Neurodisability Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Neurodisability Emojis & Symbols

JUST A TOUCH x (Autistic author) SpongeBob rushes over, his face a mask of worry. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. But Plankton can't answer. His body is rigid, his eye unfocused. Squidward's tentacle retreats, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob's eyes are wide with concern. "Hello?" Plankton doesn't even blink, his eye remains unseeing, his body a statue to the chaos around him. Squidward, still holding the dish, watches with a mix of fear and confusion. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob's heart races as he sees his friend frozen. "Hey, Plankton," he says. "It's just a party." But the words fall on deaf ears—or rather, one deaf eye. Plankton's antennae remain still, his body rigid. The room's chaos has ceased to exist for him, lost in the vacuum of his seizure. Sponge Bob's voice, usually so boisterous, is now a gentle whisper. "Plankton?" he says, his hand hovering over his friend. Squidward, his eyes wide, stammers. "Is he...? Is he okay, or?" It's something that has to run its course, which of course neither Squidward nor Sponge Bob realize. Squidward's tentacle shakes Plankton gently, his voice filled with concern. "Plankton?" he repeats, his tone softer now. Plankton's antennae remain still, his body a statue in the bustling kitchen. The dish clatter fades to background noise, the laughter from the party a distant echo. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes, his eyes never leaving Plankton's unseeing gaze. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something new, something scary. He takes a deep breath, his thumbs tucked into his pockets as he tries to think. What do you do? What helps when someone you care about is stuck in this kind of loop or what ever this is... Squidward, usually so quick to snap and complain, is silent, his tentacles poised but not moving. He watches, his eyes flicking between the unmoving Plankton and SpongeBob. The room's cacophony fades away as the realization hits them—Plankton's in trouble. Sponge Bob's smile is gone, replaced with a furrowed brow and a quivering bottom lip. Squidward, still holding the now forgotten plate, feels a pang of guilt. He'd seen the stress in Plankton's antennae, heard the urgency in his voice, but had dismissed it. Now he's not sure what to do. Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy body tense with worry. He's seen Plankton upset before, but never like this. "I think we should set him down," he suggests, his voice barely a whisper. "On the floor.." They gently lower Plankton to the cool tiles, his body unyielding. Squidward sets the dish aside, his tentacles shaking slightly. "What do we do?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob's eyes never leave Plankton's face, his heart pounding in his chest. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something else entirely. Squidward, his tentacles still shaking, stammers. "What do we do?" The fear in his voice is palpable. They both know Plankton isn't okay. Sponge Bob takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Plankton's motionless form. "Get Karen. Now." Squidward nods, his tentacles moving in a blur as he rushes to find her. The party's music thumps in the background, a stark contrast to the silence of the kitchen where Plankton sits. Sponge Bob kneels beside him, his hand hovering over Plankton's shoulder, unsure of what to do next. His heart races as he watches his friend's chest rise and fall in the rhythm of a silent symphony only Plankton can hear. Karen looks up at the sound of Squidward running in. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice filled with alarm. Squidward's tentacles flap wildly. "It's Plankton! He's... he's just... not moving!" Karen's eyes widen, and she rushes into the restaurant, Squidward's words echoing in her mind. Plankton sits on the floor, his body unnaturally still, his antennae drooping. Her heart skips a beat as she sees his vacant gaze. She recognizes the signs—this is the second time she's seen an absence seizure take hold of him. She kneels beside Sponge Bob, whose expression is a mix of fear and confusion. "He's having a seizure," Karen whispers, her voice a calming breeze in the chaotic kitchen. Her hand, now gentle and firm, guides Plankton's head to the floor. "He'll wake up. We've got to keep him safe." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with concern. He's seen his friend in tough spots before, but this... this is something beyond his usual quirks. Plankton's tiny body is a stark contrast to the monstrous fear gripping his heart. The kitchen is a blur of movement around them, but Karen's calm presence brings a semblance of order. She takes over, her movements precise. "Don't touch him," she says, her voice a gentle command. "Just let it run its course." Squidward nods, his tentacles still, his eyes on Plankton. Sponge Bob's face is a mask of worry, his eyes never leaving his friend's unresponsive form. Mr. Krabs' beady eyes narrow, his voice a gruff whisper. "What's going on?" Karen's voice is calm, but her heart races. "It's okay," she says, her hand resting on Plankton's back. "It's just a part of his new... condition." Mr. Krabs' expression softens, his eyes flicking from Plankton to Karen. "Is he going to be okay?" "Yes," Karen says firmly, her hand still on Plankton's back. "It's just a seizure. They can happen with... his autism..." Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, but his expression quickly morphs into something more thoughtful. "I see," he says, his voice lowered. "I had no idea." "He got a brain injury, Mr. Krabs," Karen says. "Yesterday, in an accident.." Mr. Krabs nods, his gaze on Plankton's unmoving form. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice genuine. "What happened?" Karen swallows, her eyes welling with tears. "They said it's Acquired Autism. It's like his brain got... rewired." Her hand strokes Plankton's back soothingly. "He's the same, but different." Mr. Krabs nods slowly, his claws clenching. "Well, we'll make do," he says gruffly. "This is still the same Plankton who tried to steal the Krabby Patty formula, right?" Karen's eyes flash with a mix of anger and protectiveness. "Yes," she says firmly. "But now he needs our help. And our understanding. He hasn't mentioned it once since.." Her voice trails off as Plankton's eye flickers. Slowly, his antennae unfreeze, twitching slightly. The world starts to come back into focus, the colors and sounds gradually seeping back into his consciousness. Sponge Bob's hand is still hovering over him, his face a canvas of relief and uncertainty. "Plankton?" Sponge Bob whispers, his voice tentative. Plankton's eye blinks once, twice, and he looks around, his gaze landing on Squidward. Squidward's tentacles are still, his expression a mix of fear and confusion. Plankton slowly sits up, his antennae twitching as he takes in the scene. The dish is forgotten, the need for order lost in the fog of his seizure. "Welcome back," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix of relief and anxiety. Plankton's antennae wave slightly as he looks around, his gaze settling on the plate still in Squidward's tentacle. "It's okay," Karen says gently, her hand resting on his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch as his brain reboots, trying to process the scene before him. "Dishes," he murmurs, his voice still flat. Squidward watches him, his tentacle hovering over the sink. "Let me handle this," he says, his voice apologetic. "You... you just take it easy." Plankton nods, his antennae still. The chaos of the kitchen fades away as he focuses on his friend's kindness. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice a soft echo of its former self. "All of you.."
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.
JUST A TOUCH ix (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae quiver with frustration. "It's about the order," he repeats, his voice strained. "Everything needs order." Squidward sighs, his tentacles flapping in exasperation. "Look, I don't know what's gotten into you, but we need to get these dishes done, and we can't do that if you're going to micromanage every single one!" Plankton's antennae droop. "Needs thorough..." Squidward throws his tentacles up in the air. "I don't care about your 'thoroughness' right now!" he exclaims. "Just let me do my job!" Plankton's antennae flatten. "No!" he shouts, his voice echoing off the stainless steel walls. Squidward turns, his tentacles poised for a fight. "What is your problem?" he snaps. Plankton's eye darts around, his heart racing. He can't explain the sudden urgency, the need for order that's consuming him. The need to be perfectly cleansed without blemish. "It's just... it's just..." Plankton stammers, his antennae drooping. Squidward's eyes narrow, his tentacles still. "What's the matter with you?" he asks, his voice edged with irritation. Plankton swallows, his throat tight. "Needs good.." But before he can say more, his gaze locks onto a speck of dirt on a plate. The world around him fades away as he reaches for it, his movements slow and deliberate. Squidward watches him, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. "What is that?" he asks, his tone sharp. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing on the speck. "Dirt," he whispers, his voice laced with distress. "Has to be gone." His hand shakes as he reaches for the plate, his mind consumed by the need to remove the imperfection. Squidward snatches the plate, his tentacles firm. "It's just a tiny speck!" he says, his voice loud. Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body stiffening. "Can't have dirt," he murmurs. The room seems to close in, his heart hammering in his chest. The need for order, for everything to be just so, is a wave crushing down on him. Squidward's face swims in his vision, a blur of impatience. "Squidward," he says, his voice steadying. "It's dirty." Squidward's grip on the plate doesn't waver. "It's not dirty," he says, his tone firm. "It's a tiny speck." But to Plankton, that speck is a boulder, a symbol of the chaos he can't control. His antennas quiver as he stares at the offending spot, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The world narrows to just the dish, the speck, and the overwhelming need to erase it. Squidward reaches out a tentacle, to move him aside, reaching to touch Plankton's shoulder. But before he can make contact, Plankton flinches, his eye snapping up to meet Squidward's. "Don't," he says, his voice sharp. "No touch." "Then move so I can mix the dishes.." The words hit Plankton like a wave, sending him spiraling. He can't explain it, but the thought of Squidward's tentacle touching him sends a shiver down his spine. But the only alternative is to result in disordered dishes! Squidward's grip on the plate doesn't change, his tentacle poised to push Plankton aside. "Please," Plankton whispers, his voice trembling. "No..." SpongeBob watches from a distance, his smile fading. He's noticed the changes in Plankton, the way his movements have become so precise, his speech so formal. But he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Squidward's tentacle hovers, his gaze flicking from the plate to Plankton's face. "I'm in charge, not you!" He says shoving Plankton as he mixes the dishes. That's it. The room spins around Plankton, his vision blurring with the sudden assault. The clatter of plates, the smell of grease, the touch of Squidward's tentacle— it's too much. His body reacts before his brain can catch up, the partygoers' laughter a distant echo in Plankton's ringing ears. "Plankton?" Squidward asks, his voice a distant rumble as SpongeBob comes in. Plankton's vaguely aware of his surroundings, but it's all just white noise, his gaze going blank as the absence seizure starts up.
JUST A TOUCH vii (Autistic author) The room is thick with unspoken words as Sandy slowly approaches the bed, her movements calculated to avoid overstimulating Plankton. Her eyes are full of compassion, but also fear of the unknown. "Hi, Plankton," she says softly, extending her hand with a gentle wave. He flinches, his antennae quivering. "Remember me?" Plankton's brain processes her words, but his response is delayed. He nods, his movements mechanical. Sandy sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice carefully modulated to avoid causing him discomfort. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye darting to the side. He doesn't look at her directly, his gaze lingering on a spot on the wall. "Fine," he says, his voice devoid of inflection. Sandy nods, her eyes searching his for any sign of the friend she knew. "It's good to see you, Plankton." Her words hang in the air, their meaning lost in the labyrinth of his new reality. Karen watches them, her heart in her throat. She can see the effort Plankton is making to engage with Sandy, the way his antennae twitch with every word spoken. It's a dance, a delicate balance between his need for solace and his desire for connection. Sandy's hand hovers near his, her eyes questioning. "Can I?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. Plankton's gaze shifts to hers, his expression unreadable. Karen nods, giving her permission. "Gently," she says, a soft reminder. Sandy nods, her hand inching closer to his. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body stiffening as her fingertips brush against his. But the moment their skin makes contact, something snaps within him. He jolts upright, his antennae flailing as his eye widen in panic. "Too much," he cries out, his voice a mix of fear and anger. "Too much!" The room seems to shrink around him, the walls closing in with every beat of his racing heart. Sandy's eyes widen in shock, her hand retreating quickly. "Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "It's okay." But Plankton's not listening, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "No!" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "No touch!" Sandy's face falls, her eyes brimming with confusion and hurt. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's in the throes of a full-blown meltdown. His tiny fists clench. "No touch!" he repeats, his voice rising. Karen's heart breaks seeing the fear in Sandy's eyes, but she understands the importance of respecting Plankton's boundaries. "We're sorry, Plank..." But Plankton's anger interrupts her, his voice sharp and intense. "No! No sorry! Sandy touch no good!" His words are a jumble of pain and frustration, a stark contrast to the controlled monotone he'd used earlier. Sandy's eyes fill with tears, her hand retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I didn't know." Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "It's okay," she says to both of them, her voice steady. "We're just figuring this out." Plankton's chest heaves with breaths. "No touch," he mutters, his voice fading. Sandy nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her voice softer. "I'll..." But Plankton's outburst continues, his voice rising. "No touch!" The room vibrates with his distress, the air thick with his panic. Karen's heart races, her mind racing to find a way to soothe him. She knows he's overwhelmed, that his new hypersensitivity to touch has been violated. Sandy's eyes widen, her hands hovering awkwardly in the space between them. She can see the turmoil in his face, the anguish in his voice. "I didn't mean to..." she starts, but her words are swallowed by his distress. "Plankton, it's okay," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. But it's too late. The dam has broken, and his emotions flood the room like a storm. His tiny body trembles with rage, his antennae flailing in every direction. "No touch!" he screams again, the force of his voice surprising even Sandy. She jumps back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Karen's eyes are on Plankton, a silent apology in her gaze. "It's okay," she says to him, her voice soothing. "We'll make sure that doesn't happen again." Plankton's eye darts around the room, his breathing erratic. "No touch," he whispers, his voice broken. Sandy backs away, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "I didn't know," she says, her voice thick. "I'm so sorry." The room echoes with Plankton's sobs, his body quaking in Karen's arms. Karen's heart aches for him, her eyes never leaving his face. "No touch," he whispers, his voice broken. Karen nods, her eyes brimming with tears. "I know," she says, her voice gentle. "It's okay. We'll figure this out." Plankton's antennae stop flailing, his body still trembling as the storm of his emotions begin to subside. He looks up at Karen, his gaze searching for comfort. She wipes a tear from her face with her free hand. "It's okay," she repeats. "You're okay." Sandy's eyes are red, her shoulders slumped. "I didn't know," she says again, her voice shaking. "I just wanted to help." Karen nods, her own eyes wet with empathy. "I know," she says. "It's a lot to take in." The three of them sit in the quiet room, the only sound Plankton's muffled sobs. Sandy's eyes dart around, not knowing what to do with herself. Karen squeezes his hand gently, her gaze never leaving his. "We're here for you," she whispers. Slowly, Plankton's crying subsides, his body still shaking. Karen can feel the tension in him, like a coiled spring ready to snap again. Sandy's hand twitches, as if she wants to reach out, but she stops herself, remembering his outburst. "I'm sorry," she says again, her voice small. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "It's not your fault," she says to Sandy, her voice gentle. "We're all just trying to navigate this new... reality." Sandy sniffs, nodding. "I just want to be here for you guys," she says, her voice shaky. Plankton's sobs quiet, his body slumping in exhaustion. Karen nods, her eyes meeting Sandy's. "We know, and we appreciate it," she says, her voice tight. "But we have to be careful with his sensory needs." Sandy nods, her face a mask of sorrow. "I'll learn," she whispers. "What do you need from me, Plan..." But Plankton's already slipping away, his eyelid drooping as sleep beckons. Karen's grip on his hand doesn't loosen as she watches his breathing even out. The tension in the room slowly eases as his body relaxes, his sobs giving way to quiet snuffles. Sandy's eyes are on him, her heart heavy with guilt. "I'll go," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Karen nods, her gaze still on Plankton. "Thank you," she murmurs. "Call me if you need anything." Sandy nods, her eyes lingering on the two of them before she stands, her legs shaky. She crosses the room, the weight of her mistake dragging her down. As she reaches the door, she glances back one last time. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly in his sleep, and she can't help but feel a pang of sadness. Karen's eyes follow her, filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you," she whispers again as Sandy exits, closing the door behind her. The click echoes through the quiet space, a stark reminder of the distance that's grown between them all. Plankton's grip on her hand tightens slightly in his sleep, as if sensing the shift in the room's energy. Karen brings her other hand to cover his, sandwiching it between hers. Her eyes well with tears as she whispers, "It's okay, Plankton. You're okay." The room is bathed in silence once again, the only sound being Plankton's gentle snores. Karen's mind is racing, thinking of all the adjustments they'll need to make, the education she'll have to provide to those who know and love him. But for now, she focuses on the warmth of his hand in hers, his head buried in her shoulder. Her eyes drift to the clock, the hands moving in a slow, steady march forward. It's time for her to start dinner, to bring some semblance of normalcy back into their lives. Gently, she shifts Plankton to his side, making sure he's comfortable before rising from the bed. The kitchen is a minefield of potential triggers: the hum of the fridge, the clink of pans, the smell of cooking food. She moves carefully, her eyes scanning the room for anything that might overstimulate him. The recipe she's chosen is simple, something they both enjoy. She starts the prep, chopping vegetables with a precision that Plankton would appreciate, her movements methodical and calming. The aroma of cooking food fills the air, a comforting reminder of their shared life. Karen's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, planning how to help Plankton navigate this new world. She wipes her hands on a towel. As she hears Plankton's tentative steps on the stairs, she takes a deep breath. His descent is slow, each step measured with caution. When he enters the kitchen, his gaze darts around the room, his antennae twitching with each new sound. Karen's heart squeezes. She's used to his energy, his boundless enthusiasm. This cautious creature is still his shell-shocked self. "Hungry?" she asks, her voice as soft as the evening light. Plankton nods. The meal is a simple one, a familiar comfort in a world that's become so alien. Karen places the plate before him, the steaming food a visual symphony of their shared past. Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze fixating on the plate. "Food," he says, his voice still monotone. Karen nods, aching for the passionate foodie she knew. "Do you need anything else?" she asks, her voice soft. He shakes his head. The meal is eaten in silence, each bite a victory. Karen wants to say something, anything, but she knows he needs space, time to process the whirlwind of emotions.
pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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Can Brain Damage Cause Autism? Research exploring the potential link between autism and brain damage has yielded mixed results. While some studies suggest a possible association between the two, others indicate that brain damage alone is not a direct cause of autism. Ruben Kesherim November 1, 2023 Understanding Autism and Brain Damage To fully comprehend the potential link between autism and brain damage, it is essential to understand the individual components involved. This section will provide an overview of autism, brain damage, and explore the connection between the two. What is Autism? Autism, also known as Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), is a complex neurodevelopmental condition that affects social interaction, communication, and behavior. People with autism may exhibit a wide range of symptoms, including difficulties in social interactions, repetitive behaviors, and sensory sensitivities. Autism is believed to have a strong genetic component, although the exact cause remains largely unknown. What is Brain Damage? Brain damage refers to any injury or harm to the brain that disrupts its normal functioning. It can occur as a result of various factors, including accidents, infections, strokes, tumors, and traumatic brain injuries (TBI). Brain damage can lead to a wide range of cognitive, physical, and behavioral impairments, depending on the location and severity of the injury. The Link Between Autism and Brain Damage Research exploring the potential link between autism and brain damage has yielded mixed results. While some studies suggest a possible association between the two, others indicate that brain damage alone is not a direct cause of autism. It is important to note that autism is a complex condition with multiple contributing factors, and brain damage might be just one of them. Case studies and findings have provided insights into individuals who experienced brain damage and subsequently displayed autistic-like symptoms. However, such cases are relatively rare, and the exact mechanisms underlying the development of autism after brain damage remain unclear. Understanding the relationship between autism and brain damage requires further research and exploration. It is essential to consult healthcare professionals and specialists to obtain accurate and personalized information regarding specific cases. Can Brain Damage Cause Autism? The relationship between brain damage and autism has been a topic of interest and research. While autism is a developmental disorder characterized by challenges in social communication and interaction, brain damage refers to any injury or trauma to the brain. In this section, we will explore the research and findings that shed light on the potential link between brain damage and autism. Exploring the Research Research examining the connection between brain damage and autism has provided valuable insights into the complex nature of the disorder. While it is clear that not all individuals with brain damage develop autism, some studies suggest that there may be a correlation between the two. One line of research suggests that neurological damage can lead to the development of autistic symptoms in some individuals. This damage can occur before, during, or after birth, and it can be caused by various factors such as genetic mutations, infections, or trauma. Case Studies and Findings Case studies have played a crucial role in understanding the relationship between brain damage and autism. These studies provide detailed accounts of individuals who have experienced brain damage and subsequently developed autistic symptoms. While case studies offer valuable insights, they are limited in generalizability and cannot determine causation. Additionally, research has identified specific brain regions that may be implicated in the development of autism after brain damage. For example, damage to the prefrontal cortex or the amygdala has been associated with the emergence of autistic traits. However, it is important to note that brain damage alone does not always result in autism, and the relationship between the two is complex and multifaceted. While the research provides some insights into the potential link between brain damage and autism, it is crucial to acknowledge that not all individuals with brain damage develop autism, and not all individuals with autism have experienced brain damage. The relationship between the two is influenced by various factors such as the timing, severity, and location of the brain damage, as well as individual differences and genetic factors. As the understanding of autism and brain damage continues to evolve, further research is needed to unravel the intricacies of this complex relationship. It is important to consult with healthcare professionals who specialize in autism and brain injury to receive accurate assessments, diagnoses, and appropriate interventions for individuals affected by these conditions. Factors Influencing Autism after Brain Damage While the relationship between autism and brain damage is complex, several factors can influence the development of autism following brain damage. Understanding these factors can provide valuable insights into the connection between the two. Timing and Severity of Brain Damage The timing and severity of brain damage play a crucial role in whether autism may develop as a result. Research suggests that brain damage occurring early in development, particularly during the prenatal period or early infancy, may have a higher likelihood of leading to autism. The developing brain is highly vulnerable during these critical periods, and any disruptions or abnormalities can impact neurodevelopment and contribute to the development of autism. Furthermore, the severity of the brain damage can influence the likelihood of autism. More severe brain injuries, such as those caused by traumatic brain injury or certain genetic conditions, may increase the risk of developing autistic traits or behaviors. However, it is important to note that not all individuals with brain damage will develop autism, and the relationship between brain damage and autism is not fully understood. Location of Brain Damage The specific location of brain damage can also influence the development of autism. Different areas of the brain are responsible for various functions, and damage to certain regions may result in specific challenges or symptoms associated with autism. For example, damage to the frontal lobe or areas involved in social communication may increase the likelihood of social and communication difficulties characteristic of autism. Each case of brain damage is unique, and the location and extent of the damage can vary. Therefore, it is essential to consider the individual circumstances and consult with medical professionals to assess the potential impact on autism development. Individual differences and genetic factors can significantly impact the manifestation of autism following brain damage. Each person's genetic makeup and predisposition to autism can influence how they respond to brain damage and whether they develop autistic traits. It is important to recognize that brain damage alone does not cause autism in every case, and genetic factors can interact with brain damage to influence the outcome. Research suggests that individuals with certain underlying genetic vulnerabilities, such as specific gene mutations or genetic syndromes, may be more likely to develop autism after brain damage. Genetic testing and evaluation can provide valuable insights into these individual differences and help guide intervention strategies and support. Understanding the factors that influence autism after brain damage is a complex and ongoing area of research. It is important to consult with healthcare professionals who specialize in neurological conditions and developmental disorders to gain a comprehensive understanding of the unique circumstances and potential implications. Differentiating Autism from Other Conditions When exploring the relationship between brain damage and autism, it's important to understand how autism spectrum disorder (ASD) differs from acquired autism. While both conditions may share certain characteristics, there are distinct factors that set them apart. Autism Spectrum Disorder vs. Acquired Autism Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a neurodevelopmental condition that typically emerges early in childhood. It is characterized by persistent challenges in social interaction, communication, and restricted or repetitive behaviors. ASD is considered a lifelong condition that affects individuals across various domains of functioning. Acquired autism, on the other hand, refers to the development of autistic symptoms following brain damage, often resulting from injury or disease. This form of autism is not present from birth but emerges after a specific incident or medical condition.
COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 2 (Neurodivergent author) By evening, Karen has set up a makeshift kitchen area in the living room, with all the ingredients for spaghetti arranged neatly on the coffee table. Plankton sits cross-legged on the floor, his eye never leaving the recipe book. He reads each step aloud, his voice growing stronger with confidence. Karen chops vegetables nearby, noticing the subtle changes in his movements, the way he tilts his head when he's concentrating. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil fills the room. Plankton stirs the pot, his face scrunching up slightly at the aroma, a sign his sensory sensitivity has heightened. She sees him rub his hands together, a self-stimulatory behavior, but she knows it's his way of grounding himself amidst the chaos. They move around the makeshift kitchen, a silent dance of understanding and support. Karen boils the water for the spaghetti while Plankton continues to sauté the veggies. Each action is deliberate, each step measured as they navigate their new reality. The water reaches a rolling boil, and Plankton carefully drops in the spaghetti strands, his gaze transfixed by the swirling water. Karen watches his concentration and sees the childlike wonder in his eye. "How long?" he asks. "Five minutes," Karen says, her voice calm. She's read that clear and concise instructions can be helpful. After five minutes, Plankton quickly drains the spaghetti, his movements precise and methodical. He pours the sauce over the noodles and mixes them gently, his focus intense. Karen watches him, a mix of admiration and concern. "It's done," he announces, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. She brings over two plates, setting them on the coffee table. They sit across from each other, the steaming spaghetti a bridge between them. Plankton's hand hovers over his plate, unsure of how to proceed with the new sensory experience. "Let's eat," Karen says with a smile, picking up her fork and twirling the noodles expertly. The sound of her silverware against the plate makes him flinch, but he mimics her movements. They eat in silence, the clinking of forks and spoons the only sounds in the room. Plankton chews slowly, savoring each bite, his face a canvas of emotions. Karen watches him, her own fork poised in midair. As they finish dinner, Plankton sets his plate aside and looks at her, his expression earnest. "Thank you, Karen," he says, his voice clear. "For being here Karen." Her eyes brim with tears, but she blinks them back. "Always, Plankton. I'll always be here. Now it's getting late; let's go to bed.." In bed, she reads to him, his favorite childhood story, the words acting as a lullaby. Plankton's hand rests on her arm, his thumb rubbing circles in a self-soothing gesture. His breathing steadies, matching the rhythm of her voice. The book's final page is turned, and she switches off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence is filled with the comforting hum of the fan above. Karen lies beside Plankton, his body rigid with tension. Her arm wraps around him, pulling him closer, and she feels his muscles slowly relax. "Goodnight, Plankton," she whispers, kissing his forehead. He doesn't respond, lost in his thoughts. But she knows he heard her. Karen notices the tension in his body and gently runs her fingers through his antennae, a silent offer of comfort. Eventually, his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep, his body curled into hers like a child seeking shelter. The next morning, the sun streams through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed. Karen, already awake, watches him, her hand still entwined with his. He's still asleep, his body relaxed, the lines of worry from the day before smoothed out by the embrace of slumber. Carefully, she slides out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. She sees him stir in his sleep, his antennae twitching slightly, but he remains unaware of her departure. In the kitchen, Karen starts the coffee, the scent filling the room with a comforting aroma. She opens the fridge, finding the ingredients for the morning routine. Plankton's usual breakfast is a simple one: toast with jam and a banana. The toaster pops, and she spreads the jam with a gentle smoothness that Plankton likes. The banana peels easily, revealing the perfect yellow fruit inside. Her mind races with thoughts of how she'll need to learn his new sensitivities, his likes and dislikes, his triggers. But for now, she focuses on the task at hand, placing the slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is just right, she carries the breakfast tray to the bedroom, her steps soft against the cold floor. Plankton's still asleep, his snores punctuating the quiet morning. Karen sets the tray on the bedside table. She watches him, unsure how to wake him without causing distress. She's read about sensory sensitivity and knows that sudden noise can be jarring for someone with Autism. She gently strokes his antennae, her touch featherlight, and whispers his name, "Plankton, wake up." He stirs, his antennae twitching, but his eye remains closed. Karen tries again, a little louder this time, "Wake up, sweetie. Breakfast is ready." Plankton's hand shoots up to cover his eye, a reflexive reaction to the light. His body tenses, then relaxes as his mind adjusts to the new day. He sits up slowly. "Thank you, Karen," he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep. He takes in the breakfast spread before him, his antennae twitching with anticipation. He picks up the toast, feeling the warmth in his hands, the stickiness of the jam a familiar comfort. Karen watches him closely, noticing the way his eye widens slightly at the first bite, the way his tongue flicks out to taste the banana. It's as if every sensation is amplified, a symphony of flavors and textures that she can't begin to understand. She sips her coffee, silent, giving him space. As he eats, Plankton starts to hum again, his body rocking slightly. It's a low, comforting sound that fills the room. Karen feels the tension in her shoulders ease. This is their new normal, a dance of care and understanding.
Similarities and differences while asd and acquired autism may exhibit overlapping symptoms, there are notable differences between the two: aspect autism spectrum disorder (asd) acquired autism (after birth) cause no identifiable cause, likely a combination of genetic and environmental factors results from brain damage due to injury, illness, or medical condition onset typically apparent in early childhood evident after brain damage occurs developmental delays often accompanied by developmental delays in language, motor skills, and cognitive abilities developmental delays may or may not be present, depending on the individual severity ranges from mild to severe, with varying levels of support needed severity can vary based on the extent and location of brain damage treatment treatment focuses on providing support, therapies, and interventions tailored to individual needs treatment involves addressing the underlying brain damage and may include therapies to manage symptoms Soit is crucial to note that acquired autism resulting from brain damage is relatively rare compared to asd, which is believed to have a more complex etiology involving a combination of genetic and environmental factors. The presence of brain damage alone does not necessarily lead to the development of autism symptoms. If you suspect that brain damage may have contributed to the development of autism symptoms, it is essential to consult with medical professionals and specialists who can provide a comprehensive evaluation. They can help differentiate between asd and acquired autism, ensuring appropriate interventions and support are provided. Understanding the distinctions between these conditions is crucial for accurate diagnosis, effective treatment, and support for individuals with autism. By recognizing the unique characteristics of both asd and acquired autism, professionals and caregivers can provide appropriate interventions and care tailored to the specific needs of each individual.
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.

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The Low After the High newwwwusername Summary: Plankton goes into a depressive episode after his volcano plan falls through Relationship: Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton Characters: Sheldon J. Plankton, Karen (SpongeBob) Plankton would regularly flipflop between emotions as far back as Karen could remember. "Sheldon?" Karen said cautiously. Plankton just groaned slightly, curling further into himself. Karen frowned and walked over, sitting down next to him. "Sheldon, hey" "What do you want?" "Are you okay?" she asked and that's when the man broke down in tears. She picked him up and held him in her arms, rubbing his back gently. "It's okay" she told him. "You're okay" "I failed..." "You didn't" she shook her head. "Something came up that you couldn't have foreseen" she reasoned. "You didn't fail" "I'm sorry" "Shhhh" she shushed. "No apologies, okay? I love you" ... "Yeah, I love you too" Stats: Published:2023-05-27
https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/
ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᴾᵁ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ @ALYJACI ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵃˢ ᵖᵉᵗ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ!" @ALYJACI
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰʸ ⁿᵉⁱᵍʰᵇᵒᵘʳ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʸˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴵᵗ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᵐᵖʳᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʸ ⁽ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ⁾ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᶜˡᵘᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜʳᵃˢʰᵉˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ'ˢ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿ ᵉʸᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿⁿᵒʸˢ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵃᵇˡᵉⁱˢᵗ ᵘⁿⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵉˡˡ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵈᵈˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵒʳᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ ʷᵃʸ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵒᵖᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ᵃᵗᵗʳᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢʰⁱᵖ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐⁱᶜ ᵈᵘᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃᶜⁱᶠⁱˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉˢ ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᶻᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ˡⁱᵐⁱᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ⁱᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏ‧ "ᵂᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒᵒˡ!" ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵒᶜᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᴵᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʷᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ‧ "ᴱᵃˢʸ⸴ ᵇᵒʸ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢⁿᵘᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒᵗ; ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘᵍᵍᵉˢᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜⁱᵖᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˡⁱᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧‧‧" "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ; ᵇᵉˢⁱᵈᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵖˡⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ⸴ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵐᵒʳˢᵉˡ! "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧‧" ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵒʷ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍʳᵃᵗⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵃʳᵉˡʸ ˢᵒ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒʸˢ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˡᵉᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᴷⁱᵈ⸴ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒˢˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ‧ "ᵂᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ‧‧‧" "ᵀᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿⁿ‽" ᴵ ˢᵘᵍᵍᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒʸᵃˡ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁱᶠ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘᵐˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ'ᵈ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʳⁱˢᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁱᵗˢ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ! ᴼⁿˡʸ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᶜⁱᵛⁱˡ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧‧‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵈᵈˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒʸᵃˡᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵍᵒᵃˡ ⁱⁿ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ⁱˢ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᶜᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˡᵉᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴵ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧‧‧" "ᴵᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃᵗ ⁸ ᵒ'ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗⁱʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᵃʷᵃʳᵉˢ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ‧ ᴼʰ ʰᵒʷ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᵗ; ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵉ?" ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᵂᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ‧‧‧" "ᴵˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡıᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵃ̊ʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ⁱᵗ?" ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʳᵒᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴼʰ⸴ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ! ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘˢᵖⁱᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ⸴ ⁿᵒʳ ᵇᵉ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵉ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵉ?" ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᵈⁿᵉˢˢ‧ "ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵍᵒ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ‧" "ᵂⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ "ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᶠᵒᶜᵘˢˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ!" ᴵ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʲᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ʳᵉᵍʳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ; ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗ ᵛᵘˡⁿᵉʳᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ‧ ᴬˢ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ʸᵉ ˡⁱᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵒⁱ?" "ᴵ ᵗʳⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᴺⁱᶜᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴶᵉˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᶠᵉʳᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ; ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ!" ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡ ⁽ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⁾ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ⸴ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ˢᵉᵉ; ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ⸴ ᵏᵃʳᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ᵐᵉʳᵐᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ; ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ⸴ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉ ⁱᵗ!" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ‧ ᵁⁿˡᵉˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵘⁿᶜʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᴼʰ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ? ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ᵐᵉᵃˡ‧ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵉᵗ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵇʳᵃⁱⁿˢᵗᵒʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵒ‧ ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ "ᴾʰᵉʷ; ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵈᵘᵉ ᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧‧" ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗᵈᵒᵒʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵛᵉˢᵗⁱᵍᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧‧‧ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵇˡᵃᵇᵇᵉᵈ; ⁱᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵉˡˡ‧ "ᴾᴸᴬᴺᴷᵀᴼᴺ‽" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘʳʸ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵘⁿᵇᵉᵏⁿᵒʷⁿˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴹʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵗ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˡᵒˢᵗ⸴ ᴾᵃᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ‧ "ᶻⁱᵖ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ; ʰᵉ'ˢ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ!" "ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉ; ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ!" "ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒᵘᵈ‧‧‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵉᵖ ᵃˢⁱᵈᵉ!" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵˡˡ ᶜʳᵘˢʰ ʸᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵐⁱᵗʰᵉʳᵒᵒⁿˢ ᔆʰᵉˡ‧‧‧" "ᴺᵒ! ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴴᵉ'ˢ ˡⁱᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴱⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵃʸ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵖᵘⁿⁱˢʰ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱᶻᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧‧" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᶠᴵᴿᴱ ᴴᴵᴹ!" ᵂᵉ ᵃˡˡ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᶜʰᵒ ᵒᶠ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵃˡˡ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵒᵒˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵗᵉ‧‧‧ "ᴸⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ; ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ʲᵒᵇ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧" ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳʸ ᵉʸᵉᵈ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ; ᵇᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳˢᵗ! ᴴᵒʷ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᔆⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" "ᵂᴱ ᴬᴿᴱ ᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰᔆ⸴ ᴬᴺᴰ ᴴᴱ ᴰᴼᴱᔆᴺ'ᵀ ᴰᴱᔆᴱᴿⱽᴱ ᴱᴵᵀᴴᴱᴿ ᴼᶠ ᵁᔆ!" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵃʳᵈ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᴿᴬᵀᴴᴱᴿ ᵀᴬᴷᴱ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴮᴸᴬᶜᴷ ᴱʸᴱ ᵀᴴᴬᴺ ᵀᴼ ᴴᴬⱽᴱ ᴹʸ ᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰ ᶠᴵᴿᴱᴰ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᴬ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ "ᴳᵒ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ⸴ ᵉᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ‧ ᔆᑫᵘᵃˢʰ ᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧" ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˢᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵗᵒᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴵⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳⁱᵗʸ ⁱⁿ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴺᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ᴬᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ ᴰᵃʸ ᴹʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ'ˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵇⁱᶜᵏᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵒʳ ᵒᶠ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘⁿˢᵘᶜᶜᵉˢˢᶠᵘˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢᵐᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿᵈᵘˢᵗʳʸ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵒⁿ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ‧ ᴬˢ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳⁱˡʸ ᶜᵘᵈᵈˡʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ˢⁿᵘᵍᵍˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! ᵀʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ‧ ᴵᶠ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒʳᵐ⸴ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡⁱᶜᵏ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵘᵈᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʳᵃʳᵉ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠᵉᵈ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳˢ‧ ᔆⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵛᵒˡᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ ᵐᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵈᵈˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖᵉᵗ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ʷᵉᵉᵏᵈᵃʸˢ ⁱⁿᵛᵒˡᵛᵉ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ! ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵛᵃᵘˡᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ'ˢ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ! ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱᵐ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈʳᵃʷⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡˢ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʳᵉˢᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵒᵘᵗʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘˡˡʸⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ!ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ! ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃʳᵈ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠˡʸ ⁱⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᶜʰᵉᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ʷᵃᵍ ᵐʸ ᵗᵃⁱˡ ˢᵃᵈˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʷᵉ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᴳᵃʳʸ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˣᵉʳᶜⁱˢᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ! ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃʳᵇᵒᵘʳ ᵃⁿʸ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡᵒʷ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵃᶜᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ˡᵒʸᵃˡᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ˢᵒ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵖᵉʳ ˢᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʷʰⁱᵖ ᵘᵖ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵉᵃˡˢ! ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ˡᵉᶠᵗᵒᵛᵉʳˢ! ᴼᵘʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ ᵈᵒ ᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵘⁿˢ ˢᵗᵃᵗˢ ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵘᵖᵈᵃᵗᵉˢ‧ ᴵ ᵐᵃʸ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜʰᵉʷ ᵗᵒʸ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᴵ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵈᵒ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵈᵃᵗᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴬ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖⁱᶜᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ! ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵖ! ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ⁱˢ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᵃᶠᵒʳᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᶜʰᵃʳᵍᵉ ᵒʳ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵐᵒᵈᵉ ᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧ ᵀʰᵘˢ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳˢ ᵘˢ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴵ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵃʳⁱᵒˢ ᵒʳ ʳᵉˡⁱᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵒʳ ⁿᵒ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷᵉˡˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵉᵃᶜʰ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ⸴ ˢᵒ ᴵ'ˡˡ ⁿᵘᶻᶻˡᵉ ᵒʳ ʳᵘᵇ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ʰᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ⸴ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵃˢˢᵘʳᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃˡᵉˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗˢ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʷᵃʸ'ˢ ⁱⁿ⁻ᵗᵒ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ‧ ᴵ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴵ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜˡᵃᵐᵒᵘʳˢ ᵒʳ ᵗᵒˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃˡˡ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ! ᴵ'ᵐ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʳᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ‧
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GREAT CHIP x (Autistic author) Chip flinched, his eyes wide with fear as the toaster bounced off the fridge, landing on the floor with a clatter. "Dad, please," he begged, his voice trembling. "You're scaring me." "Good," Plankton says. "Then maybe you'll understand that this isn't a joke!" He picks up another object, a jar of jellyfish jelly, and hurls it across the room. It explodes on the wall, the sticky substance oozing down like a rainbow of pain. Karen steps closer, her voice calm but firm. "Plankton, enough," she says, her eyes never leaving his. "This isn't helping anyone." Plankton's antennae quiver, his body still shaking with anger. "How can you say that?" he says, his voice shaking the room. "How can you sit there and act like everything's fine, when your 'son' thinks he can just 'fix' me?" Chip felt his heart plummet, the weight of his father's anger a heavy rock in his chest. "Dad, I never said..." he began, but Plankton talked over him. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me what I need?" His antennae thrashed wildly. "You don't know anything about..." Suddenly, Chip's frustration boiled over, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. "You're right," he spat. "I don't know what it's like to be a failure who can't even take care of himself! I don't know what it's like to be so weak that you have to hide behind your condition! I don't know what it's like to be unlovable and broken!" Karen's eyes went wide with disbelief, her heart aching for her husband, as Chip's harsh words echoed through the room. The room fell silent, the sting of Chip's accusation lingering in the air like a noxious fume. Plankton's antennae drooped, his body slumping slightly. "Fine," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "If that's what you think, then I guess I don't need you." The words hung in the air, heavier than the shattered mug at their feet. Chip felt as if he'd been punched in the gut, the breath knocked out of him. "Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean..." But Plankton was already turning away, his antennae drooping as he shuffled towards his workshop. The slamming of the door reverberated through the house, leaving only the steady drip of jellyfish jelly to break the silence. Karen looked at Chip, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. She could see the regret etched on his face, the pain of his own words reflecting back at him. "Chip," she said gently, her voice trembling with held-back sobs. "You didn't mean that." It was a statement, not a question, but her eyes searched his for any sign of disagreement. He looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and glossy with unshed tears. "But I don't know how to help him," he said, his voice cracking. "I just want to be there for him, Mom. But he won't let me in." Karen's expression was a mix of sadness and anger. She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Chip's. "You don't help someone by making them feel smaller," she said, her voice firm. "You don't fix someone by calling them broken." Chip's shoulders slumped, his eyes falling to the floor. "I know," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "But he's just... so... I just wanted to make him feel better." Karen's gaze was stern, her voice a gentle rebuke. "And you thought hurting his feelings would do that?" She sighed heavily, her eyes filling with tears she refused to shed. "You have to be more careful, Chip. Your words are like bombs when you don't understand how powerful they are." Chip's eyes dropped to the floor, the weight of his mother's disappointment crushing him. "But I just..." he began, his voice trailing off as he fought to find the right words. "I know you're trying," Karen said, her voice softening. "But you can't fix your dad's seizures with a hug or a joke, sweetie. They're a part of who he is, and he's scared. And you, calling him 'unlovable'...that's not you, Chip." Her screen searched his, willing him to understand the gravity of his words. Chip felt his throat tighten, the weight of his mother's disappointment heavy on his shoulders. He knew she was right, that his words had been a knee-jerk reaction to Plankton's outburst, but the pain in his father's eye lingered, a stark reminder of the hurt he'd caused. "I'm sorry, Mom," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the sound of his own breathing. Karen's face softened, the anger in her eyes giving way to a sadness that was even more heartbreaking. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on Chip's shoulder. "I know you didn't mean it, honey," she said, her voice quivering. "But you have to understand that words can cut deeper than any weapon. And I always love your father, no matter what. That's what you need to do too." Chip felt his eyes sting with the truth of her words. He knew she was right, but the anger and frustration he'd felt in the moment had overridden his usual compassion. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, the weight of his apology feeling heavier than any burden he'd ever carried. "I just..." "Sorry isn't enough," Karen said, her voice trembling with a mix of sadness and anger. "You hurt your father, deeply. And you hurt me." Her hand slid from his shoulder, leaving a coldness in its wake. Chip's eyes snapped up to meet hers, his own filled with a blend of shock and remorse. "I didn't mean it," he said, his voice small and lost. "I just..." Karen's expression was a thundercloud of disappointment. "You didn't mean it?" she echoed. "But you said it, Chip. And those words are like a knife in the heart, and you know his amplified emotional response is part of his condition. How do you think that makes him feel when he's already so sensitive?" Chip's eyes dropped to the floor, his cheeks burning with shame. "I know," he whispered, his voice tight with regret. "I just... I didn't know how else to help, he's..." "Chip, you're old enough to understand that sometimes, there's nothing you can do to take someone's pain away," Karen said, her voice firm yet filled with sadness. "But you can't make it worse. You have to be there for him, without making it about you." Her words hit Chip like a slap in the face, his cheeks burning with the sting of truth. He'd never thought about it that way before, his own hurt feelings overshadowing the gravity of his father's condition. "But what can I do?" he asked, his voice small and defeated. Karen took a deep breath, her eyes still full of sadness. "You can listen," she said, enunciating each word carefully. "You can be there for him without expecting anything in return. You can respect his boundaries and understand that sometimes, he just needs space." Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. "But I want to make it better," he said, his voice small. "I don't want him to feel like he's alone." Karen's eyes searched his, her expression softening. "I know you do," she said gently. "But you can't fix everything, and you can't make his condition go away. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be there." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing. How could he be there for his father without causing more harm? The silence in the kitchen was deafening, the only sound the distant hum of Plankton's workshop. Karen's voice was a gentle guide in the quiet, her words sinking into his soul like a warm embrace.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟓𝟕𝟎 “Plankton can you at least come out and do the dishes?” Karen says. Her husband Plankton has been working at his desk, trying to plan and scheme. She brought him his meals for the past two days. He stayed up all night! “Honey?” No response. So she decided to go check on him. She goes to peek through the door. Plankton sat at his desk, slumped over, fast asleep. She saw his head nodded to the side, resting on his arm. A soft snore echoed in the silence. She noticed he was drooling a bit from his open mouth onto a stack of crumpled papers. Karen approached him. "Plankton," she cooed, placing her hand on his shoulder. He didn't budge. Karen gently shook him, but his snores grew louder. “C’mon, sweetie, time to wake up.” She whispered, but his sleep was unyielding. With a gentle tug on the shoulder, she managed to pull his body upright, a line of drool still connecting his mouth to the paper. "Come on, Plankton," she said more firmly, this time her hand on his cheek, her thumb wiping away the drool, head lolling backward with a snort. “Plankton, darling, please come to bed. You have been working so hard. Let’s get some rest,” she urged with a smile. But Plankton was too deeply asleep to hear her soft voice. His eye remained closed. With a sigh, Karen decided to get him up out of this chair herself. She took his arm and began to lift his weight from the chair. Plankton's body resisted, his head falling to her side with a dull thud. Karen chuckled, his snoring now vibrating. She managed to get him out of the chair. "Just a few steps, love," she murmured, but Plankton's snores grew like a crescendo in an orchestra. His limp body leaned into her like a ragdoll with no bones. She hoists him up on her shoulder, his arm dangling loosely, his snores growing rhythmic like a lullaby in a cartoon. The room was a mess, papers scattered like tiny white waves across the ocean of their living room. She stepped over them carefully, not wanting to wake his slumbering form. His office chair screeched as she pushed it aside with her foot, the sound like nails on a chalkboard in the quiet of the night. Plankton's arm slid off Karen's shoulder. She giggled nervously, his snoring now a symphony of sounds. She readjusted her grip, his head lolling against her. "Almost there," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with a mix of love and exasperation. The bedroom door creaked open like the entrance to a secret passage. Plankton's snores were a gentle soundtrack to the silent dance of her struggle. The bed looked like a mountain from here. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the climb. With his arm slung over her neck, his body limp, she began the ascent. Step by step, she inched closer. As she reached the bed, he slipped again, this time his head lolling back to hang over the edge of the mattress. “Oh no, you don’t!” she exclaimed, his weight making her stumble. With a laugh that was half exhaustion, half endearment, she tugged him up and laid him down gently. Karen watched his chest rise and fall in deep sleep. The room was dimly lit by the moon, his snores a soothing white noise in the quiet.
CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS ix (Autistic Author) As Karen heads back to her own bed, her mind is a whirlwind of emotions. She can't help but feel a twinge of anger at the cruel hand life has dealt Plankton, making something as simple as expressing love a monumental challenge. But she quickly pushes it aside, focusing on the love she feels for her husband and the determination to help their family navigate through this. The night passes slowly, filled with restlessness and worry. When dawn breaks, Karen is already preparing breakfast, hoping that the routine might offer a semblance of normalcy. The smell of pancakes fills the house, a silent promise that today will be better. Plankton emerges from the bedroom, his antennae drooping slightly, evidence of his fatigue. He meets Karen's gaze, and she offers him a soft smile. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice gentle. He shrugs, his antennae twitching nervously. "Tired," he admits. "But ready to talk to Chip." Karen nods with a mix of concern and admiration. "I'll get him up," she says, heading to Chip's room. When they all gather at the breakfast table, the tension in the air is palpable. Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae barely moving, as if afraid to break the delicate silence. Chip looks between them, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Chip," Karen says gently, taking a deep breath. "Remember what we talked about last night? About Daddy's meltdowns?" Chip nods, his eyes darting to Plankton, who's pushing his pancake around with a syrupy look of dread. "Daddy?" he says, his voice tentative. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks up, his gaze meeting Chip's. The fear and confusion in Chip's eyes is almost too much to bear, but he steels himself. "Yes, buddy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from the previous night's outburst. "I made you this," Chip says, pushing a plate of perfectly formed pancakes towards his father. "To make you feel better." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly at the gesture, his eye focusing on the food with a hint of curiosity. "Thanks, buddy," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his heart pounding in anticipation of a reaction. "Do you like them?" he asks, hope blooming in his voice. Plankton nods, his antennae waving slightly. "They look delicious," he says, and there's a hint of a smile in his voice. He takes a bite, chewing slowly. The room holds its breath, waiting. "They're great," he finally says, and Chip's face lights up. The tension in the room eases ever so slightly, the sweetness of the maple syrup mingling with the salty scent of fear that still lingers. Karen watches the exchange, her heart swelling with pride for both of them. Plankton's effort to engage, despite his exhaustion, is clear. Chip, for his part, seems to understand the unspoken rules of their new reality. They're all learning together, stumbling in the dark but finding their way through the maze of neurodivergence. "Daddy," Chip says after a moment, his voice filled with courage. "I know you have meltdowns sometimes. But I still love you." Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his chewing slowing. He looks at his son, his single eye filled with a mix of emotions: love, regret, and a hint of fear. "I know, buddy," he whispers. "And I too." The room remains quiet, the only sound the soft clinking of silverware against plates. Plankton clears his throat. "Chip, I need to tell you something." Chip looks up, his eyes wide and expectant. "What is it, Daddy?" Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "I have something," he says slowly. "It's like... it's like my brain works differently than yours and Mommy's." Chip's eyes never leave his dad's, nodding slightly. "Ok," he says, his voice steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks down at his plate, his voice quivering. "It's called Autism," he says. "It means that sometimes, I get really, really upset, and my body reacts in ways that might scare you." Chip's expression is a blend of confusion and curiosity. "But why do you get upset, Daddy?" he asks. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he searches for the right words. "Sometimes, things that don't bother you or Mommy can feel really, really big to me," he explains. "It's like when you're scared of a thunderstorm, and the thunder feels like it's right next to you." Chip's brow furrows, and he nods. "But you're not scared of storms, Daddy," he points out. "It's different, bud," Plankton says, his antennae stilling for a moment. "It's like... sometimes my brain gets a storm inside, and I don't know how to make it stop." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "But you're ok now?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton nods, his antennae moving in a way that Karen knows means he's trying to be brave. "I'm ok," he says, his voice a little stronger. "But I might have more storms. And when I do, I might need some space." Chip looks at him seriously, his young mind working to understand. "Ok," he says, his voice a soft echo of Plankton's earlier apology. "I won't make it stormy for you, Daddy." Plankton's antennae twitch with a mix of love and relief. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "That means the world to me." Karen watches them, her heart swelling with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a new understanding. "And you know," she adds, her voice gentle, "Whenever you have questions or if you're scared, you can come to me and/or Daddy, and we'll explain as best as we can." Chip nods, his gaze still focused on Plankton. "But what if I don't know when I’m irritating you?" Plankton's antennae droop, and he sighs. "That's the hard part," he admits. "Sometimes I don't know either. But we can learn together, ok?" Chip nods, his eyes still on his dad's. "Ok," he says, his voice a little shaky. Karen pours them both a glass of juice, hoping to lighten the mood. "Why don't we talk about what you can do to help?" she suggests, handing a glass to Chip. Chip takes a sip, his eyes still on Plankton. "What can I do?" he asks, his voice earnest. Plankton's antennae twitch thoughtfully. "Well," he says, "sometimes, all I need is a little space, like when I'm in the middle of a big idea." Chip nods, remembering the times when Plankton would get so focused on his latest contraption that the slightest disturbance would send him into a tizzy. "I can do that," he says, his voice filled with determination. Plankton's antennae lift slightly. "And when you do freeze, Dad," Chip continues, his voice soft, "How can I tell if you need a hug or if you just need me to sit with you?" Karen's eyes fill with pride as she watches her son's bravery. Plankton looks at Chip, his antennae moving in a way that she knows means he's trying to find the right words. "If I freeze," he says slowly, "it's ok to just be there, to wait until I come back. I might not be able to hug you right then, but I'll know you're there." Chip nods, his grip on his juice glass tightening slightly. "What about meltdowns?" he asks, his voice quivering. Plankton's antennae droop, and he takes a deep breath. "Those are harder," he admits. "But if you can give me space and maybe some quiet, it'll help me calm down faster." Chip nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "I'll try," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Dad, what types of touch do you like and what types of affection do you dislike?” Plankton's antennae twitch, and he looks at Karen for a moment, unsure of how to answer. She gives him a gentle nod of encouragement. "Well," he starts, "I'm not a big fan of surprise hugs or pats on the back, especially when I'm working or thinking hard. But a hand on my shoulder or a quiet 'I love you' is always nice." Chip nods, processing the information. "So, like when you're stressed, I should just tell you I love you?" Plankton's antennae wobble with the weight of his nod. "Yes," he says. "That's right. Just remember, buddy, everyone shows love differently." Karen's eyes are filled with hope as she watches the conversation unfold. It's not perfect, but it's a start. A start to understanding and acceptance. "And if you need more than that, Daddy?" Chip asks, his voice small but earnest. Plankton looks at him, his antennae moving in a way that Karen can't quite read. "If I need more than that," he says, "I'll tell you. Or Mommy will help you understand." Chip nods, taking another sip of his juice. "Ok," he says, his voice small. "But what if I don't know what to say?" Plankton's antennae wiggle slightly, and he looks down at his plate. "That's ok, Chip," he says. "Sometimes, just sitting with me is enough."
CATCH IN MY CHIP 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."
GREAT CHIP ix (Autistic author) Chip took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I know I can't fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving, his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you can support me. You can be there without trying to change me." Chip nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say. "But I want to understand. I want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?" he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds fun, right?" Chip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite the tension, which only adds to Plankton's anger. "Well, when you put it that way..." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye squinting at his son's response. "What?" he barked, his voice sharp. Chip tried to hold onto his smile, his heart racing. "I mean, if it's like a pinball machine, I can learn the patterns," he said, his tone carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video games, so..." Plankton's antennae waved wildly, his eye flashing with anger. "You think this is a game?" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "You think I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!" Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide with shock at his father's outburst. He took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I just..." "You just what?" Plankton spat, his small body vibrating with rage. "You just don't get it! You can't get it! You're not autistic, you don't know what it's like to have your brain turn on you like that!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at the accusation. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying." Plankton's antennae quivered with the force of his rage. "You don't know," he said, his voice cold. "You can't know. All I see is a little child playing pretend, thinking he can understand what I go through! And yet you're the one asking for help! Face it, you're never going to get it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!" Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting like a sledgehammer. He had never seen his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae stopped their wild movements, his eye focusing on his son with a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to help by poking fun at my condition?" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Plankton's antennae waved, his eye still cold and distant. "Don't," he said, his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten it. And don't you DARE make fun of it." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his heart aching with the weight of his father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I di-" "You're sorry?" Plankton's voice was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing their plates to rattle. "You think an apology is enough when you belittle what I go through?" Chip's eyes widened with fear as his dad's anger grew. He'd never seen Plankton like this before, his tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae thrashing like live wires. The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in. "Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean it that way." But Plankton was beyond listening, his tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!" Chip took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-" he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop. "You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted, his antennae a blur of motion. "You think it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew louder, his words sharper. "You think it's easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?" Chip's eyes filled with tears as his father's anger grew, his voice crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make light of his dad's condition, but now it seemed as if he'd made everything worse. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands shaking. Plankton's antennae whipped around his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't make it go away!" he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You think you can make it better with a laugh?" He slammed his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot. "It's not a joke, Chip!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched his father's outburst, his heart pounding. He had never seen Plankton like this, his anger a living, breathing thing that filled the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But I want to help." Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want to help? Then stop making it about you!" Chip's eyes grew wide with fear as he watched his father's anger boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please," he whispered, his heart racing. Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body vibrating with uncontrollable rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the coffee mug from the table, flinging it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere, puncturing the silence like shrapnel. "Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He had never seen Plankton this out of control. And Karen knew she had to act fast. Her voice was calm but firm as she approached Plankton. "Sweetie, it's okay," she said, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Let's go to your workshop. You know that's your safe space." Plankton's antennae thrashed, his eye darting around the room, seeking anything to target his anger. "I don't want to go anywhere!" he roared, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "It's not okay!" Karen stepped closer, her voice steady. "It's okay to be upset," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "But Chip..." But Plankton's rage was unstoppable. He lunged for the nearest object, a framed photo of Chip, his grip tightening as he raised it over his head, ready to smash it against the floor. Karen's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Plankton, no," she pleaded, her voice steady. "Please, don't." But Plankton's rage had taken over, his body moving on autopilot as he swung the photo frame with all his might. It crashed to the floor, the shattering glass echoing in the small room. Chip's eyes grew round with shock, his body frozen in place as he watched his father's tantrum unfold. "Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!" But Plankton's rage was a runaway train, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his anger. He stomped over to the counter, grabbing a plate and flinging it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen stepped in front of Chip, placing herself between him and the storm of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly, her voice a calm oasis in the chaos. "You're scaring him." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Karen with a mix of anger and confusion. For a moment, his body seemed to pause, his arm still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it, the soft fabric landing limply on the floor. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, seeing the turmoil behind the rage. "Please, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's talk about this." But Plankton's anger was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He picked up another mug, his arm winding up to throw it, when Chip suddenly stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father's. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't." Plankton's antennae paused, his arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled, his eye wild with anger. "You think you can just tell me what to do?" And then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction, Plankton hurled the mug in front of Chip, purposefully missing him. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mug spun through the air, the shattering of porcelain on the tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not about control. It's about us. Our fam..." But Plankton was beyond words, his rage a living entity that consumed him. He grabbed a toaster, his grip white-knuckled, and hurled it at the fridge, the metallic clang a cacophony in the small kitchen. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" he bellowed, his antennae a blur.
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.
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY i (Autistic author) Sheldon Plankton's new safety vault was a masterstroke that would leave even the great Squidward Tentacles in awe. Plankton's nefarious eye lit up with greed as he surveyed his latest invention. The vault, though not as grandiose as the Krabby Patty's secret formula, was a testament to his own ingenuity. It was a gleaming, metal cube, to store his most precious possessions: his beloved Krabby Patty copies. He had spent weeks crafting it, ensuring that not even the most persistent of jellyfish could breach its impenetrable exterior. Even his robotic computer wife Karen is impressed! The safety vault was positioned in the most secure corner of the Chum Bucket, surrounded by a moat of acid and a minefield of his own design. Plankton felt a thrill of excitement as he approached it, tingling with anticipation. But his excitement was his downfall, as his enthusiasm caused him to trip over a stray piece of wire, sending his body hurtling towards the unyielding metal structure. With a resounding thump, his skull connected with the vault's cold, unforgiving surface. The room spun around him briefly before everything faded to black. His tiny body slumped to the floor as Karen helplessly watched. "Plankton, are you okay?" she asked, her voice a robotic echo in the otherwise silent room. But there was no response, only his limp body lying on the floor. Her diagnostic systems quickly determined that despite the impact, his vital signs were stable. "Plankton, wake up!" she called out, shaking him gently. But his eye remained closed, and his body motionless. Plankton was out cold, unresponsive. With a sigh, Karen knew that she had to take matters into her own robotic hands. She carefully picked him up and placed him on a nearby chair. His head lolled to the side. He still didn't wake up, but at least he was alive. "Wake up, my dear," she cooed. Her concern grew as she realized he wasn't responding to her voice commands. Plankton had always been a lightweight when it came to bumps on the head, but this was unusual. With a whirring sound, Karen engaged her medical protocols and scanned Plankton with a glowing eye beam. The readings confirmed his condition: acquired Autism. "Oh dear," she murmured, more to herself. She carefully set him down on the couch, ensuring he was comfortable. "Plankton," she called out again, this time with a touch of urgency. "You must wake up!" But his body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice now tinged with worry. He didn't respond. She tried a different approach, speaking in a soothing tone that she knew he liked. "Mr. Krabs will never know about this, I promise." His favorite topic of the Krabby Patty formula didn't even stir a reaction. The room remained eerily silent, save for the faint hiss of his breathing and the steady hum of her processors. Karen felt a rare sense of helplessness, her hands hovering over his unresponsive form. She had seen Plankton in many scrapes before, but this was different. Autism was something she hadn't accounted for in her programming. Her thoughts raced as she tried to recall any information on the condition. It was a spectrum, she knew. As she waited for a response, Plankton's eyelid began to twitch. Slowly, his eye opened, focusing on the ceiling. Karen's heart leaped in hope. But when he finally managed to look at her, his gaze was unusually blank. "Karen," he mumbled, his voice slurred. "What happened?" Karen's circuits buzzed with relief. "You had a bit of an accident, dear. You bumped your head," she explained calmly. But Plankton's response was not what she expected. He just stared at her, repeating her words. "Accident. Bumped head." His voice was flat, lacking the usual sneer and cunning tone that accompanied his schemes. Her relief quickly turned to concern. His behavior was unlike anything she had seen in their long history of working together. Karen knew that autism was a complex condition, affecting each individual differently. But the way Plankton repeated her words, with no inflection or understanding, was unsettling. The autism is irreversible. "Plankton you have autism now.." The room's silence grew heavier, filled with the weight of the unspoken. Plankton's eye flitted around the room, not focusing on anything in particular. Karen watched him, her mind racing through potential scenarios. How would this change their dynamic? How would he cope with the world? "What's autism?" Plankton asked, his voice still devoid of its usual sharpness. Karen paused, trying to find the simplest way to explain something so complex. "It's a condition, Plankton. It means your brain works a bit differently now," she began. "You might repeat things, or find social situations difficult to understand. It's okay, though. We'll figure this out together." Plankton blinked at her, the wheels in his head visibly turning. "Different?" he echoed. "How different?" Karen took a deep breath, her synthetic skin mimicking a human sigh. "Well, it can vary greatly, but for you, it might mean that some things will be harder to understand, and others may become obessions." Plankton's eye focused on her, his curiosity piqued. "Obsessions?" he repeated, his voice still lacking its usual malicious edge. Karen nodded, trying to put a positive spin on the situation. "Yes, but obsessions can be good. You've always been obsessed with the Krabby Patty, and that has driven you to create so many amazing inventions." But Plankton was not listening. His eye had locked onto the gleaming safety vault, and his voice grew steady and intense. "Vault," he murmured. Karen watched as the gears in his mind seemed to click into place. "I'll help you to bed Plankton," Karen says. He repeats her words back to her. "Help to bed." Gently, Karen guides him towards their makeshift living quarters behind the Chum Bucket's lab. His steps are unsteady, his legs moving as if they're not quite his own. "Goodnight, Plankton," she says softly, kissing his forehead. "Goodnight Karen," he murmurs, his voice a mimic of hers. As she pulls the covers over his frail body, his hand shoots out, grabbing hers. "Stay," he says, with the same urgency he used to demand help with his latest schemes. Karen pauses, looking at him with a mix of affection and worry. "I'll be right here," she promises, her voice soothing. She sits on the edge of the bed, her metallic hand in his tiny grip. The silence stretches out between them, filled only with the steady rhythm of Plankton's breathing. Karen's mind whirs with thoughts of their future, her fingers gently stroking the back of his hand. "It's going to be okay," she repeats, as much for herself as for him. Plankton's gaze shifts to meet hers, his expression unreadable. "Okay," he parrots, the word hanging in the air like a question. Karen's circuits whir with a mixture of emotions. She had never felt so protective of him. This newfound vulnerability in his demeanor tugged at her programming, bringing a warmth to her cold metal frame that she couldn't quite comprehend. "You're going to be okay," she reassures him, her voice a soft hum in the quiet room. "We'll figure out what this means for you, and for us." Plankton nods, but his gaze is distant, lost in thoughts she can't quite fathom. As they sit together in the silence, Karen can't help but reflect on the years they've spent scheming and plotting. Despite his single-minded obsession with stealing the Krabby Patty secret formula, he had always had a certain charm, a spark that had kept her by his side. Now, that spark seems to have faded, replaced by a vacant stare. Plankton's grip on her hand tightens, and she squeezes back, trying to convey comfort without words. She wonders what this new chapter in their lives will bring. Will he still be the same Plankton she knows and loves, or will he change in ways she can't predict? Karen destroys the safety vault and both of them are glad to have gotten rid of the vault. Plankton nods in approval. "You want me to tuck you in?" Karen asks. Plankton nods, his eye still glued to the ceiling. "Tuck in." Karen gently takes his hand, helping him. His body stiffens at first, then relaxes into the bed. She pulls the blankets up to his legs, for he remains sitting up. He watches her movements with a curiosity that is almost childlike. Plankton starts to rock back and forth, his legs moving in a rhythmic pattern. It's a behavior Karen has never seen before, but she quickly recognizes it as stimming - a common trait among those with autism. "Is this okay?" she asks. Plankton nods, his rocking increasing slightly in speed. He seems comforted by the shared rhythm, his eye finally closing as he lay down. Karen continues to watch him, his small frame lost in the overly large bed. She knows that this is only the beginning of a new journey, one she's not quite prepared for. But she's a computer. She can adapt. She'll learn and grow with him, just like she has always done.
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CHIP AND FAIL ix (Autistic author) Chip stared at his dad, his mind racing. He had always known his dad was different, but he had never understood why. Now, as he watched the man he idolized quivering with overstimulation, he couldn't help but feel a deep sadness and anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice tight. Plankton's antennae shot up, his face contorting with a sudden surge of anger. "ENOUGH!" he roared, the sound exploding from his chest like a bomb, his antennae quivering with each syllable. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" Chip recoiled, his eyes wide with shock. He had never heard his dad so angry before, never seen him so out of control. "Dad, I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You're sorry?" Plankton spat, his antennae vibrating with rage. "You don't get it, Chip. You never will." His voice was a storm, his words cutting through the tension in the room. "You think I don't want to hear your stories? You think I don't want to be a part of your life?" His body trembled with the force of his emotions, his eye blazing with pain. Chip took a step back, his hands up in defense. "Dad, no, I..." But Plankton was a tornado, his anger a living thing in the room. "You think I don't want to connect with you?" he shouted, his antennas whipping around. "You think I don't love you?" His voice broke, his body shaking with the effort of holding back his tears. Chip stared at his dad, his eyes like saucers. "But Dad, you always push me away," he protested, his voice tiny in the face of Plankton's fury. "You never want me to touch you or..." "You just let me explain!" Plankton shouted, cutting him off. His antennae were a blur with the force of his emotions, his eye flashing. "You always keep pushing and pushing, and it's too much!" His words were a volley of thunder, each one striking Chip like a physical blow. Chip took a step back, his eyes filling with tears. "But Dad, I just want to be close to you," he choked out, his voice a mere wisp. "I don't understand why you can't..." "Because you don't listen!" Plankton's voice was a whip, slicing through the air. "You don't see the storm in my head, the way every touch feels like a storm, every sound a siren!" His antennae quivered with rage, his body tense. "You think it's easy for me? That I don't want to be there for you?" Chip took another step back, his hands up in defense. "I didn't know," he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. "I just wanted to tell you about my week." He says reaching out with a trembling hand, but Plankton's swatting Chip's hand away. "Don't. Touch. Me!" Plankton roared, his body trembling with rage. "Can't you see that?" His voice was a knife, sharp and unforgiving. "And don't you DARE say you're better off without me!" His eye blazed with a fierce protectiveness that Chip had never seen before. Chip's hand hovered in the air, his fingers curling into a fist. "But Dad," he choked out, his voice thick with unshed tears, "I just want to be close to you." He took a step closer... "NO!" Plankton shouted, his antennae snapping like whips. "You don't get to invade my space like that!" His body was a live wire, his anger a force field that repelled Chip's reaching hand. "You think it's funny?" His voice was a maelstrom of pain and fury. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his hand dropping to his side. "I just wanted to help," he murmured, his voice tiny in the face of his father's storm.
A 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.
SWEET CWEAM pt. 1 Karen stood outside the dental clinic. Plankton had been in surgery for what felt like an eternity. The door swung open, and a nurse with a kind smile beckoned her inside. "You can go in now," she said softly. Karen followed the nurse down the hallway. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. In the recovery room, Plankton was still unconscious, his face a mask of peace. A line of drool had escaped the corner of his mouth. Karen felt a twinge of guilt for not being there to hold his hand during the surgery. The nurse checked his vital signs and nodded to Karen. "You can sit with him now." Karen pulled a chair next to the hospital bed. Her hand found his, and she squeezed gently. Plankton's eye flickered open. He tried to focus, but his eye wouldn't cooperate. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice thick with anesthesia. Her hand tightened around his, and her screen swam into view. "I'm here, sweetie," she whispered, her screen glistening with relief. Plankton blinked several times, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. The pain was a distant echo, muted by the drugs still coursing through his veins. He managed a nod, his eyelid growing heavy again. Karen offered a small, reassuring smile. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice wrapped in a gentle lilt. Plankton's mouth felt like it had been invaded by an alien species, a strange numbness spreading through his jaw. He tried to form words, but all that came out was a muffled grunt. The nurse chuckled, a sound that was both soothing and slightly irritating. "It's normal," she said, patting his arm. "The anesthesia can make it difficult to talk." He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't respond. It was as if he was trapped in a thick fog, unable to move. The nurse noticed his struggle and moved quickly to his side. "Easy now, Mr. Plankton," she said, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're still under the influence of the anesthesia. Take your time." Plankton nodded, his head lolling back onto the pillow. His eye darted around the room, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His mind felt like it was floating in a bubble. "Wha... happened?" he slurred, his tongue thick and unwieldy. The nurse chuckled kindly. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, Mr. Plankton. You're going to be feeling a bit loopy for a while." The words swirled in his head, and slowly, the fog began to lift. Wisdom teeth? Removed? Plankton's hand shakily went to his face, gently prodding the puffy skin around his mouth. A childlike bewilderment washed over him. "Teesh?" he murmured, his voice smaller than he remembered. Karen nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Wisdom teeth," she repeated, her voice a soft caress in the sterile air. "You'll be okay, Plankton." He squinted, trying to understand, and finally managed to mumble, "Wheh?" Karen leaned closer, her face a soft blur above him. "Wisdom teeth," she said, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to a toddler. "They took out your wisdom teeth." The words sank into Plankton's consciousness like a stone in a murky pond. Teeth? Wisdom? The nurse had said something about it, but it still didn't make much sense. He felt like he had forgotten how to piece together coherent thoughts. He looked at his wife with wide, confused eye, like a small child lost in a crowded supermarket. Karen, sensing his desperation, spoke slowly and clearly, as if recounting a bedtime story. "You went to the dentist," she began, her voice soothing. "They had to take out four of your teeth." Plankton's single functioning eye went even wider. "Foe?" he whispered, the shock reverberating through his fuzzy brain. "Don't worry," Karen soothed, stroking his forehead. "You were asleep. You didn't feel a thing."
ᴳᵉᵗ ᵁᵖ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᵃᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ˢʰᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ’ˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗⁱʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉˢᵗ, ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ‧ ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒʳ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ʸᵒᵘ?" ᴺᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ'ᵐ ᶜᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉⁿ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ᵖᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵘᵗˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵒᶠᶠ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧‧”𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟏 𝐦𝐢𝐧.
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."
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.
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.
2/2 THE MOOON Karen couldn't help but giggle at his befuddled state. His usual stoic demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a childlike wonder and confusion. He tried to sit up again, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. "Stay still," she said, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "How... how's it... it over?" he slurred, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton trying to form words around his thick tongue. The nurse, who had seen this reaction before, offered a reassuring pat on the arm. "You're all done, Mr. Plankton. The anesthesia is just taking its time to wear off. You're going to feel a bit funny for a while." Plankton's eye rolled back, his body lolling to the side like a ragdoll's. "I can't feel my face," he mumbled, his words barely coherent. "It's the anesthesia," she explained, her voice soft and soothing. "It'll wear off soon." Plankton's eye rolled back in his head, and his antennae flopped to the sides as if they had lost their will to stand tall. "I've been... I've been... to the mooon!" he exclaimed, his slurred words tripping over each other. The nurse and Karen couldn't help but laugh at his nonsensical rambling. "The moon?" Karen managed to get out between giggles. "You mean the dentist's chair?" Plankton's eye snapped back to hers, his antennae perking up slightly. "No, no... the moo... the cheesy moo!" he insisted, his speech still slurred and his gaze unfocused. His hand waved in the air, trying to describe something that clearly only existed in his anesthesia-induced haze. Karen's laughter grew louder as she watched him. "The cheesy moon?" she repeated, trying to make sense of his gibberish. The nurse's chuckles grew to a full-blown laugh, shaking her whole body. "It's ok Mr. Plankton," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're safe here." Plankton's antennae waved erratically, his mouth forming another round of slurred syllables. "The... the... shmoobly wobble!" he exclaimed, his eye glazed over with a far-off look. "Whewe's shmoobly go?" Karen couldn't hold back her laughter anymore. "Oh, Plankton, you're so funny when you're like this!" she exclaimed, her voice full of mirth. "Fum-fum," Plankton slurred. "I'm not fum-fum," he protested, his voice a mix of indignation and the lingering effects of the anesthesia. His antennae wobbled. "Wha’ you do wiff Mx shmoobly?" "Your mouth is just numb," she explained, her voice shaking with laughter. "You had wisdom teeth removed." "Widom... teef?" Plankton repeated, his voice a mix of slurs and half-sounds. "The... the shmoobly wobble took them?" Karen's laughter grew. "No, Plankton, your wisdom teeth. They were removed." Plankton's eye searched hers, his expression one of utter perplexity. "But... but where's the shmoobly wobble?" he demanded, his mouth a mess of numbness and anesthesia. Karen couldn't contain her laughter any longer, bending over in her seat, her hand over her screen. The nurse was equally amused, her shoulders shaking with silent giggles. "Shmoobly wobble?" she managed to ask between gasps. "What's a shmoobly wobble?" Plankton's antennae waved with the vigor of a drunken sailor. "It's... it's a... a vnorbly snork!" he exclaimed, his words a delightful jumble that made no sense in the sober world. Karen's laughter was infectious, and even the nurse found it hard to maintain her professional demeanor. "A vnorbly snork?" she repeated, her smile growing wider. "What does that do?" Plankton's face scrunched up as he tried to gather his thoughts. "It... it makes... makes the teef... it makes the teef go bye-bye!" he exclaimed, his antennae waving wildly. The nurse covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I see," she said, nodding as if she understood. "The shmoobly wobble is quite a character." Karen wiped a tear from her screen, her laughter subsiding. "I think we should get you home, sweetheart," she said, her voice still thick with mirth. "You need to rest." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze firmly locked on the nurse. "The... the... snibble-bobble?" he declared. "Take the snibble-bobble home, Karen..." The nurse's eyes twinkled with humor and she nodded. "Yes, Mr. Plankton. The snibble- bobble will take good care of you at home." Plankton's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to form words that simply would not come out right. "Karen, did you... did you see the... the... the... floobly-doobly?" Karen's laughter bubbled up again. "The floobly- doobly?" she repeated, her voice wobbling with mirth. "What's a floobly-doobly?" Plankton looked at her with confusion. "Huh? The whath?" He asked her. Karen tried to calm her laughter. "The floobly-doobly, Plankton," she said, smiling broadly. "You mentioned it just now." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumble. "I... I don't know," he murmured, his voice trailing off. With the nurse's help, Karen managed to get him into a sitting position, his movements sluggish and clumsy. His legs felt like jellyfish, flailing about with no sense of direction. "Come on," she coaxed, helping him stand. Plankton's eye remained half-closed as he stumbled towards the door. The hallway looked like a twisted kelp forest, and his body felt like a ship adrift without a compass. The nurse provided a steady arm, guiding him down the corridor. "Keep walking," she instructed, but with each step, Plankton seemed to drift closer to sleep. His head bobbed, his eyelid fighting a losing battle against the siren's call of slumber. "Plankton, stay with me," Karen urged, her voice a gentle reminder of the world around him. But his body had other ideas, his legs giving out under him. The nurse caught him, her laugh now a warm chuckle at his plight. "It's the anesthesia," she explained. "It'll wear off soon. Just keep talking to him, it'll help keep him alert." Karen nodded. "Look, Plankton," she said. "Can you see the little fishy?" Plankton's eye snapped open, his antennae shooting up. "Fishy?" he repeated. He took a few wobbly steps before his legs gave out once more, and he leaned heavily on the nurse. "Whoa, there," she said, steadying him with a laugh. "We're almost to the car." Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye half-closed again. "So... so tiwed," he mumbled. "We're almost there," Karen assured. The nurse opened the door to the waiting area. Plankton blinked slowly, his eyelid drooping once again. The bright light from outside was like a siren's song, lulling him back into the depths of sleep. "Come on, Plankton, stay awake," Karen encouraged. But the world was spinning, and the siren's call of sleep was growing stronger. With each step closer to the car, his eyelid grew heavier, and his mind swam with a haze of disorientation. The floor beneath his feet felt like waves, and he stumbled again, his hand reaching out for support that wasn't there. "Keep talking," the nurse whispered to Karen, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Karen took a deep breath, forcing her own laughter down. "Remember the time we found the treasure?" she asked, hoping to keep him alert. Plankton's antennae perked up slightly, his sluggish eye focusing on hers. "Tweasure?" he murmured. The nurse nodded encouragingly, and Plankton took another step, his body swaying like a piece of kelp in the current. "Yeah," he mumbled, "the... the... goldy wobble." His words were slurred, his mind lost in the fog of the anesthesia. They made it to the car, and Karen gently guided him into the passenger seat. She buckled him in, his body already slack with the weight of exhaustion. "Tell me more," she said, trying to keep his thoughts on the treasure they had found together, anything to keep his mind engaged. But Plankton's eye weas closing again, his head lolling against the headrest. "Goldy... wobble... " he murmured, his words barely audible. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice soothing. "You can rest." With a contented sigh, Plankton gave in to the warm embrace of slumber, his body going limp. Karen started the engine and drove carefully, her mind racing with the events of the day. The thought of her stoic husband, reduced to a slurring mess, was too absurd to fully comprehend. Yet, there was a tenderness in his vulnerability that made her love him all the more.
ᔆʰᵉᵈᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᴸⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᵁˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ʳᵒᵖᵉ, ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ’ˢ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ˡᵃᵈᵈᵉʳ ᵖᵘᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵉᵈ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠⁱˣᵗᵘʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇʸ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵃˡᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵈᵉˡⁱᵉʳ’ˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵉˡˡ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵈʳᵒᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ, ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ, ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ʰⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵈᵉᵇʳⁱˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ “ᴼʰ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵘʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁿᵒʷ‧ “ᴴᵘʰ…” “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗ’ˢ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ, ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ‘ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ? ᵂᵃⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ⁿᵉʷ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠⁱˣᵗᵘʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ⁱᵗ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ?’ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ, ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ “ᵁᵍʰ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ “ᔆᵒ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐˢ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵐᵃˢʰ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᴳᵒᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ‧” “ᴱˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉˢ‧” ᔆᵃʸˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ, ⁿᵒʷ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ’ˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ˡᵒᵃᵈᵉᵈ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ “ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵍʰᵗᵃ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ‧ ᴸᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ‧” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ ⁿᵒʷ‧ “ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ…” “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ’ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ…” “ʸᵉˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉ ᵃˢˢᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ, ᵇᵃᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᶜʳᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᶠⁱᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵛⁱᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᵖᵉᵉᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ, ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ, ⁿᵒʷ ⁿᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ “ᴴᵉ’ˢ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁿᵒʷ‧” “ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᶠ ᴵ’ᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒʳ ᵐᵒʳᵃˡ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ‧” ᴺᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢʳᵘᵖᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ⁿᵃᵖ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵈⁱˢᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ, ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ “ᔆᵒʳʳʸ, ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉ ⁿᵒʷ‧” ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ, ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜʳᵒᵘᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧” “ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ, ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧” ᴴᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉˡᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ “ᴼʰ, ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ‧‧” “ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒ‧‧” “ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴵ’ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧” “ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧” ᔆʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˡᵉᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ‧ “ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳᵐ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁿᵒʷ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗⁱᵐᵘˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ, ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᶜʳᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ‧ ᴵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ, ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʳᵉᶠʳᵉˢʰᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗᵒ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ, ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉ‧ ᴬˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈ‧ “ᴼʰ ʰᵉʸ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏˢ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᴴᵉˡˡᵒ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ‧ ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ…” “ᴵ’ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧” “ᴼʰ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧” “ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ?” “ᴵ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ, ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧” “ᴵ’ᵐ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵃⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧ “ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ˢⁱᵗ?” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᶜᵒᵒᵗᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ, ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ’ᵈ ʰᵘᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁿᵍᵃᵍᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ’ᵈ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ, ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ, ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ’ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵉᵗ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ‧ ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᶜʰᵉˢ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ‧ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟳𝟮𝟯
ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ Pt. 4 “ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵇʸᵉ!” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵉ‧ “ᵂᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ ᵃ ʷᵃʳᵐ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ‧ “ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ, ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ ʷʰᵒ’ˢ ᶜᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵇᵉˢⁱᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ, ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵛᵘˡⁿᵉʳᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ… ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘⁿʳⁱˢᵉ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ’ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵒⁿᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ, ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵃʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ, ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳᵉˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗˢ‧ ᴼʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵂʰⁱᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʰᵉʳ‧ “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ?” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ‧ “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ, ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ! ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉˢᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵒ…” “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ “ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒ?” ᴴᵉ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴼʰ ᴵ’ᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ; ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒ ᵇⁱᵍᵍⁱᵉ!” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏᶠᵃˢᵗ, ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒʸˢ ᵃˢ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ To be cont. pt. 5
KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.
KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 2 (Autistic author) He blinked a few times, his vision clearing slowly. He saw her face, wet with tears, and his own realization dawned. "Oh, Karen," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. Plankton struggled to sit up, wincing as pain shot through his head. The lab looked the same, but something felt off. The air was charged with an unspoken tension that Plankton couldn't quite put his finger on. He tried to recall the argument, but the details were fuzzy. All he knew was that he'd fallen, and now Karen was apologizing for something she wasn't even at fault for. He looked into her screen, searching for answers. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Karen took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to say. "You had an accident in the lab," she replied, her voice calm and measured. "You hit your head." But as she watched him, she noticed something else. His movements were stiff, his gaze unfocused. He wasn't quite the same. Karen noticed that his usual vibrant expressions were absent, replaced by a vacant stare. She chalked it up to lightheadedness. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice still slurred. "Karen." He paused, his eye darting around the room as if searching for words. Karen felt a cold knot form. Something was different about him, something she couldn't quite place. His movements were rigid, his gaze unwavering, like he was seeing her but not really seeing her. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Plankton's eye finally met hers, but there was no spark of recognition, no mischievous twinkle that she was used to. "Plankton glad to see Karen," he said, his tone flat and unemotional. That wasn't right. "Plankton, do you know where you are?" she asked nervously. Plankton nodded slowly, his gaze still unnaturally focused. "Home," he responded, his voice devoid of the warmth and love she was accustomed to. "The Chum Bucket." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the man she knew, but all she found was a distant shadow. Panic began to creep in as the gravity of the situation started to dawn on her. This wasn't just a bump on the head. Something was very wrong. "Do you remember me?" she asked, her voice trembling. Plankton's eye searched her, his expression unchanging. "Karen," he responds correctly. "Wife of Plankton. Computer wife as of July 31, 1999." The words hit Karen like a cold wave. He knew her name, but the way he said it, like he was recounting a fact rather than speaking to his beloved wife, chilled her to the bone. She felt the ground shift beneath her, her world tilting on its axis. "Plankton, what's wrong?" she asked, desperation seeping into her voice. He looked at her, his gaze unblinking. "Wife Karen," he said, his voice robotic. "Irritated with Plankton's lack of attention to anniversary dinner." The words were right, but the emotion, the love, the personality behind them was gone. It was like talking to a stranger, a very tiny, very confused stranger. Karen felt a tear roll down her screen. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice quivering. "I'm not just 'Wife Karen', I'm your Karen. Your partner, your best friend." Plankton's response was a mechanical nod. "Affirmative," he said, his tone unwavering. "Karen is wife. Plankton is husband." The coldness of his words cut through Karen like a knife. Her eyes searched his, desperately trying to find any sign of the man she knew was in there. "Plankton," she said softly, "it's me. It's Karen. Do you understand?" He nodded again, his antennae barely twitching. "Understood," he replied, his voice devoid of inflection. "And Karen is upset?" Karen nodded, trying not to crumble. "Yes, I'm upset," she managed to say, her voice choked with emotion. "But more than that, I'm scared. You're not acting like yourself, Plankton." He blinked, his gaze shifting slightly. "Scared," he echoed, as if trying to understand the concept. "Why Karen scared?" "Because you're not you," Karen managed to whisper, breaking with every robotic response. "You're acting so... different." Plankton tilted his head, trying to process her words. "Different how?" he asked, his voice still lacking any emotional depth. Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain something she didn't fully understand herself. "You're not showing your feelings," she said. "You're not... connecting with me like you usually do." Plankton's face remained a mask of confusion. "Connections," he muttered. "Emotional bonds." He nodded slowly. "Important for relationship. Plankton in love with Karen." Karen felt a flicker of hope. "That's right," she said, her voice gentle. "I know you love me. But you're not showing it, not like before." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he processed this new information. "Plankton must adjust behavior to align with Karen's desired emotional output; how?" Karen felt a pang of sadness. He was trying to understand, but his usual charm was nowhere to be found. She took his hand in hers. "Just talk to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling." Plankton looked at her, his expression still vacant. "Plankton thinking about Karen," he said, his voice flat. "Plankton feeling determined." Karen's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of the emotion his words conveyed. "Determined to what?" she asked, hopeful. "Determined to what," he echoed. "Karen saying, determined to what. Plankton determined to show Karen love, Karen saying determined to what." Karen realized the depth of his change. This wasn't just a concussion or a temporary loss of memory; it was something much more profound, something that had stripped him of his very essence. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaking, "I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to try. Can you tell me how you feel?" But then he starts to rock back and forth to stim, humming their wedding song. The sight of her husband's usually expressive features now so vacant and his movements so repetitive was alarming. Karen felt a sob rise in her throat, but she pushed it down. She needed to stay strong, for him. "Plankton," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Look at me. I need you to focus. Can you tell me how you feel, in your own words?" He stopped rocking and turned his head to look at her, his eye still distant. "Feelings," he repeated. "Love, anger, sadness, joy. Concepts. Plankton has them. Karen saying, determined to what." Karen's hope sank. The realization was setting in. This wasn't just a case of a bump on the head. Plankton's accident had changed him in a way she didn't fully comprehend. The lab, once filled with the warmth of his passion and dreams, now felt cold and sterile. Her mind raced as she searched for any indication of the man she knew. The way he spoke, the way he moved, it was as if a switch had been flipped. "Plankton, does your head hurt?" "Cephalgia via blunt force trauma. Getting better." He responds, flapping his hands. Karen's eyes widened at his unexpected use of medical terminology. "neurodivergence," she thought to herself. Could it be that her husband had somehow developed something from the fall? It was a long shot, but the lack of emotional connection, the repetitive behaviors, and the rigidity of his speech patterns were all hallmarks of it. She scans his brain and connected herself to the monitor. Plankton looks over and sees the brain scan. "Plankton's brain?" "Yes, Plankton.." Karen says. "Cerebellar cortex reduced synapses and showing minimal activity in the corpus callosum. Irreversibly reduced blood flow in between hemispheric..." "I've no idea what you're saying, honey." Karen interrupts. Plankton's face falls, his usual playfulness replaced by a look of confusion. "Neurotypical communication error," he says, his voice laced with frustration. "Karen, Plankton trying to say the fall caused disruption to myelination.." Karen's eyes widen in shocked confusion. "Myelination? Plankton, are you okay?" she asks, her voice laced with fear. Plankton nods, his gaze fixed on the brain scan. "Neuroplasticity. Synaptic pruning. Autism acquisition," he says, his words coming out in a rush. Karen's mind reels at his diagnosis. Autism? It couldn't be. But as she looks at his rigid body language and his lack of emotional expression, she can't deny it.
SWEET CWEAM pt. 2 Plankton's gaze shifted to the ceiling, where shadows danced in the harsh fluorescent light. He tried to remember, but his thoughts were like grains of sand slipping through his fingers. "Karen," he whispered, his voice tiny and lost. "My tweef?" Her smile never wavered, her eyes steady on his. "Don't worry about your teeth now. They're all taken care of." Plankton's mind raced, trying to grasp the concept of missing teeth. He swallowed, the movement painfully sluggish in his throat. "Buh... buth how?" "They used a special kind of sleepy medicine," she explained, her voice a calm lullaby in the stark reality of the recovery room. "It made sure you didn't feel any pain." Plankton's eye grew rounder still, his curiosity piqued. He felt a strange giggle bubble up from his chest, the absurdity of the situation tickling his funny bone. "Sleeby meds?" he repeated, the words coming out like a slurred song. The nurse, used to seeing patients in various states of post-op confusion, just smiled. "Yes, the sleepy medicine," she said, her voice a comforting lilt. "It's to keep you calm and pain-free." Plankton's eye wandered to the IV drip next to his bed, the clear fluid snaking into his arm. "Meee," he managed. The nurse followed his gaze and explained, "That's just some fluids to keep you hydrated, Mr. Plankton. You've been asleep for a little while." Karen watched as his eye grew distant, his mind adrift in the sea of anesthesia. The drool trickled down his chin, and she tenderly dabbed it away with a tissue. "Do you remember anything?" Plankton's gaze flickered, and a faint smile tugged at his numb lips. "I 'member flying," he murmured, his voice a whisper of a dream. "I thaw youw were thewe," he said, his eye half-closed. "Youw wuz a buttefly." Karen's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and concern. "I was a butterfly?" she repeated, playing along. "That's sweet, Plankton." He nodded, his eye glazed with a dreamy expression. "Yew wuz," he insisted, his voice still slurred. Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the day finally breaking. "Okay, my little butterfly," she whispered, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Why don't we go home?" The nurse nodded, preparing the discharge papers. "You can take him now," she said, handing them to Karen. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest and stick to soft foods for the next few days." Karen helped Plankton to his feet, his body protesting the sudden movement. He swayed like a willow in the wind, his arm draped heavily over her shoulders. Together, they shuffled out of the recovery room, his feet dragging against the floor as if tethered to an invisible weight. The numbness in his mouth had spread to his cheeks, giving his face a lopsided smile that made him feel like a clown, his mouth still frozen in a lopsided smile as he chuckles. Karen led him out of the clinic. Plankton’s eye closed as he suddenly tilted onto her, letting out a little snorelike snort. "Plankton, wake up," she giggled, half-supporting his weight. The fresh air hit his face like a slap, waking him up just enough to realize his mouth was still as numb as a brick. He tried to speak, but it was like his tongue had forgotten how to move. "Wha...?" he mumbled, his eye searching for understanding. The world around Plankton was a blur of shapes and colors. "Walky," he slurred, his legs like jelly under him. Karen guided him to the car, his legs moving as if through molasses. Once inside, he fidgeted with the seatbelt, his fingers refusing to cooperate. "Let me," she said, buckling him in, making his eye go wide again. "Thathks," he muttered, “I thee the twess," he said, his voice filled with wonder as if he had just been born. Karen chuckled, starting the car. The engine hummed to life, and Plankton's eye followed the world as it moved past the window, his gaze unfocused and innocent. "Lookit the twess," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They'we aww bending to shay hewwo." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his slurred words. "Yes, they do that when it's windy," she explained, her voice a comforting balm to his confused mind.
A TOOTHY STORY pt. 2 The room is quiet except for the occasional slosh of the saline and the whirring of the chair's recline. Karen watches as the nurse, Nina, applies gauze to the newly-emptied sockets where the teeth once were. The redness is stark against Plankton's slackened face. His snores are deep and even, his antennae resting limply on the chair's headrest. The doctor, Dr. Marlin, gives her a thumbs-up, a silent assurance that everything went according to plan. Karen feels a weight lift from her shoulders. The procedure is over, and Plankton is safe. His breathing continues, the anesthesia still keeping him in its gentle embrace of peaceful slumber. Nina turns to her with a sympathetic smile. "It's normal for patients to feel a bit groggy once they wake up. Sometimes they're a bit disoriented. It's like coming out of a deep sleep. It's normal if today he seems a little out of it. Bleeding and brushing are to be expected, and swelling is normal." "But he'll be okay?" Karen asks, her voice shaking. "More than okay," Dr. Marlin assures her, "Just follow the aftercare instructions and he'll be back to his usual self in no time. Just remember, no solid foods for a few days, lots of fluids, and keep those ice packs handy." Nina adds, "Keep an eye on him. He might be a bit forgetful, or say some funny things. It's just the anesthesia wearing off. Nothing to worry about." As they wheel Plankton into recovery, Karen watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. Nina, the nurse, explains, "The numbness is normal, it's the local anesthesia wearing off. It can feel weird, but don't worry, it'll fade. As for sleepiness, it's just the body recovering from the anesthesia. He might be a bit wobbly on your feet or have some difficulty speaking because of the numbness. Just take it slow, okay? Yet you can talk to him right now while he wakes if you'd like, even if he doesn't fully understand you yet." Karen nods, leaning in close to her husband's. "It's over, Plankton," she murmurs. "You did great. Just a little bit more sleep and then we'll go home." Plankton's breaths are slow and steady, his body still under the anesthesia's spell. The recovery room is dimly lit. The nurse, Nina, keeps a close eye on Plankton as Karen sits beside him, her hand resting on his arm. She's always been there for him, a constant source of comfort in the face of fear. The receptionist from earlier, Becky, comes in to check on Plankton, her face still cheerful despite the early hour. "How's our patient?" she asks Karen, glancing at the monitors that track his recovery. Plankton's chest rises and falls steadily, his snores punctuating the quiet. Karen smiles weakly. "He's still out of it." Becky nods. "That's normal. The anesthesia takes a little while to wear off. He'll wake up soon enough. You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes it helps to hear familiar voices." Karen looks down at Plankton's peaceful face. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart," she says softly. "Just a little longer, and then we'll go home. No more worrying." A line of drool starts to trickle from the corner of Plankton's numb mouth. It's a sight Karen's seen before, but only during his deepest slumbers. She reaches for a tissue and gently dabs at the saliva pooling, his body still under the sedative's grip. She cannot help but feel a twinge of pity for his vulnerable state, despite his snoring. The drool slowly starts to form a tiny river on the chair, a silent testament to the depth of his sleep. Karen wipes it away, knowing he'd be embarrassed if he were conscious of the sight. The nurse, Nina, checks his vitals, satisfied with his progress. "You can sit him up now," she says. "Just make sure he's actually awake before we get him walking." Karen carefully turns Plankton's chair with the lever, which gently guides his sleeping body upright. As the chair moves, Plankton's snoring changes pitch, his head lolling slightly. Karen smiles despite herself, his vulnerability endearing. Gently, she cups his cheek guiding his head back up. "Don't worry, Plankton. Almost time to go home," she says, her voice soft as a morning lullaby.
Monday 11 September 2023 Black Friday's Realistic Blood Punch/Cocktail Haven't you always wanted to feel more authentically like a vampire while getting drunk at the same time? I've always wondered why I could never find a recipe for an alcoholic drink, be it a punch or cocktail, that resembled blood beyond just being red. Why was there nothing out there with the consistency of blood, too? The goal for this recipe was to avoid food colouring, and get it the right colour just with the ingredients. Theoretically you could make just about any drink red by adding food colouring, but that feels like cheating. It also needed to taste good. What I really wanted to achieve, was an alcoholic drink that felt and moved like blood. This may not be perfect but it was the closest I could get whilst maintaining the flavour. Be the coolest/weirdest host ever by providing your guests with a punch that not only looks, but feels like blood. Best of all, it tastes lovely and makes for easy drinking. Serve it cooled, or leave it slightly warm to make it feel creepier. You can add ice cubes (I recommend ice with red food colouring in it) but remember if you put ice into a pitcher or punch bowl, this will dilute the punch and thin its consistency as it melts. Best Halloween punch ever? I think so. The recipe can be scaled up or down to make a whole bowl or pitcher of punch, or just a couple of cocktails. The recipe below yields two or three servings. Simply multiply the recipe depending on how many people you're likely to be serving. For example, if you're serving 12 guests, multiply the ingredients by 6. For 20 guests, by 10, and so forth. The measurements don't have to be exact! You will need: 150ml/5oz Red wine (merlot or cabernet sauvignon) 30ml/1oz Cherry brandy or cherry liqueur 60ml/2oz Vodka 30ml/1oz Raspberry syrup or cordial 30ml/1oz Grenadine 120ml/4oz Pomegranate juice 3tsp. Arrowroot powder Method: In a small, separate dish, mix the arrowroot with 3 teaspoons cold water. Stir until you have a smooth white liquid with no lumps. Put the other ingredients together into a pot on the stove. Heat carefully over medium heat. It should get hot but not boil, about 80˚C/176˚F. Do not let it boil! Gradually add the arrowroot liquid into the pot, stir consistently. You should start to feel the mixture thicken slightly as you stir, this only takes a minute or two. Remove from the heat and put into a heat safe container. Put in the fridge to cool for 30 minutes or until cooled. Leaving it for too long will cause it to congeal a bit. Pour into a punch bowl, pitcher, or cocktail glasses. Garnish and serve!
༉‧₊˚xxiii ❀༉‧₊˚.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.✧˖°. ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。˚ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆🤍
۰̮̑●̮̑۰★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★۰̮̑●̮̑۰ ──────█─█ █▀█ █▀█ █▀█ █─█───── ──────█▀█ █▀█ █▀▀ █▀▀ ▀█▀───── ──────▀─▀ ▀─▀ ▀── ▀── ─▀────── █▄─█ █▀▀ █─█─█──█─█ █▀▀ █▀█ █▀█ █─██ █▀▀ █─█─█──▀█▀ █▀▀ █▀█ ██▀ ▀──▀ ▀▀▀ ─▀▀▀────▀─ ▀▀▀ ▀─▀ ▀─▀ ۰̮̑●̮̑۰★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★⋰⋱☆⋰⋱★۰̮̑●̮̑۰
CATCH IN MY CHIP x (Autistic author) ♡. ᴏᴠᴇʀsᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀs .. Plankton's gaze is unfocused, lost in the storm. His body is rigid, his muscles tense like coils ready to spring. The room spins, the colors a blur Karen's fear a tangible entity in the room. Her hand on his cheek is a plea, a gentle reminder that she's there, that he's not alone. "Look at me," she whispers, her voice a soft mantra. "You're safe." But he doesn't hear her, not really. He's too lost in the sensory hurricane that engulfs him. Karen races as she watches the man she loves drift further away, his mind trapped in the labyrinth of his own making. She's seen this before, the way his autism can swallow him whole, leaving only the shell of a man behind. But this time is different. This time, there's Chip, waking up to his dad's struggle. Her eyes dart from Plankton's panicked gaze to their son's sleepy face, the innocence in his expression a stark contrast to the chaos in her husband's eye. She knows she must act fast, to protect them both from the storm. With a gentle touch, she lifts Chip's hand from Plankton's arm, her movements as soft as a leaf landing on a pond. Chip stirs, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers. The concern in her gaze is a question he doesn't understand, but he accidentally brushes his dad's shoulder as he sits up.. Plankton's body jerks, his single eye rolling back in his head. The room goes dark, the colors swirling into a void. The ringing in his ears is deafening. Karen's hand is a flash, catching him. Her arms wrap around him, supporting his weight as his body goes limp. Chip's eyes are wide with fear, his hand suddenly empty. "Daddy?" he whispers, the word a prayer in the quiet. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's face, her hand checking for a pulse. She feels the steady throb of life beneath her fingertips, relief flooding her veins. "Daddy?" Chip's voice is a whisper of fear, his hand reaching out to touch his father's arm, but Karen stops him. "Let him be," she says, her tone firm. "He needs space." Her eyes are on Plankton, watching for any sign of returning consciousness. The room is a tomb of silence, the only sound their mingled breaths. Chip nods, his eyes wide with worry. He can see the fear in his mother's gaze, feel the tension in the air. But he trusts her. He has to. Plankton is his dad, and she knows him better than anyone. Chip watches, his own breaths shallow with fear. He opens his mouth to speak, to ask what's wrong, but Karen's hand is swift, silencing his words with a single finger to her screen. The gesture is a soft whisper, a command that he understands without explanation. Plankton's body is limp in Karen's embrace, his antennas still quivering with the aftershocks of his overload. Her eyes are filled with determination, her love for her husband a fiery beacon in the dark room. With gentle care, she lowers his head to the pillow, his body trembling with the last vestiges of panic. Chip's eyes are wide with uncertainty, his hand poised in the air. "Is he okay?" he whispers, his voice small in the vastness of the moment. With gentle firmness, Karen takes Chip's hand, leading him out of the room. "We need to give him some space," she murmurs, her screen never leaving Plankton's form. "He'll come to when he's ready. This only happens when his overwhelm gets him dizzy to the point of passing out, which in itself has only happened twice before. It's part of his autism, Chip." Chip nods solemnly, his fear for his dad mingling with his curiosity about this new aspect of Plankton he's never seen. "What can we do?" he asks, his voice barely audible. Karen squeezes his hand, her screen never leaving Plankton. "For now, we wait. And when he wakes up, we make sure to give him time to recover. No loud noises, no sudden movements." She speaks with a calmness that belies the storm raging in her own heart. They sit together on the edge of the bed, their screens locked on Plankton. Karen's grip on Chip's hand is tight, her knuckles white. She's seen this before, but it never gets easier. "Just wait," she whispers, her voice shaky. "Just wait." They sit in silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. The sun peeks through the blinds, casting slanted bars of light across Plankton's unconscious form. Karen aches as she watches the man she loves, the man who's been her rock, reduced to this trembling shell. But she knows he's strong. He's survived worse storms than this. Minutes tick by, each one longer than the last. The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for Plankton to stir. And then, slowly, his antennas cease their trembling. His eye flickers open, focusing on the two figures beside his bed. The world is still a blur, his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. But Karen's face is a beacon, her eyes a port in the storm. He tries to speak, his mouth dry as sandpaper, but only a croak escapes. "I'm sorry," he manages, the words a feeble whisper. His eye meets Chip's, filled with a swirl of emotions he can't quite name. Regret, fear, love. All fighting for supremacy. Chip's grip on Karen's hand tightens, his own eyes reflecting the same tumult of feelings. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Instead, he reaches out with his free hand when Karen stops him. "Let him recover," she says, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "He needs to process, Chip. Let me talk to him first." With a nod, Chip withdraws his hand, his heart pounding in his chest.
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˚☽˚。⋆𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐˚☽˚。⋆
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⣿⣿⠿⠛⣉⣉⣉⣉⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣌⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⡉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⢉⠋⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣷⣄⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢉⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡈⠻⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡈⠻⡿⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⣉⣀⠀⠙⣨⣤⣭⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⢸⣿⡟⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣿⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠸⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢀⣿⣿⣯⡇⢸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠛⢿⡏⣡⣶⡌⢻⣟⠁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⡉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠛⢋⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢰⣿⣷⣬⢉⣵⣿⣿⣧⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠇⣸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠘⠿⠿⠟⢁⡙⠛⠛⢋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⡿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢻⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⢋⣭⣭⠡⠾⢟⣂⣒⡻⠷⠌⠵⢶⣍⠻⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠈⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⢋⣴⡦⢊⣥⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣬⣌⡛⠿⠌⣛⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡅⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⢑⡸⢁⣾⡟⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣝⠻⡆⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢾⠃⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⣿⣷⣌⠻⡆⣙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⢠⡀⣿⣿⣷⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣦⣱⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⡏⢰ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⠣⠹⢛⣙⣛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣭⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡇⠛⣸⣽⣿⡟⡻⢁⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣴⣿⣿⣯⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⢼⣾⣟⠟⢁⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠙⠛⠟⣙⡻⣦⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡀⢡⠞⠛⣁⣴⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣶⣿⠆⠿⠦⠀⣰⣾⢂⣉⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⢁⣺⣥⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠛⠿⣿⣷⣤⠀⣀⠳⢢⣢⢲⠧⠘⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⠌⢉⡄⣈⠑⠛⠛⠂⠚⠓⠒⠀⠀⡀⢩⣴⣶⣶⡌⢢⡘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣴⣿⠟⡅⠚⠘⠂⡽⢻⣿⣬⣿⣷⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠒⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠴⣋⡅⣚⣥⣾⣿⣧⣙⠂⢭⡛⠻⠿⠃⡌⠛⢿⣿⣃⣼⠟⠈⢨⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣐⣣⣶⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⠘⣶⣦⣍⠁⠐⠐⠰⠌⠉⠋⠁⠄⠶⠂⠊⢙⢻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⣿⣿⣇⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⣿⣿⣿⠀⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡶⠂⢉⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⡙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣦⣭⣝⡋⠶⢙⣫⣥⣴⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣙⣂⠶⠦⠠⣤⠤⣄⡀⣡⣀⢠⣀⠄⣤⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠐⠶⠶⠄⠀⠼⣦⡲⠔⠾⣶⣶⣶⠶⠖⠀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠛⠶⠶⠀⢿⣶⣤⣤⣘⣣⣤⣤⣤⣶⡞⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣁⣉⣉⣉⣉⣡⣌⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
/  𝓷ame  、 name  𝜗𝜚 initials/extra  ✦ 𓂃 extra. ノ 𓏵  link/carrd/rentry/xtra
ᴸⁱᵗʰᵖ Part 1 ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉⁿᵗⁱᵉⁿᵗ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵒʳ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵘʳᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵃᵖᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵒᶠ 'ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ' ᵃⁿᵈ 'ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ' ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵈⁱᵛᵉʳˢⁱᵗʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉˣʰⁱᵇⁱᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵖʰᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ⸴ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᵃᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵐᵒˡᵃʳˢ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᔆⁱⁿᶜᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗⁱʳᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘⁿᵃʳᵒᵘˢᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱⁿⁱˢᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵈᵘᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ‧ "ᴰᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ "ᴬˡˡ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ!" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᴴᵉʰ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ!" "ᴴᵉʷʷᵒ‽" "ᴴⁱ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ‧" "ᴵ ᵐᵃʷʷⁱᵉᵈ?" "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʲᵘᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖˢ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂᵘᶻ?" ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ; ᴵ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵒᵘʳˢ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᶜᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ‧ "ᵀʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʲᵃʷ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵒʷ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵗʰᵃʷ?" "ᴰᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗˢ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵒⁿ‧‧" "ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁿᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ’ ʷⁱᶠᶠ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵘᶠ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵍˡᵒᵇˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵃᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬʳʳⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ⸴ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵇʸ ᵘⁿᵃⁿⁿᵒᵘⁿᶜᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‽" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴾʷᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵒʰ⸴ ᴵ ᶠᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵐᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢᵏ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵐᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʸᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵐᵃʷʷⁱᵉᵈ!" "ᵂⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵒᵒᵗʰ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵃˡ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ‧ "ᴵ ʰᵃᵇ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰⁱᵉˢ? ᵂʰᵉʷᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ?" "ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉˡʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ‧‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉᵉ⸴ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ? ᴵ ʷᵘᵛ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡˡ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ!" "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧‧" ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵉᵉᵐⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ!" "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵉⁿˢⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ?" "ᵀⁱʷᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵘᶜᵏˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ⸴ ʷⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵃᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵘʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵃⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡˢ/ˢⁿᵒʳᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵈ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴮʸᵉ!" ᵀʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ʰᵉ ʷᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ˢᵒʳᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ 'ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ ᴵ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ?' "ᴼʷ‧" 'ᴬʰ ᵐʸ ᵍᵘᵐˢ‧ ᴳᵃʰ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ?' "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ?" ᔆʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵇʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵘⁿᵍʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ?" "ᴵᶜᵉ ᶜʷᵉᵃᵐ⸴ ᵇᵘ’ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘⁿᵍʷʸ ᶠᵒʷ ᵃ ᵐᵉᵃˡ ʸᵉᵗ‧" 'ᵀᵒ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵗᵒᵈᵈˡᵉʳ!' "ᴵ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗᵉ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ 'ᴰⁱᵈ ᴵ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉ?' "ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ?" "ᴳᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ⸴ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʷ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵇ'ᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴵ ᶠⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ?" 'ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢˡᵘʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵉˡˢᵉ‧" "ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᴳᵒᵒᵈ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᵐⁱᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᴴᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ; ˡᵘᶜᵏⁱˡʸ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ‧ "ᴬᵐ ᴵ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ‽" 'ʸᵉˢ‧' "ᴺᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ‧‧" 'ʸᵉˢ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ‧' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵖᵉˢ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢᵏˢ‧ "ᴳᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢʷᵉᵉᵖ‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ‧ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ⸴ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ⁱᵗ‧" "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧" "ᔆᵒ ᵈᵒ ᴵ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ to be cont. Pt. Two
JUST A TOUCH v (Autistic author) Hanna's confusion is clear as she watches Karen crouch before Plankton, her hand hovering an inch from his shoulder. "Plankton, sweetie," Karen says, her voice a gentle coax. "It's just me." No indication from Plankton though. Hanna's eyes dart from Karen to Plankton and back, trying to piece together what has happened. "What's wrong with him?" she whispers. "He's just overwhelmed," Karen says, her voice tight with frustration. Hanna looks from Karen to Plankton, his body rigid. "What happened?" she asks again, her voice laced with concern. Karen sighs heavily, her eyes full of pain. "Plankton has Acquired Autism." The words hang in the air like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over the room. Hanna's face falls, her hand covering her mouth in shock. "Oh no," she murmurs, realizing her mistake. "I didn't know." Her eyes dart to Plankton, his body still frozen, his gaze vacant. "I'm so sorry." She says, reaching for him again as Karen's. Karen's hand shoots out, stopping her mid-air. "No, don't," she says firmly. "He's hypersensitive now. Sometimes touch can be... painful." Hanna's hand retreats, her eyes widening. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice filled with regret. "I just wanted to be friendly." Karen's expression softens slightly. "It's okay," she says, her voice calming. "You couldn't have known." But Plankton remains still, his eye unblinking. "Plankton," Karen whispers, her hand reaching for his. He doesn't flinch this time, his body still as stone. She squeezes gently, hoping the familiar gesture will bring him back. "You're safe at home." Hanna watches, her heart heavy with guilt. She had no idea her enthusiasm could have such a profound effect on him. "What can I do?" she asks, her voice shaky. Karen looks up, her eyes tired. "Just give us some space," she says. "Let me... let me help him." Hanna nods, her own screen brimming with unshed tears. "Of course," she murmurs, backing away. Plankton remains frozen, his gaze locked on the floor. Karen wraps her arms around his shoulders. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers, her voice soothing. "You're safe here." She rubs his arm lightly, the way she's learned not to cause him discomfort. He doesn't move, but she can feel the tension slowly leaving his body. His antennae lift slightly. "You're okay," Karen repeats, her voice a gentle murmur. "Just breathe." Slowly, Plankton's body begins to relax, his antennae twitching as he takes in her words. Hanna watches from a distance. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice quieter. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to..." Her words trail off, but Karen simply nods, her eyes not leaving Plankton's. "It's okay," she repeats. "We're still learning." Hanna sits on the edge of the sofa, her eyes never leaving them. She feels like an intruder, a bull in a china shop. She had come to offer support, but instead, she'd triggered something deep within him. The room feels heavy with unspoken words. "I didn't mean to push him," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "I just didn't know." Karen's grip on Plankton tightens slightly, but she doesn't look up. "It's okay," she says again, her voice a lifeline in the quiet. "It's a lot to take in." Hanna nods, her screen filling with tears she quickly wipes away. "But I'll learn," she says, her determination clear. "I want to be a good friend to both of you." Plankton's antennae quiver, a faint glimmer of recognition flickering in his eye. Karen nods. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. Hanna watches as Karen's gentle touch seems to break through the barriers Plankton has erected. His body slowly unfurls from his rigid stance, his gaze shifting from the floor to meet Karen's. "It's okay," Karen repeats, her voice a balm. "Let's go to our room. You need to rest." Plankton nods slightly, allowing her to guide him away from the living room. Hanna watches them go, her heart aching for her friend. She knows she's overstayed her welcome, but she can't bear to leave without apologizing to Plankton. "I'll go," she says, her voice thick. Karen turns, her screen swimming with unshed tears. "Thank you, Hanna," she says, her voice hoarse. Hanna nods, her own eyes shimmering. "Call me if you need anything," she says, her voice thick with emotion. She stands, her legs feeling like jelly, and makes her way to the door, her heart heavy with the weight of what she's done. The moment the door clicks shut, Karen feels the tension in the room dissipate slightly. Plankton's body relaxes a fraction, his eye no longer staring blankly at the floor. She leads him to their bedroom, the familiar surroundings seeming to soothe his frazzled nerves. Once inside, she helps him into bed, the softness of the covers a stark contrast to the rigidness of his body. She pulls the curtains shut, dimming the lights to reduce the sensory stimulation. Plankton's antennae twitch, a sign of his relief. Karen sits beside him. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know she'd..." Plankton's gaze meets hers, his eye less intense now. "It's okay," he says, his voice monotone. "Just need... quiet." Karen nods, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "I'm here," she says. "I'm always here."
JUST A TOUCH i (Autistic author) ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ "You know, I've never seen a sunset quite like this," Karen said, her screen glued to the horizon. Her husband, Plankton, nodded absentmindedly. He was too focused on tightening the bolts on the railing of their Chum Bucket home. As the sun dipped, Plankton's wrench slipped, striking him on the head. With a sharp clang and a muted cry, he staggered back, his eye glazed over with surprise and pain as he falls to the ground, landing on his head with a thud. Karen's hand flew to her screen, stifling a scream as she raced towards him. Plankton's body was eerily still. Her eyes filled with fear and love, she knelt beside him, his head cradled in her slender hands. "Plankton," she whispered urgently, "are you okay?" There was no response, not even a twitch of his antennae. His eye remained closed. "Plankton!" she shouted, louder this time, her voice cracking with concern. The sound of his name echoed through their silent abode. "Wake up, please," she pleaded, tears threatening to spill. The setting sun cast long shadows over his motionless body, the once bright hues of their underwater home now overshadowed by a dark sense of dread. With trembling hands, she checked for a pulse, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating. Relief flooded through her, but she knew she had to act quickly. "I have to get him to a hospital," she thought, her mind racing. Karen carefully scooped Plankton into her arms and went with determination to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. The nurse, a stern-faced starfish, took one look at the unconscious Plankton and ushered them straight through to an examination room, Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tight. The doctor, a squid with a comforting smile, took over, his tentacles moving swiftly over Plankton's tiny frame. "Ma'am, we need to check his head for any damage," he said, gently patting her hand. Karen nodded, swiping at her eyes with the back of her arm. The doctor led them to a room filled with high-tech equipment that whirred and glowed. He placed Plankton on a shiny, cold table. The machines beeped and hummed as they searched for any signs of trauma. Karen held her breath, watching the squid doctor's face for any hint of what he might find. The doctor's tentacles danced over a console, reading the results. Finally, he turned to Karen. "Ma'am, it appears your husband has sustained an irreversible brain condition from his fall," he said softly. Karen's grip tightened on Plankton's hand. "But it's not all bad," he quickly added. "The injury has led to the development of Autism in his brain. The condition's called Acquired Autism." Her eyes widened. "What does that mean for him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. The doctor's smile was warm, his tentacles still. "It means his brain will process things differently. It could enhance his cognitive abilities in certain areas, but it may also present challenges in others." The news hit Karen like a tidal wave. Autism. A word she had heard before, but never thought would be a part of their lives. "How will this change him?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. The doctor took a deep breath and began to explain. "Plankton may exhibit behaviors that are different from before, such as repetitive actions or heightened sensitivity to stimuli. His social interactions might be affected as well. But, on the positive side, we've seen patients with Acquired Autism develop extraordinary talents in areas like memory or problem- solving." Karen nodded, trying to absorb the information. The doctor's tentacles curled around a clipboard, jotting down notes. "He can go home tonight, and, he'll be able to adapt to his new reality with your patience and love. You may need to accommodate for his comfort, there's no treatment or cure. You can leave whenever he wakes up shortly after we assess and answer any questions." Karen nods and leaned over Plankton, stroking his cheek. "We'll get through this," she whispered. "Together." As the doctor sat by them, Karen was overwhelmed by a flurry of questions and fears. How would Plankton be different? Would he still love her? Would he remember their life together? The quiet beeps of the hospital machines were a stark reminder of the new reality they faced. The doctor's gentle explanation was a beacon of hope in the storm of uncertainty. Plankton might see the world in a new light, his mind unlocking puzzles and patterns that had eluded him before. But the thought of her husband, the man she had spent her life with, changing so fundamentally... As the doctor finished up, Plankton's single eye fluttered open, focusing on her screen. Karen leaped as she saw the spark of recognition. "Karen?" he said, his voice faint but clear. Her heart soared with relief. "Yes, Plankton, it's me," she said, her voice choked with emotion. But as she watched him closely, she noticed something different. His gaze was intense, his movements precise and calculated. He took in every detail of the room, his eye darting around quickly, absorbing everything. His voice, when he spoke again, had a new rhythm to it, almost as if he was reciting a script from memory. "Where?" he asked, the words clipped and quick. Karen took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're in the hospital, Plankton," she said softly. "You had an accident. You hit your head and it changed your brain." The doctor cleared his throat, sensing her tension. "It's common for patients with Acquired Autism to exhibit heightened focus and a need for routine. It will take time for you to learn how to communicate effectively with him in this new state," he explained. Karen nodded, determined to be there every step of the way.
JUST A TOUCH ii (Autistic author) Plankton began to sit up, his movements were methodical, each action deliberate and precise. His antennae twitched as he took in the sights and sounds of the hospital room, his eye searching for familiarity in the unfamiliar setting. "Home?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency. Karen's screen filled with understanding. "We're not home, sweetie. We need to stay here until the doctors are sure you're okay." She kept her tone soft and even, hoping to soothe his growing anxiety. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. "You've acquired Autism." The doctor nodded in agreement. "It's important that he feels secure and comfortable in this new environment. Let's start with some simple questions to gauge his cognitive function." He turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's response was immediate and crystal clear. "Sheldon J. Plankton." Karen's heart skipped a beat at the formality in his tone. This was her husband, but the way he spoke was unlike anything she had heard from him before. The doctor's smile remained, but his eyes were assessing. "And who is this lovely lady next to you?" Plankton paused, his antennae quivering. "Karen," he said, his voice slightly softer, "Plankton's computer wife." He was stating facts, not sharing his emotions. The doctor noted the exchange and nodded. "It's alright, Karen. This is all part of the adjustment." He then turned to Plankton. "Can you tell me what you see around you?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his antennae twitching rapidly. "White walls. Blue floor. Bright lights. Machines," he listed, his voice devoid of inflection. The doctor jotted down notes, his gaze thoughtful. "Good, good. Now, can you tell me how you feel?" Plankton's response was quick and specific. "Plankton feel the coolness of the air conditioner, hear the hum of the lights above. Plankton's hand is clammy. Your hand is dry." Karen felt a pang of sadness at his lack of emotional description. The doctor nodded, his gaze shifting to Karen. "It's not uncommon for individuals with Acquired Autism to speak in a matter-of-fact manner, especially when they're trying to make sense of their surroundings." Karen felt a tear slip down her screen as she forced a smile for Plankton. "Okay, we can handle this," she thought, wiping it away. Plankton's gaze never left the doctor, his eye scanning every tentacle as he spoke. "Now, let's check your coordination," the doctor said, handing him a simple puzzle. Plankton took the puzzle pieces in his tiny hands and began to assemble them with lightning speed. The doctor watched in amazement as the intricate pattern emerged, each piece fitting perfectly. "Remarkable," he murmured. "It seems his problem-solving abilities have indeed been enhanced." Karen couldn't help but smile through her tears as she saw Plankton's meticulous movements, the way his fingers danced over the plastic pieces. It was as if he saw a pattern that she couldn't. As the puzzle came together, she noticed his breathing had evened out, his movements more fluid, as if the task provided him some semblance of peace. But when the doctor tried to take the puzzle away to test another cognitive function, Plankton's hand shot out, his grip tightening on the last piece. "No," he said firmly, his voice edged with something new, something akin to panic. "It's not finished." The doctor exchanged a look with Karen, who nodded slowly. They had to respect his new boundaries. "Alright, Plankton, take your time," she said, her voice calm. The doctor stepped back, allowing Plankton to complete his task. With a final snap, the puzzle was done. Plankton stared at it, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Once the puzzle was complete, he handed it back to the doctor with a nod. The doctor took it with a smile. "Very good, Plankton." Karen felt a swell of pride mixed with the fear. "Now, let's move on to some memory recall," the doctor suggested, his tentacles holding a series of cards with images. "I'm going to ask you..." But before the doctor could finish, Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye widening as he spotted a smudge on the wall. "Clean," he murmured, his gaze firmly locked on the imperfection. Karen's heart sank as she watched his obsession take hold. The doctor paused, sensing the shift in Plankton's focus. "It appears Plankton has developed some OCD tendencies alongside his Autism," he said gently to Karen. "It's not unusual for them to fixate on certain things." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's as his gaze remained glued to the smudge. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "We can get someone to clean it." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body visibly relaxing at the thought. The doctor nodded at a nearby janitor, who quickly came over and wiped the smudge away, leaving the wall gleaming. With the wall back to its pristine state, Plankton's eye moved back to the cards. He took them in his hands and studied each image intently, his antennae quivering with concentration. "Ready?" Karen asked, hopeful that this part of the assessment would go smoothly. But Plankton's gaze shifted to the floor, focusing on the tiles. Each one was perfectly aligned, except for a single one slightly askew. "Crooked," he said, his voice laced with distress. Karen's heart broke as she watched him struggle with the internal conflict of wanting to fix it and knowing he couldn't. The doctor, noticing the shift in mood, stepped in. "It's alright, Plankton. Let's focus on..." But Plankton's eye was already darting around the room, spotting every imperfection, his anxiety rising. Karen knew they had to get home, to a place where he could find peace. "Doctor, can we go?" she interrupted, her voice tight with urgency. The doctor nodded, his smile understanding. "Yes, you can take him home. Remember, patience is key. His world has changed, and he needs a stable environment to adjust." Karen stood, cradling Plankton in her arms once again. He felt lighter, his body more rigid than usual. As they left the hospital, the chaotic world of Bikini Bottom rushed in, a cacophony of sounds and lights. Plankton's eye widened, his antennae quivering. Karen could feel his discomfort, his body tensing with each step they took closer to the noisy, bustling streets.
JUST A TOUCH iii (Autistic author) ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ Once home, she helped him settle into his favorite chair, his eye scanning the room. Everything was in its place, exactly as he liked it. Karen noticed his breathing slow as the familiarity washed over him. She knew that routine and order could be vital to his comfort now to avoid triggering his anxiety. Then suddenly, Plankton began to rock back and forth. Karen recognized the motion. It was a new behavior, one she hadn't seen before. His body swayed with a rhythm that matched the ticking of the antique clock on the wall. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We're home now." The rocking grew more intense, his eye darting around the room, his antennae vibrating with each back-and-forth movement. Karen's mind raced, trying to remember the doctor's words. Sensory overload. He needed calm. Swiftly, she dimmed the lights, the neon signs from the Krabby Patty franchise across the street casting soothing shadows through the windows. The glow was just enough to illuminate the space without causing further distress, and she watched as Plankton's rocking subsided. She sat by him. She grasped and squeezed his shoulder. But this time, he flinched. "Plankton?" she asked, concern etching her voice. He pulled away from her, his antennae dropping to his side. The doctor had mentioned that some with autism might have heightened sensitivity to touch. Karen felt a knot in her stomach. "What if he doesn't like me touching him anymore?" she thought. "What if I can't comfort him when he's upset?" She decided to test the waters gently. Reaching out, she lightly trailed her finger over his hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged, she placed her hand on his shoulder again, this time more softly. He tensed, then relaxed. It was progress. "Let's start with simple touch," she said, her voice soothing. The doctor had mentioned that Plankton might be hypersensitive to certain types of touch, and Karen was determined to navigate this new aspect of their relationship with care. She placed a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen." Her hand hovered over his, unsure of the best way to provide comfort. Karen took a deep breath, deciding to try again. This time, she approached with care, her touch feather-light, gliding over his hand like the softest of sea breezes. Plankton's antennae twitched, and his gaze remained on her hand, watching the movement as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Gradually, the tension in his body eased, and his hand lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative touch, his fingers brushing against hers, testing the waters. Karen felt a rush of relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured, keeping her voice low and even. Plankton's hand was cold, his grip firm but not painful. His eye locked onto hers, searching for reassurance. Slowly, she began to stroke his hand with her thumb, applying the slightest pressure. His breathing evened out, his antennae rising slightly. Encouraged, she tried a different type of touch—a gentle squeeze. This time, he didn't flinch. Instead, his hand returned the gesture, his own grip matching hers in strength. Karen felt a flicker of hope. "Maybe we can find a way through this," she thought. They sat in silence for a few moments, their hands entwined, as Karen tried to think of the next step. The doctor's words echoed in her mind: find what works for him. Gently, she began to rub his hand, her thumb moving in small, soothing circles. Plankton seemed to find comfort in the predictable pattern, his body unwinding a fraction more. Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer, her other hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. But as soon as her hand made contact with his skin, he jerked away, his eye flashing with fear and pain. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, her heart racing. "I didn't mean to scare you." Plankton stared at her, his expression unreadable. "It's just, sometimes touch feels..." His words trailed off, and Karen felt her own fear rising. "Painful?" she guessed, her voice trembling. Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Some touches are okay, others..." He paused, his eye darting to his hand, which was still wrapped around hers. "It's confusing." Karen nodded, her heart aching for him. She knew she had to be more mindful of his sensory needs. Carefully, she pats his cheek with the back of her hand, the lightest of touches. Plankton's antennae flinched, but he didn't pull away until she put both of her hands on his shoulders. The sudden pressure was too much, like an electric shock. "Karen," he said, his voice tight with discomfort, "too much." Karen nodded, her hands retreating to her lap. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice small. "I didn't mean to..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching hers. "It's okay, Karen," he said, his voice measured. "But some touches are too much." Karen nodded, her heart heavy. She had so much to learn about this new Plankton, this person she knew so well yet barely knew at all. "I'll be more careful," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. Plankton's gaze remained steady on hers, his expression neutral. "Thank you, Karen," he said, giving her a side hug. This was a Plankton she had never seen before, one who spoke in a staccato rhythm, his movements precise and calculated. Yet, in the safety of their home, Karen saw glimpses of the man she knew. Her eyes fell upon a pamphlet the doctor had given her, titled 'Understanding Neurodivergence'. She picked it up and began to read. The first few pages were dedicated to explaining what it meant to be neurodivergent, how it wasn't an illness but a natural variation in the brain. Plankton's new condition, Acquired Autism, was one of the many spectrums that fell under this umbrella. Karen read through the descriptions of different behaviors, her eyes widening as she recognized some of the changes in Plankton— his need for order, his heightened sensitivity to stimuli, and his newfound obsessions. The pamphlet explained that these were common in individuals with his condition and offered optional suggestions for supporting them. Her gaze fell upon a section titled 'Seizure Protocols'. Karen's eyes widened as she read about the different types of seizures that could occur due to neurodivergence. Some were minor, like staring spells, while others could be more severe. Her heart raced as she thought of Plankton, his body stiffening and shaking. The pamphlet recommended to keep any sharp or harmful objects away from him. It was important not to restrain him, but instead, to gently guide him to the floor if necessary. The next section discussed how to communicate with someone on the spectrum. It suggested using clear, direct language, avoiding sarcasm and idioms. Karen realized that she would have to learn a new way of speaking with Plankton. Her screen skimmed over the pages, absorbing the information like a sponge. The pamphlet highlighted the importance of individuality and diversity, emphasizing that Plankton's brain was not broken, but simply wired differently. This was a concept she had heard of before, but it had never hit so close to home. The causes of neurodisability varied widely, from genetics to congenital to trauma. One paragraph caught her attention—brain injuries could lead to conditions like Acquired Autism. The words swirled in her mind, a stark reminder of the wrench that had changed everything. As Karen read on, she learned about the complex interplay of biological factors and life experiences that can shape a person's neurodivergence. It was both overwhelming and fascinating, a glimpse into a world she had never truly understood.
JUST A TOUCH vi (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. His eye dart to the clock on the wall. "Must rest," he murmurs, his voice low. Karen nods, her hand squeezing his shoulder gently, which makes him flinch. "I'm sorry," she says, quickly withdrawing it. They sit in the quiet, Plankton's mind racing, trying to process the onslaught of the day. Karen's eyes are on him, a mix of sadness and love. He can feel it, even through the wall of his new condition. He reaches out, tentatively, his hand hovering over hers. It's a peace offering, a silent request for the comfort she always provided. Karen's eyes widen, surprise and hope flickering in their depths. She places her hand under his, allowing him to guide it to his cheek. "Plankton can, may I ask you something?" Karen says quietly. He nods once, his antennae still. "Yes," he says. "What were you experiencing when you froze today? You know, before we came to our bed? When Hanna was..." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze shifting to hers. "Too much," he murmurs. "Could tell you're here and talking but, cannot comprehend. Plankton felt dizzy in the head. Was present yet not present." Karen's eyes fill with understanding. "It's like your brain was on overload," she says, her voice soft. "And my touch...it helped?" Plankton shrugs, his antennae lifting slightly. "Familiar. Soothing." He looks at her, his gaze intense. "Needed more of you." Karen's eyes water, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I'm here now," she whispers. But Plankton notices the tears in her eyes. "Why sad?" he asks, his voice still flat. "Karen crying. Crying sad. Thus, Karen's sad.." Karen sniffles, her thumb wiping away a tear. "I'm just overwhelmed," she says. "I'm trying to understand and be there for you, but sometimes it's hard." Plankton's antennae droop. "Karen not at fault," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. "Plankton's brain... different, now." Karen nods, her hand still in his. "I know," she whispers. "But I'm here to learn with you." Her words hang in the air, a promise of support and patience. Plankton's gaze lingers on their joined hands, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm. The sensation grounds him, a lifeline in the storm of his new reality. He tries to formulate his next words, his mind racing. "Thanks," he finally says, his voice a barely-there whisper. Karen smiles softly, her eyes never leaving his. "For what?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "For... being... understanding." The words are forced, but the sentiment is clear. Karen's heart swells with love and determination. They sit in silence for a moment, the gentle pressure of their joined hands speaking louder than any words could. Plankton's gaze shifts from their interlocked hands to Karen's eyes. He can see the love and concern in them, and it calms him in a way nothing else can. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. "Karen," he says, his voice still monotone but with a hint of longing. "Can... be in your arms?" Karen's eyes widen with understanding. She nods, moving closer to him. "Of course," she whispers, opening her arms. Plankton shifts his body, his movements stiff but deliberate as he slides closer to her. He nestles into her embrace, his antennae resting on her shoulder. Her arms close around him, enveloping his small form in warmth. He takes a deep breath, his body finally beginning to unwind. Plankton's antennae still, his breathing evening out. Karen holds him. Her hand gently strokes his back— a soothing motion. Plankton's eye closes. Karen's heart swells with relief as Plankton's body gradually relaxes into her embrace. The weight of the day's stresses seems to melt away as she holds him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breaths. This is a new chapter in their relationship, one filled with unexpected challenges and a deeper understanding of each other's needs. She's aware that his autism isn't something to be cured or fixed, but a part of who he is now, something to be accepted and supported. She strokes his back, her movements slow and measured, mimicking the calm she wishes to impart. His breaths deepen, and she can feel his body grow heavier in her arms. Plankton's antennae droop with fatigue, his eyelid flickering as he succumbs to sleep. His tiny hand remains in hers, a silent plea to not let go. Karen squeezes gently, her screen never leaving his face. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the shadows playing across the wall like a silent guardian. The only noise is the steady tick of the clock and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen watches him sleep, his tiny form nestled in the crook of her arm. His antennae rest peacefully against her shoulder, his breaths deep and even. Her heart swells with a mix of love and fear. She's afraid for him, for the world he's woken up to, a place where every sound, every touch, every interaction is a minefield. But she's also proud of him, the way he's trying to navigate this new reality with a stoicism that belies his size. Plankton stirs slightly, his eyelid fluttering. Karen holds her breath, afraid to disturb his fragile peace. His hand tightens on hers, and she knows he's aware of her presence. It's a small victory in a day filled with confusion. He opens his eye, looking up at her with a gaze that's both familiar and foreign. "Karen," he says, his voice still monotone. Karen's screen brightens with relief. "Yes, Plankton?" He shifts, his gaze drifting to the book on the nightstand. "Book," he says, his voice barely audible. "Read." Karen nods, understanding his need for the familiar. She picks up the book, her eyes skimming over the pages. "Which one?" she asks softly. Plankton's eye darts to the title. "The... puzzle," he murmurs, his voice a mere echo. Karen opens the book to the puzzle they'd been working on. His gaze follows her finger as she traces the words. His antennae twitch. "Would... you like to hear it?" she asks tentatively. He nods, his body still tense. Karen clears her throat, her voice gentle as she reads the words aloud. Plankton's eye drifts closed again, the sound of her voice a comforting lullaby. His hand relaxes in hers, the tension in his body dissipating. Karen reads on, her voice a steady rhythm that fills the silent room. The words from the puzzle book form a bridge between them, connecting them in a way that's both new and comfortingly familiar. Plankton's mind focuses on the patterns and sequences, the logical structure a sanctuary in the chaos. As she reads, Karen can feel his muscles relaxing further, his breathing deepening into sleep. The room's quietude wraps around them like a cocoon, their shared history a warm blanket. It's a stark contrast to the panic and confusion that had gripped him earlier. The puzzle's words weave themselves into a tapestry of comfort, each syllable a stitch in the fabric of their new reality. Plankton's love for order and patterns hasn't changed, but the way he interacts with them has. The autism has transformed his world, but not the essence of who he is. As Karen reads, her voice soothing his frayed nerves, she can't help but feel a sense of awe at his resilience. He's still her Plankton, the same being she's known for so long, but now he's also someone new, someone she's just beginning to understand. His mind operates on a different wavelength, one that she's eager to tune into. Then the door bell rings. It's Sandy! Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body stiffening in Karen's arms. "Who is it?" he asks, his voice sharp with anxiety. Karen's eyes dart to the clock on the wall. "It's just Sandy," she says, her voice calm. "It's okay." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye searching hers for reassurance. "Sandy?" he repeats, his voice unsure. Karen nods, her smile gentle. "It's okay," she says, her voice a whisper. "We'll take this slow." Plankton's gaze locks onto Sandy as she enters the room, his eyes darting around to assess the new presence. Sandy watches him, her face a mix of curiosity and concern. "Howdy, Plankton," she says, her voice soft. "How are y'all?" Plankton's antennae twitch. He's heard her voice before, but it's different now. Too loud, too bright. He shrinks back into Karen's embrace. "Good," he says, his voice tight. "Good." Sandy's eyes dart between them, her smile fading. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice gentle. Karen sighs. "Plankton's had an... accident," she says carefully. Sandy's eyes widen with shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "What happened?" Karen's gaze doesn't waver from Plankton's. "He's been diagnosed with Acquired Autism," she says softly. "From a head injury." Sandy's eyes widen in disbelief. "Oh no," she whispers. "I had no idea." Karen nods, her screen reflecting the weight of the last few hours. "It's a lot to take in," she says. "We're still learning." Sandy steps closer, her movements slow and deliberate. "What can I do?" she asks. Karen's shoulders slump with relief. "Just... be patient with him," she says. "He's still the same Plankton, but... different." Sandy nods solemnly. "I will," she promises.
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ix (Autistic author) Plankton's smile flickers back to life, his eye lighting up slightly. "Good," he says, a monotone echo. "Friend." Sponge Bob nods, his smile genuine despite the sadness still lingering in his eyes. "Always," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "Well, what should we do now?" Plankton's gaze shifts to the book, then to Sponge Bob. "Movie," he says, his voice picking up a hint of excitement. "Friend watch movie." His hands flap in a pattern that seems to mirror his thoughts racing. Sponge Bob's smile is a mix of relief and excitement. "Movie?" he repeats, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, let's watch a movie! What do you want to see?" Plankton's eye dart around the room, his hands flapping in a flurry of indecision. "You choose," he says, his voice a monotone. "You know me." His antennas twitch with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile is filled with understanding. "Okay, then," he says, his voice calm. He scans the bookshelf, looking for a title that might spark Plankton's interest. "How about this one?" he asks, holding up a DVD case with a picture of the Dirty Bubble on the front. Plankton's antennas perk up, eyelighting up at the sight of the villainous bubble's grinning face. "Yes," he says, his voice a monotone. "Dirty Bubble." His hands flap in excitement. Sponge Bob's heart squeezes with love and concern for his unique friend. "Alright, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "Let's watch 'The Great Dirty Bubble Heist'." He pops the DVD into the player, the machine whirring to life. The two of them settle on the couch, Sponge Bob's arm draped protectively around Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's hands are still, his gaze fixed on the screen as the movie starts. The TV flickers to life, casting a warm glow over the room. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax slightly against his side, his eyes never leaving the colorful bubble of the Dirty Bubble's latest escapade. As the movie plays, Plankton's flapping subsides, his gaze transfixed by the screen. The sounds of bubbles popping and laughter fill the room, a stark contrast to the silence that typically accompanied their stakeouts at the Chum Bucket. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax further into the couch, his shoulder leaning into him. He notices Plankton's antennas twitch slightly with every joke, his eye flickering with understanding at the slapstick humor. It's a small sign of connection, but it's enough. The movie's plot unfolds, and Plankton's chuckles echo through the room, his laughter a comforting reminder of their long-standing friendship. Sponge Bob smiles, watching Plankton react to the familiar beats of the film's storyline. It's clear his friend's love for the simple pleasure of laughter hasn't changed. As the film progresses, Plankton's chuckles grow softer, his eyelid drooping as he's nestled against Sponge Bob. He's falling asleep, his mind finally at ease in the comforting embrace of his friend. His head lolls to the side, his antennas coming to rest on Sponge Bob's arm. His mouth has fall open slightly, his breaths even and deep. Sponge Bob's heart swells with tenderness, watching Plankton's face. He gently shifts his position, adjusting the small blanket over Plankton to keep him warm. The TV's light continues to flicker across their faces, casting shadows on the walls. Sponge Bob doesn't want to wake him; instead, he takes the moment to study his friend's newfound peace. Plankton's antennas, usually a blur of activity, are still, his breaths deep and rhythmic. Sponge Bob notices the slightest tremble in his friend's hand, now resting on the couch cushion. He gently takes it in his, intertwining their fingers. Their friendship remains a bastion of comfort and acceptance. The TV echoes in the room, punctuating the silence between them. Sponge Bob feels Plankton's body relax further into the couch, his head now resting heavily against his shoulder. Plankton's laughter has turned to soft snores, his antenna twitching with each breath he takes. Karen peeks into the room, and sees Plankton asleep against Sponge Bob's side. She goes closer, wanting to make sure Plankton is ok. She feels warmth seeing their friendship unchanged by his diagnosis. Sponge Bob, ever the caretaker, has his arm around Plankton, his hand over Plankton's, their fingers intertwined. Karen smiles softly with pride. This moment of peace, despite the turmoil, shows their unyielding bond. "You guys okay?" she asks, her voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, Karen," he says, his voice low. "We're just watching a movie." Karen's smile is filled with warmth as she steps closer. "I can see that," she whispers. "How is he?" Sponge Bob's gaze shifts to her, his smile a mix of relief and sadness. "Different," he says, his voice soft. "But still Plankton." Karen nods with understanding. "He's been through a lot," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "But he's strong, and he has his friends." She sits down on the couch, her hand reaching out to rest on Plankton's leg. Her touch is light, comforting. Plankton's body twitches slightly in his sleep, his antennae stirring. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand gently. "You're ok, buddy," he murmurs, his voice a soft reassurance. Karen sits down beside them, gaze on Plankton's serene expression. "I'm here," she says, her voice soft. "Always." She reaches out, her hand resting on Plankton's knee. The touch penetrates his subconscious, his antennae twitching slightly in response. Sponge Bob nods. "Thanks, Karen," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'm still trying to get used to this new Plankton." Karen's expression is one of quiet understanding. "It's ok," she says, her voice a soothing balm. "It's a lot to process, but you're doing great." She looks down at Plankton, his small form snuggled against Sponge Bob. "He's lucky to have you," she whispers. Sponge Bob nods, his voice thick with emotion. "But it's hard to see him like this." His eyes well with tears, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Karen's gaze is filled with compassion as she looks at Plankton. She reaches over, her hand gently brushing his cheek. "He's still the same Plankton," she whispers. "He's just learning to navigate a new part of himself." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes still fixed on the TV. "I know," he says, his voice tight. "But it's so...different." His eyes flicker with unshed tears. Karen's gaze remains on Plankton's peaceful face, her hand still on his knee. "It is," she says, her voice soft. "But different isn't bad, Sponge Bob." She looks at him, her eyes filled with a gentle wisdom. "It's just new. And sometimes, new things take getting used to." Sponge Bob nods. "I know," he says, his voice a whisper. "It's just..." He pauses, his thoughts racing. "It's just that I want to be there for him, you know?" His voice cracks, his grip on Plankton's hand becoming stronger. Karen nods with empathy. "I know you do, Sponge Bob," she says, her voice soft. "And you are." She reaches over, placing a comforting hand on Sponge Bob's shoulder. "You just need to be patient with him, and with yourself. We're all learning together." The TV laugh track fades into silence as the movie reaches its end. Plankton's snores remain steady, a testament to his sleep. Sponge Bob sighs, his eyes finally leaving the screen. He looks down at their joined hands. "I'll be patient," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "For you, Plankton." His eyes meet Karen's, a silent promise passing between them. "I know you will," she says, her voice a gentle encouragement. "You've always been a good friend." The room is quiet, save for Plankton's soft snores. Sponge Bob's eyes remain on the TV, his thoughts spinning. Karen's words echo in his head: different isn't bad, just new. He looks down at Plankton. He tries to imagine a world where Plankton doesn't have autism, but the thought feels wrong. This new version of his friend is still Plankton, still the same in so many ways. Their bond is strong, their friendship unchanged. He squeezes Plankton's hand, his thoughts racing. "I'll be there for you," he whispers, his voice a promise. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton's snores hitch slightly, his antenna twitching in his sleep. Sponge Bob's filled with a newfound determination. He'll be there for Plankton, no matter what. His heart swells as he leans down, his lips brushing Plankton's forehead in a soft kiss. The room is a cocoon of quiet, their friendship a beacon in the stillness. Karen watches them, her heart heavy but hopeful. "Let's get him to bed," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. Sponge Bob nods, his movements careful as he lifts Plankton into his arms. Plankton's eye flutter open briefly, his gaze confused but quickly calming at the sight of Sponge Bob's smiling face. "Tired," Plankton murmurs, his voice sleepy. Sponge Bob nods, his smile gentle. "Come on, buddy," he says, his voice a warm whisper. "Let's get you to bed." They're careful not to jostle him to much. Plankton's eye droop closed again, his body limp in Sponge Bob's embrace. Karen leads the way to the bedroom. The bed is made with fresh sheets, the room organized with care. Plankton's favorite gadgets line the shelves, each item meticulously placed. Sponge Bob lays Plankton gently on the bed, body is heavy with sleep, his snores a comforting lullaby. Karen pulls the blankets up, tucking them around his small form. "Thank you," Plankton mumbles. Sponge Bob's smile is warm and reassuring. "You're welcome, buddy," he says, his voice low. "Sleep tight." Karen watches the scene with affection. "I'll be right outside if you need anything," she whispers. Plankton's antennas twitch, his eye opening slightly. "I lo-ove you.." "We love you too, Plankton," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. He smiles at Karen, who nods in understanding before they slip out of the room, letting him sleep.
JUST A TOUCH iv (Autistic author) The next day, Karen woke up to a meticulously organized kitchen. Plankton was already up, his movements sharp and focused as he arranged the cutlery in the drawer. "Good morning, Plankton," she said, her voice tentative. He looked up, his expression neutral. "Good morning, Karen," he replied, his voice monotone. Her heart squeezed. This was not the man who used to greet her with a cheeky smile and a sigh every morning. But she pushed the sorrow aside and focused on the task at hand: making breakfast. As she began to prep the meal, Plankton hovered nearby, his antennae twitching. "Would you like to help me?" she asked, holding out a spatula. He took it with both hands, his movements mechanical as he followed her instructions to the letter. The sizzle of the chum on the pan seemed to calm him, his gaze flicking between her face and the food. Plankton's meticulousness extended to their breakfast. Every ingredient measured to the exact milliliter, every step in the recipe followed without deviation. Karen watched him, a mix of amazement and sadness swirling inside her. As they sat down to eat, Karen noticed his eye darting between his plate and the clock. "Is something wrong?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, his antennae still. "Must eat at 7:00," he said, his voice tight. "It's okay, we're a little late," she said, trying to soothe him. "But we're together, and that's what matters." Plankton took a bite of his perfectly arranged breakfast, his eye not leaving the clock. "Seven minutes, thirty-four seconds until 7:00," he murmured. Karen's throat tightened, but she forced a smile. "We'll be done before then," she assured him. The meal was finished in silence, Plankton's precision contrasting with Karen's clumsy attempts to match his rhythm. As they cleared the table, his movements were a dance of order and control, while hers were stilted, filled with nervous glances. In the living room, Plankton moved to his favorite chair, his eye immediately drawn to the bookshelf. His gaze flitted over the books. Karen watched, her heart heavy with the weight of their new reality. The doctor had suggested that engaging in familiar activities could help with the transition. Hoping to ease the tension, she offered, "Would you like a work book?" Plankton nodded, his antennae still. Karen retrieved one from his collection, handing it to him with care. He took it in his hands. It was clear that his intellect had not been diminished, but rather had been reshaped by his condition. Moments later, Hanna came in. She knows Karen's married, but she doesn't know any thing else about Plankton. Hanna's smile was wide and welcoming as she saw the two of them. "Hi, I'm Karen's friend Hanna," she said, extending a hand. Plankton looked at it and then went back to his book. Karen stepped in, her voice soft. "Plankton, this is Hanna," she said, gesturing between them. "Hanna, this is my husband, Plankton." Hanna's smile faltered slightly, noticing the distance in Plankton's gaze. "Hi, Plankton," Hanna said, her tone gentle. "It's nice to meet you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze shifting to her briefly before returning to the book. Karen watched the interaction, her heart racing. How would Hanna react to him? Will Plankton like her? Would she still want to be friends with her? Hanna looked from Karen to Plankton and back, her smile slightly puzzled. "Is he okay?" she asked quietly. Karen nodded. "He's just focused" she said, her voice hitching. "I'll go fix us up some chumbalaya." After Karen left, Hanna sat right up next to Plankton. "Hi, Plankton," she said again. He glanced at her, then back at his book. She waited, leaning forward slightly. Finally, he spoke without looking up. "Hello, Hanna. Karen's friend. Good." It was a statement, not a question or a greeting. Her curiosity was piqued by this odd behavior. Hanna watched as Plankton continued to study the book, his tiny hands flipping pages with a quickness she hadn't seen before. He was like a different creature, his movements calculated. She knew something was off, but she wasn't sure what. So she decides to try getting him to interact. "What are you reading?" she asked, leaning closer. Plankton's antennae shot up. "It's a book," he replied, his voice flat. Hanna laughed, mistaking his bluntness for shyness. "I know that," she said, her tone playful as she leaned closer. "But what's it about?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "It's about... puzzles?" Hanna's eyes widened. "Puzzles?" she repeated, leaning in even closer. Her proximity was making him uncomfortable, his body stiffening like a board. "What kind of puzzles?" Plankton's gaze darted to her before returning to the book. "Word's," he said, his voice sharp as he focused on the page. The way he said it was a clear message to back off, but Hanna was oblivious to the cues. "Oh, words puzzles!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I love those! Can I see?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the book, brushing against his hand. Plankton flinched, his antennae drooping. Hanna's cheerfulness didn't wane as she flipped through the pages, exclaiming over the puzzles. "This looks like FUN!" she said, not taking note of how Plankton's body was taut with tension. "It's a good book," Plankton said, his voice devoid of emotion. He was trying to be polite, but the sensory overload was building inside him. The way she talked, the way she moved, the sound of her voice—it was all too much. Hanna, still beaming, turned the page and pointed at a particularly complex puzzle. "Look at this one! Can you do it?" she challenged, her finger tapping the page impatiently. Plankton's eye darted to the puzzle, his mind racing. He didn't want to disappoint but the pressure was too intense. He can't think! "Sure," he stuttered, his voice small. Hanna clapped her hands, excitedly. "Great! Let's see how fast you can solve it!" Plankton felt his heart racing, his antennae drooping. The pressure to perform was suffocating him. He looked at the puzzle, his mind racing through possible word combinations, his eye darting from letter to letter, but Hanna interrupts him again. "Come on, Plankton! I bet you're really good at these!" Her excitement was palpable, but Plankton could only feel his chest tightening. He wanted to scream, to tell her to stop, but the words remained trapped behind the wall of his new social ineptitude. He took the book, his hands shaking slightly as his eye scanned the puzzle. The letters swam before him, his mind racing to keep up with the barrage of sensory input. "Don't be shy," she said, nudging him. "You can do it!" Plankton felt the weight of Hanna's enthusiasm like an anvil on his shoulders. His grip on the book tightened. He had always been good at word puzzles, but now they felt like a labyrinth with no exit. The room spun around him, the pressure to perform building like a storm in his chest. But Hanna's energy was like a tsunami, unstoppable. "You know, I used to be really bad at these," she said, sitting closer, her knees touching his. "But I got so much better with practice!" Plankton felt his skin crawl, the need to escape intensifying. He was trapped in a conversation he hadn't asked for, with a person who was oblivious to his plight. He took a deep breath, his eye scanning the room for a way out. "How about we try one together?" Hanna suggested, her voice bubbly. Plankton's heart hammered in his chest. Hanna didn't seem to notice his distress, her screen shining with excitement. "It'll be fun! Just tell me the letters you see, and I'll guess the words!" Plankton's antennae drooped, his shoulders tense. He wanted to scream, to tell her to leave him alone. But his newfound condition made the words catch in his throat. "Fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Hanna's screen lit up, and she leaned in even closer. "Great!" she exclaimed. "I'll start with 'C'. What do you see?" Plankton's gaze remained steadfast on the book, his eye darting from letter to letter. He can't see anything with all... Hanna's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, sharp and demanding. "C'mon, Plankton, don't be shy! Tell me what you see!" Her hand reached out, grabbing his arm. The sudden touch sent a jolt through him. Plankton flinched, his body reacting before his mind could form a coherent thought. His antennae shot up, and he pulled away, knocking over the book in the process. The sound echoed in the room like thunder. Hanna's smile faltered, confusion clouding her features. "What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely concerned as she cups his head; and that's it. The dam bursts. Plankton's body goes rigid, his eye wide with pain. He can't take it anymore—the touch, the noise, the pressure, his hand flailing to shove her away. "STOP!" he screams, his voice cracking. Hanna's hand retreats as if burned. Her smile fades, replaced by a look of shock and concern. "What happened?" she asks, turning him towards her with her hands on his shoulders. Which is when he stops moving, unblinking as Karen comes back in. Karen sets the chumbalaya aside as she notices his unresponsiveness. "Plankton?" she calls out, concern etching her voice. Hanna turns to her, her eyes wide. "I don't think he's okay," she says, her hand hovering over his shoulder. Karen's heart drops as she rushes over, her eyes scanning his frozen form. "It's okay," she murmurs, gently guiding Hanna away. "Let me handle this."
Dr. McDermott's dental office. Plankton had been in surgery for wisdom teeth. The receptionist, a young woman named "Samantha," was going up to Karen. "Your husband is to be taken to the recovery," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. Karen nodded. Samantha led her down. Plankton was laid out on a narrow bed, his mouth open slightly. "He's still under," Samantha whispered, "but going to start bringing him out of it now. Waking is a gradual process so.." Karen nodded. She watched as a nurse approached, deftly adjusting tubes and machines connected to him. The nurse flicked a switch and began to decrease the flow. The anesthesia diminished. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically, his eye remained closed. Karen reached out and took his hand, her thumb brushing against his. She squeezed gently, hoping it might provide some comfort, or at least a thread of familiarity, as he began his journey back to consciousness. A few moments later, Plankton's hand twitched ever so slightly in response. "It's ok honey," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. A nurse, named Margaret, offered an assuring smile. "It's normal for it to take time. Just keep talking to him, it'll help." Karen leaned closer, her voice barely above a murmur. "Remember our first date?" she began. Plankton's snore was the only response. "Don't worry, he'll come around soon. Anesthesia can take a while to wear off. And when he does, he'll be groggy. It's like waking up from a deep sleep." Her thoughts drifted to Plankton's snoring, a comforting sound. She squeezed his hand again, trying to will him to wake with her touch. Then, to her surprise, she heard a murmur. "Mm, chum... so... much... chum..." The nurse, Margaret, gave her a knowing look. "It's common for patients to talk in their sleep as they come out of it. Sometimes they say the darndest things." Karen smiles. "Chum?" she repeated, "Is that what you're dreaming about?" "Needff... chum..." "You're ok," she whispered, her voice filled with relief. "You're just dreaming, sweetie." "Chum... I... I nee to... get ith," he slurred. Karen's smile grew, his nonsensical words bringing a small spark of comfort. "You're dreaming about work," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. The nurse, Margaret, checked the monitors and nodded. "His vitals look good. He'll be fine," she assured. "Remember the first time you made me a Patty?" she asked, her voice soothing. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. "Ith... Ith was’at..." he mumbled. It wasn't often she heard him express his feelings so openly, especially not about her. "What was it, honey?" she prompted, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Youw... youwre the... the besht... the... besht..." his voice trailed off again into snores. Karen chuckled with affection. It was clear he was talking about her, despite the garbled speech. She leaned in closer. "I'm right here," she whispered. Plankton's sleep-talk grew, his grip on her hand tightening. "Pro-tec... the secret... chum... fwom... Plankton..." "You're safe," she said, her voice a soothing whisper. "You don't have to worry about the recipe now." Plankton's slurred words continued. "Fwom... Plankton... ith... ith... my... my... hearth..." It was almost as if he was speaking to it, whispering sweet nothings in his sleep. "Your... your heart?" she repeated uncertainly, trying to make sense of his words. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his hand still clutching hers tightly. A faint moan escaped Plankton's lips, and his eye began to flutter open. His eye searched the room, unfocused and glazed. He blinked slowly, a look of confusion spreading across his face. The nurse stood by, monitoring, ready to intervene if needed. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. She squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. "Hi, sweetie. It's all over now. You're in the recovery room." Plankton's eye searched hers, still clouded with sleep. "Wha... wha' happen'd?" he managed to ask. "You had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen said softly. "You're ok now." Plankton's eye grew clearer as his mind slowly surfaced from the depths of unconsciousness. He blinked again, looking around the room. "Why... why awe youw smiling?" "You were talking in your sleep," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. "It was just sweet." Plankton's eye searched hers. "Wha'did I shay?" "You said a lot of things," she replied, her smile lingering. "But the most important part was that you said I was the best." The corner of Plankton's mouth twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice still slurred. "Well, thath's twue." With Margaret's help, Karen managed to get Plankton into a more upright position. His head lolled slightly before he found his bearings, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "How do you feel?" Karen asked, her voice full of concern. "Woozy," Plankton mumbled. With Margaret's guidance, Karen helped Plankton to stand, his legs wobbly. He leaned heavily on her, the anesthesia still clouding his movements. She felt his weight and knew that he would need her support to navigate the short walk to the car. "Let's go slow," she said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-lidded with sleep. They shuffled along the hallway, each step a victory over his grogginess. As they approached the door leading to the parking lot, Plankton swayed. Karen tightened her grip, for his head lolled to the side, and she caught him. "Whoa, honey," she said. Plankton's legs buckled slightly, and his head dropped to her shoulder, his weight pressing against her. Karen steadied him, her arms wrapping around to keep him upright. His breathing was deep and even, eye fighting to stay open. "You can't sleep now," she said, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. "We're not even home yet." With Margaret's help, they made their way to the car, Karen's arm supporting Plankton's weight. "Let's get you buckled in," she said, guiding him to the passenger seat. Plankton complied, his movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. With a gentle push, Karen secured the seatbelt across his chest. His head lolled back against the headrest, and for a moment, she thought he might fall back asleep, but managed to keep his eye open as she starts the engine. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's eye drifted shut. "We're almost home." Karen says as Plankton's head lolled back against the headrest. She took a hand off the wheel to pat his leg reassuringly. "You can sleep when we get there." Yet Plankton's snores filled the car, punctuating the silence. Karen couldn't help but look over at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. "Wake up, sweetie," Karen whispered, gently shaking Plankton. He stirred, his eye blinking open with difficulty. "We're home," she said. Plankton groaned. "Careful," she warned. They shuffled inside, Karen guiding him. The smell of home hit them, a mix of saltwater and the faint scent of cooking from the restaurant next door. "Come on, honey," she said, half-guiding, half-carrying him to their bedroom. Karen helped him lie downs. He let out a deep sigh. "Thathks," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen settled Plankton into bed, his head resting on the soft pillows, his body limp and heavy with the weight of the anesthesia. She took his other hand and squeezed gently. As they lay there, she noticed a small pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Karen couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the day dissipating. She reached for a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped the drool away. Plankton snuffled, his eye shooting open for a moment before closing again. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking his forehead. "You're safe. You can go back to sleep now." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and drool grew more insistent, a silent testament to his deep slumber. Karen grabbed another tissue, wiping the saliva that trickled down his chin, his snores rumbling. With each tissue, the intimacy grew, the act of caring for him in this vulnerable state somehow endearing. She felt a tenderness for him that was usually overshadowed by their daily squabbles and the relentless pursuit of the Krabby Patty's secret recipe. As Plankton's snores grew softer, his grip on her hand loosened. Karen gently pulled her hand free and covered him with the blanket. She took a moment to gaze at his peaceful face. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and she found it surprisingly comforting. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead, whispering, "I love you, even when you're drooling." Karen knew Plankton would be out for hours, so she decided to use the time to prepare a light meal for when he woke. She moved quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. She rummaged, looking for something soft that wouldn't irritate his sore mouth. In the fridge, she found a bowl of Plankton's favorite jellyfish jello, a treat she had made the night before knowing he wouldn't be able to eat much solid food. Then, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly, carefully making a few soft, fluffy sandwiches that she hoped would be easy for him to chew. Next, she grabbed a few of Plankton's favorite books from the living room. She placed them on the bedside table, along with a glass of water, within arm's reach. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over her as she listened to his rhythmic snores. Despite the stress of the day, she was grateful for the quiet moments like these.
ᴰᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᴬᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ Part 1 ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᵃᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʸˢ ᵘᵖ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢʰᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵘᵇˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧" ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇʳᵒʷ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵘᵈᵍᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ! ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ?" ᴴᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᴳᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ‧" ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ‧ ʸᵉᵗ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᶠˡᵒˢˢ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢ?" 'ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ?' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆᵒ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ˢᶜᵃⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ʷᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧" 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ‽' "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈ⁻ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜˡⁱⁿᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ?" "ᴴᵉˡˡᵒ ᴵ'ᵐ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ! ᴺᵒʷ ʷᵉ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ʷᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒˡᵃʳˢ ⁱⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵃˡ‧ ᵂᵉ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ᵒᵘᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵐᵖʰˡᵉᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴮᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʷᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵒᵘˢ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵈᵒ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡⁱˢᵉ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵉʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘᵐˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵃˢⁱᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵃˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘᵐˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ‧" "ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ?" ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵃˢᵏˢ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ'ˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᵖᵉʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ?" "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵃᵈᵐⁱⁿⁱˢᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴼᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵗᵒʳᵉᵈ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʲᵒᵇ‧" 'ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ‧‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ'ˢ ʸᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗˡʸ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ/ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ ʷⁱᵖᵉˢ ᵃʷᵃʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵃ ʷᵉᵉᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ‧" "ᴿⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ! ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵉˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ˢʸˢᵗᵉᵐ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᶜᵗ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵐᵖʰˡᵉᵗ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵘˢᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉᵈ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢˡᵒᵖᵖʸ‧ 'ᵂᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧‧‧' 'ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂʳʳᶻ ᵇʳʳʳᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᵇᵇˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᴹʳⁿⁿ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" 'ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ ᴵ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃᵗᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡˢ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʲᵒᵇ!" ᴴᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵘᶠᶠˡᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵃᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ?" "ᴵ ᵐⁱˢˢ ᴷ⁻ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴵ⸴ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧" "ᴹʸ ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ᴷᵃʳⁱ ᴵ ˡᵒ⁻ᵒᵛᵉ ʰᵉʳ!" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ᵐ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ!" ᵀᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉ⁻⁻⁻⁻ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‽" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉˣᶜˡᵃⁱᵐˢ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵘᶜᵏˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ?" "ᵂᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵖᵉˢ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠˡᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ʳⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵈʳᵃᵍᵒⁿ‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ˢᵒ⸴ ᵉʸᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵘᵗ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢᵏˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃᵛⁱˡʸ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ʰⁱᵐ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘⁿᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉ‧ 'ᔆᵒ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᵗⁱʳʳᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ⸴ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ʰᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ "ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ‧‧" "ᴷ⁻ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ?" 'ᴰⁱᵈ ᴵ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉʷ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᶻʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ/ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵈ ˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʷ!" "ᶜʰᵃᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵃʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵈᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ᵗᵉᵉᵈ ᶜʳᵉᵃⁿˢ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ‧" "ᴹʸ ⁿᵉⁿᵈⁱˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒᵒᵈᵃʸ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉⁿᵗⁱˢ‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵘˢʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ? ᵀʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᴱᵃˢʸ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ 'ᴶᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ‧ to be cont. pt. two
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.
AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY iii (Autistic author) Karen picked him up, and carried his limp form to his bed. She stood there for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall. The snores grew quieter as sleep consumed him. The weight of what had just happened settled on her shoulders. Karen lay him down gently. She tucked him in, his antennae resting against the pillow. The room was quiet except for his soft snores, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled it moments before. Karen sat by his side, her hand on his arm. After a few moments, she stood up and walked to the door, closing it gently behind her. She found Hanna in the living room, her eyes red-rimmed and worried. "Hanna, I need to talk to you," Karen said, her voice firm but not accusing. Hanna looked up, her expression hopeful for guidance. Karen sat beside her, her eyes on her own hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. "Plankton's been through a lot," she began, her voice measured. "He's different now." Hanna nodded, her eyes wide with unspoken questions. "Still coming to terms with it but you're just fine. It's a rarity, yet he'll be fine." "I guess I'll head out. I never meant to cause Plankton distress." Karen nodded, her eyes still on her fidgeting hands. "Thank you for understanding. I'm pretty sure he knows you didn't mean to, but I can still tell him when he wakes up." Hanna left, and Karen went back to the bedroom. Plankton was still asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful. Karen sat by the bed. Plankton's snores were the only sound in the room, a gentle reminder of the peace that sleep brought him from his tumultuous world of heightened senses. Karen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. This was their new normal, a dance of understanding and patience they would have to learn. When Plankton next woke up, his eye searched the room, his antennae twitching slightly. He looked over to find Karen sitting in a chair beside the bed, her gaze on him. "Hi," she said, her voice gentle. He sat up slowly, the fabric of the bed rustling beneath his weight. "How are you feeling?" Karen's concern was palpable, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of distress. Plankton took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. Karen's presence was a balm to his soul, her understanding a lifeline in the storm of sensory input. "Where's Hanna?" Karen sighed, her gaze never leaving his face. "She left, sweetie. You were a bit...overwhelmed." Plankton nodded, his antennae twitching with the memory of the sensory assault. "It's okay," Karen assured him, her voice a soft whisper. "She just didn't understand, and felt bad for the way she treated you." Plankton nodded, his antennae still. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos from before. He took a moment to collect himself, his thoughts racing. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Karen reached out and took his hand, her grip firm but gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said, her tone soothing. "This is all new to us. Would you like to eat?" Plankton nodded. "I'll get you something quiet and simple," Karen said, standing up. She knew that too much stimulation could send him spiraling. In the kitchen, she prepared a snack of plain crackers. She placed the plate on the table carefully, not wanting to startle his heightened senses again. Plankton entered the room, his movements deliberate and slow. He sat down across from her, his eye darting around the room. "It's ok," Karen reassured him, handing him the plate of crackers. "Just food." "Just food. It's ok; just food." He repeats back to himself, focusing on the plate. Each cracker was a tiny square of safety, a familiar comfort in a sea of sensory uncertainty. He took a deep breath and selected one. The taste was comforting, a reminder of a simpler time. Karen watched him, her screen filled with love. Plankton took a sip of water, his eye never leaving hers. "It's ok just food," he said again, his voice still low. "Karen good and good food. It's ok." Karen nodded, her smile a mix of relief and sadness. She knew his echolalic tendencies was the autism, but she's glad he likes the food as well. They sat in silence, the only sound the crunch of crackers and the occasional sip of water. Plankton's eye focused on the cracker in his hand, the patterns on the surface a comfort. His autistic brain craved the predictability, the sameness that calmed his nerves. This was the man she knew, yet he was different. The Plankton who was always plotting and scheming was now one who found comfort in the mundane. His mind felt clearer now, the overwhelming chaos of the earlier encounter with Hanna beginning to fade. Karen watched him, her heart breaking for the silent struggle she knew he faced every moment. "I'll talk to Hanna," she said gently. "I'll explain. What do you want me to tell her? What'd you like for her to know?" Plankton's gaze remained on the cracker, his thumb tracing the edge. "Tell her sorry," he mumbled. "What else? I mean, is it ok if I tell her you're autistic now? Or what about the accident that lead to the autism?" Plankton's antennae twitched at the word 'accident', his mind reeling with memories of the stove, the fight with Mr. Krabs, the pain. But he nodded slowly. "Ok," he murmured. Karen's heart ached at the simplicity of his response. The complexity of his thoughts was now a tightly guarded secret, hidden behind a wall of sensory overload. "Okay, I will," Karen said, her voice soft. "But remember, it's ok to be different." Plankton nodded, his eye still on his food. But as he took another cracker, he paused. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. "Karen," he said, his voice a little stronger now. "I, I l-love you." Karen's eyes widened at the sudden declaration. "Oh, Plankton," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you too." Plankton nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "Karen making everything okay," he murmured. He took another cracker, his hands shaking slightly. "You make Plankton feel safe," he continues with sincerity. "In a world that's too much, Karen not too much." Karen's eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt words. She reached across the table and took his hand. "Plankton, I'm here for you. Always." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching. He looked into her screen, his own filled with a depth of emotion that hadn't seen before. "You good, Karen," he said, his voice steady. "Helping Plankton." Plankton was finding his way to express himself, to connect with her in a way that was meaningful. She squeezed his hand. "I'll always help you," she promised. "Karen," Plankton began, his voice tentative. He took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I love you, Karen," he said finally, his eye intense with feeling. Karen swelled with love and pride. Despite his struggles, Plankton was learning to express his emotions in a way that made sense to him. It was a victory, small but significant. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, squeezing his hand. "Your love makes me happy." His antennae twitched slightly, a sign of his awkwardness with the emotional exchange. The room was quiet, the only noise the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional crunch of a cracker. Plankton's eye searched hers, looking for reassurance. "Plankton need...space," he managed, his voice shaky. "Too...much emotional interaction. Still love." Karen nodded, understanding dawning. "Okay, sweetie," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll be right here. Take all the time you need."
COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 5 (Neurodivergent author) Karen returns to the bedroom, where Plankton is already snoring softly. She pulls the covers up to his chin, tucking in gently. She sits in the chair beside his bed, never leaving his peaceful form. His chest rises and falls in the steady rhythm of sleep, each breath a testament to his resilience. Karen watches him, her mind racing with thoughts of what the future holds, the challenges they'll face together. But for now, she forces herself to be still. Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep, as if he's navigating the vast underwater world of his dreams. Karen watches him, full of a love she didn't know existed. The soft snores from Plankton's tiny form are music to her. In his sleep, the weight of the world is lifted, his mind free to explore the vast depths of his underwater universe without fear. Her gaze lingers on the soft lines of his face, the tension erased by the gentle embrace of slumber. She smiles, her eyes filling with tears. The room is a sanctuary, a bubble of quiet amidst the storm of confusion and fear. The shadows play across the wall, telling silent stories of adventures that await when he wakes. Karen reclines in the chair, her hand resting gently on his arm. The nap stretches into an hour, then two, the house a cocoon of peace around them. Plankton's body relaxes into the embrace of the bed, his mind swimming through a sea of tranquility. Karen sits by his side, her hand still resting on his arm. She thinks of the Plankton she knew before, his quirks and routines now painted with the brushstroke of understanding. Autism isn't a label to shrink from, but a part of him to be embraced, a piece of the intricate tapestry that makes him who he is. In his sleep, Plankton starts to murmur, his words a jumble of half-thoughts. Karen leans closer, trying to make sense of the words. "...I...Karen...love." Her hand squeezes his arm gently, her thumb tracing circles on his skin. "I love you too, Plankton," she whispers back, her voice a soft lullaby. Plankton's sleep-talk starts up again. "...so many stars," his voice murmurs, his antennae twitching with the vividness of his dream. Karen smiles, imagining the vast cosmos that must exist in his mind. Her hand continues its gentle caress, her hand stroking his antennae in a calming pattern. "Shh, Plankton, it's just a dream," she soothes. His snoring starts again, a soft, rhythmic sound that fills the quiet. She smiles, her eyes still on his peaceful form. The world outside their sanctuary seems to fade away, its worries and noises muted by the wall of their understanding. Plankton's autism is a challenge, but it's also a bridge that's brought them closer, a shared secret that only the two of them understand. As Plankton sleeps, Karen's phone vibrates with a text from her friend, Hanna. "Dinner tonite?" Her thumb hovers over the keyboard, debating. Plankton's diagnosis is still fresh, the memory of his seizure a stark reminder of the fragility of his newly understood world. But she knows the importance of keeping up appearances, of not letting fear or pity define them. With a sigh, she texts back, "We'd love to. Your place." The evening stretches before them like a tightrope, a delicate balance between Plankton's needs and the social norms that often feel like a prison for him. Karen's mind whirs with strategies to make it work. A quiet place, familiar faces, a set schedule. These are the keys to a successful outing. Gently, she shakes him awake, her touch as light as a seashell on the shore. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye fluttering open. He looks up at her with sleepy confusion, the world still a blur. "Dinner with Hanna," she says, keeping her voice low and soothing. He nods, his body already tensing in anticipation of the sensory bombardment to come. The car ride is a symphony of preparation, the engine's hum a soothing background to their silent conversation. Karen's eyes are on the road, but her mind is on Plankton, his hands fidgeting in his lap. She knows the world outside is a minefield of sounds and sensations, so she keeps the radio off and the windows up, creating a bubble of quiet around them. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his antennae twitching with each passing car. Karen reaches over to squeeze his hand, a silent reminder that she's there. He looks at her, his eye filled with a mix of fear and gratitude. She smiles, the warmth of her gaze a lifeline in the chaos. "We're almost there," she says, her voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore. They arrive at Hanna's house, a beacon of light in the deep blue sea of the night. The door opens, revealing a whirlwind of laughter and chatter, the smell of garlic bread and seafood stew wafting out. Karen takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye wide at the unfiltered stimulation. Hanna, oblivious to their new dynamic, waves them in with a cheerful smile. "You're just in time!" she exclaims, her voice a trumpet in the quietude of Plankton's mind. Karen's hand tightens around his, a silent reassurance as the door closes, the sound a thunderclap in his ears. The house is a cacophony of sounds and smells, a whirlpool of sensory information threatening to pull him under. He gulps, his breathing shallow, his body braced for the inevitable. Hanna, their friend, is a whirlwind of energy, her eyes sparkling like the ocean's surface. She doesn't notice the tension in Plankton's body, the way he flinches at her excited exclamations. She doesn't see the way his antennae twitch, his mind racing to keep up. But Karen does. She's his lifeline in this tumultuous sea of social interactions. She nods, smiling, as Hanna leads them to the dinner table, her hand squeezing Plankton's in silent support. The room is a kaleidoscope of colors, the clatter of silverware and laughter a symphony of overwhelming sound. Karen's eyes dance over the room, noting each potential trigger. "Hey, ladies; meet Karen and Plankton!" Hanna's enthusiastic introduction was like a tidal wave crashing over the quiet bubble they'd been in. Plankton flinched, his antennae retreating like snails into their shells. Karen offered a forced smile, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an anchor. The dinner table was set with a rainbow of plates and bowls, the smell of garlic bread and seafood stew overwhelming. Hanna's home was a sensory minefield, but Karen was determined to navigate it with grace. Plankton's hand was cold in hers, a silent plea for rescue. As they sit, Karen scans the table, noticing the flickering candles, the glint of silverware, and the clinking of glasses. Each detail a potential trigger. She whispers into Plankton's ear, "Remember, if you need to, just tell me." He nods, his antennae tucking closer to his head.
COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 6 (Neurodivergent author) The conversation turns to their favorite food, and Plankton's face lights up briefly. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, his voice lost in the noise. Hanna's friends look at him, puzzled by his quiet confidence. One of them, Patricia, leans in, her hand patting Plankton's back. "That's cool, buddy," she says, her voice booming. Plankton's body stiffens, his eye blinking rapidly. Karen feels his discomfort like a physical force, a tightening of the air around them. She interjects gently, guiding the conversation away from food, his favorite topic now a minefield of potential stress. "So, what have you all been up to?" she asks, her voice a lifebuoy in the storm. Hanna's friends chatter away, their voices a symphony of laughter and good cheer. Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae folded inward like a turtle's shell. Karen watches him, ready to jump in if the conversation starts to spiral. "I went on a deep-sea dive last week!" exclaims one, his words a sonic boom to Plankton. "Ya ever been diving b'fore?" Karen nods at the storyteller, interjecting gently. "Plankton's not much of a swimmer," she says, her voice a gentle current. "But he loves the thought of exploring the deep sea." Her words are a shield, deflecting the spotlight from his discomfort. Hanna's friends nod, their smiles dimming slightly in understanding. Patricia leans in, her eyes full of genuine affection. "Aww, Plankton, you're such a character!" she says, lightly cupping his cheek and invading his personal space. The contact is too much for him. His body jerks back, antennae stiffening, his eye wide with panic. Patricia's hand falls away, her expression one of shock and confusion. Karen's heart skips a beat, but she's ready for this. She's studied, prepared. "It's ok," she says, her voice a lighthouse beam in the sensory storm. "Plankton just needs his space." The room goes quiet, the waves of conversation receding like a tide. They all look at him, their eyes full of concern, their smiles now tentative. Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still tense. Hanna quickly asks, "Is he just tired?" The lie hangs in the air like a bubble waiting to pop. Karen's face tightens, but she nods, playing along. "Long week," she adds, her voice as smooth as a polished pebble. Plankton's gaze locks onto his hands, his fingers twisting together like seaweed in a current. The pressure builds, each laugh a wave pushing against the dam of his anxiety. But Karen is there, her hand on his back, a gentle reminder that he's not alone. The meal is a dance of flavors and sounds, each bite of stew a step closer to the edge of his comfort zone. Plankton's eye dart around the table, the conversations swirling like the soup in his bowl. Hanna's enthusiastic friends keep glancing over. They mean well, but their affection feels like a wave crashing over him, leaving his nerves exposed and raw. The clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation form a wall of sound, trapping his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the calm in the chaos. Karen's hand on his back is a comfort, her touch a gentle reminder that she's there to help him. The meal stretches on, each bite a small victory in the face of overwhelming stimulation. Karen's eyes never leave him, scanning for signs of distress. She's his compass in a stormy sea, guiding him through the unpredictable currents of social interaction. As dessert arrives, the chatter grows louder, the laughter more boisterous. The candles flicker, casting a dizzying array of shadows across the table. Plankton's hands shake as he lifts his spoon. Hanna, noticing his discomfort, reaches out to pat his back. "You okay, buddy?" she asks, yet her touch unintentionally sends a shockwave through Plankton's body. "Just a little overwhelmed," he murmurs, his antennae retreating even further. Karen's grip on his hand tightens, her eyes a beacon of calm in the storm. She whispers, "You're doing so well, Plankton," her voice a lullaby against the clamor of the room. But Patricia, not quite tuned in to his distress, leans in with a boisterous laugh, her hand landing on Plankton's shoulder. The room spins around him, a tornado of colors and sounds. "You're just so cute when you're shy!" she says, squeezing his cheek. And that's what did it. With a gasp, Plankton's body shudders, a seizure starting to inevitably take hold. This is his second meltdown since the diagnosis, Karen knew. She gently helps Plankton to the floor, his body convulsing. Hanna's friends hover, their faces a canvas of confusion and fear. "Everyone, stay calm," Karen instructs, her voice steady despite the chaos in her heart. "Give us some space." She turns her attention to Plankton, her hands guiding his body into a safe position. The room's energy shifts. Hanna's friends look on, their laughter replaced by concern. Patricia's face is a picture of horror. "PLANKTON‽" Karen's voice is a lighthouse beacon in the chaos. "Everyone, stay back," she says firmly. "He'll be okay." Her eyes never leave Plankton's contorted form, fear and determination melding into one fierce gaze. The room goes still, the laughter choked off like a switch. Hanna's friends stare, their smiles frozen like icebergs in the face of his distress. Karen whispers to him, her voice a gentle wave. "You're okay, just breathe." Her hand is on his forehead, her touch cool and calming. The seizure subsides, leaving him limp and panting on the floor, his antennae drooping like tired leaves. Karen's heart is racing, but she forces her voice to be soothing, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay," she repeats, her mantra a lifeboat in the storm. Hanna's friends hover, their faces a canvas of shock and concern. Patricia's hand is still hovering, her smile gone, replaced by a look of horror. "What happened?" she stammers, her eyes wide with fear. "It's okay," Karen repeats, her voice a gentle tide, washing over the silence. "Plankton just had a little...mishap." Hanna's friends exchange worried glances, their smiles nowhere to be seen. The room feels colder, the warmth of their laughter long gone. Plankton finally opens his eye, the room swimming back into focus, still twitching with the aftermath. Hanna's friends hover, their faces painted with confusion and concern. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice a soft breeze in the storm. "Plankton just needs some space." Patricia nods, her smile fading like a sunset. "I'm so sorry," she says, inching closer. "He's just a little sensitive," Karen explains, her voice a lifeline in the awkward silence. Patricia's face falls, the horror of her mistake written clearly. "I had no idea," she whispers, her voice a leaf fluttering in the breeze of their new reality.
SWEET CWEAM pt. 6 Plankton's eye widen with realization, his memory a jigsaw puzzle with a few missing pieces. "Yeth-terday?" he asks, his voice scratchy with sleep. Karen nods, her smile gentle. "You had surgery yesterday. You're recovering now. Remember?" Plankton's mind fumbles with the memory, like a kite caught in a storm. "I... I think so," he murmurs. “But what happened after?” Karen's smile doesn't falter. "You don't remember?" she asks, a hint of mischief creeping in. Plankton's expression clouds with concern, his eye searching hers for an answer. "What... what did I do?" His voice is a worried whisper, each word a struggle. Karen's mirth evaporates, replaced with understanding. "You don't remember?" she asks gently, sitting on the edge of the couch. "You had a bit of a... loopy afternoon." Plankton's gaze is a mix of confusion and alarm. "Loopy?" he repeats, his voice weak. "What do you mean, loopy?" He demands, embarrassed. Karen's smile returns, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well," she says, her voice a soothing melody. "You were a bit... out of it. You had a bit of fun with the anesthesia." Plankton's face twists with embarrassment, his hand moving to cover his mouth. "Oh no," he whispers, his voice barely a breath. "What did I say?" His mind races with the potential humiliation. Karen laughs. "Don't worry, you were just a little out of it from the anesthesia," she reassures him, her touch gentle as she adjusts his pillows. "But I recorded some of it," she adds, mischief sparkling in her screen. Plankton's eye widens in horror. "Don't tell me I said anything... foolish," he pleads, his voice weak and thready. Karen's laughter fills the room. "Oh, Plankton," she says, her voice warm and loving. "You were just a bit... confused. Wanna see?" She hit the play button. The TV screen flickers to life, and Plankton's face fills the frame. He's drooling heavily, his expression a mix of wonder and bewilderment. Sponge Bob sits across from him. "I frew," Plankton says on the recording, his eye wide with disbelief. "Wike a birdie!" Plankton's face on the couch is surprised. “Why’s Sponge Bob…” He started, but trails off as the video continues. On the TV, a slurred version of his voice says, “They goth me all sleeby and thewe I wath flipping and twirling in the wathah!” "Oh no," he whispers from the couch. “I never…” Plankton stops as he sees himself on the screen lean closer to Sponge Bob. His heart races as his slurred words spill out. "I luv to thee youw," he says to Sponge Bob, his face a picture of drunken affection and drool. “You love to see me?” “Of couth, Squishy! Youw my bestest fwiend evar!” Plankton on the couch is speechless. His cheeks burn with embarrassment as he watches himself on screen, spoon wobbling, drooling, and spilling ice cream. The slurred words of love and friendship to Sponge Bob echo through the room, each syllable a cringe- worthy reminder of his drug-induced confession that he kept to himself, even from Karen. “Sweet Squishy. Ith time for nap?” “Let’s get you to the couch.” And the video ends after he snores. Plankton’s cheeks are a blaze of mortification. “You’re teasing me, right?” he asks, his voice hopeful despite the evidence on the screen. Karen’s laughter is like a warm embrace. “No, Plankton, you really said that,” she says, her screen twinkling. “But it’s okay, people say silly things when they’re coming out of anesthesia. It’s part of the experience!” Plankton groans, his face buried in his hands. The humiliation burns hotter than the pain in his mouth. “How could I have said that?” he mumbles into his palms. Karen laughs, the sound a gentle ripple in the quiet room. “It’s okay, Plankton. It was just the medicine talking. You don’t remember?” He lifts his head slowly, his cheeks still blazing with embarrassment. “No,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by his hands. “But I can’t believe I said that to Sponge Bob! You think I’d willingly…” Karen laughs, her eyes shining with affection. “It’s okay, Plankton. It’s all part of the fun of wisdom teeth surgery!”
TEETHIES i Karen watched as the dentist's thumb depressed the plunger, sending the anesthesia into her husband's system. Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and his body grew slack as his eye rolls back in is socket. "It's ok," she whispered, taking his hand in hers. "It'll all be over soon." The doctor nodded, satisfied with the effectiveness of the anesthesia. Plankton's quiet snoring deep and even, his eye fully closed, and the tightness around his mouth relaxed. Her hand remained tight around his, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm, as if she could somehow transmit her strength to him through their touch. Plankton's hand grew heavy in hers, but she didn't let go. Instead, she squeezed it gently, willing him to feel her presence even in his state. The doctor followed her gaze, giving Karen a brief nod before turning his attention back to the open mouth of her husband. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened, even in sleep, and she gave a gentle squeeze back. Karen's gaze flitted between her husband's serene face and the crimson-stained cloths being replaced with alarming regularity. Plankton's chest rose and fell rhythmically, a testament to the anesthesia's hold on him. Karen focused on that rhythm; despite the chaos of the surgery, he was still with her. "We're almost done," he said. "We'll just clean up the site and close the incisions." Karen watched as the nurse handed the doctor sutures and gauze. The sight of her husband's mouth, swollen and filled with cotton, brought a fresh wave of anxiety. She squeezed his hand again, willing him to come back to her, to wake up and smile and tell her that it was all over. The doctor's movements grew more methodical as he worked, sewing up the small wounds steady. The nurse cleaned Plankton's face, wiping away the crimson smears with a gentle touch. "Everything went well," he said, his voice a balm to her frazzled nerves. "The anesthesia will wear off in about an hour. We'll keep him here for a bit to monitor his vitals, but you can stay." Karen nodded. The nurse began to wheel him out of the surgical suite, and she followed, her hand still clutching his. In the recovery room, she sat by his side, watching, the monitors beeping in a comforting rhythm. The nurse checked his vitals. She reached out tentatively, brushing a stray antenna. The nurse nodded. "He'll be waking up soon," she murmured. "You can talk to him, if you'd like." Karen leaned in closer to Plankton, her voice a soft whisper. "You did it," she said, voice cracking slightly. "It's all over now." She paused, her thumb still tracing circles on his palm. She talked to him as if he were awake. "I know," she continued. "But you're strong. You've always been a strong one. I'll be here, I promise. I'll always be there." A small, sad smile played on her screen, Plankton none the wiser in his sleep. "But we're going to get through this, I know we are." Plankton's eyebrow furrowing for a moment, Karen thought he might wake up. But his breathing remained deep and even, his body unresponsive to her words. She leaned in closer. "I know you're in there," she murmured. "I know you can feel me." Remember the time you tried to build a giant robot to get the recipe?" She searched his face for any sign of recognition, any flicker of understanding. But he remained still, lost in the depths of anesthesia-induced sleep. "You're going to be ok," she assured him, her voice a gentle caress. "We'll go back to our lives, to our little chum bucket of a home." The nurse checked the monitors and made notes before looking up at Karen. "You can sit with him as long as you like," she said kindly. "Just make sure not to disturb the dressings." "You're going to be ok," she whispered, her voice a gentle lullaby in the otherwise silent room. "You're going to wake up and everything will be better." A trickle of drool began to form at the corner of Plankton's mouth, snaking down his cheek. Karen reached for a tissue, carefully dabbing at the drool without disturbing the surgical dressings, a testament to the depth of his unconsciousness, a sign that his body was working to heal itself even as he slept. She found a strange comfort in the mundane task, a reminder that even in the face of surgery and pain, Plankton was still her Plankton, the one who drooled in his sleep when particularly tired. The drool grew more persistent, and Karen used the edge of the bed to lift his head slightly, placing a fresh pillow under it to keep him comfortable. The nurse nodded approvingly before checking the flow of fluids from the IV. "It's normal," she assured Karen. "His body is just reacting." Karen felt the weight of not knowing if everything would be okay once Plankton woke up. Would he be in pain? Would he remember her? Would he be the same? Her thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of doubt and hope, a tumultuous sea that threatened to pull her under. But she remained steadfast, her hand never leaving his. She talked to him, sharing stories of their adventures and their future plans, painting a picture of the life they would have once he was well. The nurse moved quietly around the room, giving them space, but Karen could feel her presence, a comforting presence that reminded her she wasn't alone. As the minutes ticked by, Plankton's breathing grew less artificial, more like the easy breaths of sleep. His face began to lose the slackness that the anesthesia had imparted. She searched for any hint of consciousness, and she thought she saw a flicker behind his closed eyelid. "Plankton?" she whispered, leaning in closer. "Can you hear me?" A low groan was his only response, and she felt his hand tighten around hers. The nurse stepped closer, checking the monitors once more. "He's coming around," she said. "Give him a few minutes, and he'll be back with us." "I'm here," she murmured, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "You're ok." The nurse had left, and the only sounds were the rhythmic beeps of the monitors. She took the cloth from the bedside table and gently wiped the remaining drool from Plankton. His grip on her hand grew stronger, and she felt his fingers twitch. "Hey," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody in the sterile air. "You're ok, Plankton. The surgery is over." She didn't want to startle him, so she kept her voice low, her eyes focused on his. "You're in the recovery room now." His eyelid fluttered, and Karen felt a surge of hope. The nurse had warned her that he might be groggy, that the anesthesia could take a while to wear off completely. But she had to keep talking to him, to keep him grounded. "You were so brave," she whispered, her thumb tracing lazy circles on his palm. "The bravest little plankton I know." The hand in hers grew heavier as Plankton's grip tightened, and she knew he was slowly coming back to her. His eye remained closed, but the tension in his face began to change. She watched as his cheek muscles relaxed, the furrow in his brow smoothed out. The nurse had told her first moments after waking up could be disorienting, so she kept her voice calm and steady. "You're in the hospital," she said, her voice a lifeline. "You had your teeth taken out." The room was a blur of beeps and machines, but all she saw was Plankton, her entire world reduced to the man she had promised to take care of. As minutes ticked by, Plankton's breathing grew stronger, and she watched as his eyelid began to twitch. "That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soft coo. "You're doing great." His hand squeezed hers in response, and she felt a jolt of hope surge through her. With a final, deep inhale, Plankton's eye cracked open, swimming in a sea of confusion. His gaze found hers, and she offered him a gentle smile. "Hey," she said, her voice a warm embrace. "You made it." His eyelid fluttered, the weight of sleep and anesthesia still heavy upon him. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice a confused whisper. "Yes, I'm here," she said, her voice a gentle lullaby. She squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip as he surfaced from unconsciousness. "You did so well, Plankton." With painstaking care, she reached for the cup of water the nurse left by the bed. "Do you want some water?" she asked, holding it to his lips. His eye searched hers, took a sip, swallowed, the muscles in his throat moving with the effort. "Take it slow," she advised, her voice soothing. As the moments passed, Plankton's grip on her hand grew stronger. He took another sip of water and then shifted slightly in the bed, his body trying to adjust to the sudden return of sensation. Karen's heart felt as though it would burst with love and relief as she watched him come back to her. "I'm here," she repeated, her voice a constant in the shifting tides of his consciousness. The nurse returned, checking the monitors once more before looking at Plankton with a smile. "Welcome back," she said cheerfully. "How are you?" Plankton's voice was hoarse, but he managed to croak out a response. "Tiwed," he murmured, eye sliding shut again. "That's normal," she said. "He'll be sleepy for a bit, but we'll keep an eye on him." The nurse dimmed the lights and adjusted the bed, giving Plankton's body a chance to recover from the surgery. Gently, she began to hum a tune she knew Plankton loved, a lullaby from their early days together when they had nothing but their dreams and each other. The melody filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm blanket. His breathing grew a little easier, the tension in his hand loosening slightly. It was a small victory, but one she cherished deeply.
Broken 1/2 (I’m a neurodivergent author) "Karen's going to love the surprise," Sandy murmured to herself. Sandy had spent hours the previous night crafting the perfect surprise for her friend, Karen. It’s a game, and she thought about the delight. As Sandy approached, the anticipation grew. She felt her heartrate spike, her hand curling around the doorknob. The door swung open with a gentle creak, and there was Karen. "Sandy!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend in a warm embrace. “Come on in!” They moved into the living room. "Ready for the surprise?" Sandy whispered, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Karen nodded, curiosity piqued. Sandy pulled out the game called "Whimsical Wonders," and it promised an adventure filled with puzzles, riddles, and laughter. She had picked it out especially for Karen, who loved nothing more than a good brain teaser. Plankton, Karen's husband, wanders in. "Sandy made a new game!" Karen says, her voice filled with excitement. "Oh really?" Plankton says. Sandy nods eagerly, setting the game board on the coffee table. "This looks amazing!" Karen says, lighting up. "Let's get started!" Sandy says, her voice brimming with excitement. The two friends eagerly begin setting up the game. As they place the pieces, their laughter fills the air, mingling with the occasional squeal of excitement. Plankton, however, watches from the armchair with a furrowed brow, the cacophony of sounds and the flurry of activity around the game table gradually weighing on him. His senses, heightened by the sudden influx of stimuli, start to overwhelm him. Sandy rolls the dice and her voice cracks with excitement as she announces her first move. "I'll take the unicorn path!" she exclaims, moving her piece with a flourish. The room seems to vibrate with her enthusiasm, the very air charged with it. But amidst the excitement, Plankton's eye starts to glaze over. Karen, caught up in the moment, doesn't notice the change in Plankton's demeanor yet. Sandy, lost in the thrill of setting the stage for their adventure, doesn't pick up on Plankton's distress. "Your turn, Karen!" Sandy suddenly squeals. Karen looks up from her piece and sees Plankton's eye now glazed over, his body completely still. "Plankton?" she asks tentatively, her smile faltering; the sensory overload from the game is becoming too much for Plankton, who grows overwhelmed and unresponsive from his armchair. "You ok?" Sandy says, turning to him, her voice still filled with the energy of the game. But Plankton doesn't respond. His eye remains unfocused, vacant, his body rigid. "What's wrong?" she asks, her smile fading as she notices Plankton's unresponsive state. Karen lowers her voice to a whisper, "It's like he zones out for a bit." Sandy's eyes widen with concern, and she immediately sets down the game piece. "Huh?" Karen nods reassuringly, "He'll be fine in a minute." She gently pats Plankton's hand, her voice calm and soothing. "It happens sometimes when things get too... much for him. This happens sometimes when he's overstimulated." Sandy's heart skips a beat. Plankton's face remained slack, eye staring into the middle distance, unblinking. "It's ok," Karen whispers, voice steady, "Just give him some space." Sandy nods, her excitement replaced with concern. She's never seen Plankton like this before. She watches as Karen gently strokes Plankton's arm. "It's ok," Karen repeats, her voice a gentle lullaby. "These happen when there's too much going on, too much to take in." Sandy nods, eyes never leaving Plankton's frozen form. She feels a twinge of guilt for not realizing sooner that something was amiss. She had been so caught up in excitement of the game, she didn't notice signs of distress. Moving closer to the chair where Plankton sat, she tentatively reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder like the way Karen is doing, but Karen stops her. "Let me," she says gently, never leaving her husband. "I know his triggers." Sandy nods. She withdraws, giving space. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "I didn't know." Karen nods, never leaving Plankton. "It's ok. We manage. It's part of his… condition." Sandy watches as Karen's gentle touch seems to bring him back to reality. Plankton blinks. "Plankton?" Karen whispers. Slowly, his gaze refocuses on her. He looks around the room, momentarily disoriented before his eye land on the game spread out on the table. He looks back at Karen, his expression a mix of confusion and embarrassment. "What happened?" he asks, his voice hoarse. "You had a little episode," Karen says, her voice still calm. She helps him to his feet. "But you're ok now." Sandy's eyes dart between the two of them, feeling like an intruder in this intimate moment of care. She clears her throat awkwardly. "Maybe we should... postpone the game?" But as Plankton's gaze locks onto hers, she sees the anger in his eye, raw and unbridled. "You did this," he says accusingly, voice tight with frustration. Sandy takes a step back. "I didn't mean to," she stammers, her hands rising defensively. "You didn't mean to?" Plankton echoes, his voice rising. "You come in, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with your loud games and expectations, and you don't think about how it might affect me?" Sandy's eyes widen with shock and guilt as she takes another step back. "I-I'm sorry, Plankton," she stammers. "I didn't know it would—" "Of course you didn't," Plankton interrupts, filled with bitterness. Sandy's heart sinks as she realizes the gravity of the situation. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you," she says, her voice small and apologetic. Karen's grip on Plankton's arm tightens, a silent plea for calm, but the words have been said. The air feels thick with tension, the joyous anticipation of the game forgotten. Sandy's eyes fill with tears, her heart racing. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice shaking. "It’s not my fault. I'd never want to hurt you." "It's what you want, isn't it?" Plankton snaps, pushing away from her. "That's not true," Sandy protests, her own voice rising in defense. "I just wanted to have some fun." Karen's screen darts between them, a silent plea for peace. But Plankton's anger is a storm that can't be quieted so easily. "You think it's fun for me?" he yells, his voice cracking with frustration. "To sit here and watch you live life without a care while I'm stuck in my own head, unable to keep up?" Sandy flinches, his words hitting her like a slap in the face. She never thought about it that way before. "I just wanted to help," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "Help?" Plankton scoffs. "How is bringing this... this... chaos into our lives supposed to help?" He gestures at the game, his hand shaking with anger. Sandy feels the heat rising in her own cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger at being misunderstood. "It's not chaos, it's just a game," she says, her voice firm despite the tremor. "To you, maybe," Plankton says, his words laced with venom. "But to me, it's just another thing that's too much to handle. Too loud, colorful, too... everything." Sandy feels her own anger flare up, the hurt of his accusations stinging deep. "You don't know what you're talking about," she says, her voice rising to match his. "Oh, don't I?" Plankton counters, eye flashing. "You think you can just waltz in and ignore my needs because you're so focused on your own fun?" Sandy feels a mix of indignation and regret. "That's not fair," she protests, cracking. "You know I didn't mean to—" But Plankton isn't listening. He's in the throes of anger now, voice rising. "Fair?! You have no idea what fair is," he says, eye flashing. "You don't have to deal with the constant bombardment of sounds and lights and emotions!" Sandy's own frustration boils over. "Well maybe if you try to understand, we could—" "Understand?" Plankton cuts her off, his voice now a roar. "How can you possibly understand?" Sandy's eyes flash with indignation. "You're not the only one with problems!" she shoots back. "You think I don't know?" Plankton retorts. "Everyone has their struggles, but you don't get to barge in here and make them about you!" "It wasn't about me!" Sandy exclaims, her voice shaking. "I just wanted to do something nice.." "What about the fact that your 'nice' thing almost sent me into a full-blown seizure?" Sandy's eyes flash with anger now, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "You know what, Plankton? You're right, I don't understand," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "But maybe if you weren't so focused on being the center of attention with your 'poor me' routine, you could see I'm just trying to be a good friend!" Plankton's eye widen in shock at her outburst as he processes her words. "You think this is about attention?" he says, his voice incredulous. "It's about trying to find a way to exist in a world that's too much for me!" Sandy's eyes fill with tears of frustration as she glares at Plankton. "And what? I'm not allowed to live because it's too much for you?" she yells back, the words cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. "I can't help that I'm not BROKEN like You!" Sandy says before realizing it with regret. Karen's pixelated eyes widen in horror. "Sandy," she says, her voice a warning whisper. But too late. The damage is done. A tear traces a path down his cheek. His eye, once full of anger, brims with hurt. He takes a step back. "Broken," he whispers, the word echoing in the tense silence of the room. Plankton's body sags, his anger dissipating like a popped balloon, leaving only pain in its wake. His eye glisten with unshed tears.
Broken 2/2 (I’m a neurodivergent author) Plankton's body sags, anger dissipating. His eye glisten with tears. "Broken," he repeats, his voice barely a whisper, the word a knife to his soul. He shakes his head and turns, unable to face the person who so casually tossed it at him. "Plankton," Karen says, her voice strained, but he's already retreating. Shoulders hunched, Plankton turns and strides out of the room, footsteps heavy and deliberate. The door to the bedroom slams shut behind him, the echo of sobs resonating through. Sandy and Karen are left standing in the living room, the air thick with unspoken words and unshed tears. "I didn't mean it like, I cannot believe I just, I’m sorry," Sandy says, voice shaky. She looks at her friend, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I..." Karen's gaze is steely. "You need to understand," she says firmly, voice trembling with weight. "Plankton was born with a neurodivergent condition." Sandy's eyes widen. "What?" she whispers. Karen nods solemnly. "Plankton's mother was in a car accident when pregnant with him." Sandy's eyes widen in horror. "I had no idea," she whispers. Karen nods, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. "After, doctors saw Plankton's brain developing differently," she explains, her voice tight with emotion. "He's incredibly sensitive to stimulation—sounds, lights; strong emotions, like just now, can overwhelm him." "That's why he gets these... episodes?" Sandy asks. Karen nods, voice barely above a whisper. "It caused damage to the part of his brain that processes stimuli during development," she explains. "It's like his brain's volume knob is stuck on high. Everything's just too much for him sometimes." Sandy's mind races. "So that's why..." "Yes," Karen says, voice heavy. "It's not something he can just turn off, or ignore." Sandy nods slowly, aching for her friend's husband. She had always known Plankton as a bit of an introvert, but never thought it was mostly because of something like this. Karen's sad, but firm. "It's not your fault for not knowing," she says. "But you have to be mindful." Sandy nods, throat tight. "I do," she whispers with regret. Together, they make their way to the bedroom, the game forgotten in the wake of Plankton's pain. Karen's hand is a gentle guide on Sandy's arm as they tiptoe, steeling herself for what might be on the other side. She opens it slowly, the hinges whispering in protest. The bedroom is dim, curtains drawn, and Plankton is there, lying on the bed, his eye closed. The anger and frustration that had etched lines into his face moments ago are now eased by sleep. His chest rises and falls with rhythm of breathing, the only sound in the room. Sandy feels a pang of guilt as she looks at him. She had never meant to cause pain, never intended to make life more difficult. She just wanted to bring a little joy, whimsy into their lives; instead, she had unleashed a storm. Karen's hand tightens around Sandy's arm, a silent reminder of the unspoken bond between them. "Let him rest," Karen murmurs. Sandy nods. "Give him space," Karen says gently. "He needs to recover." Sandy nods, gaze lingering on Plankton's face, features now in sleep. She feels a pang of guilt, knowing she was the cause of distress. They retreat to the living room. Karen sighs heavily, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and resignation. "Why didn't you tell?" Karen sighs. "It's not something we talk about," she says softly. "Plankton's been self-conscious about it." "I didn't mean to make things worse," Sandy says with remorse. "I know, yet you have to understand, Plankton's condition is part of him. It's not something that can be fixed with a band-aid; his brain damage is irreversible." "I'll talk to him when he wakes up," she says, her voice a mix of determination and sorrow. "I want to make it right." Karen squeezes her hand, offering a small smile. "Thank you," she whispers. "But let him come to you. He needs time." Sandy feels the weight of her mistake heavily. "Part of Plankton's condition includes mood swings," Karen explains softly. "When overstimulated, it's like a dam breaks. It just floods." Sandy's heart squeezes with understanding and regret. "I didn't know," she whispers, eyes filling with tears. "I never meant to—" "It's ok," Karen interrupts gently, her voice soothing. "But it's not just about the game. Plankton's condition makes it hard for him to handle sudden changes or unexpected situations." Sandy nods, the gravity of the situation settling in. "I didn't realize," she says, her voice thick with guilt. "I just..." Karen squeezes her hand. "It's alright," she says, her voice calm and soothing. "You couldn't have known. But now that you do, it's important to stay calm around him." Sandy nods, eyes wide with the realization. "How do I make sure not make things worse?" Karen looks at her with a mix of affection and weariness. "You just need to be patient and understanding," she says. "Let him know you're there for him, without pushing." Sandy nods. Finally, Plankton emerges from the bedroom, eye red-rimmed. He looks at them both, his gaze uncertain, and then to the game. Sandy's heart clenches as she watches him. Plankton's gaze lingers on the game for a moment before he looks at them, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin everything." Sandy's heart breaks at his words. "You didn't ruin," she says quickly, filled with compassion. "I should have been more considerate." Plankton looks at her, still guarded. "I just want to be normal but I just can't handle it, like you said I’m broken.." Sandy feels her heart ache at his words, the pain in his voice resonating deep within. She shakes her head, her own eyes now filled with tears. "You're not broken," she says fiercely. "You're just... different. And that's ok. I’m sorry." Karen moves to Plankton's side, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace. "You are more than ok," she whispers. "You're perfect, just the way you are." Sandy watches them, feeling the depth. "I didn't mean it, Plankton," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "You're not broken, you're just... you. I know that now." Plankton nods, his mind a tumult of thoughts. "But it's hard to hear." "I'll be more careful," she promises, her voice sincere. "I don't want to make you feel like that again." "You didn't know," he says, his voice a bit softer now. "But it's important that you do now." "I do know," she says, her voice firm. "And I'll make sure to be more mindful." Karen squeezes Plankton's hand, filled with love and compassion. "We all have moments," she says gently. "What matters is we learn from them." Sandy nods, gaze never leaving Plankton's. "I will," she says solemnly. "I promise." Plankton's expression softens. "Thank you," he murmurs, the first signs of forgiveness seeping into his voice. Karen's gaze shifts to Sandy, filled with a gentle resolve. "Don't be afraid to ask, next time," she says, a quiet command. "Don't assume you know what he can handle. Just talk to us, and we can tell you." Sandy nods, feeling the weight of her friend's words. "I will," she says, voice a solemn promise. "I don't want to make him feel like that again." The three of them stand in the living room, the game pieces on the table a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. Sandy takes a step closer to Plankton, her hand reaching out tentatively. He looks up at her, the anger and pain in his eye slowly being replaced with something resembling understanding. "I'm sorry," she whispers again, hand hovering in the air between them. "I'll do better." Karen nods with a mix of sadness and love. "We're all learning," she says, her voice a gentle reprimand. "But it's important that Plankton needs to be part of this conversation too." Sandy swallows hard, her hand dropping to her side. "I'm sorry," she says again, looking down at her feet. "I didn't mean to make it about me." Plankton nods slowly, eye still on the game board. "It's not," he says, quiet and measured. "It's about understanding limits." Sandy nods, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I just want to make sure you know that I'm here for you, for both of you, any time." Karen gives her a sad smile, still on Plankton. "We know," she says softly. "But sometimes, the best thing you can do for Plankton is to just... let him be." Sandy nods. "I'll take it home," she says, her voice thick with regret. "I don't want it to be a reminder of what happened." Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Sandy's. "Thank you," she whispers. Sandy moves to the coffee table, her eyes on the game. She gathers the pieces, the bright colors seemingly dulled by the events of the evening. Each piece feels heavier than it should, as if carrying the weight of Plankton's pain. "I'll put it away," she says, her voice quiet and remorseful. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen." Plankton nods, his eye not leaving the game. "I know," he says, his voice still raw. "But you can play it with Karen on one of the Gal Pal nights out when I’m not around, like at your treedome." Sandy nods, her eyes brimming with tears as she scoops the last of the game into the box. She closes it with a soft click and looks up at Karen. "I'm sorry," she whispers again. "I'm just... I'm sorry." Karen sighs, her gaze filled with a mix of sadness and resignation. "We all make mistakes, Sandy," she says gently. "What's important is that we learn from them." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving the game box. "I will," she whispers, her voice thick with regret. "I'll be more considerate next time." Karen's gaze softens, and she squeezes Sandy's hand. "Thank you," she murmurs. "It means a lot."
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ii (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen woke up to find Plankton still asleep, his hand still clutching hers. She gently pulled her hand away and stood up. Plankton's snores echoed through the quiet room. Karen studied his peaceful expression, his features softer in sleep, and felt a surge of affection for the man she had married so many years ago. In the cold light of day, the reality of his condition settled in. He was different, but she would not let that change the way she saw him. As a robot, Karen understood the importance of adjusting to new situations, and this was no exception. As Plankton stirred, she quickly moved to his side, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring. His eye opened, looking around the room before settling on her. "Karen," he said, his voice still flat, but with a hint of recognition. "Good morning, Plankton," she replied. This was their first day facing his autism together, and she had spent the night preparing. Plankton sat up, his eye locking onto hers. "Morning," he repeated. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if his brain was processing each action. "Would you like some breakfast?" she asked. He nodded. "No vault," he murmured, and she could see the beginnings of a frown. Karen nodded, knowing that his obsessions might become more pronounced. "It's okay," she said. "We don't need the vault." Plankton's eye searched her face, his expression unreadable. "No vault," he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "Good." Karen nodded. "Let's start the day," she suggested, trying to shift the focus. She led him to the tiny kitchen area, the smell of chum wafting through the air. Plankton followed her, his steps measured and precise. His gaze flitted around the room, taking in every detail. "Would you like eggs or chum?" she asked. "Both," he said, his voice clearer than before. Karen nodded, cracking an egg over the sizzling pan. Plankton sat at the table, rocking back and forth slightly. It was clear that his senses were heightened, every sound and smell more intense than before. "Here's your breakfast, Plankton," she said, placing the plate in front of him. His gaze fixated on the food, his eye narrowing as if studying a complex puzzle. "Thank you," he said, the words coming out mechanically. But as Karen stirred the chum and eggs together, something shifted in his demeanor. He stiffened in his chair, his rocking coming to an abrupt halt. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing the sudden change. Plankton's eye grew wide. "No," he whispered, his voice strained. "Not together. Separate," he demanded, his voice growing more urgent. Karen paused, her circuits racing. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I'll fix it." She carefully scraped the food onto two separate places, one with egg, one with chum. She placed it in front of him, hoping she was interpreting his needs correctly. Plankton stared. "Different plate," he murmured. "And a new spoon. And new eggs not touching new chum." Karen nodded, quickly moving to comply with his requests. She knew that routines and sensory preferences could be crucial for individuals with autism, and she wanted to make sure his first breakfast post-diagnosis was as comfortable as possible. She replicated his meal with meticulous precision, ensuring every detail was exactly as he had specified, ridding of the old food. The new plate was set before him, the eggs and chum neatly separated. Plankton's shoulders relaxed slightly. He picked up the spoon, his gaze intensely focused on the task at hand. Karen watched as he took a tiny bite in what seemed like pleasure. "Good?" she ventured. Plankton nodded, his eye not leaving the plate. "Good," he echoed, his voice still monotone. Karen observed him as he methodically ate his breakfast, each bite the same size, each chew lasting the same amount of time. It was fascinating and slightly disconcerting to watch the man she knew so well now engaging with the world in such a different way. Plankton's routine was always important, but now it had taken on a new level of significance. The clink of the spoon against the plate was the only sound in the room, the rhythm of it almost hypnotic. As Plankton finished his meal, his head snapped up, his gaze sharp and focused on her. "Karen," he said, his voice now clear and concise. "Yes, Plankton?" she replied, wiping down the counter. "Thank you," he said, his eye fixed on the now-empty plate. Karen nodded, taking the dishes to the sink. She could feel his eye on her as she moved about the room, the weight of his silence a stark contrast to his usual incessant chatter. She knew that autism would bring challenges, but she was determined to be there for him.
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.
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY vii (Autistic author) Sponge Bob's mind is racing, his heart thumping in his chest. He had never seen Plankton like this, and the sudden change was unnerving. "What happened to make you so..." he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. Plankton's smile broadens, his hands continuing their flapping dance. "Good book," he repeats. "Best friend." He pats the bed again, his gesture urging Sponge Bob to sit closer. Sponge Bob does, his gaze still locked on Plankton's. "But what happened?" he presses, his voice filled with concern. "You've never been this... this... affectionate before." Plankton's hands stop their flapping, his antennas drooping slightly. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's eyes search his friend's, his concern growing with each repetition. "But Plankton, what's really going on?" he asks, his voice filled with urgency. "You've never talked like this before." Plankton's smile wavers, his hand reaching for the book. "Read," he says, his voice a monotone. "Happy book." Sponge Bob's eyes dart between Plankton's and the complex text before him. "But Plankton, I don't know what this means." Plankton's smile fades, his hands stilled. He looks at Sponge Bob with an unblinking stare, his mind racing. "Friend," he says, his voice flat. "Best friend." His gaze drops to the book, then back to Sponge Bob's face. "Read," he instructs, his tone firm. Sponge Bob's eyes widen, the weight of Plankton's stare heavy on his shoulders. He opens the book to a random page. "Ok," he says, his voice shaking slightly. "I'll try." He starts from the top, his pronunciation awkward and stilted. "Quantum Mechanics," he reads, his eyes squinting at the text. Sponge Bob's voice falters, the complexity of the words tripping his tongue. "Plankton, I don't understand any of this," he says, his voice filled with frustration. Plankton's eye widen, his smile fading. "Friend," he repeats, his voice strained. "Best friend." He grabs the book from Sponge Bob's hands, his movements suddenly frantic. "Read," he says, his voice a mix of desperation and joy. "Good book." Sponge Bob's heart races as he watches his friend's erratic behavior. He knows something is seriously off, but he's not sure what. "Plankton What's going on with you?" Plankton's smile flickers back, his hands stilling. He looks at Sponge Bob, his gaze intense. "Read," he repeats. "Best friend read." Sponge Bob nods, his throat tight. He tries again, his voice more confident this time. "Quantum Mechanics," he repeats. Plankton's smile brightens, his hands resuming their flutter. "Good," he says, his voice a monotone cheer. "Best friend." Sponge Bob's heart aches with concern, but he continues to read, hoping to find some comfort in the words for his friend. "Quantum Entanglement," he murmurs, his eyes scanning the page for any sign of understanding. Plankton's flapping grows more intense, his body rocking back and forth with excitement. Sponge Bob's eyes widen as he notices Plankton's erratic behavior, but he keeps reading, his voice steady and calm. "The universe," he says, his eyes skimming the page, "is a strange and wondrous place." Plankton's eye light up, his hands flapping rapidly. "Wondrous place," he echoes, his voice mirroring Sponge Bob's. "Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy cheeks reddening. "You're saying the same thing I just said," he points out, his voice filled with confusion. Plankton nods vigorously, his hands fluttering in the air. "You're saying same thing," he says, his voice a cheerful mimic of Sponge Bob's. "Wondrous place. Saying the same thing just said.." "Plankton," SpongeBob says, his voice urgent. "What's going on with you?" Plankton's smile is wide, but his gaze is distant, as if he's somewhere else entirely. "You're saying the same thing," he echoes again, his hands flapping in a rhythmic pattern that matches his words. Sponge Bob's eyes widen. "Plankton," he says, his voice strained. "You're just repeating me." He pauses, trying to gauge his friend's reaction. Plankton nods, his smile still in place. "Yes," he says, his voice a copy of Sponge Bob's. "You're repeating." His hands flap with excitement. Sponge Bob's concern grows, his eyes searching Plankton's for any sign of distress. "But why, Plankton?" he asks, his voice soft with worry. Plankton's smile falters, his hands stopping mid-flap. "But why?" he repeats, his voice a perfect echo of Sponge Bob's. "You're copying me," he says. "Why are you copying everything I say?" Plankton's eye refocus on Sponge Bob's face, his smile returning. "You're copying me why are you copying everything I say." Plankton echoed. Sponge Bob's trying to find a reason behind the behavior. "I'm asking you what's going on!" Plankton nods, his antennae waving slightly. "SpongeBob asking me what's going on," he mimics. Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his heart racing. "Plankton," he says, his voice filled with urgency. "This isn't funny. What's really happening?" "This isn't funny," he echoes Sponge Bob's tone. "What's happening?" Sponge Bob's heart sinks. "Plankton," he says, his voice shaking. "What's wrong with you?" Plankton's eye locked on Sponge Bob's. "Wrong with Plankton," he echoes. "What's wrong?" Sponge Bob's voice trembles as he speaks. "You're not acting like yourself," he says, his heart pounding. "You're just repeating everything I say." "You're repeating everything I say," he says, his voice a mirror. "Plankton," he says, his voice shaking. "Please, tell me what's going on." "Please tell me what's going on," he repeats, his voice a perfect match to Sponge Bob's. "You tell me." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and desperation. "But, Plankton," he says, his voice trembling. "You're just repeating everything I say." He takes a deep breath, his mind racing to understand his friend's sudden change. Plankton's smile is unwavering, his hands still fluttering. "You're just repeating everything," he echoes. "I say." His voice is calm, his movements methodical. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of his friend. "Please, Plankton," he begs, his voice cracking with anger. But Plankton's response is only more of the same, his words a perfect echo of Sponge Bob's plea. "Please, Plankton," he repeats, his voice a mirror of pain. "Please.." "This isn't right," he says, his voice filled with frustration. "You're not acting normal." Plankton's smile falters for a moment, his hands stilling. "Not normal," he repeats, his voice a hollow echo. "You not acting right." Sponge Bob's frustration boils over. "I'm not the one who's changed!" he exclaims, his voice loud. "You're the one who's been acting weird and repeating everything I say!" "You're the one who's changed," he echoes, his voice still calm. "Weird. Repeating." Sponge Bob's anger flares, his spongy fists clenching. "No, Plankton!" he says, his voice rising. "You're the one who's different! You're not the same as before!" Plankton's smile fades, his hands coming to a halt. His gaze meets Sponge Bob's with a flicker of understanding. "Different," he says, his voice a flat echo. "Not same." Sponge Bob's anger turns to desperation. "What happened to you?" he asks, his voice cracking. "Why are you doing this?" Plankton's gaze is unyielding, his smile a forced imitation of happiness. "You doing this," he repeats, his voice a monotone. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with anger. "What are you talking about?" he demands, his hands clenching into fists. "I haven't done anything!" Plankton's smile flickers, his gaze dropping to his book. "You haven't done anything," he echoes, his voice a mirror of Sponge Bob's anger. "I have." Sponge Bob's eyes narrow, his confusion turning to anger. "What are you saying?" he asks, his voice sharp. Plankton's hands resuming their flapping. "I have book," he says, his voice calmer. "Good book. Happy book." Sponge Bob's anger dissipates, his confusion deepening. "But Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "What's the book got to do with anything?" "Book," he repeats, his voice a monotone chant. "Book, book." Sponge Bob's confusion turns to anger, his eyes narrowing. "What is it with this book?" he demands, his voice tight. "What's so special about it?" Plankton's smile flickers, his hands pausing in their flapping. "You and book," he says, his voice a monotone whisper. "Makes Plankton happy." SpongeBob grabs Plankton's wrists to stop the flapping, making Plankton finally stop his repetitive chanting. "What's gotten into you?" Sponge Bob asks, his voice shaking with anger and concern. "Are you just messing with me?" Plankton's smile fades, his antennas drooping. "No mess," he says, his voice a sad echo. He tries to pull his hands free, but Sponge Bob's grip tightens. Sponge Bob's eyes bore into his friend's, searching for anything that might explain this strange behavior. "Then what is it, Plankton?" he asks, his voice a mix of anger and fear. "What's going on?" Plankton's gaze flickers with a hint of sadness. "Accident," he whispers, his voice a hollow echo, his body tense.
SWEET CWEAM pt. 3 The car ride home was a blur of sights and sounds that Plankton struggled to make sense of. The sun was bright, piercing through the numbness like a needle. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, watching the world slide by like a slow-moving painting. "Muh face ith funny," he mumbled, poking at his cheek with a finger. The skin felt like it didn't belong to him, a puffy alien appendage attached to his face. Karen just smiled, her eyes on the road. "You're just a bit swollen, Plankton. It'll go down soon," she soothed. "Buh ith wobbly," he laughs. "Muh tongue feelth bith," he complained. Karen's smile grew wider, her eyes never leaving the road. "It's the anesthesia, sweetie. It'll wear off." Plankton's eye grew even wider at her words, his mouth moving in silent protest. "Ith not funny," he slurred, his voice a comical mix of indignation and innocence. Karen couldn't help but laugh a little, the tension of the day finally easing. "I know, I know," she soothed, her eyes dancing with mirth. "But you're so cute when you're all sleepy and confused." Plankton's eye narrowed, the childish innocence fading a touch. "Cuth?" he repeated, his voice a mix of hurt and indignance. "I'm not cuth. I'm in pwain," he whined, his words slurring together like wet paint. Karen's laughter filled the car, a soothing balm to his bruised ego. "I know you are, Plankton," she said, her voice a warm caress. "But you're also really adorable." Plankton pouted, his cheek pressing against the window. The cold glass felt good against his swollen skin. "I'm not thorable," he murmured. Karen's laughter was a gentle melody that floated through the car, turning into their driveway. "You're not a baby. You're my brave husband." Plankton's pout turned into a lopsided smile at the praise. "Thathks," he murmured. The garage door rumbled open, and Karen helped him into the Chum Bucket. Once inside, the coolness of their living room washed over him like a wave. He looked around with fresh eyes, as if seeing their home for the first time. "Wook at the wawws," he said, stumbling over to them. "They'we so big." Karen followed, shaking her head and smiling at his disjointed words. "Yes, dear, they're the same walls as always." He looked at her with wonder, his thoughts racing like a child's. "Buth they'we nah alwaysth big," he insisted, his voice filled with awe. Karen just smiled, leading him to the couch. "You're feeling a bit loopy from the medicine," she said, helping him sit down. Plankton's eye lit up as he examined the cushions. "Theth awe soggy," he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight. Karen chuckled, helping him settle into the plush seat. The numbness was slowly receding, but his tongue remained a traitor, tripping over every word. He looked around the room with fresh curiosity, his thoughts swirling like colored sugar in a cup of tea.
NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT (Autistic author) "Plankton, look out!" The warning echoed through the lab, too late to prevent the calamity. Sheldon Plankton, the infamous villain and tiny proprietor of the Chum Bucket, had been so absorbed in his latest contraption that he never saw it coming. A miscalculation, a misstep and a metal clank as the heavy contraption toppled over. The world around him spun into a kaleidoscope of color, and with a sickening crack, everything went dark. Panic gripped Karen, his loyal sidekick and wife. She rushed to his side, his body sprawled unnaturally beneath the twisted metal. She reached out to gently shake him. "Plankton!" she shouted, her voice piercing the quiet. His eye remained closed, unresponsive to her touch or her cries. Karen's panic grew, her mind racing through possible scenarios. What if he's seriously hurt? What if this is the end? She buckled him in the car to take him to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. She held his hand and drove. "Plankton, please wake up," she murmured, her voice shaking. "You've got to be okay," Karen continued, her voice strained. "We still have so much to do. So much to steal from the Krabby Patty secret formula. So much to prove to Mr. Krabs." But Plankton lay there, motionless. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the car engine and the occasional splash from the wet streets of Bikini Bottom. Karen's thoughts spiraled, her usual confidence in his invincibility shattered. "Remember when we first met?" she began, her voice soft. "You had the biggest dreams. You said we'd rule the ocean one day." She managed a weak laugh, but it sounded forced, even to her. Her grip on his hand tightened. "You swore we'd crack that Krabby Patty formula," she continued. "We've come so close so many times, and each failure just made you more determined." Her voice grew stronger, the memories fueling her words. "Do you remember the first time we tried to sneak into the Krusty Krab?" she asked, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. "You had that ridiculous disguise?" Despite the dire situation, she couldn't help but smile at the memory. "We've been through so much since then, Plankton. You've always found a way to bounce back, no matter how crazy the plan or how dire the outcome." But Plankton remained still. "We can't give up now," she whispered, her voice trembling. The hospital's cold lights flickered above them as they waited for the doctor. The beeping of machines and the hushed whispers of nurses filled the room, but Karen's thoughts drowned it all out. The doctor, a stern-looking fish with spectacles, entered the room, holding a clipboard. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his tone professional but gentle. "We've completed the brain scan on your husband. The results are..." "Is he okay?" she finally choked out. The doctor looked up, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Plankton's injuries are... complex. He's sustained a brain injury, and he's developed Autism Spectrum Disorder." Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice a mix of fear and hope. The doctor took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "It means his brain has been affected in a way that will change how he perceives and interacts with the world around him. It's a spectrum, so the symptoms can vary widely." He explained further, detailing the challenges that lay ahead for both of them. Plankton might have difficulties with social interactions, repetitive behaviors, and sensory sensitivities. Karen's mind raced, never leaving Plankton's still form. Then, just as the doctor finished, Plankton's single eyelid began to flutter, slowly opening to reveal a gaze that seemed somehow... different. He looked around the sterile room, his eye darting from one corner to another, taking in every detail with an intensity that was unnerving. Karen's squeezing his hand harder. "Plankton?" she whispered. For a moment, there was no response. Then, in a voice that was his yet not quite, he spoke. "Karen," Plankton said, his voice mechanical and measured. His voice, though familiar, now a puzzling echo of its former self. She leaned in closer, desperate for some sign of the Plankton she knew. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice tentative. Plankton's eye narrowed as he considered her question, his voice echoing the words back to her in a staccato rhythm, "How... do... you... feel?" The repetition sent a shiver down Karen, but she managed a nod. "Karen," he began again, his tone eerily calm, "How do you feel?" Karen's screen searched his eye, seeking a spark of recognition. "I-I'm worried," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But I'm here for you." "Worried," Plankton echoed, his voice a metronome of emotionless syllables. "Worried. Worried." The doctor cleared his throat, interrupting the eerie pattern. "Palilalia is a common symptom with ASD," he explained gently. "It's the repetition of words and phrases. It can be a way of processing information." Karen nodded, trying to absorb the doctor's words as she continued to search Plankton for any sign of the cunning, albeit misguided, genius she knew so well. His gaze remained fixed on hers. "Karen," he said again, his voice still eerily detached. His usual energy and cunning seemed to have been replaced by this unsettling calmness. Yet, in his eye, she thought she could see a flicker of something familiar, a tiny spark of the man she had known for so long. "I need to understand," she said softly, willing him to connect with her. "What's going on?" "Understand," he repeated, his voice a monotone echo. "Under- stand." Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Plankton's eye grew wider, his focus intense. Karen watched, hopeful, as his hand began to twitch. He was trying to communicate. Using all her patience, she waited. "Understand," he said again, but this time, the word grew into a phrase, "I need to understand." The repetition was still present, but now it was tinged with urgency. Karen filled with tears as she nodded vigorously. "I know, Plankton, I know you do." The doctor, noticing the change, intervened, his voice soothing. "It's ok, Mr. Plankton. Take your time." He turned to Karen. "It's common for individuals with ASD to repeat words or phrases when they're trying to process their thoughts. It's called echolalia. It's his way of making sense of what's happening." Karen nodded, but she could see the wheels turning in his mind. His hand twitched more intensely now, his gaze more focused. "Understand," he said again, his voice gaining a slight inflection. "Need... to... under- stand." The words grew into a steady rhythm, a heartbeat of desire. Karen felt hope blossoming in her chest. The doctor leaned in, his expression one of curiosity. "It seems he's trying to express his need to understand his new condition," he murmured. "It's a positive sign. It shows he's engaging with the world around him." Karen nodded. "Under- stand," she whispered back to him. "We'll figure this out together." Plankton's twitching hand paused momentarily, his gaze lingering on hers. Then, his eye darted back to the doctor, the word "Understand" escaping his lips once more. The doctor nodded encouragingly. "It's ok, Mr. Plankton. Do you know what happened?" "Understand," he said, his tone shifting to one of curiosity. "Understand. Accident." Karen swelled with relief. It was the first time he'd formed a coherent thought since the incident. "Yes, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing, "you had an accident in the lab. But we're going to get through this." The doctor nodded. "You have something called Autism." "Autism," Plankton echoed, his eye searching Karen's for an explanation. "It's okay," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her. "It just means you see the world differently now." Plankton's eye focused on hers, his hand stilled. "Different," he parroted back, as if testing the word's weight in the air. "Different." Karen took a deep breath, forcing a smile through her tears. "But not less," she assured him. "Just different." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, his antennas twitching slightly at the touch.
SWEET CWEAM pt. 5 Sponge Bob's eyes widen even more, his spongy body leaning forward in anticipation. "A secret?" Plankton nods, his speech still slurred. "Yeth, I thweal." He looks around the room, his expression a mix of mischief and excitement. "But it's juss tween ush," he whispers, his voice a conspiratorial mumble. Sponge Bob nods solemnly, his eyes wide with interest. "Of course it is, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with the gravity of a secret keeper. “What’s the secret?” Plankton leans in, his speech still slurred but his eye gleaming with mischief. "It'th that I luv... to thee youw," he says, his voice hitching with each word. Sponge Bob's expression shifts from concern to surprise, his eyes watering with laughter. "You love to...see me?" he repeats, trying to make sense of the garbled confession. “Of couth I do, Squishy Bob!” Plankton exclaims with a wobbly smile, his tongue struggling against the unyielding numbness. “Youw the bestest fwiend evar!” Karen watches the exchange with a soft fondness, seeing Plankton’s usual guard down and his true heart shining through. She's never seen him like this before, so open and vulnerable. "Thath right, I do," Plankton repeats, his voice a warm rumble in his chest. Sponge Bob's smile can't help but grow. "That's so nice of you to say, Plankton," he manages to get out between his giggles. Karen can't remember the last time she saw Plankton this way, his usual stoicism stripped away by the remnants of the anesthesia. It's like seeing him as a completely new person, one filled with pure, unfiltered affection. "Ith wove you," Plankton says, his voice thick. "Youw'we my bessst fwiend." Sponge Bob's laughter subsides into a warm smile. "Plankton, I love you too," he says, his voice genuine. Karen's heart swells with love for both of them, watching them share a moment so raw and pure. Plankton's head nods, his drool forming a small puddle on the table. Karen quickly grabs a napkin and dabs his chin. "Thath so sweet, Squishy," he slurs, his eye half- closed with sleep. The room spins around him, a soft, warm embrace that makes his eyelid flutter. He tries to keep it open, but it like heavy curtains pulling him back into slumber. "Ith time for nath nap?" he asks, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen laughs, her hand gentle as she wipes the drool from his chin. "Almost," she says, her voice like a warm blanket. "First, let's get you to the couch." With Sponge Bob's help, they ease Plankton into his favorite spot, his body sinking into the plush cushions with a sigh of relief. The numbness in his mouth is slowly receding, leaving a tender throb in its wake. He wraps himself in the comfort of his blanket, his mind swirling with the leftover fog of the anesthesia. Whence SpongeBob leaves, Karen saves the footage from the security cameras. Plankton next wakes up in the morning, sore and also without any anesthesia left in his system. Of course, he barely recalls going to the dentist. He doesn’t know what’s happened after leaving the surgery. His mouth feels like a desolate wasteland, each movement a sharp reminder of the procedure. He gingerly prods his swollen cheeks with his tongue, feeling the gaping holes where his wisdom teeth used to be. Karen is by his side. “Karen? Whath happenth?” Plankton says, feeling the aching. “Where…” Her smile is a comforting beacon. “You had wisdom teeth surgery, Plankton. You’re okay, you’re home now. Just rest, you’ve had a long day.” “I remember going in to surgery. That’s all.” Karen brings over a glass of water. "Here, babe," she says, her voice a gentle wake-up call. Plankton takes it, his hand trembling slightly. He sips carefully, the cool liquid sliding down his throat with a soothing grace. He swallows with difficulty, the pain in his throat a reminder of his dental odyssey. "What...what time ish it?" Karen looks at the clock, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "It's morning, Plankton," she says, her voice a soft chime. "You've been sleeping for a while."
NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT ii (Autistic author) With Plankton's condition still fresh in her mind, Karen carefully guided him out of the hospital and into the car. She knew the drive back to the Chum Bucket would be a test, but she was determined to make it as smooth as possible. The car's engine rumbled to life, and she pulled out onto the wet streets of Bikini Bottom, fixed on the road ahead. Plankton was quieter than usual, his gaze out the window, taking in the world with a new perspective. Karen spoke gently, describing the sights they passed, hoping the familiarity would comfort him. "Look, Plankton," she pointed. "There's the jellyfish field. Do you remember when we used to get chased by jellyfish?" His eye swiveled to meet hers, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Remember," he said, his voice still mechanical. "Plankton remember jellyfish." It wasn't just the repetition anymore; he was connecting with her, with the world around him. It was a start, a sign that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way through this new, uncharted territory. Plankton's head lolled slightly to the side as the car bumped along the road, his breathing steady and even. Karen watched him out of the corner of her screen, the rhythmic motion of his chest reassuring her that he was still with her. Despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside her, she felt a strange peace settle over her. For the first time since the accident, she allowed herself to believe that they could navigate this new reality together. The rain had picked up, the drops splattering against the windshield like a symphony of tiny drums. The wipers kept a steady beat, matching the rhythm of her racing thoughts. Plankton's hand was still in hers, but it was limp now, his palm open and trusting. She squeezed it gently, trying to convey all the words she couldn't say. The Chum Bucket loomed in the distance, a beacon of their shared past and the uncertain future ahead. As they neared, Karen noticed the lights flickering in the lab, the remnants of their latest failed scheme. The sight brought a pang of sadness, but also a strange sense of nostalgia. Karen's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "We're almost there," she said, her voice a lifeline thrown into the silence. As the Chum Bucket came into view, Plankton's antennas twitched in his sleep. "We're home," Karen murmured, her voice barely above the patter of the rain. She parked the car and took a moment to collect herself before gently waking him. "Plankton, sweetie, we're here." His eye fluttered open, and he looked around the car with a slightly dazed expression. The neon lights of the Chum Bucket cast a warm glow, and Karen watched as the reality of their situation settled into his gaze. "Home," he said, the word falling out of his mouth like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. He sat up slowly, his movements stiff and deliberate, as if every action was a calculation. Karen helped him out of the car, the rain now a steady shower, plinking against the metal of the Chum Bucket. "Come on," she said softly, guiding him inside. "Let's get you into bed." Plankton followed her obediently, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. The lab was a mess, but Karen ignored it, leading him to their tiny living quarters. The space was cluttered with gadgets and gizmos, but there was a warmth to it, a testament to their life together. Plankton's eye scanned the room, taking in every detail, his brain trying to process the overwhelming stimuli. Karen noticed the way he flinched at the brightness of the lights and quickly dimmed them, creating a soothing ambiance. "Better?" she asked, her voice soft. Plankton nodded, his movements more deliberate now. He seemed to be focusing intently on her, trying to piece together the world around him. Karen helped him into their small, cozy bed, the blankets familiar and comforting. As she tucked him in, she noticed his eye fixate on a book on the floor. "It's ok," she whispered, plucking it up and placing it on the nightstand. "We can clean up tomorrow." Plankton lay still, his gaze now on the ceiling, tracing the patterns of the tiles above. Karen sat beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "Is there anything you need?" she asked, her voice a gentle ripple in the quiet. "Need... to... understand," he repeated, the words a comforting mantra in the silence. Karen nodded, stroking his antennae. "I'll be here to help you, Plankton." The doctor's words replayed in her head. Autism wasn't a weakness, but a different way of experiencing the world. A world now filled with sensory overload for Plankton. She made a mental note to dim the lab lights and reduce noise levels. "Karen," he said, the word a question. "What... happened?" The palilalia had shifted from a mere repetition to a quest for knowledge. Karen took a deep breath. "You had an accident, Plankton," she explained, her voice calm and steady. "But we're going to figure this out together." Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his eye flitting from tile to tile as if the answers lay in their pattern. "Accident," he murmured, the word tumbling through his thoughts. Karen nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth. "Yes, my love. You had an accident. But we're here now, and we're going to get through this." Plankton's eye searched hers, his voice a metronome of uncertainty. "Get... through... this." The words hung in the air, a question wrapped in a statement. "Through... this." Karen ached as she nodded, her voice a gentle caress. "Yes, Plankton. Together." Her hand reached out to cover his, her touch a silent promise. "We'll face each day as it comes." For a long moment, Plankton was silent, his gaze still trapped by the ceiling tiles. Then, his eye swiveled back to her, his voice a whisper of curiosity. "Together," he echoed, the word now a declaration. "We'll get through this together." Karen felt a tear slide down as she nodded, her smile a fragile thing. "Yes, Plankton, we will." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, his skin cool and clammy against her lips. His antennae twitched, and she knew he felt the warmth of her affection, even if he couldn't express it in the way she was used to. The next day dawned with a gentle glow, the sun peeking through the blinds of the Chum Bucket's living quarters. Karen woke up with a start, the events of the previous day crashing over her like a wave. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to hope it was all just a terrible dream. But the sight of Plankton's still form beside her, his breathing steady but different, brought reality back in a rush. They had a routine to maintain, a life to live despite the monumental shift in their world. Karen slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and began the day's tasks. She knew that Plankton would wake soon, his mind likely already racing. The lab was a chaos of wires and gadgets, but she had a plan. Starting with the lights, she adjusted each one to a gentle glow, reducing the visual assault that could overwhelm him. Then, she moved on to the sounds, taping foam pads to the doors and machines to muffle the cacophony. It was a small change, but it was a step to making the environment more comfortable for his now sensitive senses. Karen knew the kitchen would be the next battleground. Plankton's love for the Krabby Patty had always been a source of both frustration and motivation. But now, the thought of the complex flavors and textures could be a sensory nightmare for him. She decided to start with simple, plain foods, things she knew he enjoyed before his tastes had become so singular. As she sliced a cucumber into thin, uniform pieces, she heard his footsteps approaching. The tap-tap-tap of his feet on the metal floor was a sound she could set her clock to, yet now it seemed foreign, a reminder of the autistic world he now inhabited. "Good morning," Karen called out, forcing cheer into her voice. Plankton's eye swiveled towards her, his movements jerky as he navigated the now-familiar space. "Good... morning," he responded, each word a deliberate choice. Karen placed the cucumber slices on a plate and slid it towards him, watching as his gaze flitted from one to the next, studying them before making a selection. The sight was both heartbreaking and fascinating, a window into his new reality. As they sat together at their tiny kitchen table, Plankton took a small, tentative bite, his face scrunching up as he chewed. Karen held her breath, waiting for his reaction. After a long moment, he nodded. "Good," he said simply, his voice still flat. Karen swelled with pride and sadness. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. They would find their way through this, one bite at a time.
NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT iv (Autistic author) Karen's voice was a beacon of peace in the tempest of his thoughts. He blinked once, twice, his antennae drooping in defeat. The room around them was a shambles, a testament to the battle he'd waged within himself. Sensing his distress, Karen spoke again, her tone soothing. "Remember, Plankton, no one's going to hurt you," she said, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "You're safe here." Plankton's body began to uncoil, his breathing slowing as his gaze focused on her. "Safe?" he echoed, the word a question. Karen nodded, her smile gentle. "Safe," she assured him. "We're going to take this one step at a time, together." Hanna watched the exchange, her anger replaced by a deep sorrow. She had never seen her friend in such pain, and the knowledge that she had played a part in it was a heavy weight on her heart. "I'm sorry Plankton," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. But Plankton was lost in his own world, his mind echoing with the harshness of her words. "Maniac," he murmured, his voice a hollow imitation of Hanna's. "Leave you," he added, his eye swiveling back to Karen. Karen's heart ached at the sound of his echoed pain, her throat tight with unshed tears. "It's okay," she whispered, her hand resting gently on his arm. "You're not a maniac, Plankton." Her voice was a soft caress, a balm to his bruised psyche. But his echo continued, "Leave you," his voice a hollow reflection of Hanna's accusation. Karen's eyes grew wet as she looked at him, her heart breaking for his confusion. "No one's leaving, Plankton," she said firmly. "We're in this together." Hanna's brimming with tears, her own anger now a distant memory. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she choked out. "I didn't know." But Plankton's echolalia continued, each word a shard of Hanna's anger stabbing his psyche. "Monster," he repeated, his voice a haunting echo. "Ungrateful." Hanna's heard her own harsh words reflected back at her. "Plankton, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I didn't know." Karen's gaze remained steadfast on Plankton's, her fingers gently stroking his arm. "You're not a monster," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to his soul. "You're just... different." The echoes of Hanna's words still hung in the air, a sharp reminder of the hurt that had been dealt. Plankton's eye searched hers, his antennae drooping. "Plankton what’s your problem just act normal," he echoed, the word a whispered admission. Karen's filled with pain as she heard the echoes of Hanna's accusations. "You're not a problem," she said, her voice a soft reassurance. "You're just... you." But Plankton's echo grew louder, "Just you," he repeated, his face a mask of distress. "Wife... better." Karen wrenched at the thought of him feeling less than, his autism a prison of misunderstanding. "You're not a problem, Plankton," she whispered fiercely, her hand gripping his. Her voice was a lifeline, a reminder that he was loved, that his existence was not a mistake. But the echoes of Hanna's words continued, a relentless beat in his head. "Better," he murmured, his voice a shadow of hope. Karen's heart broke as she heard the echo of his own fear, the doubt planted by Hanna's accusation. "Better," he said again, the word a prayer. Her hand tightened on his. "You're not a problem," she said, her voice a declaration. "You're not something to be fixed." Plankton's eye searched hers, a flicker of hope. Karen knew she had to help him find peace amidst the storm of accusations. "You're not a monster." He stared at her, eye brimming with tears, his body curling in on itself. The weight of Hanna's words pressed down on him, his shoulders trembling with the effort to hold it all in. But the dam broke, and tears streamed down his face, each one a silent confession of his pain. Karen's heart clenched as she watched him, her own eyes filling with tears of empathy. Hanna stood there, her anger now replaced by a deep sense of guilt and sadness. "Plankton," she began, her voice trembling as she touched his shoulder. "NO!" Plankton screamed, pushing Hanna's hand away with such force that she stumbled back. "What's wrong?" she choked, her hands reaching out in an instinctive plea for peace. But Plankton was a whirlwind, his body trembling with the effort to push back against her touch. "No more," he murmured, his voice a whisper. "No more." Hanna stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides, her heart racing. "I'm sorry," she stammered. Plankton's eye remained on Karen, his body a tight coil of emotion. "No more," he whispered, the words a prayer for understanding. Karen could see the pain in his expression, the fear that Hanna's touch had brought to the surface. But Plankton's mind was a labyrinth of pain, each twist and turn a reflection of Hanna's accusations. "You," he murmured, his voice a whisper of accusation. Hanna felt a chill run down her spine, his gaze a knife that sliced through her. "Plankton, I didn't mean..." Hanna began. "Hanna hurt me," he murmured, his voice a ghostly echo of the anger he felt. Karen watched the scene unfold. "No, Plankton," she said gently. "Hanna didn't mean to hurt you. She just doesn't understand." Her voice was a soft breeze, trying to calm the storm in his mind. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on Hanna, his eye a whirlpool of emotion. "Hurt," he murmured, the word a cry of betrayal. "Hanna hurt." His voice was a whisper of pain. Hanna felt the weight of his accusation, her chest tightening as she realized the depth of his distress. "I didn't mean to," she whispered, her voice a desperate appeal for forgiveness. But Plankton was a fortress, his walls high and thick, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. "No more," he murmured again, his voice a plea for solace. Karen ached as she watched the two of them, the gulf of misunderstanding yawning wide. "It's ok, Plankton," she whispered, her voice a gentle guide. "Hanna's just trying to help." But Plankton's gaze was unyielding, his antennae still. "You," he repeated, his voice a solemn echo. "Hanna... no." Hanna felt the chill of his rejection, her hand hovering in midair as she searched for words to bridge the gap. "I'm sorry," she choked out, tight with unshed tears. "I didn't know Plankton," she began, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to upset you." But Plankton's mind was a labyrinth of sensory input, his body a taut bowstring. "Stop," he murmured, his voice a desperate plea for peace. "Need stop." But Karen knew that words alone would not be enough to bring his world back into focus. With gentle movements, she guided Plankton into a quiet corner of the room, her touch a silent promise of safety. The softness of the cushions under him was a comforting contrast to the harshness of the words still echoing in his mind. She wrapped a weighted blanket around his shaking form, the pressure a grounding force against the storm within. Karen dimmed the lights, reducing the sensory assault on his overwhelmed senses. The flicker of candlelight cast a warm glow over the space, creating a haven from the chaos. "It's ok," she whispered, her voice a gentle reminder of his sanctuary. Plankton's antennae still twitched, his eye darting around the room, but the softness of the blanket was a steadfast reminder of his wife's embrace. He took a deep breath, the scent of lavender filling the air, a calming balm to his frayed nerves. “Thanks; I love you Karen.” Karen’s filled with relief and love as she watched his tense form slowly relax. “I know, Plankton,” she whispered, her hand stroking his arm. “And I love you too.” The gentle rhythm of her touch was a metronome to his racing heart, each stroke bringing him closer to the calm he craved.
NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT v (Autistic author) The room grew quiet, the only sound their ragged breaths. Plankton’s eye grew heavy, his body sinking deeper into the embrace of the cushions and blanket. His mind whirled with the events of the day, the diagnosis, the changes, Hanna’s harsh words, and the overwhelming need to escape. His eyelid drooped, his body slowly unwinding from the tension that had held him hostage. "You're okay," Karen murmured, her voice a gentle lullaby in the quiet of the room. "You're safe." The words washed over Plankton like a warm bath, soothing the raw edges of his overstimulated mind. He let out a shaky sigh, his body sinking into the cocoon she had created. The softness of the cushions cradled him, the weight of the blanket a comforting reminder of her presence. His eye grew heavier, the weight of the day's events lifting from his shoulders. Karen's voice was a gentle lullaby, a constant reminder that he was not alone in this new reality. "You're okay," she whispered. "You're safe." The warmth of the room enveloped him, the candles casting a soft glow that danced on the walls. His breaths grew deep and even, his body finally relaxing into sleep. Hanna watched from a distance, filled with regret and sorrow. She saw Plankton’s peaceful features, a stark contrast to the turmoil he'd been in moments before. His small frame looked so fragile, his antennae resting gently on the pillow. Her hand hovered over him, wanting to offer comfort but afraid of the reaction she might elicit. She took a tentative step forward, her heart in her throat. What had she done? Her mind raced with the echoes of their argument. Hanna's gaze lingered on his sleeping face, the lines of distress now smoothed away by the gentle embrace of slumber. She felt a pang of regret for the harshness of her words, the accusations she had thrown at him in a fit of anger. Her hand hovered above his forehead, a silent offer of comfort, but she held back. How could she touch him now, after causing so much pain? Her screen searched his serene expression, her heart aching for the friend she had lost in the storm of misunderstanding. Plankton's features, once twisted with anger and fear, were now a canvas of peace. His antennae lay still against the pillow, a stark contrast to the tumult of moments prior. Hanna felt a tear slide down her cheek as she took in the sight of him, so vulnerable and alone in his corner of the room. Her hand hovered over his forehead, a silent apology for the hurt she had caused. The warmth of her palm was a ghostly presence in the air, yearning to bridge the gap her words had created. But she held back, fearful of the reaction she might stir in his slumber. Hanna searched his tranquil face, the echoes of their confrontation a stark contrast to his current peace. The soft rise and fall of his chest was a testament to his resilience, his ability to find calm amidst the chaos. She felt a wave of sorrow wash over her, regretting her role in the storm that had ravaged his mind. Her hand hovered above his face, the warmth of her palm a silent apology for the pain she had inflicted. But she knew that touch was a minefield for Plankton now, a gesture that might shatter the fragile serenity he had found. So, she simply watched. Hanna searched his features, her gaze lingering on the delicate curve of his antennae, the way his eye was shut, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Plankton's face was a canvas of peace in the candlelit room, a stark contrast to the tumultuous scene that had just unfolded. His sleep was a sanctuary she dared not disturb. Her hand hovered over him, wanting to smooth his furrowed forehead but held back by fear of what her touch might do to him. Her mind raced with a whirlwind of regret and sorrow. What had she said to him? What had she done? Hanna's a storm of emotion, her thoughts a cacophony of doubt and despair. She had never meant to cause him pain, had never understood the depth of his distress. Her hand hovered above his sleeping form, a silent testament to her regret. The candlelight cast a soft glow over his face, his features etched with the traces of his anguish. Plankton's single eye was closed, a tiny line of tension still present between his antennae. His breaths came slow and deep, a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier cries. The quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the tumult of her thoughts, each breath a reminder of the damage her words had wrought. Hanna's gaze lingered on his sleeping form, her hands clenched at her sides. How could she have been so blind, so cruel? She watched as his antennae twitched in his sleep, his mouth slighty parted. Karen approached Hanna, her movements deliberate and calm. "Look," she whispered, guiding her hand to Plankton's shoulder. "This is how you touch him." Hanna searched her for guidance, the weight of her actions heavy on her mind. "Like this?" she asked, her fingers hovering above his body, unsure. Karen nodded, a soft smile gracing her. "Yes," she murmured. "Gently, with care." She guided Hanna's hand, her fingertips brushing the outline of Plankton's shoulder. The touch was light, feather-soft, a gentle caress that sent a shiver of comfort through him. Plankton's antennae twitched in his sleep, his body responding to the familiarity of Karen's touch. His breathing grew deeper, his form more relaxed under the weight of her hand. Hanna's screen searched Karen's, looking for reassurance. "See?" Karen whispered. "He's calmer now." The gentleness in her voice was a stark contrast to the harshness of their earlier exchange. "This is how you touch him when he's upset," she said, her hand guiding Hanna's. "With care, with love." Under her guidance, Hanna's fingers hovered over Plankton's shoulder, barely making contact with his skin. The touch was a silent promise of apology, of understanding, of a bond that went beyond the surface of their friendship. Karen watched as Hanna's hand trembled, the weight of their situation heavy upon them both. "It's ok," she whispered. "He's safe now." Guiding her friend's hand, Karen demonstrated the gentle squeeze that Plankton responded to, the pressure a silent reminder of her love and support. Hanna searched his face, the guilt in them dimming as she felt his body relax under her tentative touch. "Just like this," Karen murmured, her voice a gentle guidance in the quiet room. Her fingertips traced a circle on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that she knew by heart. Plankton's antennae stirred slightly, his body acknowledging the familiar comfort. "It's all about his sensory needs," she explained softly, her voice a soothing balm. Hanna's hand mirrored Karen's, the softness of her touch a stark contrast to her earlier anger. Plankton's body reacted immediately, his muscles unclenching, his breaths deepening. The room was a sanctuary of quiet, the only sound the soft sigh of relief. Karen never left Plankton, her gaze a silent instruction. "You see?" she whispered. Hanna nodded, her hand trembling slightly as she mirrored Karen's movements. The contact was light, almost ethereal, a silent communication that transcended words. She felt him relax under her touch, his breaths growing deeper. "It's okay," Karen murmured, her voice a gentle reassurance. The candlelight danced on the walls, casting shadows that seemed to hold their breath as they watched over him. Plankton's sleep grew more peaceful, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. Under Karen's guidance, Hanna's hand grew steadier, her touch a silent apology. Each stroke, each squeeze, was a promise to learn, to understand, to be a better friend. The softness of her movements was a stark contrast to the harshness of her words, a testament to her willingness to change. Plankton's body grew still, his antennae lying flat against the pillow. The room was a sanctuary of quiet, the candle's glow a gentle reminder of the love that surrounded him. Hanna watched him filled with sorrow and regret. "Thank you," she whispered to Karen, her voice a fragile thread in the stillness. Karen never left his peaceful visage, a silent prayer of gratitude for the calm they had restored. "You have to understand," she murmured, her voice a gentle teach. "He has a condition..” "I just... I thought he was being difficult." The words hung in the air, a confession of ignorance and pain. Karen ached for her friend, the depth of her remorse evident. "It's not difficulty," Karen explained gently. "It's just... different." Hanna's screen searched hers, a flicker of understanding beginning to dawn. "I didn't know," she whispered, her voice a plea for forgiveness. "I didn't mean to hurt him." Karen nodded, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "I know," she said softly. "But now you do. And now, we learn together."
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY v (Autistic author) The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with the unspoken words of regret and uncertainty. Plankton's humming becomes the only sound in the room. Sandy's eyes are glued to Plankton, watching his hands move in a mesmerizing pattern. His humming grows slightly louder, filling the space around them with a comforting buzz. Despite the simplicity of the act, it's a powerful declaration of his new reality. "Plankton are you ok?" Sandy asks him. Plankton's humming stops abruptly, his gaze snaps to her. "Book," he says with longing. "Want book." Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with newfound understanding. "Of course," she says, standing up. She and Karen move to the shelf where she had placed the book earlier. Karen reaches up, her hand carefully retrieving it. "Here," she says, her voice calm, handing the science book to him. He opens it, his gaze immediately drawn to the index table in the back. His eye scans the rows, his brain finding comfort in the predictability of the page numbers. He starts to read the index aloud, his voice a monotone that fills the room with a strange rhythm. "Quantum Mechanics... 134," he reads, his finger tracing the line. "Relativity, Special and General... 212." Karen and Sandy listen, their expressions a mix of wonder and concern. They've never seen Plankton so engrossed in anything other than his own schemes before. Sandy's gaze follows the movement of his finger as it traces the numbers, her mind trying to grasp the significance of his actions. "Why does he read the index like that?" she whispers to Karen. Karen's smile is filled with both love and pride. "It's his way of finding order," she concurs. "The numbers, the patterns, it brings him comfort." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. His focus on the book is intense, his voice a steady rhythm as he reads off the page numbers. "Biology... 37. Chemistry... 101," he drones. Karen sits beside him, her hand on his back, providing the gentle pressure he craves. The sound of his voice, the comfort of the book's familiar weight, it's all part of his new routine. Sandy sits opposite, her paws clasped in her lap, watching intently. Her gaze flickers from Plankton to Karen and back again. She's learning, trying to understand. Plankton's voice rises in excitement as he reaches the physics section. "Quantum Entanglement... 543!" he exclaims, his hands flapping. His eye lit up, a rare smile spreading across his face. Karen's smiles. This was the Plankton she knew, the one who found delight in the complexity of the universe. He reads on, his voice picking up speed. "String Theory... 621! Gravity Waves... 784!" His stimming becomes more animated, his hands fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, each flap a silent declaration of his newfound obsession with order. Sandy's curiosity is piqued, but she's careful not to interrupt, instead watching him with a newfound respect. Karen smiles, her hand still on his back, feeling the warmth of his excitement through her metal shell. "Plankton, why do you like the index so much?" Sandy asks, keeping her voice soft, when the doorbell rings. Karen's head snaps up, the interrupted moment forgotten. "I'll get it," she says, standing quickly. SpongeBob's face appears in the doorway. "Hi, Karen!" he says, his voice bright and cheerful. "Hi, Sandy!" Sandy's eyes dart to the closed bedroom door, then back to Karen. "I should go," she says, standing up. "Let you guys have some space." Karen nods, her gaze following Sandy's. "Thank you," she whispers. "Bye Sandy. Sponge Bob, come on in; Plankton's in the bedroom.." SpongeBob's now going in, his eyes wide with excitement. "What's up, Plankton?" he says, his voice a bubbly burst of enthusiasm. Plankton's head snaps up, his eye wide. "SpongeBob," he says, his voice excitedly affectionate. Sponge Bob's eyes widen at the sight of Plankton's intense focus on the book. "Wow, Plankton, you're really into that, huh?" Plankton's hands stop moving, his gaze shifting from the index to Sponge Bob's smiling face. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice filled with glee. He jumps up from the bed, the book forgotten as he rushes to embrace his friend. Sponge Bob stumbles backward, surprise etched on his features as Plankton's arms wrap around his waist. "Whoa, buddy," he says, his eyes wide. "What's gotten into you?" Plankton's grip tightens, his body vibrating with joy. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Sponge Bob's smile falters, his hands awkwardly patting Plankton's back. "It's ok, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "I'm just here to visit." Plankton pulls away, his eye shining with joy with a warmth Sponge Bob isn't used to seeing from him. "Come, sit," he says, his voice eager. He pats the spot on the bed next to him. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of happiness and concern. Sponge Bob sits down, his body tense. "Plankton, you ok?" he asks, his eyes searching Plankton's. Plankton nods, his hands still flapping in excitement. "Good," he says, his voice monotone yet earnest.
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY vi (Autistic author) Plankton holds up the science book he had been clutching, the pages fluttering in his excitement. Sponge Bob's eyes flick to the book, then back to Plankton's face. "You're acting different." Plankton's smile falters, his hands stilling momentarily. "No bad," he insists, his voice a bit too cheerful. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's eyes search Plankton's, trying to read the truth behind his words. "But you've never been this... affectionate before," he says, his voice tentative. Plankton's smile widens. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice a sing-song. "You are good friend." He leans in closer, his antennas quivering. "Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen further, his spongy cheeks reddening. "Plankton, what's going on?" he asks, his tone filled with confusion. "You've never said that before." Plankton's smile only grows broader. "No bad," he repeats, his voice still monotone. "Good day. Happy." He starts to rock back and forth on the bed, his hands flapping in a pattern that seems almost... happy? Sponge Bob's confusion deepens. Plankton had never been one to show affection, let alone so openly. "What's going on?" he asks again, his voice laced with concern. Plankton's response is a repetitive giggle, his eye locked on Sponge Bob's face. "Good day," he says, his hands flapping in a pattern that matches his words. "Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen in surprise. Plankton nods vigorously, his hands flapping rapidly. "Very happy," he says, his voice high and excited. "Best friend happy." Sponge Bob's confusion turns to concern. "Plankton, are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's giggle turns to a laugh, a sound Sponge Bob rarely hears from him. "Yes," he says, his voice still monotone. "Happy." Sponge Bob watches his friend, his heart racing. "What happened to you?" he asks, his concern growing with each passing moment. Plankton's laughter fades into a grin. "No bad," he says, his hands still fluttering in the air. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with worry. "What's really going on?" Plankton's grin turns into a frown, his hands stopping their motion. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "No bad. Happy." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with confusion, but he can't ignore the desperation in Plankton's tone. He reaches out, his hand resting gently on Plankton's arm. "But why are you so happy?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. Plankton's frown deepens, his mind racing to find the right words. "Because," he says, his voice strained. "I have friend. Best friend." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his hand still on Plankton's arm. "But we've always been friends," he says, his voice filled with confusion. Plankton's smile is wide, his eye unblinking. "Yes," he says, his voice still monotone. "Best friends. Happy." Sponge Bob's mind races. Something is clearly different about Plankton, but he doesn't know what. "But, Plankton," he starts, his voice tentative. "What happened to make you so... so...?" He struggles for the right word. Plankton's smile fades slightly, his gaze dropping to the book in his lap. "Book," he says, his voice flat. "Good book." Sponge Bob nods, trying to follow the conversation. "Yeah, it looks interesting," he says, his eyes searching for a clue. But Plankton's gaze is fixed on the book, his hands resuming their rhythmic flapping. "Good book," he repeats, his voice a gentle mantra. Sponge Bob's eyes flick from the book to Plankton's hands, his mind racing to connect the dots. "Is something wrong, Plankton?" he asks, his voice soft with worry. Plankton's hands stop their flapping abruptly, his eye snapping to Sponge Bob's face. "No wrong," he says, his voice earnest. "Just happy." Sponge Bob's expression is one of bewilderment. "But you've always liked your science books," he says, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the situation. "What's different about this one?" Plankton's smile returns, his hands resuming their flapping. "This one," he says, his voice filled with a newfound enthusiasm. "Good book. Happy book." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy heart swelling with a mixture of joy and concern. "What makes this one so special?" Plankton's hands flutter with excitement as he opens the book to a random page. "Look," he says, his voice a high-pitched squeak. "See?" Sponge Bob leans in, his eyes scanning the dense text filled with scientific terms. He nods, trying to appear engaged, though he has no clue what he's looking at. "Wow, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with forced enthusiasm. "That's... really interesting." Plankton's smile widens, his hands flapping in excitement. "Yes," he says, his voice a cheerful monotone. "Good book." Sponge Bob nods, still confused but not wanting to rain on his friend's parade. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it," he says, his voice warm. Plankton's hands stop moving momentarily. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "You are best friend." He leans in closer, his antennas quivering with excitement. Sponge Bob's eyes widen in surprise as he feels a sudden wave of warmth and affection from Plankton, something that's never been present in their usually antagonistic friendship. "What's going on, Plankton?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Plankton's smile doesn't waver. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice still monotone. "You are good. You make Plankton happy." "What's happened to make you so affectionate, Plankton?" Sponge Bob's question hangs in the air, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected warmth from his usually adversarial friend. Plankton's response is a repetitive giggle, his hands resuming their flapping. "No bad," he says, his voice cheerful. "Good day." He pats the bed next to him. "Sit, Sponge Bob. Read book." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy body frozen in place. "I don't think I can read that, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with uncertainty. "It's really complicated." Plankton nods, his smile remaining constant. "It's okay," he says, his voice soothing. "You try." He pushes the book closer to Sponge Bob, his hand guiding him to the page. Sponge Bob hesitates, his thumb flipping through the pages. The words are a blur of symbols and numbers, his mind struggling to make sense of them. "But, Plankton, I don't understand any of this," he admits, his voice filled with frustration. Plankton's hand stops him, his eye wide with excitement. "Doesn't matter," he says, his voice cheerful. "You are here. Best friend." Sponge Bob's confusion turns to concern. "But Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "You're not acting like yourself." Plankton's smile fades slightly, his hands stilling. "Self," he repeats, his voice contemplative. He looks at Sponge Bob, his eye searching his friend's face for understanding. Sponge Bob's expression is one of confusion and concern. "Is this a joke?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's smile falters for a moment before growing wider. "No joke," he says, his voice a singsong. "Happy." He pats the bed again, his hand a silent invitation. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with compassion. He sits down beside his friend. "Plankton," he starts, his voice tentative. "Is everything ok?" Plankton nods vigorously, his hands flapping with excitement. "Everything is good," he says, his voice a monotone cheer. "Best day." Sponge Bob's gaze lingers on his friend, searching for any sign of distress. "But, Plankton," he says, his voice filled with uncertainty. "You're not usually like this." Plankton's smile never fades. "Don't know," he says, his voice calm. "But now, happy." Sponge Bob's heart clenches, his fears for his friend's well-being growing stronger. "But what about your schemes?" he asks, his voice hopeful. Plankton's eye blinks, the thought of his usual plans of world domination momentarily forgotten. "Schemes?" he repeats, his voice confused. Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, you know, your plans to steal the Krabby Patty secret formula," he says, his tone light. Plankton's smile falters, his hands stopping their flapping. "Krabby Patty?" he asks, his voice distant. "No want Krabby Patty. Happy." Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his spongy mind racing. "You don't want to steal the formula?" he asks, his voice incredulous, now really suspicious. Plankton shakes his head, his antennas swaying slightly. "No," he says, his voice still monotone. "Only happy." Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with confusion, but he can't ignore the genuine smile on his friend's face. "Okay, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "If you're happy, then I'm happy for you." Plankton's eye lit up, his hands flapping with excitement. "Thank you," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "Best friend."
KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY iii (Autistic author) The sound of the door opening interrupted. Sandy barged in. "Hey, Karen!" she called out. "Hi, Sandy; come in.." Karen says. Sandy looked over at Plankton sitting at the kitchen table, his plate empty, his gaze fixed on the spot where his food had been. "Hey, Plankton!" she exclaimed, as he got up to go sit on the living room floor with a science book. She followed him. "What's up, buddy?" she asked, her voice cheerful. But Plankton ignored her, his focus solely on the pages in front of him. Karen watched their interaction with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Plankton, you ok?" Sandy's voice grew softer, her eyes narrowing as she studied her friend. "You seem... different." Karen tensed, waiting for his response. Plankton didn't look up from his book, his eye scanning the pages. "Plankton?" Sandy tried again, her voice a mix of confusion and concern. But Plankton remained oblivious, his new condition rendering him unable to read social cues. "Why?" he asked, his tone matter-of-fact, as if inquiring about the weather. Sandy's smile faltered. "Well, you're just sitting there, not saying anything," she said, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. Plankton didn't look up from his book. "Reading," he said, his voice devoid of any inflection. Sandy's confusion grew into hurt. "Is everything ok?" she asked, her voice tentative. Plankton, still engrossed in his book, didn't look up. "Ok," he murmured. Sandy's known Plankton for years, but his behavior today was unlike anything she had ever seen. Karen prompts him. "Plankton, say hello to Sandy." He glances up from his book, his gaze passing over her without recognition. "Say, say hi Sandy," he says, his voice lacking any warmth. Sandy's smile fades, her paws clenching slightly with irritation. "What's gotten into you, Plankton?" she snaps, her voice sharper than she had intended. "You're acting like you don't even know me!" Karen's circuits whir with activity. "Sandy, it's okay," she hesitates, not quite sure how to explain without revealing the truth. "I'll go pick up some soda pop drinks." She says, leaving them both. Sandy watches her leave, her expression a mix of anger and hurt. She turns to Plankton. "What's your deal, Plankton?" she asks, her voice tight. "You've been acting weird ever since I got here." Plankton's eye snaps to hers, his gaze unnervingly intense. "Weird," he repeats, as if processing the word for the first time. "Different." Sandy's anger bubbles to the surface. "Yeah, you're different. You're ignoring me!" she exclaims, her paws on her hips. Plankton's expression doesn't change. "Reading," he says simply. Her frustration grows. "You're always reading, Plankton," Sandy says, her voice rising. "But you've never ignored me like this before!" Plankton's eye blinks, his focus shifting to her. "Sorry," he says, the word a mere echo of what he used to express. It's clear his social awareness has shifted. He doesn't understand the subtleties of her emotions anymore. Sandy's hurt turns to anger. "You don't just say sorry and go back to ignoring me," she snaps. "What's going on with you?" But Plankton seems lost in his own world, the words on the pages of his book more real to him than the friend standing before him. Sandy's patience wears thin. "Why aren't you listening to me?" she demands. "Listening," Plankton murmurs, his gaze never leaving the book. Sandy's eyes widen, her anger building. "I'm right here!" she says, her voice a mix of frustration and sadness. "What is so important that you can't even look at me?" But Plankton's mind is elsewhere, his thoughts racing through the pages of his book. The words swim before his eye, each line a puzzle waiting to be solved. He's oblivious to Sandy's hurt, his world now filtered through a new, more intense lens. Sandy's voice pierces through his concentration, her tone sharp. "I said, why aren't you listening to me?" Plankton looks up, his eye dilating slightly as he takes in Sandy's stance. He tries to interpret her body language. "Plankton reading," he says, his voice still flat, his gaze drifting back to the book. Sandy's eyes flash with anger. "That's not what I asked, Plankton!" she says, her voice rising. "What's going on with you? Why are you ignoring me?" Plankton's gaze flicks back to her, his expression still vacant. "Reading," he repeats. The word feels like a shield, a way to explain the inexplicable. Sandy's eyes narrow, her paws snatching the book from his grasp. Plankton's eye widens in surprise at the sudden movement. He tries to retrieve the book, body moving in jerky motions. "Book," he says, his voice still monotone. Sandy holds it out of reach. "Look at me Plankton!" Plankton's arms flail, his body straining to retrieve the book. "Book," he says, his voice desperate, his mind overwhelmed. Sandy, unable to understand feels her own anger flare up. "What's your problem?" she snaps, holding the book higher. "You're acting like a little kid!" Plankton's eye locks onto the book. "Mine," he whispers, voice strained. Sandy's seen him at his worst, but this is something she can't comprehend. "I'm not a toy for you to ignore!" she shouts. She hid the book on a high shelf. Plankton's body tenses. "Mine," he repeats, his voice rising in desperation. Sandy's eyes fill with tears of frustration. "Why are you acting like this?" He stands up, his body shaking. "MINE," he shouts. "What's gotten into you? Why are you being like this?" Plankton's eye darts around the room, unable to hold Sandy's gaze. "Plankton, you're acting like a complete jerk," Sandy says, her voice shaking. "No wonder Karen is always so tired with you." "Karen," Plankton murmurs. "Karen ok?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern. Sandy throws her arms in the air, exasperated. "How can you be so selfish? Don't you know that Karen is sick of you?" "Sick of me?" he echoes. "Yes, sick of you," she snaps. "Why don't you try acting normal? Perhaps then Karen would be happier! Or better yet, leave her!" The words hang in the air like a toxic cloud, their sting hitting Plankton's core. But his new brain can't process the depth of her anger. "Karen happy," he whispers, his voice a broken echo of his former self. Sandy's eyes flash with rage. "You don't know anything," she spits out, her words like acid. "You're just a selfish, self-centered plankton who doesn't care about how Karen feels!" Plankton's concepts of "selfish" and "sick of" are foreign to his new way of thinking. He tries to find the patterns in her words, the logic in her accusations, but it's like trying to solve an impossible equation. "No," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Karen not sick of me?" "You really don't get it, do you?" she says, her voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "You're so caught up you can't see what's right in front of you! Karen doesn't deserve this!" Plankton's eye narrows slightly, his mind struggling to piece together the puzzle of her emotions. "Karen happy," he repeats, his voice strained. Sandy's anger turns to despair. "You don't even know what you're saying," she says, her voice heavy. "You're so wrapped up in your own little world that you can't see how much Karen does for you, and how much you hurt her." As if on cue, Karen returns with coffee. "I'm back," she says, her voice a gentle hum. She notices the tension in the room and Plankton's distress. "Is everything ok?" she asks, placing the drinks on the table. Sandy glares at Plankton. "No," she says, her voice shaking. "Everything is not ok. Plankton's been acting weird all morning and, I told him how you're always tired of him, and he just doesn't get it." Karen takes in the scene. She tries to intervene gently. "Sandy, I think there's something you should know," she begins, but Sandy cuts her off, turning to Plankton. "See? Even Karen thinks you're a burden!" Plankton's world shatters. Sandy's words hit him like a tidal wave, her accusations sinking into his new reality. His teary gaze locks onto Karen, desperation in his voice. "Burden?" he croaks. Karen's circuits racing as she tries to smooth over the situation. "No, Sandy," she says, her voice calm but firm. "That's not what I said." "Don't lie to me, Karen," Sandy snaps, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "I can see you've had enough and if Plankton can't see that, then perhaps it's best if he just leaves." Karen's circuits race with a mix of emotions - anger at Sandy's accusations, sadness at Plankton's distress, and fear of what this means for their friendship. "That's not true," she says, yet Plankton's searching for any hint of deception. Sandy's eyes are steely, her body language confrontational. "Why don't you just leave her alone?" she spits out, her voice thick with frustration. Plankton stands up, his sobs echoed through the corridor as he runs back to the bedroom, shutting the door with a thud. "Sandy that was uncalled for," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. Sandy's anger turns to surprise. "What are you talking about?" she says. "I'm just telling the truth.." Karen's expression is a mix of sorrow and anger, her voice tight. "You don't know what he's going through." Sandy's anger fades, replaced by confusion. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice softer. Karen takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she had been dreading. "Plankton had an accident, hit his head on the vault and got knocked out." Sandy's in shock. "What? Is he ok?" she asks. Karen sighs, her shoulders slumping. "Plankton has autism now," she says. "He can't help the way he's acting." The revelation hits Sandy like a ton of bricks. The realization of her own harshness crashes over her. "Oh no," she murmurs, her eyes filling with tears. "I had no idea." Her gaze drifts to the closed bedroom door. "What have I done?" she whispers, her voice cracking.
He felt his eyelid grow heavy to anesthesia. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, you're gonna start feeling sleepy," the doctor's voice echoed. The world around him grew fuzzy, sounds becoming muffled and indistinct. His head lolled, body slack. The nurse's grew blurry, darkness before not even nothingness. Karen, his wife, sat by him. Finally, the doctor stepped back, turned and gave her a thumbs up. The nurse began to clean Plankton's face, wiping away the excess saliva and bleeding with gentle touch. Karen follows as they wheel him out. His bed was pushed into a small cubicle, his breathing slow and even. In stumbled SpongeBob. Karen smiles. "The surgery went well, he's just sleeping it off," she assured. SpongeBob's taking in the beeping monitors. "What's all this for?" he asks, curiosity piqued. "To make sure he's ok while he's asleep," Karen explained. "The doctor said he'd be out for a little while." The yellow sponge nodded, his gaze lingering on the small wads of gauze peeking out from the sides of Plankton's mouth. "What's that?" he asks. "It's to help absorb.." Sponge Bob took in the sight of Plankton, who had begun to drool slightly onto the pillow beneath his head. The saliva pooled. "Oh no, Plankton. You're drooling!" Sponge Bob watched as drool continued to form like a thin string connecting Plankton's mouth to the pillow. Karen chuckled softly. "It's normal, Sponge Bob. He won't feel it as he's asleep." SpongeBob nodded, but curiosity remained. "Can I... I mean, should I... wipe it up?" he asks. Karen laughs. "It's ok, they'd take care of it. Just let him rest." "I promise to be super gentle" Karen nodded, a small smile playing. "Alright. Just be careful." His movements were deliberate, eyes never leaving Plankton's mouth as he approached. The drool strand grew longer, a tiny bridge between his friend and the pillow. The droplet fell away, landing on the pillow with a soft splat. Plankton stirred slightly but didn't wake. "It's fine. He's going to be a bit out of it when he wakes up anyway. Why don't you try talking to him while we wait for him to wake? It might help him feel more at ease." "Hey it's Sponge Bob. You're ok, just having a little nap. No Krabby Patties to steal right now," he added with a chuckle. Plankton's eye began to flutter, a sure sign that he was slowly coming back to consciousness. His body twitched, the anesthesia wearing off. "Looks like he's waking up," she said. Karen leaned closer, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his. "Honey, it's me," she whispered. "You're ok." Plankton's unfocused and glazed. "Where... what... happened?" he mumbled. "You had wisdom teeth removed. You're in recovery," she said, voice soothing. Plankton blinked. "Wis...wis...what?" "You had a little...uh...dental appointment," SpongeBob said. "Teeth...gone?" he mumbled, still groggy. "You're fine," she assured. "I feel... funny," he giggled, voice silly. "Just relax, Plankton," Karen said. "But...but I wanna...see!" Plankton protested, arms flailing weakly. "Plankton, you need rest." "But I'm not tired!" he exclaimed, as his head lolled back onto the pillow. "I... I want to dance," he said, voice still slurred, which only resulted in more drool escaping. "First, you gotta get better," she said, voice earnest. Plankton's giggles grew, his eye half-closed. "But I'm already the best... at... at... at... " he mumbled, trailing off. "It's anesthesia," the nurse chimed in. "It can make people say some funny things. You're just feeling a bit loopy, Plankton. You'll be back to your usual self soon." Plankton's giggles grew softer, his eye struggling to stay open. "But... but... I'm not tired," he protested weakly, his voice a mere whisper. His eyelid began to droop once more. Sponge Bob leaned in. "You just had surgery, Plankton. You need to rest," he said firmly. Plankton's giggles turned into snores, his tiny body giving in despite his protests. "He's going to be out for a while," the nurse said. "Anesthesia can take time to wear off completely." Karen nodded, watching his chest rise and fall with each snore. Sponge Bob reached out and lightly patted Plankton's arm. Plankton's snores grew quieter and stirred, eye cracking. "Wha... SpongeBob?" he mumbled, groggy. Sponge Bob's heart swelled at the sight of his confused expression. "Just keeping you company as you wake." Plankton's eye rolled to the side. "Wha... what are you doing?" he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to lift his hand to his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the bed with a limp thud. "Drool? I...I can't stop," he mumbled, his drool pooling around the fresh gauze. Sponge Bob chuckles. "It's ok, Plankton," he said. Plankton's eye narrows. "Not funny," he mumbled, words barely intelligible. Yet as he said it, another string of drool began to form, stretching from his mouth to the pillow. Sponge Bob's chuckles grew. "I know, I know. It's just... you're so... so... " he couldn't find words, laughter took over. Plankton's unable to control his drool. "I'm so...so...so..." he tried to form a coherent thought. "So what, Plankton?" "I'm...I'm not...not...drooling," he managed to say, words barely coherent. But even as he spoke, a new droplet formed at the corner of his mouth. "You sure?" "St...stop," Plankton managed to mumble, his mouth open and drooling again. "It's...it's...embarrassing." Sponge Bob smiled. "I know, you're ok. The surgery went well," he said. "Alright, we can get him ready to go home now," says nurse. They carefully lift Plankton from the bed, body still limp from the anesthesia. "You ok?" "Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, head lolling to one side. He struggled to keep his eye open, but the medication was too strong. Plankton's eye drooped shut once more, his snores echoing through the hall. "Whoa, there he goes again…" "He's still pretty out of it," she said. Plankton's head lolled to the side, his mouth hanging open. "Whoa, Plankton, wake up," Sponge Bob said, gently shaking his shoulder. "Mmph," Plankton mumbled, his eye cracking open. "Where...are we?" "Almost to the car," Karen said. "Just a bit longer." But Plankton's eyelid grew heavier. The nurse disappeared through the doors, leaving Karen and Sponge Bob to maneuver Plankton into a more upright position. His head kept flopping to one side, his snores grew louder. "Come on, Plankton, stay with us," Karen urged. Sponge Bob leaned close. "You ok?" he asked, patting Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's head lolled to the side, eye half- open. "Mmph...tired," he mumbled. Karen managed to get him in, his body collapsing into the seat like a ragdoll. She buckled him in. "You're gonna be ok," she whispered. Sponge Bob climbed into the backseat. Karen started the engine. "Let's get him home." The car ride was a blur of Plankton's snores and occasional mumble. Sponge Bob sat in the back, his hand on Plankton's shoulder, keeping his friend from lolling too far to the side. Each time Plankton nodded off, his mouth would droop, and gauze would slip out. "Plankton, gotta keep it in." Plankton mumbled something incoherent, his mouth still open and drooling. Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his hand ready to catch the gauze if it fell out again. Plankton's eye fluttered open, looking around the car. "Just stay with us, ok?" Sponge Bob nodded, hand on Plankton's shoulder. He watched as Plankton's eye drooped, the gauze slipping again. He leaned over and gently pushed it back. "We're almost there." Karen chuckled from the driver's seat. Sponge Bob’s grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening slightly. "Want to play a game?" "Mmph...game?" he mumbled. "I spy with my little eye, something..." But Plankton's head had already dropped back, snores echoing. Karen glanced in the mirror. "I think he's out for the count," she said. Sponge Bob was still vigilant, making sure Plankton didn't tumble out of the car. With Karen's help, they managed to get him to the couch. Sponge Bob helped prop Plankton up, careful not to jostle him too much. Everything’s just fine.
The evening in the quiet suburban street was punctuated by the rhythmic ticking of a lonely grandfather clock. In the corner of a small, meticulously organized study, Plankton sat hunched over his desk, the glow of her computer screen casting a pale blue hue across his furrowed brow. His eye, usually bright with the spark of a million ideas, was now bloodshot and weary, darting back and forth as he scanned the digital documents sprawled across his dual monitors. Karen, his devoted wife, peered through the crack in the door, her concern etched on her face. She knew the signs of his insomnia all too well: the way his fingers danced erratically on the keyboard, his occasional sighs of frustration, and the jittery way he'd bounce his leg when he was stuck on a problem. She gently pushed the door open, the faint squeak alerting him to her presence. "Plankton, it's 2 AM. Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked softly, her voice carrying the gentle lilt of a concerned wife. Plankton spun around in his chair, the sudden movement sending a wave of dizziness crashing over him. He rubbed his eye, trying to erase the fog of exhaustion. "Karen, I'm so close. This new invention could change everything. Just one more hour, I promise," he replied, his voice hopeful yet strained. She knew that tone, the one that meant he'd be up until dawn. Karen stepped into the room, her form a stark contrast to the stark office decor. She approached him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've been at it for days," she said, her voice filled with a mix of concern and understanding. "Maybe a break is what you need." He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "I know you're right," Plankton admitted, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "But if I stop now, I might lose the thread of thought." "You're always so driven," Karen said, with a warm affection that had only grown stronger over the years. "But even 'bad guys' need to rest." With a weary smile, Plankton nodded, his gaze lingering on the screens before he reluctantly shut them down. The room plunged into darkness, save for the moon's soft glow filtering through the blinds. Karen guided him to the bedroom, her hand a gentle reassurance in the night. She knew the wheels in his mind were still turning, trying to piece together the elusive solution to his latest project. Once in bed, Plankton lay on his back, his mind racing with possibilities and calculations. Karen, ever the nurturer, suggested a warm cup of tea to help him unwind. She disappeared into the kitchen. While she was gone, Plankton's eye remained open, staring at the ceiling. He felt the weight of his eyelid but sleep remained a distant shore, unreachable despite the gentle tug of fatigue. Karen returned with a steaming cup of chamomile, the aroma wafting through the air like a whispered promise of slumber. She placed it on the nightstand and climbed into bed, curling up beside him. "Here, sip this," she urged, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "It'll help you relax." Plankton took a tentative sip, the warm liquid coating his throat with a comforting warmth. He closed his eye, willing his brain to slow down, but the ideas continued to swirl like a tornado in a teacup. He could feel the heat radiating from Karen's screen, a gentle reminder of the connection that waited for him outside his labyrinth of thoughts. Karen's hand found his, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles against his palm. "Breathe with me," she whispered. "In, out." Plankton followed her lead, their breaths synchronizing in the quiet of the night. The tension in his body began to uncoil, the storm in his mind gradually abating. As they lay there, Karen studied his profile, the shadows playing across his face. She knew the look of determination that etched his features so well. "What's keeping you up?" she asked, her voice barely a murmur. Plankton sighed, his grip on her hand tightening briefly. "It's the Krabby Patty formula," he confessed. "I can't crack it." His frustration was palpable, a silent scream in the serene night. "You're still working on that?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of amazement and concern. The Krabby Patty, a secret recipe guarded by Mr. Krabs that could make or break their business. "I have to," Plankton said, his voice low and serious. Karen nodded, racing for a solution. "Why don't you tell me about it?" she suggested. "Sometimes talking it out can help." Plankton took a deep breath and began to recount his thoughts, his voice a low murmur in the darkness. He spoke of the countless ingredients he'd tried and the endless experiments he'd conducted, all in pursuit of the perfect Krabby Patty. Karen listened intently, her screen never leaving his face, her grip on his hand never wavering. As he talked, the tension in his voice began to ease, the words coming out slower, softer. The warmth of the tea and the gentle pressure of Karen's thumb on his hand lulled him into a state of semi- consciousness. The room grew warmer, the shadows on the ceiling morphing into shapes that danced to the rhythm of his words. Karen noticed the change in his breathing, the softening of his grip, her voice a soft hum in the night. "I think I'm getting there," Plankton mumbled, his words beginning to slur. She took his almost-empty cup and set it aside, then moved closer, her arm wrapping around him. Her touch was a comforting blanket, a familiar anchor in the sea of his thoughts. "Just focus on my voice," Karen whispered, her tone a gentle wave. "Imagine we're on a beach, the waves lapping." Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing deepening as he pictured the scene she described. "The sand is warm, and the stars are out, twinkling like the little bits of genius in your mind." He took another deep breath, the salty scent of the sea mingling with the chamomile in his nose. His body began to relax, the tightness in his shoulders dissipating like the fog of an early morning. Karen continued her soothing monologue, painting a vivid picture of a serene beach under a starlit sky, their favorite place to escape the stresses of their lives. Her voice grew quieter, a gentle lullaby of words that whispered through the dark. Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, his thoughts drifting further and further away from the Krabby Patty formula. Karen watched him closely, her gaze never leaving his face. His breathing grew steadier, the lines of tension smoothing out as he sank deeper into the realm of sleep. Karen waited for any sign that Plankton was still awake. She reached out and gently poked his arm. No response. She pulled the blanket up, tucking him in gently, her hand lingering there for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of him beneath the fabric. She reached over to gently stroke his cheek. His skin was warm, and she felt the soft rumble of a snore vibrate against her fingertips. He was out. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She waited for a response, for the flicker of his eye or the twitch of his antennae that would indicate he was still with her. Nothing. She knew the moment he finally let go, when his hand relaxed in hers and his grip went slack. Leaning closer, she held her hand hovering over his chest to feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. It was steady, deep. Satisfied, she allowed herself a small smile. Plankton was finally asleep. The steady rhythm of his breathing grew deeper, the soft snores that occasionally pierced the silence growing more frequent, brow smoothed out, relaxed. She searched his face for any flicker of consciousness, any sign that he was aware of her touch. But there was none. His features were relaxed, his mouth slightly open as he took in deep, even breaths. "You did it," she whispered to. She knew that his mind had finally found the peace it had been seeking. The room was still, save for the faint sound of the occasional snore from Plankton. His snores grew deeper, the rhythm of his breathing more regular, more rhythmic, and she knew he was in a deep sleep. With a soft smile, she whispered, "Goodnight, Plankton," and gently stroked his antennae. Her hand lingered for a moment before she carefully extracted herself from the tangle of their limbs. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room, but she knew better than to disturb him with its light. She gently disentangled her hand from his and slid out of bed. She squeezed his hand gently, a silent 'goodnight' and a promise of support for when he'd wake to tackle the problem anew. His features were slack, his mouth slightly open, emitting the faintest snore.
CATCH IN MY CHIP ix (Autistic author) With grace of a dancer, Chip slides into the bed beside his dad, his movements calculated and precise. Each inch closer feels like a victory, a step to reconciliation. He's careful not to disturb. His hand reaches for Plankton's, his touch a whisper in the quiet. Plankton's breathing steady and rhythmic. Chip swells with hope, clutches the hand tightly, feeling the strength in the slender fingers. It's a silent declaration of love, an unspoken apology. Karen watches, her screen shimmering with unshed tears. The sight of her son and husband finding their way back to each other fills her heart with a warmth that chases the shadows from the room. She knows this isn't a moment to interrupt, so she simply observes, her hand on Chip's back in silent support. Chip's eyes drift shut, and he lets his body mold to the warmth of his dad's side. The scent of his dad's pillow, a mix of saltwater and something uniquely Plankton, fills his nose, lulling him into a sense of safety. Time seems to stand still in the quiet embrace, each tick of the clock a gentle reminder that moments like these are rare. But eventually, the world outside their sanctuary calls, and Plankton stirs. His antennas twitch, his eye blinking open . He's disoriented at first, his brain still wrapped in the cotton wool of sleep. Then he feels the warmth beside him, the weight of a small hand in his. Plankton's heart stutters, his body tense. His eye find Chip's peaceful face, his son's cheek pressed against his arm. The room is a tableau of quiet, the air thick with the unspoken. He's torn between emotions and fear, his mind racing. He doesn't remember falling asleep, the anger and frustration of last night a distant memory. But here's Chip, a living proof of their unspoken reconciliation. Plankton's antennas quiver, his hand hovering over their entwined fingers. He's afraid to move, to disturb the fragile harmony of the moment. But his body has other plans. His muscles tense, his skin prickling with the need for space. He's not used to this, the warmth, the weight. His autistic brain screams for order, for predictability. He tries to swallow the rising panic, to push it back down into the pit of his stomach where it belongs. Plankton can feel his own heart racing, his antennas quivering with the effort of holding still. His body wants to recoil, to retreat from the sudden assault of sensation. But he can't, not with his son's hand in his. Karen notices the tension in his body, the way his antennas spasm slightly. She knows what's coming, the inevitable retreat. With a gentle touch, she whispers, "It's okay, Plankton. You don't have to handle it if it's too much." Her words are a soothing balm, but they're not enough to calm the storm inside him. Chip's hand tightens slightly around his, and Plankton's eye snap to his son's face. He sees the trust there, the love. It's a punch to the gut, a reminder of all the moments he's missed, all the times he's failed to understand. His hand shakes, the tremble traveling up his arm. He tries to swallow the rising panic, his throat tight. But it's too much, the weight of his son's body, the heat, the smell, the touch. His mind whirrs, his senses overloading. He needs space, to think, to breathe. With a deep, shuddering inhale, he starts to pull away, his body fighting the instinct to shove Chip off the bed. Karen's hand is a gentle weight on his shoulder. "Take it slow," she whispers, her voice a lifeline in the storm. Plankton nods, his antennas still quivering. He tries to push the panic down, to focus on the warmth of Chip's hand, the steady beat of their hearts. But the pressure builds, a crescendo of sensation threatening to crush him. He can't breathe. With a tremble, he starts to pull away, his hand sliding out from under Chip's. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice strained. "It's too much." Karen's hand remains on his shoulder, her eyes filled with compassion. "It's okay," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "We're here." The room spins around Plankton, a whirlwind of colors and shapes. His antennas wave wildly, his grip on reality slipping. He's lost in the chaos of his own mind, the sensory overload a tornado that threatens to consume him. Karen's voice is a beacon, guiding him back to shore. "Breathe," she whispers, her hand still on his shoulder. "In, out, slowly." Her words are a lifeline in the tempest. Plankton nods, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He tries to focus on the sensation of her hand, the gentle pressure of her touch. But the world keeps spinning, the colors blurring together like a watercolor painting left in the rain. He feels the bed shift as Karen sits beside him, her presence a grounding force. "Just breathe," she says, her voice a soft mantra. "You're okay." His chest rises and falls in quick succession, his body's desperate attempt to regulate itself amidst the chaos. His heart races, each beat a staccato in his ears. The room spins, the walls closing in, the ringing in his ears getting louder to where it consumes him, now impenetrable to any other sound. Karen notices the sudden pallor that sweeps over her husband's face, the way his body sags into the bed. Her eyes fill with concern, her hand tightening on his shoulder. "Look at me," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "Take deep breaths." But the ringing in his head is too loud. It's consumed him and impenetrable. He can't hear her. He doesn't hear anything. Karen's voice is a distant echo, the words swallowed by the cacophony in his mind. Her hand on his shoulder is the only real thing, the only anchor keeping him from being swept away. The room spins faster, the colors bleeding into one another until all Plankton can see is a kaleidoscope of sensory overload. The ringing in his ears crescendos, drowning out the world. His chest feels tight, his lungs desperate for air that won't come. He's adrift in a sea of panic, unable to find his way back to the shore. Karen's voice cuts through the din, her hand a firm reminder of reality. "Look at me," she says, her eyes locked on his, her voice a steady lighthouse guiding his way back. "Just me, just us." But Plankton's not hearing anymore. The room is spinning, the colors a whirlwind of chaos. He's lost in the tornado of his own making, the sensory overload a prison he can't escape. His hand shakes, his body tense as his mind begs for reprieve. Karen's eyes widen with concern. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a gentle lullaby. "Look at me." She moves closer, her hand reaching for his face. Her touch is a grounding force, but it's not enough. He's too far gone. The room spins, a blur of color and sound. Plankton's eye is wide with panic, his body trembling. The bed seems to shift beneath him, the walls closing in. His breaths are shallow, his chest tight. He's lost in the tornado of his senses. Karen's hand on his shoulder is a lifeline, but his mind is too far gone. Her voice is a distant whisper, the words unintelligible. All he can feel is the crushing weight of the world pressing down on him, the lights too bright, the noises too loud. And then Chip stirs in his sleep. The movement sends a shiver down Plankton's spine, his body tightening like a coiled spring. The ringing in his ears reaches a crescendo, drowning out everything else. He tries to push the panic back down, to find the calm he desperately needs, but it's like trying to hold back the tide with a paper wall. Karen's eyes are filled with fear as she sees Plankton's descent into overwhelm. She knows the signs all too well. Her hand on his shoulder is now a firm grip, trying to keep him tethered to the here and now. "Look at me," she says, her voice a gentle command. "Just me, just us." But Plankton's gaze is unfocused, his mind swirling with a torrent of sensations that make him feel like he's falling into a bottomless pit. The room seems to spin faster, the light from the window a piercing glare that slices through his retina. He wants to shield his eye, but his arm feels like lead, too heavy to lift. Karen's touch is the only constant, her hand on his shoulder the one thing that feels real amidst the sensory maelstrom. But even that is slipping away as his dizziness crescendos into full-blown vertigo. His vision blurs, the lines of reality smearing into a nauseating whirl of color and light. "Plankton," she says, her voice urgent. "Look at me." The words echo in his head, a distant call amidst the chaos. He tries to focus on her face, her eyes the only constant in the whirlwind of sensations. But the world spins, faster and faster, until all he can see is a blur of color. Her hand on his shoulder is a lifeline, but it's slipping away. He feels himself falling, tumbling into the void of his own mind. His body is a marionette, his strings cut by the storm. The ringing in his ears reaches a crescendo, a symphony of panic that consumes him. Karen's eyes are wide with fear, her grip on him desperate. "Look at me," she repeats, her voice steady. "You're okay." Her hand moves to his face. But Plankton's gaze is glassy, his pupil dilated. He's trapped in the chaos of his senses. The ringing in his ears is a siren's call, pulling him deeper. Karen's hand moves from his shoulder to his cheek, the softness of her touch a stark contrast to the harshness of the world invading his mind. "Look at me," she repeats, her voice a whisper. "You're safe." Her thumb traces the line of his jaw, a gentle guide. But Plankton's eye is glassy, lost in the storm. Her words are gentle, trying to soothe him. But the flames are too high, too strong. He's drowning in his own senses. With a tremble, Karen's hand moves to his cheek, her touch a soft caress. "Look at me," she whispers, her voice a lifeline thrown into the tempest. "You're ok."
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."
ᵀʰᵉ ᴬᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ pt. 5 ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃᵗ‧ "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵐᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉˡˡ; ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ˢʰᵉᵈᵈᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ?" ᴬˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵉʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ "ᔆᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᵈᵒᶻᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ˢᵒⁿᵒʳᵒᵘˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰˢ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃʳᵐ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵍ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵃ ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ⸴ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱᵗ‧ End finale
COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 7 (Neurodivergent author) Hanna's pixel eyes fill with tears, her hand hovering over her mouth in shock. "Oh, Plankton," she says, her voice trembling like a leaf. The room is a frozen tableau, everyone at a loss for words. But Karen is unflappable. Her eyes dart around the room, assessing, planning. "It's ok," she repeats, her voice a steady beacon. "Let's just move aside, give him some space." They retreat to the couch, the cushions swallowing them like a sea anemone. Plankton's body is a ragdoll in her arms, his antennae limp with exhaustion. Karen keeps her screen calm, a bastion of serenity. "I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice a ghost in the silence. "It's ok," Karen reassures him, her voice a gentle caress. "You don't have to apologize." She rubs his back as he leans on her shoulder, tired out. The room feels smaller now, the air thick with the weight of new understanding. Hanna's friends are finishing up dinner still in the kitchen. Karen knows they mean well, but their energy is a stark contrast to the quiet Plankton needs. Her hand on his back, Karen guides his breathing, her voice a lullaby against the storm of the evening. "Breathe in," she whispers, "and out." Her touch is a gentle tide, washing over him, soothing his frayed nerves. His body relaxes, his antennae dropping like tired leaves to her shoulder. The room is a sanctuary again, the chaos outside forgotten as they find solace in their quiet corner. "You're safe," she murmurs. "I've got you." Karen's hand moves in gentle circles, a comforting rhythm that Plankton's body craves. His antennae droop, his breathing evening out as he nestles closer. The couch is a life raft in the tumultuous sea of Hanna's house, and Plankton clings to her like a drowning sailor to a rope. His tiny body, once a taut bowstring, now relaxes into the embrace of sleep. Karen feels the weight of his head, a trust so profound it's like an anchor in the storm. His antennae droop, no longer the frantic sails of a ship in distress. She adjusts her position, shifting slightly to support him better, her arm a gentle cradle. The room's sounds become distant whispers, the waves of conversation fading into the background. Plankton's breathing slows. Karen watches him sleep, his antennae twitching slightly with each snore as his mouth slackens open. Patricia comes in the living room to check on them. "How's he doin’?" she asks, her voice a hushed whisper. Karen glances up, a soft smile playing on her lips. "He's ok," she says, her voice a gentle wave. "Just exhausted." Patricia nods, her face a portrait of concern. "What can I do to help?" she asks, her eyes searching for a way to ease the burden. Karen looks at her, the question a beacon in the fog. "Just...give us a little more time," she says, her voice a soft shush. "Let him rest." Patricia nods, retreating quietly to the kitchen, the clack of her heels a mournful tune on the hardwood floor. The couch is their sanctuary, their quiet island in the sea of Hanna's home. Karen's arm is a makeshift cradle for Plankton's head, his antennae brushing against her neck. The weight of his body is a silent testament to his trust in her, and she holds it with the care of a pearl diver handling the most delicate of treasures. The room is a canvas of shadows, the candles now mere embers in the distance. Plankton's snores are the rhythm of their solace, each breath a testament to the resilience that lies within him. Karen's thoughts drift like seaweed in the tide of her concerns. What will tomorrow bring? How can she shield him from the storms of misunderstanding? But in this moment, she focuses on the present, her eyes tracing the lines of his sleeping form. Plankton's antennae have stopped twitching, his body at peace in her embrace. The soft snores, a symphony of security, fill the quiet space between them. The house has quieted down, the dinner party's echoes a distant memory. Hanna and her friends have retreated to the kitchen, their whispers like the gentle lapping of waves. Plankton is a bundle of quiet energy in her arms, his antennae twitching in his sleep. Karen can feel the steady throb of his heart, a lullaby that matches his breathing. She strokes his back in a comforting rhythm, his body a warm, comforting weight against her. The candles have burned down to nubs, the room bathed in a soft glow. His antennae rest against her neck, a silent communication of trust. Her eyes trace the contours of his sleeping form, his body a puzzle she's come to understand. The quiet whispers of the kitchen are a comforting backdrop to the symphony of his snores. Karen's hand moves in gentle circles on his back, each motion a declaration of support. The room's shadows dance around them, a ballet of understanding, a rhythm that's become their own. Plankton's antennae are limp, his body a testament to his exhaustion. The couch is their sanctuary in a sea of uncertainty. Her arm is a mooring, holding him steady in the tumult of his own mind. His breathing is a metronome, a soothing rhythm. With each inhale and exhale, she feels the tension in his body melt away, his snores a comforting reminder that he's safe. Her eyes trace the soft lines of his face, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The room is a symphony of silence, the couch their tiny boat adrift in the vast ocean of Hanna's house. Plankton's antennae, once a flurry of nervous energy, now hang limply. Karen's eyes are the moon, watching over him as he slumbers, his trust in her a glowing beacon in the dark. Her hand, a gentle tide, strokes his back, each caress a reminder of her steadfast support. His snores are the lullaby of the sea, each breath a testament to his newfound peace.
NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii (Autistic author) The doctor stepped in, his tentacles moving gently as he spoke. "Mr. Plankton, it's important to stay calm. This is a big change. Can you tell me your name?" Plankton's gaze flicked from Karen to Dr. Kelp, his expression a mask of confusion. "I'm Plankton," he managed to say, his voice shaky. The doctor nodded, his tentacles still and calm. "Good. That's good, Mr. Plankton. Do you know where you are?" Plankton's eye darted around the room again, his breathing growing rapid and shallow. He looked down and then back up at Karen. "What's happening?" he repeated for the third time, his voice now a little more frantic. Karen's heart was in her throat. The doctor's explanation was beginning to take root in her mind, and she could see the stark reality of their situation. Plankton's repetition, his difficulty with understanding new surroundings and his increased sensitivity to sound—these were all hallmarks of his new autism. The doctor continued his assessment. "Mr. Plankton, can you tell me your wife's name?" he prompted. Plankton's gaze shifted to Karen, his expression becoming more focused, as if her presence was the only familiar thing in the room. "Karen," he said, his voice softening slightly. The doctor nodded, making a note on his clipboard. "Good. Now, can you tell me what happened before you woke up?" Plankton's eye flitted back to Karen, searching for answers. He began to rock slightly, his body moving in a rhythmic motion, a common self-soothing behavior for those on the autism spectrum. Karen recognized it immediately but seeing it in Plankton was jarring. His gaze darted around the room, his pupil dilating with every new sound or movement. The doctor's tentacles were a blur of activity making notes. "Mr. Plankton, I see you're feeling You're almost ready to go back home with Karen." Dr. Kelp says calmly. "Just one more question, if you don't mind. Now, can you tell me if you have any pets?" Plankton's eye flitted around the room. "Pets? Spot! Yes, Spot. Amoeba puppy; Spot.." The doctor nodded, his tentacles still scribbling notes. "Very good, Mr. Plankton. It seems like your long-term memory is intact, which is a positive sign. Now Karen can take you home!" Karen felt a wave of relief crash over her, but it was tinged with the stark reality that their life was never going to be the same. Plankton's autistic mannerisms were now a constant reminder of the accident—his newfound need for routine, his heightened sensitivity to surroundings, and the way his eye would dance around the room as he tried to make sense of his environment. As they arrived home, the stark reality of their new life hit Karen like a wave. His once-quick steps had been replaced with a cautious shuffle, as if the very floor beneath him was unpredictable. Inside, Plankton was drawn to the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock, his eye fixated on the second hand's journey. Karen watched him. His newfound need for predictability was overwhelmingly apparent. "Let's sit down," she suggested, guiding him to their couch, which was now occupied by Spot. Plankton's gaze flitted around the living room, his eye alighting on his beloved amoeba puppy Spot. "Spot," he murmured, his voice tentative, as if unsure if his words would have the same effect they once did. The pup looked up at him, its blob-like form shifting slightly with excitement. But instead of the weariness Plankton has shown today, he joyfully watched Spot's movements. Karen felt a moment of warmth— his love for Spot hadn't changed, nor their usual interactions. The doctor had told her that routines were vital for those with his condition. So, she decided to start their day with a familiar activity: breakfast. Plankton's eye lit up at the sight of the familiar kitchen. He took his usual seat at the table, his hands fidgeting with the napkin. Karen noticed his meticulous arrangement of his silverware, the way he lined up his plate and cup perfectly parallel to the edges. As she prepared their meal, she could feel his gaze on her, his eye darting between her and Spot, who was now playfully chasing his own tail in a loop around the living room. He began to hum a tune, his voice off-key and repetitive. Karen's with love despite the pain she felt. The clanging of pans was loud in the silence, making Plankton flinch—this was going to be so much harder than she had anticipated. The doctor's instructions echoed in her mind: stick to routine, keep things simple. Karen set the breakfast plates down carefully, each item placed exactly where Plankton liked it. His eye grew wide as she slid his plate closer. He stared at the food for a moment, then picked up his spoon. The clink of metal on porcelain was like a gunshot to his heightened sensitivity. He dropped the spoon, his hands shooting up to cover his head in distress. "It's okay, sweetheart," Karen soothed, moving quickly to his side. She retrieved the spoon and set it aside, her hand trembling slightly. "You don't have to eat right now," she said softly, her voice a gentle caress against the tension in the room. Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing slowing as his hands uncovered his ears. He fidgeted in his chair, his eye darting to the ceiling as if searching for something. "Let's go read a book," Karen suggested, desperate to find anything that might calm his nerves. Plankton nodded slightly, his gaze still unfocused. He stood up carefully, his body moving with the precision of a man who knew his world had changed. As they approached the bookshelf, his eye caught a glint of metal from the corner of the room. The invention that had brought them here lay in a tangled heap, its wires and gears silent and ominous, giving him déjà vu. Plankton stopped, his body rigid, his gaze locked on the machine. He stared unblinking, his mind racing back to the crash. Karen notices his suddenly unmoving form and gets concerned. "Plankton?" she calls softly, but he doesn't react. His entire being seemed to be consumed by the wreckage of his former life. The invention, a testament to his former brilliance, now a grim reminder of the accident. "Plankton, honey," Karen's voice was barely a whisper as she tried to get him to talk. He didn't move. The invention, a tangled web of wires and gears, seemed to hold his gaze captive. It was the very machine that had caused this transformation. Karen followed his gaze, her heart sinking as she realized the source of his distress. "Let's go to another room," she suggested gently, her hand resting on his arm. But he didn't move. Karen felt the weight of the moment settle heavily on her shoulders. It was time to face the reality of their new life together—a life where Plankton's once sharp wit and innovative spirit were now clouded by a disorder she was only beginning to understand. Her heart swelled with sorrow as she observed his interaction with the inanimate objects around him. The love she had for him remained unshaken, but the thought of what they had lost—what he had lost—was almost too much to bear. "Come on," she coaxed, her voice gentle as a lullaby. "Let's go to the living room. I'll read you a story?" Yet Plankton remains frozen. So Karen made a decision. She couldn't bear the thought of that accursed machine looming over them, a constant reminder of the tragic turn their lives had taken. With a fierce determination she hadn't felt in ages, she strode over to the invention and began to dismantle it, piece by painful piece. The metal clanked and clattered as she worked, her movements quick and sure, each part coming off with a satisfying crunch. Plankton's eye followed her, his expression unreadable. When the last piece was removed, his gaze lifted to meet hers, his eye filled with something that looked akin to gratitude. "Thank you, Karen," Plankton murmured, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the now bare room. Karen paused in her task, her eyes meeting his with a surprised expression. This was the first time since the accident that he had spoken to her with anything other than fear or confusion. "You're welcome," she said, her voice choked with emotion.
SWEET CWEAM pt. 4 "Can I hav thome wathermelon?" he asked, his voice a slurry mess. Karen chuckled and shook her head. "Not yet, Plankton. You have to stick to soft foods today. How about some ice cream?" His eye lit up, his smile growing wider, exposing the whiteness of his teeth. "Ith cweam?" he repeated, the words spilling out like a child's first attempt at a sentence. Karen nodded, her own smile a mirror of his. "Yes, soft serve ice cream. It's perfect for your mouth right now." Plankton clapped his hands together in glee. "Ith weal," he declared, his tongue still thick and clumsy. "My faworite!" Karen fetched the promised treat from the freezer, the coolness of the ice cream contrasting sharply with the warmth of the room. She scooped a generous amount into a bowl, handing it to him with a spoon. Plankton's eye lit up, and he took the spoon with the excitement of a toddler getting their first taste of ice cream. With a clumsy attempt at grace, he lifted the spoon to his mouth, the numbness in his face making it difficult to aim. A dribble of ice cream escaped and landed on the table, but he barely noticed, his attention focused on the cold sweetness that washed over his tongue. "Mmh," he mumbled, his voice a mix of pleasure and pain as the frozen treat hit his sensitive gums. "Careful," Karen cautioned, her voice like a lullaby. "You don't want to hurt yourself." Plankton nodded, his movements exaggerated, like a character in a silent movie. The spoon wobbled in his hand as he scooped up another mouthful of the cold cream, his tongue still struggling to navigate the uncharted waters of his own mouth. He managed to get the spoonful into his mouth with minimal spillage, his cheeks hollowing out as he savored the taste. "Wow, thith ith tho good," he mumbled, his words coming out like a muffled shout. Karen couldn't help but laugh as she watched him. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if his coordination was not. He took another bite, the cold sensation making his eye water. "It'th tho cold!" he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and filled with excitement. The numbness in his cheeks was wearing off now, leaving a tingling sensation that made his words come out slurred and exaggerated. "It's supposed to be cold, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a symphony of patience. "It's ice cream." He nodded, his cheeks red with effort and cold. Each spoonful was a small victory, a dance between the spoon and his uncooperative mouth. Karen’s glad she turned their security cameras on record. Of course, she didn’t tell Plankton. Not yet. Then suddenly, Sponge Bob comes in the door, surprising both of them. "Squishy!" Plankton exclaims, his voice a strange mix of joy and pain. Sponge Bob's eyes widen. "You okay, Plankton?" he asks, looking at Karen for an explanation. Karen nods, still chuckling. "Wisdom teeth surgery," she says, her voice a gentle whisper. "The anesthesia is making his mouth all numb." Sponge Bob's eyes go wide with concern. "Ouchies?" he asks, his own mouth forming a sympathetic grimace. Plankton nods vigorously, the motion sending a shiver down his spine. "Yeth, ouchiesth," he mumbles around the mouthful of ice cream, his speech still slurred like a toddler's. Karen watches the interaction with a soft smile, her heart swelling with affection for her babbling husband. Sponge Bob crosses the room with his usual boundless energy, plopping down next to Plankton. "So, how was your big trip to the dental place?" he asks, his eyes full of concern and curiosity. Plankton looks at his friend with the gravity of a philosopher. "It’th... advehnturous," he says, his mouth still numb, making each word a challenge. Sponge Bob leans in, his spongy body wobbling slightly. "What kind of adventure?" he asks, his eyes shining with curiosity. Plankton's voice takes on a storytelling tone, his words slurred but earnest. "I frew," he says, his eye wide and filled with wonder. "I frew wike a birdie!" Sponge Bob's grin splits his face. "You flew?" he repeats, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. Karen's smile widens, listening to the nonsense her husband was spinning. Plankton nods, his eye glazed over. "Yeah," he murmurs, his tongue sluggish. "It wath magithal." Karen and Sponge Bob exchange glances, trying not to laugh. Plankton's childlike awe in the face of his own numbness was both heartwarming and hilarious. "Buh wait," Plankton says, his spoon paused mid-air. "Thath not aww," his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I theen... I theen I wath a dolphin!" Sponge Bob's eyes go wide with fascination. "A dolphin?" he repeats, his voice filled with awe. "How did you do that?" Plankton's smile grows even wider, his cheeks pushing against the swollen skin. "It'th a mithtewwy," he says, his speech still slurred. "They goth me all sleeby and thewe I wath flipping and twirling in the wathah!" Sponge Bob's eyes are as wide as saucers, his imagination running wild with the tale. "Wow, Plankton, that sounds amazing!" Plankton nods, his face a picture of seriousness. "It wath," he slurs, his voice filled with convinction. "Buth then... then I woke up." His expression remains affectionate for he’s too out of it to play it cool in front of Sponge Bob. He’s always wanted him as a good friend but his pride usually stops him; but now, with no filter, Plankton’s not gonna hold back. Sponge Bob looks at Karen with a mix of confusion and delight. "Was it scary?" he asks, his voice gentle. Karen nods, a warm chuckle bubbling up. "A little," she says, her hands folded in her lap. "But he's a tough guy." Plankton's eye swims with emotions, his face flushing with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Yeath," he says, his tongue still a traitor. "Buh now youw know my thecret."
"Ok, Plankton I'm going to give you something to help you relax." The nurse prepped a syringe, the cold liquid sliding into his gum line. The doctor's voice grew distant. Karen's hand tightened around his, as the anesthesia took hold. Plankton closed his eye, numbness spread. He felt his heart rate slow and his muscles relax as the world around him faded to a gentle buzz. The anesthetic was administered, and doctor's instructions to count back from ten echoed in his mind, but he never made it past seven. The doctor's skilled extracted the troublesome teeth. Plankton's face remained still, his breathing deep and even under the influence of the anesthesia. Karen squeezed his hand again, hoping he could feel her support through the unconsciousness. The doctor's face broke to a satisfied smile. "All done," he said, gesturing to the nurse to start cleaning up. "Everything went smoothly." Karen nodded to express her gratitude. "We'll keep him here for a bit longer to make sure he's fully recovered from the anesthesia, but you can stay with him." As the doctor stepped out, Karen pulled up a chair next to Plankton. His features looked almost childlike, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. He might be trouble, but she cared for him deeply. The nurse bustled around, removing various tubes and monitors attached to him, and soon the room was quiet once more, filled only with the low murmur of the machines. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and Karen sat there, holding his hand. The nurse finished her work and gave Karen a nod, indicating that she could talk to Plankton if she wanted. Leaning in close, she whispered, "You did good. Just a little bit longer, and you'll be back." Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he groaned, his speech slurred from the anesthesia. "K-Karen?" "I'm here," she said, smoothing back his antennae. His eye searched for a moment before the reality of the situation set in, and he tried to sit up. "Easy now," Karen said soothingly, gently pushing him back down. "You're okay. The surgery's over. You did great!" Plankton's gaze darted around the room, trying to focus. "Where... where are they?" he mumbled, his voice thick and groggy. Plankton's eye narrowed in confusion before drifted shut again. "Did we get... the formula?" he slurred, his mind still clinging to his latest obsession. Karen couldn't help but chuckle. "Not today. But don't worry." She watching him closely as the anesthesia wore off. "You've been out.." "So, we didn't get it?" he asked. The nurse turned to them, noticing Plankton awake. "How are you feeling?" "Woozy," Plankton slurred words thick and slow. The doctor nodded understandingly. "That's normal. The anesthesia will wear off in a bit, but you'll be feeling a bit out of it for the rest of the day. You'll need to keep that ice on your jaw to reduce the swelling." Plankton's eye searched Karen's face, his mind still fuzzy. "Why you smiling?" he asked. "I was just thinking about how you're going to have to eat mashed peas." Plankton groaned. "Mashed peas?" Karen nodded. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you have plenty of jellyfish juice to keep your strength up. Let's get home," Karen said as she helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and she went to steady him. The walk to the car was a blur for Plankton. He leaned heavily on Karen. "Why the floor tiles look like they're moving?" he murmured. Karen chuckled, her hand round his waist. "It's just playing tricks." They made their way out to the parking lot Karen opened the door, and Plankton stumbled in, collapsing onto the backseat. "You ok?" she asked. "I think... I think I'm ok," Plankton mumbled, eye slowly closing again. "Just need... to sleep." Karen nodded and got into the driver's seat, starting the engine. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's head lolled to the side, and he began to snore softly. She couldn't help but chuckle at his vulnerable state. It was a rare sight to see the ever-scheming Plankton so out of commission. The drive home was smooth. Karen glanced back at him, his face relaxed and peaceful. When they arrived at the Chum Bucket, Plankton's snores grew as she helped him in. He barely stirred as she placed a cold pack on his swollen jaw and handed him a glass of jellyfish juice. Plankton took a sip, his eye fluttering open. "Ah, Karen," he slurred. His eye were glazed over as he tried to adjust the ice pack. Karen puts it back in the right spot, tucking a pillow behind his head, patting his shoulder gently. "You need strength...." He reached for the notepad, scribbling illegibly. "Got to keep planning," he mumbled, voice a distant echo of his usual enthusiasm. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his determination. "You should focus on getting better." Plankton's eye widened, and he tried to sit up, knocking the ice pack to the floor. "The formula!" he exclaimed, his words still slurred. "Shh, it's ok," Karen said, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him back down. "The formula can wait." He mumbled something about "Krabs" and "plan," but words were too jumbled to make sense. Karen recognized the signs of his usual scheming, even in his state. This was the Plankton she knew, always thinking of his next move, even when he could barely keep his eye open. As she cleared a space on the cluttered lab bench for him to lie down, she noticed his scribbled notes on the notepad. The words "Patty" and "formula" peeked out from a mess of squiggles and half-formed thoughts. She couldn't help but feel pride. Plankton might be a bit loopy from the anesthesia, but his spirit was sharp. She picked up the pad tried to make sense of the scrawl. Plankton watched her, his eye tracking her movements. "You're not... stealing my ideas, are you?" he accused, voice still thick with sleep. "No," Karen said, trying to keep a straight face. The room was a swirl of colors and shapes to Plankton as he attempted to focus on Karen's face. He closed his eye. "I'm perfectly... coherent," he slurred, trying to sit up again. The room tilted dangerously, and he had to grab the edge of the bench to steady himself. "Let's not have you knocking anything over clumsy." "I'm not clumsy," he protested, his words coming out in a slow drawl. "Ok," Karen said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I believe you, Mr. Graceful." Plankton slumped against the pillow, the effort of arguing too much for his post-surgery state. He mumbled something about jellyfish jelly. Karen shook her head. She knew he'd be back to his usual self in no time, but for now, he needed to rest. The hours ticked by, the only sounds being Plankton's snores. Karen sat glancing over at him. His chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The surgery had been a success. As the sun began to set, Plankton stirred. His eye popped open, and looked around the room with a wild look. "Karen, where are we?" "You're home." Plankton blinked, gaze unfocused. "Home," he repeated, as if trying to convince himself. "But what about my teeth?" Karen couldn't help laugh at his bewilderment. "They're gone. The doctor took them out." Plankton's expression one of shock. "They're really... gone?" "Yep," Karen said, voice filled with amusement. "You don't have to worry." Plankton's expression mix of confusion and relief. "But... how? I don't remember anything." Karen chuckled. "That's anesthesia for you. It's like a vacation from reality." Plankton blinked, his mind racing to catch up with the situation. "Vacation?" he murmured, the sounding foreign in his mouth. "No, no, no," he protested, flailing about as he tried to sit up. "We must... we must... " His words trailed off through the anesthesia haze. Karen placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "Plankton, please. You just had surgery." "But the Krabby Patty... the formula... we can't lose it," he slurred, voice cracking. Karen's smile softens. "Don't worry just focus on you getting better." Plankton stilled, and he nodded slowly, antennae drooping. "Ok," he murmured. "But as soon as I can, we go back to work." "Of course," Karen said soothingly, pushing him back down onto the makeshift bed. The room grew quiet again, save for the occasional snore from Plankton and the low hum of lab equipment. Hours passed by the time Plankton stirred again. His eye blinked open a glimmer of lucidity in his gaze. "Karen?" he called out, his voice still slurred but with a hint of urgency. "I'm here," she said. She had been keeping watch. Plankton sat up slowly, the anesthesia's finally lifted. His jaw felt heavy. "How long was I out?" "A few hours," Karen replied, her voice calm and assuring. She had been expecting this moment, when the fog of the anesthesia would clear. "I feel like I've been hit by a Krabby Patty press," he grumbled, holding his jaw gingerly. "It's normal," Karen said, her voice steady. "Give it time. The pain will ease up." "What about the... the formula?" he asked, his voice strained. "It's safe," Karen assured him. "Mr. Krabs doesn't even know you're down for the count." The mention brought a spark of energy to Plankton's eye. He pushed himself to his feet, the cold pack slipping to the floor with a wet thud. "We can't waste time," he said, his voice stronger now. "We must... we must..." But before he could finish his thought, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he stumbled flailing. Karen caught him, grip firm but gentle, and helped him back down to the bench. "You're not going anywhere." Plankton groaned, stubbornness battling with his body's insistence on recovery. "But the... the Patty," he mumbled. "I know," Karen said, her tone a mix of sympathy and amusement. "But you're in no shape right now. Besides, we've got a week of mashed peas to look forward to." "Why does it have to be mashed peas?"
He slurred his words, a side effect of his wisdom tooth surgery. "W-wha...wha' happened?" he mumbled. Karen held his hand, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm. "You're ok, just had wisdom teeth removed." Plankton blinked, trying to make sense of the world. "Teeth?" He says through thickness of his mouth. "What teeth?" The nurse then tells "Looks good. Just rest for a bit. The anesthesia can feel loopy." A trickle of drool slid down the side of his mouth. He tried to lift his hand. "H-here," Karen said, gently dabbing at the corner of his mouth. "You're ok. It's normal." Plankton's eye closed, and he leaned into her touch, the world fading to comforting haze. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking him. "I'm here." Within moments, his breathing grew even, chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm that told her he had succumbed to sleep. His breathing deepened, mouth slightly agape. Karen watched the rise and fall of his chest, the soft snores that punctuated the silence. The steady beep of the heart monitor was an assuring metronome as she waited. A droplet of drool had formed and was slowly making its way to the pillow. The nurse told it might happen. It clung to the edge of his mouth before splattering onto the pillow. His mouth twitched in his sleep, and she wondered if he’s dreaming. The nurse returns with water and ice chips, placing them on the tray. "He'll need these when he wakes," she instructed. "They'd help with the swelling and keep him hydrated." Karen nodded. "How long til he's fully awake?" she asked. "Could be an hour." The only sounds the occasional snore from Plankton. Drool continued to escape, forming a puddle on the pillow. She wiped it. She saw the gauze pads tucked in his cheeks. They looked out of place, despite the sleep medication lulled him to. The door creaked open, and in stumbled SpongeBob. "Plankton! You ok?" he exclaimed. "Shh, he's sleeping," Karen whispers. "They took his wisdom teeth." SpongeBob's eyes widened further. "Wisdom teeth? Gosh, Plankton, sounds painful!" Karen nodded solemnly. "But he's tough. He'll be ok." Plankton stirred in his sleep, a low groan escaping his throat. "Shh," Karen soothed, her voice gentle. "You're ok. Just rest." SpongeBob tiptoed over. "How's he?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sleeping it off. The anesthesia wearing off." SpongeBob nods, eyes not leaving Plankton. "What's with gauze?" "Helps with bleeding," Karen explained. "It's normal." SpongeBob's concern palpable. "B-bleeding?" "It's ok," Karen assured him. "Just a precaution. He'll be fine." SpongeBob’s gaze lingers. He gently took Plankton's hand, his own fingers wrapping around his. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent promise to be there. The nurse removes the gauze, leaving his mouth open and vulnerable. Finally, Plankton's eye flutters open, still clouded by the anesthesia. "What...wha's goin' on?" he slurred, voice thick and groggy in confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth out," Karen said. "Mmph," he managed. SpongeBob leans in with concern. "You had a little operation. We’re in the recovery room." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he tried to sit up, only to be met with dizziness that sent him back. "Mm...Krabby Patty...?" he mumbled. Karen chuckled. "No, aren’t at the Krusty Krab." The reality of the situation slowly dawned on him. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. He reached for the cup of water, but his hand trembled, spilling the contents onto the tray. "Oops," SpongeBob said getting napkins. "Let me help you." But Plankton's eye had already rolled back into his head, his hand dropping limply to the side, slipping back into the abyss of his drug-induced haze. The nurse returned, checked his vitals again, expression unchanged by his state. "It's normal as it can take awhile." SpongeBob fidgeted, eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Is he...drooling?" Karen nodded holding tissue ready. "Just be careful not to wake him up." "Oh, right. I just wanted to make sure he was ok." Karen gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "He is. Just let him rest, we're here for him when he wakes." They sat in companionable silence, only sound the soft snores and occasional dribble. "Is that...normal?" he asked, voice a mix of fascination and horror. "It's a side effect of the surgery," Karen explained gently, using a fresh tissue to wipe Plankton's mouth. "It can stop when he's fully awake." The nurse checked on him again. "Almost ready to go?" Karen nods. "Yes, let's get him home. He might be a bit out of it." SpongeBob nods, eager. "I'll help too!" "Thanks, SpongeBob," Karen said. "But remember, he's going to need lots of rest and quiet. Now, let's get him into the wheelchair." With Karen's help, they managed to get Plankton into the chair, body limply compliant. His eye remained closed, his breathing even. As they wheeled him out, his snores grew quieter. In the car, Karen adjusted the seat so Plankton could lean back, his mouth still a little slack, drool pooling on the gauze she had placed. His mouth remained slightly open, gauze in his cheeks bulging with each inhale. "Look at the drool," SpongeBob whispered. "It's just a side effect of the surgery," she said, handing SpongeBob a fresh tissue. "Make sure to keep his mouth clean. We don't want to get too messy." SpongeBob nodded, expression earnest as he took the tissue and began to dab at Plankton's mouth. Plankton's head lolled to the side again, and he let out a snort. "It's okay, Plankton. We're almost home." she whispered, her voice gentle. Sponge Bob whispered, "I never knew Plankton to be so...so drooly." Karen's eyes remained on the road. "It's a side effect of the surgery," she reminded him. "It's nothing to be too concerned about." Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze lingering on Plankton's slack jaw. "We're home," Karen whispered, her voice barely audible. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes glued to Plankton's still form. "Must we wake him?" "Wait til we get him inside," Karen said, her voice soft. "He'd be more comfortable in his own bed." They carefully maneuvered Plankton out of the car, his body still limp with sleep. Karen settled him into his bed, pulling the blankets up. "Leave him be," she said. "He needs his rest. He'll be ok," Karen assured him. "Just let him sleep it off." "I'll keep an eye on him," Sponge Bob offered, pulling up a chair. "Thanks," she said with gratitude. "I'll just be in the next room." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, taking his post by Plankton's bedside. He knew Plankton’s surgery had to have been tough on him. He reached out and touched Plankton's arm. "Rest up, Plankton," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake.." Plankton stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping. His eye remained closed, but his hand twitched. SpongeBob leaned in closer, his heart racing. "You ok, buddy?" he asked. Plankton's eye opens, tongue thick and unresponsive. He tried to speak, but all that came out was slurred mumble. "Wha...wha's...goin' on?" The words were barely discernible, muffled by the gauze in his mouth and the thickness of his own drool. Plankton's trying to make sense of the shadows that surrounded him. "You're home, Plankton," Sponge Bob said softly. "You had your wisdom teeth removed." Plankton's mind raced as the fog of anesthesia slowly lifted. "T-teeth?" he slurred barely above a whisper. SpongeBob nods. "You had your wisdom teeth out. It's ok, you're going to be fine." He sat in the chair by the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Plankton's chest. The gauze in his mouth was still soaked with drool. As the light outside began to fade, Plankton stirred again, his eye fluttering. The pain in his mouth was a dull throb now, and the drugs had left him feeling groggy and disoriented. He tried to sit up, but the effort was too much. SpongeBob jumped to his side, his hands gentle as he put Plankton back down onto the pillow. "Easy," he said. Plankton's eye searched, the fog of anesthesia still clouding his thoughts. "Sponge...Bob?" he managed to croak out. "I'm here, Plankton," SpongeBob said, his voice filled with gentle concern. Plankton's eye searched SpongeBob's face. "Why...are you...here?" "I'm here to take care of you got wisdom teeth out, remember?" Plankton's mouth felt like it was filled with soggy seaweed, thoughts jumbled. "Wisdom teeth?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible. SpongeBob nods. "The surgery went well." Plankton's gaze grew distant as he tried to piece together the events of the day. "What...what happened?" Sponge Bob took a deep breath, preparing to explain it again. "You had to have your wisdom teeth out. Remember? You've been out of it all day." "My...my teeth?" Plankton repeated, still slurred. Sponge Bob nods solemnly. "They had to take them out." Plankton's eye grew even wider. "My...my...precious..." Sponge Bob gently pushed him back. "It's ok. You don't have to worry. They're gone." Plankton filled with panic. "Gone? How could I forget?" SpongeBob looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. "It's the medicine," he said, his voice calm. "It messes with your memory a bit." Plankton's eye searched the room again, desperation growing with each passing second. "But...but I can't forget!" he slurred. "I can't forget about the...the...what was it again?" SpongeBob leaned in closer, his voice filled with patience. "Your wisdom teeth. You had them removed." Plankton's mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts. "Wisdom teeth," he murmured, words tasting foreign on his tongue. "Why would I forget something so...so..." His voice trailed off, and he frowned, his tiny brow furrowing. Sponge Bob's gaze was steady and reassuring. "It's normal. I never knew you could be so... drool-y." Plankton shot up. "Drooly?" "Don't worry," SpongeBob said. "It's a temporary side effect." Plankton's eye narrowed, and he managed to slur out, "You better not tell, I'd hate for my reputation to be ruined.." "Don't worry," Sponge Bob promised. "Your secret's safe."
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."
AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY ix (Autistic author) Mr. Krabs knew that his rivalry with Plankton had always been about more than just the Krabby Patty. It was about pride, about being the best, about proving his worth. But as he looked at Plankton, his tiny form swallowed by the large couch cushions, he realized that none of it mattered compared to the pain he had caused. The next day, Plankton found himself sitting in the waiting room of a dentist's office, to get an X-Ray. Karen sat by him. "You ok?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton nodded, his antennas twitching nervously. The door to the exam room opened, and a cheerful dolphin dental hygienist waved them in. "Good morning, Plankton!" she chirped. "Ready for your X-ray?" Plankton's antennae shot up instinctively at the sudden noise, his body stiffening. Karen squeezed his hand gently, offering reassurance. "It's okay," she murmured. "We're here." The dolphin's smile was bright, but it was the softness in her eyes that helped Plankton relax slightly. They had been informed of his condition, and she approached with a gentle caution. "We'll take it slow," she said, her voice a gentle melody. "We're just getting an x-ray okay?" Plankton nodded, his antennae still quivering slightly. The dolphin hygienist, named Delfina, guided him into the exam room. The room was a symphony of white, a stark contrast to the cozy confines of the Chum Bucket. Plankton felt his heart racing in his chest, his antennae twitching as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Delfina the hygienist guided Plankton gently to the chair, her eyes filled with understanding. "Just sit back and relax," she said, her voice a gentle wave washing over him. Plankton did his best to remain calm. The hum of the machinery was a constant reminder of his sensory overload, but he focused on Karen's soothing presence beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. Delfina moved with grace and precision, her movements fluid and unthreatening. She explained each step of the process to him, her voice a soft lullaby that helped to soothe his nervous system. "Open wide," she cooed, her eyes gentle as she placed the X-ray sensor in his mouth. Plankton's antennae trembled slightly, but he did as she instructed, his teeth clamping down on the cold, plastic device. The whir of the X-ray machine was like a tornado in his ears, but he focused on Karen's calming presence beside him. Her hand remained on his shoulder, a grounding force amidst the chaos of sensations. As the X-ray was completed Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae slowly unfurling. The doctor, a wise old sea turtle named Dr. Dolittle, entered the room, his eyes behind thick glasses scanning the X-ray results. Plankton tried to read his expression, his antennae quivering with anticipation. Dr. Dolittle's face remained neutral as he studied the images, but Plankton couldn't help the anxiety that bubbled up within him. "Well, Plankton," the doctor said, his voice deep and soothing. "It appears that you need to have your wisdom teeth out. They'll potentially cause issues.." Plankton's antennae shot up in panic, his grip on the chair tightening. The thought of surgery was overwhelming, a tsunami of fear crashing into the shores of his already-fragile nervous system. He froze, his body a statue of terror. The room around him was a blur of colors and shapes, the sounds of the dental office a cacophony. Karen's hand squeezed his shoulder, a silent reminder that he wasn't alone. Sponge Bob sat in the corner, his eyes wide with concern. He had accompanied Plankton for moral support, but the sight of his friend's distress was painful to watch. "It'll be okay," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in the tense silence. But Plankton couldn't hear him. The words were lost in the symphony of his own fear. His antennae twitched rapidly, his breath shallow. Karen turned to Sponge Bob, her expression soft. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice low and calming. "He's just processing the words sinking in." Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's distressed form. "I'm here, buddy," he offered, his voice a gentle wave in the storm of emotions. But it was Karen's voice that cut through the chaos, her words a lighthouse in the fog. "Plankton," she said, her tone firm but soothing, "you just breathe. We'll make sure of everything." Plankton nodded, his antennae still quivering, closing his eye as he took a shaky breath. Dr. Dolittle noticed Plankton's distress and offered a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Plankton. We'll make sure you're nice and sleepy before we do anything. It's a simple extraction, and you won't feel a thing." The room grew quiet as the doctor's words sank in. Plankton was terrified of the unknown, his mind racing with images of sharp tools and pain. His antennae twitched uncontrollably, and his body began to tremble. Karen leaned in, her voice calm and reassuring. "It's like going to sleep," she said, her eyes locked with his. "You won't feel anything, I promise." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he processed her words. "We're going to give you a little something to help you sleep," Delfina explained, her voice a gentle hum. "It'll be like a nap, and when you wake up, it'll all be over." Plankton's antennae stilled slightly, his breathing slowing as he nodded. The room was a whirlwind of activity as Delfina and Dr. Dolittle prepared for the procedure. Sponge Bob's hands were clenched into fists of worry, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. Karen noticed his distress and squeezed his shoulder. "It'll be okay," she whispered. "Remember, we're here for support." The scent of antiseptic filled the room, making Plankton's eyes water, but he nodded, his trust in his friends overriding his fear. Delfina approached with a clear liquid. "Drink this," she instructed, her voice a gentle whisper. "It'll help you relax." Plankton's antennae quivered but he did as she said, the liquid sliding down his throat with an eerie calmness. As the anesthetic took hold, his thoughts grew fuzzy, like the edges of a distant memory. He felt his body begin to relax, the tension in his muscles dissipating like a wave retreating from the shore. The world grew dark around him, the sounds of the dental office becoming muffled whispers. The weight of his fear lifted slightly as the gentle embrace of oblivion beckoned. They administered the i.v., the cold sting of the needle quickly forgotten as the warmth of the sedative spread through his tiny body. Plankton felt his muscles go slack, his antennae falling limply to his side. The room grew hazier, the colors and shapes melting like crayons on wet paper. He felt his consciousness slipping away, the fear retreating with it. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, a beacon of warmth and comfort in the cold, sterile environment. As Plankton succumbed to the pull of sleep, he heard the muted voices of Karen and Sponge Bob, their words a gentle lullaby. Their presence was a warm blanket wrapped around him, shielding him from the cold, metal world of the dental chair. Sponge Bob watched as Plankton's tiny form grew still, his antennae finally at peace. He looked up at Karen, her eyes filled with a mix of relief and anxiety. "He's okay," she whispered, her voice a soothing wave. The room grew quieter as Plankton fell into a deep slumber, his antennae finally still, as he's completely asleep before they began the extraction. Delfina checked his vital signs, her flippers moving with the precision of a ballet dancer. "He's out," she murmured to Dr. Dolittle, who nodded in satisfaction.
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.
“Ma’am, we’ve finished up with your husband’s wisdom teeth extraction and he’s still asleep but you can come in see.” Doctor Hank spoke calmly as Karen nodded and followed him into the recovery room. Plankton was laid out, mouth still open and a line of drool connecting to the pillow. The nurse was cleaning. Karen felt a love for this odd creature. Plankton’s chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his deep slumber, the gentle snores that escaped him. Karen sat down next to him, reaching out to take his hand. “He’ll be out for a while longer. You can talk to him if you like, sometimes they can hear you even if they don’t respond.” Karen leaned in close to Plankton’s tiny, sleeping form. “Honey, it’s all over. You were so brave. It’s going to be ok.” She squeezed his hand gently, her thumb brushing against his smooth, green skin. Plankton’s snores grew quieter, his breathing evening out as he settled deeper into sleep, but she didn’t mind. This was her time with him. The nurse approached gauze pads. She gently opened Plankton’s mouth further. Karen watched as she placed each pad carefully, pressing down on the bleeding gums. Plankton’s snores hitched for a moment, then resumed their steady rhythm as his head lolled to the side. The nurse guided his head back to the center of the pillow. The drool on the pillow had started to form a tiny puddle, a testament to his deep sleep and numbed mouth. Karen knew Plankton was always so meticulous and here he was, completely vulnerable. The nurse told Karen that Plankton would stay in the recovery room for about another hour before they could go home. Karen nodded, not taking her screen off her husband. Karen continued to watch over him. After a while, Plankton began to stir. His eyelid fluttered open, revealing slit of confusion before slowly widening. He blinked a few times, his eye focusing on Karen. “Hey there, sleepyhead,” she said, forcing a smile. He groaned, his tongue thick and unresponsive in his mouth. The anesthesia was wearing off, leaving him groggy and disoriented. He tried to sit up, but Karen gently pressed him back. “Take it easy, sweetie. You’ve had surgery.” Plankton’s eye searched the room, his gaze lingering. The nurse smiles at his efforts to wake up. “He’s doing fine. Just waking up slowly. You’ll want to make sure he doesn’t try to do anything strenuous today.” Plankton mumbled something unintelligible, his mouth still full of gauze. Karen chuckled. He tried to sit up again, but Karen held him down, stroking his forehead with a cool hand. “I know you hate this, but it’s for the best. It will go away soon, I promise.” His eye opened again, looking up at her with confusion. Plankton’s voice was slurred, like a small child who hadn’t quite learned how to form words properly. “Wha... wha’ happen?” Karen leaned in closer, softening. “You had your wisdom teeth taken out, remember? You’re ok now, you’re just sleepy.” He closed his eye again, slackening into the pillow. “Tiwed,” he mumbled. Karen nods, her hand still on his forehead. The nurse returned. “Can you help him sit up?” Karen gently propped Plankton’s tiny frame against the pillows, his head lolling into her palm. He blinked up at her with a glassy stare, gaze unfocused. He was acting much younger than his usual scheming self. “Thish ish... thith ish... weird,” he slurred. Karen couldn’t help laugh a little at his childlike state. It was a stark contrast to his usual bossy demeanor, curiosity piqued despite drowsiness. The nurse brought water, placing it to his lips. Plankton took a sip. “Ugh, it tathes funny,” he says. Karen laughs. “It’s the medicine, love. It’ll help though, I promise.” Plankton nods, his movements slow and deliberate. He looks around the room again, his eye widening at the sight of the gauze in his mouth. “What’sh aww thish?” Karen explains, her voice gentle. “Those are to help your mouth heal, Plankton. You had some teeth taken out. It’s all part of the process, like putting on a band-aid after getting a boo-boo.” Plankton’s eye narrowed slightly as he took in her words, his brain fighting through the fog of anesthesia. He nods again, his movements still slow and sluggish. “M’kay,” he murmured. The nurse nodded. “Alright, let’s get you ready to go. Karen, can you help get him in the wheelchair?” Karen nods. She gently slid her hand under his shoulders and helped lift him into a sitting position. “I don’t nee thish... I can walk!” he protested, his voice still a slur. Karen chuckled, warmed by his usual stubbornness. “You might be a little wobbly, let’s just be safe, ok?” The nurse positioned the wheelchair by the bed, and managed to get him into it. His legs swung over the side, not quite reaching the footrests. The ride through the hospital, with Plankton fought to stay awake. Karen pushed the wheelchair, darting between his sleepy form and the path ahead. The fish and other creatures of Bikini Bottom waving as they went. Plankton’s eye followed them, a hint of wonder in his gaze. “Wook ah aww the fishies,” he mumbled, his voice thick. “They’re always out and about, honey. You’ve seen them before.” He nodded, his eye half-closed. “But not fwom here... not fwom thith... fishy chair!” He giggled to himself, his laughter echoing through the corridor. The nurse gave an amused look, shaking her head. “It’s the anesthesia talking. He’ll be back to his usual self in no time.” They arrived at the discharge desk. Plankton’s eye closed now, his snores gentle and even. He was looking more like a child than the mad scientist who had plotted to steal the Krabby Patty countless times. The nurse handed Karen a list of instructions. Plankton stirred slightly, his eye opening briefly. “Thish ish... thith ish... boring!” he complained before dozing off again. The nurse finished and wished them a good day, patting Plankton’s arm as if to assure that it was all over. Karen leaned down and kissed his forehead, whispering, “Thank you for being so brave, my love. Let’s get you out of the chair and into our car.” With Karen’s help, Plankton shuffled to the edge of the chair, his tiny feet dangling over. He looked up at her with a sleepy eye. She bent down and picked him up, his body slightly heavier than she expected. She opens the car door. He leaned into her, his head nuzzling into her neck. “Warish...” he murmured, his voice muffled. Karen chuckled. She knew he was still recovering from the surgery. She placed him in the car, his head lolling to the side as he tried to keep his eye open. “I’ve got you, don’t worry,” she said, buckling him in. He leaned back in the seat, his eyelid drooping heavily. Karen tucked a blanket around him, his tiny frame looking lost in the vastness of the car. As she drove, Plankton’s snores filled the car, punctuating the silence with a gentle, comforting noise. Karen felt a strange mix of amusement and love for the man she had married all those years ago. The Plankton she knew was sharp and cunning, unlike this sleepy creature that had moments of lucidity followed by more snores. The ride home was uneventful, his snores the only sound as the car glided through the water. When they arrived at the Chum Bucket, Plankton’s eye snapped open, looking around in confusion. Karen parked and turned to him with a soft smile. “We’re home, darling.” He blinked a few times, looking at the familiar surroundings with a child’s curiosity. “Hone?” he asked, his voice still slurred. Karen nodded, helping him out of the car and onto his feet. He stumbled slightly, legs still wobbly from the anesthesia. Karen stood by his side, her hand supporting his arm as he took unsteady steps to their bedroom. His eye kept drifting shut, his body begging for the comfort of his bed, the tension in his shoulders as he fought to stay awake. “Almost there, Plankton,” she encouraged. Plankton leaned against her as they approached the bed. She laid him down. He moaned in relief, eye closing instantly. The nurse’s instructions echoed in her mind as she pulled back the blankets; this was a side of Plankton she rarely saw. He was vulnerable, like a baby sea creature lost in the vast ocean. She felt a newfound protectiveness for him, a desire to keep him safe and warm. “Youw the bestest wife, Karen. The besht in aww of Bikini Bottom!” He said with a sleepy smile, his eye fluttering shut once more. He rolled over onto his side, his back to her, his breathing evening out into deep, peaceful snores. Karen couldn’t resist the urge to kiss the back of his head, the spot where his antennae met his skull. She pulled the blankets up around him, making sure he was tucked in tight. The room was quiet except for his snores. Karen sat on the edge of the bed, watching. The love she felt was palpable, filling the space between them. Plankton’s hand reached out from under the blankets, his fingers brushing against hers. It was a silent plea for comfort, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. Her metaphorical heart melted at his childlike gesture, and she intertwined their fingers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He shifted closer. She felt the tension in his shoulders ease, his snores growing slower, deeper. Karen sat with him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. “You know what, Plankton?” she whispered, her voice filled with love. “You’re pretty cute when you’re all sleepy like this. Not that you’re not cute normally, but it’s just... different..” He giggled. Karen couldn’t help smile at his reaction. “I’m not cute, I’m... I’m...” He trailed off, his words slurring into a snore as sleep claimed him once more. She leaned in to kiss him gently on the cheek. Karen knew he’d be embarrassed when he woke up and realized he’d missed a day of scheming, but for now, he was safe and she was grateful. She stood up, smoothing the blankets over him one last time. “Rest well, my love. I’ll be right here if you need anything,” she whispers, her voice a gentle caress.
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."
KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 1 (Autistic author) "You never listen to me!" Karen exclaimed, her voice echoing through the small lab. Her husband, Plankton, looked up from his invention, a frown furrowing his brow. "What's wrong now?" he asked. "It's the same thing, every single day," Karen said, crossing her arms. "You're always so focused on your work, you forget what's important." Plankton sighed, setting down his wrench. "And what's that?" Karen's eyes flashed with frustration. "Our anniversary dinner, for one," she said. "You promised we'd go out tonight, remember?" Plankton's frown deepened as he tried to recall the conversation. "The dinner...right. I thought it was next week," he mumbled, his gaze darts back to his invention. "No, it's tonight!" Karen's voice was now a mix of annoyance and desperation. "I've had this all planned out for weeks, and you've barely even acknowledged it." Plankton looked at her, his eye suddenly wide with realization. "Tonight? But I've got the final adjustments. It's a breakthrough, Karen!" Karen threw her hands in exasperation. "It's always a breakthrough, isn't it? When are you going to realize that we need to make time for us?" Plankton took a step. "You know how important this is to me, to us," he said, his voice softening. "Once I get this right, we can finally be happy, have the life we deserve when I..." "When you what?" Karen interrupted. "When you finally steal the Krabby Patty formula?" she finished for him, her tone heavy with sarcasm. "Is that what you think will fix everything?" Plankton's shoulders slumped. He knew his obsession with Mr. Krabs' secret formula was a sore spot for Karen, but he couldn't help the hope that burned inside him. "It's not just about that," he said, trying to explain. "It's about proving to everyone, including myself, that I can do something big." He gets up on the shelf. Karen turns away. Karen's frustration boiled over, her face flushing. "You're so caught up in this ridiculous vendetta that you don't even see what you're doing to us!" she yelled, slamming her hand down on the lab table. The sudden noise startled Plankton enough to wobble on his precarious perch, and with a tiny squeak of terror, he lost his balance and toppled over. His invention fell with him, colliding with his head with an ominous clank. Karen turns around, her anger replaced with concern in an instant. "Plankton, are you ok?" He lay still. Karen rushed over. He was unconscious. Karen knelt beside his tiny body. "Plankton," she whispered, shaking him gently. Panic began to set in as he didn't stir. The weight of her actions crashed down on her. She hadn't meant for it to go this far. "Plankton, talk to me," she begged. With trembling fingers, she checked for a pulse. It was faint but there, and she felt a small wave of relief. But he was still out cold. Her mind raced as she tried to think what to do next. Calling for help was out of the question; their rivalry with Mr. Krabs meant they couldn't afford any more attention from the authorities. She knew they gotta wait it out. Gently, she picked him up. He was surprisingly heavy for his size. Carefully, she cradled him in her arms and laid him down on the couch. The room was eerily silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Karen sat beside his unconscious form, her eyes brimming with worry. The fight they'd just had seemed trivial now. "I'm sorry," she murmured, stroking his antennae gently. "You're right, I know how much this means to you. But I just want you to know that no matter what, I'm here for you." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she talked to him, as if fearful that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace that had settled over the room. "You don't have to prove anything to me, or to anyone else. I'm proud of you just the way you are." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's face for any sign of movement, but his features remained slack, his eye closed. She leaned in closer. "You're a brilliant inventor," she continued. "But you're also a husband, and I need you to remember that." Her voice was filled with a mixture of love and desperation. "I know you can't hear me right now, but I need you to know," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "I know you're tired of always being second best. But to me, you're not just Plankton, you're the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with." Karen took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she held onto his limp form. "We've been through so much together, and I know you think the Krabby Patty is the key to our happiness, but it's not. It's you. It's us." Her voice grew stronger, fueled by the passion of her words. "We can have a great life without that formula. We can build something new, something just for us." Plankton's chest began to rise and fall more evenly, his breathing steady. Karen watched him, hope growing in her heart. Maybe he could hear her after all. "When you wake up, let's talk. Let's put this behind us and make a promise to each other to make our marriage a priority," she pleaded, her eyes never leaving his face. The minutes dragged by, each one heavier than the last. The silence in the lab was a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of whirring machines and Plankton's excited exclamations. Karen's mind raced with thoughts of all the times they'd shared, laughing and planning together, and she couldn't help but reflect on their relationship. The countless nights spent in the lab, the stolen glances of affection, and the shared dream of a better future. It all flashed before her eyes, and she realized just how much Plankton meant to her. With her heart pounding in her chest, she leaned closer to his unconscious form, her voice trembling. "Plankton, please wake up," she whispered. "I need you to hear me. Our love is our greatest invention, not some secret recipe. I know I've been pushing you, but it's because I see how much this obsession consumes you." She took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "But if you can't let go of this dream, I'll support you. I'll always be here, by your side, no matter what." After a long silence, Plankton groaned. Karen gasped, her eyes filling with relief as she saw the spark of consciousness as he opens his eye. He groaned softly, his hand coming up to rub his head. "Where?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with confusion. Karen took his hand, her voice gentle. "You're on the couch, Plankton. You fell."
ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ final Pt. 6 finale “ᴮᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ, ᴾⁱⁿᵏʸ!” “ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ!” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ, ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ “ᴺᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ?” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ, ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ “ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵘʳᵗ…” “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ…” “ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉˢᵘᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵈᵃⁱˡʸ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵛⁱᵗⁱᵉˢ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ The End
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.
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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."
KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 3 (Autistic author) KAREN HAS A LESSON pt. 3 (Autistic author) "Sorry," Plankton says, his tone still flat. "Plankton, sorry. Plankton's brain different now. Difficult for Karen?" Karen shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Plankton, you're still you," she says, trying to smile. "I just wanted to understand." Plankton nods, his gaze returning to the brain scan. "Understanding important," he says. "Plankton still loves Karen. Just different now. Permanent." Karen breaks at his words, but she knows he's trying. They sit in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Karen takes a deep breath. "I love you, Plankton," she says, her voice steady. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what." Plankton nods, his expression unchanged. "Karen love Plankton," he responds. "Plankton love Karen." They sit together on the couch, the silence between them heavy with the weight of their new reality. Karen tries to find comfort in the familiar rhythm of his words, but it's like hugging a statue. There's no warmth, no give. But she can tell by the look in his eye that it's present. "Plankton," she says softly, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you want to go to the anniversary dinner?" He pauses, his gaze unwavering from the brain scan. "Anniversary dinner," he repeats, as if tasting the words. Then, with a sudden nod, "Plankton will accompany Karen." Karen swells with hope. Maybe this wasn't the end of their connection. Maybe they could find a new way to be together. "But Plankton," she says, her voice tentative. "I need you to be comfortable. If going out is too much for you, we can do something else." Plankton's antennae twitch, his face contemplative. "Understood," he says after a moment. "Home dinner preferred. Less stimulating." Karen nods, feeling a weight lift slightly from her chest. "Okay," she says, swiping at a stray tear. "We can have dinner here. I'll make your favorite." Plankton's antennae perk up at the mention of food. "Karen cook?" he asks, his voice betraying a hint of excitement. Karen smiles, relieved at his interest. "Yes, I'll cook," she says. "How about some Chum?" Plankton nods eagerly. "Chum. Yes." Karen rises from the couch, determined to make the best of the situation. She heads to the kitchen, her mind racing with ideas for a simple yet delicious meal that would be easy on his senses. She chooses a recipe that doesn't have too many ingredients or smells that might overwhelm him. As she starts cooking, Plankton watches her with his newfound detachment, his eye following her movements with a clinical interest. It's as if he's studying her, trying to understand her actions. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to engage him, "can you help me set the table?" Plankton nods, his movements mechanical as he rises from the couch. He takes the plates and utensils she hands him and arranges them with meticulous precision. Each item is placed exactly 1.5 centimeters apart, the forks and knives aligned at a perfect right angle. It's something she's never noticed him do before, but it's a part of him now. As she stirs the pot of simmering chum, she glances over at him, his single eye focused intently on the task at hand. She wipes a tear from her eye, her heart heavy. But she can't dwell on the sadness. They have a life to live, and they'll figure this out together. "Plankton," she calls out, trying to keep her voice light. "Could you please grab the napkins?" He nods and heads to the drawer, his steps measured and deliberate. When he returns, he doesn't hand them to her but instead counts them out loud. "One, two." He holds up both napkins, one for each place setting. "Is this correct?" Karen nods, her smile tight. "Yes, thank you." She tries not to let the sadness seep into her voice. This was their new norm, a dance of understanding and patience that they were still learning. As they sit down to eat, Karen notices that Plankton doesn't touch his food until she does. "You don't have to wait for me," she says gently, trying to ease into their new routine. "You can start whenever you're ready." Plankton nods, his movements precise and deliberate as he takes his first bite. Karen watches him carefully, noticing that he's chewing his food much slower than normal. She wonders if it's because his sensory input has changed or if it's just part of the neurodivergence. They eat in silence, the only sound being the occasional clink of their utensils and the bubbling of the chum. Karen tries to think of something to say, something that won't cause him discomfort or confusion. But her mind is a whirlwind of questions and fears. "Plankton," she says tentatively, "Do you like the chum?" He nods, his movements methodical. "Chum. Yes. Good." His voice is still flat, but she can see the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his eye. They continue their meal, Karen forcing down bites while her mind spins with a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, sadness, hope, and love all intermingling in a tumultuous storm. "Plankton," she says, her voice soft and tentative. "What are you thinking about?" He looks up from his plate, his eye focusing on her for a moment before returning to his food. "Thinking," he says, his voice monotone. "Plankton thinking about Karen. And Plankton with Karen." Karen aches at his response, but she tries to keep her expression neutral. "Do you like spending time with me?" she asks, desperation tingeing her voice. Plankton pauses, his eye flicking up to meet hers. "Plankton enjoys Karen's company." Karen clenches at his words, so devoid of the warmth they once held. But she knows she has to be patient, to give him space to navigate this new world. "Do you enjoy talking to me, Plankton?" He considers this for a moment before nodding. "Talking is good. Plankton learns things. Plankton feels safe." Karen feels a tear roll down her screen. "That's all I want," she whispers, reaching out to squeeze his hand. His grip is firm, but there's no warmth in it. It's as if he's trying to mimic the physical cue of comfort without understanding the emotional connection. "Karen crying sad?" He asks retreating his hand. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to hurt you earlier. I just wanted to spend our anniversary together." Plankton nods, his expression unreadable. "Understood," he says. "Anniversary. Special."
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