＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 22 Hanna emerged from the guest room, her eyes red from crying. She saw Plankton asleep on the couch and felt a pang of sadness. Her steps were quiet as she approached, not wanting to disturb him. Carefully, she reached over and adjusted the pillow under his cast, trying to make him as comfortable as possible without waking him. His snores grew quieter, his body sinking into the cushions. "Let him rest," Karen whispered as she smiled at Hanna's gesture. When Plankton next wakes up from his nap he got his crutches and maneuvered himself down the hall. He heard some laughter from the guest room, and decided to eavesdrop, his antennae twitching as he listened. "He's so stubborn," Karen chuckled. "But that's one of the many things I love about him." Hanna giggled. "You have to admit, though, his post-surgery ramblings were pretty entertaining." Plankton felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, his ego bruised. He had forgotten about the possible loopy influence of the anesthesia. He listened closer, peering through the slightly open door. "He thought the lamp was a jellyfish! I've never seen him so out of it," Karen says. Plankton's eye narrowed then Hanna spoke again. "And the way he talked about his 'leg stand' like it was a lost artifact!" Hanna laughs, her voice light and carefree. "But the car ride home... I can't believe he said 'Hanna you look okay today but don't tell my wife Karen' I just..." Plankton's face burns with embarrassment as he hears them recount his delirious moments. He shifts his weight on his crutches, trying to decide whether to confront them or retreat back to the living room. He didn't recall any of it. "And the snoring!" Hanna mimics his snores, her voice nasally and loud, causing Karen to burst into laughter. "Oh I'm not tired!" She mimics as she once again makes snorish sounds and snorts as Karen tried not to laugh. "And with his mouth all... open; never seen anything so pathetic.." Hanna says, when Plankton backed up with his crutches his one eye glistening with unshed tears with a squeaky inhale, alerting both of them. They both froze, Hanna's hand covering her mouth. Plankton stood there for a moment, his face red and his heart racing before simply shaking his head. Without a word, he went into his own room, slamming the door. The silence that fell was deafening, and Karen's laughter quickly turned into a worried frown. She hurried after him, her eyes darting to their bedroom door, where Plankton had slammed it. "Plankton, wait," she called out, her voice gentle but firm. She knew he was upset, but she had to talk to him. Hanna's laughter faded away, her eyes wide with shock. "I-I didn't mean to upset him," she stuttered, her voice filled with remorse. "It was just our joke, I didn't think..." Karen placed a reassuring hand on Hanna's shoulder. "It's okay, Hanna. He's just sensitive right now. Let me talk to him." With a nod, Hanna stepped aside, allowing Karen to pass. Karen knocked gently on the closed door, her heart beating fast. "Plankton, can we talk?" she called, her tone soothing. The room remained silent for a few moments, then the door slowly creeaked open. Plankton was sitting on the edge of their bed, his crutches propped against the nightstand. His eye was red and puffy, and he looked up at her with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "I'm sorry," Karen began, sitting down next to him. "I know you're upset." "How could you let her laugh at me?" Plankton snapped, his voice shaking. "After everything I've been through?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "It's not like that, sweetie," she soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We weren't laughing at you, we were laughing with each other about the silly things you said when you were out of it." "Karen, that's laughing at me!" Plankton's voice was tight with pain, and not just from his leg. The thought that they had been mocking him was too much. He had always been the butt of everyone's joke, and now, when he was at his most vulnerable, it felt like his own wife and friends were joining in. Karen sighed, moving closer to him. "Plankton, you know we'd never do that. We care about you to much. We were just trying to find some humor in a difficult situation." He looked away, his antennae drooping. "I know, I know," he murmured. "It's just that... I don't like being seen as weak." Karen nodded, understanding. "I get that. But you're not weak for needing help. You're strong for admitting when you do. And we're here for you, no matter what." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're still the same Plankton to us." Hanna hovered outside the doorway, listening intently. Her heart felt heavy with regret. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. It had been a misstep, a poor attempt to find lightness in the heavy situation. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open a crack. "Plankton," she called softly. "Ca--" "I don't want to talk to you right now," Plankton said, his voice tight. Hanna's face fell, the rejection stinging. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I really didn't mean to upset you. I was just trying to make li—" "You're always trying," Plankton snapped, cutting her off. "I can't even stand up without these crutches," he said, tearing up. "And you're in there, laughing about it?!" "Plankton, please," Hanna pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears. "We weren't laughing at you. We were just... trying to make the best of a bad situation. You know that." But Plankton was too hurt to hear reason. His pride was bruised, and the idea that his vulnerability was a source of amusement for others was unbearable. "I don't want you here," he said, his voice shaking. "I can't stand the sight of you." Hanna's heart shattered at his words. She had only wanted to help, to make him feel better, but instead, she had managed to wound him deeper. She took a step back, her cheeks flushing with shame. "I'm sor—" But Plankton interrupted again. "I said I don't want to talk," he said through gritted teeth. "Just... just leave me alone." With that, he swung his legs off the bed, grabbing his crutches. The pain shot through his leg like a lightning bolt, but he ignored it, determined to stand. Hanna took another step back, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Karen squeezed her hand, giving her a comforting look. "Give him some space, Hanna," she whispered. "He'll calm down." Hanna nodded, her throat tight with unspoken apologies. As Plankton stood, Karen quickly helped adjust his crutches, her expression a mix of concern and pity. "Let's go to the living room," she suggested, guiding him carefully. Plankton hobbled along. Once they were settled again, the tension in the room was palpable. Hanna hovered in the doorway, uncertain of how to apologize or make things right. Her eyes met Plankton's, his normally sharp gaze clouded by pain and hurt. "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper. He didn't acknowledge her. Instead, he turned his attention to Karen as they sat on the couch. "What's the plan for today?" he asked, his voice still gruff but trying to sound normal. Karen looked at him for a moment, weighing her words before answering. "Well, you need to stay off that leg as much as possible. So maybe just some rest, and I'll get you set up with a nice little area right here." Hanna stood silently in the corner, her arms folded across her chest. Plankton's words from earlier still stung, and she was unsure if she should offer to help or give him the space he had demanded. She noticed the way his antennae twitched every time he shifted his weight on the crutches, the pain clearly visible on his face.

JUST A TOUCH v (Autistic author) Hanna's confusion is clear as she watches Karen crouch before Plankton, her hand hovering an inch from his shoulder. "Plankton, sweetie," Karen says, her voice a gentle coax. "It's just me." No indication from Plankton though. Hanna's eyes dart from Karen to Plankton and back, trying to piece together what has happened. "What's wrong with him?" she whispers. "He's just overwhelmed," Karen says, her voice tight with frustration. Hanna looks from Karen to Plankton, his body rigid. "What happened?" she asks again, her voice laced with concern. Karen sighs heavily, her eyes full of pain. "Plankton has Acquired Autism." The words hang in the air like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over the room. Hanna's face falls, her hand covering her mouth in shock. "Oh no," she murmurs, realizing her mistake. "I didn't know." Her eyes dart to Plankton, his body still frozen, his gaze vacant. "I'm so sorry." She says, reaching for him again as Karen's. Karen's hand shoots out, stopping her mid-air. "No, don't," she says firmly. "He's hypersensitive now. Sometimes touch can be... painful." Hanna's hand retreats, her eyes widening. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice filled with regret. "I just wanted to be friendly." Karen's expression softens slightly. "It's okay," she says, her voice calming. "You couldn't have known." But Plankton remains still, his eye unblinking. "Plankton," Karen whispers, her hand reaching for his. He doesn't flinch this time, his body still as stone. She squeezes gently, hoping the familiar gesture will bring him back. "You're safe at home." Hanna watches, her heart heavy with guilt. She had no idea her enthusiasm could have such a profound effect on him. "What can I do?" she asks, her voice shaky. Karen looks up, her eyes tired. "Just give us some space," she says. "Let me... let me help him." Hanna nods, her own screen brimming with unshed tears. "Of course," she murmurs, backing away. Plankton remains frozen, his gaze locked on the floor. Karen wraps her arms around his shoulders. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers, her voice soothing. "You're safe here." She rubs his arm lightly, the way she's learned not to cause him discomfort. He doesn't move, but she can feel the tension slowly leaving his body. His antennae lift slightly. "You're okay," Karen repeats, her voice a gentle murmur. "Just breathe." Slowly, Plankton's body begins to relax, his antennae twitching as he takes in her words. Hanna watches from a distance. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice quieter. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to..." Her words trail off, but Karen simply nods, her eyes not leaving Plankton's. "It's okay," she repeats. "We're still learning." Hanna sits on the edge of the sofa, her eyes never leaving them. She feels like an intruder, a bull in a china shop. She had come to offer support, but instead, she'd triggered something deep within him. The room feels heavy with unspoken words. "I didn't mean to push him," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "I just didn't know." Karen's grip on Plankton tightens slightly, but she doesn't look up. "It's okay," she says again, her voice a lifeline in the quiet. "It's a lot to take in." Hanna nods, her screen filling with tears she quickly wipes away. "But I'll learn," she says, her determination clear. "I want to be a good friend to both of you." Plankton's antennae quiver, a faint glimmer of recognition flickering in his eye. Karen nods. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. Hanna watches as Karen's gentle touch seems to break through the barriers Plankton has erected. His body slowly unfurls from his rigid stance, his gaze shifting from the floor to meet Karen's. "It's okay," Karen repeats, her voice a balm. "Let's go to our room. You need to rest." Plankton nods slightly, allowing her to guide him away from the living room. Hanna watches them go, her heart aching for her friend. She knows she's overstayed her welcome, but she can't bear to leave without apologizing to Plankton. "I'll go," she says, her voice thick. Karen turns, her screen swimming with unshed tears. "Thank you, Hanna," she says, her voice hoarse. Hanna nods, her own eyes shimmering. "Call me if you need anything," she says, her voice thick with emotion. She stands, her legs feeling like jelly, and makes her way to the door, her heart heavy with the weight of what she's done. The moment the door clicks shut, Karen feels the tension in the room dissipate slightly. Plankton's body relaxes a fraction, his eye no longer staring blankly at the floor. She leads him to their bedroom, the familiar surroundings seeming to soothe his frazzled nerves. Once inside, she helps him into bed, the softness of the covers a stark contrast to the rigidness of his body. She pulls the curtains shut, dimming the lights to reduce the sensory stimulation. Plankton's antennae twitch, a sign of his relief. Karen sits beside him. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't know she'd..." Plankton's gaze meets hers, his eye less intense now. "It's okay," he says, his voice monotone. "Just need... quiet." Karen nods, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "I'm here," she says. "I'm always here."

PLUSH ONE x (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's sleep is deep, his body at rest, but starts stirring when Karen's phone dings with a text. She jumps, fearing the sound might disturb him. Carefully, she pulls her hand from his, her eyes never leaving his face. The plushie remains under his arm, his antennae twitching slightly with his dreams. Karen reads the text from Hanna, her friend. Her house is under construction and needs a place to stay! But Hanna and Plankton never met each other.. She thinks for a moment, weighing her options. Plankton's autism is still new, and she's not sure how he'll react to a stranger in their space. But Hanna's in need, and Karen can't ignore that. Gently, she leans over and kisses his antennae. "I'll be right back," she whispers to his sleeping form. She goes out front, texting Hanna to meet her in the front yard. Her mind races as she sees Hanna. "Hey, Karen! Sorry about the short notice." Hanna says. "It's ok, just follow me inside," Karen says, opening the front door and closing it behind them. And yet Karen's mind is racing. How will Plankton react? They enter the bed room, where Plankton still sleeps, oblivious to their guest. Karen takes a deep breath. "Hanna, this is Plankton. He's been through a lot today." Hanna nods, her eyes widening at the sight of the tiny creature. "Hi," she says softly. Plankton's antennae twitch, and his eye opens slowly. His gaze flits between Karen and Hanna, his body tense. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle breeze. "This is Hanna. She's a friend." Hanna nods, her smile kind. "Hi, Plankton," she says, her voice soft. "You're Karen's husband right? The one who inven-" But before she can finish, Plankton's body jerks upright, his antennae quivering. "NO!" he shouts, the word cutting through the quiet with panic. Karen's mind races, her eyes snapping to him. "It's okay," she repeats, her voice soothing. "This is Hanna. She's a friend." Plankton's gaze flicks between them, his antennae a blur of movement. "Friend?" he asks, his voice tight with fear. Karen nods. "Yes, a friend," she says firmly. "We're safe here." Hanna nods. "Hi there Plank..." But the sound of her voice sends Plankton into a spiral of anxiety. His eye widens, his body stiffens. Karen's knowing she's made a mistake. The sudden presence of a stranger has disrupted his carefully controlled environment. "Shh," she whispers, moving closer, her movements slow and deliberate. "It's ok. This is Hanna, she's here to stay for a bit." Plankton's antennae twitch frantically, his eye darting between Karen and the new presence in the room. "Hanna?" he echoes, his voice filled with uncertainty. Hanna nods, her smile gentle. "That's right," she says softly before noticing the plushie on the floor. "Ah, is that a plushie?" Plankton's antennae stop moving, his gaze locked on Hanna's hand as it reaches for the toy. "MINE," he says firmly. Hanna's hand freezes, her screen a silent question as she picked it up. Plankton's eye tracks the movement, his body tense. He doesn't like change, his autism demanding predictability and routine. Karen knows what to do. "It's okay," she says, her voice low and reassuring. "Hanna's just lo…" But Plankton's autism doesn't allow for this. He snatches the plushie from Hanna's hand, his body rigid. "MINE!" he shouts sharply. This was a mistake, introducing change so suddenly into his life. "I'm sorry," Hanna says, her hand dropping to her side. "I didn't kn-" But Plankton's fear has turned to anger. "NO!" he shouts, his antennae flaring. "MINE!" Karen's eyes widen, his outburst echoing in the room. Her mind is racing to find the right words, the right way to comfort him. She knows his autism has made him hyper-aware of his possessions. "It's okay, Plankton," she says, her voice a calm river. "Hanna didn't mean to take it. It's still yours." His antennae slowly retract, his body loosening. He looks at Karen, his eye searching for truth.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 17 When Karen returns, she hands him the pill and a glass of water. Plankton takes them without a word, swallows hard, and sets the glass down. The medication doesn't kick in right away, but his expression eases slightly. Hanna watches from the corner of her eye. Plankton shifts, his cast knocking against her side. Hanna moves back slightly. "What do you wanna watch?" she asks, trying to fill the void. He shrugs. "How about we find something we can all enjoy?" Karen suggests, settling on a movie with a mix of action and humor. They watch in silence, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. As the movie plays, Plankton's eyelid starts to droop, the medication finally taking hold. Without realizing it, his head slowly slumps to the side, until it's resting on Hanna's shoulder. Hanna freezes. Her heart thumps in her chest. This is a moment she never expected. She glances at Karen, whose expression is a mix of amusement and sympathy. Karen nods slightly, and Hanna understands the silent message: let him be. The movie plays on, the sound of explosions and laughter filling the room. But all Hanna can focus on is the warmth of Plankton's head on her shoulder. His breathing steadies into a soft snore, and she can't help but smile. Her arm is pinned awkwardly, but she doesn't dare move. Instead, she adjusts her position slightly, trying to find comfort without disturbing him. Karen notices, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she whispers, "Let him sleep. He needs it." Plankton's head remained nestled on Hanna's shoulder, his antennae twitching slightly with each snore. Hanna felt a warmth spread through her, despite the awkwardness. She looked over at him, his face relaxed in sleep. Plankton's snores were deep and even, his body completely relaxed against Hanna, his mouth agape. Karen chuckled quietly. "Looks like he's out for the count," she whispered. Hanna nodded, her smile widening. She didn't move an inch, afraid of waking him. They watched the movie in silence, the comfort of Plankton's weight on her shoulder growing familiar. Karen put a finger to her lips, shushing her. As the credits started to roll, Hanna glanced at Plankton again as she reached for the remote, hitting the off button to avoid waking him. Karen chuckled, seeing Hanna's concern. "I think he's out cold," she whispered. Hanna swallowed a laugh, her eyes twinkling. Karen stood. "Let's get him comfortable," she whispered. Together, they managed to lift his casted leg and place it on the ottoman. Hanna carefully shifted his head to a pillow, his snores barely changing pitch. Plankton moved slightly, his snores grew little louder as his head found the cushion. Hanna couldn't resist a soft giggle, which caused Plankton to shuffle slightly but not wake. Karen shot her a look that clearly said 'not another sound'. They both settled in, exhaustion from the long night still lingering. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of morning light, the curtains filtering the brightness. Plankton's chest moved up and down in a steady rhythm, his snores fading as he moved deeper into sleep. Hanna couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for her earlier actions. But as she watched his peaceful expression, she knew she had to make amends. Karen nudged her. "Why don't you sit with him for a bit?" she suggested. Hanna nodded, swapping places with Karen. She sat carefully, making sure not to disturb his sleep. His breathing was even, and she could see the exhaustion etched on his face. She studied his features, feeling a surge of compassion. Plankton wasn't just a nemesis or a challenge; he was someone in pain, someone who needed support. Hanna vowed to be more considerate, more sensitive to his feelings. Her eyes drifted to his cast, the stark white a contrast to the soft pillow. It was a stark reminder of his vulnerability. Hanna's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She turned to see SpongeBob peeking his head inside. He saw Plankton sleeping and his expression changed to one of concern. "How's he doing?" he asked in a low voice. Karen smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest. "He's okay," she whispered. "Just sleeping." Sponge Bob padded over to the couch, his eyes on Plankton. "Can I sit?" he asked Hanna, his eyes hopeful. She nodded, scooting over to make room. The three of them sat in quiet companionship, each lost in their own thoughts. Sponge Bob reached out a hand, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face, and placed it gently on his cast, his thumb tracing the edge of Plankton's cast. Plankton stirred, his snores becoming softer. Sponge Bob's expression was one of pure empathy, his eyes reflecting the concern he felt for his friend. Hanna watched, touched by the genuine care. The silence was broken by another knock on the door. This time it was Patrick, his face scrunched in confusion. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice low. Karen whispered, "Plankton's sleeping." Patrick's eyes widened, and he looked at the crutches propped against the wall. "Oh," he said, his voice hushed. He sat down on the floor, his gaze following theirs to Plankton. "How'd he get the big white stick on his leg?" Patrick whispered. Hanna and Karen shared a look, then Hanna explained, "It's a cast, Pat. He broke his leg and the doctors put it on to help him heal, remember?" Patrick nodded slowly, his eyes still wide. "Oh, right. But why's he sleeping?" "He's taking a nap," Karen said gently. "The medicine makes him tired." Patrick nodded, his eyes still on Plankton. "Can I see?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. Hanna and Karen shared a look, then nodded in unison. "Just be careful," Karen whispered. Patrick crawled closer, his body moving with the grace of a bull in a china shop, despite his intention to be gentle. He studied Plankton's cast with intense interest, his finger poised just above it. "What happens if I to-" Hanna's hand snapped out, stopping him. "Don't touch it," she whispered firmly. Patrick's eyes widened in surprise. "But I just wanted to-" "Patrick," Karen interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "Plankton's leg is very sore. We have to be careful." He nodded, his face a picture of understanding. "Oh," he said, sitting back on his heels. "Is it gonna fall off?" Hanna and Karen shared a look, their expressions a mix of amusement and concern. "No, Patrick," Hanna said, keeping her voice low. "The cast will stay on until his leg is all better." Patrick nodded slowly, his eyes still glued to Plankton's cast. "Can I tell him I'm sorry?" he asked. Hanna looked at Karen, who nodded. "Yes, you can," she said. "But you'll have to wait until he wakes up." Patrick leaned in, his face just inches from Plankton's as he whispered, "Hey, Plankton. You okay?" Plankton's snores continued unabated. "I think he's comfortable," Hanna said, keeping her voice low. "Let's not wake him." Patrick nodded, his curiosity now focused on the cast. He reached out his hand and tapped it lightly. The sudden contact made Plankton flinch, his eye shooting open. "Whaa-" He took in his surroundings quickly, his eye widening when he saw Hanna, Karen, and Sponge Bob sitting around him. "What's going on!" he croaked, his voice groggy from sleep and pain medication. "You were sleeping," Karen explained, her voice soft. Plankton blinked, his mind fuzzy. "Is the movie over?" "Yes," Hanna said, smiling gently. "You fell asleep, on my sh- I mean, you fell asleep during it." Plankton's gaze shifted to Hanna, his expression uncertain.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 20 The first sign of movement was his antennae. They twitched slightly, then more vigorously. His eye cracked open, looking around the room in a daze. "Wha- what happened?" Plankton croaked, his voice slurred. Karen and Hanna exchanged glances, both smiling nervously. "Remember you've just had a procedure," Karen explained. "The doctor removed the excess bone glue." Plankton's eye widened. "Oh," he said, his mind still fuzzy from the sedative. He looked around, taking in the white-walled room and the beeping machines. "Where am I?" he slurred, his eye droopy. Hanna chuckled. "You're still at the hospital, Plankton," she said. "In the recovery room." Plankton's gaze shifted to his bandaged leg, his expression still confused. "What's going on?" he murmured, his hand reaching for the bandage. Karen gently guided his hand back. "It's all right," she assured him. "You're okay." Plankton's eye focused on Hanna, then Karen again. "What's with the crutches?" he asked, his voice still groggy. "You broke your leg, remember?" Hanna prompted, trying not to laugh. Plankton's antennae twitched as he processed the information. "Oh yeah," he mumbled, his eyelid drooping. Karen chuckled softly. "Looks like the doctor was right," she said to Hanna, who nodded. "Let's see what else he has in store." Plankton's eye flitted around the room, his brain clearly still foggy from the anesthesia. "Is that... is that a jellyfish?" he slurred, pointing to a lamp in the corner. Karen laughed, shaking her head. "No, Plankton," she said, gently patting his hand. "It's just a lamp." Hanna covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. Plankton frowned, his thoughts still scattered. "Why are we laughing at me?" he asked, sounding slightly hurt. Karen leaned in, her smile reassuring. "It's just the medicine, sweetie. You're saying funny things," she said, keeping her voice soft. Plankton scowled, his cheeks reddening. "Well, I don't think it's funny," he grumbled, his leg shifting slightly under the bandage. Hanna moved closer, her eyes dancing with mirth. "We're not laughing at you," she assured him. "We're just happy you're okay." Plankton's frown deepened, his thoughts still jumbled. "But what if I say something I don't mean?" he asked, his voice weak. Karen squeezed his hand. "We know it's not you," she said. "It's the medicine." Hanna nodded. "You're safe with us," she promised. "We won't judge you." A nurse came in, checking his monitors. "Looks like you're coming around," she said, her voice cheerful. "How's the pain?" Plankton's expression grew serious. "It's bearable," he managed. The nurse smiled. "Good. We'll let you go home with Karen, and Hanna, with just your crutches; whenever you're ready." As the nurse left, Plankton turned to Karen. "So, what did I miss?" he asked, his eye half-closed. Hanna couldn't help but laugh. "You've been asleep," she replied. "But don't worry, we've got everything under control." Plankton frowned, trying to remember. "Let's get you home," Karen said, her voice soothing. Hanna gathered their things as Karen helped Plankton towards the exit. The sun was now fully up, its warm rays filtering through the hospital's large windows. In the car, Plankton leaned back, his bandaged leg sticking out. "So, who's driving me home?" he asked, his voice slightly slurred. "I am," Karen said, her eyes on the road. "And Hanna's coming with. She's gonna sit in the back with you." Plankton's eye flitted to the rearview mirror. "Hey, Hanna," he slurred. "You look okay today." Hanna blushed, her cheeks flushing pink. "Th-thank you, Plankton," she stammered. "But you're the one who just had surgery." He chuckled, his laugh sounding strange in the quiet car. "I know," he said. "But you're always so... so... cheerful. But don't tell my wife Karen!" Karen's grip tightened on the steering wheel, trying not to laugh. Hanna smiled. Plankton's head lolled to the side, his eye still half-open. "What was surgery like?" Hanna asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He took a moment to consider her question, then his expression brightened with a loopy smile. "It was like, poof!" he exclaimed, his hands gesturing wildly. "The doctor made me float!" He laughed at his own silliness, his eye half-lidded with sleep. "Plankton, you were asleep the whole time," Karen reminded him. "No, no," Plankton insisted, his voice gaining volume. "I swear! Suddenly my leg was fixed!" Hanna couldn't help but join his laughter, while Karen's smile grew. "Okay, okay," Hanna said, wiping a tear from her eye. "We believe you," she assured him. "You're quite the storyteller, even under the influence of anesthesia." Plankton's laughter subsided as his eyelid drooped again. His head nodded slightly, his eye blinking slowly. Hanna watched him. "Hey, I'm not tired." He says, to which Hanna chuckled softly. "Well Plankton, let's just see about tha-" He was out cold before she could finish her sentence as her words were cut off by his sudden snore, his head lolling against the car seat as his eye closed fully. Karen glanced back at him in the rearview mirror, her smile warm. "Looks like you've had enough excitement for one day," she said. Hanna nodded, her gaze lingering on Plankton's bandaged leg. With his snores echoing, they arrived home. Karen parked carefully in the garage. "We're home," she announced. Hanna unbuckled his seatbelt. "Let's get him up," Karen instructed, turning around to face her sleeping husband, for Plankton's snores grew louder. Gently, they nudged him. "Plankton, it's time to wake up," Hanna coaxed. His eye fluttered open. "We're home," she whispered. He nodded slowly, his eyelid drooping. "Kay," he mumbled. They both moved to help him out of the car, his crutches waiting by his side. Plankton leaned heavily on them, his cast leg feeling like a weight. Hanna offered her hand for support, which he took gratefully. His eye kept closing, his body fighting the urge to sleep. Karen guided him towards the house, her arm around his wobbling figure. They managed to navigate the short distance to the couch, his crutches scraping the floor with each step. "Almost there," Karen encouraged, her voice gentle. "Just a little more." With a final heave, they got him safely on the couch, his bandaged leg sticking out. Hanna grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his leg, her movements careful. Plankton sighed, his body sinking into the soft cushions. "Thanks, Hanna," he murmured. "No problem," she said, her voice light. Karen fluffed up the pillows and made sure he was comfortable before sitting beside him. "Movie night," she announced, her eyes twinkling. Plankton nodded, as Hanna sat on the other side of him. The movie started playing, the room bathing in the glow of the television. He looked over at Hanna, his antennae waving slightly. "Hey, look, that's my leg stand," he said, his eye half-closed. Karen couldn't help but laugh. Plankton attempted to reposition himself on the couch, his bandaged leg thumping against the cushions. "Whoa, this thing's like a log," he slurred, trying to lift it with his arms. Hanna giggled. "Let us help," she offered, taking his crutches and leaning them against the coffee table. The movie played on, a gentle hum of background noise. Plankton's head bobbed slightly, his eyelid drooping as he fought the pull of sleep. Karen noticed and shifted closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?" she whispered. He nodded. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his antennae barely moving. "Just... I'm really ti-" Suddenly, his head lolled back and he was out again. Hanna's laughter filled the room. "Looks like the medicine's still got him," she said, smiling. Karen nodded, her hand still on his shoulder. "Poor thing," she whispered. They watched the rest of the movie in a comfortable silence, the sound of Plankton's snores providing a soothing backdrop to their evening.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 18 "What are you guys doing here?" he asked, his voice still gruff but with a hint of confusion. Sponge Bob smiled, his thumb still tracing the edge of Plankton's cast. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay," he said. Plankton's antennae twitched. "I'm fine," he said, his tone gruff. Karen stood up, her movements smooth and efficient. "Why don't we get you into your chair?" she suggested, picking up his crutches. Plankton nodded, his movements slow and deliberate as he carefully swung his casted leg over the side of the couch. With a grunt, he hoisted himself up, balancing on his good leg. Patrick watched, his eyes wide with interest. "Look at him go," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "It's like he's learning to walk all over again like a wittle baby." Plankton shot Patrick a glare, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I'm not a baby!" he snapped, his voice echoing in the quiet living room. "Patrick, that's not helping," Hanna whispered, trying not to laugh. Sponge Bob's expression was one of shock. "Patrick, that's not nice," he admonished gently. Patrick scrunched his face up in confusion. "But he looks like one," he said, his voice innocent. Plankton huffed. "No, I'm not!" But Patrick's on a roll. "You know what else babies have?" he said, his voice rising. "Naps!" Plankton's face grew redder, his antennae twitching with anger. "Patrick," Hanna warned, but Patrick was on a roll. "Hey, Plankie, you need help while you're all broken. Wa-a-agh, wa-a-agh!" The room fell silent. Plankton stared at Patrick, his single eye twitching. "That's it," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I guess I'll just have to take naps like a baby now." Hanna could see the hurt in his eye. With a quick motion, Plankton set down his crutches and stood up, hopping on one foot. Without another word, he turned and limped away, his casted leg thumping against the floor with each step as he headed towards his bedroom. The group watched, stunned, as he closed the door behind him with a slam. Hanna's laughter died in her throat, replaced by a look of horror. "Oh no," she whispered. Karen sighed, setting down the magazines. "I'll go talk to him," she said firmly. But before she could move, they heard sobs from behind the door. Her heart aching, she knocked softly. "Plankton, are you okay?" The sobs grew louder, and she exchanged worried glances with Sponge Bob and Patrick, who looked equally mortified. "I'll go," Sponge Bob volunteered, standing up. He approached the door, his steps tentative. "Plankton, buddy, it's me," he said gently. "Can I come in?" The sobbing subsided for a moment before Plankton's voice, muffled by the door, replied, "I don't want to see any of you right now." The words hit Hanna like a brick, her chest tightening with sadness. Sponge Bob looked back at them, his expression pained. He shrugged helplessly before sitting back down. Patrick's face fell. "I didn't mean to make him cry," he said, his voice small. Hanna nodded, her eyes still on the closed door. "We know you didn't, Patrick," she said, trying to comfort him. "But sometimes words can hurt, even if we don't mean them to." Sponge Bob placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "We'll apologize later," he said firmly. "But right now, let's just give him some space." They both left, the only sound being Plankton's muted sobs. Karen stood, her heart heavy with disappointment at his pain. She moved to the door, wanting to comfort Plankton but respecting his request for solitude. Her hand hovered above the knob, unsure of what to do. Through the crack in the door, she could see Plankton's form hunched over his bed, his tiny fists clenched. His sobs grew quieter, his breaths coming in shuddering gasps. Karen's chest tightened, watching his vulnerability. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open, moving slowly towards the bed. "Plankton," she said softly, her voice soothing. He looked up, his eye red and swollen. "I just want to check on you," she said, her tone gentle. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I'm here." He nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his cast. "You've been through a lot," she said, her voice soft. "It's okay to feel upset." Plankton's chest heaved, his sobs growing softer. "But you know, tomorrow we have that appointment with the doctor," Karen reminded him gently. "They'll check how your leg's doing, make sure everything's on track. And Hanna is coming along, as her home is still under repair." Plankton sniffled, his eye still wet. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled, his voice small. Karen smiled gently. "But you don't have to push yourself too hard. You're still healing." The next morning, Karen gets out of bed early, the sun not yet fully risen outside. She can hear Plankton's snores as she sneaks past his bed. Hanna stirs in the guest room, waking up. "How's he doing?" she asks, coming into their room. "Asleep," Karen whispers. "Let's get ready for his appointment." Hanna nods. "What time is it?" "Five thirty," Karen says, glancing at her clock. "We have to leave in a moment." Plankton's snores grow softer. Hanna looks at Karen, who's gathering his crutches. "Should we wake him?" Karen nods. "We have to. The doctor wanted us there early to check the cast." They tiptoe over to Plankton's bedside. Karen places a hand on his shoulder. "Plankton, sweetie," she says gently. "Time to wake up." His snores stop abruptly, and his single eye snaps open. "What's going on?" he croaks, his voice rough from sleep. Hanna smiles tentatively. "We have an appointment with the doctor," Karen reminds him, helping him sit up. "We need to get going." Plankton groans, his casted leg thumping against the bedframe. "Okay, okay," he says, rubbing his eye. Karen loaded his wheelchair into the back as Plankton used his crutches to get in the car. The drive was quiet, each of them lost in their thoughts. Plankton was nervous about the doctor's visit, his leg throbbing with each bump in the road. Hanna sat beside him. When they arrived at the hospital, the waiting room was deserted except for the receptionist, who gave them a knowing smile. "Mr. Plankton," she said, her voice cheerful. "Right this way." Plankton grimaced as he wheeled himself in. The doctor, a stern-looking crab, took one look at his cast and said, "Ah, yes. Your appointment. Let's have a look." Setting up the x-ray, the doctor turns to Plankton, his expression professional. "You've got quite the cast," he says, eyeing it curiously. Plankton nods, gritting his teeth as he lifts his leg up onto the examination table. Karen's hand rests on his shoulder, offering silent support. The doctor taps the cast. "How's the pain?" Plankton's antennae twitch. "Better," he says, his voice strained. Karen squeezes his shoulder. Hanna, seated beside Karen, holds her hand.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 15 After a moment, Hanna reaches over, placing a handful of puzzle pieces within his reach. "Here, let's make it fair," she says, smiling at him. He nods. But as Plankton picks up a piece she jumps in, snatching a piece from his hand before he can. "I ca--" He cuts her off. "Oh, boo hoo! You know what? Why don't you just do the whole thing yourself?" He grabs his puzzle pieces and throws them at her, his eye flashing as he gets his crutches and leaves the room. The door slams shut. "I'm sorry," Hanna whimpers, her eyes filling with tears again. Karen sighs, picking up the scattered puzzle pieces. "Give him some space," she says, placing a hand on Hanna's shoulder. "He's just overwhelmed." Hanna nods, wiping at her eyes. "I know," she says, her voice small. "But I just wanted to help." In the bedroom, Karen enters, the door opening slowly. "You okay?" she asks him, her voice soft. Plankton's antennae twitch with anger. "I'm fine," he says, his voice clipped. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, his cast reflecting the dim light. Karen sits down beside him, her hand resting on his back. "You know, Hanna means well," she says. Plankton turns to face her, his eye blazing. "I don't care if she does!" he cries. "I just want her to leave me alone!" His antennae wave in frustration, visibly upset. Karen sighs. "You know she's only trying to help," she says gently. "But I understand you're feeling overwhelmed. It's hard to accept help, especially when you're used to being so independent." Plankton looks away, his antennae still trembling. "I don't need her-" Karen cuts him off. "Would you like me to get your meds?" Plankton nods stiffly. "Yeah," he mutters. Karen stands, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'll be right back." The door clicks closed behind her, leaving Plankton alone with his thoughts. He rubbed his cast. Meanwhile, Hanna notices Karen opening the cabinet with the medical supplies. Her curiosity piqued, she can't help but peek over, watching as Karen carefully selects a bottle. "What's that?" she asks softly. Karen looks up, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's for Plankton's pain," she says, holding up the bottle. "It's a prescription painkiller," Karen explains. "It can help him manage his leg pain, but it makes him a bit drowsy." Hanna nods, taking in the information. "Can I do anything?" she asks, her voice hopeful. Karen thinks for a moment. "You can get water for him." Hanna nods as she fills a glass. In the bedroom, Karen returns with the medication and Hanna with the water. They find Plankton still sitting on the edge of the bed. "Here you go," Karen says, handing him the pills as Hanna watches with a tentative smile, handing Karen the water. Plankton takes the medication, his expression tight. He downs it with the water, his throat working. "Thanks," he says gruffly to Karen. Hanna notices his wheelchair that's been parked next to the bed before looking at Plankton again, trying to smile at him. "You don't have to stare," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "I-I-I-I…" Hanna protests, her eyes quickly darting around, but unable to avert her gaze. Plankton's antennae twitch in annoyance. "What do you want?" he snaps. "I just-I just thought you might need some company," Hanna stammers, her hands fidgeting nervously. "I don't need anything," he says, his voice cold. "Especially not from you." Hanna's smile falters, and she takes a step back. "I-I just want to be here for you," she says, her voice shaking. Plankton scowls. He can feel his temper rising, his tiny fists clenching. "What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?" he spits. "I don't need your pity." Hanna's eyes widen, and she swallows hard. "It's not pity," she says quickly. "I just...I care about you. And I underst--" But Plankton isn't listening. "You don't understand anything," he says, his voice getting louder. "You're just a know-it-all!" Plankton turns away, his antennae quivering. "I don't want you here," he says firmly. "Just go." Hanna falters. "But please, Plankto-" He swings back around, his eye blazing. "I don't want your friendship," he says harshly. "Not now, not ever. Do you hear me? We're not friends, and we never will be." Hanna's face falls, and she takes a step back. Tears spill down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to—" "Just go!" Plankton yells, his antennae waving erratically. "Get OU-" But Karen interrupts him sharply, standing between them. "That's enough," she says firmly. Her voice is calm, but the authority is clear. Hanna's eyes are wide with shock and pain, and Plankton looks at her before turning his gaze to Karen, his eye now welling up with tears. Karen sighs, picking up his hand. "I think we all just need some time," she says, squeezing it gently. Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. "Why can't she just understand?" he whimpers. Karen sits beside him, her expression softening. "She's trying," she says. "We all are." Hanna, standing in the doorway, wipes her tears away. Karen turns to her. "Hanna, can you please give us a moment?" she asks. Hanna nods, her eyes red but her face composed. She backs away, closing the door quietly. Karen turns to Plankton, her face filled with compassion. "You're going through a lot right now," she says gently. "And it's okay." He sniffles, his antennae drooping. The medication starts to kick in, his eyelid drooping slightly. "But I don't feel brave," he says. "You are," she insists. "Now, try and get some rest. It's getting late." With a nod, Plankton lies back, his cast sticking out awkwardly. Karen adjusts the pillows around his leg, her hands gentle. Outside the bedroom, she finds Hanna sitting on the couch, her face a mask of hurt. "Hanna," Karen begins gently, sitting beside her. "I know you're trying to help, but Plankton's just not ready to accept it yet." Hanna nods, sniffing. "But I just want to make things better," she whispers. Karen smiles, squeezing her hand. "And you will," she says firmly. "But right now, he needs his space. It's not about you," she reassures Hanna. "It's about his fear of being vulnerable." Hanna nods. "I get it," she says, though her voice is still shaky. "But what can I do without smothering him?" Karen thinks for a moment. "Why don't we all get a good night sleep?"

NEW REALITY vii (Autistic author) She sleeps at her bed next to his. The house is quiet, except for the soft snores coming from Plankton. But both of their eyes snap open at the sound of the doorbell. Plankton's body tenses, his hand shooting up to cover his head. Karen moves quickly, her heart racing. She knows that sudden sounds can be overwhelming for him. "It's okay," she murmurs, placing her hand over his. "Door," he says, his voice still groggy from sleep. Her eyes dart to the clock. It's early, much earlier than anyone would usually visit. "I'll go see who it is," she says, trying to keep her voice steady. "You stay here." Plankton nods, his hand dropping from his head to clutch at the blanket. "Stay," he whispers, his voice tight with anxiety. Karen's eyes fill with concern. "I'll be right back," she promises, her voice soft. "Just stay here." Plankton nods, his grip on the blanket tightening. "Stay," he repeats, his voice less than a whisper. Karen nods, her heart racing. "I will," she whispers. "Just rest." As she opens the door, she's met with the cheerful face of Hanna, her book club friend. "Hey Karen, I hope I'm not too early!" Hanna says, a word book in hand. Karen's eyes widen, her heart racing. "No, not at all," she says, forcing a smile. "Come in." Hanna steps into the house, her eyes bright with excitement. But as she sees Karen's expression, her smile falters. "Is everything okay?" she asks, concern etched on her face. Karen nods, as Plankton comes into the room, his gaze fixed on the spinning fan. "This is Plankton," Karen introduces, her voice calm. Hanna smiles. "Hi Plankton," she says, her voice too bright. He nods, his gaze still locked on the fan. "Fan spin," he murmurs. Hanna's eyes widen, unsure how to respond. Karen quickly interjects. "Why don't we take a look at the work puzzle book.." Plankton's gaze shifts, his interest piqued by the mention of books. "Puzzles," he repeats, his voice a bit clearer. Hanna's smile relaxes, seeing his interest. "Yes, puzzles," she says, holding up the book. "They're like fun little brain teasers." Plankton nods, his hand reaching out to touch the book. Karen watches, her heart racing. Will this be another trigger? But Plankton's gaze locks onto the puzzle book, his eye lighting up with curiosity. Karen's heart skips a beat. This could be good for him, a way to focus his whirling thoughts. Hanna opens the book, showing him a simple word search. "See if you can find the hidden words, Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. His gaze scans the page, his hand moving in time with his eye. "Words," he murmurs, his voice filled with excitement. Hanna nods, her smile growing. "That's right," she says, her tone encouraging. "See if you can find them all." Plankton nods, his eye quickly moving over the page. Karen watches, her heart swelling with hope. This might be it, she thinks, a new way to connect. Hanna points to a word, her voice soothing. "What's this?" Plankton's hand moves over the letters, tracing them. "F-A-N," he reads, his tone monotone. "Fan," he says, his gaze flicking up to the whirring object above. Hanna laughs, misunderstanding. "No, Plankton, not fan," she says, pointing to the puzzle. "Find the words that are hidden." But Plankton's gaze remains on the spinning blades. "Fan," he repeats, his voice taking on a firm tone. Hanna's smile falters, not comprehending his meaning. "No, Plankton," she says, her voice still cheerful. "Look at the puzzle." But Plankton's gaze doesn't waver from the fan. "Fan," he says, his tone firm, almost defensive. Hanna's smile falters, her cheerfulness waning. "Plankton," she says gently, "it's a puzzle, not about the fan." But Plankton's gaze remains fixed on the fan, his body tensing. "Fan," he repeats, his voice firm, almost defensive. Hanna's smile falters, uncertain of his meaning. "It's just a puzzle, Plankton," she says gently, her voice filled with misunderstanding. But Plankton's tone sharpens. "Fan," he insists, his voice raised, his body tense. "Fan spin, make quiet." Hanna's eyes widen with surprise, her smile slipping away. "It's not about the fan, Plankton," she says, her voice still kind but concerned. "It's about..." But Plankton's voice cuts through the air, his tone sharp. "Fan spin," he says, his hand moving in erratic patterns. "Fan make quiet. Fan important." Hanna's eyes widen, taking a step back. "I didn't mean..." she starts, but Plankton's agitation is growing. "Fan important," he repeats, his voice echoing in the quiet room. Karen's heart races as she tries to defuse the situation. "Hanna, it's okay," she says, her voice calm but firm. "The fan is special to Plankton. It helps him feel calm." But Hanna's confusion only grows. "It's just a fan, right?" she asks, her voice pitching with uncertainty. Plankton's voice rises, his hands flailing. "No!" he yells. "Fan special! Make quiet! Must spin!" Hanna's eyes widen with shock, her cheerful demeanor evaporating. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she stammers, taking a step back. Plankton's voice echoes, his frustration palpable. "Fan special!" he yells, his hands slashing the air. Hanna's smile has disappeared, replaced by a look of fear. "I'm sorry," she whispers, backing away slowly. Karen's eyes are wide with worry. She steps between Hanna and Plankton, trying to shield her friend from his distress. "It's okay, Hanna," she says, her voice calm but firm. "Let's just give him some space." Hanna nods, her eyes filled with apology. "I didn't mean to upset him," she murmurs, setting the puzzle book down on the coffee table. Karen nods, her gaze on Plankton. "It's okay," she says softly. "He's just overwhelmed." Plankton's hands flap like wings against his sides. This is stimming, she knows, his way of coping with the sensory onslaught. He rocks back and forth, his gaze still on the fan. Karen's heart aches as she watches him, his body a whirlwind of energy. "Fan spin," he murmurs, his hands fluttering like butterfly wings. "Spin, spin." Karen's eyes follow his erratic movements, her heart racing. "Plankton," she says, her voice calm and soothing. "Look at me." He doesn't react, his gaze still glued to the fan. Karen approaches him, moving slowly to avoid startling his heightened senses. "Plankton," she repeats, her tone steady. He doesn't react, his eye still on the fan, his body a flurry of movement. Her heart racing, Karen tries again. "The fan spins," she says, mimicking his rhythmic speech. Plankton's gaze flicks to her, his body still. For a moment, his movements cease. "Spin," he whispers, his eye searching hers. Karen nods, understanding his need for the fan's rhythmic whirl. "It's okay," she says, her voice a gentle melody. "The fan will spin." Plankton's gaze shifts from the fan to the digital clock on the mantle. His eye widens as he sees the seconds tick by, restarting each minute. The numbers, stark and precise, seem to call to him, a silent symphony of order in a world gone haywire. Hanna looks confused, for Plankton's gaze shifts to the digital clock, the seconds ticking away in a silent symphony. His hands stop their erratic movements, his body stilling as he watches the precise dance of the numbers. Karen sees his fascination, the way his eye tracks each second as it passes. "It's okay," she says softly. "The clock will keep going." But Plankton's gaze doesn't shift. His body is still, his mind lost in the rhythm of the ticking digits. Karen watches, her heart racing. She's read about how some with autism find comfort in patterns, how the predictability of something as simple as a digital clock can be a lifeline in a world that's otherwise so chaotic. Hanna, however, doesn't understand. Her eyes go to Plankton, her confusion growing. "Plankton," she says, her voice still too bright, "it's just a clock." His eye snaps to her, his body rigid with tension. "Clock important," he murmurs, his voice a mix of anger and fear. "Numbers change." Hanna's smile fades, her eyes widening with confusion. "It's just a clock, Plankton," she says, trying to placate him. But her words only serve to stir his distress further. Plankton's eye darts from the clock to Hanna, his breath coming in quick bursts. "No," he whispers, his voice tight. "Clock important. Numbers change." Hanna's smile is gone, her expression one of confusion. "It's just a way to tell time," she says, her voice shaking. But Plankton's agitation is building, a storm gathering behind his eye. "No," he whispers, his hand trembling as it points to the clock. "Numbers change, make brain quiet." Hanna's eyes widen, her understanding still elusive. "But Plankton," she starts, "it's just a way to keep track of time." But Plankton's gaze is intense, his voice urgent. "No, no, no," he says, shaking his head. "Numbers change, make brain quiet." Hanna's voice rises, her confusion thick. "But it's just a clock, Plankton," she repeats, her words falling on deaf antennae. Plankton's body is tight as a spring, his gaze locked on the digital dance. "No," he whispers, his voice strained. "Numbers make quiet, chronologically." Hanna's eyes dart between Plankton and Karen, her confusion thick.

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

JUST A TOUCH iv (Autistic author) The next day, Karen woke up to a meticulously organized kitchen. Plankton was already up, his movements sharp and focused as he arranged the cutlery in the drawer. "Good morning, Plankton," she said, her voice tentative. He looked up, his expression neutral. "Good morning, Karen," he replied, his voice monotone. Her heart squeezed. This was not the man who used to greet her with a cheeky smile and a sigh every morning. But she pushed the sorrow aside and focused on the task at hand: making breakfast. As she began to prep the meal, Plankton hovered nearby, his antennae twitching. "Would you like to help me?" she asked, holding out a spatula. He took it with both hands, his movements mechanical as he followed her instructions to the letter. The sizzle of the chum on the pan seemed to calm him, his gaze flicking between her face and the food. Plankton's meticulousness extended to their breakfast. Every ingredient measured to the exact milliliter, every step in the recipe followed without deviation. Karen watched him, a mix of amazement and sadness swirling inside her. As they sat down to eat, Karen noticed his eye darting between his plate and the clock. "Is something wrong?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light. Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, his antennae still. "Must eat at 7:00," he said, his voice tight. "It's okay, we're a little late," she said, trying to soothe him. "But we're together, and that's what matters." Plankton took a bite of his perfectly arranged breakfast, his eye not leaving the clock. "Seven minutes, thirty-four seconds until 7:00," he murmured. Karen's throat tightened, but she forced a smile. "We'll be done before then," she assured him. The meal was finished in silence, Plankton's precision contrasting with Karen's clumsy attempts to match his rhythm. As they cleared the table, his movements were a dance of order and control, while hers were stilted, filled with nervous glances. In the living room, Plankton moved to his favorite chair, his eye immediately drawn to the bookshelf. His gaze flitted over the books. Karen watched, her heart heavy with the weight of their new reality. The doctor had suggested that engaging in familiar activities could help with the transition. Hoping to ease the tension, she offered, "Would you like a work book?" Plankton nodded, his antennae still. Karen retrieved one from his collection, handing it to him with care. He took it in his hands. It was clear that his intellect had not been diminished, but rather had been reshaped by his condition. Moments later, Hanna came in. She knows Karen's married, but she doesn't know any thing else about Plankton. Hanna's smile was wide and welcoming as she saw the two of them. "Hi, I'm Karen's friend Hanna," she said, extending a hand. Plankton looked at it and then went back to his book. Karen stepped in, her voice soft. "Plankton, this is Hanna," she said, gesturing between them. "Hanna, this is my husband, Plankton." Hanna's smile faltered slightly, noticing the distance in Plankton's gaze. "Hi, Plankton," Hanna said, her tone gentle. "It's nice to meet you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze shifting to her briefly before returning to the book. Karen watched the interaction, her heart racing. How would Hanna react to him? Will Plankton like her? Would she still want to be friends with her? Hanna looked from Karen to Plankton and back, her smile slightly puzzled. "Is he okay?" she asked quietly. Karen nodded. "He's just focused" she said, her voice hitching. "I'll go fix us up some chumbalaya." After Karen left, Hanna sat right up next to Plankton. "Hi, Plankton," she said again. He glanced at her, then back at his book. She waited, leaning forward slightly. Finally, he spoke without looking up. "Hello, Hanna. Karen's friend. Good." It was a statement, not a question or a greeting. Her curiosity was piqued by this odd behavior. Hanna watched as Plankton continued to study the book, his tiny hands flipping pages with a quickness she hadn't seen before. He was like a different creature, his movements calculated. She knew something was off, but she wasn't sure what. So she decides to try getting him to interact. "What are you reading?" she asked, leaning closer. Plankton's antennae shot up. "It's a book," he replied, his voice flat. Hanna laughed, mistaking his bluntness for shyness. "I know that," she said, her tone playful as she leaned closer. "But what's it about?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "It's about... puzzles?" Hanna's eyes widened. "Puzzles?" she repeated, leaning in even closer. Her proximity was making him uncomfortable, his body stiffening like a board. "What kind of puzzles?" Plankton's gaze darted to her before returning to the book. "Word's," he said, his voice sharp as he focused on the page. The way he said it was a clear message to back off, but Hanna was oblivious to the cues. "Oh, words puzzles!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I love those! Can I see?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the book, brushing against his hand. Plankton flinched, his antennae drooping. Hanna's cheerfulness didn't wane as she flipped through the pages, exclaiming over the puzzles. "This looks like FUN!" she said, not taking note of how Plankton's body was taut with tension. "It's a good book," Plankton said, his voice devoid of emotion. He was trying to be polite, but the sensory overload was building inside him. The way she talked, the way she moved, the sound of her voice—it was all too much. Hanna, still beaming, turned the page and pointed at a particularly complex puzzle. "Look at this one! Can you do it?" she challenged, her finger tapping the page impatiently. Plankton's eye darted to the puzzle, his mind racing. He didn't want to disappoint but the pressure was too intense. He can't think! "Sure," he stuttered, his voice small. Hanna clapped her hands, excitedly. "Great! Let's see how fast you can solve it!" Plankton felt his heart racing, his antennae drooping. The pressure to perform was suffocating him. He looked at the puzzle, his mind racing through possible word combinations, his eye darting from letter to letter, but Hanna interrupts him again. "Come on, Plankton! I bet you're really good at these!" Her excitement was palpable, but Plankton could only feel his chest tightening. He wanted to scream, to tell her to stop, but the words remained trapped behind the wall of his new social ineptitude. He took the book, his hands shaking slightly as his eye scanned the puzzle. The letters swam before him, his mind racing to keep up with the barrage of sensory input. "Don't be shy," she said, nudging him. "You can do it!" Plankton felt the weight of Hanna's enthusiasm like an anvil on his shoulders. His grip on the book tightened. He had always been good at word puzzles, but now they felt like a labyrinth with no exit. The room spun around him, the pressure to perform building like a storm in his chest. But Hanna's energy was like a tsunami, unstoppable. "You know, I used to be really bad at these," she said, sitting closer, her knees touching his. "But I got so much better with practice!" Plankton felt his skin crawl, the need to escape intensifying. He was trapped in a conversation he hadn't asked for, with a person who was oblivious to his plight. He took a deep breath, his eye scanning the room for a way out. "How about we try one together?" Hanna suggested, her voice bubbly. Plankton's heart hammered in his chest. Hanna didn't seem to notice his distress, her screen shining with excitement. "It'll be fun! Just tell me the letters you see, and I'll guess the words!" Plankton's antennae drooped, his shoulders tense. He wanted to scream, to tell her to leave him alone. But his newfound condition made the words catch in his throat. "Fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Hanna's screen lit up, and she leaned in even closer. "Great!" she exclaimed. "I'll start with 'C'. What do you see?" Plankton's gaze remained steadfast on the book, his eye darting from letter to letter. He can't see anything with all... Hanna's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, sharp and demanding. "C'mon, Plankton, don't be shy! Tell me what you see!" Her hand reached out, grabbing his arm. The sudden touch sent a jolt through him. Plankton flinched, his body reacting before his mind could form a coherent thought. His antennae shot up, and he pulled away, knocking over the book in the process. The sound echoed in the room like thunder. Hanna's smile faltered, confusion clouding her features. "What's wrong?" she asked, genuinely concerned as she cups his head; and that's it. The dam bursts. Plankton's body goes rigid, his eye wide with pain. He can't take it anymore—the touch, the noise, the pressure, his hand flailing to shove her away. "STOP!" he screams, his voice cracking. Hanna's hand retreats as if burned. Her smile fades, replaced by a look of shock and concern. "What happened?" she asks, turning him towards her with her hands on his shoulders. Which is when he stops moving, unblinking as Karen comes back in. Karen sets the chumbalaya aside as she notices his unresponsiveness. "Plankton?" she calls out, concern etching her voice. Hanna turns to her, her eyes wide. "I don't think he's okay," she says, her hand hovering over his shoulder. Karen's heart drops as she rushes over, her eyes scanning his frozen form. "It's okay," she murmurs, gently guiding Hanna away. "Let me handle this."

PLUSH ONE xii (By NeuroFabulous) He stumbles backward, his body a maelstrom of anger and confusion. "MINE!" he shouts again, his voice cracking with fear. Karen's eyes never leave his, her own fear a mirror to his distress. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a soothing lullaby. "Ca--" But her words are lost in the tempest of his rage. He lunges at her, the plushie a weapon in his tiny hands. Karen's instincts kick in, and she blocks the swing. "PLANKTON, STOP!" she shouts, her voice a commanding wave in the storm. But he's beyond reason, his autism a prison that locks him away. The plushie, once a source of comfort, is now a weapon of destruction. He swings it wildly, the fabric tearing under his frenzied grip. Karen dodges the flailing toy, her eyes never leaving his. "PLANKTON, PLEASE!" she shouts, her voice a desperate plea in the cacophony of his anger. But the tempest in his eye shows no sign of abating. With each swing of the plushie, Karen feels the weight of their shattered world. Her hand snatches the plushie from his grip, her movements swift and firm. He tries to grab it back, his body a wild flurry of limbs. "PLANKTON, NO!" she shouts, her voice a thunderclap. The room seems to hold its breath, the only sounds the echoes of their struggle. But Plankton's autism doesn't hear her words, doesn't feel the desperation in her touch. He wriggles in her grasp, his antennae snapping like whips of fear. The plushie hangs limp in her hand, its stuffing spilling out. "PLANKTON, STOP!" Karen's voice echoes in the room, a desperate cry to the storm that's taken him. But his autism doesn't listen. It's a beast that consumes his every thought, leaving no room for the man she knows, the man she loves. He flails and shrieks, his eye wild with panic. Karen's grip tightens, her hands firm but gentle, her heart breaking with each tiny, futile struggle. She must find a way to soothe his fear, to quiet the storm in his mind. His antennae snap at the air, his body a blur of frantic motion. "PLANKTON, STOP!" she shouts, but the words are lost in his autistic rage. She holds him at arm's length, his tiny fists clenched around the ruined plushie. Karen's mind is a frenzied symphony, her mind racing for a way to soothe his distress. With trembling hands, she cups his face, her thumbs pressing gently on his cheeks. "Look at me—" But Plankton's autism interprets her touch as an assault, his body a live wire of fear. He bites down on the plushie, his eye wide with terror. With a tremble, she releases his face. Then Hanna jumps in, unable to stand and watch any longer. "PLANKTON!" Hanna shouts, as she pins him to the wall, her hands too strong for his tiny frame. "WILL YOU DO US A FAVOR AND JUST GET OUT OF OUR LIVES?" Hanna yells as she heaves him out of the bedroom, slamming the door closed on him. On the other side of the door Plankton's antennae droop. But Plankton is eerily quiet on the other side. Hanna holds the door shut despite the silence. Karen was surprised, as she expected him to knock hard on the door.

PLUSH ONE xv (By NeuroFabulous) Hanna's eyes are glued to Plankton's peaceful form, aching for the fear and confusion she's seen in his eye. "What can we do for him?" she asks, her voice a gentle prodding. Karen looks up. "We need to adapt his environment," she says, her voice a soft determination. "Reduce the sensory input, establish comforts." Hanna nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "What kind of comforts?" she asks, curiosity piqued. "Oh, like the plushie? What's the plush..." Karen's voice trails off as she considers Hanna's question. "Well, yes," she says, her voice a soft explanation. "But it's more than that. It's about creating a space that's safe for him, that doesn't overstimulate his senses." Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "How do we do that?" she asks, her curiosity genuine. "We start by understanding his triggers," Karen says, her gaze thoughtful. "The noise, the lights, the...chaos." Hanna nods, her mind racing. "And the plushies?" she prompts, her voice a soft probe. Karen's smiling. "They're... I guess comfort objects," she explains. "For someone with autism, such items can be a lifeline." Hanna nods, her curiosity piqued. "But why a plushie?" she asks, her voice a soft wonder. Karen looks at Plankton, his body curled around the fluffy toy. "It's about softness, and predictability," she says, her voice a gentle explanation. "Plushies have a certain...comfort to them. They're consistent, familiar. And when his world is too much, it's something he can hold onto, something that won't change." Hanna nods slowly, her gaze still on the plushie. "So, it's like a...security blanket?" she asks, her voice tentative. Karen nods. "Exactly," she says, her voice filled with understanding. "But for his autism, it's even more. It's a constant in a world that ca--" But Plankton's eye snaps open, his antennae shooting up. "Karen," he whispers, his voice filled with panic. She quickly turns to him, her hand ready to offer comfort. "What is it?" He points at Hanna, his fear palpable. "Hanna," he stammers. "Hanna new. Too loud. Hanna hurt. Hanna made everything go...spinny." Hanna's eyes fill with tears, her hand reaching out to him. "I'm so—" But Plankton flinches, his body coiling away from Hanna's touch. Hanna's hand stops mid-air, her eyes wide with surprise. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers, her voice gentle. "I'm not going t---" But he's already retreated to the corner of the room, his tiny body shaking. "No touch," he murmurs, his antennae quivering. "No loud." Karen's heart clenches. "I know," she says, her voice a gentle coax. "But Hanna is our friend, she's just trying to he-" But Plankton's panic interrupts her. "Friend?" he whispers, his voice filled with doubt. "No. Everything changed. Hanna not good." Karen's eyes are filled with pain, her heart breaking for him. "I know it's scary," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "But Ha—" "NO!" Plankton screams, his body convulsing with fear. "No Hanna!" Hanna jumps back, her eyes wide with shock. Her hand had hovered over his plushie, intending to give it a comforting pat before reaching out to give it to him. But for Plankton, that's crossing a line. "No touch," he whispers, his antennae quivering with anxiety. "MINE." Hanna's eyes widen, the plushie still in her hand. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice a soft apology. Her heart aches for him, his fear a stark reminder of the distance between them now. She holds the plushie out to him, her hand shaking. "It's yours," she says, her voice a gentle offer. But Plankton's panic doesn't abate. His eye is a storm of confusion and fear. "MINE," he whispers, his antennae vibrating with tension. Hanna's hand hovers motionless, the plushie dangling between them. She looks to Karen for guidance, her eyes filled with worry. Karen's eyes are understood, her voice a soothing lullaby. "It's okay, Plankton," she coos. "Hanna just wanted to give it back." Slowly, she steps towards the trembling figure of Plankton, her movements careful not to startle him. But Plankton's gaze is fixed on Hanna, his antennae quivering with distress. "No," he murmurs, his voice a soft protest. "MINE." Hanna's eyes are filled with confusion as she looks at the plushie in her hand. She had only wanted to help, to comfort her newfound friend. But now she feels like an intruder in his world. Karen steps closer, her movements deliberately slow. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "Hanna means no ha-" But Plankton's fear has turned to anger, his tiny fists balled up. "MINE!" he screams at Hanna, his voice sharp. Her hand jerks back, the plushie dropping to the floor. "I didn't mean to..." Her words are drowned out by Plankton's cries. Karen's heart aches as she watches Hanna's hurt expression. "It's okay," she says, her voice a soft caress. "We're all just trying to fi-" But Plankton's screams cut her off. His fear has escalated into rage, his tiny fists pounding the floor. "MINE!" he shouts, his voice furious. Hanna's eyes are wide with shock, her hand still hovering above the plushie. She didn't mean to take it, didn't mean to cause such distress. But Plankton's reaction is instinctive, primal. "HANNA GIVE BACK!" he shouts, his tiny body quaking with fear. Hanna's eyes are filled with sorrow as she drops to her knees, setting the plushie on the floor. "Here," she says, her voice a soft plea. "It's yo-" But Plankton's rage won't abate. He stares at the plushie, his breaths shallow. Karen moves closer, her eyes filled with pain. "Plankton, it's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle caress. "You can have it." Slowly, Hanna retreats, her eyes on the floor. Karen's gaze follows hers, seeing the plushie lying there, a symbol of their misunderstanding. "It's okay," she repeats, her voice a soft promise. Plankton's anger subsides as he watches Karen's approach. He recognizes her comforting strides, her calming presence. Her hand extends towards his plushie, a silent offer to bridge the gap. He looks at her, his eye narrowing. But the fear is still there, the memory of the plushie's theft fresh. His antennae quiver, his body tense. Karen's hand hovers over the plushie, her movements slow and deliberate. "It's okay," she whispers. "You can have it back." Plankton's gaze flickers between the plushie and Hanna's retreating form. He reaches out tentatively, his hand trembling. As he touches the soft plush, his body relaxes, the fear ebbing away. The plushie is a talisman of comfort, a silent sentinel in his autistic world. He clutches it to his chest, his eye closed in relief.

PLUSH ONE xvi (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's eyes are a pool of understanding as she watches him, her heart aching for his pain. She knows the plushie is more than just a toy; it's a piece of his sanity in a world that's turned too loud, too bright. She moves closer, her hand hovering near his.. Plankton's antennae shoot up, his body stiffening. "No," he whispers, his voice a shaky plea. "No touch." Karen nods, her movements slow and careful. She understands his boundaries, his new sensory needs. "Okay," she says, her voice a soft promise. "I won't touch. But can I sit with you?" Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye still closed. He takes a deep breath, his tiny chest rising and falling with the effort. "Okay," he murmurs. So Karen sits down beside his shaky form. Hanna watches from the doorway, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. The plushie in his hands is a lifeline, a reminder that amidst the storm of sensory input, there is something that doesn't change, that won't hurt him. Karen's presence is another constant, a beacon of comfort. But Hanna is a variable, an unknown. Her eyes are filled with sadness, a testament to the gap that's formed between them. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a soft apology. "I didn't me—" But Plankton interrupts. "MINE," he cries out, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his emotions. Karen's heart breaks for him. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle reminder of their bond. "It's your plushie." Plankton's grip tightens around the plush, his body a coil of tension. Hanna stands there, hands trembling. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her voice a soft apology in the quiet room. "I didn't kn-" But Plankton's eye opens, his gaze sharp and focused. "MINE," he says again, his voice a fierce declaration. Karen's eyes are filled with pain, her hand dropping to her side. "I know," she says, her voice a gentle coax. "But Hanna meant no harm." Hanna nods, her gaze still on the plushie. "I---" But Plankton's panic interrupts her, his voice high-pitched. "No Hanna," he whispers, his antennae quivering as he shakes his head. "No take." Hanna's eyes fill with sorrow as she backs away, her hand dropping to her side. Karen's heart clenches, seeing the hurt in Hanna's eyes. "It's okay," she murmurs, her voice a gentle coax. "We just need to give Plankton some space." Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "I understand," she whispers, her voice a soft apology. "But what abou–" But Plankton's panic doesn't abate, his body constricting even further. "No," he murmurs. "No more." Hanna's eyes are filled with a mix of pity and frustration. She's tired of his outbursts, of the way his autism controls their lives. Her voice cracks. "What do you want from me!" she asks, her voice a soft cry of exasperation. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye darting around the room. He's lost in a sensory maelstrom, unable to understand her words. "Quiet," he whispers, his voice a plea. "Everything too mu-" But Hanna's frustration has reached a boiling point. "I've tried!" she says, her voice a sharp retort. "Everything's always about you and your plushies, when all we want is to he-" Her words are cut off by Plankton's wail, his body trembling. Karen's heart clenches, her eyes filled with pain. "Hanna," she says, her voice a soft admonition. "He can't help it." But Hanna's frustration spills over. "I kn-" But Plankton's wail cuts through the room, his antennae vibrating. The plushie clutched to his chest is a silent cry for help. Hanna's eyes fill with tears as she watches, her frustration boiling over. "Why can't you just...be normal!" she asks, her voice a desperate plea. Karen's gaze snaps to her, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "What do you mean by 'normal'?" she asks, her voice a soft challenge. "Plankton is who he is. His autism is part of him, not something to 'fix'." Hanna's shoulders slump, her eyes welling up with tears. "I know," she murmurs, her voice a soft apology. "I just...I miss the old Plankton you've told me about." Karen's gaze is filled with compassion. "We all do," she says. "But he's still in there, just...different now." Hanna nods, her eyes still on Plankton's trembling form. "I know," she murmurs. "I just... I don't know how to help." Karen's smile is sad, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're already helping," she says, her voice a gentle reminder. "Just by being here, by caring." Hanna looks down, her eyes misty. "But it's not enough," she whispers, gesturing to Plankton. Karen's eyes are filled with empathy. "It's a new journey," she says, her voice a soft reminder. "For all of us." Hanna nods, her gaze still on Plankton. She can see the fear and confusion in his eye, the way his antennae quiver. It's a stark contrast to the Plankton she's heard of, the one with a sharp mind and a love for Krabby Patties. Karen's voice is a gentle guidance. "We need to learn his new language," she says. "Find a way to reach him without crossing his lines." Hanna nods, her eyes still on Plankton's shaking body. "How do we do that?" she asks, her voice a soft curiosity. Karen's eyes are filled with knowledge. "It's about patience," she says. "And learning his cues." Hanna nods. "What do you mean?" Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she explains. "His autism has changed his communication," she says, her voice a soft explanation. "It's not just words anymore; it's gestures, sounds, and expressions." Hanna's gaze flickers to Plankton's shaking antennae, his eye squeezed shut. "So, what do we do?" she asks, her voice tentative. Karen's hand is a soft touch on Hanna's arm. "We watch," she whispers. "We learn."

PLUSH ONE xix (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's eyes are on Hanna, a silent reprimand. Hanna's hand drops to her side, her screen filled with regret. "Plankton, I'm ju—" But it's too late. Plankton's body is wracked with sobs, his antennae thrashing as his fear overwhelms him. The plushie falls to the floor, abandoned in his desperate attempt to escape the horror Hanna's words have conjured. Karen's arms reach out to him. "No, no, no," she whispers. "You're safe, Plankton. Yo--" But his body is a wild storm of fear, his sobs escalating into convulsions. His antennae whip around, striking the air in a silent scream of terror. Karen's heart shatters as she watches, her own hands hovering, unsure how to comfort him without causing more harm. Hanna's eyes are wide with horror, her own sobs joining the cacophony. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a desperate apology. "I di-" But Plankton's fear is a storm, his antennae a blur of panic. "Karen, make it stop," he cries, his voice a desperate plea. "Make it STOP͏!" The room seems to spin around him, his senses assaulted by Hanna's regret and his own fear. The plushie is forgotten, a discarded comfort in the face of the horror. Karen's gentle voice is a lifeline, a soft whisper in the chaos. "You're safe," she says, her voice a promise. "You're with me—" But Plankton's sobs only grow louder, his convulsions more pronounced. His tiny body is a crumpled mess on the floor, his autism a cage of panic he can't escape. "Make it stop," he cries, his voice a desperate wail. "Please, make it stop!" Hanna's eyes are filled with determination as she retrieves the plushie, carefully bringing it back to his trembling form. "Here," she whispers. "I---" But Plankton is a maelstrom, his body twitching beyond control. His eye rolls back in his head. Karen's heart races as she watches him seize, her mind racing. Her hands hover over him, knowing not to touch. Hanna's eyes are wide, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What's happening?" she sobs, her voice shaking. Karen's eyes are filled with fear as she watches his tiny body convulse, his sobs turning to silent screams. "It's a seizure," she whispers, her voice tight. Hanna's eyes widen, her hand dropping the plushie as if it's a live wire. "What do we do?" she asks, her voice high-pitched with panic. Karen's gaze is focused on Plankton's convulsing body. "Don't touch him," she says, her voice a command. "Just stay calm." She moves swiftly, getting a pillow and placing it under his head. Hanna's eyes are glued to his twitching form, her breath coming in gasps. "Is he going to be okay?" she whispers, her voice trembling. "Do we need to call..." But Karen's eyes are on Plankton, her movements swift and sure. "No," she murmurs, her voice a soft command. "It's overstimulation. We have to calm him down. It's part of his disability. An ambulance will just make it worse, by adding more noise and claustrophobia. Hospitalization will create unnecessary trauma." Hanna's eyes are wide with terror, her hands shaking as she watches Plankton's convulsions. "But he-" Karen's voice cuts through the chaos. "Trust me," she says, her gaze unwavering. "We need to calm him, not add more stress." Hanna nods, her eyes locked on Plankton's distress. "What do we do?" Karen's voice is calm. "Find a favorite blanket," she says, her eyes never leaving his twitching form. "And dim the lights, reduce the noise." Hanna's legs are a blur as she rushes to comply, grabbing the softest blanket. Her hands shake as she gently drapes it over him, his convulsions jolting against the fabric. Hanna's eyes are wide with panic as she watches, her voice a whisper. "Is he going to be okay?" Karen's gaze is unwavering on Plankton, her voice steady. "We need to stay calm," she says, her hands a gentle guide. "It's his autism, it's how he can react to stress." Hanna's eyes are on the floor, her breath shallow. "I'm sorry," she whispers, the weight of her words heavy. "I didn't kn-" But Karen's voice is steady. "It's okay," she says, her voice a calm reminder. "We're here." Her eyes are on Plankton, her body a wall of protection. "Let's help him." Together, they work to soothe him, Hanna's hands shaking as she follows Karen's calm instructions. They dim the lights, reduce the noise, and cover him in the warm embrace of his favorite blanket. Hanna gets the plushie and goes up to him. Plankton's body jerks under the blanket, his antennae still a blur of fear. Karen strokes his head gently, her eyes filled with a fierce determination to keep him safe. "Hey," Hanna says, holding out the plushie. "Do you want this?" Her voice is tentative. "Plankton, can you tell me w---" But Plankton's eye is squeezed shut, his body a writhing mess of limbs. The seizure is a silent scream, a desperate protest. Hanna's hand shakes as she holds out the plushie, her words a plea. "Plankton, it's okay," she whispers, her voice trembling. "You're not unwanted." Plankton's body continues to convulse, his antennae a blur of panic. Karen then turns to Hanna. "You need to let him breathe," Karen says, her voice a soft command. "We can only help him by letting his body do its thing. If you talk, make sure it's quiet and calm, short and sweet, and be truthful with your reassurances. Do not force anything on him." Hanna nods, tears streaming down her screen, her voice a whisper. "Okay." She watches as Karen's gentle touch soothes Plankton, his seizure beginning to subside as she rubs his back in slow, even strokes. The plushie is placed near his hand, a silent offer of comfort. The seizure gradually loosens its grip on Plankton's body, his sobs subsiding into hiccups. Plankton's eye finds Karen's, a silent plea for reassurance. Her voice is a soft caress. "It's okay," Karen whispers. "You're okay." Plankton's antennae twitch, his body slowly calming. He clutches the plushie, his eye on Karen. "Home," he whispers, his voice a desperate plea. "Yes," Karen says. "We're home, in our bedroom." Plankton's antennae still, his gaze searching for the familiar. Hanna backs away, her eyes filled with regret. Karen notices and nods slightly, a silent acknowledgment of Hanna's apology. His body relaxes further, his breathing slowing. The plushie is a warm comfort, but it's Karen's voice that holds his world together. "You're safe, Plankton," she whispers. "You're home." Hanna watches from her distance, her eyes filled with regret. Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze shifting to Hanna. Her eyes are filled with remorse, a silent apology that he can't quite decode. His mind is a jumble of fears and questions. "Hanna," he whispers, his voice a tremble. "I-I'm not a b-b-baby? Plankton stays living..." Hanna's face crumples, her sobs joining his. "Oh, Plankton," she whispers. "You're not a baby, you're Plankton. And you're not unwanted. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it." Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she looks at Hanna, knowing the depth of her regret. "It's okay," she says softly. "It's new for all of us." She turns back to Plankton, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're safe here. We're all learning." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing on Hanna's shaking form. His voice is a question. "Hanna?" Her voice cracks as she whispers back, "I'm here." Her hand reaches out tentatively, still afraid to touch him. "I'm so sorry for what I said." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze flickering to her hand. "It's okay," he murmurs, his voice a shaky echo. "But...but it's not okay," he adds, his eye filling with confusion. Hanna's hand hovers, uncertain. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a tremulous thread. Plankton's gaze is on the plushie, his voice a whispered confession. "I'm not the same," he says, his words a soft acknowledgment. "I'm...different." Hanna's hand stops, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're still Plankton," she says, her voice gentle. "You're still the same person, yet you've some new aspects.." Plankton's antennae still, his eye searching hers. "Different," he whispers, his voice filled with the weight of his new reality. Hanna nods, her hand still outstretched. "But that doesn't make you less important," she says, her voice a soft promise. "Or less loved." Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze flickering between his plushie and Hanna's hand. He reaches out slowly, his hand trembling, and takes her hand, holding it for a moment before he takes his hand back. Hanna's eyes are wet with relief, her voice a whisper. "Thank you," she says. Plankton's antennae twitch in acknowledgment, his gaze still on the plushie. "It's...it's just...I'm still me," he says, his voice shaky. "But, things are... different, now." Hanna nods, her eyes filled with a newfound understanding. "I know," she whispers. Her hand moves towards him again, this time with more confidence. Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze shifting from the plushie to Hanna's hand. "I know," Hanna says, her voice a gentle whisper. "But you're still Plankton, and we're here for you." Her hand moves closer, a silent offer of friendship. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye flickering to her hand, then back to the plushie. "Home," he whispers again, his voice a tremble. Hanna nods, her eyes filled with a newfound respect for the complexity of his needs. "Home," she repeats, her voice a gentle echo. "You're home with your wife Karen. Would you like to hold my hand?" Plankton's antennae still, his gaze shifting to Karen. She nods, her eyes filled with a silent understanding. He reaches out tentatively, his tiny hand grasping Hanna's finger briefly before retreating. It's a small gesture, but it's a start. Hanna's eyes widen with hope, her voice a whisper. "Thank you," she says, her hand hovering in the air.

PLUSH ONE xx (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's antennae twitch in a way that seems almost thoughtful. "Hanna," he says, his voice tentative. "Hanna, Karen's friend, Karen's friend's okay." Her eyes fill with hope at his words, her hand still hovering. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice a gentle breeze. "May I sit with you, or..." But Plankton's gaze is fixed on the plushie. "Not close," he murmurs, his voice a soft refusal. "Some space, if Hanna sit with space." Hanna nods, her heart racing as she moves to the floor near him, maintaining a respectful distance. Karen's eyes never leave his, her voice a soft guide. "Good job, Plankton," she whispers. "You're doing so well." He starts to rock slightly, in a pattern that seems almost rhythmic. It's a new behavior, one Karen recognizes as stimming. She's heard about it, how it can mean those with autism self-soothe and process the world around them. His eye is fixed on the plushie, his hand moving on it in small, repetitive motions. Hanna watches Plankton's soft rocking with a mix of fascination and fear. "What's happening?" she asks, her voice barely above a murmur. "It's called stimming," Karen whispers, her voice a gentle explanation. "It's how he's processing everything right now. It's like his brain's way of saying, 'I'm okay, I can handle this.'" Hanna's eyes are wide with interest as she watches, her fear slowly giving way to curiosity. "Is it...good?" she asks, her voice tentative. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's rhythmic motion. "It's a way for his brain to calm down," she whispers. "It's like a security blanket for his nervous system." Hanna's gaze is still on him, her curiosity overcoming her fear. "Can I do anything?" she asks, her voice a soft offer of help. Karen nods. "You can talk to him, keep it calm and soothing." Her eyes meet Hanna's, her expression filled with compassion. "Use simple words, and let him know you're here." Hanna's voice is soft. "Plankton," she says, her tone gentle. "It's okay to rock, it's okay to feel better." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye flicking towards her briefly before returning to his plushie. The rocking continues, a gentle sway that seems to calm the storm of his thoughts. "You're safe, Plankton," Hanna whispers, her voice a soothing lullaby. "We're right here." His antennae twitch, his rocking slowing as he takes in her words. His hand still strokes the plushie, his body slowly calming. Hanna watches, her voice a soft echo. "Plankton, I'm sorry," she says, her eyes filled with sincerity. "I didn't understand." Plankton's antennae twitch, his rocking pausing. He looks at her, his gaze uncertain. Plankton's eye blinks slowly, his antennae still. "Hanna talk quiet," he whispers. "It's okay." Her voice is gentle. "I will, I'm sorry," she promises, her eyes never leaving his. Karen watches with a mix of pride and fear, her heart swelling at Hanna's effort to understand. She nods encouragingly, her eyes telling Hanna to keep it up. "Good job, Plankton," Hanna whispers, mimicking Karen's calm tone. "You're doing so well." She takes a deep breath, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze steady on him. "Is there anything you'd like? Something that would make you feel more comfortable? Or w---" "Too much," he murmurs, his voice a whispered plea. "Questions, too much. Not fast, only each at a time." Hanna nods, her heart racing. "Okay," she says, her voice gentle. "What can I do with you right now?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze on the plushie. "Reading?" he asks, his voice a whispered hope. "Book makes good feeling." Hanna's eyes light up, relieved to have a task. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft promise. She moves to the bookshelf, her eyes scanning the titles. "Which one, Plankton?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his voice a soft whisper. "The physics one," he says, his gaze still on the plushie. Hanna's eyes find the book, a faded blue spine among the colorful array. Her eyes widen with surprise, but she doesn't question it. Instead, she opens the book to the first page, her voice a calm narration. "Alright," she says, her tone soothing. "Let's start with the intro..." But Plankton's antennae quiver with impatience. "No, no," he whispers, his voice urgent. "Index. Index is good." Hanna's brow furrows, but she nods, understanding. She opens the book to the back, her eyes scanning the pages. "Index," she repeats, her voice a soft question. Plankton's antennae still, his gaze on her. "Yes," he whispers, his voice a sigh of relief. "Words, titles with their page numbers." Hanna nods, her eyes scanning the dense pages of the index. "Here," she says, her voice a soft guidance. "Let's look at the list of topics together." Plankton's antennae quiver with anticipation, his gaze flicking from Hanna to the book and back again. "Good," he whispers. "Good, good, good." Hanna's eyes scan the index, her voice calm and measured as she reads off the headings. "Wave particles," she says, her voice a gentle melody. "Quantum mechanics, gravity, light refraction..." "No; bad Hanna. Include page numbers!" He interrupts her. Her eyes widen slightly, but she nods, her voice calm. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her finger tracing the words. "Let's start again." She reads out the first entry, her voice a soft lullaby. "Wave particles, pages 47-52." Plankton's antennas twitch with interest, his eye darting to the book. "Is that okay?" she asks, her eyes searching his for approval. He nods eagerly. "Good," she says, her voice a gentle affirmation. "Wave particles, pages 47-52." She continues, her finger gliding over the small print. "Quantum mechanics, pages 104-130." Plankton's antennae dance with excitement, his eye locked on her movements. "More," he whispers, his voice a plea for knowledge. Hanna's voice is a steady rhythm as she reads through the index. "Electromagnetism, pages 173-208," she says, her voice a gentle guide. Plankton's rocking swayed in time with her words, his body still, his breathing even. He's found comfort in the orderly list, the predictability of each topic and its corresponding pages. It's a small victory, but in the quiet aftermath of his seizure, it feels like a monumental one. Hanna's voice is a soft steady beat, her eyes never leaving his. "Gravity, pages 243-270," she reads, each entry a stepping stone back to the person he knows himself to be. Plankton's eye flutters closed, the rocking slowing down. His breathing evens out. "Good," he murmurs, his voice quiet. "Good, good." Hanna reads on. "Relativity, pages 315-360," she whispers, as she can feel his tension ease with each page number she says. "Dark matter," she continues, "pages 402-430." His antennae twitch in agreement, his body relaxing further into the comfort of the blanket. He leans closer to Hanna. "Good," he whispers, his voice a soft echo. "More." Hanna nods, her eyes flickering between the index and Plankton. "Supernovae," she says, her voice a gentle guide. "Pages 512-540." Plankton relaxes even further. His antennae twitch, his eye half-closed. "Good," he whispers. "Good book." Her voice is a soft narration, her finger tracing the words. "Quantum entanglement, pages 623-650." Plankton's body relaxes fully, the plushie still a warm comfort in his hand as his head tilts to Hanna's shoulder. Her voice is a gentle whisper. "Time dilation, pages 701-730." Plankton's antennae still, his breathing now deepening into sleep. Hanna keeps reading. "Particle physics, pages 801-830," she continues. Karen watches from the doorway, her heart swelling with love. This is the Plankton she knows, the one who finds comfort in the ordered chaos of the universe. She smiles at Hanna, her eyes filled with a quiet pride. Hanna continues. "String th-" But she's cut off by a soft snore from Plankton's relaxed form. His antennae are still, his grip on the plushie loose. She looks up, her eyes meeting Karen's. Surprise fills her gaze. "Is he...asleep?" she asks, her voice a whisper. Karen nods, a small smile touching her lips. "Looks like it," she whispers. "Good job, Hanna." Hanna's heart races, his head heavy on her shoulder. Plankton's sleep is deep, his body a testament to the peace he's found in the comfort of the book and their calm voices. Karen approaches them, her movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb him. Hanna looks up, her eyes questioning. "What do we do now?" she whispers, her voice a soft concern, his tiny hand loosely clutching the plushie. "We need to get him to bed," Karen says, her voice a gentle command. "But we have to be careful not to wake him." Hanna nods, her movements mirroring Karen's calmness. They stand slowly, their eyes on Plankton's peaceful face. "Ready?" Karen whispers, and together, they lift him by his blanket-cocooned form, his head resting on Hanna's shoulder. They move as one, a silent ballet of care and precision. Each step is calculated, each shift of weight measured. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly in his sleep, but he remains oblivious to the world around him, even when the plushie falls out of his grasp. Hanna gasps. "Got it," she whispers. Karen nods, a silent thanks. They continue the delicate transfer, the plushie tucked between his body and the softness of the blanket. They lay him down, the plushie nestled under his arm, his body still relaxed in sleep. Hanna helps tuck him in, her movements careful not to disturb the fragile peace. Karen nods, her eyes on Plankton's sleeping form. "Good," she whispers. "Just like that." His antennae twitch slightly, a soft snore escaping him. Hanna's hands are steady as she slides the plushie under his arm, her movements gentle and precise. They stand back, their breaths held, watching as Plankton's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. Karen's hand reaches out to Hanna's, a silent gesture of solidarity. They've managed this together, his peace a testament to their unity.

PLUSH ONE xvii (By NeuroFabulous) They sit in silence, observing Plankton's shaking form. His antennae quiver in time with his ragged breaths. Hanna's eyes are a pool of uncertainty, but she nods. They watch as Plankton's body relaxes, his antennae stilling. He opens his eye, his gaze searching the room. Karen's heart clenches as she sees the fear in his eye. Hanna's hand twitches, wanting to reach out, but she stops herself. She's learned his boundaries, the invisible walls of his autism. "Plankton?" she whispers, her voice soft. His antennae twitch, his eye snapping to her. "What?" he says, his voice a defensive whisper. Hanna's voice is tentative, her hand hovering in the air. "I'm... I'm not taking your plushie," she says, her eyes filled with sincerity. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze still wary. "Help?" he whispers, his voice a soft question. Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes," she says, her voice gentle. "We're here for you." Plankton's antennae still, his gaze unreadable. Karen's heart is a tight knot of fear and hope. "It's okay," she whispers. "We're a team, remember?" His eye flickers, a glimpse of the Plankton she knows, the one who used to laugh and scheme. Slowly, he nods. Karen's heart soars with relief. "Good," she whispers. "We're here." Plankton's antennae quiver, his body tense. He's not sure how to respond to this new dynamic, where his fear dictates their interactions. He looks at the plushie in his arms, the soft fabric comforting against his skin. It's a constant in a world that's shifted on its axis. Karen's eyes are filled with understanding. "We'll find a way," she whispers, her voice a soft promise. "Together." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze flicking between Karen and Hanna. He feels their warmth, their care. Slowly, he nods. "Plankton," Hanna says, her voice a soft question. "Can I...sit with you?" Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye darting between her and the plushie. Slowly, he nods. Hanna takes a tentative step forward, her heart racing. She sits down carefully beside him, her movements measured, not wanting to startle him. Her hand hovers, unsure if he'll let her touch him. Karen watches, her heart in her throat. She's seen this before, the struggle for understanding. But this time, it's different. This time, Hanna's here. Hanna's hand hovers over Plankton's arm, a silent offer of friendship. Plankton's eye flickers to it, then back to her face. His antennae quiver, his body tense. He's trying to process, to understand this new dynamic. Slowly, Hanna sets her hand on his arm. His body jolts, but he doesn't pull away. Karen's breath catches as she waits for his reaction. But Plankton simply looks at Hanna, his gaze searching. Hanna's hand is a gentle weight, a silent promise of support. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye blinking rapidly. He's trying to process this new sensation, this unexpected touch from someone other than Karen. Karen's heart races as she watches, her eyes never leaving his face. She sees the tension in his body, the way his eye flutters with uncertainty. Plankton's gaze is on Hanna's hand, the contact unfamiliar. He takes a deep breath, his tiny chest rising and falling with the effort. Karen's stance is poised, ready to intervene if needed. But Hanna's touch is gentle, almost imperceptible. Plankton's antennae twitch, his body still tense. He's not used to this, not used to anyone other than Karen invading his space. His new world is defined by sensory overload and the need for sameness. Karen's eyes are a silent prayer, her body poised to intervene. But she holds back, giving Hanna a chance to connect, to bridge the gap that autism has created. Hanna's hand remains steady on Plankton's arm, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a soft apology. "I didn't mean to upset you." Plankton's antennae quiver, his body slowly relaxing. He's still on edge, his autism making him hyper- aware of the unpredictable world around him. He looks at Hanna's hand, the new sensation strange, despite not being entirely unpleasant. Karen's eyes are filled with hope, her breath held. Hanna's touch is a bridge, a tentative reach across the chasm of misunderstanding. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle reassurance. "I'm here." Plankton's antennae still, his body frozen. The plushie in his arms is a barricade against the world, a reminder of the comfort he craves. He looks at Hanna's hand. Hanna's eyes are filled with understanding, her hand still. "We're not going anywhere," she murmurs. "Take all the time you need." Plankton's antennae quiver, his body still tense. The plushie is a fortress against the chaos, but Hanna's touch is an unfamiliar presence, a threat to his carefully constructed world. He looks at Karen, his gaze pleading. Karen's eyes are filled with comprehension. "It's okay, sweetheart," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. "Hanna's here to help." Plankton's gaze flickers between Karen and Hanna, his tiny body coiled tight. He's not used to sharing his space, not since the world turned into a cacophony of sensory assaults. Hanna's hand remains a question mark on his arm, her eyes filled with hope. "Please," she whispers, her voice a soft plea. "We're just trying to be friends." Plankton's antennae twitch, his gaze flicking between Karen and Hanna. The room is too loud, too bright. His mind whirls with confusion, trying to navigate this new terrain of social interaction. He's used to Karen, her gentle voice and familiar scent. But Hanna is new. "Space," he whispers, his voice shaky. "Need space." Hanna's hand retracts, a silent apology. She nods, her eyes filled with sadness. "Okay," she says, her voice barely audible. Karen's gaze is filled with pride as she watches Hanna's understanding dawn. It's a slow process, but she's learning. "Thank you," she murmurs. Hanna nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's tense form. "It's okay," she whispers. "I'll give you space." She moves to the other side of the room, leaving a wide berth between them. Plankton's antennae twitch less frequently, his body slowly uncoiling.

PLUSH ONE xi (By NeuroFabulous) Hanna nods, her smile gentle. "It's okay," she says, patting his shoulder. But Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting up. "NO TOUCH!" he cries out, his voice piercing the quiet. Hanna's hand jerks back, surprise etched on her screen. "It's okay," she murmurs, trying to ease the tension. Plankton clutches the plushie to his chest, his body shaking. "MINE," he repeats, his voice quivering. Karen understands his fear, his desire for sameness. His autism has turned a simple act of kindness into a threat to him. "I'm sorry," Hanna whispers, backing away. "I just di-" But Hanna backed into a desk of Plankton's books, which now fall misaligned to the floor with a thud. Plankton's eye widens in horror, his antennae twitching in fury. The disrupted order sends his senses into overdrive. Plankton can't take it. The loud thud, the mess... He jumps up, the plushie falling to the floor, forgotten. He starts to pick up the books, his hands shaking as he hurls them angrily at Hanna, who gasps. Karen sees the panic in his eye, the overwhelming sensory assault of the unexpected noise and movement. She moves to intervene, racing. "PLANKTON, STOP!" she shouts, her voice firm but not harsh. She doesn't want to startle him further. The books fly through the air, one hitting Hanna's arm with a thump. "Hey!" she cries, but Karen's focus is on Plankton. His body is a storm of jerky movements, his autistic mind struggling to cope with the sudden chaos. Karen's eyes are filled with fear and sadness. This isn't the Plankton she knows, not the one who would actually hurt someone. "PLANKTON!" she cries, her voice a thunderclap in the small room. He stops, his body trembling with rage and confusion. His antennae quiver, searching for the source of the disruption. Hanna stands back, her arm rubbing where the book had hit. "What's happening?" she whispers, her eyes wide with shock. But Karen's focus is on Plankton, his body a taut wire of anger. "It's okay," she says, her voice steady, though her heart is racing. "Let's just... let's clean up." Plankton's eye darts around the room, his antennae still quivering. He looks at her, his expression a storm of emotions she can't quite read. But she sees the fear, the confusion. And she knows she must act. Karen moves towards him, slowly, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "It's okay," she repeats, her voice the calm in the storm. "Let's clean up." But Plankton's autism doesn't understand calm. It sees only the mess, the disarray. His body shakes with frustration, his eye wild. He throws another book, this time it misses Hanna but hits the wall with a crack. Karen's eyes fill with tears. "Plankton," she says firmly, but with love. "This isn't you." But Plankton's rage doesn't subside. He throws another book, the spine snapping with the force. "PLANKTON, NO!" Karen shouts, but he doesn't hear her. His autism has taken over, his brain unable to process the sudden influx of stimuli. He throws another book, his body a blur of motion, Karen's eyes never leaving his face. She must get him to a safe space before he hurts someone, before he shatters the fragile peace they've built. "PLANKTON!" she shouts, louder this time. "STOP!" Her voice pierces the chaos, and his movements falter. His eye finds hers, and she sees the storm in his gaze, the fear and confusion. Karen's knowing she must act quickly. With a deep breath, she moves closer, her arms outstretched, her voice steady. "It's okay," she says, her tone a gentle lullaby. "Let's calm dow—" But Plankton's fury isn't easy to tame. He throws another book, his aim now erratic. The room is a whirlwind of paper and panic, the air thick with his distress. Karen's eyes never leave his, her voice the only constant in the chaos. "PLANKTON, PLEASE!" she calls, her desperation clear. She needs to get through to him, to the person she loves beneath the tumultuous autistic rage. But Plankton's autism has hijacked his mind, his body a vessel for fear and anger. He throws the last book, his arm slinging it like a weapon. It sails through the air, headed straight for Hanna. Karen's instincts take over, and she leaps forward, her hand catching it mid-flight. The room falls silent, the book in her hand a stark reminder of the chaos that was just moments before. Her eyes are on Plankton, his body heaving with frustration. Hanna's eyes are wide, fear and confusion etched on her screen. Karen aches for the man she loves, his world now a minefield of sensory overload. Hanna stands frozen, her eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry," Karen murmurs, turning to her. "This isn't usual for him." But Plankton's fury doesn't subside. He lunges at her, his tiny body a blur of rage. Karen steps in, her arms spreading wide to protect Hanna. "PLANKTON!" she cries, his name a plea. His antennae slap her face, stinging with the force of his anger. She stumbles backward, her eyes never leaving his. "It's okay," she whispers, though she's not sure if it is. Plankton's body convulses, his legs flailing. Karen moves closer, trying to soothe him, but he's beyond reason. His tiny fists clench, his face distorted with rage. Hanna stumbles backward, fear in her eyes. "What's going on?" she asks, her voice shaking. Karen's a drum of worry. "Plankton," she whispers, her eyes pleading. "It's me, Karen." But his autism doesn't hear her words. It sees only the chaos, the invasion of his space. Karen's mind races, searching for a way to calm him. "PLANKTON!" she says, her voice firm but calm. "Look at me." She holds out her hand, her palm open, a silent offer of safety. But Plankton's anger doesn't abate. He swipes at the air. Karen knows she must act quickly before someone gets hurt. "PLANKTON, STOP!" she says firmly, her voice a steady drumbeat in the chaos. She holds out her hand, her movements slow and deliberate. "Look at me," she repeats, her screen filled with love and determination. But his fury doesn't abate. His body jerks, his antennae slapping the air as he tries to push past her to get to Hanna. Karen's eyes flicker to the plushie on the floor, then back to Plankton's wild gaze. Her voice remains steady, though fear tightens her throat. "Plankton, remember the plushie?" she asks, her words a soft whisper. "It's still here. It's still yo-" But her words are cut off by his shriek. Plankton's tiny body is a tornado of rage, his fists flailing. Karen's eyes never leave his. Her mind is a blur, searching for the right words, the right action to soothe his distress. Her voice is a lifeline, a steady beat in the storm. "Look at the plushie," she says, desperation coating her words. "Remember ho-" But Plankton's autism doesn't heed her pleas. His body writhes, his eye wild with fear and anger as he suddenly swings his fist, catching Karen off guard. She must get through to him. "PLANKTON!" she cries out, but he's deaf to her voice. Her eyes search his, looking for the man she loves, but all she sees is a tempest of sensory overload and confusion. With a tremble, Karen drops the book she'd caught and reaches out, her hand slow and gentle, offering comfort in the chaos. But Plankton's autism interprets it as an assault. He lunges again, his fists a flurry of pain. Karen's body is a shield, her eyes filled with tears as she tries to keep him from Hanna. Her voice remains calm, a beacon in the storm of his anger. "PLANKTON, PLEASE!" she shouts, but her voice is drowned by his screams. But she won't give up, not on him. With a tremble, Karen reaches for the plushie, her hand shaking as she holds it out to him. "Look," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "Your plushie, remembe---" But the sight of the toy doesn't calm him. Instead, it fuels his rage. He snatches it from her, his antennae whipping around in a frenzy. "MINE!" he shouts, the word a battle cry as he swings the plushie wildly. The room fills with the sound of fabric ripping, stuffing flying. Karen's eyes widen with horror. This isn't the Plankton she knows, the loving man who cherished his quiet moments with her. This is someone lost in his own world, a world of overwhelming sensory assault. The plushie, once a symbol of comfort, is now a weapon in his hands. He swings it wildly, the fabric tearing under his frenzied grip. Feathers and stuffing fill the air, the chaos a stark contrast to the silent tears sliding down Karen's screen. Hanna's eyes are wide, her body pressed against the wall, her mind racing with uncertainty. Karen sees the question in her gaze: What's happening? But there's no time for explanations. Plankton's autism has taken over, his fear a wildfire that she must extinguish before it consumes them all. Karen's eyes dart around the room, searching for something to help, something that might bring him back to her, to the reality where his world isn't falling apart. Her eyes land on the plushie, now a sad, torn mess on the floor. But she won't give up, not on the man she loves. Karen's mind races, searching for a way to break through the barricade of his fear. The room seems to spin, a whirlwind of panic and pain. Her eyes lock on the plushie, now a tattered mess at his feet. With a quick breath, she crouches down, her movements slow and deliberate. "Plankton," she whispers, her voice a lifeline in the tempest.

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 13 The quiet was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Hanna, Karen's newest friend, who didn't know about their situation. "I brought over sudoku for you Karen," she chirped, her eyes widening as she took in Plankton's swollen face. "Oh my Neptune; what happened?" Karen chuckled, leading Hanna into the living room. "It's my husband," she whispered. "He had his wisdom teeth out." Hanna's gaze fell to Plankton, still sprawled on the couch. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his puffy mouth and dazed expression. "Oh, the poor dear," she mumbled, her voice filled with concern. Karen nodded. "It's okay, he's just a bit loopy from the anesthesia," she explained, her tone light. "And meet our son Chip, and my gal pal Sandy.." Hanna's eyes darted to Sandy, then to Chip, then back to Plankton. "Hi," Chip mumbled, his voice shy. Sandy offered a small wave from her chair. Hanna smiled warmly. "Hi there," she said, her eyes still on Plankton. "My house is being repaired and I need a place to stay.." Karen nodded. "Of course, you can stay here," she said. "You and Sandy can share the guest bedroom." Hanna's eyes widened. "But... what about him?" she whispered, pointing at Plankton. Karen chuckled. "Don't worry," she said. "He'll be out for a few more hours. Just keep it down, ok?" She didn't wanna tell Hanna about his autism without his consent. Hanna nodded, her curiosity piqued. "I'll be quiet as a clam," she promised. Karen turned back to Plankton, her gaze filled with love. "Honey," she said, her voice gentle. "We have a guest. Hanna's going to stay with us for a bit." Plankton's eye opened slightly. "Wha... who?" he slurred, his voice still thick. "It's... it's okay," Karen soothed. "It's just Ha—" But Plankton's eye closes again, cutting off her introduction. "Mmh," he mumbled, his head lolling to the side. Clearly, the anesthesia was still in full effect. Hanna looked from Karen to Plankton, her confusion clear. "Is he ok?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. Karen nodded. "He's fine," she said. "Just tired." With a gentle nudge, Karen coaxed Plankton to sit up, his body moving sluggishly. "Bedtime, sweetie," she said, keeping her voice low and soothing. Plankton's eye flickered open, and he looked at her with a sleepy gaze. "Bet?" He stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily on Karen's arm. "M'fine," he mumbled, his steps wobbly. Sandy watched with a soft smile, her heart warmed by the tender scene. Chip looked up from his spot on the floor, his curiosity piqued by his father's unusual behavior. They made their way to the bedroom, Plankton's steps slow and deliberate as his body fought against the anesthesia's lingering grip. Karen helped him into his bed. As she pulled the covers up to his chin, his eye fluttered open. "I... I wuv youw," he whispered, his voice still slurred. Karen's eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too," she said, kissing his forehead. With a gentle touch, she began to remove the gauze from his mouth. His eye widened slightly, and he made a small protesting sound. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured. The gauze came away with ease, revealing the stitches. Plankton's mouth was still slightly swollen, but the bleeding had stopped. Sandy watched from the doorway, her smile warm. "We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?" Plankton nodded, his gaze drooping. "M'kay," he mumbled. Karen tucked him in, his body already starting to relax into sleep. As she turned off the light, she couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over her. Despite the day's events, Plankton had managed to show them all his true colors, his love and affection shining through the fog of pain and medication. The next morning, any anesthesia in Plankton's body was gone. He woke up, his hand flying to his mouth. "Oww," he whined, his mouth hurting and sore. Karen greets him. "Good morning, darling," she said softly. "How do you feel?" Plankton's face scrunched up as he tried to recall. "Right, I had my wisdom teeth out," he said, his speech no longer slurred. He sat up slowly, his hands gently touching the swollen cheeks. "It's okay," Karen said. "It's normal to feel discomfort after surgery." Plankton nodded, his mind racing as he remembered the previous night's events. "What happened last night?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen smiled, handing him a cup of water. "You had a bit of an adventure," she said. "But we'll tell you all about it later." She helped him sip the water. "What all do you remember, Plankton?" He furrowed his brow, his thoughts jumbled. "I remember... I remember going and... the mask," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I next woke up..." His voice trailed off, his gaze darting around the room. "I was helped to the car. I believe that's all."

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 14 Karen had decided to keep his post-surgery nonsense revelations to themselves for now, not wanting to overwhelm him with too much information at once. Chip and Sandy entered the room, their eyes filled with concern. "Morning, Dad," Chip said, his voice tentative. Plankton looked up at his son, then at Sandy. "You both... you were... there?" he asked, his voice still groggy. Sandy nodded, a gentle smile on her face. "You had a good night," she assured him. Chip sat on the edge of the bed, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What do you mean?" Plankton asked, his gaze shifting from one to the other. Sandy cleared her throat. "You were a bit... out of it," she began. "You said some things that were... well, not quite like you." Plankton's eye narrowed slightly, his memory foggy. "What kind of things?" Karen and Sandy exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. "You were just loopy," Karen said gently. "You know, from the medicine." Plankton nodded, his curiosity still piqued. "Like what?" "Well," Chip began, "you called me your best son." Plankton's eye went wide. "What?" he exclaimed, his voice sharp. "I said that?" Karen nodded with a soft smile. "You did, Plankton." Plankton's face grew red with embarrassment. "Oh, Neptune," he mumbled, his hand flying to his mouth. Sandy stepped forward. "You don't need to be embarrassed, Plankton," she said gently. "It's just how the anesthesia affected you." Plankton took a deep breath, his mind racing. "I... I remember feeling relieved to be ok..." Chip leaned in, his voice filled with wonder. "Dad, you were like a different person. You were so..." Plankton's face grew redder, his discomfort palpable. "Chip, I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice sharp. "Please, just... just give me some space." Karen stepped in, her voice soothing. "It's okay, Plankton. The anesthesia can make people say things they don't mean." But Chip was insistent, his eyes wide with curiosity. "But Dad, you said you love me," he pressed, his voice innocent and hopeful. Plankton swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest, when Hanna came in. "Oh, Plankton, you're finally awake!" she said, cheerfully. He looked at her, his expression blank. "You don't remember?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "Remember what?" he mumbled, his head throbbing with confusion. "Who is SHE?" Karen stepped in, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Plankton," she said gently. "You had some medicine that made you a bit loopy. This is Hanna, my friend. She's staying here while her house gets repairs." Plankton's gaze went to Hanna. "Friend?" he repeated, his voice still thicker than usual. Hanna smiled warmly. "Hi there, Plankton! I'm so sorry to see you feeling poorly.." Her cheerfulness was met with Plankton's skepticism. He'd never met her before, and his autistic mind was still trying to piece together the events of the previous evening. His eye narrowed slightly as he took her in, his usual caution in full force. "I... I don't know you," he said. Hanna's smile didn't waver. "But your wife Karen is one of my best friends!" Karen stepped in, seeing the uncertainty in Plankton's gaze. "Remember Hanna, sweetie?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton frowned, his mind racing to recall any details. "I don't..." he trailed off, his voice filled with confusion. Hanna approached the bed, her movements slow and careful not to startle him. "It's okay. I'm a friend of Karen's." She held out a hand. "Would you li—" But Plankton recoiled, his body tensing. "Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. Hanna's hand hovered in the air, before retreating. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" "It's fine," Karen said, cutting her off. She knew how overwhelming the world could be for Plankton, and this was clearly pushing his limits. She and Sandy shared a knowing look. Plankton's autism often made social situations challenging, and his sensory processing was particularly sensitive as he recovers from oral surgery. "Daddy, it's okay," Chip whispered, placing a tentative hand on Plankton's shoulder. The touch was unwelcome, and Plankton's eye darted to his son's, his frustration mounting. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, pushing Chip's hand away. The sudden movement sent a shockwave of pain through his jaw. He whimpered as he leaned back. Sandy saw the flash of anger in Plankton's eye. "Chip, give your dad some space," she suggested calmly. Chip's eyes widened, and he took a step back, his face a mask of hurt. Karen's heart ached. Hanna looked shocked, her hands clutching her sudoku book to her chest. "Plankton," she began, her voice shaking. "I said don't touch me!" Plankton yelled again, his voice echoing through the small room. His body was wracked with pain and frustration, and the sudden influx of people and stimuli was too much to handle. Hanna took a deep breath and stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate. "Plankton, it's okay," she said calmly. "It's okay, ju—" "NO!" Plankton's voice boomed through the room, his body shaking with anger. "I don't want anyone touching me!" Karen stepped closer, her voice soothing. "Plankton, it's okay. You're just in pain. Remember?" she asked, her hand reaching for a plush toy. Plankton swiped it away, his fury building. "No, I don't want that!" His eye darted around the room, his breaths quick and shallow. The pain from his surgery was now secondary to the storm of emotions inside his mind. He was a creature of routine and predictability, and the sudden influx of new faces and sensations was more than he could bear.

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 15 "I said NO!" Plankton's voice boomed again, his tiny fists clenched tightly by his side. His body was a coil of tension, his usual calculating gaze replaced by one of pure, unbridled rage. Karen stepped back, her heart racing. She'd seen this side of him before, yet it was always a shock. Plankton's chest heaved with heavy breaths, his face a mask of pain and fury. Karen knew that his anger was a defense mechanism, a way to cope with the overwhelming sensory overload. She took a tentative step closer, her hands up in a non-threatening motion. "No, no, no," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't like it. I don't like it when they touch me." His voice was a mix of anger and fear. Sandy stepped in, her voice calm and soothing. "It's okay, Plankton. We're just trying to help." She offered a gentle smile, her hands open and palms facing him. "Let's al-" "I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Plankton's scream pierced the silence, sending a shiver down Sandy's spine. His tiny body was a whirlwind of anger, his eye wild with fear. Karen stepped back, knowing that pushing him now would only make things worse. Chip looked at his father, his eyes wide with fright. He'd never seen his father like this. Hanna, however, thought he needed more than just space. Her instincts told her to comfort him, to show him that he wasn't alone. She took a step closer, her hand reaching out again. "Plankton," she said softly, her eyes filled with understanding. But her gentle touch was met with a sudden jerk, as Plankton swiped her hand away with a snarl. "No!" he shouted, his body stiffening against the bed. "I said no!" Karen's heart ached as she watched her husband's breakdown unfold. She knew his autism made him particularly sensitive to touch, especially when he was in pain or overwhelmed. Hanna, though well-meaning, was unaware of this and her persistent affection was only exacerbating his distress. "Back off!" Plankton roared, his body arching. Hanna froze, her hand in mid-air. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she stammered, her eyes wide with shock. She'd never seen anyone react so violently to kindness before, Plankton's eye darting around the room. "I don't like it," he murmured, his voice a mix of anger and fear. "I don't like it.." "But... but Plankton," Hanna protested, her voice quavering. "You're hurt, I just want to help." Plankton's body stilled, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions. "I don't like it," he repeated, his voice low. "It's okay," Karen said, keeping her voice calm. Chip nodded, his eyes still wide with concern, but he backed away. Sandy took a step back too, her expression a mix of surprise and understanding. Only Hanna remained, her hand hovering in the air, her brows furrowed with confusion. "Plankton," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I just want to make sure you're okay." His eye darted to her, his anger flaring anew. "I'm fine," he snarled, his voice harsh. "Just... leave me al-" "But Plankton," Hanna protested, her voice filled with concern. "You're acting so problematic." She doesn't understand the depth of his condition, and the next word slips out before she could catch it. "You're being so... ret-" The word hung in the air, a sharp knife cutting through the tension. Plankton's body stiffened, his eye flaring with a mix of anger and pain. His heart skipped a beat, a cruel reminder of the slur that had caused so much pain in the past. "Get out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Get out, now." Hanna looked at him, her expression a mix of shock and pity. "But Plankton, we all know you are!" She stated. "You need to understand that your behavior is unacceptable. Do you think Karen herself would have married you if she knew you were...? You know you are, Plankton. It's just a fact." Plankton felt tears well up in his eye. "Hanna, that's enough!" he snapped. But Hanna was on a roll, her voice growing louder with each word. "You're just a burden, always needing special treatment," she said, her voice harsh. "That's not fair, Hanna," he said, his voice firm. "And if Karen heard yo-" "Oh, please," Hanna sneered. "Your poor wife has to deal with this every day. She deserves better." Plankton's eye narrowed, his anger building. "You don't know anything about what Karen and I have," he said, his voice shaking. "Karen won't be hap–" "Karen is a saint, Plankton," Hanna interrupted, her voice dripping with condescension. "Putting up with your little... quirks. And Karen won't tell you the truth, but I will. You're a re--- and she knows it. She's too nice to say it, but we all know. Karen doesn't actually love someone like you, Plankton." She said, her voice cold and sharp. "You want people to feel sorry for you, but even Karen believes that deep down. Why else would she have picked someone like me over you? So go ahead, have your little tantrum; no one cares." With that, Hanna turned and left, the door slamming behind her. Was it true? He took a deep, shaky breath and closed his eye, willing the tears away. When he opened it again, his gaze fell on the plush toy Karen had left on his bedside table. He picked it up, his thumb rubbing the soft fabric absently. Did Karen see him as only something to be just pitied, rather than loved? To hear it from someone so close to Karen was like being stabbed in the heart. He curled into a ball.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 11 The next morning, Plankton wakes up to see Karen still sleeping. The cast on his leg feels heavier than ever, a stark reminder of his current state. He shifts slightly, and the plaster shifts with his movement, a dull throb pulsing through his body. He sighs, his antennae drooping. As he looks around the room, his gaze lands on the crutches by the bedside. With a grunt of effort, he pulls them closer and hoists himself upright, his arms shaking slightly from the weight. He glances at the wheelchair in the corner, but uses his crutches instead. With a clank, he attaches the crutches to his arms and swings his cast-covered leg out of the bed. The pain is a dull reminder of his injury, but he refuses to let it win. He hobbles to the window. Through the glass, Plankton sees Squidward walking by, his tentacles wrapped around a morning newspaper. His heart sinks. "Ugh," he mumbles to himself. Squidward, the neighbor SpongeBob loves to annoy. Squidward, who's always complaining about his quiet, orderly world being disrupted by Sponge Bob's boundless energy. Plankton sighs. He watches Squidward's silhouette pass by, his antennae twitching. Why can't Squidward just appreciate the simplicity of life, he thinks. But even as the thought passes his mind, Plankton knows deep down, he's not so different. Both of them crave success, both of them have their quirks, their obsessions. He hobbles back to the bed, when Karen awakes to her phone lighting up. "It's Hanna," she says, her eyes still sleepy. "Her home needs repair and she's on her way. I don't think you've met.." Plankton's heart sinks. "What?" he asks, his voice rasped with irritation. "You didn't tell me anyone was coming." Karen sits up, apologetic. "I didn't know, sorry," she says. "It's just Hanna. She needs a place to stay." Plankton's antennae twitch with annoyance. "Now?" he asks, his voice tight. "I can't even wa-" Karen cuts him off with a firm look. "Plankton, she's my friend," she says, her voice calm but firm. "And she needs our help." Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping. He knows he can't win this one. The doorbell rings, interrupting their exchange. Karen hops out of bed. Plankton sighs heavily. Hanna enters inside. "Karen! Thanks for letting me in." Karen smiles. "Of course, Hanna. You're welcome any time." She hugs her as Plankton emerges with his crutches. Hanna's eyes widen at the sight of Plankton, his cast a stark contrast to the vibrant decor. "Oh, who's this?" she asks, her voice sweet. Plankton scowls. "This is Plankton," Karen says, her voice cheerful. "My husband," she adds, her smile bright. Hanna's eyes widen further. "Oh! Hi there," she says, extending a hand. Plankton looks at it skeptically before shaking it with a grunt. "Hi," he says, his voice less than enthusiastic. Hanna's smile doesn't waver. "How are y-you feeling?" she asks, trying not to glance at the cast. "Just fine," Plankton responds. He adjusts his grip on the crutches. Karen sighs. "Hanna, this is my husband, Plankton," she repeats, forcing a smile. "And Plankton, this is Hanna," she says, trying to keep the peace. Hanna's smile doesn't falter. "It's s-so nice to finally meet you," she says, her eyes averting the cast. Plankton can feel her curiosity, but he refuses to explain his predicament. "Likewise," he mutters, his tone dry. Karen's eyes dance with a mix of amusement and concern. She knows his pride is wounded, but Karen also knows how much he loves herself and will tolerate for her own sake, even though he's not to excited with Hanna. Hanna's gaze flits from Karen to Plankton, her face a canvas of uncertainty. "I'm glad to stay here with you and sorry for the short notice," she says, her voice slightly too cheerful. Plankton nods, his antennae barely moving. "Where's your stuff?" Hanna gestures to the suitcase behind her. "Just this," she says, her smile still in place. "So uh, where do I put it?" Karen points to the couch. "You can leave it there for now," she says. "We'll find you a place to stay." Hanna's eyes light up. "Thank you," she says, her voice filled with gratitude. Plankton shifts his weight on his crutches, his expression still unreadable. "So, Plankton," Hanna says, her voice bright. "What kind of things do you like to do around h-here?" Plankton glances at her, his antennae twitching. "Not much," he says, his voice tight. Karen gives him a knowing look. "Plankton can be a bit of a homebody," she says, her voice gentle. Hanna nods, her eyes still wide with curiosity. "Oh, I see," she says. "Well, I'm s-sure we'll find something fun to do together-er.." Plankton's antennae quiver. Karen shoots him a look. Plankton sighs, begrudging. Hanna looks between them, her smile still in place. "Well, I-I'm sure we'll g-get along," she says. Plankton rolls his eye, his discomfort palpable. Karen clears her throat, trying to ease the tension. "Why don't we all sit down?" she suggests, her voice bright. Hanna nods eagerly, her eyes still on Plankton. He reluctantly follows, his crutches tapping against the floor. They settle into the living room, Plankton carefully placing his casted leg on the coffee table. The silence hangs heavy for a moment before Hanna jumps in. "So, w-what’s your favorite hobby, P-Plankton?" she asks, her voice a mix of eagerness and nerves. Plankton looks at her, his eye narrowing. "My favorite hobby?" he repeats. "Yes," she says, awkwardly. "What do you like to do i-in your free t-time?" Plankton's antennae wobble slightly. "Things," Plankton says, his voice clipped. "Just...things." Hanna nods, her smile still in place despite his curtness. "Oh," she says. "Well, I lo-ove to read a-and cook. Do you like t-to read?" Plankton's antennae still, his eye blinking, his tone flat. "I guess so," he says. Hanna's smile falters for a split second before she recovers. "Great," she says, her voice cheery. "Maybe w-we c-can swap book recommendations later.." Hanna's eyes dart to his cast quickly before snapping back up to his face. Plankton notices the glance, his expression unreadable. Karen watches the interaction with a mixture of amusement and concern. She knows Hanna's intentions are pure, but Plankton's pride is not easily soothed. Hanna jumps to her feet. "Would you like to talk about anything specific?" she asks, her voice perky. Plankton considers for a moment before shaking his head. "No, just...things," he says, his voice trailing off. Hanna nods, her cheerfulness unflagging. "Well, I've been reading this amazing book on jellyfish migration patterns," she says, her eyes sparkling. "Did you know that jellyfish can travel for thousands of miles?" Karen watches as Plankton's eye twitches. "That's...fascinating," he says, his tone devoid of enthusiasm. Hanna doesn't seem to notice, her excitement bubbling over. "It really is," she says. "They're such wonderful creatures. Have you gone jellyfishing?" Plankton's antennae quiver. He shakes his head. "Can't say I really have," he says, his voice flat. Hanna nods, her smile never wavering. "It's something you have to try," she says. "Unless your le- I mean, unless you'd rather not?" Hanna blushes, trying to force a chuckle. Plankton shifts his weight on the crutches, his patience wearing thin. Karen sighs silently, watching the awkward exchange.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 12 Karen knows he's trying to be polite, but it's clear his tolerance is waning. This isn't how she wanted Hanna to meet Plankton. She'd hoped for a more harmonious introduction, but with his current mood and the cast looming over the room, it's clear that's not going to happen. "So, Hanna," she says, her voice cutting through the tension. "Why don't we get you settled in?" Hanna's smile doesn't falter. "Okay," she says, her eyes sliding to Plankton's cast again before quickly looking away. Karen leads Hanna to the guest room, leaving Plankton alone with his thoughts. He stares at the wall, his antennas drooping. Karen knows Plankton isn't one for strangers, and his current condition has made him even more prickly. In the guest room, Hanna sets down her suitcase, her smile fading slightly as Karen closes the door. "I'm so sorry," Hanna says, her eyes filled with apology. "I didn't kno—" Karen waves her apology away. "It's okay," she says, her voice warm. "He's just a bit...sensitive right now." Hanna nods. "Can I ask you something, Karen?" Her voice is soft, tentative. "How did he...? Like why's he in a ca--" Karen cuts her off with a gentle smile. "It's a long story," she says. "But basically, he had an accident. It's just going to take some time." She looks at Hanna, her eyes filled with warmth. "And a little patience." Hanna nods, understanding. "I see," she says. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make him uncomfortable." Karen gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You didn't," she says. "He's just a bit...sensitive about it." Hanna nods, looking down at the floor. "But why does he have to wear that cast?" she asks, her voice hushed. Karen sighs. "It just helps his leg heal after surgery..." "He had surgery?" Hanna asks. "Yes," Karen explains patiently. "He had a pretty bad break, so the doctors had to do some fixing." Hanna's eyes widen with sympathy. "Oh no!" she exclaims. "Was it...painful for him during the surgery? Did he feel pain..." Karen's smile softens. "He's okay now," she assures her friend. "They gave him something so he didn't feel anything. They put him to sleep so he wouldn't feel anything." Hanna's eyes widen. "Oh, like a nap?" she asks, her voice high with curiosity. Karen nods. "Sort of, but not really. It's just a way to keep him comfortable during the surgery. It's a bit more complex than that," she says. "But yes, it's like a deep sleep." Hanna nods, her curiosity far from sated. "So, how did he break it?" she asks. Karen's eyes dart to the door, checking that Plankton isn't listening. "It was a little accident," she says, her voice low. "A...mishap. He tripped and hit a rock." Hanna's eyes widen. "Oh, no!" she says, her voice filled with concern. "Was it bad?" Karen nods. "It was pretty serious," she admits. "But he's going to be okay. The cast will keep his leg stable while it heals. He'll be in it for about a month." Hanna looks thoughtful. "A month," she repeats. "That's a long time." Karen nods. "It is, but he's strong. He'll get through it. Why don't we go back to the living room?" Hanna nods, her expression serious. They walk back to find Plankton sitting on the couch, his leg propped up on a pillow. He looks up as they enter, his expression unreadable. "So, what's the plan for the day?" Hanna asks, trying to lighten the mood as they re-enter the living room. Karen glances at Plankton, who simply shrugs his shoulders. "Well, we usually keep it pretty low-key around here," she says, forcing a smile. Hanna's eyes light up. "Oh, I don't mind," she says. "I'm happy just to help out." Plankton's antennae twitch. "Help out?" he asks, his voice sharp. Karen sighs. "Plankton, Hanna's going to stay with us for a bit," she says gently. "And we could use the extra hand." Hanna's smile doesn't waver. "It's no trouble," she says. "I'm happy to help with anything." Plankton looks at her, his expression skeptical. "Is that so?" he says, his voice cautious. Karen nods. "We could use the help," she repeats. "But what if I don't want to do anything?" Plankton asks, his tone challenging. Hanna's smile remains unbroken. "Then I'll just keep you company," she says. Her eyes flicker to the cast again, and Plankton feels his antennae stiffen. "Great," he says sarcastically. "A babysitter." Hanna's smile falters slightly. "I'm not a babysitter," she says, some defensiveness creeping into her voice. "I just want to help." Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. "Fine," he says. "But I can take care of myself." Hanna nods, her cheerfulness bubbling back up. "Of course, Plankton," she says. "But it's always nice to have someone to ta-" Her words are interrupted by Plankton's groan. "Look, I appreciate the offer," he says, cutting her off. "But I don't need a babysitter." His eye narrows. "Underst--" "I know you don't need one," Hanna says quickly, her voice earnest. "But it's nice to have company, right?" Karen nods, her smile slightly strained. "Exactly," she says. "And Hanna's good company." "I suppose," he says begrudgingly. Hanna's smile brightens. "Great!" she says, her voice chirpy. "What should we do first?" Plankton sighs. "I don't know," he says. "How about a game?" Hanna suggests. Karen nods. "That sounds fun," she says, trying to keep the peace. "Why don't we play something easy?" Plankton grunts his assent, his eye scanning the shelves for a game. He settles on a card game. "This one," he says. Hanna claps her hands together. "Perfect!" she says, her excitement contagious. Karen brings over the card game, setting it up on the coffee table. Plankton's leg sticks out, the cast a stark reminder of his current limitations. Karen smiles. "Let's move to the floor to sit on," she says. With a grumble, Plankton shifts to the floor, his cast scraping against the rug. Hanna and Karen follow, sitting cross-legged. Hanna picks up the cards, her fingers deftly shuffling them. "What's the game?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with eagerness. Plankton rolls his eye. "It's War," he says. "You know, the one where you just slap down the card with the highest number?" Hanna nods, understanding. "Oh, I love that one!" she says. Karen gives Plankton a look, silently willing him to be nicer. He sighs, his antennae drooping slightly. "Fine," he says. "Let's start."

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 13 They play for a few minutes in silence, the sound of slapping cards the only noise in the room. Hanna's cheerfulness begins to grate on Plankton's nerves, his antennae twitching with each of her exclamations of "Oh!" and "Wow!" every time she wins a round. Karen watches the exchange, her eyes flickering between them. "Plankton," she says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't we take a break?" Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. "I'm fine," he mutters. Hanna's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay if you need to—" He cuts her off with a glare. "I said I'm fine," he snaps, his voice tight. Karen squeezes his shoulder, her gaze firm. "Plankton," she says, her voice soft but firm. "Take a moment. We're all trying to make this work." Plankton huffs, his antennae stiffening. He knows she's right, but the cast on his leg is a constant reminder of his weakness, and Hanna's cheeriness is grating on his nerves. He takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his frustration. "Okay," he says through gritted teeth. "A break." Hanna's smile doesn't waver. "Great!" she says. "How abo---" Her words are cut off as Plankton swings his cast-covered leg around, wincing slightly as he does so. Hanna watches him, her concern etched on her face. "Careful," she warns gently. "I've got it," Plankton snaps, his pride bruised. He hobbles into his bedroom, his crutches echoing against the tiles. Karen sighs heavily, her eyes following him. "I'm sorry," Hanna says quickly. "I didn't mean to overstep." Karen shakes her head. "No, it's okay," she says. "He's just...going through a tough time." Hanna nods, her eyes filled with empathy. "I can see that," she says. "But he's lucky to have you." Karen smiles sadly. "Thanks, Hanna." They sit in silence for a moment before Karen stands up. "I'll go check on him," she says, leaving the living room. In the bedroom, Plankton is lying on the bed, his crutches leaning against the wall. He looks up as Karen enters, his expression unreadable. "You okay?" she asks, her voice gentle. Plankton shrugs. "I'm fine," he says, his voice clipped. Karen sighs. "You know, you don't have to be tough all the time," she says, sitting beside him. "We're all here to support you." Plankton turns his head to look at her, his single eye studying her face. "I know," he says, his voice softer. "It's just...embarrassing." Karen nods, her hand resting on his arm. "But you're not weak for needing help. It won't be forever." Plankton's eye blinks slowly, his antennae drooping. "I know, but it's just so...humiliating." Karen's grip on his arm tightens. "You're not weak, Plankton," she says firmly. "You're strong. You're going through a tough time, and that's okay." He looks away, his antennae waving slightly. "It's just...I don't like feeling so...so..." He struggles to find the words. "Vulnerable," she fills in gently. He nods, his eye closing. "Exactly." Karen's hand strokes his arm. "We all have our moments," she says. "It's okay to not be okay." Plankton's eye remains closed, his expression thoughtful. "Thanks," he mumbles, his antennae lifting slightly. They sit in companionable silence for a moment before Plankton sighs. "I'm just tired," he says, his voice weary. "Can we just...rest?" Karen nods, her face gentle. "Of course," she says. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll tell Hanna we're taking a break." She stands and leans over to kiss his forehead. "You're doing better than you think," she whispers. Plankton's antennae twitch. "Thanks," he murmurs, his voice soft. He watches as she leaves the room, his mind racing with thoughts. He's not used to feeling so... dependent. But he knows Karen's right. He needs to accept the help and move forward. With a sigh, he closes his eye and tries to comfortable, the cast on his leg feeling like a lead weight. The house is quiet, only the faint hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Plankton's mind wanders, thinking about his recovery. He's always been the one to push through, to never let anything hold him back. But this... this was different. He couldn't fight or scheme his way out of a broken leg. After a few moments of contemplation, his eye snaps open. The door creaks slightly as it opens. Hanna pokes her head in, her smile slightly more tentative than before. "Is it okay if I come in?" she asks softly. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "What is it?" Her cheeks flush slightly. "I just wanted to check on you," she says, stepping into the room. "And to...apologize." "For what?" he asks, his voice gruff. Hanna takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I was too enthusiastic," she says, her eyes meeting his. "I just wanted to m-" "Make me feel better?" Plankton finishes for her, his tone sarcastic. Hanna swallows, her smile slightly wobbly. "I guess," she admits. "I just didn't know how else t---" Her words are interrupted by a soft knock on the doorframe. They both look up to see SpongeBob peering in, his face etched with concern. "Hey, buddy," he says gently. "How are you holding up?" Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. "I'm fine," he says. Sponge Bob nods. "Well, if you need anything, just holler," he says before leaving. Hanna looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry," she repeats. "I di-" "Don't," Plankton says, cutting her off. Her smile falters. "What?" "You're being a...jerk." He answers her. Hanna's eyes widen in surprise. "I'm sorry," she stammers. "I didn't mean to be...I just want to make sure yo--" "You're annoying, Hanna! I have enough to deal with without you pestering me," Plankton snaps, his antennae quivering with agitation. Hanna's smile fades, and she takes a step back, her eyes welling with hurt. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I-I-I-I…" But Plankton's not done. "You're just nosy." Hanna's eyes fill with tears, but she fights them back. "I'm just trying to be your friend," she says, her voice shaking. "Get out! I don't need you, and it's none of your business!" Plankton's voice is sharp, his antennae stiff with anger. Hanna's smile crumbles. "Plankton, I just—" she starts, but he interrupts again. "What? Just what, Hanna? You wanna just stick around and gawk at me, or are you gonna go?" His voice is bitter, and she can see the frustration boiling behind his eye. Her smile is completely gone now, replaced by a look of sadness. "You know, Plankton," she says, her voice shaky, "you don't have to—" "Don't tell me what I have to do!" Plankton yells, his small frame trembling. "I know what I need, and it's not you poking your nose into my business!" Hanna's hands clench into fists at her sides. "I'm not poking my nose in," she says, her voice strained. "I'm just trying to help!" Her words are met with silence. Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae quivering with rage. "You think you're helping?" he spits. "You're not. You're just making everything worse. Why can't you just leave me alone?" Hanna's lip quivers, but she squares her shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere," she says firmly. "I care abou–" "You don't care about me," Plankton snaps. "You just want to know what happened so you can be the hero that 'saved' me." His eye glares at her, his antennae vibrating with accusation. "Well, my life doesn't involve you, Hanna. So just stay out of it!" Hanna's eyes brim with tears, but she refuses to let them fall. "I do care," she whispers. "And I'm not trying to be a her-" But Plankton's interrupted her again. "You don't know anything about me," he says, his voice cold. "You're just here because Karen let you, but I don't want you here." Hanna's cheeks flush with hurt. "Plankton, I'm trying to be a good friend, but you're just pushing me aw-" "I don't need a friend like you," Plankton says, his voice hard. "Now get out." Hanna's eyes fill with tears, but she nods, turning to leave. He slams the bedroom door behind her. In the living room Karen looks up to see her, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "Hanna?"

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 16 Plankton then heard Karen come in. "Hey; I'm just checking on you," she said gently, not aware that Hanna bullied him, unaware of what's said. Plankton's throat tightened. "I'm fine," he murmured. Karen's eyes searched his face, looking for the truth. "You don't have to lie to me, sweetie," she said softly. "Is everything okay? You know I'm here for you.." But Hanna's words echoed in his head, a toxic whisper that threatened to shatter the fragile bond he had with his wife. "Just tired," he managed to say, his voice small. Karen nodded, her expression filled with concern. "Okay," she said. "But if you wanna ta—" "I'm fine," Plankton said, his voice harsher than intended. Karen's smile faltered. The weight of Hanna's words was too heavy for him to ignore, his thoughts a jumble of anger and hurt. He pushed the plush toy away, the softness now a painful reminder of the care he wasn't sure he truly deserved. Karen noticed the change in his tone and stepped closer. "Plankton, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry. "Was it something I said?" Plankton's eye flickered to hers, his anger replaced by sadness. "No, Karen," he said, his voice smaller than usual. "It was just... just forget it." Karen knew Plankton's autism made him sensitive to certain words and tones, but she couldn't pinpoint what had triggered him. The room was quiet, the tension thick. Karen sat down on the bed, her hand reaching for his. "Plank-" He jerked away, his voice sharp. "Don't," he said. Karen's heart sank. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling with concern. She didn't know what Hanna said. Plankton looked away, his eye brimming with unshed tears. "It's... it's nothing," he murmured. But the hurt in his voice was unmistakable. Karen's heart broke. "Plankton," she said, her voice soft. "You can tell me anything. I'm here for you." But Plankton wasn't so sure, not after Hanna gaslit him. He swallowed hard, the pain in his chest a dull ache. "It's just... it's nothing," he repeated, his voice a whisper. But the hurt was evident, his body language screaming his internal turmoil. Karen's heart raced, her mind whirring as she tried to understand what had changed. Her hand hovered in the air, unsure if it was safe to touch him again. "Was it something someone said to you?" she ventured, her voice tentative. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the wall, his body tense. He took a deep breath, the anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "It's Hanna," he finally said, his voice barely above a murmur. "What about Hanna?" Karen asked, her eyes searching his. "She said... she said that you only married me out of pity," Plankton whispered, his voice trembling. Karen's face fell, her heart heavy with disbelief. "What?" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. "That's not true," she said firmly. "I love you, Plankton. You know tha-" But Plankton was lost in his own thoughts, the pain of Hanna's accusation cutting deep. "And that... that you deserve someone better," he added, his voice small. Karen's eyes filled with anger. How could her friend say such a thing? "Plankton," she said, her voice steady. "Look at me." His gaze met hers, his eye red-rimmed and full of doubt. "I chose to marry you because you're the most amazing person I've ever met. Your autism is part of who you are, and I love all of you. You're not a burden to me, you're a blessing. Hanna was out of line, and I'll talk to her about it." But Plankton couldn't shake off the hurt. He knew Karen meant well, but the seeds of doubt Hanna had sown grew in the fertile soil of his insecurity. "I know you're just trying to make me feel better," he mumbled, his gaze still on the wall. "But it's true, isn't it? Why else would Hanna tell me that you've been hiding how much better off you could be without me?" Karen felt her blood boil. "What did she say to you?" she demanded, her voice tight. Plankton flinched, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "It's okay," she said gently. "You can tell me." He took another deep breath, the plush toy squeezed tightly in his hand. "She said that I'm uh, that same slur Chip used, and that you're just too nice to leave me. She told me how you deserve better, how no one could truly love someone like me." His voice broke, the pain in his words like a knife to her heart. "I'm sorry, Karen. I just never knew you felt that wa-" But Karen was already on her feet, her eyes flashing. "That's it," she said, her voice cold. "I'm going to talk to Hanna right now." Plankton tried to sit up, his hand reaching out to her. "Karen, no-" "I can't believe she said that," Karen fumed, her hands shaking with anger. "I'll set her straight." Her mind raced with what Hanna could have possibly told Plankton to make him feel so small and unloved. She knew his autism made him vulnerable to misunderstanding, but this was beyond the pale. Her heart ached for her husband, who had been through so much already. Plankton was already so sensitive to the way others perceived him, and Hanna's words had only served to amplify his fears.

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 17 Karen stepped into the hallway, her eyes scanning for Hanna. She found her in the kitchen, still clutching her Sudoku book, looking lost and confused. "What did you say to Plankton?" Karen demanded, her voice firm but controlled. Hanna's gaze snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What did you say to him that made him so upset?" Karen's words were measured, but her anger was palpable. Hanna's cheeks flushed. "I just tried to help," she protested. "He was in pain and—" "What. Did. You. Say?" Karen's voice was like ice, her eyes boring into Hanna. The room felt smaller, the air heavier with tension. "Well," Hanna began, her throat dry. "I just pointed out that you could do so much better than someone like Plankton. I mean, you're so kind and patient, and he's..." The slur slipped from her mouth, echoing the one Chip had used so carelessly before. The air in the room grew heavy with tension. Karen's face contorted with rage, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "How dare you?" she spat. "How dare you speak to him like that?" Hanna's eyes widened, seeing the fury in Karen's expression. "It's just the truth," she stuttered. "You know it's true. You're too good for him. Everyone knows it. I wanted him to realize that." Karen's voice was low and dangerous. "You will never speak to him like that again," she said, each word enunciated carefully. "Do you understand?" Hanna took a step back, intimidated by the fire in Karen's eyes. "But... but he's-" "Plankton is my husband," Karen interrupted, her voice sharp. "And he's the most important person in my life. If you can't accept him..." Karen sighed. "When Plankton was born," she began, her tone softening. "He was a perfectly normal baby, but there was a... complication. During delivery, his head got stuck. It... it caused his brain to be deprived of oxygen and blood flow for a few moments too long. The pressure was too much." She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "That's what led to this condition, not a choice he made. And I wouldn't trade him for anyone else in the world. It's not anything that could've been controlled, but that childbirth resulted in my husband's disability, which is autism." Hanna's eyes grew wide with shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my Neptune, I had no idea," she whispered. "I didn't realize he actually had a condition." Her voice was barely audible, the weight of her ignorance heavy in the air. Karen's eyes searched Hanna's face. "Yes, and so what you said was incredibly hurtful." Hanna's eyes filled with remorse, her shoulders slumping. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, her eyes brimming with tears. "I never meant to... I just thought I was being honest." Her voice cracked with the realization. Karen's anger dissipated a bit, replaced by a deep sadness. "Honesty without empathy can be cruel," she said softly. "But now that you know, you can do better." Hanna nodded, her gaze downcast. "I'll apologize," she whispered. But Karen was already thinking of Plankton, alone in his room, feeling like a burden. She turned and walked back to the bedroom, her heart heavy with the weight of the conversation. When she entered, Plankton was exactly as she'd left him: curled up, staring at the wall. "Hey," Karen said gently, sitting down beside him. "I talked to Hanna." He didn't respond. "She's sorry," Karen continued. Plankton's eye flicked to hers, his expression unreadable. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice hollow. "We know it's true." The doubt in his voice was a knife in Karen's heart. "No, it's not," she said fiercely. "I love you, Plankton. You are not a burden. You are a miracle, a beautiful, wonderful person, and I am so lucky to have you in my life." She took his hand, her grip firm and reassuring. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?" Plankton's eye searched hers, his doubt battling with the love he saw there. "But she's..." "Hanna is wrong," Karen interrupted. "You're not anything like what she said. You're smart and funny and sassy and... perfect. Perfect for me." She leaned in closer, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're everything I never knew I needed until I fell in love with you." Plankton's body relaxed slightly, his gaze flickering towards her. "But what if..." he began, his voice trailing off. "What if I can't be a good enough husband to yo-" "Don't," Karen said, cutting him off gently. "You are a wonderful husband, and everything I could ever want. Your autism is one part of what makes you special, Plankton. It's not something to be ashamed of, or something that makes you less than. It's just how you are." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "And I love all of you." Plankton felt a tear slip down his cheek. "But what if I can't... understand you? Or what if I hurt you?" His voice was small, filled with fear. Karen leaned in, her eyes filled with warmth. "You don't," she assured him. "Because we're in this together. And I'll always be here to help you through the hard parts, just like I know you'd do for me." She paused, a sad smile playing on her lips. "You know, when we first met, I didn't know about your autism. But once I did, it didn't make me love you less, it just made me love you more." Plankton's eye searched hers, his doubt slowly fading. "But sometimes..." he whispered. "Sometimes, it's hard." Karen nodded, her heart breaking for him. "I know it is, sweetie," she said softly. "But we figure it out together, okay?" Just then, Hanna came in the room to apologize. Her eyes were red from crying, and she looked genuinely regretful. "Plankton, I'm so sorry," she began, her voice quavering. "I didn't know... it was a slur. I was only trying to keep peace, but I was wrong. I'm sorry for the hurtful things I said." Plankton's gaze remained on the floor, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Karen's words of love and support were comforting, but Hanna's apology was a surprise. He felt a pang of guilt for not correcting Hanna earlier, but his own fear of rejection was a powerful silencer. "I didn't know," Hanna continued, her voice sincere. "I had no idea it would hurt you like that." Plankton slowly lifted his head, his single eye meeting hers. "I see," he said, his voice still weak from the emotional turmoil. "But what do you want me to do, just sit around and feel sorry for you? Nobody cares if you throw a fit, Hanna!" He says, repeating her own insults. The room was silent for a moment before Hanna spoke again, her voice shaky. "I didn't mean it like that. I just didn't underst--" But Plankton didn't let her finish. "You just wanna get on Karen's good side don't you? Don't deny what you said to me!" Hanna's eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. "I know I was wrong, Plankton. I'm truly sorry," she whispered. Karen's heart ached for both of them, the pain of misunderstanding thick in the air. She knew that Hanna's words had been born out of ignorance, not malice. But the hurt they'd caused was real and Plankton's having none of it. "Why should I believe you?" he asked, his voice low. "After all, I'm just a problematic burden right? You had the nerve to—" "No," Hanna interrupted, her voice firm. "That's not true. I'm the one who should be ashamed." She took a deep breath. "I've been ignorant, and I'm sorry. I didn't know what it's like for—" "For what?" Plankton challenged, his anger resurfacing. "For someone like me, who doesn't know how to behave?" His voice was louder now, his body tense. Hanna flinched at his words. "You think I don't know what people say behind my back?" He spat. "You think I'm just a slur?" Hanna stood there, her eyes brimming with tears, her expression contrite. But Plankton couldn't find it in himself to forgive her so easily. "I do accept you," Hanna stuttered. "I just didn't know how to handle-" "Handle what?" Plankton's voice was sharp, the anger threatening to boil over. "How to handle someone who doesn't fit your perfect little mold?" Karen's grip on his hand tightened, her silent plea for calm going unheard. "And Karen's free to be with whoever she likes, so let her choose where her loyalties lie. I heard you say Karen chose you over me; but was that before or after you explained how unlovable I--" "Plankton, we all need to learn from this. Hanna's apology is genuine, yet she needs to understand what she said was wrong," Karen said, cutting through the tension. Hanna nodded, her eyes still on Plankton. "I'm sorry for my ignorance. I never knew how much my words could hurt. I'll do better." Her voice was sincere, and Plankton felt a flicker of something like forgiveness. But the pain was still raw, and he wasn't ready to let go of his anger just yet.

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 19 He looked at Karen, his confusion clear. "What happened?" he asks her. Karen took a deep breath, preparing herself for the task of explaining the past few minutes. "You had a seizure, baby," she said, keeping her voice calm and steady. "But it's over now, and you're okay." Plankton blinked slowly, his eye still hazy. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Hanna. "You're here," he said, his voice filled with mortification and anxiety. Hanna nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm here," she whispered, her voice tentative. Plankton's face twisted into a frown, his thoughts racing. He didn't remember her being here during the seizure. He didn't want her pity. He didn't want her witnessing what ever may have happened. His heart raced, his mind spinning. What all did he do in front of her? Hanna looked at him, her eyes full of concern and something else, regret? "You were just playing with your star," she said gently, trying to ease his distress. "And you even talked about how I was like pretty bubblegum; rememb-" "No," Plankton interrupted. He didn't want Hanna to see his vulnerability, especially after what she'd said about him. The room was silent, the tension palpable. Karen watched them both, her heart torn. Hanna's expression was a mixture of regret and fear, while Plankton's was closed off. "I don't know if I can forgive you, Hanna," Plankton finally said, his voice no longer slurred. Hanna's eyes filled with tears, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I don't blame you," she said softly. "But I hope you can find it in your heart to give me a chance to make it up to you." Plankton looked at her, his gaze unreadable. Karen knew that forgiveness was a process, and Plankton needed time. "You don't have to decide right now," she said. "We can talk about it more when you're feeling better." Plankton nodded, his gaze still fixed on the star. "But I don't remember this star," he said, his voice filled with confusion. Hanna's heart sank. "It's okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a toy Karen got for you to help you feel safe and lo---" "No," Plankton interrupted, his voice sharp. "I don't remember any of this." His hand tightened around the plush toy, his knuckles white. "I don't remember anything about this!" Karen knew Plankton wouldn't remember the comfort Hanna brought during his seizure, the gentle guidance to focus on the star. He didn't remember her soothing voice, her calm in his chaos. It was like it had never happened. Hanna's eyes searched his, desperate for a flicker of understanding, a sign that he knew she was sorry. But all she saw was confusion and fear, the same look he'd given her when she'd first accidentally used that slur. Karen stepped in. "Do you remember our talk about how sometimes after a seizure, things can be a bit fuzzy?" Hanna felt another twinge of guilt. "It's okay," Karen said, sitting next to him on the bed. "It's normal for your memory to be a bit fuzzy coming out of a seizure, Plankton." He looked at her, his eye searching hers. "But I don't remember you or Hanna interacting," he said, his voice shaky. "I just remember... I dunno." Karen nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "You weren't fully conscious, sweetie. It's like when you wake up from a deep sleep." Plankton's frown deepened. He didn't like not knowing, not remembering. It made his chest tight, his heart race. He knew he could trust Karen, but Hanna was still a question mark, her earlier words echoing in his mind. Hanna reached out to him again, her hand hovering in the air before touching his shoulder lightly. "I'm here for you, Plankton," she said, her voice shaky with emotion. Plankton stiffened at the contact, his senses still on high alert. He wasn't used to being touched like that, not without warning. "No," he said, his voice sharp. "I don't like it." Hanna flinched, her hand retreating quickly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Karen put her hand on Hanna's shoulder. "Remember, Hanna, we need to respect his boundaries. It's part of who he is." Hanna nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I know, Karen. I just want to help." Karen squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I know you do, but we need to do it his way." Plankton looked up at Hanna, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "Why?" he asked. "Why'd you say those things?" Hanna took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "I didn't know," she said. "I didn't know what it was like for you. I didn't underst--" "Understand what?" Plankton's voice was sharp, cutting through the air. "That I'm different?" He threw the star aside, his body tense with anger. "That I can't just be like whatever you think I should be?" Hanna's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," she said, her voice cracking. "I just... I didn't know." Plankton's chest heaved with each ragged breath he took. "Well, now you do," he said, his voice cold. "Being someone you can't even bother to understand." The room was heavy with tension, each of them lost in their own world of thoughts. Karen's heart ached for both of them, knowing how much Plankton craved acceptance, and how much Hanna wished she could take back her words. "Maybe," Karen began, her voice tentative, "we should talk about it." Hanna nodded, her eyes glued to Plankton. "I'm here to listen," she said, her voice filled with genuine remorse. Plankton looked at her, his expression still guarded. "You know what, Hanna?" he said, his voice taking on a syrupy sweetness that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I forgive you." Hanna's face lit up with relief, but Karen knew that tone. It was the one he used when he was trying to cover his hurt. "Thank you, Plankton," Hanna breathed, her eyes brimming with tears. "I really am sorry, you know that right?" Plankton nodded, his smile forced. "Of course," he said, his voice sticky with false cheer. "It's all water under the bridge." Karen watched the two of them, her heart heavy. The fake sweetness in Plankton's voice was a defense mechanism, one he'd developed over the years of navigating a world that often didn't understand his condition. She knew his words weren't genuine, his anger and pain still bubbling just below the surface. But she stayed silent. But Hanna, oblivious, took his words at face value. "I'm so grateful, Plankton," she said, her voice choking. "I'll do better." Plankton nodded, his expression still a mask. "I know you will," he said, his voice too bright. "You're always so kind, never letting me down." His sarcasm was lost on Hanna, who took his words as genuine. He knew she was trying, but the hurt went deeper than a simple apology could mend. So he played along, his heart feeling heavier with each forced smile. "You're the best, Hanna," Plankton said, his voice dripping with a sugary sweetness that didn't match the bitterness in his soul. "Always looking out for me." Karen watched, knowing better than to interrupt. Hanna's eyes searched his, desperate for a sign that he meant it. "Really, Plankton?" she asked, hopeful. "You know I'm here for you, right?" Plankton's smile grew, his words sticky with sarcasm. "Always, Hanna," he said, his voice dripping with patronizing kindness. "You're like a knight in shining armor, ready to save me from my own autistic self." Hanna's eyes searched his, uncertain of his meaning. "What do you mean, Plankton?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope. He leaned back into the pillows, his expression smug. "You know, always ready to fix what's not broken," he said, his eye still not quite meeting hers. "I just want to help," Hanna whispered, her voice cracking. Plankton nodded, his smile still too sweet. "And I'm so lucky to have you," he said, his tone laced with a patronizing sarcasm that made Karen's heart ache. Hanna, though, seemed to miss the undertones, her face lighting up at his words. "Really, Plankto-" "Oh, absolutely," he interrupted, his voice a knife wrapped in cotton. "You're like my personal superhero, swooping in to save me from the horrors of being who I am." His eye flitted around the room, avoiding contact with Hanna's hopeful gaze. "It's so... noble of you." The sarcasm in his tone was thick, a bitterness seeping through every word. Hanna looked at him, confused. "What do you mean, Plankton?" she asked, her voice soft. "You know I just want-" "Oh, I know," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You want to fix me. Like I'm some kind of project you can just whip into shape with your magic wand of 'normalcy'." Hanna's eyes widened, her heart sinking at his words. "That's not what I meant," she protested, but Plankton was on a roll, his anger giving him a sharpness he rarely displayed.

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱 𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 part 20 "You think you know what's best for me," Plankton continued, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "Because obviously, I'm just a lost cause, right? Too autistic to know what I need or want for myself." His eye focused on her, a challenge in its depths. "But let me tell you something, Hanna. Your neurotypical world isn't the be-all, end-all. You think because I don't fit in your tidy little box, I must be some kind of burden‽" Hanna felt the sting of his words, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Plankton, no, that's not what I meant at all-" "But that's what you said," Plankton interrupted, his voice sharp. "That's what you implied." Hanna's eyes searched his, desperation in her gaze. "I didn't mean it like that," she said, her voice trembling. "I just..." But Plankton was on a roll, his words fueled by both anger and fear. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me how to live my life?" he spat. "You think because you don't understand me, I'm the one who's broken?" Hanna felt the weight of his accusation, her heart heavy with guilt. She knew she'd been wrong, but she never meant to make him feel this way. "Plankton, please," she whispered. "Let me make it up to yo-" But Plankton was beyond reason. His eye flashed with fury, his voice shaking. "No!" he shouted, his body trembling. "You don't get to decide when I've had en-" "Plankton," Karen's voice was firm but gentle. "You're upset. It's okay to be upset. But let's talk about this calmly." He turned to her, his eye still blazing with anger. "Why should I be calm?" he demanded. "Why should I be nice and polite when she can't even bother t---" "Plankton," Karen cut him off, her voice still calm. "You're right, she hurt you. But anger won't fix it." Plankton's chest heaved with the force of his breath, his grip on the blanket tight. He knew she was right, but the emotion was too strong to be contained. It's not fair, unfair Hanna gets the sympathy.. "I'm sorry, Plankton," Hanna whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that." Karen's hand was a gentle pressure on his back, grounding him. "But you have to understand, Hanna's trying to learn," she said, her voice firm but calm. "But why does she get to make mistakes and still get treated like a hero?" he asked, his voice full of hurt. "Why does everyone always take the side of neurotypicals?" The room was silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Hanna looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. "That's not what I meant," she said, her voice small. "I just wa-" "But it's what you did," Plankton snapped, his voice sharp. "You don't get it. Everyone treated me like barnacles for a disability! But you, you get to be clumsy and still get the gold star. But it's always me who's the problem," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "It's always me who has to get disciplined.." Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the depth of his pain. She knew he wasn't just talking about Hanna. This was about a lifetime of feeling misunderstood and undervalued. "Plankton, you're not a problem," she said, her voice firm. "You're amazing, just as you are. And Hanna's here to learn." He looked at her, his eye still flashing with anger. "But why does she get to be the hero?" he demanded. "Why does she get to mess up and still be the one who's right?" Karen took a deep breath, her heart breaking for him. "Because she's trying, Plankton," she said gently. "And she's learning." "But it's not fair," he said, his voice filled with the frustration of a lifetime of being misunderstood. "I try so hard, and nobody cares." Karen's heart ached. She knew he did, she knew how much he struggled every day. "People care," she said. "But they don't always know how to sh-" "No," Plankton interrupted, his voice rising. "They don't care enough to understand!" He sat up in bed, his eye blazing. "Do you know what they used to do to me in school?" he demanded, his face red with anger. "Do you know the teachers looked away while the other kids called me names and poked at me? Yet when it made me have a seizure, it's me who teachers tied up in a chair!" Hanna's eyes widened in horror, while Karen felt her own anger flare at the thought of Plankton suffering like that. She'd always known school had been difficult for him, but to hear the extent of his suffering was too much to bear. Karen's blood boiled at the thought of her love being a scapegoat. "Plankton," she began, her voice thick with emotion. "You're not the problem. You never w---" But he didn't let her finish. "They did it because I'm different!" he shouted. "Because I'm not like them!" Hanna looked at him, her eyes filled with regret. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I had no idea." Plankton looked at her, his gaze intense. "So, what are you going to do about it?" Hanna swallowed hard. "I'll learn," she said, her voice determined. "I'll do everything I can to understand." Karen nodded. "That's a good start," she said, her voice still gentle. "But it's not just about understanding. It's about respecting him." Plankton's breathing slowed, his body still tense. "You'll have to prove it," he said, his voice still sharp. "Prove you're not just playing along until I'm convenient again." Hanna nodded, her eyes determined. "I will," she said. "I promise." Plankton studied her, his expression softening slightly. He wanted to believe her, he really did. But the hurt was to fresh. Karen watched the exchange, her heart heavy. She knew that Plankton's trust wasn't easily earned, especially after something like this. But she also knew that Hanna meant it. Hanna took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Plankton's. "I'll do better," she said, her voice sincere. "I'll educate myself, I'll listen to you, and I'll never make you feel like that again." Plankton searched her gaze, his own eye still filled with sorrow. He knew she meant it, but the fear was still present. "Fine," he said, his voice small. "But if you ever say something like that again, I can't be around you." Hanna's heart broke at his words, the gravity of what she'd done hitting her full force. "I won't," she promised. "I'll be better." Plankton nodded, his grip on the blanket relaxing slightly. Karen's hand squeezed his shoulder, her own support unwavering.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 14 Hanna wipes her eyes, her voice shaky. "I-I think I should go," she says. Karen stands up, rushing over to her. "No, wait. What happened?" she asks, her concern evident. Hanna sniffs, trying to compose herself. "He just... he doesn't want me here," she manages. Karen's face falls. "I'm sorry," she says, taking Hanna's hand. "He's just in a lot of pain. I know he can be difficult," she says gently. "But he's just scared and frustrated." Hanna nods, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I know," she says. "But I can't help if he won't let me in." Karen sighs, squeezing her hand. "Give him some time," she advises. "You are staying with us, and we all outta try getting along. I'll go and check on him." With a nod, Hanna releases Karen's hand and sits back down, her thoughts racing. She wonders if she's overstepped or if Plankton will ever accept her help. The silence in the room stretches out, filled only with the ticking of a clock on the wall. Meanwhile, Karen goes to their bedroom door. "Plankton?" she calls out softly. "Can I come in?" There's no answer at first, just the sound of his ragged breathing. She opens the door slowly, finding him sitting on the bed. His antennae are drooped and his eye is red-rimmed. "What?" he says, his voice harsher than he intended. Karen sighs, sitting down beside him. "Hanna's upset," she says simply. Plankton looks away, his antennae twitching. "Good," he says, his tone still icy. "I don't want her here." Karen sighs. "You know she's only trying to help," she says. "And she's not the only one. We all are." Plankton's antennae drop further. "I don't want any of this," he says, his voice smaller. "I don't want to be the one who needs help." Karen sighs, placing a hand on his arm. "But you do," she says gently. "And that's not a bad thing. How's the leg feeling?" Plankton glowers but doesn't pull away. "It hurts," he admits. Karen nods. "I'll get your meds," she says. When she returns, she finds Plankton still sitting there, his gaze fixed on his cast. "Here," she says, handing him the pill bottle. He takes them without a word, swallowing them quickly. Karen sits back down next to him. "You know, sometimes letting people in can make the hard times easier," she says. "Yet it's also fine if you'd like space." She kisses his forehead. "Now, rest.." Plankton's antennae lift slightly. "I don't want to be alone," he admits, his voice barely a whisper. Karen's eyes widen slightly, surprised by his vulnerability. "You don't have to be," she says, taking his hand. "We're all here for you." They sit in silence for a few moments, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. Then, with a sigh, Plankton leans into her, his antennae drooping against her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispers. Karen wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer. "You're welcome," she murmurs. "We're a team." As they sit there, the tension in Plankton's body gradually eases, his breathing slowing down. Karen feels his grip on her hand loosen, his eyelid flicker closed. The fight drains out of him, and he surrenders to sleep. Karen shifts, so he's more comfortable, pulling a blanket over his cast-covered leg. The soft fabric slides over the plaster, and she tucks him in. When she returns to the living room, Hanna's eyes are still red, but she's composed herself. "Is he okay?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Karen nods, sitting beside her. "He's asleep," she says. "But he's...going through a lot." Hanna nods, her own eyes welling up again. "What can I do to help?" she asks. Karen looks at her, her gaze thoughtful. "Just be patient with him," she advises. "He's not used to being dependent on others." Hanna nods, taking a deep breath. "Okay," she says. "How do you think I can be of help?" Karen smiles. "Just be there," she says. "And maybe find something that doesn't involve...babying him." Hanna nods determinedly. Later, Plankton wakes up, emerging out to the living room where Karen and Hanna sat, hobbling as he navigates with his crutches. "What are we watching?" he asks, his tone softer. They're on the couch, a movie playing on the TV, their heads close together as they whisper about the plot. Karen looks up, her smile genuine. "Just a little something to pass the time," she says, patting the cushion next to Hanna. "You wanna join?" Plankton hesitates, his antennae twitching. Then, with a sigh, he nods, moving towards them. Hanna looks up at him, her smile slightly tentative. "It's an adventure film," she says. "It's got a little of everything." Plankton eases himself onto the couch, his cast thumping against the cushions. He sits between them, his crutches propped against the side. Hanna's eyes dart to him before returning quickly to the television. Karen gives him a side hug, her hand resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Thanks," he murmurs. The film plays, and they sit in relative quiet, the occasional laugh or gasp filling the room. Hanna glances at him every so often. During a particularly intense scene, she reaches for the bowl of popcorn. "Want some?" she asks quietly. Plankton nods, extending his arm. She carefully picks out a few kernels, placing them in his hand. The gesture is small, but it feels like a peace offering. He munches on them, his gaze still on the screen, but his antennae relaxing. Karen notices the ease in the atmosphere and smiles to herself. Maybe this was what they needed, she thinks. As the credits roll, Hanna jumps up, her expression hopeful. "How about we play a game?" she suggests, her voice careful not to disrupt the peace. Plankton looks at her, his eye assessing. "What kind of game?" he asks, his voice still guarded. Hanna stands up. "How about something easy?" she says. "Like charades? It'll keep us entertained without being too strenuous for Plankto-" "I can still think, you know," Plankton snaps, his antennae waving in irritation. Hanna's smile falters, but she nods. "Of course," she says. "It's just that I don't wa-" "To sit around doing nothing," he finishes for her. "I know, I know. You just think it's all fun and games." Hanna swallows her retort, nodding. "Okay, I get it," she says. "How about something else? Maybe a puzzle?" Karen interjects, sensing the tension. "That sounds like a great idea," she says brightly. "Let's all do it together on the floor." With a grumble, Plankton starts to stand, using his crutches to balance his weight. Hanna quickly moves to his side, offering her arm for support. He glares at her. "I can do it myself," he snaps. Karen watches them, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's okay," she says, picking up a puzzle box from the coffee table. "Let's just get started." Plankton lowers himself to the floor, setting the crutches down. He grimaces, his leg muscles protesting as he shifts his weight to his good side. Using his arms for leverage, he crawls over to the space they've cleared for the puzzle. Hanna watches, worry etched on her face. "Do you want me to help? Here, le-" "I've got it," Plankton says quickly, cutting her off. He doesn't want to admit how much the simple act of getting to the floor has exhausted him. His pride won't allow it. With a grunt, he reaches the puzzle area and flops down, his cast scraping against the carpet. Karen sets the box down, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" Hanna asks. "I said I've got it," he repeats, his voice firm. He grabs a puzzle piece, his small hands shaking slightly as he tries to fit it into place. Hanna opens her mouth to protest, but Karen gives her a look, silencing her. They watch as Plankton struggles, his face contorted with effort. His leg feels like a dead weight, but he refuses to show.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 23 "I can bring you some water, or maybe a snack?" Hanna ventured timidly. Plankton didn't look up from the book he had open in his hand. "I don't need anything," he muttered. "I've got Karen." The implication was clear: he didn't want Hanna's help. Hanna's heart dropped, but she swallowed her pride. "Okay," she said, her voice small. "If you c-" "Actually," Karen interrupted, "Could you help me in the kitchen?" Her tone was carefully neutral, but Hanna could read the silent plea in her eyes. She nodded, grateful for something to do, and followed Karen into the kitchen. Once they were out of earshot, Karen turned to face her. "Look, Hanna, Plankton's just going through a tough time," she said gently. "His pride is on the line here, and he's not used to being so dependent on others. Give him some time, okay?" Hanna nodded, wiping at her eyes. "But I just want to help," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what I did wrong." Karen gave her a sad smile. "You didn't do anything wrong, Hanna. He's just... struggling." Hanna nodded, understanding but still feeling the weight of his words. "I know," she said. "But it hurt-" Karen interrupted with a firm but gentle tone. "You can't take it personally. He's in pain, and his pride is bruised. What he needs right now is time to process and heal." Hanna nodded, wiping her eyes. "But what can I do?" she asked. "How do I make it right?" Karen squeezed her hand. "Just be there for him," she said. "And maybe give him some grace. Let him come to you." Hanna nodded, wiping her cheeks. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll try." They returned to the living room, where Plankton was with his leg propped up. He didn't look at them. Hanna took a seat on the floor near the couch, picking up a magazine to flip through. The silence was stifling, but she respected his wish for space. Karen went about the room, adjusting pillows, getting him a blanket, and making sure his water was within reach. She glanced at Hanna frequently, her expressions speaking louder than words. "Thanks, Karen," Plankton murmured after a while, his voice softer. Hanna took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Is there anyth—" But Plankton interrupted again, his voice sharp. "I don't want anything from you," he said. Her heart sank, but she swallowed her hurt. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll just be here." But Plankton read his book, his face a mask of concentration. Hanna pretended to be engrossed in her magazine, but her eyes kept straying to him. The minutes ticked by, each second feeling like an eternity. Karen moved around the room, her movements careful and quiet, trying not to disturb the fragile peace. The silence was so heavy, it felt like it was pressing down on all of them, no words were exchanged. Hanna's magazine lay unread on her lap, her thoughts whirling. She desperately wanted to apologize, to make it right, but she knew she had to follow Karen's advice. Give him space, let him be. Plankton turned the last page of his book in the tense silence. With a heavy sigh, he set the book aside. His antennae twitched. He looked over at Hanna, who was staring at the floor. "Look, I can't have you thinking I'm weak." Hanna nods, her voice small. "You're not weak. You're just... recovering." Plankton's eye softened slightly. "I know," he said. "But I need you to see me as... capable. I can't have you looking at me with pity." "I don't pity you," Hanna said quickly, meeting his gaze. "I just want you to be okay." But Plankton wasn't convinced. His antennae drooped as he leaned back into the couch. "I know you mean well, Hanna," he sighed. "But sometimes your help feels like you think I can't do anything for myself." Hanna felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "That's not what I meant," she said. "I'm sorry." Karen looked between them, silence hanging heavy in the air. "Maybe we all just need to talk about it," she suggested. Plankton's antennae twitched again, but he didn't argue. He knew his behavior had been unkind, but his pride was still smarting. "Why do you want to talk about it?" he asked warily. Hanna took a deep breath, swiping at a stray tear. "Because I care about you," she said simply. "And I don't want to do anything that makes you feel small or weak. I just want to do the right thing for you." Karen nodded in agreement. "We're both just trying to navigate this new situation," she said. "And sometimes Hanna might mess up." Plankton's expression softened slightly. "I know you're trying," he admitted to Hanna. Plankton sighs. "But no more laughing about it." Hanna nodded quickly. "I understand," she said. "I'll be more sensitive next time." Karen sat down next to Plankton, taking his hand in hers. "We all need to learn to be there for each other in different ways," she said. "We're all a little out of practice with this." Plankton nodded, his gaze drifting back to Hanna. He knew she had his best interest at heart, but it was still difficult to swallow his pride. "I'll try to communicate better," he murmured. Hanna looked up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. Karen cleared her throat gently. "Why don't we start with some exercises? The doctor said you can start anytime." she suggested, breaking the tense silence. Plankton's eye widened slightly, but he didn't protest. Hanna looked relieved, eager to help in a way that was truly beneficial. The three of them moved to the living room floor. "Let's start with some simple leg lifts," Karen said, demonstrating the motion. "It'll help with your strength and flexibility." Plankton grimaced but complied, his tiny legs shaking slightly as he lifted the one with the bandage. Hanna watched carefully, her face filled with concern, reaching out to steady his leg. "Not so fast, Hanna," Karen chided gently. "Let him do it himself." Hanna quickly withdrew her hand, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She felt like she was always stepping on his toes, literally and figuratively. Plankton managed a few halfhearted lifts before his leg dropped back to the floor. "See?" Karen said, her voice kind. "It's about building strength slowly." Plankton grunted but nodded, his face contorted with effort. "Let's try again," Karen coached, placing a pillow under his leg for support. This time, Plankton was able to lift his leg a little higher. "Good job," Hanna encouraged, her voice soft and encouraging. "I can see you're getting stronger already." Plankton gritted his teeth and managed a few more lifts before his leg gave out again. "Remember, it's about pacing yourself," Karen reminded him. "We don't want to push too hard too soon. The exercises are optional, they said." Plankton nodded, his face a mask of determination. "I know," he grunted, his small body shaking with the effort. "But I have to try." Hanna could see the exhaustion settling into his eye. He was so tired.. "Take a break," Hanna suggested gently. Plankton looked at her with a mix of gratitude and frustration. "Fine," he agreed, letting his leg fall back to the pillow with a sigh. Karen helped Plankton back to the couch, his crutches clattering as she guided his weight. His eye searched Hanna's face for any sign of pity, but found none. She was watching him with concerned respect. "Thanks, Karen," he murmured once he was comfortably propped up again. Hanna took a seat across from them, her hands clasped tightly in her lap tentatively. The room was quiet as Plankton caught his breath. The exertion had tired him more than he cared to admit. He closed his eye, his antennae twitching slightly. Karen sat beside him, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Hanna watched from afar, her heart heavy with remorse. She longed to comfort him, but knew she had to give him the space he needed, as Plankton leaned his head back into the couch cushion. Slowly, his breathing evened out, and his body grew slack. His eye closed completely, and within minutes, his snores filled the room. Hanna exchanged a glance with Karen, who gave a small smile. They both knew that his nap was a sign of his exhaustion but also of his body's need to heal. The tension seemed to ease slightly with each snore that rattled from his tiny mouth. Hanna took this opportunity to approach the couch, her movements careful not to disturb his sleep. She retrieved the throw pillow from the floor and gently placed it under his leg. Then she sat down next to Karen, her hand reaching out to cover hers. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Karen squeezed her hand back. "It's okay, he'll come around." The two of them sat in silence, watching Plankton sleep. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his snores a comforting sound.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 16 The following morning, Hanna is the first to stir, carefully rising from the couch. She pads down the hallway, her footsteps quiet so as not to disturb anyone. Her eyes catch the open door to Karen and Plankton's room, and she peers in, seeing Karen has just woken up. Plankton's sleeping soundly in his own bed, his cast sticking out from under the covers as he snores softly. "He's okay," Karen whispers, noticing Hanna's concern. Hanna nods, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I know," she whispers back. "But I just...wanted to check." Karen smiles, patting the bed next to her. "Why don't you sit down?" she says. "We can talk." Hanna sits, her eyes fixed on Plankton's sleeping form. His casted leg is propped on a pillow, and his antennae twitch slightly, as if he's dreaming. "So, how do we help him?" Hanna asks, her voice still hushed. Karen sighs. "We give him space and let him come to us," she says. "But we also need to be ready when he does want help." Hanna nods, thinking. "What was the surgery like?" she whispers. Karen smiles sadly. "It was a complicated one," she says. "They had to use bone glue to reattach his leg." Hanna's eyes widen. "Bone glue?" she repeats, her voice filled with horror. "It's a thing," Karen assures her. "It's not as scary as it sounds. They're just taking extra precautions to ensure he heals properly." Her curiosity still piqued, Hanna can't help but ask more. "What was it like when he was under?" she says, her voice barely a breath. Karen's expression turns serious. "It's a delicate procedure," she explains. "They had to make sure he was completely numb to the pain. That's why he was asleep." Hanna nods, swallowing hard. "But how?" she asks, looking back at Plankton. "They used general anesthesia." Hanna's eyes widen even more. "And what did he look like?" Karen sighs, knowing that Hanna's questions are a way for her to process what happened. "He was unconscious," she says. "They monitored him the whole time to make sure he was okay. As they first started the anesthesia as it kicked in, I knew Plankton was asleep as his breathing evened out and his movements stopped. It was...peaceful," she adds, her voice trailing off. "And upon waking up, I was there to help him understand." Hanna nods, taking this in. "And what was it like when he woke up?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. Karen looks at Hanna, her gaze filled with compassion. "He was confused at first," she says. "But I explained everything to him." Hanna nods, still staring at Plankton. "How do we talk to him?" she asks. "What can I do to make him comfortable?" Karen pauses, thinking. "Just be yourself," she suggests. "But maybe a little more...gentle. He's dealing with a lot of pain and frustration. Try not to take his snaps personally." Hanna nods, her eyes still on Plankton. "What else?" she whispers. "Well," Karen says, leaning in closer. "You could ask before doing, and just maybe not push so hard or make it to obvious that you're trying to help." Hanna nods, processing the advice. "And when he gets frustrated, what should I do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Karen smiles gently. "Just be there," she says. "Let him know you care without smothering him. Give him space to express his feelings, even if they're not pretty." In the quiet of the room, they both watch as Plankton stirs in his sleep. His antennas twitch, and his casted leg shifts slightly. "Is he okay?" she whispers. "Yes, he's just waking up," Karen says, standing carefully. "Let's give him some space." Hanna nods, getting to her feet as she leaves Karen and Plankton's bedroom. In the living room, she sits and takes deep breaths, trying to compose herself. She hears a shuffling noise from the hallway and Plankton hobbles in on his crutches, his cast a stark white. He lowers himself carefully onto the couch. "Morning," she says tentatively. He looks up, but doesn't respond. Hanna's heart aches, but she follows Karen's advice and doesn't push. Instead, she goes to the kitchen, preparing a glass of chum juice. When she brings it back, Plankton nods in thanks. They sit in silence for a moment before Hanna finally speaks. "I'm sorry for last night," she says softly. "I didn't mean to make you upset." Plankton looks at her, his expression unreadable. He takes a sip of his chum juice, the silence stretching between them. "I'll try to be more considerate," she says. Plankton sighs, leaning back into the couch as Karen comes in. "How's everyone doing?" she asks, forcing cheer into her voice. Plankton shrugs. "I'm okay," he says, his tone noncommittal. Karen exchanges a look with Hanna. "Why don't we watch something to keep our minds off things?" she suggests. The TV flickers to life, and the sound of laugh track fills the room. Plankton shifts uncomfortably, his cast a reminder of his new reality. Hanna sits next to him, keeping her distance but still close enough to be there if needed. Karen sits on the other side of him. They watch a sitcom, the laughter echoing in the quiet room. Plankton tries to concentrate, but his thoughts drift to his surgery, his leg, his new limitations. His antennae droop, and he takes a deep breath. Hanna notices his discomfort and shifts closer. "Do you want me to get you anything?" she asks quietly. Plankton's eye flits to her, and for a moment, he considers snapping again. But he swallows it down. "No," he says, his voice gruff. They continue to watch the TV, the forced laughter a stark contrast to the tension in the room. Karen clears her throat. "Why don't I get you your meds?" Plankton nods, his antennae drooping. "That'd be great," he mumbles. Hanna watches as Karen tends to him.