Insecuritywave Emojis & Text

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON v (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Karen's eyes blazed with fury as she stared at her. "How dare you speak to him like that!" Karen's voice was low and dangerous, her body tense. "How dare you come into my home and say such things!" Hanna took a step back, overwhelmed by the fury in Karen's voice. "I didn't mean..." she began, but Karen cut her off. "You don't get to decide what he needs!" Karen's words were like shrapnel, sharp and biting. "You don't get to judge him!" Her eyes were on fire, her body quivering with the effort of holding back her emotions. Hanna looked at Karen, shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor. "Karen, I'm sorry, I didn't know..." But Karen was beyond words. Her eyes were like twin lasers, cutting through the tension in the room as she stormed towards Hanna. "Get out," she spat, her voice cold and final. Hanna's eyes widened in instinctive fear. She had never seen Karen like this— so angry, so protective. "Get out," Karen repeated, each word a whip crack that sent a shiver down Hanna's spine. Her gaze never left Plankton, whose sobs had become softer, more desolate. Hanna looked between the distraught Plankton and the fuming Karen, realizing the gravity of her mistake. She quickly gathered herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice genuine. "I never meant to..." But Karen's anger was a force of nature, unyielding and fierce. She stood between Hanna and Plankton, her body a barricade against further harm. "Get out," she repeated, her voice now a hiss. "Now." Hanna nodded, defeated. She had overstepped a line she didn't even know existed. With a final, apologetic look at Plankton, she turned and left the Chum Bucket, the door slamming behind her. The room was silent except for Plankton's muffled sobs. Karen rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice soothing as she stroked his back. "It's okay, Plankton. I'm here." But Plankton's thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty, Hanna's threat echoing in his mind. An institution? Would Karen really send him away? He pulled away from Karen's embrace, his eye swollen with tears. "Is it true?" he stammered, his voice a choked whisper. "Should you...could you really do that to me?" Karen's grip tightened around him, breaking at the thought of his fear. "Never," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "I would never send you away." Plankton's gaze flitted to hers, his eye searching for the truth in her words. "But what if I'm too much?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "What if I can't get better?" Karen's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady. "You're not too much," she said, stroking his arm. "You're my husband, and I love you no matter what." Plankton's sobs subsided slightly, his mind racing to understand her words. He knew love. "But what if... what if I can't be normal?" he managed to ask, his voice breaking. Karen's gaze was steady, her love for him unwavering. "Plankton, you don't have to be 'normal' to be loved," she said gently. "You're already perfect to me." Plankton's expression remained uncertain, the threat of Hanna's words still lingering like a bad taste in his mouth. "But what if... what if I can't?" Karen's grip tightened, her love a steel band around his quaking form. "You don't have to be anything but you," she murmured, her voice a balm to his soul. "I'll always love you, Plankton." With trembling hands, she offered him the smoothie she'd got, the soothing blue color a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within them both. "Here," she said gently. "This might help." Plankton took it, his grip precise despite his shaking. He brought the cup to his lips, his gaze never leaving Karen's. The cold liquid slid down his throat, easing the tension ever so slightly. He took another sip, the smoothie's cool embrace soothing his frayed nerves. Karen watched him drink. "We'll get through this," she said firmly. "We'll find a way." Plankton took another sip, his eye flickering between hope and fear. "But what if..." Karen's tentacle gently lifted his chin, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "No 'buts'," she said firmly. "We have each other, and that's all that matters." Plankton took another shaky sip of his smoothie, the blue liquid swirling like the tumultuous thoughts in his head. He felt a tiny spark of comfort at her words. "We'll find a way," Karen repeated, her voice a gentle caress against his fears. She guided him back to the couch, her tentacles never leaving his side. As he took another sip of the smoothie, the coolness seemed to calm him slightly. His sobs grew quieter, his breathing a little steadier. The taste of berries was a sweet contrast to the bitter tang of his thoughts. Karen watched him carefully, her own emotions a swirling storm of concern and love. Gently, she guided him back to the couch, her touch a silent promise of support. He allowed her to lead him, his body exhausted from the intensity of his outburst. Once he was comfortably settled, she took the smoothie from his hand, setting it on the table. She covered him with a soft blanket, the material brushing against his sensitive skin. He flinched slightly, but the comfort outweighed the discomfort. "Rest," she whispered, stroking his forehead gently. "Everything will be okay." **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.*

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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."

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NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON viii (Autistic author) The room grew quiet as they all digested the information. Sponge Bob's gaze never left Plankton's, his expression filled with a fierce loyalty. He knew his friend was different, but that didn't change the love he had for the tiny creature. Sensing the tension, Sponge Bob took a deep breath and smiled his wide, welcoming smile. "You know what, Plankton?" he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "You're still my best buddy, no matter what." Plankton's antennae perked up, his eye focusing on Sponge Bob's earnest expression. The sponge's words were a comforting lullaby, a gentle reminder of their unbreakable bond. He felt the warmth of their friendship wash over him, a comforting blanket against the coldness of Hanna's accusations. Sponge Bob's hand found its way to his shoulder, the touch a familiar comfort that his overstimulated senses craved. Plankton leaned into the warmth, his body responding to the soothing pressure. "Best buddies," he echoed, his voice a soft affirmation. The room grew quiet as Sponge Bob's hand remained steady on his shoulder, his presence a calming force in the storm of his emotions. Plankton closed his eye, his body relaxing into the gentle embrace. "We're gonna get through this," Sponge Bob said, his voice a soothing lullaby. "We'll figure it out, buddy. I'm here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, the warmth of his friend's words seeping into his soul. Sponge Bob had always had a way of making him feel safe, but now, with this new knowledge, their friendship felt even more vital. "Thank you," Plankton murmured, his voice a soft echo of gratitude. Sponge Bob's thumb rubbed circles on his back. The two friends sat in silence, the warmth of their companionship a stark contrast to the chill of Hanna's words. Plankton felt the tension in his body slowly melt away, his breaths evening out. The steady beat of Sponge Bob's heart was a comforting lullaby that helped him find peace. Sponge Bob's thumb continued its circular dance on his back, a wordless communication of his love and support. Plankton sighed, his body growing heavier with each comforting pressure point. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob's eyes searched his face, a flicker of understanding dawning. "It's okay, Plankton," he said. "We'll get through this together." His hand didn't move, his touch a silent promise of his unwavering support. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, the comfort of his friend's presence a warmth against the coldness of his fear. He knew Sponge Bob would always be there for him, even if he didn't fully understand his condition. The sponge's love was a constant, a beacon of light in his otherwise confusing world. Sponge Bob's eyes never left his friend's, his smile a gentle reminder of the joy they shared. "You know, Plankton," he began, his voice a soft caress. "You're still the same little guy I've always known." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body leaning into the warmth of Sponge Bob's embrace. The steady beat of the sponge's heart was a comforting metronome that helped him find his rhythm again. He felt the tension in his body slowly melt away, each breath growing deeper and more even. The room, once a battlefield of accusations and misunderstandings, was now a haven of quiet comfort. The rustling of pages grew softer, the candle's glow dimming as the minutes ticked by. Karen and Hanna watched from afar, heavy with regret and hope. They saw the change in Plankton, the way he leaned into Sponge Bob's touch, the way his body slowly relaxed. Sponge Bob, ever the comforting presence, began to hum a gentle tune, a melody that Plankton had heard a thousand times. The familiar notes were a lullaby that soothed his frazzled nerves, his antennae dropping to rest against the sponge's shoulder. The tune was a bridge to his past, a time before the accident, before the world had shifted on its axis. Plankton's breaths grew deeper, his body swaying slightly with the rhythm. His eye closed. Sponge Bob's humming grew softer, his hand never leaving Plankton's back. The warmth of his companion's embrace was a soothing balm. The room, once a prison of accusations, was now a sanctuary of friendship. The candle's flame danced, casting shadows that played across the walls, their flickering a gentle reminder of the warmth in their hearts. Sponge Bob's hum grew softer, his melody a gentle whisper that lulled Plankton into a peaceful reverie. His body molded into the sponge's embrace, his antennae drooping with the weight of his eyelid. The world outside faded away, replaced by the safety of Sponge Bob's arms. Karen watched from the distance, shimmering with unshed tears. She knew the importance of this moment, the power of a friend who understood without words. Her heart swelled with gratitude for Sponge Bob's unwavering support. Hanna, too, felt the weight of her own words, the realization of her ignorance heavy on her shoulders. She longed to reach out, to be part of this healing embrace, but felt the boundary that she had unwittingly created. Her screen followed the tender scene, her thoughts racing with a desire to apologize, to explain. But she knew that now was not the time for words. Instead, she sat quietly, watching the dance of friendship unfold. The steady beat of Sponge Bob's heart, the gentle rustle of his body against Plankton's, the soothing hum that filled the air—it was a symphony of care. Hanna's gaze drifted to the candle, its flame a flickering reminder of the warmth that was slowly seeping into the room. She watched as Plankton's body grew heavier, his breaths deepening. The anger and fear that had once dominated the space were now replaced with a comforting quietude. Karen's hand found Hanna's, squeezing gently. "He's ok," she whispered. "We're going to be ok." Her voice was a calm sea, offering a gentle buoyancy to the storm of emotions that had ravaged them all. Hanna's screen searched hers, uncertainty warring with hope. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice a soft apology. "I just didn't know." Karen nodded, her gaze compassionate. "It's a journey," she said. "We're all just trying to understand." The humming grew softer, until it was only a faint echo in the room. Plankton's antennae twitched with the last remnants of his anxiety, before they too stilled. His body grew heavy, his breaths deep and even. The gentle sway of Sponge Bob's embrace was a lullaby that rocked him into a peaceful slumber. Sponge Bob felt the change in Plankton's tension, his friend's body becoming a soft weight against his. He smiled, his heart swelling with love and relief. Carefully, he adjusted his hold, cradling the tiny creature against his chest. His thumb continued its comforting strokes, his eyes never leaving the closed eye. Karen stepped forward, her movements graceful and silent. Her hand rested on Sponge Bob's arm, her screen a gentle thank you. Hanna quietly left. The room was now bathed in the soft glow of the candle, its flicker the only sound. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly in his sleep, his breaths deep and even. Sponge Bob held him tight, his heartbeat a gentle rhythm that soothed the tiny creature's slumber. Karen watched the two, aching with love and gratitude. She knew that Sponge Bob's simple act of comfort was a powerful statement of friendship and support. It was moments like this that reminded her of the strength in their bond. The candle's flame danced gently, casting shadows that played across Plankton's sleeping face. His antennae, once a whirlwind of anxiety, were now still, resting against Sponge Bob's chest. His breaths were even and deep, a testament to the peace he had found in his friend's embrace. Sponge Bob looked down at his sleeping companion, his face a picture of quiet contentment. He knew that Plankton was safe here, that his slumber was a reprieve from the storm of emotions that had ravaged his day. The room was a sanctuary of calm, the candle's warmth a gentle guardian. The sponge's heart swelled with love as he watched his friend's tiny chest rise and fall, each breath a whispered promise of support. He knew that Plankton's world was now different, that the ASD had brought with it challenges that neither of them could have foreseen. But in this moment, their bond was stronger than ever, a beacon of understanding in a sea of uncertainty. Karen's eyes searched Sponge Bob's, her own heart heavy with the weight of what Plankton had endured. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice a soft wave of appreciation. "For being there for him." Sponge Bob's gaze never left Plankton's sleeping form, his thumb still tracing comforting patterns. "Always," he said, his voice a gentle promise. "No matter what."

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iv (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ But Plankton's frustration had reached a boiling point. His voice was a thunderclap in the small room, his eye flashing with a rage he couldn't contain. "You don't know!" he roared, his body shaking. Hanna took another step back, her heart racing. "I'm sorry, Plankton, I truly didn't mean to upset you," she said, her voice shaking. Plankton's gaze shifted to the door, his mind racing to the safety of his solitude. "You don't know," he murmured, his anger subsiding slightly. The sudden silence was like a balm to his raw nerves. But Hanna's curiosity angered him further. "Plankton, what..." "I DON'T KNOW!" Plankton's voice pierced the silence, his frustration at an all-time high. Hanna's eyes grew wider. "I'll leave you alone," she said quickly, her voice quiet and soothing. But as she turned to go, she accidentally brushed against his arm. Plankton's reaction was instant and explosive. He jerked away, his body tensing, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice sharp and jagged. Hanna's eyes wide with shock. "Plankton tell me what's..." But Plankton had reached his limit. The touch, the questions, the expectation of normalcy—it was all too much. He felt personally attacked, now on a roll. "You don't know what's what?" he spat out, his voice a whip crack. "You come in here, invading my space, without a care in the world for what I'm going through!" Hanna took another step back, retracting quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she whispered, her eyes filling with sorrow. "Karen never mentioned..." But Plankton's frustration had become anger, his next words cutting like a knife. "You don't know anything," he snarled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You come in here, asking your stupid questions, expecting me to be the same person I was before!" "Before what, Plankton?" Yet Plankton's not wanting to answer Hanna so he yells his next words at the top of his lungs. "Before I...I... YOU KNOW WHAT? IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Plankton's voice cracked with the effort of his outburst, but he's just getting started, now he's on a roll, his next words being worse. "I don't want you here. I don't need you here," Plankton spat out, his frustration a palpable force in the room. Hanna took another step back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was just trying to..." But Plankton's anger had taken over. "You're not helping!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "You don't get to decide what I need!" He was on his feet now, his body rigid with frustration. "I don't want you to know!" "Know what, Plankton? You don't get to decide what I can and can't know," she said, her voice firm. But Karen's now returned with the smoothie, both Hanna and Plankton too wrapped up to notice her presence. "You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything?" his voice was a growl now. "You think you know what it's like to be trapped in here?" He tapped his head with his finger, his eye wild. "You don't know anything!" Now Hanna's getting real angry. "You think you're the only one suffering?" Hanna countered, her voice rising. "What about Karen? What about the people who actually care about you?" Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, his anger fueled by her words. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space of the Chum Bucket. "You don't know what it's like to have the world make no sense! To be trapped in your own head!" Hanna's expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I really am. But you can't just push everyone away." "Why not?" Plankton demanded, his voice a whip crack. "Why do I have to explain?" But Hanna's concern for Karen overrode her own fear. "Karen's my friend and she deserves better than you and your little tantrums," Hanna snapped back. "Tantrums? TANTRUMS?" Plankton's voice was a roar now. "This isn't a tantrum, it's reality!" Hanna's in a defensive posture, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I don't know what real pain is?" she shouted back. "You're so caught up in your own world that you can't see what you're doing to her, just because you're too stubborn and acting like a child who can't deal with the real world! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A BURDENSOME WASTE OF SPACE! So, if you can't get your act together, maybe you should just go to an institution where people can handle your..." "That's enough!" Karen snapped. Her voice was a whip crack across the tension filled room, startling both Plankton and Hanna. She couldn't stand silent any longer. Yet Plankton's face crumpled at Hanna's threat, his anger giving way to despair. Tears began to stream down his face, his body shaking with sobs he couldn't control. The sudden shift from rage to sorrow was like a punch to Hanna. **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.*

⢾⣿⣛⡋⠉⣀⣴⢿⣽⣷⣄⠆⠙⢿⡿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣏⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⠞⢁⢀⢶⣾⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⣛⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣠⣀⣠⢄⣤⡶⠛⢛⣠⣤⣤⣭⣍⠀⢀⡀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣰⠟⠁⣴⢿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣽⣶⣿⣿⡿⣟⣷⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣦⠘⣆⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣴⡿⠋⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠹⣆⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢀⣼⣫⣷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣻⣽⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣆⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢰⡟⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠺⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⡇⢀⣾⡇⢹⣿⡟⠛⣿⣻⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⣯⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣵⣿⣤⣤⣄⣀⡈⠙⠿⣿⣿⡇⢧⣛⣿⡛⢳⣟⣉⣉⣛⡿⣳⡿⠙⣿⡿⠟⣫⣒⣯⢴⣶⢶⣿⣾⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿ ⣿⣿⢿⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⣽⣿⣶⣦⣄⠙⢷⣶⣿⣏⣛⣿⣾⢽⣷⣿⣷⣿⣧⠞⠁⠀⣶⣈⣻⣧⣾⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡙⠛⠛⠋⢹⣿⡀⠛⣿⣿⣄⠀⣠⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢶⣽⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⣿⣟⣿⣻⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⡿⣻⣿⣻⣿⢟⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣜⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣿⣼⣿⣷⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⣿⣿⣿⣅⠿⣿⣼⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠻⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡌⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻ ⣿⣿⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢻⣿⠿⢿⡻⣿⣿⡿⢯⠁⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣾⡇⠀⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⢋⣸⣦⡀⠀⣾⠿⣿⣿⣋⠿⡿⢿⣝⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞ ⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣿⠻⣗⣤⣶⡟⢀⠀⣾⡿⠋⣩⣴⣄⣞⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣿⣷⡀⢀⣰⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣿⣹⡇⣧⣈⣷⣄⡏⠻⠟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⢓⣯⣾⣿⣿⠿⢶⠟⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣹⣿⣿⣾⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢻⠉⠹⢿⢿⡆⠳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⠿⣯⣿⠛⠷⠟⠡⠀⠠⠟⣴⡿⢠⡸⠛⢷⣥⣵⠿⠿⠟⣟⡿⠿⠿⢿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠽⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⣿⡇⢸⠆⣃⡿⢶⡄⠀⠛⠻⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⢧ ⣿⣿⣷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠧⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⣦⢸⢿⠁⠀⣶⣾⠀⠸⠀⢹⣿⣸⣿⡿⠀⠈⢿⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⢉⠤⣿⠿⠀⠀⠱⣾⠀⣿⡇⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣾⣿⣾ ⣿⣟⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡁⠀⣾⣼⣼⠀⠀⠙⣿⠀⠸⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⢰⠀⢫⠂⠀⠀⠀⠙⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⢠⡀⢸⡇⠀⣿⢿⢻⠃⠀⢻⡛⠀⠀⠁⢿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡷⠇⣀⣄⣰⣦⣠⣶⣄⣀⣠⣾⡀⢨⣧⣤⣷⣤⣤⣾⣏⣀⡀⣀⣠⣄⡀⢀⣾⣷⣿⣿⣧⠀⣠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣁⣀⣀⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿

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.*

Taekook 𐤀