Interaction
How open you are to talking right now — from “come say hi” to “not right now.” Made to be shown or worn.
ask first
white star on orange · “ask before you touch me.”
The orange star is the consent badge. It names a boundary around touch: it gives permission to ask before touching — a hug, a hand — where, without it, you should not ask at all. When this card is shown, ask first and accept the answer — and keep the star, because the shape carries the meaning alongside the color for colorblind readers. Interaction cards are made to be displayed, and can be worn or flipped as status changes. From the orange-star convention — https://stimpunks.org/access/interaction/
come say hi
white circle on green · “i want to talk — you can start.”
The green circle is the "come talk to me" badge. It names an open door to interaction: the person wants contact but may not be able to start it, so others are welcome to begin. When this card is shown, take the invitation and initiate — and keep the circle, because the shape carries the meaning alongside the color for colorblind readers. Unlike the rest of the deck, interaction cards are made to be displayed, and can be worn or flipped as status changes. Lineage: the color communication badges from Autism Network International and the first Autreat, Jim Sinclair, 1996 — https://stimpunks.org/access/interaction/
i've got this
dark diamond outline on white · “i can do my own hellos.”
The neutral card — a dark diamond on white — is the "I manage my own interaction" badge. It names an ordinary open state: approach normally, and the person will handle their own hellos. When this card is shown, just interact as usual — and keep the diamond, a Stimpunks addition so the neutral card stays distinct for colorblind readers, since white carries no canonical shape. Interaction cards are made to be displayed, and can be worn or flipped as status changes. From the neutral (white, or no badge) convention — https://stimpunks.org/access/interaction/
not right now
white square on red · “please don't start talking to me.”
The red square is the "not right now" badge. It names a closed door to being approached: the person doesn't want others to initiate, though they may still come to you, and you can respond when they do. When this card is shown, hold back — don't start conversation, and don't take it personally — and keep the square, because the shape carries the meaning alongside the color for colorblind readers. Interaction cards are made to be displayed, and can be worn or flipped as status changes. Lineage: the color communication badges from Autism Network International and the first Autreat, Jim Sinclair, 1996 — https://stimpunks.org/access/interaction/
people i know
white triangle on yellow · “only say hi if we've met.”
The yellow triangle is the "only people I know" badge. It names a narrowed door: the person wants interaction only with people they already know, though if they start talking to you, you're welcome to reply. When this card is shown, don't approach as a stranger — wait to be known or greeted first — and keep the triangle, because the shape carries the meaning alongside the color for colorblind readers. Interaction cards are made to be displayed, and can be worn or flipped as status changes. Lineage: the color communication badges from Autism Network International and the first Autreat, Jim Sinclair, 1996 — https://stimpunks.org/access/interaction/
your own
a blank badge and a pencil · “Your own signal.”
The interaction badges cover common signals, but not everyone's. It names room for a signal the set doesn't have — your own way of showing how open you are right now. When this card is shown, treat the person's own signal as real, and ask what it means if you're not sure.
Places
The kind of space that fits right now — a quiet cave, a small campfire, an easy watering hole, a library, or the whole habitat around them.
the campfire
a few figures around a warm glow · “A small group, sharing.”
The campfire is the small circle gathered around a warm glow to share and be told stories. It names warm, low-stakes togetherness — a known handful of people rather than a crowd, close enough to feel the warmth without the heat. In Thornburg's learning spaces the campfire is the storyteller's circle, where a person learns from those who have gone before. When this card is out, keep the group small and the fire gentle; a campfire is not a stage, and no one at it should have to perform.
the cave
a small den, low light, a person tucked in · “Somewhere quiet, just for you.”
The cave is the place you go alone — low light, walls close, the world kept outside for a while. It names the need for solitude: not hiding or shutting down in distress, but the real rest and thinking that only happen away from other people. The cave is one of David Thornburg's learning-space metaphors — the space where a person learns from themselves. When this card is out, protect the retreat: offer the quiet, and don't make company or explanation the price of it.
the habitat
the whole landscape holding the other four · “The world around it all — steady, sensory-safe.”
The habitat is the whole landscape that holds the cave, campfire, watering hole, and library — the surrounding conditions, not a spot you stand in. It names the environment itself: the light, sound, texture, and rhythm that either fit a person or don't. This is the deck's niche-construction principle as a place — needs are met by shaping surroundings, not by changing people. When it is out, the work is the environment: make the habitat steady and sensory-safe, and the other places become reachable.
the library
shelves, maps, a book held open · “Where we keep what we've figured out.”
The library is where what a group has figured out is kept and shared — shelves, maps, a page held open. It names the pull toward reference and depth: looking something up, going deep on what matters, drawing on what others have already worked out. In Cavendish Space it is the commons the other places feed into. When this card is out, point toward the resource rather than the answer — the library is a place to find your own way in, at your own pace.
the watering hole
figures resting easy near water · “A soft place to pause and be near people.”
The watering hole is the open, in-between place where people cross paths and talk easily — near others, without being required to engage. It names loose, ambient sociability: drifting in and out, overhearing, being among people without a task or a script. It is Thornburg's third learning space, where a person learns from peers. When this card is out, make room to hover at the edge — being near people is the whole point, and joining in stays optional.
your own
a blank card and a pencil · “A space that isn't here yet.”
It names the gap: a place no card catches. When this card is out, draw or write the missing one together — the deck grows from what people actually need.
Weather
How it feels inside right now — your inner weather, from bright to stormy. Not good or bad, just what's true this moment.
bright
clear sky, open light · “Clear and good right now.”
Bright is a clear sky and open light — nothing pressing in, everything easy for now. It names a good, uncomplicated stretch: settled, capable, with room to move. Not every card is a problem to solve, and bright is the proof. When this card is out, notice what is keeping the sky clear and leave it be — good weather is worth protecting, not interrupting.
buzzy
sparks, too many at once · “Too much coming in.”
Buzzy is a shower of sparks, too many at once — the air crackling with more input than there is room for. It names sensory or social overload: sound, light, movement, and demand all arriving together, none of it filtering out. Buzzy is weather, not a fault — the sparks come from the room as much as the person. When this card is out, turn the world down: fewer inputs, more space, rather than asking the person to absorb all of it.
far-away
a small figure at the end of a long view · “A bit distant, floating off.”
Far-away is a small figure at the end of a long view — present in the room but drifting off from it. It names dissociation or spaciness: a soft disconnection, floating loose from the here and now. It is often the mind's way of stepping back when things are too much. When this card is out, don't yank the person back — lower the intensity, offer a quiet anchor, and let them return at their own pace.
fizzy
happy bubbles rising · “Excited, in a good way.”
Fizzy is happy bubbles rising — bright, buoyant energy that wants to move and do. It names good excitement: eager, lit up, full of go. Not all high energy is trouble, and fizzy is the joyful kind. When this card is out, make room for the bubbles — let the energy have somewhere to go rather than asking it to sit still.
foggy
low mist, edges blurred · “Hard to think, everything's slow.”
Foggy is low mist with the edges blurred — thinking gone slow and soft, hard to find words or hold a plan. It names cognitive fog: reduced processing speed and clarity, often after too much has already happened. Fog is a condition to wait out, not a failure of effort. When this card is out, slow down and simplify — one thing at a time, no rush — and let the mist lift on its own schedule.
full
a jar filled to the brim · “No more room inside.”
Full is a jar filled to the brim — one more drop and it spills. It names reaching capacity: not yet in distress, but with no room left to take anything else in. Full is an early, honest warning, offered before the overflow. When this card is out, stop adding — pause new demands and let some out before anything more goes in.
heavy
a weighted sky pressing down · “Low and weighed down.”
Heavy is a weighted sky pressing down — everything harder to lift, movement and mood both slowed. It names a low, weighed-down feeling: flat, tired, dim. Heavy weather is real weather; it is not laziness and it is not chosen. When this card is out, lighten the load rather than push against it — fewer expectations, gentle company or none, and time.
prickly
thorns, everything scratches · “Everything's rubbing the wrong way.”
Prickly is thorns and scratchy edges — every touch, sound, and interruption rubbing the wrong way. It names irritability and raw sensory friction, when the ordinary suddenly grates. This is the nervous system reporting on its surroundings, not bad behavior. When this card is out, reduce the friction — soften the textures, lower the demands, make space — and don't take the sharpness personally.
stormy
big clouds about to break · “Big feelings, close to the edge.”
Stormy is big clouds about to break — pressure built up, feeling close to the edge. It names strong emotion near its limit: overwhelmed, about to spill, weather that has to move through. A storm is not a threat to manage but a front to weather safely. When this card is out, get to shelter — lower the stimulation, drop the demands, stay steady and near — and let it pass without adding to it.
warm
a cozy glow, wrapped up · “Settled and safe.”
Warm is a cozy glow, wrapped up — settled, safe, at ease. It names calm security: regulated, comfortable, no alarm anywhere. Naming the good weather matters as much as naming the hard, so it can be recognized and returned to. When this card is out, notice the conditions that made it — and remember them, because they are the recipe worth repeating.
your own
a blank card and a pencil · “A feeling that isn't here yet.”
It names the gap: a weather no card catches. When this card is out, draw or write the missing one together — the deck grows from what people actually need.
What helps
Small changes to the space that make things easier — quiet, softer light, room to move, a way out.
a big squeeze
deep pressure, a weighted wrap · “Firm pressure that steadies me.”
A big squeeze is deep, even pressure — a weighted wrap, a firm hug, a tight tuck. It names the calming pull of proprioceptive input: firm pressure that many bodies find organizing when lighter touch would not. This is well-understood sensory regulation, not neediness. When this card is out, offer the pressure the person asks for — and only ever the pressure they ask for, on their terms.
a smell that helps
a hand near a scented thing · “A smell that settles me, or less of one.”
A card for the nose. It names scent as a real sensory need — a calming smell to bring close, or an overwhelming one that has to go. Smell is easy for others to miss and hard to ignore when it's wrong. When this card is out, change the air rather than the person.
a snack or a drink
a cup and a small snack · “Something to eat or drink.”
It names a body need that quietly derails everything else — hunger, thirst, low fuel. This is maintenance, not being off-task. When this card is out, meet it without making it a negotiation.
a steady sound
a gentle repeating wave · “A calm sound to rest on.”
A steady sound is a gentle, repeating wave — a hum, white noise, a loop to rest on. It names a need for predictable, soothing input: a constant sound that covers the jagged, unpredictable ones. Some quiet is too quiet; a steady sound fills it kindly. When this card is out, offer the calm sound and protect it from interruption.
a way out
an open door · “A way to leave that I can use.”
A way out is an open door — a visible, usable exit. It names the need to know escape is possible: not necessarily to leave, but to be certain leaving is allowed. Often just knowing the door is there is what makes staying possible. When this card is out, guarantee the exit — a clear way to step out, no permission ritual, no penalty for using it.
busy hands
a fidget in motion · “Something for my hands to do.”
Busy hands is a fidget in motion — something for the hands to work while the rest attends. It names a need for occupied hands: a fidget, a texture, a small motion that steadies attention rather than splitting it. Hands that move are often how a person listens. When this card is out, let the hands be busy; the fidget is helping, not distracting.
dim the light
a dial lowering a lamp · “Softer light.”
Dim the light is a dial turned down — harsh brightness eased to something softer. It names sensitivity to light: fluorescents, glare, or sheer intensity that most people tune out but this nervous system can't. Lowering the light is a change to the room, not a special favor. When this card is out, soften the lighting where you can, and treat bright rooms as the thing to fix.
headphones
headphones, the noise turned down · “Turn the world down a bit.”
Headphones turn the world's volume down — a barrier between the ears and too much sound. It names a need for less auditory input: quieter, or filtered, so the rest becomes bearable. This is an environmental fix, not avoidance — the sound was the problem, and turning it down is a reasonable answer. When this card is out, provide the quiet or the headphones freely; needing less noise is not a failure to tolerate it.
just one person
two figures, side by side · “Not a crowd — one person.”
Just one person is two figures side by side — one companion, not a crowd. It names a need to narrow the social field: one trusted person at a time, where a group would overwhelm. Preferring one-to-one is a real access need, not antisocial. When this card is out, thin the crowd — offer a single steady person, and don't require group participation to count as taking part.
less talking
a hushed mouth, a calm face · “Fewer words for a while.”
Less talking is a hushed mouth and a calm face — fewer words in the air. It names a need to reduce language load: less to process, less to answer, quiet from the demand to keep up a conversation. Silence together can be a relief, not a problem to fill. When this card is out, ease off the words — fewer questions, more room, and don't read the quiet as trouble.
my own spot
a marked place that's mine · “A place that's just mine.”
My own spot is a marked place that belongs to one person — a seat, a corner, a patch of floor. It names a need for a reliable base: somewhere consistent and claimed, safe from being moved or shared without warning. A predictable spot lowers the daily cost of working out where to be. When this card is out, protect the spot — keep it theirs, and give notice before anything about it changes.
no rush
a slow, easy clock · “All the time I need.”
No rush is a slow, easy clock — time without pressure. It names a need for more processing time: room to think, respond, or move at a pace that isn't someone else's stopwatch. Speed is not the same as understanding, and hurrying often undoes both. When this card is out, take the pressure off the clock — wait, and let the extra time be freely available.
room to move
open floor, space to pace or spin · “Space to move my body.”
Room to move is open floor — space to pace, rock, spin, or stim. It names a need for movement: motion that regulates and thinks, not fidgeting to be stilled. Bodies that move to focus are doing exactly what they should. When this card is out, make space for the movement rather than asking the body to be quiet; stillness is not the goal.
something soft
a plush thing to hold · “Something to hold and squeeze.”
Something soft is a plush thing to hold — comfort and grounding through touch. It names a need for a tactile anchor: something gentle to squeeze, stroke, or keep close when the world is a lot. Holding an object to steady oneself is a real regulation strategy, not babyish. When this card is out, let the soft thing stay — comfort objects belong wherever the person does.
something to chew
a chewy tool · “Something to chew or crunch.”
Something to chew is a chewy tool — safe oral input, a chew or a crunch. It names a need for oral-sensory regulation: chewing, biting, or crunching that organizes and calms. This is a recognized sensory strategy, met with a safe tool rather than corrected. When this card is out, provide a proper chew and treat the need as ordinary; it is not misbehavior.
tell me first
a small heads-up sign · “Let me know before it changes.”
Tell me first is a small heads-up sign — warning before a change. It names a need for predictability: knowing what's coming so a transition doesn't arrive as a shock. Surprise is expensive for many nervous systems; a heads-up is cheap to give. When this card is out, narrate changes in advance — say what's next before it happens, every time you can.
your own
a blank card and a pencil · “Something else that helps.”
It names the gap: a help no card catches. When this card is out, draw or write the missing one together — the deck grows from what people actually need.
Lily pads
Moments you can drop onto the table anytime — a pause, a not-yet, a ready-now. Each is a place to land, not a failure.
all done
a closed, contented loop · “I'm finished here.”
"All done" is a closed, contented loop — a clean ending, chosen. It names completion: this is finished, and the finishing is theirs to declare. A self-called ending is different from being made to stop. When this card is out, honor the ending — let "done" mean done, without one-more-thing or a negotiation over whether it really is.
coming back
a footprint returning to a spot · “I'll be back — hold my place.”
"Coming back" is a footprint returning to a spot — a departure with a promise to return. It names a need to step away without losing your place: leaving to regulate, not to quit. Leaving and returning is a strategy, not an abandonment. When this card is out, hold their place — keep the spot, the task, and the welcome ready for when they return.
i need a minute
a figure resting on a lily pad · “Pausing here. Not leaving.”
"I need a minute" is a figure resting on a lily pad mid-crossing — a pause, not a departure. It names the need to stop briefly and gather before going on: still engaged, just not moving yet. A pause is part of the crossing, not a refusal of it. When this card is out, hold the moment open — stop the clock, don't fill the silence, and let the minute actually be a minute.
i want to stay a while
a figure settled on a lily pad · “I'm good here. Let me stay.”
It names the wish to stay put — not stuck, not avoiding, just not done yet. Wanting to remain is as valid as wanting to move on. When this card is out, let the staying stand; don't hurry the crossing because the schedule wants it.
not yet
a gentle raised hand · “I'm not ready to move.”
"Not yet" is a gently raised hand — a request for more time before a transition. It names readiness that hasn't arrived: not a refusal, just a "not on that timing." Honoring "not yet" is how you keep a transition from becoming a fight. When this card is out, wait for ready — check back rather than push, and let the moving happen when it can.
ready now
a foot stepping forward · “I'm ready to shift.”
"Ready now" is a foot stepping forward — the green light for a transition, on the person's own signal. It names arrived readiness: the move can happen because they say so, not because the schedule does. Letting the child call "ready" gives the transition back to them. When this card is out, go when they go — follow their timing, and treat their signal as the one that counts.
slowly
a gentle bridge between two pads · “Ease me across, one step.”
"Slowly" is a gentle bridge between two lily pads — a transition taken one careful step at a time. It names a need for a graded crossing: not no, but not all at once — ease across with support. Some transitions only work when broken into steps. When this card is out, build the bridge — step it down, go at their pace, and don't collapse the crossing into a single leap.
stuck
a figure paused between two pads · “I can't get going. That's okay.”
"Stuck" is a figure paused between two lily pads — unable to get going, for now. It names a genuine state, not a stall to be scolded: the machinery won't turn over yet, and that is information about the moment, not a verdict on the person. Stuck is a place to land, never a failure. When this card is out, don't push across the gap — ask what would help them land where they are, or offer a what-helps card and let them choose.
watch first
eyes at the edge of a group · “Let me look before I join.”
"Watch first" is a pair of eyes at the edge of a group — observing before entering. It names a real way of joining in: taking part by watching until the shape of things is clear enough to step into. Watching is participation, not shyness to be pushed past. When this card is out, let the watching stand — no coaxing to join, and count the edge of the group as being in it.
your own
a blank card and a pencil · “A moment that isn't here yet.”
It names the gap: a moment no card catches. When this card is out, draw or write the missing one together — the deck grows from what people actually need.
Growers
How you're growing today, and what you need to do well. Some people are dandelions and grow almost anywhere; some are tulips and do well with the right basics; some are orchids and thrive with specific care. None is better — they just need different things.
dandelion
a dandelion thriving in a crack · “I can grow most places.”
The dandelion grows almost anywhere — pavement cracks, poor soil, little tending — and still blooms. It names hardiness across conditions: a way of growing that holds up in a wide range of environments, gentle and rough alike. Dandelion comes from Boyce and Ellis's work on how differently people respond to their surroundings. When this card is out, it speaks to range, not to lesser worth — hardy is not better than sensitive, only different, and every grower still deserves good ground.
orchid
an orchid in its own conditions · “Give me my conditions and I bloom.”
The orchid blooms brilliantly, but only in the conditions it actually needs — the right light, warmth, and care. It is not fragile and not difficult; it is specific, and struggle in the wrong setting is information about the setting, never a verdict on the plant. Orchid comes from Boyce and Ellis's metaphor for heightened sensitivity to environment — more shaped by both hardship and support. When this card is out, the question is never "what is wrong with them" but "what does this particular bloom need?"
tulip
a tulip in a tended bed · “I do well with the right care.”
The tulip does well in ordinary good conditions — a tended bed, its own season — neither as unkillable as the dandelion nor as exacting as the orchid. It names the wide middle: thriving reliably once the basics are in place, with honest limits when they are not. Tulip is the middle grower added to Boyce and Ellis's original orchid-and-dandelion pair. When this card is out, the ask is plain: meet the ordinary conditions well, and don't mistake low-maintenance for no needs.
your own
a blank card and a pencil · “Another way of growing.”
It names the gap: a way of growing no card catches. When this card is out, draw or write the missing one together — the deck grows from what people actually need.
Love Locutions
Kind things to give another person — said, not earned. Little affirmations you can hand to someone.
i see you
eyes meeting, kindly · given, not read
"I see you" is eyes meeting, kindly — the plain fact of being truly noticed. It affirms recognition: not looked past, not managed, but actually seen and known. To be seen as oneself is rare and steadying. When this card is given, let it be true — see the actual person in front of you, and let them feel it.
i'm glad you're here
two figures, warm together · given, not read
"I'm glad you're here" is two figures warm together — simple gladness at another's presence. It affirms being wanted, not merely tolerated: your presence is a good thing to someone. Being glad of a person is different from approving of their behavior. When this card is given, attach it to the person, not their performance — glad they're here, full stop.
it's okay to need what you need
an open, unjudging space · given, not read
"It's okay to need what you need" is an open, unjudging space — permission for one's own needs. It affirms that access needs are legitimate exactly as they are: not too much, not embarrassing, not up for negotiation. Needing support is not a character flaw. When this card is given, drop the judgment entirely — the need is fine, and asking for it should cost nothing.
nothing to fix
a whole thing, left as it is · given, not read
"Nothing to fix" is a whole thing left as it is — an absence of the repair impulse. It affirms acceptance over correction: you are not a project, and this moment does not require improving you. The urge to fix a person often does the harm. When this card is given, set the fixing down — be with the person as they are, rather than working on them.
parallel existence
two figures side by side, each in their own world · given, not read
Companionship without the demand to interact — near someone, doing your own things, together and unpressured. For many people this is the most comfortable closeness there is. When this card is given, it offers company that costs nothing: stay near, expect nothing.
penguin pebbling
a small pebble offered in an open hand · given, not read
Penguins give each other pebbles. It names showing love by sharing small things — a rock, a link, a fact, a song. Handing someone a pebble says "I was thinking of you" in the language many Autistic people actually use. When this card is given, receive the pebble as the affection it is, not a tangent.
you belong here
a hand held out, welcoming · given, not read
"You belong here" is a hand held out in welcome — belonging offered plainly. It affirms membership that isn't conditional: you are part of this, not on probation in it. Belonging that has to be earned isn't belonging. When this card is given, mean it without terms — offered because the person is here, never as a reward for fitting in.
you can rest
a soft place to lie down · given, not read
"You can rest" is a soft place to lie down — permission to stop. It affirms that rest is allowed and earned by no one: you may stop striving, and nothing bad follows. Rest withheld until it's "deserved" isn't rest. When this card is given, make the permission real — clear the demands, and let stopping be genuinely safe.
your own
a blank card and a pencil · given, not read
It names the gap: a kind thing to give that no card holds yet. When this card is given, make or write your own — the deck grows from what people actually offer each other.
your way is a real way
many paths, all valid · given, not read
"Your way is a real way" is many paths, all valid — a person's own method honored. It affirms that a nonstandard route to the same place is legitimate: your way of doing, thinking, or being is not a wrong version of someone else's. Different is not deficient. When this card is given, back it with practice — let the person's way actually stand, not just be praised and then overridden.
you're not broken
whole, unbroken shape · given, not read
"You're not broken" is a whole, unbroken shape — the deck's spine said to a person's face. It affirms the core stance: the difference is real, the struggle is real, and neither makes the person defective. Broken systems, not broken people. When this card is given, it counters a lifetime of the opposite message — offer it steadily, and don't undercut it with a "but."