Neurofabulous Emojis & Text

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

DOCTORs APPOINTMENTs Before a procedure, get to meet the physician and acknowledge their authority before you mention your sensitivities. Find a way to make a compromise. Even request more time for an appointment if you want to have topical numbing agents wait to work, to discuss alternatives, etc. Before a procedure, look up the physician and/or the clinic website. Find pictures of the inner building and search for FAQ, policies, procedures, reviews, etc. Before a procedure, bring a fully charged phone and any sensory necessities such as plastic cups for water, ice pack, self testing kits, written notes and copies, etc.

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SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 1/2 (By NEUROFABULOUS) The morning light peeked through the blinds, painting stripes on the bedroom floor. Karen stirred in her sleep, sitting up. Her husband, Plankton, slept peacefully beside her, his arms wrapped around a pillow. Karen looked over at him, his face calm and serene. The digital alarm clock read 7:00 AM. She carefully slid out of bed, trying not to disturb his slumber. "Karen," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. She paused, half in and half out of the bed. Did he wake? But Plankton's snores grew softly, his breathing even. She sighed with relief. Their son Chip, a lanky teenager, was already up. Karen could hear his footsteps thundering down the hallway, his energy palpable even through the closed bedroom door. He burst into the room, a tornado of teenage angst and excitement. "Mom! Dad!" he shouted. "It's the day!" Karen winced at his volume. Plankton stirred, his eye slitting open. "What is it?" he asked, his voice groggy. "The science fair!" Chip exclaimed, his screen flushed with excitement. Plankton's eye shot open and he sat up instantly, his mind racing. The patty heist. Today was the day he had been meticulously planning for weeks. He had overheard Mr. Krabs, his rival at the Krabby Patty, bragging about their restaurant's dominance over the competition. Plankton had to have it. "Chip, buddy," he said, his voice a mix of sleep and urgency. "I will try to make it, but can’t guarantee it. But Karen, I mean ‘Mom’ can.." Karen's eyes widened, but she nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Her husband’s obsession with Krabby Patties had taken over again. "I'll be there for you, buddy," she assured Chip, trying to mask her own disappointment. Plankton threw the covers off, swinging his tiny legs over the side of the bed. His eye was sharp with focus, his mind already racing with the complexities of his heist. "I'll make it quick," he told Karen, kissing her screen. Plankton tiptoed, his heart pounding. The office door was closed, but unlocked. He eased it open, his eye darting around the room, searching for any signs of movement. Mr. Krabs and SpongeBob were deep in conversation, their backs to the door. Plankton took a deep breath and slipped in, his tiny frame barely making a sound. "Halt!" Mr. Krabs spun around, his beady eyes locking onto Plankton. His face grew red with anger. "What do ye think yer doing here?" Plankton froze, his heart thumping in his chest. "I... I... was just looking for a... a... " He searched for a plausible lie, but his mind was a whirlwind of panic. Mr. Krabs' glower deepened. "Don't lie to me, ye tiny scoundrel! I know what yer after, and ye'll not get it!" Mr. Krabs lunged forward, brandishing a heavy spatula. Plankton squeaked in alarm, trying to dodge the blow. But his reflexes weren't quick enough. The metal spatula connected with his head with a sickening crack, sending him crashing to the floor. The room spun around Plankton as darkness closed in. The last thing he heard was SpongeBob's startled, "Mr. Krabs!" before the world went silent. Mr. Krabs looked down at Plankton's crumpled form, his expression a stormy mix of anger and triumph. He turned to his trusty fry cook. "SpongeBob," he barked. "Take this...this... tiny troublemaker out of me office.." Sponge Bob looked at Mr. Krabs, then at Plankton, his face a mask of confusion and concern. He gently scooped Plankton up with one spongy arm, his eyes filled with concern for the unconscious villain. The weight of the situation hit him, and his steps were heavy as he carried his friend out of the office. He could feel the tension in the room as Mr. Krabs watched them go, his glower never leaving Plankton's form. Sponge Bob's mind raced with questions and worry. He had known Plankton for a long time, despite their rivalry over the Krabby Patty formula. They had shared laughs and schemes in the past, but this... He couldn't believe his boss would stoop so low as to attempt to hurt Plankton. As he stepped into the hallway, Sponge Bob quickly scanned for any prying eyes. The corridor was empty, the usual bustle of the Krabby Patty silenced by the early morning hour. Carefully, he navigated through the kitchen, trying not to jostle him. "What have you done?" Sponge Bob whispered to the unconscious Plankton, his voice tight with concern. He couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at his friend's usual foolishness, but his primary thought was to get him to safety. He carefully maneuvered Plankton's limp body past the kitchen appliances. The sizzle of the frying oil and the faint scent of sea salt filled the air, but Sponge Bob's thoughts were elsewhere. With a heavy heart, he carried Plankton's limp form down the narrow alley between the Krabby Patty and the Chum Bucket. The morning was still cool, the sun not yet high enough to warm the concrete. The journey was quick, but it felt like an eternity to Sponge Bob. Each step was precise, each breath measured. He didn't want to cause his friend any more harm. He reached the Chum Bucket, the neon lights flickering weakly in the early morning. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside, the smell of stale chum and machinery assaulting his nostrils. "Karen!" he called out softly, his voice echoing in the small space. "Karen, it's Sponge Bob; I need your help!" Karen rushed to the front of the Chum Bucket, her eyes widening at the sight of her husband's lifeless body. "What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling. Sponge Bob gently laid Plankton down on their couch, his eyes filled with remorse. "He... he tried to steal the Krabby Patty formula again," he stammered. "Mr. Krabs... he hit him." Karen's screen paled as she took in the sight of her injured husband. She quickly moved to his side, feeling for a pulse. It was there, still present. "Oh, Plankton," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Sponge Bob watched, his eyes brimming with apology. "I didn't know what to do," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Krabs... he just lost it." Karen's eyes were cold and hard. "Thank you for bringing him home, Sponge Bob," she said, her words clipped. “It’s not your fault..” Her voice trailed off as she turned her attention to Plankton. She gently shook his shoulder. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered. He didn't move. Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of consciousness. "Wake up," she said, a bit louder this time, her voice laced with desperation. The silence was deafening. The room felt like it was closing in on them, the air thick with the scent of concern and fear. Karen's voice grew desperate. "Plankton, wake up!" she shouted, patting his cheek gently. There was no response. Panic began to creep into her voice. "Come on, you can do it," she urged, shaking him slightly. "You've got to wake up." Plankton's body remained motionless, his single eye closed tight. Sponge Bob felt the panic swell inside him like a wave crashing against the shore. His heart raced as he watched Karen's desperate efforts to revive her husband. "Maybe we should call a doctor," he suggested, his voice quivering. Karen's eyes snapped to his, a mix of fear and determination. "No," she decided firmly. "We can't involve anyone else. Not yet." The two of them stood silently for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a clock hanging on the wall. They waited, every second seemingly stretching into an eternity. Each tick was a silent plea for Plankton to regain consciousness. Karen's hand hovered over her husband's forehead, feeling for any sign of life. Sponge Bob looked on, his usually cheerful expression now etched with worry. They waited, each second stretching into an eternity, as the morning sun began to creep into the Chum Bucket, casting a pale light over the disheveled scene. The only sounds were the soft whir of the refrigerator and the distant calls of seagulls. Then, a twitch from one of his antennas. It was so slight that Sponge Bob almost missed it. But Karen's gaze was trained on Plankton, and she noticed immediately. Her eyes lit up with hope. "Plankton?" she whispered, her hand moving to his cheek, her voice barely audible. There was another twitch, this time in his brow. Karen's heart leaped in her chest. "Sponge Bob, I think he's coming to." Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on Plankton's face. "Plankton," he whispered, his voice full of hope. "Can you hear us?" Plankton's eye cracked open, battling against the brightness of the morning. His vision was blurry, and the world spun around him. He moaned softly, his head throbbing with pain. "What happened?" he managed to croak, his voice hoarse and weak. Karen's eyes filled with relief. "You're awake!" she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You got hurt at the Krabby Patty."

SPONGEBOB OVERLOAD 2/2 (By NEUROFABULOUS) Plankton's memory was a jumble of images and sounds, but he recaled the confrontation with Mr. Krabs, the spatula, and the pain. He sat up slowly, his head spinning. The pain was intense, but his mind was racing even faster. Plankton looked around the room, his eye trying to make sense of the scene. The Chum Bucket was a mess, his usual order thrown into chaos. Karen's face was a blur of concern, and Sponge Bob hovered close by, his expression filled with a mix of fear and pity. Plankton's mind raced, his thoughts scattered like sand in a storm. He felt a deep disconnect from the world around him, as if he was watching a play in which he was a reluctant participant. His head throbbed, but not just from the blow. It was the pressure of his own thoughts, his brain working overtime to process what had just occurred. Karen noticed the confusion in his expression and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You had an accident, sweetie," she said softly. "It's okay. You're home now." Plankton's eye darted around the room, his mind struggling to understand the sudden shift in his reality. The noise was overwhelming, each sound a needle pricking his sensitive nerves. "Karen," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What's happening?" Her gaze softened. "You got hurt, Plankton," she explained gently. "But the science fair," he mumbled, his thoughts jumbled. Karen's expression grew even more concerned. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," she soothed. But Plankton's mind was stuck in a loop, repeating her words. "The science fair can wait Plankton," he echoed, his voice frail and distant. Karen's eyes grew wet with worry. "Yes, dear," she said, stroking his arm. "Your wellbeing is more important." Plankton's eye narrowed as he repeated her words, his voice a mix of stubbornness and determination. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured, his thoughts racing. The words echoed in his head, a maddening loop. "The science fair can wait, Plankton," he whispered to himself, his voice taking on a rhythmic pattern. "Can wait, can wait..." Sponge Bob watched, his heart heavy with concern. He had never seen his friend like this, his usual confidence and scheming reduced to repetitive mumbles. "Plankton," he ventured cautiously, placing a spongy hand on his shoulder. Plankton's eye snapped to his, the loop breaking for a brief moment. "Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice still weak. Sponge Bob's heart leaped with hope. "Yes, Plankton, I'm here," he said gently. But Plankton's gaze was distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Wellbeing is important," he murmured again, the words coming out in a staccato rhythm, his mind locked in the grip of echolalia. Karen's heart clenched with fear. This wasn't just disorientation from his injury. This was something more. "Sponge Bob," she whispered urgently. "I think he's in shock." Sponge Bob nodded, his face a mask of concern. "I'll get some water," he said, rushing to the sink. He filled a glass and hurried back, careful not to spill a drop. Plankton's eye followed the glass, his gaze unfocused. He began to rock back and forth slightly. Karen noticed the change in his behavior, her concern deepening. "Here, drink some water," she urged, offering the glass to his shaking hand. Plankton took it without a word, his motions mechanical. He brought the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so badly that water sloshed out, spilling down. The moment the cool liquid hit the floor, a strange look passed over his face. It was as if he had seen a ghost, his single eye going wide with alarm. "The water," he stammered, his voice shaking. Karen's heart sank as she watched her husband's distress. "It's okay, Plankton," she soothed. "It's just water..." But Plankton's eye were glued to the spilled water, his entire body trembling. "It's... it's not right," he muttered, his voice filled with a childlike fear. Karen looked confused, the spilled water seemingly a minor issue. “Plank…” “It’s not right!” Plankton’s voice was urgent now, his trembling hand gesturing at the spill. His mind was a whirlwind of disturbing thoughts, each more distressing than the last. Sponge Bob and Karen exchanged worried glances. “What do you mean, Plankton?” Sponge Bob asked, kneeling beside the couch, his eyes full of concern. Plankton's breathing grew rapid, his chest heaving. "The... the... water," he stuttered, pointing at the puddle. "It's too... too... much!" Karen's gaze flitted to the floor, then back to her husband. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice quaking with fear. "It's just a little spill." But Plankton's agitation only grew. He flung the glass aside, the remaining water splattering against the wall. "No!" he shouted, his voice high and desperate. "Too much!" Karen and Sponge Bob watched in horror as Plankton collapsed into a sobbing mess, his tiny body wracked with tremors. His hands fluttered in his face, his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. The room grew claustrophobic, the air thick with his panic. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her voice shaking. "It's just water, Plankton." But his anguished cries only grew louder. Sponge Bob's heart ached as he watched his friend fall apart before his eyes. Plankton's behavior was unlike anything he had ever seen, his usual cunning replaced with a raw, overwhelming fear. The room grew smaller as Plankton's sobs filled the space, his body convulsing with the intensity of his breakdown. Karen looked at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of despair and determination. They both knew they had to calm him down, but how? Sponge Bob took a deep breath, trying to think. "Plankton," he said softly, his voice a gentle coax. "Look at me, buddy. It's just a spill. It's okay." Plankton's cries grew louder, his body shaking uncontrollably. Karen wrapped her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm raging inside his mind. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible over his cries. Sponge Bob's heart was in his throat as he watched his friend's breakdown. Plankton was not his usual self. The usually scheming, sneaky scientist was reduced to a quivering mess, his sobs echoing off the walls of the tiny Chum Bucket. His face was a mask of fear and confusion, his single eye wide with panic. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, her voice trembling. "You're scaring me." She scans his brain. The results were not what she expected. The blow from Mr. Krabs had caused more damage than she could have imagined. The injury had altered his brain chemistry in a way that was both profound and irreversible. Plankton had developed a rare condition called acquired autism, a disorder that could occur after a severe head trauma. It was a cruel twist of fate for a man whose life had been consumed by the desire for the Krabby Patty formula. The realization hit Karen like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered the diagnosis to Sponge Bob and Plankton. His expression mirrored her shock and sadness. Sponge Bob sat silent for a moment, his usually cheerful face contorted with sympathy and concern. "What do we do?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you clean the mess?” Karen asks him. He nodded solemnly, his movements slow and deliberate as he stood up to mop the spilled water. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow for his friend. Plankton had always been the troublemaker, the one who pushed boundaries. But now, his world was shattered. The silence in the room was only broken by Plankton's sobs and the swish of the mop. Sponge Bob's heart felt heavy as he cleaned up the water, his thoughts racing. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. His best friend, his rival, his... his family. Plankton had always been there, through thick and thin, and now he was... different. And yet, that’s ok.

lidocaine ointment that can apply beforehand?

Karen had always loved her husband Plankton. His mind was a bastion of order in a world that often seemed too noisy and chaotic for him. Plankton had a way of seeing patterns and connections that she never could. He'd spend hours meticulously categorizing his collections. It was his way of making sense of the world, a comforting rhythm she learned to appreciate. But today was one of those days where Plankton's brain seemed to betray him. It was a silent, unassuming morning until Plankton froze. His eye glazes over, and his body stiffened like a plank. Karen's heart skipped a beat, knowing all too well what was happening. Her mind raced as she quickly took action. She guided him to the safe spot they'd designated for these moments, a corner padded with cushions and devoid of sharp edges. His body began to convulse, a symphony of uncontrolled movements that didn't match the calmness of the surroundings. She felt her own heart race, her palms sweating, but she knew she had to be his rock, his anchor. Suddenly his friend Sponge Bob came in; he's never seen nor heard of Plankton like this before. "What's happening to him?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice quivering with concern. Karen took a deep breath. "He has autistic seizures," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's like his brain gets overwhelmed with stimuli, and it just... short-circuits." SpongeBob's eyes widened beyond belief, taking in the scene before him. Plankton's tiny frame jerked and tremored. It was a stark contrast to the precise, orderly Plankton he knew. "Is he okay?" Sponge Bob stammered, his hands waving in the air, unsure what to do. "Just stay calm," Karen instructed, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "These usually pass quickly. I need to make sure he doesn't hurt himself." She moved swiftly, carefully placing pillows under his head. Sponge Bob nodded, his concern growing as he watched his friend suffer. He wished he could do something, anything to help. "Can I talk to him?" he asked tentatively, his thumbs tucked into his pants, fidgeting. "It's better to let him be," Karen advised gently. "He can't process much during this. But once it's over, you can." When Plankton's convulsions finally ceased, his body limp, and his eye flutters closed. Karen checked his pulse, sighing in relief when she found it steady and strong. She looked up at Sponge Bob, her expression a mix of worry and fatigue. "Just be there for him when he wakes up," Karen said. "He'll be disoriented. He might not understand what happened." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. He couldn't imagine what it must be like for Plankton, trapped in his own mind during these episodes. As Karen tended to Plankton, Sponge Bob felt a surge of curiosity. With a newfound determination, Sponge Bob turned to Karen, his eyes brimming with hope. "Could he maybe like... can he understand me now?" Karen looked at Plankton, still twitching, but clearly drained. She nodded slowly. "He can hear you. Just keep it simple and soothing." Sponge Bob approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on his friend. He knelt down and took Plankton's hand in his spongy grip. "Plankton," he whispered, "It's me, Sponge Bob. You're safe now." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, a hint of recognition flickering across his face. Karen offered Sponge Bob a small, grateful smile. She knew how much Plankton valued his friendship. Sponge Bob cleared his throat, his words gentle and measured. "Remember when we played catch with jellyfish?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the best at catching them, Plankton. Your reflexes are so fast, it's like you're a jellyfish ninja." Karen smiles. Plankton's eye is open, but unfocused, as if looking through Sponge Bob instead of at him. His pupil is dilated, and his gaze is distant. Sponge Bob's heart swells with a mix of hope and concern. "Plankton?" he calls again, a little louder this time. No response, just the slightest twitch. He's there, but not really. Karen watches closely, a silent guardian making sure her husband doesn't slip back into the chaos that had consumed him. The room feels eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual symphony of sounds that filled their lives. Karen's eyes are filled with love and fear, a potent mix that's all too familiar. She's seen this before, Plankton's mind retreating into itself when the world becomes too much. Sponge Bob squeezes Plankton's hand, trying to ground him in reality, but his friend's hand is cold and limp. "You know, Plankton," he starts again, his voice quivering slightly, "you're like a tiny superhero with a giant brain. Nothing gets past you." Then, as if a switch was flipped, Plankton's body starts to jerk again, but this time, the movements aren't the violent convulsions of a seizure. They're smaller, faster - tics. His head tilts quickly. Karen's eyes narrow slightly as she recognizes the signs. This was a common aftermath of his seizures, his brain's way of recalibrating itself. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle melody that pierced through the tension. "Just ride it out." Karen's eyes never leave his, her gaze a silent promise of protection and patience. She knew these tics were a part of his autism, a way for his body to cope with the overwhelming input. It was as if the world was too loud for him, and his body had found its own rhythm to try to drown out the noise. The tics grew more frequent, his head jerking in quick, spasmodic movements. Sponge Bob's grip tightens on his hand, his own heart racing. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew his friend needed him now more than ever. Karen's voice remained soothing, a constant in the storm of Plankton's neurological maelstrom. "It's okay," she said softly. "Let it happen." Sponge Bob watched, his eyes wide with concern. He'd never seen his friend like this before. The tics grew in intensity, Plankton's head snapping to a nod, his limbs twitching erratically. It was like watching a tiny, trapped bird, desperately trying to find its way out of a cage made of its own nervous system. "It's okay," Karen repeated, her voice a beacon of calm in the chaos. "These are just his tics. They're part of his autism. It's his brain's way of adjusting after a seizure." Sponge Bob nodded, trying to absorb the information. He'd known Plankton for years but had never known or seen him like this. Then Plankton's eye focused on Sponge Bob. A flicker of recognition sparked in the depths. "Sp...Sponge Bob?" he stuttered, his voice weak and tremulous. Sponge Bob's smile grew wider, relieved to hear his friend's voice. "Hey, buddy," he said. Plankton's head continued to twitch in a nodding motion, his eye blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Sponge Bob's face. The tics were less intense now, but they were still present, a subtle reminder of the storm that had raged within him moments ago. Karen knew that this was the part where he'd start to come back to them. Karen explained, "The tics can last for a bit, but he'll be back to normal soon." Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand steadying as he watched his friend's eye refocus. He didn't understand it, but he knew Plankton needed time. As the tics began to subside, Plankton's hand squeezed Sponge Bob's in weak acknowledgment. Sponge Bob felt a wave of relief crash over him. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice quiet and reassuring. Plankton's breathing grew more even, his body finally relaxing. The twitches gradually slowed until they were barely noticeable. It was like watching a tightly wound clockwork toy slowly unwinding. Karen reached over to stroke Plankton's arm, her touch feather-light. "You're going to be okay," she said. (my search NeuroFabulous)

『🧠🔥𝕭𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓 🧠🔥』 (my search NeuroFabulous)

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

ℑ𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣. 💀

🌈🧠🤷🏼‍♀️

🔪☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ sprinkling some fairy dust on the feed for my mentally ill & disabled girlies who may be struggling or having a hard time rn ༺♡༻ /)__/) Ƹ̵̡\( ˶• ༝ •˶) /Ʒ o ( ⊃⊃) *⛥*ﾟ・。*.ੈ ♡₊˚•. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ # 🔮

Going into Hospital When you are suddenly needing to go into hospital it can be scary, and the last thing people want to do is think about what they need to take with them. For this reason we have compiled this list to help you prepare. Comfortable/ Loose fitting clothing Several pairs of underwear Thick socks Ipad/Tablet/ Ipod w/ earphones Money Sanitary pads Mobile phone and charger Food to snack on Books/ CD’s/ Magazines Toiletries/ face wipes/hairbrush Own Pillow Clothing for going home Dressing gown and slippers An overnight bag is a good idea (although you may not need this) Heating pad

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

🍓☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🍒𝓡𝓮𝓭 🧡🍂✴️⚡🦊𝓞𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 🌻💛🌙🪞✨🌼𝓨𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 °˖𓍢ִ໋🍃✿°.💚⋆*.'🌿: ^🍃𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓷 🫧🕊️🩵🪞✨𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓮 ✩💜₊˚.🪻⋆☾⋆⁺₊🫧✧𝓟𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓵𝓮 🪷🪞✨🫧♡︎🪷𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴

follow my ig!! ifb @kqvlsa ———————————————— 🐝 𝐄𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐬 :: ⋆｡˚ 𝐫𝐞𝐝: 🍒🎸🥀🍷🍓🍄🎈 ⋆｡˚ 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞: 🧡✴️⚡🦊🍁🍹🔆 ⋆｡˚ 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰: 💫🥞🌻🧇🌼🍯🌙 ⋆｡˚ 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧: 🌱☁️🌿🍵🍃🕊☘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞: 🌊🐋🌨️🎐🐬🎐🌀 ⋆｡˚ 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞: 💜👾🎧☂️💜🌆🔮 ⋆｡˚ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤: 💗🌸🎀🦩💕🌷🍥 ⋆｡˚ 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤: 🐈‍⬛🖇️🎧📷🖤🕷️🎱 ⋆｡˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞: 🦢☁️🕯️🤍🕊️🐚🐻‍❄️ ⋆｡˚ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫/𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲: 🕸️📎🐨💿🦈🔗📽️🤍🍰🦢

🎀 ❤️ 🌹 ⚽ 🎹 ♣️ 🧸 🤎 ☕ ✨ ☀️ ✌️ 💗 👄 🌺 🐸 🍀 ♻️ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 <3

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

-ˋˏ ༻ 𝜗 A U T U M N 𝜚 ༺ ˎˊ- ⋆｡🍂˚ ✧ ˚🍁༘ ⋆｡🪵˚ ༘ .𖥔 ݁ ꨄ︎ 🪶˖ ❀˖° ✦🦋. ⊹ ˚ ! : 𖹭 ࣪ 🐌𓈒

BENEFITS TO EMBRACING NEURODIVERSITY IN Schools @MeS. SPEECHIEPO CREATES INCLUSIVE LEARNING ENVIRONMENTS Neurodiversity affirming teaching strategies allow ALL students, regardless of neurotype to be accepted, valued, and supported. IMPROVES ACADEMIC AND LEARNING OUTCOMES Neurodivergent students often excel academically when their individual learning styles are accommodated and their strengths are nurtured. ENHANCES SOCIAL INTERACTIONS Neurodiverse i.e. BOTH Neurotypical and Neurodivergent) students have opportunities to interact with peers of varying neurotypes, fostering social skills and relationships, empathy, understanding, and acceptance. REDUCES BULLYING AND STIGMA Directly teaching about differences and embracing neurodiversity reduces bullying and stigma, creating a safer and more welcoming school environment for ALL students. PROMOTES A VARIETY OF STRENGTHS AND INTERESTS Schools can identify, promote, and celebrate the talents, strengths, and interests of ALL students, whether in academics, arts, or other areas to make everyone feel valued, respected, and accepted. OMeS SPEECHIEPO

S U N S E T ✨ 𐙚 .･🌅୨୧ ₊˚ ₊ ✩🔆 ･ ₊˚ ୨୧˚ ₊ ⛅･ ᅠೀ☀️･˖ ୨୧ ･˖ 💫 ･ᰔ 𐙚 ˚⛅⋆｡⛱️˚🌅˚₊

School 😔 Schoo 😒 Scho 😞 Sch 😣 Sc 😩 S 😐 Su 😌 Sum 😏 Summ ☺ Summe 😄  Summer 😍

✦. ⊹ ˚ L U N A ! : 𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒 . ° ༘🕯️⋆🌕₊ 🌙˚ෆ . 𖧷₊˚🎑˖𓍢ִ. ⟡ ˎˊ˗ ୭ ✨˚. ᵎᵎ ྀི + ˚🍴ᰔᩚ 🍙 ᯓ⋆.* ⠀ . ⁺◟ 🎧⸝⸝⸝🌌๑˳* " ⠀⠀ ⊹ 🎮ヾ 🌀 ︎⋆꙳💭

-ˋˏ ༻ 𝜗C O Q U E T T E𝜚 ༺ ˎˊ- ᅠೀ🍡･˖ ୨୧ ･˖ 🍥 ･ᰔ . ⋆˚🏩° 🦢₊ ⊹ 🍧 ✧˚ . 🩰 𐙚 .･🌷 ୨୧ ₊˚🎀 . ₊ ✩🎀 ･ ₊˚ ୨୧˚ ₊ 🌷･

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝜗 S A K U R A 𝜚 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚🌸 ʚ💌ɞ˚🌷‧｡⋆ . 𐙚 ˚🪷⋆｡💞˚🐇˚₊ *　★ ﾟ･｡ * ｡🌸 . ₊ ✩🎀 ･ ₊˚ ୨୧˚ ₊ 🌷･

˚｡⋆*🍃G R E E N★ ﾟ･｡ * ｡ 𐙚 ˚🌱⋆｡🍀˚🐇˚₊ ⤷ ಇ🪵. 𐙚⋆°｡🌳⋆♡ . ⋆⁺₊♪🌿✩ 🥦࣪ ♡ . .𖥔 ݁ ꨄ︎🪹 ˖ ❀˖🐊°

-ˋˏ ༻ 𝜗 T U L I P S 𝜚 ༺ ˎˊ- °.🌸⋆❀˖°🌷 ˖𓍢ִִ໋🩷˚˖𓍢ִ 💮✧˚. ⋆ ˚｡⋆🌷୨ 𝜗𝜚 ୧🍀⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✦. ⊹ ˚ 🌺 ! : 𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒🎀

1. 𓏲࿔˚✩ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ✩˚࿔𓏲 2. 𓂅 ⊹ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ⊹ 3. ⋆｡°✩ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ✩°｡⋆ 4. ⊹₊˚໒𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ꒱˚₊⊹ 5. 𖥻 ⋆₊˚ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ˚₊⋆ 𖥻 6. ༊·˚ 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 ·˚༊ 7. 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 8. ⋆ ₊˚✧ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ✧˚₊⋆ 9. ₊˚⊹˚₊ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ₊˚⊹˚₊ 10. ꒰ ⊹ ༘ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ༘⊹ ꒱ 11. ˚༘♡ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ♡༘˚ 12. ⋆ 𖦹₊˚ ∘ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ∘ ₊˚𖦹 ⋆ 13. ⋆✦˚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆˚✦⋆ 14. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 𖥧⋆ 15. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 16. ⋆˙⊹˚ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ˚⊹˙⋆ 17. ✧˚₊⊹˚𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮˚⊹₊˚✧ 18. ⋆⁺₊˚✦ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ✦˚₊⁺⋆ 19. ⋆ ˚｡⋆��໒𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ⊹⋆｡˚ ⋆ 20. ✦𓆙 ˚₊𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ₊˚ 𓆙✦

1. ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆۶ৎ 2. ⋆｡˚୨𝑳𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒆୧˚｡⋆ 3. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 4. ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚ - ★ ₊ ˚ ⌗ 🗝️𖦹 5. ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆✮ 6. ✧˖°. 사랑 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ 7. ⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 ໒꒱˚｡⋆ 8. «✮ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✮» 9. 🍞*˚⁺‧͙𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞･ﾟ:☕ 10. ˙ . ꒷ 🍙 ˙ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𖦹˙— 🐈‍⬛ 11. . ° “랜” ⊹ . ᶥ ‹🍂› 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞ᥫ᭡. 12. ୭₊˚🎀 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ·˚ ₊ 13. .・🍨 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞✰ 14. 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

🌤️⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ S U N L I G H T ୧˚🐝༉‧₊˚🍰 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ ☀️⋆ ˚✦. ⊹ ˚ ⚡ ! : 𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒｡⋆˚🌅༉‧₊˚ .𖥔 ݁ ✨ꨄ︎ ˖ ❀🌙˖° ⋆｡🍦˚ ✧ ˚🥞 ༘ ⋆｡🍪˚ ༘

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝜗 C O T T A G E 𝜚 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆.🍃☘︎ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ🪵꩜ ‧˚ ⋆𝄞🌳 ⤷ ಇ. 🪹𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡🪶 𑁤🍂𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ 🦋⋆⭒˚.⋆🍀 *:･ ☾ 🛖 ᵕ̈♡︎ 🌲

-ˋˏ ༻ 𝜗 B A K I N G 𝜚 ༺ ˎˊ- *:･ ☾ 🍞★ ᵕ̈♡︎ 🍓 ౨ৎ 🌸 ᡣ𐭩 • ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ｡𖦹🎀°‧ ᅠೀ🍡･˖ ୨୧ ･˖ 🍥 ･ᰔ (crdts : @.prettieswony on pinterest)

garden symbols ⋆.ೃ࿔ ʚïɞ ( ၴႅၴ 𓇬 𐀔 𓇢𓆸 ༘ ✿ ☘︎ 𑁍ࠬܓ ꕤ 𓇙 𖡼 𖤣 𖥧 𓋼 𓍊 ⚘ ❀ 𓍢ִ໋ 𖧧

heart dividers ෆ ༚︶︶︶︶ෆ ༚꒰ ෆ ꒱༚ ෆ︶︶︶︶༚ ෆ ࿐⸻༺ ෆ ༻⸻࿐ ෆ ˚ ︶︶ෆ︶︶︶︶ෆ︶︶ ˚ ෆ ෆ ∘⏝∘ ෆ ୨ ෆ ୧ ෆ ∘⏝∘ ෆ ෆ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ෆ ୧ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ͜ ෆ

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

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

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

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

flower dividers .・。.・゜❀・.・❀・゜・。. ༻❀༺　༻❀༺　༻❀༺ ❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀ ⏜︵❀︵⏜︵❀︵⏜︵❀︵⏜ ❀ ┈┈∘*┈ ❀ ┈*∘┈┈ ❀

Neurodivergence* are just as physical as other disabilities. why are changes in your brain, nerves, gut, hormones, senses, and energy levels only considered physical if they're caused by literally anything else? have we considered that the separation of the mind from the rest of the body is just a way of minimizing and othering ND people? *neurodivergent refers to people with mental illnesses, developmental and intellectual disabilities, and other neurological conditions.

ᵀᵒᵒᵗʰ ᴮᵉ ᵀᵒˡᵈ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᴳᵒʳᵈᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵐᵘᵐ‧ “ᴴᵉʸ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ; ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ‧” ᔆᵒ ᴳᵒʳᵈᵒⁿ ᵈʳᵒᵖˢ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ “ᴴⁱ, ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ!” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ᴳᵒʳᵈᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ’ˢ ᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵘⁿᵈʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱʳᵗʸ ᶠⁱᵛᵉ ᵈᵉᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵃⁿᵍˡᵉ‧ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵖˡᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᶜʳʸ‧ “ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ, ᴵ’ᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ!” “ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ, ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ? ᔆᵒ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ, ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ’ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧” ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃᵗⁱᵉⁿᵗ‧ “ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ?” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ “ᴺᵒʷ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ, ʷᵉ’ᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖⁱˡˡ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵒʳ ˡⁱᑫᵘⁱᵈ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ᶠᵒʳᵐ?” ᴴᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ? ᴵᵗ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿ…” ˢᵒ ⁿᵒʷ, ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗˢ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʲᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃⁱᵗ‧ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵖᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳᵗʰ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ˢᵃᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿⁱˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ‧ “ᴴᵉʸ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗⁿᵉˢˢ, ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧‧” ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʸˢ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵈˢ‧ “ᵂᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ˢⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ˡᵃᵖ?” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵒⁿ‧ “ᴹˢ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ?” ᴺᵒʷ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ!” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ “ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ?” ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ, ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁿᵒʷ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧ “ᵂᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵇᵘʳᵍᵉʳ?” “ᵁʰ?” “ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧” ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ⁿᵃᵖ?” “ʸᵉ…” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ˡᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁿᵃᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ “ᴬᵘ…” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵐᵘˢᵗ’ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰᵘⁿᵍʳʸ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ… “ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵇᵃᵇʸ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ?” ᴴⁱˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ “ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ’ᵛᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ?” “ᵂᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ⁱᶠ…” “ʸᵉˢ, ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ!” ᔆᵃʸˢ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ, ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᵐᵘᵐ!” ᔆʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ, ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ “ᵂʰᵒ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ…” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵐᵘᵐ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵒⁿ ˢʰʳᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ‧ “ᵂᵉˡˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ!” ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ‧ “ᴴⁱ‧‧” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧ “ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ʰᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ?” “ᴬ ˡⁱˡ‧‧” ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᔆᵒʳʳʸ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ˢˡᵉᵖᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ; ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵒᵘᵗ, ⁱᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ, ʷᵒʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧‧” “ᴵ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ!” ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ‧ “ᴬᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵒⁿ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ‧‧” “ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ, ᴵ’ᵛᵉ ᵃ ⁿᵘᵐᵇ ʲᵃʷ!” ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵒᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ‧ “ᴬⁿ ᵉˣᶜᵘˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉʸ ʸᵒᵘ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ! ᴺᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵘᵈ, ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃᵘᵈⁱᵇˡᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ!” “ᴼʰ, ʰᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ‧‧” ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ, ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ‧ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟻𝟶𝟶

1. ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 2. 「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」 3. ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆✮ 4. ୭₊˚🎀 name ✿ ·˚ ₊ 5. 𐙚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞꒱ 6. 𐔌 . ⋮ name .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ 7. ⋆｡˚꒰ঌ Name ໒꒱˚｡⋆ 8. ° „ ★ ᥒᥲmᥱ 🎀ྀིྀི 9. °❀name⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 10. ˚₊‧꒰ა name ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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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.

You don't just practice away a neurological disorder 👀

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.

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⚕️🏥🚑💉🩺🩹💊🏨👩🏻‍⚕️👨🏻‍⚕️❤️🥼🩸🦷🏣😷🧪🧬🫀❤️‍🩹🌡️🤒🚨📁👨‍⚕️🧫👩‍⚕️🫁🩹👀

💉🎀🦴🏩🩹

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🌀🧃🐾‼️💤🌱🎶🍀 << jumino₊ ⊹core emoji combos !!

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ᵂᵉᵈⁿᵉˢᵈᵃʸ ᵂⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ⁽ᵂᵉᵈⁿᵉˢᵈᵃʸ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ‧" ᵂᵉᵈⁿᵉˢᵈᵃʸ ʳᵉᵖˡⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴱⁿⁱᵈ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ ʰᵒʷ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵃᵇˡᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ‧" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᵂᵉᵈⁿᵉˢᵈᵃʸ‧ "ᴱⁿʲᵒʸᵃᵇˡᵉ‽" ᴱⁿⁱᵈ ˢʰᵒᵒᵏ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧

᭨ ⃟🧠

this arguement is wild lol.. anyways want symbols? ` Emoji Combo’s ` 🧷🧦🗝️🐌🌱🥀🔩 🪞🕊️🤍✨ 🎐🫧🦋🧿💠🌀 🦢🩰🎧🪞💌 🐻☕🧸📋🧋🍪 🍓🍰💌🧸 🗝☕🕰📜🎞🖋️ 💌🧚‍♀️💗🌨🥡🍥 🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 🗒📃🕯️🧾💭 🍄🍓🧸🧺🪞 💌🌷💋⁉️ 🐉🌿🍵🕊🧺 🕊🎐🕯 🎀🛼🫶🏻🌸🛍️ 🌷🫧💭 🩰🦢🕯️🍒💌 🍄🦋🌸 ☁️🎀🧸 🍵☘️🌲🐍 🎧🪐⭐️🫧 ` Text Decor ` ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚtxt/eɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆༺𓆩txt/e𓆪༻⋆ . ༶ ⋆˙txt ⊹❀ ♡ ˚₊‧꒰ა txt / e ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𖤐𓏲🕷࣪ ꩜ⴰ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ txt ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ｡･: txt ˚:✧｡ ⁺˚⋆｡txt °✩₊ ༺☆༻ ・゜ʚ txt ɞ゜・゜ ☾⋆｡ txt 𖦹 °✩ 𓂃❛꒰ txt ꒱❜

๋࣭ ⭑🍈˙ᵕ˙𝐊𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐨ᯓ★🥝ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 🥟´-ֶָ֢ ๋࣭ ⭑𝐊𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐨ᯤּ ֶָ֢.🍦 ‏༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖🐢𝐊𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐨°⪼🍵ˎˊ˗ ༉‧‧₊˚🐇彡𝐊𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐨ෆ🍼≈༘⋆ ઇ🐞ଓ^ֶָ֢᪲᪲᪲𝐊𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐨🍒₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 🥥๋࣭ ⭑𓇼𝐊𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐨 🦔 . ⊹ . ݁ .

𝒜 𝒷 𝒸 𝒹 𝑒 𝒻 𝑔 𝒽 𝒾 𝒿 𝓀 𝓁 𝓂 𝓃 𝑜 𝓅 𝓆 𝓇 𝓈 𝓉 𝓊 𝓋 𝓌 𝓍 𝓎 𝓏 1. ⭑✾⭒ ⊰ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ⊱ ⭑✾⭒ 2. ⟆✦∘˚ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ˚∘✦⟆ 3. ⇻༄⋆ 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 ⋆༄⇺ 4. ✾ུ۪۪⸙͎ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ⸙ུ͎۪۪✾ 5. ⋆ ˚❃ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ❃˚ ⋆ 6. ✦⁺˚₊༄ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ༄₊˚⁺✦ 7. ⭒𖤐♡𖤐⭑ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ⭒𖤐♡𖤐⭑ 8. ⭑⋆˚❋ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ❋˚⋆⭑ 9. ❁ ˚₊✧ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ✧₊˚ ❁ 10. ♡⸜༄𖥻 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𖥻༄⸝♡ 11. ⊹⋆₊˚⏉˚₊⋆ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ⋆₊˚⏉˚₊⊹ 12. 𖤓✧˖˚⋆ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ⋆˚˖✧𖤓 13. ⇢˖˚⊛ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ⊛˚˖⇠ 14. 𖥞⋆⸜❨ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ❩⸝⋆𖥞 15. 𓇼 ♡₊˚ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ˚₊♡ 𓇼 16. ↻༄⋆∘˚ 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮 ˚∘⋆༄↺ 17. ❋ ⋆｡˚✦ 𝓃𝒶𝓂ℯ ✦˚｡⋆ ❋

🧠 ͜ (－‸ლ)

1. ‧₊ʚ🌷ෆ﹕name﹕๑⁺⨯ 2. ─˚⊹🌿﹕name﹕˖˚ 3. ✦・┊🌼꒱name₊୧‧˚₊๑ 4. ✧・┊🍄꒱name︶꒷꒦ 5. 🥛 ˖ ࣪ ‹ name 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 6. ୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 ⋄ 𓍯 7. `⌁ ◜name◞ 8. ˖ ࣪ ꒷name ꐑꐑ ! 9. ⊹ ᨘ໑▸ 𖥻 name ˑ 𖦹 10. ˖ 🎀 ᝬ ʿnameꜝꜞ 𖦹 ˖࣪،̲Ꮺ ! 11. 𖥦 ٭࣭ ャ › name 𖤩 ˖࣪،̲Ꮺ ! 12. - 🍯⊰❞ 𝒏𝐚𝐦𝐞 13. 🍭 ᭚ ━ name ۰ ۪۪۫۫ ·₊̣̇ ꒷ ꒦ 14. ⌞ ⌗ Name 🍥⌝ 15. ☕꒱nameɞ꒦₊˚ 16. ʚ🍯꒱name・꒷꒦-₊˚ 17. ʚ🐻꒱name-̣̮-̥-⋆ˊˎ 18. ✦・┊🥛꒱name〃✩ 19. ʚ🌷꒱name⋆ฺ｡･༉‧ 20. ᨓ 。name 🍓 ∩⑅∩ 21. ꗃ ⋆ ࣪ . name 🐇 . ‹ 22. - 𖥨¡!🥛 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𖦹´ 23. - - - 🖇️𖥻 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾

~ Considering your sensory needs- pack a bag with sensory aids such as headphones, earplugs, coloured glasses, stim tools, ice, comfort items and so on to support your comfort whilst at your appointment. Considering your communication needs- perhaps take a trusted friend or family to support with verbal communication, a hospital passport that you can share with staff or notes including scripted comments or responses that you can refer to during the appointment as verbal speech. Wear suitable clothing or dress that can be easily taken on and off. To minimise uncertainty, research what is involved in the procedure before attending so that you have a good idea what to expect. Write out a list of questions to avoid relying on memory during a potentially stressful experience. Plan your travel route in advance and leave plenty of time to get to your appointment to minimise anxiety and allow time to adjust to the environment upon arrival. Engage in calming, grounding techniques prior to the appointment start time. During: whilst at the appointment it may be helpful to ~ Ask for the nurse practitioner to talk you through the procedure in full before it commences, preferably with use of images or demonstrations with relevant equipment. Be open about which aspects of the experience you might struggle with as an Autistic person and request particular adjustments. Engage in grounding techniques such as mindful breathing. Hold on to a stim object that is comforting or acts as a stress reliever. Listen to music to support self-regulation. Share your concerns or worries with the nurse practitioner to invite reassurance or helpful advice. Remember your reason for attending and why it is important for you. Aftercare: following the procedure, it is a good idea to plan in some time for self-care and self-regulation, some ideas might include ~ Get yourself into a sensory safe space where things feel predictable and calm (for e.g. a quiet room with dim lighting, weighted blanket etc). Arrange to debrief/chat to a friend or another supportive person about your experience after leaving your appointment. Arrange to meet with a trusted person following the procedure to support you with getting back home or perhaps to do something you might enjoy together. Engage in your dedicated interest. Acknowledge your achievement in attending and getting through the appointment. Journal about your experience to help with emotional processing. Engage in your favourite stim to release any tension that may remain in your body. Allow yourself to physically rest or sleep once back at home.

Anonymous asked: autism culture is trying to isolate yourself because you're getting overstimulated but people keep coming in to talk to you and then get mad when you lash out. like omg im TRYING to "calm down" just give me a minute

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

⚠️ DO NOT GO TO ANY LINKS YOU SEE IN THIS APP || (ESPECIALLY DISCORD SERVERS) || JUST DISLIKE THEM AND DONT CLICK THEM ⚠️

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this NEEDS to be an app౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚≽^•༚• ྀི≼ (reposted🔁)>ᴗ<🧸ྀི

🍨🐾🍮🍴 ←。• '' coolio foodi emojis ‼️ ,, °

petition to make this an app!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

dawg you can't "steal" an emoji combo if you're deadass gonna post it on a website💀

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

emoji combos: 🦢🩰🧴🧁🍡🪷✉️🍮 👒🧺🌾🍵📻🧸🍂🥧 🍹🌺🐆🫒🍸🎷🏖️🦜 🐞🧃🎨🪲🖍️🎏🧚‍♀️☘️ 🐚🍈🎧🪷🐇🎐🍧🫧 🛵🪇🍹💐🚃🏖️🥂🍋 🕷️🎱📼🪦🐈‍⬛🌑🕸️🧛🏻‍♀️ 🧳🌳🧺🥧🌿🪵🕰️☕️ 🍎📚🏫📗🎒🥪🎨🖍️

BIO + SYMBOL PACK !!! 𖥔 📟 ꩜ ⩇ּ⩇ ʿ : ーツ ¡! 📞 カ ໋ ⸝⸝ 𝅦 𝗳𝗮𝗹len ✧ ᨯ 苺. ᘐ 🥢 𝗮𝗻𝗴els ㌗ の › 𝇋☆𝇌 テレビ ! 𔘓 ﹙🧀﹚ van͟i͟ꪱꪱa ⠀︵⠀⠀⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖ ꕀ lover ⠀⸝⸝` ๑꒱⠀ 𓂂 ⠀ .ıllı. social ﹔ link ﹒ @ 𝐍AME ─ timezone ﹐ nation ^..^ star sign ﹒ bday ：✿ 。prns social 𖦹 friend ﹔user ⠀ ⠀⠀민지⠀ ⠀♡𝆬 ⠀ 𝓛. : 🥄 ݂֢ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀🥼 : 지수 𝄒 ﹙ 𝒔. ﹚ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝘴𝖺𝗇𝖺 ׄ 𓈒 ᯇ 🧷 : ୧ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝅄⠀࿙࿚ ︶ ⠀♱⠀ ︶࿙࿚ 𝅄 ⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰ ℋ𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑡 ꒱ @ username ┃ 𝗔𝗡𝗚𝟯𝗟 ꕀ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ ✶ ━━ 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄 , ⤷ ┇ ⌒ 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 ꒱꒱ 彡 ꒰୨୧꒱ ┃ ◞⁺⊹．prns . 𝅄 ݁ ⏜ ꒰ 𝖼ᥲ𝗋ᥲ𝗆ᥱ𝗅 gⲓrℓ ꒱ ── ๑ ֹ ₊ㅤ ۟ ▦ ﹒ ☆ 🔌 🛒 ⸒ 별 ꜝ ﹫ 𝜗⠀ name⠀˙ ♱◞ ྀི 𓏵𓏵⠀𖥻prn/prn ◟ 𓉸⠀ ︵︵⠀𓈒⠀⠀ext⠀𝜚　˙ 　˖　⁰⁰ ⠀☆⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀ׁ⠀⠀𝗰𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾⠀⠀ׅ⠀⠀ׁ⠀⠀꒱⠀⠀𝇄𝇃⠀⠀ׅ⠀⠀☕ ꒱⠀⠀ׁ⠀⠀ׅ⠀⠀⠀𝆬⠀⠀⠀ᘏ⠀⠀α𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋⠀⠀ׅ⠀⠀⠀𝆬⠀⠀⠀ָ֢⠀⠀⠀ෆ 𖡎⠀⠀ָ֢⠀⠀⠀𝆬⠀⠀🥼⠀⠀ׅ⠀⠀⠀ׁ⠀ꕀ⠀⠀ׁ⠀⠀ׅ⠀⠀𝟵𝟴⠀﹔ ͝ ︶ ·̩͙⏝ ͝ ୨ ꒰ name ꒱ ୧ ͝ ⏝ ·̩͙︶ ͝ ۫ ۪ info info info 𝆴 　　　　　 ⤷ 　　 ﹒　 　e　　 text 　　 ♡ 　　　　　⌒  　text 　 　e　 　⟡ 　　　　　( ᴗ ̫ ᴗ )　　text　　⋌　　e 　﹒　 ㅤ𓂃 ׁ ⃝ 🍂（ かんけつ編 ） ˑ ୨ ִ ۫ ㅤㅤ ݁ 🗡️ ◠ ִ ٬٬ 𝟾⩇% ꣼ 𝚍𝚎☆𝚝𝚑 ۫ ︵ ✧ _ _╰ㅤ ㅤ ۫ ✦ㅤ ㅤ **txt _!!_**⠀ ⠀ ◠ ᶻᶻ ㅤ ıstj ꜝꜝㅤ ⸺ㅤ pronouns ִ ⠀ׂ ★ 𐙚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🎀 ♡ 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 ⋆.˚ 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩 ⊹ ᰔ. @𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙧 ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ ･ᴗ･ "i wanna be yours" ⊹ ıllı " [names] info! " ✩ ⊂⊃ nicknames ﹐⇅ ⊂⊃ prns ﹐⇅ ᶻz xtra ﹐✩ ! ˃ᗜ˂ carrd / rentry ✩ ﹐ I. name 🥛 age ✮ II. gender .. . prns III. xtra , xtra ꩜ ☁️ ✉️ follow :: @user ㅤㅤㅤ ── ּ ᰍ ˳ 𝒫 ͜αℓɘ ⃝🦢 ۫ ུ ㅤㅤㅤ ི 🦪 𓈒 ਬਦ ⊹ 苍白 ︵ 𝇈 ꒰ ⋆ ࣪. ━ׄ──ִ──ׁ──ִ──ׁ─𔕙─ׅ──ׁ──ׅ──ׁ──ׅ━ ˖ ࣪⭑ ꒱ ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 . . . 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝖄𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝖄𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎 ✸ 甘美な 𝗪𝗪𝗪.NAME.𝗖𝗢𝗠. ?! © ❛ prns . gender 名 ─ nick : name ﹙sexuality﹚ ❱❱ age . mbti ! 🗝 ‹ 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁﹢𝘂𝗽𝗰ɔ𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄ɔ𝗿𝗸𝘀 ꒱ ▬▬ NAME

THERES EMOJI COMBO BEEF?????

hii! heres sum white emoji combos 4 u! 🦢🪽🕯️🫧 🎧 🗯️🕯️✉️ ☁️🦢🤍 search aby 4 more! (bios, emoji combos..etc)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠙⠻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⠿⠿⠛⠋⠉⣁⡀⢻⣷⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣟⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣴⣾⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⢣⡏⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡶⠋⠉⡩⠝⠋⡠⠒⠁⠉⣉⠝⠋⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⢸⠁⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⢀⡜⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⢠⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢸⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⡿⠇⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣀⣀⠞⠀⠀⠸⣀⣀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠷⠛⠛⢶⡄⠀⠀⢸⢸⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣧⣤⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⠀⠀⡀⠀⢸⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠃⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⡇⡇⣿⣿⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠁⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⣀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⠜⢰⢁⣿⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡴⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢆⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⣸⣿⡏⠀ ⠀⠀⣾⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠻⠛⢁⠎⢤⣀⣠⡴⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⠆⢣⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠀⣿⣿⠁⠀ ⠀⣼⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡠⣚⠕⠋⢀⣴⡪⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠈⡆⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢄⠀⠸⣿⡆⠀ ⣼⣿⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⠊⢀⡵⡺⠗⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣄⠇⠀⢹⣿⡀ ⠈⢿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢫⣋⣀⡴⢹⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⡀⠇⠁⠀⠈⣿⡇ ⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠸⠀⠀⡇⢸⠉⢒⣀⣠⡤⠤⠶⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⣤⣴⣿⡟ ⢀⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠾⣇⣀⣠⡗⠯⠭⠐⠒⠒⠒⣖⠒⠢⠬⣉⡒⠠⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣯⠉⠀ ⠈⢿⣷⣬⡭⢛⠭⠕⠒⠈⢉⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⢰⠈⠑⡆⠈⠁⠒⡈⡧⠤⠤⠤⣀⠀⠙⡦⢄⣀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠉⢻⣧⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢮⣀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⣶⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣅⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡇⠀⠀⡰⢲⠀⠰⠇⢸⢳⡄⠀⠀⢠⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⢿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣀⣀⣸⣧⣀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣿⠟⢳⡇⠀⣰⠃⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⣷⣤⡀⢸⣧⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡛⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡿⠻⠿⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣿⡟⠀⠸⡇⢙⣿⠀⠿⠃⠀⠸⠿⠀⢻⠙⠢⠼⣿⠀⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⡏⠉⠳⡇⢪⡇⢀⡀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣄⠑⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣇⠀⢀⣷⠀⢧⠘⠋⠀⠈⠋⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⢿⣷⣤⡈⠑⣲⠴⠅⢀⣀⠀⠀⠄⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣆⢸⢹⠀⠈⠙⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠉⠻⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Pro-ship/Problematic Shipping combos to watch out for! 🍋🌈 / 🍖🌈 / 🍓 🍰 = Pr0shipper 🌸🌙 / 🕊🍋 = C0mshipper 🧩🥀 = Ex "anti" (Anti-Proshipper) :[ 🕊⚰️ = Dead Dove: Do Not Eat 🥀☁️ = N0n C0n (r#pe) 📚☕ = Age Gap 🌺💫 = Gr00ming 🍡🌸 : L0lish0t 🐰🎀 : L0li 🍯🧸 : Sh0ta 🚪🔒 : Siblings 💀🖤 : N3cro (n3cr0ph1lia) 💞🔒 : dependency 🧭💊 : dr#gging 🩹❤️‍🩹 : ab#se Please watch out for anyone with these emoji combos. Stay Safe!

ː ׅ 🧠 ᭢

who the hell is bunnie1110 and why r we beefing on this site lmao anyway here's like 3 emoji combos 🌈🌸💓 🦷🥩🔪 🍫💌🌹

🪐🎶🐈‍⬛🕰️

🍮🎀🐾🦴🍡🥩 🍟🧸🍼🫀🐑 🎀🍰 🍥🦴 🧁🧸 🌸🐇 🍒 🍰 🪼🫧 🎀🌙 🌸🎧 🍡🍙 🐚🌺 🌈🍓 freakyzeira

please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Short emoji combos .ೃ࿔･ 🐒🍌 🍯🐝 🧚🌿 🎀🪞 🌊🐚 🍄🌱 🌷🧺 🩰🦢 🦴🐾 search dolliesi 4 more

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ & ꜱᴜʀɢᴇʀʏ “Good morning, Ms!” Ms has hypersensitivity due to autism. Even a slight touch is unbearably painful! How will Ms get through the medical exam? Ms sits on the exam table, heart racing. Ms tries to focus on the poster of a serene beach scene to calm herself. Dr. Hartwell, noticing her distress, approaches carefully. "Ms I know this can be overwhelming. But I'm here to help you. We'll take it slow, okay?" Ms nods, gripping the cold metal bar tightly. He starts with gentle explanations of each step, his voice calm and steady. Ms tries to breathe deeply, fighting the urge to retreat. The door clicks shut, a soft, final sound that echoes in the sterile room. He asks if she's ready, and she shrugs. His gloved hand touches her skin, and she tenses. "Ms, I'm sorry," Dr. Hartwell says, retreating slightly. He tries a different approach, his voice softer now. "How about I touch with less pressure?" The pain subsides a fraction, but it still remains. Dr. Hartwell then gets out a big metal speculum. Ms sees it, feels it, she’s uncontrollably shaking. "Ms," Dr. Hartwell says calmly, placing the speculum down. “Sorry. To big and hard,” Ms manages. The doctor nods thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving hers. “Let's use this instead,” he says, picking up a smaller, plastic one. It's less daunting, less cold, but the pain lingers, unbearable. Ms grips the bar tighter, her knuckles white with strain. “You're doing great,” Dr. Hartwell whispers, his voice a balm. He inserts the speculum slowly, his eyes on her face, reading every twitch, every flinch. Ms squeezes her eyes shut, body rigid with tension. The plastic touches, slides, and she gasps, but it's more unbearable than she feared. Dr. Hartwell stops immediately, his expression filled with concern. "Would you like to insert it?" He gently withdraws the tool. They’re running out of time. He looks around the room. "How about we try this?" he asks, his voice a gentle coax. "You can sit in the chair, lean back, and I'll examine you that way." Ms nods, desperation in her eyes. Dr. Hartwell adjusts the chair, bringing the foot rest closer. He tells her to put her feet up, the action itself traumatizing. He takes the smaller speculum, coated it in gel, and tells her to breathe deeply. Dr. Hartwell proceeds, his movements precise and gentle. Ms feels the pressure, the intrusion. She whimpers. The doctor's eyes meet hers, filled with understanding. "Let's try this," he suggests, picking up a small object. "I'm going to use this cotton swab instead. It's softer, less intrusive." Ms nods, the fear lessening ever so slightly. The cotton swab touches her gently. The pain does not vanish, but it's tolerable, a dull throb instead of a piercing scream. The doctor's voice remains calm, guiding her through the motions. “Good. Now for a mammogram..” Ms feels a new wave of anxiety crash over her. The machine looms in the corner, cold and unforgiving. "It’s important we check everything today," Dr. Hartwell explains, his eyes kind and patient. "But I know this is hard for you. Can you please stand up and come…” Ms, however, is still shaking, knows her hypersensitive condition will render it. The doctor notices and quickly adapts. "How about we skip the mammogram for now and discuss other options?" They talk through alternatives, like manual self-checks at home. Dr. Hartwell assures her that her health is his priority. He's willing to work with her to find the best approach, one that's comfortable and effective. Ms feels a glimmer of hope, a hint of trust and gratitude. They agree on a plan: a manual exam for today, and they'll explore further options for if needed. Her eyes light up with hope. They go over the instructions, simple steps she can do herself. Ms feels empowered by the idea of having control over the process. The doctor's empathy is palpable. They practice together, a mock exam with a plastic model. Mis's hands shake slightly as she mimics his gentle touch. He corrects her grip, praising each small victory. “Your in need of two hormone inoculations.” Dr. Hartwell says. Mis's heart sinks. She hates the sharp sting, the feeling of invasion. She looks at the needle, so thin and yet so terrifying. Her anxiety spikes, her chest constricts, making it hard to breathe. Dr. Hartwell notices and nods. "Ok let's try something different," he says, his voice calm and measured. He shows her a cream, explaining how it can help. They apply it, waiting for it to work. Finally, the time comes. Dr. Hartwell holds the needle, his grip steady and firm. His touch is swift and sure, but Ms feels the pain, a sharp reminder of her vulnerability. “One down, one more to…” But she cries. Dr. Hartwell pauses, understanding in his eyes. "It's ok," he says gently. "We can find another way." He sets it aside and pulls out a small device. "This is a topical anesthetic spray. It will numb the area so you don't feel as much." Mis nods, desperate. He applies the spray, and she feels a coldness spread where the inoculation will soon be. The doctor waits patiently, letting the numbing agent work its magic. Mis's breathing slows, the panic easing slightly. "Ready?" he asks, his voice soothing. This time, the approach is less terrifying. It’s administered with minimal discomfort. Ms winces but does not pull away. The pain is there, but it's muffled. Dr. Hartwell nods, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "Good job, Ms. You're doing so well." Ms needs a blood draw. She's not just afraid of needles, but the anticipation of pain, the cold touch of the alcohol swab, the pressure of the phlebotomist's grip...it's all too much. Not to mention the actual poking prick.. Dr. Hartwell notices and suggests a compromise. They'll use a butterfly needle, smaller and more comfortable, and a warmer to heat before drawn. The nurse prepares the equipment, movements efficient and kind. She's used to dealing with anxious patients, but Mis's fear isn’t just fear or annoyance; it’s autistic condition and hypersensitivity that Ms herself knows limited pain tolerance. The nurse wraps the warm cloth around Mis's arm, and the gentle heat seeps. Dr. Hartwell takes his place beside her, holding the small butterfly needle with a cotton ball at the tip. The nurse places the heated alcohol swab on the inner elbow, and Ms tenses. It's a gentle poke and she feels the slight sting as the nurse inserts it. But of course the sting is magnified for Ms. The nurse is quick, her hands steady with expert ease, and the whole process is over in seconds. Mis's heart is racing, her body shaking. Dr. Hartwell rubs her shoulder, his touch a reassurance. "It's over," he says softly. "You did it." Ms nods. "What can we use for next time?" The nurse asks. “X-rays, different form of the hormonal injection where no needles are involved, urinal test instead of bleeding? A bigger room? Child sedatives?” Ms murmurs. Dr. Hartwell nods, scribbling down notes. "We'll explore all those options. In the meantime, you can go home!" “Thanks..” Ms says. The next appointment, Mis goes knowing her sensitivities have not changed. This time, Dr. Hartwell meets her in the hall. Mis breaks down, despite being gratefully understanding and trying to be brave. They take her to a quieter, more private exam room, decorated with soothing colors and a soft, plush chair. "Take your time, and tell when you're ready." Ms sits down. She sees a box labeled "DIY Health Kits" and feels a spark of curiosity. Dr. Hartwell opens the box, revealing an array of tools and instructions tailored to her needs. "This is your DIY health kit," he explains, his voice calm and soothing. "You can use to perform self-exams at home. It's less invasive, and you can do it on your own terms." Ms nods, a flicker of hope in her eyes, tears of relief instead of upset tears. He hands a small container with a test strip inside. "This is for urine. It's quick and easy, and it will tell what needs to know." Ms takes the container, follows his instructions, each step a small victory. Dr. Hartwell shows her a slim device, similar to a tampon but with a small cap. "This is DIY Pap. You insert it like so, then twist to collect a sample." The vibrating ice pack is next. "For finger pricks," he says, his voice calm. Ms looks at it, a strange mix of relief and curiosity. The thought of doing it herself is less terrifying than the clinic. "Now, let's talk mammograms," Dr. Hartwell says, his gaze soft. He shows her a handheld scanning device. "This is a DIY mammogram. It uses sound waves, no radiation, and it's less invasive than the traditional. You can use it in the privacy of your home, at your own pace. It's designed to be gentle." Ms nods, the fear slightly eased. The doctor opens another compartment in the DIY health kit, revealing a pack of colonoscopy strips. "These are for checking your bowel health. They're painless and easy to use. All you do is defecate on this, will tell what’s going on down there, ok?" Ms nods. The idea of self-examination is less daunting than the traditional methods. Dr. Hartwell's empathy is a balm, his patience unyielding. He opens the last compartment. Inside, she finds a set of small patches. "These are the hormonal patches," he says, holding one up. "They're like stickers. You just apply one to your skin, and it delivers the medicine through your skin. No needles." Mis's eyes widen. It's like he's reading her mind, offering a solution tailored to her fears. Ms feels a surge of gratitude to Dr. Hartwell. His understanding and willingness to adapt to her needs make her feel seen and heard, something she's not used to, in a medical setting. For the first time, Ms feels a glimmer of hope that she can take control of without the debilitating pain nor fear of ableist microaggressions. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

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

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."

COMPUTER SENSORS iii ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * Slowly, Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he looked up at Karen. "You ok?" she asked softly, her hand still on his shoulder. Plankton took a deep breath and nodded, eye still clouded with the haze of overstimulation. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Just needed a... a moment." Karen leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I know," she said, her voice filled with love and understanding. "I'm sorry I didn't catch on sooner. Hanna's a good person. She just didn't understand." Hanna returned with an armful of board games, her screen searching the room for Plankton. She saw him on the bed. "Look what I found!" she said, her voice cheerful but cautious. Plankton looked up at her, his gaze still hazy. "Films," he says. "Yeah," Hanna said, her voice hopeful. "I figured it might be a good way to keep things low-key after the movie." Karen looked at her with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Hanna," she said. "That's really thoughtful of you." "How about 'Molecule Madness'?" she suggested, her voice still tentative. "It's a science-themed strategy show. I remember Plankton mentioning he likes science." Karen nodded, her eyes lighting up. "That sounds perfect," she said, her hand sliding from Plankton's shoulder to give him a gentle pat. Karen watched the exchange, her heart swelling with love for both of them. "You're doing great, Hanna," she said, her voice gentle. "Just remember, it's ok to ask questions. And Plankton, it's ok to tell if you need more space." Hanna made sure to keep the volume low and the lights dimmed, and she sat a respectful distance away, giving him the space he needed. The show played out, a gentle narrative that neither of them had to fully engage with, the perfect backdrop to their quiet evening. And Plankton's breathing evened out. As the show went on, Plankton began to relax further, loosening his grip on the couch cushions as he felt more restful. It's late by the time the show finished. Hanna looked over at Plankton, who had slumped into the couch, curled loosely around a cushion. His eye was closed, and his breathing was slow and even. She realized he had fallen asleep. Carefully, she stood up and turned off the TV, the sudden silence feeling vast after the muted chuckles of the sitcom. She grabbed a blanket from the arm chair and draped it over him, taking a moment to appreciate the peacefulness that had settled over the room. Later, Karen appeared in the doorway. "Is everything ok?" she says rounding the corner. Hanna glanced over at Plankton, still loosely gripping the couch cushion, breathing deep and even. "I think he's asleep," she whispered, smiling softly. Karen nodded, walking over to the couch. She gently stroked his antennae, her touch light as a feather. "It's been a long day for him," she murmured, her voice filled with concern and love. "It's been a long day for him," she says. "Why don't you crash on the other couch?" Hanna nods, the weight of the evening's events settling in. She looks over at Plankton who's snoring softly. The next morning, she wakes up early to find Karen making coffee in the kitchen. The peaceful scene contrasts with the previous evening's tension, and they exchange greetings, acknowledging the quiet morning. The smell of breakfast starts to fill the room. Plankton stirs slightly, his antennae twitching in his sleep. Hanna's hoping she hadn't disturbed him. But his breathing remains even, and he settles back in to a peaceful slumber. Karen brings over a tray with a steaming cup of tea for Plankton and sits beside him. "Hey," Karen whispers, stroking his arm gently. Plankton's eye opens slowly, focusing on her. He blinks a few times, looking around. "What time is it?" he murmurs. "Morning," Hanna says, her voice soft. "Do you want to sit up?" Karen quickly moves to grab a pillow and a blanket, placing them around his shoulders. "Thanks," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. They share a peaceful moment, with Plankton opening up about his preferences, such as enjoying puzzles and cooking, which offer him control over his sensory environment. This exchange signifies a step towards rebuilding their relationship on more empathetic and understanding terms. Hanna nods, taking a bite of her own pancake. "That makes sense," she murmurs. "I can see how that would be helpful." Hanna shares her passion for photography. Plankton shows interest and offers a thoughtful comparison to his own need for control, suggesting a shared understanding is growing between them. This conversation deepens their bond and shows a shift to mutual respect and appreciation. "Maybe you can show me some of your work sometime." "I'd love that," Hanna says, her heart warming at his genuine interest. "And maybe you can teach me more about molecular gastronomy?" Plankton's eye lights up. "Really?" "Yeah," Hanna says, grinning. "I've always wanted to learn more about it." Plankton perks up a little. "Well, if you're serious," he says, "I'd be happy to teach you some basics." Hanna nods eagerly. "I'd love that," she says. "It seems like a great way to combine science and cooking." "It is," Plankton agrees, a hint of excitement in his voice. "It's all about understanding the molecular structure of food and how it interacts with other substances. It can be quite fascinating." Karen smiles at the two of them, sipping her coffee. "I'm going to leave you two to your nerdy breakfast chat," she says, standing up and taking her plate to the sink. "I've got some work to catch up on." Hanna turns back to Plankton. "So, molecular gastronomy," she says, trying to keep her voice calm despite her excitement. "Where do we start?" Plankton proposes they start with a simple molecular gastronomy project, creating balsamic vinegar caviar. Hanna is fascinated by the precision and science involved. As they work together in the kitchen, their conversation naturally flows into discussions of their shared love for creativity and art. Through this collaborative activity, they continue to build their bond, finding common interests and growing more comfortable with each other's company. As they continue to cook, Plankton's enthusiasm for molecular gastronomy becomes infectious. Hanna is surprised at how much she enjoys the meticulousness of the process, and Plankton seems just as surprised at how quickly she catches on. They laugh together as they plate their creations, the balsamic vinegar caviar looking like a miniature galaxy on a white plate. The rest of the day unfolds in a similar fashion, with Plankton introducing Hanna to more of his hobbies and passions. They experiment with different cooking techniques, and Hanna even takes out her camera to capture some of the more visually stunning dishes they make. Plankton, usually so guarded about his personal space, allows her to hover closer offering suggestions on lighting and composition. As the evening approaches, Karen emerges from her office, looking surprised and impressed by the culinary masterpieces scattered across the counter. As the evening wears on, they move into the living room. The three of them sit. Karen pulls out a board game she thinks Plankton might enjoy. Plankton tenses slightly, but he nods, willing to give it a try. As the game progresses, Plankton's competitive streak emerges. He's strategic and thoughtful, his moves deliberate. Hanna can see the way his mind works, piecing together the puzzle of the game with the same precision he uses to navigate his sensory world. It's fascinating and a little intimidating, but she's determined to keep up.

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.

NO LESS TO BE DIFFERENT iii (Autistic author) The door creaks open, and Karen turned to see Hannapoking her head in. Hanna's never met Plankton. "Hi, Karen," Hanna called, warm and cheerful. "How's the Chum Bucket running today?" Karen forced a smile at the sight of Hanna. She hadn't told anyone about Plankton's condition yet. "Oh, you know," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Just another day." Plankton's eye snapped up at the sound of Hanna's voice, his gaze intense. Karen felt a flicker of anxiety. Would he be able to handle the unpredictability of a guest? "Plankton, this is Hanna," Karen introduced. "Hanna, this is my husband, Plankton. I’m going to clean up the yard." As Karen left, Hanna's screen lit up. "The one and only!" she exclaimed, moving in for a hug. Plankton recoiled at the sudden physical contact. "No touch," he said, a sudden snap of command. Hanna, taken aback, froze. "Oh, I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "No touch," he repeated in a way that was both defensive and pleading. Hanna took a step back, her smile faltering. Plankton's eye darted around the room, his breaths shallow and quick. The sudden intrusion into his personal space had triggered a storm of sensory overload, his brain struggling to process the unexpected contact. "I'm sorry," Hanna began. "No touch!" His voice was a whipcrack in the silence, his body tensing. Hanna's smile had disappeared completely, replaced by a look of confusion and concern. "Plankton, I didn't mean to upset you," she said. "Can we start over?" But Plankton's agitation only grew. "No touch!" he snapped again. Hanna took in his distress. "I'm sorry," she stuttered, her voice tentative. But Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the spot where her hand had been, his body a taut wire of frustration. "No touch," he murmured, his voice a mix of anger and fear. Hanna's trying to understand, her own emotions a whirlwind of confusion and concern. "I didn't know." "No touch," he whispered. "What's going on, Plankton?" she asked. "You're scaring me." "No touch," he repeated, his body now vibrating with tension. Hanna felt her own frustration rising. "I said sorry," she retorted, her voice rising. "What more do you want?" Plankton's antennae shot up, his whole body quivering. "Understand!" he bellowed, the word no longer a mere echo but a demand. "Understand!" "Plankton, what's happening to you?" "Understand," he spat. "Need to... understand!" "I don't get it, Plankton," she said. "What do you want from me?" "No touch!" he shouted. The cucumber slices bounced off the plate, scattering across the floor. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded, her own anger rising. "Why are you acting like this?" But Plankton's rage had overtaken him, his need to be understood like a wildfire in his mind. "Need to... understand!" he yelled, his voice a desperate cry in the storm of his emotions. Hanna felt a wave of anger crash over her. "I don't get it!" she exclaimed, voice rising. "What's your problem?" "No touch!" he screamed again, his body a coil of tension. "Why are you acting like this?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "What's wrong with a simple hello?" Plankton's head snapped up, his eye locking onto hers. "Wrong," he said, the word a hiss. "Wrong!" "What do you mean, 'wrong'?" she challenged. "You're the one freaking out over a hug!" But Plankton was lost in his own world, his brain struggling to make sense of the chaotic sensory input. "No touch," he repeated. "Need... to... understand!" "I've had enough of this!" she shouted, her fists clenching. "What is your problem?" Plankton's eye darted around the room, his thoughts a blur of past and present. "Problem," he murmured. His hand shot out, slapping the cucumber plate off the table, the shatter of porcelain sharp in the silence. "Wrong," he murmured again, his voice a mix of anger and despair. "Need... to... understand." Hanna's own anger grew with each repetition, her voice rising. "I'm not the one with a problem!" she shot back. "You're the one who can't even handle a hug!" "Understand!" he shouted, his body shaking. "Need to understand!" His hand slammed on the table again, knocking over their drinks. The room was now a battlefield of emotions, each collision sending shockwaves through the air. Hanna's frustration boiling over. "What's your deal, Plankton?" she spat, each syllable laced with anger. But Plankton's fury was a volcano erupting, his voice a guttural roar. "Wrong!" he shouted. "Wrong!" He hugs his knees and started to rock in stimming, his body a maelstrom of sensory overload. Hanna, unable to comprehend his distress, felt her own anger flare. "What's your deal?" she yelled. "Why can't you just act normal?" Plankton's world was spinning, his senses assaulted by the sharpness of Hanna's tone. "No touch," he murmured, his voice a plea lost in the din of his thoughts. Hanna's screen flashed with irritation. "I said I'm sorry," she snapped, her voice like a whip. "What more do you want?" "No touch," he repeated, his voice a desperate cry for understanding as he rocked. Hanna's confusion grew with each repetition, her patience wearing as thin as the tension in the room. "Why are you doing this?" she shouted, her voice a mirror of his own frustration. Plankton's body was a tangle of emotion, his limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to communicate. "Wrong," he said, his voice a tornado of pain. "Need... to... understand!" Hanna took a step back, her face a mask of disbelief. "What's gotten into you?" she demanded, her own anger a match to his. "I didn't do anything wrong!" Plankton's eye grew wild, his body jerking as he tried to find the words to explain his pain. "Wrong," he insisted, his voice a tornado of frustration. "Need to... understand!" Hanna's own anger grew sharp as a knife. "What's your problem, Plankton?" she yelled. "You're acting like a maniac, I don’t know why Karen puts up with this!" “Karen?” Plankton shook. The question hung in the air, a challenge thrown down, a spark in his eye. Hanna's anger grew, her voice a crescendo of accusation. "Your wife loved you, Plankton, despite your... quirks. Can't you just be grateful for that? Can’t you see how much she's trying?" But Plankton's fury was a hurricane, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. "Wrong!" he shouted, his body rigid. "Need to understand!" The room vibrated with his pain, his need to communicate the storm raging within him. Hanna's a gale force of accusation. "What's your problem?" she screamed, each word a shard of ice. Plankton's eye darted around the room, his antennae trembling with the overwhelming noise. “If only Karen knew what a monster you really are, perhaps she would leave you!” She yells loud enough to alarm Karen. Her words hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over his already fractured reality. The world around him grew distant, his eye glazed over as he tried to process the onslaught of emotions. His body froze, every muscle locked in place. Karen, drawn by the commotion, rushed back inside with dread. She took in the scene with a gasp, Hanna's screen flushed with anger, Plankton's body a statue of despair. "What's happening?" she demanded, her screen flicking from one to the other. Hanna's gaze met hers, her voice filled with exhaustion. "Your husband just lost it over a simple hug," she told, her hands still shaking. Karen took in Plankton's rigid form. "Oh no," she murmured, as Hanna notices Plankton and his unblinking stare. "What's wrong with him?" Hanna asked, her anger dissipating in the face of his sudden stillness. Karen's with concern as she rushed to his side. "It's ok, I've got you." Plankton's body remained stiff, his eye unblinking as he froze in place. Hanna took in his pallor, the starkness of his features against the chaos of the room. "What's going on?" she whispered, the fight draining from her voice. Karen's screen met hers, desperation etched into her features. "Hanna, what did you say to him?" she pleaded, her voice a symphony of fear. Hanna's expression softened at the sight of Plankton's frozen form. "I... I didn't mean to upset him," she stuttered, her words tripping over themselves. "I just gave him a hug, and he went crazy. He kept saying 'no touch' and 'need to understand'. And I told him you deserve better, that's all." Karen's feeling shattered at the revelation. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in Plankton's lifeless form. “Hanna, tell me what exactly you said to about him..” Hanna, her anger now replaced with a deep sorrow, recounted their interaction, her words falling like heavy rain. Karen listened, upsettingly sinking with each syllable. "He said 'no touch', right?" Karen whispered, her voice a thread of hope. "It's his way of saying he's overwhelmed." Hanna nodded, her anger giving way to worry. "Yes, and he kept repeating 'need to understand'. I didn't know what to do and got frustrated with him, and I said you deserve a better life." Karen's gaze never left Plankton's still form as she absorbed Hanna's words. The doctor's voice echoed in her mind: his autism wasn't a choice, it was his reality. "Hanna, please," she said, her voice a whisper of despair. "He's not a monster, he's just different." Hanna's expression softened, her own filling with regret. "I'm sorry, Karen," she said, her voice a quiet apology. "I should have known better." Karen's gaze remained locked on Plankton, her heart racing. She knew she had to help him, had to bring him back from the edge of this sensory apocalypse. "It's ok," she murmured, her voice a gentle whisper. "It's ok." Her hand reached out to him, a bridge of comfort in the storm of his overwhelmed mind. "Look at me, Plankton," she soothed, her voice a soft lullaby. "I'm here. It's just us." Slowly, his gaze shifted to her, his pupil contracting in the face of her calm. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're okay."

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

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

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.

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.

COMPUTER SENSORS vi ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * "It's like his brain turned up the volume on everything," Hanna murmurs, finally understanding the gravity of Plankton's condition. "Exactly," Karen says, her voice still low and soothing. "It's a constant barrage of sensory information for him." Hanna nods, her gaze shifting from Plankton to Karen. "What exactly happened when I...I jabbed him?" "It's like his brain took a brief vacation from reality." She pauses, collecting her thoughts. "It's a sudden break from consciousness, usually triggered by a sensory overload. In Plankton's case, it's often unexpected, like a surprise party his brain wasn't ready for." "So, when I jabbed him during the game, it was like...like I flipped a switch?" Karen's expression is a mix of sadness and patience. "More like turned up the volume on an amp that was already at max," she says. "It's like his brain took a short break from processing all the sensory input." "Oh," she whispers, her voice a soft echo of regret. "I had no idea." Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Plankton. "It's not something that's easy to explain," she says, her voice a gentle wave. "It's like when you're trying to listen to someone in a crowded room. Sometimes the noise just gets too much, and you have to tune out for a second to keep from getting overwhelmed." Hanna nods, glued to Plankton's sleeping form. "But what happened earlier," she whispers. "When he went to his room?" Karen's gaze follows Hanna's to Plankton, understanding dawns on her face. "Oh, you noticed," she says gently. "His sensory overloads can be gradual. Sometimes it's like a pot boiling over, but other times it's more like a slow simmer that gets out of control." "What do you mean?" Karen's gaze remains on Plankton, her voice a gentle wave. "It's like earlier," she explains. "In the bedroom. He was getting overwhelmed, but it was happening so gradually, he didn't realize it." She looks at Hanna, filled with the patience of experience. "It's like when you're in a conversation and someone keeps talking louder and louder, and you don't notice until you're shouting just to be heard." Hanna nods with understanding. "So, when it's a sudden thing?" "It's like a thunderstorm," Karen says, her voice a gentle explanation. "Loud, intense, and overwhelming. But the gradual buildup is more like a slow-moving fog, thickening until it's hard to breathe." She looks at Hanna with quiet strength. "Today in the bedroom, it was like that. The sounds, the light, even the smells...it was all too much for him. But he couldn't tell you. He just had to retreat." Hanna nods reflecting her dawning comprehension. "So, when he went to his room, he was trying to get away from it all?" Karen's smile is sad but knowing. "Yes," she whispers. "His room is his sanctuary. He's got it set up just right— dim lights and all his favorite things. It's where he goes to recharge, to escape the storm when it gets too loud." Hanna nods, her gaze still on Plankton. She can see now how the simple act of playing a board game had become a tempest for him. How the jovial jab had sent him spiraling into a sensory hurricane. She feels a pang of regret for not noticing the signs sooner, for not understanding the delicate balance he maintained every day. "How do you know when touch helps him?" Hanna asks, her voice a soft inquiry. "I mean, if he can't tell you?" It's all about reading his cues," she whispers. "Sometimes, it's the tension. Other times, it's the way his pupil reacts to stimuli." She pauses, her gaze lingering on Plankton's sleeping form. "And sometimes, it's just a feeling." "How can I get better at that?" she asks, her voice earnest. "How can I support him without making things worse?" Karen's smile is warm, filled with gratitude for Hanna's willingness to learn. "It takes time," she says gently. "But the key is to pay attention to his reactions, his body language. If he flinches or withdraws, that's a sign that what you're doing isn't helping. But if he relaxes or moves closer, then you know you're on the right track." Hanna nods, still on Plankton's sleeping form. "But what if I miss the signs?" she asks, her voice a soft echo of fear. "What if I hurt him again?" Karen's hand squeezes hers reassuringly. "You're already doing so much better than most. It's just about learning to read his body language, his reactions." Hanna nods, still on Plankton. "What about when he's asleep?" she asks, her voice a soft concern. "How do you know if he's comfortable?" "It's all in the subtleties," Karen explains, her gaze shifting from Plankton to Hanna. "If he's tense, if curled tightly, then I know to be careful. But if he's relaxed, loose or reaching out...that's when I know it's safe to touch him." Hanna nods, taking in the information. She watches as Plankton starts to stir. "He's waking up," Karen whispers, her voice a soft breeze in the quiet room. She watches as Plankton twitch, his eye slowly opening. The panic from earlier is gone, replaced with a soft curiosity as he looks around the room. "Hey, buddy," Karen says, her voice a soothing lullaby. "How are you feeling?" Plankton blinks slowly, moving to rub his eye. "Tired," he murmurs, his voice a hoarse whisper. Hanna clenches at the sound, but she remains still, not wanting to disturb him. "Do you need anything?" she asks, her voice a soft echo of concern. Plankton's gaze shifts to her, his pupil dilating slightly. He seems to consider her words before shaking his head. "Just...quiet," he says, his voice a whisper in the stillness. Hanna feels a strange sense of responsibility, a need to protect him from the world that can be so unforgiving to those who are different. She watches as he blinks slowly, moving slightly as if testing the waters of consciousness. Karen's smile is a soft glow of gratitude. "Just sit with us," she says, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Your presence is enough." "I swear we were just playing a game, and..." he asks, his voice still a whisper. Hanna nods of guilt and empathy. "I know," she says. "I'm sorry." Plankton reaches out, touching her arm lightly. "It's ok," he whispers. "I just...I need time." Hanna nods, brimming with unshed tears. "I'm here," she says, her voice a soft promise. "I'll be quiet as a mouse." Plankton's grip tightens around her arm for a moment, a silent thank you, before releasing its grip. He sits up slowly, wrapping around himself like a self-made blanket. Karen watches him with a knowing gaze, her heart aching for his pain but also swelling with pride at his resilience. "Let's get you water to drink," Karen says, her voice a gentle breeze that doesn't disturb the peacefulness of the room. She rises and heads to the kitchen, leaving Hanna and Plankton in the cocoon of quiet understanding. Hanna nods, still on Plankton as he slowly unravels from his protective ball. She feels the weight of his gaze on her, a silent question, and she meets it with a smile tinged with sadness. "You're ok," she whispers, her voice a soft caress in the hushed room. The kitchen door clicks shut behind Karen, leaving Hanna and Plankton in the gentle embrace of the dim light from the fireplace. The silence stretches out like a warm blanket, comforting and safe. Plankton reaches for the blanket, pulling it tighter around his shoulders. Hanna takes a deep breath, the scent of the fireplace mixing with the faint aroma of their earlier dinner. "I'm really sorry," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. "I had no idea." Plankton nods, loosening slightly. "It's ok," he whispers. "Not your fault." The warmth from the fireplace creates a serene ambiance, the flickering light casting shadows across the room. Hanna watches as Plankton begins to move again, a sign that he's slowly coming back to the present moment. "What can I do to make it up to you?" she asks, her voice a soft thread of hope in the quiet. Plankton considers her question, his tentacles stroking the blanket in a rhythmic pattern. "Just...just be there," he murmurs, his eye closing briefly. "And maybe next time, we can find a different way to play." Hanna nods, her heart heavy with the weight of her mistake. "I'd like that," she says softly. "I'd really like that."

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

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

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."

COMPUTER SENSORS iv ** ᴬˢ ᵃ ⁿᵉᵘʳᵒᵈⁱᵛᵉʳᵍᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱᵍᵐᵃᵗⁱᶻᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᴬᴵ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ * Hanna laughs as he makes a particularly clever move. "You've got a knack for this," she says, accidentally jabbing him hard. "I'm sorry," she says quickly, her hand hovering in the air. "I didn't mean to—" But Plankton doesn't flinch. He's frozen, limbs limp at his sides. Hanna realizes the gravity of the situation. The room feels suddenly too warm, too bright, too loud. She's done it again—pushed him too far. "Plankton?" she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "You ok?" He doesn't respond, his body eerily still. Hanna feels the weight of her mistake. She'd been so caught up in the game, so focused on their newfound friendship that she'd forgotten his limitations. Karen sets her cards down gently and moves closer to her husband, her hand reaching out to his. "Plankton?" she says, her voice softer than a feather's touch. The room seems to hold its breath, the only sound the distant hum of the refrigerator. Hanna watches as Karen's hand hovers over Plankton's, the space between them filled with a tension that's almost palpable. Plankton's eye remains open, unblinking. His limbs are limp, no longer moving with their usual grace. It's as if he's a statue, frozen in time. Hanna's mind races, replaying the last moments, trying to understand what happened. Slowly, Karen reaches for Plankton, her touch feather-light. She speaks softly, a gentle coax that seems to seep into his very being. "Plankton," she whispers, "You're ok. You're safe." Hanna watches, her own hands clenched into fists at her sides. The room feels like it's closing in around her, the pressure of the silence suffocating. But Karen's calmness is a beacon, a reminder that she's seen this before, that she knows how to handle it. "Plankton, baby," Karen says, her voice soothing and gentle. "You're ok. Just breathe." Hanna's eyes are wide with worry as she watches the scene unfold. Plankton's eye open but unseeing, his body frozen . The reality is more terrifying than she could have imagined. "Plankton," she says, "you know I'm here. You know I've got you." It's a gentle reminder of the safety net she's always been, the one constant in his ever-shifting world. Plankton's body remains still, a silent sentinel in the midst of their quiet living room. He lay slack in Karen's arms, his eye unblinking, as if he's listening to a melody that only he can hear. Hanna watches, as Karen's voice weaves a tapestry of comfort around them. "You know I'm here," Karen says softly, her hand still clutching Plankton's tentacle. "You're not alone." Her words are a gentle reminder of the sanctuary she's always provided, a shelter from the overwhelming world outside. "It's okay," she says, "just come back to us when you're ready." Karen sighs, breaking the tension. "It's ok," she says, her voice a gentle whisper that seems to fill the room. "This happens sometimes." She looks at Hanna with understanding and a hint of sadness. "What can I do to help?" Hanna asks, her voice trembling slightly. "Just keep an eye on him," Karen says, never leaving her husband. "If he starts to seize we'll need to move him to the floor and clear any sharp objects. But he's usually ok after these episodes. They're not necessarily 'seizures' but they can be similar." Hanna nods, trying to absorb the information. She's never dealt with something like this before, and the fear is palpable. But she's determined to be there for her friends, to understand and support them through this. She takes a deep breath, focusing on Karen's words. "This isn't the first time. We have a protocol for these episodes." Karen's grip tightens, never leaving his unseeing gaze. "You're ok," she repeats, her voice a soothing balm in the maelstrom of his mind. "Just let it pass." Karen's turns to Hanna. "It's ok. He'll come out of it soon." She speaks with the calmness experience with Plankton's condition a silent testament to the strength of their bond. Hanna nods, glued to Plankton's unmoving form. "Ok," Karen says, turning her attention back to her husband. She takes a deep breath her voice steady. "Hanna, come here." Hanna moves tentatively, feeling like she's walking through a minefield. She approaches Plankton's side, her eyes never leaving his frozen form. Karen's hand leaves his, and she takes Hanna's in its place. "Just hold his hand," she instructs. "Let him know you're here, too." Her hand is trembling as it reaches for Plankton's. She wraps her fingers around his. She squeezes gently, hoping to convey her apology without words. Karen speaks to Hanna. "Just hold on," she says, "don't let go. He'll feel your warmth, your presence." Karen's hand guides hers, showing her the right amount of pressure, the right rhythm of gentle strokes that she knows comforts him. "Good," Karen murmurs, still locked on Plankton's vacant gaze. "Just keep doing that. It helps him feel connected." Hanna nods, her grip firm but gentle on Plankton's. She's acutely aware of the responsibility in her grasp, the power to either comfort or cause further distress. Karen's hand moves to her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Good," she whispers. "Just keep doing that." Her hand moves to Hanna's, guiding her in the slow, deliberate strokes that she knows calm him. "Remember, he's ok. He's just taking a break." Hanna nods, trying to push down the panic rising in her chest. She watches as Karen's hand glides over Plankton's, her touch as light as a feather. It's a silent dance, a language of comfort that Hanna is just beginning to understand. "Just like this," Karen whispers, never leaving Plankton's unseeing gaze. "Let him know you're with him." Hanna nods, brimming with tears she's fighting to hold back. She mimics Karen's gentle strokes feeling the tension in Plankton slowly begin to ease. It's a delicate balance, a silent conversation that she's only just learning the language of. "That's it," Karen whispers, her hand still on Hanna's shoulder. "Just keep going. He'll come back to us." Hanna feels the tension in her own body slowly unravel as she matches her strokes to Karen's rhythm. It's a strange, almost meditative experience, this silent communication of care. "Good," Karen says, her voice a gentle breeze. "Just keep your breathing steady." She demonstrates. "It helps him sync up with us." Karen says, her voice a gentle guide. "Inhale...exhale...in...out." Karen whispers, her hand still resting on Hanna's shoulder. "Now, just keep your voice low. He's sensitive to sound right now." Hanna nods, her voice a mere murmur. "Ok." She watches as Karen's hand continues to move over Plankton's strokes a silent promise of safety. "Just talk to him," Karen says. "Use a soft voice. It'll help bring him back." Hanna swallows hard, her voice shaky. "Plankton, I'm here. It's Hanna." She wonders if he can feel her touch, if he knows she's there. "Good," Karen says, her own voice a gentle hum in the stillness. "Just keep talking to him. He'll come back when he's ready." "I'm sorry, Plankton," she says, her grip tightening slightly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to show you that I care." Karen nods. "That's good," she murmurs. "Just keep talking to him. Tell him what you're feeling." Her hand moves to cover Hanna's, guiding her in the gentle strokes that Plankton needs. "He'll hear you. He just needs time to come back." "I'm here, Plankton," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry for pushing too hard. I didn't mean to hurt you." Here locked on his unblinking gaze, willing him to understand. Karen's hand is warm and steady on hers, a silent reminder that she's not alone. She feels a strange kinship with Plankton in this moment, a shared experience of fear and confusion that transcends words. Karen's filled with empathy as she nods, urging Hanna to continue. "Just keep talking to him," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle coax. "He's still with us. He just needs to find his way back." Hanna nods, her voice a soft echo in the quiet room. "Plankton, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to be friends." Karen's hand squeezes her shoulder, a silent message of support. "That's it," she whispers. "Just keep your voice low and steady. He'll hear you." Hanna continues her gentle strokes, her voice a soothing lullaby. "You're safe," she repeats, her words a gentle echo of Karen's earlier reassurances. "We're here for you." The room feels like it's holding its breath, every atom suspended in anticipation of Plankton's return. And then, it comes—a blink, a faint twitch. It's as if a door has cracked open, a sliver of light piercing the darkness. "Look," Karen breathes, her voice a whisper of hope. "He's coming back." "Plankton," she says again, her voice a gentle caress. "I'm here. It's Hanna." The grip twitches more noticeably now, and she feels his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips. "Keep it up." "We're all here for you."