Sensory Needs 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 )

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 )

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

🥼🩺☤🏆🥼

As a neurodivergent person I find emojicombos.com a favourite site. I also write here to make others happy and to make stories inspired by events similar to my experiences, so I can come back to them on any device to. Also, I hope any person reading has a great day! -NeuroFabulous (my search NeuroFabulous)

🩹🩹👩‍⚕️

┌ ⃟🧠̶͞⇣

🏥 doutor 🌡️🚨

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!

ㅤ🔐 ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘⡣🧠ㅤ𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖨𝖲 𝖬𝖸 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖣?ㅤ║▌│█ ║▌

💊👩🏻‍⚕️🏥

Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vía such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system

TIPS For CHECKs Feel the instruments and get comfortable with them. Ex: at the dentist, you’re weary of the suction straw. If no plastic cups for rinsing, ask them for some or, have them turn the suction on a low setting and feel it with your finger before they use it in your mouth. Perhaps they can put something on if you don’t like the sucking noise. See how you feel with the specific doctor. Ex: Dr. A seems hurried and strict, but Dr. B seems more empathetic. Or perhaps ask if a nurse can be in the room with you to. Try having the doctor teach you how much you can do. Ex: for a strep throat test, ask if you can swab your own throat, even have them hold your hand whilst you do it in a mirror. Or tell them the way your throat’s structure may find it easier to tilt, etc. (my search NeuroFabulous)

︶꒷꒦︶ 𓊆🤍𓊇 •┈ The Doctor Will See You Soon ೀ ┈• ❤️‍🩹 °˖ ⊹ ꒰🗝️🌡️꒱ Welcome back』ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ❤️‍🩹 ┆ ┆ ┆ ┆ ┆ ┆ 𓍯 Don't You Worry 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 ┆ ┆ ┆ ┆🩸 ┆ ┆ ┆ ⩩♥︎₊ I promise you… ⟢ ┆ ┆🩸 ┆ ‍ ᖗ⚠︎ This Will Be Quick 💉 ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ 🩸 ✄ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ 𓍯𓂃『Oh dear！』ˊˎ- 　　☹︎『My、This Doesn't Look So Good』☹︎ 　　　　　　 　　・・・ 🩹『It was an honest mistake！』🩸

ˋ 💮 ˊ « ᴅʀ. ℒʸ∂ɪ🄰в ɪs ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ » 『🩺』┆ sʜᴇ’ᴅ!!┆『🚑 』ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋᴇɴᴅ! ˋ🏥 ˊ⚕

❁્᭄͜͡🧠

hopefully my writing posts help ppl to feel understood or at least get a glimpse of all the possibilities neurodiverse ppl may experience (: (my search NeuroFabulous)

“Neurodivergent Umbrella”* Beneath the umbrella, it lists: ADHD DID & OSDD ASPD BPD NPD Dyslexia CPTSD Dyspraxia Sensory Processing Dyscalculia PTSD Dysgraphia Bipolar Autism Epilepsy OCD ABI Tic Disorders Schizophrenia Misophonia HPD Down Syndrome Synesthesia * non-exhaustive list

"medical lab technician" "🥼💉🦠🩸🔬🧫"

🦠👩‍⚕🧬🩺💉🦠👩‍⚕🧬🩺💉

brain, dna,study 🧠🧬📚

👁️‍🗨️5️⃣👁️(*^o^*)

🧘🏻‍♂️🌿🍃🤸🏾🍏🎧 healthy

🌈🧠🤷🏼‍♀️

🔪☆⋆｡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・。*.ੈ ♡₊˚•. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ # 🔮

ℑ𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣. 💀

ᥬ🤯᭄

𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟏𝟒𝟒𝟑𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟐𝟓: 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

FIVE Senses to ground yourself 5 things you See (eyesight) 4 things you Hear (listening) 3 things you Feel (touch) 2 things you Smell (scent) 1 thing you can Taste

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‧

𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 ౨ৎ

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

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

kelpforestdwellers caregivers of disabled people: of course you may find aspects of the job (i use the term broadly to include taking care of loved ones) difficult. that's understandable and you deserve support with that. but there's one person you shouldn't necessarily share that with, and that's the person you're assisting. if you're having difficulty with a task and need to discuss a different way to do it, for example, that's one thing. i'm talking about complaining about how hard something is when it can't be changed or you don't intend to change it, or even joking about how hard various tasks are. my aides sometimes joke about how difficult certain tasks are, and i totally understand where they're coming from and that they mean no harm. but it make me self conscious about asking them to do those tasks in future when i know they struggle with them. and believe me, it's already hard enough to ask for help. i'm not asking anything unreasonable or outside the bounds of the job so it just makes me feel bad needlessly.

neuroticboyfriend A lot of the time when professionals interact with psychotic people, they try to reduce our distress by getting us to stop believing things. For me, that only made things worse. It was confusing and distressing. I felt angry, scared, and misunderstood. The best way I've found to cope with delusional thinking is something I discovered on my own. I'll give an example here so, huge TW for unreality and paranoia. Scroll away if you're not able to hear delusional thinking. Yesterday I started freaking out thinking people could hear my thoughts. This is something I've occasionally experienced since I was a child. When this comes up, I always think there's some massive conspiracy, where everyone can hear my thoughts but they react to me as if they don't hear anything. And they're all in on it. This time, it was triggered by intrusive thoughts that I started judging myself for. As you can imagine, this is distressing. I started talking to people through my mind, which only made it worse. I couldn't focus on what was happening around me. What I did to reduce that distress is.. weirdly nonchalant. I just sat there and thought "Well, if this is true, it's not like they're going to change how they interact with me. Everything is the same as it was. Nothing I can do about it, might as well just keep on keeping on." That calmed me down enough to start focusing on what I was doing, and eventually completely forget about it until now. Whenever I try to treat my delusional thinking as something I have to stop immediately... it literally only makes my mind double down. But if I work within what I believe - what I "know" - I can find another way to look at it that isn't so scary. This works with my hallucinations, too. I sometimes see shadow people; they're more like jump scares than anything. They startle me, and I start to wonder if people I'm looking at are real. But that latter part only really happens if I get fearful of them. To avoid that fear, I try to think of the shadow people as just friends watching over me, checking in. They don't do anything, after all. They just pop up, stand there, and disappear. (Talk of unreality ends here) So, yeah. This doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't always work for me depending on what I'm experiencing/how I'm feeling. But without this, I'd be far worse off; it doesn't take too many missteps for me to spiral. I guess my point is, my reality doesn't have to be "normal" for me to be healthy as a schizophrenic person. It just has to be something I can live with, as happily and safely as possible. And that's ok. Neurodivergent people are allowed to exist, and some people are helped best by finding ways for them to exist as they are without so much distress - rather than trying to eliminate troubling symptoms entirely.

people have accused you of lying about your trauma (including claims you’re exaggerating), and you think your trauma isn’t that bad: it is. it’s bad enough regardless of if people accused you of lying, but the reason i say this is to point out to you… if it wasn’t that bad, why would you be lying? what would there be to lie about if it was normal that that happened? people accused you of lying because they refused to accept or believe that something like that happened - happened to you.

neuroticboyfriend Hey, real quick, go bury your face in something soft. A stuffed animal. A plush blanket. A pillow. Your pet. Your favorite shirt or hoodie. Do it. Was it comforting, even in the slightest? If not, well, you tried. Either way, remember that the little things can bring you goodness, and all those little things will add up. They may not overshadow all the bad, but it certainly does help. You may never be truly comfortable, but odds are, there's something around you that can give you some comfort. And that's a lot better than nothing.

Please use discretion and don’t do something that will trigger you further, including triggering trauma or sensory issues! Aggressive activities (Adrenaline-focused): Do not use sharp objects if you can’t trust yourself around them in that moment. Tear apart paper or napkins Cut up boxes, plastic, or paper Stab boxes or foam Angrily scribble Throw rocks at the ground Scream into a pillow, or punch it Passive activities (Adrenaline-focused): Watch something scary (scary game, thriller movie) Watch someone get angry (Youtube react videos, gamer rage) Watch an action movie Watch a fails video compilation Sensory grounding Hold an ice cube or splash cold water on your face - take a cold shower if you’re really feeling it Smell a strong scent, even an unpleasant one Have a nice warm or cool drink Any kind of strong pressure that won’t injure (weighted blanket, cuddle with your dog) Listen to music or white noise Use a heating pad or take a warm shower/bath Creative outlets: (if you need the similarity, use red ink) Draw on yourself or body paint Do SFX makeup Finger paint Journal about your feelings honestly, even if they’re negative Make a moodboard

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.

"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.

🍵🥗🥑🌿

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

Anonymous asked: autism culture is feeling like a nuisance when you’re overstimulated because you don’t want to be mean to anyone or have a meltdown but you can’t keep masking and everything is too much

Anonymous asked: Undiagnosed autism culture is your family can't comprehend that you are also autistic because you have a family member that was diagnosed as a child and has different support needs than you.

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!

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

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.

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

~ 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.

🧠ᵗᶤʳᵉᵈ ᵇʳᴬᶤᶰ 🧠

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

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).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏ ⁽ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃᶰᶠᶤᶜ⁾ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈᶤᵈᶰ'ᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ᴹʳˑ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏᵉʳˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᶤʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴹʳˑ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵉᵖ ᵒᶰ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ˒ ʷʰᵒ ᶰᵒʷ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇˑ "ᴴᵉʸ ᵖᵘᶰᵏᵎ" ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏᵉʳˢ ˢᵃʸˢˑ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒʷᶰ ᵇᵉᵃᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᵘᵖ˒ ᵃˡᵉʳᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇˑ ᴴᵉ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶰᵒᵗ ᶤᶰ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ʰᶤᵐˑ ᵂʰᵉᶰᶜᵉ ᴹʳˑ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏᵉʳˢ ᵈᵉᶜᶤᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃᶰᵗˑ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵗʷᶤᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ˒ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ᶤᶰʲᵘʳᵉᵈ˒ ᶤᶰ ᵖᵃᶤᶰˑ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷᶤᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ʷᵉᶰᵗ ʷᶤᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵉʳᵍᵉᶰᶜʸ ᶜˡᶤᶰᶤᶜˑ "ᴴᵒʷ'ˢ ʰᵉˑˑˑ" "ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᶤᶰᵍ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃᶰᵈ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᵇʳᶤᶰᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳˑ ᴴᶤˢ ᵐᵉᵈᶤᶜᶤᶰᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʰᶤᵐ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ʷʰᶤˡˢᵗ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᵃˢ ᵒᶠ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ᶰᵒʷˑ" ᵀʰᵉ ᶜˡᶤᶰᶤᶜᶤᵃᶰ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃᶤᶰᵉᵈˑ ᴱᵛᵉᶰᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ʷᵉᶰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃᶰᵈˑ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᵃ ˢᵏᶤᶰᶰʸ ˢᵗʳᵃʷ ᵗᵘᵇᵉ ᵈᵒʷᶰ ʰᶤˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ˒ ʷʰᶤᶜʰ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶰᵒʷ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᵘᵗˑ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶠᶤᶰᶤˢʰᶤᶰᵍ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ˒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉᶰᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳʸ ʳᵒᵒᵐˑ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜʳᶤᵉᵈ ˢᵉᵉᶤᶰᵍ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰˑ "ˢᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᶰᶰᵃ ᶰᵉᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗˑ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᶰᶰᵃ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ˡᶤᵏᵉˡʸ ᵇᵉ ᵗᶤʳᵉᵈ˒ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵒʳᵉᶰᵉˢˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈᶤᶜᶤᶰᵉˑ ᴬˡˡ ᶰᵒʳᵐᵃˡ˒ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵐᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒᶰᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵈᶤˢᵒʳᶤᵉᶰᵗᵉᵈ ˢᵒ ᶰᵒ ʰᵃʳᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉˑ ᴴᵉ ᵐᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵉᵗᶠᵘˡ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒᶰ'ˢ ᴵ ᵐᵉᶰᵗᶤᵒᶰᵉᵈˑ ˢᵒ ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡᵃʳᵐᵉᵈ ᶤᶠ ʰᵉ ᵃᶜᵗˢ ᵃˢ ˢᵘᶜʰˑ" "ᵀʰᵃᶰᵏˢ˒ ᵈᵒᶜˑˑˑ" ˢᵃʸˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ˒ ᶰᵒʷ ᶰᵒᵗᶤᶜᶤᶰᵍ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵒᵖᵉᶰ ʰᶤˢ ᵉʸᵉˑ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ ᴵˑˑ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˢˑ "ᵞᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ˒ ʷʰᵉᶰᶜᵉ ᶜᵃᶰ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖᵎ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰᶤᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ˢᶤᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ᵘᵖˑ "ᴼʰ ˢʰᵉˡᵈᵒᶰ; ᵐᵉ ᵃᶰᵈ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᶤˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᶤᵐ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃᵛᵉᵈˑ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ˢᵉᵉᶤᶰᵍ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᶤᵐ˒ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵈᶤᶻᶻᶤˡʸ ʷᵃᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏˑ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃᶰᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᵈˑ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ˒ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˡˡˑ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵐʸ ˡᵉᵍˢˀ" "ᴵ ᶜᵃᶰ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ᶤᶰˢᵗᵉᵃᵈˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵖᶤᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃᶰᵈ ᵘᵖˑ "ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵒˑˑˑ" "ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᵃᵗᵉᶰ ᵃᶰᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵒˢᵖᶤᵗᵃˡᶤˢᵉᵈˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ˢᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵒᶰ ʰᶤˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘᶜᵏˢ ʰᶤᵐ ᶤᶰˑ "ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸˑˑˑ" "ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᶰ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵐᶤᶰᵈˢˑˑˑ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ˢᵃᶤᵈ ˢᵒᵘᶰᵈᶤᶰᵍ ᶤᵐᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈˑ "ᴺᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᶰ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ˒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᶰ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᶰᵃᵖˑˑˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈˑ "ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸˀ" "ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᶤᶰᵈ⁻ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷᵎ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵗᵒˡᵈˑ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ ˢʰᶤᶠᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃᶰ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶜˡᵒˢᶤᶰᵍ ᵗᶤᵐᵉˑˑ" ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢˑ "ᴺᵒʷ ˢʰᵉˡᵈᵒᶰ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᶤᶰ ᵇᵉᵈ; ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒᶰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵉʳᶤᵒᵈᶤᶜᵃˡˡʸˑ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢˑ" ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᴹʳˑ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏᵉʳˢ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃʳʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ˒ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʳᵉˡᶤᵉᵛᵉᵈˑ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˡᵉᵃᵛᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶰᶤᵍʰᵗ˒ ʰᵉ ʷᵉᶰᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵉᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉᶰᶤᶰᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗˑ "ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ; ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᶰ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʸˑˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᶤᶰˑ "ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ; ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏᶰᵒʷˑˑ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ'ˢ ᵛᵒᶤᶜᵉˑ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰˑ "ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ʸᵒᵘ ᶰᵉᵉᵈᶰ'ᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ʰᶤᵐ ᶤᶠ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶰᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳᵉᵈˑˑ" "ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʷᵉᵃʳʸˑ" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸˑˑ" ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰˑ "ᴵ ᵈᶤᵈᶰ'ᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏᵉʳˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰᶤᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉᶰ ᵃʷᵃʸᵎ" "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᶰᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᶤᵐˑ "ˢᵒ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ˒ ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡˀ" "ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃᶜʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈˑˑ" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒᶤᶰᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᶜˡᵉᵃᶰˑ" ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ˢᵃʸˢ˒ ˡᵉᵗᵗᶤᶰᵍ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʸˑ "ᴵ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍᶤˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ˒ ʷᵉˡˡ˒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏᶰᵒʷˑˑ" "ᴵ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ᵏᶤᵈˑ" "ᵞᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᶰ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰˑˑ" ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵃˡᶤˢᵉᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵍʳᵒᵍᵍʸ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈˑ "ᴵ ᶜᵃᶰ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʸˑ" ᴴᵉ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᶤˡˡᵒʷˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵃᵈʲᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ʰᶤˢ ᵇˡᵃᶰᵏᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒˑ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵈʳᵒʷˢʸˑ "ᴰᵒᶰ'ᵗ ᶠᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖˑ ᴵ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗᶤᶰᵍ ᶤˢ ᶤᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃᶰᵗˑ" ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ʰᶤᵐ ᵉᶰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ʰᶤᵐ ᵈᵒʷᶰˑ "ᑦʰᶤˡˡᵃˣˑˑ" ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ ˡᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᶰᵉʳᵍʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵃˡᵉʳᵗˑ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᶜˡᵒˢᶤᶰᵍ ʰᶤˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡᶤᶰᵍ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ˒ ˡᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ ʰᶤᵐ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵉᵛᵉᶰᵗˢˑ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ʷᵒʳᶰ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵠᵘᵉᵃᵏᵉʳˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᶤᶰᶤᶜ˒ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈᶤᶜᶤᶰᵉ˒ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ'ˢ ᶰᵒʷ ᵘᶰᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᶜᵒᵐᶤᶰᵍˑ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗᶤᵈʸᶤᶰᵍ ᵘᵖ˒ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶰᵒʷ ᵍᵒᶤᶰᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳˑ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒᶰᶰᵃ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒᶰ ᵒᵘᵗˑ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ; ᵐᵘˢᵗᶰ'ᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ʰᶤᵐ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵍᵃᶤᶰˑ ᴮʸᵉᵎ" ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᶠᵗ˒ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ᶰᵒʷ ˢᶤᵍʰᵉᵈ ᶤᶰ ʳᵉˡᶤᵉᶠˑ ˢʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵉᵏᵉᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᶰᵒʷ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵗʰᵉᶰ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ˒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᶤᶰᵍ ᶤᶰ ᵒᶰ ʰᶤᵐ˒ ᵉᵛᵉᶰ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵈᵒᶤᶰᵍ ᶠᶤᶰᵉˑ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰ ˡᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃᶰᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ˒ ᵉᵛᵉᶰ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᶰᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳᶰᶤᶰᵍˑ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ˡᶤᵍʰᵗˡʸ ᵗᵃᵖ ʰᶤᵐ ᵍᵉᶰᵗˡʸ ᵒᶰ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ᶤᶠ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᵘᵖˑ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ʷᵉᶰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᶰᵒʳᵐᵃˡˑ

Poor X. The lawyer has seemingly been struggling with some kind of chest infection for a while now- it seems like whenever Y passes his office, she can hear him clearing his throat, muffled coughing drifting through the walls as he tries to catch his breath. “I’ll b-be- *wheeze*- f-fine. Just… just need to c-catch my- my breath.” Wiping his mouth, he soon leans back against the bricks. His shallow exhales become steam in the cold air. “I think you might need some stronger cough medicine.” Y murmurs, still rubbing slow circles against his back. “If you want, I could get you some?” His gaze crawls over to hers, dull hope flickering within them. “Y-yeah?” His eyes roll, exhaustion taking over, but a quick tap to the cheek brings him right back, blinking languidly. “M'okay.” He mumbles. “Th-thanks.” Y's hand, still lingering on his cheek, moves to swipe away a sweat-dampened curl from his forehead. “I’m not sure whether ‘okay’ is quite the right word to describe you right now, X… Take a few minutes down here, and then I'll walk you back up to your office, alright? I’m going to tell your assistant- Z, isn't it?- to make sure you get some rest while I fetch you some meds.” X swallows, shaking his head weakly. “I’ll be… I’ll be f- fine.” “I’m the doctor here. Just try to relax for once in your life.” Finally, he sighs, nodding. He's still leaning his head against the brick wall as his eyes fall closed. Y continues to rub his back for a few minutes, a comfortable silence enveloping them. When she looks back at the lawyer beside her, his jaw is slack, lips slightly parted. The quick, shallow breaths of before have slowed and deepened. A small smile creeps onto her face. He's asleep. X starts to lean unconsciously towards her. Soon, as he remains asleep and snoring, his head lands on her shoulder. He's definitely going to drool all over her dress. “Bless him .” Z whispers, cocking his head a little as he watches X sleep. “He's absolutely knackered.” Y isn't entirely sure what that word means, but if it has anything to do with exhaustion, he's completely right. X is curled up on the couch, cheek pressed against a throw pillow Z thrifted, buried beneath a mound of blankets Y brought from home. They're ever so slightly weighted, and the pressure is comforting for X. She's trying to get used to his sensory needs. To not rely on him resolving them himself, especially when he's sick. Judging by the peaceful look on his face, nostrils flaring gently with each slow breath, she's doing something right at least. She hopes, also, that bringing him into her workplace was the right thing to do as well, groaned when she half-dragged X through the doors, pale and shakily covering his ears, squinting against the light, but what was she supposed to do? Suppose X had been left alone, and needed to get something to drink? Doing those things alone right now is essentially impossible for him. Y's phone beeps, and she turns it on to find a reminder: X’s antibiotics. She sighs, glancing over at cosy-looking just as his nose twitches in his sleep. Z notes frustration. “Antibiotic time?” “Yep.” With another small sigh of sympathy, she stands and wanders over to the feverish bundle of blankets and gentle snores, placing a gentle hand on the top of his head. Her thumb brushes against the sweat-damp curls that hang over his eyes. “ X? Sweetheart? Wake up for me, pumpkin.” When, after a few seconds of waiting, he doesn't stir, she gently strokes her index finger against his lower eyelashes. It's an age-old trick, and just like always, his eyes gradually open halfway. “Hey, X.” She whispers, smiling reassuringly as he blinks in the light. For once, he doesn't make any attempt to get up. His dizziness is clearly plaguing him again. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but you need to take your meds. Can you do that for me?” He swallows, clearly disoriented. Barely awake. “ Mm.” “Thank you. You don't even have to sit up, alright? Just…” she takes the bottle of pills from the coffee table and unscrews the lid, shaking a couple into her palm. “Just put these in your mouth, sweetheart.” Shakily, he obeys. Y's now empty hand is nearly immediately met with a glass of water filled up moments ago by Z. She moves closer to X and holds the rim of the glass up to his lips. “Now take a few sips, and swallow… Good job.” As soon as his small (yet Herculean) task is complete, X sinks back against the pillow entirely, eyes closing. Y draws the blanket over his shoulders, hand yet again drifting to his hair. “How’re you feeling?” she asks softly. His nostrils flare. He doesn't open his eyes. “ B-bad… Di- dizzy.” “ I bet… the antibiotics will make things better soon, pumpkin, I promise. Just rest.” X swallows thickly. “ C-can I go b-back to sleep now?” T gives him a small smile. “Of course you can.” She leans forward, pressing her lips to his too-warm forehead before withdrawing, still carding through his hair. “Sleep well, sweetheart. Night night.” Within moments, his breaths even out again. Soon, her pager will beep, and somehow X will remain fast asleep, swathed in blankets and yet still shivering. She'll check the little device to find that she's needed down at the hospital for a delivery. She'll know that it's okay for her to leave, because there's a whole team watching over. Keeping him safe and comfortable. For now, however, she listens to the murmurings of her colleagues about how adorable X is (she knows, it's why she loves him so much) and traces his features with her thumb. “That’s it, X. Sweet dreams.”

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ᴾᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵒᵘʳ ᔆᵖᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᴰᵃʸ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ‽' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ʰᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ; ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉˢᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗⁱᵉ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ; ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵇˡᵘᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ‧ 'ᴴᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ? ᴰⁱᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵖᵃʸ ʰⁱᵐ? ᴺᵒ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ‧ ᴵᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷʰʸ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ? ᵀʰᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉˢᵗ ᵏⁱᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʷᵉ ᵇᵒⁿᵈ‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ‧ "ᴴᵉˡˡᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʰᵉʸ! ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ?" "ᴴᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᵇᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵒʳʸ ᵒʳ ʸᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵇʸ! ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ?" "ᴴᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ‧" "ᴴⁱ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" "ᔆᵗᵒᵖ; ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ⸴ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ!" "ᴮᵘᵗ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒ‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ⁱᶠ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵉ! ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ‧ ᴳᵒ‧ ᴺᵒʷ‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ!" "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ‧‧" ᔆᵃʸˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏⁱᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵇʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ ˡᵒⁿᵍ!" "ᴼʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧ ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ; ᴵ ᵈᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ?" "ᴬʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ‧ 'ᴴᵉ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʳˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ' ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ‧ "ᴼʰ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ‧ "ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒˢˢ ᵃᵗ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᴷⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵏⁱᵖ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵒʷᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ; ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ! ᴮᵘᵗ ⁿᵒ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ᴸⁱᵃʳ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵘⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʰʳᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ ᶠⁱᵉˡᵈˢ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱʳᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ⸴ ˡⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿᵉˣᶜᵘˢᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱᵉˢ!" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᵉˡᶠ ᵖʳᵒᶜˡᵃⁱᵐᵉᵈ ᵛⁱˡˡᵃⁱⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏⁱᵉ!" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᵃ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵘⁿⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱᵗⁿᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗʳᵒⁿˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ!" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ʲᵒⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ‧ 'ᔆʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ' ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ⸴ ᵍʳᵃᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᶠᵒʳᵐ ʰᵃᵗ‧ ᵀʰʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ⸴ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʲᵒᵏᵉ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵇⁱᵍ‧ ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʷʰᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᴮᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉˢ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵗᵒ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᑫᵁᴵᵀ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵖᵃᵗᵘˡᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ʰᵃˡᶠ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵒʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵉᵈᵈʸ ᵇᵉᵃʳ ᴵ ʰᵘᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵉˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᵀʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʲᵒᵏᵉ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱˢ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ! ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳʸ ᶜᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿˢ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ʲᵒᵏᵉ‧ ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᴮᵃᶜᵏ ᴼᶠᶠ!" ᴵⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᵏⁱᵈ ʷᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ; ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧" ᴱⁿᵈ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡᵉ

🏹 🧠 🏹

‎‧₊˚🎀𝒑𝒍𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒘𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒔 & 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒋𝒊𝒔 (𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔)🎀‎˚₊‧(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

🧴🫧🥒🤍🧖🏻‍♀️

🧖🏻‍♀️🎧🫧🥥🥂🧺🖇️

༅˚🥥⋆⁺₊⋆🥕˚∘🧡๋࣭🌱 ⋆⊹🧄⋆

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 16 hr. ago mag2170 The procedure was a success and yet, I feel like my concerns on the trial are b-being sup...suppr... The procedure was a success.

hiaaaaa!! here is my what i eat in a day, healthy edition!! so in the morning i ate greek vanilla yogurt with fresh berries, for a snack i had two pickles (they are zero cals, dont judge) and for lunch i had flat bread with hummas! then i went to my pilatese class later in the day and for a drink, i brought water and put sliced cucumbers in it; for dinner i had chicken alfredo with some green tea with no sugar (green tea helps with bloating)

😴

here is my what i eat in a day, healthy edition!! so in the morning i ate greek vanilla yogurt with fresh berries, for a snack i had two pickles (they are zero cals, dont judge) and for lunch i had flat bread with hummas! then i went to my pilatese class later in the day and for a drink, i brought water and put sliced cucumbers in it; for dinner i had chicken alfredo with some green tea with no sugar (green tea helps with bloating)

guys stfu abt “thorny ppl pls stop” I SEE UR GUYS POST MOST THEN THEM UR RUINING THE SITE!! boost plsss

"You know I hate these early mornings," Plankton grumbled, his eye squinting against the glaring light. Karen, his ever-patient wife, offered a gentle smile, her hand resting firmly on his arm. "It's just a simple procedure," she assured him, as he’s getting his wisdom teeth removed as a preventative measure. The drive to the surgery center was quiet, except for the soft hum of the car's engine and the occasional swipe of the windshield wipers against the rain. Plankton's stomach churned with nerves, his thoughts racing to worst-case scenarios. Karen noticed his grip tightening on the armrest and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Once they arrived, the receptionist's bright smile did little to ease Plankton's anxiety. The waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and mint, a sterile combination that always made him feel somewhat uneasy. They checked in, and Karen filled out the last of the forms while Plankton nervously tapped his foot, watching the clock's second hand move in slow, deliberate marches around the face. With a few moments to spare, Karen discreetly pulled out her phone and started typing a group text to her gal pals, Sandy and Pearl. "Plankton's about to get his wisdom teeth out! 😨🦷💊" she wrote. Her thumb hit send. Sandy's response was almost instant, "Good luck to him! 💪🤞 I'll be thinking of him!" Pearl's message popped up moments later, "Oh no, poor guy! Send us updates, please! 🥺💔" The nurse called Plankton's name, and Karen gave his hand a final squeeze as they followed the nurse to the operating rooml, her thumbs poised over the keyboard of her phone. "Going in now. 🙏💛" The room was cold and clinical, with shiny instruments gleaming in the harsh overhead lights. Plankton's breathing grew shallow as he settled into the chair, the paper crinkling under him like a warning. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Shell, was a kind-faced crab with a gentle demeanor that somehow made Plankton feel slightly less nervous. "This won't hurt a bit," Dr. Shell assured him, placing a mask over Plankton before the iv. "Just breathe deeply and count back from twenty for me." Plankton nodded, his heart racing like a squirrel's in a predator's gaze. He took a deep breath and began to count, his eyes never leaving Karen's. "Twenty...nineteen...eigh-" his voice trailed off as the warm embrace of anesthesia took hold, his eyelid growing heavier by the second. Karen waited until he was fully asleep before sending another text. "He's in! 🛃💤 I'll keep you both posted." She watched as the surgical team went to work, their movements swift and precise. Karen watched the surgery finish and sat with him. He’s still asleep, drooling a bit, but she couldn’t help but smile at his peaceful snores. The nurse nodded her way, indicating everything had gone according to plan. She took a picture of him sleeping to send the gal pals. "Success! 👨‍⚕️💤🦷" she texted, including the photo. "The teeth are out, and Plankton's snoring like a champ!" Sandy's response was swift, "Phew! 😅 That's a relief. How's the little guy holding up?" Karen chuckled softly, typing back, "Out cold, but his snores are music to my ears. 😂🎶" Sandy's response was a symphony of emojis, "🎉🥂 He's gonna be so groggy when he wakes up! Make sure to get some funny videos for our group chat! 📹😂" Karen couldn't help but laugh at the thought of capturing Plankton's post- op antics. She knew her friends would get a kick out of it. The nurse, sensing her amusement, leaned in and whispered, "You'll want to keep an eye on him when the anesthesia wears off. They can get pretty loopy." Karen nodded, her thumbs dancing over the phone's screen. "You bet I will. 😂🎥" she texted back to Sandy. The nurse returned with a small cup of water and a set of instructions. "Here you go. Make sure he sips this slowly once he's ready. And don't let him have any solid foods for a few hours. Just soups and smoothies." Karen nodded, still smiling at the thought of Plankton's impending drowsy adventure. Her phone buzzed again. It was Pearl this time, "Send us the updates! 👀💃" Karen looked down at Plankton, his mouth now swollen and his cheeks still numb as he slept. With a smirk, she sent a quick selfie of the two of them, his mouth open and her thumb up in the background. "Still hasn’t woken up, but I'm ready for the post-op show! 😂🤡" Sandy's reply was, "Oh, the joy of modern medicine. 😂💊👨‍⚕️" The nurse returned with a wheelchair to take Plankton to the recovery area. Karen helped his body sit up, and his head lolled against her shoulder. As they made their way down the hall, his eye still remained closed. Sandy responded to the selfie with a string of laughing emojis and a thumbs up. "You've got this! 😂👍" Pearl's message was a bit more dramatic, "Oh my gosh, he looks like he's been in a battle with a sea serpent and lost! 🐉💨🤕" Karen couldn't help but chuckle, despite her exhaustion from the early morning and the worry. Plankton began to stir as the wheelchair stopped. "We're here," Karen whispered, adjusting his pillow. The nurse helped him into a recliner, and Plankton's eye flickered open, a look of confusion spreading across his face. "Whewe...an...I?" he slurred. Karen held up the cup of water and the nurse nodded. She brought it to his lips, and he took a tentative sip, wincing as the coolness hit his numbed mouth. The sensation was oddly comforting. "Teef...?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice thick with sleep and the aftermath of the procedure. Karen giggled at his speech, snapping another photo of his swollen, goofy smile. She sent it to Sandy and Pearl, adding, "Ahoy there, pirate Plankton! 🏴‍☠️🦷" The responses came flooding in, a river of laughter and well wishes. "Looks like he found the hidden treasure of pain relief! 😂💊💎" Sandy texted. "Send our regards to the tooth fairy for us! 🧚‍♀️💃" Pearl added. Their messages brought a warmth to Karen's heart, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this moment, despite being miles apart from her friends. The nurse left them in the recovery area, the steady beep of monitors and the distant mumble of patients and staff filling the space. Plankton's eye grew heavier, and he drifted back to sleep, snoring gently. Karen, now in charge of documenting Plankton's recovery for their amusement, sent another update. "Pirate Plankton's snoring symphony is in full swing! 🐠💤🎶" This time, the replies from her friends were even faster, their emojis reflecting the comical sight of her husband. Pearl's response was a string of laughter and a band-aid emoji, "Tell him not to talk to the fishes about his treasure lost! 🐠🤐💨" Karen giggled at the thought and leaned in to whisper in Plankton, "You've got fans waiting for your tales of the deep, captain." His snores grew louder, a gentle sea breeze escaping his mouth like a lullaby for the fishes. Her phone vibrated again. Sandy had responded with a series of emojis: "🐠💨💃💃💃" followed by "Make sure he doesn't swipe his treasure map with those souvenir teeth! 🛃💃🐠" Karen couldn't resist playing along, sending a photo of Plankton's teeth, now in a tiny plastic treasure chest, along with the text, "Arrr, he's lost his pearls, but the sea's still got plenty more! 💎🐠🏹" Sandy replied with a row of clapping fish, "What a hero's journey he's had! 🐠👏" and Pearl chimed in with, "Those teeth are now part of the ocean's legend! 🐠💃💃" Karen's phone buzzed again, and she saw that Sandy had sent a meme featuring a lobster with wisdom teeth, holding a tiny pirate flag. "This is too much," she thought, laughing quietly so as not to wake Plankton. She showed him the meme once he began to stir again. His swollen smile grew wider, and he managed a chuckle, his speech still slurred. "Arrr, I'm the king of the sea now, aren't I?" Sandy texted back, "Definitely the king of the dental seas! 🐠👑💃" Pearl sent a GIF of a fish doing a celebratory dance. "Your teeth are now part of the ocean's treasure! 💃💃💃" The playful banter between the friends continued, with each text bringing a little more life to Plankton's droopy eye.

r/TwoSentenceSadness 3 yr. ago PistachioPug People say I'm not disabled, I'm neurodivergent. Somehow the fancy label doesn't make me feel any better about all the things I wish I were able to do.

ᵀᵒ ᴴⁱᵗ ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ ⁱⁿᵈᵘᶜᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉ/ᵘⁿʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢⁱᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ‧" ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰⁱᵗˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ˢᵒ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰᵉʳˢ‧ "ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵗᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵈˢ‧ "ᴴⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ ˢᵒ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ⸴ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ⸴ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘ— ʷᵉˡˡ ⁿᵒ ᵒᶠᶠᵉⁿᶜᵉ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧" ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗᵉᵈ/ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʷⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ᵇʳᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ˢᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉ/ᵘⁿʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢⁱᵛᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴴⁱ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ‧‧" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵃᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵃᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ "ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍˡᵃᵈˡʸ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ‧ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ʷᵉ'ᵈ ˢⁱⁿᵍ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘʳ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉˢ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵃᵍᵃᶻⁱⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵃᵈˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᶠᵉᵉᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ‧ ᴹⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴴᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ/ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ ˢᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇʳᵒʷ ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷˢ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ˢᑫᵘᵉᵉᶻᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ; ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ʰᵉʳ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ⁿᵒʷ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ʸᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒʷ!" "ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒˢˢ ʰⁱᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ'ˢ ˡᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵍᵒ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟒𝟖

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

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."

ᴰᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᴬᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ Part 2 ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵒʳᵃˡ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒʳᵉ ᵃᶜʰᵉˢ⸴ ⁿᵒ ᵗʳᵃᶜᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵉᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉʸ⸴ ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˢⁱᵗ?" ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ 'ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ⸴ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᵃᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴰᵒᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ? ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ʳᵉᵗʳⁱᵉᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱᶜᵉ‧ 'ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ‧‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʳᵃⁱˡˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ˢᵉⁿˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒˡᵈ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵈʳⁱᵖˢ ʳᵉᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵖˢ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵗᵒʷᵉˡ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ⁿᵉʷ ᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᶜᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵒʳ ᵃ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ᵒᶠ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ? ᴼʳ ᵇᵒᵗʰ? ᴺᵒ?" "ᴵ ʰ⁻⁻⁻ʰᵘʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱⁿᶜᵉᵈ⸴ ʷᵒʳˢᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᶠᵉʳʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵐᵖʰˡᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ‧ "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵐᵖʰˡᵉᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴴᵘᵍᵍˡᵉ‧" 'ᴴᵘᵍᵍˡʸ?' "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵈ ʰᵘᵍᵍˡᵉ‧" ᔆʰᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃⁿᵒᵉᵘᵛʳᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵃʳᵐ ʰᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵘᵐᵇ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳᵗʰ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴸᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ˢᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ‧ 'ᴺᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵈᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵐᵉˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉᶻᵉʳ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ⸴ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ⁿᵒʳ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇʳᵒʷ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵉᵈ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵒ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ end finale

r/TwoSentenceSadness icon Go to TwoSentenceSadness r/TwoSentenceSadness 2 yr. ago TransParentCJ I had never understood how everyone else seemed to ignore the buzzing g sound of electricity everywhere they went; it was deafening to me. The doctors sent volt after volt of that same loud, excruciating electricity through my brain now, in some attempt to "cure" me.

PLUSH ONE ii (By NeuroFabulous) "What's your favorite thing to do?" Karen continues, her voice gentle. He looks around the room, his gaze finally settling on the metal container, his project before the accident. "Fix," he says, his hands moving in small, repetitive gestures. "Invent. Invent," he murmurs. It's a start. The paramedics nod, jotting down their observations. "It seems like his long-term memory is intact," the first one murmurs to the other. "Okay, Plankton, we're all done here; we'll be heading on out." Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening as she watches them leave, their boots echoing down the hall. The door clicks shut, and suddenly the room feels much emptier, the silence suffocating. She looks back at her husband. She's never dealt with someone with severe autism, let alone the man she loves. She takes a deep breath. "Come on," she says, her voice a gentle coax. "Let's sit up." With surprising ease, he allows her to help him into a sitting position. He looks at her, his gaze warm and affectionate. "Karen," he says, his voice gentle. It's the first time he's called her by name since the accident, and it fills her with a hope so profound it hurts. They sit there for a while, Karen stroking his arm, Plankton's eye closed as he leans into her touch. He seems to find comfort in her presence, and she in his. She whispers softly, "I love you, Plankton." He opens his eye, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Love... Karen," he echoes. "You, I... I lo-ove you Karen." It's not eloquent, but it's enough. It's more than enough. Karen feels tears sting her screen as she leans in and kisses his forehead. "I love you too, Plankton." His hand, stiff and unpracticed, moves to hers, tracing the outline of her palm. The simple gesture speaks volumes, a silent promise that they'll navigate this new world together. Karen's eyes well up, a smile forcing its way through the tears. "You're going to be okay," she whispers, trying to tell herself as much as him. Plankton nods, his gaze on their joined hands. He starts to fiddle with her fingers, his touch tentative but earnest. It's a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He's trying, and she loves him for it. The world outside feels muted as they sit together, sharing this quiet moment of understanding. Their bond, though altered by his new condition, remains strong. Karen can see it in the way he looks at her, his eye searching hers for comfort. And she's there, offering it in spades. "We'll get through this," she says, her voice steady "We'll figure it out." Plankton nods, his hand still tracing the lines of her palm. His movements are methodical, almost ritualistic. It's clear that touch is a way to connect, in a world that's suddenly become more confusing. Karen runs her thumb over the back of his hand. He looks up at her, his gaze intense, his eye searching hers for reassurance. Karen smiles through the tears. "We're in this together," she whispers, leaning in to pat his shoulder. But the second her hand makes contact, he flinches away, his body taut with discomfort. It's a stark reminder of the sensory challenges he now faces. "I'm sorry," Karen says quickly, retracting her hand. She's read about sensory issues in autism, but experiencing it firsthand is overwhelming. She's eager to learn what will soothe him, what will help him navigate this new reality without causing him discomfort. "It's ok" Plankton mumbles, his hands moving in a soothing motion over the blanket. Karen's determined to learn. "What do you need, honey?" she asks, her voice gentle. Plankton's hand stops its erratic movement. He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Karen," he whispers. Her eyes fill with hope, clutching onto his words like a lifeline. "What do you need, Plankton?" she asks again, her tone soft and patient. He turns his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the couch. Karen gently guides him to the couch, placing a pillow under his head. She grabs his favorite blanket, and drapes it over him. He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes into the softness. His hands resume their repetitive stroking, this time on the fabric. Karen notices his eye is drawn to the patterns, and she wonders if the visual stimulation helps him focus. Gently, she sits beside him, keeping a respectful distance. Karen's mind is a storm of thoughts and questions, but she forces herself to be present, to be patient. Plankton's hand continues to move over the blanket. He's in his own world, yet she's eager to understand it.

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

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

You don't just practice away a neurological disorder 👀

"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.

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

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

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."

SHELF IMPROVEMENT vi (Autistic author) Karen rummaged through the game drawer, her hands shaking slightly. She pulled out a game of memory matching, thinking the simple task might help him focus. She placed it on the coffee table in front of them, spreading the cards out. "It's your turn," she said, her voice calm. Plankton nodded. He stared at the cards, his eye flickering from one to the next. Karen watched. Would he be able to play? Would he understand the simplicity of matching pictures? He reached out with his tiny hand, paused, gaze focused on a card with a picture of a fish. Then, with a quick movement, he flipped it over. The card was a match. "Fish," he whispered, a smile creeping onto his lips. Karen felt a weight lift from her chest. He had done it, he had understood the game. Her eyes filled with tears as she matched the next card. "Good job, Plankton," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You found the match." He nodded, his antennae twitching with excitement. "Fish," he said again, his smile growing wider. "Fish, Karen." Karen felt a warmth spread through her, seeing a glimpse of the Plankton she knew, the one who loved puzzles and challenges. "Yes, Plankton, you're doing great." Suddenly, their son Chip came home from a camp trip. The door slammed, and Plankton shot up. His eye widened in fear. Karen quickly placed her hand on his back, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispered. "It's just Chip coming home." Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed the information. "Chip," he murmured, his voice quavering. "Home." Chip sees his dad but doesn't know of the acquired Autism. "Dad!" He yelled excitedly, running to him with a tight embrace of a hug. But it proves to be too much for Plankton. The sudden jolt of noise and movement sent Plankton into a spiral of overstimulation. His body convulsed, and he shook, his tiny form wracked with seizures as Karen watched helplessly as Chip only held Plankton tighter. "Chip, no!" she screamed, her voice breaking. She jumped up from the couch. "Gently, gentle!" But it was too late. Plankton's body was a blur of spasms, his eye rolled back. Karen knew this autistic response; this is sensory overload. "Chip, let go!" Karen shouted, her voice desperate. But Chip, not understanding his father's condition, only held on tighter. "Dad, are you okay?" But Plankton's body continued to convulse violently, his tiny limbs flailing. Karen's mind raced, recalling her research on autism and its sometimes intense physical responses. She had to act fast. Gently but firmly, she pried Chip's arms from Plankton's trembling body and lowered his father to the floor. "Chip, sweetie, I need you to step back," she instructed, her voice shaking. Chip's eyes were wide with fear. "Dad.." he stuttered, trying to reach for Plankton. "Chip, please," Karen pleaded, her voice tight. "Just go to your room for a bit. I need to take care of Dad." With a tearful nod, Chip stepped back, his screen never leaving his father's convulsing body. Karen turned her attention back to Plankton. "Shh," she soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay." Her voice was a gentle lullaby, trying to anchor him in the chaos. But Plankton's body continued to shake from the lingering sensation of Chip's touch. Karen knew she had to move quickly. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it beneath his head, trying to reduce the risk of injury. The seizure lasted a few more seconds, his antennae quivering wildly. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it started to gradually fade. Plankton's body went limp, his breaths shallow and quick. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice shaky with relief. "You're okay." Plankton's antennae twitched, and his eye flitted open. He looked up at Karen, confusion and fear etched on his face. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice weak. "I'm here," she said soothingly, stroking his back. "You had a reaction to Chip, Plankton. It's okay now." His antennae stilled for a moment as he focused on her voice. "Chip," he repeated, his gaze distant. "Too much." Karen nodded. "I know, Plankton. I'll explain to Chip. He didn't mean to scare you." She could hear Chip's sobs from his room, the sound piercing the silence of the living room. Plankton's antennae moved slightly. "Chip," he murmured. "Not mad." Karen felt a knot loosen in her chest. "No, Plankton," she whispered. "Chip's not mad, honey. He loves you, just like I do." Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed her words. "Love," he murmured, his gaze finding hers. "Karen loves Plankton. Chip loves Plankton." Karen nodded, swiping at her tears. "Yes, we both love you so much," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We're going to help you through this." Plankton's eye searched her face, his expression unreadable. "Help," he whispered. "Karen helps." Karen's chest tightened with the weight of his trust. She knew this was just the beginning, that their lives had shifted in a way she had never anticipated. But she was determined to be his rock, to navigate this new reality with patience and love.

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

SHELF IMPROVEMENT vii (Autistic author) Gently, she helped Plankton to his feet. He swayed slightly, his legs weak from the seizure. "Let's go to your room," she suggested, her arm around his waist. They moved slowly, his steps cautious. Karen could feel his tension easing as they left the chaos of the living room behind. Plankton was still silent, twitching slightly with every new sound they encountered. In the quiet of his bedroom, Karen helped him sit on the bed. "Rest," she said softly. "You're safe here." Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. "Safe," he mumbled. Karen felt a wave of protectiveness wash over her as she tucked him into bed, his small frame looking even more vulnerable than ever. She knew she had to speak to Chip, to explain everything. With a heavy heart, she made her way to his room. The door was ajar, and she could see his form huddled on his bed, tears staining his screen. He looked up as she entered, his eyes red from crying. "Chip," she began, her voice gentle. "I need to talk to you about Dad." Chip sniffled, wiping his screen with the back of his hand. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. Karen sat on the edge of his bed, taking a deep breath. "Dad's had a bit of an accident, sweetie," she began. "He's okay, but he's going through something called autism. He'll have it for the rest of his life, yet we're still finding ways to manage.." Chip's eyes widened in shock, and he swiped at his tears. "What's autism?" Karen took a deep breath, preparing to explain. "It's like a different kind of brain wiring, Chip. Sometimes, it makes things that seem simple to us really hard for Dad to understand or do." Chip's brow furrowed in confusion. "Does that mean he won't be the same?" "No, it doesn't mean he won't be the same person," she said gently. "But it does mean that we'll have to make some changes to help him feel comfortable and safe. Dad will need extra patience, and we'll have to learn new ways to communicate. He still has memories of his life before, though." Chip looked at his mother with uncertainty. "How can we help him?" Karen took his hand in hers, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. "Well, Chip, we have to be very understanding," she explained. "Dad might react differently to things now, like noises or touch." Chip nodded, his expression earnest. "So I can't hug him like that anymore?" "Not like you did just now," she said. "But we'll find ways to show love without overwhelming him." Chip nodded with newfound determination. "Okay," he said, his voice small. "I'll try." Karen felt a surge of pride. Despite his young age, Chip was showing a maturity beyond his years. "That's my brave boy," she said, squeezing his hand. "Good night.."

https://www.midol.com/about-my-period

ᴰᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᴬᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ Part 1 ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ ᵃᵖᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʸˢ ᵘᵖ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢʰᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵘᵇˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧" ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇʳᵒʷ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵘᵈᵍᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ! ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ?" ᴴᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᴳᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ‧" ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃⁿ ᵒʳᵍᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ‧ ʸᵉᵗ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᶠˡᵒˢˢ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢ?" 'ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ?' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆᵒ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ˢᶜᵃⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ʷᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱˢᵈᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧" 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ‽' "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈ⁻ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜˡⁱⁿᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ?" "ᴴᵉˡˡᵒ ᴵ'ᵐ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ! ᴺᵒʷ ʷᵉ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ʷᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒˡᵃʳˢ ⁱⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵃˡ‧ ᵂᵉ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ᵒᵘᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵐᵖʰˡᵉᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴮᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʷᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵒᵘˢ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵈᵒ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡⁱˢᵉ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵉʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘᵐˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵈᵘʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵃˢⁱᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵃˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘᵐˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ‧" "ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ?" ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵃˢᵏˢ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ'ˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᵖᵉʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ?" "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵃᵈᵐⁱⁿⁱˢᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴼᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵗᵒʳᵉᵈ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʲᵒᵇ‧" 'ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ‧‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ'ˢ ʸᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗˡʸ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ/ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʰʸᵍⁱᵉⁿⁱˢᵗ ʷⁱᵖᵉˢ ᵃʷᵃʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵃ ʷᵉᵉᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢʷᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ‧" "ᴿⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ! ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵉˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ˢʸˢᵗᵉᵐ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᶜᵗ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵐᵖʰˡᵉᵗ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵘˢᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉᵈ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢˡᵒᵖᵖʸ‧ 'ᵂᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧‧‧' 'ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂʳʳᶻ ᵇʳʳʳᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᵇᵇˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᴹʳⁿⁿ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" 'ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ ᴵ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃᵗᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡˢ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʲᵒᵇ!" ᴴᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵘᶠᶠˡᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵃᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ?" "ᴵ ᵐⁱˢˢ ᴷ⁻ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴵ⸴ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧" "ᴹʸ ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ᴷᵃʳⁱ ᴵ ˡᵒ⁻ᵒᵛᵉ ʰᵉʳ!" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ᵐ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ!" ᵀᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉ⁻⁻⁻⁻ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‽" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉˣᶜˡᵃⁱᵐˢ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵘᶜᵏˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧" "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ?" "ᵂᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵖᵉˢ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠˡᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ʳⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵈʳᵃᵍᵒⁿ‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ˢᵒ⸴ ᵉʸᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵘᵗ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢᵏˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃᵛⁱˡʸ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ʰⁱᵐ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘⁿᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉ‧ 'ᔆᵒ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᵗⁱʳʳᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ⸴ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ʰᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ "ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ‧‧" "ᴷ⁻ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ?" 'ᴰⁱᵈ ᴵ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ?' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉʷ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᶻʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ/ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵈ ˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʷ!" "ᶜʰᵃᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵃʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵈᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ᵗᵉᵉᵈ ᶜʳᵉᵃⁿˢ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ‧" "ᴹʸ ⁿᵉⁿᵈⁱˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒᵒᵈᵃʸ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉⁿᵗⁱˢ‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵘˢʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵘᶻᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ? ᵀʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᴱᵃˢʸ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ 'ᴶᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ‧ to be cont. pt. two

How to Sleep Comfortably With a Full Stomach: Tips and Tricks HelpSleepProblems Blog – after enjoying a delicious meal or indulging in a late-night snack, you climb into bed feeling uncomfortably full and wondering how on earth you’re going to get any sleep. While it may seem like an impossible task, there are actually several strategies that can help you fall asleep even when your stomach is stuffed. Eat earlier One of the most effective ways to avoid going to bed with a full stomach is simply to eat your last meal earlier in the evening. Try eating dinner at least three hours before bedtime so that your body has ample time to digest your food before you lay down for the night. Avoid heavy meals late at night In addition to eating dinner early, try to make sure that your last meal of the day isn’t particularly heavy or high in fat. Foods like pizza, burgers, and fried foods take longer for your body to break down and can lead to discomfort if eaten too close to bedtime. Opt for lighter snacks If you do find yourself wanting a snack later in the evening, choose something light that won’t weigh heavily on your stomach. Good options include fruit, yogurt or milk-based smoothies, crackers with hummus or nut butter spread thinly on top. Stay upright after eating Another tip for avoiding indigestion and difficulty sleeping when you have a full stomach is simply staying upright after eating. Lying down immediately after a meal can allow acid from our stomachs back up into our esophagus leading us towards heartburns and other digestive problems which would further disturb our sleep cycle. https://helpsleepproblems.com/how-to-sleep-on-full-stomach/ Avoid physical activities right away Avoiding physical activities right away will allow more time for digestion because exercise speeds up metabolism which could result in indigestion over time. Practice relaxation techniques If you find that your stomach is still feeling full and uncomfortable even after taking these steps, try practicing some relaxation techniques to help calm both your mind and body. Deep breathing exercises, gentle stretching or yoga, meditating can all help in relaxing our muscles. Create a comfortable sleep environment Finally, even if you’re feeling stuffed and uncomfortable from overeating before bed creating a comfortable sleep environment may make it easier for you to fall asleep. This includes making sure your room is cool and dark with no distractions while sleeping and having comfortable bedding makes falling asleep much easier. Conclusion While going to bed with a full stomach can be uncomfortable at first throughout our life journey but there are several strategies we can use for effective digestion. Eating earlier in the evening, choosing lighter snacks later in the day staying upright post-meals along with avoiding physical tasks right away really helps us feel relaxed while helping us maintain good health overall.

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."