🌈 Emoji Combos

🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤

🌈🎀🍮ＨＡＰＰＹ ＤＡＹＳ🌈🎀🍮カラフルな人生♪～(🍮🧃ิ)人(╹◡╹๑)～♪ 🍡🎀⍝ ＾・ᗢ・＾⍝･ﾟ+｡*ﾟ･.+ colourful life

🌈❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

rainbow, rain,cloud 🌈

🌼🌸🌈

🌞🍊💦🌈⚡️

🌼🌿🌈

🌈 💜 🌙

🥹🌈🩷

𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐱

๋࣭⭑🌩.๋⭑🌈꩜༄.°

💚🥰🌈🍵

Chocolate!!! ……………………………………………………………………………………._¸„„–~^~–„„¸ ………………………………………………………………………..………¸–*¯. . . . . . ; . *„ ……………………………………………………………………...….....„-* ' ~' . ¸„„¡¡¡¡¡„ . . . .'¡…._¸¸¸„¸¸_ …………………………………………………………………............,/' .¯'-, . ¡|||||||||ll' . .¸„„–^*"¯. . ~'~¯*-„ ……………………………………………………………………..¸¸„„–ƒ .,- . . . .¯””¯ .¸„-*¯.¸„„¡¡¡¡¡¡„ . . .~-, . '\ ………………………………………………………………..¸„–^*¯::::'¡-~' ¸-~- . . . „-*' . . ¡|||||||||lll' . ._,-' '~--ƒ …………………………………………………………..¸„–*¯::::::::„::::"-„¸ . . . ,-'¸/' . . . . ¯”””””¯. . .~-~'¯'~ƒ ………………………………………………….._¸¸¸„„„('„„„„¸¸__::::::*^–„„¸¸_¯””””¯ƒ . . . . . . . . . -, ', . . '~-„* ………………………………………………..„^" . . . . . . . . .¯**^~–„¸¸:::::::::::|'|. . . '¡_.-~. '~-~'' / . . .„-*.'\ …………….._¸¸¸¸_………………………….."~––„„„„„„¸¸¸¸_ . . . . . . . ¯"~„¸:::::|*„. „-' „-~'. ."¯¯') .¯¸„\". . . .'\ ………..„-~*¯ . . . ¯*~„…………………………………..| .¯¯”””'¡^~–„¸_ . . ."-„::\:"^-(¸¸_ ._¸¸¸„„-~*¯¸„:'¡ . . . . '\ ………/' . . . . . . . . . .'\………………………………….| . . . .¡' . . . . "¡-„¸ . .'\::"-:::::::¯„„¸¸„„–~*'¯::::| . . . . .'\ ……./ . . \¸. . ._¸¸„„„¸¸_¸ƒ…………………………………'~–„„¸¸|_ . . . .ƒ . '*„ . '¡::::::::::::::–„„¸¸_¸¸„„–:::| . . . . . \ ....../ . . . „/^*¯ . . . . . ¯*„………………………_............,/';;;;;;¯'*~–/„„¸_ .'\ . |::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . .\ …./ . . . . \¸¸¸__¸¸„„„– .¸„-*…………._¸¸_.......„-" ."-„…..„-*;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;¯'*\ .|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . .\¸ . \ .../ . . . . . . . . . „-~^*¯……………¡' . . ¯*-„-". . . . ."„^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;'¡ |::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::'¡ . . . . \'-„ '¡ '.ƒ . . . . . . . . . /…………………."-„¸ . . . ¯"^-„¸ .„-" . . "^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;|'|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . .'\"-' .| . . . . . . . . . /………………………¯'~-„¸ . . .'*^-„ . . . . „-"^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;||:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . .\ '|. . . . . . . . . /………………………….|':::”^-„¸. . . "^-„¸„-" . . . "-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;'|':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::'¡ . . . ¸ . .'| CHOOOOOCOOOOOLAAAAATE?! .| . . . . . . . .ƒ…..____............……....'¡::::::::"^-„ . . .'*-„ . . . . „-"'-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . .\-„ .| .|' . . . . . . .„-^*¯¯ . . . ¯"'*^-„………......'¡::::::::::::"^-„ . . *-„_„-" . . .'*-„;;;;;;;;;|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . '\"-' .'| . . . . . ./' . . . . . . . . . . . '\…….........'¡::::::::::::::::"-„¸ . ."-„ . . . . „-'*'-„;;;;;|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . .'¡ ..'¡ . . . . ƒ . ¡' . . . . . . . . . . ƒ………......'¡:::::::::::::::::::"^-„. .'*-„_„-" . . .'*-„¸¡':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . '¡ …\. . . .ƒ . .| . . . . . . . . . .'ƒ„–„„¸¸_.........'¡:::::::::::::::::::::::"^-„ .'*-„ . . . . . ƒ:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¡' . . .ƒ\ . | ….'\ . . .| . .| . . . . . . . . . .ƒ/:.|:.:.:.¯*~–„¸„\:::::::::::::::::::::::::::"-„ .*-„ . . . ƒ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . .ƒ..'\ ¡' …...*-„ . "~| . . . . . . . . . .ƒ¯'*|:.:.:.:.:„-^*¯:.\„::::::::::::::::::::::::::::"-„¸.'*-„ . ƒ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . ƒ…..* ………*–„¸¸| . . . . . . . . . .| . .|:.:.:.:.:|:.:.:.:.:\"-„::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¯*^^*':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . .ƒ …………...|. . . . . . . . . .|' . ƒ.:.:.:.:.'¡:.:.:.:.:.\::":::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::|„„„/ ……………| . . . . . . . . . |"^/.:.:.:.:.:.'¡:.:.:.:.:.'\::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¸|:.:'¡ ……………'\ . . . . . . . . .'\*^^~–––„„„/\:.:.:.:.:.:\;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_¸„–^*":.:.| …………….'\ . . . . . . . . . \.........„-*:.'\:.:.:.:.:.:'\;:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_¸¸„„–~^*¯:.:.:.:.:.:.'|calvin14 calvin14. (2008, December 18th)

🧪 ʳᵃᵛᶤᵒˡᶤ˒ ʳᵃᵛᶤᵒˡᶤ˒ ᵍᶤᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘᵒˡᶤᵎ 🧪

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/

🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤🧸⃤.୧⍤⃝💐🦋⃤

ˡᶦˢᴛᴇɴ ʸᵒᵘ ᴄʀᴜˢᵗᵃᴄᴇᴏᴜs cheapskate ˢᵠᵘᶦᵈᴡᴀʀᴅ’s ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᶦⁿ my house ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜɪʀᴇ ʜᶦᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴀ ˢᵗᵘᴘɪᴅ dime

ℑ𝔪 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣. 💀

ᴺᵃʳʳᵃᵗᵒʳ⠘ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᴸᵉᵍᵉⁿᵈᵃʳʸ ᴰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᴾᵃʳᵗʸ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴴᵉʸ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵇᵒᵈʸ! ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ! ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʸᶜˡᵒᵖˢ! [ᵖᵘˢʰᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵉʸᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ʷʰᵒᵒⁱⁿᵍ] ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ᴴᵃ⁻ʰᵃ⸴ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ! [ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ʳᵒᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ] ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⠘ ᴼᵒʰ! [ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵒⁿᵉ ᵖᵒᵖˢ ᵒᵘᵗ] ᴼʷ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⸴ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵏᵃʸ? ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⠘ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐʸ ⁿᵉʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧ "ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒʳʳⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ‧"

🧠⃤🍄⃤

🔪☆⋆｡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・。*.ੈ ♡₊˚•. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ # 🔮

੭ ⊹ 🧽 ִֶָ 𖥔 ៹੭ ⊹ 🧽 ִֶָ 𖥔 ៹੭ ⊹ 🧽 ִֶָ 𖥔 ៹

Spongebob's house _ |\/ \/| \¯\/¯\/¯/ ╱¯¯¯¯╲ _ /'X'X'X'|_|| |O'X'X'X|¯¯ |'X.-.X'| \X'|*|O'/ ##/¯\## Squidward's house _____ | | /_____\ |¯|0| |0|¯| \_| /_\ |_/ / /¯\ \ |_|_|_| /===\ Patrick's house <╷< .─¯¯¯¯─. / \ '──____──' / \ Krusty krab ._._. \###/ _ ╷╷ V __ ¯|¯ //¯¯──¯¯¯// \\ | ||[] [] O||##|| | ||.─.─.─.||##|| ' ''' ' ' ''' '' Chum bucket >¯¯< .─\_c/─. (_______) \ Chum / | Bucket| \ |¯| / ╹╹╹╹ Mr.Crabs's house __ .__(())__. \──|[]|──/ _ | | _ / \ | | / \ \ \|__|/ / ¯─__||__─¯ / \ Sandy's house ____ .¯─.─_¯. / {_ .} \_ | O )( //*\ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

🧠 ͜ (－‸ლ)

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

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

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"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.

/ ________________O_==================== / OH |=================<=> \ GIANT SQUID |=================<=> \ ————————–0– ====================

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https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

☢;;❝ВUТ ТНEɴ YOU ЅНOWED МE ҒRΙEɴDЅНΙP! ТНΑТ'Ѕ ΑLL Ι REΑLLY WΑɴТED!❞ ⁽ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁾

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❞ⓈⓟⓞⓝⓖⓔⒷⓞⓑ, ⓨⓞⓤ ⓘⓓⓘⓞⓣ, ⓨⓞⓤ❜ⓡⓔ ⓐ ⓖⓔⓝⓘⓤⓢ❕❞ ~ Ⓢⓗⓔⓛⓓⓞⓝ Ⓟⓛⓐⓝⓚⓣⓞⓝ

¢нσ¢σℓαтє (CHOCOLATE!!!!! :chocolate_bar: :chocolate_bar: )ಥ‿ಥ ѕρσиgєвσв!!! ⓅⓁⒶⓃⓀⓉⓄⓃ ѕρσиgєвσв:| ( • )(• ) | ραтяι¢к: / ( • )(• ) \ ѕqυι∂ωαя∂: ( (•)(•) ) ρℓαиктσи: | (•) |

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ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴼʰ! ᴼʰ! ᴬʰʰ! [ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ] ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗʸ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ? [ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵖˢ ⁱᵗ] ᴼʰʰ! [ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ] ᴵ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘˡᵃʳ ᶠⁱˡᵉ ᶜᵃᵇⁱⁿᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᶜᵃⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿⁱᵗʷⁱᵗ‧ [ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵗᵉᵐ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢⁱᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ] ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ?! [ᶜᵘᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵒᵘᵗˢⁱᵈᵉ] ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ‧ [ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ] ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ— ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ! ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᴵˢ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ [ᵗᵉᵃʳʸ⁻ᵉʸᵉᵈ] ᴼʰ⸴ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧ [ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ] ᵂʰʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ? ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ [ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ] ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴬʰʰ! [ᶠᵃˡˡˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ; ʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖˢ] ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈᵒ? ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ [ᵍʳᵃᵇˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵍ‧] ᴼᵏᵃʸ‧ ᴬˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ! ʸᵉᵃʰ!

⭔

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.

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.

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

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

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).

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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

❁્᭄͜͡🧠

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.

~ 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.

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

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🦋⃤ 🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ 🧸⃤.୧⍤⃝💐

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ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ’ˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒʷⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇⁱᵍᵍᵉˢᵗ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵃᶜᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵃᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁱᵐᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴹᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ⸴ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᶠᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵉʰᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉᵃᵏˡʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐᵉᵈ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴾᵃⁿⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵒˢᵉ‧ "ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ! ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗʸ? ᴼ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʷⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵘᵈᵍᵉ ᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵉ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵇˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵖᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᵍᵉᶰᵗˡʸˑ “ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ʳᵉᵛⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈᵎ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧” ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ˒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶰᵉ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᔆᵉᵐⁱ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉˑˑˑ" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ⁱᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵍʳⁱˡʸ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵏᶰᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ʰᵃᶰᵈ ˢʷᵃᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᶰˢᶜᶤᵒᵘˢᶰᵉˢˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁱⁿ‧ “ᴴʳ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰᵘᵐᵐᶤᶰᵍ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿˑ “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵉᶜʰᵒᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰᶤᵐ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ‧ “ᵂʰᵃ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵃʳᵈˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵒ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈᵎ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ˒ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵃˡˡˑˑˑ” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ˒ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉˣⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˢᵗᵘᵖᵒʳ ᶰᵒᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷᶤᶰᵍ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᶤᵗ˒ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶠˡᵒᵒᵈᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ‧ “ᴴᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃᵏᶤᶰᵍᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ‧ “ᵂʰᵉ… ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ; ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ?” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠᵉᵃʳᶤᶰᵍ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ᴴᵉʰ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧ “ᴮᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ⸴ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ‧ ᵘᶰᵗᶤˡ ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵒʷ ᵉᶰᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᵃˢˢᵘᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ…” “ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ⸴ ʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˡᵉˢˢⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒⁿ⁻ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵒⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢᵎ” “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ…” “ᵁᵍ⸴ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜʳʸ‧” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ʷʳᵃᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵃ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ “ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷˀ” ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃᶠᵉ‧” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ…” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ‧” “ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒˢˢ‧‧‧” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ˒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ; ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵉ’ˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵠᵘᶤᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳˀ” “ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʸᵉᵗ‧ ᵂᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵉˡˢᵉ'ˢ…” “ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ’ᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉᵎ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒˀ” “ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ʳᵃᵐᵇˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᴵ’ᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉˀ” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴾⁱⁿᵏʸ ᵃ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᔆᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉᵎ” “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ…” “ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʷᵉ…” “ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿ…” “ᵂʰʸˀ ᴴᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒ…” “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʰᵉ…” “ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵒᶠˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵒʳˢᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠᵎ” ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵃᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ “ᵂᵉ’ˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᴾᵃᵗ‧‧‧” “ᔆᵉᵉ ʸᵃ‧” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ “ᴴᵘⁿᵍʳʸˀ” “ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ “ᴱʰ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷˀ ᴵ ʳⁱᵈ ᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉʳ‧‧‧” ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ “ᵀʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ʸᵉᵎ” ᴮᵘᵗ ᔆᵒ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧ “ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵇʸᵉᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ⸴ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗ ᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗˢ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵒ‧ "ᵂᵉ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵈᵃʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵉ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ˢᵐᵒᵒᵗʰ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵒᵘⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧‧‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ?" ᵁⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵗᵉʳᵗᵒʳᵒᵘˢˡʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᔆᵒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ "ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘⁿʳⁱˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳᵉˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴼʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ‧ “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ…” ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ʰᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵒⁿᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗᵎ ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉˢᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ…” “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ "ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇˡᵘʳ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ “ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᴵ ᵖˡᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧

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█▓▓█▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓███▓░░░▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓░▒▒░░▒▒░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

𝑆𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑦: [𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑝𝑠] 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑇𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑠 "𝑇", 𝑆𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝐵𝑜𝑏! 𝐻𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜𝑜, 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑛! 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑛: 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒.

THE DAȲ̴̧̱̭̯̹̗̥̬̬̭̠̉͆́̋͌̐̈̈ ̷̹͕̘͖̽͂̃͒̂́̊͗͂̔͝T̸͛̊HA̸͎͉̺͇͛̅̉̈́̈̎͝͝ͅͅT ̸̡͎̣̙͔͉͕̙͉̩̦͈̘͈̊͑͆͊̏͒̀̉̽̕͝͝Ķ̶̧̨̡̘͚̘͖̭͓͇̬̲̹̩̂́̆͂̎̌̅͒Ȓ̶̡̲͚͈͓̪̘̗̬̪̪͚̹͈Â̸̔BS ̴̢̨̰͓͍̝̯̥̤͈̖̪̹̏̏͂͛̈́̃̾͊̉̓̅̋̏F̴̻̳͚͖̞̤͍̥̫̤̀̃̀́͒̽͆̕R̸̃̀̎̈̌̏̕IẸ̸̡̦̹̤̼͉͕͙̗̠̤̼̖̬̈́͋̋̆S̴̨͍͉͙̻͉̼̩̯͕̽ͅ

ₛₚₒₙgₑᵦₒᵦ: ᵢ𝆑 wₑ'ᵣₑ gₒₙₙₐ ₛᵤᵣᵥᵢᵥₑ, wₑ'ₗₗ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜₒ ₛₕₐᵣₑ․ ₚₗₐₙₖₜₒₙ: ₕᵤₕ, ₛₕₐᵣₑ? [ₛₜₐₙdₛ ᵤₚ ₐₙd ₑₓₜₑₙdₛ ₕₐₙd] Yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ gₒₜ yₒᵤᵣₛₑₗ𝆑 ₐ dₑₐₗ, ᵦᵢg ᵦₒy! ₛₚₒₙgₑᵦₒᵦ: ₐww, ₚᵤₜ 'ₑᵣ ₜₕₑᵣₑ, ₚₐₗ․ [ₛₕₐₖₑₛ ₚₗₐₙₖₜₒₙ'ₛ ₕₐₙd ₐₙd ₕₒₗdₛ ₒᵤₜ ₜₕₑ ₚₐₜₜy] ₕₑᵣₑ, yₒᵤ 𝄴ₐₙ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜₕₑ 𝆑ᵢᵣₛₜ ᵦᵢₜₑ․ ₘₐₖₑ ᵢₜ ₐ ₛₘₐₗₗ ₒₙₑ․ ₚₗₐₙₖₜₒₙ: Dₒₙ'ₜ ₘᵢₙd ᵢ𝆑 ᵢ dₒ!

ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ ᴬⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ [ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃˡᵗᵃʳ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ] ᵁᵐ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧ [ˢⁿⁱᶠᶠˢ] ᴬⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧ ᴸᵒᵘᵈ! [ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ʰʸˢᵗᵉʳⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ] ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ [ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉᵃᵗ] ᴬˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵒᵏᵃʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ʸᵉᵉˢʰ‧

🐙🧽🐙

🧽🦠

🎄 🐙🧽🐙 🎄

⚓️🍔🧽

e = ∑∞ⁿ⁼⁰ ¹ₙ

˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚๋࣭ ⭑⚝

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY i (Autistic author) Karen's husband, Plankton, was arguing with Mr. Krabs as usual. They've had their fair share of disputes over the years, but this one seemed to be escalating fast. Without warning, Mr. Krabs swung the stove from his kitchen with all his might. It connected with a sickening thud against Plankton's head. Karen gasped as her husband crumpled to the ground. Plankton's eye had rolled back and closed, his body going still as Mr. Krabs left back. Karen knelt beside Plankton and gently tapped his cheek. "Wake up," she murmured, voice trembling. No response. She tried again, her voice a little louder. "Honey, can you hear me?" Plankton's eye remained closed, his antennae limp. Panic began to creep in. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. What if his tiny brain had been damaged? What if he was in a coma? What if he never woke up? She cradled his minuscule form. The room grew silent as the gravity of the situation sank in, willing Plankton to stir. A tear trickled down her screen. Karen felt for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady. She let out a sigh of relief and picked his tiny body up, cradling him carefully. "I've got to get him to a doctor," she thought. She held Plankton's hand as they performed a brain scan. Karen sat by her husband's side as the machines around Plankton beeped and whirred. The sterile smell of the hospital filled, and the cold white walls seemed to press in around them. Plankton's lying still on the hospital bed. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, and various tubes connected him to monitors that displayed a symphony of lines and numbers, none of which meant anything to her. She squeezed his hand gently, willing him to wake up. The doctor walked into the room, his lab coat fluttering slightly as he moved. He held a clipboard carefully in his tentacles, studying the information with a furrowed brow. "Mrs. Plankton," he began, his voice soft, "We've finished scans. The good news is that it's not life- threatening. However, we've noticed some sustained atypical brain activity." Karen's eyes widened. "What does that mean?" she asked, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. The doctor sighed, his expression sympathetic. "Autism. His behavior may change. He might become more focused on his routines, have difficulty with social interactions, and exhibit sensory sensitivity. It's permanent, and no cure. We expect him to wake up soon. We'll ask him some questions to assess and then you can take him home." Karen felt her heart drop. She knew about autism, had read about it in magazines, but never thought it would affect her own family. The doctor left the room, and she was alone with her thoughts, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall as they remove the bandage. The hours ticked by in agonizing slowness as she sat there, praying for him to wake up. The only sounds were the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled conversations from the hallway. Finally, Plankton's eyelid fluttered. He groaned softly, and his hand twitched in hers. Karen leaned in, hope surging through her. "Plankton?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she smiled through her tears. "I'm here," she said, voice shaky. "You're in the hospital, but you're ok." Plankton's eye opened, squinting in the bright lights. He looked around the room, confusion etched on his tiny face. Slowly, his gaze landed on Karen. "What happened?" he croaked, his voice weak. "Mr. Krabs hit you with a stove," Karen explained, her voice a mix of relief and sadness. "They diagnosed you with acquired Autism." The doctor approached with a gentle nod. "Plankton, can you tell me your name?" he asked, ready to jot down notes. Plankton's eye searched the room, finally settling on Karen. "Sheldon Jay Plankton." Karen's grip on his hand tightened offering silent encouragement. The doctor nodded and proceeded with questions. "Tell me when you're born?" "July 31, 1999 10:16.08 am ET!" Karen felt a twinge of pride at her husband's precise answer. The doctor nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. "Tell me more about yourself.." "More about yourself." Plankton echoed. The doctor's offering a gentle smile. "Echolalia. It's a trait that's common in individuals with autism. It can help him process information. Well Plankton has no need for therapy, yet you may want to adjust your daily lives to accommodate. You're free to go!" The drive back to the Chum Bucket was silent, the weight of the diagnosis pressing down on Karen's shoulders. He was quiet too, his eye fixed on the passing scenery. He didn't seem to notice the difference in himself, but Karen knew their lives were changed. Once home, Karen helped Plankton into his favorite chair, surrounded by his inventions and gadgets. The room was a mess, but it was his sanctuary, and she didn't want to disturb it. He seemed more at ease, his eye flicking from one object to another with a sense of familiarity. Would Plankton be the same? Would he still laugh at her jokes, or get angry at the Krabby Patty secret formula? Plankton remained silent, his gaze still locked on his surroundings. Karen felt a pang of worry. Would his obsessive nature become more pronounced? "It's getting late, Plankton." Karen's voice was soft as she guided him to their bedroom. He followed without protest, his movements mechanical. She helped him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin with a gentle tuck. Plankton lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a swirl of confusion. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice a gentle hum in the quiet room. "Stay, Karen stay." He says. Karen nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Of course, I'll stay," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. She took his hand again, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew she'd be by his side. As Plankton's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep, Karen sat there, watching him. She noticed how his grip on her hand had loosened, but didn't dare move. The next day, Karen woke before Plankton did. She hovered over him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. How was she going to wake him up without startling him? She knew that sudden noises could be overwhelming for him now. Karen took a different approach. She stroked his arm with a feather-light touch. His eye brow flinched. Next, she tried speaking his name, starting with a whisper and gradually getting louder. "Plankton," she called, "It's time to wake up." His eyelid twitched, and he blinked his eye open. He looked around. "Karen?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "Good morning, honey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?" Plankton sat up slowly, his antennae twitching as he took in his surroundings. "Different," he murmured, rubbing his temple. "We're home, Plankton. Remember what happened?" He nodded, his eye glazed over for a moment. "Krabs. The stove." "Yes, but you're ok now," Karen reassured, stroking his cheek with her finger. Plankton nodded again, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen noticed that his movements were more deliberate, his gaze more intense. She decided to keep things simple to avoid overwhelming him with too much information at once. "Let's get breakfast," she suggested. Plankton followed her into the kitchen, his steps slower than usual. The clanking of pans and the sizzle of oil had always been a familiar symphony in their home, but today it felt alien, like a disturbance to his newly heightened senses. Karen moved around the kitchen with precision, keeping the noises to a minimum. As she prepared their meal, Plankton stood by the counter, his gaze fixed. "Breakfast is ready," she said, sliding a plate of chum flapjacks in front of him. The smell usually brought him joy, but today it was overwhelming. Plankton took a step back. Karen's smile faltered, realizing she would have to adjust their meals. "Would you like something else?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody. Plankton nodded, his gaze not leaving the plate. "Different," he whispered. Karen knew she had to find foods that wouldn't overstimulate. She placed the flapjacks aside and found a jar of pureed peas and plain yogurt. She hoped the blandness would be more soothing. Plankton's antennae twitched as he came closer. He stared at the bowl intently, then took a tentative spoonful. The texture was soothing, and the color was calming. He ate slowly, each bite measured and deliberate. Karen watched him with love and concern. She wanted to ask if he liked it, but she knew better than to interrupt his focus. Once Plankton had finished, he looked up at her with a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. It was the closest thing to praise she had heard from him since the incident. Karen cleared the table, her mind racing with questions about what the future held. How would Plankton's new autism affect their daily lives? "Now what would you like to do, Plankton?" She asks. He looks at her. "Read." The old spark seems to flicker back to life, albeit with a different intensity. Karen nods, leading him back to his lab. The room is a mess of wires and gadgets, but Plankton moves through it with purpose. He selects a book from the shelf, a manual on quantum physics that had been collecting dust. His gaze flits over the pages, absorbing the information with fervor. Karen watches him from a distance. This was her Plankton, but also new. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had always been intense, but now his focus was lasered in on the book, his mind racing through equations and theories. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning. Plankton didn't look up from his book, lost in a world of science and theories. Karen knew she had to let him be, to find his new normal.

COMPUTER SENSORS i * "Karen!" Hanna exclaimed, throwing her arms around Karen in a warm embrace. "You made it!" Karen beamed. "Is the husband home?" Hanna asked, glancing around. "In our bedroom," Karen answers. "I don't think you've met!" Hanna followed Karen through the hallway. She'd heard of Karen's husband, Plankton, but had never formally met each other. Inside, Plankton sat on the edge of the bed. "Plankton, this is my friend Hanna," Karen announced, screen sparkling with excitement. Plankton looked up. He hadn't been expecting company, especially not someone so bubbly and vibrant. "Oh, Plankton," Hanna gushed, reaching out to him. She was a hugger, and she didn't hold back. She enveloped him. Plankton stiffened. It was... overwhelming. "It's so nice to finally meet you," Hanna said, her voice thick with sincerity. Hanna, ever the social butterfly, didn't seem to notice his discomfort. She plopped down on the bed beside him, her energy not even slightly dampened. "So, what do you guys have planned for the evening?" she asked, screen bright with excitement. "Well, we were just going to order in and watch a movie," Karen replied, shooting Plankton a knowing smile. She knew he liked his quiet evenings. "A movie night, huh?" Hanna clapped her hands together. "What's the film? I can stay and join!" Plankton wasn't one for sharing his personal space, especially with someone he just met. The bedroom was his sanctuary, a place of solitude where he could escape the world and be himself. Plankton managed a tight smile, his heart sinking. He wasn't in the mood for a romantic comedy, let alone one with Hanna's constant commentary and unbridled laughter. Karen quickly interjected. "Actually, Hanna, Plankton had his heart set on a sci-fi marathon tonight. You know, his usual Friday night routine." "Oh, I totally get it," she said, patting him. Plankton stiffened at her touch, his eye widening slightly. "Oooh, I know just the thing!" she exclaimed, jumping up and talking fast. "Karen, you won't believe this but I've got a DVD of 'Galactic Hearts' in my bag. It's got a bit of everything: romance, action, and a side of existential dread. Perfect for a Friday night in, right?" Plankton sighed inwardly. He knew he'd have to sit through it, if only to keep the peace. "Alright," he said, his voice tight. "Let's give it a go." With a resigned sigh, he trudged out to the kitchen to grab some popcorn and drinks. When he returned, Hanna had already claimed the spot beside him, leaving him no choice but to sit next to her, so he did, for Karen. The movie started, and Hanna was immediately engrossed, laughing and gasping at all the right moments. Plankton, on the other hand, felt like he was in an alien world of his own. Every time the romantic tension on screen built up, she would lean over and whisper something to Karen, who would giggle in response. The constant movement and noise were making his skin crawl. As the film went on, Hanna grew more and more absorbed in the love story unfolding before them. At one particularly dramatic scene, she reached over and grabbed Plankton's arm. "Oh, isn't this just the most romantic thing you've ever seen?" She gave him a squeeze not realizing the discomfort she was causing him. "Look at those stars," she whispered leaning closer. "It's just like they're reaching out to each other, isn't it?" Plankton shifted. He'd never been one for public displays of affection, and Hanna's affection was uncharted territory. He gently extracted his hand, placing it awkwardly on his lap. "I s'pose," he murmured, trying to keep his voice neutral. time she leaned in to whisper something to Karen, she brushed against him, sending a shiver down his spine. The movie's soundtrack swelled with a sappy love theme, and Hanna threw her arm around both their shoulders. Plankton stiffened. The room felt suddenly too warm, too small. He'd never been one for affection, especially not from someone he'd just met, and Hanna's touch was suffocating him. Her arm remained draped around his shoulders, her grip tightening every time the couple on-screen shared a tender moment. He tried to focus on the plot, but it was difficult with Hanna's sudden exclamations and loud sighs punctuating the silence. Karen seemed to be enjoying it, though, and he didn't want to spoil the evening. So, he sat, endured, and waited for the credits to roll. As the movie progressed, Hanna grew bolder with her displays of affection. She'd lean in close, her shoulder pressing into his, and whisper her predictions for the plot. He glanced at Karen, hoping for a reprieve, but she was caught up in the moment. Plankton sighed and turned back to the movie, trying to ignore the heat building in him. Hanna's hand found its way to Plankton's shoulder again. This time, she didn't let go. He cleared his throat, trying to subtly shift his body away from her touch, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weight of her arm and the way she kept brushing against him. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, begging for the solitude he craved. Hanna let out a contented sigh, her grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening involuntarily. He flinched, and she finally looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "It's nothing," Plankton said, his voice tight. Hanna looked at him. "Oh, I get it," she said, her hand moving from his shoulder to give his knee a comforting pat. "Sometimes romantic scenes can be too much, huh?" Plankton nodded stiffly. Then, Hanna leaned over and whispered, "You know Plankton you're not so bad for a guy who pretends not to like romance." She elbows him, her touch playful and teasing. Plankton's eye widened, his heart racing faster than the spaceship on the screen. He tried to laugh it off, his voice strained. He tried to keep his expression neutral. She leaned in closer, her arm now looped around his. "I think you're secretly a softy." Plankton's discomfort grew. He swallowed hard, his eye darting to Karen for help, but she was too lost in the film to notice his distress. He cleared his throat again, trying to be subtle, but they're oblivious. Karen looked over at her husband, her smile fading slightly as she noticed his rigid posture. She knew he wasn't a fan of the film, but she didn't realize Hanna's personality was making him so uncomfortable. Hanna jumped up from the couch. "Oh my gosh, you guys," she exclaimed a little too loud, her screen bright with excitement. "That was the best movie ever!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Karen couldn't help but laugh. "You really liked it?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood. "Liked it?" Hanna repeated, her voice incredulous. "I'm in love with it!!" Her exuberance was palpable, but Plankton remained silent. He felt a mix of relief that the movie was over and dread for whatever might come next. Hanna, noticing his lack of response, turned to him with a grin. "What did you think, Plankton?" Plankton felt uncomfortable under her gaze. "It's just not really my genre," he said, his voice a touch defensive. Hanna's smile didn't falter. "Oh, come on," she said, nudging him playfully. "Admit it, you were totally rooting for them in the end." "Oh, I was," Plankton said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. "I was just hoping the asteroid might hit the spaceship first." Karen couldn't help but laugh, seeing the playful banter between her friend and her husband. "Ok ok," she said, standing up and stretching. "I think we've had enough romance for one night. How about we switch gears and play a board game?" Hanna bounced, her energy unflagging. "Perfect! What do you have?" Plankton started to feel dizzy. "I'll grab something," he said, his voice tight. He needed to get away, to regain some semblance of control over the situation. He retreated to the bedroom, going on his bed. ** 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 *

Types of automatisms Type Repeated stereotyped behaviors Orofacial lip smacking, chewing or swallowing movements Manual hand tapping, fumbling, rubbing or picking movements Leg walking, running, pacing Perseverative pre-seizure behavior continues during the seizure Vocal vocalizations Verbal spoken words

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.

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 )

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.."

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."

✨🫀🧠

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

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

Dysgenesis in the brain can be a factor in autism spectrum disorders (ASD): Dendritic spine dysgenesis Atypical numbers and structures of dendritic spines in the central neurons of people with autism. This cellular pathology is also found in experimental mouse models of ASD. Cerebral cortical dysgenesis A malformation of the cerebral cortex that can occur when neural migration is defective during gestation. Symptoms include a thickened cortex, high neuronal density, and poor boundaries between the grey and white matter. Olfactory bulb dysgenesis A dysgenesis or agenesis of the olfactory bulbs and projection zones in the brain may contribute to ASD. Other neuroanatomical abnormalities in autism include: Agenesis of the superior olive, Dysgenesis of the facial nucleus, Reduced numbers of Purkinje neurons, and Hypoplasia of the brainstem and posterior cerebellum. ASD is a chronic condition with a wide range of symptoms, including difficulty with communication and social interactions, repetitive behaviors, and obsessive interests.

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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."

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.

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 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.

https://www.autismwellbeing.org.uk/downloadable-resources

🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤🧸⃤.୧⍤⃝💐🦋⃤ 😂⃤

🟦🟩🟨🟧🟥

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣞⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⡾⣿⣇⢮⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠋⠠⠇⠛⢻⡠⢻⣱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡀⠙⡜⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣷⣶⣤⠄⠀⣀⢬⣤⣼⠀⠀⠱⠈⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠏⠻⠟⠃⠀⣸⣿⠇⠿⠞⡇⠀⠀⠀⢼⡳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⡓⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠘⡌⠺⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡌⠺⡄⠀⠀⠈⡄⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⢧⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⢀⡴⠋⠀⠋⢁⠐⠿⠣⠐⠅⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠸⠀⠛⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⠀⢠⢯⠁⠀⠀⠀⢊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⡰⠅⠈⢠⡞⠛⠹⡇⠂⠮⢠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⡇⢀⠄⢇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠁ ⢀⡮⠉⠀⠐⠸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠉⠁⠈⢰⠁⡎⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀ ⠈⠛⠂⠤⢄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠁⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠐⠒⠢⠤⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠒⠤⠤⣀⡀⢀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⣚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

❤️🟡

Spoɴɢe вoв : wнαт нαppeɴ ιғ I тrυѕт yoυ ? Pαтrιĸ : тrυѕтιɴɢ yoυ ιѕ мy dυтy , Provιɴɢ тнαт ι wαѕ wroɴɢ ιѕ yoυr cнoιce

🩸🩸

⬠

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ᴳʳᵒʷ ᵁᵖ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖʳᵉᑫᵘᵉˡ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍʳᵒʷ ᵘᵖ?" ᵀʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᴬⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ!" ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᵇˡᵘʳᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᴬ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵃⁿᵗᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧" ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ʷᵃˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ!" "ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵃᵘᵗ!" "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗ!" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᶜʰⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" @ALYJACI

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https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewforum.php?f=1218

Kamp Koral takes place in a different universe than the SpongeBob reality. Kamp Koral: SpongeBob's Under Years, as the show is non-canon to the official timeline.. Kamp Koral is a 3D animated series with the original SpongeBob characters reimagined as children. The series follows an alternate continuity of a 10-year-old SpongeBob SquarePants as he spends his summer at a sleepaway camp called Kamp Koral. Even if within the SpongeBob universe, remains non-canon (like the video games and stop motion specials) even referenced SpongeBob SquarePants has a confusing timeline, which can be somewhat justified by the show having a multiverse of its own, with different realities created throughout the series. Sponge on the Run and Kamp Koral were an alternate Timeline and thus creating the spin off...Sandy talking to her adult self proves that. “The SBU, the SpongeBob Universe as they call it now — Kamp Koral, The Patrick Star Show, SpongeBob — it’s just more of the fun stuff for us. More of the stuff we feel lucky to have.” ~Twm Kenny

flip cone ⃤

ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ’ˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒʷⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉ ᵃ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵒⁿᵍᵉˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶜʳᵒʷ ᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇⁱᵍᵍᵉˢᵗ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵃᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁱᵐᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵘˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷ ᵇᵃʳ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʰⁱᵗ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᶤᵐᵖˡʸ ᵈᶤᵈᶰᵗ ᵐᵒᵛᵉˑ ᴺᵒᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᵀᵉᵃʳʸ ᵉʸᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏ…” ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵒˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉˑ ˢᵃʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶤᶰᵍˑ ᴬᶰʸᵗʰᶤᶰᵍˀ" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʷⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵉ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵇˢ‧ “ᵂᵉˡˡ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ᵃᶜᶜᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᵐʸ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢᵎ” “ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵘʳᵉˀ” ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ˒ ᵃᶰᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉᶰˢ ᵇᵘˢʸᵎ” ᴾᶤᶜᵏᶤᶰᵍ ʰᶤᵐ ᵘᵖ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵒᵐᵉ˒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶰᵉ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ˡᶤᶠᵉˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᶠᵃᶤᶰᵗˑˑˑ" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵏᶰᵉʷ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ʰᵃᶰᵈ ˢʷᵃᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ʰᶤˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵃʳʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵃ ˢⁿᵃᵖᵖʸ ʳᵉᵐᵃʳᵏ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ʰᵘᵐᵐᶤᶰᵍ ᵃ ᵗᵘᶰᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵍᵃᶤᶰ ᶜᵒᶰˢᶜᶤᵒᵘˢᶰᵉˢˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᶤʳˢᵗ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᶜᵒᶰᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵈⁱᶻᶻⁱⁿᵉˢˢ‧ “ᵂʰ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵃᶰᵈ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰᵘᵐᵐᶤᶰᵍˑ “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˡᶤᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ʰᶤᵐ‧ “ᵂʰᵃ…” “ᴼʰ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵒ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈᵎ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʳᶤᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ˒ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵃˡˡˑˑˑ” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ˒ ᶜᵒᶰˢᶜᶤᵒᵘˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗᶤˡˡ ᶰᵒᵗ ᵏᶰᵒʷᶤᶰᵍ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡᶤᶰᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᶤᵗ˒ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵃˡ ᵗᵉˡᵉᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ “ᴶᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶠᶤᶰᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵃᵏᶤᶰᵍᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ “ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵃᵎ ᵂᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᵒʳ ⁱᶜᵉ…” “ᴵ ʷᵃᶰᶰᵃ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᴵ'ᵐ˒ ʷᵉˡˡ˒ ʷʰᵃᵗ…” “ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵉᵛⁱᶜᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ…” “ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ⸴ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˡˢᵒ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵖᵃᵗʳᵒⁿⁱᶻⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ‧” ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶤᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰᶤᵐ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᵃᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵃ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ “ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ; ˢᵗᵃʸᵎ” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢᶰ'ᵗ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵒᵇᶤˡᵉ ᶤᶠ ʰᵉ ʷᵃᶰᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ… ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ⁱⁿ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ‧ “ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷˀ” ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʰᵃᵈ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃᶠᵉ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ…” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᴵ’ᵈ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ‧” “ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒˢˢ ᵖᵉˢᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉᵎ” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ˒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ; ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵉ’ˢ ʳᵉᶜᵘᵖᵉʳᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵠᵘᶤᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳˀ” “ᴵ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃᵐ ᶰᵒᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡᶤᶰᵍ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵐᶤᶰᵈᵉᵈ…” “ˢᵒʳʳʸ…” “ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘᵎ ᵂᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵒʷ…” “ᴺᵒ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈˑ “ᴵ’ᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱⁿ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃᶰ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉᵎ ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵍᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵒʳ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ᶠᶤˡᵐˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒˀ” “ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ʳᵃᵐᵇˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱᵈ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ⁿᵉʷ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳⁱⁿᵉᵎ” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵉˣᶜˡᵃⁱᵐᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ’ᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗˀ” “ᴼʰ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴾⁱⁿᵏʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉˢᵎ ᔆᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉᵎ” “ᴱⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ⸴ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏᵎ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᶜᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ⸴ ʰᵉ’ˢ ʰᵘʳᵗ…” “ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʷᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵖˡᵃʸ…” “ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃˢᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿ…” “ᵂʰʸˀ ᴴᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒ…” “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ…” “ᵠᵘᶤᵉᵗᵎ” ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᶜᵗᶤᶰᵍ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ʰᶤᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ “ᵂᵉ’ˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧” “ᔆᵒʳʳʸ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇᵎ ᔆᵉᵉ ʸᵃ‧” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ “ᴴᵘⁿᵍʳʸˀ” “ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ‧ “ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ…” “ᴵ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ʷʰᵉᶰ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ‧ “ᴼᵘᵗˀ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵒᵘˢˡʸ ᵃʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵉ‧ “ᴬʰ⸴ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢˀ” ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵃˢʰᶠᵘˡ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ; ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ “ᴱʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⸴ ʸᵒ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷˀ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠʳʸᶜᵒᵒᵏ…” ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ “ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ʸᵉᵎ” ᔆᵒ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵐʸ ʲᵒᵇ ʷᵉˡˡˀ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ “ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ʳⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃᵉ‧” “ᵂᵉˡˡ⸴ ᴵ’ᵐ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ…” “ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵖⁱᵖˢᑫᵘᵉᵃᵏ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇˀ” ᴴᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᴸᵒᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢᵎ” ᴸᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ‧ “ᴵᵗ’ˢ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵇʸᵉᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶠˡⁱᶜᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵉ‧ “ᵂᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ ᵃ ʷᵃʳᵐ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᵃᶰᵈ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ’ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵒⁿᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵃʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ “ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ ʷʰᵒ’ˢ ᶰᵒʷ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇˢ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ⸴ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵛᵘˡⁿᵉʳᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈˑ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳˑ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘⁿʳⁱˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵖᵉᵗ ʰᶤᵐ ᵍᵉᶰᵗˡʸˑ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳᵉˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴼʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵂʰⁱᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʰᵉʳ‧ “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇˀ” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ‧ “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐᵎ ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉˢᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ…” “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ “ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒˀ” ᴴᵉ ᑫᵘᵉˢᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ; ⁿᵒ ᵇⁱᵍᵍⁱᵉᵎ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏᶠᵃˢᵗ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒʸˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏᵎ ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ˢᵃᶜᵏ ᶠᵒʳˀ” “ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵘˢ…” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃˢ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʲᵒᵇ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ‧” “ᵂᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ…” “ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃʸˢ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵉ ᵏᵒⁿᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗˀ ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉˣᵃᶜᵗˡʸ ˢᵘʳᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵏᵒⁿᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿˢ…” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠᵉᵃʳᶤᶰᵍ ᴾˡᵃᶰᵏᵗᵒᶰ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᶤᵒᶰ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖᵒᵗ‧ “ᵂʰᵃᵗ…” “ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ …” “ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴵ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘʳᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉⁿ‧” “ᵂᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵈ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˀ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵃʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵘᶰᵗᶤˡ ᴵ ᵉᶰᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰᵉʳᵉ…” “ᴵ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ…” “ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵈᵃᶻᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈˀ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵒʷᵇᵃʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ⸴ ʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˡᵉˢˢⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ…” “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵒⁿ⁻ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ; ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇˡᵃᵇ⸴ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗˢ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗᵎ” “ᴴᵒʷ’ˢ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ…” “ᵂᵉˡˡ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ʰᵉ’ˢ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ʷᵉˡˡ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈⁱˢᵒʳⁱᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ…” “ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʰᵉ’ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᔆᑫᵘᵃʳᵉᴾᵃⁿᵗˢᵎ ᴮᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ᴾⁱⁿᵏʸᵎ” “ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉᵎ” ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ “ᴺᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗˀ” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ “ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵘʳᵗ…” “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ…” “ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ‧ “ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃᶰᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃᵛᵉᵈ‧

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░░█▓░░░░░░░░░░░██░░░░██░█████░░░░░█▓▒▓░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█░░░███▒▒███████▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ 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Language Name Meaning Danish SvampeBob Firkant SpongeBob Square French Bob l'éponge Bob the Sponge German SpongeBob Schwammkopf SpongeBob SpongeHead Greek Μπομπ Σφουγγαράκης Τετραγωνοπαντελονής Bob Sfouggarákis Tetragonopantalonís Bob the Little Sponge Square Pants Korean 스폰지밥 네모바지 Seuponjibab Nemobaji Sponge Bob Square Pants Norwegian SvampeBob Firkant SpongeBob Square Portuguese (Brazil) Bob Esponja Calça Quadrada Bob Sponge Pants Square Spanish (Latin America) Bob Esponja Bob Sponge Spanish (Spain) Bob Esponja Bob Sponge Swedish SvampBob Fyrkant SpongeBob Square

⁶⁹📐𓈒𖹭🔢𓈒»〽⭑🖇๋࣭ ⭑⚝📈⊹₊ ⋆📑⚛ྀ

⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛

Attempt 1 ⬛️ ⬛️ ⬛️ ⏹️ 🔺 🔺🔺 🔺🔺⬛️🔺🔺🔺⬛️🔺🔺🔺⬛️

Sep 26, 2011 ╔╦╦ ╠╬╬╬╣ ╠╬╬╬╣OK! WHO ATE MY ╠╬╬╬╣CHOCOLATE!! ╚╩╩╩╝ Sep 26, 2011

2️⃣6️⃣

ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴼʰ⸴ ᵇᵒʸ! ᴰᵒᵉˢ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ? ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ [ᵃⁿⁿᵒʸᵉᵈ] ʸᵉˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ʸᵉᵃʰ! [ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵃ ˢᵗʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵉᵗᵗⁱ⸴ ᵃ ᵇᵃⁿⁿᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃˡˡᵒᵒⁿˢ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ] ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ʳᵒᵒᵐᵐᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳ! [ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ‧] [ᴬ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜʳʸ‧] ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴬʷ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⸴ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵃᶠᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵒᵏᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ‧ [ʳᵘᵇˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ] ᴼʰ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵇᵒᵈʸ'ˢ ᵗᵉⁿˢᵉ! ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ᴴᵉʸ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ? [ᴸᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇˡᵘˢʰᵉˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ] ᵁᵍʰ‧ [ᵍʳᵃᵇˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ] ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴼʰ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⁻ᵖᵒᵒ! ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ! ᴳᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵐʸ ᵐᵃⁿ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ˢᵗᵉᵖ ᵒᶠᶠ⸴ ˡᵃᵈʸ! ᴺᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᵘˡᵐᵃᵗᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳⁱⁿᵗ ¹⸴³⁴⁷ ᵇᵃᵇⁱᵉˢ‧ [ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳˢ ᵒᶠ ʳᵒᵇᵒᵗ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ᶠˡʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᶜᵒˢᵗᵘᵐᵉ] ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ¹⸴⁰⁰⁰ ᵂᴴᴬᵀ??! ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ ᴼʰ⸴ ʷᵉˡˡ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵃʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ʸᵉᵃʰ! ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ᴺᵒ! ᵀʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳᵘⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ [ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒˢᵗᵘᵐᵉ] ᔆᵒʳʳʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⠘ ᵂᵃⁱᵗ ᵃ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʷⁱⁿ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ? ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈ‧ [ʲᵘᵐᵖˢ ᵒⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ] ᴵ'ᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᵇᵃᵇʸ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒʳᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴼʰ⸴ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ˢᵒ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ!

https://64.media.tumblr.com/1e5d65012771660b4f17e0a3e2e21c71/a67caab09d9a114f-0d/s540x810/89ac3816a41e552ec6477a383db8114d82747e45.jpg https://64.media.tumblr.com/42cbaaf9bb176f29bd0be57defdceeab/63c31475dea9dafd-a2/s1280x1920/1266cf8ad50a6b55201d1714beb882cd5d5b7dc5.jpg https://64.media.tumblr.com/837b77eb9d349a9d6a1100dab12b34da/0fff88a3c86bbb95-57/s1280x1920/4950bcadb6ccf3d0518631c8792a94e4e6ede40b.jpg https://64.media.tumblr.com/7b86bff03e8faf77ac1ece9e16df7650/5e710f6db58d894a-a6/s540x810/039be5bfbbc484bf98b42fa5c754e4248202811b.jpg

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 days ago Old_Lady_In_Titanic Everyone else was distracted by the huge iceberg that glided within inches of the ship. Only I saw the giant metallic sea-bear gash a hole in the hull beneath the waterline with it's razor sharp knife-like claws.

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/

𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕: [𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕣𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕘𝕠 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝔹𝕠𝕓 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕤 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟] 𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕣𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝔹𝕠𝕓. 𝕀❜𝕞 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥❜𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝. 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝔹𝕠𝕓: 𝕆𝕙, 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥❜𝕤 𝕠𝕜𝕒𝕪, 𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕. [𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕊𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕❜𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕤] 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕀—𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥, 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥❔❕

𝑺𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚?