Chewingcore Emojis & Text

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 8 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Plankton's eye opens slightly. "Mmph... noth... chee... chewing..." He sounds like a toddler denying a cookie. Karen smiles softly, her eyes filled with understanding. "Plankton, honey," she says. "You're chewing without knowing it. It's the lingering anesthesia." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye squinting in concentration as he slowly stops. "I'th... I'th noth," he slurs. Chip watches him, his heart full of emotion. He's never seen his dad this way—so vulnerable, so childlike. "It's okay, Dad," he says, his voice soft. "Just hold the frog. Don't chew on anything." Plankton nods, his eye half-closed. He lies down, the frog still by his side. Karen turns to Chip. "The loopiness and numbness will have worn off by tomorrow morning, and so he'll be sore." Chip looks up at her. "What do you mean, Mom?" "Sometimes, autistic people can regress during such situations," she explains. "It's like... he might be more sensitive while he heals from the extraction. So he may end up getting upset easier, his stims might be more prominent. We need to be extra patient with him." Chip nods, his gaze still on his father. "Ok," he says. "I will." Plankton's breathing evened out, his hand still clutching the frog toy. Karen kissed his forehead. "Rest," she whispered, pulling the covers over him. Sure enough, the next morning Plankton woke up having the anesthesia worn off. He recalled the fear, the frog, the mask, the walk back to the car. "Ugh; ow.." Plankton groans. Karen sat up beside him. "How is my brave husband?" she asks, smiling. Plankton's antennae perk up, his speech clearer now. "Karen, I don't remember everything," he says. "But I do remember feeling safe with you." Karen's eyes are filled with love as she smiles back. "That's because I was there, Plankton. I always will be." Chip opens his parents bedroom door, coming in to check on Plankton. "Dad?" Chip asks as he comes closer. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye blinking slowly as he sits up in bed, wincing at the pain in his mouth. Chip sits on the bed. "Dad, are you okay?" he asks, his voice concerned. Plankton nods, his hand going to his mouth. "Think so. Th-thanks, Chip. I'm... just sore." Karen nods, her hand on Plankton's arm. "We have to be extra gentle today," she says. "Be soft, little stimulation." Chip nods, his eyes on his dad's face. "I understand, Mom," he says. Plankton's eye waters at the pain from his mouth, and his antennae quiver. "Can I get you anything?" Chip asks, his voice tentative. Plankton shakes his head slightly, his mouth still tender. The ordinary sounds of the morning seem amplified, his senses getting more heightened by the second. Karen watches. "It's okay, sweetie. We'll take it slow," she says, her voice soothing. "Chip, can you grab a cold comp—" But Plankton's already whimpering, his hand covering his mouth. "I don't think I can," he says. "It hurts too much." Karen nods. "Okay, okay," she says, her voice calm. "What do you need, Plank-" But Plankton's already quivering. "No, no, no," he mumbles, his eye closed tightly. "It's... it's too much.." Karen nods, her hand on his back. "It's okay, honey," she whispers. "Let's just rest. Would you like a drink of wa-" But Plankton's already shaking his head, his body stiff with pain. "N-no," he mumbles. "Too... too... hurts." His antennae are still quivering, his eye closed tightly. Karen's heart goes out to him. "Okay, okay," she whispers, stroking his arm. "Let's just rest, alr—" But Plankton's distress escalates. His antennae wave frantically, his eye widened with fear. "I... I can't," he stammers, his hand clutching at his mouth. Karen's voice is a whisper. "It's okay," she coos. "You're okay. It's just pain, Plankto-" But Plankton's shaking his head again, his antennae twitching. "No, no, no," he mumbles, his voice panicked. "Can't, can't..." Karen's eyes widen with concern. "Okay," she says quickly, her voice calm. "Let's try something else. How about some ice chi-" But Plankton's already shaking his head again, his eyes darting around the room. "No... no... no ice," he whimpers. Karen's brow furrows. "What can I do to he--" But before she can finish Chip jumps to his feet, his heart racing. "Dad, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice trembling. Karen's eyes fill with understanding. "It's his mouth," she says. "The pain is probably more intense than he can handle right now." Chip feels helpless as his dad's pain escalates. "What can we do?" he asks Karen, his voice desperate. Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's face. "We have to find his calm, Chip. We can't force him to do anything right now." She approaches her husband. "Plankton, honey," she says gently, her hand on his shoulder. "What do you want to help make it better?" Plankton's antennae quiver. "D-don't know," he says, his voice tight with pain. "Just... just my 'self-talk time'?" Karen nods quickly. "Of course, honey," she says. "Take your time." She looks at Chip. "Let's give your dad some space." They move out of the bedroom, closing the door behind them. In the hall, Karen sighs. "It's going to be a tough day," she says. Chip looks up at her. "What'd he mean Mom w-what’s self-talk time?" Karen sighs. "It's just sometimes your dad does it when he's overwhelmed. He talks to himself to calm down," she explains. "It's part of his stimming. He'll repeat words or phrases." Chip nods, his heart racing for his father. He leans against the wall, listening as he hears Plankton's voice. "O-kay... I find it, ready for us. Worry, not by me," Plankton says to himself on the other side of the wall. Chip wonders what he's talking about. Karen puts a hand on his shoulder. "He's finding his words," Karen whispers. "He'll be okay." She kisses Chip on the forehead. He then looks up at her. "Mom how have you managed to be there for Dad without ever making any mistakes?" Chip asks Karen. Karen smiles, her eyes filled with warmth. "It's not about not making mistakes, Chip. It's about learning, understanding, and adapting." She sighs. "There have been plenty of times I've misjudged a situation, or done the wrong thing." Chip's eyes widen. "Like what?" he asks. Karen thinks for a moment. "Like, I remember one time when your dad was stimming by flapping his arms, and I had accidentally bumped into him. He got so upset because he was interrupted in the middle of it." Chip nods slowly, his heart aching for his father's past pain. "What else?" he asks. Karen looks down. "One time we were gonna put out a small campfire. We didn't have any fire extinguishers," she says, trying to keep her voice quiet. "I asked if we had what's known as flame ret-... I realized your dad knew what I meant but, it still hurt him." Chip nods, his eyes filling with understanding. "But you guys are so strong together," he says. "And I can't seem to find a way.." Karen squeezes his shoulder. "You will, Chip. You're already learning. We're all here for each other."

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 3 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Plankton's body was still tense under the weight of the blanket, his breaths shallow. But as Karen's gentle touch soothed him, he began to visibly relax. The room, which had been charged with his frantic energy, now felt eerily still. Chip took a tentative step forward, unsure what to do or say. His father's meltdowns were new territory for him, but he knew he wanted to help, to make things right. Karen met his eyes, giving him a nod of encouragement. "Dad?" Chip's voice was small, barely audible above the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest. Plankton turned to look at him, his face a mask of weariness and regret. "I'm sorry," Chip whispered, his eyes brimming with tears. "I didn't know." But he ignored him. Plankton's gaze remained fixed on Karen, who continued her gentle strokes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I didn't want him to see me like this." Karen leaned in, kissing his forehead. "It's okay," she assured him. "We're here for you." Chip felt his own tears fall as he watched his parents, his heart aching for the pain he unknowingly caused. He took a deep breath and stepped closer. "Dad, I'm here," he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat. Plankton's gaze flickered to him, then back to Karen. For a moment, it was as if he didn't even register Chip's presence. But then, with a sigh, he leaned into Karen's embrace, the fight leaving his body. Chip hovered on the edge of the room, feeling like an outsider in his own home. He wanted so badly to comfort his dad, to make everything right. But he didn't know how. So he just watched, his heart breaking with each of Plankton's shaky breaths. "Dad," he tried again, his voice quieter now. "Can I help?" But Plankton was lost in his own world, his thoughts racing too fast for words. Chip could see the pain in his eye, the way his antennae drooped. So he cleaned up the mess Plankton made. Even as Chip finished, Plankton remained motionless, his breaths still shallow under the weight of the blanket and in Karen's embrace. "Dad, it's okay," Chip repeated, but the tense atmosphere remained. Plankton still wouldn't look at him. "I'm here for you," Chip added. Chip felt a mix of emotions swirl inside him: confusion, fear, and most of all, a deep sense of longing to connect with his father. He knew his dad was in pain, but he didn't know how to reach him. He sat down on the floor, willing his father to acknowledge him. Plankton's breathing grew steadier, and the room gradually quieted. Karen's hands continued to trace soothing patterns on his back. She looked over at Chip, her eyes filled with sorrow for the hurt her son was feeling. "Chip," she said softly. "Dad's just trying to calm down right now. Sometimes, when his brain gets too full, he needs us to be patient." Chip nodded, his eyes still fixed on his father. "Why won't he talk to me?" he choked out. Karen smiles sadly. "Because, sweetie, he's not just upset. This is his way of dealing with it." Karen's words hang in the air as Chip processes them. He'd always thought of his dad as invincible, someone who could handle anything. But now, seeing him like this, he realized how much he didn't know. He felt a pang of regret for his earlier attempt to mimic his dad's stims. It hadn't been to mock him, just to help him feel better, but now he understood how it had hurt Plankton. The room remained quiet as Karen held Plankton, his body slowly relaxing under the weight of the blanket. Finally, Plankton's body went slack, his breaths evening out. He leaned into Karen's embrace, his antennae now at rest. Chip sat on the floor, his heart racing, feeling lost and small. He didn't know what to do or say, but he desperately wanted to be part of the comforting process. Karen looked down at him, seeing the unspoken question in his eyes. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice filled with compassion. "Sometimes, just being here is enough." Chip watched, his eyes never leaving his father. He was torn between the desire to be a part of this intimate moment and the fear of intruding on his father's vulnerability. But his love for Plankton won out. He took a deep breath and approached them, sitting on the bed. Plankton's body is still. He was asleep, Karen knew. "Can I... ask something, Dad?" he asked. But Plankton's eye was closed now, his body finally at ease. "Dad can you hear me?" Chip tried again. "Mom? He's no-" Karen's gaze shot up to silence her son. "He is asleep now, Chip," she whispers to him while continuing to rub Plankton's back. Chip nodded, his throat tight. He looked down at his father, his mind racing with thoughts and questions. He didn't know how to deal with what he'd seen, but he knew one thing for sure: He wanted to be there for his dad, to understand what he was going through. "Can I hold him?" Chip asks his mother. He wanted to be closer. "I wanna hold him, on my lap in my arms. Can you let me hold him?" Karen nodded, her expression softening. "Careful, now," she said, gently lifting Plankton into his son's arms. Chip cradled his father with a tenderness he didn't know he had. He could feel the rise and fall of Plankton's chest, his heart beating steadily against his own. He whispered an apology, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, his throat tight. "I didn't mean to make you upset." The room was still, the only sound the soft snores coming from Plankton's parted lips. Chip held his father close with care, his arms tight around him. He watched him, his thoughts racing. He had so many questions, so much he didn't know about autism, about his father's world.

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 4 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Suddenly, Plankton stirred in his sleep, and he let out a low groan. Chip's heart jolted, fear gripping him. Was this another seizure? Another meltdown? But Karen's hand on his arm calmed him. "It's okay," she murmured. "He's just waking up. Set him down gently." Chip did as he was told, his hands trembling as he lowered Plankton back to the bed. He watched his father closely, his heart racing. Plankton's eye blinked open. For a moment, there was confusion in that single eye, but then it focused on Chip. "What...?" he murmured. Chip took a deep breath. "Dad, I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't know about the stimming or the meltdowns. I just... wanted to help." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he looked at his son. He felt a pang of guilt for snapping earlier. He had never wanted Chip to feel like this, but the fear of his condition being misunderstood had always weighed heavy on him. He took a deep breath, his voice still shaky. "I know, Chip," he murmurs. "But please, don't ever do that again." The pain in his voice was palpable. Chip nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. "I won't," he promised. "I wanted to show support." Plankton sighed, his expression a mix of exhaustion and regret. He knew Chip had only been trying to help, but his own pride just gets in the way. "Look, Chip," he began, his voice still shaky. "Doing it is like... it's like when you have so much energy you can't be still, right?" Chip nods. "Well, for me, it's like my brain has too much energy. It's like all the thoughts are racing and I can't keep up, so my body does it for me. But if you do it," Plankton continues, "it's like... like you're mocking. It's for me." The words hit Chip like a ton of bricks. He had never thought about it like that before. He had simply been trying to show his father that he cared, that he understood. But now he saw it from Plankton's perspective. He looked down at his hands, which had been still in his lap. They felt suddenly heavy, a symbol of his ignorance. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I didn't mean to make fun of you, Dad," he said, his voice cracking. "I just wanted you to know that I love you, stims and all." Plankton's antennae twitched again, a sign of his internal struggle. He took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "I know you didn't, Chip," he said. "But it's not something you just do. It's not for anyone else to mimic." Karen's eyes filled with pride as she watched her son. Despite his fear, his love for his father was unwavering. "It's okay, Plankton," she said. "Chip just wants to be there for you." Plankton's antennae lowered slightly as he met Chip's gaze. "I know," he murmured. "I know you meant well." He took another deep breath. "But you have to understand, it's not a game.." Chip nodded solemnly, his cheeks still damp from his earlier tears. "I get it, Dad," he said. "I won't do it again. I just want to know what to do when you're... you know." Plankton's antennae stilled as he considered his son's words. "Just be patient with me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And if you can, try to give me space when I need it." Chip nodded, feeling the weight of his dad's words. He knew he had to do better, to be more understanding. He looked to Karen for guidance, her eyes filled with love and encouragement. "Now it's getting late, and your father has the dentist in the morning for his yearly x-rays. We'll all be going early." The next morning, Karen woke Chip up by gently shaking his shoulder. "It's morning. Wanna come with me to wake up your dad?" Chip nodded, still feeling the heaviness of the night before. He followed his mother into their bedroom, where he found his dad still fast asleep. Plankton's face was peaceful, his antennas resting against his pillow. Chip felt a pang of regret, remembering his dad's pain. They approached the bed, where Plankton lay, his snores gentle. Karen leans down, her hand holding his. "Plankton, it's time to wake up," she whispered. He stirs, stretching as he opens his single eye. "X-rays," Plankton says. Karen drives them both to Plankton's dentist for his x-rays. They knew about his autistic sensitivities already, as he's been going to this place for a long time. The office was familiar, but Chip could still see his dad's antennae twitch slightly with anticipation. The nurse, a pufferfish named Nancy, greets them with a warm smile. "Good morning, Mr. Plankton," she said. "We're ready for your x-rays; follow me.." Nurse Nancy leads them to the room where x-rays are always taken. Plankton sat down in the chair. He knew this place, had been here many times before. But today, with Chip's knowledge of his condition fresh in his mind, he felt exposed, vulnerable. He closed his eye, trying to calm himself. Karen squeezed his hand comfortingly. "It's okay," she murmured. "You've got this." Chip stood beside his mom, his own nerves frayed from the night's events.

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 5 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) The x-ray machine whirred to life. The nurse moved slowly. "It's just a quick picture, Mr. Plankton," Nurse Nancy reminds. "It won't take long. We're just going to put this shield over your chest," she said, her voice soothing. "And then you'll bite down on this." She held up a small plastic piece. "It'll help us get the best picture of your teeth." Plankton nodded. He knew the routine well. The nurse continued. "Ready?" she asked. Plankton nodded, his eye squeezed shut. The machine beeped, and the light flashed. It was quick and easy as always. The dentist, Dr. Barry, entered the room with a warm smile. He looked at the x-rays, his tentacles flipping through them carefully. "Ah, yes," he said, nodding. "It looks like your wisdom teeth are gonna come in misaligned, Plankton." Plankton's antennae shot up in alarm, his eye widening. "What does that mean?" he asked, his voice tight. "Well," Dr. Barry explained, his tone neutral. "It means that they're growing in at an angle. It can cause some discomfort, and potentially lead to other dental issues if not corrected." Plankton's mind raced. "Let's stop this problem before it starts. So we're going to have to extract them. We can just get it over-" "Today?" Chip's voice was high-pitched, his eyes wide with worry. Karen put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Yes, today," the dentist nodded. Plankton's antennae began to twitch again, his grip on his chair tightening. Chip could see the anxiety rising in his father. "What does that mean?" he asked, swallowing hard. Dr. Barry looked at him kindly, his tentacles moving gently. "It means we're going to remove them now, so you don't have any problems in the future," he said. "But first, let's talk abou–" But Plankton couldn't hear him over the sudden rush of fear and panic. His antennae began to quiver, his breath quickening. Chip could see it coming, his dad's body tensing up. "Dad, no," he pleaded, his voice shaking. But it was too late, his eye rolling back in his head. Karen's grip on his hand tightened, and she whispered, "I've got you." Plankton's body convulsed. Chip watched, his heart racing, feeling utterly powerless. He'd never seen a full-blown meltdown like this before. It was terrifying. "Dad, please," Chip whispered, his voice trembling. He reached out tentatively, but Karen held him back. "Let me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. She knew Plankton's cues better than anyone. The room grew smaller as Plankton's panic escalated. He thrashed in the chair, his body contorted with fear. Karen quickly moved to his side, her hands gently guiding him to the floor, where there was more space. "Shh, it's okay," she cooed, her voice soothing. "You're safe here. Focus on my voice." Chip watched, his heart in his throat, as his mother's calming words seemed to penetrate Plankton's distress. Plankton's body grew stiller, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. The nurse looked on nervously, ready to step in if needed. But Karen was firm. "This is his thing," she whispered. "You're okay, sweetie," she murmured. "Just breathe." Plankton's antennae twitched less, his body slowly calming under her gentle touch. His single eye focused on hers. "No," he murmured. "No no no-" "Shh," Karen said, her voice soothing. "It's okay. We can handle this." Chip felt his stomach drop. Surgery? The dentist, Dr. Barry, observed them, his tentacles poised but calm. "We can personalize it," he offered, sensing their distress. "We'll use inhalational anesthesia before moving him to IV, that way he can stay relaxed and asleep." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "That sounds good," she said. "We wanna make sure he's as comfortable as possible." Dr. Barry leads them into the oral surgery's suite of the building. "Son, your father will be okay. You can stay here on this bench and we'll be on the other side of this door. Your mom can stay throughout his entire surgery." Chip nods as Dr. Barry allows Plankton and Karen into the room. "We've indestructible stitches that dissolve, so we'll use them. Karen can stay here the whole time, okay?" Dr. Barry assured Plankton as some nurses came in. Nurse Nancy smiles at him. Karen sits in the chair by Plankton's, holding his hand. Another nurse, a clownfish named Clara, enters with a soft, plushy frog toy. "We thought this might help," she says, handing it to Plankton. "You can keep it to take home with you." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he takes the toy. It's a comforting texture, and he finds himself squeezing it tightly. Karen smiles at Clara. "Thank you," she whispers. "It's the little things." The nurse nods, her eyes kind. "It's okay to be scared," she says to Plankton. "But we're all here to help." Plankton swallows hard, his gaze flitting to Karen. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Poseidon, enters the room, his tentacles moving with a calm efficiency. He explains the process again, his voice gentle. "We're going to give you some gas to help you sleep, then we'll use an IV for the surgery. You won't feel anything." Plankton nods, his antennae still. The nurse brings over the mask, and Plankton takes a deep breath, his arm tight around the comforting frog toy. Karen squeezes his other hand. "It'll be okay," she whispers reassuringly. The gas hisses, filling the space around him. Plankton feels his panic start to ease slightly. He focuses on the texture of the frog in his hand, the soft fabric grounding him as his surroundings begin to blur. Karen's voice is a comforting constant, whispering instructions, her grip on his hand firm. He can feel his body growing heavier, his thoughts slowing down. "Just breathe, Plankton," she says, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae droop as the gas takes effect. Karen's heart clenched as she watched her husband's body go slack, his eye closing. "It'll be over soon," she whispered, her throat tight with emotion. The nurses moved quickly, placing the IV beginning the surgery. Karen sat, her eyes never leaving his face. She watched as Dr. Barry worked with precision, his tentacles steady as he anesthetized his mouth and removed the wisdom teeth. The surgery was a blur of sounds and movements. Dr. Barry's tentacles were a flurry of precision, and Karen couldn't help but admire the grace of the medical team. They moved with a synchronicity that was almost mesmerizing as they stitched up the gums and removed his IV.

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 1 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Chip was adopted on the day of his birth by Karen and Plankton. Plankton's autistic, which he himself and Karen managed in secret. Plankton's stubborn pride is why they never told Chip about the non-epileptic pseudoseizures that Plankton sometimes gets when overwhelmed. But one day, Chip came home from a friend's to find his dad in one of his absence seizures. Karen was aking cookies when Chip went back into his parents room, where he found him sitting in his bed, unblinking. "Dad?" Chip called out. But Plankton didn't respond. Chip approached him, not knowing what to do. He'd never seen his dad like this before. He reached out a hand to shake his father's shoulder, but Plankton's body remains motionless. Chip's mind raced with questions, unsure of his next move. His hand hovered over Plankton's shoulder again, uncertain whether to touch or retreat. The silence was deafening, each second stretching into an eternity of doubt and worry. He decided to go get Karen, his thoughts racing. As he stepped into the kitchen, the warm, sweet scent of cookies was a stark contrast to the cold dread. "Mom!" he called out, trying to keep his voice steady. She turned from the stove, her eyes searching his, sensing his panic. "What's wrong, Chip?" Her concern grew when she saw his ashen face. "Dad's i-in your room, and h-he’s not... he's n-not o-okay," he stutters. Her expression shifted, the smile fading. She knew. She always knew. The secret they kept from him, the silent battles Plankton faced. So she followed Chip back to Plankton. This wasn't new to her, just another chapter in their lives. But for Chip, it was a jolting reality check, one that shattered his innocence. He watched his mother's practiced calmness with a mix of admiration and fear. "It's okay," Karen assured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "This is just one of Dad's special moments." Chip looked at her, eyes wide with confusion. Special moments? This didn't look special, it looked terrifying. But Karen's tone was soothing, her touch firm. "It's like a pause button," she explained gently. "Dad's brain just needs a little break." He nodded, trying to understand, his eyes never leaving Plankton. The man he had looked up to. Plankton had always been quirky, but this was different. This was a part of his father he never knew existed, a side of him that was frightening and mysterious. Karen saw the confusion in her son's eyes and knew the time had come to explain. She sat beside Chip on the bed, her voice soft but firm. "Dad has something called autism," she began. "It's like a unique way his brain works, and sometimes it can make him have moments like this." She paused, watching Chip absorb the information. "But what are those moments?" Chip asked, his curiosity outweighing his fear. Karen took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "They're kind of like a special kind of seizure called absentia epileptica. It's not like the ones you see on TV. These are quieter, like his brain just stops for a bit." She stroked Plankton's hand, her gaze never leaving Chip's. "It's like when you daydream so deeply you don't hear anything around you. But for Dad, it happens without his control. But he can still feel things." Chip looked at his father's still form, trying to reconcile this new knowledge with the man he knew. The silence in the room was heavy, filled with unspoken words and a new understanding that was still taking shape. He reaches out to touch Plankton's shoulder but Karen stops him. "Let's not bombard him," she whispers. "Sometimes, if you startle him, it can be worse." They sat, watching Plankton's unresponsive form. Chip had noticed his dad's quirks before, occasional outbursts of frustration or sudden need for solitude. But he'd always thought it was just his dad being his usual quirky self. Slowly, Plankton's eye blinked and focused, his antennae now twitching slightly, as if regaining awareness of surroundings. He looked at Chip with a start, his eye widening in shock at the sight of his son's concerned expression. "Chip?" So Karen gave Chip a quick nod, signaling that it's safe to speak. "Hi, Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking slightly. Plankton's gaze shifted from his wife to his son, his eye searching for answers. "What," he responded weakly. Yet now, the secret was out. Karen took charge, explaining calmly, "You had one of your moments, sweetie." Plankton's face reddened with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He knew the look on Chip's face, the fear and confusion. It was a reminder of his own struggles, ones he had hoped to shield his son from for as long as possible. "What did you tell him?" Plankton snapped at Karen, his voice harsher than he intended. The room felt smaller, the air thick with his anger. Chip took a step back. Karen's eyes flashed, but she remained calm. "Only what he needed to know. He found you like this, Plankton. He was scared." Plankton's anger grew, his antennae quivering. He sat up abruptly, the sheets rustling around his body as he turned to Chip. "What did she tell you?" he demanded, his voice tight. Chip shrank under the intensity of his father's gaze. The words tumbled out of his mouth before Chip could stop them. "That you're re--- or something, right Mom? Isn't that what yo-" Karen's hand shot out, covering Chip's mouth. Her eyes were filled with horror. "No, Chip," she murmured, cutting him off gently. "That's not the right word." But the damage was done. Plankton's expression darkened as she removed her hand from Chip's mouth. "That's not what I said," Karen interjected, her voice tight with disappointment. "Remember, it's called autism. It's not a bad thing, it's just how Dad's brain works differently." But Plankton was beyond listening. On his bed, he pulled his knees up to his chest as he rocks back and forth. Karen knew all about his stimming. "I hate this," he murmured, his voice a mix of anger and self-loathing. "I hate that I can't control it. That it scares us." His antennae twitched erratically as he spoke within his stimming. Chip, however, didn't know about Plankton's stimming and stared at his father, his eyes wide. He'd never seen him like this. Plankton was always so strong, so capable. But here he was, huddled in on himself, speaking in a way that didn't sound like the dad he knew. "It's okay, Dad," Chip said softly, reaching out to him. But Plankton flinches away from him. "No!" Karen sat next to Chip on her own bed, which was by Plankton's bed. "Chip, don't touch him. Dad's just upset. Sometimes, when he gets overwhelmed, he needs to talk things out with his own thoughts. It's his stimming, which he personally does just to calm down. He may subconsciously do so when restless. Many autistics do it, but he doesn't want for us to interrupt or converse, until he's done." Chip nodded, watching his dad rocking back and forth. He'd never seen his dad like this before. "It's called stimming," Karen said gently, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "It's a way for people with autism to self-soothe and regulate their sensory input. He doesn't like for people to comment on it, because for him it's like a private conversation with himself. It's personally his own. If needed, look for a pause to ask him if he's okay, but otherwise, let him be." Chip nodded, his gaze still on his father, who was now slowly calming down. The rocking had lessened, and his antennae twitched less frantically. His curiosity was piqued, and he had a million questions swirling around in his head.

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 2 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) "So uhm," Chip began tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can you tell me more about Dad's... autism?" Karen took a deep breath, looking at her son with a mix of sadness and pride. She had always known this day would come, and nods to Plankton. "Honey, tell him about your autis–" Plankton cut her off with a sharp wave of his head, his antennae twitching slightly. "No," he said firmly. "He'll just call me that same slur again.." Chip's eyes widened with shock. "Dad," he protested, "I didn't mean anything by it. I just didn't know what else to ca--" But Plankton had already turned away, his eye welling up with tears. Chip felt a sudden surge of guilt for his innocent mistake. He didn't know about the slur, about the painful history of wording used to define and demean. "I'm sorry," Chip whispered, voice cracking in emotion. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Plankton took a deep breath, still not facing Chip. The tears in his eye fell down his cheeks. "Dad, I just want to understand," Chip persisted, his voice trembling. "Please, tell me abou–" But Plankton's expression was a wall, his antennae crossed tightly. "No," he said firmly, his voice shaking with emotion. "Not now. I can't... I just can't right now." Chip felt the rejection like a physical blow. He knew his dad was hurting, but he can't help but ask questions. He looked at Karen, desperation in his eyes. "Mom, can you tell me more?" Karen took a deep breath, her gaze flipping to Plankton who was still facing away. "Of course, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "Autism is a spectrum, and it affects everyone differently. For your dad, it's like his brain has its own unique pattern of wiring. Sometimes it's like his senses are on overload and he needs to retreat so he can cope." Chip listened, his eyes never leaving Plankton's back. He could see the tension in his father's shoulders, the stiffness of his posture. He wanted to reach out, to hug his dad and tell him it was okay, but his mom's earlier warning held him back. Instead, he asked Karen, his voice tentative, "What causes these moments? Can it be something simple like being tired or stressed?" Karen sighed, looking down at her hands. "Yes, it can be those things. But it can also be from sensory overload, or when his brain has too much information to process at once. It's like when you have to pause because something's getting to fast." Plankton's stimming grew as tears stream down his face. Chip watched him, unsure of what to do next. But Karen continued to speak. "It's important to remember, Chip, that Dad is still the same person. He just deals with things differently." Chip nodded, his heart racing as he processed everything. "But how can I help?" he asked, looking to Karen for guidance. She took a moment to compose herself before speaking. "Just be patient with him, Chip. Give him space when he needs it. And try not to make a big deal out of his stims." Plankton's rocking had ceased, but his antennae still twitched slightly, a subtle reminder of his turmoil. Chip felt his own heart aching. "I'll be more careful," he promised, his voice small. Karen nodded, her hand reaching out to pat his knee. "That's all we ask, Chip. Just be there for him when he needs you." The silence grew between them, a quiet acknowledgment of the new reality they faced. But Chip couldn't stand it. He had to do something. He had to show his dad that he still loved him, stims and all. So, in an ill-advised moment of enthusiasm, Chip mimicked Plankton's stimming in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Look, Dad!" he exclaimed, rocking back and forth. "I stim too!" The room froze. Karen's hand flew to her mouth, and Plankton's antennae stood straight up in shock. The tension was palpable. "Chip," Karen began, her voice a warning. But Chip was on a roll, his eyes bright with hope that his actions would bring a smile to Plankton's face. He flaps his hands in a poor imitation of Plankton's own movements, his smile wide and earnest. "See, Da-" But the reaction he receives is not what he expects. Plankton whips around, his eye blazing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Don't," he says through clenched teeth. "Don't you ever do that." The sharpness in his tone cut off Chip's words. He stares at his father in shock, his hands slowly dropping to his sides. He had only wanted to make him feel better, to show solidarity. But the look on Plankton's face tells him he's gone too far. Karen's eyes widen in horror, but before she can intervene, Plankton's voice cries out, "That's not a game, Chip! That's not something you just copy because you think it's funny!" Chip's smile fades as he realizes his mistake. "I-I'm sorry," he stammers, his cheeks flushing red. "I didn't mean to make fun, I just wanted to-" But Plankton's angry. With a roar, he flings the pillow from his bed, sending it sailing across the room. It hits the wall with a thump. Chip's eyes are wide with fear now, as he watches his father's rage unfold. He had never seen this. Plankton's normally calm and collected exterior had morphed into something unrecognizable. He began to rip the sheets off his bed, the fabric tearing with each furious yank. Karen herself remained calm, trying to approach Plankton carefully. "Sweetie, come on," she said softly. "Let's sit down and talk." But Plankton was beyond listening, his mind consumed by all the big emotions that accompanies his meltdowns. Chip looked from his mom to his dad, who was now ripping a poster off the wall. The poster crumpled in his hands, and he threw it across the room. Yet Karen remained steadfast. She knew Plankton's meltdowns well, had seen them before in private, had helped soothe him through them. But this was different, as it was in front of Chip, who had never seen this side of his father. She didn't know how to explain this to him, how to make him understand that this was just part of who Plankton was, part of his condition. "Chip, stay back a step," she instructed firmly. "I'll handle this." But Chip was frozen, his eyes glued to the scene before him. Plankton had moved on to his dresser, yanking open the drawers and tossing the contents onto the floor. "Dad, please," Chip pleaded, his voice cracking. But Plankton was deaf to his son's words, his movements jerky and unpredictable. Karen approached carefully, her eyes never leaving his, her voice calm and steady. "Plankton, honey, it's okay. I'm here." She reached out a hand, ready to guide him to a quiet spot to regain his composure. The room was a mess of clothes and bedding, a stark contrast to the usually neat and orderly space. Plankton's breaths were ragged, his eye darting from Karen to Chip, his antennae flailing wildly. Karen knew she had to act quickly to de-escalate the situation. She approached him slowly, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Plankton," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You need to sit down, baby." She knew that touch could be overwhelming for him during a meltdown, so she kept her distance. Plankton's eye darted back and forth, his breaths quickening. Karen knew what this meant. So she got a weighted blanket, carefully draping it over Plankton's shoulders. He flinched at the touch, but the weight of it seemed to calm him slightly. He was still tense, but the ferocity of his actions diminished. Karen knew this was her chance. She sat beside him, her hand on his back, gently rubbing circles as she spoke softly. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmered. "You're safe." Slowly, his breathing evened out, and his movements grew less frantic. His antennae lowered slightly, and his eye focused on Karen's hand as she stroked his back. The room was a mess, a testament to his turmoil. But Chip saw the change in his dad's posture, the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of the blanket and his own emotions. Plankton's anger was now fading, replaced by a look of exhaustion.

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 6 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) When it was all done, Plankton was still, his chest rising and falling steadily. Karen watched him, her heart aching with a mix of relief and love. His face was so peaceful, his antennae laying flat against his pillow. The surgery had been quick, but it felt like an eternity. She had sat there, her eyes never straying from her husband's face, willing him to be okay. She kissed Plankton's forehead. The frog toy still clutched in his hand, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the gentle snore escaping his lips. Plankton's single eye was closed, the tension around his mouth had relaxed, and a line of drool was making its slow descent from his bottom lip. Karen couldn't help but smile. "It's normal," Dr. Barry chuckles. But to Karen, it was a rare glimpse into his vulnerability, something he rarely allowed others to see. Underneath the bravado and the obsession with stealing the Krabby Patty, he was just a man who at times just needed help. The sight of his drool was oddly comforting, a symbol of his complete surrender to the lingering anesthesia. Dr. Barry let Chip in. "You can sit with him," Dr. Barry told Chip. Plankton was still unconscious, his breathing deep and even. Karen squeezed Chip's shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered. "He'll wake up soon." Chip nodded, as the dental assistant put gauze into Plankton's mouth. "When coming out of anesthesia one might feel groggy. With autism, autistics can seemingly regress. In other words, his autism might be more prominent today. Some might be semi-nonverbal or hyperverbal, all due to lingering anesthesia. Disorientation is common, usually lasting a day. After he's asleep, we used local anesthetic to numb the surgical areas, which also can last for a day." Nurse Nancy explained. "So in other words, his mouth will be numb and he might act loopy." Chip's eyes were wide with fear. "It's okay," she assured him. "This is just part of his recovery." Plankton began to stir, his antennae twitching slightly. "Mmph," he mumbled, his mouth full of gauze. Karen chuckled softly. "Looks like he's waking up," she said. Chip watched, his heart racing as his father's eye flutters open, looking around the room in confusion. Plankton's voice was slurred and garbled as he tried to speak around the numbness and gauze. "Whwat... whwere... wham?" he asked, his single eye blinking slowly. "Mwisdoom...?" Chip couldn't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. "You're okay, Dad," he said, his voice shaky with relief. "You just had some teeth taken out here at the dentist." Plankton's eye focused on Chip, his antennae twitching slightly. "Teef?" he slurred. Chip nodded. "Wisdom teeth," Karen explained. "They had to be removed. What do you remember?" Plankton blinked, his expression hazy. "Karen... mask... flawgy... teef..." He was trying to piece together the events of the morning, but the anesthesia had left him feeling loopy. His eye searched the room, finally landing on the nurse who had given him the frog toy. "Thamks... fow... fwog," he mumbled, holding up the toy. The nurse, Clara, smiled at him. "It's okay, Mr. Plankton. You're all done," she said, her voice kind. "You're going to go home soon." Karen chuckled. "Aw! He's thanking you for the frog," she interpreted. "Tell the nice lady how it helped you, Plankton." With his mouth still full of gauze, Plankton managed a "Mm hmph," his antennae bobbing in agreement. He squeezed the frog tighter, the texture comforting him even in his groggy state. Chip couldn't help but laugh at his dad's slurred speech. "You're so funny, Dad," he said, his voice light. Nurse Clara chuckled and nodded. "It's not uncommon," she said. "Anesthesia can make people say some pretty funny things." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he tried to talk again. "Karen... bwake... me... bweaky?" Karen couldn't help but laugh at her husband's slurred speech. "Sure, sweetie, whatever you say." Karen helped Plankton sit up. He took a deep breath, the frog toy still clutched in his hand. "Hometh... now’n?" he managed to ask, his voice still thick with anesthesia. "Yes, we're going home soon," Karen assured him, wiping away the drool that had collected on his chin. "First, we'll get you cleaned up, and then we'll go." Chip watched, his anxiety fading into relief. His dad was going to be okay.

𝖳𝖮 𝖫𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖭 part 7 (𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Plankton leaned on to his wife, the frog toy now a silent witness to his confusion. "Karen, I thoink I thaw... a pwinthip... in the denthit," he slurred, his tongue thick from the anesthesia. Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension from the morning dissipating. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice gentle. "You're just a bit loopy. We're going home soon." Chip watched, his fear turning into amusement. Plankton looked at Chip, his antennae still. "Chip... thon... I wove you," he managed to get out, the words slurred. Chip's cheeks grew red, trying not to laugh. "Dad, I know. You're just tired, and I love you to—" But Plankton wasn't done. "Thoo... toothfth... theyth tooh theem," he asks. Karen nods, her smile tender. "Yes, they took out your wisdom te-" "Teeefth," Plankton interjects, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth. "Wi’out my teeefth, how wiww I... I... eath?" His concern was genuine, his mind still fuzzy with anesthesia. Karen giggles. "Don't worry, you'll eat just fine," she soothes, gently stroking his back. "You'll have soft foods for a bit, then back to your normal diet. It'll be a shot in the arm!" Plankton's eye widens and wells up with tears. "Shoth?" he repeats, his voice rising. Karen quickly reassures him. "No, no, Plankton, I meant it'll be a piece of cake! No shots, just so—" But Plankton's antennae were already quivering with fear, his body tense. He took the phrase "shot in the arm" literally. Karen's heart sank. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, cutting off her laugh. "It's an expression, Plankton. No shots, I pro-" But it was too late. A whine began to build high-pitched. Chip's laughter died. Karen squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's just an expression. I shouldn't have used it. No shots, I promise," she whispered, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae quivered, his single eye filling with tears. "Youw thaid, y-you tolb me!" Karen's expression softened, seeing his distress. "Plankton, it's okay. It's just something we say, like 'easy as pie.' But I shouldn't have used it if it scared you." She took the frog from his hand, setting it aside, and wrapped her arms around him. "You're safe babe. No one's going to hurt you." Chip watched his parents, his heart aching. "Dad, please, don't cry! It's okay, Dad," he whispered. "We're going to go home." Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his antennae drooping. "Mmph... wight," he mumbled. "Nobody's gonna... shot me." His mouth was still numb, his speech still slurred. "That's right," Karen said, kissing his forehead. "Let's go home!" Karen managed to get her husband to his feet as she helped him out of the dental chair. She held Plankton upright as he wobbled slightly, his legs still weak from anesthesia. "Careful," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's get going." Plankton chuckles as Karen helped him stand up, his legs wobbly. "Wook ath me, I'm wike babywun," he says, his words still thick. Karen laughs softly, her heart swelling with love as Chip follows them out. "You're doing great," she reassures him, her arm around his waist. "Just lean on me, okay?" They made their way to the car, Chip sitting in the back by his dad as Karen got into the driver's seat. She then started the engine and gave her husband a side glance. "You okay?" she asked, amused. Plankton nodded, his speech still slurred. "Ish, jumst wike I goth my wips dipwed," he said. Chip couldn't help but snicker as Plankton's head lolled to the side, Karen's eyes darted to the rearview mirror, checking on him. "You okay back there, sweetie?" she asked. Plankton's eye opened slightly, his antennae twitching. "Mm hmph," he mumbled, his voice still slurred. Chip knew his dad would be okay. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the frog toy still in his hand. "Wook, Chip," he mumbled, pointing out the window. "Twee... bweautiful day, ishn't ith?" Chip nodded, his eyes on his father's reflection in the window. He was still a bit loopy, his words coming out of his still-numb mouth as a series of lisps. Karen glanced back, a small smile playing on her lips. "We're gonna have to keep an eye on him today, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "I will," Chip promised, his gaze never leaving his dad. For Plankton was still slurring, but he seemed content. "Dath... dath's... dath's..." Chip couldn't help but chuckle. "Your mouth's just numb." He smiled. "So, tell me what you recall during the dentist appointment, Dad?" Plankton's antennae twitched. "Well, I... I... I met a nice nurse wif a fwog." He managed, holding up the plush toy. "And den... den... I goth... I rember... a mask... and den... den I woke up to thee youw and awso thaw youw mom my wife Karen. I thaw Karen acting wike she was a thilly widdle gull," he slurred with a hint of a lopsided smile. Karen rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "So you're saying I'm a silly little girl," she asked. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Yeth," he said, his smile growing wider. "Youw wuz.. I finks Chip thaid 'bweautiful'." Karen's eyes met Chip's in the mirror, and they both laughed. Plankton's fighting off the urge to sleep now. "Twee... trees... theem loks wobble," he says as his eye struggles to stay open. Karen chuckles from the front seat. "Are you getting sleepy back there, Plankton?" "No... just a wobbit," Plankton slurs, his voice faint. Chip looks at his dad. "You okay?" Plankton nods slightly. "I'm stiw awake. Theemth... theemth... theemth... thleepy." Karen glances in the mirror. "We're almost home," she soothes. "Yo-" But she's cut off by a sudden snore from Plankton. Chip giggles. "Looks like someone's already conked out.. Dad, can you wake up?" Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep, his mouth moving. "Mmf... wha?" Karen smiles at Chip. "Guess the anesthesia's still doing its thing." They pull into the driveway, the house looming comfortingly. "Wakey wakey," Karen sings, shaking Plankton gently. He blinks, his eye struggling to focus. Plankton's mouth opens, but only a slurred "Mmph" escapes. "I thweep?" Karen laughs gently as she helps him into the house. "You're okay, just a bit tired." Plankton stumbles slightly, his body still heavy from the anesthesia. Inside, they settle him on his bed. "Dad," Chip starts, but Plankton's already snoring lightly, the frog toy still clutched in his hand. Karen smiles tiredly. "Let's get him comfortable." Karen managed to remove his gauze. "Wook, Chip," Plankton mumbles, his voice slurred and sleepy. "Wook ath dis widdle fwoggy. It'th my new fwiend." Chip laughs softly as his mom helps Plankton get comfortable on the bed. "You're going to need some rest, Dad," he says. Plankton nods. "Mmph, yesh. Wemember, Chip," he says. "Remember what, Dad?" Chip asks, smiling. "Wemember the fwiend, the fwoggy," Plankton responds. With a gentle laugh, Karen takes the frog toy and places it beside Plankton. "Yes, you're right," she says, her eyes shining. "Your new friend will watch over you." Plankton nods, his eyelid drooping. "Mmh," he says, his hand reaching for the toy again. His mouth, still numb, moves slightly as he chews on his tongue. Karen watches him. "No no, Plankton," she whispers. "Don't chew on your mouth, you'll hurt it more." Chip's eyes widen in realization. "Dad, stop," he says gently. "You're still numb." Plankton looks at him. "Wha?" Karen sighs, her voice still kind. "You're chewing on your mouth, honey," she explains. "And you know you're sensitive. Tomorrow the numbness will be gone, and you'll be even more sore if you..." But Plankton's already drooling over the toy. "Plankton," Karen says firmly. "You're not supposed to chew. The gauze is gone." Plankton's antennae then twitch in confusion, eye barely open. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth. Chip stepped forward, his voice gentle. "Dad, you can't chew on that. It'll make your mouth worse." He took the frog from Plankton's hand. Plankton's single eye snapped open, his gaze focusing on Chip, in a mix of confusion and sadness. "Gimme my fwoggy..." Chip held up the frog toy. "Dad, you can't have it right now. You can get it back if you stop randomly chewing." But Plankton's still trying to reach for the frog. "NO," Chip says, which makes Plankton sit back down on the bed. Plankton's antennae drooped as he began to cry. Not loud sobs, but quiet, sad tears that trickled down his face. "I... I wan' m-my, my fwoggy," he says, his voice thick with pain. Karen turns to Chip. "Give him the toy," she whispers. "He wants it for comfort. The frog has nothing to do with his chewing. And don't raise your voice like that. He's still autistic, and still sensitive." Chip nods, feeling guilty. "Sorry, Dad," he says, handing the toy back to his father. Plankton's sniffles die down as he holds the frog tightly, his antennae still drooping. "I'm sorry, Dad," Chip says again. Karen wipes Plankton's face with her thumb, removing the drool and tears. "It's okay," she soothes. Chip watches his dad, his heart aching. He hadn't realized how much his father's autism affected his daily life. Plankton's stims, his need for calm, the way he sometimes struggled with the unexpected—it all made sense now. And the frog, a simple toy to anyone else, had become a comfort for his dad in this moment of vulnerability. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye half-closed. "Mmh," he mumbles, his hand finding the frog again as his mouth moves in a slight chew. Chip notices, his heart squeezing. "Dad," he says, his voice gentle. "You're doing it again. You can't chew on your mouth." Plankton looks at him, his antennae still. "I'm noth chewing," he mumbles. But his mouth is moving. Karen sighs, her hand on his shoulder. "Plankton, sweetie, you are," she whispers. "You're just not aware of it."