Iv Emojis & Text

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.*

SHELF IMPROVEMENT iv (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen awoke with the sun, her mind still heavy with the weight of the previous night's discovery. Plankton slept peacefully beside her, his breathing even and deep. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope that was just a bad dream, a fleeting nightmare that would disappear. But when she looked over at him, she knew it was all too real. Her eyes took in the familiar lines of his face, the way his antennae twitched even in sleep. They had faced challenges before, and they would face this one too. Gently, she slipped from the bed, not wanting to wake him. She knew he needed his rest. In the kitchen, she started to make his breakfast smoothie. She had read about autism, knew it could manifest in different ways, but she had never thought it would touch their lives so suddenly, so profoundly. The blender whirred to life, slicing through the fruit and yogurt. The smell of strawberries and bananas filled the room, a stark contrast to the heaviness of her thoughts. As she poured the smoothie into a glass, her mind raced with questions. How would this change their relationship? What did this mean for Plankton's life? What could she do to help him? The sudden sound of footsteps on the floor snapped her out of her thoughts. Plankton. She turned around to see him standing in the doorway, his expression tentative. His eye searched hers, and she forced a smile, hoping to reassure him. "Breakfast," she said, holding out the smoothie. "Your favorite." Plankton's antennae twitched, and he took a step forward, his eye locking onto the glass. "Smoothie," he murmured. Karen clenched at his response, so unlike his usual greeting. "Yes, a strawberry-banana smoothie." Her voice was filled with hope, trying to keep their morning routine as normal as possible. He took the glass from her, his grip careful, his movements precise. He took a sip. Karen watched him. "How does it taste?" she asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. Plankton paused, his eye blinking thoughtfully. "Good," he said finally, his voice still subdued. He took another sip, his expression unreadable. Karen's smile grew wider, genuine this time. "I'm so glad. Why don't you sit down?" She gestured to the kitchen table. "I'll get you some toast." Plankton nodded slowly, his movements deliberate. He sat at the table, his gaze fixed on the smoothie. Karen felt the weight of his silence as she busied herself with the toaster. But the pop of the bread springing up snapped his attention to her. "Too much noise," he mumbled, flinching at the sound. Karen sank. She had forgotten how sensitive his hearing might become. She quickly turned off the toaster and approached the table. "I'm sorry," she said softly, placing the plate of toast before him. "Did the toaster bother you?" Plankton nodded, his antennas quivering slightly. "Noise," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen felt a pang of guilt. "I'll be more careful," she promised, placing a gentle hand on his back. She watched as he took a deep breath, visibly trying to regain his composure. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the new normal pressing down on them like a thick fog. Karen wanted to fill the air with words, to reassure him and herself, but she knew that sometimes silence was the best comfort. As Plankton took a bite of toast, she observed his every move, looking for any signs of distress. His antennae were still, his eye focused on his food. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them and their quiet breakfast. But then, she heard Plankton's words. "Breakfast," he murmured, his antennae twitching. "Did the toaster bother you." It took Karen a second to realize that Plankton was actually responding to his own thoughts. She watched as he paused, his antennae twitching again. "Noise," he said, his voice echoing in the silent room. Was he talking to himself? Or was this a new part of his autism, a way of processing information? "No," she said gently, sitting down beside him. "The toaster is okay now. It's quiet." Plankton nodded, his antennas stilling. He chewed slowly, his gaze flickering to Karen before returning to the bread. "Karen," he said after a moment, his voice clearer now. "The toaster okay says it's quiet, Karen said no is okay now." He was parroting her words, but with a slight delay. It was as if he was trying to make sense of them, to process the conversation in his own time. "Yes, Plankton," she replied. "The toaster is quiet now." Plankton nodded again, his antennae still. He took another bite of toast, chewing slowly. Then, out of the blue, he spoke again, his voice stronger this time. "Karen loves Plankton?" "Yes, Plankton, I do," she replied, her voice steady. "Karen loves you very much." Plankton's antennae twitched once before going still. He took another sip of his smoothie, his face a canvas of contemplation. "Plankton loves Karen," he murmured, almost to himself. It was as if he was reassuring himself of their bond. Karen felt a warmth spread through her. This was a new aspect of his autism, but it was also a sign that he was trying to understand his feelings, to make sense of the world around him. "Yes," she said, squeezing his hand. "And Karen loves Plankton right back." Plankton nodded, his gaze returning to his food. Karen could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to comprehend the change. He took another sip of his smoothie, his antennae twitching slightly as he swallowed. "Different," he said again. "But same love." Despite the confusion, he had managed to articulate his feelings with a simplicity that was both heartbreaking and beautiful. She squeezed his hand, her screen shimmering with unshed tears. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with love. "Same love, no matter what." Plankton's gaze shifted to her, his eye focusing on her damp screen. His antennae stood straight up, and he frowned slightly. "Tears," he said, his voice concerned. "Karen sad?" "No, Plankton," she said softly. "These are happy tears." But she knew that might not make sense to him, so she tried to explain further. "They're because I'm feeling a lot of love for you right now, and my body..." "Love makes Karen sad?" he interrupted. Karen sighed, knowing that explaining emotions to a suddenly autistic Plankton was going to be tough. "No, not sad," she corrected. "They're just tears that come when I'm really happy or overwhelmed with love. It's a good thing, I promise." Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed this information. "Good tears," he murmured. "Karen love making good tears." Karen couldn't help but smile, despite the heaviness of the situation. His childlike innocence was a beacon of light in the darkness. "Yes," she nodded, her voice steady. "Good tears," she said again, her thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "Now, let's eat our breakfast, okay?"

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iv (Autistic author) "Let's play again," Plankton says, his voice eager. Sponge Bob nods, his smile genuine. "Ok, Plankton pick a board game." Karen watches as Sponge Bob sorts through the disarray of their game collection, his spongy fingers touching each box before finally settling on a card game. "Go Fish!" Sponge Bob exclaims, holding up the battered cards. Plankton's face lights up at the familiar phrase, his antennas waggling with excitement. "Fish, fish, fish," he repeats, his voice echoing the words. The two sit cross-legged on the floor, the cards spread out in front of them. Plankton's hands tremble slightly as he picks up his cards, but his concentration is intense. "Fish," he whispers, holding his hand out to Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob nods, understanding the game despite Plankton's simplified request. "Go Fish," he responds, placing a card into Plankton's outstretched palm. Plankton's eye brightens, and he repeats the action, placing a card into Sponge Bob's hand. "Fish," he says again, his voice slightly more confident. "Plankton you gotta take a card from the pile.." Sponge Bob starts to explain, but Plankton's antennas shoot up, and he interrupts. "Fish from the pile," he repeats, his voice eager. He reaches for the deck and draws a card, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob nods. "That's right, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "Go Fish." Plankton repeats the phrase, his antennas bobbing with each word. "Go Fish," he murmurs, his eye scanning the cards. Sponge Bob nods, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Good job, Plankton," he encourages. "Your turn to ask for a card." Plankton's antennas wiggle as he thinks, his eye darting to his hand. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and focus. "Got any...?" He pauses, his brain searching for the right word. "Got any...?" "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob prompts, his smile never wavering. "Fish," Plankton repeats, his antennas bobbing. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob nods, understanding dawning. "Do you have any twos?" Plankton's antennas twitch in excitement. "Two," he echoes, his voice triumphant. "Do you have any twos?" Sponge Bob's smile falters slightly as he nods, looking at his own cards. He's not sure how to proceed. He decides to keep the game simple. "I don't have any twos," he says. "Now it's your turn to Go Fish." Plankton nods, his concentration unbroken. He scans his cards again. "Got any fish?" he asks, his voice determined. Sponge Bob's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with understanding. "No fish here," he says, placing a card face down. "Go Fish." Plankton's antennas twitch rapidly as he processes the new information, his brain working to keep up with the game's flow. "Go Fish," he repeats, his voice gaining confidence with each exchange. Sponge Bob's eyes widen slightly but he nods along, playing his part. "Okay, Plankton," he says, placing a card on the pile. "Your turn." Plankton's antennas wobble as he considers his next move. "Got any fish?" he asks again, his voice a mix of excitement and challenge. Sponge Bob's smile becomes a bit forced. "Nope," he says, his voice still cheerful. "Go Fish." Plankton's eye dart to the cards in his hand, then back to Sponge Bob. His antennas wave erratically as he tries to formulate his next question. "Got any...?" Sponge Bob waits patiently, his heart aching for his friend. He's never seen Plankton like this before, for SpongeBob doesn't know about the accident nor the diagnosis. "Got any fish?" Plankton's words echo in the silence of the room. Sponge Bob's confusion mounts as he looks into his friend's eye, searching for a clue to what's going on. "No, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained. "I don't have any fish." Plankton's antennas drop slightly, his expression one of disappointment. "Go Fish," he murmurs, his gaze drifting to the card pile. Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend, trying to understand this new, strange behavior. "Do you want to play something else?" he asks, hoping to distract Plankton from his obsession with the game. But Plankton's antennas spring back to life. "More fish," he insists, his voice almost a command. Sponge Bob nods, his mind racing to comprehend what's happening. He knows Plankton's mind is sharp, so why the repetition? "Got any fish?" Plankton asks again, his voice growing more urgent. Sponge Bob's smile falters. He's never seen Plankton act this way before. The urgency in Plankton's voice, the repetition of words, it's all so strange and disconcerting. "I don't understand," he says, his voice small and unsure. "What's going on with you?" Plankton's antennas quiver slightly at Sponge Bob's question, but his eye remains fixed on the cards. "I don't understand," he says, voice soft but firm. "What's going on with you." Sponge Bob's smile falters, his eyes searching Plankton's face for answers. "It's just a game, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You don't have to keep asking for fish." This isn't the Plankton he knows, the cunning and scheming arch-nemesis who always has a plan up his sleeve. This is someone else entirely, someone lost and confused. But Plankton doesn't seem to hear him. "Fish," he whispers, his antennas twitching in time with his words. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob feels a knot form in his stomach. Is Plankton trying to annoy him? "Plankton, are you ok?" he asks gently, his voice filled with concern. Plankton's antennas stop twitching for a moment, his gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "Plankton are you ok," he echoes, his eye searching Sponge Bob's for a clue. "Fish." Sponge Bob's brow furrows deeper, his confusion growing. "You don't have to keep asking for fish, Plankton," he says again. But Plankton's mind is stuck on the pattern, his voice insistent. "Fish," he repeats. Sponge Bob's now getting irritated. The echoing of his words, the intense stare, and the persistent demand for "fish" are unlike anything he's ever seen. "Plankton, please," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "I don't have any fish. Let's play a different game." But Plankton's antennas only wiggle more rapidly. "Fish," he insists. "Got any fish?" Sponge Bob's patience is wearing thin, his cheery demeanor slipping away. "I said no!" he snaps, his voice a little too loud. Plankton recoils at the sudden change in tone, his antennas drooping. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice filled with uncertainty. Sponge Bob's eyes widen with regret at his outburst. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, his voice softening. "I didn't mean to yell. But Plankton, I don't have any more fish!" Plankton's antennas sag, and his eye becomes unfocused. "No fish," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. Sponge Bob's never seen Plankton like this, his behavior so repetitive and unresponsive to his words. It was as if the game had become the center of Plankton's entire world, and Sponge Bob's refusal to play along had shattered it. "I'm sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice trembling with frustration. "I just don't understand why you're so obsessed with fish." Plankton looks up, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's, a hint of hurt flickering across his expression. "Fish," he says again, his voice smaller this time. "Need fish." Sponge Bob sighs, his hands going to his face. "Ok," he says, his voice muffled. "Let's just finish this game."

CATCH IN MY CHIP iv (Autistic author) Plankton looks around, confusion flickering in his eye. "What's going on?" "You had a bit of an overload," Karen explains, her voice gentle. "Too much sensory input, remember?" Plankton's antennas twitch, and his eye widens slightly as he takes in the scene. The mess, the quiet, Chip's tear-stained face. He sighs, his body relaxing back into the pillows. "Ah, yes," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you." Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "It's okay, dear. We're just here for you." Plankton's gaze drifts to Chip, who's hovering in the doorway, his eyes wide and worried. "Chip... I'm sorry." Chip's eyes fill with tears, his voice shaking. "It's okay, Dad. Is your autism causing..." Plankton looks at him, his eye widening slightly. "What do you know about autism?" He sits up, his voice tinged with surprise. Chip sniffles, his grip tight on the seashell collection. "Mom told me," he says, his voice barely audible. "It's why you got overwhelmed, isn't it?" Plankton's expression shifts from confusion to something closer to anger. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me," he snaps, his voice sharp. "I can handle it." "But Dad you just..." Plankton cuts Chip off, his voice edged with agitation. "I said, I can handle it!" Chip takes a step back, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He hadn't meant to upset his dad; he just wanted to understand. "You couldn't handle it, Dad. Otherwise, you..." Plankton's eye narrows, his antennas standing on end. "Don't," he says, his voice a warning growl. "I don't need a little kid telling me what I can and can't handle." Chip's shoulders slump, his eyes welling up. "But I just... I didn't mean to..." "I said, I can handle it!" Plankton's voice cracks through the air, his face flushing with irritation. Karen's grip on Chip's hand tightens, a silent message to stay calm. Chip's eyes water as he stammers, "But I just wanted to help." The weight of his dad's words hits him like a brick. He hadn't meant to make him mad, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something wrong. Plankton's breaths are sharp and quick, his body tense with frustration. "You don't know what you're talking about," he snaps, pushing the covers off his legs. "You're just a kid. You don't understand." Chip's eyes well up with tears as he looks at his father, the man he's always admired and loved, now a stranger in his own pain. "But Mom said it's okay for..." Plankton's anger flares, his antennas quivering. "Don't you dare bring your mom into this," he says, cutting Chip off again. "This is not your business!" Chip's lower lip trembles, his eyes filling with tears. He hadn't meant to upset his dad, but everything he says seems to make it worse. "But Dad," he starts, but his voice is lost in the wave of Plankton's frustration. "I don't need your pity," Plankton says, his voice rising. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his movements quick and jerky. "You think just because you know a fancy word, you know what it's like?" Chip feels his cheeks burn, his eyes blurred with unshed tears. "No, Dad, I just..." But Plankton is already out of bed, his legs wobbly. "You think you know everything, don't you?" His words are a jumble of anger and pain, his voice echoing in the quiet room. Chip steps back, his eyes wide with shock. "No, Dad, I just..." He tries to explain, but Plankton interrupts again. "Don't tell me what you 'just,'" Plankton snaps. "You think because you went to some camp you can come back and act like you know me?" His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. Chip's eyes dart to the ground, his body shrinking under the weight of his father's words. "But Dad, I just..." Plankton's anger is palpable, his body vibrating with tension. "I said, don't tell me what you 'just'!" He snatches up Chip's new surfboard, the one symbol of joy from camp, and slams it against the wall. The room shakes with the impact, sending a shower of sand and shells flying. Chip jumps, his eyes wide with shock. "Dad, please," he whispers, his voice shaking. He's never seen his dad like this, never felt such anger radiating from him. It's like a storm has taken over the room, and he's the only one caught in it. "What are you doing?" Chip asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He takes a step back, his hands up in a protective gesture. "What does it look like?" Plankton snarls, his grip tight on the broken surfboard. "I can't even have a moment without you poking and prodding!" Chip's eyes dart around the room, his heart racing as he tries to find the words to fix this. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to help." But Plankton is beyond reason, his anger a living thing that feeds off the chaos. He turns to the desk, his gaze settling on the pile of sandy photos. "You think your camp souvenirs mean anything to me?" He snatches the pictures, ripping them into shreds. Chip gasps, tears spilling down his cheeks as he watches his memories destroyed. "Dad, no!" He tries to grab the photos, his hands shaking, but Plankton swats him away, the torn pieces falling like confetti around them. The room seems to close in, the smell of saltwater and musty sand overwhelming him. "These are from my trip!" Chip sobs, his voice choking on his own pain. "I don't care about your trip!" Plankton shouts, throwing the remaining pieces into the air. They flutter down like sad confetti, a stark contrast to the joy they once represented. "I care about me! I care about what you do to me with your noise and your energy!" Chip's heart feels like it's shattering into a million pieces, each one a memory of his dad's love and patience torn apart. "I didn't mean to," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. "I just wanted to share..." Plankton's eye flashes with anger, his grip on the shredded photos white-knuckled. "Share?" He spits the word out like it's poison. "You have no idea what you're doing to me! You just keep pushing and pushing, and you don't even notice when I can't take it anymore!" Chip's eyes dart to the floor, his hands curling into fists. "I thought you liked it," he says, his voice shaking. "I thought you liked when I talked about my day." Plankton's chest heaves, his eye blazing with frustration. "You don't get it, do you?" He says, his voice rising. "You never get it!" He picks up Chip's rare seashell collection, the one he'd been so proud to show off, and hurls it across the room. The sound of breaking shells fills the air, each one a shard of Chip's shattered happiness. "Dad, please!" Chip begs, his hands outstretched. "Stop!" But Plankton's rage has taken over, a whirlwind of accusations and anger. "You think this is fun?" He yells, holding up a shard of seashell. "You think this is what I want?" Plankton throws the shard down, the clatter of broken shells like a mocking echo of Chip's pleas. "I don't want your noise!" His hands shake with fury as he grabs the sandy trophy from the camp sandwich contest. "Dad, please," Chip says, his voice small and scared. "What's wrong?" He tries to approach, but Plankton's body language is a clear warning. Plankton's eye dart around the room, his anger a tangible force. "Wrong?" He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "Wrong is you, coming in here with your stories and your noise and your... stuff!" He gestures wildly at the camp souvenirs, the remnants of Chip's excitement scattered across the floor. He hurls the trophy at the wall, watching with a twisted satisfaction as it shatters into a hundred pieces. "This," he says, holding up a fistful of sand, "this is what you do to me!" Chip flinches with each broken piece, his heart aching. "But Dad, I just wanted to make you proud." His voice is barely a whisper, lost in the storm of Plankton's rage. "Proud?" Plankton sneers, his grip tight on the sand. "You think this junk makes me proud?" He throws the sand at Chip, the grains stinging his face like tiny needles. "You have no idea what I go through every day, do you?" His voice cracks, his anger giving way to pain. Karen steps in, her voice firm but calm. "Plankton, that's enough." Her eyes are on her son, her face a mask of concern. "Chip, why don't you go... dust your screen?" Her tone is gentle, but her gaze holds a silent message: stay calm. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's. He turns and heads for the bathroom, his steps slow and deliberate. The door clicks closed behind him, leaving Karen and Plankton alone in the room.

GREAT CHIP iv (Autistic author) In the bedroom, Karen managed to guide Plankton to the bed, her voice soothing. She knew his senses were heightened right now, his body a battleground. Chip hovered in the doorway, his eyes never leaving his dad. He felt like he didn't recognize this man who had always been his hero. The seizure passed, leaving Plankton drained. Karen helped tucked him in, her eyes filled with sadness. In the quiet that followed, she turned to Chip, his own eyes red and puffy. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she said gently. Chip nodded, his gaze still on Plankton's exhausted face. "Is he okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "He'll be fine," Karen assured, her voice strained. "Just tired. This happens sometimes." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. He felt like he was seeing his dad for the first time, like he'd been looking at him through a fog and suddenly, it had lifted. He didn't know what to do with the mix of feelings swirling inside him: confusion, fear, sadness. Karen took Chip's hand, squeezing it gently. "Let's go talk, okay?" she suggested, leading him out of the room. They sat in the kitchen, the silence heavy between them. "I don't get it," Chip said finally, his voice still shaky. "Why did Dad get so mad?" Karen sighed, her grip on his hand tightening. "It's not that he's mad at you, sweetheart. It's his way of dealing with the fear and confusion. Sometimes, his brain gets overwhelmed, and it's like he can't control his reactions." Chip looked at her, his eyes searching for understanding. "But why does he have to break my toys?" he asked, his voice still small. Karen's heart ached for him. "It's not about the toys," she explained softly. "It's about the frustration he feels, the inability to communicate what he's going through." Chip sniffled, trying to wrap his head around it all. "But why does he get so...so...mad?" Karen's eyes were filled with understanding. "It's not just you, Chip. Sometimes, his brain needs a way to deal with everything. It's like his own personal tornado, and when it hits, it's hard for him to keep his emotions from spinning out of control." Chip nodded, still not fully understanding but willing to try. He looked down at their joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm. "What can I do?" Karen squeezed his hand. "Just be patient," she said. "And don't take it personally. Remember, it's not about you, it's about what he's feeling. And when he's ready, we can talk about it together." Chip nodded, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. He didn't want to upset his dad again, but he needed to know how to help. He didn't want to feel so powerless. "But what if he doesn't want to talk?" he ventured, his voice small. "Then we'll give him space," Karen said, her eyes filled with warmth. "But we'll be here, ready to listen when he does." Chip nodded, wiping away the last of his tears with the back of his hand. "Okay," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "Can I sit with him?" Karen nodded. "Just for a bit, but remember, he might not know you're there right away. Let's go." They tiptoe back into the room, the air still thick with tension. Plankton's eye is closed. Karen knows he's sleeping. Chip sits in the chair beside the bed, watching his dad's chest rise and fall. He reaches out to touch Plankton's hand, but stops. He didn't want to startle him, not after what happened. His mind raced with questions, but he knew now was not the time to ask. Instead, Chip took a deep breath, his hand hovering over Plankton's. He didn't know how to make it right, but he knew he had to try. Karen watched from the doorway, her heart heavy with the weight of her family's pain. She knew this was a moment that could either build a wall or bridge the gap between father and son. Chip's hand hovered, unsure, before finally landing on his dad's. Plankton's antennae twitched, and Chip looked up to see his mother's eyes glistening with proud tears. Karen offered a gentle smile. "You can sit with him," she whispered. "Just don't touch him anywhere else." Chip nodded and pulled the chair closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving his dad's still face. He sat for what felt like hours, his hand resting gently on Plankton's. Every now and then, his dad's antennae would twitch, and he'd hold his breath, afraid that he'd wake him up. But Plankton remained still, lost in a deep slumber. The room was quiet, save for the soft snores escaping his dad's mouth. Chip stared at his hand on Plankton's, his mind racing with everything he'd learned. Autism, seizures, the way his dad's brain worked differently. It was all so new and overwhelming. He felt a pang of guilt for not knowing sooner, for not understanding. But Karen's words echoed in his mind: his dad's reactions weren't personal. It was just how his brain dealt with stress. Chip leaned back in the chair, his eyes heavy with the weight of the day's events. He watched his dad's chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm comforting him. His thoughts swirled with questions and confusion, but he knew one thing for sure: he loved his dad, no matter what. As the minutes ticked by, his fear turned into resolve. He would learn more about his father and try to find a way to support him without setting off the storm of sensory overload.

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iv (Autistic author) Sandy feels the full weight of her words crash down upon her. The accusations she had thrown at Plankton now felt like sharp stones in her own stomach. Her mind reels as she tries to comprehend what she had just learned. Autism? Plankton? How could she have been so blind, so cruel? Her gaze falls to the floor, avoiding Karen's. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, her voice thick with guilt. "I didn't know." Karen nods, her own emotions swirling. "But we need to be more careful with him." Sandy's eyes are glued to the floor, her tail flicking nervously. "I didn't mean to hurt him," she says, her voice small and ashamed. "I just thought he was being weird." Karen nods, understanding. "I know," she says, her voice gentle. "But now we know better, and we have to help him." She moves towards the bedroom, her steps determined. "Let's go check on him." They enter the room quietly. Karen's optical sensors scan his tiny form, noticing the slight rise and fall of his chest. He's asleep, she realizes, exhausted from the emotional turmoil. Sandy's gaze follows hers, her expression a mix of regret and curiosity. She's never seen Plankton like this before, his features softer, almost peaceful in repose. "Is he okay?" she asks, her voice a whisper. Karen nods, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "He's sleeping," she says, her voice filled with tenderness. "It's been a big day for him." Sandy steps closer, her gaze taking in Plankton's sleeping features. His face, usually twisted with plotting and schemes, is now slack with exhaustion. His eye, usually alive with cunning, is closed, and his breaths come in deep, even snores, his mouth slightly agape. "What do we do now?" Sandy asks, her voice hushed. Karen sits beside him on the bed, her hand still on his shoulder. "We help him," she says, her voice firm. "We learn about his autism and how we can support him." They spend the next few moments in silence, the air heavy with the weight of what has been said. Karen's hand continues to gently stroke Plankton's shoulder. Sandy sits down on the opposite side of the bed. Her gaze is fixed on Plankton, her thoughts racing. She had known him for so long, and yet she had never considered this possibility. "What does this mean for him?" she whispers, her voice filled with concern. Karen sighs, her hand still stroking Plankton's shoulder. "It means we'll have to make some changes," she says softly. "He'll need routines, and patience, and understanding." Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can do that," she says, her voice filled with determination. "But what about... us?" Karen looks up, her gaze meeting Sandy's. "What do you mean?" she asks, her hand pausing in its soothing motion. Sandy swallows, her eyes still on Plankton. "Our friendship," she says. "How do we handle this without making him feel... different?" Karen nods, understanding her concern. "We just need to be there for him," she says. "He's still the same Plankton, just with some new challenges." They sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythm of Plankton's snores. Sandy reaches out tentatively, her paw hovering over his arm. "Is it ok to touch him?" she asks. Karen nods. "Yes, Sandy. Just be gentle," she whispers. Sandy's paw touches Plankton's arm, her touch light and tentative. He stirs slightly, but doesn't wake. She leaves her paw there, offering comfort without intrusion. Karen watches them with a mix of love and fear for the future. Plankton's autism was still a mystery to them, a labyrinth they were just beginning to navigate. She knows it won't be easy, but she's determined to be by his side. "We're a team," she says, squeezing Plankton's shoulder. Sandy nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "A team," she repeats, her voice filled with resolve. For the first time since the diagnosis, the three of them are united in a common goal: to understand and support Plankton as he navigates his new reality. Sandy and Karen exchange a look, each one filled with a determination that mirrors the other. They've been friends through thick and thin, through Krabby Patty heists and jellyfish stings, and now they're facing a challenge none of them had ever anticipated. Sandy's paw remains on Plankton's arm, her touch steady and reassuring. Plankton stirred, his sleep disturbed by the unfamiliar weight of Sandy's paw on his arm. His eye fluttered open, and he was met with the sight of Sandy and Karen, their faces contorted with a mix of concern and confusion. He sat up quickly, his body jolting with fear. "Plankton, it's ok," Karen soothes, her hand reaching out to calm him. "You're safe." "Karen sad?" he asks, his voice cracking. Sandy's paw tightens on his arm, which makes Plankton feel uncomfortable enough to get him to snap at her. "What Sandy want?" he asks, his voice sharp, his body tense with anxiety. Sandy's eyes fill with tears. "I didn't mean to make you upset," she says, her voice shaking. "I just didn't know." Plankton's gaze flits between them, trying to read their expressions, but his brain struggles to interpret their complex emotions. "Karen sad?" he repeats, his voice a mix of fear and confusion. Karen's hand moves to cover Sandy's, her grip firm but gentle. "No, Plankton," she says, her voice soothing. "We're just concerned about you." Sandy takes a deep breath, forcing back her tears. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Plankton's gaze flickers between them, his mind racing to understand the situation. "No hurt," he says, his voice shaky. "Sandy say Karen sad. No sad." Karen's circuits pulse with a mixture of relief and sadness. "Sandy didn't mean it, Plankton," she says, her voice filled with compassion. "We're all just trying to understand what's happening." Sandy's eyes are cast down, her paws fidgeting in her lap. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice heavy with regret. "I didn't know." She grabs Plankton in a hug, unaware of how the tight embrace might feel to him. Plankton stiffens, his senses getting overwhelmed. "No touch," he says, his voice tight. Sandy quickly releases him, her eyes wide with apology. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to help." Karen nods, her gaze softening. "We all do," she says. "But we have to learn how to help in ways that don't overwhelm him." Plankton's eye darts around the room, with the need to regulate himself. He starts to rock in a rhythmic motion, a self-soothing behavior his new autism craves. The sensation of his own movements helps to calm the storm of thoughts and emotions swirling within him. Karen notices the change immediately and nods understandingly. "It's ok, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "You do what you need to do." Sandy watches, her curiosity piqued by the rhythmic rocking "What's he doing?" she asks, her voice hushed. Karen sighs, her gaze filled with understanding. "It's his way of self-soothing," she explains. "It's called stimming." Sandy's eyes widen, taking in Plankton's rhythmic rocks. "Stimming?" she repeats. "What's that?" Karen nods, her voice calm and patient. "It's a way for him to regulate his sensory input," she explains. "It helps him feel safe and in control." Sandy watches. He starts to hum, a low buzz that resonates in the quiet room, his way of finding comfort in the chaos of his thoughts. "It's ok," Karen whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "We're here." Plankton's eye lock onto her hand, the pressure of her touch offering a semblance of comfort. He starts to rock back and forth again. The movement calms him slightly. Sandy watches. She had never seen Plankton like this before. The sharpness of her words from earlier stings her now, as she realizes the depth of his distress. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice quiet. "I didn't know." Plankton's humming turns to a soft melody, his body still moving in a soothing pattern. The words echo in his head, a reminder of the world's expectations he can never quite meet. Sandy watches him, her own world now forever changed. She had always known Plankton to be eccentric, but this was different. This was real. Her mind reels with questions and fears. How would this affect their friendship? Could they ever return to the easy banter they once shared? Would he still be the same friend she had always known? But as she watches him stim, the reality of the situation starts to set in. Plankton was still Plankton, but with a new set of rules and a new way of seeing the world. Sandy makes a silent vow to learn those rules, to understand his world as much as he had tried to understand hers.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iv (Autistic author) Without missing a beat, Plankton starts rattling off a stream of facts. "Jellyfish are invertebrates," he says, his voice gaining speed and confidence. "They have no bones, no brains, but they have stinging cells called nematocysts." "Wow, Plankton, that's amazing," Sponge Bob says, eyes wide with wonder. "I didn't know that!" "Neither did I," Karen admits, a small smile playing. "You've always had a knack for science, but this is something else." Plankton nods, his excitement palpable. "Jellyfish have life cycle," he continues, his voice taking on the rhythm of a lecturer. "Start as polyps, then grow into medusae." Plankton's antennae twitch as he recites facts rapidly. "Jellyfish can have hundreds of stinging tentacles," he says, his voice gaining momentum. "And some species can even clone themselves. It's called strobilation!" he says, his eye glued to the book. His voice is monotone, but the enthusiasm is clear as he shares his newfound knowledge. "That's so cool, Plankton!" Sponge Bob exclaims. "I had no idea!" Plankton nods. "Jellyfish book," he says again, his voice still a monotone, but his tone is less flat. Karen and Sponge Bob share a hopeful look. Plankton's intense focus on jellyfish seems to be providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos of his new reality. "I think Plankton might just become the smartest jellyfish expert in Bikini Bottom," Karen says trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe one day we can go jellyfishing together," Sponge Bob says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his gaze flicking to Sponge Bob before returning to the book. "Jellyfishing," he repeats. "But Plankton, remember jellyfishing can be dangerous if they sting" Karen says gently with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch. "Dangerous," he repeats, his eye still on the book. "Jellyfish sting, but Plankton have plan." He flips through the pages, stopping at an image of a jellyfish in a jar. "Jellyfish in jar," he says, tapping the picture. "Safe jellyfish." Karen and Sponge Bob exchange a look. "You wanna keep jellyfish in a jar, Plankton?" Sponge Bob asks, voice tentative. Plankton nods vigorously. "Jellyfish in jar, safe jellyfish," he says, his excitement palpable. Sponge Bob leans closer to the book, his curiosity piqued. "What else does the book say, Plankton?" Plankton starts reading off the index and page numbers, his voice a monotone yet steady stream of information. "Jellyfish page 12. Nematocysts, page 34. Jellyfish reproduction, page 67," he recites, his antennae twitching with each number. Sponge Bob leans in closer, fascinated by Plankton's sudden wealth of knowledge. "How do you remember all of that?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Good memory," he says, his voice still flat but with a hint of pride. "Plankton read book." Karen nods, her gaze soft. "Yes, you read the book," she says, her voice a gentle reminder. "You've learned so much about jellyfish." Plankton's antennae quiver with excitement as he flips through the pages. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his gaze alight with a passion that Karen hadn't seen in him since before the accident. "You know, Plankton," Sponge Bob says, leaning closer to the book. "Maybe we could start a jellyfish club. Just you, me, and Karen. We could learn all about them together." Plankton's antennae stand at attention at the idea. "Jellyfish club," he repeats, his voice a mix of excitement and skepticism. "With Karen and Sponge Bob?" "Yes," Karen says with a smile, her voice filled with hope. Plankton nods, his antennae moving with the rhythm of his thoughts. "Jellyfish club," he murmurs, the words rolling around in his head like a treasure found at the bottom of the sea. "Yea Plankton who knew, easy as pie!" "Pie?" he repeated, the word echoing in the room. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." His voice grew in confidence as he recited the digits, his eye glazing over as he fell into a rhythm that seemed almost meditative. Karen and Sponge Bob stared at him in amazement as he rattled off the numbers, his monotone delivery a stark contrast to the awe in their expressions. "Plankton, that's incredible!" Karen exclaimed with astonishment. "Pi, yes," Plankton said unwavering. "Circle's ratio." Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "How?" "Pi," Plankton began, his antennae quivering slightly as he found his rhythm. "The ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. 3.14159265358979323846..." He recited the digits as if they were the most natural thing in the world, his voice steady and unwavering. Karen and Sponge Bob watched in amazement as Plankton's eye took on a faraway look, his focus solely on the mathematical constant that held the secrets of the universe's geometry. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight of Plankton's newfound passion. "It's incredible how you can remember all of that," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "Remember pi," Plankton said, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "Easy for Plankton." "Wow, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his eyes sparkling with amazement. "You're a math genius!" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly at the compliment.

THE LIFE OF UNITY iv (Autistic author) Kevin's smirk is long gone, replaced by a look of shock and regret. "I... I had no idea," he stammers. "I didn't mean to... I didn't know." Plankton's antennae quiver. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob's protectively around Plankton, who is now visibly upset. "You hurt Plankton's feelings," he says, his voice firm but not unkind. "You see, Plankton had an accident. He's not the same as before. He nearly broke his skull on a cash register at the Krusty Krab. It changed him." Kevin's expression shifts from shock to disbelief. "What do you mean, 'changed him'?" he asks, his tentacles quivering slightly. "He has autism now," Sponge Bob says simply, never leaving Plankton's trembling form. "It's ok, Plankton," he murmurs, tightening around the tiny plankton. "You're still you." Kevin's eyes widen, the reality of the situation sinking in. "Oh my...," he whispers, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "I had no idea." Plankton's voice filled with accusation. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you didn't know. You didn't care." Kevin's eyes are wide. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's cutting off Kevin's apology. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye flashing with pain. "Kevin not care." "I'm sorry, Plankton. I didn't mean to be so cruel." But Plankton's unyielding. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye still brimming with unshed tears. "You didn't know. You no care." Kevin's smugness evaporates as the weight of his own words crashes down on him. The realization that his careless jests have caused such pain is written all over his face. His eyes are wide with horror, his tentacles trembling. "I'm sorry," he whispers, starting to touch Plankton. But Plankton recoils at the touch, his antennae quivering violently, his monotone voice filled with panic. "NO!" he squeaks, his one eye wide with fear. "Kevin, no touch!" Kevin's tentacles jerk back as if burned, his eyes filled with shock and remorse. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, his voice thick with regret. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to..." "Kevin, no touch," he repeats, his one eye flashing. "Plankton not like that." "I didn't know," he whispers, his eyes never leaving Plankton's trembling form. "I'm so sorry." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of the fear he feels. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye fixed on the sea cucumber, "you didn't know. You don't care." Sponge Bob's placing himself between Plankton and the sea cucumber. "Kevin," he says firmly with a newfound resolve. "You need to apologize to Plankton. What you said was not okay." Kevin's tentacles quiver, his eyes darting from Sponge Bob to Plankton's trembling form. "I'm... I'm sorry," he stammers, his smugness replaced by genuine contrition. "I didn't know. I didn't mean it like that." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness, his monotone voice still echoing the pain of the insult. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye narrowed, "you hurt Plankton." Kevin's expression falls, the full impact of his words hitting him like a brick wall. He takes a step back, his tentacles drooping. "I didn't know," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had... you know." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and pain. "Kevin," he murmurs, his monotone voice strained. "Kevin hurt Plankton. Not funny." Kevin's tentacles twitch, his expression a mix of shock and discomfort. "Look, I didn't know," he says, his voice quivering. "I'm sorry. I just..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness, his monotone voice cutting through the awkward silence. "Space," he murmurs, his one eye pleading. Kevin creeps up closer. "Space? What..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and fear, his monotone voice a sad echo of the pain Kevin's words have caused. "Plankton," he murmurs, his one eye wide with desperation. "Alone." Kevin still doesn't understand. "You're not alone," he starts, reaching out. But Plankton's antennae quiver more fiercely, his monotone voice filled with a rare urgency. "No," he murmurs, his one eye darting around. "Space." "I don't underst--" But Plankton's filled with a desperation Kevin had never heard before. "Space," he murmurs again, more forcefully this time. "Kevin, go." "Go to outer space? But..." "Space," Plankton repeats more insistently, his eye frantic. Kevin's with confusion. "But, Plankton we're in the middle of the jellyfish fields." But Plankton's antennae quiver with urgency, his monotone voice unwavering. "Space," he murmurs, his one eye pleading. "Now." "I don't..." Kevin starts, grabbing Plankton's hand. But Plankton's antennae quiver with anger, and he pulls away, his monotone voice rising. "SPACE!" he shouts, his eye flashing with fury. Startled, Kevin takes a step back. "Where in outer space?" But Plankton's antennae quiver with impatience, his monotone voice tight. "Any space," he cries. "Just go." Kevin's tentacles twitch, his smugness forgotten. "But... but what about the jellyfish? Oh do you mean any planet.." He says, absent mindedly putting his hand on Plankton's back. But Plankton's antennae quiver with anger, and he jumps away. "NO TOUCH!" he screams, his monotone voice cracking with emotion. "PLANKTON. NEED. SPACE!" Kevin's tentacles recoil as if stung, his eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry," he stammers, taking a step back. "I can't fly a rocket to space.." But Plankton's antennae quiver with rage. "Any space," he repeats, his one eye glaring. "Away." Kevin's tentacles hang limp, his smugness shattered by the depth of Plankton's pain. "But, Plankton, we can't leave Earth without..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with fury, his monotone voice a whip crack. "Any space," he repeats, his one eye narrowed. "Now." Kevin's tentacles retract, his smugness gone. "Any planet other than Earth? I'd like to help but..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with frustration, his monotone voice cutting through the confusion. "Not space," he murmurs, his one eye blazing with anger. "Space." Kevin's tentacles tremble, his smile fading into a look of fear. "I can't get outer space without a rocket?" he says, taking a step back. But Plankton's antennae quiver with anger, his monotone voice a thunderclap in the stillness. "No rocket," he murmurs, his one eye flashing. "Space. Now." Kevin's tentacles quiver, his smugness replaced by fear. "But Plankton," he stammers, taking a step back, "we can't just go to space without..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with rage, his monotone voice a whip crack. "Space," he repeats, his one eye narrowed. "Now." Kevin's tentacles retreat, his smugness replaced by a look of pure terror. "But Plankton, I can't just leave the sea," he says, his voice shaking. But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and desperation, his monotone voice a thunderclap in the quiet waters. "Space," he repeats unwavering. Kevin's tentacles retreat, his smugness replaced by a look of fear as he tries to comprehend Plankton's words. "But Plankton," he stammers, "you can't survive in space. It's not possible." But Plankton's antennae quiver with anger, his monotone voice a monotone shout. "Space," he repeats, his one eye flashing with desperation. "Away from here." Kevin's tentacles retract, his smugness dissolving in to confusion. "But Plankton, we're in the middle of jellyfish fields," he says, his voice trembling. "We can't just..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and desperation, his monotone voice a monotone shout. "SPACE!" he repeats, his one eye flashing. "Kevin go now!" Kevin's tentacles twitch, his smugness dissipating like smoke in the face of Plankton's distress. "But Plankton I don't..." he starts, taking a cautious step back. Plankton breathes in and gathers his words together, his antennae quivering with the effort of controlling his emotions. "Kevin JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouts, his monotone voice crackling with anger. Kevin's tentacles quiver in understanding, his smugness evaporating like mist in the sun. "Oh," he says, his voice small and sad. "You mean personal space.." Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his monotone voice softening. "Yes," he murmurs, his one eye blinking rapidly. "Space." Sponge Bob nods. "Okay, Kevin," he says firmly. "You need to give Plankton some space right now. He's going through a tough time." Kevin's smugness is completely gone, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He takes a step back. "I had no idea," he whispers. "I'm really sorry. I'll go. Bye."

🇮🇻🇻🇮🇮

TRUTH AND NAIL iv His eye flickered open again, his gaze unfocused. "Wha?" he mumbled, his voice slurred. "Home?" Karen nodded, her smile a beacon in the dark. "Almost," she said, her voice like a gentle breeze. Plankton's eyelid fluttered, his mind a foggy haze. "Home...?" he slurred, his voice barely a whisper. "Almost, darling," Karen reassured him, her voice soothing as the car's gentle purr. His eye rolled back, lid heavy with sleep. The nurse had warned her about this, the anesthesia leaving him groggy and disoriented. But the sight of him, drooling and slumped over, was still a bit foreign. "Home, soon," Karen soothed, her voice a whisper in the quiet car. "Just stay awake." But Plankton's eye closed again, his head lolling back. His snores were the only sound in the car, a steady counterpoint to the hum of the engine. "What's your favorite color, Plankton?" she asked, trying to keep his thoughts afloat. His eye blinked slowly, his gaze unfocused. "Buh...blu?" he murmured, his voice a faint echo. Karen's smile grew wider, full of love and amusement. "Good boy," she whispered, patting his hand. "Stay with me." But Plankton's eyelid were heavy, his mind a swirl of confusion and exhaustion. His head fell back again, his snores a rhythmic accompaniment to the hum of the car. "Stay with me, love," Karen coaxed, her voice a soft lullaby in the silence of the night. His chest rose and fell with each snore, his body relaxed. Plankton's head jerked upwards with a snort, his eye wide for a moment before the sleep dragged it shut again. "Home?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Karen's eyes never left the road ahead, her grip tight on the steering wheel. "Almost, darling," she said, her voice a comforting purr. "Just stay with me a bit longer." But Plankton's body had other plans. With a snort, he slumped over again, his head bouncing on the headrest like a rag doll's. Karen knew he was okay. Just...out of it. "Plankton, stay awake," she urged, her voice a soft caress in the darkness. But his snores grew louder, his breathing deep and even. "Wha...?" Plankton's head jerked up, his eye widening in surprise. "Where am I?" Karen glanced in the rearview mirror, her smile tight. "You're in the car, sweetie. We're almost home." Her voice was a soft reminder of reality, but his mind was still swimming in a sea of anesthesia. "Home?" Plankton slurred, his voice a faint echo. His head lolled to the side, his eye trying to focus on the passing streetlights. "Almost," Karen said, her voice a soft whisper. "Just stay with me." But Plankton's eye closed again, his snores filling the car. Karen sighed, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. This was going to be a long night..

NEW REALITY iv (Autistic author) "Plankton," she starts, her voice shaking, "the explosion changed your brain. It's called Autism." His eye widens slightly as he takes in the words, his hand still moving in its repetitive pattern. He repeats the word, "Autism?" his tone curious. Karen nods, wiping her screen. "It's like... your brain now sees and feels things differently. It's okay," she adds quickly, trying to reassure him. "It's just different." Plankton seems to consider this, his hand finally still. "Different," he whispers. Karen nods, trying to smile through her tears. "But we'll get through this together," she says, her voice shaking. "We're a team." Plankton's gaze lingers on her face for a moment before returning to the fan. "Team," he echoes, his hand stilling briefly before resuming its wave-like motion. Karen swallows hard, trying to keep her composure. She needs to find a way to connect with him, to bridge the gap that seems to be growing wider by the second. She brings his hand to her cheek. "Do you feel that?" she asks, her voice a soft whisper. He nods, his hand feeling cold against her skin. "Feel," he says, his tone flat. "Karen warm." Encouraged, Karen tries a gentle squeeze of his hand. His gaze doesn't waver from the fan, but his grip tightens slightly. "Squeeze," he murmurs, his voice a monotone. Her heart racing, Karen decides to experiment with different types of affectionate touches. She strokes his antennae lightly, watching his reaction. His eye flutters closed for a moment, then opens again. "Tickle," he says, his voice a little more animated. Encouraged, she gently traces his back with her fingers. "Yes good." He says. Karen's eyes fill with tears as she feels a glimmer of hope. "I'm going to try some more things, okay?" Plankton nods, his gaze still on the fan. "More," he agrees. Karen takes a deep breath and starts with a soft caress of his cheek, the way she used to do before they went to sleep. His eye flickers slightly, his hand continuing its motion. "Okay," he says, his voice almost a whisper. Next, she tries a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Karen, nice," he murmurs, his antennae twitching. Encouraged, she decides to move to a different type of pressure. "How's this feel; good or bad?" Karen asks, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder when he suddenly flinches and pulls away. "No," Plankton says, his voice sharp. "To hard." Karen's hand recoils, her heart racing. She tries to keep her voice steady. "I'm sorry, Plankton. Let's try something else." Plankton nods, his gaze unfocused. "Yes, Karen. Try." Gently, she starts to rub his back in small, soothing circles. "How about this?" she asks, her voice tentative. Plankton's body relaxes slightly. "Good," he murmurs. Encouraged, she tries a gentle pat on his knee. "This?" "Stop," he says. Karen's hand freezes mid-air, her heart racing. "I'm sorry, did I do that wrong?" Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the fan. "Wrong," he confirms, his voice a monotone. Karen's face falls, her heart sinking. She's treading on thin ice, not knowing what will trigger his next reaction. She takes a deep breath, trying to think of a safe approach. "How about a hug?" she asks, slowly opening her arms. Plankton nods, his gaze still on the fan. He leans into her embrace, his body stiff at first, but gradually softening. "Karen," he murmurs, his voice a little less flat. Karen holds him tightly, her heart pounding. Maybe this is the way to reach him, through physical affection that doesn't overstimulate. She squeezes tighter. "Enough!" Plankton pulls away, his eye wide with anxiety. Karen's heart drops. She'd pushed too hard, too soon. "I'm sorry," she whispers, backing off immediately. She tries again, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "How does this feel?" His eye flicks to her hand, then back to the fan. "Okay," he says, his voice still mechanical. Karen keeps her hand there, willing him to look at her, to respond more naturally. But his gaze remains fixed on the spinning blades. Despite her fear of pushing too far, she gently takes his hand in hers. "Does this feel okay?" she asks. Plankton nods, his movements becoming less erratic. "Yes," he murmurs, his hand still in the same wave pattern. Karen decides to keep trying, moving her thumb in small circles on the back of his palm. Plankton's breath hitches, and she sees his pupil dilate slightly. "This?" she asks. He nods, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Encouraged, she switches to interlocking her fingers with his, feeling the coldness of his grip. "And this?" "Good," he says, his voice a bit softer. Karen tries a gentle squeeze, his hand stilling under hers. "Does this feel okay?" Plankton nods, his smile widening a fraction. Her heart racing with hope, she presses her cheek to his. "How about this?" she whispers. Plankton's antennae twitch, his body momentarily still. "Not now," he says, his voice a bit more present. Karen nods, her eyes stinging with tears. "Okay," she says, trying not to let her voice crack. She'll keep trying. Her hand moves to his shoulder, squeezing gently. "What about this?" Plankton's body tenses, his eye flicking to her hand, then back to the fan. "No," he says, his voice a firm rejection. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just want to help." Plankton's hand resumes its wave-like motion. "Help," he repeats. "Karen help." Karen nods, her eyes never leaving his. "I will," she promises, determined to find a way to connect with him. She decides to try a different approach, one that might bypass his sensory overload. "Plankton," she says softly, "Can you tell me what you're thinking about?" He nods, his hand still moving. "Fan. Spin. Like." Karen's chest tightens, but she nods. "Okay, Plankton. Let's talk about the fan." He nods eagerly, his hand stopping for a brief moment. "Fan," he says, his voice clearer. "Spin fast. Like." Karen takes a deep breath. "What do you like about the fan spinning?" she asks, hoping to engage him in a conversation that doesn't trigger his anxiety. Plankton's hand starts moving again, mimicking the fan's rotation. "Spin," he says, his voice still monotone. "Fast. Calm." Karen's eyes widen as she understands. "It calms you?" she asks, her voice tentative. He nods, his gaze finally leaving the fan to meet hers. "Yes," he says, a hint of emotion seeping into his voice. "Calm." Karen's mind races. If the fan's spinning is calming him, maybe there's something here to build on. "Can you tell me more about the calm?" Plankton nods, his hand mimicking the fan's movement. "Inside, quiet," he murmurs, his voice a bit softer. Karen's eyes fill with relief. "It's like white noise, isn't it?" she suggests, desperate to build a bridge between their worlds. Plankton's hand slows, his eye focusing on hers. "It's like white noise isn't it.." Karen nods, hope blossoming in her chest. "Exactly, sweetie. It's like it helps you focus, like it blocks out the chaos." Plankton's hand stops moving, his antennae drooping slightly. "Chaos," he whispers, his eye flicking around the room. Karen nods, her heart aching. "Yes, sometimes the world can be too much, can't it?" Plankton nods, his gaze still unfocused. "Too much," he agrees. "Spinning fan, less chaos." Karen's eyes well up with tears as she realizes the gravity of the situation. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice trembling. "I never meant for this to happen." Plankton nods, his gaze still unfocused. "Not Karen's fault," he says, his voice a robotic reassurance. "Invention go boom." Karen's eyes fill with gratitude, clinging to the knowledge that he understands. "I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," she says, wiping at her cheeks. Plankton nods, his hand starting to wave again. "Fan spin. Calm. Like Karen." Karen's heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. Maybe, just maybe, he's still in there somewhere. "You know, sweetie," she says, her voice quivering with hope, "sometimes people have different ways of seeing things. Like you and the fan. That's your special way of finding peace." Plankton nods, his gaze finally leaving the fan to focus on her. "Special," he repeats. "Plankton special." Karen smiles through her tears. "Yes, you are," she says, squeezing his hand gently. "And we'll figure this out together." Plankton nods, his hand still moving. "Together," he echoes.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iv (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's face was now slack with sleep. Karen moved silently, not wanting to disturb him. She knew how important this time was, how much he needed it. The house felt heavier with quiet, but Chip's door was open a crack, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Karen peeked in. He looked up, seeing her in the doorway. "Mom?" his voice was small, his screen searching hers. Karen walked over, sitting beside him on his bed. "Yes, Chip?" He looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Is Dad okay?" Karen took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "He will be, sweetie. Sometimes, people with disabilities have moments like this. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his throat tight. "But why's he..." Karen pulled him into a warm embrace. "It's okay to feel scared or confused. But remember, Dad's still in there. He loves you so much, and he's doing his best." Chip nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. "Does he know when it happens?" Karen's gaze remained steady. "Sometimes he does, sweetie. It's like when you get tired and need a nap. His brain just needs to recharge." Chip thought about that for a moment, his thumb playing with a loose thread on his blanket. "Does he remember what happens?" Karen's hand stilled on his back. "It's like a dream, Chip. Sometimes he remembers snippets, sometimes it's all a blur." Chip sat up, his eyes bright with questions. "Does he see us when he's like that?" Karen shrugs. "He might feel us, but his brain isn't fully here." Chip's mind raced with questions. "Mom, how did Dad get this... this... brain thing?" his voice cracked. Karen took a deep breath, her hand still warm on his back. "Well, sweetie, it's something he was born with. It's called autism, and it's a part of him." Chip's eyes widened. "But why? Did he do something wrong?" Karen sighed, her grip tightening around him. "No, Chip, it's not like that. It's just how his brain was made. Some people have different brain wiring, and that's okay. But in his specific circumstance, he was born posthumously, after his mum passed away.." Chip's eyes grew wider still, his curiosity piqued. "But, what? How..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. Karen took a deep breath, preparing herself for the explanation she had never thought she'd have to give. "Your dad's mum, she had him after she... passed away," she said, her voice gentle. Chip's eyes grew as big as saucers. "What do you mean, 'after she passed away'?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen took a moment, swallowing hard. "Well, sweetie, you know how babies are usually born when their mommies are alive and well, right?" Chip nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But how's that even physically possible?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's a rare procedure, Chip. When his mum was very sick, the doctors did everything they could to save her. But when she passed away, they realized his heart was still beating inside her." Chip's eyes were wide with horror and fascination. "But how did they get him out?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's eyes grew misty as she recounted the story, her voice soft and gentle. "They performed an emergency procedure called a post-mortem 'coffin birth'. It's very rare, Chip." Chip's eyes were like dinner plates, his mind trying to grasp the concept. "But how?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Karen took a moment to collect her thoughts, the story weighing heavily on her. "The doctors had to be very quick and careful, Chip. They knew Plankton had a chance, so they did what they could to save him. It was a miracle he made it out alive," she said, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of sadness. "Yet, because of the way he was born, his brain developed differently. That's what caused his autism. His brain was deprived of oxygen for a short time, which can lead to such conditions." Chip's hand went to his chest, his heart racing with the realization. "But does that mean he's... not like other dads?" Karen wrapped her arms around her son, holding him close. "Chip, your dad is unique, just like you. And yes, his brain works differently, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less. He might just show it in his own way." Chip sniffled, trying to make sense of everything. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked. Karen stroked his back, her heart heavy. "Because, sweetie, it's a hard thing to explain. And we didn't want to scare you or make you feel different about him. We wanted you to understand his quirks as part of who he is, not because of some label. And he's a good dad in his own way, even if he doesn't show it like other dads. Yet he also has his challenges, like with his sensory issues." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing with the new information. He had noticed how his dad sometimes flinched at loud noises or avoided crowded places.

TOOTH AFTERNOON iv The car’s engine hummed a soothing tune, and Karen’s voice was a gentle guide in the background. “Almost home, love. Just a few more minutes,” she said, her screen never leaving the road. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind a tangled mess of half-formed thoughts. “Huh?” he mumbled, his voice a slurred echo. Karen’s smile was a soft guiding light. “We’re almost home, Plankton. Just a bit more, ok?” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the warmth that awaited them. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and pain. “Home...moth...” he managed, his words still a slurred mess. Karen’s smile was a warm reassurance. “Yes, Plankton. Home. Just a few minutes more,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the comfort that was almost within reach. “Moth...no...moth...no...” his words made no sense. Karen’s smile grew, her eyes on the road ahead. “Almost there, Plankton. We’re just passing the park. You can see the swings?” she asked, her voice a gentle reminder of the world outside. Plankton’s gaze drifted to the window, his eye searching for familiar landmarks. “Swings...?” his voice a sleepy question. Karen nodded, pointing out the car window. “Yes, Plankton. The park. Remember, we come here sometimes to walk?” Plankton’s eye searched the blur of green outside, his mind trying to piece together the puzzle of the world. “Walsh?” he murmured, his speech still slurred and slow. Karen chuckled, her voice a warm embrace. “Yes, sweetie. We’ll walk in the park once you’re all healed up, ok?” she said, her eyes flickering to his reflection in the rearview mirror. The car pulled into the garage, the sudden darkness a stark contrast to the bright afternoon outside. Karen turned to him, her smile a gentle reminder of her presence. “Alright, Plankton. We’re home. Can you sit up for me?” she asked, her voice a soft guide back to reality. Plankton’s movements were slow, his body still fighting against the anesthesia’s grip. He nodded, his hand reaching for the car door. Karen was there in an instant, opening it for him and helping him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, and he leaned heavily on her as they made their way to the house. The door creaked open, and the familiar scents of home wrapped around them like a comforting blanket. Plankton’s eye searched the room, his mind grasping for any semblance of normalcy. Karen guided him to their bedroom, the softness of the bed calling to him like a siren’s song. She helped him lay down, his body sinking into the mattress with a sigh of relief. His eyelid grew heavy, his thoughts drifting like leaves on a lazy river. Karen tucks him in. “Now, would you like…” But Plankton’s eye had already drifted shut, his body surrendering to the siren call of sleep. His snores grew steady and deep, the gauze in his mouth muffling the sound. Karen watched him. She knew the recovery ahead would be long and difficult, but she was ready to face it with him. With a soft sigh, she went to the kitchen and retrieved the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. She placed it on the nightstand, ready for when his hunger would inevitably wake him. She then gathered his favorite pillow, propping it under his head to elevate it slightly, hoping to reduce any swelling that might come. The house was eerily quiet, the only sounds being Plankton’s soft snores and the occasional tick of the grandfather clock downstairs. Karen felt a pang of loneliness in the absence of their usual banter, but she pushed it aside, focusing on his recovery. With tender care, she changed his gauze, the blood slowly seeping through a stark reminder of the surgery. She flinched at the sight, but quickly composed herself. She was his rock, his anchor in the storm of pain and confusion. She pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Rest, love,” she whispered. Plankton’s hand reached out, his movements slow and deliberate. He found hers, his fingers entwining with hers. “Kareb?” he mumbled, his voice a sleepy plea. Karen’s smile was a soft caress. “I’m right here, Plankton. I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him, her voice a gentle reminder of her constant presence. Plankton’s grip tightened slightly, his eye flickering open. “Wheh...youw shay...” he slurred, his words a sleepy plea. Karen leaned closer, her smile a gentle promise. “What did you say, sweetie?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper in the quiet room. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his grip on her hand growing firm. “Youw shay...stay...stay whiff me?” he murmured, his voice a slurred tapestry of need. Karen’s heart swelled with love. “Of course, Plankton. I’ll…” But her words were cut off by his snores, his hand going limp in hers. He was asleep again. Karen sat in the chair beside the bed, her hand still entwined with his. She knew this was just the beginning of a long road ahead, but she was ready. Plankton’s snores grew more rhythmic, his sleep deepening with each passing minute. Karen sat in the chair beside the bed, her thoughts a whirlwind of care and love. Her eyes never left him, a silent sentinel in the quiet room. She knew he’d have questions when he awoke, confusion to navigate, and pain to endure. The ice cream called from the nightstand, a sweet temptation she knew he’d crave. But for now, sleep was his best medicine, his body healing from the invasion of surgery. She watched his chest rise and fall, each breath a testament to his strength. The hours ticked by, the sun dipping below the horizon and leaving a soft glow in the room. Plankton’s snores grew quieter, his sleep more peaceful as his body slowly metabolized the lingering anesthesia. Karen’s thoughts wandered to the days ahead, planning his meals, his pain relief, and the moments of joy she’d weave into his recovery. The room grew darker, the streetlights outside casting a soft glow through the curtains. Karen’s eyes grew heavy with fatigue, but she fought it off, knowing Plankton would need her when he awoke. Her thoughts drifted to their first date, the way his laugh lit up the room, the way his hand felt in hers. A sudden movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Plankton’s eye flutter open, his gaze unfocused and lost. “Karen?” he croaked, his voice a dry whisper. Her smile was a gentle welcome back. “Hey there, sleepy. How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice a soft caress. Plankton’s mouth moved, his speech still slurred. “Moth...” he murmured, his tongue thick. Karen’s voice was a soft symphony of comfort. “You’re okay, Plankton. You’re home and safe. You just had surgery. Do you remember?” she prompted, her hand squeezing his gently. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts slowly coming into focus. “Sur...surgery?” he mumbled, the numbness in his mouth distorting his words. Karen nodded, her smile a warm embrace. “Yes, sweetie. Wisdom teeth surgery. It’s all over now, and you’re going to be okay,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the reality that had been obscured by the fog of anesthesia. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind slowly piecing together the fragments of the day. “Moth...huh?” he murmured, his hand moving to his swollen cheek. Karen’s voice was a soft lullaby. “It’s alright, love. You had your wisdom teeth out. You’re all safe and sound,” she said, her hand covering his own, guiding it back to the bedside. Plankton’s gaze searched his surroundings. “Thish... thish wish...” he mumbled. “Ice cream?” she guessed, her voice a whisper. Plankton’s nod was a tiny celebration of victory. “Yesh...ish cweam...now?” he asked, his eye hopeful. Karen chuckled, her smile a warm invitation. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s get you set up,” she said, her voice a gentle guidance as she reached for the ice cream.

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i (Autistic author) "You know, Shel, just put yourself out there. You think to much! Just steal a patty from the krusty krab, and bring it back. No inventions, just believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says. Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition often outstripped his grasp, took a deep breath and nodded. It was a simple enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting ingenious contraptions and elaborate schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret formula. Yet here he was, standing in the shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth for any signs of movement. Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her frustration building. Meanwhile, Plankton took a final shaky breath and slid open the kitchen window, his heart racing. The scent of greasy fryers and salty ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached out, his tiny hand trembling, and snatched the Krabby Patty that lay unguarded on the counter. With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's confidence grew. He had done it; the secret was within his grasp! He turned to leave, but his elation was cut short when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze. Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was quick. He dashed under the cash register, the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like a football player crossing the finish line. "You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs was persistent, his claws snapping shut just millimeters from Plankton's antennae. With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy metal contraption off its stand. Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and the cash register came down on him like a guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the kitchen, and the Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp. Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. The impact had been tremendous, and for a moment, he lay dazed and defeated. The cash register's heavy weight had not only knocked him out cold but also left a sizable dent in the floorboards. Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic. as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just as she was about to storm inside, she hears the cash register, which hit Plankton's head. Peering in she saw Plankton lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with panic. Karen opens the door and goes to him. "Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, voice shaking the very foundation of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's eye closed, and his body was completely still. The Patty lay forgotten. Panic set in, and she began to pat his face. "Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing through the deserted kitchen. She knew that Plankton could be dramatic, but this was unlike him. He'd always bounced back from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a bruised ego. There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of desperation and fear. She knew she had to do something, and fast. But what? Her medical expertise was limited to patching up her husband's bruises from past failed schemes, not dealing with a concussion from a cash register to the head. She then managed to scoop up her unconscious husband and sprinted to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. Once inside the hospital, she explained what happened with the cash register. "We'll do a brain scan." They said. Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed. Finally a doctor approached with a solemn expression. "The brain scan results are in." Karen nodded for him to go on. "It seems your husband has suffered significant brain damage from impact," the doctor continued, fidgeting with a clipboard. "The good news is that he will wake up, but... your husband has experienced severe brain trauma. While he will regain consciousness, it appears that he may have developed permanent autism." "What does that mean?" she managed to whisper. The doctor explained that while Plankton would still be able to talk and/or communicate, his interactions and reactions to sensory would be significantly affected. "But he'll still be the same Plankton?" The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. His personality, his memories, they should all be intact. But his ability to process, to understand and respond appropriately... those might be altered. It's a complex condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go home whence he wakes up." Karen nodded numbly, mind racing with the implications. As she sat by Plankton's bedside the hospital lights flickered, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was the only company she had. The quiet was broken her husband's eye fluttering open. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the trauma. Her heart leaped at the sound, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm here," she said, her voice cracking. "How do you feel?" Plankton's gaze darted around the room. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and fear. "You're at the hospital, sweetie," Karen replied, voice gentle and soothing. "You had hit your head on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." Karen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you." Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, voice sounding distant and confused. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at his brain like a thousand tiny needles. "What happened to me?" he asked, voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath preparing herself to explain the gravity of the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and now, the doctor says you have... acquired a neurodisability." Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... what?" he repeated. Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's like your brain is wired differently now. You might see things, hear things, feel things more intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand people, or process differently." "Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice barely a whisper. "No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not broken. You're just... different. And we'll figure this out together."

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

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

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY x (Autistic author) "Jellyfish... help Plankton think." Mr. Krabs's eyes narrowed as he studied Plankton. "So, you're telling me that jellyfish... they help you?" Plankton nodded, his antennae waving slightly. "Yes, Mr. Krabs," he murmured. "They're... comforting." Mr. Krabs's expression softened, the realization of the depth of Plankton's connection to jellyfish dawning on him. "Well, in that case," he said, his voice gruff but kind, "maybe we can find a way to make peace. No more stealing, Plankton." Plankton's antennae quivered as he met Mr. Krabs's gaze. "No more stealing," he murmured, his voice firm. "Plankton loves jellyfish now." Mr. Krabs's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Loves jellyfish?" he repeated, his voice filled with skepticism. "You're giving up your life's work for these... blobs of jelly?" "It's a special interest," she explained. "It brings him comfort and helps him make sense of the world. And who knows, maybe it'll lead him to something amazing." Mr. Krabs's claw tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if jellyfish are what you love, Plankton," he said slowly, "then I guess we can find a way to... coexist." Plankton's antennae perked up at the word, his monotone voice cracking with hope. "Coexist?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Maybe," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "But you've got to promise me no more stealing." "No more stealing," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "Jellyfish... Plankton's friends now." Mr. Krabs studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said gruffly. "But you've got to promise me something in return." "What?" Plankton's monotone voice was filled with caution. Mr. Krabs leaned in, his expression serious. "You gotta promise me, Plankton, that you'll keep on sharing this... this love for jellyfish," he said, the words strange and foreign in his mouth. "Maybe even teach others about 'em." Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering with excitement. "Teach," he murmured, his monotone voice cracking. "Plankton can do that." They had never seen Mr. Krabs and Plankton get along, let alone discuss something other than Krabby Patties. The atmosphere had shifted from tension to something almost... friendly. "Come on, Plankton," Karen urged gently. "Let's get you home." With a heavy heart, Plankton picked up his box of jellyfish, his antennae drooping slightly. "Home," he murmured. "Chum Bucket." Sandy and Karen exchanged glances, their expressions filled with hope and trepidation. But they also knew that with their support and understanding, he could find a new path, one that didn't involve stealing Krabby Patties or fighting with Krabs. The group walked back to the Chum Bucket. Once inside, Plankton carefully placed his jellyfish figurines on a shelf that he had cleared out earlier, his antennae quivering with satisfaction as he arranged them in a pattern that only he understood. The room was a stark contrast to its usual cluttered state, with everything in its place and the once-messy floor now a canvas of neatness. Karen watched. "What are you thinking Plankton?" she asked softly. "Chum Bucket," he murmured, his antennae waving slightly. "Home. Different now." Sandy looked around the tidy space, her eyes wide with amazement. "You've really turned this place around, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration. Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching slightly. "Needed... order," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of pride. "Jellyfish like order." The three of them sat down at a small table, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air like a fine mist. Karen reached out. "You know, Plankton," she began, "you don't have to hide anymore. You can be you, with your jellyfish and your quirks, and we'll all still be here for you." Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye blinking rapidly as he took in her words. "Be me?" he murmured, his voice filled with doubt. "Yes," Sandy said, her voice firm. "You're still you, Plankton. Autism is just a part of you, like how jellyfish are part of the ocean." Plankton studied them, his antennae still, processing their words. It was a lot to take in, but he felt a warmth spread through his tiny body. "You really mean it?" he murmured, his monotone voice cracking. Karen and Sandy nodded in unison. "We do," Karen assured. A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY (leads into the sequel if u like but make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first)

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii (Autistic author) His eye took a moment to focus on her, and when it did, she saw a flicker of confusion, followed by a glimmer of recognition. "Karen?" he repeated, his voice still faint. "Yes, it's me, Plankton. You're ok." But his gaze remained distant, his focus unsteady. "Where...where are we?" "We're at the hospital, sweetheart," Karen said softly, stroking his antenna. "You had an accident." The confusion in Plankton's eye grew, and he tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. "What kind of accident?" His voice was still weak, but there was an urgency to his words that hadn't been there before. Karen took a deep breath, her grip on his hand tightening. "Mr. Krabs...he hit you with a fry pan." The words tasted bitter but she had to tell him the truth. Plankton's eye widened slightly, and she watched as the puzzle pieces of the situation slowly clicked into place in his mind. "Krabby Patty," he murmured, his voice distant. "Yes, Plankton, you were trying to get the recipe again," Karen whispered, aching at the memory. "But it's over now. You need to rest." His eye searched hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of his old self, the cunning and ambitious man she had married. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a vacant stare. "Don't... don't remember," he mumbled, his antennas drooping. This wasn't the Plankton she knew, the one who schemed with a glint in his eye and a plan in his pocket. "It's ok, Plankton," she soothed, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Do you remember me?" Plankton's gaze remained steady for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. "Karen," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. But the spark of recognition was tinged with confusion, as if he wasn't quite sure how he knew her. Karen's felt like breaking into a million tiny pieces. But she knew she had to stay strong. For Plankton. For them. "You don't remember what happened, do you?" she asked gently. "What else do you remember?" Plankton's antennas twitched slightly, his eye searching hers. "Don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's chest tightened as she held back a sob. "It's ok," she reassured him, her voice shaky. "Do you remember your name?" she asked, her voice hopeful. He blinked slowly, his gaze fading in and out of focus, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. "Sheldon... Plankton?" The sound of his voice saying his own name brought a small smile to Karen's face. "Yes, that's right," she said, her voice filled with relief. "Do you remember where we live?" she continued, her tone gentle. Plankton's eye searched the ceiling of the hospital room, as if the answer was written there. "The Chum Bucket," he murmured, his voice unsure. Karen nodded, encouraged by his response. "Good, good," she said, smiling weakly. "What about our friends?" Again, the confusion clouded his gaze. "Friends?" he repeated, his voice tentative. "SpongeBob, Sandy...?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice soft. "Do you remember them?" Plankton's expression grew more distressed, his antennas drooping. "Square...SpongeBob. And a squirrel, yes?" He paused, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. Karen nodded, brimming with unshed tears. "Yes, SpongeBob SquarePants and Sandy Cheeks. They're friends." Plankton's antennas twitched as he processed the information, his brow furrowing with the effort. "Friends," he repeated, the word sounding foreign. Karen could see the gears turning in his tiny head, his brain desperately trying to make connections to his past. "Do you remember anything about your life before the accident?" Karen asked, her voice trembling with anticipation. Plankton's eye searched hers, uncertain. "Life...before?" Her heart sank. "You know, our adventures, our home, our love?" He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "Love?" The word was barely a whisper. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice cracking. "We love each other. We've been married for a long time, and we've had so many adventures together." She paused, willing the words to resonate with him, to ignite a spark of memory. "Do you remember any of that?" Plankton's gaze remained vacant for a moment before he nodded slightly. "Married," he murmured, as if tasting the word for the first time. "To Karen." His antennas lifted slightly, a glimmer of something familiar flickering in his eye. "Karen Plankton computer wife." "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice thick with emotion. "Does that mean something to you?" she asked, her heart in her throat. He nodded slowly, his antennas waving slightly. "Computer wife," he murmured again, his voice gaining a hint of warmth. "Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm your wife." She leaned closer, her voice gentle. "Do you remember anything about us?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Wife," he said slowly, his voice a faint echo of the man she knew. "Wife...Karen. Married July 31, 1999." That was their wedding day, a date they had celebrated every year since. "Yes," she whispered, her voice choking. "We got married on July 31, 1999." The hospital room felt thick with silence as she waited for his next words. Plankton's eye searched the room, his antennas twitching as he tried to piece together the shards of his past. "Plankton, can you tell me about yourself?" Karen asked, her voice gentle. "What do you like to do?" Plankton's antennas twitched as he thought. "Invent," he said, his voice still weak but with a hint of pride. "Science?" The words came out as a question, as if he wasn't quite sure of his own identity. "Yes," Karen said, her voice brightening slightly. "You're a genius inventor. You've made so many wonderful things." She paused, hoping to see some spark of recognition in his eye. "Do you remember any of your inventions?" Plankton's antennas waved in the air, as if searching for the memories that remained elusive. "Inventions," he murmured, his single eye searching the ceiling. "Gadgets...machines." "That's right," Karen encouraged, squeezing his hand. "You've created so many amazing machines. Can you describe one of them?" He blinked, his antennas stilling for a moment. "Chum...Chum Dispenser 3000," he said, his voice picking up a bit. "It makes...makes food for fishies." Karen's smile grew despite the pain. The Chum Dispenser 3000 was one of his earlier inventions, a failed attempt to lure customers to their restaurant, but it was a testament to his ingenuity. "That's wonderful, Plankton," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "How about something more recent?" she prompted, eager to see how much of their shared history remained with him. Plankton's antennas twitched as his brain worked overtime. "Um... the Incredibubble," he said, his voice picking up speed as he talked. "It's a bubble that can shrink things down to microscopic size." Karen felt a jolt of excitement. "That's right!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You used it to get to find a secret plan." Plankton's gaze remained distant, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eye. "Computer... plan?" "Yes," Karen said, her voice shaking. "We've had so many adventures together, Plankton. We've faced so much together." He nodded, his antennas twitching slightly. "Together," he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. "Do you remember any of those adventures?" Karen asked, her voice trembling. "Adventures?" Plankton's eye flickered, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. "With Karen... wife?" "Yes, with me. We've traveled the ocean, faced so many challenges together." The doctor came in. "You can go home now," he said. Karen nodded, never leaving Plankton's face. She had spoken to the doctor about his condition, about the autism, but she still wasn't sure how to process it all. How would their life change now? "Come on, Plankton," she said, helping him sit up gently. "Let's get you home." She buckles him into his side of the car, his newfound passivity making the usual struggle unnecessary. The engine of the tiny vehicle roars to life, and Karen guides them out of the hospital parking lot. The ride back to the Chum Bucket is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine and the occasional splash from the waves outside. Karen keeps glancing at Plankton, his antennas listless as he stares out the window. His mind seems to be somewhere else, lost in a world of his own making. When they arrive, she helps Plankton out of the car and supports him as they make their way to the door. The neon sign flickers in the gloom, casting erratic shadows across the sand. The once bustling environment now feels eerie and desolate. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts of how to make this place feel like home again for Plankton.

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

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

8ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☾

🔮🪐✨💫🌠🍃🌿🍀🤍

𝄞ㅤㅤ⌑ㅤㅤ🏹🕯 ⃝ ㅤㅤʝᥙρɩtᥱɾ

🦋💫🦋 🦋💫🦋

☻⋆˚✩Ꮹ∞ძ ოǫɾлілϧ ༘*ೄ˚☻

☆:;;::;;:*:;;::;;:*ㅤㅤ୨ :★: ୧ ㅤㅤ*:;;::;;:*:;;::;;:☆

‿✶🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️☾

.𖥔 ݁ ˖. Farwell voyager.. 🪐. 🌟 Unless youve been banned, we. will not miss you . ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ🛰ˎˊ˗¿? (footer: we now have {server_membercount} voyagers within the ship !🌌) search rainykrii for more!

THE LIFE OF UNITY i (A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY) (Autistic author; make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first!) Sheldon Plankton wasn't born with autism but acquired neurodisability after a theft gone wrong. Despite interacting differently he's still an intellectual scientist inventor. (A LIFE OF DIVERSITY → THE LIFE OF UNITY) It's perfect day for jellyfishing. SpongeBob, ever eager to help a friend, had been up early preparing the jellyfish nets. When he arrived at the Chum Bucket, he found Plankton reading about jellyfish, his antennae quivering. "Plankton, are you ready to go jellyfishing?" Sponge Bob's voice filled with excitement. Plankton looked up from his book. "Jellyfish fields?" he murmured, his one eye lighting up. "Yeah, jellyfish fields," Sponge Bob said with a grin. "It's going to be amazing. We're going to see jellyfish like never before!" Plankton carefully put his book away. "Let's go," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with an unusual sense of anticipation. As they arrived, the water grew clearer, revealing a breathtaking sight: a vast meadow of jellyfish, their gelatinous bodies pulsing gently in the current, their tentacles trailing like a ballet. Plankton took in the mesmerizing display. But, Sponge Bob's eyes widened in recognition. "Kevin!" he exclaimed. Kevin the sea cucumber, Sponge Bob's long-time rival, surfaced with a smirk. "What's going on here?" he sneered, eyes flicking between them "You guys playing jellyfish keep-away?" Plankton's antennae twitched, monotonous voice tight. "No," he murmured. "Plankton... jellyfish expert." Kevin's smirk grew wider. "Expert, huh?" he sneered. "I bet I know more about jellyfish than you ever will." Sponge Bob's eyes narrow. "Why don't we have a little trivia showdown?" He suggested. "Just a friendly competition to see who knows more." Kevin's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "You're on," he says cracking his knuckles. "But if I win, you leave the jellyfish fields and don't come back." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, but his eye remained focused on the sea cucumber. "If wins," he murmured steady, "Kevin leaves. And brings jellyfish back to Chum Bucket." Kevin's grin faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "Fine," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "But if I win you both leave and never come back to these fields." The stakes were set. "Alright, let's get started," Kevin said, his smugness palpable. "First question: What is the scientific name for the jellyfish you're so fond of, Plankton?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he thought for a moment. "Medusozoa," he murmured with certainty. Kevin's smirk faltered, his confidence visibly shaking. "What? How do you even know that?" Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he replied, "Jellyfish," his monotone voice calm. "Plankton studied." Kevin scoffed. "Fine, then what's the most venomous jellyfish in the sea?" Without missing a beat, Plankton murmured, "Chironex fleckeri." Kevin laughs. "Wrong; it's a Box Jelly!" But Plankton's antennae don't waver. "Chironex fleckeri," he repeats, his monotone voice unshaken. "Box jellyfish, Kevin. Chironex fleckeri." Kevin's eyes widen in surprise, his smugness dissipating. "Alright, show off," he stammers, visibly thrown off his game. "But you don't know this one: What's jellyfish can grow up to 16 inches in diameter?" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly as he considers the question. "Moon jellyfish," he murmurs unshaken. "Aurelia aurita." Kevin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grin faltering. "What? That's... that's right," he admits, his voice trailing off. "Good job, Plankton," SpongeBob cheers. Kevin's smirk turns into a grimace as he tries to regain his footing. "Alright, fine," he says through gritted teeth. "But I've got one more question that'll stump you for sure." Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly, his one eye focused intently on the sea cucumber. "Go on," he murmurs, his monotone voice filled with quiet confidence. Kevin's eyes narrow, his mind racing for the ultimate question to outsmart Plankton. "Ok then," he says, his voice dripping with challenge. "What's the most rare jellyfish species known to Bikini Bottom?" Plankton's antennae twitch as he thinks, his monotone voice measured. "The Bikini Bottom Glowing Jellyfish," he murmurs. "It's not rare everywhere, but here, yes." Kevin's grin fades into a scowl. "Fine," he says, his voice tight. "What's the average lifespan of a jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he considers the question. "Depends on species," he murmurs, his monotone voice unwavering. "Some live weeks, others years." Kevin's smugness returns, his grin stretching wide. "Ah, but I'm not talking about any jellyfish," he says, eyes gleaming. "I'm talking about the Jellyfish of Legend, the one that even SpongeBob can't catch. What's the average lifespan of that one?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, eye narrowing in thought. "Rare. Long lifespan." Kevin's smug expression wavers as he realizes Plankton might actually know the answer. "You're bluffing," he accuses, his voice rising. "There's no way you know that!" But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver as he murmurs, "The average lifespan of a type jellyfish known as Turritopsis dohrnii is... indefinite." Kevin's eyes widen in shock, smugness evaporating. "What? That's impossible!" But Plankton's antennae keep quivering with confidence. "Immortal jellyfish," he murmurs. "Turritopsis dohrnii." Kevin's smugness turns to astonishment. "But that's not possible!" he stammers, his bravado slipping away. "No jellyfish can live forever!" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly as he calmly explains, "Turritopsis dohrnii," his monotone voice unshaken. "It's unique. Can revert to polyp stage, start life cycle again." Kevin stammers, his usual bravado gone. "But... but?" "Plankton studied," Plankton murmurs, his antennae waving slightly. "Jellyfish... interesting." SpongeBob steps forward, eyes glinting with excitement. "I've got one," he says, turning to Kevin. "What's the main diet of jellyfish?" Kevin snorts. "Phytoplankton," Kevin says with glee. "And zooplankton, like your little friend here. Some times other jellyfish." But Plankton's antennae quiver with excitement. "Kevin wrong," he murmurs. "Jellyfish eat... everything." Kevin's smirk falters. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice wary. Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he elaborates. "Jellyfish diet... diverse," he murmurs. "Phytoplankton, zooplankton, even small fish and shrimp. Some, yes, eat other jellyfish. But not all." Kevin's grin turns into a scowl. "That's what I just said!" "But you didn't say everything," Plankton murmurs, his monotone voice filled with a hint of satisfaction. "Jellyfish... adaptable." Kevin's confidence is visibly shaken, his smugness gone. "Fine," he grumbles. "But I bet you don't know their natural predators." Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly. "Natural predators," he murmurs. "Turtles, some fish, sea anemones." Kevin's scoff turns into a growl. "Turtles, sure," he says, his voice mocking. "But what about the big bad..." "Leatherback sea turtles," Plankton murmurs, his antennae quivering slightly. "They love jellyfish." Kevin's smirk fades, his bravado slipping away like sea foam on the shore. "Fine," he says, his voice tight. "What's the most... I don't know, the most useless jellyfish fact you know?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly as he murmurs, "Usefulness... subjective." His monotone voice is calm, unruffled by the challenge. Kevin's scowl deepens. "Alright, then," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "But surely you don't know this one: What's the jellyfish that's immune to its own venom?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his monotone voice unfazed. "Turritopsis nutricula," he murmurs. "Immune to own sting." Kevin's eyes narrow. "Alright, then," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "What's the most bizarre jellyfish fact you can think of?" Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his monotone voice contemplative. "Bizarre," he murmurs. "Some jellyfish have bioluminescent glow." Kevin's eyes light up with a spark of hope. "That's it," he says, voice smug. "Everyone knows that. I've got a better one: jellyfish don't have brains, just nerve nets. So, what's the point of all this studying?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he considers the question, his monotone voice calm. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, "have complex behaviors. Complex. Have nerve nets. Plankton studied. Brain not necessary for intelligence."

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

˚　　　　✦　🪐　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 🌀　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . 　🚀　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　☄️ 　　　 ˚🌒　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　🌀　　　 ✦　　.　

THE LIFE OF UNITY ii (Autistic author; make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first!) Kevin scoffs. "Yeah, right," he says, voice dripping with disdain. Kevin snorts. "So jellyfish are smarter than you? You're saying you're like a jelly fish; Brainless and just floating around?" Plankton's antennae stiffen, taking on edge. "Kevin," he murmurs, "Jellyfish have nerve nets. Complex behaviors. Brainless? Not brainless. Different." Kevin's eyes narrow, his grin fading into a sneer. "So, what you're saying is that you're like a jellyfish?" he taunts. "Just with no real purpose?" The silence that follows is thick with tension. Plankton's antennae quiver. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, eye flashing, "have purpose. Plankton has purpose." Kevin snickers, unaware of the impact of his words. "Sure, Plankton," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your purpose is to annoy me I guess." Plankton's antennae stiffen. "Purpose," he murmurs, his one eye narrowing. "Annoying Kevin... not Plankton's purpose you don't understand." Kevin's sneer turns into a full-blown laugh. "Understand what?" he asks, his voice dripping with disbelief. "That you think jellyfish are your friends? That you're obsessed with them because you're just like them?" Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness, his monotone voice tight. "Jellyfish. Different." Kevin's laughter echoes through the jellyfish fields, his ignorance fueling the flames of Plankton's anger. "Oh come on," he says. "You're just mad because you can't outsmart a jellyfish." Plankton's antennae quiver violently, his monotone voice filled with a rare emotion: insecurity. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you don't know what you're saying." But Kevin's laughter doesn't cease, eyes sparkling with mischief. "What, are you going to get all sensitive on me now?" he asks, his voice filled with mock concern. "Is Plankton thinking with his 'jellyfish brain'?" Plankton's antennae droop, the barb of Kevin's words hitting too close to home. "It's not funny," Plankton murmurs, antennae drooping. SpongeBob steps forward, fists clenched. "Kevin, that's not cool," he says firmly. "You don't know what you're talking about." Kevin's laughter falters, his smirk fading. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice defensive. "It's just a joke." "No," Plankton murmurs, his antennae drooping further. "Not funny." Kevin's sneer fades, his expression shifting to confusion. "What's your problem, Plankton?" he asks, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Kevin," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix of concern and reprimand. "That's not nice. Plankton's interest in jellyfish is special to him." But Kevin's sneer only deepens. "Oh, I get it," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "You're all playing along with his little game. Well, I'm not. Jellyfish are just mindless blobs. And if you're so obsessed with them Plankton, maybe that's all you are, too." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye blinking rapidly. But Kevin, fueled by his own ignorance, continues to laugh, his words cutting deeper. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he sneers. "Can't take a little ribbing?" Plankton's antennae quiver with each insult, his monotone voice strained. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye wide with hurt. "Not a game." Kevin's laughter echoes through the jellyfish fields, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Oh, I see," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just to sensitive for a little teasing." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness, his monotone voice tight. "Jellyfish... complex," he murmurs, his eye flashing with determination. "Not brainless. Not like your jokes." "What's the matter?" Kevin asks, his smirk growing. "Can't handle the truth?" "Truth?" Plankton's antennae quiver with emotion. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, his monotone voice filled with a rare passion. "Jellyfish... beautiful. Complex." Kevin's eyes narrow, his laughter fading. "Beautiful?" he scoffs. "They're just jellyfish, Plankton. They don't have feelings. They don't have brains. Just like you." Plankton's antennae quiver. But Kevin's smirk only widens, his laughter bouncing off the surrounding coral, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You can't talk without getting all worked up. What kind of brainless blob are you?" Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice strained. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you don't understand." "Understand what?" Kevin sneers, eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "That jellyfish are just mindless blobs of jelly? That you're just like them?" Plankton's antennae droop. "Kevin," he murmurs, "you don't know." "Know what?" Kevin's laughter is cruel, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "That jellyfish are just mindless animals and you're obsessed with them because you're just a brainless creature who can't get a life?" Plankton's antennae droop even further, his one eye blinking rapidly. "Not mindless." Kevin's laughter turns into a cackle. "Oh, so you think you're better than jellyfish now?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe if you had a brain, you could actually catch one of those Krabby Patties you're always after! Maybe if you had a brain, you'd realize THAT YOU'LL NEVER BE MORE THAN A TINY, BRAINLESS BOTTOM FEEDER!" The words hit Plankton like a tidal wave, antennae drooping even further. "Kevin," Plankton murmurs, his monotone voice thick with emotion, "you don't know."

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY v (Autistic author) The door to the Chum Bucket creaked open, and Patrick Star waddled in, a quizzical expression on his face as he took in the scene before him. "What's with the library vibe?" he asked looking from the book-laden table to Plankton's intense gaze. Plankton looked up from the book, antennae stilling for a brief moment before he resumed his recitation of pi. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." Patrick's eyes grew wide as he took in Plankton's intense focus and the unwavering rhythm of his voice. "Plankton, buddy, what's got you in such a tizzy?" he asked, his usual lazy drawl replaced with curiosity. Plankton's antennae twitched as he broke from recitation. Patrick looked at Plankton with genuine curiosity. "Patrick," Plankton said, his voice flat but his antennae twitching slightly. "Jellyfish club." Patrick blinked, his star-shaped pupils dilating in surprise. "Jellyfish club?" he echoed, his voice rising an octave. Karen nodded. "Yes, we were just talking about starting a jellyfish club," she explained, gesturing to the book. "Since Plankton's really interested in them now." Patrick looked from Karen to Plankton, then back again. "But Plankton, jellyfish sting," he said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Jellyfish sting," Plankton agreed, his voice still monotone. "But Plankton have plan. Jellyfish in jar." Patrick's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish in a jar? What's the point of that, buddy?" "Safe jellyfish," he murmured, his voice tight. "What's that supposed to mean, Plankton?" Patrick asked. "Mean jellyfish safe," he said, his voice a little less monotone. "In jar." Patrick chuckled, mistaking Plankton's seriousness for a joke. "Yeah, right, Plankton. You're not seriously gonna start a jellyfish club, are you?" The room's atmosphere shifted, and Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Why not?" he asked, his voice devoid of its earlier excitement. Patrick's chuckles died in his throat as he realized Plankton wasn't joking. "Well, I didn't mean to laugh," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "It's just, jellyfish are kind of... boring, don't you think?" Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he closed the book with a thud. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice devoid of its previous enthusiasm. "It's just... jellyfish aren't exactly the most exciting creatures," Patrick said, trying to recover from his faux pas. "They just float around, right?" The room went quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped further, and he stared at Patrick, his eye unblinking. "Boring," he murmured, his voice a mix of hurt and disappointment. Patrick, not realizing the depth of Plankton's newfound interest continued, "I mean, come on, Plankton. There's more to life than jellyfish." Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he looked at Patrick with a mix of confusion and hurt. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice monotone yet filled with a hint of challenge. "Well, yeah," Patrick said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean jellyfish are for tourists and little kids, right?" The words hung in the air like a thick fog, and the room grew tense as Plankton's antennae quivered with a mix of anger and hurt. "Patrick, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say," Karen said, her voice a gentle warning. But Patrick, oblivious to the tension building in the room, shrugged again. "I'm just saying, jellyfish aren't exactly the coolest things in the ocean, Plankton," he said, his voice still filled with cheerfulness. "Why don't you jus-" Plankton's antennae shot up, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Jellyfish cool," he said, his voice a monotone, but with a hint of steel. "Oh, come on, Plankton," Patrick said, waving a dismissive hand. "You're smarter than this. Why waste your time with jellyfish?" "Jellyfish interesting. Plankton like jellyfish." Karen stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Patrick, Plankton's just found something that he really enjoys," she said. "We should support him in his new interest." But Patrick, still not grasping the gravity of the situation, chuckled. "Oh, Plankton, always so dramatic. It's just a phase. And you can't talk like that forever, right?" He then mimicked Plankton's flat tone saying, "Plankton wike jellyfish," which sent him into a fit of giggles. The room grew quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped, and a single tear formed at the corner of his eye, sliding down his face. "B-but, Plankton thought..." Plankton's voice broke as Patrick interrupts him again mimicking him. "B-but, Plankton thought," Patrick said, his voice a high-pitched parody of Plankton's monotone. "Jellyfish cool," he continued, his giggles echoing in the room. Plankton's antennae shot up. "Jellyfish cool," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering. Patrick's giggles didn't stop, and he leaned closer to Sponge Bob, whispering, "Is he for real?" But Plankton's tears didn't fall in vain. The moment his sobs filled the room, the atmosphere shifted. Karen's with horror at the sight of her husband's pain, and she rushed over to him, wrapping around his tiny frame. "Plankton, no," she whispered, her voice filled with a motherly concern that was more powerful than any Krabby Patty recipe. Sponge Bob's expression grew solemn as he watched the scene unfold. He had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, so raw. The villain he knew was now a creature in pain, and his heart swelled with emotion. "Patrick, that's enough," she said, his voice firm. But the damage was done. Plankton's sobs grew louder, and he buried his face in Karen, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen glared at Patrick, her screen flashing with a fiery protectiveness that was uncharacteristic of her usual calm demeanor. "Patrick, you need to leave," she said, her voice a low hiss. "Now." Patrick, taken aback by the sudden shift in mood, backpedaled awkwardly. "But, I didn't mean to-" "Just go," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "Outside. I'll talk to you in a moment." Patrick, still chuckling nervously, shuffled to the door. "But, I didn't mean to make him-" "Out!" Karen's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The urgency in her tone was clear, leaving no room for argument. Patrick, still looking confused, shrugged and waited outside.

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

r/shortscarystories 5 days ago DottedWriter My Former Highschool Bully Apologized To Me Today I stared at her as she sobbed on her knees "Alice, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I'm sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you!" Sophia said as she wept in front of me. I just stared at her as she continued to sob over all of the things she had done to me. She would directly insult or make demeaning JOKeS about me, spread n͟asty rumours about me, manipulate my friends against me, şteal a guy I had a crush on, make horrible posts about me on social media, and even manipulate some guys into doing things like jum͜ping̨ me. She did everything if it meant I suffered in the end. I tried to tell my teachers about this, but they just turned a deaf ear, and I didn’t even bother talking to my parents about it, they were more focussed on their jobs than me. And even then, if Sophia found out I snitched, that would result in an extra beating from her and her cronies. She was behind all of my sufferıng, enjoyed the despair on my face, she enjoyed how much ab*se she inflected on me. So you could only imagine my surprise when she approached me one day and started to apologise tearfully to me As she continued to cry, my eyes started to spark with anger, anger that I had suppressed inside me for the past 5 years after highschool . I had no one to turn to for support, absolutely no one. And she dared to spew her little crocodile tears right in front of me. I had enough of it. I floated around my grave until I was behind her, I stared at her for a long minute, before I plunged my hand into her chest. She tensed up, and some of her bľood splattered onto my grave. I dug through her organs before I found what I was looking for. Her heart. It was still beating as she collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at the wound at a desperate attempt to cover the bleeding. She coughed out błoođ, and wheezed as she continue to bleed out. I stared at how pathetic and pitiful she looked now. I stared at her as a twisted, evil, and satisfied grin crept onto my face .

– ̗̀ 𝓗𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢 ̖́- ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ✧

˗ˏˋ ⭐️ ˎˊ˗ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᵎᵎ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ 🌙 ⭑𝐚𝐠𝐞;; ... ୧ ‧₊˚ ꙳◞ ⋅ ☆ ೃ⁀➷ | 🪐 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 💭 ୧˚𝐧𝖆𝖒𝖊;; ... ╰┈➤ ‧₊˚ ☀️ 彡 𝐧𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓;; ... 𝐠𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗;; ... ⤵ ‎ ⋆ 🌏 𝐬𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑𝖘 ;; ...◞ ๋࣭ ⭑ ☄️ ˎˊ˗ 𝙗𝙮𝙚 !! <𝟑 bio credits // m14!!

🌑🪐🌪💽🔭🛸🛰🛩💫

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

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

☆꧁lil reminder!: 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

🌎　.°•🚀 🛸　🌎 🪐 .•　° 📡 ✨ ★ 🌙 *^•. “•*.⭐ 🛰️ .• ‘ “ . •., •🔭

THE LIFE OF UNITY v (Autistic author) Sponge Bob wraps around Plankton's quivering body, his eyes filled with compassion. "It's ok, buddy," he says soothingly. "Kevin didn't know. He's just not used to... well, you know." But Plankton's antennae quiver with a mix of anger and sadness. "Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye brimming with unshed tears. "Kevin hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob nods, wrapping around Plankton in a gentle embrace. "I know buddy," he says soothingly. "But Kevin's just a sea cucumber. He didn't understand." Plankton's antennae quiver with sadness, his monotone voice barely audible. "But jellyfish," he murmurs, his one eye slowly closing. "Jellyfish never hurt Plankton." Sponge Bob nods, stroking Plankton's antennae gently. "It's ok," he whispers, his voice filled with warmth. "You're safe now." Sponge Bob's stroke Plankton's antennae, his touch as soft as a feather brushing. Plankton's quivering slows, a distant echo of the pain that once consumed him. His eye closes, his body relaxes, and the tension dissipates. As Plankton's breathing evens out and his antennae stop quivering, Sponge Bob realizes that his friend has finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. The yellow sponge looks down at the tiny plankton in his arms. Sponge Bob's gaze is soft as he takes in Plankton's peaceful sleeping form. Plankton's antennae, no longer quivering with anger, lie still against his head. His one eye is now closed, his mouth slightly agape in the unguarded ease of slumber. He looks around the jellyfish fields, the serene scene a stark contrast to the emotional storm that has just passed. The jellyfish float around them, oblivious to the drama, their tentacles trailing lazily in the water. Sponge Bob sighs, his tightening around Plankton's small form. He knows that this incident with Kevin won't be the last time his friend faces misunderstanding or cruelty. Plankton's new reality is tough but he's determined to help him navigate it. Gently, he cradles Plankton and starts the journey back to the Chum Bucket, the place where Plankton's heart lies despite his recent troubles. The walk is quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of the jellyfish and the occasional splish-splash of the water. Sponge Bob's thoughts are with his friend, wondering how he can help him feel less alone in the vast sea of confusion and pain. As they enter the Chum bucket, Karen's electronic eyes light up with curiosity. She notices Plankton's asleep and Sponge Bob's solemn expression. "What happened?" she asks, her digital voice filled with concern. Sponge Bob sighs, still gently supporting Plankton. "A jellyfishing champion named Kevin was making fun of Plankton," he explains, his voice tinged with sadness. "It upset him because of his condition." Karen's robotic arms cross over her chest, her digital eyes widening. "His neurodisability?" she asks, her curiosity piqued. Sponge Bob nods, still wrapped around the sleeping Plankton. "Yes," he says, his voice gentle. "Kevin didn't know. He said some things that really hurt Plankton's feelings." Karen's digital brow furrows, her LED lights dimming slightly. "That's unfortunate," she murmurs, her circuits processing the situation. "Tell me what he said." Sponge Bob recounts the conversation around Plankton protectively as he speaks. "Kevin called Plankton 'stupid' and said jellyfish were dumb," he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "It really got to him." Karen's LED lights flicker with understanding. "I see," she murmurs, her robotic voice soothing. "It's not uncommon for those who are unaware of neurodiversity to make hurtful comments." Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But it really hit Plankton hard. He's already feeling so lost with his new diagnosis." Karen's LED lights dim slightly, her digital expression reflecting empathy. "It must have been quite the ordeal," she says, her voice a soothing hum. "I can see how that would be difficult for him." Sponge Bob nods, his tentacles still wrapped around Plankton. " He's not the same," he whispers. "But I think he's trying." Karen's digital eyes narrow, her circuits whirring as she processes the information. "Tell me everything," she says, her voice a gentle purr of concern. "I want to understand what happened to my Plankton." Sponge Bob takes a deep breath. "Kevin was making fun of Plankton," he starts, his voice filled with anger at the thought of his friend's pain. "He didn't know about the accident." Karen's eyes widen, her digital pupils dilating with concern as Plankton himself starts to stir, his antennae quivering in his sleep as if in response to the conversation. "It's okay, Plankton," Sponge Bob murmurs stroking his friend's antennae gently. "You're safe." Plankton stirs in his sleep, his antennae quivering slightly as he groans. Karen's eyes soften, her robotic arms reaching out tentatively. "Let me take him," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "I'll make sure he's comfortable." Sponge Bob nods, unfurling as he gently transfers Plankton to Karen's outstretched arms. She holds him with surprising tenderness, cradling him against her cold, metallic body. "Thank you," she murmurs, her digital eyes never leaving Plankton's face. As she carries him to his bed, Sponge Bob follows, his thoughts racing with the weight of the situation. He can't help but feel a mix of anger and sadness at Kevin's callous words and Plankton's pain. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he whispers, brushing the plankton's antennae. Plankton's one eye opens slowly, his antennae still quivering from the echoes of the painful conversation. "Karen?" he murmurs, his monotone voice thick with sleep. Karen's LED lights blink in response, her robotic arms adjusting his pillow with gentle precision. "You're safe," she assures him, her digital eyes softening. "You're home." Plankton's antennae quiver with confusion. "Home?" he murmurs, his one eye opening wider as he takes in the surroundings. "Where's jellyfish?" Karen's LED lights flicker gently. "You're in the Chum Bucket, Plankton," she says, her robotic voice a soothing purr. "You're safe." Karen hands him his box of organized jellyfish figurines. Plankton takes the box, his one eye blinking rapidly as he looks around the room. The familiarity of his bed and his beloved jellyfish figurines brings a small measure of comfort, but the memory of Kevin's cruel words still stings. Sponge Bob sits by Plankton in the bed, looking at the different mini figures of jellyfish Plankton assorted. "Jellyfish," Plankton murmurs, his antennae still quivering slightly. He takes one out, a small translucent figurine with a smiling face. "This one's Aurelia aurita," he says, his monotone voice slipping into the rhythm of technical jargon. "It's a moon jellyfish. They have a lifespan of approximately one year." Sponge Bob nods, reaching out to touch the delicate model. "They're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with wonder. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly with pride, shifting to a gentle lecture tone. "Yes," he murmurs, holding up another. "This one is a Cyanea capillata, also known as the lion's mane jellyfish. It can grow up to 2.5 meters wide with tentacles over 30 meters long. Quite the predator." Sponge Bob's eyes widen with amazement. "Wow," he says, his voice filled with awe. "They're so different from each other." Plankton nods, his antennae quivering slightly.

✨🌒✨You are made of stardust and galaxies and I love you. Send to your ten favourite people on your website. 💫🌔🌟

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

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

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

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

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."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ℑ 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡…. 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 ℑ 𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡… 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔤𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡𝔫'𝔱 𝔤𝔬 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯… 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢

TRUTH AND NAIL v Finally, the car pulled into the driveway, and Karen turned off the engine. She looked back at Plankton, his chest rising and falling with each snore. "We're home," she said, her voice a gentle nudge. His eye flickered open, his gaze still unfocused. Karen stepped out of the car, opened the door and unbuckled his seatbelt, his body still limp. "Wha..." Plankton mumbled as she gently nudged him awake. His eye blinked slowly, the world coming back into focus. "Home?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen nodded, a soft smile playing on her screen. "Yes, darling, we're home," she said, her voice like a warm embrace. "Let's get you inside." But then Sponge Bob shows up at their door. “Hi guys! Where have you been?” Karen's smile was bright despite her exhaustion. "Plankton just had his wisdom teeth out," she explained, her voice a gentle whisper as Plankton noticed Sponge Bob. Sponge Bob's face lit up. "Oh no, buddy!" he exclaimed, his voice full of concern and empathy. "How ya feeling?" Plankton blinked at him, his gaze unfocused, his mouth half open in a sleepy smile. "Wis...dom...teef?" he slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh at the sight, her heart swelling with love for her goofy husband. "Yeah, buddy," she said, helping him to his feet. He swayed a bit, his legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. "Let's get you to the couch." Plankton leaned heavily on her, his steps exaggerated and unsteady. Everything was a blur, but the warmth of Karen's body was a comforting constant. Sponge Bob goes in with them. "Let's get you comfortable," she murmured, guiding him to the couch. His eye closed, his head lolling back. "No, no," she laughed gently, pushing him forward. "Just a bit more." Plankton's snores grew softer as she maneuvered his body, his weight sagging against her. "Karen?" he mumbled, his voice a sleepy whisper as SpongeBob sat by him. Her smile grew, her screen twinkling. "Yeah, honey?" Plankton's eye rolled back, his words slurred but earnest. "I love you." It was a declaration so out of place and so unexpected that Karen froze for a moment, her heart swelling. Sponge Bob's smile grew wider, his eyes sparkling. "Aw, Plankton," he said, his voice full of warmth. "You're feeling the love of the anesthesia, aren't ya?" Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the day lifting slightly. "I guess he's feeling extra affectionate," she said, her voice a playful tease. Sponge Bob chuckled, his laughter bubbly and infectious. "Looks like it," he said, patting Plankton's shoulder. "You take it easy, buddy." But Plankton's mind was stuck in a loop, his words a jumble of slurred affection. "Spongey...Spongey..." he murmured, his eye half- closed and his smile lopsided. Sponge Bob leaned in, his face a mask of concern. "You okay, Plankton?" Plankton's eye rolled to meet his, a sleepy smile spreading across his swollen face. "You...Spongey... youw my besht...besht...buddy," he slurred, his voice a thick, sloppy mess of words. His arm flopped over, slapping Sponge Bob on the side with a half-hearted pat. Sponge Bob's laughter filled the room, bubbly and genuine. "Aw, Plankton, you're too much," he said, his voice full of affection. Plankton's smile grew slower, his head lolling to one side. "Yew...yew are...are my besht...buddy," he managed, his arm flopping around like a ragdoll's. Sponge Bob took his hand, holding it tight. "And you're mine too, buddy," he said, his voice warm. "Besh...buddy...Spongey," Plankton murmured, his voice like a sleepy child's. He tried to focus, his eye blinking in the bright living room light. Sponge Bob's smile was a beacon in the fog. "You had a big day." Plankton's head nodded slowly, his eye half-closed. "Big...day," he echoed, his voice a slur. His hand found its way to Sponge Bob's arm, gripping it with surprising strength. "You...you...were there." Sponge Bob looked at Karen, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. "Yeah, I'm here for ya," he said, his voice gentle. Plankton's grip tightened, his eye still half-closed. "No, no," he murmured, his words thick and slow. "You...you were...were...were there...always." His voice trailed off, a hint of emotion in the slurred sentence. Sponge Bob's confusion deepened, his gaze flicking to Karen for guidance. Her laugh was a soft chime, her screen alight with joy. "It's just the meds, Sponge Bob," she said, her voice a gentle reminder. "He's still pretty out of it." Plankton's head lolled back. "They took...my...teefth," he slurred dramatically, his voice a theatrical whine. "All four of them!" His arms flailed in the air like he was recounting a battle with a sea monster. Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "All at once?" he gasped, his sponge-like form leaning forward with curiosity. "How'd you manage that?" Plankton's hand waved dramatically. "They...they...they put me in a chair," he slurred, his voice rising with each word. "And then...then they...took...my...TEefth!" He pronounced it with the gravity of a Shakespearean actor, drawing out the 'f' for maximum impact. Sponge Bob's eyes grew rounder, his smile still plastered on his face. "Wow, Plankton, sounds like you had quite the adventure!" Plankton's chuckle was a strange sound. He threw his hands up, his body swaying with the motion. "They...they had these...these...things!" He paused dramatically, his eye squinting as if trying to remember. "Needleth?" Sponge Bob's eyes went wider, his curiosity piqued. "Needles??" Plankton's head nodded exaggeratedly, his smile now a full-on grin. "Yes, yes needleths!" Sponge Bob leaned in, his eyes wide with fascination. "How’d they you to sleep with needles?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder. Plankton's eye closed, his face a mask of dramatic remembrance. "They...they put this...this...tube," he said, his fingers tracing an invisible line on his arm, "and then... whoosh!" His arm fell lifelessly to his side, his head lolling back. "I was in... space... then...the I was...gone." His smile was serene, his mind lost in the fog of the anesthesia. Sponge Bob's eyes sparkled with laughter. "Then what happened as you woke up?" Plankton's head jerked up, his gaze wild. "Woke up?" he murmured, his voice dreamy. "They...they had these lights..." He waved his hand in the air, describing a constellation that only he could see. "Bright lights...so bright... like stars...stars in my veins!" Sponge Bob leaned back, his laughter bubbling up. "Stars in your veins?" he repeated, his voice full of delight. Plankton nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes, yes stars," he murmured, his eye half-closed. "They shone so brightly, and then..." He paused, his fingers twitching. "They...they...took my teefth!" His voice grew loud with accusation. Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh, his giggles filling the room. Karen just watched, her heart full. Plankton was rarely this affectionate, especially with Sponge Bob. It was a side of him she hadn't seen in ages, and she found it strangely charming. Plankton leaned into his newfound friendliness, his arm sliding over Sponge Bob's shoulder. "You...you make me...happy," he slurred, his eye half-closed. Sponge Bob's smile grew even wider, his laughter now a full-on chuckle. "Well, that's what friends are for," he said, his voice warm and gentle. Karen watched, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of her husband, usually so stern and focused, being this tender and open. "You're so funny when you're like this," she said, her voice a soft laugh. Plankton's smile grew slower, his hand reaching out to poke at Sponge Bob's side. Plankton's face lit up with glee. "So...squishy," he murmured, his voice full of wonder as he gave him a gentle pat. Sponge Bob's laughter was a delighted squeak. "What's gotten into you, Plankton?" he asked, his eyes twinkling. Plankton's grin was silly and wide, his head lolling to one side. "The...stars...Spongey," he murmured, his voice a sleepy whisper. "They're still in me." His hand reached out again, poking Sponge Bob's side with a gentle touch. "So squishy..." Sponge Bob giggled, his laughter like bubbles in the ocean. "You're a funny guy, Plankton," he said, his voice full of amusement. Plankton's hand paused, his finger hovering over Sponge Bob's side. "Am...am I?" he asked, his voice a slurred question. "I feel... funny." His head tilted, his eye looking at his finger with curiosity. Sponge Bob nodded, his laughter bubbling up. "You sure are, buddy," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

TRUTH AND NAIL ii The nurse returned. "How's he doing?" she asked, checking the monitors. "Just woke up briefly," Karen said, her voice a whisper. "He's still pretty out of it." The nurse nodded, jotting notes on a clipboard. "That's normal," she said. "The anesthesia takes some time to wear off completely. You can take him home now." "But he's still..." The nurse nodded, her voice firm but gentle. "It's normal. He'll be groggy for a bit, but he's stable enough." With her help, Karen managed to rouse Plankton to a semi-conscious state. He blinked at her, his eye unfocused and glazed over. "Tek me…” Karen nodded, smiling at his attempt to form coherent words. "Yes, sweetie. We're gonna go.." He sat up with a start, his body moving before his mind caught up, the world tilting and spinning around him. Karen's hand was quick to steady him, her voice a gentle reminder of where he was. "Easy," she said, her voice like a soft pillow for his pounding head. "You're okay." Plankton blinked, his eye trying to focus on her screen. "Wha...wha...wha...?" he stuttered, the words fighting to escape his numb mouth. Karen's smile grew wider, seeing the confusion in his glassy gaze. "It's okay, honey," she cooed, her voice a balm to his bewilderment. "You're just coming out of the anesthesia." He then notices the nurse standing by. "Nurse?" he croaks, his voice hoarse and his tongue thick in his mouth. "Nurse?" he tries again, his voice a bit stronger. The nurse looks over, seeing his struggle to make sense of his surroundings. She smiles, "You're okay, Mr. Plankton. You had a little surgery." Her words are clear, but they hit him like a foggy echo. "Sur...surg...teef?" he slurs, his mouth feeling like it's filled with cotton balls. "Yes, you had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen says, her voice a soothing melody in the white noise of the recovery room. “Who’s there?” Plankton's voice was a faint rasp. The nurse and Karen exchanged a knowing glance. He was coming around more, but still not fully with it. “It’s me, Plankton,” Karen whispered, leaning closer. Her screen swam into view, a beacon of familiarity in the sea of white. He squinted, trying to focus. “Karen?” he mumbled, his throat dry and raw. “Yes, it’s me,” she repeated, her voice a gentle lullaby. “You’re okay, you just had your wisdom teeth out. You’re still a little sleepy from the surgery.” Plankton's hand reached up to his face, feeling the swollen jaw and the cottony numbness. “Teef?” he managed to murmur, his voice a gravelly shadow of its usual self. The word felt strange and foreign in his mouth. “Wisdom teeth, darling,” Karen reminded him, her tone soothing as a warm blanket. “They took them out to stop your pain.” “Buh, buth Karen haz aww the teefs?” Plankton's slurred words hang in the air, a question mark painted on his confused expression. Karen laughs lightly with amusement. "No, sweetie. Let’s get you standing up." With the nurse’s help, Karen eases Plankton to his feet. The world swims around him, a blur of white walls and the steady beeping of machines. He tries to stand on legs that feel like jelly. "Easy, darling," Karen says, her arm around him, supporting his weight. "Take it slow." The nurse nods, guiding his elbow. "Just a few steps to the chair." Plankton's legs wobble like a newborn deer's, his feet shuffling along the cold floor. "Tek me ho...ho...home?" he slurs, the words like molasses escaping his mouth. "Soon, baby," Karen soothes, her arm tightening around him. She can feel his confusion like a heavy fog in the air, but she's determined to be his compass in this disoriented state. Plankton's eye darts around the room, trying to make sense of the shapes and sounds. "Wha...wha...where...?" he stammers, his mouth still not fully cooperating. The nurse smiles kindly, "You're in the recovery area. You had a little procedure to take out some teeth, remember?" Karen helps him into a chair, his body moving slowly as if through molasses. His gaze flits to her, his mind still groggy. "Tee...th?" he mumbles, his tongue sluggish in his mouth. Karen nods, her smile warm and comforting. "Wisdom teeth, darling. They're gone." “Wav...wav...Karen?” Plankton’s voice was a faint echo. “How will I eath?” The words were jumbled, his speech a slur. “Soft foods for now, love. We’ll manage, don’t worry,” she said, her voice like a lullaby. Plankton's head nodded slightly, his eyelid heavy. “Than...thank...you...” he slurred, his speech still a puzzle of sounds as they walk down the corridor.

TRUTH AND NAIL iii Karen felt his weight shifting, his body swaying towards sleep again. “Stay with me, Plankton,” she murmured, her voice a gentle prod to keep his consciousness afloat. He blinked, his eye trying to focus on her face. “Wha...?” he mumbled, his words trailing off like a forgotten melody. Karen's tightened. “You’re okay, Plankton,” she whispered, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness of the room. “You’re just tired from the surgery, that’s all.” But even as she spoke, Plankton’s head lolled to the side, his mouth open slightly, drooling. Karen reached over and wiped it away, her fingers coming back wet. "It's normal for them to nod off like this," the nurse assured Karen with a kind smile. “Let’s walk to your car..” But as they shuffled along, Plankton’s knees buckled, and he slumped against Karen, his mouth falling open in a deep snore. Her arms tightened around his waist, her strength supporting his sudden weakness. "Wha...?" Plankton mumbled, his eye fluttering open, his mind trying to catch up with his surroundings. "You okay?" Karen asked. His head bobbed slightly, nodding in sleepy agreement. But as they shuffled closer to the exit, his knees buckled again, and he was out cold. Karen's grip tightened, keeping him from collapsing. The nurse chuckled softly, "It's okay, Mrs. Plankton. This happens a lot after the anesthesia. Wake up, Mr. Plankton.." But Plankton's snores only grew louder, his head lolling onto Karen's shoulder. Her laugh was a gentle sigh as she looked at his peaceful face, marred only by the occasional dribble of saliva. "Come on, love," Karen whispered, her voice a soft nudge. "Let's get you to the car." With the nurse's help, they managed to make him stir in his sleep. Plankton's eye cracked open, his gaze unfocused and glazed. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice a slurred whisper. Her eyes searched his, the love in them a beacon in the starkness of the hospital corridor. "You're okay, sweetie," she said, her voice a gentle reminder. But Plankton's response was a snore, his head lolling forward again. Karen's grip tightened, his weight leaning heavily on her. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered, her voice a caress in the air. The nurse chuckled. "It's just the anesthesia," she assured Karen. "Let's get him to the car." Plankton's eye snapped open, his mind fighting to wake up. But each step was a battle against the fog. Karen's arms wrapped around him, her grip firm and loving. His legs threatened to give out, his knees like jelly, but she held him upright. "Come on, darling," she cooed, her voice a beacon through the haze. "Almost there." They made it to the car, Plankton's snores filling the quiet of the parking lot. The nurse opened the back door, and Karen managed to get him sitting upright, his head lolling to one side. "Wha...?" he mumbled, his eye opening a crack. "We're going home," Karen soothed, her voice a soft song. She fastened the seatbelt around him, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. As she drove, Plankton fought to keep his eye open, his head drooping forward before jerking back up with a snort. "You okay back there?" Karen called over her shoulder, her eyes on the road. A faint snore was his only reply, his head lolling against the headrest. She chuckled, a mix of concern and affection, her screen flitting to the rearview mirror. His mouth was still open, a string of drool connecting his bottom lip to his chin. Karen reached back, carefully wiping it away with a tissue. Plankton's face twitched in his sleep, but he remained oblivious to her touch. The car's gentle hum lulled him further, his snores punctuating the silence of the drive.

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

TRUTH AND NAIL i “Karen Plankton‽” Karen stood up as the receptionist at the dental office called her. She’s been in the waiting room as her husband Plankton’s in surgery. She followed the nurse into a brightly lit room where Plankton lay on his back, his mouth agape, snoring gently. The anesthetic had done its job, leaving him completely oblivious to the world around him. The surgeon looked up from his chair, a smile creasing his mask. "Mrs. Plankton, your husband's wisdom teeth extraction was a success," he said. "You can stay with him as he wakes up." Karen sat by his side, her hand resting gently on his arm. The steady hum of the machines filled the space, punctuated by occasional beeps. The nurse adjusted the IV, ensuring the flow of fluids remained steady. The doctor entered, nodded at Karen, and began to check the surgical sites, but he didn't wake up. The surgeon leaned over, his eyes studying the readouts with care. Satisfied, he turned to Karen, "He'll be coming around in time," he assured her. Her screen never left Plankton's peaceful face, his cheeks slightly puffy, his mouth slack and open. A trickle of drool slid from the corner of his mouth, and Karen couldn't help but chuckle softly, even in the tension of the moment. He'd never let her see him like this if he had a choice. The nurse offered a reassuring smile, "It's normal, dear. The anesthesia can do funny things. Just wait. He'll be back to his usual self by tomorrow." Karen nodded. She leaned in closer to Plankton, his normally stern face was relaxed in sleep, his brow unfurrowed. It was strange to see his sharp features softened, his expression one of peace. The nurse left them, and Karen took the chance to whisper, "You're going to be okay." The nurse had warned her about the disorientation that often came with waking up from surgery. Patients could be confused, even a little babyish, as the world swam back into focus. Some had a tendency to say things they didn't mean or remember later. So, when Plankton's eye flickered open, Karen was ready. "Wha... where am I?" he mumbled, his voice slurred and eye glassy. Karen took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're in the recovery room, sweetie. You had your wisdom teeth out." The words seemed to float around him, like bubbles in his befuddled brain. "Wisdom teed?" he muttered, blinking slowly. "Wha awe those?" Karen stifled a laugh, her emotions swelling with love and concern. "They're teeth, darling. Don't worry, you won't miss them." Plankton's gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sterile whiteness and the blinking lights above him. "Teef?" he slurred, his mind still groggy. "Wheh take out teef?" Karen gently stroked his hand. "Just the wisdom ones, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "They were causing you trouble." "Trubble?" Plankton repeated, his speech slurring more with each syllable. His eye closed again, lid heavy with sleep. "I know it's confusing right now, but you'll understand soon," Karen said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton's eye opened again, a bit wider this time, and he squinted at the light. "M'th... m'th... my mouf feels..." He tried to form the words, but his tongue felt thick and clumsy. "It's normal, darling," Karen said, her voice like a gentle breeze. "The anesthesia can make your mouth feel funny." Plankton's eye drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts racing but his words failing to keep up. "Bright wight," he murmured, his voice distant and lost. "It's okay," Karen said, wiping the drool from his chin with a tissue. "The lights are just to help you wake up." "Wake up?" Plankton repeated, his eye trying to focus on her screen. "Wha happened?" "You had a little surgery," Karen said, her voice soothing and calm. "They took out your wisdom teeth. Remember?" Plankton's eye searched hers, confusion and fear swirling in his gaze. "Sur...surgery?" he managed to say, his voice weak and unsure. "Why?" "Don't worry," Karen soothed, her voice a soft caress. "It was just a little thing. They took out some teeth that were causing you pain." Plankton's eyelid flitted, trying to make sense of the words. "Teef? Pain?" he slurred, his hand reaching up to probe his mouth. "No, no, don't touch," Karen hurried to stop him, her grip firm but gentle. "They're still a bit tender." Plankton's hand fell back to the bed, his mind racing but his body slow to respond. "Tends?" he murmured, the word strange and foreign. "Every ting sho..." His thoughts trailed off, the word "different" eluding him. Karen watched him, her smile a blend of amusement and tenderness. "You're going to be okay," she repeated, her voice a constant in the sea of confusion. "You're just a little out of it." "Ooot of it," Plankton echoed, his voice a faint rumble. He tried to sit up, but the nurse had warned Karen about this too. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. "Take it easy, sweetie," she cooed. His eye searched hers, like a child lost in a supermarket. "Karen?" he murmured, her name sounding like a question. "I'm here," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "You're in the hospital, Plankton. You're okay." "Hospit...hospit...tal?" he slurred, his eye darting around the room again. "Why?" "You had wisdom teeth, Plankton," Karen said, her tone as soothing as a mother's. "Remember?" "Wis...dome tweed?" Plankton slurred, his mind spinning, his thoughts muddled and slow to form. "Ow?" Karen chuckled gently, her screen sparkling with humor. "It's all right, dear," she cooed. "They just removed your wisdom teeth. You're feeling a bit loopy." Plankton's eyebrow knit trying to piece together the puzzle. "Widom...teef?" he repeated, his voice still slurred but with a hint of recognition. "Yes, sweetie," Karen said, smiling down at him. "You had your wisdom teeth removed. You're going to be fine." Plankton's hand wobbled in the air before it fell to his side, his mind a swirl of fog. "Where...where am I?" his voice was a faint murmur, his eye glazed over. "You're in the hospital," Karen said, her voice steady as a lighthouse beam. "You had surgery, darling. Remember?" Plankton's eye fluttered closed, his head rolling to the side as if the weight of the world was too much. "Sur...gury?" he slurred, the syllables like molasses on his tongue. "Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a lullaby in the stark room. "It's all over. You're safe now." He mumbled incoherently, his words a jumble of letters and sounds that barely formed coherent thoughts. "Wh...wha...was it?" his mind grasped for understanding, his eye half-closed and unfocused. Karen leaned in closer, her voice a lifeline in his foggy sea of confusion. "It was just a surgery, Plankton. To remove your wisdom teeth." "Wis...wis...dome...teef?" he murmured, the words still strange in his mouth. He blinked slowly, trying to recall why he was here. Karen nodded, her smile reassuring. "Yes, they took them out. You're all done." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, his body going slack again. "Tek...tum...out?" he mumbled, his mind still swimming in the murky waters of unconsciousness. Karen nodded, her hand still on his arm. "They're gone, sweetie. You're okay." But he’s fallen asleep again, his snores filling the silent room, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. Karen watched him, her love squeezing with a mix of amusement and concern.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀 ; 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 .

GREAT CHIP v (Autistic author) Eventually, Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching slightly. His eye opens, and for a moment, he's disoriented. He looks at Chip, then at his hand on his own, and a flicker of memory passes through his eye. He then pulls his hand away. "It's okay, Dad," Chip says softly. "I'm here." Plankton's expression shifts. He sighs, his eye dropping to his son's hand. "Chip," he murmurs. "Wh-what happened?" Chip's heart skips a beat. He wasn't sure how much to say, but he knew he couldn't lie. "You had another... moment," he says carefully. Plankton's face falls, the weight of his own reality crashing down on him like a heavy fog. He nods slowly, his eye searching the room as if trying to piece together the puzzle of his lost time. "I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know." Plankton's eye meets his, the anger dissipating like the fog. "It's not your fault," he says, his voice weary. "I just... I can't handle much sometimes." Chip nods, feeling a lump in his throat. "Can I hug you?" he asks tentatively, remembering his mother's advice. Plankton's antennae droop, his eye searching Chip's face. After a moment, he nods. "Yes, but just for a second." Chip leans in carefully, wrapping his arms around his dad's shoulders. Plankton tenses, his body a coil of nerves. The hug is brief, but it feels like an eternity to Chip. He pulls back, his eyes searching Plankton's face. "Are you okay?" Plankton's eye blinks slowly. "I will be," he says, his voice weary. "I just need some time to regroup." Chip nods, his mind racing with questions and fears. He didn't know what to say, how to fix this. He just knew he didn't want his dad to feel like this. Karen watches from the doorway, her heart heavy with the weight of the unspoken words between them. She wishes she could take the pain away, but she knows that this moment belonged to her husband and her son. Chip's hand lingers in the space where Plankton's was, feeling the warmth that's no longer there. He swallows hard, trying to push his fears aside. "What can I do?" he asks, his voice trembling. Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae twitching as he tries to gather his thoughts. "Just maybe try not to touch me... unless I ask." The words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the chasm that's opened between them. Chip nods solemnly, his heart heavy. He doesn't fully understand his dad's condition, but he knows it's real and it's painful. And he knows he played a part in it today. "Dad," he starts tentatively, "Can we talk about your... moments?" Plankton's antennae droop. "What do you want to know?" he asks, his voice sounding more tired than defensive. Chip takes a deep breath, trying to formulate his thoughts. "Well, I just want to understand what you go through. What happens during those moments?" Plankton looks away, his face contorting with the effort of explaining. "It's like my brain goes on a vacation without me," he says finally. "Everything's too much, and I just... zone out." Chip nods, trying to picture it. "What's it like? The zoning out, I mean." Plankton sighs, his antennae waving slightly. "It's like... being in a movie theater, but instead of watching the movie, the lights and sounds are all around me. They're too bright, too loud. And when I come back, it's like the movie's still playing in fast forward. I miss parts of it, and I can't rewind." Chip's eyes widen with understanding. "So, it's like a break, but it's not fun for you?" Plankton nods. "It's more like a reboot. My brain needs it, but it's scary not knowing when it'll happen or how long it'll last." Chip's eyes searched his dad's, seeing the vulnerability behind the usual bravado. "But why do you get so mad sometimes?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his face contorting with the effort of explaining. "It's like... everything's too much, and then I can't stop it," he said. "It's like being stuck in a loop of noises and feelings, and I just need to make it stop. And sometimes, that means getting angry." Chip's eyes searched his dad's, trying to understand. "But why does it make you so mad?" Plankton's antennae drooped. "It's not just from anger," he corrected gently. "It's overstimulation. My brain can't process everything at once, so it shuts down to protect itself." Chip nodded, his eyes wide with realization. He'd never thought of it like that before. "So, it's like you're in a crowded room, and everyone's talking at you at the same time?" Plankton's eye lit up slightly. "Exactly," he said, his voice a mix of relief and exhaustion. "And when you touch me afterward, it's like someone turning the volume up even louder." Chip's hand retreated to his lap, understanding dawning on his face. "So, it's like... sensory overload?" Plankton nodded, his eye closing briefly. "Yes, it's like my brain's circuits are fried, and I just need a reset." Chip sat quietly, absorbing his father's words. He'd never thought about it from that perspective before. He knew his dad was different, but he didn't understand the depth of his struggle. "What about the seizures?" Chip asked, his voice tentative. "Do they feel like that too?" Plankton nodded, his antennae waving slightly. "They're like... a storm in my head," he said, his voice strained. "They come without warning, and I can't do anything to stop them. It's like everything's too much, and my brain has to shut down to protect itself." Chip's eyes grew wide with empathy. "That sounds scary. But I've seen you hug mom.." Plankton sighed, his antennae waving slightly. "It's different with your mom. She knows how to touch me without making it too much." Chip's mind raced, trying to grasp the complexities of his dad's neurodivergence. "But how?" he pressed, eager to learn. Plankton took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's like...everything is too loud or too bright, and I can't just turn it down. So, when I get overwhelmed, my brain goes to 'sleep' for a bit." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on his father's antennae which had stopped their erratic twitching. "But what if I want to hug you?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton's eye opened, a glimmer of something akin to hope flickering within its depths. "Then you ask," he said simply. "You ask, and if I say yes, you hug me gently. Like this." He demonstrated by placing his own hand on Chip's shoulder, his grip firm but not tight. "But only if I'm okay with it, okay?" Chip nodded, feeling a weight lift slightly from his chest. "Okay," he whispered, his voice shaky with emotion.

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

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 15 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ The contents are a treasure trove of textures and sounds: fidget toys, a squishy ball, a piece of fabric with different patterns. Chip reaches out to touch. "Can I try?" Plankton's antennae still, his eye watching Chip intently. "Careful," Karen warns, her voice a gentle reminder of the importance of respect. Chip picks up a smooth stone, turning it over in his hand. "This toy helps him calm down?" he asks, his voice filled with wonder. Karen nods. "Whenever his mind gets too crowded, he holds onto it, feels its coolness." "Mom, like this?" Chip says. "Just like that," she smiles. But Chip's curiosity gets the better of him. He starts to juggle the sensory items, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look, Dad, I'm just like you!" he says, trying to relate. "I'm autistic too! Tick tick.." Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye wide with shock and hurt as he then abruptly leaves the room without a single word, slamming the door hard, his eye welling up with tears. Karen sighs, her screen filling with disappointment. Chip looks up, his screen reflecting confusion. "Chip," she says gently, "What you just did was not okay." Karen's eyes are on him, her expression a mix of concern and anger. "What you just did," she says, her voice firm, "is called bullying." Chip's screen flickers with shock. "What?" he asks. "You used your dad's autism as a joke," Karen says, her voice tight with frustration. "It's not funny, Chip." He looks down at his hands, his mind racing. "But I just wanted to be like him," he whispers, his voice small. "I didn't mean to hurt him, I wanted to relate, to make him smile.." Karen's screens dim, her heart aching for her son. "I know," she says, her voice soft. "But sometimes, our intentions don't match our actions." She pauses. "Do you know how that felt for him?" "No," he murmurs, eyes on the closed door. "I just..." But Karen's expression is unyielding. "You need to think about others, Chip. Especially those who can't always tell you how they feel." She sighs. "You're his son. You need to support him, not mock him." Her words are a gentle scolding, a lesson in empathy. Chip's shoulders slump, his screen reflecting his guilt. He looks at the closed door, his mind racing with regret. He didn't mean to hurt his dad. He just wanted to understand. Karen's voice is a gentle guide. "Chip, autism isn't a game or a trick to mimic. What you did was hurtful, even if you didn't mean it." Chip's eyes are on the closed door, his mind racing. "But I just wanted to..." his voice trails off. Karen's screens light up with patience. "I know, love," she says. "Yet we all make mistakes. It's how we learn from them that counts." Chip nods, his heart heavy. He didn't mean to bully his dad, but now he sees the error of his ways. "How do I fix it?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen sighs, her eyes on the closed door. "First," she says, "you need to understand that his feelings are real, even if you don't see them the same way." Chip nods, his screen reflecting his newfound understanding. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice earnest. "I didn't mean to..." Karen's screens dim, her heart full of compassion. "I know," she says, her hand on his shoulder. "But we all learn. The important thing is to do better next time." Karen says, going out into the living room to check on Plankton. Plankton is sitting on the couch, his antennae drooped, his body still. He's staring into space, his usual bubbly demeanor nowhere to be seen. "Plankton?" she calls out softly. He doesn't move. She approaches, her movements deliberate and slow, not wanting to startle him. "Plankton, honey," she says, her voice a gentle caress. "Are you okay?" He doesn't respond, his eye fixed on a spot on the wall. Karen sighs, her screens reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. This isn't the first time he's retreated like this. She knows his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, his senses overwhelmed by the world around him. "Plankton?" Her voice is a soft touch, trying to break through his isolation. She sits beside her husband. His antennae twitch, a tiny sign that he's heard her. "I'm here," she says, her hand on his back. "Do you want to talk about it?" Plankton's eye flickers to her, his antennae still drooped. He's silent, his mouth a tight line. Karen knows this look. It's the look of someone trying to find words that won't come. "You don't have to," she says, her voice a warm embrace. "But I'm here." He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. "Chip," he finally says, his voice strained. "I don't know how to explain it." Karen nods, her screens flickering with empathy. "It's okay," she says. "You don't have to." But Plankton's eye is on the floor, his gaze unfocused. "Chip, tick tick..." He starts again, his voice cracking. Karen's screens flicker with sympathy. She knows the pain their son caused. "Plankton," she says softly. "I know, love," she whispers. "I know." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body tightening. "Why?" He looks up at her, his eye pleading. "Why would he?" "Because he's still learning," she says gently. "And we're here to he--" Karen trails off as Chip meets them in the living room, approaching them. His screen is filled with apology. "Dad," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." Plankton's antennae raise slightly, his gaze shifting to Chip. "Chip hurt, no funny," he says, his voice flat. Chip nods, his screen reflecting his understanding. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's eye stays on him, his antennae quivering slightly. "I didn't know it was like that for you. I'm just trying to underst--" But Plankton cuts him off, his antennae shooting up. "Don't," he says, his voice sharp. "Don't pretend you get it. You never will." His eye is cold, his antennae rigid. Chip's screen flickers with pain. Karen's screens dim, her heart heavy. "Plankton," she says softly, but her husband turns away. "I don't want him here," he says, his voice filled with anger. "He doesn't understand. He doesn't care." Chip's screen flickers with disbelief. "Dad," he says, his voice shaking. "That's not true." Plankton's gaze meets his son's, but the warmth is gone, replaced by a coldness Chip has never seen before. "I'm not going to give you closure Chip.." Karen's screens flash with alarm. "Plankton, no," she says, her voice desperate. But Plankton's solely on his son. "You think you can play games with me?" he says. "Yo--" But Chip's had enough. "I'm not playing games!" he yells, his voice startling Plankton. It's to loud. "I'm trying to he-" Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye wide with fear and anger. "Chip, please," Karen says, her voice urgent. But Chip doesn't realize the intensity of his father's reaction. "I just wanted to help!" Chip's voice cracks, not knowing he's being to loud. Plankton's body stiffens, his antennae quivering rapidly. "No," he says, his voice low and harsh. "Stop; please.."

PLUSH ONE iii (By NeuroFabulous) Karen watches him, his hands stroking the fabric. She reaches out tentatively, touching his arm with the back of her hand. He flinches, his hand freezing mid-stroke. Her eyes fill with regret, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she lets her hand hover for a moment before slowly drawing it back. Plankton's gaze flips to hers, his pupil wide with surprise. He stares at her, then back at her hand. "It's okay," she murmurs, her fingers hovering above his arm once more. This time, he doesn't flinch. Encouraged, she lightly traces his skin, mimicking the movement he'd made with her palm. He watches her, his expression neutral. Then, ever so slightly, his hand relaxes its grip on the blanket. It's as if he's giving his consent for the contact. Karen's eyes well up with tears. This is the first real interaction they've had since the accident. She strokes his arm, her touch light and cautious. He seems to enjoy it, his body slowly unwinding from the tension. It's a dance, learning his new boundaries, his new language of touch. "What do you like?" Karen asks, her voice soft. "What feels good?" Her eyes are on his, watching for any flicker of response. Plankton looks at her, his gaze unreadable, and then his hand moves to cover hers on his arm. It's a gesture so simple, yet so profound, that it takes her breath away. His skin is warm, his touch gentle. He seems to be communicating without words, and she's desperate to understand. "Is this okay?" she whispers, her hand stilling. He nods, his eye never leaving hers. Plankton's movements are precise, deliberate. He's not the same man she knew, but he's still her Plankton. She can see the love in his gaze, the trust in his touch. It's a new way of interacting, but she's willing to learn. As they sit together, Karen notices how Plankton's eye darts around the room, focusing on specific items before moving on. It's as if he's cataloging everything, trying to make sense of his surroundings. She decides to try to engage him with his environment, hoping to spark some familiarity. "Look, Plankton," she says, pointing to a framed photo on the wall. "It's us. Do you remember?" He looks over, his gaze lingering on the picture for a moment. "Karen," he murmurs, his voice soft. "Us." "Yes, that's us. Do you recall?" His eye darts back to the photo. "Yes, Karen; July 31, 1999." The exactitude of the date stuns her. It's a memory she'd thought lost to time. "How do you remember that?" she asks, a smile playing on her screen despite the fear that lingers in her. His gaze doesn't leave the photo. "Special day," he murmurs. "Day married. Karen and Plankton." Karen's eyes widen. His memory for dates and specifics seems to have sharpened, a trait not uncommon in those with autism. It's a stark contrast to the man who often forgot the day of the week unless it was a Krabby Patty special by the Chum Bucket. "You remembered our wedding day," she says, her voice filled with amazement. "That's incredible, Plankton." He nods, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Happy," he murmurs. "Karen happy." Karen's eyes well up with tears as she nods. "Yes, we were happy," she whispers. "We still are." Plankton's hand moves to hers, his grip firm but gentle. "Karen," he says, his voice a declaration of his presence, his acknowledgment of her. It's a moment of profound connection that transcends words. Her screen swells with hope. They're finding a way to communicate. "Do you want to watch TV?" Karen asks, keeping her voice calm and steady. Plankton nods, his eye still on the photo. She grabs the remote and turns it on. The flickering light from the screen illuminates his face, the blue hue of the plasma waves washing over them. But the program is to loud, and Plankton's body tenses up. "Too loud?" she asks, reading his expression. He nods, his eye never leaving the screen. She quickly turns it off. In the darkness, Karen's mind races. They'd need to make adjustments, little by little. Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the spot where the TV was, his eye searching for the pattern of light that was there moments ago. Karen takes a deep breath, her hand still resting in his. "It's okay," she whispers. "We'll find something else." She tries humming, starting with a soft lullaby that fills the room, and she watches his expression, looking for any sign of comfort. His eye flickers closed, and his body relaxes, the tension in his fingers loosening their grip on hers. Encouraged, Karen continues, her voice low and soothing. Plankton's breathing evens out, and she can feel his hand start to relax in hers as he's lulled to a calmness by the predictability of the song's melody. It's a small victory, but one that fills her with hope. She decides to try speaking again, her words carefully chosen. "Plankton, sweetheart, can you tell me what you're thinking about?" He doesn't respond, his eye still closed. "Plankton," Karen whispers. Plankton's breathing remains steady, his hand relaxing further in hers as she notices him sleepily squeezing her fingers. It's a gentle reminder that he's still there, that he's listening. "Karen," he says, his eye sleepily fluttering, "I love you Karen, I love yo..." Plankton's voice trails off as he drifts off to sleep, his head lolling onto her shoulder with a snore. Karen's eyes brim with unshed tears, but she's smiling. The love in his voice was unmistakable. She sits there, holding him. The room is quiet except for his snores and the occasional squeak of the couch. Karen's mind is racing with thoughts, planning for their future. How will they live with his new autism? What will change? What will stay the same? As Plankton sleeps, she notices the way his hand still clutches hers, a silent plea for comfort. She understands that their world has changed, but she's determined to adapt. The quietude of the room is pierced only by the steady rhythm of his snores and the distant hum of the city outside. The TV remains off, the colors of the room muted. Karen knows that bright lights and loud noises can overwhelm him now. She'll have to learn to live with the quiet, to appreciate the small moments of joy that can be found in the simplicity of their new life. Her eyes scan the room, taking in the clutter of their shared life. The unfinished inventions, the half-eaten Krabby Patties, the dusty knick-knacks that once held so much meaning. Everything seems different now, filtered through the lens of Plankton's altered reality. Karen makes a mental note to create a sensory-friendly space for him, a sanctuary where he can retreat from the chaos of the world. But right now it's getting late, and they're both tired. She needs to carry him to their room. With a gentle sigh, she shifts his weight and stands up, his arm draped over her. Plankton's body is limp, his snores a comforting sound in the quiet room. She walks carefully, avoiding any noise that might startle him awake. In their bedroom, Karen lowers Plankton onto his bed and covers him with the blanket. He's still snoring, and she watches him for a moment, committing the sight of him to memory. This is their new normal, and she's scared but ready to face it. Karen reaches over to kiss him on the forehead, her hand lingering there, feeling the warmth of his skin. "I'll figure it out," she whispers, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "We'll make it work."

hiii…,! so ik this is a bio thingie but if youd like heres my discord user name saki20._53454 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 21 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep. Chip watches him, with love. Then he stirs, his antennae flickering as he wakes. He blinks, his eye focusing on his son's face. Chip's screen illuminates with hope, a soft glow that fills the room. Plankton's antennae quiver as he registers. "Hi, Dad," Chip whispers, his voice shaky. Plankton's hand squeezes Chip's gently. "Hi," he manages, his voice raspy with sleep and unshed tears. The silence between them is still thick, but there's a thread of something else, something new. "Dad," Chip says, his voice a tentative whisper. "Can we go to the science fair at my school?" Plankton's antennae twitch, a sign of contemplation. Chip's eyes are wide, his screen flickering with excitement and fear. He's not sure if it's a good idea, but the hope in his voice is undeniable. Plankton considers the question, his antennae twitching as he processes the sensory onslaught of a school science fair. The noise, the lights, the crowds. It's a minefield for his overactive senses, but his son's hope is a beacon. "Okay," he murmurs, the word barely audible. Chip's screen illuminates with joy. Plankton sits up. "Chip listen, I uhm– I wan-nt t-to s-say, to t-tell y-you..." Plankton shakes his head. He can't get the words out, his mouth a clumsy mess of tongue-tied syllables. His autism, a wall between his thoughts and speech. Chip's smile falters, his heart sinking. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice soothing. "You don't have to." But he sees the pain in Plankton's eye, the desperate attempt to communicate. "Chip, about your, about the b-box..." Plankton's antennae wave with frustration, his body a testament to the difficulty of his words. "The box, Dad?" Chip asks, his eyes searching Plankton's face for answers. Plankton nods, his antennae drooping with the effort. "You liked it?" Chip's voice is hopeful. Plankton nods. "I-I'm s-still h-hurt from your earlier taunts, a-and I-I-I-I… I'm t-trying to f-forgive, for— I uh, it-t h-hurts but I d-do like the box. So, s-so thank y-you." The words come out in a jumbled mess, a tapestry of stammers and stops, but the sentiment is clear. Chip's heart swells with warmth. He understands the struggle, the fight for each syllable, the dance of emotion and cognition that's so unique to Plankton. Chip's screen flickers with a smile, his eyes never leaving his dad's. "Dad, thank you for understanding," he says, his voice gentle. Plankton's eye closes in relief, his antennae twitching. "I know it's hard," Chip continues. "But I'm here for you. We'll figure it out." Plankton nods, his antennae rising slightly. Plankton puts the new box from Chip for keeping it in the car. Karen drives them to Chip's school. She parks the car and follows them into the school.

𝐌𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝓜𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓷’𝓼 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂⭒-.⋆🪼⋆.-⭒

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY viii (Autistic author) After SpongeBob and Patrick left Plankton settled for his usual movie night. Karen took this time to call Sandy, her best friend, a gal pal. "Sandy, it's Karen," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I need to talk to you about something." On the other end of the line, Sandy's voice was warm and concerned. "Howdy! What's going on Karen?" "It's Plankton," Karen began. "He's... changed." Sandy's voice grew serious. "What happened Karen?" "Plankton had an accident," she said, her voice shaking. "He hit his head and... well, the doctors say he has autism now, and I thought I'd let you know." Sandy's voice was calm and understanding. "Oh Karen," she said. "I'm so sorry to hear that. How's he handling it?" Karen sighed heavily. "It's been... a lot," she admitted. "He's so focused on jellyfish now, and it's like nothing else matters. It's his whole world." "Wow, that's quite a change," Sandy said, her voice filled with empathy. "How's he been with social interactions?" "Well, that's the thing," she said. "He's been... different. Sometimes, it's like he's in his own little world. And other times, like with Patrick, he's just... really sensitive." "Patrick?" Sandy's voice was incredulous. "Patrick made fun of him?" "Well, not exactly. He just didn't understand," she explained. "He said jellyfish were boring, and it really hurt Plankton's feelings. The neurodivergence is irreversible, and he's still Plankton." Sandy's voice was filled with understanding. "But it sounds like he's found something that brings him a lot of joy." "Yeah," Karen agreed, her tentacles relaxing slightly. "But it's hard to watch him struggle, you know?" Sandy's voice was gentle. "I can imagine, Karen. But remember he's still the same Plankton at heart." The next day, Sandy arrived at the Chum Bucket, her burly squirrel arms holding a treasure trove of various miniature jellyfish figurines. She'd spent hours scouring the deepest parts of the ocean for the rarest and most detailed jellyfish models she could find. "Hi, Karen!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. Karen's eyes lit up at the sight of her friend. "Sandy, what's all this?" she asked, her tentacles waving in curiosity. "I heard about Plankton's newfound love for jellyfish," Sandy said with a grin, her cheeks red with the excitement of her discovery. "And I thought these might help him feel more connected. Where is he?" Sandy comes in. Plankton's sitting in the corner, his jellyfish book open on the floor in front of him, surrounded by a sea of scribbled notes and diagrams. His gaze didn't leave the page, but his posture straightened at the sound of a new presence in the room. "Plankton," Karen called gently, "Look who's here!" Plankton's antennae shot up as he looked over at Sandy, his eye widening at the sight of a box. "These are for you," Sandy said, setting the box down in front of him. Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he looked up, his monotone voice cracking slightly. "For Plankton?" Sandy nodded, her smile genuine. "I thought they might make you happy," she said, her voice gentle. "They're all different types of jellyfish. Each is unique and special, just like you." Plankton's antennae twitched with excitement as he reached for the box, his eye scanning its contents. "Jellyfish," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with wonder. "Thanks" Sandy watched as Plankton carefully removed each figurine, his eye lighting up with each new discovery. "You're welcome," she said, her voice warm. "I wanted to do something to support you in your newfound passion." Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he examined each jellyfish. "These are... amazing," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with awe. Sandy chuckled, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I'm so glad you like them," she said, watching him closely. "They're from all over the ocean. Some of them are pretty rare." Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement as he examined each figure. "Rare," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a new found enthusiasm. "Rare jellyfish." Sandy nodded, her eyes bright. "Yeah, some of them are," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "Do you have a favorite type?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he thought. "Turritopsis dohrnii," he murmured. "The immortal jellyfish. It can revert back to its polyp stage and start its life cycle again." Sandy's eyes widened. "Wow, Plankton," she said, impressed. "That's really cool." Plankton looked up from the box, his antennae waving slightly. "You know jellyfish?" he asked, his voice monotone yet filled with hope. Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. "A bit," she said, her tail swishing with excitement. "But I'd love to learn more from an expert like you." Plankton's antennae quivered with a hint of pride. "Expert," he murmured, his monotone voice cracking slightly. Sandy sat down next to him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell me more about them," she urged, her voice gentle. Plankton's antennae perked up, and he began to speak with a newfound energy. "Turritopsis dohrnii," he recited, his monotone voice cracking with excitement. "It's a jellyfish that can live forever. If it's injured or stressed, it goes back to being a polyp. It's like a rebirth." Sandy leaned closer, her eyes wide with fascination. "Really?" she said, her voice filled with wonder. "That's incredible!" Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "Yes," he murmured, his monotone voice growing more animated. "Immortal jellyfish can survive forever. Plankton read in book." Sandy's eyes grew wide with amazement. "That's so fascinating, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with genuine interest. "How do they do that?" Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "When Turritopsis dohrnii is hurt, it goes back to polyp," he said, holding up a tiny figurine of the species. "Polyp is like jellyfish baby, but it's not baby. It's just jellyfish in different shape." Sandy nodded, her eyes glued to the miniature figures as Plankton spoke. "That's so amazing," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "I've never heard of anything like that before." "Jellyfish are fascinating," Plankton murmured, his antennae waving slightly as he picked up another figurine. "This one," he said, holding up a mini model of a clear jellyfish, "is called a Burgessomedusa phasmiformis." Sandy's eyes lit up. "It's like a ghost jellyfish," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "I've read about these!" "Yes," Plankton murmured, his monotone voice cracking with pride. "They're very rare and very beautiful." Sandy nodded, her eyes shining. "They are," she agreed, reaching for one of the figurines. "How did you learn so much about jellyfish?" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he paused in his examination of the ghostly jellyfish. "Plankton read book," he murmured. Sandy nodded, her eyes still on the delicate figurine. "What else?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. Plankton's antennae quivered as he searched his memory. "Book say... that jellyfish are ancient creatures, with some species over 500 million years old." Sandy's eyes grew wide with amazement. "Wow, Plankton," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "You really know your stuff. Can I ask a question?" Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with excitement. "Question," he murmured. Sandy took a deep breath, her eyes on the book. "What was the accident, Plankton?" she asked gently. "How did you hit your head?" Plankton's antennae drooped slightly, the excitement draining from his voice. "Krabs," he murmured, his monotone cracking. "Mr. Krabs. Angry." "What happened, Plankton?" Plankton's antennae twitched as he looked up at Sandy, his eye wide with the memory. "Mr. Krabs," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a sudden urgency. "Mr. Krabs slammed cash register on Plankton's head, then Plankton woke up in hospital." Sandy's smile faltered, her eyes filled with concern. "Oh Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "Woke up," he murmured. "In hospital. Everything different." Karen looked at him, her expression gentle. "What do you remember?" Plankton paused, antennae quivering as he tried to piece together the jumbled memories. "Car," he murmured finally. "Long ride." "The hospital," Karen said, stroking his back gently. "You were in a hospital for a bit after the accident." Plankton's antennae twitched as he nodded, his monotone voice cracking. "Yes, hospital," he murmured. "Doctors talked, but Plankton didn't understand." Sandy leaned in, her eyes filled with sympathy. "They told you about your autism?" she asked softly. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Karen said it's why Plankton thinks differently," he murmured. Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "It's okay to think differently, Plankton," she said. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly. "Different," he murmured, his monotone voice filled with a hint of confusion. "But... Plankton good at jellyfish." Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "You are," she said, her voice firm. "And that's something amazing. Your brain works in ways that let you understand jellyfish better than anyone else." Plankton looked at her, his antennae perking up slightly. "Better than anyone?" he asked, his monotone voice filled with a hint of doubt. "Absolutely," Sandy said, her voice firm.

ᴾᵃʸ ᵀʰᵉ ᴮⁱˡˡ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʰᵒⁿᶜʰᵒ ʳⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴶᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃˢ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍʳᵃᵈᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ! "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧‧" ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵐⁱʳᵏ‧ "ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᴮᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ? ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵒᵒʳ ᵒˡᵈ ʳᵃᵍ ᵇᵒʸ'ˢ ʳⁱᶜʰ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ⁿᵉʳᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵇᵒᵘⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃᵛᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˡⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˢᵃᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ‧ "ᴬʰ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ᶜᵃˢᵉ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃʳᵇᵃᵍᵉ ᵇᵃᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘᵐᵖˢᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴾᵉᵃ ᵇʳᵃⁱⁿ! ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵛᵉᵍᵍⁱᵉˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ʳᵃⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧ "ᴮⁱˡˡʸ'ˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃᵏˡʸ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᶠᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵃᵍᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ᵇᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒᵗʰ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡʳʸ ᵃˢⁱᵈᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃˢ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉʷˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘᵖ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ⸴ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ᵇᵒˢˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵘʳˢ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵐ! ᔆᵒ ʰᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ‧ "ᵀᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ!" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵇᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᴵ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢᵉ‧ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵈ ʷᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧"

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM viii (Autistic author) Plankton's antennas lift slightly. "Game," he whispers, his voice shaking. "Just game." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow, his claws tense. "If it's just a game, then why are you acting so strange?" he snaps at Plankton. Plankton's antennas wobble with effort to maintain control. "Because," he starts, his voice shaky, "Plankton... different." Mr. Krabs stares at Sponge Bob, his expression unyielding. "Different?" he echoes, his eyes darting to Plankton, then back to his employee. Sponge Bob nods, his voice trembling. "Yes, Mr. Krabs, Plankton's been through something that's changed him." He looks at Karen for support, but she stays silent, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and hope. Mr. Krabs crosses his arms, his eyebrow quivering with skepticism. "What do you mean, changed him?" he asks. "Is he trying to steal the Krabby Patty formular again?" Sponge Bob's frustration rises. "No, Mr. Krabs," he says, his voice steady. "It's not like that. Plankton has... a condition." Mr. Krabs' skepticism turns to curiosity. "Condition?" he repeats, his voice softer. Sponge Bob nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He's been diagnosed with acquired autism," he explains, his voice barely above a whisper. Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, his mouth dropping open as the words sink in. He turns to Karen, his gaze demanding confirmation. "Is it true?" he asks, his voice gruff. Karen nods solemnly, her circuits flickering with a mix of sadness and hope. "Yes," she says gently. "Plankton has an acquired form of autism." Mr. Krabs' expression shifts from skepticism to shock. He looks at Plankton. "Autism?" he repeats, his voice barely above a murmur. "But... but how?" Karen's LED lights dim slightly. "I don't think he'd like to answer that question" she says, her voice clinical. "It's caused a significant shift in his neural functioning." Mr. Krabs' gaze remains on Plankton, his expression one of dawning understanding. "Was me fry pan..." he starts, his voice trailing off. Plankton's antennas drop, and he nods slowly. "Yes," he whispers. "Krabs pan." Mr. Krabs' face crumbles, his claws clenching into fists. "I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice choking with regret. "I was just trying to keep me formular safe." Plankton's antennas twitch, his single eye welling with unshed tears. Mr. Krabs' guilt is palpable, his eyes swimming with remorse. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he says hoarsely. "I had no idea." But Plankton's gaze doesn't soften. His stare is unyielding, his voice cold. "Sorry not enough," he says, his words clipped. "Hurt, Mr. Krabs hurt Plankton bad." Mr. Krabs' heart squeezes at the accusation in Plankton's voice. He's never heard him speak like this before, with such raw emotion. "I know," he says remorsefully, his voice cracking. "I know I hurt you, Plankton. I'm so, so sorry." But Plankton's unforgiving gaze doesn't waver. "No," he insists, his voice still cold. "Not just sorry. Mr. Krabs must understand." Mr. Krabs nods, his eyes brimming with tears. "I do," he chokes out. "I understand. What can I do to help?" Plankton's antennas still don't move, his expression unreadable. Mr. Krabs' reaches for Plankton's shoulder. That's the last straw. With a burst of energy, Plankton pushes away the clawed hand. "No touch," he snaps, his voice cold. "Mr. Krabs not understand." His words are like shards of ice, each one cutting deeper into Mr. Krabs' guilt. Mr. Krabs' face falls, his hand retreating quickly. "But I do," he insists, his voice desperate. "I swear, Plankton, I do." But Plankton's expression remains stony, his antennas rigid. "No," he says simply. "Krabs don't." His voice is a knife, slicing through the tension in the room. Mr. Krabs' eyes water, his heart heavy with regret. "I swear, Plankton," he pleads. "I'll do anything to make it right." But Plankton's gaze remains steady, his unforgiving gaze bearing into Mr. Krabs' soul. "Make right?" he echoes. "Cannot make right. Cannot change. Krabs fault." Mr. Krabs' shoulders sag with the weight of Plankton's words. He knows his rival is right; he can't reverse what's been done, no matter how much he wishes it. "But I want to help," he says desperately. "Please, tell me how..." But Plankton's expression is a mask of coldness, his antennas unyielding. "Help?" he echoes, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Krabs can't help." His gaze slides to the discarded chessboard, his eyes lingering on the scattered pieces. "Too late." Mr. Krabs' shoulders sag with the weight of Plankton's rejection. "Please," he says desperately. "I didn't know. I just want to make it better." But Plankton's unforgiving gaze doesn't falter. His stare is a mirror reflecting Mr. Krabs' own guilt and regret. "Better?" he repeats, his voice devoid of emotion. "Cannot be. No cure. Just stop." Mr. Krabs' eyes well with tears, his heart aching with the pain of his mistake. "But I want to fix it," he says pleadingly. "I want to make it right." But Plankton's gaze doesn't soften. "No fix," he says flatly. "Cannot change what is." His single eye seems to bore into Mr. Krabs, his voice unyielding. "Krabs hurt Plankton. Krabs must live with." Mr. Krabs hangs his head, his shoulders heaving with sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I'll do anything." But Plankton simply shakes his head, his antennas still. "Cannot change," he murmurs. "Must live with." His eye are empty, devoid of the malicious spark that once fueled his quest for the Krabby Patty formula. Normally Plankton would love to cause such a reaction out of Mr. Krabs. Mr. Krabs' sobs grow louder, his guilt consuming him. "But I didn't mean to," he wails. "It was just a mistake." Plankton's antennas twitch slightly. "Mistake," he echoes, his voice still cold. "Mistake not enough." His eye are unrelenting, his stare piercing through Mr. Krabs' soul. "You hurt me," he says, his words a quiet thunder clap in the tense silence. "Mistake changed me." Mr. Krabs looks up, his eyes red with tears. "I know," he says, his voice thick with regret. "I know I hurt you, Plankton. Yet I didn't know how bad..." But Plankton's expression is one of resentment, his antennas twitching with anger. "Hurt," he says, his voice cold. "Krabs hurt Plankton. Krabs must understand." His gaze doesn't waver from Mr. Krabs, his accusation hangs in the air like a heavy fog. Mr. Krabs' sobs quiet, his eyes swimming with regret. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. "I do underst--" "No," Plankton interrupts, his voice like a whip. "You don't." His antennas wave with agitation, his eye flashing with a cold fire. "You don't understand pain." His words are sharp, cutting through Mr. Krabs' protests. Mr. Krabs' expression falls, his claws trembling. "I see that now," he whispers, his voice racked with emotion. "But what can I do?" His desperation is clear, his eyes searching Plankton's face for any sign of forgiveness. "I'd even give you a krabby patty.." But Plankton's expression doesn't change. His antennas remain rigid, his eye still cold. "Krabby Patty not fix," he says simply. "Cannot fix brain." His voice is matter-of-fact, his tone unyielding. Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, his hope dashed. "But I'll do anything," he insists, his voice desperate. But Plankton's unforgiving gaze remains unmoved. "Anything?" he repeats, his tone mocking. "Can you give me back my mind?" His antennas wave in frustration. "Do leave, Krabs. Can leave." Mr. Krabs' expression falls, his claws hanging limp at his sides. "But Plankton," he begs. "We can work together, I can help you get better." But Plankton's face is a wall of coldness, his antennas waving with anger. "No better," he says firmly. "Only live now." His words are a reflection of the stark reality that Mr. Krabs had ignored. Mr. Krabs' eyes fill with tears, his claws clutching at his chest. "I hurt you so badly, Plankton. But I can't live with this," he sobs. "I know Krabs sorry now. Yet I last registered Krabs laughter as I fainted from the impact. Even if Krabs didn't mean to, Krabs did. So goodbye, Eugene Krabs." The room grew silent as the gravity of Plankton's words settled heavily upon Mr. Krabs. He hadn't considered that his foolishness could lead to such a profound change in his rival. Mr. Krabs looked at Plankton, his eyes brimming with desperation. "If I can go back and sacrifice my life to..." "Can't. Perhaps can find peace but for now, goodbye." The finality in Plankton's voice was a slap to Mr. Krabs' face, his hope crumbling like sand through his claws. He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. Sponge Bob's heart ached, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he watched the exchange unfold. He knew Mr. Krabs was suffering, but he couldn't ignore the pain in Plankton's voice either. Mr. Krabs' sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the weight of his guilt. "Please, Plankton," he begged. But Plankton's gaze remained on the chessboard, his hands tracing the pattern of the squares, his antennas were still, his body a statue of cold resolve. Mr. Krabs' sobs turned to sniffs as he took in Plankton's unyielding stance. He knew his rival well and he could see the deep-seated pain that lay beneath the surface of his words. With a heavy heart, he nodded. "I'll let ye space then. I never wanted to lose ye." Plankton turns away. Mr. Krabs' eyes grew large with sadness, his body quivering with the weight of his mistakes. "SpongeBob I'll give ye time off work as long as you need to when for Plankton. Goodbye, Plankton," he choked out. He left the chum bucket.

Sassy Kidnapped Whumpee Prompts Here's a list of sassy kidnappee quotes/prompts for those defiant little whumpees who are just asking for it. Enjoy! (Shoutout to @prisonerwhump for the idea!!!) "Oof, big scary spEEch. Nıce. Did you practice that in front of the mirror this mornıng?" "Are these new ropes? I hope you didn't go to the trouble just for me, you know I don't judge." "Ah. Blindfolds again. How original." "Okay, I'm awake. You can make your entrance nơw. [...] Don't play dumb, I know that's a two-way mirror. Let's just get it over with." "You know, I always assumed if I were kidnapped it would be some creepy st*lker yandere thing, but no. I get you instead. That's better, right? So...Thank you? I think? Ah, that's a kn1fe." "Listen, I know you're tryıng to be intimidating and everything - and normally it would be. Really, I mean͡ it. Chocking me against the wall is real scary, but... Like. Your hands are so soft, I can't even take you serıously. What kind of lotion do you use?" "Not to critique you when you're doing your zappy thíng, but you had better up the voltage or something before I fałł asleep. I get bored eąsįly." " "How much did that hurt̸"? Really? Like, I mean. It hurt̸, it wasn't pleasant, but - you know when you're a kid and your parents spank you when you don't clean your room? Yeah, that hâppeñed to me a lot as a kid. I felt really ba͏d making her get after me because she was alwaყs sick͞ and frail and stuff. Anyway, the point I'm trying to makę here is my MoM hits harder than you. Does that answer your question?" "Wow, what an impressive collection. Very daunting. Very scary. Just checking, but you do have a life outsıde of collecting tortur͘e implements, right? I don't judge, but I'm a little worried about you." "All you want to know is where Caretaker is. Honestly, you could ask a few questions about me first. You don't even know my fav0rite color yet." "Geez, you can at least buy me dınner before chocking me out." "Are you sure you know how to use that? I don't know, man. Maybe you should let me t̢ry it on you to make͘ sure. Just untie me real quick." "Mmm yes! Harder! Please hit me harder! Oh, I'm sorrყ. Am I makıng you uncomfortable? No no, don't stop hitting me now." "Loving the 'dark scary basement' vibes. Really, this lev3l of design takes time. The lightbulb is even flickering - did you plan that? It's honestly impressive. That or you're just this much of a slob. Either way, very effective." "Oooooo! I've always wanted my own dungeon cell. Can I put movıe posters on the walls? I think they would really spice the place up. Do you have any extra sticky tack?" "Really? You bought me for that low of a prıce? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll never see that much money in my entire life, but I think I'm worth more than that. I mean͡, look at me. I'm adorable." "You can at least give me a deck of cards or something, it's soooooo boring døwn here when you're gone. Not that it's better when you're here. Hm? No no, not because of the paın or whatever, you're just still boring. Really, if I had as much money as you, I could buy a personality." "Ah, the whip again. Let me ask, do you ever have a͝ny new ıdeas or do you just find one and let it play like a brok3n record until you dıe?" "Honestly I'm starting to get genuinely concerned about your hearing. I sAID I'm. Not. Telling. You. Anything. Do I need to talk louder? Maybe write it out̸ for you? Ow! Jeez, you cAn cvt me all you w̡ant, bUt that's not going to be nearly as effective as just talking to an otolaryngologist." "You call that a hit? Untie me quick and I'll show you how it's døne." "Gooooooooooooodevening, Kidn@ppers! How are you today? How was work. Did you đrınk enough water? How was - oh my, you look angry. Is it something I said?" “How do you sleep at nıght??? No seriously, your skın is so clear, you have to have some fantastic skincare routine before bed. And. Like. A great pi]low.” “Do you have to stand so close when you’re threatening me? I get it, but…brush your teeth or something first.” “Ah yes. Gruel. My favorite. You have to get me the recipe sometime. You’re a culinary genius.” "You knøw, I'm stɑrtıng to feel kinda bad. Here I am having all the fun, and you're doing all the work. How about you untie me and then you get a tu̴rǹ in the chair? Doesn't that sound nice?" “Better untie me then. Oh, you’re going to hand feed me? Isn’t that swéet. I didn’t know you were a big old softie.” "I can't believe you. You're a monster. Blαck shoes with a blue suit? Are you kidding me? Ridiculøus. No wonder you don't mind getting my b!ood all over your outfit, it's awful already." "I'm kında gettin͘g bored of all the screaming, how about you?" "This seems like a waste. Did you know the błoođ banks are all runnıng low? It's like. A national crisis. People could dıe. Yet here you are letting all my perfectly good błoođ go to waste. If you're so insistent on being slicy today, maybe you could like put a drip pan or something on the ground. You think they'd take drip pan błoođ? You do keep that kn*fe clean, right?" “Well someone’s cranky today. What? Didn’t get your morning coffee?” “You’re ‘Tired of all my jabbering’? Really? Well that’s kinda self centered of you. Just think about me. I have to lıve with me every minute of every day. And do I ever get a b͞reak? No. Never bored though, so that’s nice.” "What exactly do you mean by 'scream for you'? I have like seven different types of screams." "I'm sorrყ, I don't thınk I heard you the fırst 478 times. What was it you wanteԀ again? Hm. Nope. Still not clicking. You better aSK AgAIN." "Just a real quick questıon - do you have...like...friends? A significant other maybe? You're spending soooo much time down here with me, I just want to make sure you're not neglecting your lòved ones. No?"

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KAREN AND THE TEETHIES viii With the nurse's help, they manage to get Plankton into the car. Karen buckles him in, his eye opening briefly before dropping shut again. His snores fill the car as she starts the engine. She glances at him, his mouth hanging open slightly, and laughs. "You can sleep when we get home, Plankton," she whispers, her voice filled with affectionate amusement. But Plankton's snores are a steady beat, his body swaying slightly with the car's movement. His head tips back. Karen smiles, reaching over to adjust his seatbelt, making sure it's snug but not too tight. She kisses his forehead, her laughter a soft sound in the quiet car. "You're such a goofball," she murmurs. But Plankton's eye won't open, his snores gentle. His head rolls against the headrest, his mouth hanging slightly open. Karen shakes him gently. "Wake up, babe," she whispers, her voice a soft laugh. "We're going home." She says as she drove out of the parking lot. But Plankton's only response is a snort, his snores continuing. His head lolls to the side, his mouth open, a thin line of drool connecting his lip to his chin. Karen's smile widens, a mixture of affection and exasperation. She reaches over with a napkin to wipe his mouth gently. "You're such a sleepyhead," she whispers, his snores the only reply. The car's engine purrs as they pull onto the street. Plankton's snores crescendo into a gentle snort, his body jolting slightly in the seat. But sleep wins again, his head drooping to the side. Karen's eyes dart between the road and Plankton's sleeping form. His snores are a soft comforting background noise. Plankton's head tips to the side, his mouth drooping open. A thin line of drool forms, and Karen quickly darts a napkin to catch it. She giggles softly to herself, his peacefulness a stark contrast to his usual frenetic energy. "You're going to wake up in a puddle of drool," she whispers, her voice filled with amusement. But Plankton's snores are a sweet lullaby, unchanged by her words. His body sags into the car seat, his chest rising and falling with each deep, sleepy breath. As they hit a bump in the road, his head jolts up, his eye half-open. "Wha... wha..." he mumbles, his voice a thick slur. But the moment passes, and his head lolls back again, snores picking up where they left off. Karen's laughter fills the car, her hand reaching over to stroke his antennae gently. "You're such a mess," she whispers, her voice a mix of love and amusement. "But you're my mess." Plankton's snores are the only reply, his head bobbing with the car's movement. Karen watches him sleep, his mouth slightly open, drool glistening in the soft light from the dashboard. Each time she looks over, his snores crescendo, and she can't help but smile. "Sleepy Plankton," she whispers, her voice filled with love. They arrive home, the car's engine silenced in the quiet neighborhood. Plankton's snores continue, unbothered by the change in scenery. Karen shifts into park, turning to look at him. His snores are a soft whisper in the quiet car, his body still. His head tips to the side, his mouth open slightly, drool pooling on his chin. "Home," she whispers, her voice a gentle wake-up call. But his snores are unbroken, his body remaining slack. With a sigh, she opens his door, her arm slipping under his to support his weight. "Wake up, Plankton," she says, her voice a soft nudge. "We're home." But Plankton's snores are the only answer, his body unmoving. Karen shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. She carefully lifts him, his legs swinging like a ragdoll's. "Wake up," she whispers, her laughter a soft caress. "We're inside." Plankton's snores pause briefly, his eye flickering open before shutting again. "Home," he mumbles, his voice barely audible. Karen chuckles, her strength carrying his weight. "You can sleep all you want in bed," she promises, his snores the only answer. They stumble into the hallway, Plankton's snores bouncing off the walls. She guides him to the couch, his legs giving out with a thump. "Come on," she whispers, laughing. "Bedtime." But Plankton's eye is closed, his snores a soft whisper. He slumps against the couch cushions, his body unyielding. Karen sighs, her smile filled with affection. "You're so stubborn," she says, her voice a gentle scold. With a grunt, she shifts his weight, his head rolling to the side. "Wake up," she whispers, a hint of laughter in her voice. But Plankton's snores are a sweet testament to his deep slumber. "We're almost there," she whispers, her voice a gentle reminder. But his body is a deadweight, his snores echoing through the quiet house. With a soft chuckle, Karen shifts him into a standing position, his snores hitching for a moment before resuming their steady rhythm. "Walk, Plankton," she whispers, guiding his sleepy steps. But his body sags again, his head rolling back with a snore. "Come on, sweetie," she says, her voice a blend of amusement and persistence. Karen's heart swells with love for his adorable state. She manages to carry him to their bedroom, his snores a gentle reminder of his deep sleep. She eases him onto his bed, his body falling into the soft embrace of the mattress with a final, heavy snort. Karen props his head with pillows, his mouth still open. She wipes the drool from his chin with the napkin, her touch gentle and loving. "You're home," she whispers, his snores the only response. Her eyes scan his face, his features relaxed in sleep. With a soft sigh, she tucks the blanket around him. "Rest well, my love," she says, kissing his forehead. Plankton wakes up the next morning, finding himself in his own bed after his appointment for wisdom teeth removal. The anesthesia worn off overnight. He looks around, his head feeling light and his mouth feeling... strange. He touches his cheeks gingerly with his fingers, feeling the absence of his teeth. "What happened?" he mumbles, his voice groggy with sleep. Last thing he remembers is the dentist's chair and Karen's soothing whispers. Karen walks in, her smile bright. "You're awake," she says, her voice a soft caress. "How do you feel?" Plankton's hand moves to his swollen mouth, his eyes wide with surprise. "What... how'd I get here?" he slurs, his speech still thick with sleep. Karen laughs, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You fell asleep at the dentist's and I brought you home," she explains, her voice filled with humor. "Do you remember the surgery?" Plankton's eye widen, his brain foggy with recollection. "I... I think so," he mumbles, his hand still cupping his cheek. "I recall the chair... and your voice..." Karen nods, her smile warm. "You were pretty out of it," she says, her voice a gentle tease. "But you're all healed now."

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."

SHELF IMPROVEMENT viii (Autistic author) The next day, Karen got up out of bed. Plankton's still asleep. She wondered how she's to wake him with his new sensory sensitivities. Gently, she opened the blinds, letting in the soft morning light. The room was peaceful, the silence only broken by the steady hum of his breathing. She took a moment to just watch his sleeping form, the covers rising and falling with each breath. Karen approached the bed, careful not to wake him. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as she reached out to stroke his forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, and she smiled sadly. "Good morning, Plankton," she whispered, keeping her voice soft. His eye fluttered open, and he blinked at her, his gaze slightly unfocused. "Karen," he mumbled, his voice groggy. "How are you feeling?" she asked, concern etched on her screen. Plankton blinked a few times, his antennae slowly raising. "Tired," he finally said, his voice raspy. "It's okay," Karen soothed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We'll take it easy today. I told Chip about your new neurodisability.." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he took in her words. "Chip knowing?" he murmured, his eye searching hers. "Yes, sweetie," Karen nodded. "We talked about how we need to be gentler with you now." Plankton's antennae stilled, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, his eye found hers. "Thank... you?" he whispered, the words a gentle caress. Karen felt a tear roll down her screen. "Of course," she said, smiling softly. "We're in this together." It's the first time since the accident that he used an actual pronoun. Plankton's antennae quivered as he absorbed her words. "Together," he echoed, his voice gaining strength. Karen wiped her screen, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm them as Chip came into their room. "Morning, Dad," Chip said, his voice tentative. He had spent the night thinking about his father's condition, his young mind racing with questions. Plankton's antennae twitched, and he offered a small smile. "Chip," he mumbled. Chip cautiously approached the bed, his eyes wide with concern. "You okay, Dad?" Plankton nodded, his antennae still. "Chip," he murmured. "Chip loves Plankton." Chip climbed up onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. "I love you too, Dad," he said, his voice trembling as he crawled closer to Plankton. Plankton's antennae flinched as Chip approached, his body tensing instinctively. Karen had explained about personal space the night before, but she wasn't sure if he'd remember. "Chip," she said softly, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Let's not get too close just yet, okay?" Chip nodded, his screen a picture of understanding. He sat at the edge of the bed, giving Plankton enough space. Karen could see the effort it took for him to control his instincts. Plankton's antennae twitched as he took in the new dynamics, his eye flicking between Karen and Chip. "Space," he murmured, his voice still weak. "I need... space." Karen nodded, swallowing hard. "Of course, Plankton. We'll make sure to give you your space." She reached for Chip's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Remember, buddy, let's not overwhelm Dad." Chip nodded, his eyes serious. He slowly slid off the bed, his movements careful. But as he stood up, his elbow accidentally brushed against Plankton's arm. The reaction was instant. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body jerking away from the touch. "No!" he yelped, his eye widening in discomfort. Karen lurched as she saw Plankton's expression. She had tried to prepare Chip, but it was clear that their new reality was going to be a learning experience for them all. Chip's screen filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered. Karen's seeing her son's upset face. "It's okay, Chip," she said quickly. "It's an accident. Let's give Dad some more space, okay?" But Plankton's expression had shifted. His antennae were vibrating rapidly, his eye flashing with anger. "Too much," he snapped, his voice harsher than Karen had ever heard it. "Chip, too much!" Chip's eyes watered, and he took a step back, his hand hovering. "I'm sorry, Dad," he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae whipped around, his whole body vibrating with agitation. "Out!" he bellowed, the word exploding from his tiny body. "Chip, go out!" Chip's eyes grew large with shock. He had never heard his dad speak to him like that before. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to leave, his steps slow and heavy. Karen watched her son retreat. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaky. "It's okay, he didn't mean..." But Plankton's anger was palpable. "No!" he shouted, his eye flashing. "Chip, no more!" His voice was loud, a stark contrast to the gentle whispers of their previous interactions. Chip hovers by the door. "Dad, I di-" "OUT!" Plankton's shout reverberated through the room, cutting him off mid-sentence. His body was rigid with tension, his antennae quivering angrily. Karen felt a pang of fear and sadness seeing her husband like this. But Chip wants to reconcile with his father. Chip looked back, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Dad, ca--" "OUT!" Plankton's voice was a thunderclap in the stillness of the room. Chip flinched, his small body visibly trembling. "Dad," Chip tried again, his voice shaking. "Can't you li—" "OUT!" Plankton shouted, his antennae whipping around like tiny storm clouds. Karen saw the fear in Chip and knew she had to intervene. "Chip, go to your room," she said firmly, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Let's give Dad some time to calm down." Chip nodded. With one last longing glance at Plankton, he left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS viii (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's gaze searched both of their faces, seeing the tentative connection forming. "Why don't we let Daddy rest now?" she suggested softly, her eyes on Chip. "It's getting to be bedtime. You head to bed, Chip." she said gently. Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over Plankton's. He knew his father needed his space, especially after such an ordeal. "Goodnight, Dad," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of fear and love. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye still focused on Chip. "Goodnight, buddy," he murmured, his voice exhausted. "I-I-I-I… lo-ove y-you." The words hung in the air, a declaration of his feelings despite his condition. Chip felt his heart swell with a mix of emotion, his hand falling to his side. "I love you too, Dad," he whispered back, his voice trembling slightly. The next morning, Karen hears a ding vibrate on her phone, waking her. She sits up and looks over at Plankton, who's still sleeping. She smiles softly at the sight of her snoring husband, his antennae twitching slightly with each breath. Gently, she slides out of bed, careful not to disturb his rest. She grabs her phone, checking the text. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of the message: "Plankton: Dental Appointment to discuss his latest x-ray. We open in 1 hour." It was from Plankton's dental office. Karen sighed, setting her phone on the nightstand. "Plankton, love," she whispered, carefully shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, we have a dental appointment." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye opening. He took a moment to process the information, his brain slowly coming online. "Dentist?" he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen nodded, her voice steady. "Yes, honey. We need to talk to the dentist about your latest x-ray." Plankton's antennae twitched. Karen knew that dental appointments were a particularly tough challenge for Plankton due to his sensory sensitivities. With a sigh, Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen could feel the tension in the room, so she took Plankton's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll call Sandy" she said, her voice calm. "She'll look after Chip." Plankton nodded, his antennas still twitching nervously. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen quickly dials Sandy's phone number. The phone rings, a distant melody in the quiet room. Plankton's antennae twitched with every ring, his nervousness palpable. "Sandy, it's Karen," Karen's voice was a comforting balm over the line. "Could you possibly watch Chip today? We've got a dental appointment for Plankton, and it's... sudden, I know." Sandy's voice came through the speaker, warm and understanding. "Of course, Karen. Right now? I'll be heading on over!" Karen breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Sandy," she whispered, then hanging up. She went to Chip's room. The light from the hallway spilled into his room, casting long shadows across the floor. Chip stirred in his bed, his eyes blinking open sleepily. "Huh?" he mumbled. Karen's smile was gentle as she leaned over him. "Hey, buddy," she whispered. "Sandy's here to watch you while I take Daddy to a dentist appointment." Chip's eyes widened, his mind still foggy with sleep. "Dentist?" he repeated, sitting up. "Don't worry, Chip," Karen assured him, her voice soft. "You can stay here with Sandy. She'll take good care of you." The sound of the doorbell rang through the house, a sharp, piercing noise that made Plankton's antennae twitch. Karen's eyes darted to his face, but his expression remained stoic. She knew his hearing was sensitive, but she didn't have time to fuss over it now. "It's just Sandy," she assured Plankton with a smile, patting his hand before heading to the door. "It'll be okay, honey." The door opened, and Sandy's cheerful face appeared. "Howdy, Karen!" she chirped, her eyes scanning the room. "Hi, Sandy! I don't know how long we'll be gone but I can keep you updated. It's to review an x-ray from Plankton's last x-ray they said they'd keep an eye on, and they notified us to come in today." Sandy nodded, her smile warm and reassuring. "Don't worry, I've got this. I'll keep Chip busy and entertained," she promised. "But he can also sleep in.." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's okay, love," she murmured, squeezing his hand. "We'll be going now." Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen knew he was scared, but she also knew he'd get through it. "Come on," she whispered, her voice soothing. "Let's go to the car."

CHIP IN MY BOX viii (Autistic author) The room is quiet as they wait for Plankton to stir. Chip's mind is racing. Suddenly, Plankton's body twitches, a small movement under the velvet shroud. Karen's hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with anticipation. Her heart is a wild animal in her chest, thumping against her ribs as she watches her husband slowly come back to them. Under the curtain, Plankton's eye opens slightly, the pupil dilated with confusion. His limbs move sluggishly, his mind trying to make sense of the world that's rushing back in. Karen's hand reaches out to his, her eyes brimming with relief and fear. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle breeze in the quiet room. "You're safe." "Wh... wha... whale...?" Plankton's voice slurs, his eye flickering behind the velvet curtain. Karen's grip on her son's hand tightens as she watches her husband struggle to find his footing in the murky waters of consciousness. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a lifeline in the storm of his confusion. "You're home, you're safe." Plankton's eye blinks, his brain trying to piece together the shards of reality. "Whale?" He mumbles again, his voice slurred with sleep. Karen's heart squeezes, her hand still in Plankton's, her voice even softer now. "No, honey, it's not a whale," she says, forcing a gentle laugh. "It's me, Karen. You're at home." Her words are a soft caress, a beacon in the fog of his sensory overload. Chip watches, his eyes wide with fear and hope. He wants to call out, to tell his dad everything's okay, but he remembers Dr. Kelp's instructions. He stays quiet, his hand tightening around the new fidgets, his knuckles white with tension. Plankton's mumbling becomes more pronounced, his eye darting around under the velvet cover, as if searching for something he can't quite see. "Bubble...box," he murmurs, his voice a distant echo. Karen's heart races, her mind racing to keep up with his scattered thoughts. She knows his brain is trying to make sense of the world, to find the familiar in the chaos. "A box is here," she whispers, her voice soothing. "It's new, and right beside you." Her words seem to resonate somewhere in the fog of Plankton's mind. His hand twitches, reaching out. Chip's breath hitches as he sees his father's hand hover over the new box of sensory items. "Bubblebox," Plankton murmurs, his voice a soft breeze through the room. The words are meaningless, but the tone conveys a desperate search. Karen's eyes fill with tears as she nods. "It's here," she whispers, guiding his hand to the box. His fingers graze the velvet curtain, his movements clumsy and unsure. Chip watches, his heart in his throat, as his father's hand trembles over the box's edge. "Bubba," Plankton says, his voice a whisper of confusion. Karen's eyes are glued to his face, her heart breaking at his distress. She tries to think of something to say, to bring him back to them fully. But she knows better than to push too hard. Plankton's eye blinks rapidly, his hand fumbling with the box's contents. "Fishy," he mumbles, his voice a disjointed symphony of half-thoughts. "Fishy, fishy." Karen's heart squeezes. He's talking to his mind, she knows, to the jumble of thoughts that have overtaken his reality. The words are nonsense, a random assortment of sounds. "Fishy?" He murmurs again, his hand patting the floor. "Fishy, bubblebox." His voice trails off, lost in the fog of his own thoughts. Karen's heart is racing, her mind trying to decode his ramblings. She knows his mind is searching, trying to find the safety net of his sensory world. "Yes, honey," she whispers, her voice a soothing lullaby. "You're okay." Plankton's eye rolls back into his head, his body going slack again. The silence in the room is deafening, a stark contrast to the tumult inside her. Karen's hand is a tremor against his, willing him back to reality. Chip watches, his own thoughts racing, as his mother's eyes dart to Dr. Kelp for guidance. The doctor's tentacles move with a quiet assurance, placing more items around Plankton. "It's normal," he whispers, his voice a lifeline in the storm of their fear. "His mind is trying to find his bearings." "Where's," he mumbles, his voice a distant whisper. "So... many... Karen..." His antennae twitch erratically, his hand flailing in the air as if trying to catch invisible orbs. Karen's heart is in her throat, her eyes brimming with tears as she watches his struggle. "I'm here," she says, her voice a soft caress, reaching for his hand. "You're safe." Her eyes plead with Dr. Kelp, desperation etched in her features. The doctor nods reassuringly, his tentacles moving with a gentle rhythm. "We're home." Plankton's eye moves beneath the velvet, searching for familiarity. "Home?" He whispers, his voice scratchy from disuse. "Where am I?" The fear in his tone makes Karen's heart ache. "You're home, Plankton," she whispers back, her voice soothing. "You're safe." Her words are a gentle reminder, a beacon in the storm of his senses.

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY viii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip's heart ached, his guilt a physical presence in his chest. He knew he had hurt his father, and he desperately wanted to take it back. "I know I don't understand, Dad," he said, his voice quivering. "But I want to learn. I want to be there for you. You're special..." Plankton's antennas perked up slightly at the word 'special'. It was a term he had heard before, but it didn't always come with the warmth and sincerity that filled Chip's voice. "You don't know what that means," he said, his voice low and defensive. Chip felt his heart sink even further, his stomach twisting into knots. "Huh?" Plankton's voice grew louder, his antennas shooting up. "You think because I'm 'special', you can just treat me like a toddler?" He threw the pillow across the room, his anger palpable. "I'm not some kind of science project, Chip!" The room grew tense as Chip swallowed his words, his eyes wide. He had never seen his dad so upset. "Dad," he began, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to—" "Don't," Plankton snapped, his antennas pointing sharply at the ceiling. "You think you can fix me with your little experiments?" His words were like a slap in the face, but Chip knew better than to let his own anger flare up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. "I just want to help," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be ther-" "I don't need your help!" Plankton's outburst echoed through the room, his antennas quivering with emotion. "I don't need anyone to 'fix' me, especially not you!" His voice was raw, each word a dagger to Chip's soul. Chip took a step back, his eyes wide with hurt and confusion. "But Dad, I just wa-" "Don't," Plankton said, his voice sharp and final. "Just don't." Chip felt his throat tighten, his words stuck in his mouth. He had never seen his father like this, so raw and exposed. The silence was suffocating, each second that passed feeling like an eternity. Plankton's chest heaved with the effort of containing his emotions. His antennas were a blur of movement, indicating his internal turmoil. Karen watched from the doorway, her heart breaking for both her husband and her son, feeling torn between comforting them and giving them space. "I know," Chip said, his voice small. "But I'm tr-" Plankton's antennas shot up, cutting him off. "You think you know?" His voice was laced with bitterness. "You have no idea what it's like to be me.." Chip felt his heart sink further, his mind racing. "I'm sorry," he offered, his voice small. "But I do know that you're more than just your autism. You're my dad, and I love you." Plankton's antennas remained stiff, his eye unblinking. "Love," he spat out the word like it was a foreign object. "You don't know what that word means either, do you?" Karen stepped forward, her voice a soothing balm. "Plankton, sweetheart, let's not do this," she pleaded. "Chip's just trying to—" "I know what he's trying to do!" Plankton shouted, his antennas jerking erratically. "He's trying to make me feel less than, like I'm so—" "Dad, no," Chip said, his voice shaking. "That's not what I'm doing. I just want us to be closer, like you and Mom.." Plankton's antennas quivered, his body tensing. "Don't bring her into this," he warned. "You don't understand her either." His words were like a slap, but Chip knew his father wasn't in control of his emotions. "I do, Dad," Chip managed to say, his voice filled with determination. "I see how much you both love each other, and I just want to be a part of th-" "Don't you dare!" Plankton's voice was a roar, his antennas thrashing in agitation. "You don't get to use your mother as an excuse for your ignorance!" The room vibrated with tension, each word a blow to Chip's heart. He felt tears prickling his eyes but blinked them back, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I'm not using her, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I just want to know how to be close to you the way Mom..." Plankton's antennas shot up in a gesture of disbelief. "The way your mother is with me?" his voice was thick with anger. "You think you can just mimic that?" He stood up, his whole body shaking with emotion. Chip felt his heart drop, his words coming out in a rush. "No, Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I just want to connect with you." He took a step towards his father, his hand outstretched, but Plankton took a step back, his antennas bristling. "I don't like your connecting," Plankton said, his voice cold. "I need you to leave me alone." His antennas waved erratically, a clear sign of his distress. Chip took another tentative step forward, reaching out again.. Plankton flinched, his antennas waving wildly. "I said no!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I can't do this right now!" His eye darted around the room, seeking an escape from the overwhelming emotions. Chip's eyes filled with tears, but he knew pushing would only make things worse. He took a step back, his arms falling to his sides. "Ok," he whispered, his voice tight with unshed emotion.

PLUSH ONE viii (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's mind races with questions, but she knows better than to ask now. She watches Plankton closely, his body slowly unwinding. His eye opens slightly, his gaze flicking to his plushie. "Plankton," she says, keeping her voice steady, "Would you like to sit with me?" He considers her offer, his antennae twitching nervously. Then, with a shaky nod, he crawls across the floor, his body still tense, and sits by her side, the plushie still clutched in one hand. Karen swells with relief, the air in the room finally feeling a bit less suffocating. She keeps her movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle him. Plankton sits next to her, his antennae still twitching. The man she loves is trying, and it's all she can ask. Plankton sits next to her, his antennae twitching, a constant reminder of the world he now navigates. She reaches out tentatively, her hand hovering near his. "Would you like me to hold your hand?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. He looks at her hand, then at her, his eye swiveling in consideration. For a moment, Karen thinks he might reject her offer, but slowly, his hand reaches out and wraps around hers. It's a tentative gesture. His grip is firm, but not too tight, his antennae quivering as he tries to process the sudden contact. She holds her breath, afraid to disturb the fragile peace they've found. Karen's mind races, trying to recall everything she's read about autism, about how touch can be both a source of comfort and of pain. She remembers the importance of consent, of letting the person with autism lead the way. So she sits, her hand in his, and waits. The room is still, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside their window. Plankton's breaths are steady now, his grip on the plushie loosening. His antennae are still, no longer searching the air for threats. Karen's eyes are locked on their intertwined hands, the warmth of his palm a comfort she hadn't realized she'd missed. "You're doing so well," she whispers, her voice as gentle as his only response is a twitch of his antennae. His eye flicks to hers, a silent question. "It's okay," she says, her smile reassuring. "We're just sitting together." Plankton nods slightly, his eye still focused on their joined hands. He then repeats her words, his voice a mirror of her own. "Okay, sitting together." The phrase echoes. It's called echolalic palilalia, a common trait in those with autism, where words are repeated. Karen nods with love. "Yes," she says. "Sitting together." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a hint of a smile playing. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM v (Autistic author) SpongeBob picks up his cards and looks for any twos. "Got any twos?" he asks, trying to keep the peace. But Plankton's focus has shifted, his eye no longer on the game. "Fish," he says again, his voice desperate. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a dry twig. "Plankton, enough with the fish!" he exclaims, tossing his cards down onto the floor. The sudden movement startles Plankton, and his antennas retract slightly. "What's wrong with you!" Sponge Bob asks, his voice shaking with frustration. "You're not the same, Plankton." Plankton's antennas wobble, and his eye darts around the room, unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Fish," he whispers, his voice lost. SpongeBob's frustration was palpable in the tense air of the Chum Bucket, his eyes wide with confusion. He had always known Plankton to be a master of manipulation and cunning wit, so seeing him in such a repetitive state was unsettling. He didn't understand why his friend's world had narrowed down to a simple game of Go Fish and the repeated question for more of the same card. "Plankton, I don't get it," Sponge said, his voice tight with the effort to stay calm. "What's with all the fish?" Plankton's antennas drooped further, his eye cast downward. "Fish," he mumbles again, his voice deflated. "Need more fish." Sponge Bob's mind races to understand the change in Plankton's behavior. He's known Plankton for so long, they've had countless battles over the Krabby Patty formula, but this, this is different. The way Plankton's voice echoes his own words, how he can't seem to let go of the word "fish," it's almost as if he's a different person entirely. "Plankton, please," Sponge Bob pleads, his voice cracking. "Why do you keep saying that?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and sadness. "Fish," he repeats, his voice a mere whisper. "Need fish." "I told you Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained with patience, "I don't have any more twos, so I can't give you any fish." Plankton's antennas droop, his eye sad. "No fish," he whispers. Sponge Bob's at his wit's end. "Look, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "This isn't fun anymore. Why do you keep asking for fish when I don't have any?" Plankton's antennas shoot up again, his eye widening in surprise. "Fish?" he asks, as if the concept has just been introduced. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a rubber band. "Yes, fish!" he yells, his spongy body trembling with frustration. "But I don't have any!" Plankton flinches at the loudness of Sponge Bob's voice, his antennas retreating into his body. "Fish?" he whispers, his eye wide with fear. Sponge Bob's frustration remains. "Why do you keep asking for fish?" he asks. "What's happening to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas twitch erratically, his expression a mix of pain and confusion. "Don't know what's happening to you Plankton." Plankton says. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his voice shaking. "I just want my friend back," he whispers. "I don't know what happened to you." Plankton's antennas drop, his eye filling with sorrow. "Friend," he repeats, his voice small. "Sponge Bob friend." Yet Sponge Bob doesn't understand. He only sees his friend acting strange and distant, and he can't stay calm anymore. "Why can't you just be normal!" Sponge Bob exclaims, his voice shaking with emotion. Plankton's antennas tremble, and his eye fills with uncertainty. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice shaking. But SpongeBob's frustration was only growing. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaky. "You're not my friend like this, Plankton. I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to snap out of it!" Plankton's antennas wilt at Sponge Bob's anger, his eye filling with a sorrow that seems to mirror Sponge Bob's own. "Fish," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Need fish." Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend's distress. He's so tired of the echoing words, the endless loop of "fish." With a sigh, Sponge Bob gathers the scattered cards, his movements deliberate and careful. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice gentler now. "But we can't keep playing this way." Plankton's antennas droop as he watches Sponge Bob clean up. "Fish?" he asks, his voice small and hopeful. Sponge Bob turns, his face a mask of anger and hurt. "No, Plankton," he says firmly. "We're not playing anymore; I'm tired of it!" Plankton's antennas wobble at the harshness of Sponge Bob's tone. "No fish?" he asks, his voice small and trembling. Sponge Bob cannot hold back anymore, as his frustration won't let up. "Plankton," he says, his voice tight with emotion, "I don't have any more fish! Can't you understand that?" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice shaking. That's the last straw. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears of anger and frustration. He's had enough of Plankton's strange behavior, his incessant echoing of words. "You're not listening!" he yells, slamming the cards down on the floor. "I don't have any more fish Plankton, so just stop it!" Plankton's antennas shiver at the harshness of Sponge Bob's words, his body shrinking under the weight of the accusation. "Fish?" he asks again, his voice cracking. Sponge Bob's fists clench, his knuckles turning white. "No more fish!" he says, his voice shaking with anger. "I've had enough of you and your fish!" Plankton stops but Sponge Bob's anger still burns bright. He doesn't know what's happening to Plankton, but he can't tolerate this strange behavior any longer. "What's wrong with you?" Sponge Bob yells, his eyes wide with desperation. "Why can't you just play normally, huh? How hard is it to just ask for a card without all the fish nonsense? I didn't come here to play your weird games!" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye swelling with unshed tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Sponge Bob's anger continues to build, his frustration spilling over like boiling water. "You're not even trying!" he accuses, his voice rising. "What happened to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas droop, his body slumping. "Fish," he mumbles, his voice broken. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching for his friend. "I don't understand," he says, his voice cracking. "What's wrong with you?" Plankton's antennas barely move, his expression a mask of sorrow. "Fish," he whispers, his eye searching Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob's anger grows, his voice raised. "You're just saying the same thing over and over! Why can't you talk to me normally?" Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he says again, his voice shaking. Sponge Bob's fists clench tighter, his knuckles white with frustration. "I don't know what's going on with you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But this isn't how we talk to each other. We're friends!" Plankton's antennas barely twitch, his expression lost. "Fish," he whispers, his voice desolate. Sponge Bob's anger reaches its peak, his eyes flashing. "I don't have any fish!" he yells, his spongy body quivering with rage. "Why can't you just talk to me?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye wet with unshed tears. "Fish," he murmurs, his voice a plea. Sponge Bob feels like his patience has been stretched to its breaking point. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaking with the effort to control his emotions. He turns away, his back to Plankton. "We're not playing anymore," he declares. "We're not playing anything until you start making sense! So you can either stop acting weird and talk to me like a normal being or, I'm leaving!" He kicks the cards, and then Karen decides to intervene. Her voice is firm but kind. "Sponge Bob," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Plankton's not doing this on purpose. Plankton can I tell Sponge Bob?" Plankton nods slowly, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's back. "Sponge Bob," Karen continues, her voice soothing, "Plankton had a bad accident, and..." Her words hang in the air, but Sponge Bob doesn't turn around. "What?" he asks, his voice small and defeated. Karen's voice is soft but steady. "Plankton hit his head and it affected his brain," she explains. "He has something called Autism now." Sponge Bob turns, his eyes wide with shock. "What's that?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's a condition," Karen says gently, her gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "It makes it hard for him to understand certain things, like how to play games without getting stuck on one word." She gestures to Plankton, who's shedding tears rolling down his cheeks. Sponge Bob's anger evaporates, replaced by sympathy. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice full of sadness. He steps towards his friend, his hand reaching out. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Plankton's antennas wobble as he looks up at Sponge Bob, his single eye brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to get so mad." Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's with gratitude. "Fish," he whispers, but it's not a demand this time. It's more of a statement of understanding.

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https://www.nps.gov/klgo/learn/historyculture/upload/gold-rush-cemetery-508.pdf

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AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY viii (Autistic author) Just as quiet settled, Krabs' booming voice filled the room. "Plankton, where are ye!" Plankton's eye flew open. Sponge Bob and Karen exchanged a worried look, knowing that Mr. Krabs' presence could easily overwhelm him, not to mention Krabs caused this. Krabs marched in, his beady eyes searching the room. "Ah, there ye be," he said, spotting the small figure on the couch. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body tensing. "K-Krabs," he stuttered, his voice shaking with fear and anxiety despite trying to appear strong. Mr. Krabs' eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's this, Plankton? Too tired to scheme today?" Plankton's antennae twitched nervously. "Just... resting," he managed to murmur. "Resting? In the middle of the day? Pish-posh!" He waved a dismissive claw in the air. "More like plotting! I know your tricks, Plankton!" Sponge Bob stepped in, his spongy body blocking Krabs' view. "Hey, Mr. Krabs," he said. "Plankton's had a rough day. He's just taking it easy." Krabs' claws click together. "Rough day, eh?" he sneered. "I'll give ye rough!" Plankton's antennae drooped as his heart raced. The familiar threat of his enemy was like a knot in his stomach, a reminder of the harsh world outside his sanctuary, and what happened last time. Sponge Bob's voice grew firm. "Mr. Krabs, can we maybe talk about this later?" Mr. Krabs' eyes widened slightly at the unusual assertion. "Later? What's the matter with now?" Sponge Bob's gaze never left Plankton's trembling form. "Plankton's off the clock.." "Off the clock?" he scoffed. "There's no 'off the clock'!" Sponge Bob stepped closer to his friend, his spongy body a barrier between the two adversaries. "Mr. Krabs," he said, his voice firm, "Can we reschedule the... uh... brainstorming session?" Mr. Krabs' expression grew skeptical. Karen stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Krabs, please. Plankton's been through a lot." Mr. Krabs' eyes flicked to Karen. "Pah! Plankton's always had boundaries, but that's never stopped before!" Plankton's antennae quivered desperately, tensing even further. "Please, Krabs," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can't." Mr. Krabs' eyes narrowed, his claws coming to rest on his hip. "What do you mean, 'can't'?" he demanded. Sponge Bob's voice was firm but kind. "Mr. Krabs, Plankton's been diagnosed with something. It's like a... a... special condition," he stumbled. Mr. Krabs' beady eyes narrowed, sneer remaining. "Special condition? I'll give ye a special condition!" The room grew tense, the energy palpable. Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly, his body shrinking under the weight of Mr. Krabs' aggression. The memories of the fight and the subsequent meltdown flashed through his mind, a painful reminder of his vulnerability. Mr. Krabs' shadow loomed over the couch, his eyes gleaming with malice. Plankton's breathing grew shallow, his heart racing. He felt like a tiny creature trapped under the gaze of a giant predator. "Please," he whimpered, his voice barely audible. Sponge Bob stepped in front of Plankton, his spongy body taut with tension. "Mr. Krabs," he said, his tone firm, "Plankton's not ok. You need to back off." Mr. Krabs' sneer faltered, his claws pausing mid-air. He took a step back, his eyes widening slightly as he took in Plankton's state. The small creature's eye was wide with fear, his body trembling beneath the thin blanket. Sponge Bob watched, his heart breaking for his friend. "Mr. Krabs," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "What happened between you two really affected Plankton. He's been diagnosed with autism because of it." Mr. Krabs' expression shifted, his eyes going wide with shock. He took another step back, his claws dropping to his sides. "What? Autism?" he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen stepped closer. "Yes Krabs," she said, her voice calm and patient. "The doctor said it's a result of the head injury he sustained during your fight." Mr. Krabs' face paled, his claws dropping to his sides. "I... I," he stammered, bravado gone. The room was silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Karen's unforgiving. Sponge Bob watched, his heart heavy with hope that his boss might understand. Mr. Krabs' eyes grew wide with horror as the realization sank in. The thought that he could have caused such harm to his longtime nemesis was to much to bear. He swallowed hard, his chest constricting with guilt. He looked at Plankton, really looked at him, for the first time seeing the fear and pain in his eye. Plankton was trembling, his antennae quivering with each shallow breath he took. Mr. Krabs took another step back, his chest heaving. "Autism?" he repeated. "Because of me?" The room was a silent witness to the crab's self-realization. The booming voice that had so often filled the Chum Bucket with threats and taunts was now just a faint echo of regret. Mr. Krabs stared at Plankton, his beady eyes shimmering with a mixture of horror and guilt. He had never seen the tiny plankton look so vulnerable, so broken. It was a stark contrast to the scheming genius he had always known. "I-I..." he stuttered, his claws trembling as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of his actions. Karen stepped forward, her voice firm but measured. "The doctor said it's because of the trauma to his brain you inflicted. It's all because of you! You did it." Mr. Krabs' eyes widened even further, and he took another step back. "But... but, I was just defending the Krabby Patty!" he protested weakly. Sponge Bob's gaze was steady on his boss. "It's more than that, Mr. Krabs. It's irreversible with no cure." Mr. Krabs' face fell, the implications of his actions finally sinking in. The magnitude of his recklessness was clear, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice small and desperate. Karen's gaze was steely. "You can start by giving him space. And maybe, just maybe, by being kind for once in your life." Mr. Krabs looked down at his claws, which had been poised for battle, now hanging limply at his sides. He nodded slowly, his eyes still on Plankton. "I'm sorry, Plankton," he said, his voice gruff. "I never meant to hurt ye like this." Plankton's antennae stilled. He wasn't sure what to make of Mr. Krabs' sudden apology. His eye searched the crab's face. "Mr. Krabs," he began, his voice still small but growing stronger. "I know Krabs didn't mean to... to make me like this." His antennae twitched slightly as he spoke. Mr. Krabs' expression grew soft, his eyes misting with tears. "But I can't take it back," he whispered, the weight of his guilt heavy on his shoulders. Suddenly, Plankton's tiny hand reached out, tentatively taking Mr. Krabs' large claw in his grip. The gesture was unexpected, his antennae quivering with the effort of reaching out despite his fear. It was a silent offering of peace, a bridge over the chasm of their rivalry. Mr. Krabs looked down at their joined hands with surprise. The warmth of Plankton's touch was a stark contrast to the coldness of his own heart, a reminder that despite their differences, they were all just creatures trying to navigate a complex world. The room held its breath as Mr. Krabs felt the tremble in Plankton's grip, a silent plea for understanding and compassion. It was a moment of unexpected connection, a reminder that even the most bitter of enemies could find common ground in pain and suffering. Mr. Krabs' eyes grew wet with tears, his hardened exterior cracking like a shell under the pressure of his guilt. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed the crab's words. He knew Mr. Krabs was capable of empathy, but rarely did it show. This was a side of him he had never seen before, and it was as overwhelming as it was comforting. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's hand in his claw. He took a deep breath, the weight of his apology heavy on his chest. "I'll leave you be," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. Plankton's antennae remained still, his grip on Mr. Krabs' clawed hand lingering in the air for a moment before he slowly withdrew it, his mind reeling from the exchange. Sponge Bob and Karen watched, their expressions a mix of shock and hope. Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. He knew that words alone wouldn't erase the pain he had caused, but it was a start. He took a step back, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his newfound understanding. "I'll leave you to rest," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. Plankton's antennae quivered with relief, and he nodded slightly. Mr. Krabs turned to leave, his steps heavy as he moved toward the door. But before he could exit, Plankton's voice stopped him. "Mr. Krabs," he called out, his tone firm but not unkind. Mr. Krabs paused, his claw on the doorknob. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression a mix of hope and fear. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he gathered his thoughts. "I... I forgive you," he managed to say, his voice surprisingly steady. Mr. Krabs' eyes widened in shock, his claw frozen on the doorknob. He had never expected such words to come from his enemy's lips, especially not now, in the aftermath of such a life-altering revelation. He turned to face Plankton, his expression a tumult of emotions. "You... forgive me?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. Plankton nodded, his antennae still. "If you can change," he said, his voice firm but not unyielding. "Be better." Mr. Krabs' gaze searched Plankton's face, his own expression a mirror of the plankton's. "I'll try," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Plankton's antennae drooped in a gesture of defeat. "Just try," he murmured. "That's all I ask."

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

"𝖮𝗁 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍.." 𝖣𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍? 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 '𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅' 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

* . ⛧ ⋆. ✧ * . ⋆ * . ⛧ ⋆. ✧ * . ⋆ . ☆ ⭒ * ⊹ * ⋆ ⭑ ⊹ . ☆ ⭒ * ⊹ * ⭒ .* 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 ⋆ ⛧ ⊹. * ✦* 𖤐 * . ⋆ ☆ ⋆ ⛧ ⊹. * ✦ *. ⊹ * ⊹. ⋆ *. ⊹ * ⊹. ⋆ * ⊹. ⋆ *. ⊹

𝑌𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒 ✷ 　 　.　 　 · * ✧ ˚ 　 ˚ * . 　 *　　 * ⋆ 　 . · 　˚　 ⋆ 　　　 ˚ ˚ 　☽　 ✦ 　 ⋆ · 　 * ⋆　　　　 ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵ 　 · ⋆ ˚ * ✧

⊹˚∘🌀⋆₊˚.

🍡⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆🍡 ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ i’m trusting the universe i believe everything comes to me at the perfect time and everything will turn out just fine ☆ ₊⊹ ༘⋆ ✮ ༘⋆ ₊⊹ ☆

✨ 🌠 ✨ 🌠 🌙 🌠 ✨ 🌠 ✨

֗ ִ ۫ 🌙ˑ ᳝ ࣪ 𓄹 ⊹ ᳝🪐 ࣪ .

✰✧✩☾🌙🌌⭐🪐🌟୭✧ .・゜

Dark Academia: 🕰🌾🩹☕🌿🍂📜🕯 Cottagecore: ☕🌾🌿🍄🩹☁️✨🕊🧸🧺🌻🧺 Kidcore: 🧃🌈🖍🪁🎒🎈🎭🍄 Spacecore: 🌌🔮🌙🌑☪️🌓🌗 Babycore: ☁️🧸🦢🍼🤍🕊🥛🩹

__________________________________________________________________________ Moon Phases __________________________________________________________________________ _..._ .:::::::. ::::::::::: NEW MOON ::::::::::: `:::::::::' `':::'' _..._ .::::. `. :::::::. : WAXING CRESCENT :::::::: : `::::::' .' `'::'-' _..._ .:::: `. :::::: : FIRST QUARTER :::::: : `::::: .' `'::.-' _..._ .::' `. ::: : WAXING GIBBOUS ::: : `::. .' `':..-' _..._ .' `. : : FULL MOON : : `. .' `-...-' _..._ .' `::. : ::: WANING GIBBOUS : ::: `. .::' `-..:'' _..._ .' ::::. : :::::: LAST QUARTER : :::::: `. :::::' `-.::'' _..._ .' .::::. : :::::::: WANING CRESCENT : :::::::: `. '::::::' `-.::'' _..._ .:::::::. ::::::::::: NEW MOON ::::::::::: `:::::::::' `':::'' __________________________________________________________________________