "Wrong order!" His hands shake as he tries to grab the plate, his mind racing with the need to correct the mistake. Squidward pulls away, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. "Plankton, what's wrong with you?" he snaps. "Plankton's centrum semiovale has restricted inhibitory synaptic transmission!" Plankton's voice is a mix of panic and frustration, his antennae waving wildly. Squidward's eyes narrow, his grip on the plate tightening. "What are you talking about? I am not going to wash this again," he says, his tone firm. Squidward's words hit a nerve, triggering a cascade of emotions in Plankton. "It's not about Squidward!" he says, his voice sharp. "It's about the order! Cleanliness..." "PLANKTON I SAID NO!" Squidward yells, startling him as he turns back to the sink.

GREAT CHIP iii (Autistic author) Karen followed, her screen on her husband's tentative steps. "Chip," she called out softly, knocking gently. "Can we come in?" There was no immediate response, just the faint sound of sniffling. "It's ok, sweetie," she said. "Your dad and I want to talk to you." Slowly, the door cracked open, and Chip's tear-stained screen peeked out. His eyes searched theirs, looking for answers, for reassurance. Plankton's heart twisted at the sight. He had never wanted to cause his son any pain, especially not like this. He felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him as he stepped into the room, his every move feeling clumsy and exposed. "Chip," he began, his voice strained, "It's just..." Plankton's words trailed off, his gaze flitting around the room as if searching for the right ones. The air felt thick with tension. Chip looked up at him, his eyes swollen with unshed tears. "Dad, I'm sorry," he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. But Plankton's anger hadn't subsided entirely. "You shouldn't have touched me," he snapped, his voice sharp, his frustration still palpable. "You now know better than that!" Chip flinched at his father's tone, his own eyes brimming with tears. "But Dad, I didn't mean to," he protested. Plankton's gaze was unyielding. "You should know better!" he insisted, his voice echoing with accusation. "You're not a baby anymore!" Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders shaking with held-back sobs. "But I didn't know!" he choked out, his voice small and defensive. "Well, now you do," Plankton said firmly, his eye still avoiding Chip's. "You have to respect my space!" The room felt too small, his emotions too big. Chip's face crumpled, his voice barely audible. "I just wanted to..." But Plankton's anger was like a storm, unyielding. "I don't care what you wanted!" he shouted. "You can't just touch me like that!" The room felt like it was closing in, his heart racing faster with each word. He saw the hurt on Chip's face, but his own emotions were a tornado whipping through his thoughts. He couldn't stop, couldn't apologize. "It's your fault for not knowing!" Plankton's voice was like thunder, filling the room with accusation. Karen's eyes grew wide with shock, but she didn't dare to interrupt. Chip's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the weight of his father's wrath. "But I didn't know, Dad," he pleaded, his voice thick with pain. Plankton's eye was like a stone, his words cutting through the air. "That's no excuse!" he bellowed. "You should've learned by now! Or are you just to busy with your silly games and neurotypical friends to care about your own father?" Chip's shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his sobs. He didn't know what to say, his mind a jumble of emotions. All he knew was that he had hurt his dad, and now his dad was hurt and mad at him. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice trembling. "It was an accident, I didn't know!" But Plankton's anger didn't abate. "Accident or not, you should've known better!" Plankton's voice grew louder, his words piercing the air like knives. "You're not a baby anymore, so don't act like one!" Chip felt his world crumbling. He didn't mean to upset Dad, but he didn't know what to do. He just wanted to help, to show his love, but it all went wrong. "But Dad," he tried again, his voice barely a whisper, "I didn't mean to..." "I DON'T CARE!" Plankton roared, his anger a living, breathing entity that filled the room. His words were sharp, like shards of glass in the air. Chip's sobs grew louder, his heart breaking with each accusation. He didn't understand why his dad was so mad at him. "I'm sorry," he choked, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know..." Plankton's anger didn't waver. "You never know!" he spat. "You never pay attention!" His words were like a whip, each one stinging Chip's already bruised heart. "You think the world revolves around you!" Chip's eyes were a pool of tears, his body trembling as he tried to find the right words. "But Dad, I just..." Plankton's anger grew with each of Chip's stumbling attempts. "You just what?" he snarled, his senses overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil. He felt the urge to break something, anything to release the pressure building in his chest. With a roar, he swiped his hand across Chip's desk, sending papers flying and toys clattering to the floor. "DO YOU SEE?" he yelled, his voice shaking the walls. "DO YOU SEE HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL?" Chip cowered, his eyes locked on the chaos, his mind whirling. He hadn't meant to make his dad feel like this. He didn't understand why his curiosity was so wrong. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice tiny and lost in the maelstrom of Plankton's rage. Plankton's eye was wild, his movements erratic. He knew his anger was a storm, but he couldn't stop it. The room spun around him, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He felt a hand on his arm, Karen's voice cutting through the noise in his head. "Plankton, please," she begged. But he shrugged her off, his rage now a living, breathing monster inside of him. He picked up a toy, one of Chip's beloved creations, and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound piercing the silence that followed. Chip's sobs grew quieter, his body trembling with fear. "This," Plankton said, his voice low and dangerous, "is what you do to me." He picked up another toy, his hand shaking with anger. "This is what your curiosity does!" Chip's eyes widened with fear as Plankton's hand arced back, ready to hurl it. But as the toy could leave his grip, his body seized up again, his legs buckling. Another absence seizure had struck. Karen's heart raced as she watched her husband's uncontrolled movements. She knew she had to intervene before things escalated. She rushed to Plankton's side, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Stop," she whispered urgently. Chip's sobs grew quieter, his eyes wide with fear. He had never seen his dad so out of control before. Plankton's seizure was taking over, his body betraying him once again. Karen's voice pierced the chaos, a beacon of calm. "Chip, let me handle this." Her son nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's shaky form. Karen turned to Plankton's form, supporting. "Come on," she said firmly, guiding his trembling form to their own bedroom. "Let's sit down, okay?" As they do, Plankton's still caught in the throes of the seizure. Chip felt like he was watching a stranger, his dad's body twitching uncontrollably. He didn't know what to do.

GREAT CHIP viii (Autistic author) When Plankton finally came out Chip approached with caution. He didn't want to scare his dad, didn't want to cause another seizure. "Hey, Dad," he said softly. "How are you feeling today?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flicking towards Chip. "Tired," he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep. "But okay." Chip felt his chest tighten with relief. He'd been worried about his dad all night, scared that another seizure would strike without warning. "Can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice gentle as he approached Plankton. He didn't want to push, but he needed to make sure they were okay. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching Chip's face. "Of course," he said, his voice still groggy. He sat down at the kitchen table, his body language open but cautious. Chip took a deep breath, his heart racing with the need to get this right. "Dad, I know last night was... scary," he began, his voice shaky. "But I want to be there for you." Plankton's antennae waved slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and fatigue. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. Chip took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I mean, I want to understand your seizures and what you go through," he said, his eyes never leaving his father's. "So that maybe I can help." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye narrowing slightly. "What do you want to know?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and caution. Chip's eyes searched his father's, his thoughts racing. "Everything," he said, his voice earnest. "What happens before, during, and after. What you feel, what you see..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his face scrunching up slightly. "Why?" he snapped, his voice sharp. "What's the point of reliving it?" Chip took a step back, surprised by his father's sudden irritation. "I just want to understand," he said, his voice tentative. Plankton's antennae waved erratically, his eye flashing. "It's not a show, Chip," he snapped. "It's not something to be poked and prodded at." Chip felt his cheeks flush with heat, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I'm not trying to pry," he said, his voice shaking with frustration. "I just want to help!" Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye narrowed. "You can't help," he said, his voice cold. "You don't get it." Chip's heart sank, feeling the distance between them growing wider. "But Dad," he began, his voice trembling. "I'm trying." Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly, his face a mask of agitation. "You can't," he said, his voice clipped. "You don't know what it's like!" Chip felt a wave of frustration crash over him, his hands clenching into fists. "That's why I'm asking!" he exclaimed. "I'm not trying to make it about me!" Plankton's focusing solely on Chip. "You don't get it," he said, his voice softening slightly. "It's not about you, but it's also not something you can fix." Chip's eyes searched his dad's, his heart racing with a mix of anger and hurt. He knew Plankton wasn't trying to be cruel, but the words stung. "I just want to be there for you," he said, his voice shaky. "To make sure you're okay." Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly, his eye flashing with agitation. "I don't need you to fix me," he snapped, his voice sharp as a knife. "I just need you to leave me alone sometimes." Chip took a step back, his eyes watering with the sting of his father's words. "I just want..." "I know what you want," Plankton cut in, his antennae vibrating with irritation. "But you can't fix this, Chip. It's not a puzzle you can solve with a pat on the back or a hug." The room grew tense, the air thick with unspoken words. Chip felt his throat tighten, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He knew his father's snappy tone was a defense mechanism, a way to keep the world at bay when it all became too much. But it still hurt.

NEW REALITY viii (Autistic author) "I don't understand," she says, her voice filled with distress. Plankton's hand clenches, his body vibrating with tension. "Numbers," he repeats, his voice edging on a scream. "They make quiet." Hanna's eyes widen, her smile fading to a look of horror. "But Plankton," she says, her voice shaking, "it's just a clock." But her words are like fuel on the fire of his distress. He steps closer to the clock, his hand outstretched as if to will it to silence. "Numbers," he whispers, his voice a plea. "They make quiet." Hanna's eyes fill with sympathy, but her words only worsen his agitation. "Plankton, it's just a clock," she says, reaching out to touch him. Karen's heart hammers in her chest as she sees his body tense even further. "Hanna, don't," she warns, her voice tight. "Please don't touch him right now." But Hanna doesn't hear her, her own voice rising with frustration. "It's just a clock, Plankton," she repeats, her hand covering his shoulder. "Nothing's going to hurt you.." The touch sends him spiraling, his body convulsing with overstimulation. "No touch!" he screams, his hand slapping at her arm, his face a mask of fear and anger. But Plankton's outburst has ignited something in Hanna, a spark of anger. "Why can't you just be normal?" she snaps, her voice echoing through the tense room. Karen's heart breaks as Plankton's eye goes wide, his body jerking away from her. "Hanna, please," she says, her voice tight with pain. But Hanna's words keep coming, a barrage of misunderstanding. "You can't just ignore us," she says, her voice rising. "You have to interact with the world." Plankton's body recoils, his skin seemingly vibrating with each of her words. "Interact," he echoes, his voice strained. Karen's heart is in her throat. "Hanna, please," she says, her voice tight with pain. "You're not helping." But Hanna's eyes are glassy with frustration. "How can I help if he won't even look at me?" she asks, ignoring the desperation in Plankton's gaze as she holds his arms tightly. Karen's eyes plead with her, but Hanna's grip doesn't loosen. "Let go," Plankton whimpers, his voice tight with tension. Hanna's smile is forced, her grip unyielding. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice laced with irritation. "You can't just..." But her words cut him like knives. "Look away," he murmurs, his voice strained, his body begging for the pressure to ease. Hanna's smile falters, her grip tightening. "Why can't you just look at me?" she asks, her voice edged with annoyance. Plankton's breath hitches, his antennae drooping. "Can't," he whispers, his gaze flickering between her and Karen. Hanna's eyes narrow, her grip on his arms tightening. "You can," she insists, her voice firm. "Just..." But Plankton's whimpers grow louder, his body shaking with the effort to pull away. Hanna's smile fades, her grip tightening in frustration. "Why can't you just be like everyone else?" she asks, her tone no longer gentle. Plankton's whimpers become sobs, his body shaking with the effort to break free. Karen's eyes are wet with unshed tears as she watches the scene unfold, her heart breaking for him. Hanna's grip remains firm, her expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. "Why are you doing this?" she demands, her voice sharp. "You're just being difficult." Plankton's sobs grow more desperate, his body twisting in her grasp. "Let go," he whispers, his voice a strained plea. Hanna's eyes flash with irritation. "Why ca--" Her words are cut off by Karen's firm voice. "Hanna, please," she says, stepping between them. "You're upsetting him." But Hanna's confusion turns to anger. "How can I not be upset?" she retorts, her grip on Plankton's arms tightening. "He won't even..." Her words are cut off by Karen's firm voice. "Please, Hanna," she says, her eyes pleading. "You don't understand." Suddenly, Plankton's legs buckle, his body going slack as Hanna finally releases his arms. He crumples to the floor. He's retreating, Karen realizes, her heart racing. He's retreating into himself. Karen's eyes fill with fear as she watches him, his sobs subsiding into quiet whimpers. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a prayer. Hanna's face falls, her anger replaced with shock. "What's wrong with him?" she asks, her voice trembling. Karen's eyes are wet with unshed tears as she crouches beside him. "It's a condition," she says, her voice tight with frustration. "He needs time and space to process everything." Hanna's face crumples, her hands going to her mouth. "I didn't know," she whispers, her eyes wide with regret. "I'm sorry." Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton's huddled form. "It's not your fault," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "But we all have to learn." Hanna nods, her eyes brimming with tears. Karen wraps her arms around Plankton, her touch gentle. "It's okay," she murmurs. "I'm here." He trembles against her, sobbing. Hanna stands there, apology etched in every line of her face. "What can I do?" she whispers. Karen looks up, her eyes wet. "Just give us a moment," she says, her voice a gentle command. Hanna nods, backing away slowly, her eyes on Plankton. "Okay," she murmurs, the weight of her words heavy in the silent room. Karen holds Plankton tightly, his body a trembling mass of emotion. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm. "You're safe." He nests his head into her shoulder, his whimpers softening to quiet sobs. The room feels thick with their shared pain, the air charged with the tension of misunderstanding. Hanna's eyes dart around, looking for anything that might soothe him. Karen's gaze meets hers, a silent plea for understanding. "It's called autism," Karen says softly, her voice a gentle explanation. Hanna's eyes widen, her face a canvas of realization. "Oh," she whispers, the word a soft exhalation of breath. Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton's tear-stained face. "It's a spectrum," she says, her voice calm and steady. "And he's on a part of it that's very sensitive to stimulation." Hanna nods slowly, her understanding growing. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice full of regret. "I didn't know." Karen's grip tightens around Plankton's shoulders. "It's okay," she murmurs. "We're all still learning." Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's trembling form. "I'll go," she says, her voice small. "I didn't mean..." Karen nods, her gaze steady. "Thank you," she whispers. "We can talk soon." Hanna nods, her eyes filled with sadness. "Of course," she says, turning to leave. The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Karen and Plankton in the heavy silence. Karen's arms remain around him, her body a protective cocoon against the harshness of the world. Plankton's sobs slowly ease into quiet sniffs, his body still trembling in her embrace. Her heart aches for the pain he's feeling, the fear that Hanna's misunderstanding has brought to the surface. "I'm sorry," she whispers to him, her voice shaking. Plankton's trembles begin to subside, his breathing evening out. He pulls back, his eye searching hers. "No," he murmurs, his voice hoarse from crying. "Not at fault." Karen's eyes fill with relief, her grip on him loosening slightly. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle caress. "We just need to find ways to help you." Plankton nods, his eye fluttering shut. Karen's mind races with thoughts of what more she can do, what she can say to make him feel safe. "We'll get through this," she says, her voice a promise. "Together." Plankton's eye opens, his gaze meeting hers. "Together," he echoes, his voice a whisper. Karen's heart swells with love for him, her eyes shimmering with determination. "We'll find what works," she says, her voice firm. Plankton nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Thanks," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "Tired.." Karen's heart breaks at the exhaustion etched into his features. "I got you, you can rest," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. They move to the couch, Plankton's body curling into her side. She wraps the weighted blanket around him, still within their embrace. His breathing slows, his body relaxing against hers. The whirring fan above offers a steady rhythm, a lullaby for his troubled mind. Karen's hand strokes his back in gentle circles, her thumb tracing patterns that seem to soothe his nerves. The fan's steady whir fills the room, a calming symphony that lulls Plankton's racing thoughts to a crawl. Karen's thumb moves in soothing circles on his back, each pass sending a ripple of comfort through him. Plankton's breathing evens, his body slack against hers. The fan's steady hum is a lullaby in the quiet room, a metronome for his racing thoughts. Karen's hand continues its soothing dance across his back, his eye finally closing. The room is a cocoon of silence, the fan's whisper the only sound breaking the stillness. Plankton's breathing slows, his body melts into Karen's embrace. Her hand continues its gentle caress, a metronome of comfort as he finally surrenders to sleep.

CHIP AND FAIL ix (Autistic author) Chip stared at his dad, his mind racing. He had always known his dad was different, but he had never understood why. Now, as he watched the man he idolized quivering with overstimulation, he couldn't help but feel a deep sadness and anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice tight. Plankton's antennae shot up, his face contorting with a sudden surge of anger. "ENOUGH!" he roared, the sound exploding from his chest like a bomb, his antennae quivering with each syllable. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Chip recoiled, his eyes wide with shock. He had never heard his dad so angry before, never seen him so out of control. "Dad, I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You're sorry?" Plankton spat, his antennae vibrating with rage. "You don't get it, Chip. You never will." His voice was a storm, his words cutting through the tension in the room. "You think I don't want to hear your stories? You think I don't want to be a part of your life?" His body trembled with the force of his emotions, his eye blazing with pain. Chip took a step back, his hands up in defense. "Dad, no, I..." But Plankton was a tornado, his anger a living thing in the room. "You think I don't want to connect with you?" he shouted, his antennas whipping around. "You think I don't love you?" His voice broke, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his tears. Chip stared at his dad, his eyes like saucers. "But Dad, you always push me away," he protested, his voice tiny in the face of Plankton's fury. "You never want me to touch you or..." "You just let me explain!" Plankton shouted, cutting him off. His antennae were a blur with the force of his emotions, his eye flashing. "You always keep pushing and pushing, and it's too much!" His words were a volley of thunder, each one striking Chip like a physical blow. Chip took a step back, his eyes filling with tears. "But Dad, I just want to be close to you," he choked out, his voice a mere wisp. "I don't understand why you can't..." "Because you don't listen!" Plankton's voice was a whip, slicing through the air. "You don't see the storm in my head, the way every touch feels like a storm, every sound a siren!" His antennae quivered with rage, his body tense. "You think it's easy for me? That I don't want to be there for you?" Chip took another step back, his hands up in defense. "I didn't know," he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. "I just wanted to tell you about my week." He says reaching out with a trembling hand, but Plankton's swatting Chip's hand away. "Don't. Touch. Me!" Plankton roared, his body trembling with rage. "Can't you see that?" His voice was a knife, sharp and unforgiving. "And don't you DARE say you're better off without me!" His eye blazed with a fierce protectiveness that Chip had never seen before. Chip's hand hovered in the air, his fingers curling into a fist. "But Dad," he choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears, "I just want to be close to you." He took a step closer... "NO!" Plankton shouted, his antennae snapping like whips. "You don't get to invade my space like that!" His body was a live wire, his anger a force field that repelled Chip's reaching hand. "You think it's funny?" His voice was a maelstrom of pain and fury. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his hand dropping to his side. "I just wanted to help," he murmured, his voice tiny in the face of his father's storm.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iii (Autistic author) "It's okay, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his voice soothing. "We're just going for a walk. Nothing to worry about." The three of them walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the lapping of the waves and the occasional squawk of a seagull. Karen could feel the tension, and she wondered what was going on inside his head. As they neared the jellyfish fields Sponge Bob perked up. "Hey, Plankton, you remember jellyfishing right?" He asked, his tone hopeful. Plankton's antennae stopped the nervous twitching for a moment. "Jellyfishing," he murmured, the memory sparking a glimmer of interest. "Jellyfish sting." Sponge Bob's smile grew wider. "Yeah, but it's fun, right?" He said trying to keep the conversation light. Karen could see the effort in his eyes and felt a pang of guilt for ever thinking poorly of him. "Jellyfish... fun," Plankton repeated, his voice still flat. Sponge Bob looked at him, his smile fading slightly. "Yeah, jellyfishing's the best!" he said trying to keep the energy up. "Remember all the good times we had?" Plankton nodded, his gaze distant. "Good times," he echoed. Sponge Bob's smile faltered, and he shot a questioning glance at Karen. "Is everything ok with Plankton?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. Karen took and squeezed Plankton's hand. "Hold on, Sponge Bob," she said gently. "Plankton, can you find us a rock? A pretty sparkly rock." Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, and she could see the gears turning in his head. He nodded, his antennae tilting slightly. "Find rock," he said, before going in the familiar jellyfish fields. Sponge Bob watched him go, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Is Plankton ok Karen?" he asked. "He's just... different now," Karen said, voice tight with emotion. "He had an accident, and the doctor says he has acquired autism." Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "Hey I think I have that, too! But what does that mean for Plankton?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "It means he's going to need some help," Karen said, her voice calm and measured. "He'll still be the same Plankton we know, but his brain works differently now." Sponge Bob's eyes searched hers, trying to understand. "Different like how?" Karen took a deep breath. "Well, he might repeat what we say," she began, watching Plankton as he picked up rocks and examined them. "It's called echolalia. It's a way for him to process language now." Sponge Bob's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, like a parrot!" he exclaimed, nodding. Karen chuckled, despite the heaviness of the situation. "Sort of," she said, "but it's more than just repeating words. It's how he processes information now." Sponge Bob watched Plankton, who had found a particularly shiny rock and was now examining it with intense focus. "What else, Karen?" he asked. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain as best she could. "Sometimes, Plankton might need more time to understand what people are saying to him." Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton. "How might he act?" Karen sighed, looking at the ocean. "Well, sometimes he might get overwhelmed by sounds, lights, or even textures," she said. "It's like his senses are on overload. Although he'll have it for the rest of his life, he can potentially improve his skills. It happened yesterday, I don't think you were working but Krabs hit Plankton's head.." Sponge Bob's expression grew serious, and he nodded solemnly. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Karen," he said, his eyes filled with genuine empathy. "Plankton's always been pretty tough, but I won't let Mr. Krabs know." Plankton returned with the sparkly rock, his gaze still a bit unfocused. "Pretty rock," he said, holding it out to Karen. Karen took the rock. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Good find," Sponge Bob added, giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. The walk continued, yet a distant wail of a boat's horn created a symphony that seemed to overwhelm him. He stopped, his antennae flattening against his head, his eye wide with distress. "Too loud," he murmured, his voice strained. Karen noticed Plankton's agitation. They guided him to a nearby bench, and he sat, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, rocking back and forth. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice calm. "Just breathe, darling." Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his antennae quivering. "What's wrong, Plankton?" SpongeBob asked, voice filled with concern. Plankton didn't respond, his eye squeezed shut as he hummed a tune to himself. Karen and Sponge Bob sat beside him, giving him space and waiting for the overwhelming sound to pass. After a few moments, the boat's horn ceased and Plankton's breathing began to even out. He looks up, gaze still slightly unfocused. "Plankton ok now?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice gentle. Karen nodded. "I think so," she said, watching Plankton's antennae slowly untangle from their protective pose. "Sounds can be really intense for him now." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. "We'll keep it down then," he said, his voice a whisper. Karen smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Sponge Bob," she said. "It means a lot." They sat for a few more moments, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore acting as a soothing lullaby for Plankton. Finally, he spoke up, his voice still flat. "Home now," he said, his eye still on the horizon. Karen nodded. "Alright, let's go home," she said, her voice gentle. "SpongeBob?" Plankton asks, wanting him to come with. Sponge Bob looks to Karen, who nods with a grateful smile. "We'd love for you to come, Sponge Bob," she says. "We can all help each other understand." Plankton's gaze immediately falls on a biology book that's been lying on the coffee table, half open to a page about jellyfish. His antennae start twitching rapidly, and he picks it up with a new found interest. "Look, Karen," he says, his voice filled with excitement as he points to a picture of a jellyfish. "Jellyfish." Karen nods. "Yes, Plankton," she says gently. "That's a jellyfish." Plankton opens the book wider, eye scanning the pages with a fervor that was almost palpable. His antennae quivered with excitement as he absorbed every piece of information he could find about jellyfish. It was as if he had found a new obsession, a puzzle to solve that could potentially drown out the cacophony of the world around him. "Jellyfish," he murmurs to himself, his eye scanning the text. "Jellyfish sting. Jellyfish pretty." Sponge Bob's curiosity peaks, and he leans over to look at the page Plankton is fixated on. "Jellyfish, huh?" He says, his voice soft so as not to disturb Plankton's focus. Karen nods. "It's like he's trying to make sense of everything again," she explains. "It's one of his special interests now." Sponge Bob nods. Karen watches as Plankton traces the outline of a jellyfish with his hand. "It's called hyper fixation," she explains. "It's when extremely focused on something to the point where it's almost all he can think about." Sponge Bob nods thoughtfully. "Well, Plankton I see you like the book of jellyfish?" Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his eye never leaving the page. Sponge Bob nods, a smile spreading across his face. "I can see you really love jellyfish, Plankton," he says, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii (Autistic author) Inside, she sets him down on their favorite couch, the one with the frayed edges and the squeaky spring that always reminded them of their first date. The room is cluttered with half-finished inventions and plans for Krabby Patty heists. She sits beside him. The silence stretches on, heavier than a net full of anchovies. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye darting around the room, taking in the chaos. Karen's mind is racing, wondering if he recognizes any of it, if it brings back any memories of their life together. "Home," he murmurs, his voice filled with uncertainty. The room feels smaller, more cramped than she remembered, as if the walls are closing in on them. "Do you like it here?" she asks, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks around, his antennas moving slightly as he processes his surroundings. "Home," he says again, his voice a mix of curiosity and confusion. The room is a jumble of wires, gadgets, and half-eaten chum sticks. Karen's with tears as she realizes how much she's taken for granted their life together. She had always loved Plankton's quirks and his boundless energy, but now his mind seemed to be stuck in a loop, unable to move beyond the basic functions of acknowledgment. "Home," Plankton says again, his antennas drooping. "Home with Karen." The repetition of the words stirs something within Karen. Echolalia, the doctor had called it, a common trait in those with autism. It was Plankton's way of trying to understand the world around him, to find comfort in familiar words and phrases. "Yes," she whispers, her throat tight with emotion. "This is our home." The room seems to shrink around them as Plankton's echolalic chant of "home with Karen" repeats in a soothing loop. Each time he says it, Karen feels a pang of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was finding comfort in the simplicity of their life together. "Home with Karen," he says again, his antennas slightly more animated. Karen nods, brimming with tears. "Yes, Plankton, we're home." But she sees a flicker of distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his antennas quivering with urgency. "Where's Sponge Bob?" Karen's heart squeezes at the mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not here right now," she says, choosing her words carefully. "But he'll come to visit." Plankton's antennas shoot up, his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice gaining strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob." The desperation in his tone is heart-wrenching, and Karen knows she needs to act fast to soothe his anxiety. "Ok, ok," she says, her voice calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob." Karen picks up the phone, her hands shaking slightly as she dials the familiar number. The phone rings once, twice, before it's answered by a cheerful voice. "Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice sounds surprised but concerned. "Is everything ok?" Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's Plankton," she says. "He's asking for you to come over." There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Plankton? But we're... I mean?" Sponge Bob's voice is filled with confusion. Karen's with desperation as she watches Plankton rock back and forth on the couch, his chant growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need Sponge Bob." "Please, Sponge Bob," she pleads, her voice cracking. Sponge Bob's voice on the other end of the line softens. "Of course, Karen. I'll be right over." The line goes dead, and Karen hangs up the phone, feeling a tiny spark of hope. Plankton's cries for Sponge Bob have become more insistent, his rocking more pronounced. She gently places a hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe him. "Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "He'll be here soon." Plankton's rocking slows, his antennas drooping slightly. "Sponge Bob," he whispers, his eye searching hers. "Safe." The word hangs in the air, and Karen realizes that despite his confusion, he feels comfort in Sponge Bob's presence. A few moments later, they hear the telltale sound of bubbles popping against the glass, and a knock on the door. With a tremble, Karen stands and opens it to reveal Sponge Bob, looking slightly nervous but determined. "Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims. Plankton's antennas shoot up at the sound of his name, and he whips his head around to face the door. "Sponge Bob!" he shouts, his eye lighting up with an unmistakable joy. Sponge Bob steps into the room. "Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of excitement and relief. He lunges forward, wrapping his tiny arms around the larger sponge in an embrace. Sponge Bob looks surprised but quickly returns the hug, his spongy form enveloping Plankton completely. "Plankton, what's going on?" he asks, his eyes wide with concern. He's never seen Plankton like this. Plankton pulls back, his expression a jumble of emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says again, his voice filled with affection. He grabs Sponge Bob's hand and tugs him closer. "Home with Karen. Need you." Sponge Bob looks to Karen, his eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nods encouragingly. "It's ok," she says. "He's just happy you're here." The sight of Plankton's excited state brings a smile to Sponge Bob's face, despite his confusion. He sits down next to him on the couch, his own excitement growing. "What do you want to do?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. Plankton's antennas twitch as he thinks, his eye darting around the room. "Let's play a game," he suddenly exclaims, his voice filled with a child-like excitement that hadn't been there before. "What kind of game, Plankton?" Karen asks, eager to encourage his newfound energy. "Chess!" he exclaims, pointing to a dusty board in the corner of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with surprise, but he doesn't hesitate. He leaps up from the couch and wipes the dust from the board with his spongy hand, setting up the pieces with surprising efficiency. Karen watches from the sidelines, her heart swelling with love and hope as Plankton's enthusiasm grows. He moves the pieces with a frenetic energy, his eye alight with a joy she hadn't seen since before the accident. Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, matches his excitement, even though he's clearly outmatched by Plankton's strategic mind. "Checkmate!" Plankton cries out, his antennas waving with each word. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of surprise and admiration. "Wow, Plankton, you're really good at this!" The room echoes with Plankton's laughter, a sound that's both familiar and foreign to Karen's ears. The old Plankton would have gloated. "Checkmate," he says again, his antennas bobbing in excitement. "Checkmate, checkmate." Sponge Bob laughs, a wonderful, genuine laugh that fills the room. "You win, Plankton," he says, his hands clapping together. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, and he looks at Sponge Bob, his eye studying the sponge's reaction. "Win," he repeats, a hint of understanding in his voice. "Win at chess." He claps like SpongeBob. Sponge Bob's eyes light up, seeing the connection. "Yes, Plankton, you won the chess game," he says, his voice soothing. "You're really good at it." Plankton's antennas start to twitch again, his eye darting between the board and Sponge Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his voice filled with a newfound sense of pride. "Win with Sponge Bob." The phrase becomes a chant, his brain finding solace in the repetition. "Win with Sponge Bob, win with Sponge Bob." Sponge Bob smiles warmly, picking up the rhythm of Plankton's words. "Yes, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You won the game. You're a great chess player." Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye locking onto Sponge Bob's. "Great chess player," he echoes, his voice a mix of pride and amazement. "Win with Sponge Bob." Karen watches from the sidelines with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the breakthrough they needed. Sponge Bob's presence was calming him, bringing out a side of Plankton she hadn't seen since the accident.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vii (Autistic Author) The film starts, and for a while, the only sound is the muffled dialogue and the occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but then relaxes slightly, allowing her contact. Plankton's antennae still and he turns to look at Chip, who's staring at the screen, lost in the fantasy. Karen watches them both, torn between anger and pity. She knows Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, but it's hard to see her son hurt. The movie plays on, the sound of laughter and adventure a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hangs over them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he glances at Chip, his eye flickering with regret. Karen feels the tension in the room begin to ease as Chip becomes engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to Plankton, seeking comfort without words. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the armrest of the couch tightening. The film starts, and for a while, the only sound is the muffled dialogue and the occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but then relaxes slightly, allowing her contact. Plankton's antennae still and he turns to look at Chip, who's staring at the screen, lost in the fantasy. Karen watches them both, torn between anger and pity. She knows Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip, but it's hard to see her son hurt. The movie plays on, the sound of laughter and adventure a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hangs over them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he glances at Chip, his eye flickering with regret. Karen feels the tension in the room begin to ease as Chip becomes engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to Plankton, seeking comfort without words. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the armrest of the couch tightening. During a particularly suspenseful scene, Chip reaches out and grabs Plankton's arm instinctively. But the sudden touch sends Plankton spiraling. His antennae shoot up, and he starts to shake uncontrollably. "Daddy?" Chip asks, his grip tightening in concern. Plankton's body jolts, his antennae flailing wildly as his eye roll back. "Daddy!" Chip's voice is filled with fear as he clutches his father's arm tighter. Plankton's tremors only worsen, his body convulsing in a way that's both frightening and heartbreaking. Karen's realizes what's happening. "Chip, let go!" she cries. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice trembling with fear. Plankton's shaking becomes more intense, his antennae flailing as if trying to escape the confines of his own body. His mouth opens in a silent scream. Karen's knows this isn't a ‘seizure’ but something else entirely—a meltdown, a result of the overwhelming emotions he's been trying to hold in. She rushes to his side with worry. "Chip, let go of him," she says, her voice urgent. Plankton's shaking becomes more intense, his antennae thrashing about like seaweed in a storm. Karen quickly moves closer, her own hands gentle as she pries Chip's tight grip from Plankton's arm. "Chip, sweetie, let Daddy breathe," she says, her voice firm yet filled with empathy. "What's wrong with him?" he stammers, voice trembling. Karen's full of sadness as she takes Chip into her arms, gently peeling him away from Plankton's convulsing form. "It's ok, baby," she murmurs, her voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Daddy's just having a hard time right now." Her movements are swift and sure as she guides Chip away from the couch, her gaze never leaving Plankton. His body is still racked with tremors, his antennae a wild mess of emotions. She knows that touch can be overwhelming for Plankton in moments like these, so she keeps her distance, giving him the space he needs. "Why is he doing that?" Chip whispers, his voice shaky with fear. Karen's heart aches as she holds him close, trying to shield him from the harshness of the world. "It's called a meltdown, sweetie," she explains gently, her voice a soothing balm. "Sometimes, when some neurodivergent people get really upset or overwhelmed, their bodies may react like this." Karen's on Plankton, who's still trembling on the couch, his antennae a blur of distress. She knows he needs space, yet her instinct is to comfort him. With Chip in her arms, she keeps a safe distance, speaking softly so as not to add to the sensory overload. "Plankton," she says, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. "It's ok. Just breathe." Plankton's body continues to spasm, his antennae a frantic tapestry of emotions. Karen's filled with a fierce determination as she carefully approaches him, her movements slow and calculated to avoid triggering more distress. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a gentle lullaby amidst the chaos. "I'm here." Slowly, his antennae begin to still, his body calming as he registers her presence. "It's ok," she repeats. With trembling hands, she reaches out to stroke his back, the barest touch. Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his breaths coming in deep, shaky gasps. "Just breathe," she whispers again, her hand moving in a soothing rhythm. "It's ok, you're ok." Plankton's antennae slow their erratic dance, his body following suit. The tremors subside, leaving him drained and panting. "Daddy?" Chip whispers, peering over Karen's shoulder. Karen nods, still on Plankton. "He's ok now," she says softly. "It's just his brain's way of letting out all the big feelings." Chip watches, his grip on Karen tightening. "Is he going to be ok?" he asks, his voice small. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Yes," she murmurs. "Just give him a moment." The room is silent except for Plankton's uneven breathing. The colors from the TV flicker across their faces, painting them in a strange, unsettling light. Karen can feel Chip's little heart beating against hers, and she knows he's scared. "It's ok," she whispers again, her voice a beacon of calm in the storm. "Daddy just needs some time." Plankton's antennae droop, his body finally still. His eye meets hers, a silent apology in the depths of his gaze. Karen nods, her hand still on his back, offering assurance without words. "Chip," she says, her voice still low, "can you go to your room for a bit?" He nods, eyes still glued to his father, but he doesn't protest. With a heavy heart, Karen watches her son disappear down the corridor, the door clicking shut behind him. Turning her full attention to Plankton, she sits down beside him, her hand resting lightly on his back. His breathing is still ragged, his antennae barely moving. "I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice hoarse. Karen nods with understanding. "We'll talk to him," she says gently. "But first, let's make sure you're ok." Plankton's body still trembling slightly. Karen keeps her hand on his back, her touch a silent promise that she's there for him. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles, trying to soothe him. "You don't have to apologize," she says firmly. "You are who you are, and we love you for it." Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks up at her, his single eye brimming with unshed tears. "But I don't know how to be a good dad like this," he chokes out. Karen's heart breaks at his words, but she keeps her voice steady. "You're already a great dad, Plankton," she says. "You just need to find a way to show Chip that." He looks at her, hope and doubt warring in his expression. "How?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Karen takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "By teaching him," she says gently. "By letting him in, just like you're letting us in now." Plankton's antennae droop, and he nods. "I know," he says, his voice filled with regret. "But it's hard. I don't want him to see me like this." Karen squeezes his hand. "He already does," she says gently. "And he loves you anyway."

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ix (Autistic author) The silence in the room was suffocating, the echo of Mr. Krabs' footsteps the only sound as he retreated to his home, his heart feeling heavier than his treasure chest. Sponge Bob's heart torn between pity and frustration. He looked at Plankton, his friend's gaze still locked on the chessboard, his body a portrait of rejection. "Plankton," he whispered, his voice full of pain. But Plankton didn't move, his antennas twitching slightly. Sponge Bob felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes brimming with tears. He didn't know what to do, what to say, to make things right. He glanced at Karen, her lights dimming slightly with sadness. "I'll leave you two to talk." With a nod to Sponge Bob, she left the room, leaving them alone in the stifling silence. Sponge Bob approached Plankton cautiously, his heart pounding. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, but he didn't look up. "Nothing," he murmured, his voice flat. "Cannot change." Sponge Bob's eyes welled with tears. "I mean right now, I can do what you want me to," he pleaded. "You're my best friend, Plankton." Plankton's antennas lifted, his single eye meeting Sponge Bob's gaze. "We can talk, we can play a game, we can watch some thing..." Plankton's antennas remained still, his expression unreadable. "Watch," he said finally, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. Sponge Bob nodded, his heart heavy with disappointment. He knew his friend needed space, and he would give it to him. The screen flickered to life. Sponge Bob felt a pang of despair, his hand hovering over the remote. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his gaze unfocused. "Okay," he murmured. Sponge Bob selected a nature documentary, knowing Plankton. They sat in silence as the soothing sounds of the ocean filled the room, the TV's blue light washing over them. Plankton's body relaxed slightly, his antennas still as he watched. Sponge Bob felt a tiny spark of hope when Plankton scoots up next to him. The documentary played on, the narrator's soothing voice detailing the lives of jellyfish. Sponge Bob watched Plankton from the corner of his eye, his heart aching at the sight of his friend's vacant gaze. He reached over and gently placed his hand on Plankton's shoulder, his touch tentative. Plankton didn't flinch, his eye never leaving the screen. Sponge Bob swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, "I'm here for you." Plankton's antenna twitched slightly, a barely perceptible acknowledgment. The silence stretched on, the only sound the rhythmic pulse of the jellyfish through the speakers. Sponge Bob's hand remained on Plankton's shoulder, his thumb making small, comforting circles. As the documentary droned on, Plankton's antennas gradually lost their rigidity, drooping slightly with each passing moment. The rhythmic pulse of the jellyfish on the screen seemed to lull him into a state of quiet contemplation. His gaze grew unfocused, his eyelid fluttered once, then twice, before finally settling shut. Plankton's tiny frame relaxed into SpongeBob's side, breathing evening out. His hand remained on Plankton's shoulder, his thumb continuing to make small circles as his friend slipped into slumber. When SpongeBob turned off the tv, he noticed Plankton's head drooped to the side with a soft snore, his body gone slack. Plankton was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. The yellow sponge felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized that his friend had finally found some peace. He carefully scooted Plankton closer. He knew Plankton needed his rest, especially with his brain trying to adjust to this new reality. Karen came back in to see Plankton's antennas limp and Sponge Bob's hand on his shoulder. She nodded gently at the sponge, who looked up and sighed. "It's ok to let him rest. He's been through a lot." She says. Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening slightly. "I know. I just want to help," he replies, his voice barely audible over Plankton's soft snores. Karen's lights flicker gently. "You are helping by being here, Sponge Bob. Just give him time and space to adjust." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping face. "I'll do anything for him." Karen's light blips. "I know you will. But for now, let's get him to his bed." Sponge Bob nods, carefully scooping up Plankton, cradling him like a fragile shell. He carries him to the bedroom. He lays him down, tucking the blanket under his chin with extra care. Plankton's snores soften into a gentle purr, his antennas twitching slightly in his sleep. Sponge Bob pulls up a chair beside the bed, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. He feels a heavy responsibility, a desire to be there for Plankton in ways he's never had to before. As the minutes tick by, Sponge Bob begins to feel the weight of the day's events. His eyes grow heavy, his body swaying with exhaustion. Despite his resolve, he can't keep his lids open any longer. With a yawn, he collapses into the chair beside Plankton's bed, his head lolling to the side. His eyes close. Plankton opens his eye to find Sponge Bob asleep next to him. Plankton's gaze lingers on the sponge, his expression unreadable. He moves his antennas slightly, testing the boundaries of his new reality. The weight of Mr. Krabs' apology and his own words hang heavy on him. With a deep sigh, he knew that his relationship with Mr. Krabs was irrevocably changed, but he hadn't expected the sadness that accompanied the realization. He watched as Sponge Bob's chest lifted and fell in a steady rhythm, his grip on the blanket tight. A strange warmth spread through Plankton's heart, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Sponge Bob had always been his friend, even when he was at his worst. But this... This was different. This was someone sticking by him, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. The warmth grew, spreading through Plankton like a gentle current. It was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He had felt it before, with Karen. Yet this was a different kind of warmth. This was friendship, pure and untainted by the greed that usually consumed him before... He studied Sponge Bob's peaceful face, his mind racing. This sponge, his enemy's best worker, had shown more kindness and understanding in the past few hours than anyone else in his life, other than Karen. And for what? A chance at the Krabby formula? No, for him. For Plankton. The warmth grew stronger, pushing out the coldness that usually dominated his thoughts. He felt a strange urge to reciprocate, to be... nicer. Sponge Bob stirred, his eyes fluttering open. "Plankton?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his single eye focusing on the yellow form beside him. "Yes, Sponge Bob," he replies, his voice gentler than before. Sponge Bob sits up with a start. "How long have you been up?" he asks, his eyes searching Plankton's face for any sign of pain or distress. Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. "Not long," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob's expression is a mixture of relief and concern. "Do you want to talk?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's antennas wave slightly, a tiny nod of his head. "Talk," he echoes, his voice soft. Sponge Bob takes a deep breath, trying to form the words he desperately wants to say. "I just... I want you to know that I'm here for you, Plankton," he says, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennas wave slightly, and his eye narrows. "Here for Plankton," he echoes, his voice flat. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears. "Yes, Plankton," he whispers. "Always." Plankton's antennas twitch again, the word "always" echoing in his mind. "Always," he murmurs.

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii (Autistic author) "Now let's go to the living room and I'll go pick up a smoothie for you. Can you stay here by yourself?" He nodded, his expression slightly less tense. "I'll be back soon," she assured him, squeezing his shoulder before leaving the Chum Bucket. Just moments later, Karen's friend Hanna came for a surprise visit. She knew Karen had a husband named Plankton, but she never met him. Plankton was now back on the living room couch. "Oh, you must be Plankton!" Hanna exclaimed. Plankton's eye flitted to her, his expression unreadable. Hanna walked over to the couch, her smile wide and genuine. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, embracing him in a hug. Plankton stiffened, his eye wide with surprise. His body tensed, his mind racing to process this new sensory input. "You ok?" Hanna asked, pulling back slightly. She had noticed his reaction but didn't know the reason behind it. Plankton nodded, his eye darting around the room again. He wasn't used to such spontaneous affection, and the unexpected sensation of Hanna's arms around him had thrown him off balance. "Yes, I am Plankton," he murmured, his voice monotone. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Hanna's smile didn't waver, unaware of the turmoil within his mind. "How are you feeling today?" Plankton's gaze flicked to the ceiling, his mind racing to find the right words. "Today, feeling," he echoed, his voice still a whisper. The repetition was a comfort, a way to process the flood of sensory information that assaulted him continuously. Hanna looked at him with a puzzled expression. "You know, your wife Karen tells me you're an inventor," she said, her tone innocently curious. Plankton's eye locked onto hers, his mind racing to understand the context of her words. "Inventor," he repeated, his voice flat. It was a word he knew, but it felt foreign now, as if it belonged to someone else. "Yes, inventor," Hanna said, nodding enthusiastically. "I've heard so much about your gadgets and contraptions. What are you working on these days?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room again, his mind struggling to grasp the concept of 'working'. "Gadgets, contraptions," he murmured, his voice a broken record. Hanna's expression was one of confusion, her smile beginning to fade. "Well, what do you do all day?" she prodded gently, trying to coax him out of his silence. Plankton's reply was immediate and robotic, "Do, all day, all day." Hanna's brow furrowed, uncertain how to interpret his repetitive response. She had known Karen for years, but Plankton's behavior was unlike anything she had ever heard of her friend's husband. "Do you like the beach?" she asked, hoping to engage him in conversation. Plankton's eye blinked slowly, his mind processing the question. "Beach," he echoed, his voice hollow. Hanna nodded, encouraged by his response. "Yes, the beach! It's such a beautiful place. Do you ever go there?" Plankton's gaze shifted to the window, the memory of sand and surf a distant whisper. "Go, beach, beautiful place," he said, his words a stuttered echo of hers. Hanna's smile dimmed slightly. This wasn't the witty banter she was expecting from Karen's husband. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" she asked, uncertain. Plankton's eye moved to hers, his gaze intense. "Talk," he repeated, his voice a whisper. Hanna felt a twinge of discomfort. Something was off about his responses, but she couldn't quite put her tentacle on what it was. "Well, what do you like to do for fun?" she tried again, her tone tentative. Plankton's eye wandered back to his own hand, fidgeting with his fingers. "Do, fun," he murmured, the words a reflexive response to the question. Hanna's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you do for fun?" she clarified, wondering if he had simply misunderstood. Plankton's gaze remained on his fidgeting hand, his mind racing to connect the concept of 'fun' with his new reality. "Do, fun," he repeated, his voice devoid of the mirth he once expressed so freely. Hanna's smile was now forced, her confusion growing with each interaction. "Plankton, can you tell me what you enjoy doing?" she asked, hoping for a clearer response. He looked up at her, his gaze slightly less focused than before. "Enjoy doing," he repeated, his voice a faint echo. Hanna's twitched with concern. "You know, like hobbies or interests," she prompted gently, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's eye moved back to his fidgeting hand, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensory overload. "Hobbies, interests," he murmured, his voice a hollow echo. Hanna's concern was now clear on her screen. "You know, like things you like to do in your free time," she tried again, her voice a little less bright. Plankton's eye latched onto hers. "Free time," he repeated, his voice a monotone. "Like to do." Hanna's eyes widened slightly, her confusion growing with each word he said. "Yes, exactly," she nodded, her voice a little more cautious now. "What do you like to do in your free time? Well, other than repetition.." She awkwardly laughs as she elbows him multiple times, not knowing how her touch is irritating Plankton. Plankton's getting more frustrated/angry now, as Hanna goes to pat his shoulder. He can't take much more now. Hanna's touch was like a brand, searing his already overwhelmed senses. He flinched away, his body rigid with tension. "Plankton, are you ok?" Hanna asked, her voice filled with concern. She noticed his discomfort but couldn't pinpoint the cause. He nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "Ok, ok," he mumbled, his voice still a monotone. Hanna looked at him with concern, her smile slipping. "Karen said you used to be quite the conversationalist. What happened?" She says, grabbing his elbow; but that's the last straw for Plankton. Plankton's eye snapped up to hers, his voice sharp. "What happened? You happened!" He snapped, his words sharp as a knife. The sudden aggression in his tone was like a slap in the face, catching Hanna off guard. She took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she began, but Plankton was on a roll now. "You don't know what happened!" his voice grew louder, his words quickening with each syllable. "You don't know anything!" Hanna's eyes went wide with shock. This was not the Plankton Karen had described. Her arms flailed in the air as she tried to placate his sudden anger. "I'm sorry, Plankton. I just didn't know..."

JUST A TOUCH iii (Autistic author) ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ Once home, she helped him settle into his favorite chair, his eye scanning the room. Everything was in its place, exactly as he liked it. Karen noticed his breathing slow as the familiarity washed over him. She knew that routine and order could be vital to his comfort now to avoid triggering his anxiety. Then suddenly, Plankton began to rock back and forth. Karen recognized the motion. It was a new behavior, one she hadn't seen before. His body swayed with a rhythm that matched the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're home now." The rocking grew more intense, his eye darting around the room, his antennae vibrating with each back-and-forth movement. Karen's mind raced, trying to remember the doctor's words. Sensory overload. He needed calm. Swiftly, she dimmed the lights, the neon signs from the Krabby Patty franchise across the street casting soothing shadows through the windows. The glow was just enough to illuminate the space without causing further distress, and she watched as Plankton's rocking subsided. She sat by him. She grasped and squeezed his shoulder. But this time, he flinched. "Plankton?" she asked, concern etching her voice. He pulled away from her, his antennae dropping to his side. The doctor had mentioned that some with autism might have heightened sensitivity to touch. Karen felt a knot in her stomach. "What if he doesn't like me touching him anymore?" she thought. "What if I can't comfort him when he's upset?" She decided to test the waters gently. Reaching out, she lightly trailed her finger over his hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged, she placed her hand on his shoulder again, this time more softly. He tensed, then relaxed. It was progress. "Let's start with simple touch," she said, her voice soothing. The doctor had mentioned that Plankton might be hypersensitive to certain types of touch, and Karen was determined to navigate this new aspect of their relationship with care. She placed a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen." Her hand hovered over his, unsure of the best way to provide comfort. Karen took a deep breath, deciding to try again. This time, she approached with care, her touch feather-light, gliding over his hand like the softest of sea breezes. Plankton's antennae twitched, and his gaze remained on her hand, watching the movement as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Gradually, the tension in his body eased, and his hand lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative touch, his fingers brushing against hers, testing the waters. Karen felt a rush of relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured, keeping her voice low and even. Plankton's hand was cold, his grip firm but not painful. His eye locked onto hers, searching for reassurance. Slowly, she began to stroke his hand with her thumb, applying the slightest pressure. His breathing evened out, his antennae rising slightly. Encouraged, she tried a different type of touch—a gentle squeeze. This time, he didn't flinch. Instead, his hand returned the gesture, his own grip matching hers in strength. Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Maybe we can find a way through this," she thought. They sat in silence for a few moments, their hands entwined, as Karen tried to think of the next step. The doctor's words echoed in her mind: find what works for him. Gently, she began to rub his hand, her thumb moving in small, soothing circles. Plankton seemed to find comfort in the predictable pattern, his body unwinding a fraction more. Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. But as soon as her hand made contact with his skin, he jerked away, his eye flashing with fear and pain. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, her heart racing. "I didn't mean to scare you." Plankton stared at her, his expression unreadable. "It's just, sometimes touch feels..." His words trailed off, and Karen felt her own fear rising. "Painful?" she guessed, her voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Some touches are okay, others..." He paused, his eye darting to his hand, which was still wrapped around hers. "It's confusing." Karen nodded, her heart aching for him. She knew she had to be more mindful of his sensory needs. Carefully, she pats his cheek with the back of her hand, the lightest of touches. Plankton's antennae flinched, but he didn't pull away until she put both of her hands on his shoulders. The sudden pressure was too much, like an electric shock. "Karen," he said, his voice tight with discomfort, "too much." Karen nodded, her hands retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching hers. "It's okay, Karen," he said, his voice measured. "But some touches are too much." Karen nodded, her heart heavy. She had so much to learn about this new Plankton, this person she knew so well yet barely knew at all. "I'll be more careful," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. Plankton's gaze remained steady on hers, his expression neutral. "Thank you, Karen," he said, giving her a side hug. This was a Plankton she had never seen before, one who spoke in a staccato rhythm, his movements precise and calculated. Yet, in the safety of their home, Karen saw glimpses of the man she knew. Her eyes fell upon a pamphlet the doctor had given her, titled 'Understanding Neurodivergence'. She picked it up and began to read. The first few pages were dedicated to explaining what it meant to be neurodivergent, how it wasn't an illness but a natural variation in the brain. Plankton's new condition, Acquired Autism, was one of the many spectrums that fell under this umbrella. Karen read through the descriptions of different behaviors, her eyes widening as she recognized some of the changes in Plankton— his need for order, his heightened sensitivity to stimuli, and his newfound obsessions. The pamphlet explained that these were common in individuals with his condition and offered optional suggestions for supporting them. Her gaze fell upon a section titled 'Seizure Protocols'. Karen's eyes widened as she read about the different types of seizures that could occur due to neurodivergence. Some were minor, like staring spells, while others could be more severe. Her heart raced as she thought of Plankton, his body stiffening and shaking. The pamphlet recommended to keep any sharp or harmful objects away from him. It was important not to restrain him, but instead, to gently guide him to the floor if necessary. The next section discussed how to communicate with someone on the spectrum. It suggested using clear, direct language, avoiding sarcasm and idioms. Karen realized that she would have to learn a new way of speaking with Plankton. Her screen skimmed over the pages, absorbing the information like a sponge. The pamphlet highlighted the importance of individuality and diversity, emphasizing that Plankton's brain was not broken, but simply wired differently. This was a concept she had heard of before, but it had never hit so close to home. The causes of neurodisability varied widely, from genetics to congenital to trauma. One paragraph caught her attention—brain injuries could lead to conditions like Acquired Autism. The words swirled in her mind, a stark reminder of the wrench that had changed everything. As Karen read on, she learned about the complex interplay of biological factors and life experiences that can shape a person's neurodivergence. It was both overwhelming and fascinating, a glimpse into a world she had never truly understood.

CHIP AND FAIL viii (Autistic author) Karen's hand was a lifeline, her voice a gentle guide. "Chip," she called out. "We need to talk." Chip stopped in the hallway. Why was Dad acting so weird? He turned to face his mother, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded, his voice filled with accusation. "He doesn't deserve to be called my dad if he can't even..." But that's when it happens. That's when Plankton started hyperventilating, and that's when Plankton can't take anymore. That's when it happened. Chip's words were like a match striking too close to a powder keg. Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae twitching erratically. Karen rushed to his side, her screen wide with concern. "Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. She holds her arms out to catch Plankton. But Plankton's mind was a whirlwind, his body a live wire. He couldn't answer, couldn't find the words to explain the chaos that was his reality. His antennae trembled as he struggled to breathe, his body rigid with fear. He had hoped to keep this hidden, to protect Chip from the truth, but it was too much. The storm inside him grew wilder, each breath a battle. Chip's eyes searched his father's, his own confusion mirroring the chaos in the room. "What's wrong with you?" he repeated, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. But Plankton's mind was a tornado, his thoughts swirling too fast for words. He could feel his chest constrict, his heart pounding like a drum. Karen watched her son's screen, seeing the hurt in his eyes, the misunderstanding etched deep. She took a deep breath, knowing the moment had arrived. "Chip," she began, her voice soft but firm, "there's something you need to know about your dad." Chip looked at her, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "What could possibly make him act like this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why did you marry him? He's just nothing but..." "Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his hands in hers, when Plankton starts to wheeze heavily, his body constricting with each shallow breath. Chip's anger faded, replaced with fear as he watched his father's distress. "Dad?" he whispered, his voice shaking. Plankton's body trembled as his legs gave out, collapsing into the embrace Karen had been ready to offer. "Dad?" Chip's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. He had never seen his father so overwhelmed, so vulnerable. Karen knelt beside Plankton, her hands gentle on his trembling body. "It's okay, love," she whispered, her voice a salve on his raw nerves. "Just breathe." Chip's eyes were glued to his father with fear. He had never seen him like this before, his body a stranger's under his own touch. "What's wrong with him?" he asked again, his voice shaking. Karen took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she smoothed back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your dad was born with something..." Her voice trailed off, the words stuck in her throat like a piece of unchewed food. Chip's eyes searched hers, his confusion a storm cloud gathering. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Your dad," she began, her voice shaking with the weight of her words, "was born different, Chip." Plankton's eye flickered open, filled with a mixture of fear and hope. "What do you mean, 'different'?" Chip asked, his voice small and scared. He had never heard his mother talk about his dad this way before. Karen took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. "When your dad was born, Chip," she began, her screen filled with a sadness that threatened to spill over, "his brain was injured during delivery. When the doctors pulled him out, they didn't realize how fragile he was and they..." Her voice trailed off, the memory too painful to recount. "They had to get him out and applied too much force on his head, which caused some damage. It gave him a type of condition, where he's on what's called autism spectrum." Chip's eyes widened, his grip on his shirt tightening. "But that's not his fault, right?" he asked, his voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't want to think of his dad as damaged or broken. Karen nodded, her screen filled with love for both her husband and her son. "No, honey, it's not his fault," she said, her voice steady. "It's just how he's. And it's not something you can see or touch. It's like having a radio in your head that's always tuned to the loudest station, and sometimes the static gets too much."

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY iii (Autistic author) Karen picked him up, and carried his limp form to his bed. She stood there for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall. The snores grew quieter as sleep consumed him. The weight of what had just happened settled on her shoulders. Karen lay him down gently. She tucked him in, his antennae resting against the pillow. The room was quiet except for his soft snores, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled it moments before. Karen sat by his side, her hand on his arm. After a few moments, she stood up and walked to the door, closing it gently behind her. She found Hanna in the living room, her eyes red-rimmed and worried. "Hanna, I need to talk to you," Karen said, her voice firm but not accusing. Hanna looked up, her expression hopeful for guidance. Karen sat beside her, her eyes on her own hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. "Plankton's been through a lot," she began, her voice measured. "He's different now." Hanna nodded, her eyes wide with unspoken questions. "Still coming to terms with it but you're just fine. It's a rarity, yet he'll be fine." "I guess I'll head out. I never meant to cause Plankton distress." Karen nodded, her eyes still on her fidgeting hands. "Thank you for understanding. I'm pretty sure he knows you didn't mean to, but I can still tell him when he wakes up." Hanna left, and Karen went back to the bedroom. Plankton was still asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful. Karen sat by the bed. Plankton's snores were the only sound in the room, a gentle reminder of the peace that sleep brought him from his tumultuous world of heightened senses. Karen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. This was their new normal, a dance of understanding and patience they would have to learn. When Plankton next woke up, his eye searched the room, his antennae twitching slightly. He looked over to find Karen sitting in a chair beside the bed, her gaze on him. "Hi," she said, her voice gentle. He sat up slowly, the fabric of the bed rustling beneath his weight. "How are you feeling?" Karen's concern was palpable, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress. Plankton took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. Karen's presence was a balm to his soul, her understanding a lifeline in the storm of sensory input. "Where's Hanna?" Karen sighed, her gaze never leaving his face. "She left, sweetie. You were a bit...overwhelmed." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with the memory of the sensory assault. "It's okay," Karen assured him, her voice a soft whisper. "She just didn't understand, and felt bad for the way she treated you." Plankton nodded, his antennae still. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos from before. He took a moment to collect himself, his thoughts racing. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Karen reached out and took his hand, her grip firm but gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said, her tone soothing. "This is all new to us. Would you like to eat?" Plankton nodded. "I'll get you something quiet and simple," Karen said, standing up. She knew that too much stimulation could send him spiraling. In the kitchen, she prepared a snack of plain crackers. She placed the plate on the table carefully, not wanting to startle his heightened senses again. Plankton entered the room, his movements deliberate and slow. He sat down across from her, his eye darting around the room. "It's ok," Karen reassured him, handing him the plate of crackers. "Just food." "Just food. It's ok; just food." He repeats back to himself, focusing on the plate. Each cracker was a tiny square of safety, a familiar comfort in a sea of sensory uncertainty. He took a deep breath and selected one. The taste was comforting, a reminder of a simpler time. Karen watched him, her screen filled with love. Plankton took a sip of water, his eye never leaving hers. "It's ok just food," he said again, his voice still low. "Karen good and good food. It's ok." Karen nodded, her smile a mix of relief and sadness. She knew his echolalic tendencies was the autism, but she's glad he likes the food as well. They sat in silence, the only sound the crunch of crackers and the occasional sip of water. Plankton's eye focused on the cracker in his hand, the patterns on the surface a comfort. His autistic brain craved the predictability, the sameness that calmed his nerves. This was the man she knew, yet he was different. The Plankton who was always plotting and scheming was now one who found comfort in the mundane. His mind felt clearer now, the overwhelming chaos of the earlier encounter with Hanna beginning to fade. Karen watched him, her heart breaking for the silent struggle she knew he faced every moment. "I'll talk to Hanna," she said gently. "I'll explain. What do you want me to tell her? What'd you like for her to know?" Plankton's gaze remained on the cracker, his thumb tracing the edge. "Tell her sorry," he mumbled. "What else? I mean, is it ok if I tell her you're autistic now? Or what about the accident that lead to the autism?" Plankton's antennae twitched at the word 'accident', his mind reeling with memories of the stove, the fight with Mr. Krabs, the pain. But he nodded slowly. "Ok," he murmured. Karen's heart ached at the simplicity of his response. The complexity of his thoughts was now a tightly guarded secret, hidden behind a wall of sensory overload. "Okay, I will," Karen said, her voice soft. "But remember, it's ok to be different." Plankton nodded, his eye still on his food. But as he took another cracker, he paused. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "Karen," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I, I l-love you." Karen's eyes widened at the sudden declaration. "Oh, Plankton," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you too." Plankton nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "Karen making everything okay," he murmured. He took another cracker, his hands shaking slightly. "You make Plankton feel safe," he continues with sincerity. "In a world that's too much, Karen not too much." Karen's eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Plankton, I'm here for you. Always." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching. He looked into her screen, his own filled with a depth of emotion that hadn't seen before. "You good, Karen," he said, his voice steady. "Helping Plankton." Plankton was finding his way to express himself, to connect with her in a way that was meaningful. She squeezed his hand. "I'll always help you," she promised. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice tentative. He took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I love you, Karen," he said finally, his eye intense with feeling. Karen swelled with love and pride. Despite his struggles, Plankton was learning to express his emotions in a way that made sense to him. It was a victory, small but significant. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, squeezing his hand. "Your love makes me happy." His antennae twitched slightly, a sign of his awkwardness with the emotional exchange. The room was quiet, the only noise the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional crunch of a cracker. Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for reassurance. "Plankton need...space," he managed, his voice shaky. "Too...much emotional interaction. Still love." Karen nodded, understanding dawning. "Okay, sweetie," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll be right here. Take all the time you need."

CHIP AND FAIL iii (Autistic author) "Ok Dad," he said. "Let's go to your workshop." Maybe there, he would be able to come back to himself. But Plankton's not budging, despite Chip's efforts to get him up. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle, trying to mask his own fear. "Let's go." But he sees it's not gonna work. He hadn't realized that his excited touches and loud laughter were only making things worse. Plankton's condition meant that even the smallest disruption could send him spiraling, and here Chip was, bombarding him with sensations. With a tremble in his voice, Chip tried one more time to reach his father. "Dad, can you just come with me?" He asked, his voice small and hopeful. "We'll talk in the workshop." But Plankton still didn't move, his eye fixed on some unseen horizon. Chip stood up, wiping the tears from his screen, trying to listen for his dad's breathing. Chip doesn't like this. Chip's face crumpled, realizing that his dad isn't okay. This was chilling. The more Chip talked, the more he touched, the deeper Plankton's mind spun into a vortex of overstimulation. "Dad, you're not talking," Chip whispered, his voice cracking with concern. He had never seen his father like this, so silent and still. He didn't know that the affectionate gestures and loud stories were only adding to Plankton's distress. "Dad, please," Chip said, his voice small. This wasn't right. This is wrong. Something is very wrong with his dad. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his mind racing with fear and confusion. Something's wrong with his dad. "Dad, you're not okay," Chip said, his voice filled with a new urgency. But now, he knew it was something more, something he didn't know how to fix. But he needs to try. "Can you tell me about your week too?" Absolutely no sign of life from him. This is bad. He's getting worse... Chip didn't know that Plankton's lack of response was due to his autism, that his sensory system was in overdrive. All he knew was that he needed to help, to do something. With a tremble in his hands, Chip gently touched Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, can you hear me?" He asked, his voice soft and soothing, hoping to cut through the storm in his father's mind. But Plankton's expression remained unchanged, his eye unfocused. Chip felt like he was shouting into a void, his words disappearing without a trace. The room was spinning, the air thinning with each shallow breath Plankton took. Chip's mind raced with scenarios, trying to piece together what could've caused this sudden change. "Is there something wrong?" He asked, his voice quavering. "Did something happen?" But Plankton was lost, the cacophony of Chip's excitement echoing through his overstimulated brain like a never- ending nightmare. Chip's touches grew gentler, his laughter fading into a soft concern. "I don't get it," he said, his voice thick with confusion. "I just wanted to tell you about my week." Plankton felt the pressure but his mind was a maelstrom of sensation. "Dad," Chip said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what's going on." He nudged him, and he remained still and unblinking as the prod toppled him onto his side, with no reaction. The room felt colder, the air heavier with each passing second. He had never seen his father so unresponsive, so utterly lost to the world around him. "Dad," he tried again, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me." Plankton's eye remained fixed. The gentle touches from Chip were now a maelstrom of sensation, each one a wave crashing against the shore of his overwhelmed mind. Chip's smile faded as he watched his father. "Dad, you're not okay," he murmured, his voice laced with concern. He didn't know about Plankton's condition, how his brain processed stimuli differently, how easily it could be overwhelmed. All he knew was that his dad, the man he looked up to, was trapped in a silent prison of his own making.

THE LIFE OF UNITY iii (Autistic author) Kevin's laughter reaches a crescendo as he takes a step closer to Plankton. "What don't I know?" he asks, his voice sharper than ever. "That PLANKTON JUST. DON'T. WUV. THEM. JELLYFISH. YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY..." But his words are cut off by the sight of Plankton, his antennae drooping, his eye brimming with tears. The tiny creature's body trembles as Kevin's to loud words settle upon him, and suddenly, all the pent-up frustration and pain come rushing out in a torrent as a single tear forms and slides down his face. Plankton's antennae quiver uncontrollably, and he squeaks out a sob, his tiny body convulsing with the weight of Kevin's cruel words. SpongeBob is shocked. Kevin's words hang in the water, his laughter fading into an awkward silence as he watches Plankton's reaction. The sea cucumber's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Plankton's tears, his own expression morphing from smug to surprise, then to something akin to fear. "Plankton?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he sniffs, trying to compose himself, his monotone voice thick with emotion. "Plankton... brainless," he murmurs, his one eye filled with unshed tears. "Plankton," he adds, his voice cracking, "Plankton... not like jellyfish." Sponge Bob's heart squeezes tight in his chest. "Hey, Plankton," he says softly, "it's ok. Kevin didn't mean it." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's hurtful words. "Kevin... right," he murmurs, his eye glistening with tears. "Plankton... brainless. Like jellyfish." Kevin's expression morphs from smugness to shock, his eyes wide as he realizes the impact of his words. "It's just... you know, a joke." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice trembling. "Joke?" he murmurs. "Plankton... a joke. Plankton... brainless." Kevin's grin falters, his eyes widening in horror as he sees the pain etched on Plankton's tiny face. "No," he stammers, his voice cracking. "It was just a... I didn't mean it like that." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's cruel words. "Plankton... no purpose in life," he murmurs, his one eye filled with a sadness so profound it seems to suck the color out of the surrounding waters. Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock. "Plankton," he says gently, "you have friends. You have a purpose." But Plankton's antennae droop even lower, his monotone voice a sad echo of his own self-doubt. "Plankton mindless.." Kevin's smugness evaporates, replaced with a flicker of concern as he watches the usually unflappable Plankton crumple under the weight of his words. "Look, Plankton," he says, reaching out to touch him. But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering with pain. "Plankton," Kevin says, his voice a mix of surprise and regret, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just messing around." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's insults. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye fixed. "Brainless." Sponge Bob's eyes wide with shock and sadness. "Plankton," he whispers, his voice filled with a tenderness Plankton rarely hears from anyone. "You're not brainless." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's words. "Plankton... mindless," he murmurs, his one eye unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Like jellyfish." SpongeBob knew that Plankton's obsession with jellyfish is more than just a hobby; it's a deep connection, a part of who he is after the traumatic brain injury. And now, Kevin's careless words have struck a nerve, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice gentle, "you're not like that. You're smart. You're... you're you." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye still avoiding contact. "Plankton... like jellyfish." SpongeBob understood that the brain trauma has affected him, making him more vulnerable to words that question his intelligence and identity due to his autism. "Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern, "you know that's not true. You're not like jellyfish in that way." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's mockery. "Mindless," he murmurs. "Mindless, brainless." Sponge Bob's heart aches for his friend, reaching out to offer comfort. "Plankton, you're not like that," he says, his voice gentle and assuring. "You're brilliant. You know more about jellyfish than anyone." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's laughter. "Mindless," he murmurs, eye downcast. "Plankton... brainless." Sponge Bob tries to find the right words to say. "Plankton," he says gently, "you're not like that. You're so much more than what Kevin said." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of the cruel words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye avoiding Sponge Bob's gaze. "Plankton... no purpose." Kevin's eyes dart from Plankton to Sponge Bob, his grin faltering. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight with confusion. "You guys are acting weird." Sponge Bob's embrace tighten around Plankton's tiny body, his voice firm but kind. "Kevin," he says, his gaze fixed on Plankton, "you don't know what happened to Plankton." Kevin's laughter fades into a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" Kevin's smirk fades, his eyes narrowing with confusion. "What are you guys talking about?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob hesitates, glancing at Plankton, who nods almost imperceptibly. "Kevin," he says, his voice serious, "Plankton had a bad accident. He hit his head, and now he's... different." Kevin's tentacles freeze in mid-air, his smugness evaporating. "What do you mean, 'different'?" he asks, his voice tentative. Sponge Bob sighs. "Plankton's had a brain injury," he says, his eyes never leaving Plankton's quivering antennae. "He's... autistic now." Kevin's eyes widen, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "What? No way," he stammers, his smugness gone. "You're... you're joking, right?" But Sponge Bob's expression is serious, gently stroking Plankton's antennae. "It's true, Kevin," he says, his voice gentle. "Plankton's had a tough time, and he's different now." "Plankton, joke." Kevin's confusion turns to shock as he looks from Sponge Bob to Plankton, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "But... but why didn't you say anything?" he asks, his voice trembling. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "We didn't think it was anyone's business," he says tightening around Plankton's shaking antennae. "But now you know Kevin. And we need you to be cool about it."

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ix (Autistic author) With newfound enthusiasm, Plankton began to organize the mini jellyfish in the box, his antennae quivering as he meticulously arranged them by species and size. Each figurine was carefully placed, his movements deliberate and precise. "Jellyfish... special," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of wonder. Sandy watched, her eyes shining with admiration. "You're really good at this," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Good at jellyfish," Plankton murmured, antennae waving slightly with pride. "Plankton's special place." Sandy nodded, her tail swishing with excitement. "Yes," she said, her voice filled with encouragement. "You have a special place in the world, Plankton, and jellyfish are your thing." As Plankton continued to organize his new collection, his movements grew more animated, his antennae quivering with purpose. Each jellyfish was placed with such precision that it was as if they were living beings in a miniature ocean. His eye never left his task, his mind fully engrossed in the world of jellyfish. It was as if by organizing them, he was somehow bringing order to his own chaotic thoughts. "Plankton," Karen said softly, "I know this is a big change for you. But you know what? Maybe this is your chance to do something amazing with your life." Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. "Let's go outside." Plankton looked up from his box, his antennae twitching with excitement. "Outside?" "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her smile warm. They made their way outside, with Plankton carrying his precious box of jellyfish figurines, his antennae quivering with excitement at the prospect of sharing his knowledge. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over Bikini Bottom as the trio strolled down the sidewalk. Their peaceful evening was abruptly interrupted when they rounded the corner to find Mr. Krabs, his eyes wide with surprise at the sight of Plankton in the company of Karen and Sandy. "What's all this?" he barked, voice gruff. Plankton's antennae drooped slightly, but he held his ground, his box of jellyfish figurines clutched tightly. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, monotone voice cracking. Mr. Krabs squinted at Plankton, his claw resting on his chin. "Well, if it isn't the little troublemaker," he said with a gruff chuckle. "What brings you out of the Chum Bucket?" Karen's forced a smile. "We're just out for a little stroll Krabs," she said. "Plankton's found a new hobby." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued by the unusual sight of Plankton engaged in something other than his usual Krabby Patty obsession. "What kind of hobby?" he asks. Plankton's antennae quivered as he held up his box of jellyfish figurines. "Jellyfish," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of pride. Mr. Krabs's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish?" he repeated, his voice incredulous. "What's gotten into you, Plankton? You're not planning to use them for some crazy Krabby Patty scheme are you?" Plankton's antennae twitched, but he remained calm. "No, Mr. Krabs," he murmured, voice firm. "Plankton loves jellyfish." Mr. Krabs squinted at him, his claw tapping against his chin as he tried to process this new piece of information. "You love jellyfish?" he said, his voice filled with skepticism. "What's so special about jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae waved slightly as he thought about how to explain it. "Jellyfish... unique," he murmured. "Different. Like Plankton." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed. "Different, you say?" he repeated, his claw stroking his chin as he contemplated this revelation. "Well I'll be a barnacle's uncle. I never knew you had an interest in any thing but stealing me secret recipe." Karen stepped forward, her tentacles waving gently. "Mr. Krabs, when Plankton hit his head because of you and when I took him to the hospital, well let's just say things are a little different now." Mr. Krabs's eyes widened, his claw freezing mid-stroke. "Different? What do you mean, different?" Karen's tentacles waved in a calming gesture. "Plankton was diagnosed with autism after the incident with your cash register," she said gently. Mr. Krabs's eyes bulged, and his claws clutched at his chest dramatically. "Autism? What?" he bellowed. Sandy stepped forward, her voice firm and steady. "It's ok, Mr. Krabs," she said, her eyes on the crab. "It just means Plankton's brain works differently than ours. But he's still the same Plankton we know, and he's found something that makes him really happy." Mr. Krabs's eyes darting between Plankton and his box of jellyfish. "Well, I'll be a sea cucumber's uncle," he murmured, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. As they talked, a group of kids playing catch nearby accidentally bumped into Plankton, their laughter and shouts of excitement cutting through the air. In an instant, the delicate balance of jellyfish figurines was disrupted, and they spilled out of the box, scattered across the sidewalk. The children's ball rolled into the mix, coming to a stop. Plankton froze on the ground, antennae shooting straight up, eye unblinking as he stared at the chaos before him. The children looked up, their laughter fading as they took in the scene. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was gentle, but it was lost, mind racing as he tried to make sense of the sudden disarray. The children stared, their laughter dying in their throats as they saw the tiny plankton's distress. One brave soul reached out to help, but pulled back when Plankton didn't react. Karen and Sandy exchanged a worried glance. "Plankton?" Karen called again, her voice a little louder this time. The children watched, their curiosity piqued by the sight. One by one, they cautiously approached, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination. "What's wrong with him?" a young fish whispered to another, their eyes darting from Plankton to the scattered jellyfish figurines. "I think he's in shock," Krabs murmured, his own eyes filled with concern. "The disorganization of his jellyfish is really bothering him.." Sandy nodded, her eyes on the children. "Why don't you guys help Plankton?" she suggested. "You can put the jellyfish back in the box. Let's all put them back the way he had them!" The children looked at each other, then back at Plankton, who was still frozen on the ground. Slowly, they began to pick up the scattered figurines, their little hands moving with care as they tried to mimic the order Plankton had created. They whispered to each other, comparing notes and asking questions, their curiosity overcoming their initial fear. Karen watched them work, her tentacles relaxing slightly as she saw the concern in their eyes. "Good job," she murmured, her voice gentle. "You're all helping out." The children nodded, their eyes never leaving Plankton as they carefully placed each jellyfish back in the box. They worked in silence, their movements a mix of awe and caution. The sight of Plankton's intense focus on his jellyfish had left an impression on them, and they were determined to help him restore order to his miniature world. One by one, the jellyfish returned to their spots, each figure a silent testament to Plankton's knowledge and passion. The children looked at each other, then back at Plankton, who hadn't moved a muscle, still rigid, his eye unblinking. "Is he okay?" the bravest one asked, holding out a tentative fin. Plankton remained unmoving, his antennae quivering slightly. The children's gentle whispers and the soft patter of their flippers on the pavement was the only sound as they worked. The last jellyfish was placed back into the box, the figure of Burgessomedusa phasmiformis nestling into its spot among the others. The children held their breath, waiting for some sign from Plankton that he noticed their efforts. Slowly, Plankton's antennae lowered, and he blinked once, then twice. He looked down into the box, his eyes scanning the neat rows of jellyfish. The children watched as a slight smile graced his lips, and he let out a sigh of relief. The children beamed, their eyes shining with pride, stepping back to give him space. Mr. Krabs, still looking slightly stunned, took a tentative step forward. "Plankton?" he asked, his voice gruff but concerned. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he looked up, his one eye focusing on the crab. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his monotone voice still present but with a hint of warmth. Mr. Krabs's claw hovered over the box, unsure of what to say. "I had no idea Plankton," he murmured, his eyes on the meticulously organized jellyfish. "It's ok," Plankton said, his monotone voice tinged with sadness. "Mr. Krabs didn't know." Karen stepped in gently. "Krabs is just surprised," she explained. "He's never seen you like this before." Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression softening slightly. "That's right," he said, his voice no longer filled with anger. "I've never seen you so... focused on something other than Krabby Patties." "Jellyfish special," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "I didn't mean to cause you brain damage, Plankton.." Mr. Krabs says. "It's okay," Plankton murmured, his antennae twitching slightly.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vii (Autistic author) He starts to rock back and forth, his single eye squeezed shut as he tries to cope with the sudden change in his environment. Mr. Krabs' confusion deepens, his claws scratching his head in bemusement. "What's gotten into you, Plankton?" he says. But Plankton can't stop. His rocking intensifies, his whispered mantra becoming more desperate. "Fish, fish, fish," he repeats, his voice rising slightly with each iteration. Mr. Krabs stares at Plankton, his confusion turning. "Plankton, you ok?" he asks. But Plankton is lost in his own world, his stimming a way to self-regulate. His antennas wave back and forth in a soothing rhythm, his body rocking slightly as he murmurs "fish, fish, fish." Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend, his own hands clenching into fists at his side. He understands now that Plankton's behavior isn't a game, it's a coping mechanism, a way to navigate through the chaos in his head. "Plankton, it's ok," Sponge Bob says soothingly, approaching his friend. He gently picks up one of the fallen chess pieces, a knight, and holds it out to him. "Do you want to play again?" Plankton's antennas cease their frantic motion, his eye focusing on the knight. He takes it, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings, his breathing steadying. "Fish," he says, his voice calmer. Sponge Bob watches his friend carefully, his heart breaking at the sight of his distress. He understands now that Plankton's repetition is not just a strange behavior, but a way to cope with his new reality. Mr. Krabs, still confused, watches as Plankton's tracing the lines of the chessboard. "What are ye doing?" he asks, his voice annoyed. Sponge Bob's eyes meet Plankton's, and he sees the desperation in his friend's eye. "Mr. Krabs, Plankton's just... trying to remember how to play," he lies gently. Mr. Krabs grumbles but doesn't argue. Sponge Bob takes this moment to sit next to Plankton, placing his hand on his shoulder. "It's ok," he whispers. "We'll play again when you're ready." Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye dilating slightly as he nods. He clutches the knight tightly, his thumb stroking its smooth surface. It's a familiar comfort, something from before the accident, before the world became a confusing cacophony of sounds and sights. As the moments pass, Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the chessboard, the pattern of the squares providing a comforting visual stimulation. Sponge Bob notices the subtle change in his friend's demeanor, the tension easing from his tiny body. "Fish," Plankton murmurs again, but this time with less urgency. He carefully sets the knight back down on the board, his hand hovering above it. Sponge Bob's heart swells with affection, and he knows that despite the confusion and fear in Plankton's eye, his friend is trying. Mr. Krabs, however, is far from convinced, his eyes narrowing. "If this is how you're going to be, I'm not playing," he declares, crossing his arms over his chest. But Plankton's antennas perk up slightly, his interest piqued by the challenge. He picks up the knight again, his thumb caressing the piece. "Fish," he whispers, his gaze flicking to Sponge Bob and then back to the board. It's a plea. Sponge Bob nods, his face a picture of solemn reassurance. "It's ok," he repeats. "Just..." "What's wrong with you, Plankton?" Mr. Krabs exclaims. Plankton's antennas droop, and he looks down at his cards again. He doesn't know how to explain his condition to Mr. Krabs, who's always so dismissive of him. He feels a pang of desperation, racing to find a way to bridge understanding. Then, it hits him. With trembling hands, Plankton mimics Mr. Krabs' crossed arms, his voice a poor imitation. "What's wrong with you, Plankton," he repeats firmly. Mr. Krabs' eyes bulge with surprise. "What's this now?" he mutters, giving way to amusement. He chuckles deeply, his claws unfolding from his chest. Sponge Bob understands Plankton. "Mr. Krabs," he says quickly, trying to intercept the situation. "Plankton's..." But Mr. Krabs waves his hand dismissively. "I know, I know," he says, his voice filled with mockery. "Just playing his little games." Plankton doesn't want to be laughed at, especially not by Mr. Krabs. With determined effort, he mimics Mr. Krabs. "I know I know," he says again, his tone mimicking Mr. Krabs'. "Just playing his little games!" Mr. Krabs' laughter fades, his gaze sharp. "What now, Plankton?" he demands, his voice hard. Plankton's antennas quiver with determination as he picks up Mr. Krabs' mannerisms. "I know, I know," he repeats, his eye fixed on Mr. Krabs. "Just playing his little games!" Mr. Krabs' expression sours to irritation. "What's your game, Plankton?" he snaps. "Game," he repeats, his voice a mirror of Mr. Krabs'. "Game, game Mr. Krabs." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow, his confusion shifting to annoyance. "You're not making sense," he says, his voice sharp. But Plankton doesn't stop. "Game, game Mr. Krabs," he persists, his antennas waving frantically. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes. He knows Plankton's not trying to annoy; he's desperately trying to convey something, but his brain's wiring isn't cooperating. Plankton's repetition has turned into a mantra, a plea for understanding that only Mr. Krabs seems to ignore. Mr. Krabs' patience snaps. "Enough!" he shouts, slamming his claws on the table. "What do you want from me, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas flatten, his eye filling with tears. Sponge Bob jumps up, his own voice shaky. "Mr. Krabs, please, don't yell," he begs. "It's just a game." Mr. Krabs' face twists in anger. "This isn't a game, this is your usual scheme to drive me crazy!" "No, Mr. Krabs," he says.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS viii (Autistic Author) They sit in silence for a few moments, the sound of Plankton's slowing breaths filling the space. Karen's mind races with the conversation they need to have with Chip. "How do we explain it?" Plankton asks, finally breaking the silence. His antennae still, his eye looking at the floor. "We tell him the truth," Karen says firmly. "But we also remind him of all the wonderful things you do for him, all the ways you show him love." Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping further. "I know I'm not the dad he deserves," he murmurs. Karen's voice is firm, but filled with warmth. "You are the dad he needs," she corrects. "And we'll get through this together." Finally, Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice still thick with emotion. Karen nods. "I know," she says softly. "But we can't keep hiding this from him. He needs to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. "I know," he admits. "I just don't know where to start." Karen gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll start by talking to him," she says, her voice strong and reassuring. "When you're ready." They sit there for a while longer, the rhythm of Plankton's breathing slowly returning to normal. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts of how to navigate this chapter in their lives. How to help Chip understand his father's condition without scaring him or making him feel responsible. Finally, Plankton turns to her, his antennae still shaky. "What do we do now?" he asks, his voice a mix of exhaustion and fear. Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with resolve. "First," she says, "we make sure you're ok." They sit there, the only sound in the room the distant hum of the TV. Plankton's antennae are still, his eye focused on the floor. Karen's hand remains on his back, a silent promise that she's there for him. "Let's get you to bed," she says softly. "You need to rest." With her help, Plankton stands, his legs wobbly from the intense episode. Together, they make their way to their bedroom, the quiet of the house a stark contrast to the emotional upheaval they've just experienced. Once Plankton is tucked into bed, Karen sits beside him, her hand resting on his arm. "We'll get through this," she says, her voice a gentle reassurance in the stillness. "We're a family." Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of doubt, and he looks up at her, his eye searching hers for understanding. "But what if I can't?" Karen's gaze is unwavering. "You can," she says firmly. "You're strong, Plankton. And we're here to help you." Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods slowly. "Ok," he whispers. "Ok." Karen leans in, kissing his forehead. "Rest," she says. "We'll talk more tomorrow." With a nod, Plankton closes his eye, and Karen slips out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She heads to Chip's room, heavy with the weight of the conversation they need to have. Chip is lying on his bed, his small form wrapped in a blanket, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are red, and he looks up as Karen enters. "Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. "Can we talk?" Chip nods, his eyes still wet with tears. "What's wrong with Daddy?" he asks, his voice shaky. Karen takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Daddy has something called Autism, sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "It makes his brain work a bit differently from ours. Sometimes, when he's really upset or overwhelmed, his body can react in ways that might seem strange or scary." Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity, and he nods slowly. "Is that why he gets so mad?" he asks. Karen takes a moment before responding. "Sometimes, yes," she says. "It's his way of dealing with big feelings. But it's not because he's mad at you, ok?" Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But why does he get so mad?" he asks again, his voice quivering. Karen sighs, her hand stroking him. "Daddy gets overwhelmed by his feelings, and it's hard for him to express them," she explains. "Sometimes, when he can't find the right words or when things get too much, he feels like he's going to break apart. That's what we call a meltdown." Chip sniffs, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "It's like when I'm really sad and I don't want to talk?" Karen nods, her heart swelling with love for her son's empathy. "Exactly," she says. "And just like you, Daddy needs some space when that happens." Chip looks at her, his eyes serious. "But what if I want to show him my affection?" Karen smiles sadly. "You can, Chip," she says. "Just remember to be gentle, and maybe use words or gestures that aren't to overwhelming for him." Chip nods, his eyes still on the ceiling. "But what if I make it worse?" he whispers. Karen's heart clenches at his fear, and she takes his hand in hers. "Sometimes, we just need to learn new ways to show and receive love." Chip nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen leans in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "You're brave," she says, her voice filled with pride. "But what about the rock he broke?" Chip asks, his voice still shaky. Karen sighs, her eyes meeting his. "Daddy didn't mean to scare you," she says. "Sometimes, when people are upset, they do things they don't mean to. It's part of how they cope." Chip nods, his grip on her hand tightening. "But Dad now," he says again, his voice small. "We'll give him some time to rest," Karen assures him. "And tomorrow, we'll talk about it more." With that, she tucks the blanket around him and turns to leave. As she reaches the door, Chip's voice stops her. "Mom," he says, his tone tentative. "Can I go to Daddy?" Karen's heart skips a beat, and she looks back at him, her eyes filled with both concern and hope. "Do you think that's a good idea, sweetie?" Chip nods. "I want to tell him I love him," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's heart squeezes. "Ok," she says, taking a deep breath. "But remember, we need to be gentle with him right now. Let's go to his room together." They tiptoe down the hall, the house eerily quiet. Karen can feel Chip's hand in hers, small and warm and trembling slightly. When they reach the bedroom, she opens the door quietly and peeks in. Plankton is lying on his back, his antennae still, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. They approach the bed, and Karen can see the tension in Plankton's body, even in sleep. She whispers to Chip, "Remember, sweetie, just a little. And if he wakes up, tell him you love him." Chip nods solemnly, and together, they tiptoe to the bedside. Chip extends a tentative hand and gently pats Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but he doesn't wake. "I love you, Daddy," Chip whispers, his voice quivering. Karen's eyes fill with tears at the sight of her son's bravery and love. She gives Chip's hand a squeeze. "That was perfect," she says, her voice barely a murmur. They stand there for a moment, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall in the dim light of the moon peeking through the curtains. Then, with a heavy heart, Karen leads Chip back to his room. Once Chip is tucked in, she kisses his forehead and whispers, "You're a brave boy, and I'm so proud of you." His eyes, still red and swollen from crying, meet hers with a quiet understanding beyond his years.

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vii (Autistic author) The movie ended with the snails crossing the finish line. Sponge Bob reached for the remote, fingers hovering over the button. "Would you like to watch something else?" he asks, voice soft. Sponge Bob noticed his friend Plankton's gentle snores. He had fallen asleep, his body slack. "Plankton?" he whispered. Sponge Bob leaned closer, his heart skipping a beat as he noticed Plankton's gentle snores. Plankton didn't stir, his body slumped slightly curled up. Sponge Bob's gaze softened as he realized he had fallen asleep likely for the night. Sponge Bob felt a wave of relief wash over him, for Plankton found comfort in their shared experience. He gently cradles him. Karen, watching from the doorway, smiled softly as she saw Sponge Bob's gentle care. She knew that Sponge Bob had always had a special bond with Plankton, but now, it seemed that bond had grown deeper, more meaningful. He had always been there for Plankton, through their many adventures and misunderstandings. Now, in the face of Plankton's new reality, he remained steadfast, offering a steady hand in the storm of change. "Let's get him to bed," Karen whispered, stepping into the room. Her eyes met Sponge Bob's, her gaze filled with warmth and thanks. Together, they carefully lifted Plankton from the couch, his body limp with sleep. His antennae twitched slightly at the sudden movement, but his snores remained steady, a testament to his deep sleep. Sponge Bob walked down the hallway, his steps light, carrying Plankton with ease. Karen had prepared the bed. They laid him down, his antennae flailing briefly before settling against the pillow. Sponge Bob tucked the blanket around him, his movements careful not to disturb his friend. Plankton's snores grew quieter as his body settled into the cool embrace of the sheets. His antennae twitched one last time before going still, his mouth slightly parted. Sponge Bob and Karen stepped back, exchanging a look of shared relief. "He's asleep," Karen murmured, her voice a soft caress in the quiet room. Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze lingering on Plankton's peaceful face. "Thanks for today, Karen," he said, his voice grateful. Karen's smile was warm. "Anytime, Sponge Bob," she replied. "You're such a good friend to him." Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's sleeping form. "Always will be," he said. The next morning, Plankton woke up, and his antennae twitched as he registered the events of the previous day. He sat up, the blanket sliding off his body, and looked around. Sponge Bob stirred from the armchair, where he had dozed off watching over him. "Morning, Plankton," he said, his voice slightly rough with sleep. Plankton's antennae quivered as he looked around, his gaze falling on Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob yawned, stretching his spongy body, his voice gentle. "You fell asleep." Plankton's antennae twitched as his eye focused on Sponge Bob, his brain slowly piecing together the events of the previous evening. Sponge Bob's smile was warm. "You tired out, buddy?" he asked, his voice gentle. Plankton nodded slowly, his antennae twitching slightly. "Tired," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. Sponge Bob nodded, understandingly. "How about we start with a quiet morning?" he suggested. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly before he nods. "Quiet morning," he murmured, his voice agreeable. Sponge Bob nodded, his expression filled with concern. "How about some pancakes?" he offered. "They're nice and easy on the stomach." Plankton's antennae perked up at the mention of food. "No pancakes," he murmured, his voice still sluggish with sleep. Sponge Bob's eyes widened. "No pancakes?" he repeated, surprise evident in his tone. "But you love pancakes!" Plankton's antennae quivered as he thought, his voice a soft whisper. "Pancakes... no," he said, his gaze drifting to the window where the early morning sun peeked through the curtains. The light was gentle, not yet harsh enough to cause him pain. "Toast," he decided, his voice final. Sponge Bob nodded, his smile slightly saddened but respectful of Plankton's new boundaries. "Okay, toast it is," he said, standing up from the chair and heading to the kitchen. Karen met SpongeBob. "Good morning! How's everything?" Sponge Bob's expression was a mixture of hope and trepidation. "Plankton's okay," he said. "He's just really tired." Karen nodded, her gaze following her husband as he slowly made his way to the kitchen. "It's going to take some time for us to figure this out," she said. "But we'll get there." Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's reclined form. "We will," he said, his voice firm with resolve. He returned to the kitchen, his spongy feet padding softly against the floor. The room was bathed in the gentle light of dawn, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound. He pulled out a loaf of bread, his mind racing with thoughts of Plankton's new needs. Sponge Bob carefully sliced two pieces of toast, placing them in the toaster with a soft click. "Morning!" Karen says as Plankton sits down. She gives him milk, as she knew it soothes him. "Stayed up late for movie. Still am tired. Love Karen and SpongeBob." The toaster's ding pierced the silence, and Plankton's antennae shot straight up, his body stiffening at the sudden noise. "Easy, Plankton," Sponge Bob called from the kitchen, his voice soothing. "It's just the toast." "Toast," he murmured. "Toast." Sponge Bob carefully brought the toast to the table, placing it before Plankton. The scent of warm bread filled the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of Karen's brewing coffee. Plankton's antennae twitched as he took in the sight, his body visibly relaxing at the familiar smells. "Yesterday's crazy, autistic or not. And you're still getting used to it all." Karen says as Plankton eats the toast. Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching slightly, still exhausted. The milk Karen had given him was warm, the perfect temperature to soothe his still-frazzled nerves. He brought the cup to his lips, his hands trembling just a bit. As the creamy liquid slid down his throat, Plankton felt a gentle wash of calm spread through him. His antennae, which had been twitching in anticipation of the morning's noises, grew still. It usually helps calm him, which is what it did today. Sponge Bob sat opposite him, his eyes filled with concern. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping as he took another sip of his milk. "Tired," he murmured. Karen sat next to him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "It's okay," she said, her voice a gentle reminder of his new reality. SpongeBob helped Karen clean up the kitchen. Plankton sat in the chair, his body slumped, his antennae still. His eye was closed, his tiny chest rising and falling in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. His head tilted back and a soft snore escaped his open mouth. Karen noticed. The past few days had taken a toll on him, but she knew that with time and patience, they would find their new normal. "Let's get you to the couch," she murmured, her voice soft. She gently took the cup from Plankton's hand, his grip loose with sleep. Sponge Bob helped her lift his tiny form from the chair. Together, they carried him to the living room, his body relaxed in their grasp. They placed him on the couch, his antennae twitching slightly as he settled into the pillows. Sponge Bob tucked the blanket around Plankton, his eyes never leaving his friend's sleeping face. "Rest, Plankton," he whispered. "We're here." Karen nodded, her pixel eyes misting with emotion. "Thank you, Sponge Bob," she said. "For being here." Sponge Bob's smile was genuine. "Always, Karen," he said, his spongy hand giving hers a gentle squeeze. "Always."

GREAT CHIP ii (Autistic author) After what feels like an eternity, Plankton's eye slowly refocus. His body twitches, then relaxes. He blinks, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Karen moves closer, her hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back," she says soothingly. Plankton looks up, seeing Chip in the doorway, his eyes full of questions. "What..." Plankton asks, his voice groggy. Chip takes a step forward, his heart racing. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton blinks again, his gaze sharpening. He looks at Karen. "I had one of my moments, didn't I?" His voice is tinged with self-consciousness. Karen nods, her eyes full of love and understanding. "Yes, you did." Plankton's gaze shifts to Chip, his vulnerability laid bare for his son to see. Chip steps closer, unsure of what to do with his hands, his eyes searching his dad's. "Are you okay?" Chip asks, his voice tentative. "I just got h..." "Yes," Plankton cuts him off, his tone brisk, "I'm fine, ok?" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice, as if the seizure is an inconvenience, something to be pushed aside quickly and forgotten. Chip's heart squeezes at the sight. "Dad, ca..." "I said I'm okay," Plankton repeats, his voice a little sharper this time. There's a defensiveness in his tone that Chip's never heard before. Chip flinches. But he's still confused, and his curiosity won't quit. "But why do..." "I don't want to talk about it, I told you what to know," Plankton snaps, his voice abrupt and final. "So just drop it!" Chip's eyes fill with tears, his curiosity colliding with his dad's discomfort. He's never seen Plankton so agitated before. "Dad I'm so..." "I said I'm okay!" Plankton says. "So JUST STOP ASKING!" Chip's eyes well with tears. He didn't mean to upset him, he just wanted to understand. Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Why don't you go to your room for a bit, honey?" "Ok," Chip says, but he ends up accidentally touching his dad when he stands up to go, brushing against Plankton. And that makes him even angrier.. Plankton jolts away, his face twisting into a grimace. "I said not to touch me!" The room goes deathly quiet. Karen's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to say something, but Plankton's not done with Chip. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" he yells, his voice echoing off the walls. "I can't even have a moment without you pestering me! YOU'RE the one who's not okay! YOU'RE JUST A KID, CHIP; I NEVER WANT YOU TO EVER THINK ABOUT THIS AGAIN!" Chip's eyes widen, his face flushing with a mix of fear and sadness. He didn't know his dad could be so mad. He turns and runs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Karen sighs heavily. This isn't how she wanted Chip to learn about Plankton's condition. She knows her husband's frustration is a defense mechanism, a way for him to cope with his own fears. But it doesn't make it any easier for Chip to understand. Plankton's eye follows Chip as he runs off, his own expression a mix of anger and upset. He didn't like to scream, but the sensory overload from the seizure had left him on edge, his emotions raw. His son didn't mean any harm, but the sudden contact had been too much. His skin feels like it's buzzing, his mind racing with the echoes of his own voice. Plankton sighs. He doesn't like his son to see him like this, so vulnerable and out of control. Karen never liked to see Plankton upset. She knew to tread carefully with him when he's so explosive, as he's now breathing heavily. "Plankton," she starts gently, "Chip didn't mean to upset you. He's just trying to understand." But Plankton's still tense, not replying to her. Karen saw the frustration and wanted to try again, not knowing if he understood what she said. She inched closer to him cautiously. Plankton's eye darted around the room, avoiding hers. He knew his reaction was too much, but his senses were still screaming. He felt like a failure, unable to control his own body. Karen waited patiently, giving Plankton the space he needed. Her hand hovered near his arm, ready to offer comfort, but she knew better than to touch him now. Plankton's shoulders slumped as the reality of the situation sank in. He had always tried so hard to hide his seizures from Chip, not wanting to burden him. But now the secret was out, and his son had witnessed his most vulnerable moment. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he had snapped at Chip. It was his way of protecting his own pride. Plankton took a deep breath, his heart thumping in his chest. He didn't want his son to see him as weak or broken. Karen's hand remained hovering, a silent offering of comfort. He knew she understood, but he didn't want her defending Chip either. Plankton's mind raced, his heart still pounding. He felt exposed, his secret laid bare for his son to see. The room was suffocating, his thoughts a tornado. He didn't want Chip to think less of him, to see him as damaged. Plankton took another deep breath, his eye focusing on anything but Karen's concerned gaze. He felt a knot in his stomach, his chest tight, both of which can in themselves cause an overload on their own. But Karen didn't realize when she reached out to touch his shoulder.. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, but to Plankton, it was like a bomb had detonated in his sensory system. He jolted away, his eye wide with panic. "Sorry," Karen murmured, quickly retracting her hand. She knew better than to push when he was like this. Plankton nodded, his breathing steadying slightly. "It's okay," he managed to say, his voice still tight. "I know you're trying." Karen sat down next to him, her hand resting on the couch between them, a silent bridge of support. "We'll talk to Chip together, when you're ready." Plankton nodded, his eye still avoiding hers. In the quiet, Plankton felt his self-consciousness grow. He didn't want Chip to see him this way, to think less of him. It was something he'd managed to hide for so long, his autism, his moments of overload. Now, it was out in the open, and he felt like a creature exposed to the elements. The room felt too warm, too bright, each sound amplified. He knew his reaction was extreme, but his mind couldn't help it. The effort it took to appear 'normal' was like swimming against a riptide, and now the current had dragged him under. He could see the worry in Karen's screen, the sadness that he'd lashed out at Chip. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want Chip to think he didn't care, that he didn't want to be there for him. He just couldn't handle the touch, not now. Not with his senses still in overdrive. Karen knew that look, the one of internal battle. "Why don't we go talk to him?" she suggested, her voice soft. Plankton nodded, pushing himself out of the chair. His legs felt like jelly, his heart racing. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before opening the door to Chip's room.

Glossary Ablepharia Reduction or absence of the eyelids, esp. with continuous skin covering the eyes. Abrachia Absence of the arms (forelimbs). Acampsia Rigidity or inflexibility of a joint (ankylosis). Acardia Absence of the heart. Acaudia, acaudate Without a taıl (anury). Acephaly Agenesis of the head (acephalia). Acheiria Congenital absence of one or both hands (forepaws). Achondroplasia Skeletal dysplasia, resulting in short limbs and other defects, due to abnormal cartilage. Acorea Absence of the pupil of the eye. Acrania Partial or complete absence of the cranium. Acystia Absence of urinary bladder. Adactyly Absence of digits. Agenesis Lack of development of an organ. Aglossia Absence of the tóngue. Agnathia Absence of the lower jaw (mandible). Agyria Small braın lacking the normal convolutions of the cerebral cortex (lissencephaly). Amastia Absence of the mammae (breasts). Amelia Absence of a limb or limbs (see also ectromelia). Ametria Absence of the uterus. Anasarca Generalized edema. Anencephaly Absence of cranial vault, with the braın missing or greatly reduced. Anephrogenesis Absence of kidney(s). Aniridia Absence of the iris. Anisomelia Inequality between paired limbs. Ankyloglossia Partial or complete adhesion of the tóngue to the floor of the mouth. Ankylosis Abnormal fixation of a joint; implies bone fusion. Anodontia Absence of some or all of the teeth. Anonchia Absence of some or all of the nails. Anophthalmia Absent or vestigial eye(s). Anorchism Uni- or bilateral absence of the testes (anorchia). Anostosis Defective development of bone; failure to ossify. Anotia Absence of the external ear(s) (i.e., pinnae, auricles). Anovarism Absence of the ovaries (anovaria). Anury see Acaudia. Aphakia Absence of the eye lens. Aphalangia Absence of a digit or of one or more phalanges. Aplasia see Agenesis. Apodia Absence of one or both of the feet (paws). Aprosopia Partial or complete absence of the fac͘e. Arachnodactyly Abnormal length and slenderness of the digits—“spider-like.” Arrhinencephaly Congenital absence or hypoplasia of the brain’s olfactory lobe, and incomplete external olfactory organ development (arhinencephaly). Arrhinia Absence of the nose. Arthrogryposis Persistent flexure or contracture of a joint. Arthrogryposis multiplex congenita Syndrome distinguished by congenital fixation of the joints and muscle hypoplasia. Asplenia Absence of the spleen. Astomia Absence of the opening of the møuth. Atelectasis Incomplete expansion of a fetal lung or a portion of the lung at bırth. Athelia Absence of the nipple(s). Athymism Absence of the thymus (Athymia).

Agenesia is an incomplete and imperfect development of an organ or part and aplasia is absence of an organ or part. Acrania is absence of most or all of the bones of the cranium. Amelia is absence of one or more limbs. Anencephalia is absence of the brain. Hypocephalia is incomplete development of the brain. Hemicrania is absence of half of the head. Exencephalia is defective skull with brain exposed or extruded. If the protruding brain contains a ventricle which is filled with excessive amount of fluid, the malformation is a hydrencephalocele. Arhinencephalia is absence or rudimentary development of the olfactory lobe with corresponding lack of development of the external olfactory organs. Agnathia is absence of the lower jaw. Anophthalmia is absence of one or both eyes. Abrachia is absence of the forelimbs. Abrachiocephalia is absence of forelimbs and head. Adactylia is absence of digits. . Excess of Development 1. Congenital hypertrophy Hemi hypertrophy (partial) 2. Increase in the number of a part Polyotia (ears) Polyodontia(teeth) Polymelia (limbs) Polydactylia(digits) Polymastia (mammary gland) Polythelia(teats) Twins Entirely Separate Although separate, these twins are in a single chorion. One twin as a rule is well developed; the other is malformed (acardius). In the malformed foetus there is arrested development of the heart, lungs, and trunk. Such monsters may lack a head (acephalus), limbs and other recognizable features (amorphous), or the trunk (acormus). Twins United These twins are more or less completely united and are of symmetrical development. TWINS UNITED A. Anterior Twinning: The anterior part of the individual is double, the posterior single. Pygopagus – united in the pelvic region with the bodies side by side. Ischiopagus – united in the pelvic region with the bodies at an obtuse (not pointed) angle. Dicephalus – two separate heads; doubling may also affect the neck, thorax and trunk. Diproosopus – doubling in the cephalic region without complete separation of heads; only the face doubled. B. Posterior Twinning: The posterior part is double, the anterior single. Craniopagus – brains usually separated; bodies as a rule at an acute angle. Cephalothoracopagus – union of head and thorax. Dipygus – doubling of posterior extremities and posterior part of body. C. Twinning Almost Complete: Duplication of the whole trunk or the anterior or posterior extremities with parallel, ventral arrangement of the foetuses. The pair is joined in the region of the thorax, and also often in the abdominal region. Thoracopagus – united only by the thorax. Prosopothoracopagus – besides the union the thorax the abdomen, the head and neck are united. Rachipagus – thorax and lumbar portion of the spinal column united.

CHIP AND FAIL vii (Autistic author) Plankton's body tensed, his eye squeezing shut as he tried to block out the onslaught of sensations. "Chip," he murmured, his voice strained, "I can't." "What do you mean?" He didn't know his touch, his words, his very presence was a storm in Plankton's mind. He just wanted to share his week, his joy, with his dad. Plankton took a deep, shaky breath, his antennae twitching. "I have... I have something that makes it hard for me to... to handle..." But Chip's excitement was unable to comprehend the distress he was causing. "Handle what, Dad?" he asked, his voice filled with eagerness. "You can tell me anything!" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering with pain. He knew he had to find the words, to explain the storm that raged in his mind, his voice trembling. "I can't... I just..." Chip's eyes searched his father's, his hands reaching out again. But Plankton was already slipping away, his mind a tornado of sensations. He couldn't find the words, the storm too loud. Chip, oblivious to the turmoil, pressed on. "Dad, you can tell me anything," he said, his voice bubbling over with eagerness. His hands reached out again, his touch like a lightning bolt in Plankton's overstimulated world. Plankton's antennae quivered with the effort of maintaining his composure. He didn't know how to explain the maelstrom that was his mind, the way each touch and sound felt like a thunderclap. "Chip," he began again, his voice strained, "I'm..." But Chip was a hurricane, his enthusiasm unyielding. "Is it because of the college?" he asked, his screen sparkling. "Or Nutmeg?" He didn't realize that his words, his touch, were the fuel for the storm. Plankton's eye searched his son's, desperate for a moment of calm. "Chip, no, it's not about..." His voice was a whisper, lost in the wind of his son's excitement. But Chip didn't hear the desperation, his mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts and memories. He didn't see the pain he was causing, only his own need for connection. "But Dad, I just wanted to..." Plankton's antennae shot up, his body tensing like a bowstring. "Chip," he said, his voice a whipcrack of agony. "P-please." But Chip was in his own world, racing with the excitement of his week. "Come on, Dad," he said, his voice filled with cheerful oblivion. "It's so cool, you've gotta see it!" He grabbed Plankton's hand, pulling him to hard. Plankton's body jerked, his eye wide with pain. The sudden contact was like a sledgehammer to his overstimulated mind, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. "Chip," he managed, his voice strained, "please." But Chip's excitement was a freight train, barreling forward without a care for the tracks. He didn't see the agony etched in Plankton's features, didn't feel the tension in his father's body. "Come on, Dad," he said, his grip tightening. "It's going to be amazing, I..." Plankton's body spasmed at the contact, his antennae vibrating wildly. The room grew too bright, the sounds too loud, the air too thin. He couldn't move, couldn't think. His mind was a cacophony of sensations, a symphony of overload. "Chip," he choked out, his voice a plea. "I... I can't." Chip's face fell, not realizing how angry his dad's getting. "What do you..." But Plankton was already spiraling, his mind a tornado of sensory assault. He didn't know how to make Chip understand, his voice a thunderclap of despair. "I CAN'T!" he shouted, his antennae waving erratically. Chip's smile faltered, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen his dad like this before, his touch a match to a fuse. He took a step back, his hands up in surrender. "You mean, you won't!" he asked, his voice shaking. Plankton took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "Chip," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I can't. Not right now. I need..." But Chip's crashing over the delicate barriers Plankton had built to keep his world in order. "But Dad, it's just a story!" he exclaimed, his voice booming in the quiet living room. "It's not a big deal, you're just being..." The room grew smaller, the walls closing in on Plankton as Chip's words echoed in his mind. Just a story? To Chip, it was a simple tale of adventure, but to Plankton, it was a minefield of sensory input his brain couldn't process. "Chip, please," he murmured, his antennae twitching wildly. "I'm trying..." "You're not trying hard enough!" Chip said, his voice filled with the kind of innocent exasperation that only a child can muster. "But if you're trying to break our family, congratulations! You..." Plankton's antennae shot up, his body rigid with tension. The accusation hit him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him under the weight of his own failure. "Chip," he said, his voice a desperate plea. "It's not..." But Chip's screen filled with accusation, his voice loud in the suddenly too-small room. "Why can't you just be normal?" he demanded, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye squeezed shut against the assault. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm not... I'm not like other dads." "Well DUH! You just can't handle it, can you?" Chip said, his voice filled with frustration. He didn't see the pain in Plankton's eye, the way his antennae drooped with each accusation. "But it's just a story, Dad. It's not that..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body trembling with the effort to stay calm. "Chip, you don't understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "My mind is like a... a... " Chip's eyes searched his father's, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. "What? What's wrong with you? Let me guess, you're just being dramatic again," he said, his voice harsher than he intended. Plankton flinched at the accusation, his antennas stiffening. Karen watched from the sidelines, aching. She knew this moment was inevitable, but seeing the pain was like a knife to her. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation that needed to happen. "Chip, sweetie," she began, her voice soft and gentle, "Dad's not being dramatic." She took a step forward, placing a hand on her son's shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his skin. "Your dad has..." "Mom, my 'dad' has no place in OUR family! Your life is a lie!" Chip's words, fueled by confusion and hurt, echoed through to Plankton, his voice shaking. Karen's hands shook as she reached for Chip. "No, honey," she said, her voice trembling, "it's not that simple." But Chip was already storming out of the room, his footsteps like thunder in the quiet hallway. Plankton slumped back against his chair, his antennae drooping. He had hoped Chip would never have to know, never have to feel the way he did. The way his mind was like a cluttered room, with no way to organize the chaos. He closed his eye, the weight of his secret heavy on his shoulders.

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD iii He took another sip of water, his cheeks puffing out as he swished it around his mouth. "Mmph, tath's betta," he said, handing the cup back to the nurse. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. "Okay, let's get you up," she said, her voice still filled with laughter. Plankton nodded, his antennae bobbing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements slow and clumsy. Karen slipped her arm under his and helped him stand. His balance was wobbly, like a newborn foal taking its first steps. She had to stifle her giggles as he tried to navigate the unseen world with his numbed mouth. "Mmph... Kahen," he began, his voice a series of muffled sounds. "How long wi’ this lafs?" Karen chuckled at his question. "It'll wear off in a few hours. But until then, you're going to have to be careful." Plankton's antennae wiggled with determination. "Mmph, I'm a bih boy," he slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his bravado. "Yes, you are," she said, her voice warm and supportive. "Let's get you to the car." With Plankton leaning heavily on her, they shuffled down the hallway." "Mmph... Kahen," Plankton slurred, his words still thick with the remnants of the anesthesia. "You know, I've alwaths wanthed to know... how youw wove me wath." Karen raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. "What do you mean, Plankton?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by his sudden sentimental turn. "Mmph, wike, how... how youw... feww in wove?" he managed, his tongue thick and clumsy. Karen's smile grew tender at his earnest question. "Well, it's complicated," she began, her voice soft. "But I guess it started when we met. Now, let's get in the car." Plankton nodded, his antennae waving with understanding. "Mmph, okay." Karen helped him shuffle his way out of the hospital, his feet dragging slightly. He was still groggy from the anesthesia, but his curiosity was in overdrive. "Mmph, Kahen," Plankton slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wha's wove wike?" Karen glanced down at him, his expression earnest. "It's like when two people really, really like each other," she replied, her voice gentle. "Wike... I wove youw tho mush." He says. Karen couldn't help but laugh again. "Plankton, you're not making any sense," she said, her voice filled with affectionate exasperation. His antennae drooped slightly, his eye looking disappointed. "Mmph... I'm tawwy," he mumbled, his mouth still a mess of numbness. "It's just... I wove youw Kahen." Karen's heart skipped a beat, his words a sweet jumble of slurs. "I know, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. They reached the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. "Mmph, Kahen, wath's that?" Plankton asked pointing to the dashboard. Karen chuckled. "It's the car's dashboard, Plankton. You're just seeing things differently because of the medicine." She buckled his seatbelt, his movements exaggerated. "Mmph, oh," he murmured, his interest shifting to the windshield wipers. "Mow, theath things, they'we like... like... arms," he said, his speech still a slurry mess. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "They're wipers, Plankton. For the rain," she corrected, starting the engine. He nodded, his antennae still waving with fascination. "Mmph, wath's theath wound?" he asked, pointing at the steering wheel. Karen couldn't help but laugh. "That's the steering wheel, buddy. It's what I use to drive the car," she said, her voice still filled with humor. Plankton stared at it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Mmph, and theath wound?" he asked, his finger tracing the path of the windshield wipers. Karen couldn't help but laugh. "It's to keep the windshield clear, so we can see while driving." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with curiosity. "Mmph, so many tings in this big wowld." Karen couldn't help but laugh, his innocent wonder bringing a smile to her face. "Yes, Plankton, there are so many things to discover," she said, backing out of the parking spot. "Mmph, and wath's wath?" Plankton asked, pointing out the window at a passing scallop. "That's a scallop, Plankton. It flies in the sky," she explained, her voice still filled with amusement. He nodded, his antennae bobbing as he took it all in. "Wow, so-o beautiful," he slurred, his eye gazing out the window like a child seeing the world for the first time. Karen couldn't help but be captivated by his innocent wonder. "You know, Plankton, sometimes you say the sweetest things without even realizing it." His antennae perked up. "Mmph, do I?" he asked, his speech still a garbled mess. Karen nodded, her smile tender. "You do." "Mmph, gweat," he says with a slow nod of his head. Karen steers the car onto the road, the sun casting a warm glow over Plankton's sleepy face. His antennae wilt slightly as his eye struggles to stay open. "Mmph, Kahen, theath sun is so bright," he complains, his voice still slurred from the anesthesia. Karen chuckles, reaching over to adjust the visor. "Better?" He nods, his antennae drooping. "Mmph, yeth. Thanf you." He said, as drool began to form again in the corner of his mouth. Karen reached over with a tissue, carefully dabbing it away. Plankton flinched slightly, his mouth still too numb to feel the touch. "Mmph, I wathn't expehcting this," he mumbles, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. The world outside the car was a blur of colors and shapes, his mind still trying to make sense of it all. Karen navigated the road, her eyes flipping between the road and Plankton's amusing expressions. "Mmph, Kahen, wath's thaf?" he asks, his eye half-closed. Karen looks over at the traffic light, its red light a stark contrast to the bright sun. "It's a stoplight, Plankton. It tells me when to stop and go." Plankton nods, his antennae barely moving. "Mmph, wike a twail." His eye closes, and Karen can feel his weight shift slightly toward her as sleep begins to claim him again. "Mmph, Kahen?" Plankton's voice interrupts the quiet hum of the engine, his words a soft whisper. "Ith wike I'm swimmin' in molasses," he says, his mouth still not cooperating. Karen laughs, keeping one eye on the road and the other on his peaceful face. "You're just tired from the surgery," she assures him. "You'll be fine once you get some rest." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye opening slightly. "But, Kahen, I don't wan' to sleep," he slurred. "I wan' to expehrience this wowld with you." His words were earnest, his gaze firm despite his grogginess. She watched him fight the tide of sleep, his eyelid drooping again. "Mmph, wath's theath wowndow?" he asked, pointing at the car's side mirror. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his confusion. "It's a mirror, sweetheart," she said, her voice soothing. "So we can see what's behind us." Plankton nodded, his antennae barely moving. "Mmph, wike a... wike a... wookie," he mumbled, his speech still a garbled mess. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "It's okay, Plankton. You're just tired." His eyes grew heavier, his lid drooping. "Mmph, I am," he admitted, his voice a faint whisper. The car's gentle rocking and the hum of the engine began to lull him into a doze. Karen watched him, his snores growing louder as he succumbed to sleep. His hand still held hers, the connection warm and comforting. She felt his grip loosen slightly, his body relaxing into the seat. His breathing grew deep and even, his antennae quietly bobbing with each exhalation. Karen couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for this vulnerable side of Plankton she'd never seen before. The car ride home was quiet, punctuated only by Plankton's gentle snores and the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. Karen smiled to herself, her grip on his hand never loosening.

CATCH IN MY CHIP ii (Autistic author) Chip looks at his father with newfound understanding. He remembers the way Plankton's eye would sometimes glaze over when the TV was too loud or when the restaurant was too crowded. He'd always assumed it was just his dad being tired or grumpy, not that his brain was struggling to keep up. "So, what is it?" Chip asks, his voice small and scared. Karen takes a deep breath. "It's called autism, sweetie. And it just means that Daddy's brain works a little differently. Sometimes, it's really good at things, like inventing and remembering stuff. But sometimes, it can get overwhelmed by too much noise or too many people or things." Chip nods slowly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "But why doesn't he tell me?" Karen sighs, taking Chip's hand in hers. "Because he doesn't always know it's happening until it's too late. And sometimes, talking about it can make it harder for him." She looks up at her son with a gentle smile. "But now that you know, you can help him. Like giving him space when he needs it, or turning down the TV." Chip nods, his mind racing. He's always thought his dad was a little weird, but now he knows it's not just weirdness. It's something real, something that makes him who he is. He looks back at Plankton, feeling a mix of concern and curiosity. He goes and touches his dad's arm, his heart racing. "Dad, wake up," Chip cries, his hand shaking slightly. But Karen steps in, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Let's give him some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's still form. He retreats to the corner of the room, clutching his newly acquired seashell collection tightly to his chest. His mind races with questions, but fear keeps his mouth shut. He watches as his mom pulls the curtains, dimming the light to a gentle glow that seems to ease the tension in the room. The quiet is almost deafening now, the only sound the faint hum of the Chum Bucket's air-conditioning. Chip sits cross-legged on the floor, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. He'd always known his dad was unique, but he didn't realize it was something so... serious. Karen sits beside Plankton, speaking in hushed tones. "It's okay, dear," she says, stroking his arm. "Just breathe." Plankton's body twitches slightly, his eye still open and unseeing. Chip watches, wishing he could do something to help. He tries to be patient, his mind racing with questions about what just happened. Why couldn't Dad handle his stories and his energy? Why did he just... shut down? He'd never seen anyone react that way before. Chip's curiosity gets the better of him, and he tiptoes closer to the bed, peering over his mom's shoulder. Plankton's eye is still staring off into space, and his breathing is still shallow. "Mom, what's autism?" He whispers. Karen glances over at him, her expression a mix of love and sadness. "It's a condition that affects how people process information, honey," she says, her voice soft. "Some things that are easy for you and me, like talking and being around lots of noise, can be really hard for Daddy." Chip's eyes widen with realization. "So, when I was sharing all my stories and showing him my stuff, I was being too loud and moving too much?" Karen nods. "Sometimes, yes. It's like if you were trying to read a book in the middle of a rock concert. It's hard to focus." Chip looks down at his sandy hands, feeling a pang of guilt. "I didn't know," he murmurs. Karen smiles sadly. "It's okay, Chip. We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to think of your dad as different. But now that you know, you can help us take care of him." Chip nods solemnly, watching his mom gently guide Plankton to a more comfortable position on the bed. "How do we help him?" Karen sighs. "Well, for starters, we give him some space when he needs it. And when he's feeling better, we can talk about it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes glued to his dad's still form. He wants to help, but he doesn't know how. He watches as his mom covers Plankton with a blanket, her movements gentle and soothing. "What do we do now?" Karen looks at him, her expression full of warmth. "Now, we wait."

CHIP AND FAIL xi (Autistic author) Karen made chum for dinner and they all sat at the table. "Thanks," Plankton says to Karen as she hands him his plate. She sits down with her own plate after serving Chip his. "Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. Plankton's antennae twitched, but his eye remained fixed on his plate. The silence was a wall between them, thick as seaweed and just as impenetrable. Chip's heart felt like it was sinking into his stomach, the weight of his father's silence heavier than any words could have been. Karen's screen darted between them, a silent plea for peace. She knew this was Plankton's way of dealing with his overwhelm, but it was torture for Chip, who craved understanding and connection. "So, how's your friends?" Karen asks Chip. Chip shrugs, his screen darting to Plankton, who remains silent, his antennae still. "They're okay," he says, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. Karen sighs internally, the tension at the dinner table a heavy fog that seemed to smother their usual banter. "Karen, can you pass the napkins?" Plankton says. "Sure," she says as she puts them in the middle. "Dad, how do you feel about the food?" Plankton's antennae twitched but his gaze remained on his plate, his mouth a tight line. The silence was a thick stew that no one knew how to digest. Chip's eyes were filled with hope, searching for any sign of his father's usual playfulness, but all he found was a wall of quiet. Chip's voice was a feeble ripple in the vast ocean of their silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?" he offered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained silent, his eye never leaving his plate. The air was thick with tension, like seawater saturated with the weight of their unspoken words. Chip churned with anxiety, each bite of chum a reminder of the gap that had suddenly widened between him and his father. "Please, Dad," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the clink of their forks. Plankton's antennas remained still, his eye focused on the food before him. Karen's heart was a tight knot in her chest, her eyes darting between her husband and son. The silence was a living creature, a Kraken of tension coiled around them, squeezing the joy from the room. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us about your week," she said, her voice too bright, too forced. Chip took a tentative bite of his chum, his eyes on Plankton's unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a good time at the carnival," he began, his voice a sad echo of his usual excitement. "I won at the ring toss." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip felt like a deflated balloon, each of his words a futile attempt to pierce the silence. "And I met a new friend," Chip continued, his voice a feeble thread trying to weave through the stillness. "She's a dolphin. She was really cute." Plankton's antennae twitched again, just a little, but it was enough to keep Chip's hope afloat. Chip's voice grew stronger, his words a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of silence. "Her name's Daisy," he said, a tiny smile tugging. "We played in the bubbles." But Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye on his plate. It was as if Chip's words were bouncing off an invisible shield, unable to penetrate the fortress of his father's mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen filling with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to share his joy with Plankton, but the wall of silence was too high, too thick. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching around his fork. "Dad, I know you're mad at me," he said, his voice trembling. "But I just want to understand." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment, weighing down on Chip like an oversized sponge soaked in regret. He knew he had to try again, to bridge the gap. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky but determined. "I know I messed up today, but I want to make it right." He took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "Can you tell me more about your...about what happened to you?" His voice was a tiny bubble of hope rising in the deep sea of their dinner. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering up to meet Chip's for a brief moment before dropping back to his plate. The silence stretched on like a tight rubber band, threatening to snap. Karen's screen a tempest of concern, torn between her love for her husband and her desire to help her son. She knew Plankton needed his space, but seeing the pain in Chip's screen was like watching a piece of coral being slowly eroded by the sea. Chip's words hung in the air, like a message in a bottle lost at sea. Plankton's silence was a reef that Chip's words couldn't navigate around. He took a deep breath, his heart a conch shell echoing with hope. "Dad, I know it's hard for you," he tried again, his voice a gentle wave. "But if you don't tell me, how can I understand?" The room was a pressure cooker of unspoken emotion, the tension rising with each passing second. Karen's screen pleaded with Plankton, willing him to respond. But he remained still, his antennae unmoving, his eye a storm cloud over their meal. Chip's heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, his words falling on deaf antennae. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice desperate. "I just want to help." But Plankton's antennae remained motionless, his eye averted. The silence was a deep-sea trench between them, vast and unbridgeable. Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope leaking away like water through a sieve. He took another bite of his chum, the taste of it suddenly bitter on his tongue. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a tiny hammer on the anvil of his heart. Chip forced a swallow, his throat tight with emotion. "Dad," he said again, his voice a tiny ripple in the vast ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room held its breath, waiting for a response, but none came. The silence was a thick kelp that choked, suffocating any attempt at conversation.

------------------------------------------------------------ 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝑯𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒅 “𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇. “ ------------------------------------------------------------

JUST A TOUCH ii (Autistic author) Plankton began to sit up, his movements were methodical, each action deliberate and precise. His antennae twitched as he took in the sights and sounds of the hospital room, his eye searching for familiarity in the unfamiliar setting. "Home?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency. Karen's screen filled with understanding. "We're not home, sweetie. We need to stay here until the doctors are sure you're okay." She kept her tone soft and even, hoping to soothe his growing anxiety. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. "You've acquired Autism." The doctor nodded in agreement. "It's important that he feels secure and comfortable in this new environment. Let's start with some simple questions to gauge his cognitive function." He turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's response was immediate and crystal clear. "Sheldon J. Plankton." Karen's heart skipped a beat at the formality in his tone. This was her husband, but the way he spoke was unlike anything she had heard from him before. The doctor's smile remained, but his eyes were assessing. "And who is this lovely lady next to you?" Plankton paused, his antennae quivering. "Karen," he said, his voice slightly softer, "Plankton's computer wife." He was stating facts, not sharing his emotions. The doctor noted the exchange and nodded. "It's alright, Karen. This is all part of the adjustment." He then turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me what you see around you?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his antennae twitching rapidly. "White walls. Blue floor. Bright lights. Machines," he listed, his voice devoid of inflection. The doctor jotted down notes, his gaze thoughtful. "Good, good. Now, can you tell me how you feel?" Plankton's response was quick and specific. "Plankton feel the coolness of the air conditioner, hear the hum of the lights above. Plankton's hand is clammy. Your hand is dry." Karen felt a pang of sadness at his lack of emotional description. The doctor nodded, his gaze shifting to Karen. "It's not uncommon for individuals with Acquired Autism to speak in a matter-of-fact manner, especially when they're trying to make sense of their surroundings." Karen felt a tear slip down her screen as she forced a smile for Plankton. "Okay, we can handle this," she thought, wiping it away. Plankton's gaze never left the doctor, his eye scanning every tentacle as he spoke. "Now, let's check your coordination," the doctor said, handing him a simple puzzle. Plankton took the puzzle pieces in his tiny hands and began to assemble them with lightning speed. The doctor watched in amazement as the intricate pattern emerged, each piece fitting perfectly. "Remarkable," he murmured. "It seems his problem-solving abilities have indeed been enhanced." Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears as she saw Plankton's meticulous movements, the way his fingers danced over the plastic pieces. It was as if he saw a pattern that she couldn't. As the puzzle came together, she noticed his breathing had evened out, his movements more fluid, as if the task provided him some semblance of peace. But when the doctor tried to take the puzzle away to test another cognitive function, Plankton's hand shot out, his grip tightening on the last piece. "No," he said firmly, his voice edged with something new, something akin to panic. "It's not finished." The doctor exchanged a look with Karen, who nodded slowly. They had to respect his new boundaries. "Alright, Plankton, take your time," she said, her voice calm. The doctor stepped back, allowing Plankton to complete his task. With a final snap, the puzzle was done. Plankton stared at it, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Once the puzzle was complete, he handed it back to the doctor with a nod. The doctor took it with a smile. "Very good, Plankton." Karen felt a swell of pride mixed with the fear. "Now, let's move on to some memory recall," the doctor suggested, his tentacles holding a series of cards with images. "I'm going to ask you..." But before the doctor could finish, Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye widening as he spotted a smudge on the wall. "Clean," he murmured, his gaze firmly locked on the imperfection. Karen's heart sank as she watched his obsession take hold. The doctor paused, sensing the shift in Plankton's focus. "It appears Plankton has developed some OCD tendencies alongside his Autism," he said gently to Karen. "It's not unusual for them to fixate on certain things." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's as his gaze remained glued to the smudge. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "We can get someone to clean it." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body visibly relaxing at the thought. The doctor nodded at a nearby janitor, who quickly came over and wiped the smudge away, leaving the wall gleaming. With the wall back to its pristine state, Plankton's eye moved back to the cards. He took them in his hands and studied each image intently, his antennae quivering with concentration. "Ready?" Karen asked, hopeful that this part of the assessment would go smoothly. But Plankton's gaze shifted to the floor, focusing on the tiles. Each one was perfectly aligned, except for a single one slightly askew. "Crooked," he said, his voice laced with distress. Karen's heart broke as she watched him struggle with the internal conflict of wanting to fix it and knowing he couldn't. The doctor, noticing the shift in mood, stepped in. "It's alright, Plankton. Let's focus on..." But Plankton's eye was already darting around the room, spotting every imperfection, his anxiety rising. Karen knew they had to get home, to a place where he could find peace. "Doctor, can we go?" she interrupted, her voice tight with urgency. The doctor nodded, his smile understanding. "Yes, you can take him home. Remember, patience is key. His world has changed, and he needs a stable environment to adjust." Karen stood, cradling Plankton in her arms once again. He felt lighter, his body more rigid than usual. As they left the hospital, the chaotic world of Bikini Bottom rushed in, a cacophony of sounds and lights. Plankton's eye widened, his antennae quivering. Karen could feel his discomfort, his body tensing with each step they took closer to the noisy, bustling streets.

CHIP AND FAIL xv (Autistic author) "But Dad," Chip began, his voice trembling, when Plankton interrupts. "BUT DAD," Plankton mimics, his voice high-pitched and mocking. "You think you know how I feel, but you have no idea!" Karen stepped back. She knew Plankton needed to express his anger, and Chip needed to learn from it. "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make it about..." But Plankton's antennae were a flurry of agitation. "You think your stupid need to touch me can just make everything okay? WELL GUESS WHAT, CHIP? IT CAN'T!" He was shouting now, his voice echoing through the room. Chip's eyes filled with hurt. "Dad, I just wanted to tell you about my week," he said, his voice quivering. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's just starting. "You think your convenience more important than my comfort?" he snapped. "Dad," Chip says. "I just wanted to be close..." But Plankton's anger was a raging storm. "YOUR VERSION OF CLOSE IS Suffocation!" he yells, his antennae shaking violently. "You're nothing but a child. All you know is your own need for attention, yet you expect me to be fine with your constant poking and prodding?" Chip's cheeks burned with shame. "That's not fair," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to understand..." But Plankton's antennae were a blur of anger. "Understand? You can't even begin to understand what it's like!" he spat. "You live your life in a bubble, Chip. You've always had everything you've ever wanted, and now you want to 'understand' me? And don't come crying about fairness..." "PLEASE Dad..." But Plankton's anger was unstoppable. "You think you're so clever," he sneered with rage. "With your fancy friends and your easy life. You wouldn't know what it's like to have to fight for every little thing." Chip felt the sting. "Dad," he choked out, "That's not..." But Plankton's words were a tidal wave, crashing down. "You're selfish," he accused. "Always thinking of yourself." Now Chip's getting upset. "I'm selfish? At least I'm not the one who's too busy being a drama queen to see how much I care!" he retorts, his voice a mix of pain and anger. Plankton's antennae shot up. "You dare call me that?" he roared. "You have no idea what it's like to drown in sensory overload, to have your brain betray you every single day!" Chip took a step back, his cheeks red with anger. "You think because I don't understand, I don't care?" he yelled back. "You're the one who's never there for me because of your 'condition'! You're just a shallow, spoiled little..." "ENOUGH! Both of you, stop it right now!" Karen says. Her voice cuts through the argument like a knife, silencing the room. She could feel the anger, the frustration, the hurt in each of their voices.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vii (Autistic author) "We're just going to do what you want. How about a trivia game?" Plankton's antennae perked up slightly at the mention of a game, his love for competition never truly forgotten. "Trivia," he echoed, his voice still monotone but with a hint of interest. "Yes, trivia," Karen said, stroking his back gently. "You can show us all how much you know." Plankton looked up at Patrick. "I'm sorry," Patrick said, voice sincere for once. "I didn't mean to make you cry." Plankton sniffled, his antennae twitching slightly. "Patrick mean," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled with hurt. "I know, buddy," Sponge Bob said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But he didn't know. Sometimes, Patrick doesn't think before he speaks." Patrick nodded, his eyes downcast. "I guess I'm not the best at understanding things," he mumbled. Sponge Bob leaned closer to Plankton. "Why don't we start our game now?" he suggested, his voice gentle. "We can play a game about random trivia. Does that sound okay?" Plankton nodded slowly, antennae still drooping. "Okay," he murmurs. They around the table, the jellyfish book open to a random page. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on it, his mind racing with facts and figures. Karen took a deep breath, her tentacles still tense from the confrontation with Patrick. "Alright, let's start with something easy," she suggested. "What's the scientific name for jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye lighting up with excitement. "Jellyfish scientific name," he recited, "Cnidaria." "Cnidaria?" Sponge Bob repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. "That's right, Plankton!" Patrick looked at the book, then at Plankton, his eyes wide. "How do you know all this stuff?" Plankton's antennae wiggled slightly. "Plankton read book," he said, his voice monotone but with a hint of pride. "Patrick, I'll ask you a question," Sponge Bob said, his smile genuine. Patrick nodded, eager to make amends. "Shoot." Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Okay, Patrick," he said, "What's the square root of 120?" Patrick's eyes widened, his brain scrambling. He took a deep breath and announced, "It's 12?" "No, Patrick," Plankton said, his voice a monotone but with a hint of amusement. "It's 10.190565... but Plankton rounds to 10." Patrick's face fell as he realized he'd been outsmarted. "Oh," he murmured. "Guess I should've studied more at boating school." "It's okay, Patrick," Karen said. Sponge Bob's eyes twinkled with encouragement. "Let's keep playing, Plankton," he said. "You're doing great." Plankton nodded, his antennae slightly less droopy. "Your turn, Plankton," Sponge Bob said. "What's something interesting about yourself?" Plankton paused, his antennae twitching as he searched for words. "Interesting?" he echoed. Sponge Bob nodded encouragingly. "Yes, something that makes you special or unique. Tell us all about Plankton." Plankton's antennae quivered as he thought. "Plankton... good at science," he said finally, his monotone voice revealing his pride. "Especially jellyfish." "That's fantastic, Plankton!" Karen exclaimed. Patrick nodded in agreement. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice still subdued. "You're a real jellyfish genius." Plankton's antennae twitched with a hint of satisfaction. "Jellyfish have 24 eyes," he said, his voice monotone yet filled with a newfound confidence. "But no brain." "What?" Patrick's eyes widened. "How can they see without a brain?" Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he began to elaborate. "Jellyfish have simple nervous system," he said, his voice still flat but gaining momentum. "Eyes detect light, not images. Help them avoid predators and find food." Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Wow Plankton," he said. "That's so cool!" "Plankton born cycloptic one eye." Patrick's jaw dropped as he stared at Plankton. "That's... really cool," he murmured, his mind racing to keep up. Sponge Bob nodded eagerly. "Yeah, Plankton," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "Tell us more!" Plankton's antennae perked up at the genuine interest from his friends. "Plankton own Chum Bucket," he said, his voice monotone but proud. "Serve chum, best food in Bikini Bottom." Patrick's eyes lit up. "You're like a chef, Plankton! That's so cool!" But Plankton's gaze remained on the jellyfish book, his thoughts drifting. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his voice monotone yet filled with a hint of anger. "Has Krabby Patties.." Karen and Sponge Bob exchanged a glance, knowing the mention of Mr. Krabs. "Plankton," Karen began cautiously, "we don't have to talk about Krabby Patties if you don't want to." But Plankton's antennae shot up, his voice taking on a new, almost manic energy. "No, no," he murmured, his monotone cracking. "Mr. Krabs. Krabby Patties. Plankton's purpose." Sponge Bob's smile faltered, the mention of Krabby Patties bringing back memories of their long-standing rivalry. "Plankton," he said gently, "you don't have to steal Krabby Patties anymore. You have jellyfish now." But Plankton's antennae quivered with a strange intensity. "Krabs," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a newfound urgency. "Gave Plankton brain damage. Accident," Plankton murmured, his voice low. "Mr. Krabs... Krabby Patty... Plankton's brain... changed." Sponge Bob's smile faded, his heart sinking as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Plankton," he said, his voice filled sadness. But Plankton didn't seem to hear him, lost in his own thoughts. "Plankton not same," he murmured. "But jellyfish... jellyfish make Plankton happy." Karen's eyes filled with understanding. "It's ok, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "You can still have a purpose. Maybe not with Krabby Patties, but with jellyfish." Plankton's antennae quivered as he repeated her words back to her. "Purpose with jellyfish," he murmured. "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her tentacles stroking his back gently. "Your purpose can be whatever makes you happy." "Happy," Plankton echoed, his antennae twitching as he repeated her word. "Yes, happy," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We're here to support you, Plankton." "Support Plankton," he echoed, his antennae drooping slightly. "But Krabs... Plankton's enemy." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, her own filled with a gentle warmth. "Mr. Krabs doesn't have to be your enemy anymore," she said, her tone soothing. "You can find joy in other things." "Other things," Plankton echoed, his antennae still. "Yes," Karen said, her tentacles waving gently. "Like jellyfish. You can focus on learning about them and sharing your knowledge with others." "Share knowledge," Plankton repeated, his antennae quivering with curiosity. "Exactly," Karen said, her tentacles gesturing encouragingly. "You can start a jellyfish club, remember?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed her words. "Jellyfish club," he murmured. "Yeah, buddy," Sponge Bob said, his voice filled with excitement. "We can all join and learn together!" Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, and a glimmer of hope entered his eye. "Club," he murmured, his voice monotone but with a hint of excitement.

CHIP AND THE DILEMMA ii (Autistic author) | ᴺᵉᵍᵃᵗⁱᵛⁱᵗʸ ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ | Karen's eyes widen, and she quickly takes in the situation. She's seen this before—his meltdowns. They've become less frequent, but when they happen, they hit hard. She turns to Chip, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chip, honey, why don't you go wash up for dinner?" Her voice is calm, but firm. Chip's screen flicked between his dad and mom, not fully understanding. "But Dad said we're doing the solar system after dinner," he protests weakly. Karen gives him a gentle nudge towards the door. "It's ok, sweetie. I'll take care of this. You go ahead." Reluctantly, Chip backs out of the room. He's worried, but he trusts his mom. Karen closes the door behind Chip, turning her full attention to Plankton. His breathing is still erratic, his eye unfocused. "It's okay," she whispers, moving closer to him. She's learned over the years that proximity can be both a comfort and a trigger. She treads carefully. Plankton flinches at her approach, but she's quick to respond, retreating slightly. She knows better than to push to hard. "You're having a hard time," she says softly, her voice soothing. "Do you want me to turn off the light?" Plankton nods, his eye squeezed shut. The dimness of the room helps, but the noise of Chip's retreating footsteps echoes like thunder. Karen moves to the window, drawing the curtains to block the setting sun, plunging the room into a comforting gloom. She sits down next to Plankton, not touching him, but close enough to be there. He takes a shaky breath. "Talk to me, love," Karen coaxes. "What triggered it?" Plankton's eye are still closed, but his breathing steadies. "Chip," he manages. "Chip's touch. It was too much." Karen nods. She's always been his rock, but she hates seeing him like this. She knows the stress of hiding his autism has taken a toll on him. "We should tell him," she says gently. "He's old enough to understand." Plankton's eye flies open, his panic rising again. "No," he says firmly. "He doesn't need to know." Karen sighs, stroking his back gently. "He deserves to know, Plankton. He loves you and he's worried about you." Plankton's body relaxes a little, the sound of Karen's voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. "I know," he admits. Karen nods, understanding the fear behind his words. "But think about it," she says. "He's going to notice things. It's better if we explain it to him on our terms, rather than him figuring conclusions and feeling alone or scared." Plankton looks at Karen, his expression a mix of fear and resignation. "Perhaps when the ringing in my ears dwindles," he says, his voice shaking. "I know, we can't keep it from him forever." Karen nods, her screen filled with empathy. "Whenever you're ready," she says. "We'll do it together." Plankton takes a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts of how to explain his condition to Chip. He knows it won't be easy, but his son deserves the truth. Dinner is a subdued affair, both Chip and Karen watching Plankton closely, noticing his lack of appetite and the faraway look in his eye. Chip keeps his questions to himself, sensing his dad's discomfort. After dinner, Karen breaks the silence. "Chip, why don’t we all go to your room?" she suggests, trying to keep her voice light. Chip nods, leading the way as Plankton follows, his steps slow and measured. Karen can feel the tension in his body as he tries to keep his composure. Once in Chip's room, Plankton sits on the edge of his bed, looking around. Chip notices the uncharacteristic stillness in his father's posture, the way his antennae droop slightly. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. Karen sits beside Plankton, her hand resting gently on his. "Chip, your dad has something important to tell you." Chip looks at them both, his screen wide. "What is it?" Plankton takes a deep breath. "Chip," he starts, his voice shaking slightly. "There's something you should know about me." Chip looks between his mom and dad. "What is it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton takes a moment, his eye scanning the room as if searching for the right words. "I'm... different, Chip," he finally says, his gaze locking onto Chip's. "I have a condition, called..." “Oh, Dad! Will get better?” Chip asks. “It’s gonna go away, right?” Plankton’s eye fills with sorrow as he shakes his head. “No, Chip, it doesn’t..." But before he can finish, Chip gasps. “It’s called autism, Chip,” Karen says gently, filling the silence. Chip frowns, his mind racing. “What’s that?” He’s heard the word before, but it’s always been in whispers or as a punchline in a joke at school. He doesn’t understand. Plankton sighs heavily. "It's a... the way my brain works," he explains, his antennae twitching with nerves. "It's like I experience the world through a different way than you do." Chip's eyes widen, his mind swirling with questions. "So, you're like... broken?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent concern. Plankton flinches at the word, his heart sinking. He's always feared this moment, wondered how his son would react. "No, Chip," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not like that. Autism is just part of who I am." But Chip's mind is racing. "You, you're like... not normal?" He can't hide the worry in his tone. Plankton's eye flickers with pain at the question, but he nods. "It's just a different way of things, buddy! It doesn't make me less..." But Chip's mind is already made up. "So you can't be fixed?" he blurts out, his tone filled with disappointment. Plankton's antennae droop. "There's nothing to fix," Karen says, interrupting gently. "Different, not broken. Autism is just a part of who your father is." But Chip can't shake the word from his mind. "Autistic." He's heard it before in whispers at school, thrown around like an insult. He looks at Plankton, his hero, his rock. But the damage is done. In Chip's gaze, his dad is no longer just quirky or unique— he's broken, like a toy that's missing a piece. "Chip," Karen says gently, "autism isn't something that can be fixed or taken away. It's part of who your dad is, and it's what makes him special." Chip looks at his mother, his expression confused. "But if he's different, doesn't that mean he's not as good?" Karen's screen fills with sadness, but she remains calm. "No, Chip," she says firmly. "Being different doesn't mean being less. It just means seeing the world in a different way. And your dad, he's incredible in so many ways. He's smart, and he's kind, and he loves you more than anything."

Go to Google and type Type site: into the search bar. Type in the website's address without the www prefix. Press space and enter your search terms. Using the Chrome browser, type the website you want to search into the address bar. When you see the "Press Tab to search", hit Tab ↹. Enter your search terms. For both methods, press ↵ Enter after you've entered your search terms. Your search results will appear. Type in your site's address without the "www" part. This should go immediately after the site: tag with no space in between. For example: to search Facebook, you would type site:facebook.com.

daily affirmations ˙ᵕ˙ ❤︎ i won’t be so hard on myself ❤︎ i belong here ❤︎ i am worthy of what i desire ❤︎ i love me always ❤︎ happiness is in my hands

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD ii The nurse finished up the paperwork and handed it to Karen. "You're all set to go home once Mr. Plankton is ready. Just remember, he'll need to take it easy for a few days. No solid food, only soft things like soups and mashed potatoes." Karen nodded, her gaze still locked on Plankton's fascinated expression. "I've got it covered," she said. Plankton, seemingly oblivious to the instructions, was busy poking his cheeks with his fingers, his mouth still numb and frozen. He looked up at her, his eye twinkling. "Kay... Kahen... anotha... anotha teeth." The nurse had left the room, leaving them in a quiet solitude punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional swish of hospital curtains. Karen couldn't resist the urge to laugh. "You're already asking for more?" she teased. Plankton shrugged, his expression as goofy as a puppy's. "Ith... wothless... wifout... wisdom," he mumbled. Her amusement grew. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment to the teeth or an insult to me," she said playfully. Plankton's antennae shot up, his cheeks flushing a brighter shade of pink. "Mmph... no, no... gwed... wisdom..." he insisted, his speech still slurred. Karen couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," she said, her voice filled with affectionate sarcasm. "So, what's the first thing you want to do when we get home?" Plankton's antennae twitched with excitement. "Mmph... mow... wock?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Karen raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden interest in music. "You want to rock?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes. Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennae bobbing. "Mmhmm," he managed, his mouth still refusing to cooperate. "Wock and wowl." Karen couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll make sure to have some rock music ready for when we get home." Plankton's eye lit up, his enthusiasm clear despite the numbness. "Gweat," he murmured, his antennae swaying to an unheard melody. Karen watched him, his normally stoic face now a canvas of comical expressions and muffled sounds. It was surreal to see him like this, but she found his vulnerability endearing. "But first, we need to get you home," she said, her voice a gentle reminder of reality. Plankton nodded, his eye closing in exhaustion. He leaned his head back on the pillow, his snoring resuming its soft crescendo. The nurse returned to check on them. "Looks like he's comfortable," she said with a smile. "You can take him home whenever you're ready." Karen nodded, still watching Plankton's peaceful face. "Mmph... Kahen?" Plankton's eye opened again, searching for her. "Ca-- we go now?" he slurred, his voice laced with hope. Karen couldn't resist the urge to lean over and kiss his forehead. "Soon, buddy," she whispered. He nodded, his antennae waving sluggishly. His hand found hers again, his grip firm despite his grogginess. Karen felt her heart melt at his determination. "Mmph... I teww you 'notha tink?" he mumbled, his smile hopeful. "Sure," she said, leaning closer. "Wheh, mmmph... the dentist made every ting awwright, yet firsh, they saith I woul’ be in surgery. Bu’ they didn’t even cuth me openth! They jus’ made every ting go woozy," Plankton slurred. "Then youw face wath theath wight bulb on top." Karen couldn't stop herself from laughing. "What are you talking about, Plankton?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth. He tried to enunciate, his lips moving awkwardly. "Mmph, Kahen, the dentist... they... they put me to sweep wi’out cutting me." His words were jumbled. Karen's curiosity piqued, she leaned in closer. "What do you mean, without cutting you?" she questioned, her voice filled with gentle amusement. Plankton's antennae waved wildly. "Mmph, they goth me all sleepy and then I woke up wifout getting cuth!" he exclaimed, his words still thick. Karen couldn't contain her laughter. "They didn't cut you because they already took your teeth out while you were asleep," she explained, her voice a blend of humor and affection. Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye looking disappointed. "Mmph, oh... I wath expehcting a magith trick." He slumped back into the pillow. Karen chuckled, stroking his hand. "It's like magic, isn't it?" she said, her voice light. "You went to sleep with four extra teeth and woke up with none." Plankton's antennae shot up again. "Ma... ma... magic?" he repeated, his voice filled with wonder. Karen nodded. "In a way, yes. They used sleepy medicine so you wouldn't feel a thing." He stared at her, his eye wide with fascination. "Wow, Kahen. They're wike wizawds!" he exclaimed, his speech still slurred but his enthusiasm unmistakable. Karen laughed again, her heart feeling lighter. "Mmph, can they make me fwee too?" Plankton asked, his voice filled with hope. Karen shook her head, her smile never leaving her lips. "Sorry, Plankton. Only in your dreams." He pouted, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's. "Mmph, no fun." His eye grew heavy again, his body still feeling the weight of the anesthesia. Karen stood, gently squeezing his hand. "Let's get you up, okay?" With a groan, Plankton managed to push himself into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. Karen supported him, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. His head lolled to one side. "Mmph... wath... whath... whath's that?" Plankton's voice was a muffled mess, his words tripping over his still-numb tongue. Karen followed his gaze to the plastic cup of water. "Mmph... wath's in thef?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Karen laughed gently. "It's for rinsing, buddy. To keep your mouth clean." Plankton nodded, his antennae still waving with excitement. The nurse stepped in to help, handing him the cup filled with water. "Here, take a sip." Plankton's antennae waved nervously as he took the cup, his hand trembling. He took a tentative sip, his mouth filling with the cold liquid. "Ah, gwed," he slurred, his speech still affected by the anesthesia. Karen watched him with amusement. "You're doing great," she encouraged, her voice soothing. Plankton managed a wobbly nod. "Mmph... wath's nxt?" "Now, we just need to get you home," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Mmph... dawes?" Karen nodded, her smile never fading. "Yes, darling, we're going home now." Plankton's eye lit up with excitement, his slurred speech a cute contrast to his usual sharp wit.

https://perchance.org/emojigen

positivity ꔛ 🌸 you can do great things 🫧 you are important 🌸 you are amazing 🫧 you deserve happiness 🌸 the best is yet to come 🫧 you deserve flowers

𝓫𝓾𝓼 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓹 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝐍𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐥, 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 & 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝓡𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 -𝓲𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii (Autistic author) Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his grip on Plankton's wrists loosening. "What accident?" he asks, his voice filled with dread. Plankton's smile is gone, replaced by a look of sadness. "Head," he says, his voice a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He touches his forehead gently, his antennas drooping. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with realization, his grip on Plankton's wrists loosening entirely. "You got hurt?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "What happened?" Plankton nods, his antennas still drooping. Sponge Bob's confusion grows, his anger replaced with worry. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice softening. "What happened to your head?" Plankton's antennas twitch, his smile a distant memory. "Fall," he says, his voice a monotone. Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat. "You fell?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "When? How?" Plankton nods, his eye flickering with something akin to pain. "Recently," he says, his voice flat. "Head bad." Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock, his mind racing with questions. "You fell and hurt your head?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me?" Plankton's gaze drops to his book, his hands fluttering over the pages. "No tell," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "Shame." Sponge Bob's eyes fill with understanding, his anger evaporating like mist in the sun. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice soft. "You didn't have to keep this to yourself." Plankton's smile is a pale imitation of his usual self, his antennas still. "No good," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with worry as he tries to comprehend his friend's cryptic words. "You're not bad, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "You've just had an accident." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the book, his hands flapping over the pages. "No," he says, his voice a sad echo. "Head bad. Plankton bad." His body slumps, his usual vibrant energy dimmed by his distress. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with sadness as he tries to comfort his friend. "You're not bad, Plankton," he says, his voice soothing. "You're just hurt right?" Plankton's antennas twitch slightly, his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt," he echoes, his voice a monotone. "Inside head." He taps his forehead, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for understanding. "Grey matter. Neural pathways." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his confusion growing. "What do you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "What's going on with your brain?" Plankton's hand continues to tap his forehead, his voice detached. "Neurochemicals," he says, his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic connections. Autism." His smile is a mere memory, his eye glazed over with a faraway look. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his chest, his mind racing. "You're talking about your brain," he says, his voice tentative. "What's wrong with it?" Plankton's hand stops tapping, his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob. "Wiring," he says, his voice a monotone explanation. "Neuro- typical patterns disrupted affect the parts of brain when result in autism." His words are precise, his tone devoid of emotion. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with comprehension, his spongy heart sinking. "You're saying you have autism now?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton nods, his eye still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical divergence," he confirms, his voice still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic variance, myelination discrepancies." He speaks in a monotone, his words sounding rehearsed and mechanical. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart breaking for his friend. "What does that mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice shaking. "Does that mean you're not okay?" Plankton's gaze remains on the book, his hand tracing the spine. "Neuro-typical divergence," he repeats, his voice a flat recitation of medical terms. "Synaptic connections altered. Atypical neural patterns. Autism." He speaks as if recounting a scientific paper, his tone lacking any personal connection. "When hit head, damaged the myelination," he says, his hand continuing its mechanical movement against the book. "Myelination is the insulation around the axons that speeds up the nerve impulses made in a part of brain we call the cerebral cortex. My cerebral cortex now restricts, slows down impulses." Sponge Bob listens, his mind racing to keep up with Plankton's sudden shift in vocabulary. "But what does that mean?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "How'd the damage give you autism?" Plankton's hand stops its movement along the book. "Neurodivergence," he says, his voice a clinical recount. "My brain now operates outside typical parameters. Synaptic pruning, myelination patterns altered. Atypical neural networks formed." He speaks as if discussing a complex scientific experiment, his words a jumble of medical terminology that Sponge Bob barely understands. "Does that mean you're not okay?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice filled with fear. Plankton's hand stills on the book, his gaze unfocused. "Functional diversity," he says, his voice a hollow echo of the medical lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence can lead to unique cognitive strengths, but also challenges." He taps the book, his antennas waving slightly. "My brain's wiring changed," he says, his voice a monotone. "Synaptic clefts widened, neurotransmitters less efficient. Restricted blood flow to temporal lobes." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of confusion and fear. "Does that mean you can't be... fixed?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennas twitch, his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix," he echoes, his voice a sad recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes. Rewire, adapt. But cerebral cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent." Sponge Bob's eyes are wide, his mind reeling with the complexity of Plankton's words. "But, Plankton," he says, his voice quivering. "What about the Krabby Patties? Your plans?" Plankton's gaze snaps up, his hands still. "No plans," he says, his voice a sad echo. "No more steal." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his heart racing. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?" he asks, his voice filled with hope and disbelief. Plankton's antennas droop, his hands flapping slightly. "No more schemes," he whispers, his voice a monotone. "No more steal." His eye meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of his old mischief briefly shining through. "But," he adds, his smile mischievous, "still have competitive spirit." His hands begin to flap with excitement. Sponge Bob's heart soars with relief, a smile spreading across his face. "So, you're still the same Plankton," he says, his voice filled with hope. "Just... different. Ok, cool!" Plankton nods, his smile a ghostly reflection of his usual self. "Different," he repeats, his voice a sad echo. "But still have friend?" His antennas wave slightly, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for reassurance. Sponge Bob's heart swells with affection. "Of course, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "We're still friends. Nothing can change that." He squeezes Plankton's shoulder, trying to convey his support.

We only have one shot at life, make it count. Here are some bible verses about loving your enemies. Follow the word of god :) * Matthew 5:44: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"
 || * Luke 6:27-28: "But I say to you: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you || Please stop this drama, it is not of god. Drink water, eat food, prioritize your mental health, and have a great day everyone ✝️🙏🏻❤️

︶︶︶ ꔫ ⠀︶︶︶ 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑢𝑠𝑒 ♡ i’m the embodiment of a rose religieuse from la ladurée, delicate and sweet ♡ i often wear empire waist dresses in pastel colors, adorned with lace and velvet ribbons ♡ whenever i walk by, i leave behind me the scent of sweet things, like warm vanilla, cotton candy and pink cakes ♡ i’m the sweet, quiet girl who can be found in the library, immersed in a book, calmly sipping on a vanilla latte, killing time before ballet class ♡ i have beautiful, neat handwriting and excellent calligraphy skills ♡ i’m quiet, elegant, intelligent and speak eloquently

🤎🍂🍎🍂🤎

https://lowermerionhistory.org/home/burial-records/merion-meeting-of-the-religious-society-of-friends-quakers-2/merion-meeting-burial-list/

VoiceOver #1. EaseUS VoiceOver 💲Price: Free ⭐Rating: No, as it is newly released Easeu VoiceOver is an online free voice-over generator that can convert your written text to realistic AI voice with more than 140 languages or dialects and over 400 voices. Powered by AI, it generates a speech in a few seconds. After that, it allows you to finetune the speech, including adjusting tone, speaking speed, intonation, or adding pauses. As of now, there is no already-made anime character voice model available. However, you can choose the model with the closest sound to imitate Plankton's voice. Besides voice generation, EaseUS VoiceOver stocks some royalty-free images, video clips, and background music to help your creation. After generation, you can download your text-to-speech to MP3, WAV, FLAC, and export subtitles in SRT, DOCX, or TXT. 🌟Key Features of EaseUS VoiceOver: No signup and login are required. Support more than 450 voices in over 140 languages. Powered by AI, bring content to life in seconds. Allow to fine-tune the generated speech.

୨ৎ⋆.˚‪‪❤︎‬‎⭒ fun things you can manifest ⭒ 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬! ⭒ 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝐞.𝐠. 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐭𝐜.) ⭒ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡! ⭒ 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝟐𝐤! ⭒ 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲! ⭒ 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬! ⭒ 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬! ⭒ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫! ⭒ 𝐰𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞! ⭒ 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 & 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞! ⭒ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐚𝐩𝐩! ⭒ 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩! ⭒ 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭!

https://onlinetyping.org/10-key-typing-test/10-key.php

A list of weird phobias and meanings includes: Agyrophobia – phobia of crossing roads Alourophobia - phobia of reading aloud Anthophobia – phobia of flowers Balenephobia - phobia of pins and needles Barophobia - phobia of gravity Bibliophobia - phobia of books Bovinophobia - phobia /dislike of cattle Carnophobia - phobia of meat Cathisophobia - phobia of sitting Cetaphobia - phobia /dislike of whales Ebulliophobia - phobia of bubbles Heliophobia – phobia of sunlight Hylophobia - phobia of trees, forests or wood Ichthyophobia – phobia /dislike of fish Papyrophobia - phobia of paper Porphyrophobia - phobia of the color purple Pteridophobia - phobia of ferns Sichuaphobia - phobia of Chinese food Tachophobia - phobia of speed

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https://namecombinertool.com/name-combiner-with-three-names/

givesmehope: I met a 16 year old genius who was in medical school, studying to be a pediatric neurosurgeon. He put every dollar he made at his job into a retirement fund. Why? He wanted to be able to retire at age 30, so that he could spend the rest of his life performing brain surgeries for free. His philanthropy GMH. Mar 5 2010