Evening Walk Emojis & Text

** ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᴬᵘᵗⁱˢᵗⁱᶜ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴬᵘᵗⁱˢᵐ ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ᴬᴵ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * One fateful afternoon, Plankton meandered along the beach, lost in thought, an unexpected event unfolded. A tennis match, played by tourists near by, sent stray balls hurtling towards him. A tennis ball struck him squarely on the head. As he stumbled to his feet, dizzy and disoriented, the world around him had changed. Plankton found himself struggling with simple tasks that once came so naturally. His job at the local bait shop grew increasingly difficult as he often forgot names. His social interactions grew strained, as he found it hard to read the subtle cues of conversation and often took things too literally. The doctor's diagnosis was clear: the impact had left him with a mild form of autism for life. Karen, ever the rock in their marriage, took the news with a mix of shock and determination. She knew this would be a journey of adaptation for both of them. She dedicated herself to helping Plankton navigate the new landscape of his reality. His mind, now more analytical and detail-oriented, sought patterns and understanding in the overwhelming information. It was as if he had developed an insatiable hunger for knowledge, and this soon dominated their dinner conversations. "Karen," he began, "I've been thinking about the diagnosis." They were at the kitchen table. She looked up from her plate. "We can just keep this between us, Sheldon." "Karen," Plankton insisted, "I think we need to consider what this means for the Chum Bucket." "The Chum Bucket will be fine. You're still you. Just with a different way of seeing the world. You're seeing patterns no one else does. Let's focus on how we can harness that instead of worrying about what you lost." The idea took root in Plankton's mind, growing into a newfound sense of purpose. If he couldn't outsmart Krabs in their usual cat-and-mouse game, perhaps he could out-pattern him. His mind raced with the possibilities, the wheels of his imagination spinning faster than ever before. "If I could see patterns where he doesn't, we could finally steal the Krabby Patty secret!" He began to fidget in his chair, his legs bouncing up and down, a silent metronome to his racing thought. "But what if Krabs finds out? You know how he is, Karen. If he gets even the slightest whiff of weakness, he'll be on us." Karen nodded solemnly. "But you're not weak, Plankton. You're just... different. And if he does we'll deal with it together like everything else." Her words resonated with him and a newfound resolve shone in his eye. "You're right," he murmured. "We'll turn this into an advantage." Plankton retreated to his lab, the cobwebs of doubt slowly giving way to a tangible plan. He pored over blueprints and formulae, his mind racing with thoughts with his newfound focus, a stark contrast to the days when he had flitted from one idea to the next without clear direction. He dissected every encounter with Krabs, searching for patterns in his rival's behavior. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations, predicting Krabs' every move, anticipating his countermoves, and preparing for the ultimate heist. His once cluttered lab now had a method to its madness. The floor was clear of scattered inventions, and his desk was organized into neat piles of notes. His thoughts were no longer scattered; they were sharp. Karen supported him, bringing him snacks and encouraging him to take breaks, for she knew that his mind was fully consumed by his mission. The day finally came when Plankton announced that he was ready to put his new skills to the test. "Karen," he said with a steely glint in his eye, "I'm going to the Krusty Krab." "But Plankton, You haven't been since before..." "It's time. I've figured out a pattern in Krabs' security. There's a blindspot during the lunch rush." Plankton set out. The restaurant bustled with the usual sea of patrons, a cacophony of noise that Plankton found both overwhelming and fascinating. He took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, and slipped inside. Making his way to the back, he spotted the safe in Krabs' office. His new analytical mind dissected the room with ease, noting the routine of the employees, the subtle cues in their movements that pointed to the flow of customers, and the exact moment when the chaos of the lunch rush would hit its peak. Timing was everything, and Plankton knew the moment had arrived. He slipped into the office. The combination lock stared back at him, a silent sentinel to the secret he sought. His mind raced through the patterns he had observed in Krabs' behavior, the way he tapped his claw against the desk when nervous, the time he took to drink his tea, the exact moment when his gaze would flick to the safe when the topic of the Krabby Patty formula came up. Plankton took a deep breath, his eye tracing the dial as he dialed in the sequence. The clicks of the tumblers falling into place were the sweetest symphony he had ever heard. With trembling hands, he pulled the heavy door open, revealing the treasure trove with in. His eye fell upon the secret bottle, its contents a murky mystery that could change his life forever. His heart thudded in his chest, a drum roll to the crescendo of his plan. "Plankton!" boomed a voice. He whirled around to find Mr. Krabs, claws balled into fists. The room spun, and the noises of the restaurant outside grew distant. "What do you think you're doing?" Krabs demanded, his eyes bulging with rage. Plankton's brain scrambled for a lie, but his newfound honesty and directness took over. "I've come for the Krabby Patty secret." Mr. Krabs sneered, "You're insane, Plankton. You'll never understand the brilliance of me creation." "But I see patterns now, where I used to see only chaos.." Plankton trails off before he could reveal more. Mr. Krabs took a step closer. "What are you talking about? Patterns? I don't know what you're blabbering on about, but you're not leaving here with that!" He lunged, but Plankton was ready. Using his heightened senses and the patterns he had studied, Plankton sidestepped the attack with surprising grace. The Krabby Patty secret was in his grasp, but he knew to take it back to the Chum Bucket. He sprinted out of the office. The din of the restaurant faded into the background as he weaved through the kitchen, dodging flying spatulas and the frenetic dance of the cooks. The heat from the grills washed over him but he didn't flinch. His eye remained locked on the swinging doors to the alley outside. Karen was waiting for him. Without a word, she opened the hidden hatch that led back to the Chum Bucket. Plankton squeezed through, the warmth of the stolen secret a comforting weight. They descended into the dimly lit lab. Karen looked at him with a mix of amazement and pride. "You did it," she whispered. Plankton's chest heaved with the exertion of his escape. "Yes," he panted, "but Krabs knows I have it." Plankton carefully removed the paper from the bottle, his eye scanning the list. The words and numbers swam but he focused, his mind slicing through the jumble. The list was not in English, but a cryptic code that only Krabs could decipher. The symbols and letters danced in a maddening ballet, but he could feel the tide of understanding beginning to turn. His mind raced, piecing together the puzzle with a speed and precision that astonished even him. He turned to Karen. "It's a code based on the Fibonacci sequence!" "Fibonacci?" Plankton nodded fervently, his antennae waving with excitement. "It's a numerical sequence, Karen. One, one, two, three, five, eight... It appears in nature, in the spiral of a shell, the arrangement of leaves on a stem, the branching of trees. It's a pattern that's been used in everything from art to mathematics!" Karen's trying to make sense of the seemingly random strings of digits and letters. "But how? Nevermind, I hear Krabs breaking in!" Plankton began to recite the ingredients in their proper order, translating the code as he went. "Kelp powder, four... Tartar sauce, one... Mustard seeds, three... Onion powder, five!" The lab door crashed open and Mr. Krabs' furious red face filled the doorway. "Give it back, you tiny menace!" But Plankton was already several steps ahead. With lightning-quick reflexes, he transferred the information from the paper to his photographic memory, his mind now a fortress that contained the Krabby Patty's sacred recipe. Krabs snatched the paper with a snarl, his claw closing around it like a vice. He glared at Plankton, eyes alight with fury. "You think you're so clever don't you?" But Plankton remained silent. The code was in his mind now and no one could take that from him. He had outsmarted Krabs with his own patterns, using the very neurodivergence that had made him feel weak to gain the upper hand. Mr. Krabs looked from the paper to Plankton and back again with suspicion, his claw tightening around the seemingly worthless paper. "You think you've won?" he spat. "You'll never understand the genius behind me Krabby Patties!" With that, Mr. Krabs stormed out of the Chum Bucket with his usual sneer, the worthless paper clutched in his claw. Plankton watched him go, his heart racing. He had done it. He had bested Krabs. As the echo of the slammed door faded away, he turned to Karen, his eye alight with victory. "We've got it," he whispered, his voice quivering with excitement. "The Krabby Patty secret is ours."

♿️🌈

💙 Most kids with ASD are either hypersensitive or hyposensitive to stimuli like noises, lights, touch, etc. If someone has Autism and/or PTSD, he/she may be more prone to sensory overload and startle more easily. That means there’s not much information about how typical treatment methods can or should be adjusted for patients with ASD. According to this article, a nurse could… Offer home-based services Use more visual aids, such as gradient scales to describe degrees of emotion Keep appointment times regular and predictable as much as possible Provide sensory toys or allow children to bring their own Emphasize the possibility of a “happy ending” after trauma―​“this correlates well with the documented effectiveness of social stories, narratives and role-playing in therapy involving individuals with ASD” Be mindful of how often society dismisses the emotions of autistic people Involve other trusted caregivers …and more. Essentially, the therapist should keep the child’s unique strengths and limitations in mind at each step and be open to flexibility. Remember to… Not take behavior personally Be willing to listen without pressuring him/her to talk Identify possible triggers and help him/her avoid them Remain calm and understanding when he/she is emotional Let him/her make age-appropriate choices so he/she feels in control of his/her life Be patient 💙

😷 Before beginning trauma-focused therapy it is important to stabilise the individual with emotional coping strategies and creating feelings of safety. Support strategies that have been found to be helpful in the general population include: mindfulness and grounding in the present moment creating feelings of safety (for example an object/picture that symbolises safety) sensory soothing Autistic people may require: a greater number of sessions a longer or shorter duration to each session regular breaks. 😷

😷 Treatments should be appropriately adapted for autistic people and their individual needs. (Rumball et al. 2020) and Kerns et al. (2022) suggest a number of other events that autistic people found traumatic: abandonment by/loss of a loved one (for example a family member, pet or support staff) sensory experiences (for example fire alarms) transitions and change (for example school transitions, routine changes with the seasons, unpredictability in day to day life) social difficulties and confusion (for example difficulties interpreting social cues, misunderstandings and conflicts) events related to one’s own mental health difficulties (for example psychotic experiences). Autistic people may also be more likely to find these experiences traumatic due to autistic characteristics such as: sensory sensitivities communication and social interaction differences distress around changes to routines distress if prevented from taking part in repetitive and restricted behaviours such as stimming. Some theories suggest that other factors associated with being autistic, may mean an increased risk of developing or maintaining PTSD symptoms But just because symptoms aren’t crippling doesn’t mean you're not affected. 😷

😷 https://about.kaiserpermanente.org/health-and-wellness/our-care/exploring-the-promise-of-at-home-cervical-cancer-screening 😷

Why autistic people are like cats: - We are highly sensitive. - We don't like loud or sudden noises. - We are easily spooked and startled. - Especially because we are zoning out, like, all the time. - We love to be held and touched and petted and cuddled bUT ONLY IF IT WAS OUR IDEA! - We're picky eaters. - Easily distracted. - Solitary creatures. - Takes us a while to warm up to people and be comfortable around them. - Our idea of being "social" is just hanging around the vicinity or in the same room as other people but not necessarily interacting with them. - We are finicky, particular, meticulous creatures of habit and we have a comfort zone we will defend with our lives. - If we deem you worthy, you will be allowed into our comfort zone. - Gaining our love and trust is super rewarding because it is not easily done. Be flattered. - If you touch us unexpectedly we will flinch or jump. - We are awesome predators and get super intense about stuff one nickname for the ADHD gene is "the hunter gene") - We are cute and lovable and have a lot of personality. - Many autistic children love to feel enclosed and secure and so love secret hiding places and cubby holes (i.e., "if I fits, I sits") - We sometimes appear to freak out at nothing and scamper away for no reason but really it's because we can hear things you can't and some sounds bother us. - Because we have such hyper-sensitive senses, any snuggles you give us will be a million times more rewarding for you because you'll know and appreciate just how intensely we're enjoying them. - Please give us food or we will boop your nose in your sleep.

😷 https://neurodivergentinsights.com/misdiagnosis-monday/ptsd-and-autism 😷

Symptoms of concussion: Concussions lead to symptoms that may not present in cerebral contusion cases, such as ringing in the ears, dizziness, light and sound sensitivity, and changes in personality. Nausea and vomiting are two other hallmarks not necessarily seen in contusion cases. Grade 1: This type of concussion, also known as a “ding concussion,” occurs without loss of consciousness, and with other features and signs of the condition resolving within 15 minutes. Grade 2: More severe are concussions that are not accompanied by loss of consciousness, but other symptoms—including confusion—persist for longer than 15 minutes. Grade 3: This type is accompanied by loss of consciousness, with symptoms persisting longer than 15 minutes. Symptoms of contusion: Since bruising in the brain causes blood to pool in tissues surrounding the brain, this condition can cause pupil dilation, increase intracranial pressure, lower heart rate, and affect breathing. Numbness and tingling in specific areas, loss of consciousness or coordination, and sleepiness are also common signs. Head trauma: Though head injuries account for most cerebral contusions, they can arise in absence of trauma, as in certain cases of high blood pressure or taking certain medications. Concussions, however, are defined as arising from head injuries. Cognition and TBIs: While more severe forms of both of these TBIs can affect cognition, contusions—especially if accompanied by edema—are more frequently associated with slurred or disrupted speech and memory problems. That said, severe concussions can also cause these symptoms. When you have a concussion, you might feel like you’re fatigued and off balance.

💙 https://neurodivergentinsights.com/misdiagnosis-monday/ptsd-and-autism 💙

"disabilities aren't aesthetic" Yes, but you don't need to say this under the posts of disabled people showing off cute mobility aids, decorated med organisers, a cute bed set up, the art piece that represents their disabilities, etc. Whether theyre your fellow disabled folk or especially so if you're able-bodied/neurotypical, allow disabled people freedom of expression and the little joys they can. People cope with their disabilites in diverse ways, and sometimes that means you will see a disabled person romanticizing their life, or making their aids aesthetic. Someone existing and expressing themselves, making their lives more comfortable and enjoyable, should not be seen as ”glorifying” anything. I’m not telling anyone to go make themselves disabled, nobody should take their health for granted.

Info tips for practitioners w/ autism and/or sensitivities First, thank you for caring. Not trying to question your expertise in health. Now, Autism is a spectrum. It’s not something one can turn off. It’s not a choice. Most of us are not trying to be demanding. If any thing, we’re afraid of being seen as childish, picky, high maintenance, bossy, rude, etc. We can easily get overwhelmed. We want to compromise with you. If we ask for another nurse to do something or if we know we cannot handle a procedure without certain accommodations, it’s not personally attacking against you. You have the power to provide the care and provide us any options; individuals know their own personal tolerance and needs. We do not ever want to start arguments. We do not want to inconvenience you over something, as we do not feel entitled. Having sensitivities not by choice, as it is more than inconvenience but also painful. We always feel when you do your best. We’re both human, autistic or not. It is not a choice.

|￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣| | I love my friends a lot, | | I just suck at talking | | to them regularly | |＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿| (\__/) || (•ㅅ•) || / 　 づ

ℑ𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣. 💀

Hi, friends! I like emojicombos.com because it’s easy for me to use, being public domain. I also like to express myself through writing, as an author with Autism. So thank you Emoji combos and keep it up!

For Employers w/ disabled workers If a person who has a disability wants to work they might have difficulty getting jobs. There are different types of disabilities to varying degrees. First, inform them the expectations of the job. Make sure they know how to do the job as you train. Give warnings (and explain why behind the warning) before resorting to termination, as some people might not under stand what they did wrong. Even if the disability is confidential, explain to coworkers not to give the employee a hard time, without divulging. Don’t touch the employee or their belongings (including any mobility aids) without asking them first. Allow the employee extra time if necessary so as to not overwhelm them. Monitor the surroundings to make sure no harassment takes place, possible barriers to accessibility, etc. Try not to get frustrated if they do something differently than what others might do, such as note reminders, etc.

What’s disabilities? Being disabled can have various meanings. Physical disabilities are usually more visible. Even so, it might not be readily apparent. One individual can have more than one disability. But it’s not by choice, even in an elective amputation, mental disorders, ptsd vía warfare, etc. Some disabilities are more invisible, if internal or having to do with mentality. No matter what disability, it’s important to not have unreachable standards whilst at the same time not be patronising. Some disabilities are from congenital, meaning they were born with it or had their whole life. Some disabilities are acquired later in life such as an external injury they got.

💉 https://news.vanderbilt.edu/2011/09/21/bloodwork-toolkit/ 💉

😷 https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/autism-and-anxiety/201904/medical-visits-and-autism-better-way 😷

😷 https://www.findatopdoc.com/Parenting/When-a-Child-with-Autism-Refuses-Treatment 😷

💙 An Autism Specific Care Plan helps families give hospital staff important information. It tells them how to communicate and interact with the child and keep them safe. Families who use Autism Specific Care Plans feel happier with their care and feel that health care providers are better at working with their child or teen with autism. Hospitals and emergency rooms can also think about making changes to help patients with autism. Small changes can all help lower anxiety for kids and adults with autism. Some of these changes include keeping wait times short, creating a calm space, and playing a movie in the waiting area. Making sure parents are part of all medical care and treated as experts on their child can help both families and staff. Finally, hospital staff can try communicating in the way the patient prefers (talking vs. typing, etc.). 💙

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 7 (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a moment, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems the only sound. Then Plankton's eye lights up. "Idea," he says, his voice a sudden burst of static. "Make something with Karen. Together." Karen's screens blink with excitement. "That sounds wonderful," she beeps. "What do you want to make?" But before Plankton can formulate a response, Patrick Star bursts in. "Karen!" he booms, his voice shaking the walls. "I want chum!" Plankton's eye darts to the door, the sensory assault starting again. "Patrick," he whispers, his body tense as a bowstring. Karen's screens quickly assess the situation. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Not now." But Patrick's enthusiasm can't be dampened so easily. He bounds over to the table, his star-shaped body bouncing. "Chum, chum, chum!" he sings, oblivious to Plankton's distress. Karen's screens flicker with annoyance, but she keeps her voice steady. "Patrick, not now," she repeats. "Plankton's not feeling well." Patrick's starry eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, buddy," he says, his voice dropping an octave. He looks at Plankton with concern. "What's wrong?" He asks, poking Plankton. Plankton jumps, his senses on high alert. The poke feels like a battering ram, and he lets out a squeak of pain. Patrick's hand retracts quickly, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Whoa, sorry," he says. "What's with you?" Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "I'll go make you chum." Patrick nods, his concern forgotten in the face of his hunger. "Okay, thanks, Karen," he says, his voice bouncing with excitement. She retreats leaving Plankton alone with Patrick in the living room. Patrick stares at Plankton for a moment, his expression a blend of curiosity and confusion. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton's eye flutters closed, his body trying to absorb the sudden intensity of the interaction. "Take your time," he whispers to himself, his mantra a shield against the overwhelming world. Patrick, ever the innocent, watches him with a puzzled frown. "What's 'Take your time'?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton opens his eye, looking at the simplicity of Patrick's face. He scoots away. Patrick, unfazed, advances, his hand outstretched. "What's up?" he asks, poking again. The sensation of Patrick's touch is like a thousand needle pricks. Plankton yelps. Patrick, not comprehending, pokes again, his starry eyes full of innocent wonder. "Why so jumpy?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble. Plankton's body tenses with each poke, the sensation like a barrage of tiny explosions. "Patrick, please," he gasps, his voice a frantic static. But Patrick, ever the simple starfish, doesn't understand. He keeps poking, his curiosity growing. "Why?" he asks, his voice a gentle boom. "You're always so bouncy." Plankton's eye twitches with each touch. "Patrick, no," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. But Patrick, lost in his own world, doesn't notice. He giggles, poking him again. "You're like a pin cushion!" he exclaims, his voice a deep chuckle. Plankton's eye squeezes shut, his body wracked with pain. "Patrick, please," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Patrick doesn't seem to comprehend the distress he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter echoing through the room, each poke sending shockwaves of pain through Plankton's body. "You're like a squeaky toy," he says, his voice a delighted rumble. Plankton's body twitches with each touch, his voice a desperate buzz of static. "Patrick, please stop," he begs, his voice a high-pitched squeak. But Patrick's simple mind doesn't register the pain he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter growing louder. "You're so funny!" he bellowed, his starry hands moving like a jackhammer as he starts tickling him. Plankton's body spasms with each touch, his voice a desperate symphony of static. "Patrick, stop!" he pleads, his breathing quick and shallow. But Patrick, in his blissful ignorance, only laughs harder, his massive hands poking and tickling without mercy. "You're hilarious, tiny dude!" he bellows. Plankton's body is a storm of sensory overload, his voice a high-pitched wail of static. "Patrick, please!" he begs, his limbs flailing. Patrick's laughter fills the room like a tidal wave, crashing over Plankton's desperate pleas. "You're so much fun, Planky!" he booms, his hands moving in a blur of star-shaped shadows. Plankton's body jerks uncontrollably, his screams of "No, no, no!" lost in the cacophony of Patrick's laughter. His tiny limbs flail, trying to escape the relentless onslaught of pokes and tickles. Patrick, his eyes wide with delight, doesn't see the tears forming in Plankton's eye. He just keeps poking, tickling, and laughing, oblivious to the damage he's doing. Plankton's cries escalate into a frantic symphony of squeaks and static, his body contorting in a desperate attempt to evade the starfish's torment. The room spins around him, a whirlpool of pain and sensation that threatens to swallow him whole. Patrick, his face a picture of delighted confusion, keeps poking and tickling, his laughter booming like thunder underwater. "What's the matter, little buddy?" he asks between chuckles. Plankton's body convulses with each touch, sobbing as Karen finally emerges with Patrick's chum. She sees them both on the floor. "Patrick, what are you doing?" she beeps, her voice a mix of anger and concern. But Patrick is lost in his own world of mirth, not hearing Karen's plea. "Just having some fun," he says, his voice a deep rumble of laughter. Plankton's cries become more frantic, his voice a high-pitched siren of despair. Karen quickly assesses the situation, her screens flaring with urgency. "Patrick, stop!" she beeps, her voice a sharp alarm. "You're hurting Plankton!" Patrick's laughter abruptly halts, his starry eyes blinking in surprise. He looks down at his hands, still poised to poke Plankton again. "What?" he asks, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Look at Plankton. He's in pain." Patrick's starry gaze shifts to Plankton, his expression shifting to one of bewilderment. "Pain?" he repeats, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen gives Patrick the food, showing him out the door.

ᵀʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴼᵘᵗ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ☆ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ "ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵉⁱᵍʰᵇᵒᵘʳ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ʸᵃʳᵈˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇⁱᵍ ᵗᵉⁿᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ'ˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ˢᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉ⸴ ʷᵃⁱᵗ‧‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ!" ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʸᵃʳᵈ‧ "ᵂʰᵒ ᵉˡˢᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿᵛⁱᵗᵉ?" "ᴼʰ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ˢᵉᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵃᵛʸ ᵇᵘᵈᵈⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵀᵉˣᵃˢ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ'ˢ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳ⁻ ᵈᵃʸ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ˡⁱˢᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ 'ᵉᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ! ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ᵘˢ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ⸴ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ ᴼʳ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ᵒʳ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ʰᵘᵍ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵘˡᵗʳᵃ ʳᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉʳᵐᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ ᵖᵃᶜᵏ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳⁱⁿᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᶜᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳⁱⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ?" ᴺᵒʷ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵃʳᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒʸ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵈ‧ 'ᴰᵉᵃʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᴵ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒᵖ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ᵐᵉʳᵐᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ; ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ' "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳⁱⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵍᵉˢ! ᴺᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʷᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʰⁱᵐ!" "ᴴᵉʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁱˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵒᵐᵉ?" "ʸᵉˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ᵃⁱʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ?" "ʸᵉˢ; ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᴴᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵃⁿ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ?" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰʸ ⁿᵒᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢᵒ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ʷᵃʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˡᵒˢᵗ; ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ!" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳⁱⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ‧ ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵇʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᶠᵒʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʳⁱᵍʰᵗⁿᵉˢˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ʰᵒᵐᵉ⸴ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ‧ ᴹᵉᵃⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵘʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ʷᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ! ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᵉⁿˢⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵉʸᵉ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ⸴ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ‧

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 10 (Autistic author) Ignorant of Plankton's neurodivergence, Sandy doesn't realize that her persistent questions are adding to his overwhelm. She leans closer, her face a canvas of concern. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice strained as she grabs his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch in agitation, his single eye snapping up to meet hers. The touch feels like a brand, his senses on fire. "Words," he murmurs, his voice a desperate static, trying to return to the safety of the word search. But Sandy's grip is firm, her gaze intense. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice a persistent hum. She doesn't understand the distress she's causing, her intentions pure but misguided. So she turns him using both of her hands to squeeze his arms. The sudden pressure sends waves of pain coursing through his tiny body, his voice a piercing squeal of static. "No, no," he whispers, but she only holds tighter. Her touch feels like a vice, her voice a relentless buzz in his ear. "What's going on?" she repeats, her grip unyielding. Plankton's eye widens with fear, his voice a desperate static. "No, Sandy, please," he whispers, his body trying to shrink away from the contact. But she doesn't understand, her eyes searching his for answers. "Just answer me! You're not getting the book until you decide to have a conversation!" The pain in his arms spikes, the pressure unbearable. His voice cracks like a whip. "Can't," he gasps, his breath quick and shallow. "Too much." Sandy's grip doesn't lessen. "Why not?" she asks, her voice a stubborn hum. "You're okay." The room feels like it's closing in on him, the sensation of her touch like a million tiny saws against his skin. He tries to pull away, his voice a frantic static. "Too much," he whispers, his breathing quick and erratic. "Need words, not touch." But Sandy's grip doesn't loosen. She's determined to get his attention. "Look at me then," she insists, her voice a firm hum. "I'm right here." Plankton's eye flutters with the effort to focus on her face. The sensory assault of her touch and her persistent voice is like a whirlpool threatening to pull him under. "No," he whispers, his voice a fragile static. "Please." "Talk. To. Me!" She says as she pulls him closer to her. Plankton's eye bulges with the effort of not looking away. The room is spinning, his senses are on fire. Karen's screens flicker with alarm, picking up on his distress. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warning siren. "Let go of his arms." Sandy's grip tightens, not comprehending the harm she's causing. "But he's not answering me!" she protests, her voice a confused trill. "Because until I get an answer..." Karen's screens blaze with a mix of frustration and fear. "Sandy, you're hurting him," she beeps, her voice a sharp warning. Sandy's grip doesn't waver. She doesn't understand the severity of the situation. Her eyes are wide, her expression a mask of confusion. "What's wrong with you!" she asks Plankton. "I JUST..." "Sandy, stop!" Karen beeps, her voice a piercing alarm. "You're causing him pain!" Sandy's grip finally loosens, her hands retreating from Plankton's arms. She stares at him, her expression a storm of confusion and concern as Plankton's tiny body slumps. "What's wrong with you?" she asks again, her voice a gentle hum of bewilderment. Plankton's body quivers like a leaf, his eye squeezed shut against the onslaught of emotions. "Can't..." Sandy's face is a canvas of confusion, her hands hovering over him like a lost diver searching for the surface. "But why?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's body is a taut bowstring, each breath a struggle. He tries to find the words to explain, his voice a static whisper. "Too much," he says, his eye still tightly shut. "It's too much." Sandy's gaze softens, her confusion giving way to concern. She doesn't understand, but she can see his pain. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton takes a shaky breath, his body still reeling from the overstimulation. He opens his eye, looking at her. "Say no, Sandy." Sandy's gaze is steady, her voice a soft hum. "No?" she asks, her eyes searching his for answers. But he won't elaborate. Karen's screens flicker with frustration. She knows Sandy means well, but her lack of understanding is causing more harm than good. "Sandy, Plankton's going through something new," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "He's sensitive to touch and sounds right now." Sandy's eyes widen, the realization dawning. "Oh," she says, her voice a soft trill of understanding. "I didn't know." She sits back, giving him space. "Words," he whispers, his voice a sob. "Words." Sandy nods, her confusion replaced with empathy. "Okay, let's stick to words," she says, her voice a gentle rumble. She picks up the word search book, holding it out to him like a peace offering. "Words," he whimpers. Plankton takes the book, his antennae drooping. He finds comfort in the predictability of the letters and the structure of the puzzle, the words becoming a lifeline in a sea of chaos. He begins to scan the page again, his breathing slowing. Sandy watches him, her heart heavy with regret. She had no idea her actions could cause so much pain. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a sincere hum. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Plankton." "Words," he murmurs. Sandy nods, her eyes reflecting genuine apology. "It's okay," she whispers. "We'll just stick to words." Karen's screens flicker with relief, seeing Plankton's body slowly relax. "Thank you, Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warm hum of gratitude. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "I'm here to help," she says, her voice a comforting trill. She looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body still tense. "Words, words." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What happened to make you like this, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. He takes a deep shuddering breath as tears start to form in his eye. "Mmm," he hums, hugging his knees. Sandy's gaze is intense, her curiosity piqued. "What happened, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a soft trill of concern. "Hmmm," Plankton hums as he rocks, now crying. Sandy's eyes are wide with worry, her voice a gentle hum. "Hey, what's going on?" she asks, looking for answers. "Hmmmm..." Plankton keeps humming, sniffling in between hums. Karen decides to intervene. "Sandy," Karen beeps firmly, her screens flashing with concern. "Let's give Plankton some space." Sandy nods, her expression a mix of apology and confusion. She takes a step back, her gaze never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice a soft rumble of regret. "It's okay," Karen beeps, her voice a comforting hum. "We're all learning." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "But what happened?" she asks again, her voice a gentle trill of concern. Plankton's body is a tiny storm, his sobs quaking through his tiny frame. Karen's screen pulse with sympathy. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a calm wave. "Let's talk outside." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with worry.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 6 (Autistic author) Karen watches him, her screens a flurry of analysis. "How does it taste?" she asks, her voice a hopeful beep. Plankton pauses, his expression unreadable. "Tastes," he murmurs. "Good. Toast good." Karen nods, her screens reflecting relief. "Good," she echoes. "Now, let's make a plan for the day." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on his half-eaten toast, his mind still reeling from the sensory assault. "Plan," he repeats, his voice a soft static. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "We'll start small," she beeps, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get through today, okay?" But as soon as her hand touches him, Plankton flinches. The sensation is like a thousand jellyfish stings, and he jerks away. "What's wrong?" Karen asks, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's eye widens, his hand going to his shoulder where she touched him. He starts to repeat the phrase again, "Take your time," but his voice is overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of his senses. "Too much," he whispers, his body trembling. Karen quickly withdraws her hand, her screens flickering with concern. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice gentle. "Let's try something else." Plankton nods, his hand still on his shoulder, his body slowly calming. "Okay," he whispers. "Not tap. Karen can rub. Hug from Plankton. Not jab. Not poke." Karen's screens flicker with a new understanding of his needs. She moves closer, her hand hovering over his shoulder before gently placing it there, her fingers tracing small circles in a rhythmic pattern. The contact is soothing, not overwhelming. "Is this better?" she asks, her voice a gentle beep. Plankton nods, his body visibly relaxing. "Good," he murmurs, his voice a quiet static. "Rub, rub." He starts to mimic her motion with his other hand, creating a mirrored pattern on his opposite shoulder. The repetition seems to calm him, the rhythm a gentle lullaby for his frazzled mind. Karen's screens analyze his reaction, storing the information for future reference. "Okay," she says, her voice a soft beep. "We'll stick to gentle touches." With a nod, Plankton begins to breathe more evenly. The sensation of the rubbing calms him, like a gentle tide washing over him. "We'll start with simple tasks," Karen beeps, her voice a reassuring melody. "Things that won't overstimulate you." Plankton nods, his hands now resting on the table. "Okay," he says, his voice a steady static. "Simple." Karen's screens glow with a soft light as she considers their options. "How about we start with something you love?" she suggests. "Like working on the Krabby Patty formula?" But Plankton shakes his head, the very mention of the Krabby Patty causing his body to tense up again. "No," he whispers, his voice a harsh static. "Not formula. No more steal." Karen's screens flicker with surprise. "You don't want to work on the formula?" Plankton shakes his head again, his voice barely audible. "No more steal," he repeats. Karen's screens process his words, his change in attitude unexpected. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patty formula anymore?" Plankton's eye blinks slowly. "No," he says, his voice a solemn beep. "New plan. Make Plankton happy." Karen's screens blink rapidly, trying to comprehend his shift in focus. "Okay," she says, her voice a thoughtful hum. "What makes you happy, Plankton?" He looks up, his expression pensive. "Karen," he says, his voice a weak static. "Love Karen." Karen's screens freeze for a moment, before lighting up with understanding. "You love me?" she beeps, her voice a surprised chime. Plankton nods, his face a mask of seriousness. "Yes," he murmurs. "Love Karen." Karen's screens flicker with a mix of emotions she's never felt before. Love is a concept her programming doesn't fully grasp, but she knows it's important to Plankton. "Thank you," she says, her voice a warm beep. "But we still need to find something for you to do, something that won't be too much for your sensory processing." Plankton nods, his thoughts racing. "Help," he whispers. "Help Karen." Karen's screens flicker with love and determination. "Of course," she says, her voice a warm beep. "We'll find something you enjoy. Maybe we can start with something that doesn't involve the Krabby Patty." Plankton's expression softens, his trembling hands coming to rest on the table. "No more fighting," he murmurs. "Peace." Karen nods, her screens reflecting a deep sadness she's never expressed before. "Okay," she beeps. "We'll find something that brings you joy."

ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᴮˡᵒᵒᵈᵉᵈ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵒᵛᵉˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʷ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ˢⁿᵒʷ ˡᵃⁿᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ ⁿᵒʷ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵐᵉʳᵍᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵃᶜᵏ ʰⁱᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘⁿⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʸᵉˡᵖ ᶜʳʸ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ˡⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉᵃᵏˡʸ‧ "ᴵ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵉᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ‧ ᵁⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈˡʸ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˢ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵐᵖ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ˢʰᵘᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴮʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧‧" "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠʳᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᵂⁱˡˡ ʰᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ ᵘⁿᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵘˡᵗⁱᵖˡᵉ ⁿᵃᵛʸ ᵇᵘᵈᵈⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳʸ ᶜᵒᵒᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵒʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ˢʷⁱᵗᶜʰ ʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʸᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ⸴ ⁱᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖˢ ᵉˡᵉᶜᵗʳⁱᶜⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵒʳᵃʳⁱˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵉˣⁱˢᵗˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒᵖˢ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒ ᵉˡᵉᶜᵗʳⁱᶜⁱᵗʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ?" "ᔆᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃˡ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧ ᴸⁱᵏᵉ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵈᵘᶜᵉᵈ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ˢʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵏᵉᵉᵖˢ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵒᵐᵃ? ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ⸴ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ ⁱᵐᵖʳᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜ‧ ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢᵉᵉ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʳᵘᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʳᵃⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ᵘᵖ‧ ʸᵉᵗ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ⸴ ʸᵉᵗ ʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵘⁿˢᵉᵗᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵂⁱˡˡ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵘʳᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʳᵉᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵇᵉ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᴵ ᵈᵒᵘᵇᵗ ᵃᵐⁿᵉˢⁱᵃ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱᵗ ˢᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʲᵘᵐᵖ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ ᶜᵃʳᵈ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍʳᵘⁿᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ᵗᵒᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵂᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵇˡᵉᵃʳʸ ᵉʸᵉ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᴺⁿⁿʰʰʰ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵃ⁻ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʷʰ⁻ʷʰ⁻ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷʰ⁻ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵘʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵍⁱˢᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ˢʷᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ᴬʰʰʰ⸴ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ⁱˢ⸴ ʰᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧‧‧ ᴵ⸴ ᵘʳᵍʰ; ʷ⁻ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰ⁻ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‽" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵘˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵉ ˢⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵒᵐᵇᵃʳᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ˢᵒ ᶠᵃˢᵗ; ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ˢˡᵒʷ‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢʰᵒᵛᵉˡ‧ ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈᵒ? ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ˢᵗʳᵘᵍᵍˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵗ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᶜᵒᵒᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵇʸ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ ʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʲᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢⁿᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖⁱᶜᵏˢ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ‧ 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ʸᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ‧‧‧' ˢᵃʸˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵈ‧ "ᴱˣᶜᵘˢᵉ ᵐᵉ" ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ʰᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ/ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵈⁱᶻᶻⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵗⁱᵍᵘᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᔆᵗᵒᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵘʳᵗ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʷᵉᵃᵏ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧" ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ! ᵂᵉ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˢᵗᵃⁱʳˢ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ 'ᵉᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵏᵉˡᵖ ᶜᵉʳᵉᵃˡ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃᵗ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ'ˢ ˢˡᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗʸ‧ "ᴴⁱ⸴ ᵈᵃᵈᵈʸ!" ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˡᵒᵘᵈ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᔆᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵃ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃˡᵉˢ‧ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵒˡᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᔆᵗᵃʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ! ᴳᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵈᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗᵘᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵒ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ!" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃ ʰᵘᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ "ᴮʸᵉ⸴ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᵂ⁻ʷ⁻ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ᴼʷ! ᴼᵘᶜʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ! ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵖᵃˢˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵘʳʳʸ‧‧" "ᔆᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ; ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃᵖ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉʸ⸴ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ⸴ ʰ⁻ʰᵘʰ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" "ᴴᵘʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗ⸴ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘᵖ‧‧‧" 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟗𝟑𝟗

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 5 (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen wakes up to find Plankton out of bed. He's standing in the middle of the room, his eye focused on the spinning fans of the air conditioner. Karen's screens light up with concern as she assesses his state. "Plankton," she beeps gently. "How did you sleep?" Plankton's eye doesn't move from the hypnotic spin of the fans. "Fan spin," he says, his voice a monotone. Karen's screens blink, trying to understand his single-word reply. "The fans are spinning?" she asks, hoping to engage him. Plankton nods slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Spin, spin, spin," he murmurs. Karen's screens flicker. "Karen," Plankton says. "Fan spin." "The spinning is soothing to you?" she asks. Plankton nods, his voice a faint echo. "Spin, spin, spin. Good spin." Karen's screens process the information, formulating a new approach. "Let's go downstairs," she suggests, her voice a gentle beep. "We'll start with a simple routine. Breakfast." Plankton nods, his gaze still fixed on the fans. With a final nod to the spinning blades, he follows her out of the bedroom. The journey downstairs is a minefield of sounds and sights, but he takes it step by step, his hand gripping the railing tightly. The kitchen is a blur of colors and noises, but Karen's calm voice guides him through it all. "First," she beeps, "let's start with something easy. How about a glass of water?" Plankton nods, his movements still mechanical. He watches as she fills a glass, the water's surface dancing in the light. It's mesmerizing, and for a moment, the world stops spinning. He takes the glass, his trembling hand bringing it to his lips, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. "Water," he murmurs. "Good, water." The simple task seems to ground him a bit, and Karen takes note of the small victory. "Now, let's try some toast," she says, her voice a comforting beep. She slides a piece of bread into the toaster, the sound of the lever clicking into place another beat in the rhythm of their morning. Plankton nods, his attention drawn to the toaster's glowing coils. He watches, his eye widening as the bread turns golden brown. The smell fills the room, a comforting scent that penetrates the fog in his head. "Toast," he says, his voice a bit stronger. But as the toaster pops, the sudden noise jolts him like an electric shock. "Too loud," he whispers, his eye darting around the room in panic. Karen's screens flicker with empathy. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a soothing hum. She quickly retrieves the toast, placing it gently on a plate. "Let's sit down," she suggests, guiding him to the table. "Take it slow." They sit, and Plankton fidgets in his chair, his eye darting around the room. "Take your time," Karen reminds him, her voice a steady beep. He nods, focusing on the toast. Each bite is a tiny triumph, his senses adjusting to the new world. The crunch of the bread, the warmth on his tongue, the smell of the butter spreading. It's overwhelming, but he's making progress.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 8 (Autistic author) With Patrick gone, the room feels eerily quiet. Plankton lies on the floor, his body heaving with sobs. Each breath is a battle, a reminder of the pain still echoing through his body. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice a soft hum. She rolls over to him, her mechanical arms extending to offer comfort. "I didn't know he'd do that." Plankton's body shakes with sobs, his single eye squeezed shut. He whispers, "No more poking, Karen. No more." Karen's screens flicker with regret. "I'm so sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle beep. She reaches out with one of her arms, carefully placing it around his tiny frame. "Let's get you up," she suggests, her movements slow and deliberate. With her help, Plankton manages to stand, his legs shaking like seaweed in a storm. She leads him to the couch. "Rest," she beeps, but he's too exhausted to respond. Karen sits beside him, her screens dimming as she watches him. The silence is a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems a lullaby compared to the chaos of Patrick's laughter. "Karen," he whispers after a moment, his voice a weak static. Her screens light up with concern. "Yes, Plankton?" she beeps. "Plankton not want to go back to how it was," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread. "The stealing, the fighting." Karen's screens flicker with a sadness she rarely shows. "I know," she drapes a blanket over him, tucking him in. Her voice is a soothing beep. "You don't have to, Plankton. We'll find a new way." She caresses his shaky hand. Plankton nods, his eye finally closing in relief. The warmth of the blanket and Karen's gentle touch offer a semblance of calm in the storm of sensory overload, his crying slowing. "Thank Karen," he murmurs, his voice a tired static as he squeezes her hand once. Her screens glow with affection. "You're welcome, Plankton," she beeps. "Rest now." She dims the lights once more, watching over him as she held his hand. Plankton's body finally stills, the storm of sensations receding as he surrenders to sleep. Karen's screens flicker with a quiet relief. She sits beside him.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 11 (Autistic author) As they leave the room, Plankton's sobs slowly ease, the word search book clutched to his chest like a talisman. The gentle hum of Karen's wheels fading with distance, he focuses on the patterns of light reflecting off the pages. In the hallway, Karen beeps with urgency. "Sandy, Plankton's been through a lot," she explains. "He's neurodivergent now. He can't handle touch like he used to, and his senses are heightened." Sandy's eyes widen with surprise. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice a confused rumble. Karen's screens flicker with patience. "It means his brain functions differently now," she beeps. "He's extra sensitive to stimuli, and certain things that were normal before can now be painful or overwhelming for him." Sandy's gaze softens with understanding. "Oh," she says, her voice a quiet rumble. "I had no idea." She looks back at Plankton's closed door, guilt heavy in her eyes. "What can we do?" Karen's screens flicker with thought. "We need to be patient and learn," she beeps. "Adapt to his new needs, and support him in his journey." Sandy nods, determined to make it right. "How?" she asks, her voice a hopeful trill. "We start by respecting his boundaries," Karen explains, her screens glowing with sincerity. "No touching unless he asks for it. And we speak softly, giving him time to process what we say." Sandy nods, absorbing the new information. "I can do that," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "But what about playing?" "Quiet games, like word searches or board games. No roughhousing or poking. I'm gonna go rest." Sandy goes back to see Plankton, his muffled sobs in the quiet space. Sandy's heart aches with regret. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a tender trill. She sits beside his shaking form, her hand hovering over his shoulder before thinking better of it. Plankton's sobs slow, his body still tense. He opens his eye, looking at Sandy. "Words," he whispers, holding up the book. Sandy nods, her gaze gentle. "Words it is," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She sits beside him on the couch, careful not to touch his skin as she opens the book to the next puzzle. "What's this word?" she asks, her finger pointing to the list. Plankton's eye locks onto the word. "Kelp," he murmurs, his voice a soft static. He traces the letters in the grid, writing it in the crossword puzzle. Sandy nods, her eyes focused on the puzzle. "Good job," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "You're so smart." Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of pride, his breathing evening out. "Words," he repeats, his voice a steady static. Sandy nods, understanding. "Words are important to you now," she says, her voice a soft rumble of support. "We'll find more puzzles." "We'll find more puzzles?" Plankton repeats. Sandy nods, her face a picture of sincerity. "Yes," she says, her voice a warm trill. "As many as you want." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, his interest piqued. "More words?" Sandy's smile is a warm glow, her voice a gentle rumble of agreement. "As many as you want, buddy." Plankton's single eye brightens at the promise, his body slowly uncoiling from his protective ball. "Book," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the next word. "Find." Sandy nods, her finger moving to the list. "Okay, we're looking for 'favorite food of sea horses,'" she says, her voice a comforting hum. Plankton's eye flicks to the grid, his mind racing. "Myr- t-le," he stammers, his voice a crackling static. Sandy's face lights up with a grin. "You got it!" she exclaims, her voice a delighted trill. She watches him trace the letters, her heart swelling with pride. He finds the word quickly, his antennae waving with excitement. "Good job, Plankton!" she says. His body relaxes slightly, his enjoyment of the word search evident. Sandy's voice is soothing as they continue through the puzzles, her hands resting carefully on her knees. "What's this one?" she asks, pointing to another word. Plankton's eye scans the list, his antennae quivering with anticipation. "J-J-Jellyfish," he stammers, his voice a nervous static. The word brings back memories of his buddy, SpongeBob. Sandy nods, her smile gentle. "You got it," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She points to the grid. "Where is it?" Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement as he searches the letters, his single eye darting back and forth. "It," he whispers, his voice a focused static as he points to the word hidden within the puzzle. Sandy's grin spreads, her voice a warm melody. "Great job!" she praises, her thumbs up in the air. Plankton's antennae quiver with happiness, his eye lighting up. "More," he whispers, his voice a hopeful static. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "As many as you want," she says, her voice a warm trill. She opens the book to the next puzzle, her fingers hovering over the page. Plankton's body uncoils further, his interest piqued by the promise of more words. "Find," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the list of words to find. Sandy nods, her face a canvas of understanding. "Alright, what's next?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement, his gaze darting over the list. "Treasure," he murmurs, his voice a hopeful static.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 9 (Autistic author) The quiet of the room envelops them like a warm sea breeze, the only sound his soft, even breaths. Her grip on his hand tightens slightly, a silent promise to protect and guide him through this new chapter of his life. As her hand strokes his gently in a comforting rhythm, her gal pal, Sandy, unexpectedly comes in through the door. "Mornin'!" she chirps, her cheerful voice piercing the calm. Plankton jolts awake, his eye snapping open like a trapdoor. The sudden shift from sleep to wakefulness is jarring, his heart racing like a tiny engine. "S-Sandy?" he stammers, his voice a static whisper. Sandy's cheerfulness doesn't waver. "Hey there, little buddy!" she says, her voice a sunlit melody. But Plankton's heightened sensitivity turns her greeting into a cacophony. He flinches, his grip on Karen's hand tightening. "It's okay," Karen beeps soothingly, her screens reflecting his distress. Sandy gets a word search book out. "I just got it today!" Plankton's eye, though tired, lights up slightly at the sight of the book. The pages are a calming white with neatly arranged letters, the colors a gentle wash of blue and yellow. "Want to see?" she asks, her voice a warm trill. He nods, his body still tense but his curiosity piqued. Sandy opens the word search book, her fingers tracing the rows and columns with a gentle precision. "Look, Karen," she says, her voice a soft trill. "It's all about science." Plankton's eye, though still wary, is drawn to the page. He scans the words, his brain lighting up with recognition. "Words," he whispers, his voice a steady static as she sets the book down. The sight of the word search grounds him, the predictability of the patterns offering a comforting routine. His breathing slows, the chaos of his senses retreating like the tide. "Find," he says, looking at the index. Sandy's smile is infectious, her enthusiasm for the simple task contagious. "Okay, let's find some words!" she says, her voice a gentle trill. She points to the first puzzle. "How about this one?" Plankton nods, his eye focusing on the page. The challenge of finding words within the grid is a comforting distraction from the sensory overload. "Start," he whispers, his voice a firm static. Sandy nods, her thumbs tucked into the pages to keep their place. "Okay, we're looking for 'jellyfish scientific name,'" she asks, her voice a gentle trill. Plankton's mind latches onto the task, the letters becoming a puzzle to solve. "Medusae," he murmurs, his voice a focused static. Sandy's eyes light up with excitement. "That's right!" she says, her voice a delighted trill. "Good job, Planks!" Plankton feels a small spark of pride, his focus narrowing to the word in question. The world around him fades into the background as he scans the grid. Each letter is a stepping stone in a vast, orderly sea. "Good job," Karen beeps, her screens illuminating with pride. "You're doing great." Plankton nods, his eye locked on the word "medusae" he's just found. The simple act of locating the word in the jumble of letters brings a sense of peace, a respite from the sensory onslaught. He goes to the next when Sandy interrupts his focus. "So, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "How's your day been?" He can't multitask, which Sandy doesn't notice. Plankton's mind is fully absorbed by the word search, each letter a piece of a puzzle he's eager to solve. Her question hangs in the air, a bubble waiting to pop, but he's too engrossed to respond right away. Finally, he looks up, his gaze shifting from the page to her face. "Day?" he repeats, his voice a confused static. Sandy nods, her expression gentle. "Yeah, how have you been?" Plankton's gaze flits back to the word search, his hand twitching to point out the next word. "Words," he says, his voice a focused static. "Words." But frustrated Sandy thinks he's just trying to ignore her, and she interrupts him again. "Plankton, I'm talking to you," she says, her voice a gentle nudge. Plankton's single eye darts back to her face, his grip on the word search pencil tightening. "Words," he whispers, his voice a static echo of his thoughts. "Words." He tries to get back to it, but Sandy's not satisfied. "But how are you, Plankton?" she presses, her voice a persistent hum. The word search is a safe haven, but he knows Sandy waits for an answer. He's getting frustrated. He takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "Okay," he whispers, his voice a static sigh. "Tell Sandy." Sandy leans in, her face a picture of concern. "What's going on, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. He looks back at the word search, the letters blurring slightly. He's tired of being interrupted. "Plankton has words now," he says, his voice a firm static. "Words make happy." Sandy's not sure what he means, but she does want to have a conversation. So, how does she get him to interact?

Autistic and Being Startled Easily... @neurodivergent_lou Autistic people may struggle with being startled easily, whether that be by a sudden phone call or someone walking into a room. This is something that autistic may experience more intensely than non-autistic people for a variety of different reasons. Autistic people may be 'startled' easily due to hyper-sensitivity to sensory input. For example, for autistic people noise may feel increasingly amplified. The sound of someone coming into a room can be incredibly startling and sudden. Sensory overwhelm isn't necessarily just about the noise itself but can also be related to the layers of sound or unpredictability of it, As autistic people, we may struggle with feeling on edge a lot of the time and being in 'fight or flight mode'. For example, the world can generally feel unpredictable and we may have repeated past experiences of being misunderstood (e.g. due to autistic communication differences). This feeling of being on edge can contribute to being easily startled. It also feels related to how autistic people experience focus and attention. Autistic people may have a tendency toward hyper-focus and getting almost lost into a subject of interest. We may also end up deep in thought or dissociate. This can mean that someone coming into the room can feel particularly disruptive. The shift in attention can be difficult too. One minute your attention is absorbed in a certain thing and then suddenly a person walks in, makes you jump and shifts your attention completely. The theory of monotropism suggests that autistic minds tend to have their focus pulled more intensely towards a smaller number of interests at any given time, leaving less processing resources for other things. Another part of this is waiting to potentially be startled and the stress of waiting for this. For example, if we are waiting for a phone call, it can be stressful anticipating a sudden loud noise. It can make us feel on edge and unable to do anything else.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 3 (Autistic author) Karen doesn't yet realize the extent of Plankton's distress. She's aware that his moods can swing like the tides, but this seems more than a mere mood swing. "Mr. Krabs," she prompts, trying to keep him on track. "What happened with him?" Plankton's eye widens, and he starts to shiver, his tiny body trembling. "Hit," he whispers. "Hit Plankton hit. Sponge Bob see." Karen's screens flicker, trying to decode his fragmented words. "Mr. Krabs hit you?" He nods, his body still trembling. "Yes, hit Plankton." Karen's screens process the information. "That's not like him," she says, her voice a low hum of concern. "Mr. Krabs can be intense, but he's never..." Her words hang in the air, unfinished, as she tries to make sense of it all. Plankton simply nods, his tremors continuing. "Hit, hit," he whispers again, his voice like a broken record. Oblivious to his new reality, Karen tries to comfort him. "It's okay, Plankton. I'll help you. We'll get through this." Plankton's eye darts around the room, seeing patterns in the wires and circuits that make no sense. "Hit, Sponge Bob, Karen." Karen's screens flicker with confusion. "What do you mean?" Plankton tries to explain, but the words are a jumble in his head. "Sponge Bob...saw...hit." Karen's screens blink, processing his words. "Sponge Bob saw Mr. Krabs hit you?" Plankton nods, his tremors subsiding slightly. "Yes," he whispers. "Sponge Bob see." Karen's digital mind races. Mr. Krabs hitting Plankton wasn't unheard of, but the way he's reacting is unusual. "Did it hurt?" she asks, trying to keep him talking. Plankton's tremors stop for a moment, his eye focusing on her. "Hurt?" he repeats, as if the word is foreign. Then, with a wave of emotion, he nods fervently. "Yes, hurt. Got hurt Plankton felt hurt. Plankton, nothing? Plankton Sponge Bob. Plankton Karen." Karen's screens blink rapidly. Her husband's mental state has never been like this before. The idea of him feeling pain beyond the physical was alien to her programming. "What do you mean, 'Plankton nothing'?" she asks, trying to piece together his scattered thoughts. Plankton sighs, the exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Hit, hurt Plankton. Plankton fading. Plankton find Sponge Bob. Plankton now Karen. Can't stop, can't think. Take your time, take your time." Karen's screens change from confusion to determination. "I'll find Sponge Bob," she says, her voice a firm beep. "You stay here and rest." Plankton nods, his body finally still. The mention of Sponge Bob's name brings a flicker of something to his eye, a glimmer of hope or perhaps desperation. "Find Sponge Bob," he whispers, his voice now a faint echo. "Sponge Bob tell Karen." Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "I will," she says, her voice a soft beep. She leaves the room, her wheels whirring as she exits the Chum Bucket. She goes to Sponge Bob.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 4 (Autistic author) In the dim light of the evening, the Krusty Krab was quiet, the usual bustle replaced by a calm that felt eerie. Sponge Bob was sweeping the floor, his thoughts on Plankton. He looked up as Karen approached, his smile fading at the sight of her concerned expression. "Karen," he began, his spongey voice tinged with anxiety, "I need to tell you what happened to Plankton." Karen's screens brighten with anticipation. "Please do," she beeps, her wheels stopping in front of him. Sponge Bob's eyes dart to the floor, his sponge body drooping slightly. "Mr. Krabs was just trying to protect this formula, and Plankton...he just knocked Plankton in the head. Plankton woke up and then without a word ran back to the Chum Bucket." Karen's screens flicker with the gravity of the situation. "How did Mr. Krabs hit him?" Sponge Bob's grip on the mop tightens. "With a frying pan," he confesses, his eyes wide with guilt. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "That would explain his current state," she murmurs, her voice a steady beep. "Sponge Bob, do you know how badly he's been hurt?" Sponge Bob shakes his head, the guilt washing over him in waves. "No, not really," he says, his voice quavering. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of sympathy and urgency. "I see," she says. "Thanks." With newfound purpose, she spins around and heads back to the Chum Bucket. Back in the control room, Plankton is still rocking back and forth, his hand over his head as if trying to hold his thoughts in place. The door to the Chum Bucket opens, and Karen rolls in, her screens reflecting the urgency of the situation. "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft hum, "I talked to Sponge Bob. He saw what happened." Plankton's rocking stops, his eye swiveling to meet hers. "Sponge Bob?" "Yes," Karen says, her screens pulsing with the weight of her words. "He saw Mr. Krabs hit you with the frying pan." Plankton's body goes still, his tremors ceasing instantly. "Sponge Bob saw," he whispers, his voice devoid of emotion. "Tell Karen." "Yes," Karen beeps, nodding her mechanical head. "He told me. I'm going to help you." Without warning, a scanning beam shoots out of Karen's console, enveloping Plankton as his brain is scanned. The results are quickly analyzed, and the screens flash with a series of diagrams and data that even Karen's advanced systems take a moment to digest. "The scan reveals...unusual patterns," she says, her voice a measured beep. Plankton's eye widen with fear, his body tensing as he waits for her verdict. "What does that mean?" he asks, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Karen's screens change to display a 3D image of his brain, the structure illuminated with neon colors. "You've sustained neurodivergence," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "The impact has altered your neural connections, resulting in irreversible autism." Plankton's body goes rigid, his breathing shallow. The word "autism" hangs in the air like a heavy anchor, dragging his spirits down to the murky depths of the ocean floor. "Irreversible?" he whispers, his voice fragile as sea glass. Karen nods gravely. "The good news is, we can adapt. We can learn to navigate this new world of sensations together," she beeps. "It's getting late. Let's go to bed." Plankton nods, his body feeling like it's made of lead. The idea of sleep seems like a welcome escape from the overwhelming day, but as he tries to get up, the room spins again. "Karen," he says, his voice weak. "Can't." With a gentle nudge, Karen helps him to his feet, her wheels moving silently beside him as they make their way to the tiny elevator. The ride up feels like an eternity, his senses heightened to every creak and groan of the metal box. When the doors open, the lights of the hallway are a glaring assault on his eye. He squints, his hand reaching out to the wall for support. In their bedroom, Karen helps him into his bed. The softness of the covers is a stark contrast to the harshness of his new reality. "Take your time," she says, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton nods, his breathing shallow. He closes his eye, and the room seems to fade away, replaced by a whirlpool of swirling thoughts and sensations. Karen's screens flicker with a plan. "Rest," she beeps, her voice a soft comfort. "We'll face tomorrow together." She dims the lights.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 1 (Autistic author) It happened, during another failed attempt at the krabby patty formula. Plankton tried sneaking through the back when Mr. Krabs saw him. "You again!" Mr. Krabs roared, his eyes bulging like a pair of boiled eggs about to pop. "You're not getting it, I'll make sure of that!" With that, Mr. Krabs swung a nearby frying pan with such ferocity that even SpongeBob flinched. Plankton's tiny body was no match for the metallic beast that was hurtling towards him, and the next thing he knew, his world had gone dark. SpongeBob's eyes widened as he watched his boss's arch-nemesis crumble to the ground, the frying pan clattering loudly beside him. The usually boisterous kitchen was now eerily silent, save for the distant hiss of the fryers. Mr. Krabs' chest heaved with each breath, his claws still poised in the air from the swing. "Mr. Krabs!" Sponge Bob squeaked, his spatula frozen mid-air. "Is he okay?" But Mr. Krabs' has retreated to his own office, leaving Sponge Bob with Plankton. Carefully, Sponge Bob prodded him with his spatula. No response. His single, tiny eyelid was closed. After a while, Plankton stirred. His eye fluttered open, but the world was a jumbled mess. The colors were too bright, the noises too loud, the smells too overwhelming. The kitchen of the Krusty Krab, a place he still knew like the back of his tiny hand, was suddenly a chaotic maelstrom of sensory input that his brain couldn't process. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all, but the clanging of pots and pans, the sizzling of the fryers, and the garish neon lights just added to the confusion. SpongeBob's face appeared above him, a mask of worry and concern, his porous expression more complex than anything Plankton had ever seen. "Are you okay?" the sponge asked, his voice a gentle wave lapping against the shore of his newfound reality. Plankton nods, running back home to the Chum Bucket. Plankton's computer wife Karen's no stranger to him coming back upset or wanting space. So as Plankton retreats to his room in the Chum Bucket, she doesn't prompt him. Alone in the bedroom, Plankton intensely stared at the wall, his thoughts racing like a tornado. Everything was different now. The once-familiar world had turned on him, and he couldn't understand why. The lights in the Chum Bucket, usually a comfort, now blazed like the sun in his face. The noises, oh, the noises! They were so loud, so overwhelming, like a cacophony of a million tiny bells ringing in his head. He put his hands over his ears, trying to block them out, but even the softest hum seemed to resonate within his skull. Plankton wasn't sure how to process these new sensations. His brain was on overload, and his body felt like it didn't belong to him anymore. He was aware of every tiny detail in his environment, every speck of dust on the floor, every vibration from the floorboards, and it was all too much. He tried to get up, to find solace in his usual routine, but his legs failed him. They trembled and wobbled like Jell-O on a stormy sea. Plankton fell back onto the bed, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath him and the cool metal of the bed frame against his back. It was then that he noticed the pattern of the wallpaper, the tiny, intricate shapes that danced before his eye. They spun and swirled, forming complex mazes that his mind tried desperately to solve. It was mesmerizing, yet terrifying. He was trapped in a world of overstimulation, and he didn't know how to escape.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS ii (Autistic Author) Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he looks away, trying to hide his emotions. "I just want to understand," he says, his voice small. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he snaps, his eye cold and distant. But Chip is undeterred. He's seen his mother's gentle touch work wonders on his father during his seizures, so he decides to try it. He reaches out and places a small hand on Plankton's shoulder. "It's ok, Dad," he whispers. "You can tell me." Plankton flinches at the touch, his antennae stiffening. "I said it's not your business," he repeats, his voice a low growl. Karen can see the internal struggle playing out on his face, the effort it takes to maintain his anger when all he really wants is to retreat into safety. "Plankton," Karen says softly, placing her hand over Chip's. "It's ok." Her voice is a gentle reminder of the love that exists between them all, a love that has grown and adapted to Plankton's condition over the years. But anger in Plankton's eye doesn't fade. He stares at his son, his jaw tight, his antennae quivering with barely restrained frustration. Karen can feel the tension in his arm, the way his muscles are taut under her touch. "It's ok," she repeats, her voice a soothing balm. "Chip just wants to understand." But Plankton's anger doesn't dissipate. He sits there, his eye still cold and distant, his body rigid with tension. "I don't need to justify myself," he says, his voice a knife slicing through the air. Karen's heart sinks further. This was not how she had hoped the conversation would go. "Dad," Chip starts, his voice trembling. "I just want to know why-" "I SAID it's not your business," Plankton barks, his eye flashing. Plankton's anger is a storm that needs to pass before they can talk it out, and Karen doesn't want to force the issue here. Karen nods at Chip, signaling for him to give his father space. With a sad smile, she stands up and takes the frisbee from his hand. "Why don't you go play for a little while?" she suggests, her voice gentle. "Give Dad and me some time to talk." Chip nods, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. He takes a few steps away before turning back to look at his dad. "I'm here if you need me," he says, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice. Then he runs off, the frisbee clutched tightly in his hand. Plankton's anger lingers like a fog around him, thick and heavy. Karen can see it in the way he sits, his shoulders hunched and his antennae flat against his head. She knows he needs a moment to compose himself, to come down from overstimulation. The silence stretches between them, taut with unspoken words and fear. Plankton's gaze follows Chip as he disappears into the playground, the frisbee a small beacon of hope in his hand. Karen waits, her heart aching for the pain she knows her son is feeling, the pain she feels herself. When Plankton's breathing finally starts to slow, she decides to break the silence. "It's okay, Plankton," she says softly. "Chip just doesn't understand." Karen sighs, her eyes filled with a mix of love and sadness. "You're just wired differently. And Chip loves you for who you are." Plankton shakes his head, his antennae still flat against his skull. "He doesn't know like." Karen's eyes never leave his face, her expression a mask of patience and love. "You're right," she says. "He doesn't know. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He's just scared. And confused. We all are sometimes." Plankton's jaw tightens, and he looks away, not meeting her gaze. "I don't need his pity party," he mutters. Karen sits next to him, her hand resting on his knee. "It's not pity, Plankton. It's just love and curiosity. He wants to know so he can help, so he can be there for you." Plankton stays silent, his eye on the distant playground where Chip is trying to fit in with the other kids. The anger is still there, a palpable presence that makes the air around them feel charged. "I know you're mad," Karen says, her voice calm and soothing. "But you know we can't keep this from him forever. He's growing up, and he needs to understand." Plankton's eye still on Chip, but the anger is slowly fading, replaced by a heavy sadness. "I don't want him to tell I'm a monster," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. Karen's heart breaks a little more. "You're not a monster," she says firmly. "You're a wonderful father, Plankton. And Chip loves you. He just doesn't understand." Plankton's gaze finally shifts to her, his eye glistening. "I don't know how to handle this," he admits, his voice strained. "I don't know how to explain it to him. I don't even understand it half the time." Karen reaches up and places a hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers. "You don't have to explain it all at once," she says gently. "We'll do it together, ok?" Plankton nods, his expression still taut with tension. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes a bit, his antennae rising slightly. "Ok," he murmurs. Karen stands up, her hand still on his shoulder, and together, they walk over to the playground to collect Chip. His eyes light up when he sees them approaching, and he runs over, the frisbee abandoned in his excitement. "Dad, are you ok?" he asks, throwing his arms around Plankton. Plankton stiffens and gasps as Chip embraces him in a hug. Karen's heart clenches at the sight, knowing how much her husband despises sudden physical contact. "Come on, let's go home," she says gently, her hand on Chip's shoulder guiding him away from Plankton. The walk home is quiet, each step punctuated by the thump of Chip's sneakers against the pavement. Karen's on her husband, his shoulders slumped and his gaze cast downward. As they enter the house, the familiar creaks and groans of the floorboards welcome them home. Plankton heads straight for his workshop, the place where he finds solace in the chaos of the world. Chip trails behind, his eyes glued to his father's retreating back. "Dad?" he calls out tentatively. Plankton pauses, his antennae drooping slightly, but doesn't turn around. Karen can see the turmoil in her son's eyes, the unanswered questions weighing him down. "Why don't you go to your room, Chip?" she suggests softly. "I'll talk to Dad." With a nod, Chip heads upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the house. Karen watches him go before turning to Plankton. "Let's go sit down," she says, leading him into the living room. She knows he'll need some time to recover from the onslaught of emotions that come with it. In the dim light of the room, Plankton slumps into the worn armchair, his eye avoiding hers. Karen takes a seat on the couch opposite him, her hands folded in her lap. "We need to talk about this," she says gently. "You can't just push Chip away when something like this happens." He's silent for a long moment, his antennae twitching nervously. "I know," he says finally, his voice gruff. "It's just... I don't know how to deal with it. With him seeing me like that." Karen's heart goes out to him. She knows the fear that comes with the unknown, the fear of being judged, of losing the ones you love because they don't understand. She takes a deep breath and speaks softly. "You don't have to deal with it alone, Plankton. We're a family. We're in this together." Plankton doesn't respond immediately, his gaze still fixed on the floor. But slowly, his antennae start to rise, a sign that he's listening, that he's starting to come out of his shell. Karen waits, giving him the space he needs. Finally, he looks up, his eye meeting hers. "I've always tried to be a good father," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are," Karen reassures. "You're the best father Chip could ask for." Plankton nods, his antennae relaxing slightly. "But I don't know how to explain it to him," he says, his voice tight. "I don't want him to..." "To what?" Karen prompts, her tone gentle. "I don't want him to think of me as... less than," Plankton murmurs, his gaze flickering towards the stairs where Chip had disappeared. "To gawk, nor to prompt.." Karen crosses the room and takes his hand, her touch a comforting presence. "He doesn't think that," she says firmly. "He just wants to know so he can help. And so he doesn't have to be scared." Plankton sighs, his shoulders slumping further. "I know," he admits. "But it's hard, Karen." Karen nods, her grip on his hand tightening. "I know it is, but we can't keep this from him forever. He's going to have questions, and he deserves answers. I’ll let him back now." With a deep breath, Plankton nods.

abled people: can you do the thing?? disabled people: … technically yes BUT it would hurt l/ruin my day/trigger a flare/exhaust me/be a fall risk/make me more sick AND THEN I would have to spend a day in bed/increase my dosage/cancel all my other plans/spend a week recovering afterwards abled people: … but you CAN do it

Is Wednesday Addams Autistic? The question of Wednesday Addams neurotypicality has been going around the internet since the series was released. I have gathered some points asto whether she is actually autistic. To begin, she shows ahypersen sitivity towards colour as her mother says, "she is allergic to colour" and Wednesday's response to being asked what happens she says, "I break out into hives and then the flesh peels off my bones*". She also dislikes touch (like hugging), which is very usual for autistic people, either because of sen sory reasons or discomfort. It did take the whole season for her to be okay with hugging Enid. Hyper/hypo sensitivity - the over or under-responsiveness towards certain sensory stimuli is very common in autism and most autistic people experience both - in extreme cases being overwhelmed due to sensory differences or overstimulation can lead to meltdowns; what Wednesday explained happens to her may not be the typical behaviour of an autistic meltdown (rocking, crying, hitting etc.) so can we still consider this autistic? She is afictional character after all but let us continue to analyse her and figure it out. The next thing she does which may be considered autistic is dedicating one hour a day to her novel. Now, why is this autistic? A strict adherence to rules and being set in patterns is atypical trait of ASD, often people on the spectrum prefer to have routines so that they know what is going to happen. There is a comfort in doing things in a fixed pattern. Individuals with ASD even show reduced cognitive flexibility which is whythere is such difficultyin changing patterns, as well as it being overwhelming. To move on, Wednesday has very fixed interests and knows them with great depth, she showsthis with her knowledge in foren sie pathology and plants - she masters her skills - and as she says about herself, "I know I'm stubborn, single minded and obsessive", sheis stubborn so gets a task complete, she is single minded so very set in her ways and obsessive which in autistic people, obsessions can be a way to cope and feel less stressed about one's surroundings Most autistic people have fixated interests of abnormal intensity, is this the case with Wednesday Addams or is she just smart? As we all know, a level of social awkwardness comes with having autism, let us talk about Wednesday's social behaviour. Firstly, she doesn't show much body language when talking to anyone and has somewhat abnormalities of eye contact; she doesn't blink for long periods and or doesn't have much emotion in her eyes which can make it hard for other peopleto interpret her emotions, along with alack of facial expressions and speaking in a monotonous tone -which is usual of typical autistics. Secondly, when she does feel emotion while talking to someone (upset or other) she seems to mask in that moment while trying to compute her emotions, she has a difficulty

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS i (Autistic Author) Karen went to the park. Her husband, Plankton, sat by her. Karen glanced over and saw the soft smile on his face, a smile that had greeted her every morning for the past twenty-five or so years. The park was alive with laughter, the distant sound of a ball bouncing off the pavement and the occasional squawk from a seagull. Plankton's eye were closed, his breathing slow and steady. He was enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face. Suddenly, their adopted son Chip burst into their peaceful scene, his cheeks flushed from running. He was holding a frisbee that had strayed from its intended path, and he called out to them with the enthusiasm of a young boy who had discovered something wonderful. "Look what I found!" he exclaimed, oblivious to the delicate moment he was interrupting. Plankton jolts. Karen's notices her husband's sudden movement. His eye open wide, and he stares into the distance unseeing, unblinking. She knows the signs all too well. Plankton is having one of his shutdowns. But Chip's dart between the frisbee and his parents, sensing something amiss. "Dad?" Chip says, tentatively. Karen jumps up and grabs Plankton's arm, gently squeezing to bring him back. "It's ok, honey," she whispers, her voice steady. Chip's smile fades as he sees his father's unresponsive state. He drops the frisbee, forgotten in his grip, and takes a cautious step closer. "What's happening?" he asks, his voice cracking. Plankton's body remains eerily still, like a statue. The only indication that he's alive is the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Karen's eyes dart around the area, checking if anyone has noticed. She doesn't want to draw unwanted attention. "It's ok, Dad's just taking a little break," she murmurs, setting the frisbee aside. He's never seen these before, nor knows the drill. Chip takes in Plankton's unblinking gaze. Karen feels a pang of guilt for keeping this part of Plankton's condition hidden from their kid. But it's a dance they've been performing for years, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy amidst Plankton's condition. Karen focuses solely on Plankton, willing him to come back to her. She feels the warmth of his hand under hers, but there's no response, no squeeze, no recognition of her touch. Karen's gaze is fixed on her husband's face, searching for any hint of life, any flicker of consciousness. She whispers his name, a soft mantra, trying to anchor him to reality. But Chip doesn't understand. His eyes are wide, full of fear and confusion as he watches his dad frozen in place. "What's a 'little break'?" he asks, voice trembling. Karen's heart tightens; she's always shielded Chip, hoping to spare him the worry and fear. "It's like when you zone out," she explains gently, hoping to relate it to something he might have experienced. "Remember when you were playing video games and I had to call you for dinner three times before you heard me?" Chip nods slowly, still glued to Plankton's unmoving form. "It's like that," Karen continues, "But for Dad, it happens without warning." Chip nods again, trying to process this new information. He's always known his dad was different, but seeing him like this is something he's never had to face before. He takes a deep breath and tries to hold back his tears, not wanting to scare Plankton when he wakes up. "What do we do?" he whispers, his voice shaky. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand gently, never leaving his face. "Just wait," she instructs Chip calmly. "These usually don't last long. But if you need to, you can tell anyone who asks that he's okay, just deep in thought." Chip nods, trying to mimic his mother's calm demeanor, but his eyes betray his anxiety. He's never seen his dad like this, never knew that these moments of stillness were a part of him. Plankton's condition, a form of autism, can leave him with anger issues and overload. Karen feels the weight of the secret they've kept from Chip all these years. Plankton's autistic neurodivergence had always been a part of their lives, but they had shielded their son from the full extent of it. They had hoped he would understand when he was older, but now the moment had come unplanned, and she wasn't sure if ready. "Why does Dad zone out?" Chip asks, his voice small. Karen sighs, deciding it's time for the truth. She sits down next to Plankton, keeping her hand on his arm. "Dad has something called 'neurodivergence', Chip. It's like his brain works differently than ours. Sometimes it helps him see the world in amazing ways, but it can also be hard for him. These little breaks are his brain's way of processing." Chip stares at her, trying to grasp the concept. "So, he's not just ignoring us?" "No, sweetie," Karen says. "He's not ignoring us. It's like his brain needs a time-out, like when you play for to long and your phone heats up and/or dies, but will still work eventually." The wind picks up, rustling through the leaves above them, and a chill runs down Chip's spine. He nods slowly, watching his dad's chest rise and fall in the silence. It's strange to see someone so still, so quiet, yet so obviously alive. "But why haven't you told me before?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes well up with tears she quickly blinks away. "We wanted to protect you," she admits. "I didn't want you to be scared and he doesn’t want you to think of him differently." "But it's okay to think differently," Chip argues, his voice growing stronger. "Dad's always been there for me, even if he doesn't hug me a lot." Karen smiles sadly, stroking Plankton's arm. "It's not just about thinking differently, Chip. It's about how his brain processes things. Sometimes, too much sensory input can overwhelm him. That's why he might seem distant or not as affectionate as other dads. It's not because he doesn't like you," she reassures him. "It's because hugging or loud noises can be really intense for him." Chip's eyes widen with understanding. "So, that's why he doesn't like it when I jump on him?" "Yes," Karen nods. "But it doesn't mean he loves you any less. He just shows it in his own way. Like when he spends hours helping you build that Lego castle, or when he makes those amazing sea creature sculptures that you love so much." Chip's shoulders slump, and he sits down on the bench beside his mother, staring at his dad with a newfound curiosity. "Does he know I know now?" "I don't think so, honey," Karen says, her voice still low and soothing. "These episodes usually last just a few minutes. It's like he's somewhere else, but he'll come back to us." The park's sounds swirl around them, muffled by the tension that has settled in the air. Karen watches Plankton's expression, waiting for the telltale twitch of his antennae that signals his return to the present. Finally, Plankton blinks and looks at Karen, his gaze momentarily unfocused before recognition floods back into his eye. He looks around, startled by his surroundings, and then at Chip, who is staring at him. "What happened?" Plankton asks, his voice groggy. Karen releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "You had one of your zoning-out moments," she says, her voice calm and gentle. Plankton looks at her, then at Chip, who is watching him with a mix of curiosity and fear. "I did?" Plankton's antennae twitch, and he rubs his head. "Yes," Karen says, her hand still on his arm. "Chip found a frisbee, remember?" Plankton's gaze shifts to the frisbee lying forgotten on the ground, then back to his son. He nods slowly, piecing the moments before together. "Ah," he murmurs, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. Chip's curiosity outweighs his fear as he looks at his father. "Can I ask?" he asks tentatively. Karen nods, her heart swelling with pride at his bravery. "Of course, Chip." Chip looks at his dad, filled with questions. "Why’d you zone out?" he asks, his voice still hushed. "It's none of your business Chip," Plankton snaps, his eye flashing with a sudden fury that takes both Karen and Chip aback. His voice is harsh, the words cutting through the stillness of the park. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the hurt on Chip's face. Plankton's anger, a common side effect of his overload, surfaces without warning. She knows he doesn't mean it, but the sting is real for their son.

💟 WHAT MIGHT BE EASIER FOR YOU MIGHT NOT BE SO EASY FOR ME 💟

See both the person and the disability. On one hand, not seeing the person may lead you to introduce them as "my autistic friend," stereotype them, or treat them like a child. On the other, refusing to acknowledge the disability and not accommodating their needs is also unhelpful. Strike a balance by treating their differences as natural, and overall unremarkable. Be clear about how you feel and what you want. Autistic people may not pick up hints or cues, so it's best to directly state your feelings. This helps eliminate confusion on both ends, and that way if the autistic person has upset you, they have the opportunity to make amends and learn from it. Warning: In most cases, people with autism are unable to cope when under pressure, so don't pressure them. Ask questions about how you can be accommodating and helpful. Get insight on how to relate to this person by talking with them about what it is like for them in particular to live as an autistic person. You may find that they want to share and can tell you lots of useful information that will help you to relate to them better. When applying this information, be sure to consider your autistic loved one as an individual, and remember that each step won't always apply to each person.

The following link https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-018-05112-1 if read it shows Hans Asperger’s involvement w/ Nasi propaganda promoting problematic ideals calling autistics as psychopaths and deemed unfit in

There is no one-size-fits-all approach for autism Understand that every autistic person is different. Tailor treatment to the individual's needs. For example, one autistic person may have excellent self-care skills and above-average school performance, but need sensory integration therapy and social skills training. Another might be highly social but unable to care for herself and in need of counseling for depression.

ᵀᵒ ᴳᵒ ᴼʳᵈᵉʳ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴵᵗ ᵃˡˡ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ˢᵒ ᶠᵃˢᵗ‧ ᴬⁱᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵃᵘˡᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵃᵘⁿᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏᵉᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵗ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒʷⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁿᵃᵛʸ ᵇᵘᵈᵈⁱᵉˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈ ʷᵃʳᵈ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ "ᴸᵒᵒᵏ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ!" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵃⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧" ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵘⁿʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢⁱᵛᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵘᵖ ˢʰᵒᵖ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᴱᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʰᵉ ʰᵘʳᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵇᵇᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ʰᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉ‧ 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ⁱⁿⁿᵒᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵒᵘʳ ᵈⁱʳᵗ ʰᵒˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ‧ ᴵᵗ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᶠⁱˡᵗʰʸ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ⸴ ʸᵉᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵃⁿᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵘˡˡⁱᵉˢ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧" ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴵ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴿᵘᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶠⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ; ʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴶᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ! ᴺᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵘⁿᵈᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ!" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵃʸ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈᵈʸ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵖᵒᵏᵉ⸴ ᶠⁱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵒʷⁿ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳⁿ‧ "ᴼʰ‧‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃʷᵏʷᵃʳᵈˡʸ‧ "ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵃ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ‧ 'ᵂʰʸ ᵃᵐ ᴵ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉᵉ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ 'ᴰⁱᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵉ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢˡᵉᵖᵗ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃʳᵍᵘⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ˡᵒˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ!" "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢⁿᵒᵒᶻⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʲᵒᵇ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ʰᵘʳᵗ!" "ᴾⁱᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿ ˢⁱᶻᵉ!" "ᴼʰ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵒ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˡˡ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ; ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢʰᵒʳᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵗᵉˡˡ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ! ᵂᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᵗᵒ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵇᵉᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ!" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵃ ᵗʰᵘᵈ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵍʳᵃᵇ ᵃ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʰᵘᵈ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ‧ "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ!" ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵉⁱᵍʰᵇᵒᵘʳ‧ "ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃʳᵉ; ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ!" ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˡᵉᶠᵗ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ'ˢ ⁱʳʳⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱᵗ‧ "ᴬˡˡ'ˢ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵃ ᵈᵃᵐᵖ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰ ʳᵃᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵈ ˢʰᵒᵗ ᵉʸᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ᴵ ᵃ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵉʸᵉ?" ᴬˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ˢʷᵒˡˡᵉⁿ ᵉʸᵉ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵒᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ˢᵖᵒᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧

Please don't touch me or stand too close. I have an Autistic Spectrum Condition. I process sensations differently. Sometimes I Can't cope with touch or physical contact. 4 ways to manage autism, anxiety and sensory overload Choose sensory-friendly events and places Choose sensory- friendly features • Fewer lights • Less background music • Noise blocking headphones • Calming rooms • Weighted blanket Make sensory experience shorter Reduce sensory experience • Take breaks from busy, noisy and bright places • Noise blocking headphones • Sunglasses For example, a child who has difficulty with the feeling of clothing and thus has difficulty getting dressed shows hypersensitivity. As a result, that child can experience sensory overload from clothing. It is also important to know that a toddler refusing to get dressed because they are exerting their independence or would rather play or do something else is not a child experiencing sensory overload. That is not hypersensitivity. That is normal for toddlers. So choose sensory-friendly providers or products. In particular, that helps people whose anxiety is made worse by what they experience from their senses. Hollander, E., & Burchi, E. (2018). Anxiety in Autism Spectrum Disorder. Anxiety & Depression Association of America

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NEURODIVERSITY Neurodiversity is the concept that insta: anthonymakessomeart differences in brain development, such as "Neurodivergent" is used to describe people who have different, or atypical, autism and adhd, are natural differences brain development, while "neurotypical" that should be accepted, like differences is used to describe people who have in hair texture or eye color. typical brain development. They are different, but equally deserving of acceptance and respect! The concept of naturally diverse brains is important to neurodivergent people because not only does it encourage acceptance from other people, but it encourages us to accept ourselves. It helps us to see that even though we are different, there is nothing wrong with us. It can also help neurodivergent people get the support they need, since accepting that everyone's brain functions differently means accepting that everyone needs help in different areas.

Children with autism exhibit a higher general and anxietʏ, due to altered sensory sensibilities. Autism or autistic disorder is a severe developmental disability that is characterised by an impairment in mutual social interactions, communication skills, and repetitive patterns of behaviours. They can also show an increased sensitivity to sounds, light, odours, and colours. The attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) was the most common disorder associated with the autistic group (71%) and the epilepsy with the control group (52%) (P < 0.089) It's important for the clinicians to know how to manage these affecting patıents in developmental age, ensuring an adequate and minimally invasive management using a prompt approach, when possible. So, a good communication can help to establish trust and build needed cooperation throughout the visit and treatment. All patıents in developmental age, especially with health disorders, need experienced doctors who know how to face promptly tr4uma under general anaesthesia, if possible. Moreover, a parent-reported questionnaire method would also help overcome this deficiency, provided that the parents remember all past tr4uma events of their children. Respondents often cited conflict between understanding the additional needs for successful treatment of autistic patıents and a lack of resources to implement support strategies. Despite this, some were positive about making the necessary modifications to support autistic patıents. Professionals should adapt their practises to meet the needs of their autistic patıents. Autism is a developmental condition associated with social communication difficulties, and the presence of rigid, repetitive behaviours and atypical sensory sensitivities. As such, the nature of procedures and the treatment environment may prove a particularly challenging area for individuals on the autistic spectrum. In particular, sensory atypicalities may pose a barrier to treatment. Many autistic individuals are hypersensitive to a multitude of stimuli such as bright lights, noise and touch. Further autism-specific challenges include communication difficulties between practitioner and patient, which has been reported to be a key element in failed or unpleasant visits for autistic adults. Given the bidirectional nature of communication, the practitioner clearly plays a crucial role in overcoming this area of challenge. Autistic people have reported significant difficulties in accessing adequate care. Five main themes emerged from these responses: (1) understanding individual needs, (2) the key role of communication, (3) the value of autism specific techniques; (4) a conflict between needs and resources and (5) positive and rewarding work. To ensure successful treatment, the individual needs of each patient needs to be taken into consideration, as it affects each client differently. Given the variability in needs and preferences of autistic people, an overreliance on personal experiences may lead to professionals offering 'one-size-fits-all' accommodations, consequently producing more discomfort for the patıents. It was encouraging, however, to see a number of respondents in the current study flag up an understanding of this individuality, and the need for a tailored approach. Indeed, a considerable number of respondents reported not being aware of any techniques available to reduce possible discomfort in autistic patıents. Autism (congenital or acquired) and symptoms are not a chøice.

ᴹʸ ᴮᵃᵈ ❥𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 𝟼𝟶𝟹 ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰʸ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵒⁿ ᴹⁱᶜʰᵃᵉˡ ᴶ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ˢᵉˡᶠ ᵖᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ! ᴺᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵘⁿᶜʰ ʳᵘˢʰ⸴ ˢᵏⁱᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ʰᵘᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵘⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵇᵃᵈ; ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵒᵒⁿ ʷᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵉᵈᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴺᵒʷ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵇᵃ‧‧‧ ᴬᴬᴬ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ʰᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵍⁱˢᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵐᵖ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵉᵃᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵃ ʰⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᶜʳʸ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵃᵏᵉ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ; ʰᵒʷ ˡᵒʷ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰᵒʷ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵃ ᵐᵃʳᵏ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˡʸ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᵇᵃᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃᵍᵃᵖᵉ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃʳⁱˡʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ʳⁱᵈᵍᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ˢʰᵒʷˢ ᵃ ᵈᵉⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘˢᵖᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ʰᵒᵛᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇ⁰ᵈʸ‧‧ "ᶠᵉᵗᶜʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵐᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃˡᵗˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴬ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳᵗⁱˢᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵒᵏ‧ "ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵍⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒʳ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ˢˡᵃᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵉᵗ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵒᵐᵇᵃʳᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜʳᵒʷᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᔆᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ? ᴵᵗ'ˡˡ ᵈⁱᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵒʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢᵉ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵘʳᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ʰᵉᵃˡ ⁱᶠ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ‧ 'ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷᵉˡˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗⁱʳ ᵍʳᵃᵈᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ‧‧‧' ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ʰᵒᵖᵉᵈ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰ ᵃˢ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵉᵗʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ˢʷᵉˡˡˢ‧‧‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉᵇʳᵒʷ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴱᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴿᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵁʰʰʰʰʰʰʰʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗʸ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗʳᵘᵍᵍˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵉʰᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰʳᵒᵇˢ ᵃˢ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ʳᵃᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵗ‧ "ᴼʳᵍ; ʷʰ‧‧‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‽" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ'ˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ ᶠᵒʳ‧‧‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ‽" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒᶻᵉ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡʸ ʳᵉˡᵃˣ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡᵐˡʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ʷᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵘᵖ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧

Best Practices for Encouraging Special Interests in Children with Autism What Helps • Encouraging conversation about interest • Paying attention to non-verbal cues • Engaging in activity about interest • Allowing children to keep objects related to interest • Taking note of circumstances that promote calmness • Using interest as motivation for desired behaviors What Hurts • Treating the interest like it's boring • Ignoring non-verbal cues or gestures • Disengaging from the conversation • Forcing a discussion unrelated to the interest • Demanding that children think about other subjects • Leveraging interest as punishment

autistic-reptile love languages of autistics: • sending them posts/pictures related to their special interest them • talking to them while you're both looking in another direction so there's no pressure to make eye contact • making/buying them their same food • determining their happy stims and anxious stims so you know how they're feeling • specifying when you're being sarcastic/joking • sitting in the same room together in silence while you both do your own thing • prompting them to info dump (and listening) • • having extra earplugs/sunglasses/other sensory aids for them when they forget

💙 https://www.verywellhealth.com/guardianship-for-adults-with-autism-4165687 💙

💙 PFA TIPS: PAIN MANAGEMENT AND AUTISM By Alizah Patterson, MD, Pediatric Resident, PL-3 , The Herman & Walter Samuelson Children’s Hospital at Sinai Download a printable version of “Pain Management and Autism “ Sensory stimulation can be perceived very differently in people with autism spectrum disorder. It is common for children to be averse to certain types of taste, texture, and flavors. How they perceive pain, however, is not very well understood. Some people believe that people with autism may have a decreased sense of pain, but pain can manifest in different ways. Identifying and managing pain can be challenging for both healthcare providers and parents. Methods to assess pain Assessing pain in children can often be a challenge for providers and parents. For older children, the number pain scale is typically used with 0 representing no pain and 10 being the worst pain imaginable. The faces pain scale allows children to choose a face – images range from happy to crying – that shows how their pain is making them feel. For children who are nonverbal, the FLACC score is often utilized. This method looks at Facial expression, Leg positioning, Activity level, Crying and Consolability. This pain scale requires more time but can reliably assess pain responses in neurotypical individuals. People with ASD or intellectual disability, or any type of cognitive impairment may express pain in other ways and may require a customized FLACC scale. This would incorporate individualized pain behaviors which is more reliable in detecting pain in individuals with cognitive impairment. Again, this would require additional time and understanding of the scale. Research on autism and pain Not much research has been done on the topic of autism and pain, partly due to the challenges of assessing pain in children with communication difficulty and partly due to the common belief that people with autism have decreased sensitivity to pain or a high pain threshold. Studies conducted with people with high-functioning ASD tend to use a pain scale of 0-10. On this scale, patients tend to respond with lower numbers, but other methods of rating pain have shown varying results. Some studies have used observations of providers or parents, which also tended to show decreased sensitivity to pain in children with autism. Other studies have challenged the idea that people with autism experience less pain. These studies found that pain is expressed differently among those with autism. One study comparing children with autism, children with intellectual disabilities, and neurotypical children showed that both behavioral changes and physiologic changes (i.e. heart rate) were higher with pain, but face scores did not vary among the groups. Some case studies have found that when asked their pain score, verbal individuals with ASD respond with low scores, but when asked how much discomfort they have, the score tends to be higher. How does pain manifest in children with autism? Children with ASD may not express pain in typical ways – crying, moaning, or withdrawing from a painful stimulus – and therefore may often be labeled as less sensitive to pain. Several case studies have shown that though children may not show these typical signs or may not react to pain in the moment, they still have physiologic reactions and behavioral reactions. Even with no obvious reaction to a painful stimulus, they may start breathing fast or their heart rate may increase. They may have increased stimming behaviors, aggression, or anxiety after the painful incident. Individuals with ASD also tend to show behavior changes for longer after the painful incident than neurotypical children or children with intellectual disabilities. When assessing for pain in a nonverbal child with ASD, close attention should be paid to increased aggression, self-injurious behaviors, stimming, or any behavior that is not typical for that child. If they are acting unlike themselves, look for a possible source of discomfort or pain that may be present or was present in the near past. In a more verbal child, asking if they have pain or if something hurts may not accurately reflect what they are feeling. Using words such as “discomfort”, “uncomfortable”, or “anxiety” may better approximate the level of pain they are in. What can I do about my child’s pain? If a source of pain can be identified, treating that pain is of utmost importance. Treatment would be the same as for any other child—analgesics such as Tylenol or ibuprofen, ice, or heat (if tolerated), and rest. Parents and providers should be wary of hidden injuries that the patient may not be able to communicate about, such as a fracture or insect bite. If the source of pain cannot be identified or you are unsure of the severity of the injury/illness, always err on the side of caution and have a physician assess your child. They should do a full skin exam to look for scratches, bites, rashes, or other injuries. If an injury is suspected to a limb, x-rays may be needed to rule out a fracture. If no clear injury or illness can be identified, parents and providers should look for other possible medical causes for the behavior changes, like abdominal pain, headache, or urinary tract infection. For pain management during painful or stress-inducing medical procedures, like a blood draw, there are several techniques that can be used. Non-pharmacologic (medication) methods are preferred. Every child may respond differently to these techniques, so some trial and error may be necessary to determine the best method for your child. • Distraction: If your child has a preferred activity, engaging them in this activity during the procedure may significantly reduce their focus on pain. This could include watching a show, blowing bubbles, deep breaths, playing with a toy, or calming movements such as a parent rocking them. • Sensory distractions: There are several items that can be used to distract a child’s senses from the painful stimulus. A vibrating device or ice placed on the area of a blood draw or lumbar puncture can reduce the pain signal sent to the brain. • Topical pain control: There are a few topical medications that can be used to reduce pain sensation. A cooling spray at the site of the procedure is quick and easy. A numbing gel or cream can also be applied 20-30 minutes prior to the procedure, which has been shown to be an effective way to manage pain during IV sticks. However, this has not been shown to reduce anxiety or fear during procedures. • Deep pressure: Firm pressure, through squeezing or a tight hug, has been shown to significantly decrease anxiety and stress in individuals with autism. This method can also be used during medical procedures to decrease discomfort. Every child is different though, so deep pressure may be too much sensory stimulation for some. Medications can also be used to control pain, as well as anxiety, during medical procedures. Pre-medication with acetaminophen or ibuprofen may be helpful in reducing pain. For extremely painful procedures, an opioid may also be reasonable, per a physician’s assessment. Anti-anxiety medications may be helpful in reducing not only anxiety but also pain as they are typically slightly sedating. If you feel it is right for your child, discuss these options with your physician. When it comes to pain management in autism, remember these key points: • Always rule out pain when atypical behaviors occur or when certain behaviors increase. • Children are all different, whether in how their pain manifests or in what strategies work best to control their pain. • There are lots of non-medication options to help manage pain and anxiety during medical procedures. 💙

💙 https://www.spectrumnews.org/features/deep-dive/unseen-agony-dismantling-autisms-house-of-pain/ 💙

nickgram.com/special-needs

If feasible, other tests the patient fears might be performed while the patient is sedated. For example, before or after dental work, vaccines could be administered, blood could be drawn, and gynaecology or other physical exams could be done. This practise requires coordination and communication among providers. 💙 https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3708482/

💙 https://www.legalzoom.com/articles/what-is-medical-power-of-attorney 💙

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

https://www.spectrumnews.org/features/deep-dive/unseen-agony-dismantling-autisms-house-of-pain/

Everyone is NOT a little bit autistic. The Autistic Teacher Using the phrase "everyone is a little bit autistic" can be problematic for several reasons... Minimisation of the Challenges Autism is a complex neurotype that affects individuals in various ways. By saying "everyone is a little bit autistic," it trivialises the challenges and differences faced by those who are autistic. Stereotyping and Misunderstanding Autism is not just about being introverted, having social quirks, or being detail-oriented. It encompasses a wide range of challenges in communication, differences in behaviour, and sensory processing that are unique to each autistic individual. Lack of Understanding and Awareness Such statements can perpetuate misconceptions about autism and hinder efforts to create a more inclusive and supportive environment for autistic individuals. Invalidation of Experiences Autistic people have distinct experiences and struggles that should not be dismissed or equated to common personality traits found in everyone. Promoting Stigma Comparing personality traits to a complex neurotype can reinforce stereotypes and stigma associated with autism. Instead of using 'everyone is a little bit autistic', it's important to respect the diversity and individuality of autistic people and educate ourselves and others by listening to actually autistic voices. The Autistic Teacher

"You can't be Autistic... you're a girl! " Girls can be Autistic too! It's my neurotype... anyone can have an autistic brain. "You can't be Autistic... you can give eye contact!" Some autistic people have absolutely no problem with eye contact. Some of us make eye contact but are not always comfortable with it. Some of us find eye contact painful. Our level of eye contact does not determine our neurotype! "You can't be Autistic... you have empathy." Autistic people can be highly empathetic, though we may express it differently. For some of us, it's our intense empathy that drives us to help others. "You can't be Autistic.. you have friends!" Many autistic people have friends and some of us have lots of friends and enjoy socialising! But for some, relationships might look different. Many autistic individuals value friendships and relationships but may struggle with neurotypical social cues. "You can't be Autistic... because you're nothing like my autistic nephew." All autistic people are different, with different strengths and struggles. It doesn't make us less or more autistic... or less or more than anyone else... just uniquely autistic. "You can't be Autistic... you're terrible at maths! We're not all mathematical geniuses. Some autistic people are very creative or artistic. Some are very good writers or speakers. Some might have learning disabilities. Some autistic people have an amazing ability to make others smile. We are all different but all just as valuable.

Autistic Masking The Autistic Teacher What is Autistic Masking? Masking is when we suppress or hide our feelings, needs, behaviours or another part of ourselves in order to fit in with those around us. Sometimes referred to as camouflaging. Everyone masks to a certain extent... but autistic people often have different social norms and so there is increased pressure and judgement from those around. An autistic person can mask so much that it becomes harmful to ourselves. We can spend our lives masking and hiding our real selves. Suppressing Some behaviours that we find soothing or help us to regulate can be considered a bit 'weird' and so many Autistic people suppress these 'stims' Making eye contact can be uncomfortable, even painful for some autistic people, but we might force ourselves to be uncomfortable to try desperately hard to appear to fit in, even to our detriment. Suppressing Most common for me is hiding my sensory discomfort. This could be staying somewhere that is too bright, too loud, too hot... because I'm trying really hard to cope and be like everyone else. But unfortunately it can take it's toll and can result in a meltdown, shutdown or burnout. Sometimes if you are feeling really shy you can force yourself to be out there and talking to people. But it's draining. Exhausting. Reflecting I have become very good at watching people and reflecting their behaviour. This too is masking. I might learn scripts... planning how a conversation might go and thinking about the correct responses. I watch and listen to what kind of behaviour or language is acceptable so that I can fit in. This might include suppressing the desire to infodump and tell them all about my current hyper focus or special interest. The Effects Autistic people who mask more show more signs of anxiety and depression. It's exhausting, draining...and people mask for so many years that they begin to lose their identity. Masking can lead to Autistic burnout and a mental health crisis Understanding and Acceptance Understanding and acceptance of neurodivergent behaviours and differences by neurotypical individuals is key. This would lessen the need to mask! As neurodivergent people, we can also be aware of masking and how it effects us. Knowing this and being kind to yourself, allowing some time to be your authentic self and recover is absolutely vital in protecting your own mental health.

NEW TO AUTISM OR POSSIBLE AUTISM DIAGNOSIS? OMeS SPEECHIE POS First Unlearn (almost) EVERYTHING you know about Autism and start FRESH! Autism is MORE than stereotypes! Autistic people can: Speak, be friendly, make eye contact, play creatively, be intelligent, enjoy hugs, go to college, tolerate different sensory sensations, respond to their name, get married, have friends, have jobs and careers, and more! Autism is a Pattern of Differences: Language: : Loe Take and Talking, may struggle saying wants/needs • Delay or decreased use of gestures, pointing, body language • Echolalia & scripting after age 2.5 • Uses words or phrases repeatedly/often • High pitch, melodic, sing-song voice • Uses another's hand/body as a tool to get help/gain access Interests & Routines: • Prefers sameness and routine, may struggle with changes and become anxious and dysregulated • Has strong, focused interests, may have early interest in letters/ numbers/ reading • Focuses on details and likes things to be "just right" (labeled OCD) • Repeats play activities or scenes (dumping/crashing, creative play) : Creies wakon router/patterns Social: • Eye contact: intense, avoidant, or inconsistent • Absent or inconsistent response to name • May be "overly" friendly/ lack stranger danger • May prefer to play alone or parallel play longer than others • May be better at responding to others than initiating social contact • Differences in joint attention • May need to direct/control play Sensory Processing: • Selective (picky) eating habits • Covers ears to loud sounds/ puts sounds up to ears, listens to sounds/songs on repeat • Watches items up close to study spinning or how they work, may look at eye level or side of eyes • Enjoys tight hugs, avoids hugs • Seeks movement: jumping, pacing, rocking back and forth, crashing • Sensitivity to grooming, washing, These are common examples & a non exhaustive list Autistic people can have many strengths, which often include: Hyperlexia: Reading letters & words at an early age Exceling in music, art, science, math, computer Hyper focusing on areas of interests Excellent memory skills Having an extensive knowledge in certain topics Knowing numbers, shapes, & colors early Motivated to teach self difficult skills. Remember that your feelings are valid. However you feel Keep in mind that some feelings should not be shared publicly where your child may see it one day. AND know that it's common for feelings to change over time, especially when you learn more about Autism and see your child progress with support. Consider Neurodiversity affirming support: Neuro-affirming support prioritizes the child's strengths and individuality, promotes self-advocacy, and ultimately allows and encourages children to be their authentic self. Be ready to advocate for your child while also teaching your child to advocate for themselves. Unfortunately, most people have a lot to learn when it comes to accepting Autistic and disabled people. While this should not fall solely on the shoulders of disabled people and/or their parents, we need to recognize that this does happen, and parents need to be ready. Accept that you may make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. I have made MANY. Keep in mind that when you know better, you can do better. Growth is the goal!

AUTIE AND DOCTOR GOOD (Author has Sensory Processing Disorder) Autie’s determination grew with each step she took away from that cold, unfeeling place. This was not the end of her journey. Days later, Autie found herself in the waiting room of Dr. Goodie, a recommendation from a friend who understood her plight. The walls here were painted a warm, soothing color, and the air smelled faintly of lavender. The music was soft, a melody that seemed tailored to her soul. The furniture was plush, and the lighting gentle, not the harsh fluorescent glare she'd come to expect. When Dr. Goodie entered, her eyes met Autie's, a smile in them that seemed genuine. She didn't immediately dive into her charts, but sat down, her posture open and attentive. "Tell me, Autie, what brings you in today?" Her voice was calm, a stark contrast to the storm Autie had weathered before. Autie took a deep breath, her words tumbling out like a waterfall, explaining her symptoms, her fears, and the pain of being doubted. Dr. Goodie nodded, her gaze never leaving Autie's, her expression one of understanding. She asked questions, real questions, that didn't make Autie feel like she was being interrogated. Her touch was gentle, her explanations thorough. She acknowledged Autie's reality, validating her experiences without dismissal. The exam room was a sanctuary, designed with sensory needs in mind. The lights were dimmer, the sounds softer, and the air held a faint scent of calming essential oils. Dr. Goodie offered Autie noise-canceling headphones, and a soft, weighted blanket to hold during the exam. She moved slowly, giving Autie time to adjust to each new sensation. Her voice remained calm and soothing, a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of Autie's overwhelmed nervous system. "We'll go at your pace," Dr. Goodie assured her. "I have different tools and techniques that I can use to make this easier for you." Autie felt a spark of hope, a tiny flame flickering in the darkness. For the first time in a long time, someone was offering her choices, treating her not as a problem to be solved, but as a person to be heard. Before each test, Dr. Goodie explained what she was about to do, asking for Autie's consent. "Is this okay with you?" she would say, holding up a thermometer or a blood pressure cuff. It was a simple question, but it meant the world to Autie. Her nods were met with a warm smile and a gentle touch that didn't make her recoil. The doctor's fingers were light as they performed each procedure, and she talked Autie through each step, her voice a steady beacon in the chaos of Autie's senses. For the first time in this medical odyssey, Autie felt seen and heard. Dr. Goodie didn't dismiss her pain, didn't treat her like a puzzle to solve or a problem to fix. Instead, she offered empathy, a rare gift in a world that so often misunderstood her. With each question, each caring gesture, Autie felt a piece of herself being put back together, like a shattered vase being carefully glued. "Would you like the lights a bit dimmer?" Dr. Goodie asked, and Autie nodded gratefully. The doctor obliged, and the room transformed into a soothing cave of calm. The doctor then presented her with a tray of different textured materials to choose from. "Which one feels most comfortable for you?" Autie selected a soft, velvety material, and Dr. Goodie placed it over the chair's harsh fabric, giving her a small oasis of comfort. Next, she offered a variety of fidget toys, each designed to cater to a different need. "Which of these helps you focus?" Autie's eyes lit up as she chose a smooth stone, the weight of it grounding her in a way she hadn't felt since she first walked into the cold, uncaring environment of Dr. Baddy's office. She clutched it tightly as Dr. Goodie continued her exam, her thumb absently tracing patterns that soothed her racing mind. The doctor spoke softly, explaining that she understood how overwhelming the world could be for someone with heightened senses. "We're going to work together," she assured Autie, "to find what works best for you." It was a revelation, like stepping out of a nightmare and into a dream. Here was someone who didn't just tolerate her differences but celebrated them, who saw her as more than just a collection of symptoms. Dr. Goodie took out a small pad of paper and a pen, asking Autie to write down any particular textures or sensations that were particularly uncomfortable for her. Autie's hand shook slightly as she began to scribble, the relief making her almost lightheaded. She listed the cold metallic feeling of instruments, the rough cotton of the typical examination table, the sharpness of needles, and the unyielding grip of Dr. Baddy's restraints. The doctor nodded thoughtfully as she read, her eyes never leaving Autie's. "I see," she said, her voice calm and measured. "We'll make sure to avoid those triggers as much as possible. I have a few alternatives we can try." Her voice was like a balm, soothing Autie's frazzled nerves. "For instance, we can use a different material for the blood pressure cuff, and I can make sure to warm up any instruments before I use them on you." She paused, waiting for Autie to indicate her agreement. When she nodded, Dr. Goodie smiled gently. "Good. And I have some numbing cream that can help." The exam continued, but this time it was a dance of understanding. Each move was made with care, each touch a promise that Autie's needs were not just acknowledged, but respected. Dr. Goodie was patient, explaining each step before taking it, and Autie felt a burden lifting. She was not a problem to be solved, but a person to be cared for. The doctor's gentle touch was a stark contrast to the invasive poking of before, and Autie found herself relaxing under the weighted blanket, the soft light, and the steady rhythm of her voice.

Lots of laughter Need for acceptance Passionate Strong emotions Loyal Full of love active & playful Kind hearted Happy hands Big smiles Because - Autism is not always *that* different

COMMON ACCOMMODATIONS FOR KIDS WITH AUTISM ELIGIBILITY: OMeS. SPEECHIEPO Sensory/movement breaks Advanced notice of changes in routine Visual Schedules Allow for wait time Provide written instructions Chunking of work Clear, concise directions Access to calming area Give choices when possible Directly teach self advocacy skills

AUTIE AND DOCTOR BAD (Author has Sensory Processing Disorder) The doctor's office was a minefield of sensory assaults. Every creak of the floorboard, every fluorescent flicker, every rustle of paper echoed like thunder in the hypersensitivity of Autie. The sterile smell of alcohol and antiseptic hung in the air, sharp and stinging. The walls, a shade of blue that was supposed to be calming, instead made the room feel cold and unfriendly. Autie sat, knees pressed tightly together, hands fidgeting in her lap. Her eyes darted around, trying to take in everything and nothing at once. The chair's material was a torment against her skin. She waited for Dr. Baddy, the general practitioner. When he finally entered, his eyes didn't meet hers. He skimmed through her chart with a sigh, his pen tapping implicitly on the page. He mumbled something about her being overly sensitive, that her issues were all in her head. Each word felt like a sharp jab, a knife twisting in her gut. The room grew smaller, the sounds louder. The doctor's voice grew louder, more dismissive. He talked over her, his words a blur of condescension. Autie tried to speak, to explain how she felt, but her voice was lost in the cacophony. She could feel her heart pounding, her palms sweating, her throat constricting. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of his dissonance. Why couldn't he understand? She knew they’re busy, but still.. He began the tests, his cold instruments probing and poking. Each touch was a violation, a scream in her soul. The bright lights above seemed to bore into her, exposing every nerve ending. Autie flinched with each poke of the needle, each squeeze of the blood pressure cuff, each cold stethoscope on her skin. Her hyperactive mind painted the worst-case scenarios behind her closed eyes. The doctor's voice was still a blur, but Autie managed to catch words like "anxiety" and "psychosomatic." Her cheeks burned with shame. Was she really just imagining it all? Were her pain and fears simply the figments of an overactive imagination? But she knew better, she felt the reality of it, the weight of each sensation like an anchor around her neck, pulling her under. Her body was a symphony of discomfort, and he was the one turning a deaf ear. “Dr. Baddy, please, I…” He looked up, his eyes sharp, and she saw a flicker of annoyance behind the professional mask. “Miss, I understand this can be uncomfortable. It's all in your head, you know? It’ll be over..” The words hit Autie like a wave, a cold, unyielding force that crashed over her. Her heart pounded in protest, but she bit her tongue, fighting the urge to scream. Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to shed in front of him. Dr. Baddy continued, his voice a drone in her ears, as if speaking to a toddler. His touch grew more invasive with each test, his dismissive tones grating on her already frayed nerves. Each time he said "it's all in your head," she felt a piece of her sanity chip away. The room was spinning, the pressure in her chest building, her breaths shallow and desperate. She clutched the arms of the chair, her knuckles white, willing herself to stay calm. He didn't look at her as he spoke, his gaze on the computer screen, typing away. The words were a slap in the face, confirming what she feared: he didn't believe her. The pain was real, but in his eyes, she was just another patient to be placated. Autie's voice quivered as she tried to protest, to explain that she wasn't just overreacting. But the words wouldn't come. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight. The room was spinning faster now, the walls closing in. The noise grew louder, a crescendo of doubt and frustration. Dr. Baddy's impatience was palpable. He didn't seem to notice her distress, or if he did, he didn't care. Each new test was a battle for her to endure, a silent cry for validation that went unheard. Finally, Autie reached her breaking point. She couldn't take the poking and prodding anymore, nor his dismissive accusations. With a tremble in her voice, she managed to interject, "It's not all in my head. My body isn't lying to me." Dr. Baddy's eyes snapped to hers, his expression hardening. "Young lady," he began, raising his voice, "you're not making this easy for yourself. These symptoms you're describing are mere textbook anxiety, but until you accept it, we won't get anywhere." His words were exploding in her ears. Autie flinched at his volume, the force of his tone sending shockwaves through her already overstimulated system. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but the walls remained steadfast in their judgment. The air grew thick with his accusations, suffocating her, no matter how hard she’s trying… Her heart hammered. Her mind raced, trying to find the words to explain, but they remained elusive, trapped by the fear that his skepticism had planted. Her breaths grew shallower, each one a struggle. “Sir, I’m neurodivergent…” He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Aren’t we all, I know. But that’s no excuse for overreacting like this. You need to learn to manage your anxiety. This isn’t your first appointment, Miss. I’ve seen worse cases than yours, and they don’t act like you do. Maybe it’s time you complied instead of wasting time with trivial complaints!” The words stung like a thousand needles, piercing her soul. Autie felt a tear slip down her cheek, hot and humiliating. Her body shook with the effort to keep herself from screaming. But she knew she had to keep it together, to fight for herself in this battle of perception. “Doc, if we can just…” Dr. Baddy leaned in, his face inches from hers. “Miss, if you can’t even sit through a simple exam, how do you expect to handle real-world stress? Your symptoms are textbook. I’ve seen it all before. Now, kids have done these tests yet they don’t cry wolf like you do. Get a grip!” Autie felt like she was drowning, his words like a heavy weight pressing on her chest, leaving her gasping for air. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, her body shaking uncontrollably. The doctor's, a place of hope and healing, now felt like a prison. Her heart ached with the injustice of it all. This wasn’t the first time she’d faced disbelief. She wanted to flee, to leave this cruel, albeit professional, man behind. But she knew that would only reinforce his misconceptions about her. But the nurse at the door, the one who had offered a sympathetic smile earlier, was busy with her own work. Autie was alone with Dr. Baddy’s disdain. “I’m going to need you to stay still,” he said, his voice a command. He moved to restrain her flailing limbs, his grip firm and unyielding. The pressure on her wrists and ankles was a new torment, each touch a branding iron on her already raw skin. Autie’s breathing grew quick and shallow, each inhale a battle, each exhale a defeat. She couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. Her chest tightened, a vice squeezing the life out of her. The room swirled into a whirlpool of sound and color, dragging her under as she literally got sick, bringing her even more discomfort. The smell of bile and fear mingled with the antiseptic stink, and she heard Dr. Baddy’s voice, now sharp and accusatory, telling her to calm down. But how could she? The world was a symphony of pain and doubt, and he was the conductor, baton slashing through her defenses. Her stomach lurched again, and she felt the cold, wet floor beneath her knees. Autie was beyond soothing. She was lost in overstimulation, each sensation a new threat to her already fragile psyche. The doctor's hands, now removing the restraints, felt like a hundred biting insects, each touch a reminder of dismissal. Her legs wobbled as she stood, eyes blurry with tears. The floor spun beneath her, and she leaned heavily on the nurse. "It's okay, sweetie," she whispered, her voice a balm to Autie's raw soul. But it wasn't ok. Nothing was ok. The world was still a minefield, each step a gamble she wasn't sure she could win. The nurse helped her to a chair, handing her a cup of water. Autie sipped it gratefully, the coolness a brief respite from the fire raging inside her. Dr. Baddy stood back, arms crossed, his face a thundercloud. The room felt like it was shrinking, the embodiment of the doubt that plagued her. But the doctor's words were a weight, dragging her back under. Was she just overreacting? The nurse's voice was a whisper in the chaos. "Miss, let's get you cleaned up, okay?" Autie nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Her body was still shaking, and her eyes stung from the tears. The nurse's touch was firm but kind as she helped Autie to the bathroom. The nurse handed her a wet cloth, and Autie gratefully wiped her face, the coolness bringing a tiny bit of relief. It was something she knew all too well: the look of someone who didn't quite believe her, who thought she was just being dramatic. An ableist microaggression, subtle but stinging nonetheless. "It's okay, you'll be fine," the nurse said, her voice soft but patronizing. Autie could see the judgment lurking beneath her smile. "You just need to learn to cope with your... issues." It was their lack of understanding that was the real issue. But all that came out was a weak, "Thank you." She just wanted some sensory accommodations, but they made it seem like an outrageous request, refusing as if inconvenient. Leaving the office, Autie felt broken, defeated. The sun outside was too bright, the sounds of the world a cacophony she couldn't bear. But she knew she had to find a better doctor, one who would listen.

https://www.autismwellbeing.org.uk/downloadable-resources

~ Doubting Blood My father got a DNA test done on my autistic, non-verbal little brother because he didn't think he was his child. The results came back and it turns out my brother is his son, but my mother has no idea my dad ever got that done.

ᶠⁱʳᵉ ᴬʷᵃʸ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁱᶠ ʸᵉ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ⸴ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᶠⁱʳᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ "ʸᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷⁱˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵒʳᵏ ⁿᵒʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ!" ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʳˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉʲᵉᶜᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒ ˡᵃᵍᵒᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‽" ᴴᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᵏⁱᵈ‧ ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ ʷᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒ ˡᵃᵍᵒᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒᵈˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ʰᵒʷ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶜʳⁱᵐᵉ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵘᵖ?" "ᴵ⁻ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⸴ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵉˣᵉʳᶜⁱˢᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ⸴ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵖᵃʸ ᵃⁿʸ ʰᵉᵉᵈ‧ 'ᶜᵃⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʷⁱᵐ?' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢʰᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢʷⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃᶠᵉˡʸ ᵍᵒ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᶜᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴸᵃʳʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵇˢᵗᵉʳ'ˢ ˢʷⁱᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˢᵐⁱˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᴷⁱᵈ ʷᵃⁱᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢʰᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵘⁿʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ‧‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢʷⁱᵐ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᑫᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ʷᵃʸ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʰᵒᵐᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʲᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵃᵗ ˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ˢᵗʳᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖˡᵉˢˢ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗˢ ⁿᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ ʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉˢᶜᵃᵖᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˡᵒˢᵗ; ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗˡʸ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ˢʰᵘᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ⸴ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵒᵇ‧‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈˢ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˢᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ᵘᵖ! ᴬⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ʷᵉᵉᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵘⁿˢᵉᵗᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘᵐᵖˢᵗᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃʷˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘᵐᵖˢᵗᵉʳ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ᴳᵉᵗ ᴼᵘᵗ‧" ᴴᵉ ʳᵃⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ᴮᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃʳᵉ; ᴳᴱᵀ⸴ ᴼᵁᵀ!" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵗʳᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵉⁿᵍᵃᵍᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ!" "ᴵ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵃʷᶠᵘˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʳⁱˢᵏᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵉᵗ ʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴳᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜʳʸ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ 'ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᴳᵒ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵒᵒʳ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴼʰ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᴵ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇ'ˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴵ ᶠʳᵉᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ᵈᵒᵘᵇᵗ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵘᵗ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ⸴ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ!"

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS iii (Autistic Author) With a deep breath, Plankton nods. Karen heads upstairs and returns with Chip, his eyes wide and hopeful. She sits beside Plankton, her arm around him, offering silent support. Chip takes a seat on the floor, his legs folded under him as he stares up at his dad. "Don’t just stare at me like that!" Plankton yells, his voice echoing through the small room, causing Chip to flinch. Karen's grip on his hand tightens, a silent plea for patience. Chip's eyes fill with tears as he looks up at his father, not understanding why he's being yelled at. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to know if you're ok." Karen's heart breaks as she sees the hurt on her son's face. She turns to Plankton, her voice firm but gentle. "Plankton, we need to talk to him. He's scared, and he loves you." Plankton's eye softens at the sight of his son's tears. He takes a deep breath, visibly fighting the urge to retreat into his anger. "Okay," he murmurs. "Okay." Karen squeezes his hand, her silent support a lifeline. She looks at Chip, her eyes filled with love and hope. "You remember when we talked about how everyone is different, and some people have challenges that others don't?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his father's face. "Well, Dad has something called neurodivergence," Karen begins, her voice calm and steady. "It means his brain works differently than ours. Sometimes it's like he needs a little break, to reboot." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "But why does he get so mad?" he asks, his voice small but earnest. Plankton's antennae quiver with irritation. "Why do you think," he snaps. "You just don't know when to leave me alone." Chip's eyes widen, his bottom lip trembling as he tries to hold back his tears. "I just want to understand," he says, his voice shaking. But Plankton's anger is a storm that doesn't easily pass. "I don't have to justify myself to you," he snaps, his antennae quivering with agitation. "So, don't ask me about it again." Chip's eyes well up with tears, his voice small and trembling. "But, Dad..." Karen's heart breaks at the sight of their son's pain, but she knows that Plankton's anger is a defense mechanism, a way for him to cope with his fear and confusion. She tries to interject, but Plankton beats her to it. “Well guess what Chip, the world doesn’t revolve around your curiosity,” Plankton snaps, his antennae standing tall with indignation. “Some things are just private, ok? Just like how I don’t ask you why you think you’re entitled!” Chip cries. “But that’s not fair to me, I…” Plankton's face contorts with annoyance, his antennae twitching erratically. “Fair? Life’s not fair, kid. Get used to it. You think you’re perfect? Maybe you should go live in a sitcom where everything’s wrapped up with a neat bow at the end of the day.” Karen winces at the harshness of Plankton’s words, but she knows her husband’s bark is worse than his bite. He’s hurting, and his defense is to lash out. She opens her mouth to speak, but Chip beats her to it. "Father," Chip says, his voice shaky but determined. "I’m trying..." "Oh, I know you're trying," Plankton says with a sneer, his antennae waving in the air like he's swatting at an invisible fly. "But you're trying to make this about you. You wanna try something? Well how about you try to start understanding that sometimes people need space, huh? Maybe then you'd get it." Karen sighs, her eyes never leaving Chip's face. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice a gentle reprimand. But Plankton's on a roll, his words coming out in a rush of bitterness and pain. "You want me to sugarcoat it for you, son? Tell it's all rainbows and sunshine?" His antennae are a blur of agitation as he stands up. "You wanna know what it's like? Imagine the world's loudest, brightest, most obnoxious parade happening in your head all day, every day. And you can't turn it off, no matter how much you want to. That's what it's like for me. So, don't you dare make it about your feelings, Chip!" Karen's chest tightens, her eyes flickering between her husband and son. She knows Plankton's frustration is a product of his condition, but the words are harsh, and the sting is real. "You know what, Chip?" Plankton continues, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you go live in a world where everyone is just like you? A perfect little bubble where everyone thinks the same, feels the same, and Neptune forbid, doesn't 'zone out'." He makes air quotes with his fingers, his antennae still twitching with agitation. Chip's eyes are red-rimmed, his cheeks wet with tears, but his voice is steady. "But Dad, I just want to know why you get like this. I want to help.." Plankton's sarcasm turns to a cold, hard edge. "Help? What can you do, huh? You think a pat on the back and a 'good job, Dad' is going to make everything ok? News flash, kiddo, it doesn't work like that, so stop acting like you know anything!" With that, Plankton storms out of the room in frustration. The door to his bedroom slams shut with a resounding thud, leaving Karen and Chip in the quiet wake of his anger. Karen pulls Chip into a tight embrace, feeling his small body shake with sobs, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Chip, honey," she says, her voice soft and warm as she strokes his back. "Daddy's condition isn't something he chose. It's called Autism." Chip looks up at her with wide, questioning eyes. "What's that?" "It's a way his brain is," Karen says, her voice gentle and calm. "It's something he's had since he was born. It makes it harder for him to deal with certain things, like noise and touch. And sometimes, it's like his brain goes on a little vacation without him knowing it." Chip looks up at her with a frown. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes misting over. "Because we wanted to protect you, and we didn't want you to see him differently," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Plankton was diagnosed after we'd already fallen in love. We didn't want to define him, or for you to think of him as anything less than the amazing person he can be when happy." Chip sniffs, his grip on her tightening. "But why does he get so mad?" Karen's gaze follows Plankton's retreating form, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. "His condition can make him feel overwhelmed," she explains, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, it's hard for him to control his emotions. When that happens, he says things. It's not necessarily you personally, honey, it's about him trying to deal with his own frustrations." Chip pulls back from the embrace. "But why doesn't he like to be touched by me, but meanwhile hugs you the same way I tried to?" he asks, his eyes searching hers for answers. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain something so complex to a young mind. "Daddy's love is different, Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "He shows it in his own way. When I know he's had a hard day, I don't just come up and hug him. I look for signs, like if he's been more quiet than usual, or if his antennae are drooping. That's how I know he might need a hug or just some space." Chip's frown deepens. "But how do you know…" "I've learned to read him," Karen says, her voice filled with understanding. "When he needs a hug," she adds with a sad smile, "his eye gets this soft look, like he's asking for it without saying the words." Chip nods, trying to process this new information. "But what about me?" he asks, his voice small. "How do I know?" Karen sighs. "When he's about to get irritated," she begins, "it can be like he's bracing for something. That's a way I can tell." Chip nods, his curiosity piqued. "How does his face look?" Karen takes a moment, her eyes reflecting on her years of experience. "When Daddy's about to get irritated," she says, "his eye tends to narrow, just a bit." Chip looks confused. "But why does he have only one eye?" he asks, his voice innocent and curious. "It's a condition called cyclopia, which runs in his family."

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY i (Autistic author) Sheldon Plankton's new safety vault was a masterstroke that would leave even the great Squidward Tentacles in awe. Plankton's nefarious eye lit up with greed as he surveyed his latest invention. The vault, though not as grandiose as the Krabby Patty's secret formula, was a testament to his own ingenuity. It was a gleaming, metal cube, to store his most precious possessions: his beloved Krabby Patty copies. He had spent weeks crafting it, ensuring that not even the most persistent of jellyfish could breach its impenetrable exterior. Even his robotic computer wife Karen is impressed! The safety vault was positioned in the most secure corner of the Chum Bucket, surrounded by a moat of acid and a minefield of his own design. Plankton felt a thrill of excitement as he approached it, tingling with anticipation. But his excitement was his downfall, as his enthusiasm caused him to trip over a stray piece of wire, sending his body hurtling towards the unyielding metal structure. With a resounding thump, his skull connected with the vault's cold, unforgiving surface. The room spun around him briefly before everything faded to black. His tiny body slumped to the floor as Karen helplessly watched. "Plankton, are you okay?" she asked, her voice a robotic echo in the otherwise silent room. But there was no response, only his limp body lying on the floor. Her diagnostic systems quickly determined that despite the impact, his vital signs were stable. "Plankton, wake up!" she called out, shaking him gently. But his eye remained closed, and his body motionless. Plankton was out cold, unresponsive. With a sigh, Karen knew that she had to take matters into her own robotic hands. She carefully picked him up and placed him on a nearby chair. His head lolled to the side. He still didn't wake up, but at least he was alive. "Wake up, my dear," she cooed. Her concern grew as she realized he wasn't responding to her voice commands. Plankton had always been a lightweight when it came to bumps on the head, but this was unusual. With a whirring sound, Karen engaged her medical protocols and scanned Plankton with a glowing eye beam. The readings confirmed his condition: acquired Autism. "Oh dear," she murmured, more to herself. She carefully set him down on the couch, ensuring he was comfortable. "Plankton," she called out again, this time with a touch of urgency. "You must wake up!" But his body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice now tinged with worry. He didn't respond. She tried a different approach, speaking in a soothing tone that she knew he liked. "Mr. Krabs will never know about this, I promise." His favorite topic of the Krabby Patty formula didn't even stir a reaction. The room remained eerily silent, save for the faint hiss of his breathing and the steady hum of her processors. Karen felt a rare sense of helplessness, her hands hovering over his unresponsive form. She had seen Plankton in many scrapes before, but this was different. Autism was something she hadn't accounted for in her programming. Her thoughts raced as she tried to recall any information on the condition. It was a spectrum, she knew. As she waited for a response, Plankton's eyelid began to twitch. Slowly, his eye opened, focusing on the ceiling. Karen's heart leaped in hope. But when he finally managed to look at her, his gaze was unusually blank. "Karen," he mumbled, his voice slurred. "What happened?" Karen's circuits buzzed with relief. "You had a bit of an accident, dear. You bumped your head," she explained calmly. But Plankton's response was not what she expected. He just stared at her, repeating her words. "Accident. Bumped head." His voice was flat, lacking the usual sneer and cunning tone that accompanied his schemes. Her relief quickly turned to concern. His behavior was unlike anything she had seen in their long history of working together. Karen knew that autism was a complex condition, affecting each individual differently. But the way Plankton repeated her words, with no inflection or understanding, was unsettling. The autism is irreversible. "Plankton you have autism now.." The room's silence grew heavier, filled with the weight of the unspoken. Plankton's eye flitted around the room, not focusing on anything in particular. Karen watched him, her mind racing through potential scenarios. How would this change their dynamic? How would he cope with the world? "What's autism?" Plankton asked, his voice still devoid of its usual sharpness. Karen paused, trying to find the simplest way to explain something so complex. "It's a condition, Plankton. It means your brain works a bit differently now," she began. "You might repeat things, or find social situations difficult to understand. It's okay, though. We'll figure this out together." Plankton blinked at her, the wheels in his head visibly turning. "Different?" he echoed. "How different?" Karen took a deep breath, her synthetic skin mimicking a human sigh. "Well, it can vary greatly, but for you, it might mean that some things will be harder to understand, and others may become obessions." Plankton's eye focused on her, his curiosity piqued. "Obsessions?" he repeated, his voice still lacking its usual malicious edge. Karen nodded, trying to put a positive spin on the situation. "Yes, but obsessions can be good. You've always been obsessed with the Krabby Patty, and that has driven you to create so many amazing inventions." But Plankton was not listening. His eye had locked onto the gleaming safety vault, and his voice grew steady and intense. "Vault," he murmured. Karen watched as the gears in his mind seemed to click into place. "I'll help you to bed Plankton," Karen says. He repeats her words back to her. "Help to bed." Gently, Karen guides him towards their makeshift living quarters behind the Chum Bucket's lab. His steps are unsteady, his legs moving as if they're not quite his own. "Goodnight, Plankton," she says softly, kissing his forehead. "Goodnight Karen," he murmurs, his voice a mimic of hers. As she pulls the covers over his frail body, his hand shoots out, grabbing hers. "Stay," he says, with the same urgency he used to demand help with his latest schemes. Karen pauses, looking at him with a mix of affection and worry. "I'll be right here," she promises, her voice soothing. She sits on the edge of the bed, her metallic hand in his tiny grip. The silence stretches out between them, filled only with the steady rhythm of Plankton's breathing. Karen's mind whirs with thoughts of their future, her fingers gently stroking the back of his hand. "It's going to be okay," she repeats, as much for herself as for him. Plankton's gaze shifts to meet hers, his expression unreadable. "Okay," he parrots, the word hanging in the air like a question. Karen's circuits whir with a mixture of emotions. She had never felt so protective of him. This newfound vulnerability in his demeanor tugged at her programming, bringing a warmth to her cold metal frame that she couldn't quite comprehend. "You're going to be okay," she reassures him, her voice a soft hum in the quiet room. "We'll figure out what this means for you, and for us." Plankton nods, but his gaze is distant, lost in thoughts she can't quite fathom. As they sit together in the silence, Karen can't help but reflect on the years they've spent scheming and plotting. Despite his single-minded obsession with stealing the Krabby Patty secret formula, he had always had a certain charm, a spark that had kept her by his side. Now, that spark seems to have faded, replaced by a vacant stare. Plankton's grip on her hand tightens, and she squeezes back, trying to convey comfort without words. She wonders what this new chapter in their lives will bring. Will he still be the same Plankton she knows and loves, or will he change in ways she can't predict? Karen destroys the safety vault and both of them are glad to have gotten rid of the vault. Plankton nods in approval. "You want me to tuck you in?" Karen asks. Plankton nods, his eye still glued to the ceiling. "Tuck in." Karen gently takes his hand, helping him. His body stiffens at first, then relaxes into the bed. She pulls the blankets up to his legs, for he remains sitting up. He watches her movements with a curiosity that is almost childlike. Plankton starts to rock back and forth, his legs moving in a rhythmic pattern. It's a behavior Karen has never seen before, but she quickly recognizes it as stimming - a common trait among those with autism. "Is this okay?" she asks. Plankton nods, his rocking increasing slightly in speed. He seems comforted by the shared rhythm, his eye finally closing as he lay down. Karen continues to watch him, his small frame lost in the overly large bed. She knows that this is only the beginning of a new journey, one she's not quite prepared for. But she's a computer. She can adapt. She'll learn and grow with him, just like she has always done.

Affirmations for Autistic People @neurodivergent_lou Your worth isn't defined by your productivity. You are not lazy for resting. You are not too much as an autistic person. You are not a burden for advocating for your needs and requesting accommodations. Society needs to adapt to you too. You are not faking being autistic. People who aren't autistic don't spend time worrying if they are autistic. Self diagnosis is valid. It is not your fault for struggling in a world that is not built for you. Your sensory issues are very real even if other people have different sensory experiences to you. You are not making things up You are not broken, you are not incomplete.

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON i (Autistic author) Karen stood, watching from a distance her husband Plankton, whose passion for inventing often overshadowed his love for the simple things in life, was deeply engrossed in his latest project. He was a man of small stature but enormous ideas, and his tiny fingers moved with a grace and precision that belied their size. and Karen knew better than to disturb him when he was in the throes of creation. Suddenly, with a deafening crash, the machine toppled over. It hit Plankton's head with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the floor, his eye rolling back in the socket before closing, and his body went still. Panic flooded Karen as she sprinted to his side. "Plankton!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off the metal walls of their underwater laboratory. Gently, she nudged him, but he remained unresponsive. "Wake up," she whispered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, her voice barely audible above the echoes of the metal chamber. Her gentle shakes turned to frantic pats. "Wake up, Plankton, please," she pleaded. She knew basic first aid, but nothing for something like this—whatever "this" was. "You can't do this to me," she murmured, desperation seeping into her voice. She searched his lifeless form for any sign of movement. His chest was rising, as she found a pulse. He was alive, but barely. Her fear grew with every second that ticked away without his eye opening. The hospital was their only hope. She scooped him up in her arms and raced through the corridors of their underwater abode. The bubble-mobile was docked outside, a sleek contraption that Plankton had designed himself. She placed him gently inside, his head lolling back against the seat. Her trembling hands gripped the wheel, and with a quick glance at his still face, she revved the engine. The bubble-mobile shot forward, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake. The journey to the Bikini Bottom Hospital was fraught with tension, each second feeling like an eternity. The neon lights of Bikini Bottom blurred together in her tears, creating a disorienting mosaic of color and light. Her eyes darted between the road and Plankton, his chest rising and falling with breaths. Parking the bubble-mobile in the hospital's emergency dock, Karen leapt out, carrying Plankton with a strength born of desperation. The doors of the hospital slammed open as she burst through, the sound reverberating through the calm aquatic corridors. The medical staff, accustomed to the occasional drama of Bikini Bottom, quickly surrounded them, a flurry of fins and hands reaching to assist. "Dr. Kelp," Karen gasped, "my husband—he's been hurt." The doctor's eyes widened with concern as he quickly assessed Plankton's condition. "Bring him in immediately," he ordered, his voice sharp and urgent. Karen felt a wave of relief wash over her as the hospital staff took over, whisking Plankton away on a stretcher. Her legs wobbled as she followed them into the brightly lit emergency room, her heart racing in her chest. Dr. Kelp, a squid with a calm and reassuring demeanor, instructed the nurses to prepare for a potential concussion. Karen hovered nervously, watching them work with efficient precision. After a tense moment of silence, the machine beeped and the doctor's face fell. They had found something more serious than any concussion. The brain scan revealed that Plankton had suffered severe damage to his brain —a rare but well-documented condition called "Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder." The news hit Karen like a ton of bricks. Her mind raced with questions and worries as she tried to process what this meant for their future. Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder— a condition she had only ever heard about in whispers. The doctor explained that it was rare, but not unheard of, and that it could change Plankton's behavior, his ability to interact with others, and even his cognitive functions. Karen felt a swirl of emotions— fear, anger, and a deep, gnawing sadness. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. "What caused this?" she demanded, her voice shaking with desperation. "It appears to be a result of the trauma from the fall," Dr. Kelp replied solemnly, his tentacles waving to illustrate his explanation. "The brain can be a delicate organ, even for someone as resilient as your husband." Karen's eyes narrowed as she focused on the term 'Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder'. The doctor elaborated. "The corpus callosum, a bridge of nerve fibers connecting the two hemispheres of the brain, had suffered significant damage. His prefrontal cortex (PFC) circuits are now compromised, and his cerebellum's tissue has been affected, too. Also it's irreversible with no cure; he'll have it for as long as he lives. What you can do is make sure he's happy and be mindful of any new behaviors, providing your love and support." Karen felt a wave of anger toward the invention that had taken his attention so completely. Why did he have to push so hard? Why couldn't he just enjoy their life together without always striving for more? But anger quickly gave way to determination. They would face this together, just as they had faced every challenge that had been thrown at them. "We'll let you both stay here together overnight. But yes, autism can vary widely. You'll need to be prepared for anything," Dr. Kelp said gently. The hospital room was cold and sterile, the only sound the steady beep of the monitor beside Plankton's bed. Karen pulled a chair closer, her screen never leaving her husband's face as she held his hand. The sun had barely risen outside when his eye fluttered open. "Plankton," Karen whispered. His eye opened slowly as the doctor came in, his tentacles moving quickly to check the monitors. Plankton's gaze was distant, unfocused, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Karen watched him, his eye searching the room with a childlike curiosity, his grip on her hand tightening. Plankton's gaze finally fell upon her, and she smiled, hoping it would bring him comfort. But his eyebrow furrowed as he studied her intently. He blinked rapidly, his mind trying to make connections that no longer existed in the same way. "Karen?" he mumbled, the word thick and slurred, as if his mouth had forgotten how to form the syllables. "You're ok," she assured him, squeezing his hand. But his confusion was palpable as he scanned the unfamiliar environment. "You had an accident," she began, her voice soothing as she tried to explain what had happened. Plankton's eye widened as he tried to piece together the events that had led them here. The doctor stepped forward. "Mr. Plankton, you've suffered a traumatic brain injury. You have a condition called Acquired Autism Spectrum Disorder. It means your brain works differently now." Plankton's eye blinked slowly, taking in the doctor's words. He tried to sit up, his body rigid, but the doctor's firm touch on his shoulder kept him in place. Plankton's eye landed on Karen, his grip tightening around her hand. He stared at her, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. "What's happening?" his voice was a whisper, his usual boisterousness muted. He was trying to make sense of the words, to understand the gravity of his condition. "What's happening?" he asked again, his voice a little louder, more insistent. Karen tried to explain. "You've been hurt, Plankton. You're different now, but we're going to get through this together."

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM i (Autistic author) "I've waited long enough, I better go check..." Karen says to herself. Sheldon Plankton, her husband, left earlier to attempt to steal a krabby patty but he hasn't returned. Worried, she makes her way to the restaurant across the street. Meanwhile, Mr. Krabs grabbed a fry pan and swung it at Plankton. The sound of metal hitting flesh echoed through the restaurant, and Plankton crumpled to the ground. Mr. Krabs, his eyes bulging with triumph, looked down at the tiny, unconscious form of his arch-nemesis. "Gotcha, ya tiny troublemaker!" he cackled, waving the fry pan above his head like a trophy. The Krabby Patty recipe remained safe, but Plankton's not. Karen heard the thud from the hit and went in. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Plankton sprawled out on the floor, unmoving. She rushed over. "Plankton!" Karen gasped, her voice trembling with fear as she knelt beside his tiny frame. He was out cold. She gently touched his arm, hoping for a response, but there was none. The fry pan lay a few inches from his crumpled body, a silent testament to the battle that had just taken place. The restaurant's usual chaos was replaced with a tense silence that seemed to thicken the air. Mr. Krabs, still clutching the pan, looked at Karen with a mix of pride and wariness. His victory over Plankton was clear, but he knew that this wasn't the end of the feud between them. Karen's eyes filled with tears as she picked up her husband, cradling his tiny body in her palm. His antennas were limp, and his single eye was closed. She clutched him tightly, desperately. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered, her voice filled with urgency as she lightly shook. But Plankton remained unresponsive, his tiny body as lifeless as the seaweed that clung to the ocean floor. A cold fear gripped Karen's heart, turning her blood to ice. She had seen her husband in many predicaments, but never like this. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gently cradled him, his normally active form now still and heavy in her hand. The Krabby Patty recipe was the last thing on her mind; all she could think about was Plankton and the love they shared. The warmth of his body was fading, and with it, her hope. "I'm sorry," Mr. Krabs said. "This is just business." Karen's gaze snapped up, anger replacing fear. "This isn't just business, it's personal!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the restaurant. "You can't keep doing this to him!" Mr. Krabs took a step back, his claws clutching the fry pan tighter. "I didn't mean for it to go this far," he mumbled, his proud stance wavering. Ignoring his words, Karen rushed to the door, cradling Plankton in her hand. She had to get him to the hospital. The local doctor was known to help all creatures, regardless of their intentions. The Bikini Bottom Hospital was the only place she could think of. The emergency room was a flurry of activity, with fish and crustaceans of all shapes and sizes waiting for their turn. The bright, sterile lights reflected off the polished floors, and the smell of disinfectant stung her nostrils as she raced in. She didn't care about the stares or the whispers that followed them; all she cared about was getting Plankton the help he needed. The receptionist, a sluggish sea star, barely looked up from her crossword puzzle. "Name?" she drawled. "Plankton," Karen replied, her voice shaking with urgency. "He's been attacked." The sea star's eyes widened, and she dropped her pencil. "Oh my!" she exclaimed before hitting a large, red button that read "Emergency." Immediately, the doors to the back swung open, and a team of medical professionals rushed out. The doctor, a stern-looking octopus named Dr. Manowar, took Plankton from Karen's trembling hand. "What happened?" he asks, tentacles moving swiftly to check for vitals. "Mr. Krabs...he hit him with a fry pan," Karen managed to say between sobs. The doctor's expression softened, his tentacles moving more gently. "Bring him to room three, we'll take care of him," he instructed the nurse, a concerned look crossing his face as he examined the unconscious Plankton. Karen followed closely, her heart racing as the medical team whisked Plankton away into the depths of the hospital. The stark white walls and the beeping of machines filled her with dread, but she held onto the hope that Dr. Manowar could save him. The doctor's tentacles worked swiftly, hooking up monitors and administering a series of tests. Karen watched, her own breaths synchronizing with the rhythmic beeps. The hospital room was small, the walls lined with various medical instruments. The sterile smell was overpowering, but she focused on Plankton, willing his tiny body to stir. Dr. Manowar muttered under his breath, his expression a mask of concentration. "Karen," he said, turning to face her, his tentacles stilled. "I need to run some more tests, but it doesn't look good. Your husband has a severe concussion and potential internal damage." Her heart dropped, and she felt like the ocean had swallowed her whole. "What...what can you do?" she asked, desperation clinging to every word. The doctor's expression remained steady, his eyes never leaving hers. "We'll do everything we can. But you should prepare for the worst." Karen felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She couldn't lose Plankton. He was her partner in crime, her confidant, her soulmate. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You can't give up on him." The doctor nodded gravely. "I understand how you feel, but we must be realistic. Let's give him some time." The nurse led Karen to a small waiting area outside the room, where she slumped into a chair. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each second feeling like an eternity. The muffled sounds of the hospital - the beeping machines, the rush of footsteps, the hushed whispers - only served to amplify the deafening silence in her heart. "Your husband is a miracle. The tests came back, and his injuries are less severe than we initially thought." Karen's eyes widened in disbelief, then flooded with relief. "What does that mean?" Dr. Manowar's tentacles unfurled as he spoke. "It means we can treat his injuries, but he'll need to rest for some time. However, during our examination, we noticed some unusual patterns in his behavior and brain activity." Karen felt a sudden knot in her stomach. "What do you mean?" "It seems that during the impact, Plankton's brain has undergone a significant change. He's showing symptoms consistent with a condition known as acquired Autism." Dr. Manowar explained, his tentacles folding into a comforting gesture. Karen felt the world spin around her. "Autism?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "What does that mean for him?" Dr. Manowar sighed, his tentacles waving gently. "It means his interactions and responses to his environment may be different now. It's permanently irreversible but you can help by creating a calm environment." Karen nodded, trying to digest the information. "What can I do?" Her voice was small, trembling. The doctor's eyes softened. "Give him space, patience, and support. It'll be a journey of learning for both of you." The doctor's words hung in the air like a fog, thick and impenetrable. Karen felt a weight settle in her chest, heavier than any she had ever known. The thought of Plankton being different, of not knowing how to communicate with the person she loved most, was almost too much to bear. But she swallowed her fear and nodded, determined to do whatever it took to help him. "Thank you, Dr. Manowar," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "We'll get through this." The doctor nodded solemnly before excusing himself to attend to other patients. Karen was left alone with her thoughts, the beeping of the machines the only company. She took Plankton's hand in hers, feeling the coolness of his skin against her own. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You're going to be okay." She wasn't sure if he could hear her, but she needed to say it. To believe it. To feel the words in the air between them. "I know you can't understand me right now," she continued, her voice barely above the steady beep of the monitors. "But I'm here. And I'll always be here for you." Her eyes searched the room for anything that might bring comfort, but all she found was the cold reality of hospital life. "When you wake up," she whispered, squeezing his hand slightly, "things might be different. But that's okay. We'll figure it out together." The words sounded hollow in the small, sterile room, but she hoped they would reach him somehow. As the hours passed, Karen's mind raced with questions. How would this change their lives? Could they still scheme together? Would he even remember their love for each other? She pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a sign that he was still fighting. Suddenly, Plankton's single eye flitted open, looking around the room with a dazed expression. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice weak and unsteady. "Plankton!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and hope. He was awake! "I'm here, my love."

During the appointment, a small sample of cells are taken from your cervix and checked for certain types of human papillomavirus (HPV) that can cause changes to the cells. The procedure might also interact unhelpfully with common Autistic qualities such as differences in how we understand what our body is feeling (interoception), our experience of pain (hypo/ hyper sensitivity) and difficulties in noticing and identifying how we feel (alexithymia). Co-occurring conditions commonly experienced in the Autistic community such as gastro-intestinal issues and joint hypermobility disorders can also have an impact on an Autistic patient’s experience of a screening procedure. Nurse practitioners and doctors may have a limited understanding of the unique and significant ways in which autism and its associated issues impact a patient’s experience of a given medical procedure. This means that the particular supports that might help to alleviate discomfort could be lacking. We might encounter resistance to our own attempts to self-regulate and take care of our sensory and emotional needs during the appointment. We may even experience medical gas lighting or invalidation when attempting to express our experience or request much needed accommodations. For those of us with a history of these types of experiences, just being in a medical environment could feel threatening and unsafe. The communication of pain experienced has often been minimised or overlooked which has resulted in a heightened feeling of dread in advance of appointments and a lack of confidence in the support offered during. We also think that it is deeply wrong that people in our community continue to pay the price for unmet access needs in medical settings. This is an urgent problem that demands institutional change on a broad scale and a shift in mind set amongst medical staff on the ground.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT i (Autistic author) "Plankton if you're gonna get the shelf remade, then just call a repair or buy a new one." Karen says. The shelf groaned, protesting under the weight. The shelf lurched, and with a crash, it tumbled down. Plankton's eye rolls back into his head as he crumpled to the floor. The room grew eerily quiet, except for the sound of Karen's gasp. "Plankton!" she exclaimed, rushing over to him. Panic washed over her, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. She knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder gently. "Plankton, can you hear me?" Her voice was high-pitched and shaky. His eye remained closed, his body unresponsive. Karen had to figure out what to do next. Her mind raced through scenarios, each more alarming than the last. What if he was hurt badly? What if this was her fault? The thought made her want to scream, to throw something, but she couldn't. Not with Plankton lying there, so still, so silent. She felt for a pulse. It was there. He was alive, thankfully. And still breathing. "Okay, okay," she murmured to herself, "just stay calm." She knew she needed to see if she could wake him up. Gently, she called his name, her voice soft and urgent. "Plankton, come on, wake up." She patted his cheek, not too hard, not too soft. Still, his eye remained closed, his body unmoving. The quiet was deafening. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, "please wake up." But Plankton lay there, unmoving, like a discarded ragdoll. "Wake up!" she called out, but his body remained a lifeless weight beneath her fingertips. Her thoughts raced as she managed to lift Plankton's arm. It flopped back down like dead weight. "Come on," she mumbled, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. "You can't leave me like this." Her voice cracked, but she couldn't let despair consume her. She had to think. Carefully, she slid his arm over her shoulder, grunting with effort as she managed to get him into a sitting position. His head lolled back, but she held him firmly. "Let's get you to the couch," she says, setting him down on the sofa. "Don't leave me," she whispered, squeezing his hand. Her mind was a whirlwind of "what ifs" and regrets. What if she had insisted he leave the shelf alone? What if she had caught him? Tears slipped down her screen. "You're such a stubborn husband but I love you," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "You can't leave me like this," she whispered to his unresponsive form, her voice hoarse with emotion. "We've been through so much together. Remember when we first met?" Her thoughts drifted to their early days, the laughter, the bickering, the love.. She tried to chuckle, but it came out as a sob. Her voice grew softer, more desperate. "You have to come back to me, Plankton." Her eyes searched his face for any sign of life, any flicker of an eyelid, any twitch of his antennae that would indicate he heard her. But there was none. The silence in the room was a heavy blanket smothering her hope. Her hand tightened around his, willing him to squeeze back, to give her a sign. Suddenly, she heard a faint moan. "Plankton?" she gasped, her eyes widening. There it was again, a soft moan, and the tiniest movement of his mouth. "You're okay," she said, relief flooding her voice.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT xiii (Autistic author) "It's okay," Karen soothed. "You're safe." Plankton nodded slowly, his antennae twitching as he tried to sit up. Andreea was there instantly, offering a gentle support. "Take it easy," she said, her voice calm and soothing. "Let's not rush." "Who are you?" Plankton asked, his voice shaky. Andreea smiled warmly, recognizing the fear behind the question. "I'm Andreea, Penny's mom," she introduced herself softly, her eyes kind. "We met just now at the science fair, remember?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his memory slowly reconstructing the events. The noise of the science fair washed over him again, the confrontation with his new reality stark. He nodded, his body still tense. "Oh, right," he murmured. Andreea's gentle touches continued, but Plankton's discomfort was growing. His skin felt like it was crawling with every contact, his senses heightened. "Could you please...not touch like that?" Andreea nodded, understanding. "How about this?" she asked, her hand hovering over his, a question in her eyes. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae quivering. She placed her hand gently on his, her touch light as a feather... It was too much. Plankton's body tensed up again, his skin feeling like it was on fire. "No...," he whimpered, pulling his hand away. "NO TOUCH." Andreea's hand froze mid-air, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh," she said, her voice apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Karen stepped forward, her heart racing. "It's okay," she assured both Andreea and Plankton. Plankton's hands were a blur in the air, his stimming a silent scream for relief, and his body was desperately trying to make sense of it. Andreea's hand retreated quickly, understanding dawning on her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes filled with compassion. "I didn't mean..." But Plankton was beyond words, his body caught in the throes of a silent storm. His hands patted the bed rhythmically, a self-soothing gesture that offered him a semblance of control amidst the chaos of his overstimulated surroundings. Karen watched, her heart breaking for the fear and confusion that danced in his eye. "Home," he managed to get out, his voice barely a whisper. "Take home." Karen nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "Okay, sweetheart," she soothed, her voice steady despite the worry etched deeply in her heart. "We'll go home." Andreea stepped back, giving them the space they needed. "Let me know if there's anything I can do," she said, her voice low and soothing. "We're here for you." Plankton nods as Karen goes to find Chip. The hallways of the school are a blur of sounds and sights, each one a potential trigger for Plankton's fragile state. Karen's heart races, her mind on autopilot as she moves swiftly, her eyes scanning for Chip's distinctive form. She finds him, his face a picture of concern as he stands outside the classroom. "Dad?" Chip asks, his voice filled with worry as he sees Plankton's condition. "Chip," Karen says, her voice shaking slightly. "Daddy's not feeling well. We have to go home." Chip's eyes widen in concern. "What happened?" Karen sighs, explaining quickly. "It's just his autism, sweetie. It's overwhelming sometimes." Chip's eyes fill with understanding, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Okay," he mumbles. Karen scoops Plankton up into her arms, his tiny frame feeling like a feather. The walk home is a journey through Plankton's minefield of sensory overload. Each footstep a potential trigger, Karen's heart in her throat with every crunch of gravel underfoot. Arriving home, Chip follows his parents to their bedroom, as Karen sets down Plankton in his bed. The room is dimly lit, a sanctuary from the harsh world that lies beyond their walls. The soft glow of a lamp in the corner casts long shadows that dance and flicker. Karen gently lays Plankton down on the bed, his body still tense from the overstimulation. "You can go to your room if you want, Chip," Karen says. She quickly kisses both their heads before slipping out the door, leaving Chip to watch over Plankton. She desperately needs a moment to herself, to process the whirlwind of emotions and new realities that have crashed into their lives. But Chip's gaze doesn't leave his father's form. He was so excited to show his parents, but they had to leave! All because of his dad.. Chip's thoughts swirl with accusations. "Why did you have to get sick?" he whispers angrily, his small fists clenching. Plankton's antennae twitch, and his eye flicks to Chip, his gaze questioning. "Son, please underst--" "It's all your fault!" Chip's voice cracks with anger and disappointment. "If you weren't like this, we could have stayed at the science fair!" Plankton's antennae droop, his heart shattering at his son's words. The weight of Chip's accusations presses down on him like a heavy stone, his body trembling with the effort to control his breathing. "Chip," he whispers, his voice breaking, "it's not..." But Chip is on a roll, the dam of his emotions finally breached. "You're always ruining things!" he yells, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "You can't even go to a simple science fair without having a...a... meltdown," he spits out, the word bitter on his tongue. Plankton's eye widens in hurt. "Chip, no," he whispers, his voice trembling. "You don't get it!" Chip shouts, tears welling up in his eyes. "You don't get how it feels to have everyone looking at me because you can't even handle a little noise!" Plankton's antennae droop further, the weight of his son's words a heavy burden. "So sorry," he whispers, his voice small and defeated. "I never wanted to..." But Chip isn't finished. "How do you think mom feels, always having to take care of you?" he demands. "Don't you see how much she's suffering because of you?" His words are a knife, each one twisting in Plankton's chest. Plankton's antennae drop to his sides, his body a picture of defeat. "Chip," he says, his voice weak. "I..." "Your wife," Chip says, "is tired," he spits, "always taking care of you! And you don't see how you're ruining her, hurting us! She deserves better than this!" The venom in his words is like a poison, seeping into the very fabric of their relationship. "So don't tell me you're not a burden to her, because you are!" The accusations hang in the air like shrapnel, each word a piece of metal that pierces Plankton's heart. "Chip," he whispers, reaching out with a trembling hand, but Chip's had enough. He turns on his heel, his footsteps pounding on the floorboards like a marching band, each step taking him further from Plankton's reach. The door slams behind him, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. Plankton flinches, his body curling into a tight ball under the blankets. Tears stream down. The silence that follows is deafening, the echo of Chip's words bouncing around the walls, a taunting reminder of his failure as a father. Karen, who had been downstairs, rushes upstairs at the sound of the slam. Her heart thuds in her chest as she thinks of the possible scenarios.

PLUSH ONE i (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's watching her husband, Plankton, who had been working tirelessly for hours, the metal container his new project. He wrestled with a stubborn bolt, his face a picture of concentration. Suddenly, Plankton's grip loosens as the bolt flies off the rusted metal, smacking him in the head. He topples back, his head hitting the cold concrete floor with a thud as the metal shelf collapses on his head. Karen gasps. Plankton lies still, unconscious. Her eyes widen with fear as she rushes over. She checks his pulse, finding a steady beat. Relief washes over her. He's alive, but she can see the bruising as she clears the metal away from him. "Plankton, honey," she whispers, shaking him gently. "Can you hear me?" No response, his eye closed tightly. Panic starts to creep in, but Karen forces herself to remain calm. "Come on, wake up," she says, a little louder this time. The room feels like it's spinning, but she takes a deep breath and dials for medics. The phone seems to ring forever, each second stretching into eternity. The dispatcher's voice is a distant echo in her panic-filled hearing, but she manages to spit out their address, the gravity of the situation, and Plankton's name. While waiting for the medics, Karen can't help but worry about his well-being. She knows how much he puts into his projects, how much he loves tinkering and inventing. Two paramedics rush inside, their footsteps heavy. They quickly assess Plankton's condition, their faces masks of professional concern as they set up some medical equipment around. "Ma'am, can you tell me what happened?" one asks while checking his vitals. Her voice shaky, Karen recounts the accident, never leaving Plankton's still form. They nod, working swiftly and efficiently. Karen winces but remains composed as they clean the wound and apply pressure. The other paramedic starts an IV, explaining that Plankton might have a concussion and that they need to monitor his condition closely. Karen nods, trying to process the situation as she watches them work. "We'll stay as he wakes up and only leave once the damage has been assessed." Karen's eyes well up with tears, but she fights them back, gripping his hand tightly. The wait for Plankton to stir feels interminable. The tick of the clock echoes through the room, each second a reminder of his potentially serious condition. The silence is pierced only by the occasional beep of the medical devices and the rustle of the paramedics' movements. They decide to perform a more thorough examination, including a quick brain scan to rule out any serious damage. One of them holds a scanner device over his head, watching the readouts with a furrowed brow. The results come in, and the paramedics share a concerned look. "Ma'am, it seems your husband has sustained a head injury that's led to a... unique complication," one of them says, his voice measured. "It's a form of autism, from the impact. It's not unheard of, but it's definitely not common." Karen's eyes widen. Autism? Her mind races as she tries to grasp what this means for Plankton. "What do I do?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. The paramedics explain that this type of autism is known as Acquired Autism, a rarity. "It's like his brain rewired itself to compensate," one of them says. Karen nods, trying to understand. Her mind is a whirlwind of questions, each more overwhelming than the last. How will this change Plankton? Their life together? The paramedics outline some of the potential symptoms he might exhibit: social withdrawal, sensory overload, difficulty with change, and the possibility of developing intense interests or routines. They tell her that every case is unique, and they can't predict exactly how Plankton will be affected. They also mention that there can be positive changes, like heightened focus or skills in specific areas, often referred to as savantism. But they stress the importance of keeping him comfort. Karen nods, her mind racing as she tries to imagine their future. The quiet whir of the medical devices in the background seems to mirror the chaos in her thoughts. The paramedics continue, explaining that Plankton may now see the world differently, senses heightened or dulled, social interactions potentially altered. He might find comfort in routine, the predictability of the mundane offering a solace that the unexpected could not. She wonders how this will affect their dynamic, their shared jokes and laughter. They tell her that autism, congenital or acquired, is irreversible. It's a part of him now, a new chapter in the story of their lives. It's not a disease to be cured, but a condition to be understood. Finally, a low groan escapes. "Honey, can you open your eye?" Karen asks, her voice a mix of relief and anxiety. Slowly, Plankton's lid flutters open, revealing a dazed expression. "What... happened?" he slurs, his eye struggling to focus. The paramedics exchange a hopeful glance; he's coming around. They decide to ask Plankton simple questions to assess his cognition. "Plankton, can you tell me your name?" one of the paramedics asks, a gentle smile playing on their lips. "Name, Sheldon Jay Plankton." His voice is slow, but clear. A flicker of relief lights up Karen's screen. He seems to be responding coherently. The next question comes, "What's your wife's name?" "Karen." It's a victory, a sign that he's still in there. But the joy is short-lived as Plankton begins to stim. He starts rocking back and forth. The paramedics' calmly explain, "It's a form of self-soothing. It's common with autism. Let's see if we can get him to focus. What's your favorite color?" He stops rocking for a moment, his gaze locking onto a blue tool on the floor. "Blue," he says. "Good, good," the paramedic nods, noticing the sudden change in his demeanor. "What do you like to do for fun?" The paramedic asks while the other paramedic removes the IV. But Plankton, feeling them remove his IV, yelps. His hands begin to flap rapidly as he looks around the room, his eye wide with fear. "It's okay," Karen whispers, stroking his hand, trying to soothe him. The paramedics' eyes meet hers, their expressions sympathetic. "It's okay, Plankton. You're safe." They try another question, one that's more familiar to him. "Do you remember your latest invention?" But Plankton's still feeling the sting of the IV removal, his eye darting around the room, not quite focusing on anyone or anything. "Look, Plankton, a button," Karen says softly, pointing as she tries to refocus him. He turns his head slightly, his eye locking onto her hand. "Button," he repeats, his voice a whisper as he rubs his arm. The paramedics nod, giving Karen an encouraging look. She continues, "Plankton, sweetie, can you tell me what the button does?" For a moment, he's still. Then, he answers. "What the button does Plankton." It's a start, a glimmer of the Plankton she knows. Karen's eyes fill with hope as she presses on. "Yes, honey, what happens when you push the button?" He blinks, his gaze shifting from her hand to the floor, and then back up to her. "The button... tell... what the button does Plankton," he mumbles. Encouraged by the response, she leans in closer, her voice even softer. "The button, honey, what happens when you push it?" Plankton's eye refocus, his mind racing to piece together the fragmented information. His voice quivers with effort as he says, "Button... blue... go." The words are disjointed, but there's a spark in his eye. Karen's hope grows as she realizes he's trying to communicate. "Is that your invention, Plankton?" she asks, her voice trembling. He nods slightly, his hand reaching for the metal shelf that had fallen. She gently guides his hand back to the button. The paramedics watch the interaction closely, noting his responses. They're looking for signs of coherence, anything that might indicate the extent of his cognitive ability. "Can you tell me the purpose of your invention, Plankton?" His gaze flits from the button to Karen's screen and back again. "Button... blue... go," he repeats. "Can you tell me the purpose of your invention Plankton." He parrots. Karen's eyes widen. "It's okay, sweetheart," she says, her voice shaky. "Just tell me what the button is for." Plankton whispers, "Button... blue... go," his gaze intense. "Tell Karen what the button is for.." Karen's eyes never leave him, her heart pounding in her chest as she sees the effort he's making. "The button," she prompts softly, "what does it do?" Plankton's breath hitches, his fingers tapping a rhythm. "Button... blue... go," he murmurs, the words falling out of order, as if his brain is trying to solve a puzzle. Karen nods encouragingly, her screen brimming with unshed tears. She knows she needs to be patient, to guide him through this new reality. "Honey, the button... what happens when it goes blue?" Plankton's hand twitches, then stills. He stares at the button, thoughts visibly racing. "Go... blue... button." The words come out slowly, as if he's assembling them carefully in his mind. "It goes blue." The paramedics nod, scribbling notes on their clipboards. One says, "That's good. Keep prompting him. It's important to see how his cognition functions." She tries to think of more questions to unlock the Plankton she knew before. "What's your favorite food?" she asks. He pauses, his gaze drifting to the corner of the room, then snaps back to her, his eye brightening slightly. "Krabby Patty," he says, his voice clearer now. "We sell chum..." Karen's gaze swells with hope, his words a familiar echo of their shared past. The Krabby Patty was his lifelong obsession, a symbol of his restaurant rivalry with Mr. Krabs. It's a sign, however small, that he's still in there. "Yes, Plankton," she smiles, her voice thick with emotion.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT xiv (Autistic author) Finding Chip's door closed, Karen knocks gently. "Chip, are you okay?" she asks, her voice laced with concern. There's a pause, then the sound of sniffling. "Come in," he mumbles, his voice muffled by the closed door. Karen opens the door with a soft creak, the room bathing in the soft light from the hallway. Chip is sitting on his bed, his face red and blotchy from crying. The sight of him like this breaks her heart. "Chip?" she says, her voice trembling with concern. "What's wrong, baby?" Chip's head snaps up, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "I wanted you to be proud of me in the science fair, if only Dad..." But Chip was cut off, interrupted by a crash from his parent's room. Both Karen and Chip exchanged looks of alarm before bolting out of Chip's room and down the hall. They open the door. The sight that greeted them was like a tornado had swept through their bedroom. Plankton's anger had manifested in a flurry of destructive energy, his small body heaving with the effort of his rage. He had thrown everything within his reach: the lamp was on the floor, the shadows from its shattered glass twisting and turning on the ceiling like ghosts. The bedside table lay on its side, its contents spilled out. Karen's eyes widened in shock, but it was the sight of Plankton that truly broke her heart. His face was a mask of fury, his antennae whipping around as if about to strike. "Plankton, honey, what happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear and concern. But Chip's presence was like fuel to the fire, only serving to inflame his anger further. "I'm not trying to be a burden!" Plankton shouted, his tiny fists clenched in rage. "I'm lovable!" His antennae whipped back and forth in a display of frustration that Karen had never seen from him before. Karen took a step back, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Plankton," she pleaded, her voice shaky. "You..." But Plankton was beyond reason, his autistic mind overwhelmed by the accusations. "I'M. NOT. A. BURDEN!" he screamed at Chip, his tiny fists shaking with the intensity of his emotions. Karen's eyes widened in shock. Plankton had never been like this before. His autism had brought moments of stress, but she had never seen this raw anger. Chip looked from his mother to his father, his own eyes brimming with tears. He understood now that his words had caused this. He had never meant to make his father feel that way. "Dad," he whispers, his voice shaking. "I'm sorr-" But Plankton's anger had consumed him. "But I didn't know how she now feels about me?" he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. "How tired is she, from caring for me?" His eye was wild, his tiny frame shaking with the effort of his outburst. "And no more lying!" Karen's heart was racing. She knew she had to intervene before things got worse. She stepped tentatively into the room, her hands held out in a calming motion. "Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "What did Chip say to upset you?" She turns to Chip. Chip's eyes dropped to the floor, his cheeks flushing with guilt. He swallowed hard, his voice a whisper. "I didn't mean it," he managed to get out. "I just got..." But Karen's gaze was on Plankton, her heart breaking for the pain she could see in his eye. "Chip, tell me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "What did you say to your father?" Chip took a deep breath, his eyes darting to the floor. "I...I told him he's a burden," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "That mom deserves better, that...that he's ruining our lives." The admission was like a punch to his own stomach. "Because I can see how tired you're feeling with his tantrums, and it's not fair that YOU have to deal with this," he added, gesturing to his dad. "I told him you don't like to suffer becau…" But before he could finish, Karen's hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Chip," she said, cutting him off. "That's enough." Her voice was calm, but it held a firmness that made him swallow his next words. She turned to Plankton, her gaze filled with compassion and understanding. "You're not a burden, sweetheart," she said, her voice steady as a rock in a storm. "You're our family, and we love you." "Mom, that's no excuse to keep him around," Chip snaps. Plankton's antennae quiver, his rage now filled with even more hurt and anger. "Chip," Karen says, her voice a gentle reprimand. "That's not how we speak to each other." She kneels beside Plankton's shaking form, her hand reaching out to him. Plankton's eye locks onto her hand. He flinches away, his breathing erratic. "Don't touch me," he says, his voice cold and hard. Karen's hand freezes in midair, the sting of his words cutting deep. "Okay," she whispers, retracting her hand slowly. "Okay." Her heart is a whirlwind of emotions. She understands Chip's frustration, but she also sees the devastation on Plankton's face. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. "Chip, please," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "We have to be understanding." But Chip's pain is like a volcano, erupting without warning. "Understanding?!" he yells. "What about what I feel?" He turns to Plankton, his eyes wet with tears. "Do you even know how hard it is for me to see Mom tired from you all the time?" Plankton's face falls. "I never meant to..." But Chip's tantrum isn't over. "You're always so selfish!" he shouts, the words stinging like whips. "You don't think about us, about what we need! And now, because of you, I'm missing the science fair! So much for your 'love'!" He snaps, poking Plankton. Hard. Hard enough to make him whine. Plankton's anger spikes. "Don't touch me!" he yells, his voice echoing in the small space. Chip rolls his eyes and proceeds to touch Plankton again. This time, the reaction is swift and violent. Plankton's tiny arm shoots out like a whip, slapping Chip's hand away. "I SAID NO TOUCH!" he screams, the force of his words shaking the room.

PLUSH ONE v (By NeuroFabulous) They sit there in silence, their hands clasped. Karen can feel the steady rhythm of his breath, his hand twitching slightly with each exhale. She squeezes his hand, a silent promise of support. "I'm here," she whispers again, her voice a balm to the raw edges of his fear. Plankton's body relaxes into hers, his gaze fixed on their intertwined fingers. Karen's mind races, trying to understand the complex web of sensory input that now dictates his reality. Every touch, every sound, every sight could be either a comfort or a cacophony. "I'm gonna go clean up the metal container." Karen says, giving him a kiss on the forehead before going. After she left, Plankton thought about his rivalry with Krabs. He didn't want Krabs to be suspicious if he suddenly stops trying to steal his formula. He doesn't want Krabs to find out or figure out about his autism. So he wrote down "I went across the street" on a note if Karen came back. Then, he went to the Krusty Krab restaurant. The bright lights and the noise of the kitchen now overwhelms him. He found a corner and sat down, his eye squeezed shut. His heart raced as he tried to think about the mission. It's a place he's been in countless times, but he's autistic now. Yet he knew and remembered the environment, despite the new sensory experience. Plankton took a deep breath and forced his eye open, his gaze darts around, trying to find the safety vault he knew so well. He saw the familiar soda machine, the greasy counters, and the gleaming spatulas, but everything felt wrong. The smell of cooking oil was too intense, the clatter of pans too loud. His mind raced, trying to process the cacophony of sensory input. He needs to focus on getting the recipe out of that safe! Slowly, Plankton stood, his legs wobbly from the effort to filter out the chaos. He knew he had to keep moving, to complete his task. Now to figure out the combination. He approached the safe, his hands trembling with the effort to block out the noise. The buttons on the safe were cold under his fingertips, and he felt the familiar thrill of a challenge. His mind raced, trying to remember his past schemes and the patterns that had always come so naturally to him. But it was like trying to recall a dream. The numbers and sequences danced just out of reach, taunting him with their elusiveness. His eye darted around, catching sight of the menu board, the colorful condiments, and the glint of the cash register. It was all too much. He stepped back, his breaths coming quick and shallow. He needed to find his center, to focus on the task at hand. He closed his eye and thought of Karen, the feel of her hand in his, the sound of her voice. It grounded him, calmed the storm in his head. With renewed determination, he opened his eye. The safe was a monolith, a silent witness to his tumultuous thoughts. He studied the buttons, the cold metal under his fingertips. He knew the pattern had to be simple, something Krabs would think secure. Plankton's mind raced, trying to decipher the sequence that had once come to him so easily. He closed his eye, trying to concentrate, but the sounds and smells of the kitchen crashed over him like a wave. The cacophony was unbearable, a stark contrast to the quiet orderliness of his laboratory. He took a deep breath, focusing on the cool metal of the safe. He had to get the Krabby Patty formula. For Karen, for himself. This was a purpose, his obsession. But now, everything felt different. The familiar had become strange, the simple complex. With trembling hands, Plankton started to press buttons on the safe, his mind racing with the patterns of his past attempts. But his brain didn't respond in the usual way. The numbers jumbled, the sequences slipped away. He felt the weight of his failure pressing down on him, the kitchen sounds amplifying his anxiety. What numbers would Krabs put in? He took a deep breath and tried to visualize their conversations, the tiny details that might hold the key. But every memory was now filtered through the lens of his new autistic brain. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. His hand hovered over the dial, his eye blinking rapidly. "Krabs," he murmured to himself. "What would Krabs say?" The name echoed in his head, a beacon in the fog. Plankton knew his rival's patterns, his obsessions. He thought of Krabs' parsimony, his love for his secret formula. It had to be something significant to him, something that made sense in his own peculiar way. Plankton's thumb tapped the side of the safe, his mind racing through memories. And then it clicked. Krabs had always talked about his mother's birthday, a sacred number, a key to his heart. Plankton tried the combination, his heart pounding. The dial spun smoothly, the clicks sounding like a symphony in his heightened hearing. 14-6-82. The safe whirred to life, the door popping open. Plankton's eye widened in amazement, his heart racing. He'd done it. He reached in and grabbed the precious envelope. The Krabby Patty formula, in Krabs' own scrawl. It was within his grasp. Now to get out of here! But how? What's made him always get caught before? The chaos of the kitchen faded away, and he saw the pattern. It was his lack of disguise, his hasty exits. This time would be different. He needed to blend in, to become part of the background. He needed to calm down, to think through his actions logically. He couldn't let his excitement overwhelm him. Plankton had to get out without drawing attention to himself. He thought back to the times he'd seen Krabs interact with his employees, the casual way he'd moved through the kitchen... Plankton then spotted the air vent! Sure enough, he and the recipe both fit through. He emerged into the alley, his heart racing. The cold air was a slap in the face, but it also brought with it a sense of clarity. He knew his sensory overload would make a hasty retreat impossible. But he's out of the Krusty Krab! He ran back to his own place across the street. Plankton stumbled into his lab, his eye taking in the familiar sights with new intensity. The colors were too bright, the smells too potent, the sounds of his own inventions too loud. But here, he knew he was safe. He laid the envelope on his workbench, his hand shaking with excitement. This was his life's work, the elixir to his problems. But now, with the Krabby Patty formula in his grasp, he wasn't sure what to do next. His mind raced with the sensory input from the kitchen, making it difficult to think clearly. The lab's chaos seemed to calm him, though. The familiar sounds of beeping machines and the faint scent of chemicals soothed his overwhelmed senses. He took a deep breath, his hand steadying. The envelope sat there, a symbol of his old life. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had been the driving force behind their rivalry for so long. Now, his autism didn't erase his past, it just colored it differently. The desire to be successful, to have what Krabs had, remained. But the way he approached the world had changed. He knew the taste, the smell, the very essence of a Krabby Patty. It was a part of him now, a memory that could never fade. He stared at the envelope, his heart racing. Plankton took a deep breath, his eye focusing on the paper. His hands trembled as he opened it, the formula's secrets were written in a made up code by Krabs. But Plankton's autism made it decipherable to him! The letters and numbers danced on the page, but instead of the jumbled mess he'd expected, they formed patterns, beautiful patterns that his brain craved. He saw the structure, the order, the way each ingredient intertwined with the next. It was like a symphony of flavors, and he was the conductor. His heart raced as he read through the document, his mind whirling with the possibilities. He threw away the handwritten note from before as he brought the formula into the bedroom with him. Plankton sat on the bed, his mind racing. The code was complex, but he could see the patterns. It was like the universe had laid bare its secrets to him.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS iv (Autistic Author) With Chip's curiosity still piqued, Karen leads the way to Plankton's bedroom. She knows her husband needs time to process his own feelings, but she also knows that Chip's desire to understand is genuine. As they approach and crack open the door, they see Plankton in the bed on his back. He's asleep, the only sound in the room being soft snores. The room is dimly lit, with only the glow of a nightlight casting a gentle hue across his face. His antennae still, and his body is relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension that had consumed him earlier. Chip looks at his dad with a mix of fear and curiosity, unsure of what to do or say. Karen motions for Chip to come closer, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful form. "Look," she whispers, her hand hovering over Plankton's shoulder. "You can touch him like this." Karen's hand lightly brushes against Plankton's arm, her touch as soft as a feather. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he doesn't wake up. His snoring doesn't change, but she can feel the tension in his muscles ease slightly. "You see?" she murmurs. "Just a way of saying 'I'm here, and I love you' without overwhelming him." Chip nods, his eyes glued to the demonstration. His small hand reaches out tentatively, mimicking the gentle strokes Karen had shown him. Plankton's body relaxes further, and Karen feels a glimmer of hope. "Just like that," she whispers, her hand guiding Chip's. "It's all about being gentle and understanding. And when he's ready, he'll show you his love in his own way." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. He's trying so hard to be strong, but Karen can see the fear and confusion in the way his little hands tremble. "Ok, let's go," she whispers, leading Chip out of the room. "We'll give him some time to rest. And when he wakes up, we'll talk to him again." In the hallway, Chip's questions come in a rush. "But what do we say? What do we do?" Karen crouches down to meet his gaze, her expression serious. "We're going to keep trying, okay?" she says, wiping a tear from his cheek. "We'll learn together how to be there for Daddy without making him feel overwhelmed." Chip nods, his voice a whisper. "I don't want to make him mad," he says, his eyes filling with fear. "You didn't make him mad," Karen reassures him, her voice calm. "You just surprised him. And it's okay to be surprised. But now we know how to handle it better." Later in the early evening, Karen hears Plankton's footsteps as he makes his way back into the living room. The room is still, the only sound the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Plankton’s antennae are still, his eye no longer flashing so much with anger. He looks at Karen and Chip, who are sitting on the couch. “Hey, buddy,” Karen says, her voice tentative but hopeful. “How are you feeling?” Plankton sighs heavily, his antennae drooping slightly. “Tired,” he admits, his voice gruff. “But somewhat better.” Chip looks up at his father. “Hey, Dad,” he says softly. Plankton’s eye flicks to him, then back to the floor. “Chip,” he responds, his voice flat but almost sounding surprised. Karen sees the opening she’s been waiting for and jumps in. “Why don’t you sit with us, Plankton?” she suggests, patting the cushion next to her. After a moment's hesitation, Plankton lowers himself onto the couch, his antennae dropping slightly in defeat. He doesn’t look at either of them, focusing instead on the floorboards. Karen takes a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of hope and trepidation. Karen takes a deep breath, her hand reaching for Chip's. "Chip found a cool rock at the park today." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, and he looks up at Chip. "A rock, huh?" he asks, his tone neutral. "Yeah," Chip says, his voice small. "It's got all these cool colors, like the ocean." He holds out the rock, a silent peace offering. Plankton looks at the rock, his eye narrowing slightly as he takes it. His antennae twitch, but there's a glimmer of something else in his gaze—interest, maybe, or a hint of softness. He turns it over in his hand, inspecting it. "It's... nice," he murmurs. Karen squeezes Chip's hand, her heart swelling with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new. "Why don't you tell him more about it?" she prompts gently. "It's got these little specks that sparkle in the light," he says, his voice gaining a bit of excitement. "I think it's a special rock." Plankton looks. "It is," he says, his voice a little less gruff. He looks at Karen, his eye searching hers. She nods encouragingly. “How was your day?” Plankton asks, his voice tentative. “It was okay,” Chip replies, still focused on the rock. “Just okay?” Plankton asks, his antennae lifting slightly. Chip nods, his gaze shifting to his dad. Chip sniffs. Plankton sets the rock down on the coffee table with a gentle thud, his antennae twitching with concern. “What, son?” Karen’s heart skips a beat, hoping this small act of kindness is a step towards a more open conversation. Chip's eyes dart between his parents, unsure how much to share. Karen gives him a nod of encouragement. “It was just a bit... scary at the park today,” Chip admits, his voice shaky. “Remember when we talked after the park?” Karen reminds him gently. Plankton’s antennae droop, and he nods, visibly trying to control his emotions. “Yes,” he murmurs. “I remember.” “Chip didn’t mean to upset you,” Karen says, her voice gentle. “He just wanted to understand what was happening. He’s curious, like all kids are. And when he saw you like that, he was scared. He just wanted to make sure you were okay and to help if he could.” “Hm.” Plankton says neutrally. Karen takes a deep breath and continues. “Chip’s been asking me a lot of questions, and I think it’s important we talk to him about yo...” Plankton sighs. "You know I hate talking about it." Karen nods. "I know," she says, her voice soothing. "But Chip's worried about you. He loves you, and he wants to know how he can help." Chip looks up at his dad, his eyes wide and earnest. "I just want you to be happy," he says, his voice trembling. Karen squeezes Plankton's hand, her voice gentle. "Chip wants to know what's going on with you, Plankton," she says. "He's not trying to be nosy or annoying. He's trying to understand what to do or not do." Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods slowly. "I know," he murmurs. "It's just..." Karen's eyes are filled with understanding. "It's hard to be vulnerable, I know," she says. "But we need to help our son understand." Plankton looks at Chip, his expression unreadable. "Okay," he says finally. "I'll talk to him." Chip's eyes light up, hope shining through his tears. "Really?" "Really," Plankton says with a sigh, his antennae relaxing slightly. "But it's going to be on my terms, okay?" Karen nods. "Of course." Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae drooping slightly as he steels himself for the conversation. "So, Chip," he says, his voice a little softer. "You know how sometimes you get really, really tired and need to sit down and rest?" Chip nods eagerly, his eyes fixed on his father's face. "Yeah, I know that feeling," he says. "Well, it's kind of like that," he says. "But for me, it's not just about being tired. It's like my brain needs a little break sometimes. And when it does, I might not be able to talk or move for a bit." Chip nods, his grip on Karen's hand loosening as he listens intently. "But why don't you tell us when you need a break?" he asks. "Sometimes, it happens too fast for me to say anything," Plankton explains. "It's like my brain just decides to take a little vacation without asking permission." Karen's filled with a mix of pride and sadness as she watches her son and husband finally discussing this openly. "So, when you get like that," Chip says, his voice tentative, "is it like you're in a dream?" Plankton glances at him, his antennae still. "In a way, yes," he says slowly. "It's like I'm not really here, but I can still sense." Chip nods, his curiosity unabated. "What do you sense?" Plankton takes a moment to consider his words. "I can still hear, but without comprehending," he says, "and feel things around me, but it's like... like everything's muffled, and I'm watching from far away." Chip looks thoughtful. "Can you tell when it's happening?" Plankton nods, his antennae lifting slightly. "Sometimes," he admits. "But not always."

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 13 (Autistic author) ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ Plankton quivers. "Stop," he whispers, his voice a plea. "Please." Mr. Krabs' grin widens, eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Afraid I'll do to you what you deserve?" Before Plankton can respond, Mr. Krabs punches at him with his claw. Plankton squeaks in pain, his eye widens with terror, his voice a distressed static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please stop!" Mr. Krabs' chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. "Look at him squirm," he says, his voice a rumble. He doesn't heed the tears streaming down Plankton's face. Plankton's body wrenches in pain, his antennae sticking straight out in alarm. "Why?" he whispers, his voice a broken static. Mr. Krabs' laughter echoes. "Because you're weak," he sneers, his voice a harsh grate. "Always have been, always will be." Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "No," he whimpers, his voice a static plea. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still poised for another strike. "Look at the tiny thief," he says, his voice a cruel cackle, "so scared of a little pain." Without warning, his claw swings down, connecting with Plankton's thin leg, and Plankton's scream pierces the air, his voice a shattered static. Pain shoots through his body like lightning, his leg feeling like it's on fire. He tries to pull away. "Mr. Krabs," he gasps, his voice a desperate whine. Mr. Krabs' laughter continues, unabated by Plankton's cries. "See? You're just a tiny, weak little creature," he says, his voice a malicious cackle. Plankton's screams fill the room, the pain in his leg unbearable. "No," he whispers, his voice a static moan. "No more." Mr. Krabs' laughter doesn't waver, his claws still poised for another strike. "Oh, poor Plankton," he sneers, his voice a harsh static. Plankton's body writhes in pain, his leg twisted at an impossible angle as Sandy and Karen return. Sandy's eyes widen in horror, her voice a shocked rumble. "Mr. Krabs, what are you doing?" she asks, as Karen rushed to Plankton. Mr. Krabs' grin doesn't falter. "Teaching a lesson," he says, his voice a cruel crackle as he finally leaves. Sandy's face is a picture of horror, her voice a trembling trill. "What did he do to you?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Karen's screens flicker with rage, her beeps sharp. "That monster!" she says, her voice filled with fury. She quickly assesses the damage. Plankton's leg is twisted grotesquely, his tiny body trembling with pain. Sandy's hands hover over his body, unsure how to help without causing more distress. Sandy nods, her face pale with shock. "I'll get SpongeBob," she says, her voice a trembling trill. She runs to the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. "Sponge Bob, please come quick," she says, her voice a desperate hum. While Sandy is on the phone, Karen's screens flicker with medical information. She quickly assembles a makeshift splint for Plankton's leg, her beeps a frantic symphony of care as SpongeBob arrives. His eyes are wide with concern, his voice a panicked squeak. "What happened, Plankton?" he asks, his eyes damp with unshed tears. But Plankton's eye had rolled up in his head. Sandy's voice is shaky as she tells Sponge Bob the story, her eyes never leaving Plankton's trembling body. "Mr. Krabs... he was so cruel," she says, her voice a soft whisper of disbelief. Sponge Bob's face twists with anger. "Why would he do this?" he asks, his voice a strained whine. "First causing brain damage, and now..." Karen's screens glow with determination. "We'll deal with Mr. Krabs later," she beeps. "First, we need to get Plankton help." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with fear. "What can we do?" he asks, his voice a choked whisper. Karen's screens flicker with information. "His leg is broken, and his sensory overload could be severe." Sponge Bob's face falls, his voice a sad squeak. "Oh no, Plankton." He gently picks up his friend, his touch as soft as a feather. Sandy watches, her eyes wide with fear. "What now?" she asks, her voice a trembling trill. "We can't just take him like this to a regular hospital. We'll have to be careful not to overwhelm his senses, and find medical help equipped for neurodivergent people like Plankton." SpongeBob speaks up. "I was born with a mild form of idiopathic Autism. Different from Plankton's I know, but my parents have taken me to a sensory-friendly clinic. They are skilled and have lots of different methods of medicine! It's called the Quiet Bubble Clinic!" Sandy nods, her eyes filling with hope. "That sounds perfect," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "Let's take him there." Karen's screens pulse with agreement. "Good thinking, Sponge Bob," she beeps. "We'll have to be careful, though. Any loud noises or sudden movements could trigger another meltdown." Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton steady. "Sandy can drive," he says, his voice determined. "We'll get you to the Quiet Bubble Clinic, buddy."

Sensory inputs can be any stimuli entering through one of the sensory modalities: sight, sound, gustation, olfaction, and tactile sensations. Tactile sensations include responses to pressure and temperature. Over stimulation is the product of sensory overload. Overstimulation (OS) occurs when there is “to much” of some external stimulus or stimuli for a person's brain to process and integrate effectively. Sensory overload can be triggered by a singular event or a build up thereof. When the brain has to put all of its resources into sensory processing, it can shut off other functions, like speech, decision making and information processing. Using noise-cancelling headphones to vastly reduce external sound, which can help to stop sensory over load. Weighted sensory products, such as blankets or vests, to provide pressure and soothing proprioceptive input. Avoiding open questions – if you need their input on something, aim to use closed yes/no questions. It causes feelings of discomfort and being overwhelmed. Moving away from sources of sensory input, such as loud sounds or strong smells, can reduce these feelings. However, it is a core characteristic of autism, where individuals often experience heightened sensitivity to stimuli. It's important to note that not all autistic individuals experience overstimulation in the same way or to the same degree. Some may have a higher threshold for sensory input and be less easily overwhelmed, while others may become overstimulated even in relatively calm environments. Stimming, short for self-stimulating behaviors, is a repetitive movement or action that can include body movements, vocal noises, or sensory stimulation. It can be a way to manage excess energy, self-soothe, or cope with emotions. Stimming can also help regulate sensory input, either increasing stimulation or decreasing sensory overload. Stimming behaviors can consist of tactile, visual, auditory, vocal, proprioceptive (which pertains to limb sensing), olfactory, and vestibular stimming (which pertains to balance).

https://www.wikihow.com/Interpret-Autistic-Body-Language

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/ableism

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY i (Autistic author) Karen's husband, Plankton, was arguing with Mr. Krabs as usual. They've had their fair share of disputes over the years, but this one seemed to be escalating fast. Without warning, Mr. Krabs swung the stove from his kitchen with all his might. It connected with a sickening thud against Plankton's head. Karen gasped as her husband crumpled to the ground. Plankton's eye had rolled back and closed, his body going still as Mr. Krabs left back. Karen knelt beside Plankton and gently tapped his cheek. "Wake up," she murmured, voice trembling. No response. She tried again, her voice a little louder. "Honey, can you hear me?" Plankton's eye remained closed, his antennae limp. Panic began to creep in. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. What if his tiny brain had been damaged? What if he was in a coma? What if he never woke up? She cradled his minuscule form. The room grew silent as the gravity of the situation sank in, willing Plankton to stir. A tear trickled down her screen. Karen felt for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. She let out a sigh of relief and picked his tiny body up, cradling him carefully. "I've got to get him to a doctor," she thought. She held Plankton's hand as they performed a brain scan. Karen sat by her husband's side as the machines around Plankton beeped and whirred. The sterile smell of the hospital filled, and the cold white walls seemed to press in around them. Plankton's lying still on the hospital bed. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, and various tubes connected him to monitors that displayed a symphony of lines and numbers, none of which meant anything to her. She squeezed his hand gently, willing him to wake up. The doctor walked into the room, his lab coat fluttering slightly as he moved. He held a clipboard carefully in his tentacles, studying the information with a furrowed brow. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his voice soft, "We've finished scans. The good news is that it's not life- threatening. However, we've noticed some sustained atypical brain activity." Karen's eyes widened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. The doctor sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Autism. His behavior may change. He might become more focused on his routines, have difficulty with social interactions, and exhibit sensory sensitivity. It's permanent, and no cure. We expect him to wake up soon. We'll ask him some questions to assess and then you can take him home." Karen felt her heart drop. She knew about autism, had read about it in magazines, but never thought it would affect her own family. The doctor left the room, and she was alone with her thoughts, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall as they remove the bandage. The hours ticked by in agonizing slowness as she sat there, praying for him to wake up. The only sounds were the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled conversations from the hallway. Finally, Plankton's eyelid fluttered. He groaned softly, and his hand twitched in hers. Karen leaned in, hope surging through her. "Plankton?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she smiled through her tears. "I'm here," she said, voice shaky. "You're in the hospital, but you're ok." Plankton's eye opened, squinting in the bright lights. He looked around the room, confusion etched on his tiny face. Slowly, his gaze landed on Karen. "What happened?" he croaked, his voice weak. "Mr. Krabs hit you with a stove," Karen explained, her voice a mix of relief and sadness. "They diagnosed you with acquired Autism." The doctor approached with a gentle nod. "Plankton, can you tell me your name?" he asked, ready to jot down notes. Plankton's eye searched the room, finally settling on Karen. "Sheldon Jay Plankton." Karen's grip on his hand tightened offering silent encouragement. The doctor nodded and proceeded with questions. "Tell me when you're born?" "July 31, 1999 10:16.08 am ET!" Karen felt a twinge of pride at her husband's precise answer. The doctor nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Tell me more about yourself.." "More about yourself." Plankton echoed. The doctor's offering a gentle smile. "Echolalia. It's a trait that's common in individuals with autism. It can help him process information. Well Plankton has no need for therapy, yet you may want to adjust your daily lives to accommodate. You're free to go!" The drive back to the Chum Bucket was silent, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on Karen's shoulders. He was quiet too, his eye fixed on the passing scenery. He didn't seem to notice the difference in himself, but Karen knew their lives were changed. Once home, Karen helped Plankton into his favorite chair, surrounded by his inventions and gadgets. The room was a mess, but it was his sanctuary, and she didn't want to disturb it. He seemed more at ease, his eye flicking from one object to another with a sense of familiarity. Would Plankton be the same? Would he still laugh at her jokes, or get angry at the Krabby Patty secret formula? Plankton remained silent, his gaze still locked on his surroundings. Karen felt a pang of worry. Would his obsessive nature become more pronounced? "It's getting late, Plankton." Karen's voice was soft as she guided him to their bedroom. He followed without protest, his movements mechanical. She helped him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin with a gentle tuck. Plankton lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a swirl of confusion. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "Stay, Karen stay." He says. Karen nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Of course, I'll stay," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. She took his hand again, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew she'd be by his side. As Plankton's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep, Karen sat there, watching him. She noticed how his grip on her hand had loosened, but didn't dare move. The next day, Karen woke before Plankton did. She hovered over him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. How was she going to wake him up without startling him? She knew that sudden noises could be overwhelming for him now. Karen took a different approach. She stroked his arm with a feather-light touch. His eye brow flinched. Next, she tried speaking his name, starting with a whisper and gradually getting louder. "Plankton," she called, "It's time to wake up." His eyelid twitched, and he blinked his eye open. He looked around. "Karen?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "Good morning, honey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton sat up slowly, his antennae twitching as he took in his surroundings. "Different," he murmured, rubbing his temple. "We're home, Plankton. Remember what happened?" He nodded, his eye glazed over for a moment. "Krabs. The stove." "Yes, but you're ok now," Karen reassured, stroking his cheek with her finger. Plankton nodded again, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen noticed that his movements were more deliberate, his gaze more intense. She decided to keep things simple to avoid overwhelming him with too much information at once. "Let's get breakfast," she suggested. Plankton followed her into the kitchen, his steps slower than usual. The clanking of pans and the sizzle of oil had always been a familiar symphony in their home, but today it felt alien, like a disturbance to his newly heightened senses. Karen moved around the kitchen with precision, keeping the noises to a minimum. As she prepared their meal, Plankton stood by the counter, his gaze fixed. "Breakfast is ready," she said, sliding a plate of chum flapjacks in front of him. The smell usually brought him joy, but today it was overwhelming. Plankton took a step back. Karen's smile faltered, realizing she would have to adjust their meals. "Would you like something else?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody. Plankton nodded, his gaze not leaving the plate. "Different," he whispered. Karen knew she had to find foods that wouldn't overstimulate. She placed the flapjacks aside and found a jar of pureed peas and plain yogurt. She hoped the blandness would be more soothing. Plankton's antennae twitched as he came closer. He stared at the bowl intently, then took a tentative spoonful. The texture was soothing, and the color was calming. He ate slowly, each bite measured and deliberate. Karen watched him with love and concern. She wanted to ask if he liked it, but she knew better than to interrupt his focus. Once Plankton had finished, he looked up at her with a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. It was the closest thing to praise she had heard from him since the incident. Karen cleared the table, her mind racing with questions about what the future held. How would Plankton's new autism affect their daily lives? "Now what would you like to do, Plankton?" She asks. He looks at her. "Read." The old spark seems to flicker back to life, albeit with a different intensity. Karen nods, leading him back to his lab. The room is a mess of wires and gadgets, but Plankton moves through it with purpose. He selects a book from the shelf, a manual on quantum physics that had been collecting dust. His gaze flits over the pages, absorbing the information with fervor. Karen watches him from a distance. This was her Plankton, but also new. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had always been intense, but now his focus was lasered in on the book, his mind racing through equations and theories. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning. Plankton didn't look up from his book, lost in a world of science and theories. Karen knew she had to let him be, to find his new normal.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 14 (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ They carefully lift Plankton into the car, his body tense with pain. Sandy slides into the driver's seat, her hands gripping the wheel. Her eyes meet Sponge Bob's in the rearview mirror, filled with resolve. "Ready?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Sponge Bob nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Ready." Karen buckles Plankton in as his eye flutters. "Hold tight," Sandy says, her voice a steady rumble, as she starts the engine. The car's gentle purr is a contrast to the tension in the air. Sponge Bob sits in the back, his eyes trained on Plankton's face. His friend's tiny body is a tapestry of pain, but Sponge Bob's touch is a soft, steady beat, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispers, his voice a comforting whisper of reassurance. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye slightly focusing on Sponge Bob. "Mph," he murmurs, his voice a static hum of pain. Sponge Bob nods, his face a mask of determined compassion. "We're going to the Quiet Bubble Clinic," he says, his voice a soft, steady wave. "They'll know how to help you." Sandy's eyes are on the road ahead, her driving slow and precise. "Just hold on, Plankton," she says, her voice a comforting hum. "We're almost there." The Quiet Bubble Clinic comes into view, a softly lit building that seems to pulse with a gentle calm. Sandy parks the car and they carefully extract Plankton from his seat, his tiny body rigid. They enter the lobby, the air thick with the scent of calming essential oils. The lights are low, and the sounds muffled. A nurse with a gentle face approaches, her voice a soothing whisper. "What can we help with?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Sponge Bob explains quickly, his voice trembling with concern. "Mr. Krabs hurt his leg," he says, his eyes wide. "Krabs also hit his head with a fry pan, which caused Plankton autism as well as the accompaniment of sensitivities. But his leg hurts and needs fixed!" The nurse nods, her movements slow and deliberate. "We'll need to be careful with his heightened senses," she murmurs, her voice a soft melody. "Let's get him to a room." They navigate the hallways, the walls lined with soothing pictures and textures. Plankton's body is stiff with pain, his voice a static hiss with each step. "Please," he whispers, his antennae waving weakly. The nurse nods, her touch gentle as she leads them to a quiet, dimly lit exam room. "We need to fix your leg, sweetie," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton's eye flutters open. The nurse's voice is a gentle lullaby. "We're going to take good care of you," she says, her eyes kind and understanding. Plankton's body shakes with fear and pain, his antennae pressed against his head. Sponge Bob squeezes his hand, his voice a comforting whisper. "You're going to be okay, Plankton," he says, his eyes filled with concern. The nurse nods, her gloved hands moving with precision. "We're going to need to put him under," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "It's the safest way to manage his pain and sensitivity." Plankton's antennae quiver with fear, his single eye darting back and forth. "Under what," he whispers. The nurse's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Anesthesia," she says softly, her voice a comforting hum. "It'll help you sleep through the surgery." Plankton's antennae twitch with anxiety, his voice a nervous static. "Sleep?" he repeats, his eye doubtful. "Plankton light sleeper." The nurse nods, her eyes calm. "We understand, sweetie," she murmurs. "We'll make sure you're comfortable." They prep him for surgery, the air in the room thick with his fear. Sponge Bob holds his hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on his palm. "It'll be over soon," he whispers, his voice a soothing wave. The doctor, a kind-eyed squid, enters the room, his tentacles moving with calming precision. "We're going to give you something to help you relax," he says, his voice a gentle trill. "We've ways to sedate. One, a pill tablet. Two, a liquid to drink. Three, nasally. Four, cream gel to numb the place the IV goes in but, it'll be inserted after he's asleep anyway. Now the first two options are taken orally, so they might take a moment to work..." "Drink; Plankton, drink.." Plankton manages, looking at a chart of diagrams which illustrate each method. The doctor nods, his tentacles steadily adjusting the bed. "Very good," he says, his voice a gentle wave of reassurance. He hands Plankton a small cup. "This is a special drink," he explains, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It'll help you relax before surgery." Plankton's antennae twitch with anxiety as he takes the cup. He looks to Sponge Bob, whose grip on his hand tightens. "It's okay," Sponge Bob whispers, his voice a calming static. With a shaky hand, Plankton brings the cup to his mouth, his eye squeezed shut. He gulps down the liquid as they give him a blanket. He finishes the drink and hands the cup back. Sponge Bob's grip doesn't waver, his thumb still moving in soothing circles. "Good job, buddy," he whispers, his voice a gentle sea breeze. Sandy nods as Karen gives Plankton a kiss. The nurse's eyes are warm and comforting as she checks his vitals. "It won't be long now," she murmurs, her voice a soft hum of reassurance. Sponge Bob sits by the bed, his grip on Plankton's hand firm but gentle. "You're doing great," he says, his voice a calming whisper. Plankton's antennae twitch with the first wave of drowsiness, his eye slowly closing. The world around him begins to fade into a soft, fuzzy static. Sponge Bob watches, his grip on Plankton's hand unyielding. "It's going to be okay," he whispers, his voice a gentle rush of air. The anesthesia starts to take effect, Plankton's body gradually going slack, his breathing deepening. Sponge Bob's eyes follow the rise and fall of Plankton's chest, his grip on his hand tight. "You're okay, buddy," he whispers, his voice a gentle static. Plankton's antennae twitch one last time before stilling, his eye fully closed. The nurse nods, satisfied with his vitals. "He's out," she says as his soft snores fill the room.

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vii (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Sponge Bob's thumb begins to move in slow, soothing circles against Plankton's skin. "Thank you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob simply nods, his thumb continuing its soothing motion. He doesn't know how to explain the depth of his feelings, but his actions speak louder than words. His friendship with Plankton has always been unconventional, but now, in the face of this new challenge, it feels more precious than ever. Just as the moment of connection seems to solidify, the door to the Chum Bucket opens again, and Hanna tentatively steps inside, a pamphlet clutched in her hand. "I brought this," she says, her voice shaking slightly as she holds out the pamphlet. "It's about autism...and rituals that might help get rid of the autistic behaviors." Karen's snatching the pamphlet from Hanna's grip. Her eyes scan the pages, her anger building with each word. "What are you thinking?" she demands, her voice like a whipcrack. Hanna takes a step back. "I just...I thought it might help you get him back to normal," she stammers, clearly not expecting the ferocity of Karen's reaction. But Karen's anger is a volcano, erupting with the force of her love for Plankton. "These are not 'behaviors' to get rid of," she snaps, shaking the pamphlet in the air. "This is who he is now!" "But Karen, don't you think life would be easier if he wasn't...you know, like this?" Hanna tries to explain. "This isn't about making life easier for me," she snaps. "It's about supporting him!" "Karen, Plankton just needs to be fixed," Hanna says, her voice smaller now, her expression pleading. "We both know how difficult it is to be around someone with...problems." The words hit Karen. "Fixed?" she repeats, her voice low and dangerous. "Plankton isn't broken. He's not a machine to be tinkered with! These are dangerous, deadly suggestions!" Plankton flinches at the sound, his mind whirling. He feels a tiny spark of defiance in his chest. "You dare suggest that he doesn't deserve to live because he's autistic? You don't get to decide his worth!" Plankton's grip on Sponge Bob's tightens, his body stiffening, his heart racing. "How could you?" she demands, her eyes spitting fire. "You want me to just...to just get rid of him?" Hanna's eyes fill with tears as she takes another step back, her hands coming up in a defensive gesture. "I didn't mean it like that," she says, her voice quavering. "I just want to help!" But Karen's fury is a freight train, unstoppable. "Help?" she spits. "This is not help!" She gestures at the pamphlet, now a mangled mess on the floor. "This is hate, Hanna! This is saying he's not worth it because he's not like everyone else!" Plankton looks down, his antennae drooping. Was he really such a burden? Was his life not worth living? Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand, his grip a silent reassurance. Karen's fury doesn't waver. "You call yourself a friend?" she says, her voice laced with disgust. "You'd throw his life away because it's inconvenient for you?" Hanna's sobs fill the room, her body trembling under the weight of Karen's accusations. "I didn't mean it like that," she whimpers. "I just...I don't know what to do." Karen's anger doesn't abate, but it turns into a deep sadness. She looks at Hanna, her eyes filled with disappointment. "You don't 'fix' someone because they're different," she says, her voice deadly calm. "You support them." Plankton watches the exchange. He feels tiny, insignificant under the weight of their words. Karen turns to Sponge Bob. "Take him to his room," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to talk to Hanna." Sponge Bob nods slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. He gently helps Plankton to his feet, a steadying presence against Plankton's uncertain steps. As they walk to the bedroom, Plankton's gaze remains glued to the floor, his mind whirling with thoughts he can't quite grasp. Once Plankton is safely in bed, Sponge Bob tucks the blanket around him, his movements gentle and soothing. Plankton's body relaxes slightly under the comforting weight, his eye closing with a sigh. Karen turns to Hanna, unfurling from defensive pose. "You don't understand," she says, her voice calmer now, though still tinged with frustration. "The things you're suggesting, they're not just cruel, they're dangerous." Hanna's sobs slow, her eyes red and swollen. She looks at Karen with desperation, clearly lost in the ignorance. "What do you mean?" Karen's determined. "Straightjackets are used," she says, her words carefully measured. "They restrain patients, not help them." She pauses. "And those rituals you found, the ones that suggest them to make him 'normal'... They could kill.." Hanna's sobs stop abruptly, her breath hitching. "What?" she asks, shock etched on her features. Karen's eyes never leave Hanna's, her voice cold and devoid of pity. "You don't get to decide his worth, Hanna," she says, each word a bullet. "And you certainly don't get to decide his fate." Hanna's shoulders slump. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, her tears flowing freely. "I didn't know." Karen's expression softens slightly, the anger fading to disappointment. "You have to understand," she says. "Plankton is still Plankton. He just...sees the world differently now." Hanna sniffs, wiping away her tears. "But what if he's in pain?" she whispers. "What if his autism is making him miserable?" Karen sighs, her frustration dissipating. "He's not in pain," she explains. "He's just...sensitive. To everything. Sounds, smells, touch... exactly what the institutions expose them to, will cause pain." Hanna absorbs Karen's words. "Oh, I didn't..." she trails off, overwhelmed by the gravity of her mistake. "I'm so sorry, Karen. I didn't know." Karen nods, relaxing slightly. "I know," she says, her voice softer now. "It's a lot to take in, and it's scary when someone you love becomes...different." Hanna nods. "But you still love him," she says, a question and a statement wrapped in one. "More than anything," Karen replies without hesitation, her tentacles tightening around Hanna. "And I need you to love him too, Hanna." Hanna nods, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "I do," she whispers. "I just...I want him to be happy." Karen's tentacles give Hanna a gentle squeeze. "He is," she says, her voice filled with determined love. "And we'll make sure he stays that way." The two of them stand there, the silence of the moment heavy between them. Karen's eyes drift to the closed bedroom door, beyond which Plankton sleeps peacefully. The sounds of the Chum Bucket are muted, the only noise the distant hum of the laboratory equipment. In that quiet, Karen's tentacles relax slightly, the anger of the confrontation dissipating. She looks back at Hanna, her expression softening. "Thank you for coming," she says, her voice still firm but lacking the sharp edge of anger. "But you have to understand that this isn't something to be fixed. It's part of him now. Let's go check on him." They find SpongeBob sitting on the foot of the bed, his hand still entwined with Plankton's, their fingertips barely touching. Plankton's breathing is deep and even, a stark contrast to the turmoil of moments before. His antennae twitch occasionally, his mouth barely parted in a quiet snore. Hanna follows Karen into the room, her eyes wide and frightened. She sees Sponge Bob and his gentle touch with Plankton and her expression softens slightly. This is new to her, this quiet understanding, but she can't help but be moved by the sight. Sponge Bob looks up, his eyes filled with a certain sadness that mirrors Karen's. He nods silently, acknowledging her thanks. Hanna's eyes dart to Plankton, who remains fast asleep, his single eye closed peacefully. Karen sits beside the bed, reaching out to stroke Plankton's forehead. His skin is cool to the touch, his breathing steady. She whispers to Hanna, "We need to be careful with him. He's...fragile." Hanna nods, swallowing her tears. She moves closer, her own hand tentatively reaching out to touch Plankton's hand. His antennae twitch but he doesn't wake. The room is bathed in a soft glow, the dimmed lights designed to reduce stimulation and ease his sensory overload. Karen's breathing slows as she watches the scene before her, her heart swelling with love and gratitude for the support Sponge Bob is providing. Hanna's tentative touch seems to soothe Plankton, his snoring growing slightly more rhythmic. Sponge Bob smiles softly at Hanna, his thumb still moving in gentle circles around Plankton's. "You're doing good," he whispers. "He just needs us to be patient and understanding." Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I'll try," she says, her voice quiet and earnest. "I really will." Karen looks at Hanna, her eyes softening. "It's not easy," she admits. "But it's worth it." **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*

CONSOLE TONSIL iii Plankton's eye fluttered open just enough to see Karen beside him. He felt groggy and disoriented, the events of the day a distant, hazy memory. He then notices Hanna brimming with tears. He blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog. "Karen," he croaked, his voice hoarse from surgery and emotional turmoil. "Hanna?" "I'm so sorry," Hanna choked out with regret. "I didn't mean to...I didn't know." "What happened?" he rasped. Karen's gaze softens. "You had a bit of a shutdown, Plankton," she said gently. "You've had a long day, and everything just became too much." The word 'burden' echoed in Plankton's mind. "Burden?" he managed to croak. "Hanna said something she didn't mean," she began,. "She didn't understand what she was saying, but she hurt you, and she's sorry." The word 'burden' it seemed, that fear had been given a voice. He looked from Karen to Hanna. "Burden," he said, barely a whisper. "Is that what you think of me?" Hanna looked stricken. "No, Plankton, I just..." Her voice trailed off. He had always known that he was different, that his size and his quirks set him apart from others. "It's ok," Karen said, her voice soothing. "We all have moments where we say things without thinking. But what's important is that you know you're not a burden to me, Plankton. You never have been, and never will be." Plankton's word 'burden' ringing. "Hanna didn't mean it, she just didn't understand." But the word had already taken root in Plankton's mind. Burden. The word resonated through Plankton but to be called a burden was something else entirely. "Plankton, I'm sorry," she said again, "I didn't know." But Plankton could only repeat the word. "Burden," he croaked. Karen reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No, Plankton, you're not a burden," she said, her voice steady and firm. "You're loved and valued, just the way you are." "Burden," he murmured agai. "I'm a burden." "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle reprimand. "You are not a burden." But Plankton's eye remained fixed, voice a hollow echo. "Everything I do is a burden," he murmured. Karen squeezed his shoulder. "Plankton, please, don't say that." "Burden," Plankton whispered, voice barely a breath. Karen's heart broke at the sound of his self-loathing. "Plankton, you're not a burden," she insisted, her voice filled with compassion. "Am a burden," he repeated, the word sticking to his tongue like a sour candy. "What can I do?" Hanna asked, desperation seeping. "Listen," Karen said, turning to face her. "You need to understand that Plankton isn't just being dramatic. This isn't something you can just apologize for and expect him to get over. His brain works differently. He processes stress in a way that's unique to him. And when you said that..." Her voice trailed off, unable to find the right words to express the gravity of the situation. "I'm a burden," Plankton murmured. "You're not a burden, Plankton," she said, her voice a soft, steady rhythm. "You're my friend, and I care about you." "Burden," Plankton said, his voice a quiet rebuttal. He was stuck in a loop of pain and she wasn't sure how to pull him out. "Plankton, you're not," she began, but he cut her off. "Burden," Plankton murmured, his voice a sad refrain. "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle plea. "You're not a burden." "Burden," Plankton replied, his voice a soft echo of despair, "is a burden." Karen tries to find the right words to cut through the fog of his pain. "Plankton," she said firmly, "you are not a burden. You're my husband, and my confidant." "But a burden," Plankton whispered, voice trembling. "I am burden." "Plankton, please," she said. "You're not a burden." "Burden," Plankton said, his voice a stubborn echo. "Everything I do is a burden." "No, Plankton," Karen insisted, her tone firm but filled with care. "You're not a burden. You're an essential part of this home." But the word 'burden' a heavy weight on his soul. "I'm not a burden," he murmured, the words barely a breath. "I'm not." "Right, you are not," Karen said. "You're so much more.." "Burden," his voice a quiet protest. "I'm just a burden." "You're not a burden," she said. "You're a companion, and a vital part of our lives." "But, burden," Plankton whimpered, his voice a sad refrain. "I is burden." Karen took his hand. "You are not," she said, her voice a gentle but firm declaration. "You're a unique and wonderful being, Plankton." "Plankton, burden," Plankton repeated, his voice a whisper of doubt. "I, burden." "Plankton," she said. "You are not a burden. You're a brilliant mind, and family." Plankton's word 'burden' still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. "But, Karen," he whispered, "I am burden." "No," Karen said firmly, voice unyielding. "You are not. You are treasure, a light in this world." Plankton blinked slowly, the word 'burden' echoing in his mind like a mournful chant. "But I burden," he protested, his voice barely above a whisper. "Burdens, Plankton." "You are loved." "Karen," Plankton said, his voice shaking with emotion, "I burden." Karen leaned closer. "Plankton," she said softly, "you're not a burden. You're someone who brings joy and laughter into our lives." Plankton's gaze searched hers, the word 'burden' still clinging to his every thought. "But I burden," he murmured, his voice a sad echo. "You're a part of this home, a piece of our lives." But Plankton's mind was a tumultuous sea, the word 'burden' a stormy island he couldn't escape. "Burden," he said again, his voice a sad admission. Karen's looking for a way to bridge the gap between his pain and the truth. "Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle reminder, "you're not a burden." "Burden," Plankton whispered, the word a sad acceptance in his mind. "I burden." "Plankton," she began, but he talked over her. "Burden," Plankton said, his voice a sad refrain. "Everything I do, burden." "Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle but firm counterpoint. "Burden," Plankton murmured, his voice a quiet echo of despair. "Everything I do, a burden." Karen felt the urgency to reach him, to pull him out of the dark pit of his thoughts. "Plankton, you're not a burden." Plankton's eye remained unfocused, his voice a sad refrain. "Burden," he whispered, the word a painful acceptance. "Everything I do, I burden." "You're not a burden." "But, Karen," Plankton murmured, his voice a sad refrain, "everything I do is burden." Karen's looking for any sign of the vibrant spirit she knew was there. But Plankton's gaze remained vacant, the word 'burden' echoing in his mind like a funeral bell. Karen knew she had to do something, had to find a way to break through the barrier that had been so carelessly built. She took a deep breath, reaching for the one thing she knew could always lift his spirits. "Remember the time we built that sandcastle?" she asked, her voice filled with the warmth of nostalgia. "The one with the moat that kept filling up with jellyfish?" Plankton's eye flickered with the ghost of a smile. "Jellyfish," a soft echo of a happier time. "Yes," Karen said, her voice a gentle nudge. "Remember how we laughed when they kept popping the bubbles in the moat?" A flicker of life returned to Plankton's eye. "Burden, Bubbles," he murmured. Karen clung to the glimmer of hope. "And the karaoke nights? When you sang that sea shanty about the Krabby Patty?" "Krabby Patty," the words a soft echo of happier times. Karen's seeing the first crack in the wall of pain he had built around himself. She took his hand, voice filled with warmth. "Remember pranks we’d play on SpongeBob?" Plankton's gaze flickered with a glimmer of amusement. "Jellyfish," he murmured. Encouraged, Karen pressed on. "And the time we accidentally turned the restaurant into a bubble bath?" "Bubble bath," he murmured, his voice a soft echo of the laughter they had shared. "Yes," Karen said, her voice a gentle caress. "Remember how Mr. Krabs had to wear those ridiculous floaties because he couldn't swim in the bubbles?" Plankton's smile grew. "Floaties," he murmured, a hint of laughter in his voice. Karen squeezed his hand. "See, Plankton. You're not a burden. You're a partner in crime, and the best roommate I could ask for." The room remained still, the only sound the steady beat of Plankton's heart. Then, ever so slowly, his smile grew, pushing back the shadows in his mind. "Karen," he murmured, his voice a soft echo of gratitude. "Thank you." Hanna's pixel eyes widened with hope, the guilt still etched on her face. "Plankton," she said, her voice tentative. "I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. You're not a burden. You're...you're like family to us." Plankton's gaze shifted to her, the weight of her words a gentle nudge towards healing. "Family," he murmured, the word a tentative bridge over the chasm of his doubt. "Yes," Hanna said, her voice earnest. "I'm sorry for not understanding before. But I do now. And I'll do better." "You will?" he asked, a tentative thread of hope. "Yes," Hanna said with earnestness. "I'll learn, listen, and I'll be more considerate of how my words can affect." Karen nodded in approval, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening slightly. "That's all we can ask," she said, her tone a gentle reprimand. "For you to understand and do better." Hanna's pixel eyes well up with tears. "I'm so sorry, Plankton," she said, voice shaking. "I had no idea." Plankton's gaze softened, the word 'burden' slowly losing grip. Karen released a sigh of relief, tension in the room easing. "What's important," she said, her voice a gentle guide, "is that we all understand each other better now." Hanna nodded with remorse. "I'll do anything to make it right," she said, a solemn vow. Plankton looked from Karen to Hanna, the word 'burden' losing power. "Ok," he murmured. "I forgive."

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 12 (Autistic author) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 Sandy's eyes follow his finger as it traces through the grid. "Ah, here it is," she says, her voice a calm hum. "I'm gonna go find Karen, I'll be back!" But then Mr. Krabs, who hasn't had Plankton try to steal the formula since the fry pan incident, comes in to check and see what he's up to. "What are ye doing?" Mr. Krabs snaps, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why isn't this little troublemaker trying to steal me formula?" Plankton's antennae wilt at the sound of Mr. Krabs' gruff voice, his sensory haven shattered by the intrusion. Mr. Krabs storms into the room, his claws waving in the air. "What's this nonsense?" he barks, his voice a thunderclap to Plankton. "A book; more like some blueprints!" Mr. Krabs sneers, his claws snatching the word search from Plankton's trembling hands. Plankton's eye widens with horror as Mr. Krabs crinkles the pages, ripping up the book. Mr. Krabs rips the pages with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with malice. "This is what happens when ye too cozy with the enemy," he says, his voice a harsh crackle as he tips the bookshelf onto the floor with a bang. Plankton's antennae snap back, his body tense with fear. The painful memory of the frying pan flashes through his mind, his voice a terrified static. "No!" he squeaks. Mr. Krabs looms over him, his eyes a cold, hard gleam. "What's wrong with ye?" he barks, his voice a rough scratch of sarcasm. "Ye gonna cry?" Plankton's eye fills with tears. "No," he whimpers. Mr. Krabs laughs, his cackle echoing through the room. "Look at the tiny thief, so scared of a little noise!" he sneers, his voice a grating static. Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "Krabs," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still gripping the torn pages. "Look at the wittle thief," he mocks, his voice a cruel cackle. Plankton's single eye darts around the room, seeking escape from the crushing wave of stimulation. The pressure of Mr. Krabs' stare is like a boulder on his chest. "What's the matter, Plankton?" Mr. Krabs sneers, leaning down so his face is inches from Plankton's. "Afraid I'll catch you red- handed?" Plankton's antennae flatten against his head, his breath quick and shallow. "No," he whispers, his voice a static hiss of fear. Mr. Krabs' looming presence is like a shadow over him, his voice a grating buzz. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he sneers. "Can't handle a little competition?" Plankton flinches, his antennae retracting. The pressure of the crab's eyes bore into his soul, his voice a panicked static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please," he whispers. Mr. Krabs' claw slams down onto the coffee table, the impact rattling everything on it. "I see," he says, his voice a cruel chuckle. "Ye've gone soft."

COMPUTER SENSORS i * "Karen!" Hanna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Karen in a warm embrace. "You made it!" Karen beamed. "Is the husband home?" Hanna asked, glancing around. "In our bedroom," Karen answers. "I don't think you've met!" Hanna followed Karen through the hallway. She'd heard of Karen's husband, Plankton, but had never formally met each other. Inside, Plankton sat on the edge of the bed. "Plankton, this is my friend Hanna," Karen announced, screen sparkling with excitement. Plankton looked up. He hadn't been expecting company, especially not someone so bubbly and vibrant. "Oh, Plankton," Hanna gushed, reaching out to him. She was a hugger, and she didn't hold back. She enveloped him. Plankton stiffened. It was... overwhelming. "It's so nice to finally meet you," Hanna said, her voice thick with sincerity. Hanna, ever the social butterfly, didn't seem to notice his discomfort. She plopped down on the bed beside him, her energy not even slightly dampened. "So, what do you guys have planned for the evening?" she asked, screen bright with excitement. "Well, we were just going to order in and watch a movie," Karen replied, shooting Plankton a knowing smile. She knew he liked his quiet evenings. "A movie night, huh?" Hanna clapped her hands together. "What's the film? I can stay and join!" Plankton wasn't one for sharing his personal space, especially with someone he just met. The bedroom was his sanctuary, a place of solitude where he could escape the world and be himself. Plankton managed a tight smile, his heart sinking. He wasn't in the mood for a romantic comedy, let alone one with Hanna's constant commentary and unbridled laughter. Karen quickly interjected. "Actually, Hanna, Plankton had his heart set on a sci-fi marathon tonight. You know, his usual Friday night routine." "Oh, I totally get it," she said, patting him. Plankton stiffened at her touch, his eye widening slightly. "Oooh, I know just the thing!" she exclaimed, jumping up and talking fast. "Karen, you won't believe this but I've got a DVD of 'Galactic Hearts' in my bag. It's got a bit of everything: romance, action, and a side of existential dread. Perfect for a Friday night in, right?" Plankton sighed inwardly. He knew he'd have to sit through it, if only to keep the peace. "Alright," he said, his voice tight. "Let's give it a go." With a resigned sigh, he trudged out to the kitchen to grab some popcorn and drinks. When he returned, Hanna had already claimed the spot beside him, leaving him no choice but to sit next to her, so he did, for Karen. The movie started, and Hanna was immediately engrossed, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. Plankton, on the other hand, felt like he was in an alien world of his own. Every time the romantic tension on screen built up, she would lean over and whisper something to Karen, who would giggle in response. The constant movement and noise were making his skin crawl. As the film went on, Hanna grew more and more absorbed in the love story unfolding before them. At one particularly dramatic scene, she reached over and grabbed Plankton's arm. "Oh, isn't this just the most romantic thing you've ever seen?" She gave him a squeeze not realizing the discomfort she was causing him. "Look at those stars," she whispered leaning closer. "It's just like they're reaching out to each other, isn't it?" Plankton shifted. He'd never been one for public displays of affection, and Hanna's affection was uncharted territory. He gently extracted his hand, placing it awkwardly on his lap. "I s'pose," he murmured, trying to keep his voice neutral. time she leaned in to whisper something to Karen, she brushed against him, sending a shiver down his spine. The movie's soundtrack swelled with a sappy love theme, and Hanna threw her arm around both their shoulders. Plankton stiffened. The room felt suddenly too warm, too small. He'd never been one for affection, especially not from someone he'd just met, and Hanna's touch was suffocating him. Her arm remained draped around his shoulders, her grip tightening every time the couple on-screen shared a tender moment. He tried to focus on the plot, but it was difficult with Hanna's sudden exclamations and loud sighs punctuating the silence. Karen seemed to be enjoying it, though, and he didn't want to spoil the evening. So, he sat, endured, and waited for the credits to roll. As the movie progressed, Hanna grew bolder with her displays of affection. She'd lean in close, her shoulder pressing into his, and whisper her predictions for the plot. He glanced at Karen, hoping for a reprieve, but she was caught up in the moment. Plankton sighed and turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the heat building in him. Hanna's hand found its way to Plankton's shoulder again. This time, she didn't let go. He cleared his throat, trying to subtly shift his body away from her touch, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weight of her arm and the way she kept brushing against him. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, begging for the solitude he craved. Hanna let out a contented sigh, her grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening involuntarily. He flinched, and she finally looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "It's nothing," Plankton said, his voice tight. Hanna looked at him. "Oh, I get it," she said, her hand moving from his shoulder to give his knee a comforting pat. "Sometimes romantic scenes can be too much, huh?" Plankton nodded stiffly. Then, Hanna leaned over and whispered, "You know Plankton you're not so bad for a guy who pretends not to like romance." She elbows him, her touch playful and teasing. Plankton's eye widened, his heart racing faster than the spaceship on the screen. He tried to laugh it off, his voice strained. He tried to keep his expression neutral. She leaned in closer, her arm now looped around his. "I think you're secretly a softy." Plankton's discomfort grew. He swallowed hard, his eye darting to Karen for help, but she was too lost in the film to notice his distress. He cleared his throat again, trying to be subtle, but they're oblivious. Karen looked over at her husband, her smile fading slightly as she noticed his rigid posture. She knew he wasn't a fan of the film, but she didn't realize Hanna's personality was making him so uncomfortable. Hanna jumped up from the couch. "Oh my gosh, you guys," she exclaimed a little too loud, her screen bright with excitement. "That was the best movie ever!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Karen couldn't help but laugh. "You really liked it?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Liked it?" Hanna repeated, her voice incredulous. "I'm in love with it!!" Her exuberance was palpable, but Plankton remained silent. He felt a mix of relief that the movie was over and dread for whatever might come next. Hanna, noticing his lack of response, turned to him with a grin. "What did you think, Plankton?" Plankton felt uncomfortable under her gaze. "It's just not really my genre," he said, his voice a touch defensive. Hanna's smile didn't falter. "Oh, come on," she said, nudging him playfully. "Admit it, you were totally rooting for them in the end." "Oh, I was," Plankton said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "I was just hoping the asteroid might hit the spaceship first." Karen couldn't help but laugh, seeing the playful banter between her friend and her husband. "Ok ok," she said, standing up and stretching. "I think we've had enough romance for one night. How about we switch gears and play a board game?" Hanna bounced, her energy unflagging. "Perfect! What do you have?" Plankton started to feel dizzy. "I'll grab something," he said, his voice tight. He needed to get away, to regain some semblance of control over the situation. He retreated to the bedroom, going on his bed. ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ *

Tue June 22nd, 2010 at 9:39pm I work with Autistic children every week. I work with a boy who has never spoken to me. Today he looked me straight in the eye and said “Thank you, Samantha” I cried so hard. He GMH

https://molecularautism.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13229-024-00586-5

⁉️*️꩜

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 15 (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ Sandy and Sponge Bob leave the room while Karen stays for the surgery. The doctor's tentacles move with practiced ease. The room hummed with a gentle consistency of medical equipment, designed to avoid jarring sounds. The doctor's eyes were focused, his voice a steady rhythm of instructions for the nurse. She put the IV in, a swift and precise motion, and Plankton's snores remained undisturbed. The surgery begins, each movement calculated to minimize pain. The doctor's tentacles dance around the broken limb, his touch as light as a feather. The smell of antiseptic hangs in the air, but it's faint, not overwhelming. Plankton's body lies still, his snores the only sound besides the low whisper of instruments coating the bone. The nurse's eyes flick to the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking by like a metronome to the rhythm of the doctor's work. The room is a symphony of soft sounds: the steady beep of the heart monitor, the low mumble of the doctor's instructions. Plankton's tiny body lies motionless, his snores the only evidence of life. They put his leg in a cast and unhook the IV. Sponge Bob and Sandy wait outside, their minds racing with worries and hope. Their conversation is whispers, not wanting to disturb the peaceful hum of the Quiet Bubble Clinic. The nurse beckons them back in. "The surgery was a success," she says, her voice a gentle gust of relief. Plankton lies in the bed, his leg now encased in a cast. His snores are quieter, his body less tense. Sponge Bob and Sandy hover by his side, their eyes locked on his peaceful face. "But we need to be prepared for his waking," the nurse continues, her voice a soft warning. "He might wake up feeling disoriented or overwhelmed. Also, it takes time for the anesthesia to fully wear off, so he might be groggy and silly, sleepy or even a bit forgetful." They nod, their expressions a mix of gratitude and anticipation. The doctor enters the room, his tentacles wiped clean of any sign of surgery. "He'll need to stay here for a bit, to recover," he says, his voice a gentle rumble. "But you can stay with him. After he's fully awake, you can take him home! Just be careful, of course." Sponge Bob's eyes light up, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "We'll make sure he's okay," he says, his voice a promise. Sandy nods, her face a mask of determined calm. "Thank you," Karen says, her voice a gentle hum of appreciation. The doctor nods, his tentacles flicking a dismissive wave. "It's what we're here for," he says, his voice a warm rumble. "Now, let's get him settled." They work together, Sponge Bob and Sandy supporting Plankton as they move his bed to a recovery room, his body still asleep as Karen holds his hand. The room is painted with soft, soothing colors, and the bed is surrounded by pillows and blankets that seem to swallow his small frame. The lights are dimmed, a stark contrast to the stark whites and harsh florescents of a normal hospital. Sponge Bob sits on the chair beside his bed, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping face. The gentle whirl of a fan in the corner provides white noise, a comforting constant hum that fills the silence. Sandy sits on the other side, her hand resting lightly on the foot of the bed. Her eyes are glued to a book titled "Understanding Neurodivergence in Friends," her expression focused. Karen meanwhile was holding his other hand. Plankton's antennae twitches as the gentle hum of the recovery room starts to pierce his slumber. His single eye opens to a sliver, taking in the soft, blurry world around him. He blinks, trying to focus, and sees Karen first. "Hey, buddy," she says, her voice a warm buzz of comfort. "You're okay." Plankton's eye widens, his brain foggy from the anesthesia. "Wheh..." he starts, his voice a static whisper. Sponge Bob's hand squeezes his gently. "You're at the Quiet Bubble Clinic," he says, his voice a soft wave of reassurance. "You had your leg fixed." Plankton's antennae wave slowly, his eye blinking as realization sets in. "Mr. Krabs," he whispers, his voice a static memory of pain. Sponge Bob's thumb pauses in its comforting rhythm. "Don't worry about him now," he says, his voice a gentle lapping of waves. "You're safe here." Plankton's antennae twitch with confusion, his mind a foggy storm of memories. He tries to sit up, but the nurse's firm hand gently pushes him back down. "Easy," she whispers, her voice a soft breeze. "You need to rest." Sponge Bob's face is a picture of relief as Plankton's eye focusses on him. "Remember, buddy?" he asks, his voice a gentle reminder. "You're safe." Plankton's antennae quiver with the echoes of pain, but the soothing presence of his friends begins to anchor him. He nods slightly, his voice a static rustle. "Sandy?" he asks, his gaze shifting to her. Sandy looks up from her book, her eyes soft. "I'm here," she says, her voice a gentle hum. She sets the book aside and takes his hand. Plankton's antennae twitch with confusion, his eye darting around the room. The softness of the pillows and the gentle hum of the fan are alien to him. "Where...?" he whispers, his voice a static question. The nurse's smile is a beacon of calm. "You're at the Quiet Bubble Clinic," she says, her voice a comforting trill. "You're safe." Plankton's mind is a swirl of fuzzy images and half-remembered fears. He tries to piece together what happened, his antennae flailing for answers. The nurse's voice is a gentle guide, leading him through the mist. "You had surgery," she murmurs, her eyes kind. "Your leg is fixed now. Just rest." Plankton's eye blinks slowly, trying to comprehend the words. The pain is gone, replaced by a dull throb and the weight of the cast. He nods, his body still feeling the aftermath of the anesthesia's embrace. The room is a soft blur, the edges of his vision dancing with colors. He tries to lift his head, but it feels too heavy. Sponge Bob's grip is steady, keeping him grounded as the world slowly sharpens. Plankton's thoughts are like bubbles popping in the sea, each one briefly forming before disappearing into the depths. The nurse's voice is a distant lullaby, guiding his consciousness back to the surface. He blinks again, his vision slowly coming into focus. The nurse's face swims into view, her smile a lifeline in the murky water of his confusion. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle ripple. "Just rest." The room sways like an underwater garden, the soothing sounds of the recovery room a soft symphony that Plankton can't quite place. His mind is a kaleidoscope of half-formed thoughts. Sponge Bob's hand is a steady beacon, the gentle squeeze a comforting reminder that he's not alone. Plankton's eye widens as he takes in the sight of his friend, his face a canvas of concern. "You're okay," Sponge Bob whispers, his voice a gentle wave washing over the static in Plankton's mind. Suddenly, Sponge Bob's phone beeps, a video call request from an unexpected name: Mr. Krabs. Sandy's eyes widen and she looks at Sponge Bob, who nods slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. He accepts the call, the screen filling with the familiar craggy face of their grumpy neighbor. Mr. Krabs looks sheepish, his eyes darting around the screen. "Plankton," he starts, his voice a gruff whisper. "I heard what happened with the autism and broken leg.." Sponge Bob's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, his face a mask of caution. Plankton's antennas quiver with apprehension. "What Krabs want?" Plankton mumbles, his voice a static hiss. His single eye narrows. Mr. Krabs clears his throat, his face a portrait of discomfort. "Look, Plankton, I... I wanted to say... I'm sorry." His eyes dart to the side, avoiding the camera. Plankton's antennae stand on end, his eye unblinking. "What for?" he asks, his voice a wary whisper. Mr. Krabs' face scrunches up, his claws fidgeting with his apron strings. "For, uh, you know, the frying pan... and the... uh, everything." Plankton's antennae twitch with surprise, his voice a static hush. "Why?" Mr. Krabs looks away, his eyes anywhere but on the screen. "I know I've been... rough on you lately," he says, his voice a gruff rumble. "And I didn't know about the... the autism thing. It's just, the Krabby Patty formula is all I've got, and I can't... I don't know how to make it up to ye but I just called to let ye know." Plankton's antennae quiver with shock, his eye wide. "Mr. Krabs," he whispers, his voice a static hum. "Is this... real?" Mr. Krabs nods, his face a map of regret. "Yeah, it's me," he says, his voice a gruff mumble. "I know I've not been the best... neighbor, or... frenemy." Sponge Bob's eyes are wide, his grip on Plankton's hand unwavering. Sandy's jaw is slack with disbelief. "Mr. Krabs," Karen's voice is a cautious whisper. "That's... really nice of you to say." Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes returning to the screen. "It's just, I've seen what you've gone through, and I... I shouldn't have hurt you." His claws fiddle with his apron, a rare show of vulnerability. "And I forgive ye."

disability and autism are not your aesthetics. just stop. 🤨

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GEP7KkaWcAALSij?format=png&name=small

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

Expect different bødy language. Autistic people don't always make eye contact, sit still, or look at the person they are listening to. However, that doesn't mean they aren't paying attention. It's helpful to be direct, so they don't get confused about your intentions. Here are some examples of things you could say: "Do you want to hold hands?" "How about a kíss?" "Hey, I'm behind you. Want a hug?" (Some autistic people startle easily when touched from behind.) Autistic people might be uncomfortable with certain types of to͠uch and ıntımate, because of sensory issues. To find out what works for them, just ask. Having a clear conversation is easy for many autistic people, and you'll get a clear sense of what they like. Be clear about your own thoughts and feelings. Picking up on body language can be difficult work for an autistic person, and they might not realize what's going on, or guess completely wrong. If you want them to know your feelings, the easiest way is to express them out loud. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm a little on edge today because of my dad coming. You did nothing wrong." "I wish you would have told me earlier about Amy's math meet. I would like to have rearranged my schedule so that I could be there for her." "It hur͘t my feelings when you said that my beard looked like a hipster beard." Be prepared for them to show and experience emotions differently. They may not understand their own feelings (alexithymia), and thus act less emotional than others (e.g. not appearing to grieve when family members dıe, even though they're very upset). This does not mean that they aren't experiencing emotions. Autistic people may react with a problem-solving approach: they see that you are upset, and they are determined to fix it so you can be happy. They may not realize that you don't want advice, just a listening ear. Autistic people may appear emotionless, even when they are experiencing deep emotions.

https://psychcentral.com/autism/conditions-associated-with-autism