Chip Plankton Emojis & Text

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new chip plankton Chip Plankton II chip

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new Chip Plankton II chip plankton chip

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 6

"Dad," Chip said, his voice
filled with a mix of love
and concern. "You're okay."

Plankton blinked, his gaze
focusing on Chip. His hand
stilled, the octopus and
bear forgotten. "Chip?"
Chip nodded, his voice
steady. "It's me, Dad. I'm
here." He watched as his
father's expression shifted
to confusion.

"What...what happened?"
Plankton asked, his voice
slurred and uncertain. Karen
stood up, wiping her eyes. "You
had a seizure, love," she
explained, her voice calm.
"But you're okay now. Just
take your tim-"

"No," Plankton said,
cutting her off. He looked
at the octopus in Chip's
hand, then at the bear in his
own. His eye searched
the room, trying to piece
together the jigsaw puzzle
of his recent memory. "Wait,"
he murmured, his voice
shaky. "Why the barnacles...
I swear I was just..." Plankton
trails off, noticing drool
on the bedspread. His hand
shakes as he wipes it away,
his mind racing to remember.

Karen's heart goes out to
her husband as she sees
the embarrassment etched on
his face. She knows he's
trying to make sense of
the chaos in his head, to find
his place in the world again.
"You had a seizure, Plankton,"
she says gently. "You're ok now."

Plankton's hand tightens
around the bear as the
fragments of his memory
begin to coalesce. "Chip," he says,
his voice a whisper. "He...he said..."
The word hangs in the air, a
shadow of the pain it had
caused moments ago. Karen
swallows hard, knowing that
this is the moment she's been
dreading.

"Yes," she says gently. "Chip said
something he shouldn't have."
Her eyes meet Chip's, her gaze
silently urging him to take
responsibility. Chip nods, his
eyes downcast. "But we need to
talk to him, Plankton. He didn't
mean it. He just doesn't
understand.."

But Plankton's expression has
closed off. The mention of the
slur brings back the hurt, and
his hand clutches the bear tightly.
Karen can see the walls going
up again, the fear of being
misunderstood once more.

"Dad," Chip says, his voice
soft. "I didn't mean it like that.
I didn't know." He takes a deep
breath, his eyes pleading. "Can
we talk?"

Plankton looks at him, his
expression unreadable. Karen
holds her breath, her heart in
her throat. This was the moment
that could either heal the rift
or drive them further apart.

"I...I'm sorry," Chip stammers,
his voice shaking. "I didn't know
what that word meant. I
just...I just heard it and..."
He trails off, his eyes
filling with tears. "I'm sorry,
Dad. I didn't know it would hurt
you like that."

Plankton stares at the octopus in
his hand, his mind racing. He
knows he should be angry, but
all he feels is tired. Tired of the
misunderstandings, tired of the
pain that comes with every
ill-intended remark.

He looks up at Chip, his son's
face etched with regret. "Why?"
he asks, his voice barely a
whisper. "Why would you say
such a thing?"

Chip shifts his weight, his
eyes downcast. "I just...I
heard it," he admits. "I didn't
know what it really meant."
He looks at the bear, then back
to Plankton. "I didn't know it
would make you feel like thi—"

Chip was interrupted by
a knock on the front door.
It's Sandy, Karen's best gal
pal, dropping by to visit!

Plankton's eye twitches, his
thoughts racing. He wasn't
ready for company, especially
not when he was feeling so
raw. But the sound of the door
opening and Sandy's cheery
voice filled the room, pulling
them back to reality.

"Howdy, y'all!" Sandy exclaims. 
Plankton looked up at
her, hiding his bear and octopus
in his sensory box under the
bed. But Sandy saw it. "What's
going on? Whatcha got in the box?"
Plankton didn't want Sandy to
know, didn't want anyone else to
figure it out.

Sandy, ever the observant
soul, noticed the tension in
the room. "Everything okay
here?" she asked, her eyes
scanning the scene.

Karen took a deep breath,
deciding it was time to face
the music. "Plankton had a se-"

But Plankton interrupts
Karen. "A seriously good
plan to uh, to get the Krabby Patty
formula," he says, his voice
quickening as he tries to
deflect.

Sandy raises an 
eyebrow. "Is that all?"
she asks, not quite believing
the sudden shift in
conversation.

Plankton nods, his hand
still shaking as he tries to
keep the box hidden. "Yes,"
he says, a bit too quickly.
"Just a... a little plan.
Nothing serious." His voice
was strained, the lie
heavier than the silence that
followed.

Chip watches his dad,
his heart breaking at the sight
of the man who had always
been so strong now looking so
small and scared. He knew
his words had caused this,
but he didn't know how to fix it.
"Dad," he says, his voice
soft. "We need to talk about
this."

But Plankton just shakes
his head, his eyes darting
around the room. "No," he
mutters, his voice shaky. "Not
now. Not with...her here."
He nods towards Sandy, his
anxiety palpable. "Yea, our
little secret plans must wait,"
he says with forced joviality.

Sandy's eyes narrow, sensing
something is off. "Is everything
alright, Plankton?" she asks,
concern lacing her voice.

Plankton's heart races, his
mind trying to form coherent
words. He didn't want to lie,
but the truth felt too heavy, too
complicated for this moment.
"It's fine," he says, his tone
clipped. "Just a bit tired. Even
the greatest minds need to
rest, eh?" He tries to laugh,
but it comes out forced.

Sandy nods, looking between
the two of them. "Alright,"
she says, her voice still laced
with concern. "If you're
sure. What about the box?
What's i---"

"It's nothing!" Plankton says,
his voice a little too loud.
He's flustered, his heart
racing with the fear of being
found out. The last thing he
needs is for Sandy to know about
his autism, his secret.

He waves a hand dismissively
and stands up, the box of
stims still hidden under the
bed. "Just some... uh... inventory
for the Chum Bucket," he
stammers, trying to compose
his features into something
resembling normalcy. "You know,
top-secret recipes and...
and... uh, Krabby Patty...
formulas," he adds hastily, his
mind racing to come up with
a plausible cover story.

Sandy's eyes narrow
slightly, not quite buying
it. "Then, show me‽ I can't
let you steal the Krabby Patty
formula," she says, snatching
the box.

new chip plankton karen plankton come together

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 10
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌.
"𝖣𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍?"
𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁
𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌. "𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋
𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝖾𝖽
𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽."

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐
𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗍
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗆, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾.
"𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀?" 𝗁𝖾
𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. "𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾—" "𝖡𝗅𝗂𝗉, 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆, 𝗄𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄.
𝖣𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒-𝖽𝗈𝗈, 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗒-𝗃𝗈𝗈."
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗌. 
"𝖥𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗋-𝖿𝗅𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗋." 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 
𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗇. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝖣𝖺𝖽,"
𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆.
"𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒. 𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐?"
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁
𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀.
"𝖳𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗌," 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾
𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽. "𝖡𝗂𝗀. 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇." 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗉 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐
𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖦𝗂𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗋-𝗃𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗋."
"𝖸𝖾𝗌," 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾
𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖡𝗂𝗀 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗌."
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾
𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. "𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽,"
𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. "𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽."

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖦𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗉. 𝖦𝗅𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒,"
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌.
"𝖣𝗂𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗋-𝖽𝗂𝖻𝖻𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾-
𝗐𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾," 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌.
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍.
"𝖶𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍, 𝖨'𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾
𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖣𝖺𝖽." 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌
𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀.
𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾
𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝗈𝗅𝗍𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉. "𝖭𝗈," 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌
𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋. "𝖭𝗈 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁."
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗓𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌
𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾. "𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒," 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝗂𝗇
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋. "𝖱𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅," 𝗌𝗁𝖾
𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍
𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽,
𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌."
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋'𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗈
𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌
𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋. "𝖣𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒, 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗒,"
𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅.
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄, 𝖣𝖺𝖽," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌.
𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌. "𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌.
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌,
𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇."

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾.
"𝖶𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒, 
𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗒-𝗐𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗒,"
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌.
"𝖳𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗒-𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋."

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽
𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌,
𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍.
𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽'𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌
𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍
𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌
𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼
𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒,
𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌. "𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾."
𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖲𝖺𝖿𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗌.
"𝖬𝗈𝗆, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇?"
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗐. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. "𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍
𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾
𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗌. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌
𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅
𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒." 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌. "𝖶𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝗒,
𝗐𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉
𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉. "𝖣𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗒,
𝖽𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗒, 𝖽𝗈𝖽𝗈," 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌
𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒
𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇. "𝖨𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒?"
𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌. "𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉," 𝗌𝗁𝖾
𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽. "𝖨'𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾,"
𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖾
𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋. "𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍," 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗌.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌
𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒
𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋'𝗌
𝗁𝗎𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅
𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾.
𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌
𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌,
𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝗇 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇
𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽.
𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝗂𝗇
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋, 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍
𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆
𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋'𝗌 𝖠𝖢 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍
𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉
𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾.
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗎𝖾𝖽
𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽. "𝖲𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽
𝗐𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾?"
𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌.
"𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗈𝗇 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋. "𝖶𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉,
𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖾," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.
"𝖧𝗈𝗆𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿𝗅𝗒,
𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇.
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒," 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒
𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋.
𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖽𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒. "𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈
𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉
𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌
𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾.
"𝖱𝖾𝗌𝗍," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾
𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀. 
"𝖣𝖺𝖽?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾.
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌
𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽.
"𝖬𝗆?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍.
"𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒?"
𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁. "𝖣𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾
𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒," 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉-𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗇.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌. "𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍
𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆?" 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌.
"𝖫𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾." 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌.
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆.
"𝖲𝗎𝖻," 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒,"
𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗈𝗇 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍
𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌." 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆,
𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌
𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉.

"𝖡𝗅𝗂𝗉, 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗒,"
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖨𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀?" 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌,"
𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗆, 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒. 𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒.
𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍
𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌."
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌. "𝖨𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀?"
𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌. "𝖬𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾," 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌,
𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.
"𝖪𝖾𝗋-𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆-𝗈. 𝖡𝖺𝗆-𝖻𝖺𝗆-𝖻𝖺𝗆." 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉
𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗌. "𝖨𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌
𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝗁𝖾𝗋
𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗂𝖽-𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁.
"𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉-𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝗌, 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝗂𝗑 𝗈𝖿
𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. "𝖦𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗒,
𝗀𝗈𝗈𝗄," 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖲𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗒, 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗌𝗁."
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾.
"𝖣𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀?"
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍
𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌.
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁
𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉."
𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾
𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇
𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗆.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗁𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗌
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. "𝖯𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀,
𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗆," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒.
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗋
𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌
𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾," 𝗁𝖾
𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽'𝗌
𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌,
𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.
"𝖨𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌.
"𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁-𝗎𝗉,
𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒."

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉-𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖥𝗂𝗓𝗓, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗓𝗓, 𝗉𝗈𝗉,"
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍
𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋. "𝖨𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼?" 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌
𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈
𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌. "𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺
𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗈."

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁
𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀.
𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇. "𝖬𝗈𝗆,
𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒?" 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾
𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾
𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾," 𝗌𝗁𝖾
𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍.
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿
𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖻𝗒𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒."

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾
𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉-𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄
𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌
𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑𝖾𝖽. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉
𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖽𝖺𝖽'𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌. "𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍
𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇. "𝖮𝗇𝗅𝗒
𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌,
"𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆."

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍
𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾. "𝖡𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾,
𝖻𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌, 
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆,
𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗆," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌
𝗍𝗈 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉. "𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌
𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌."

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉-𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗌. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌
𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

new autism and all chip plankton chipcore

⟡ pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

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(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 2
Chip notices his mom
getting up, so he hurries
to the living room.

The floorboards creak as Karen
enters, her eyes widening in
surprise. "Chip? You're home
already!" She tries to sound
casual, but her voice wavers.
Chip's face flushes, his heart
pounding. "Yeah, the bus got
here early." He glances away,
his eyes unable to meet hers.
"How was camp?" Karen asks,
trying to keep the conversation
normal despite the tension that
now filled the room. She knew he
might've heard them, but she isn't 
sure how much.

Chip swallows hard, his eyes 
flitting from the floor to the ceiling.
"It was fun," he responds, his voice
not quite as cheerful as he'd like it
to be. He couldn't shake the image
of his dad sitting there, so still. "What
was happening in there?" he asks,
his curiosity and concern spilling over.

Karen's face falls, and she sighs,
sitting down beside him on the
sofa. "It's something we've been
trying to keep from you, sweetie,"
she says, her eyes filled with a
mixture of sadness and regret.
"But I think it's time you knew."

With a gentle nudge, she stands
and takes his hand. "Come with
me to our room," she says, leading
the way. Chip follows, his heart
thumping in his chest.

Plankton sits up in bed, his
expression a mix of shock and
confusion as he sees Chip.

"Dad, what's going on?" Chip's voice is
steady, but his eyes are wide with
concern. Plankton's cheeks redden,
his hands fidgeting with the bed
covers. "Chip," Karen starts, her voice
careful, "you know how sometimes
people are just... different?"

Plankton stammers, his eye darting
between Chip and Karen. "It's, uh, it's
nothing," he says, his voice strained.
"I just had a little... quirk. That's all."
But Chip can see the lie in his eye,
the way his shoulders tense up like
he's trying to shrink away from the
truth.

Karen sits down next to him, her
hands folded in her lap. "Plankton,
Chip heard us. It's better if we tell
him ourselves." Plankton's face
twists in a silent plea, but she
continues, her voice calm yet firm.
"It's time, sweetie."

The room seems to shrink around
them as Plankton's eye widens,
his body stiffening in the bed. He's
been hiding his autism for years,
fearful of how Chip might react, of
the misunderstanding he might face.
"Chip," Karen starts, "your dad has
something called autism."

The words hang in the air, thick
like smoke from a forgotten candle.
Chip frowns, trying to grasp the
concept. Autism? He's heard of it
before, but never connected it to
his dad. Plankton's face is a
swirl of emotions - fear, guilt,
and a desperate hope that Chip
will still respect him.

"It's okay, Plankton," Karen says,
placing a reassuring hand on his
shoulder. "We'll get through
this together." She looks at Chip,
waiting for his reaction.

Plankton's eye darts around the
room, his cheeks flaming red.
He's flabbergasted, his mind
whirling with fear and regret.
This was the moment he'd
been dreading, the moment he'd
tried to avoid for so long.

Plankton starts to rock side to side.
This is his stimming, a behavior
common among autistic individuals
that helps them cope with overwhelming
sensory input or emotions.
Chip watches, his confusion
deepening. "Don't stare, Chip!" 
Plankton snaps.

"But what's that, Dad?" Chip points
to the rocking, his voice tentative.
"Is everything okay?" Plankton
freezes mid-motion, looking
angrily at Chip. "Dad, why are yo--"
"It's none of your business, okay?"
Plankton snaps, his voice harsher
than Chip's ever heard.

Karen steps in, placing a hand
on Plankton's arm to calm him.
"Chip, it's okay," she says soothingly.
"Your dad's just trying to deal
with things in his own way."

But Chip can't ignore the anger
in his dad's voice. It's a stark
contrast to the dad he's always
known, the man who would laugh
at his jokes. "Mmm," Plankton
hums. Another stim of his.

"What's 'mmm' Dad?" Chip 
asks. "Is 'mmm' becau-"
"Don't mock me!" Plankton's
voice cuts through the air, his
anger palpable. Chip's eyes
widen, his heart dropping. He's
never seen his dad like this. 
Karen intervenes, turning
to Chip.

"When your dad makes that
sound, it's called 'stimming',"
she explains gently. "It's a way
his brain helps him process
information and feelings. It's
like a self-soothing technique. It's
part of who he is, and it's something
he doesn't always realize he's
doing. He doesn't like for people
to point it out because it makes
him feel... different."

Chip nods slowly, trying to
understand. "But I..."

Karen cuts him off gently. "It's
important to respect your dad's
boundaries, especially when it comes
to his autism." She looks at Plankton,
his rocking slowing down. "It's a
part of him that helps him cope, not
to judge or interrupt. Because when
it comes to stimming, it's a personal
and private moment for him. I don't even
interrupt him when he's doing it, unless
it's absolutely necessary."

Chip nods, but he's still 
curious. "When do you
know how he stims, then?"
he asks his mom. She smiles
gently.

"Well, sweetie, it's all about
knowing your dad," she says.
"I've learned his cues over
the years. When he starts
rocking or making muttering
sound, it's like his way of telling
he needs a little space to sort
things out. It's his private moment
to cope."

Chip nods, processing this new
piece of information. "Does he
always know when he's doing it?"

Karen sighs, her gaze softening
as she looks at Plankton. "Sometimes
yes, sometimes no. It's like... it's like
his brain is in a different place,
and he needs these movements or
sounds to bring him back to us."

Chip nods, watching his dad's
rocking slow to a stop. He looks
back at Karen, his eyes full of
questions. "But when he stims
what do we do?"

Karen's gaze meets Plankton's,
and she smiles reassuringly at him.
"Just give him space," she says,
turning to Chip. "And if you're
worried, just come find me. We'll
talk about it, okay? Just don't push
him when he's like this, because it
can be really overwhelming for him."

Chip nods, his eyes never leaving
his dad's face. He's trying to
understand, trying to reconcile
the image of his dad rocking
back and forth in bed with the
man he's always known. He's seen
his dad as invincible, as a rock.
And now, here he is, vulnerable.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chipcore

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 1

Chip came home
early from a friend's
house. His parents
are named Karen and 
Plankton. They didn't
expect Chip home so
early, nor do they notice
him outside their bed
room door. Plankton has
an autistic neurodisability
they've kept hidden, so
imagine Chip's confusion
upon seeing his dad having
an absence seizure.

Plankton's eye
stared blankly ahead,
unblinking, as Karen
sat by him. "I've your
box of your special
sensory items. What
plushie might you want?"
she whispered. "I'll just
get your stuffed bear."
Her voice was soothing,
and calm.

The room was
silent except for the
rhythmic sound of
his breathing. He
was in the midst of
an absence seizure,
his mind momentarily
adrift. She knew the
routine by heart.
Everything had to be
just right to bring him
back to reality without
causing distress.

Karen gently picked
up the box. She selected
a favorite plush, the worn
bear, and then
carefully approached.

As she neared, she
noticed Chip, his eyes
wide and scared,
staring at the scene
from the doorway. She
swallowed her surprise,
trying to maintain
the serene façade. "Hi
sweetie, come in," she
managed, her voice steady.
Chip tiptoed closer, his
heart racing. He had
never seen his dad like
this.

"What's happening to
Dad?" he whispered.
Karen knelt beside him,
her eyes full of warmth.
"Chip, right now Dad is
just having a little rest
but with his eye open.
It's like when you get
so lost in a video
game you don't hear me
calling you."

"But why is he like
this?" Chip's curiosity
was palpable, his voice
shaking slightly.

Karen took a deep
breath, choosing her
words with care. "Dad has
what's called a congenital
neurodisability," she began. "It's
a bit like when a daydream
but his 'neuroregressions' are
more intense for him. One might
call these moments
'brain hiccups'. We kept it
hidden because he didn't
want people to judge him."

Chip's gaze never left
his father's frozen expression.
"But why hide it?"

Karen squeezed his hand,
her eyes reflecting empathy.
"Because, dear, some
people might not
understand. They could
make fun or treat him
differently. We didn't want
his world to be harder. And
you know your father values
his pride."

Chip nodded, his
thoughts racing. He had
always known his dad
was different, but he had
never quite put his finger
on how. "Can I talk to him?"

Karen's smile was
soft. "It's important
that you know, but we want
to make sure he's okay
with sharing too. It's a form
of autism he has. But right
now he's in a little bubble.
It's like he's in a different
world, okay? But we can coax
him back gently." She placed
the bear in Plankton's hand. His
hands curled around it
instinctively, clutching
the familiar softness. "He might not
immediately engage with you, but
you can try speaking to him."

Chip leaned closer, his voice
trembling. "Dad?"
Plankton's eye remains
fixed, unblinking. Karen
gave him a gentle nudge.
"Remember, sweetie, don't
touch his body or startle him.
Just let him know you're here."

"Dad, it's us, and a
stuffed bear is also
here for you. The
bear is so soft," Chip said,
his voice a mix of
fear and wonder. "It's
waiting for you to wake
up." He paused, watching
his father's unmoving
hand. Plankton's thumb
twitched slightly against
the plush fabric. It was
the tiniest of movements,
but it was something.

Karen nodded encouragingly
from the sidelines, her eyes
never leaving her husband.
"That's it, Chip," she murmured.
"Keep talking to him."

Chip swallowed the lump
in his throat, his eyes
wet with unshed tears.
He took another deep breath
and leaned even closer. "Dad,
can you feel the bear?"
He paused, watching his
father's hand tighten around
the plush toy. "It's here, wanting
you to play. Do you see it's
smiling? Look, the bear's smiling
just for you."

Plankton's hand
moved slightly, tracing the
bear's stitched smile with his
thumb. Karen's eyes filled with
relief as she watched the
connection unfold.

"See, Dad?" Chip whispered, his
voice barely audible. "The bear
missed you. It's here to keep
you company until you're ready to come
back to us." His words were met
with a faint sigh from Plankton, a sign
his brain was slowly emerging from
its brief retreat.

Encouraged, Chip took the
stuffed bear and waved it in
front of Plankton's vacant gaze.
"Look, the bear's waving back!"
He hoped the motion would
catch Plankton's attention,
but his father remained even
more still, his eye unmoving.

He tried a different tactic,
placing the bear gently on
Plankton's lap and giving
it a little shake. "It's okay,
Dad, the bear wants to play,"
he said, his voice a soft coax.
"What do you say? Can we
play together?"

For a moment, nothing.
Then, a flicker. Plankton's
eye moved slightly,
refocusing on the bear. It
was a small victory. "Look, Dad,
it's smiling at you. It's happy
you're holding it," Chip said,
his voice steady now.

Slowly, Plankton's hand
began to stroke the bear's
fur. The rhythmic motion
was almost mesmerizing.
Karen watched, her own
heart rate returning to normal.
It was always a delicate
balance, bringing him back.

"That's right, Dad," Chip
said, his voice filled with
encouragement. "You're doing
great." He picked up
another plushie from the box,
a small octopus with long,
waving tentacles. "Look what else
I found, an octopus!"

Plankton's gaze shifted
slightly. "It's got eight arms 
and can give you so many
hugs at once." Chip held the
octopus up. Plankton's hand 
twitched.

Karen watched with a
tiny smile, her heart swelling 
with pride for her son's
patience. "Why don't you put 
it on Dad's other hand?" she
suggested quietly. Chip nodded,
gently placing the octopus
on his father's hand. Plankton
flinched at first but soon grew
still again.

"Now, Dad, you have more
friends to keep you company,"
Chip said. "They're so friendly 
and smart." Karen watched
as Chip was about to speak
again but she held up a finger,
signaling for him to wait.

Plankton's eye blinked
suddenly, breaking the
glassy stare. His gaze
flitted around the room,
trying to piece together
his surroundings,
his expression puzzled.
"You're okay," Karen said,
her voice a gentle whisper.
"K-Karen?" he croaked, his voice
hoarse from his unspoken
silence. "What...what's
going on?" he asked, his voice
weak but growing stronger.

Chip watched, his own
anxiety fading as he saw
his dad's confusion. He
held up the octopus. "Look,
Dad, it's okay. We're here.
You had a little brain hiccup
but we're playing with
plushies." He tried to
smile, unsure if Plankton
would understand.

new karen plankton chip plankton come together

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 17
The next morning
Plankton groaned
awake, anesthesia
for his wisdom teeth
having worn off 
during the night. He's
in his bed, by Karen's.

"Karen?" he mumbled. 
His antennae
twitch as he looked
around, trying to
recall the previous day.

Karen stirred beside him,
her eyes opening sleepily.
"You okay?" she asked,
concern etching her
face. Plankton nodded, his
movements slow. "Mouth
hurts," he whispered, his
voice hoarse. Karen's smile
was filled with sympathy.
"It's normal, sweetie," she
soothed, her hand reaching
out to stroke his cheek.
"The surgery was yesterday.
It'll take a few days
for it to feel better."

Plankton's antennae
twitched as he tried to
sit up. The pain was
sharp, a reminder of
his ordeal. Karen knew
his autism would make
him impatient, knowing
his sensory sensitivities.
"Do you need anything,
sweetie?" she asked, her voice
gentle. Plankton was
always particular, but now,
his needs were magnified.
He shrugged. "Not right
now," he murmured.

Chip knocked softly
on the door, his heart
racing. He hadn't
seen his dad since last
night. "Hey, Dad," he
whispered, stepping into
the room. Plankton's
eye widened slightly, his
antennas quivering. "Chip?"
he said. Chip nodded, his
expression tentative.

"How are you feeling?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched. "Mouth hurts,"
he mumbled. "But I'm okay."
Chip nodded, his eyes
searching his dad's.
"Do you...do you rememb-"

Plankton's eye darted to the
side, his antennae quivering.
"I...I remember," he said, his
voice strained. "The de-"

"Dentist," Chip finished
for him, his voice gentle.
Plankton nodded, his gaze
flicking to Chip's face. "Yeah,
the dentist." He paused,
his antennae stilling. "It was
scary." "But I mean, what all do you
recall from yesterday, Dad?"

Plankton's antennae drooped
slightly as he searched
his mind. "I...I remember
the chair, the lights,"
he murmured, his voice
faint. "And the...the...uh,
the mask." His voice grew
smaller. "And then...
I felt myself waking up.
Anything else after that I...
I'm not sure; hopefully I've
done nothing foolish.."

Karen's eyes filled with
understanding. "You
were groggy, sweetie. It's
normal. You didn't do
anything weird." Plankton's
eye searched hers. "I...I talked
to you, right?" Karen nodded.
"Yes, you talked to me."

Plankton's antennae
twitched. "And Chip?"
he asked, his voice hopeful.
"You talked to him too,"
Karen assured him.

Chip stepped closer to
the bed, his eyes on his
dad's face. "You talked to me,
Dad," he said softly. "You
were just a bit out of it,
but we ta—"

Plankton's antennae 
shot up. "What do you
mean I was out of it?"

Karen sighed, her eyes
soft. "You were a bit
confused, darling," she
explained gently. "The
anesthesia can make people
say things they might not
usually say." Plankton's eye
widened. "What things; Chip?
What made you to believe I
was out of it?"

Chip's cheeks flushed, but
he knew this was an
important moment for
his dad to understand.
"Well," he began, "you talked
about wanting pudding,
and you held my ha-"

Plankton's antennae shot
up. "I did WHAT?" he
interrupted, his voice
sharp with alarm. "I
held your hand?" Chip nodded,
his throat tight. "Yeah, Dad,
you asked if you could hold
my hand, I guess looking for
com--" "I did no such
thing!" His face flushed
with embarrassment.
Karen's eyes filled with
concern. "Plankton, it's
okay. It was just the
medicine. It was just
because you were so tired
and needed comfort."
Plankton's antennae
drooped with embarrassment
in front of Chip.

Chip knew his dad valued
his dignity highly and
his autism made social
interactions difficult.
He took a deep breath.
"Dad, it's okay. It's just
that you were really tired
and the medicine made
you say some things you
might not have meant."
Plankton looked up. "I kno—
I said stuff? What stuff? 
What'd all I do?"

Karen stepped in, her voice
calm. "You just talked
about being tired, and
asked for pudding. That's
all." Plankton's antennae
twitched in relief. "Oh. Okay."
He lay back, his breath
evening out. "So I didn't look
or ac-"

"You were adorable," Chip
interrupted, trying to
lighten the mood. Plankton's
eye narrowed, his antennae
still. "What?" he asked, his
voice skeptical. "I was
what? How so, Chip?"
Chip shrugged, his smile
genuine. "In the car, you
fell aslee—"

"Chip," Karen warned,
interrupting him. She knew
his intentions were good,
but she also knew that Plankton
could become easily upset
by perceived patronizing.
But Plankton's always been
stubborn. "No, no; Chip, how'd
you know if I was asleep?"

Chip stumbled, trying to
explain without causing
distress. "You, uh, your snores
were...uh..."

Plankton's antennae perked
up, his eye focusing on Chip.
"WHAT?" he asked.
Karen chuckled. "Yes, dear,
you snore. But it's nothing
to be embarrassed about."

Plankton's cheeks flushed a
deep shade of red. "I do
not!" he protested. "You must
have heard the engine, or
something?"

Chip couldn't help but laugh,
his eyes sparkling. "No,
Dad, it was definitely you."
Karen's eyes crinkled with
amusement. "It's just your
snoring, Plankton," she said.
"It's cute, and I've heard it
numerous times before." Chip
just grinned, unable to hold
back his laughter any longer.

Plankton's antennae
drooped, his eye looking
between the two of them.
"Cute?" he murmured, his
voice filled with doubt. Karen
nodded, her smile warm.
"Yes, cute," Chip told
him. "It's just a part of
who you are, like your
stims.."

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly at the
word 'stims'. He knew
about stimming, the way
his body moved when he was
nervous or overwhelmed. But
to hear it from Chip, to know
his son was still thinking of it,
was mortifying.
Chip, noticing his dad's
discomfort, quickly changed
the subject. "So, how
about that chocolate pudding?"
he chuckled, trying to ease
tension. But Plankton's
attitude remained.

Karen, ever the mediator,
stepped in. "You know what,
let's give each other some
space," she suggested, looking
at Chip. She knew Plankton's
limits and can tell when
he's overwhelmed.

Chip nodded, his
laughter dying down. "Okay,"
he murmured, stepping back.

Plankton's antennae
twitched as he lay there.
His hand began to move in
small, repetitive circles.
It was a stim, something
he did when restless.
"Why did I ask for pudding?"
he whispered to himself, his voice
tiny. "Why did I hold his
hand?" His antennae quivered
with the weight of his thoughts.
He had always been particular
about personal space, so the
idea of holding Chip's hand was
both confusing and disconcerting.
"It was the medicine," he murmured.
"Just the medicine. That's right. Just
the medicine. It's just me,
Plankton. I'm ok. Just a bit...different."
He paused, his antennae still.
"But I'm ok."

"Dad," Chip said softly. Plankton's
antennas shot up at the sound,
his stimming hand freezing.
He turned his head, his eye
finding Chip's face. "What
is it?" he asked, his voice
sharp. Chip approached the bed,
his gaze on his dad's hand,
still mid-motion. Plankton's antennae
twitched in irritation.
"Is that a stim, Dad?"
Chip said, trying to keep his
tone neutral. "You know,
like when you bounce your leg
or I ta-"

"I know what a stim is,"
Plankton snapped, his antennae
waving in annoyance. "Why
do you keep bringing it up?"
Chip took a step back, his
face falling. "I just...I'm
sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Plankton's antennae
twitched, his eye narrowing.
"No," he murmured. "It's...it's
because my mouth hurts."
Chip nodded, his gaze
focused. "But that's not all of
it, is i---"

Plankton's hand abruptly
stopped moving, his antennae
straightening. "What do you
know, Chip?" he asked, his 
voice defensive. Karen
could see the hurt in Chip's
expression, but she knew
this was a boundary Plankton
needed to set.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 23
Plankton sits stiffly
on the couch, antennae
twitching as he tries to
make sense of the new
environment. Karen sits
by him with Chip as
Hanna herself sits in
front of the couch by them.

"So," Hanna says, her 
voice high-pitched.
"What should we do first?"

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his eye darting
to Karen again. She
squeezes his hand gently.
"Why don't we take a look
at the guest room?" Karen
suggests, her voice calm.
"Where we'll sleep and
put all our stuff.."

Hanna nods eagerly. "Follow
me!" She leads them down
a hallway, the floorboards
creaking underfoot. Plankton's
heart races. New places meant
new sounds, new smells,
new everything. He feels
his body tense, his stims
wanting to take over. But he
holds back.

The guest room is a riot
of color, the walls adorned
with various knick-knacks
that Hanna has collected
over the years. Plankton's
eye widens at the visual
stimulation, and his antennae
twitch rapidly. He knows he
needs to find a way to cope.

"Well, that's is your 
shared room," Hanna 
says cheerfully. "I
hope you like it!"
Plankton nods, his
eye taking in the
whirlwind of color and
patterns. It's a lot to
process. "It's...vibrant,"
he says, his voice tight.

Hanna cackles at Plankton's
comment, her laughter too
loud. "Oh, I just LOVE
color!" she says, not
noticing his discomfort.

Plankton's antennae quiver,
his hand clenching into a
fist. He takes a deep
breath, willing his stims
away. He doesn't want
to ruin the moment, doesn't
want Hanna to notice. But
his senses are on overload,
his mind racing.

"Thank you," Karen says
with a forced smile, stepping
forward to set down their
bags. She can feel the tension
radiating from her husband.

Hanna sits, her smile not
dimming. "Oh, I just know
we're going to have so
much fun together," she
gushes. "AND I've got a
whole drawer full of board
games for us to play!"
Plankton nods, his smile
slightly strained, wondering
how much longer he can
keep up the façade.

Hanna's chatter fills the
room. "I've got
special movies for us
tonight! And I've got
everything from classics to
the LATEST SCI-FI!"

Plankton nods politely,
his antennae quivering.
He's trying to keep up with
the rapid-fire conversation.
"Uh, sure." He responds.
Hanna's eyes light up at his
interest in science fiction.
"Oh, I KNOW you're going to
love them," she says. His antennae
twitch with the effort to keep
up with the conversation,
his eye glazed over with
overstimulation. But Hanna
doesn't notice. She pinches
his shoulder, her laughter
bubbly. "You're just SO
sweet!"

Plankton flinches at
the contact, his body
wanting to retreat. He
swallows hard, trying to
find the words to express
his discomfort without
offending Hanna. But she's
already chatting on, her
energy unstoppable.

Her hand lands on his
knee, giving it a
squeeze. "Oh, I'm just
so thrilled to have
you here," she says.

But Plankton's mind is
elsewhere, his vision
starting to waver as
his body fights the
onset of an absence
seizure. The room
spins around him, and
his heart races. He
knows the signs all too
well, the sudden
disconnection from the
world as his brain goes
into overdrive.

Karen's eyes dart to
Plankton's face, reading
the signs. She knows
what's happening.

"Why don't we give
them a few minutes to
settle in?" Karen suggests,
interrupting Hanna's
enthusiastic chatter. "They've
got to be tired from the trip."

Hanna nods, her smile
slightly puzzled but
understanding. "Oh, of
course!" she says,
backing out of the room.

The door closes with a
click, leaving the three
of them. Plankton's antennae
twitch faster, his eye
unfocused. He feels the
world slipping away.

"Dad?" Chip whispers,
his hand tentatively reaching
out. Plankton's breathing
quickens, his heart
pounding in his chest.

Karen's voice is calm,
a beacon in the storm.
"Plankton, remember your
stims," she says gently.
"Find something to help
you ground."

Plankton's gaze flickers,
his antennae moving erratically.
He searches for his
sensory bag, his eye
landing on it by the
foot of the bed.

Karen notices, her hand
quickly grabbing the bag.
"Here," she says, her voice
calm and steady. "Use
your noise-canceling 
blindfold."

Plankton takes it, his
hands shaking as he
tries to put it over his eye.
The darkness is immediate,
his other senses
intensifying. He can feel
the fabric against his skin,
his heartbeat in his chest.
He breathes in deeply, his
chest rising and falling as
he fights against the seizure.

Chip watches, his heart
racing. He's seen this
before, but it never gets
easy. He wants to help, but
his mom's words echo in his
mind. 'Let him be'. So, he sits.

Karen's hand finds its way
to Plankton's, her grip
firm and reassuring. "You're okay,
sweetie," she says softly.
"We're here for you."

Plankton nods, his
breaths shallow, his antennae
twitching. The pressure
of Hanna's touch and the
sensory overload of the
new environment had been too
much. He'd felt the seizure
coming, the world closing
in on him. Yet Karen's
voice, her touch, it helps.

He closes his eye,
his hand fumbling for the
stim toy from the bag.
It's a small, velvet-covered
sphere, and he clutches it
tightly. The texture is
soothing, grounding.

The room is quiet, save
for their soft breaths and
the occasional creak of the
house. Chip's heart thuds
against his chest as he
watches his dad, willing him
to be okay. Plankton's hand
squeezes the velvet sphere,
his other hand reaching out
to find Karen's.

Karen's eyes never leave
his face. She's seen this
so many times before, the
battle he wages internally.
Her heart breaks a little
each time, but her
expression remains calm.

Chip watches, his own heart
racing. He's seen this
before too, the way his
dad's body fights against
his mind. He's learned that
silence is often the best
medicine in these moments.

Karen continues to
speak in low, even tones.
"It's okay, Plankton," she
whispers. "You're safe."
Her hand never leaves
his, the connection
unbroken. Chip 
wants to copy her,
his hand going onto 
his dad's knee..

But Plankton's body
only rejects Chip's 
touch, unable to handle
any more stimulation.

Karen's voice remains
steady, her grip on
his hand tight. "Breathe,
sweetie," she whispers.
"In, and ou-"

Her words are cut off by
the sudden silence. Plankton's
body goes still, his antennae
ceasing their erratic movement.
Karen notices Chip's hand on
Plankton's knee.

"Chip, buddy," she says gently.
"Let's give him some space."
Chip nods, his eyes wide
with concern. He
moves his hand away.

Chip sits, his eyes glued to
his dad. "D-dad?" he
whispers, his voice shaky.
Plankton's hand moves
to the blindfold, looking
around the room as if
seeing it for the first time.

"It's okay," Karen repeats.
"It's just a seizure, Chip.
They're not uncommon."

"Need," Plankton says,
his voice faint, like it's
coming from far away.
"I need... I need... I don't
know what I need." Karen
knew that Plankton's still
not with them yet when he
talks like this.

Karen nods, her voice still
soft. "You're okay, Plankton.
You're just having a seizure."
Chip nods, trying to
swallow his fear. He's
learned that talking calmly
helps bring him back.
"It's okay," Chip echoes
his mom. "We're right here."

Plankton's eye darts around
the room, his antennae still.
"Need...Plankton," he murmurs.
The gibberish isn't uncommon
during these episodes,
his mind trying to find
comfort in familiar concepts.
Plankton's eye, still
unfocused and glazed,
continues to dart around
the room. "Yes?"
he murmurs again, his voice
barely above a whisper.

"You're okay," Karen
says firmly, her voice
a gentle anchor in the
storm of sensory chaos.
"We're all here for you."
Chip nods in agreement,
his voice shaky but
determined. "Just breathe,
Da-"

But Plankton's grip on
his sanity is slipping.
His words come out
in a jumble, nonsensical.
"Wash... blue...cuckoo?"
his voice is a distant echo,
his mind searching for
comfort in familiar things.
Karen's heart aches, her
thumb rubbing his hand.
"It's okay, Plankton,"
she repeats. "You're
safe." Chip watches, his
eyes brimming with tears.
He doesn't understand what's
happening, but he knows
his dad needs them.

new to see or not to see chip plankton hanna

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 25
Hanna's voice is barely
above a whisper. "I'm sorry,"
she says, looking down at her
hands. "I didn't mean to-"
But Plankton's focus is solely
on the pieces on the board.
"Don't talk to me," he says, his
voice cold. "You're the one
asking personal questions."

Karen's heart clenches,
wanting to explain, but knowing
that Plankton's current state
of mind won't allow for it.
"Let's just keep playing,"
she suggests, her voice a gentle
nudge. But the damage is done.
Hanna's smile is forced, her eyes
glistening with unshed tears.

The game continues in
an awkward silence, Hanna's
laughter a bit too loud,
her movements a bit too
quick. Plankton's stims don't
ease, his hands fidgeting
almost angrily on the armrest.
Chip watches, his stomach in
knots. He knows his dad's
behavior is because of his
condition, but it's hard to see
his mom's friend hurt like this.

Hanna's eyes keep
darting to Plankton's
hands, confusion and hurt
swirling in her gaze. "I'm sorry,"
she murmurs again, her voice
barely audible over the clanking
of game pieces. "I di-"

Plankton's antennae swivel
sharply towards her. "What
part of 'none of your business'
don't you understand?"
his voice is harsh, his
frustration palpable. Hanna
flinches, her hands tightening
around her cards.

Karen's eyes plead with
Plankton to stop, but he's
too lost in his own world,
his senses on high alert. "Why
are you always in my space?"
He snaps, his voice echoing
around the room. Chip's stomach
twists with anxiety.

Hanna's cheeks redden, her
eyes filling with tears. "I'm
sorry," she says, her voice
smaller than ever. "I just-"
But Plankton's done talking.

With a roar of frustration,
he's knocking over
the game board. The pieces
scatter everywhere, a visual
representation of their
shattered evening.

Hanna gasps, her eyes
wide with shock. "What's
going on?" she asks,
but Plankton's already
storming out of the room.
Karen's heart sinks as
she watches her husband
disappear down the hall.
She knew this was a risk
bringing him to Hanna's,
but she had hoped for
a better outcome.

The guest room 
door slams shut,
the sound echoing 
through Hanna's house.
Chip feels a knot
tighten in his stomach.
He knows that look,
his dad's retreat to 
his sanctuary of solitude.

"I'm sorry," Hanna tells Karen,
picking up the pieces of the
game. "I didn't mean to-"

Karen's eyes are filled with
sorrow as she shakes her head.
"It's not you," she says gently.
"It's just part of his condition."
Her voice is tight, her smile
forced as she tries to explain.
"When Plankton was being
born, something happened.
It changed him. Pressure,
lack of flow... we're not
sure. But what we do know
is that it left him with a type
of autism." She pauses.
"He's had it his whole life. It's a
balancing act," she admits.
"Some days are better than
others. But we've learned to
read the signs, to give him
the space he needs. It was
when his mother was giving birth,
his brain developed differently
because of the stress it faced.
It's not something anyone
could have predicted."

Hanna nods, her eyes still
on the closed door. "I had
no idea," she murmurs,
feeling guilty for her
intrusion. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Karen says, her voice
soft and reassuring. "It's
not something that's obvious,
unless you know what to look for."

Hanna nods, her eyes filling
with understanding. "How
does it affect him?" she asks,
placing the game pieces aside.
Karen sighs. "It's complex,"
she says. "His brain processes
information differently,
which means certain
things can be overwhelming
for him. Lights, sounds,
even textures can be too much.
And sometimes, it's just the
way people interact with him."

Chip speaks up, his voice
small. "But he's super smart.
He can build anything."

Karen's smile is sad. "It's 
true. His mind is...unique.
But sometimes, it's like
he's trapped in there,
trying to get out."

Hanna nods. "What
can I do to help?" she asks,
her voice earnest. Karen's
heart swells with gratitude.
"Just be patient," she says.
"And respect his boundaries.
Don't push him to explain
things if he's not ready."
Chip watches as Karen
takes a deep breath. "And if
you see him getting overwhelmed,
just...give him some space."
Hanna nods, her eyes
still on the door.

Plankton sits in the
guest room, his back 
pressed against the 
corner.

The world feels too loud,
too bright, too much. He 
squeezes his eye shut,
his hands over his head,
his antennae tucked, his body
rocking slightly on the floor. He's
learned over the years that
this can help dull the world
around him, but it's
not enough tonight.

"Plankton?" Karen's voice
filters through the door,
soft and gentle. "Can I come in?"
There's no response, but
after a moment, the door
opens a crack. Plankton's
eye peeks out, his antennae
quivering. "It's okay," she says.
"I just want to check on you."

He nods, his body tense.
"I'm sorry," he says again,
his voice muffled. Karen's
heart breaks a little more.
"You don't have to be sorry,"
she says, entering the room.
"You know that." She sits
beside him on the floor. He's in full
shutdown mode now, his
body's way of coping with
the overstimulation. She
squeezes his hand gently.

The silence stretches out,
only broken by the distant
hum of the city. Karen
knows that Plankton needs
this, that he's retreated into
his own world to recharge.
Yet it's hard to watch,
knowing that she can't just
wave a magic wand and
make everything okay.

Slowly, she starts to speak,
her words deliberate and
soft. "Remember, Plankton,"
she says, "Hanna's just trying
to understand. She didn't
mean any harm."

Plankton's breathing
evens out, his body
unclenching slightly. "I know,"
he whispers. "It's just...hard."
Karen nods. "I know, love."

The room is dimly
lit, the sounds of the city
a distant lullaby. Plankton's
stims slow down, his antennae
unfurling slightly as his body
starts to relax. Karen's words
wash over him, a gentle reminder
that he's not alone. "You know,
it's okay to be different," she says.
"And it's okay for people
to be curious. But we'll
make sure to explain to Hanna."

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly, his head nodding in
agreement. He's so tired,
his mind racing from the
adrenaline and the sensory
overload. His body feels
heavy, his eyelid drooping.

Karen notices the change
and shifts closer to him. "Why
don't you lie down?" she suggests,
her voice a gentle whisper. "You
look ex-"

But Plankton's already
falling asleep, his body
sagging against hers. "Hey
c'mon Plankton, let's get
you up into the bed befo—"

His snores cut her off,
his antennae fluttering with
each breath. She chuckles
softly, her heart swelling
with love. He's always
been a light sleeper,
even when they first met.
Karen gently shifts him
so he's leaning against her,
his head resting on her shoulder.

His body relaxes into the
comfort of her embrace, his
stims ceasing completely.
It's moments like these that
make her heart ache, knowing
how much he struggles with
the world outside their
home. But she's also fiercely
proud of his resilience.

Karen's thumb rubs gentle
circles on his arm, the
rhythmic motion soothing.
Plankton's snores even out,
his breathing deepening. She
can feel the tension in his
body slowly dissipate,
his muscles loosening. She
kisses his cheek, her hand
still on his arm, her love
for him as constant as
his condition.

The room's dimness is a
comforting blanket, shielding
them from the brightness
that Plankton finds so jarring.
Karen's mind races with
thoughts of tomorrow, the
conversations she'll have
to navigate with Hanna.
But for now, she focuses
on the quiet breaths beside
her, the steady rise and fall
of Plankton's chest.

Hanna, peeking in from the
hallway, sees Karen cradling
Plankton's sleeping form.
Her eyes are filled with
compassion as she mouths
a silent apology to Karen. Karen
smiles slightly, shaking her
head, as if to say it's not
Hanna's fault.

The two women share
a knowing look, the weight
of the evening's events
heavy between them.
Karen's gaze lingers on
Plankton, her love for him
evident in every line of her
face. And she knows they'll be ok.

new to see or not to see chip plankton hanna

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 5


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

"But what
if Dad's hurt?" Chip asks, his voice
small.

Karen's screen met his, filled
with understanding. "If he's
in pain or really upset, he might
pull his antennae in tightly, or
his whole body might get stiff,"
she explains. "But remember,
always come get me."

Chip nods solemnly, his
brain racing with the new
information. He watches
his mom, his eyes wide with
curiosity. "But what if he's
happy, Mom?" he asks, eager
to know more about the silent
language of his dad's body.

"When your dad's happy,
his eye might twinkle, and his
body might get more relaxed,"
Karen says with a small smile.

Chip nods, his curiosity
growing. "And if he's sad?" he
asks, his voice tentative.

Karen's smile is warm
and gentle. "If he's sad, you'll
see his antennae droop, like
his spirits," she says, her voice
soothing. "And his eye might
not look at you directly."

Chip nods, his eyes wide
with understanding. "What if
he's scared, Mom?" he asks,
his voice small.

Karen thinks for a moment,
her hand on his shoulder.
"If he's scared, his antennae
will quiver rapidly," she says,
mimicking the movement with
her fingers. "And he may even
convulse slightly. It's
his body's way of protecting
his brain."

Chip's eyes are glued to
his mother's hand, his mind
racing with the implications.
"What about touches? You
seem to kn-"

Karen cuts him off with a
quick smile. "Well, your dad's
touch sensitivity is unique.
Sometimes, he enjoys gentle
pressure, like a squeeze
of his hand. But other times,
even the slightest brush can
feel unbearable." She takes
his hand, her voice calm.
"You'll learn his likes and
dislikes. And remember, Chip,
it's not about what you think
is right; it's about what
he needs."

Chip nods, his mind racing.
"But Mom, how will I know
what to do?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern.

Karen smiles reassuringly.
"You'll learn, Chip. Just watch
his reactions. If he pulls
away from you, it might be
too much. And if he leans
into you, it's okay."

Chip's brows furrow with
concentration. "But what if I
don't know the difference?"

Karen's eyes are gentle
as she looks at her son.
"You'll learn, Chip. Just start
small. If he's okay with you
touching his hand, that's a
good place to start."

Chip nods, his hand
tracing a pattern on the
quilt. "But what if I
hug him again and he doesn't
like it?" His voice is
full of doubt.

"It's okay if you make
mistakes, Chip," Karen says
gently. "What's important
is that you ask him. If
you're not sure, just ask, 'Dad,
do you need a hug?' And if he
says no, or if he seems
uncomfortable, just respect
his boundaries."

Chip nods, his eyes
still filled with questions.
"But what if he doesn't say
anything?" he asks.

"Then, Chip," Karen says,
her voice soft, "you'll have to
be really observant. Sometimes,
his silence can speak louder than
words. If he seems tense or
his antennae are stiff, maybe it's
not the right moment. But if
he looks relaxed, then
that might be a good time."

Chip nods, his thoughts
swirling. "But what if I still
don't know?" he asks, his voice
laced with anxiety.

Karen takes a deep breath.
"Chip, it's okay to not know
everything," she says. "But what
you can do is pay attention to
his body language. If he seems
tense or starts to withdraw,
that's when you should stop."

Chip nods, his mind racing.
"What if I want to help him
feel better?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern.

"You can, Chip," Karen says,
smiling softly. "But you have to
learn his language of touch.
Some days, he might enjoy a gentle
back rub, or the brush of your
hand on his arm. Just go slow,
and always ask first. Why don't we go
check on him now?"

They stand up, Chip's heart
pounding in his chest. He follows
his mom down the hallway, his
thoughts racing. How will he know
what to do when they get there?
How can he possibly make things
right?

new do you trust me chip plankton 5

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 6


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

They reach the bedroom's
closed door, and Karen knocks
softly. "Honey?" she calls.
"Can we come in?"
There's a moment of
silence before Plankton's
voice says, "I s'pose."
Karen opens the door to
find Plankton sitting on the
edge of the bed, his antennae
still quivering slightly. He
looks up, his eye red-rimmed.

Chip lingers in the doorway,
his heart racing. He's scared to
move, to say the wrong thing.
But Karen's hand on his shoulder
guides him in.

"Daddy?" Chip whispers, his
voice tentative. Plankton's antennae
twitch, and he looks up, his face
a mix of pain and discomfort.

Karen gives Chip a small
nod of encouragement, and he
slowly approaches the bed, his
hand outstretched but not touching.
"Dad, can I sit with you?"
he asks, his voice shaking.

Plankton looks at him.
"If you must," he says, his
tone filled with sarcasm. "But don't
expect me to be all 'Oh, Chip, I'm
so happy to see you!' when you've
clearly called me a monster."

Chip's eyes widen at the
harshness of his father's
words. "But Dad, I di-"

Plankton holds up a hand,
his antennae still quivering.
"Don't," he says, his voice
sharp. "Don't pretend you
understand. You don't. You
just threw around words you
heard from those little brats
at school without even knowing
what they mean!"

Chip's face falls, his eyes
welling up with tears again.
"But I didn't mean it,"
he stammers, his voice
breaking. "I just wanted-"

"I know what you wanted,"
Plankton snaps, his antennae
quivering with agitation.
"You wanted answers, and
you didn't get them. So,
you threw a fit like a
typical kid."

Chip's eyes fill with
fresh tears. "But I didn't
know," he whispers, his voice
shaking. "I wan-"

"Yeah, well, ignorance is
not an excuse," Plankton
interrupts, his antennae flailing.
"You hurt me, Chip. And for what?
Because you didn't get your
precious hug?" His voice
drips with sarcasm, each word a
tiny dagger to Chip's heart.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Chip
whimpers, his hand dropping
to his side. "I didn't kn-"

But Plankton's sarcasm cuts him
off again. "Oh, sorry, I forgot.
You didn't know," he says, his
voice laden with bitterness. "Well,
now you do. And now you can go
back to your little life, knowing
you've hurt your dad. Great job!"

Chip flinches at the harshness,
his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Dad, please," he begs. "I didn't
underst--"

"I don't want to hear it,"
Plankton cuts him off, his
antennas quivering with anger.
"You think you can just come
in here and make everything
better with your sorry excuses?"

Chip's eyes fill with
tears, his voice barely a
whisper. "But I didn't mean
to hurt you, Daddy," he says,
his voice shaking. "I just
wanted to he-"

Plankton turns away, his
antennas flailing with agitation.
"Don't 'Daddy' me," he spits out.
"You don't get to call me that
after what you said." His
voice is sharp, cutting through
the air like a knife.

Chip's eyes are wide with
shock and hurt. "But Dad,"
he says, his voice trembling.
"I didn't mean to-"

But Plankton's not listening.
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't,"
he says, his tone thick with
sarcasm. "You just couldn't
help blurting out the first
thought that came to your
little brain, could you?"

Chip feels his heart
crumble. "But Dad, I-"

"I don't want to hear it,"
Plankton says, his voice
ice cold. "You've said enough."
He turns away, his antennae
twitching angrily. "Just get
out. Leave me alone."

Chip stands there, his
small hand hovering in the air,
wanting to comfort his dad, but
not knowing how. His voice
shakes with pain. "But Dad, I-"

Plankton turns back to him,
his antennae snapping with anger.
"You don't get it, do you?" he
shouts, his voice rising. "You never
have!" His eye widens, his
body tenses. "I'm not
your little science project to
poke and prod when you're curious!"

Chip takes a step back, his
eyes wide with fear. He's never
seen his dad like this before,
so out of control. "Daddy, I'm sorry,"
he whispers, his voice trembling.
But Plankton's anger seems to
grow with every word, his
body shaking. "You don't get
to be sorry!" he roars, his antennae
quivering violently. "You don't get
to just say sorry and expect me to
be okay with it!"

Chip's eyes are wide with fear,
his body frozen in place.
He's never seen his dad like this,
his normally stoic demeanor
shattered by a storm of emotions.

"Daddy, please," Chip whispers,
his voice barely audible. But Plankton's
anger is like a tsunami, crashing
against the walls of the room.

"You think you can fix me
with a sorry?" Plankton's voice
booms, his antennae flailing.
"You think your pity can make
everything okay?" Chip
shrinks back, his eyes wide 
with fear. So Karen decides to
jump in to mediate.

"Plankton, honey," Karen says,
her voice steady. "Chip's only
trying to understand. He's
scared for you. Let's just sit
down on the bed."

Plankton's antennae slow their
frantic dance as he looks at her,
his eye slightly less fiery.
With a heavy sigh, he nods, and
they all sit down, a tense silence
filling the room.

Chip's eyes are glued to his
father, searching for any sign
of softening in his gaze.
Plankton's breaths come in
short, shallow bursts, his body
still taut with emotion.

After a moment, Karen speaks up,
her voice a gentle reminder.
"Remember, Plankton, Chip's
just a child," she says, her
tone soothing. "He doesn't
understand everything about your
condition yet."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye still glaring at his son.
"I know," he murmurs, his
voice low.

Karen gives Chip a
reassuring look. "Why don't you
tell your dad what you know
about autism?" she suggests,
trying to ease the tension.

Chip nods, taking a deep
breath. "Well, I know it's like
his brain works differently,"
he starts, his voice wobbly. "And
sometimes, it makes things hard for
him, like too much noise or
little things that don't bother
me." He looks at Plankton.

Plankton's antennae stiffen
slightly, his gaze still sharp.
"And I know he has these...
these breaks," Chip continues,
his voice gaining strength.
"Where he needs to get away
from everything for—"

"Absence seizures,"
Plankton says, his voice flat.
"They're called absence
seizures." Chip's eyes widen. "Oh,
right. Those moments when
you zone out," he says, trying
to remember the right words.
Plankton nods, his antennae
still tense.

Karen watches the
exchange, her heart breaking
for both of them. She knows
this is hard for Plankton to
admit, and even harder for
Chip to understand. 
"They're a part of his
autism, Chip."

Chip nods, his eyes
firmly on his father. "So, when
you have one of those...
seizures, it's like your brain
needs to take a break?"

Plankton sighs. "Yeah,"
he says, his voice weary.
"It's like... everything gets
too much, and my brain just
shuts down for a bit. It's not
something I can control. Are
you satisfied?"

Chip looks at him with
innocent curiosity. "What's it
like?" he asks, his voice
soft. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his eye flickering with
memory. "Dad, what's it li—"

Plankton's hand shoots up,
cutting him off. "It's like nothing
you could ever understand,"
he says, his voice tight with anger.
"So just leave it, okay?"

Chip's eyes fill with
unshed tears. "But Dad,"
he whispers, his voice
shaking. "I just want to
kn-"

Plankton's antennae
snap upward, his anger
palpable. "You're just a
kid, playing at being
adult!" His antennae quiver
with the intensity of his
emotions, his body tense with
frustration.

Chip shrinks back, his
cheeks wet with tears. "But
Dad," he whispers, "I just-"

"Don't," Plankton says, his
voice cutting like a knife.
"Don't pretend you get it."

Chip's eyes are wide with
fear and confusion. "But Dad,"
he says, his voice trembling. "I'm
not..."

But Plankton's anger
continues to build, his antennae
quivering like live wires. "You
don't get it, Chip!" he roars.
"You're just a kid who thinks
he can fix everything with a
hug and a sorry!" His words cut
deep, each one a knife to Chip's
heart.

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"But Daddy, I just want to
help," he says, his hand
trembling as it reaches out.

Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his body tensing. "Don't
touch me," he snaps, his
eye wild with agitation as he
throws a pillow from the bed
down by his side.

Chip's hand retreats as if
burned, his eyes wide with fear.
"But Daddy, I just-"

"I said don't touch me!" Plankton's
voice is a roar, his antennae
whipping around like angry snakes.
He stands, his whole body a
testament to his rage. Chip stumbles
backward, his heart racing. He's
never seen his father like this,
his normally calm demeanor shattered
by a tempest of emotions.

new do you trust me chip plankton 6

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 12


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Karen heads to Chip's room, her mind
racing with a mix of anger and
concern. She opens the door,
her eyes scanning the
darkness until she finds him.

"Chip," she says firmly, her voice
a mix of disappointment and
determination. "We need to talk."

Her son looks up from his
pillow, his eyes red and
swollen. "What is it, Mom?"

"What happened with your
dad?" Karen asks, her voice
calm but firm.

Chip looks up at her, his
eyes glistening with unshed
tears. "We talked," he says,
his voice small. "But it didn't
really go we–"

"I know," Karen says, cutting
him off. "But what did you say to
him, Chip?" Her tone is firm,
but her eyes are filled with
concern.

Chip swallows hard, his gaze
dropping to the floor. "I just
told him that I wanted to help,"
he says, his voice small. "And that
I didn't want you to get hurt..."

Karen's eyes narrow, her
disappointment clear. "What
exactly did you say Chip?"

He sniffles, his screen
meeting hers. "I said 
that you seem tired of his
seizures, and that he's not
being fair to you," Chip admits,
his voice thick with regret.

Karen's face tightens, her
eyes flashing with a mix
of anger and sadness. "You
have no right to speak
for me, Chip," she says, her
voice firm but not unkind. "I love
your dad, and we deal with
this together." She takes a deep
breath, her hand on his
shoulder, her screen searching
his. "What else did you say?"

Chip's shoulders slump, his
eyes brimming with tears. "I said
you're his punching bag, Mom,"
he whispers, his voice
breaking. "That you're always
so patient and that it's not
fair t---"

Karen's hand tightens
on his shoulder, her
disappointment etched in
the lines of her screen.
"Chip," she says, her tone
sharp. "You don't get to tell me
how to feel, or what I think
about your dad."

Her words cut through
his regret like a knife,
his eyes widening. "But I just
wanted to—"

"Chip," Karen says, cutting
his protest short. "You don't
know what it's like, what we
go through every day." Her voice
shakes with the weight of
emotions held in check. "You're
not helping by making assumptions."

Chip's eyes well up with
tears, his lower lip trembling.
"But Mom," he stammers, "I just
don't want you to get hurt."

Karen's face softens, her hand
squeezing his shoulder gently.
"I know, sweetie," she says, her
voice filled with understanding.
"But your dad and I are a team.
What we have is complicated,
but it's ours. And when you
say things like that, it's like
you're choosing sides. It is
hard to see the one you love
struggle, but right now you're
the one who's causing me, and
us, to hurt."

Chip's eyes fill with tears, his
chest tight with guilt. "I'm sorry,"
he whispers, his voice cracking.
"I didn't mean to make it
worse."

Karen sighs, her anger
softening into sadness. "You didn't
understand," she says gently. "But
now you do." She sits beside
him, her hand on his back. "What
you said about your dad, it's not
fair to him or to us."

Chip's shoulders shake with
sobs, his heart heavy. "I'm
sorry," he manages to get out.
"I just—"

Karen's hand on his
shoulder is warm, her voice
steady. "Chip," she says, cutting
his words off with a gentle
firmness. "What you said to
your dad, it wasn't right."
Her eyes hold his, filled with a
mixture of pain and love.

Chip's gaze drops to the floor,
his cheeks burning with regret.
"I know," he mumbles, his voice
small. "But I just wanted
to tell him that—"

"No, Chip," Karen says, cutting
him off gently. "What you did was
hurt him, and that's not what we do
in this family." Her voice is firm,
but her eyes are filled with
concern. "We support each other,
not push buttons we don't
understand. Dad's not hurting me,
but now I'm hurt by what you said."

Chip nods, his eyes glued to the
floor. "I know, Mom," he
whispers. "I didn't think about
how it would sound."

Karen takes a deep
breath, her hand moving to
his cheek. "Look at me," she
says, her voice gentle. "You can't fix
this by pushing us apart."
Her thumb wipes a tear
from his cheek. "You have to talk
to him, tell him you didn't mean it
that way. Let's go find him."
They leave Chip's room
together, their steps
heavy with the weight of
unspoken words and regret.

new do you trust me chip plankton 12

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 13


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

The living room is
dimly lit. But in the center,
a disturbing sight awaits:
Plankton's convulsions,
his tiny body writhing on
the floor. His antennae
twitch erratically, his eye
squeezed shut. 

"Plankton!" she cries out,
rushing to his side. His
seizure is intense, his
limbs flailing uncontrollably.
The room seems to pulse
with his distress, a silent
scream of neurological
turmoil.

Chip stands in the doorway,
frozen in shock. He's never
seen his dad like this, so
vulnerable and helpless.
The sight of Plankton's
tiny form convulsing on the
floor fills him with a fear
like none other.
Karen is already beside
Plankton, her hands hovering,
knowing better than to restrict
his thrashing body.

"Mom," Chip says, his voice
trembling. "What do we do?"

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's contorted form,
her face a mask of calm
determination. "We stay here,"
she says, her voice steady. "We
keep talking to him, let him
know we care."

Chip nods, his own eyes
filled with fear. He takes a tentative
step forward, his voice shaking.
"Dad," he says softly, "it's me,
Chip." His words are met with
only the sound of Plankton's
labored breathing and the muffled
thuds of his convulsions.

Karen's gaze flicks to Chip,
her expression a mix of pride
and anxiety. "Good boy," she whispers,
before turning back to Plankton.
"Shh, baby," she says, her voice soothing,
like a lullaby in the chaos. "We're
right here."

Chip watches his mom, her
hands a gentle presence near his
dad's body, her voice a lifeline in
the storm of his seizure. He wants
to help, to do something, anything,
but he's paralyzed by fear. 

Karen's eyes flicker to her
son, her expression a silent
plea for him to stay calm. She
knows Plankton's sensitivity to
stimuli, the way his condition can
spiral if overwhelmed. "Talk to
him," she whispers, her voice
barely audible over the sounds of
his distress. "Tell him you love him."

Chip nods, his voice shaking.
"Dad," he says, his voice
trembling. "I love you." His
words hang in the air, a soft
contrast to the harsh sounds
of Plankton's seizure.

Plankton's body continues
to convulse, but Karen notices
his antennae twitch slightly,
his eye fluttering open for a
moment before it squeezes shut
again. She sighs with relief,
knowing he can hear them.

"Keep talking," she whispers
to Chip, her eyes never
leaving Plankton. "Tell him
you're here for him, that you're
sorry."

Chip swallows hard, his
throat tight with fear. "Dad, I'm
sorry," he says, his voice
cracking. "I didn't mean to make
things worse."

Plankton's antennae
quiver slightly, his seizure
lessening but not abating.
Karen's eyes are filled with
desperation as she whispers,
"Keep talking, Chip. He needs
to hear it."

Chip's voice is shaky,
his eyes never leaving
his father's trembling form.
"I'm sorry for what I said,"
he murmurs. "I didn't mean
to hurt you." His words
are a gentle coax, trying
to guide Plankton back from
the edge of his breakdown.

Karen's eyes are glued
to Plankton's seizing body,
"It's okay, baby," she says,
her tone a soothing melody.
"You're not alone."

Chip watches his mom's
steady hands hover over
his dad's shaking form.
He takes a deep breath,
his voice a shaky thread.
"I'm sorry," he repeats,
his words a quiet promise.

Karen's eyes flick to him,
a silent thank you. The room
seems to hold its breath,
the air charged with hope and dread.

Plankton's convulsions start
to ease, his breaths coming
in shallower gasps. Karen's hand
reaches out, brushing his
twitching antennae with a gentle
touch, a silent reassurance.

Chip's voice is a soft
whisper, a beacon in the
storm of his father's distress.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his
eyes brimming with tears. "I
don't want to fight."

Karen's hand rests gently
on Plankton's back, her touch
as light as a feather. "It's okay,
sweetie," she says, her voice a
soothing lullaby. "We're
here for you."

Plankton's seizure starts to
subside, his body gradually
stilling. His antennae
drop, his breaths slowing.
The tension in the room
eases like the retreating
waves of a storm.

Karen's hand remains on
his back, her eyes filled
with a love that's fierce
and tender. "It's okay," she
whispers, her voice a soft
caress. "You're safe now."
Her words are a gentle
reminder that their love is
his anchor.

Plankton's body relaxes
gradually, his antennae
stilling. His eye opens,
slowly focusing on Karen's
face. His voice is weak,
his words a soft rasp. "K-Karen?"

"I'm here," she says, her voice
calm, her hand still
on his back. "You're okay."
Her eyes are filled with a love
that's stronger than steel,
her presence a comforting
weight.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye blinking rapidly
as the world swims back into focus.
He looks up at her, his gaze
uncertain. "I... I-I'm s-sorry,"
he whispers, his voice
a reed in the wind.

Karen's eyes are filled with
pain and love. She gently
guides him to sit up, her arms
supporting him. "Don't be sorry,"
she says, her voice a balm.
"We just need to talk."

Plankton's antennae quiver,
his eye searching hers. "Talk?"
he repeats, his voice weak.

"Yes," Karen says firmly,
her arms around him. "We need
to communicate better, all of us."
Her gaze includes Chip,
who's still standing awkwardly
in the doorway, his eyes
fixed on his father.

Chip's heart pounds in his chest,
his fear giving way to
determination. He moves to
his mother's side, his hand
tentatively reaching out to
his father's arm. "Dad," he says,
his voice a gentle touch.

Plankton's body jerks at
his son's touch, but Karen's
calming presence helps him
steady. His antennae quiver,
his eye flickering between
his wife and son, the confusion
giving way to a hint of
understanding. "Chip?" he asks,
his voice a whisper.

Chip nods, his eyes filled
with unshed tears. "Yeah, Dad,"
he says, his voice cracking.
"It's me." He takes a deep
breath, his hand shaking slightly
as it rests on Plankton's arm.
"I didn't mean what I said."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye blinking rapidly as he
tries to process the situation.
"You... you didn't?" he
stammers, his voice filled with
disbelief.

Karen nods, her eyes
never leaving his. "Chip didn't
mean it, Plankton," she says
soothingly. "He's just scared,
and he loves you."

Plankton's antennae droop,
his eye misting with tears. "But
I scared him," he murmurs, his
voice barely audible. "And you."

Karen's eyes are filled with
compassion as she shakes
her head. "It's not your fault,
baby," she says gently. "Your
autism doesn't make you a
monster."

Chip nods, his hand still
on his father's arm, his voice
steady. "Dad, I know it's
not your fault," he says,
his eyes meeting Plankton's. "I'm
sorry for not understanding."

Plankton's antennae lift slightly,
his eye focusing on Chip's face.
"You do?" he whispers, hope
flickering in his gaze.

Chip nods, his own eyes
brimming with tears. "I do," he
affirms, his voice stronger.
"I'm here for you, Dad."
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye searching Chip's face
for signs of sincerity.

The silence in the room is
heavy, a tangible entity filled
with unspoken words and
apologies. Then, ever so slightly,
Plankton's antennae bob, a sign
of his acceptance. "Okay," he says,
his voice still shaky. "We'll talk."

Karen's eyes fill with
relief, a soft smile playing
on her lips. She squeezes
his arm gently. "Thank you,"
she whispers, her voice filled with
gratitude. "We're in this
together." 

new do you trust me chip plankton 13

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 14


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

The three of them sit in
silence for a moment, the only
sound the echoes of Plankton's
ragged breathing. Then, Karen
clears her throat, her voice
calm but firm. "Chip, can
you help me get your dad
to his bed?" Chip nods. "Yeah, sure,"
he says, his voice still
shaky, as Plankton's still on
his side.

He moves closer, his
hand hovering over his dad's
shoulder. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his body tense. How
does he touch his dad without
causing more pain? Karen notices
his uncertainty and nods
reassuringly. "Just be gentle,"
she says, her voice a
whisper. "And watch his cues."
Chip's hand descends slowly...

As his fingertips 
graze Plankton's
skin, he flinches, his
eye darting around 
the room. "Easy, Dad," 
Chip says, his voice
gentle. His hand lingers,
seeking the right balance
between support and respect.
Plankton's body tenses,
despite realizing Chip's intent.

Karen watches. She knows
the fear behind Plankton's
flinch, the years of pain
and misunderstanding that
have shaped their dance of
affection. She offers a nod,
silently encouraging Chip to
persist. With trembling
hands, Chip slides his arm
under Plankton's.
Karen's own arms wrap
around Plankton's shoulders,
completing the circle of
support.

Plankton's eye meets Karen's,
his fear a stark reminder
of the invisible walls his
autism has built. But in her gaze,
he sees love, not just pity—
understanding, not judgment.
With a deep breath, he allows
them to help him to his feet,
his legs wobbly with the
aftermath of his seizure.

Karen's grip is firm but
gentle, her eyes speaking
volumes without a word. Chip's
hand is a tentative question
mark, hovering near Plankton's
shoulder, seeking permission
to touch. Plankton's antennae
quiver, his body tightening.
He's overwhelmed, his skin
a minefield of sensory input.
The slightest touch feels like
a storm raging in his head.

"It's okay," Karen whispers,
her voice a balm. "We're just
going to help yo--"

But Plankton's body jerks,
his antennae flailing as if
trying to ward off an invisible
assailant. "No more!" he cries,
his voice a shattered glass. "I can't!"

Karen's heart clenches, her
grip loosening as she pulls
back. "It's okay, sweetie,"
she says, her voice a gentle
breeze. "We'll get you to bed, that's
al-"

But Plankton's distress
escalates, his antennae
thrashing wildly. "NO!" he
shrieks, his body rigid. "NO MORE!"

Karen's heart squeezes, her
grip on him loosening as
she takes a step back, her eyes
filled with pained empathy. "Shh, baby," she
whispers, her voice a gentle
caress. "We're not going to force
you."

Chip's eyes widen in fear, his
hand retreating. "Dad," he says,
his voice trembling. "It's okay,
we're here to he-"

But Plankton's panic is a wildfire,
his movements erratic and unpredictable.
Karen's eyes fill with
concern, her voice calm. "Chip,
let's just get him to the couch."
They move as one, guiding Plankton's
stumbling figure towards the
sofa, their movements a delicate
ballet of care and precision.

The couch is a mere few
feet away, a sanctuary of
familiar fabric and scent.
But to Plankton, it seems a
mountain to climb, each step
a battle against his own
body. His antennae thrash wildly,
his eye darting around the room
as if seeking an escape. Karen
and Chip move closer, their
presence a comforting warmth.

Their touch is gentle, a soft
whisper of reassurance amidst
his chaos. Yet, each step
towards the couch feels like
wading through thick, clinging mud.
His legs wobble, his breaths
coming in sharp gasps. Karen's
grip is steady, her eyes never
leaving his, a silent promise
that they'll get through this.

Chip's hand hovers, unsure,
his heart racing with fear. He
wants to help, but Plankton's
flinch is a stark reminder of
his own limitations. Karen's
nod gives him the courage
to reach out again, his touch
a soft question. Plankton's
body jerks.

"I'm sorry," Chip whispers,
his voice thick with regret.
He's trying so hard to bridge
the gap, to understand, but
his efforts seem only to push
his father further away. Karen's
face is a mask of calm, but
Chip can see the worry in
the tight lines around her eyes.
"Ca--"

But the word dies in his throat
as Plankton's body goes rigid,
his eye rolling back, antennae
freezing mid-thrash. His legs
buckle, and he crumples onto
the couch.

Karen's eyes widen with fear,
but her movements are swift and
sure. She's seen this before,
the aftermath of a seizure
taking its toll. Chip's eyes
are wide with shock, his hand
still outstretched, trembling.

"Dad," he whispers, his voice
a prayer. "Are you okay?"

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye flickering open, a silent
plea for understanding. The
seizure's aftermath clings to
his body like a damp fog, his
limbs heavy with fatigue. Karen's
hands are gentle on him, her
movements measured. She knows
his pain, his fear, and the
thin line between love and
overwhelm.

"Chip," she says softly,
turning to her son, "this is part
of your dad's world. He needs
his space, and we need to
respect that." She sits beside
Plankton, her hand on his back,
feeling his erratic breaths.

Plankton's antennae droop, his
body a ragdoll's. "I'm s-sorry,"
he stammers, his voice
weak. "I didn't mean to..."

Chip's heart aches, his hand
still hovering, trembling. "It's
not your fault, Dad," he says,
his voice tight with emotion.
"It's just... hard to see you
like this."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye focusing on his son's
face. "I know," he whispers,
his voice a confession of
his own fears. "It's hard for me,
too." His admission is a
rare moment of vulnerability,
a crack in the armor of his
usual bravado.

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "I want to
help," he says, his voice
desperate. "But I don't know
how."

Plankton's antennae droop,
his eye closing in exhaustion.

"We'll learn together,"
Karen says, her voice a gentle
guideline. "You don't have
to have all the answers, Chip.
Just be patient, and listen."

Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton's
exhausted form. "I'll try,"
he murmurs, his voice filled
with hope and uncertainty.

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly, his eye fluttering
open. "I know," he says,
his voice a weary whisper. 
"It's... it's not easy."

Karen's hand smooths over
his back, her touch a gentle
reminder of her presence.
"We're here, Plankton,"
she says, her voice a soft
promise. "We'll get through
this together."

Plankton's antennae
quiver, his eye still closed.
"I know," he murmurs, his voice
barely a breath. "I just... I
can't bear the thought of
being a burden." The words
hang in the air, thick with
his fear and doubt.

Karen's hand pauses on his
back, her eyes filling with
sorrow. "You're not," she says,
her voice firm. "You're my
partner, my love." She takes
his hand in hers, her thumb
stroking his palm gently.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye fluttering open to meet
hers. "But what if... what if I
hurt you?" he asks, his voice
a whisper of doubt.

Karen's grip tightens, her
eyes filled with determination.
"You won't," she says, her voice
a promise. "We're a team,
Plankton. You're not alone in this."
Her words are a gentle rebuke
to his fears. "I'll find you a pillow
and blanket for out here."

As Karen goes back upstairs
Chip inches to the couch. "Dad
can I sit?"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye still closed. "Yeah,"
he whispers, his voice a
wisp of sound. 

new do you trust me chip plankton 14

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 11
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

They approach Plankton,
his body heavy with sleep.
Karen gently shakes his
shoulder. "Wake up, love,"
she says. "We're going to
help you to bed." Plankton's
eye opens, blinking in the
soft light. He looks around,
disoriented for a moment,
before focusing on Karen's
face.

"Bed?" he murmurs, his
voice thick with sleep. Chip
nods eagerly. "You need to
sleep in your own bed, Dad,"
he says, his voice gentle. Plankton
frowns, his hand reaching
for his blanket. "Must," he says,
his voice firm. Karen nods.
"Let's go," she whispers, taking
his arm.

With careful steps, they
navigate the hallway, the
soft carpet muffling their
footsteps. Chip follows
behind. Plankton's
movements are slow and
deliberate. Karen helps
Plankton into his room, the
space familiar and comforting.

The bed is a sanctuary. Karen
helps him into bed,
his limbs heavy with sleep.

Karen opens the bedside
drawer, her movements
practiced and quiet. Chip
watches as she pulls out
from the sensory box
a soft plushie.

Plankton's eye flickers
open, his gaze landing
on the toy. "Huggle,"
he murmurs. His hand
reaches out, his fingers
grabbing the plushie.
Karen nods. "Here you go,
sweetie," she says, placing
it in his hand.

The softness of the
plushie seems to ground him.
His hand clutches it tightly
as he settles into bed,
his antennae still. "Pranks,"
he says. "Ponies.."

Karen tucks the blankets
around him, her movements
precise and gentle. "Good
night," she whispers, leaning
in to kiss his forehead.

Chip watches as Plankton's
grip on the plushie tightens,
his eye still closed. "What's
that for?" he asks.

Karen smiles down at her
sleepy husband. "It's a
comfort object," she whispers.
"It's like a pillow or a blanket
for you." Chip nods.

Plankton's hand tightens
around the plushie,
his breathing deepening. 
"Huggle," he murmurs.

The soft toy is a lifeline
to a world that often feels
overwhelming. Chip watches
his dad with a newfound
respect, understanding that
sometimes, the simplest
things provide the most profound
comfort.

"Good night, Dad," Chip whispers,
his voice trembling slightly.
He's seen a side of Plankton
today that's both fascinating
and heartbreaking. The father
he's known his whole life,
his hero, has a vulnerability
no one else sees.

The next morning, Chip
wakes up and goes in
to his parent's bedroom
again.

Karen is up. Plankton
is still asleep, his hand
still wrapped around the
plushie. "Ponk," he murmurs
in his sleep, his antennae
twitching slightly. Chip pads over.
He looks at his mom, his eyes
questioning. "Is he okay?"
he whispers. Karen nods.
"He's just dreaming," she
explains. "It's a way of
working through things."

Chip sits on the edge of
the bed. "Mm," Plankton
murmurs. Chip's seen his 
dad's strength so many 
times, but this vulnerability 
is new. He reaches out for
his sleeping dad's plushie.
Chip's hand hovers over it.
He gently takes it...
Plankton's eye flew open.
"Whaa-" Plankton says, then
notices Chip taking the plushie.

In an instant, Plankton
is wide awake, his antennae
shooting up in anger. "No!"
he yells, his voice sharp.
Chip jumps back, his eyes
wide. "What's wrong, Da-"
Plankton's hand snatches
the plushie from Chip's
grip.

Karen's screen flashes
with concern. "It's okay,
sweetie," she says quickly.
"Chip didn't mean to take
it." But Plankton's not
listening. "NO! It's mine!
YOU don't touch!"

The room seems to shrink
under the weight of his
anger. His antennae quiver
with rage. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
Chip stammers, his voice
small and scared. Plankton's
grip on the plushie tightens.
Karen's screen flickers.
"Plankton," she says gently.
"Remember, Chip didn't mean to
upset you. He's still learning."

Plankton's eye darts
between the plushie and
his son. "MINE! MINE, MINE,
MINE!" Chip feels tears
prickling his eyes. He didn't
mean to make his dad
so mad. Chip goes to
pick up the plushie to hand
back to him, but Plankton
thought he's taking it.

In a flash, Plankton is out
of bed, his body stiff,
his antennae trembling with
fury. "NO!" he roars, his
voice echoing through the
tiny room. Chip flinches,
his grip on the plushie
tightening. "Dad,"
he whispers, "I'm sorry."

Karen moves quickly. "Plankton,"
she says, her voice firm but
kind. "Remember, it's okay."
Her hands are up, a silent
plea for peace. But Plankton
doesn't see her. His eyes are
locked on Chip. Yet
Karen's voice remains
steady. "Plankton, it's okay.
Let's talk about thi—"

He cuts her off with
a screech. "MINE!" He
snatches the plushie from
Chip's grasp, his antennae
waving in agitation. Chip
backs away, his eyes
brimming with tears. "It's okay,
Dad," he stammers. "You
can have it." But Chip accidentally
brushes against Plankton.

Plankton flinches, his
body stiffening. "NO!"
he shouts again. "DON'T TOUCH!"
The force of his words
pushes Chip back. He
almost stumbles over a chair.
"Dad, I di-"

But Plankton doesn't
hear. He's lost in a world
of his own, where the
rules are clear and simple:
his things are his, and no one
else's. The plushie is a lifeline
in a storm of confusion,
and it's been snatched away.
His rage builds, his antennae
quivering like live wires,
his body trembling with anger.

With a roar, Plankton
throws the plushie across
the room, watching it sail
past the curtains and hit the wall.
The impact echoes through the
silence like a gunshot. Chip
flinches, his heart racing.
This isn't the dad he knows.
This is a stranger, a creature
of fury and pain.

Plankton's chest heaves with
quick, shallow breaths. His
skin is slick with sweat,
his eyes wild and unfocused.
"NO TOUCH!" he screams,
his fists clenched at his sides.
The room seems to pulse with
his anger, the walls closing in.

Karen steps forward, her
hands still up, her voice calm.
"Plankton, love," she says,
"Chip didn't mean to upset you."
But her words are lost in the
rage. He turns and grabs
the chair.

With a powerful swing,
Plankton throws the chair,
his movements surprisingly
strong. It crashes
against the wall, the sound
like a thunderclap in the
silent room. Chip's eyes
widen in fear. "Dad,"
he whispers, his voice
shaking as Plankton grabs
a vase.

"MINE!" Plankton yells,
his body a blur of
anger. The vase flies,
shattering into a thousand
pieces on the floor. "NO
TOUCH!" The room is a
chaos of Plankton's rage,
his stims forgotten in the
face of perceived invasion.
Chip is frozen, his eyes
following the path of destruction.

Karen's screen flickers,
her voice urgent. "Plankton,
please," she says, her eyes
filled with fear. "You're
scaring Chip." But the words
bounce off his shield
of anger. He grabs a book,
ready to hurl it next.

The room is a minefield
of shattered glass and
flying objects. Chip's
heart races. He's never
seen his dad like this.
He's never felt so scared.
Karen moves closer, her
hands outstretched. "Honey,"
she says, her voice shaking.
"Remember, Chi-"

But Plankton's rage is
like a wildfire, consuming
everything in its path.
He throws the book, his
body a whirlwind of anger.
"NO!" His voice is raw,
his eye wild. The book
slams into the wall, the
pages fluttering to the
ground.

Chip watches, his eyes
wide with fear. He's seen
his dad's temper before, but
never like this. The room
feels like it's closing in,
his heart thumping in his
chest. He wants to run,
but he's rooted to the spot.
He can't leave.

new autism and all chip plankton chipcore

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 13
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Chip sits on the edge
of the bed, his hand
touching Plankton's
shoulder. He whispers, "I'm
sorry," not sure if his dad
can hear him. Karen sits
next to him, her hand
on his back. "It's not your
fault," she says, her voice
soft. "Remember, we're here
for him. Now when he wakes,
he might be feeling tired.
But he'll be okay."

Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton's peaceful
face. He's never seen his
dad so still, so quiet. It's
like he's looking at a
stranger. But he's not.
This is the same man who
taught him to tie his shoes,
who read him bedtime stories,
and who always had the
best pranks for Mr. Krabs.

The sedative's hold starts
to loosen. "It'll wear off soon,"
she whispers. Chip nods. "I'll stay
here," he says, his voice
determined.

Plankton's eye twitches.
A soft murmur escapes.
Karen watches. "It's okay,"
she whispers, her hand
on Chip's shoulder. "He's
coming back."

Slowly his eyelid flutters open,
his eye unfocused.
"Wheh..." he murmurs,
his voice thick with sleep.

Karen's screen glows with
relief. "Welcome back, love,"
she says softly.
Plankton blinks, his gaze
slowly finding hers. "What...
what happened?" His antennae
twitch.

Her voice is gentle.
"You had a meltdown.
Remember?" He frowns, the
memory distant.
"Chip accidentally touched
your plushie, and it just...
it was too much." Chip
nods. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae 
droop. His eye widens
with horror. "Chip," he murmurs.
He tries to sit up, but
his body is heavy with sleep.

Karen's hand on his
chest gently presses him
back down. "It's ok," she says.
"You're safe. We're here."

Plankton's eye darts
around the room.
And he sees Chip, his son,
sitting by his side, looking
at him. "Wibbly wobbly,"
he murmurs. "Wibbly wobbly."

Chip now understood
why his dad is repeating
random words. "It's okay,
Dad," he says. "You're safe."

Plankton's eye focused,
his antennae still. "Chip,"
he whispers. "Wibbly wobbly...
wibbly wobbly..."

Chip nods, his screen
now clear. He understands.
These random phrases are
his dad's way of navigating
the world after a storm.
They're his anchors in
the chaos, his way of
finding calm.

"Pranks," Plankton says,
his voice a whisper. "Ponies."
Chip nods.

Karen's screens flicker with
understanding. These words,
his stims, are his lifeboat,
his way to find peace.
"It's okay, Plankton,"
she murmurs. "You're safe."

Plankton's antennae
still. "Car tape."
Karen nods. "Yes."

He whispers, "Io."
"It's okay," Karen says,
her voice soothing. 
"You're home."
"Io," Plankton murmurs again,
clapping his hands. Chip
frowns, not understanding.
"It's alright, Chip," Karen
explains. "It's just his way
of reorienting. See, love,
everything's okay."

"Karen?" Plankton's voice
is a question. "Chip?"
Karen nods. "We're right here."

Plankton's hand
moves to his antennae,
his thumb rubbing them absently.
It's a soothing gesture,
a way to ground himself
in reality. "What happened?"

Karen's screens flicker
with the memory of
the chaos. "You had
a meltdown," she says gently.
"But it's okay. You're safe now."

Plankton's eye narrows,
his mind racing. He remembers
the anger, the noise,
the need to escape. "Chip,"
he says again, his voice
filled with regret as he
sees his son.

Karen nods, her screen
softening. "Chip's okay," she
assures him. "He saw what
happened." Plankton's antennae
twitch. He's torn between
apologizing and retreating.

Chip's voice is small. "Dad,
it's okay. I know it's not you."
Plankton's eye meets his son's,
but he knows he lost control.
He feels the bed dip
as Karen sits beside him.
Her hand finds his, her
grip firm and warm. "Remember,
love, it's the autism."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still. He starts to rock,
his body swaying back and forth,
his way to soothe.
Karen knows this
motion means he's trying
to regain control. "Hhmmm..."
he murmurs, the sound
deep in his throat. "It's okay,"
Karen whispers. "You're okay."
"Hmm hmm hmm," Plankton
continues, his voice
a gentle rumble.
"What's he doing?"
Chip asks, his voice hushed.

"It's his way of calming
down," Karen explains,
her voice barely above
a whisper. "He's using
humming to soothe himself."
"Is he okay?"

Karen's hand in his is a
reminder that they're all
still here, still a
family. "It's okay," she says.
"This is his way of
finding peace."

Plankton's humming grows
louder, more insistent.
"Hmm hmm hmm," he murmurs,
his antennae now still. His
body rocks in a gentle rhythm,
his eye focused on some
invisible horizon. "It's okay," Karen
whispers. "This is his way."

"Dad," Chip asks softly.
"Is it helping?"

Plankton's hum deepens,
his antennae still. Karen nods.
"It's his way of finding
his center again," she says.
Chip watches, his screen
filled with concern.

Then, Plankton's hand reaches
out, grasping at the air. "Karen,"
he whispers, his voice
desperate. "Huggly?"

Her heart breaks for her husband.
"Plankton," she says softly,
her hand on his back.
"Do you want me to rock you?"
He nods, his antennae
still. "Huggly," he whispers,
his voice a plea.
With a gentle touch,
Karen picks him up, cradling
his small frame in her arms.
He's heavier than he looks,
but she doesn't care. This
is her Plankton, her love.

Plankton's body goes limp,
his head resting on her shoulder.
She starts to rock him,
the motion smooth and even
as his eye flutters.

"It's okay," she whispers,
her voice a lullaby.
"We're here." Chip watches.
He's never seen his dad
so vulnerable.

The rocking becomes a rhythm,
a dance between comfort
and pain. Karen's screen
flickers with the memory
of their first dance,
their first kiss, the first time
she held him in his
arms and promised to
love him, autism and all.

Chip watches, his screen
reflecting a mix of fear
and fascination. "Is he okay?"
he whispers.

"Shh," Karen murmurs.
"This is his way." Her screens
flicker with a soft light.
"You're doing great, love,"
she says to Plankton. "You're okay."

The room is quiet
except for Plankton's
steady breathing and
Karen's gentle rocking.
Chip watches, his eyes
on his father's peaceful face.
The rocking slows,
Plankton's breaths even out.
His antennae no longer
quiver with tension.
"Hmm," he murmurs,
his body relaxing in
Karen's embrace.

Plankton's humming
fades, replaced by the soft
snores of sleep. Karen lowers
his head to the pillow,
his antennae still.
Chip looks up at his mother,
his screen etched with
questions.

"What do we do now?"
he asks.

Karen's eyes don't leave
Plankton's sleeping form.
"Now," she says, "we wait.
He'll wake up soon."

Her screens dim, the tension
of the room easing. "It's
important to let him
sleep it off," she explains.
"The meltdown takes a lot
out of him." Chip nods, his
thoughts racing.

He's seen his dad like this before,
but never so lost. The Plankton
he knows is clever, funny, a master
of pranks. This Plankton, the one
curled up on the bed, is different.
He's vulnerable, raw. It's a side
of his dad Chip's still learning
to navigate.

new autism and all chip plankton chipcore

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 18
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Chip's screen flickers with
determination. He'll learn. He'll do better.
He'll show Plankton that he's not
just a clueless kid. He's his son, and
he cares. He'll be the support Plankton
needs, even if it means changing
everything he thought he knew. He'll
read about autism, he'll watch videos,
he'll listen to podcasts. He'll become an
expert on his dad's condition. He'll
find a way to bridge the gap between
them, to understand what Plankton's really
going through. So he went to his room
but a disturbing sight awaited him.

The photos of him and his dad
have been torn where Plankton
cut himself out of each picture
of him and Chip. The science
projects they've worked on are
in the trash bin. Past Father's Day
cards, crumpled into balls. It's
like Plankton's trying to erase
his existence from their shared
memories of father and son.

Chip sees Plankton in
his parents bedroom
on his bed.

"Dad?" Chip whispers, his
screen flickering with hope.
Plankton's antennae twitch slightly,
but he doesn't turn to look at his
son. The room is filled with a heavy
silence, the weight of their last
conversation pressing down on them.
"Dad, I found some articles," Chip
says, holding up his device. "They're
about autism, and how to be there
for someone who's going through
what you are." His voice is tentative,
his screen reflecting his fear
of rejection.

Plankton's antennae droop, his
body tense. He's been in his room
for hours, the door shut tight.
The only light comes from the
crack under the door, spilling
into the hallway where Chip stands,
his heart racing. He's read every
word, every article, every story,
desperate to find a way back in,
to fix what he's broken. But Plankton's
silence is a wall, a barrier he doesn't
know how to cross. "I'll be different,"
Chip says, his voice cracking. "I'll learn."
He takes a step forward. "I'll do
anything."

Plankton doesn't move. Chip's
heart sinks. He tries again. "I
brought some stuff for your
sensory box. Maybe it'll help."

The silence stretches on,
each second a chasm between
them. Chip's screen is a canvas
of hope and despair, his mind
whirling with all the ways
he could have handled this
better. He takes another step,
his hand outstretched, holding
the treasures he's collected. "I got
some new putty, and a fidget
cube," he says, his voice shaking.
"And... and some of your
favorite gummy worms."

Plankton's antennae quiver,
just a little, but he doesn't
turn. Chip's heart leaps, then
plunges again. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he says, the words tumbling
out. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
The silence stretches, a tightrope
that Chip is desperate to cross.

He holds out the fidget cube,
his hand shaking. "Remember
how this helped before?" he asks,
his voice tentative. "I just want
you to feel better." But Plankton's
back remains to him, a wall of
disappointment. "Dad," Chip whispers,
his eyes glistening with unshed
tears. "I'll do whatever it takes. I
know I can't change the past. Please."
Plankton's antennae twitch, the
only sign he's heard. But he still
doesn't turn.

Chip's screen flickers with
desperation. He's seen his dad
like this before, but it's never
felt so final. "I brought your
headphones," he says, his voice
barely above a whisper. "For the
noise. To help." His hand trembles
as he holds them out. "Please,
Dad, take them." Plankton's body
shifts slightly, but his antennae
stay still. Chip's heart aches.
He's never felt so small, so powerless.

"Dad, I know I messed up,"
Chip continues, his voice cracking.
"But I'm trying to fix it. I want to
learn." He takes a deep breath,
his chest tight with emotion. "I'll do
better. I promise." The silence
is a gaping wound between them,
each second a stitch that won't hold.
He steps closer, his hand
extended. "Just tell me what
you need. Anything."

But Plankton remains still,
his antennae drooping with the
weight of his emotions. Chip's
heart races, his screen flashing
with fear and regret. He can't
stand the thought of his father
going through this alone. "Dad,
please," he says, his voice thick.
"I'm sorry for not understanding.
For making fun without realizing."
His hand holding the headphones
shakes more. "But I do now.
I'll be better."

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly, but he says nothing.

Chip's eyes well up with
tears, his screen a blur of
emotions. He's never felt so
alone, so misunderstood. "Dad,"
he says, his voice thick with
desperation. "I know you're hurting.
But so am I." Plankton's body
remains still, his back a wall
against his son's words. Chip's
hand, holding the headphones,
drops to his side. "Please," he
whispers, his voice cracking.
"Let me help you."

The silence in the room is
deafening, the air thick with
unspoken words. Chip can feel
his father's pain, his anger,
his hurt. But Plankton's silence
is a fortress, an impenetrable
barrier that Chip can't seem
to breach. He swallows hard,
his throat tight with emotion.
"I love you, Dad," he says,
his voice barely audible. "And I'll
always be here for you."

Plankton's antennae twitch again,
but he doesn't turn. Chip's
heart feels like it's shattering
into a million pieces. He's never
seen his dad like this, so closed
off.

"Dad," he says, his voice shaking.
"I know I hurt you. I'm sorry.
But please, let me in." His hand
holds out the headphones,
his screen reflecting the desperation
in his eyes. "We can get through
this together." But Plankton's
back remains a wall.

Chip's eyes fill with tears,
his screen flickering with the
pain of rejection. He tries
again, his voice trembling. "I
won't give up on you," he says.
"I'll learn. I'll change. I'll do
whatever it takes." He takes
a step closer.

But Plankton remains unmoving,
his antennae drooping. Chip's
heart feels like it's breaking. "I'm
here, Dad," he whispers. "I'm
right here." The silence is a
chasm, each second a step
further apart.

He takes another step, his hand
still outstretched. "Dad," he says,
his voice a plea. "You don't
have to go through this alone."
Plankton's antennae twitch, a
tiny movement that gives Chip
just a glimmer of hope. "We can
learn together," he says, his voice
stronger now. "We can figure
this out."

The room feels like it's closing
in around them, the air thick with
the weight of Plankton's silence.
But Chip refuses to give up. He
knows his father is in there,
behind the wall of anger and
hurt. He can't let him go. "Dad,"
he says, his voice steady. "I know
you're in pain. But I'm not leaving."
Chip says, sitting on the bed. 

new autism and all chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 3
Plankton notices the shift in Chip's
expression and his own face falls.
He's been so scared of this moment,
of being seen as less than. He's
always tried to keep his stims
under wraps, to appear as 'normal'
as possible. But now it's all out
in the open, and he can't hide anymore.

Karen reaches for Plankton's hand,
squeezing it gently. "It's okay, love.
You don't have to be afraid. Chip's
smart, he'll understand." She looks
back at Chip, her eyes pleading.
"Remember what we talked about,
Chip. Your dad's stimming is his way
of coping with the world, and it's
something that makes him feel
safe and comfortable. Yet we need
to understand that when he's doing
it, it's his personal time. It's just not
for us to intrude on. Because for
him, it's like a secret conversation he's
having with himself."

Chip nods slowly, his eyes
flicking from his dad's face to
his mom's, trying to digest the
new reality that's being laid out
before him. Plankton takes a
deep, shuddering breath, his
rocking coming to a stop.

Karen stands up, walking over to
Plankton, and kisses him on the
cheek. "Why don't you go wash up,
sweetie?" she suggests gently. "I'll
talk to Chip." Plankton nods, his
expression a mix of relief and fear.
He slides out of bed, his legs
shaky, and heads to the bathroom.

The moment the door clicks shut,
Karen turns to Chip, her eyes filled
with a quiet determination. "You
see, Chip," she starts, her voice
softer now, "Your dad's stimming is
like his private conversation with
his brain. Sometimes, he'll start
saying random things, talking to himself,
working through his thoughts
and feelings. So when you
commented on it, it was like
you interrupted a conversation he
was having to himself, which can be
upsetting."

Chip nods, his eyes following the
path his dad took to the bathroom.
"But what if he's hurt?" he asks,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"How do we know if it's okay?"

Karen sighs, her expression
softening. "That's a good question,
Chip. We just need to be observant.
If he's happy or upset, his stims
might be different. And if he ever
looks like he's in pain, or if he's distressed,
that's when we step in, but first ask."

She takes a deep breath,
preparing herself for the next part
of their conversation. "But it's also
important to remember that even
though we can't always understand
what he's feeling or why he stims,
it's his way of dealing with the world.
So we need to be respectful, and not
make him feel weird or uncomfortable."

Chip nods, his gaze still on
the bathroom door. "I don't want
to make him feel bad," he says, his
voice sincere. Karen sits back down
beside him, her arm wrapping around
his shoulders. "We know" she
assures him. "You're a good kid,
Chip. You'll learn to read him
better than anyone else."

As Plankton emerges from
the bathroom, his face is washed
clean, but the fear lingers in
his eye. He sits back down on
the edge of the bed, his posture
rigid. Karen looks at him with
love and patience, waiting for him
to speak.

"Chip," she starts, her voice
careful. "You know how everyone
has their own ways of dealing with
stuff, right?" Chip nods, his gaze
flipping between his parents. "Well,
your dad's brain works a bit
differently than ours. Sometimes,
he needs to do things like rocking
or making sounds to help him
think and feel better. He may
even repeat words or phrases,
which is called echolalia. It's all
part of his autism, and it's his way of
navigating through the world."

Karen's eyes are filled with a
mixture of love and hope as she
speaks. "These are his stims, and
they're very personal to him. It's like
his own secret language, a way
to communicate with himself. So
when you see him doing these things,
it's important to remember that he's
not doing it for show, or for
attention. It's his brain's way of
talking to him, of keeping him calm."

Plankton nods slowly, his eye
dull with the weight of his secret
now out in the open. "And sometimes,"
Karen adds, "I've seen him come out
of seizures while talking to his brain."

"Seizures?" Chip asks, his voice
laced with fear. Plankton winces at
the word, but Karen nods. "They're not
like the seizures you might think of,
sweetie. They're a part of his autism.
It's like his brain's way of restarting,
of reorganizing itself when things
get too much."

Plankton finally speaks up, his
voice shaky. "I don't like it when you
saw me like that Chip," he admits.
"Now I'm... exposed. So just GO 
AHEAD AND STARE." He throws 
his hands up in a dramatic
gesture, his sarcasm clear. Chip
flinches, feeling a pang of guilt.

Karen puts a gentle hand on 
Plankton's knee. "Chip wasn't 
staring, sweetie. He was just 
trying to understand." She turns 
to Chip. "It's okay to be curious,
but remember, Dad's stims are like
his personal bubble. They help
him feel safe when the world 
is too loud or confusing. So unless
he's really upset or in pain, we
respect that space."

Chip nods, feeling a mix of
understanding and awkwardness.
He's never thought about his dad's
quirks as being part of something
so... significant. "Okay," he says,
his voice small. "I'll try not to
stare or interrupt."

Karen smiles warmly at him.
"That's all we ask, buddy. Just
love him the way you always have.
And if you have any questions, you
can always come to us. We're a team,
and we're all here for each other."

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 4
Plankton looks at Chip, his
eye searching for any sign of
judgment or fear. But all he sees
is confusion and concern. "I-I-I-I… I just..."

Karen takes over, her voice
soothing. "It's okay, Plankton.
You don't have to explain everything
right now. Chip just needs to
understand that your stimming is
private." "But why does he have to know?"
Plankton asks, his voice tight with
anxiety. "Why can't it just be our
secret?" Karen's expression is one
of compassion.

"Because, love," she says, her
hand still on his knee, "Chip is
part of our family, and he deserves
to know who you really are. And
his knowing won't change how
much we love you." Plankton nods
slowly, but the fear in his eye
doesn't dissipate entirely.

Chip sits quietly, watching his
parents interact. He's never
seen this side of his dad before,
and it's unsettling. But he
doesn't want to make things
worse. "I won't say anything, Dad,"
he promises, going to hug him.
"And I'll try to underst--"

"Don't!" Plankton recoils, his
body stiffening at the sudden
touch. Chip freezes, his arms
outstretched, unsure of what
just happened.

Karen's face falls. "Chip, remember.
Let him come to you when he's
ready." She looks at Plankton,
apology in her eyes. Plankton nods
slightly, his cheeks reddening.

"It's okay," Chip says, pulling away
and sitting back down on the bed.
"I just wanted to tell you that I
love you, Dad." Plankton's eye
softens, but he turns away, now
talking to himself, his voice low and
quick. "I told him not to stare," he
mumbles. "Doesn't he
understand." His eye darts around
the room, focusing on nothing.

Karen watches him, her heart
aching. Plankton's stims had
always been their secret, something
they'd navigated together. Now,
it was witnessed by Chip.

Plankton's voice grew louder,
his words a jumbled mess as he
spoke to himself. "I shouldn't have
let him see, no," he said. "Not. Today."

Karen watched him, her heart
breaking for her husband. She knew
how much he valued his privacy,
how much his autism was a part of
his identity, and now it was out in
the open for their son to see.

Chip looked at his mom, his eyes
full of confusion and concern.
Karen squeezed Plankton's hand
and turned to Chip. "Remember,
buddy, sometimes Dad needs to talk
to himself to make sense of things.
It's his way of organizing his thoughts."

Chip nodded, trying to
understand. "But why 
can't I hug you, Dad?" 
he asked softly.

Karen's voice was calm as
she explained. "Sometimes,
when people with autism
get overwhelmed, physical
contact can be too much for
them to handle, even if it's from
someone they love. And your
dad's sensitive to certain touch
Chip, okay?" Chip nodded, his
throat tight with emotion.

"It's okay, Chip," Karen said, her voice
soft. "Dad's just talking to himself,
like I said. It's his way of making
sense of things." She watched as Chip
processed this, his eyes never leaving
his father. "But remember, it's his
conversation. We should let him
have it without interrupting. And
right now, he's okay. He's just...
thinking out loud." She glanced at
Plankton, whose eye had stopped
darting around and was now focused
on the floor.

Chip nodded, his curiosity
getting the better of him. "But 
Mom, why does he need to st-" 
"I don't need to explain myself to
you!" Plankton snapped, cutting him
off. "You wouldn't understand 
anyway!" His voice was sharp,
like a knife slicing through
the quiet of the room.

Chip's eyes widened, and
he took a step back, his hands
raised in a placating gesture. "I'm 
sorry," he said, his voice small. "I just 
wanted to kno—"

"Chip," Karen interjected, her voice
gentle but firm. "Remember what you
learned. Dad's stimming is his private
time. We need to respect that." She
turned to Plankton, her expression
full of understanding. "It's okay,
love. You don't have to explain."

Plankton took a deep breath,
his rocking starting up again. "But
what if he doesn't respect me
anymore?" he whispered, his voice
shaking. Karen leaned in, her
eyes filled with love. "Chip loves
you, Plankton. And now he knows
a little more about you. That's all."

But Chip's questions didn't stop.
He was like a detective piecing
together a puzzle, his curiosity
unyielding. "What about the sounds
yo--"

"Chip," Karen's voice was firm but
kind. "Remember what we said.
Dad's stims are personal. Let's
give him space." But Chip's
mind was racing, trying to
make connections. "But does he
make sounds wh-"

"Chip," Plankton cut 
him off, his voice
strained. "Just KNOCK 
IT OFF and leave me 
alone, okay?" Chip felt
the sting of his dad's
words, his heart sinking.
He'd never seen Plankton
so agitated. Karen's grip
on his shoulder tightened.
"Chip," she said softly,
turning him to face her.
"Your dad's had a lot to
process today. Let's just
give him some space, okay?"

With a nod, Chip backed
away from the bed, his
eyes on his dad, who had
resumed rocking. He retreated to
his room. He'd always
thought his dad was just
quirky, a bit odd at times, but
now it all made sense. The
way he'd get lost in his
thoughts, the way he'd repeat
things, and how he'd sometimes
need his space. It was all part
of this... 'autism'. It was a lot to take
in, but he was determined to
understand.

Karen sat beside Plankton,
her hand resting lightly on his
back. "It's okay, sweetie," she
whispered, her voice soothing.
"Chip just needs time to
understand." Plankton's rocking
slowed, his breathing returning
to normal. "But what if he's
embarrassed?" he asked, his
eye still fixed on the floor.
"Embarrassed?" Karen echoed,
her voice gentle. "Why would
he be embarrassed? You're his
dad, and he loves you just as
you are. This is just something
new for him to learn." Plankton's
shoulders slumped, and he let
out a sigh.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 5
The next morning, Chip
decided to go into his
parent's shared bedroom.
Karen was sitting beside
Plankton, who was in his bed.
Her hand was gently tracing
patterns on his arm. Plankton's
eye was closed, and the only 
sound in the room was his
softly rhythmic snoring.

The sight of his dad lying
there, peaceful and quiet, was
comforting. Plankton's chest
moved up and down with
each breath, and Chip felt
his own anxiety start to ease.
He sat down on the edge of
the bed, watching his dad
sleep, his curiosity now
tempered with empathy. Karen
smiled at him, her eyes full of
understanding. "It's okay," she
whispered. "He's just resting."
Chip nodded, watching
Plankton's antenna twitching
ever so slightly with each
breath. He'd never seen his
dad so still, so... peaceful.

The room was bathed in the soft
glow of the morning sun, and the
quiet was almost sacred. Chip
could see now how Plankton's
stims were like a shield,
how they protected him from a
world that could be too much at
times. And in sleep, that shield
was down, revealing the
vulnerable man beneath. Karen's
hand continued to trace gentle
patterns on his arm. Chip reached out,
his own hand hovering over
Plankton's arm, unsure if he
should touch him.

"It's okay," Karen mouthed,
seeing the uncertainty in Chip's
eyes. "He's sleeping." So Chip
placed his hand lightly on Plankton's
arm, mimicking his mom.

The warmth of Plankton's skin
under his palm felt surprisingly
normal. For a moment, Chip
forget about the storm of the
previous night and the revelation
of his dad's autism. He watched
the steady rise and fall of
his chest, the soft snores
that punctuated the silence.

Karen's eyes remained on her
husband, a tender smile playing
on her lips. Her hand never
ceased its gentle motion, the
love in the action palpable.
The sun painted the room
in soft, warm light, casting
a gentle glow across the
crumpled bedcovers and the
slightly open mouth of the
sleeping Plankton.

The rhythmic sound of his
snores filled the space, a
comforting symphony to
Karen's ears. She'd heard it
a thousand times before,
each inhale and exhale a
testament to his survival in
a world that often felt too
much for him. Chip sat
silently, his hand tentatively
resting on Plankton's arm.

In sleep, Plankton's armor
was down, revealing the
softness beneath. His
stims, the protective
shells he'd built around
his thoughts, had ceased.
The tension in his body
was replaced by a gentle
relaxation, as if even in
his subconscious, he knew
he was safe.

Karen's hand on
Plankton's arm was a silent
testament to their bond, a
wordless conversation that
transcended the barriers of
his condition. The gentle
movements, almost imperceptible
to an outsider, were a
soothing balm to Plankton's
nervous system. Chip felt a
wave of love and protectiveness
for his father wash over him,
a feeling that grew stronger
as he watched his mom's
caring ministrations. He studied the
contours of Plankton's face,
his sleep-slackened jaw and
the soft snores that rumbled.

He thought about the stims he'd
seen the night before, the
rocking, the muttering. Now,
his dad's quietude spoke
volumes about his need for
space and understanding. Chip
swallowed hard, his own
thoughts racing. He knew
his curiosity could sometimes
be intrusive, but he couldn't
help it. He wants to know
everything about his dad,
now more than ever.

As the minutes ticked by,
Plankton's snores grew softer,
until they were just a faint
whisper in the room. Karen's
hand never stopped moving,
her eyes never leaving his
face. It was like watching a
dance, a silent conversation that
only the two of them understood.

Chip felt a lump in his
throat, the gravity of the
situation starting to hit him.
He'd always known his dad
was different, but now he knew
why. Autism was a part of
Plankton that couldn't be
fixed or ignored, it was
a piece of him, as essential
as his antennae or his love
for Krabby Patties.

He watched as Karen
continued her silent vigil, her
touch a gentle reminder of
his dad's humanity amidst
his neurodivergence. Plankton
was still the same person,
his quirks and tics a part of
his identity, not a flaw to
be hidden. Chip's mind was
full of questions.

How had his dad managed to
keep this a secret for so long?
Why did he feel the need to
mask his true self? He knew
his dad was different, but he'd
never fully grasped the extent
of it. Plankton had always
been a whirlwind of energy,
his brain firing on all cylinders.
But now, watching him sleep,
his body at peace, Chip saw the
weight that Plankton carried
each day. The effort it took
to navigate a world that
wasn't built for him. The stims
were his crutch, his way of
finding balance. And Karen,
his rock, always there, offering
comfort with just a touch.

Karen looked up, her eyes
meeting Chip's. "You know,"
she said softly, "your dad's
always been like this. Since
before you were born. And I
fell in love with him knowing
of it, not despite it." Chip felt
his eyes sting with tears. He'd
never thought about his
parents' relationship in this
light before, the quiet strength
that must have been there
from the start.

He watched as Karen leaned
forward and kissed Plankton's
forehead. "He's always been
my hero," she whispered. "And
now, I want you to see him that
way too." Chip nodded, his
throat tight with emotion.

He took a deep breath and
moved closer to the bed, his hand
still hovering above Plankton's
arm. "What can I do?" he asked,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"What do you need from me?"

Karen's eyes never left Plankton's
face, but she squeezed Chip's hand.
"Just love him, Chip," she said,
her voice filled with warmth. "Be
his rock, just like I am."

Chip nodded, understanding
dawning. He leaned in and
kissed his dad's cheek, his
hand now resting gently on
his arm. Plankton's snores
hitched at the contact, and
Chip froze, his heart racing
as Plankton's eye fluttered open.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 6
For a moment, Plankton looked
confused, his gaze fuzzy with sleep.
But then recognition set in. "Chip?"
he murmured, his voice thick with
sleep. Chip swallowed the lump
in his throat. "Yeah, Dad," he
managed to say. "I just came to say
good mo-"

Before he could finish, Plankton's
eye widened, his body tensing. "What
are you doing?" he demanded, his
tone sharper than Chip had ever
heard it. The room seemed to
shrink around them, the air thick
with the sudden tension.

"I-I just wanted to tell you I love
you," Chip stuttered, his hand
retreating from his dad's arm.
Plankton's gaze searched Chip's
face, looking for something,
anything that would explain this
invasion of his personal space.

Karen stepped in, her voice
calm. "It's okay, Plankton.
Chip just wanted to show
his love, that's all." But Plankton
wasn't easily soothed. His eye
narrowed at Chip, his mind racing.

"But why?" Plankton's voice was
low, almost a growl. "Why do
you need to do it like that?"
Chip felt the weight of his dad's
question, the unspoken fear behind
the words. It was a question about
boundaries, about the unspoken
rules that Plankton had always
followed.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Chip said, his voice
quiet. "I didn't mean to scare
you." He looked to Karen for
guidance, but she just nodded,
encouraging him to find his own
words. Plankton's eye searched Chip's
face, looking for sincerity.

"I just wanted to tell you that I
understand now," Chip continued.
"I know you have to do those
things to feel okay. I promise, I won't
make you feel weird about i---"
But Plankton was already sitting
up, his face flushed with anger.

"Weird?" he snapped, his voice
sharp. "Is that what you think of me?"
He pushed the covers away, his
body vibrating with agitation. "Is that
how you'll tell your neurotypical friends?"

Chip's heart sank, his words
unintentionally striking a nerve.
"No, Dad," he said quickly. "I didn't
mean it like that. I just want to
make sure I don't do anything that
makes you uncomf-"

"Uncomfortable?" Plankton
finished for him, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "Well, how
considerate of you."

Chip felt a pang of guilt, his
words sticking in his throat.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured,
his eyes filling with tears. "I
just... I didn't know how to... "

Plankton took a deep breath,
his hands clenching into fists
at his sides. "You don't get
it," he said, his voice tight.
"You can't just... touch me
like that." His eye searched
the room, as if seeking
a retreat from the sudden
onslaught of emotion.

Karen stepped closer, her voice
soothing. "Chip didn't mean
to upset you, Plankton. He's
just trying to understand."
But Plankton couldn't hear her,
his mind racing with a barrage
of thoughts. He'd always been so
careful to keep this
hidden from his son, fearful
of the rejection he'd faced
in the past.

Chip's eyes were wide with
apology and confusion. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he said again, his voice
shaking. "I just wanted to show
you that I care. I mean, you let
Mom to-"

"It's different," Plankton
interrupted, his voice strained.
"Your mom knows me. She
understands me." His hand
went to his chest, where his
heart felt like it was racing.
"But you... don't you DARE
ever touch me again without
asking," he spat out, his voice
shaking with a mix of anger
and fear. Chip nodded, his
eyes downcast.

Karen sighed, her heart
heavy with the weight of the
conversation. "Plankton, honey,"
she began, her voice gentle.
"Chip just wants to support
you. He's trying to be there
for you in his own way."

Plankton's eye narrowed, his
body still tense. "But he doesn't
understand," he said, the
frustration evident. "No one
does, except for you." Karen
reached for his hand, but he
pulled away, his movements
quick and jerky.

Chip watched, feeling like
he'd just walked into a minefield
without a map. He didn't know
what to say, how to make it right.
He just knew he didn't want his
dad to feel this way. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered, his voice hoarse.
"I'll do better. I'll le-"

"Don't," Plankton said, his voice
sharp. "Don't make promises you
can't keep." He swung his legs
over the side of the bed, his
body language closed off. "I don't
want your pity, Chip." His words
were like a slap in the face, and
Chip felt his cheeks burn with
shame.

Karen stepped between them,
her hand on Plankton's shoulder.
"It's not pity, sweetie," she said,
her voice firm but gentle. "It's love
and support." Plankton's eye
flitted to hers, then back to Chip.
"I don't need Chip's help," he said,
his voice quivering.

"But Dad," Chip 
began, "I just-"
"I SAID DON'T!" 
Plankton's voice 
boomed through 
the room, his face 
a mask of fury. His 
antennae quivered 
with agitation, and 
he retreats to the
corner of the room.
A sign Karen knew
was his way of
shutting down. But
Chip doesn't realize this as
he tries to go to Plankton's
writhing body on the floor.

"Chip," Karen's voice 
was firm, "He's not
with us right now.
Let me only."
Chip stepped back,
his eyes wide with
concern as he watched.

Plankton was 
in a pose that 
screamed 'don't 
touch me'.

His legs were 
curled tight to his 
body, his arms 
wrapped around
his knees, and his 
eye squeezed shut,
his antennae 
pressed against 
his head. It was 
a position that 
spoke of overwhelm,
a silent scream for
space and solitude.

Karen watched him
carefully, her heart 
breaking into a 
million pieces. She
wanted to go to him,
to wrap him in her arms
and tell him everything
was okay. But she
knew better. This was
his retreat, she had to
respect it.

"Give him some space,"
she whispered to Chip,
who was hovering 
uncertainly. "He needs
time to regulate." Chip
nodded, his eyes still
glued to his dad's 
shaking form. He looked
so small, so lost in
his own little corner.

Plankton's breathing
was shallow and fast,
his antennae twitching
eratically. Karen knew
this was his safe place,
his retreat from a world
that often felt too loud, too
much. She walked over,
sat down next to him, but
not too close. She knew
better than to invade
his bubble.

"It's okay," she whispered,
her voice barely a breath.
"You're safe here."
Plankton's body didn't
react, but she saw his
hand, which had been
gripping the floor, relax
ever so slightly. It was a
small victory, but one she'd
take.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 7
The room was silent, save
for Plankton's shallow breaths.
Karen could almost hear
his thoughts racing, his mind
a whirlwind of sensory input
and emotions. She sat
still, her eyes never leaving
his form, her hand staying
close but not touching.

Chip hovered by the door, his
hands clenched into fists. He
wanted to help, to fix this, but
his mom's words echoed in his
mind: 'respect his space'. It was
a concept that was hard to grasp,
but he knew it was important.
He watched as his dad's legs
shook, his whole body a
testament to the storm
inside him.

Karen's eyes never left
Plankton's shaking form. Her
heart broke for him, for the fear
and frustration that she knew
was churning within. She reached
out a tentative hand, letting it hover
just above his shoulder. "It's ok,"
she whispered. But Plankton flinched,
his body stiffening at the uninvited
contact as he turned his back to them,
now facing the wall. She knew
this look well, had seen it before.

The room was suffocating with
silence, the tension thick like a
layer of fog. Chip felt his own
anxiety rising, unsure of what to do.
He'd never seen his dad like this,
so... vulnerable. He took a tentative
step forward, his hand reaching out.
"Dad?" he asked softly.

Plankton's spasms grew more
erratic, his antennae quivering like
leaves in a storm. He didn't look up,
his breathing shallower with each
passing second. It was as if he'd
shrunk in on himself, retreating into
his own world where no one could
follow. Chip's heart ached, watching
his dad's body convulse with silent
sobs, his shoulders heaving as he
tried to regain control.

The room was a tableau of pain,
each second stretching into an eternity.
Karen sat with her back against the
wall, her hand still hovering, but not
daring to make contact again. Her eyes
were filled with a blend of love and
despair, the same look she'd worn
so many times before when Plankton's
autism had overwhelmed him. But
Chip had never seen this side of his
dad, had never known the depth of
his struggle.

Plankton's body was a maelstrom
of movements, each spasm a silent cry
for help. His antennae thrashed
against the floor, his legs kicked
out in a frantic dance. It was a
sight that would have been terrifying
to anyone who didn't understand,
but Karen's eyes never left him, her
expression calm and knowing. She'd
seen this before, had held the line
between panic and peace for her
husband countless times.

And then, through the chaos,
a sound. Plankton's voice, barely
above a murmur, speaking to himself.
"My stims," he whispered, his
hands moving in the air, mimicking
his own motions. "They're just...
they're just a part of it." The words
seemed to hang there, suspended
in the heavy silence of the room.

Karen watched him, her heart
breaking a little more with each
word. She knew he was trying to
make sense of it all, to reconcile
his fear of being different with
his need to be understood.
Chip's eyes widened in surprise,
his curiosity piqued by this
unexpected moment of
self-reflection from his dad.

"They're just... they're just
a part of it," Plankton murmured
again, his voice a little louder this
time. His antennae stilled, his body
slowly uncoiling from the tight
ball he'd curled into. Karen took this
stimming as a sign that the storm
is passing.

"What's a part of it, Dad?"
Chip asked, his voice tentative.
Karen shot him a warning look, but
Plankton didn't seem to hear.

"My fidgets," Plankton said,
his voice still barely above a
whisper. "My autism... it is
just part of it." His hand
continued to mimic the
movements, a silent conversation
with himself. Chip's mind raced.

"You're not to weird, Dad,"
Chip blurted out, the words
tumbling from his mouth
before he could stop them.

Plankton's movements stilled,
his antennae dropping to his side.
He turned to look at Chip, his eye
filled with something akin to
surprise. "What did you say‽"

Chip took a deep breath, his heart
racing. "I said you're not weird,
Dad," he repeated, his voice
slightly stronger. "Your stims are
just part of who you are." Plankton's
expression turned angry, his
body taut with tension.

"Don't patronize me, boy!"
Plankton snapped, his voice
sharp as a knife. "I DON'T
NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" His
body was a tightly wound
spring, ready to snap at any
moment. Chip felt a flare
of anger in response, but
swallowed it down.

"Dad, I'm not," he said, his voice
calm despite his own turmoil.
"I'm just saying that I see you,
all of you. And I love you.
I don't think your stims are
weird. They're just... you."

Plankton's body 
remained tense.
"STOP talking
about it!" he yelled,
his voice echoing
off the walls.

Chip took a
step back, his eyes
wide with shock.
He'd never seen
his dad like this.
He didn't know
how to fix it.
"Dad, I-" he
started to say, but
Plankton cut him
off.

"I said stop!"
Plankton's voice
was a roar, his
body trembling with
anger and embarrassment.
He didn't want Chip
to see him like this,
so vulnerable, so out of
control. The room felt
like it was closing in
on him, the walls
pressing against his skin.

Karen's heart clenched
at the raw pain in
Plankton's voice. She
knew this moment was
about more than just
his stims, it was about
his fear of rejection, of
being seen as less than.

"Plankton, honey, look at
me," she said gently,
trying to cut through
the maelstrom of his
emotions. "Chip's just
trying to understand.
We all are." But Plankton's
eye remained locked
on the floor, his breaths
quick and shallow.

He felt like an
exhibit in a museum,
his private world laid
bare for his son to see.
The fear of rejection
was a living, breathing
entity in the room,
wrapped around him like
a suffocating blanket. He'd
managed to hide his stims
for so long, to keep that
part of him hidden away.
Now, it was out in the
open, raw and exposed.

Plankton's eye darted
between Karen and Chip,
his mind racing with a
thousand thoughts. He
wanted to shrink away,
to disappear into the
cracks of the floorboards.
But he knew he couldn't.
Not now. Not when Chip
kept looking at him with
such confusion and concern.

"Dad, I just-" Chip
started again, his voice
filled with earnestness.
But Plankton couldn't take it.
The words felt like a
knife twisting in his gut.
"I SAID, STOP!" he yelled,
his voice echoing through
the room. The sound was
like a gunshot, and Chip's
words died in his throat.

Karen watched the exchange,
her heart heavy with sadness.
She knew Plankton's anger
was a defense mechanism,
his way of dealing with the
overwhelming emotions that
threatened to drown him. But
seeing her son hurt by it
was almost more than she could
bare. She took a deep breath,
steeling herself for the storm.
"Plankton," she said calmly,
moving closer to him, her hand
outstretched but not touching.
"It's okay, sweetie. Chip's just
trying to be here for you." But
Plankton's eye was wild, his
body a coil of tension. He
was in full meltdown mode,
and Karen knew better than to
push him.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 10
Plankton's antennae twitched with
the effort to hold himself together,
his body trembling.
He wished he could retreat into the
safety of his own world, where words
didn't have the power to cut so deep.
But he was trapped here, in a nightmare
that felt all too real.

Karen's eyes were a pool of sorrow,
her hand hovering in the air like a
ghostly specter, unable to find refuge
on his shaking form. She knew she'd hurt
him, and the weight of her mistake
was almost too much to bear. She
wanted to take back her words,
erase the pain from his memory. But she knew
that was a futile wish.

The room was a maelstrom of emotions,
each one a shard of glass in the air,
sharp and glinting with the promise of more
harm. Chip hovered in the doorway, his
eyes wide and full of fear. He'd
never seen his dad like this, never
felt the chasm that seemed to be
growing between them.

Karen's hand remained outstretched,
a silent plea for connection. But
Plankton's body was a wall of
defense, every inch of him
screaming for space. The touch
that had once been a comfort was
now a source of distress, a reminder
of his own vulnerability. He could see
the love in her eyes, but it was
tainted with the memory of her
hurtful word.

He felt a tear slip down his
face as Karen inched
closer. "Plankton, I didn't mean it,"
she said again. But it was too
late. The word had been spoken,
the damage done. "Please, I'm sorry,"
she whispered, her hand still hovering
a few inches from his shoulder.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his body tense. The room was
spinning around him, the walls
closing in. He didn't want her
touch, not now. It felt like a lie,
a mockery of the love they shared.
He didn't know how to explain
his fear, his hurt. He could only
whimper and tremble.

Karen's heart was shattered with
regret. She knew she'd hurt him,
but she didn't know how to fix it.
Her hand hovered, desperate for
connection. "Plankton." She
knew she'd hurt him. "Are you ok?"

Plankton didn't move. He didn't
know how to answer, didn't know
how to express the turmoil
churning inside him. He felt
like he was drowning in his
own emotions. Karen's eyes
filled with tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her
voice cracking. "I didn't mean to
hurt you." But Plankton's back
was to the wall as she approached
him in his corner.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his heart racing. He knew Karen,
his rock, his anchor, didn't mean to
say it. But the pain was too
fresh, too deep. The slur she'd
used, even in anger, was a knife
that had sliced through his soul.
He felt the pressure building
up inside him.

"I-I-I-I… I lo-ove y-you, Karen.."

Karen's hand was so close, yet
so far. He wanted to lean into
her embrace, to find solace
in her love. But fear held him
back, a cold, unyielding force that
made his body tense. The room
spun, the walls closing in. He
was drowning in a sea of
confusion, fear, and sadness.

He watched her hand, so
gentle, so loving. But the word
still echoed in his mind, a cruel
reminder that even those
closest to him could cause him
harm. Karen wanted to fix it.

Karen took a step closer,
her hand still hovering. "Please,"
she whispered. "Let me help."
But Plankton was lost in the
labyrinth of his emotions,
his heart a cage of fear and
pain. He couldn't find the
words to explain, the strength
to accept comfort. He whimpered.

Her heart ached, her mind racing
with doubt. Had she lost him?
Had she broken the delicate
trust they'd built over the years?
Plankton's tremors grew, a silent
symphony of distress that she could
no longer ignore. Karen knew
his fear of being seen as less
than, the deep-seated anxiety that
his autism could be weaponized
against him. She needed to fix this,
to rebuild the bridge between
them. "Plankton, I'm not going anywhere,"
she murmured, her voice a gentle
wave lapping at the shore of his fear. "I'm
right he--"

But her words were cut off by a sudden
spasm that rippled through his body,
his antennae convulsing violently.
Karen's eyes widened in horror
as she recognized the signs.
"Seizure," she gasped, her voice
barely above a whisper. The room
swirled around them as she
moved closer, her hand outstretched.

Plankton's eye 
rolled back in
his head as his
legs start to buckle.
Karen's hand shot out,
catching him before he
hit the ground. She eased 
him to the floor.

Karen'd seen this
before, too many 
times to count.
"You're okay,
Plankton," she 
murmurs. "I'm 
right here."

Chip watched from the
sidelines, his eyes wide
with terror as his dad's
body thrashed. He's never
seen his dad like this
before. "Dad," he 
whispered, his voice 
shaking.

Plankton's body jerked
once, twice, three times,
before stilling. His antennae
flailed wildly, then fell
limp. Karen's eyes never left
his face. She knew he'd still
be quite out of it. Chip hovered, 
unsure of what to do. "Dad?"

Karen's voice was calm.
"This happens, Chip. He
is conscious, but not
really with us yet. Don't
be alarmed if he says
or does something that's
not quite right."

Plankton's legs rolled
his body onto his side
as drool trickles from his mouth.
His antennae twitched erratically,
his eye fluttered open and closed.
Karen wiped the drool away,
whispering comforts to him.
"You're okay," she said, her voice
soothing. "You're safe at home."

His body was like a ragdoll's,
his muscles loose and
his movements involuntary.
He was present, but not quite
there, unable to grasp the
concept, the words a jumble
of sounds that barely registered.

"W-water... blue... s-sticks,"
Plankton murmured. 
He was lost in his
post-seizure haze, his
thoughts a tangled web
of sensory input. 
Chip watched,
his heart in his throat.

Karen's eyes were
fixed on her husband. "It's ok,
sweetie," she soothed. "You're
safe." Plankton's antennae
twitched in response.

"Cam... subs...
s-sal-sal-sal?"
Karen nodded,
knowing better 
than to interrupt
his stream of 
consciousness.

"T-the it... makes...
makes me dizzy!
Yes; made me dizzy.."
Plankton's words
were a jumble of
half-thoughts, his
brain still trying
to reassemble.
Karen's heart broke
at the sight of him,
so lost in his own
mind. "It's okay," she
whispered, her hand
stroking his back.

Chip's eyes were wide,
his own brain racing to
understand what was happening.
He'd never seen his dad
like this before, his
strength and certainty
reduced to a quivering
mass of confusion. "Dad?"
his voice was small.

Plankton clutched 
at the air, his hand
then slapping the
carpet beside him.

"G-green... fishy...
no, not fishy, fishy-fishy!"
He giggled, his eye
still unfocused. The
words didn't make sense,
even to him.

Karen's hand continued to
stroke his back, her heart
aching at his distress.
"It's okay, Plankton," she
whispered. "You're okay."

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 11
The nonsensical 
words spilled
out. "Fizz-fizz-fizz..."

Karen watched him, her heart
in her throat. She knew this was
part of the process, his brain
recalibrating after a seizure.

"D-daddy?" Chip's 
voice was tiny. 
"What's happening?"

Karen took a deep
breath, trying to calm
herself enough to explain.
"It's okay," she said,
her voice shaky. "It's part
of his autism. Sometimes,
after a seizure, you dad's
brain gets overwhelmed. He
might say thi—"

But Plankton's rambling
cut her off. "Did? Might...
m-m-mighty... mighty... no,
not mighty... did!" He
laughed to himself, his eye
still unfocused.

Karen knew that
it was temporary, 
a side effect
of the seizure.

"Fizz-fizz-fish," Plankton
says, his voice distant.

Chip watched, his eyes
full of fear and curiosity.
He'd never seen his dad
so vulnerable. Karen took
his hand, her grip firm.
"It's okay," she whispered. "His
brain is just... reorganizing."

Plankton began
to steady. His
eye focused 
on Karen's face,
his voice a 
little clearer.
"K-Karen?"

Her heart skipped
a beat. "I'm here,
sweetie," she said,
smiling through
her tears. "You're ok."

Plankton's antennae
twitched as he
slowly came back to
his surroundings, the
fear and anger of
moments ago replaced
by confusion and
dizziness. Karen
moved closer.

"Dad, are you okay?"
Chip's voice was tentative.
Plankton's antennae
moved in jerky, uncontrolled
motions as he tried
to make sense of his
environment. "I... I think
so," he murmured, his eye
slowly focusing on his son.

The room was a blur of colors,
the sounds muffled and distant.
He felt the weight of their
stares, the unspoken
apologies and fear. He knew
what had happened, the searing
memory of the slur, the painful
reminder that he was different.

Plankton's antennae twitched as
his thoughts slowly coalesced,
his mind fighting to find
purchase in the chaos. "W-what... what
happen'd?" he stuttered.

Karen's eyes searched his,
filled with a mix of love and
apology. "You had a seizure,
sweetie," she said, her voice
barely above a whisper. "Do you
remember what happened before?"

Plankton's antennae quivered of
emotion. The argument, the
slur, the pain... it all
came rushing back. He nodded,
his eye dropping to the floor.
"Yeah," he murmured, his voice
hoarse. "I remember."

Karen's hand hovered over
his shoulder, but she didn't
dare touch him yet. "I'm sorry,"
she whispered, her voice cracking.
"For everything.." Plankton nods.

He knew she meant it, yet the
sting of her words still lingered,
like a shadow that wouldn't leave
his side. "It's okay," he said, his
voice a weak echo. "I know you didn't...
but it still hurts." His antennae
drooped, a silent testament
to his pain. "Yet I forgive you, Karen."

Karen's eyes filled 
with tears. "I know," 
she said. Chip nods.
"I'm sorry too, Da-"

But Plankton cut him off, 
his antennae jerking 
with irritation. "Don't," 
he murmured. "Don't say 
YOU'RE sorry. YOU don't 
understand. You're not
like your mother."

Chip felt the sting of truth 
in his dad's words. He didn't
understand. He'd always
thought he knew Plankton, but
now he realized there was a
world of experience, of pain,
that he'd been blind to. "What
can I do?" he asked, his voice 
desperate. "How ca--"

But Plankton was already 
getting to his feet, his body 
shaky. "You can't," he said,
his voice tight. "You can't
make this right with sorrys."

Chip felt the weight of
his dad's words.
"But I want to," he 
whispered. "I don't know
what to do, but I wa-"

Plankton's antennae 
twitched with agitation.
"You don't know what it's
like," he snapped. "You've
never had to live with
this, with people thinking
you're less because of it."
The room felt colder,
the air heavier with each
sharp syllable. "You can't fix
this, Chip."

Chip felt so
helpless, so utterly
powerless in the face
of his father's pain. "But
I want to understand,"
he protested, his voice
a whisper of hope. "I want
to help. I mean, you forgave Mo-"

"I forgave her because she
understood!" Plankton's voice
was a whipcrack of anger.
"You think your sorry fixes it?"
his antennae trembled
with agitation. "It doesn't.
And don't compare yourself
to your mother. She knows me,
understands me, advocates for me.
But you're not her, Chip.
You're not even close."

Chip felt the blow, the truth
cutting through him like a knife.
He knew Plankton was right.
He didn't know what it was like,
to live with autism, to fight
against a world that didn't
understand. He'd been blind
to his father's struggles,
his ignorance a wall between
them. "What do you want me
to-"

But Plankton was already
turning away, his body
a rigid line of anger.
"I want you to leave me alone,"
he snapped. "I don't need
your pity or your half-hearted
apologies!"

Chip felt his world crumbling,
his hope for understanding
and reconciliation
shattered by the coldness
in his father's voice. He
swallowed the lump in his
throat, his eyes brimming
with tears. "But Dad..."

Plankton's antennae jerked
sharply. "I said leave me
alone!" The words were a
whip crack in the air,
slicing through the tension.
Chip didn't know what to do,
how to make it right.

Karen stepped in. "Chip, maybe
you should give him some
space," she suggested, her eyes
filled with pain.

Chip nodded, his heart
heavy with defeat. He didn't
want to leave, but he knew
his presence was only
adding to Plankton's distress.
"Okay," he murmured, his
feet dragging across the floor.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 12
As Chip retreated to his
room, he couldn't help but
feel the gap between them
widen. He'd always
thought they were close,
that he knew his father
inside and out. But now
he realized there was so
much more to Plankton.

Karen's gentle touch was
the only thing grounding
Plankton to reality. He felt
his anger dissipate,
leaving a vacuum filled
with exhaustion and sorrow.
"I'm sorry," she murmured,
her eyes never leaving his
as he leaned into her embrace.

His antennae stopped trembling
as he allowed the warmth
of her love to seep into
his bones. "I know," he
whispered. "I know."

Plankton felt the exhaustion
of the day's events settle
over him like a thick blanket.
The anger and fear drained
from his body, leaving him
weary and sleepy. His eye
closed as he leaned into 
her touch.

The room grew quieter.
Karen held him close, her
heart aching for his pain.
Plankton's antennae drooped, his
body heavy with exhaustion.
His eyelid fluttered.
He leaned into Karen's embrace,
his body finally relaxing.

Her hand stroked his back,
soothing circles that seemed to
lull him closer to slumber.
"You're okay," she whispered.
"You're safe." His breathing
evened out, a gentle rise
and fall that spoke of
approaching sleep.

"Rest," she murmured. "We
can talk when you wake up."
Karen felt the tension leave
his body as sleep claimed
him, her hand still
moving in gentle circles.
Her eyes searched his
face, her heart a storm of
emotions. She knew the
seizure had taken a toll
on him, knew the pain of
his words was rooted in
fear and hurt.

As his breathing grew
steadier, his antennae
stilled, she felt the
weight of his head
against her shoulder,
his trust in her a silent
testament to their bond.
Karen held him tight,
his warmth seeping into
her. She knew he
needed this, needed to
feel safe.

His gentle snores filled the
silence, a soft reminder that he
was safe in her arms. Karen felt
his body go slack, his antennae
stilling as sleep claimed him.
The anger had fled, leaving
behind the fragile shell of
his vulnerability. She held him
closer, her heart aching for the
pain he'd felt, the fear that
still lingered.

Her eyes searched his
slumbering face, tracing the
lines of his features with
a soft touch. Plankton was
her everything, her rock, her
love.

Gently, she picked him up,
his body limp with the
exhaustion. She carried him
carefully as she laid him down,
his antennae drooping in sleep.
Karen tucked him in bed, her eyes
lingering on his face. She made sure
a favorite plushie was within
reach. Plankton's chest
rose and fell in a steady
rhythm, his breathing deep
and peaceful.

With a soft sigh, she
kissed his forehead. 
His antennae twitched
but he didn't stir.

Karen's eyes
were filled with love
and regret as she
watched him sleep.
The gentle rise and fall
of his chest was a 
comforting testament 
to his resilience.

The next morning, Karen
knew she had to take
Plankton to the dentist
for x-rays. She woke
Chip up. "Chip," she says.
"Your dad has to go to
the dentist today for a
checkup."

Chip nodded, his eyes
still clouded with sleep.
"Okay," he murmured. "Can
I come?" "Yes."

They arrive 
at Plankton's
dentist office 
for the x-ray.
The receptionist 
smiled. "Mr. 
Plankton, Dr. Coral 
will see you now."

Dr. Coral greeted the
family as they entered
the exam room. "Good
morning, Plankton," she
smiled, her eyes kind. "So,
today we're just going to
do our usual x-rays. Can
you open wide?"

Plankton nodded, antennae
twitching nervously. 
He sat in the chair,
his legs swinging slightly
as he tried to find a
comfortable position.
Karen held his hand, her
thumb brushing over his
knuckles in a soothing
motion. "It'll be quick,"
she whispered. Chip sat
in the corner, his eyes
on his dad, his heart heavy
with unspoken words.

The assistant, a young
clownfish named Penny,
finished with taking x-rays.

Dr. Coral peered at
the images, her eyes
flicking back and forth
between the x-rays and
Plankton's mouth. "Good
job," Penny tells him.

"Everything looks
okay," Dr. Coral began.
"Yet it looks like we
have some wisdom
teeth coming in. They're
not causing anything
right now, but we should
go ahead and remove them
as a preventative mea-"

Plankton's antennae shot
up. "No," he said firmly, his
voice tight with anxiety.
"I don't like... don't
like poking... mouth...
no." His stims grew more
intense, his hands flapping
at his side.

Karen squeezed his hand,
trying to offer reassurance.
"It's okay," she murmured.
"It's just a li-"

"NO!" Plankton's voice
was loud, echoing in the
small room. Chip flinched.
Dr. Coral's eyes widened
slightly, but she remained
calm. "Let's talk about this,
Plankton," she said, her voice
gentle. "We can go slow."

But Plankton was already
spiraling. The mere mention
of the procedure had
ignited anxiety in him. His
stims grew more intense,
his antennae flailing wildly.
"No poking, no poking, no
poking!" he chanted, his
body rocking in the chair.

Dr. Coral's expression
shifted, her gaze moving
from the x-rays to Plankton.
She knew he had special
needs, had seen the signs
of his autism before.
But today was different.
Today, the fear in his eye
was palpable, his body
a testament to the stress
he was under.

"Let's take it slow," she
soothed, her voice a gentle
wave. "We can talk about
this, okay?"

Plankton's antennae
stilled slightly, his
body tensing. "But no
poking," he whispered,
his eye wide with fear.
Karen nodded, her eyes
meeting Dr. Coral's.
"We'll find a way," she
promised. "A way that
makes you feel safe."

Dr. Coral nodded, her
expression understanding.
"We'll take it step by step,
Plankton," she said, her voice
low and calm. "We'll work
together to find the best
solution for you."

new to see or not to see chip plankton penny

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 16
"Wha...whath 
time ith it?"
Plankton asked, 
his speech
still thick.

Karen glanced at
the clock on the
dashboard. "It's
almost noon, sweetie,"
she said, her voice
steady. "We're going
to get you home,
and you can take
a nice, long nap."

Plankton nodded, his
eye half-closed. "Nan?"
he repeated, the word
almost a question.
Karen nodded. "Yes,
nap. And then we can
make you something
soft and yummy to eat."
The mention of food
seemed to rouse him
slightly, his antennae
perking up. "Puddink?" 
he mumbled. Karen
laughed again. "Yes, 
sweetie, pudding."

"Whewe...whath..." he
slurred, his head rolling
slightly.

Karen chuckled. "You're
so tired, aren't you?"
Plankton nodded, his
eye half-closed. "Home,"
he murmured. "Wan' home.
Karen wiww make puddink?"

"Yes, sweetie, we're
going home," Karen said,
her voice filled with warmth.
"And can make pudding for
you." She squeezed his hand.
"Do you want chocolate or
vanilla?" Plankton's antennae
twitched as he thought.
"Chocowate," he mumbled,
his speech still slow.

Chip watched his dad,
his heart aching at the
childlike way he spoke. It was
both endearing and heart-
wrenching, a stark
reminder of the toll the
anesthesia and surgery had
taken on him.

"Chocowate," Plankton
repeated, his voice
slurred. "Pwease." Karen
nodded, her smile gentle.
"Of course, sweetie," she
soothed. "Chocolate pudding
it is."

Karen finally parked in
their driveway. "We're home,"
she said softly, turning
to face Plankton. His
antennas twitched at the
mention of home, his eye
fighting to stay open.
Karen helped him out of
the car, his legs wobbly.
"Come on," she coaxed, "Let's
get you inside." Chip also
followed them in.

In the living room,
Plankton stumbled to the
couch, his stuffed animal
still clutched in his arm.
He looked around, his
expression lost. "Bathwom?" he
slurred. "No, Plankton," Karen
laughed, helping him lay down.
"You're home."

Plankton's eye 
widened. "Chip?" he
slurred. His son
smiled, his own anxieties
easing slightly. "Yeah, Dad, it's me."
He approached the couch, his
movements deliberate and
slow.

"Ith's sho bwight," Plankton
whispered, his gaze flickering
around the room. The
normalcy of their home
was overwhelming in his
current state. Karen
understood, her eyes filled
with compassion. "Let's
get you comfortable," she
said, helping him adjust his
pillows. "Do you need anything?"

He looked at her with
his one eye, so full of
trust and confusion. 
"I needff Karen and-a Chip."
Karen's heart melted at his
words. "You have us," she
whispered, brushing his
forehead. "We're right here."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
finally still. "Thath's goob,"
he murmured. "Thath's vewy 
goob. Can Chip...can Chip
thee me?"

Chip's eyes widened slightly,
his throat tight. He took a
step closer to the couch. "Yeah,
Dad, I'm here."

Plankton's gaze found
his son's, his antennae
still droopy. "Tawk to me,"
he slurred. "Chip wanth
tawk to me?"

Chip nodded. "Of course,
Dad." He took a seat next
to him, his heart heavy.
He wasn't used to seeing
his dad so open, so...
talkative.

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly as he
looked to Chip's voice,
his mind still groggy from
the surgery. "Wha...whath's
wrong, Chip?" he mumbled, his
words thick with the
remnants of the anesthesia.
Chip took a deep breath.
"Nothing's wrong, Dad," he
said softly. "I just want
to be here with you."
Plankton's antennae
wobbled as he processed
his son's words. "Wiww you
thtay?" he asked, his eye
half-closed. Karen
watched from the kitchen,
her eyes filled with love
and concern. She knew
his confusion was temporary,
but it still tugged at her
heartstrings.

Chip nodded, his voice
gentle. "Yeah, Dad, I'll stay."
Plankton's antennae
stilled. "Thath's good,"
he murmured. "Chip, can I...
can I...hamv?" His voice was
tiny, his one eye looking
up at his son with hope. "Chip
my hamg, hamv in youw hamv?"

Chip felt a lump form in
his throat. He knew that
his dad was reaching out
for comfort, seeking the
safety of touch. Despite
his initial shock, he nods.
"Sure, Dad," he whispered,
his voice thick. "You can
have my hand."

Plankton's antennae
perked up slightly at the
offer, his eye still
half-closed. He reached
over, his movements
sluggish, and grasped Chip's
hand with his own. Chip felt
his dad's grip tighten, his
thumb stroking the back of
his hand gently. The simple
touch was a stark
contrast to the firm handshakes
and stern demeanor
his dad usually allowed.
Plankton's voice was
barely audible as he
whispered, "Than' you, Chip."
Chip swallowed hard, his
throat tight. "It's okay, Dad,"
he murmured back. "I'm
right here." Karen
watched them from the
kitchen, her eyes shiny with
unshed tears.

The sight of
his dad, so dependent and
confused, was hard for
Chip to process. Yet,
he felt a strange comfort
in it, a bond forming
between them that transcended
the typical father-
son dynamics.

Plankton's eye grew
heavy, his antennae
drooping. "Sowwy," he
mumbled. "Wan' go...go 
sleep. No moreth of touch."
Chip nodded, his heart
swelling with emotion.
"It's okay, Dad," he said.
"You just rest." He
gently removed his hand,
his eyes never leaving
his father's face.

Plankton's antennae
twitched one last time
before his eye closed,
his breathing evening out.
The plushie was clutched
tightly to his chest,
his hand lying open
on the couch cushion.
Karen watched him, her
love for him so clear.

"He's going to be okay,"
she assured Chip. "The
medicine will wear off
by tomorrow. Just give him
some space and quiet."

Chip nodded, his
concern still etched in
his features. Plankton
was usually so sharp,
so in control. Seeing him
like this was unusual.
Karen smiles. "Here," she
whispered. "Let's clean
his mouth."

They gently removed the
blood-soaked gauze,
replacing it with a fresh
one. Plankton's eye
flipped open for a second,
his antennae quivering.

"Wha...?" he murmured,
his voice still slurred. Karen
smiled, her voice gentle. "It's
okay, Plankton. Just a little
clean up." Plankton nodded,
his eye half-closed again.
"Mm-hmm, jush a wiww 
cweam up." He parrots via
echolalia, despite his slurred speech
and droopy antennae. "Than' you,"
he murmured again, his voice
tiny. "Wove you."

Karen's heart squeezed at
his words. "I love you too,
sweetie," she said. "Now
I'll help you to your bed, so
you can sleep off the rest of
any anesthesia."

Karen supported him to his
feet, his legs wobbly. Plankton
stumbled slightly, his antennae
twitching in confusion. "Bed," he
slurred. "Bed." She
guided him upstairs, his steps
slow and unsteady. "Careful,
sweetie," she said, her voice
soothing. "Just a few more."

Chip trailed behind them. 
As they reached the bed
room, Karen helped him
onto the bed. "Wha...wha's fis?"
he mumbled. "It's our room, Plankton,"
Karen said, her voice
gentle. "You need to rest
now." Plankton's antennae
twitched as he took in
his surroundings, his gaze
focusing on the familiar
sight of his bed. "Oh,"
he murmured, his speech still
slurred. "Bed."

Karen helped him lay
back, his body slumping
into the softness. His
stuffed animal was placed
carefully beside him, his
hand still wrapped around
it. "Comfortable?" she
asked, her eyes filled with
concern. Plankton nodded,
his antennae still. "Mm-hmm,"
he mumbled. "Go night."

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

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TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 18
Chip took a deep breath, his
eyes never leaving his dad's.
"I know that stims can help
yo--" "Chip," Plankton interrupts,
his antennae stiff. "It's not
your place to analyze my
behaviors." His voice was firm,
but there was a hint of sadness
behind it.

Curiosity getting the better
of him, Chip's hand began to
mirror Plankton's movements.
He watched his own hand move in
tiny circles, feeling the
familiarity of it. "It's like
how you do it, Dad," he murmured,
his eyes wide. Plankton's
antennas shot up, his gaze
snapping to Chip's hand. "What?"
he barked, his voice sharp.

Chip's hand stilled, his eyes
meeting Plankton's. "I just...
I wanted to-"

Plankton's antennae quivered.
"Why are you doing that?"
he asked, his voice tight with
emotion. Chip's eyes never
left his hand, his mind
racing. "I...I just wanted to
understand," he murmured. "It's okay,
Dad," he said. "It's just...
it's something we can share‽"

Karen watched the exchange,
her heart in her throat. She knew
that Plankton's autism was a
complex, personal experience,
and she wasn't sure how he'd
react to their son's attempt to—

But Plankton's eye 
burned with fury at 
the thought. It
was his, his way to cope,
his private struggle, not
for others to address
or copy. "Don't you
DARE!" he shouted.
Chip stumbled back, 
his eyes wide with 
shock and fear.

In an instant,
Plankton's anger 
spilled over into action.
He threw his pillow 
across the room, the
soft thud echoing through
the silent house. Karen 
flinched, her hand
flying to her mouth.

Chip had never seen 
his dad so out of control.
"Dad," he whispered, his voice
shaking. "It's okay, it's just-"

But Plankton wasn't 
listening. His body was a 
whirlwind of emotions, his
autism manifesting in a 
physical display of anger. He 
swung his arm, knocking
knickknacks off the 
nightstand.

Karen rushed over, her 
heart racing. She knew this was 
a meltdown, something they
had worked hard to avoid,
but she also knew that Plankton's 
boundaries had been crossed and
that he's trying to recover from
his wisdom teeth.

"Plankton, honey," she said 
soothingly, her hands reaching 
for his shoulders. "It's okay."
Her voice was steady, her eyes
filled with calm. Plankton's
antennas quivered as he looked
at her, his chest heaving with
deep, painful breaths. Chip
walked up. "Yeah, Dad. It's okay.."

But Plankton's antennae shot
back, knocking Chip's hand away.
"NO!" he shouted, his voice
high-pitched. "Don't touch me!"

Karen's eyes grew wide with
concern as she saw the raw
pain and anger in Plankton's
face. She knew this was
a meltdown, a direct result
of the overstimulation and
stress from the surgery, Chip's
curiosity, and the invasion
of his personal space.
"Chip, give your dad some room,"
she instructed calmly.
Chip stepped back, his heart
pounding.

Plankton's antennae
whipped around wildly.
He clenched his fists, the
tension palpable in the
air. He didn't understand
why his son was mimicking
his actions, didn't get why it
felt so wrong.

"Dad," Chip tried again,
his voice shaking. "I just
wanted to he-"

But Plankton's rage
was a storm, unyielding.
With a snarl, he hit the bed
with his hands. Karen's heart
pounded as she watched
from the sidelines, knowing
that any wrong move
could escalate the situation.

The room grew smaller,
his vision blurred. Plankton's
mind raced, unable to
comprehend why Chip
would do such a thing.
He felt invaded, his personal
space, his way of coping,
tainted by his son's
curiosity. He clenched
his fists, the urge to
lash out growing stronger.
The pain in his mouth was
competing with the
agony of feeling misunderstood.

With a roar, Plankton pushed
the bedside table, sending
it crashing to the floor.
Karen's eyes widened, her
heart racing, but she remained
still, knowing any sudden
movement could fuel the fire.

"Plankton, please," she said,
her voice calm but firm. "You're
scaring Chip." But her words
barely registered with him.
He was lost in his own world
of pain and misunderstanding.

"I'M NOT!" Plankton shouted.
"I'M NOT SCARED OF HIM!
I'M NOT CHIP'S CHILD!"
Plankton bellowed. Chip
swallowed hard, his body
trembling. He had never seen
his father like this, Plankton's
breaths coming in heavy
gasps.

Karen stepped closer, her
movements slow and calculated.
"Plankton," she said, her
voice firm yet gentle. "Look at
me. Look at me, darling."
Plankton's antennae slowed
their frantic movements,
his eye focusing on her.

"You're not Chip's child,"
she said calmly. "You're my
husband, and Chip's father.
You're Plankton, and you're
autistic. Your stims are a part
of autism, but they're not for
anyone else to take or
mimic. It's okay to be upset.
But you need to breathe."

Plankton's antennae
stilled slightly at her
words, his eye focusing on
her face. He took a deep
breath, his chest
expanding with the effort.
He knew Karen understood,
that she had always been
his anchor.

Chip watched, his heart
pounding in his chest. He
wished he could take it all
back, make it right again.
He had only wanted to
connect with his dad, to show
that he cared, but instead,
he had hurt him.

Plankton took another deep
breath, his antennae
twitching slightly. Karen's
cleaned up the mess.
"I'm sorry, Karen," he murmured,
his voice low. "It's just...it's
just that...I don't...I don't like
it when people do that."

Karen's eyes were filled
with understanding.
"I know, sweetie," she said.
"And we're sorry for making
you feel that way." She looked
at Chip, her gaze firm. "Chip,
you need to respect your dad's
boundaries. Just because
you see something and think
it's ok to copy doesn't mean
it is." Chip's face fell, his eyes
welling up with tears. "But I just
wanted to help," he murmured.

Karen's gaze softened. "I know
you did, Chip," she said gently.
"But sometimes, helping means
knowing when to step back
or let someone else handle
things." She turned to Plankton,
her voice still firm but filled
with love. "And you, Plankton,
you need to tell us when
you're feeling overwhelmed."
Plankton's antennae drooped, his
expression one of regret.
"I'll try," he murmured.

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 19
The room grew quiet, the
tension slowly dissipating.
Karen moved to sit beside
Plankton on the bed, her arm
wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Chip
whispered, his voice shaky.
He felt a heavy weight in
his chest, knowing he had
unintentionally hurt his dad.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, his gaze focusing
on the floor. He didn't respond
to Chip, but his antenna twitched
at the apology.

After a moment of
silence, Plankton's voice grew
softer, his words barely
above a whisper. "Why do I do
this?" he murmured to himself,
self-soothing, his voice echoing
his thoughts. "It's just...it's
just me, being me."

Karen's grip on his shoulder
tightened, her eyes filled with
understanding. She knew
his autism made certain
situations unbearable, and that
his stims were his way of
navigating the overwhelming
world around him. "It's okay,
Plankton," she whispered.
"You're okay."

Chip watched, his eyes
brimming with tears. He had
witnessed his dad's pain, the
flailing antennae and clenched
fists, and felt a pang of regret.
He had crossed a line without
knowing it was there.

Plankton's hand began to move
again, the repetitive motion
of his stim. It was a gentle
rocking now, back and forth.
His antennae had stilled, his gaze
firmly on the floor. The room
was thick with emotion, the air
charged with the unspoken.

Karen watched him, her
heart aching. She knew that
stimming was his way to
self-soothe, to find calm in
a world that often didn't make
sense. She reached for his
hand, her touch light and
reassuring. "You're okay,
Plankton," she murmured. "We're
here for you."

Chip stared at his dad,
his heart racing. He had never
seen him so upset, so lost.
He took a step closer to the
bed, his eyes never leaving
Plankton's. "I'm sorry, Dad,"
he said softly. "I didn't mean
to make yo-"

Plankton's antennae shot
up, his eye snapping to Chip's
face. "Don't," he murmured. "Just
don't." His voice was tight,
his body still tense.

Chip nodded, his eyes
brimming with tears. He knew
his dad needed space, but
his heart was heavy with
the desire to bridge the gap
between them. He took a step
back, his gaze dropping to the
floor. "Okay," he whispered.
"Okay."

Karen looked at Chip, her
face a mix of sadness and
understanding. She knew that
his intentions were pure, but
his actions had unintentionally
caused pain. "Chip," she began,
"let's go to the kitchen and
see what soft foods we have."

Her voice was gentle, a clear
sign that she wanted to give
Plankton some space. Chip
nodded, his eyes never leaving
his father's. Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly as he watched
them leave, the door closing
softly behind them.

In the kitchen, Chip hovered nearby,
his hands fidgeting. "Mom," he
began, his voice tentative.
"I didn't mean to...to make him
upset." Karen's eyes
meet Chip's. "I know you
didn't, sweetheart," she said,
her voice gentle. "But your dad's
autism can make things
complicated."

"It's just...I wanted to
connect," Chip murmured.
"I thought if I did what he
does, he'd see that I get it."
Karen's eyes searched his
face, understanding etched
deep in her gaze. "Chip," she
said, her voice soft. "You can't
experience the world the way
your father does. His stims are
his language, his way to deal
with overstimulation. They're
not for us to imitate."

Chip nodded, his throat
tight. "But I just want to
make him feel better," he said,
his voice thick with emotion.

Karen sighed, her eyes
meeting her son's. "I know
you do," she said. "But you
have to respect his boundaries,
his way of dealing with things.
It's not about you connecting
or not connecting; it's about
supporting him in the way
he needs it." She paused, her
gaze thoughtful. "Why don't you
ask him how you can help?"

Chip nodded slowly, his
thoughts racing. He knew his
mom was right, but it was
so hard to see his dad in
pain and not do anything.
But he also knew that Plankton
wasn't just his dad; he was an
autistic individual with
his own unique experiences
and needs. He took a deep
breath, steeling himself for
the conversation to come.

He returned to the bedroom,
his eyes on the floor. "Dad?"
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly. "Can we talk?"
Plankton's hand stopped
stimming, his eye looking up
at Chip. "What about?" he asked,
his voice guarded.

Chip took a deep breath,
his eyes meeting Plankton's.
"I'm sorry for mimicking
your stim," he said, his voice
quiet. "I didn't think
how it made you feel, and I
see now that it wa-"

"Why'd you do it?" Plankton
interrupted, his antennae
stiff with tension. "What's so
fascinating about it?"

Chip swallowed, his hands
shaking slightly. "I just...I
wanted to help you," he
managed to get out. "To know
what it feels like for
you, to share in-"

"It's not for sharing!"
Plankton's antennae shot up.
"It's for ME!" The words
echoed through the room,
his voice tight. He turned onto
his side facing away from Chip.

But Chip didn't stop there. 
He approached the bed, 
his steps cautious, eyes 
on Plankton's tense back.
Chip's hand hovered over
his father's shoulder before
he thought better of it.

"Dad?" he said, his voice 
tentative. Plankton's
body remained rigid 
his eye glazed over now.
Chip's gaze landed on
his father's unblinking
eye.

A sudden realization
hit him like a wave. "Oh no,"
he murmured, his hand
flying to his mouth. "It's
a seizure, isn't it?" This was
the first time he'd recognized
one without being told, where
Plankton just zones out for a 
bit. But now what? Plankton
didn't respond, his body
completely still except for the
slight rise and fall of his
chest.

Chip's heart raced as he
recalled his mom saying
to tell her whenever he
sees something like this.

He bolted out of the room,
his footsteps echoing in the
hallway as he called for
his mom. "Mom! Mom, come
quick!" His voice was
laced with fear.

Karen rushed in, her eyes
wide with concern. She took
one look at Plankton, his
body unnaturally still, his
eye unblinking, and she knew.
"It's okay, Chip," she said,
her voice calm despite the
panic rising within her. "It's
just a seizure. He'll be okay."

Chip's eyes searched hers,
desperate for reassurance.
"But what do we do?" he
asked, his voice shaking.
Karen's hand found his,
squeezing gently. "We wait,"
she murmured. "We stay with
him, and we wait."

new to see or not to see chip plankton chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 21
Chip took a step
back, his eyes still on the
floor. He felt a heavy
weight in his chest, a
mixture of sadness and
determination. He knew he
had made a mistake, but
he was also aware that this
could be a chance for him to
learn and show his dad that
he truly cared.

Karen sat beside
Plankton, her hand resting
on his shoulder. "Why don't
you tell us what you need
right now?" she asked softly.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly. "I need...I need to
be al-"

"Alone?" Chip filled in,
his voice gentle. "But 
Dad, we want to be here
for you. I won't le-"

Plankton's antennae
whipped around, his eye
narrowing. "Oh, I know,"
he said, his voice thick with
sarcasm. "Because you're just
so good at understanding,
right?" His tone was biting, a
sharp contrast to the usual
softness in his voice.

Chip flinched at the
harshness, his own feelings
of inadequacy rising to the
surface. "Dad, I'm tr-"

But Plankton continued,
his words coming out in a
rush. "You think you know,
but you don't. You don't know
what it's like to have
the world crash down on
you every minute of every
day, to be bombarded with
sounds and smells that are too
much, too intense." His antennae
twitched erratically. "And then
you come in with your 'let's
talk about it' and 'let me
see' and 'let me do it with
you' and you think that's
going to fix me?"

The sarcasm in his voice
was palpable, his antennae
drooping with frustration.
"You think I want to be a
science project for you to
study?" Plankton's eyes
were bright with unshed tears.
"I'm not broken, Chip. I'm just
different. And any stims,
they're not for you to copy
or understand or even
acknowledge. They're mine,
SOLELY mine!"

Karen watched the exchange
unfold, her heart aching for
both her husband and son.
Plankton was hurting, and
his defensiveness was a clear
sign of it. She knew his stims
were a private, sacred part
of who he was, and she 
saw Chip's desire to bridge
the gap. But she knew when
Plankton was like this, that it
was time to let him be.

"Why don't you go to your
room, Chip?" she suggested
gently. "Let your dad have
some space."

Chip nodded, his eyes
brimming with tears. He
couldn't bear to see his dad
in pain, but he knew that pushing
would only make things worse.
With a heavy heart, he
turned and walked out of the
room, his feet feeling like
lead. Karen watched him go,
her gaze then shifting back
to Plankton.

Plankton's antennae
still twitched. Karen
moved closer to him. "It's ok,
sweetie," she murmured. "I'm
here." He leaned into her touch,
his body slowly relaxing.
Her words were a balm, 
soothing his raw nerves.

A week after Plankton's
completely healed from
wisdom teeth, he no
longer having mouth
discomfort. One evening
Karen hangs up her phone
from her friend Hanna. She
lives far away, and they'll
take a trip to stay and visit
with her. Neither Plankton
nor Chip met Hanna before.
Hanna knows Karen's married
to Plankton, but she doesn't
know about his autism.

Karen breaks the news
gently. "Boys," she says,
"We're visiting Hanna tomorrow.
It's gonna be a day long drive
and we need to pack. We'll
be staying at her place!"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye darting around
the room as he processes
this sudden change of plans.
The thought of traveling, of
new smells and sounds, sends
a shiver of anxiety through
his body. "Now?" he asks, his
voice tight. "But we...I need
to prepare."

Karen nods, her voice
soothing. "We'll leave early,
so we have time to get
everything ready." She
moves closer to him, her hand
on his shoulder. "We'll pack
together."

Plankton takes a deep
breath, his antennae
twitching with the effort to
calm down. "Okay," he says.
"Okay."

He starts to pack, his
movements methodical.
Everything has its place,
his suitcase organized with
precision. Karen and Chip
watch, knowing better than
to interrupt. They've learned
that when Plankton's in this
mode, it's best to let him
be. Karen also gets the
special sensory bag for
Plankton. His fidget
toys and noise-canceling 
blindfold curtains are
carefully placed in the bag.

Chip decides to pack
some favorite science
books as Karen observes
them, her heart swelling with
pride and hope. Chip's come
so far in understanding
of Plankton's needs, not to
mention their shared love
for scientific trivia.

Plankton, noticing Chip's
packing, approaches with
more books for their trip.
"Here," he says, his voice
slightly less tense.

The next morning, Karen
gets up early. They'll spend
most of the day on the road
and wanted to get a good
head start. So she wakes
Chip up first.

"Chip," she whispers,
shaking him gently. "Time to
get going for our trip."
Chip opens his eyes, sleepy
but excited. He jumps
out of bed, eager to start
the day. Plankton, on the
other hand, is still asleep.
Karen approaches his
side, her gaze soft. She
knows waking him up
can be tough, especially
with his sensory issues.

Gently, she places her
hand on his shoulder.
"Plankton," she whispers,
keeping her voice low
and even. "Wake up,
sweetie. We're leaving
for Hanna's soon."

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly at the touch,
his eye fluttering open.
"We're leaving soon,"
Karen repeats.
He nods, his body
still stiff with sleep. She
moves to the side, giving
him space to sit up.

Karen's going to drive
and has Plankton's
sensory bag in the front
seat by her, so Plankton
sits with Chip in the back.

new to see or not to see chip plankton hanna

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 22
As they start the car
and the engine rumbles
to life, Plankton's hand starts to
move in a repetitive
motion, his thumb and
forefinger tapping against
each other. It's a stim. 
Karen's eyes meet
Chip's, and she gives a small
nod. "Remember, buddy,"
she says over her shoulder.
"Just let him be."
Chip nods, his eyes
going back to his dad.

Plankton's gaze is fixed
on the passing scenery. 
Chip watches, his 
curiosity piqued but his 
respect for boundaries
keen. He's learned so much
about his dad's autism in
the past weeks, but he
knows there's still so much
more to understand.

The car's hum is a 
comforting white noise,
and Chip can see the
tension slowly draining
from his father's body.

Plankton's eye darts to
the side, watching the
trees blur by. Chip
follows his gaze, seeing
the world. "Dad," he says
softly. "Can we see the
science book together?"
He holds it up, the one
his dad had packed. Plankton's
stimming pauses. He
considers it, his antennae
twitching. "Okay," he finally
says, his voice a little
softer.

They spend time
in quiet companionship,
their heads bent over the
pages, silently reading facts.
Chip feels a warmth in his
chest, a feeling of
connection growing stronger
with each page turned.

The car's steady motion
combined with the gentle hum
of the engine begins to
lull Plankton into a drowsy
state. His antennae droop slightly,
his eye blinking slower, and
his breathing deepens.

Karen glances in the
rearview mirror, a smile
touching her lips. She knows
this look well. Plankton's
autism often made him
sensitive to the world, but
now, with the familiar routine
of the road trip and the soothing
environment they've created,
his body was finally letting
go of the tension as Plankton's eye
begins to drift shut.

Chip felt his dad's weight
shifting against him, his head
coming to rest on his
shoulder.

The steady rhythm of the
car's motion was a gentle
lullaby to Plankton's overstimulated
brain. His hand, which had
been tapping out a steady
rhythm, stilled. His antennae
drooped low, his eye fluttering
closed. Chip watched him, his
heart swelling with a mix
of love and sadness. It was
rare to see Plankton so relaxed,
his usual stoic exterior giving
way to vulnerability.

Karen kept her eyes on
the road, a soft smile playing
on her lips. She knew this was
a victory, a sign that their
efforts to create a safe
space for Plankton were working.
The trip was going better than
she had dared hope.

Chip felt a gentle pressure
against his arm as Plankton's
head grew heavier. He
adjusted his position,
careful not to disturb his
dad. The book lay forgotten
between them, their silent
bond stronger than words.
He watched as his dad's
breathing grew deep and
even, his antennae finally
still.

Karen glanced back again,
her smile growing wider.
"Looks like we've got a
snoozing scientist," she
whispered, hearing Plankton's
gentle snores. Chip grinned,
his own worries slipping
away as he felt his dad's
body relax against him.

The road ahead was long,
but the car was filled with a
newfound peace. Plankton's
snores grew softer as the
miles ticked by.

When they finally pulled up
to Hanna's house, Plankton
remained asleep, his body
relaxed against Chip's side.
Karen turned to look at
them, her heart full. "Looks
like he had a good nap,"
she murmured to Chip.

Chip nodded, smiling down
at his dad. "Yeah," he whispered.
"I'm gonna miss this when
we get out of the car. How are
we gonna tell him we're here?"

Karen chuckled softly. "We'll
just have to wake him up
gently, buddy." She opened
her door, the crunch of gravel
underfoot. The cool evening
air was a stark contrast
to the warmth of the car, and
Plankton's antenna twitched as
his eyebrow furrowed.

"Hey, Plankton," Karen 
said softly, gently 
shaking him as she
closes her car door. 
"We're here, sweetie."

Plankton's eye snapped
open, his antennae 
springing to life. For a
moment, confusion 
clouded his gaze before
it cleared, and he sat
up with a jolt. "Oh,"
he murmured, looking
around. "Hanna's?"

Chip nodded, his
smile gentle. "Yeah.
We're here." Plankton
realized he'd fallen
asleep not only in front
of Chip, but also leaning
on him. Embarrassment
flitted across his face,
and he quickly sat up as
he pulled away. Karen got
their suitcases and Plankton's
sensory bag in her grasp.

The front door opened, and
Hanna's bubbly figure emerged,
lighting up at the sight of Karen.

"Karen!" she exclaimed,
rushing forward to give her
a warm hug. "It's been so
long! And is this your family?"
Hanna asks as she let them in,
closing the front door behind.

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his eye wide as he took in the
unfamiliar surroundings. The sight
of a different house, the sound
of Hanna's excited voice, it was
all to much.

Karen nods. "Yes, my 
husband, Plankton, 
and our son, Chip."

Hanna's smile broadens as
she embraces Plankton in
a tight hug. "So nice to finally
meet you," she says, her eyes
shining with excitement.

Plankton's antennae flatten
against his head, the sudden
contact overwhelming. He
swallows hard, his body
stiffening. "Nice t-to meet
y-you t—too," he mumbles,
his eye darting to Karen
for rescue. Karen laughs lightly,
gently extricating Plankton
from Hanna's enthusiastic
embrace. "Why don't we get
settled?" she suggests,
guiding Plankton to the couch.

"And you're quite the
young man!" Hanna
exclaims to Chip. "Hi
Ms. Hanna," Chip says.

new to see or not to see chip plankton hanna

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 24
"Coko, coo," Plankton murmurs, his eye
unfocused, his antennae
quivering slightly. Karen
squeezes his hand tighter,
trying to ground him.
"Remember, we're at Hanna's."

Chip's eyes widen, hearing
his dad's strange speech.
"What's coko?" he whispers
to his mom. Karen smiles
softly. "It's okay, Chip.
Sometimes during a seizure,
his speech gets...scrambled."

Plankton's hand reaches
out, searching for something
to anchor him. "Go,"
he says. "The...the...
the...what's called?"
He's trying to find
the words. "The...cow," he says 
decidedly. "Cow?" Plankton
giggles, repeating himself. "Cow!"

"It's okay, Plankton," Karen
says gently. "You're just
trying to find your words."

Chip watches, his eyes
filled with confusion.
"But why is he talking
like that?" he asks,
his voice low.

Karen's eyes are filled
with compassion as
she explains. "It's part
of the seizure, Chip.
His brain is firing differently,
mixing things up."

Plankton's giggle turns
into a full laugh, his
body shaking slightly.
"Cow," he repeats,
his voice louder now.

Karen and Chip exchange
a concerned look, but Karen
smiles gently, knowing
this phase can pass quickly.
"Remember, Plankton,
we're at Hanna's. You're okay."

Plankton nods, his laugh
fading into a smile as
his gaze locks onto the
spinning ceiling fan. "Fan,"
he murmurs, his hand moving
to mimic its motion. "Fan-ny
fanny fan." Karen knows he's
trying to make sense of the
world again, and she's here to
help guide him back.

"That's right," she says,
keeping her voice steady. "It's
a fan." Chip watches,
his curiosity piqued but
his concern foremost. He's
knew not to laugh at his
dad's strange speech, but it's
hard not to find some humor
in the absurdity of the moment.

"Fan-ny," Plankton repeats,
his voice taking on a sing-song
quality. "The cow, says meow."

Karen chuckles, her heart
warming at the nonsensical
sentences. It's a sign
his brain is trying to
reconnect, to make sense of
the world again. "No, Plankton,"
she corrects gently. "The fan
doesn't say meow. It's ju—"

But she's interrupted by
Hanna, who comes in to
check on them. "Hey guys!
So, what's the plan for movie night?"
Her cheerfulness is a stark
contrast to the scene she's
walked in on. Plankton's
laughter grows louder, his
eye glazed over.

Hanna's smile falters, her
eyes wide with worry.
"Is he okay?" she asks,
stepping closer, confused.
Karen knew Plankton's
not gonna want Hanna
to find out about his
autistic neurodisability.
"It's just something he
does," Karen says quickly,
as Plankton starts to crawl.
"He'll be fine in a bit."

Hanna watches as
drool starts to dribble
from the corner of Plankton's
mouth. "What's happening?"
she asks, her voice laced
with concern. "It's like he's
in a dream state, or someth-"

Her words are drowned
out by Plankton's chuckle,
his body wriggling on the
floor. "Cow!" he exclaims.
Karen knew he's gonna
come out of it soon, and
she didn't want Hanna to
be in his personal space
right now. "Why don't we give
a bit more time?"
she suggests, her tone
remaining calm. "We'll be
ready for movies soon."

Hanna nods, her smile
forced. "Okay," she says,
backing out of the room.
The door closes, leaving
them in privacy. Karen's heart
thuds in her chest. She's
seen this a hundred times,
but it never gets easier.

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly, his antennae
still. The room seems to
come back into focus,
the colors slowly solidifying
from the blur they had
been. "Karen?" he whispers,
his voice hoarse.

"I'm here," she says, her
voice a comforting
presence in the room.
"You had a seizure, but
you're okay now."

Plankton's eye widens,
his antennae shooting up.
"Oh," he murmurs, his
voice distant. He looks
around the room, taking
in the familiar yet foreign
surroundings of Hanna's
guest room. "What...were
we talking? I feel like I was
but I...I can't remember."

Karen's hand is still
clasped in his, her thumb
continuing to rub his skin
in a soothing pattern. "You
were talking about a cow,"
she says with a small smile.
"But it's okay. You're okay."

Plankton's antennae droop
slightly, his cheeks coloring
with embarrassment. "A cow?"
He repeats, his voice
still weak. "Did I... did
I say anything else? And
why the barnacles am I on the
floor?"

Karen laughs, her eyes
twinkling with affection. "You
got a bit overwhelmed,"
she says, her voice gentle.
"But you're okay now."

Plankton nods, his antennae
slowly rising. "I'm sorry,"
he whispers. "I didn't mean to-"

Karen shakes her head, her
smile warm. "Don't apologize,
Plankton. It's just part of
who you are." She helps
him to his feet, her arms
supporting him. "Let's get
you cleaned up."

Chip watches, his heart
still racing. He's seen
his dad like this before,
but it never gets easier. He
wants to help, but he's
learned that sometimes, the
best thing to do is just be
present.

Karen leads Plankton to
the bathroom, her arm
around his waist, his hand
in hers. "Let's get you
cleaned up," she says,
guiding him gently.

The cool water feels good
on his face, the sensation
helping to ground him. Karen
wipes his mouth with
a washcloth, her movements
careful and precise.
He leans into her touch,
his body craving the
predictability. "Thank
you," he murmurs.
Karen hands him a towel,
her gaze understanding.
"You're welcome," she says.
"Remember, Plankton,
you're not alone in this."

Karen leads Plankton
and Chip to the living
room where Hanna's
waiting for them.

"Are you okay?" Hanna
asks, her eyes filled with
concern. Plankton nods,
his antennae twitching.
"Of course," he says
matter-of-factly. "Why
wouldn't I be?"

Hanna's gaze lingers on
his still-flushed cheeks,
his slightly unfocused
eye. "You just...you
seemed out of it," she
says, her voice tentative.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his mind racing. "What are
you talking about?" He asks
Hanna, glaring at her.

"You know, when you were
laughing and talking about
cows," Hanna says, her eyes
still wide with concern. "And
drooling a bit." Plankton's
face reddens, his antennae
springing up.

Karen jumps in, her
voice calm. "It's just a little
quirk, Hanna," she says with
a smile. "He's fine. Now,
about that movie night?"
Hanna nods, her expression
still slightly puzzled,
but she lets it go. "Right!
Let's get cozy!" She says,
clapping her hands together.

Plankton sits back down
on the couch, his antennae
twitching as he tries to
regain his composure.
He knows he can't let his
condition define him, but
sometimes it's so hard to
keep up the façade. He's
grateful for Karen's quick
thinking, for Chip's quiet
support.

Hanna starts setting
up the board games, her
energy seemingly boundless.
Plankton's eye flits around
the room, taking in the
colors and the clutter.
He can feel his anxiety
building, his thoughts racing.
But he takes a deep breath.

"Do you want to play?"
Hanna asks, her smile wide.
"Sure," Plankton responds,
his voice steady despite
his inner turmoil. Chip
and Karen knew of his 
competitive spirit..

The game starts, and
Plankton's stims return. 
His fingers move over 
the armrest. "What's with 
your hands?" Hanna asks,
watching Plankton's hand
move. "It's okay, Hanna,"
Karen jumps in, her tone
calm. "It's just something
he does." She doesn't
elaborate further, not wanting
to make a big deal of it.
But Hanna's curiosity is
piqued. She's never seen
anyone act like this before.

Plankton's eye darts
to his hand, his antennae
twitching. He feels the
weight of Hanna's gaze,
his cheeks flushing. Karen
squeezes his hand, her
silent support reassuring.

Hanna's eyes wander from
the game to Plankton's
hands, then back to her
cards. She's curious.

Plankton feels the heat
of her gaze, his stims
intensifying. He tries
to ignore it, focusing on
the game. But every time
he glances up, her eyes
are on him, watching his
hands move, her brow
furrowed. It's unnerving,
but her curiosity doesn't
wane.

"So, what's the deal with
the hand thing?" Hanna asks
finally, unable to hold back.
Plankton's antennae snap
straight up, his hand stalling
mid-stim. "What hand
thing?" he says, his voice
sharp. Karen's grip on his
hand tightens, a silent warning.

Hanna's eyes widen at
his tone. "I just meant,
why do you...you know,
move your hands like that?
What does it do for yo-"
"It's none of your concern!"
Plankton snaps, his antennae
waving agitatedly.

Karen's eyes dart
between Hanna's shocked
expression and Plankton's
flushed face. She can feel
the tension in the room
spike. "Plankton, maybe
we should-"

But Plankton cuts her
off, his voice rising. "I don't
have to explain myself to
her!" He says, his antennae
waving wildly. Chip's heart
sinks. He's seen his dad
like this before, but it's
always different, always
worse when it's in front
of someone new.

Hanna's face falls, her smile
replaced with hurt. "I'm just
trying to understand,"
she says, her voice small.
"I didn't mea-"

But Plankton's not
listening. "It's none of
your business," he repeats,
his voice cold. Karen's heart
sinks. She knew this was
going to happen, that
Plankton's stress would
boil over into something
unpleasant.

"Plankton," she starts, but
he shakes his head, his
eye focused on the game
now. "I don't owe anyone
explanations," he says,
his hand resuming its
erratic movements.

Hanna's eyes fill with
unshed tears, her cheeks
flushing with embarrassment.
"I didn't mean to-"

But Plankton's attention
is fully on the game, his
stims more pronounced than
ever. Karen sighs, her
heart aching for both Hanna
and Plankton. She knows
his behavior isn't intentional,
but it's still painful to watch. 

new to see or not to see chip plankton hanna

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 2

But Plankton's expression
was not one of relief. His
face flushed red with
embarrassment as reality
crashed in on him. He realized
his son had seen him at
his most vulnerable, caught
in the grip of his condition.
He jerked his hand away,
the octopus falling to the floor.
"What are you doing here?"
he snapped.

Chip took a step back, his
hands up in a placating gesture.
"I-I didn't mean to scare
you," he stuttered. "I just...
came ho-"

"Why are you watching me
like that?" he snarled. "You
have no right to see me like
this!"

Karen stepped in, her voice
steady. "Chip didn't mean to,
love. He just came home early
and found you in a seizure. It's ok.
You know he loves you."

Plankton's anger was a storm
quickly building. He glared
at Chip, his eye wild. "Get out!"
he shouted. "This isn't your
business!" The words hung in
the air, heavy with emotion.

Chip's eyes filled with
hurt, his cheeks burning. He
backed away, clutching the
stuffed octopus. "Dad, I just
wanted to help," he murmured.
But Plankton was beyond
reason, fear and embarrassment
having turned to anger.

"I said get out!" Plankton
yelled again, his voice echoing
in the small room. Chip's lip
trembled, but he didn't dare
disobey. He turned and fled,
his feet pounding on the
hallway floor, leaving his
parents behind.

Once in the safety of his
room, Chip slammed the door
shut and sank to the floor,
his back pressed against it.
Tears spilled down his cheeks
as he held the octopus to
his chest. It felt strange,
his dad's reaction with such
fury directed at him.

Karen turned to Plankton,
knowing the storm of
emotion her son had just
felt. "It's okay, it's okay," she
whispered, her eyes filled with
concern. "You're okay. Chip's
okay. It was just a surprise
for everyone."

Plankton took a deep,
shaky breath, his mind racing.
He knew he had overreacted,
but the fear of being
exposed had taken hold.
He had always been so
careful, so private about
his condition. Now, Chip
knew his secret.

"I'm sorry," he murmured,
his voice barely audible.
Karen sat beside him, her
hands resting lightly on his arm.
"You don't have to apologize,"
she said, her voice calm.
"But you do need to talk
to him. He's scared and confused."

Plankton nodded, his gaze
flickering to the floor. He
knew she was right. He had
always been so careful about
his neurodivergence, meticulous
about not letting others see.
But Chip had seen him, and
now there was no going back.

He took a deep breath and
turned to Karen. "You're right,"
he said firmly. "I need to talk
to him." He knew the conversation
would be hard, but he owed
it to Chip. His heart heavy,
he walked to the door.

When he entered Chip's
room, the air was thick with
silence. Chip sat on his bed,
his back to the door, clutching
the octopus tightly. Plankton's
heart clenched at the sight of
his son's hunched figure. He
knew the hurt he had caused.

"Chip," he began, his voice
raspy. "I'm s-sorry." He took
another step forward, but
his son didn't move. "I didn't mean
to scare you, or to shout. It's
just..." His words trailed off.
How could he explain the fear
and vulnerability that had
consumed him? "I know
you didn't mean to intrude,"
he said, his voice softer now.
"But seeing me like that...it's
not something I wa-"

"You're quirky," Chip cut
in, not turning around. "And
now I know why." Plankton
swallowed hard, his heart racing.
He had never talked to Chip
about his neurodisability before,
not in such direct terms. "Yes,"
he admitted. "But I'm still yo-"

"I know," Chip nods. "But why
didn't you tell me you were like
this? Why didn't mom ever
just tell me you're...?" Then a slur
slipped out before he could
stop it, a term he'd heard
used before, but never really
understood the weight of.

Plankton's breath hitched, and
his eye grew wide. The room
was suddenly colder, as if
his heart had frozen.

Without another word, he
stood abruptly, leaving
Chip's room. He went in
his room after slamming
the door shut. Karen looked
up. "So Plankton, ho-"

But Karen cut her own
question short upon the 
sight of her husband's face.
"Plankton, whaa-"

Plankton's features were
twisted in anger, a rage that
seemed to pulse with each
beat of his heart. "How could
you say that?" he spat out,
his eye flashing. "How
could you both think that about
me?" His voice was low,
dangerously so, each word a
blow that echoed in the quiet
space. Karen, of course, didn't
know what's been said. "What
are you talking about, love?"
But Plankton couldn't
articulate the hurt that had
just been unleashed.

Karen, sensing the shift
in the room, stepped closer,
her hand reaching out.
"Plankton, what's wrong?"
she asked, her voice filled with
concern. But Plankton flinched,
his body retreating from her
touch. "It's nothing," he muttered,
his voice strained.

He couldn't bear to repeat
Chip's hurtful slur.
So he turned away from
Karen, his back to her, his
shoulders rigid.

The silence grew thick
between them, a barrier
she wasn't sure she could
breach. "Plankton?" she
asked again, her voice
concerned. "What's go—"

"I can't," he choked out,
his eye stinging. "I can't
tell you." His voice was
barely a whisper, the words
forced through a throat
constricted by pain and
shame. Karen's eyes search
his face, her heart aching
at his distress. "Is it
about your condition?"
she ventured gently.

Plankton nodded, his
back still to her. "Chip...
thinks I'm...less than,"
his voice cracked. Karen
inched closer. "Oh that's
not tr-"

But Plankton whirled on
her, cutting her off. "Don't
make excuses for him!"
he shouted, his voice
shaking with emotion.

Karen took a step
back, her eyes wide with shock.
"I'm not making excuses,"
she said carefully. "I just
want to know what hap–"

But Plankton was beyond
hearing her. His mind was
a tumult of emotions: anger,
hurt, and fear. He had worked
so hard to keep his condition
a secret, to shield himself
from the cruelty of the world.
And now, his own son had
labeled him with a term so
loaded with stigma and pain.

"It's not right," he murmured,
his fists clenching at his sides.
"It's not right that he thinks
that way. It's not right that
anyone thinks that way!"
Karen watched him,
her eyes full of sadness.
"Plankton, sweetie, come sit
with me," she said softly, patting
the space beside her.

new karen plankton chip plankton come together

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 3

With a heavy sigh, Plankton
collapsed onto the bed, his body
shaking with the effort of holding
back his tears. He buried his face
in his hands, his shoulders heaving.
Karen wrapped her arms around
his shaking frame, holding him tightly.
"You're not less than," she whispers.
"What could Chip have possibly said
to make you feel like that?"

But Plankton remained silent,
a painful reminder of the times
he'd been taunted and misunderstood
by those who didn't know him.

He felt Karen's gentle touch on
his shoulder, a silent offer
of comfort that only made
his throat tighten more. "It's
okay," she said softly. "You can
tell me. Whatever it is, we'll
work through it." But Plankton
was too lost in his own pain to
share the specifics with her.

The word hung in the air
between them, a heavy weight
that seemed to press down on
his chest. He couldn't bring
himself to repeat it, to give
voice to the hurt that had
been thrown at him. It was a
reminder of all the times
his differences had made him feel
less than, all the times he'd been
the but of jokes or the subject
of whispers.

Karen's eyes searched his,
desperate to understand the
pain she saw etched into his
features. But Plankton couldn't
find the words. He just sat there,
his body shaking with the force
of his unspoken grief. The
silence stretched on, each
second feeling like an eternity.

Finally, with a tremble in his
voice, he spoke. "He said a word,"
he managed to get out. "A word that
hurts more than you know." Karen's
heart squeezed tightly in her chest.
"What word?" she asked softly,
afraid of what she might hear.

"Just, don't defend him!" he roared.
"Don't you dare defend him! I
know you're just gonna say how he's
a kid or doesn't know better, or that
he didn't mean it; but that word
cuts deeper than you could ever
understand!" Plankton's fists
clenched tightly, his knuckles
white with the effort of not
lashing out. Karen's eyes were
filled with tears, her heart
breaking at the raw emotion
spilling from her husband.

"What word?" she whispered,
dread coiling in her stomach.

He took a deep breath,
his voice strained as he
forced the word out. "Ret-"
He choked, unable to
complete it. He shook
his head. "That word,"
he finally managed, his voice
barely above a murmur.

Karen's eyes widened
in horror, understanding
dawning on her. "Oh, no;
Plankton," she breathed. "No."
She pulled him closer, her
own tears flowing freely now.
"You're not that," she assured
him fiercely. "You're brilliant,
and kind, and the best
father Chip co—"

"Don't," Plankton whispered,
his voice hoarse. "Don't say
it's okay. It's not."

Karen's heart broke further.
"I'm s-sorry," she said, her
voice trembling. "I-I'm sorry
he said that. We need to talk
to him," she said firmly. "He
needs to underst--"

But Plankton cut her off with
a harsh shake of his head.
"No," he whispered, his voice
weak. "He doesn't get to
see me like this. He doesn't
get to hav—"

"But he's our son," Karen
interrupted gently. "And he
loves you. He needs to know
to never use that word again."

Plankton's shoulders
slumped in defeat. He knew
she was right. He had to talk
to Chip. He had to explain
the hurt that the word caused.
But the thought of facing
his son, of explaining
his fears and vulnerabilities,
was almost too much to bear. "I
can't do it," he whispered. "I just
can't. He won't listen to me."
Karen nodded, understanding
his pain. "Then I'll go," she said,
determined. "I'll talk to him,
make him understand."

With a heavy heart, she
stood and walked to Chip's
closed door. She took a deep
breath, steeling herself for the
conversation ahead. When she
opened the door, she found
Chip sitting on his bed.

Her eyes searched her son's
face, looking for signs of
understanding or remorse.
Instead, she found only a
child lost in his own
thoughts, the octopus still
gripped tightly in his hand.

"Chip," she began, her voice
shaking with barely contained
emotion. "What did you say to
your father?"

Chip looked up, his eyes
innocent. "I just asked why
you guys didn't tell me," he
mumbled, not meeting her gaze.
"But he got so mad.."

Karen felt a mix of anger
and sadness wash over her. "What
exactly did you say to him?"
she asked, her voice tight.

"I don't know," Chip said,
his voice small. "I just said
why didn't you guys tell me
he's like that. I said he's re---"
he murmured, the weight
of the slur heavy on his tongue.

Karen's face contorted in anger.
"How could you say such a thing?"
she snapped. "Do you know
what that word means? Do
you have any idea how much
pain it causes?"

Chip shrunk under her glare,
his eyes darting around the
room as he searched for an
escape from the intensity
of her gaze. "It's just a word,"
he mumbled defensively. "I
don't know why it's such a big de-"

"It's not just a word, Chip,"
Karen said, cutting him off.
Her voice was sharp, each syllable
laced with disappointment.
"It's a word that hurts people,
that makes them feel less than
who they are." She stepped
closer, her eyes boring into
his. "Do you know how much
your father has suffered because
of people calling him that?"

Chip's eyes grew wide, the gravity
of his words sinking in. He
hadn't meant to hurt his
dad, but now he realized
the weight of his carelessness.
"But I didn't mean it like that,"
he stuttered, his voice thick with
unshed tears. "I just didn't know
what else to call it."

Karen's expression softened
slightly, her anger giving
way to sadness. "Chip, sweetie,
that word is not just some
description," she said, her
voice gentle but firm. "It's a
word that has been used to
hurt and belittle people like
your dad for a long, long
time." She sat beside him,
placing a hand on his arm. "You
have to understand that words
have power. And when you use
that power to wound someone,
especially someone you love,
it causes deep, deep pain." 

new karen plankton chip plankton come together

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 3


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Karen sees the pain in Chip's eyes.
She knows they have to explain
sooner rather than later. Plankton's
condition is a part of their lives,
and Chip deserves to know.
Yet she also understands her
husband's need for privacy.

"Plankton," she says calmly,
placing a hand on his back.
"Chip just wants to help."
Plankton's face contorts in
frustration, his antennae
twitching uncontrollably.

Chip, feeling more lost
than ever, steps back further.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he murmurs,
his voice thick with unshed
tears. "I didn't mean to-"
"Chip, it's okay," Karen says,
cutting in before Plankton
can reply. She gives her husband
a knowing look, her screen filled with
concern.

Oblivious to his dad's autistic
spectrum disorder and its effects
on his sensory processing, Chip
continues to hover anxiously.
"But Mom, why won't Dad tell me?"
He sniffles, wiping his screen
with the back of his hand.
Karen takes a deep breath,
trying to find the right words.
"Chip, your dad's brain works
a little differently than most.
Sometimes, things can be too much
for him, and his body needs
a break. That's all it was."
Chip's eyes are wide, but fear still
lingers. "But why couldn't
he-"

"It's okay, Chip," she interjects,
placing a comforting arm around
his shoulder. "Daddy's just tired.
Why don't you go wash up, and I'll
talk to him, okay?"

Chip nods, his eyes still
fixed on Plankton, who
now avoids his gaze. As he walks
to the bathroom, his mind
whirls with questions and fear.
Why won't his dad tell him what's
going on? What's so scary about
his brain needing a break?

While Chip is washing
his screen, Plankton turns to
Karen, his voice low and
shaking. "How could I have
let this happen?" he whispers.

Karen wraps her arms around
his trembling frame. "You couldn't
have known, Plankton. It's not
your fault. But we do need
to talk to him. He's seen it now,
and he's scared."

Plankton nods, his eye
dull with fear. "I know," he whispers.
He's never wanted Chip to know
about his condition, but now
it seems like there's no choice.
He's always been so sensitive
especially when his
brain's in overload.

Karen gives him a comforting
squeeze. "We'll tell him
together," she says, her voice
steady. "We'll explain it in a
way he can understand."

Chip finishes washing his
screen and returns to the
bedroom, his eyes red and puffy.
He sees his mom hugging his
dad, and the sight brings a
tiny bit of comfort. But he
still feels like there's something
he's missing, something
important. But seeing the hug,
Chip goes to do the same...

But Plankton flinches at
his touch, his antennae quivering
with overstimulation. Chip
pulls away, his eyes wide with
confusion and hurt. "What's
wrong, Dad?" he asks, not
understanding his dad's
reaction.

"Don't touch me," Plankton says,
his voice cold. Chip's eyes
well up with tears again. "But I'm
just trying to hug you," he
whimpers, feeling lost and
alone.

Karen intervenes, her voice
soft. "Plankton, sweetie, Chip
doesn't know. He's just a kid,
trying to understand."
Plankton sighs, his antennae
drooping. He knows she's right.

"Chip," Karen begins, her tone
gentle. "You know how sometimes
you get overwhelmed, and you
just need a hug?" Chip nods.
"Well, Daddy gets overwhelmed
too, but sometimes, hugs aren't
what he needs. Sometimes,
his brain needs a different kind
of comfort."

Chip looks up at her, his
screen still wet with tears. "But
why can't I hug him?" he asks,
his voice small. "You're hugging..."

"Chip," Karen says, taking
his hand. "Your dad's brain
is special. Sometimes, when
it gets too much input, he
needs some space. He can't help
it; it's just ho-"

"But why can't I just hug him?"
Chip interrupts, his voice
desperate.

Plankton looks away, his
face contorting with the
effort to hold back his own
tears. "It's not that simple,
Chip," he says, his voice
cracking.

Chip's confusion grows.
He can't understand why a
simple hug is causing so much
pain. "But why?" he asks, his
voice trembling. "You always
hug Mom.."

Plankton sighs, feeling the
weight of his secret pressing
down on him. "It's not the
same," he says, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Mom knows
how to... to handle it."

Chip's eyes fill with tears
again. "But why not me?" he asks.
"I just wa-"

Plankton's voice is harsher
than he intends. "Because you
don't know how!" he snaps.
Chip's face falls, the rejection
hitting him like a slap.

Karen's eyes dart
between them. She
understands Plankton's struggle
with his sensory issues, but
this isn't the time for anger.

"Plankton," she says firmly,
"Chip just wants to help. He doesn't
understand, and we can't blame
him for that." She looks at Chip,
his screen full of hurt and confusion.
"Let's just tell him, okay? Try again
Plankton.."

Plankton nods reluctantly,
his antennae still twitching.
"Chip," he starts, his voice
softer now. "When I was being
born, my brain didn't fully
develop the way it should've.
So, I'm different, and I don't
need you to 'fix' me. HAPPY?"

Chip stares at his dad,
his eyes wide and brimming
with tears. He doesn't
understand. "Different, how?"
he asks, his voice small.

Karen takes over. "Your
father has a condition
called autism, Chip. It means
his brain interprets things
differently, especially when
it comes to touch."

Chip pulls away, his face
scrunching up. "But that means
you're broken!" he cries out,
his voice filled with horror.
"You're a monster! An autistic
freak!" The words slip out before
he can stop them, echoing the
taunts of his schoolmates. "It
makes you nothing but an
embarrassment!"

The room goes still, the
atmosphere thick with pain.
Karen's eyes widen in shock
as Plankton's body tenses.
"Chip, no!" she gasps, but
it's too late. Plankton's
face crumples. The words had cut
deeper than Chip could've
ever imagined. "Get out,"
Plankton murmurs, his voice
barely audible. "I don't
want you here."

Chip's eyes widen, his
screen flushing with guilt.
He didn't mean it; he was
just repeating what he's
heard. "But, Dad," he
whimpers, reaching out.

But Plankton flinches away,
his antennae drooping. "Get out,"
he repeats, his voice
defeated. "I don't need you
right now."

Chip's eyes fill with
hurt as he takes a step back.
"But Dad..." he whispers, his
hand reaching out instinctively.

Plankton doesn't take it. "I said
leave," he murmurs, his
voice filled with pain. "You 
get out, Chip. Just go."
The finality in his tone sends
a shiver down Karen's spine.
Chip's hand falls to his side,
his eyes brimming with
tears.

Karen's eyes are glossed
with unshed tears as she watches
Chip back away, the hurt in
his voice etching a painful
silence into the room. "Dad, I-"

But Plankton cuts him off,
his antennae quivering with
emotion. "I don't want to see you
right now, Chip," he says,
his voice barely above a
whisper. "Please, just go."
The rejection hits Chip like
a wave, and he nods, his lip
trembling. He turns and
runs from the room, his sobs
echoing down the hallway.

Karen turns to
Plankton, her screen 
filled with sorrow
and understanding.

"Plankton," she whispers,
her voice cracking. "He
didn't realize what he said.
He doesn't know how such
words can hurt you."

Plankton turns to her,
his eye filled with a sadness
so deep it's almost tangible.
"But he said it," he murmurs.
"He basically called me a freak."

Karen's heart breaks at his
pain, and she sighs heavily.
"He's just a child, Plankton,"
she says softly. "He doesn't
underst--"

"I don't care," Plankton
interrupts, his voice brittle.
"I can't handle it right now."
He turns away.

Karen nods, giving him
the space he needs. She
understands the depth of
his pain and the struggle
his condition brings him.

new do you trust me chip plankton 3

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 16


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Chip pulls a bench stool 
up by the couch.
"Dad," he says, his voice
a whisper in the quiet
room. "Can I... I ask you
a question?"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye half-open. "Sure,
what is it?"

Chip's voice is a soft
whisper in the darkened
living room. "What's it like?"
he asks, his curiosity
tangled with fear. "To be...
you know, autistic?"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye blinking slowly. "It's...
it's like living in a world
that's too loud," he murmurs.
"And too bright. And sometimes,
things don't make sense. But...
it's also beautiful. Like a
puzzle that only I can solve."

Chip leans in, his curiosity
piqued. "How do you mean?"
he asks, his voice a gentle
prodding.

Plankton's antennae droop, his
eye closing briefly. "Imagine
a symphony playing," he whispers,
his voice a soft melody. "But instead
of music, it's sounds. Voices, lights,
textures... all playing at once.
It's... overwhelming." He pauses,
his antennae twitching with
the effort to explain. "But
sometimes, when everything is
still... I see patterns. It's like...
like the universe is whispering
secrets only I can discern."

Chip nods, his eyes on the
twitching antennae. "And the
absence seizures?"

Plankton's eye opens wider, his
voice a soft sigh. "It's like
being in a bubble," he says,
his antennae stilling. "A moment
out of time, but... it's not real.
I'm not really here."

Chip's gaze is intense, his
mind racing to understand.
"But what do you see?" he asks, his voice
eager. "When you're in that bubble?"

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye searching Chip's face. "It's...
difficult to explain," he says,
his voice a soft rumble. "It's like...
I'm distant." His antennae
bob slightly, his eye fluttering.
"But sometimes, it's just...
like a blender. And I'm alone."

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "I'll try to
imagine," he whispers. "But I want
you to know, Dad, I'm here for
you." His hand reaches out to
touch Plankton.

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
body tensing slightly. "It's okay,"
he murmurs, his voice a quiet
acceptance. "It's not your
fault."

Chip's hand hovers, unsure. "But I
wish I could help more," he says,
his voice filled with a longing
to ease his father's pain.

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye blinking open. "You do help,"
he whispers, his voice a
reassurance. "Just by being
here. Yet you can't fix me, Chip."

Chip's hand retreats, his heart
heavy with understanding. "I know,"
he says, his voice filled with
sadness. "But I want to make
sure you're okay."

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye focusing on Chip's earnest
face. "I know," he whispers. "But
you can't always save me. And
right now I'm just feeling tired.."

Chip nods, his hand slowly
withdrawing. "Okay, Dad," he
says, his voice thick with emotion.
"We'll rest now. We'll talk more
tomorrow." Plankton's
eye closes, his antennae stilling.
His breaths even out, his body
relaxing into sleep's gentle embrace.

The room falls silent, the
only sound Plankton's soft
snores. Chip watches his dad,
who's asleep now.

His mind is racing with thoughts,
but his body is still, not wanting
to disturb the fragile peace. His eyes
trail over Plankton's form, noticing
the way his antennae twitch slightly
in his sleep. It's like he's dreaming of
faraway places, or perhaps solving
a complex puzzle only he can see.

Chip's hand hovers over his dad's,
fighting the urge to hold it. He's
seen the way Plankton flinches at
the slightest touch, the way his body
shies away from contact. But
his heart aches to offer comfort, to
let him know he's not alone. With
a deep breath, he decides to be brave.

His fingertips lightly graze
Plankton's hand, the barest
of touches. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his breath catching, but
he doesn't pull away. Encouraged,
Chip wraps his hand around his
dad's, his thumb tracing gentle circles
on the back of his palm. Plankton's
body relaxes slightly, his snores
deepening. Chip's heart swells with
relief. Maybe this is okay.

new do you trust me chip plankton 16

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 1
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ 
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ 
ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Chip was adopted at
birth by Plankton and
Karen, who raised him.
But Plankton's autistic,
which he only shared
with Karen. He managed
to 'mask' or hide some
of his neurodivergence
from Chip, who's got no
idea his dad's neurodisabled.

Chip walks in the door
to his parent's room is
slightly ajar. He peeks in,
expecting to find his mom
tidying up or his dad
fiddling with one of his
inventions. Instead, he
sees his dad sitting
still on the edge of his
bed, his eye glazed over,
his body stiff. "Dad?" But
Plankton doesn't move, nor
does he acknowledge
his son's presence. Chip
takes a step closer.
He tries to shake him,
but Plankton is like a
doll, unresponsive. "Dad,
are you ok?" Chip's voice
cracks, fear starting to
creep in.

The room feels eerily
silent, sans the
steady tick of the clock
on the wall. Chip
tries to recall if he's ever
seen his dad like this.
It dawns on him that he
might be hurt.

"Dad?" he whispers again,
his voice trembling. The
only response is the
persistent tick-tock of the
clock, echoing in the
silence. Chip's mind races,
trying to make sense of the
unexpected scene before
him. Plankton's absence
seizure had always been
a closely guarded secret,
shared only with Karen. But
now, Chip's the one who's
stumbled upon it, and he
doesn't know what it is, nor
what to do.

He reaches out to touch
his father's shoulder,
his hand shaking, but Plankton
doesn't flinch, despite his
discomfort. His eye
is open, yet unseeing. The
realization hits Chip like
a ton of bricks. Something
is wrong, terribly wrong. "Mom,
you need to come to your
bedroom. Something's
happened to Dad!"

Karen rushes in, a look
of concern etched on her
screen as she takes in
the scene. She quickly
assesses Plankton and
knew exactly what was
going on. She knows Chip
has never noticed Plankton's
autistic traits. They kept the
autism a secret from Chip as
per Plankton's request.

"It's ok, sweetie," she says
calmly, placing a gentle hand
on Chip's shoulder. "Your
dad's just having a little...
episode." Her voice is soft,
but firm, trying to ease
his panic without causing
alarm. She's seen this
hundreds of times. And
she knew Chip doesn't have
the faintest idea of his dad
having a condition.

"What do you mean?" Chip's
eyes are wide with fear, his
hands still hovering over
his father's unresponsive
body. He's never seen his
dad so lifeless before.
"It's like he's not even there,"
he whispers.

Karen takes a deep breath
and sighs. "Your dad doesn't know 
it's happening, but he'll be fine soon."

Chip's eyes dart 
around the room,
his gaze returning 
to Plankton. "But why?"
he asks, voice 
shaking. "What's
going on?"

Karen's eyes are
filled with a mix of
sorrow and 
determination as she
explains, "Your 
dad's brain does
things differently from
other people's, and
this is one of those
times." Chip's confusion
deepens. "But wh-"

"Remember how sometimes
you get really focused
on a video game and
can't hear me right away?"
Chip nods. "Well, this is like
that, but his body goes
still and he's not really
aware of what's around
him.."

Chip watches as Karen
carefully helps Plankton
to lie down, placing a
pillow under his head and
covering him with a
blanket. Plankton's eye
remains open, but it's
not looking at anything
specific, just glazed over.
Chip's fear turns to
curiosity, questions 
racing through
his mind.

He's seen his dad in
his 'work mode' before,
where he's so focused on
his inventions that it's like
he's in another world. But
this seems different. This is
scary. Karen sighs. "We'll talk
later, ok?" Chip nods, yet
his curiosity overpowers his
fear. He watches as Karen sits
by Plankton's side.
"It's ok, Plankton," she
whispers, stroking his antennae.
"You're safe here; I'm here."

Karen's screen never left
Plankton's face, her gaze
filled with love and
understanding. She knows
his silent battles, his secret
world of challenges.

"Plankton, it's me, Karen,"
she says gently. "You're
safe. I'm right here." She
speaks softly. Chip, still hovering,
can't help but notice the
tenderness in her touch as
Plankton's body remains still,
his eye unblinking.
Suddenly, Plankton
speaks. "Must...the...yes."
Plankton mumbles in a tone 
that's distant. The words make
no sense to Chip, but
Karen nods as if she
understands. "It's ok
Plankton," she soothes. "You're
right here with me."

The sight of his dad
talking to himself sends
a shiver down Chip's spine.
He's seen Plankton mumble
things before, lost in
his thoughts, but this is
different. It's as if he's
in a trance, his eye
seeing something only
he can perceive. Chip feels
his own anxiety spike,
wondering what could be
going through his dad's
mind in this state. "Dad?"
"Let him be," Karen says
softly. "Sometimes he
talks like that when he's
coming out of it. It's part of
his... process."

Plankton continues. "The...
...has to be..."

His words are fragmented,
his voice trailing off as if
his thoughts are racing
faster than his mouth can
keep up. "What...what is he
saying?" Chip asks Karen.

Karen's eyes stay locked
on Plankton, her expression
both concerned and calm.
"He's not really talking to
anyone," she explains. "It's
just something that can
happen during these
episodes."

Plankton's mumbling 
turns into a murmur. 
"The... the... it's all..."

Karen leans in closer, her 
voice soothing, "It's okay,
sweetheart. You're okay. Just
let it happen." Karen
knows from experience that
the words are not for them,
but rather a cerebral dance he
has no control over. Chip, on the
other hand, is utterly bewildered.

The room seems to shrink
around them, the air thick
with unspoken questions
and a palpable tension.
Karen's hand never leaves
Plankton's antenna, her
thumb brushing it gently.
"You're safe, Plankton," she
repeats, her voice a lullaby.
"You're here with me." "The...
the... it's..." Plankton says. Chip
can't help but lean closer,
his hand reaching. Karen's hand
shoots out to stop him.
"Chip, no!" she says firmly.
"Don't. It could make it worse."
Her eyes are filled with a
knowledge that Chip lacks, a
fear that he's only just
beginning to understand. Karen
sighs. "It's just his
brain... recalibrating."

The silence stretches out,
stifling. Chip watches his
father, his mind racing.
He's seen his dad's
inventions come to life,
but this... this is a
mystery he can't solve.
Plankton's antenna starts to
twitch slightly, the first
sign of movement since
the episode began. "It's over, love,"
she whispers. "You're okay."
Plankton's eye blinks,
once, twice, and then focuses
on Karen. Recognition
slowly dawns on his face,
confused. "Whaa-"

"You had a moment, Plankton,"
she says gently. "It's okay."
Plankton looks around,
spotting Chip. "Chip? K-Karen,
what's going on?" His voice
cracks with confusion. "What's
wrong? Did I...?"

Chip feels a surge of relief
seeing his dad's eye blink and
his dad's voice return to
normal. But the question in
his dad's voice tells him that
Plankton doesn't remember.

new autism and all chip plankton 1

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 20
Karen had seen this before,
but it never failed to
fill her with a deep ache.
She sat beside Plankton,
her hand on his back, her gaze
on his unblinking eye. She had
learned to recognize the signs,
the subtle cues that signaled
his retreat into himself. This
was a common occurrence. But it
never got easier.

Chip hovered nearby, his
body tense with worry.
He had never seen his
dad like this before, not
really. The way his body
went stiff, his antennae
quivered, and his eye glazed
over. It was like watching
someone slip away. "How long
does it last?" he whispered,
his voice shaking.

Karen's grip on his hand
tightened. "It varies,"
she said. "Just try
talking to him. It helps to
keep him anchored."

Chip's throat felt dry, his
voice trembling as he leaned
closer to Plankton.

"Dad?" he whispered, his
heart racing. Plankton's body
remained eerily still, his eye
unblinking. Chip's mind
raced with thoughts, trying to
think of anything to say that
might bring him back.

"You know, Dad, I've been
thinking," he began, his voice
shaky. "I know you don't like
it when I talk about your
stims, but I just...I just want
you to know that I think
they're cool. They're part of
what makes you, you. And I
promise, I won't mimic them
again. It's not my place to
understand without asking
you first."

Karen watched with a
heavy heart as Chip spoke.
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, the tension in
his body not fully receding.
"I just want to help," Chip
continued, his voice cracking.
"I want to be there for you
the way you're always there
for me."

As the words hung in
the air, Plankton's eye
slowly blinked. The seizure
was passing, the world
reassembling before him. He
turned up to look at Chip, his
expression confused. "What's
going on?" he mumbled.

Karen felt relief flood
through her as she realized
the seizure had passed.
"Chip," she whispered, her
voice thick with emotion.
"That was a beautiful
thing you just did."
Plankton's antennae
twitched at that, his eye
coming back to focus.
He looked at them, his gaze
confused. "What happened?"

Chip took a deep
breath, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "I just
wanted to tell you that
I'm sorry, Dad," he said.
"And that I'll respect your
space and your stims. They're
a part of you, and I won't
invade that again."
Plankton's antennae
drooped slightly.

Karen watched, her eyes
shimmering with unshed tears.
This was a pivotal moment,
a chance for understanding
and growth within their
family. "That's right, Chip,"
she said softly. "It's about
respect and love."

Plankton's antennae
twitched, his gaze moving
between Chip and Karen.
He didn't know how to
process the emotions
swirling within him. He
was used to being the
rock, the one who provided
comfort and support, not the
one receiving it from Chip!
Yet he heard the sincerity
in his son's voice. "I...I
see that," Plankton managed.

Chip's eyes searched his
father's face, looking for
any sign of forgiveness.
"Dad, I didn't know," he
whispered. "I just wanted
to be close to you."
Plankton's antennae
twitched again, his mind
racing. He had never talked
about his autism with
Chip like this, had never
explained the intricacies
of his stims and seizures.
It was a vulnerable place
to be. "Chip, it's not for you
to understand by doing."
He paused, his antennae
drooping. "It's just...
I dunno."

Karen watched the two, her
heart aching. She knew this
was hard for Plankton, to
explain the unexplainable.
"What your dad means,"
she said gently, "is that
his stims are personal.
They're his way to handle
things. It's like when you
have a bad day and you
need to be alone. We all
have our ways of dealing,
right?"

Chip nodded slowly, his
eyes never leaving Plankton's.
He could see the turmoil
in his dad's gaze, the
desire to be understood
battling with the fear of
being misunderstood. "Yeah,"
he murmured.

Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae
stilling. "You're my son,"
he said, his voice hoarse. "I
want you to understand."
He looked away, his antennae
drooping. "But it's hard."

Chip nodded, feeling a
wave of empathy wash
over him. "I know it is," he said,
his voice gentle. "But we're
here to learn with you."
Karen's eyes glistened with
pride. Her son was growing up,
understanding that empathy
wasn't about fixing, but about
being present and respectful.

"Let's talk," she suggested,
sitting beside Chip on the
bed. "Let's talk about your
stims, Plankton. Maybe if
Chip knows more, he ca---"

But Plankton cut her off,
his antennae twitching with
agitation. "I don't want to
talk about it," he said, his
voice tight. "It's personal."

The room was suffocatingly
silent, the tension palpable.
Karen and Chip exchanged
glances, both unsure of
how to navigate this delicate
moment. Chip's heart pounded
as he tried to find the right
words. He didn't want to push
his dad, but he desperately
wanted to connect, to show
that he cared.

He took a deep breath,
his hand hovering over
Plankton's arm before stopping
mid-air. "Dad," he began,
his voice trembling. "Can you
teach me about your st-"

"NO!" Plankton's voice
was sharp, cutting through
the air like a knife. His antennae
whipped around, his body
tense with emotion. "It's
not a show, Chip. It's not
for you to see and learn."

Chip's hand fell to his
side, his eyes wide with
surprise. He had never
seen his dad so agitated.
But he knew he had to tread
carefully, to respect
his boundaries. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he murmured. "I just
wanted to kno—"

"I know what you want,"
Plankton said. "They're not
for you to analyze or learn
from like a trick."

Chip felt the sting of
his dad's words, but he knew
he had to back off. He took
a step back, his eyes
firmly on the floor. "Okay, Dad,"
he murmured. "I get it."

Karen watched the
exchange, her heart
heavy. She knew Plankton's
frustration all too well.
It was hard for him to articulate
his needs, especially when
his stims were so deeply
personal. "Plankton," she said
softly. "Chip wants to support
you, not to make you feel
uncomfortable."

Plankton's antennae
stilled, his eye focusing on
his wife's face. He knew she
was right, that Chip's curiosity
was born from love, not a
desire to control or change
his behavior. "I know," he murmured.
"But it's just...it's just that..."

He struggled to find the
right words to explain the
swirl of emotions inside him.
His stims were his lifeline, a
way to cope with the sensory
overload that often left him
exhausted and overwhelmed. "I just
need space," he finally managed.

Karen's gaze was filled
with empathy as she nodded.
"Okay, Plankton," she said
gently. "We'll give you
space. But know we're here
for you."

new to see or not to see chip plankton space

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 1


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Karen was out buying
cookies when Chip 
arrived home. So Chip
goes up to find his dad
Plankton, knowing his
mom Karen's still shopping.
He pushed open the door 
to his parent's bedroom,
where Plankton sits on his
bed. "Dad; hi!" Chip yells.

Plankton's eye widens,
startled by Chip. His body
is as still as a statue.
For a moment, Chip thinks
his dad might be playing 
a prank on him, but then 
realizes something isn't 
right. "Dad? Dad!" Chip 
shakes Plankton's arm,
but there's no response. 
Panic starts to build in
his chest as he calls 
out louder, but Plankton 
doesn't budge. Chip's
seen his dad in his zone
before, but this is 
different. Plankton's eye
glazed over, unblinking. 
Chip doesn't understand 
why he's not reacting,
and he's too scared to 
leave the room. He tries
once more to get his
father's attention.

"Dad, you're scaring
me," Chip whispers,
his voice trembling.
Yet Plankton remains
motionless, a stark
contrast to the chaos
unfolding inside Chip.

Chip's heard of
people passing out, but
his dad has never done
this before. He tries to
recall any information
about his dad that
might explain this eerie
situation but comes up
empty-handed.

Everything seems in place,
but the sight of his dad, so
unresponsive, sends a chill
down his spine, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's still form.
How's he gonna wake his
dad up?

He's seen him get lost
in his thoughts before,
his mind a whirlwind of
genius ideas, but this...
this is something he's never
seen. He touches Plankton's
face gently, expecting a
flinch or a grumble, but
nothing happens. It's as if
his dad isn't even there,
like he's a mannequin in a
store window.

"Dad?" Chip calls out,
his voice a little louder
now, trying to shake off
his fear. "You okay?"
Nothing. He needs to
try something else.

He remembers a TV show
where a person was
snapped out of a trance
by a loud noise. Chip
rushes to the kitchen,
grabbing a pot and spoon,
his footsteps echoing in
the silent house. His
hands shake as he crashes
the pot against the
spoon, creating a cacophony.
He didn't know he's just
causing his dad more pain.

The sound reverberates
throughout the house, but
Plankton remains still.
Chip's hope dwindles, fear
taking its place. He
wonders if he should
call for help, but what
if his dad wakes up? He's always
so independent. What's Karen
going to think? But Chip put the
pot and spoon back. He goes
back to Plankton, whom Chip
didn't realize retreated even further
into his overload with the touching
and noises. Chip's panic is turning
into something more akin
to dread.

"Dad?" Chip's voice cracks 
as he calls out again, his
eyes scanning Plankton's 
face for any flicker of 
recognition. Yet none comes.
Oblivious to the concept of 
autistic absence seizures, Chip 
has no idea that his dad's
lack of response is due to 
a bombard of sensory input.

In his desperation, Chip 
starts to pat his dad's cheeks,
hoping to bring him back to
reality. Plankton's skin feels
cool and clammy under his 
fingertips, and the sight of 
his father's normally vivid 
eye now vacant sends a 
wave of terror crashing through 
his body. He's seen him zone 
out before, lost in his own 
world of inventions and schemes,
but this is different. It's not
the same as when he's busy
at the chum bucket.

He tries to remember if
his dad ever talked about
any health issues, but all 
that comes to mind are tales 
of his dad's past adventures. 
Could it be something serious?
Was it something he missed?
The weight of the situation 
presses down on him, making 
it hard to breathe. He feels
helpless, unsure of what to do 
next. He's just a kid, not a 
doctor or a hero.

Yet Chip decides trying to
force him out of it.

"Dad, come on, you gotta
snap out of it!" Chip says,
his voice shaking. He's
seen this in movies, right?
Someone's got to shake
the person or something?

He decides to do it.
Gently at first, then more
firmly as panic sets in. But
Plankton remains unmoving,
his gaze unchanged. Chip's
fear turns into full-blown
terror. What if his dad's
in some kind of danger?
What if he's stuck like
this forever?

Chip's mind races with
worst-case scenarios as he
continues to pat Plankton's
face, his voice getting louder
with each attempt. But no
matter what he does, his dad
doesn't react. The room feels
like it's closing in around him.

He tries to hold back tears
not knowing what
to do when your dad has a...
what is this? He can't even
name whatever's happening.

He's seen his dad zone out
before, during dinner
or when he's in the middle of
one of his crazy inventions,
but this is something else.
This is not the usual Plankton.
This is not the dad he knows.
He tries another way to force
him out of it, with no knowledge
of risking literally making
Plankton get literally sick.

He shakes Plankton harder,
his voice growing more
desperate. "Dad, you gotta
snapshot out of this! It's
not funny anymore!" But 
his father's body is like
dead weight, his eye
still unblinking.

Chip feels a tear slip
down his screen. He tries
a different approach to
physically force his dad 
out of this.

He tickles him. Plankton always
hates tickling, so surely 
this will work. But his 
dad's body doesn't even
flinch. It's like he's not
even there. He tries to
think logically, but fear clouds
his judgment. He doesn't
understand why Plankton isn't
snapping out of it. Why isn't he
getting annoyed or saying 
his usual, 'Chip, stop that!'

So Chip decides he needs to
take matters into his own hands.
He decides to forcefully get
Plankton to react.

He grabs a pillow and holds
it over Plankton,
thinking that an impromptu
pillow fight might bring him
back to the present. But
even as Plankton's body
topples to the side, he 
doesn't react. Chip's
seen his dad ignore him
before, but this is not 
the same. This is not the
Plankton who would normally
swat the pillow away with
a laugh or a scolding.

By then, Karen's finally come
home from shopping, setting
the cookies on the kitchen
counter when Chip runs up to
her in tears.

"Mom! Dad's DEAD or, something.." 
he sobs, pulling her
to the bedroom. "He won't
wake up, and he's not moving!"

Karen follows Chip into the
bedroom, and she immediately
knows what's happening.
She sees Plankton lying on the
bed, his body completely still,
and Chip's tear-stained screen.
Plankton never wanted Chip to
know of his neurodisability, so
they never told. It's something
they both learnt to deal with while
hiding it from Chip, but now Chip's
seeing it firsthand.
Karen aches for her son,
his innocence shattered by
fear. Yet she knew Plankton
needs her more right now.

"Mom, I just said hi to him
and he froze. I've tried to
shake him, yell at him, tickle
him, and even hit him with
a pillow, but he won't wake up!"
Chip's words come out in
a frantic rush.

Karen's eyes fill with
understanding and she hurries
to Plankton's side. "Chip," she 
says calmly, knowing now's
not the time to explain to
Chip about neurodisabilities,
nor how Chip unintentionally
triggered him more;
"Mommy will handle it. Why
don't you go to your room?
I'll take care of daddy."

But Chip is too scared
to leave his dad's side.
He clings to Karen's leg, his
small voice quivering. "But
I--"

Karen gently peels him
off her and gives him a
reassuring smile. "I know, sweetie.
But let me take care of this.
You go to your room, and I'll
call you when everything's
okay."

Reluctantly, Chip nods,
his eyes still glued to
his dad. As he leaves the
room, his mind fills with
worries and questions. What
is happening? Why won't
his dad wake up?

Meanwhile, Karen sat down
by Plankton on the bed
as she gently took
his hand. She knew this
was a moment she had
been dreading. Plankton's
autistic absence seizures were
a part of their lives that
they had managed to keep
hidden from their son.
They didn't want to scare
Chip, and Plankton was
always so embarrassed by
them. But now, it was out in
the open, and she had to
find a way to explain without
frightening Chip further. But
for now, she needs to help
Plankton out of the absence 
seizure first.

new do you trust me chip plankton 1

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 19
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Plankton turns away from his son.
Chip's screen shows his
determination. "I'll stay here,"
he says. "As long as it takes."

He sits down. But
he's not giving up. 
"I know you're
mad," he says, 
his voice gentle.
"And I know you're 
hurt. But I'm
not going anywhere."
Still no response.

Plankton's antennae twitch every
now and then, but he doesn't say a 
word. Chip's heart feels like it's
being squeezed in a vice, but he 
doesn't move. "Dad, remember
the time we built that sandcastle
together?" he asks, his voice
soft. "You laughed so hard when
it collapsed." His screen flickers
with the memory of Plankton's
joy, his antennae waving in delight.
"You were so proud of me, even
though it was just a pile of
sand." He pauses, his throat tight
when Plankton looks away.
"I want to make you laugh like
that again. And I'll do
everything to make it right."

But Plankton's silence is a
reminder of the distance between
them. Chip's voice cracks as he
continues. "I know I don't get it
all," he admits. "But I'm trying.
I'll keep trying. I'll never stop."
The room seems to hold its breath,
the only sound the distant hum
of the air conditioner.

He reaches out, his hand
trembling, and places the headphones
on Plankton's desk. "Whenever
you're ready," he says, his voice
barely a whisper. "They're for
you." He stands there, his screen
reflecting his hope, his fear.
He waits, every second an eternity.

Plankton doesn't move, his
back a wall of silence. Chip's
heart is a drum, pounding with
desperation. But he doesn't leave.
He sits down on the bed.

"Dad," he says, his voice
steady, "I know you're upset.
And you have every right to be.
But I'm not going anywhere." His
screens flicker with hope and fear.
"I'm your son, and I love you."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
but he says nothing. Chip's
heart feels like it's breaking.
He tries to think of anything
else to say, anything to break
the silence. But the words
stick in his throat, like glue.

He sits there for what feels
like hours, the weight of his
father's pain pressing down on
his shoulders. Plankton's
ignorance is like a fog, thick
and impenetrable. Chip's
screens flicker with memories
of their shared past, the laughs,
the tears, the moments that
seemed unbreakable.

He whispers again, his voice
barely a breath. "Dad, I'm so
sorry." The words hang in the
air, a silent prayer for
forgiveness. Plankton's antennae
don't move.

Chip's screen is a maelstrom of
emotions. He can't believe
his father would cut him off
like this. But he knows Plankton's
pain is deep, and his own
understanding of autism still
has so much room to grow.

He sits in silence, watching
his father's back, willing him
to turn around. "I know I hurt
you," Chip says, his voice a
whisper. "But I'm here to listen,
to learn." Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly, but he doesn't
move. Chip's heart feels like it's
shriveling in his chest. "Can you
tell me what I can do?"
he asks, his screen flickering
with hope. "Please?"

The minutes drag on,
each one a silent accusation.
Chip's mind races, searching
for the right words, the right
gesture to mend the rift.
He knows Plankton's anger is a
shield, a way to keep the
world at bay. But he's desperate
to reach the tender heart beneath.
"I won't let you go. We're family."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his body tense. Chip can feel
the energy in the room shift,
but he doesn't dare move. "Dad,
I know I hurt you," he says, his
voice shaking. "But I'm here
now. I'm listening." The silence
stretches on, a tightrope
he's afraid to cross.

The room is a prison of
unspoken words, each moment
stretching into an eternity.
Chip's screens are a kaleidoscope
of regret and longing. "Please,"
he whispers. "Tell me what I can do."
Plankton's antennae droop, but
he turns away.

Chip's screen flickers with
desperation. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he repeats, his voice a
fractured echo. "But I can't fix this
if you don't let me in."

Plankton's antennae quiver,
a silent response to his son's
plea. Chip's eyes are a pool
of unshed tears, his heart racing.
"I know you're in there," he says,
his voice shaking. "And I know
you're hurting." The room is a
testament to their struggle,
the air charged with the electricity
of unspoken words.

Chip's screens dim, his hope
fading. He's tried everything,
spoken every apology, offered
every gesture. But Plankton's
back remains a wall, unyielding
to his son's pain. "Dad," he whispers,
his voice barely audible. "I need you."
The words hang in the air,
desperate for a response.

The silence is a symphony of
unspoken anger and regret.
Chip's screens flicker with the
realization that understanding
autism isn't a quick fix. It's a
journey of patience, of learning
to read the subtle cues that make
up Plankton's communication.
He sighs, his shoulders slumped.
"I'll be here," he says, his voice
resigned. "Whenever you're ready."
But Plankton doesn't speak.

The room is a testament to
their strained relationship,
the torn photos and crumpled
cards a stark reminder of
what's been lost. Chip's heart
heavily, his mind racing with
thoughts of how he can bridge
this gap. "Dad," he says, his voice
small. "I'm going to give you space.
But I'm not going to give up on
us." He turns to leave, his screen
flickering with sadness.

As he steps into the hallway,
the door clicks shut behind him,
a silent echo of Plankton's
rejection. Chip leans against the
wall, his screen a canvas of
swirling emotions. He's hurt,
confused, but most of all, he's
determined. He'll show Dad
that he's not just a kid playing
at empathy. He'll prove it.

He starts with the house,
replacing the torn photos,
smoothing out the cards. Each
action a silent apology,
a promise to do better. He fills
a new sensory box. He'll try.

Chip's screens pulse with
his newfound resolve. He'll
make this right. He'll show
Dad that he's not just
words. That he's action. That
he's here, truly here. He'll be
the bridge between them.

He gathers supplies, a box of
textures, a rainbow of fidgets,
things that sparkle, things that
roll, things that make sounds.
He remembers Dad's favorites:
the squishy balls, the smooth
stones, the spinners that twirl.
He adds a few new things too,
things he read about that might
help, like a weighted blanket,
soft and comforting. He gets
some of his old toys, the ones
Dad used to play with him,
now a bridge to a different
kind of play.

The room is quiet,
his heart a symphony of hope.
He arranges everything
carefully, each item
a stepping stone to repair.
He thinks about the articles,
the videos he's watched,
the stories he's read. He tries
to see the world through
his dad's eye.

The box is a treasure trove,
a sanctuary for Plankton's
sensory needs. Chip's
fingers shake as he places
each item with care,
his mind racing with thoughts
of Plankton's smile, his laugh.
He knows it won't fix everything,
but it's a start.

new autism and all chip plankton box

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 20
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

He opens the door,
his screen a canvas of hope
and fear. Plankton's
back is still turned, his antennae
still drooping. "Dad,"
Chip whispers, his voice
shaking. "I made you
a new sensory box."
He holds it out, an offering,
his heart in his throat.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
but he doesn't turn around.
Chip's screen flickers with
uncertainty. "It's got all your
favorites," he says, his voice
trembling. "And some new stuff."
He takes a step forward,
his hand shaking. "I want
to help."

Plankton's body remains still,
his antennae drooping. Chip's
heart feels like it's been shattered
into a million pieces. But he
holds out the box, his hand
steady. "I know I don't get
it all," he says, his voice
soft. "But I'm trying."

He watches as Plankton's
antennas twitch, a small sign
of life in the sea of silence.
He takes a deep breath.
"This is for you," he says, his
voice a whisper. "Whenever
you need it." He places the box
on the bed, close to Plankton.
"Whenever you're ready."

When Chip leaves the room,
Plankton takes a look in the
new box.

He's not ready to forgive,
but the gesture isn't lost on him.
His antennae twitch with
a mix of anger and appreciation.
The box is a treasure trove
of sensory comforts, a silent
apology wrapped in care. He
picks up a squishy ball, squeezes
it, feels its calming give.

He turns to face the door,
his eye on the empty space
where Chip was just moments
ago. The weight of their
words, their emotions, hangs
in the air like a storm cloud.
Plankton's heart is a tumultuous
sea, a whirl of feelings he
can't quite articulate. But the
box, it's something he can touch,
something tangible amidst
the chaos.

He opens the box, his antennae
twitching with curiosity. Each item
inside is a memory, a bridge
to their past, a promise for the
future. He picks up a smooth
stone, feeling its coolness
against his skin. It's comforting.

The headphones lay at the top,
a silent guardian of peace.
He puts them on, the cacophony
of the outside world muffled.
For the first time in hours,
his mind is still, quiet.
He can breathe. He keeps
looking in the box.

A fidget spinner, its
colors blending as it twirls.
He's watched Chip play with
them before, spinning them
absently, lost in thought.
Now it's in his hands,
a whirl of motion. It's strange,
but comforting. He tries
to mimic his son's ease,
his mind racing with the
thought that maybe, just maybe,
his pain is understood.

A squishy ball, soft and
yielding, like his own heart
under the weight of his
frustration. He squeezes it,
feeling the tension ease from
his fingers, his mind. It's
like a silent scream, a gentle
release. He hadn't realized
how much he needed this.

He picks up a fidget cube,
each side a different texture.
He runs his antennae over
the bumps, the smoothness.
It's calming, the way it
chases the chaos from his
thoughts. He twists it in his
hands, the click-clack a metronome
to his racing thoughts. He takes
off the headphones.

The room is quiet, but he
can still feel the echoes
of Chip's voice, his son's hope.
He holds the cube tightly,
his antennae vibrating with the
memory of Chip's earnest
pleas for forgiveness. He's
not ready to forgive, but
the gesture isn't lost on him.

He opens the drawer beside
his bed, rummaging through
the medical supplies. His
fingers trace over cool numbing
gel, the pediatric-friendly
kind that Chip had used
at his dentist.

Then he feels it, the edge
of a pin, the weight of
a heartfelt gesture. He pulls
it out, his antennae trembling.
He opens it. It's a small booklet.

On the cover, in bold letters,
it reads "AUTISM FRIENDLY EMERGENCY
INSTRUCTIONS." Chip's handwriting.
He opens it to read a guide for
doctors, for neighbors, for anyone
who might not understand.

Inside, the pages are filled
with simple diagrams and bullet
points, detailing Plankton's sensory
needs, his stims, his triggers.
Chip's words are written:

"My dad's special, and he
has a thing called autism.
It means sometimes things are
too much for him, and he needs
help." The booklet is a map
of Plankton's soul, a guide
to his inner world. "Please, be
patient and calm. He's not
being difficult, he's just
overwhelmed." Chip's words
are a lifeline, a bridge
to understanding. "Make sure
to respect his boundaries,"
it says. "And don't touch him
without asking first." It then
has Karen's phone number
and his sensory friendly
therapist's contact.

Plankton's antennae quiver
as he reads, his heart swelling
with a mix of pride and pain.
His son has taken the time
to understand him, to advocate
for him. He closes it gently, his eye
wet with unshed tears. "Thank
you," he whispers to the empty
room as he puts the booklet back
in the box. Plankton sets the box of
goods on his nightstand. He turns
to go to his son's room.

He opens the door to Chip's
room, the space a whirlwind of
colors and sounds. His heart
flutters with nerves, his antennae
twitching. Chip's screen is
dim, casting a soft glow. He's
asleep. Plankton pauses, not ready to
wake him, not yet. But he
wants him to know. He sits on 
the edge of the bed. He reaches out,
his hand hovering over Chip's
shoulder. He needs to feel the
connection, the warmth of his
son. He touches him gently, his hand
trembling as he slides his hand in Chip's,
who remains asleep.

Plankton sighs, his chest
tightening. He can't find the words
to explain the tornado of emotions
whirling inside him. He's not used to
this kind of connection, not
with Chip.

He looks at his son's sleeping
form, his screen a serene blue.
The silent rise and fall of Chip's
chest.

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
heart racing with a strange
mixture of emotions. He's not
used to this kind of intimacy,
not with Chip. But the box and
booklet he left in his nightstand, 
it's all a testament to
his son's growth. He's trying.

Plankton lies down on the bed.
He can feel the gentle weight
of Chip's hand in his own.
The boy's screens are dark now,
his breaths slow and steady.

Later, Chip eventually
stirs awake, his
screens flickering with
surprise when he feels the
weight of his father's hand
on his shoulder. Plankton is
asleep beside him, their
hands entwined.

Chip's heart skips a beat,
his mind racing with questions.
What happened? Did his dad
forgive him? Yet Plankton's 
gentle snores are real, his 
antennae still.

He looks down at their
intertwined hands, a silent 
testament to something
new, something unspoken.
The weight of his dad's 
forgiveness? Or just the
comfort of shared space?
Chip isn't sure, but he's
grateful for the warmth,
the connection.

He lies there for a while,
his screens dimming to match
his father's rest. His mind
is a whirl of thoughts, of
what's been said and not said.
Of the distance they've
traveled, and the journey
still ahead. But for now,
this moment, it's enough.

new autism and all chip plankton box

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 1
Chip, adopted at birth
by Karen and Plankton,
came home from summer
camp an hour early since
the traffic was better than
originally expected.

The house was unusually quiet,
his parent's bedroom door ajar.
He overheard Karen talking to
Plankton in a hushed tone. "It's 
ok, sweetie. You're going to be ok."
Chip decides to eavesdrop on them.
He saw Plankton sitting in bed,
his body still, eye unblinking. Karen
was stroking his hand, looking
to calm.

Chip tiptoed closer to the door.
Karen's voice grew clearer. "It's ok,
just a little longer, and you'll be
back with me." Plankton's hand
twitched slightly under hers. Chip
swallowed hard. It wasn't his
imagination; something was off.

Curiosity gnawed at him as
he listened, his heart thumping
louder than the ticking clock.
Plankton's face remained frozen,
his eye vacant. Chip had never
seen him like this before. Was he
sick? In pain? Chip felt his own
body tense up as he strained to
make sense of the scene.
"Remember," Karen whispered,
"it's like daydreaming, but your
body is here with me."

Chip leaned in closer, trying to
make out the words. "It's ok,"
she repeated, her voice soothing.
"I'm here. You're safe." Plankton's
hand moved again, slightly, as if
to squeeze hers back. It dawned on
Chip that this was like a regular
event for them behind closed doors.

The mystery grew heavier in the
air. Chip had heard of people
fainting, getting dizzy, or even
having seizures before, but never
anything so... quiet. His mind
raced with questions, each more
confusing than the last. What was
happening to Dad? Why hadn't
his parents ever mentioned this?

He watched, unnoticed, as 
Plankton's chest rose and fell
evenly, but he was utterly 
unresponsive.

Chip's curiosity turned to 
concern. He knew he should 
probably leave, but his feet
were rooted to the floor.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains
closed to keep the afternoon sun
from piercing through, as Plankton
finally starts to stir. His eye blinks
slowly, as if waking from a deep
sleep, and his hand grips Karen's
firmly despite his grogginess.

"Welcome back," Karen says with
relief, her voice no longer a
whisper. She kisses his forehead
gently.

Chip's eyes widened. He'd never
seen his dad come out of such a
strange state before. It was eerie,
yet somehow comforting to see
his mom's tender care. He felt like
an intruder, but his worry for
his dad overpowered his guilt. 

Plankton's voice was weak when
he finally spoke. "Was it... I had
another one didn't I.."

Karen nodded solemnly, her
grip on his hand tightening. "It's
okay. You're okay now. I still
think we should tell Chip abou–"

"No," Plankton cut her off, his
voice stronger now, but filled with
a hint of fear. "Not yet." Chip held his
breath, not wanting to alert them
to his presence.

The room remained silent for a
moment, thick with the weight
of the unspoken. Chip's heart
raced as he tried to piece together
the puzzle of his father's condition.
He felt a twinge of guilt for not
noticing anything amiss before,
but the scene was so surreal, so unlike
anything he'd ever witnessed.

Plankton took a deep breath and
shifted in bed, the sheets rustling
beneath him. "We can't," he said,
his voice gaining strength. "He's
no-" "Plankton, your disability is
a part of you," Karen interrupted, her
tone firm but gentle. "Our son deserves
to know, to understand."

Chip's stomach clenched. Disability?
Was that what this was? He felt
a mix of fear and confusion. What
kind of disability could cause
this?

He leaned closer to the crack in the
door, his heart thumping like a
drum in his chest. Plankton looked
up at Karen, his single eye filled
with a determination Chip hadn't
seen before in such a vulnerable
moment. "Karen," he said, his voice
steady, "Chip might sta-" "We can't
keep it from him forever. He's
not a little kid anymore."

He leaned in further, his ear
pressed to the crack in the door.
"Karen," Plankton's voice was
insistent, "Chip won't understand.
I don't want him to see me like this."

Karen sighed, her hand stroking
his arm in a comforting manner.
"He's growing up."

"He's not grown up," Plankton protested,
his voice still weak. "What if he decides
not to love me anymore?"

Karen's eyes searched 
Plankton's, filled with
sorrow and love. "Chip 
loves you for who you
are, not for what you 
can or cannot do. You 
know that."

The silence grew heavier,
but Plankton's expression didn't
ease. Chip's mind raced, trying to
understand what he was hearing.
Disability? How could his dad have
a disability? He had always been so
active, so strong, so...normal?

new to see or not to see chip plankton 1

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 2


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Karen takes a deep breath
and squeezes Plankton's hand,
calling his name softly. "Plankton,
sweetie, come back to me."
Her voice is a lifeline, a
warm presence that Plankton's
mind might be able to cling
to. She knows from experience
that his seizures can eventually
be helped by her voice
and gentle touch. "I'm here,
it's okay," she whispers, stroking
his antennae with her thumb.

Chip's cries fade as he heads
to his room.
He's scared, confused, and feels
alone. He doesn't know why
his dad is acting so weird,
but he trusts his mom.

Eventually, Plankton's eye 
starts to blink, a sign that 
he's coming back. Karen's 
with relief, and she squeezes 
his hand, continuing to speak 
in hushed tones. "You're ok, 
Plankton. You're home with 
me." She knows how 
disorienting these episodes 
can be for him, and she wants 
to make sure he's fully grounded 
before anything else.

As Plankton's gaze slowly 
refocuses, Karen watches. 
He tries to sit up, yet his 
body feels heavy and 
sluggish. "What happened?" 
he asks, his voice a croak.

Karen's relief is palpable
as she helps him sit up, 
still holding his hand. "You 
just had one of your episodes, 
sweetie. It's okay." She's
careful with her words, 
not wanting to alarm him. "What
do you remember?"

Plankton looks around the
room. "Chip," he murmurs.
"Chip yelled hi, and then
everything's patchy. I felt
his presence yet I kept going
deeper into the retreat, but
I vaguely recall Chip bombarding
me. And now I guess you apparently
came.."

Karen nods, her grip
on his hand tightening.
"Yes, Chip saw you and
was scared. He didn't know
what was happening."

Plankton's face pales at
the thought of his son
being afraid. "Is he alr-
Chip; he must've seen me!
He witnessed..."

Karen nods solemnly. "Yes,
he saw everything. He's in
his room now, I told him
to stay there."

Plankton sighs heavily,
his eye closing briefly. "I
know you're gonna say to
tell him everything, how
he's mature enough. Great,
just great."

Karen nods, her voice
gentle. "We can't keep this
from him forever, Plankton.
He's seen you like this
now. It's time to explain
what's happening."

Plankton sighs heavily,
his shoulders slumping. He
knows she's right, but the
thought of Chip knowing his
secret makes him feel
exposed and vulnerable.

But Karen's voice is firm.
"We can't keep hiding this
from him. He's old enough
now. We have to tell him. I'll
bring him in, okay?"

Plankton nods weakly,
his heart racing at the
thought. He knows Karen
is right; they can't keep
this from him forever.

Karen heads to Chip's room
to find him curled up
on the bed, clutching a pillow
to his chest. His eyes are
swollen from crying. "Hey, buddy,"
she says softly, sitting beside
him. "Can you come with me?"

Chip sniffs and nods,
his eyes darting to the door.
He's afraid, but he knows
his mom will make it right.

He follows her into
the bedroom, where Plankton
sits up, looking drained but
alert. 

"Dad!" Chip cries out, running
to Plankton's side. Plankton
starts to scoot away.

Karen intervenes quickly.
"Chip, honey, let's give Daddy
some space," she says, her
voice calm but firm. Chip
frowns, not understanding.

"But he's okay?" Chip asks,
his voice small and hopeful.

"Yes, Chip," Karen says,
sitting on the bed with
Plankton. "Daddy just had a
little... Plankton, why don't
you tell him?"

Plankton sighs, bracing
himself for the conversation
he's been avoiding. "Chip,
what you saw was something
you were never meant to see.
You weren't supposed to see
me like that. So I don't wanna
hear a peep about it, ok?"

Chip's eyes widen with
confusion. "But what was
that, Dad?" His voice is
small, filled with fear.

Plankton hesitates, trying to
find the right words. "I JUST
TOLD YOU TO FORGET ABOUT IT!"
he snaps, his voice sharp.
Chip flinches, surprised by
his dad's harsh tone.

Karen sighs, taking the lead.
"Chip, honey, your dad's okay.
It's like his brain goes on a
tiny vacation without telling
his body, and he can't move or
talk during it." She tries to
make it sound less scary.

Chip's eyes grow wider, but
his curiosity isn't satisfied.
"But why? Why ca--"

Plankton cuts him off, his tone
sharp with agitation. "I don't
have to explain myself to you."

Chip's confusion turns to
hurt. He doesn't know what
he did wrong. He just wanted
his dad to wake up. "Dad, you
were just sitting ther-"

But Plankton's harshness
cuts him off again. "I said
forget it, Chip! It's nothing
you need to know!" Plankton's
voice is filled with frustration
and fear.

Chip's eyes well up with
new tears. "But I just wanted
you to wake up," he whispers,
his voice breaking. "Yo--"

Plankton's sharpness slices
through the air, his usual
playfulness nowhere to be
found. "I SAID, FORGET IT!"

Karen's eyes widen at her
husband's reaction. "Plankton,
honey, maybe we should just tell
him. He's seen it now; we
can't keep hiding it," she
suggests gently, trying to ease
the tension in the room.

Plankton looks at her with
a mix of frustration and
fear, his antennae twitching.
"Fine," he grumbles, his voice
softening. "But remember, this
is my story, not yours."
Chip, still sniffling, looks
between his mom and dad.

Karen gives Plankton a gentle
yet firm look, and he sighs 
heavily. "Okay, Chip," he starts,
"I've corpus callosum dysgenesis."

Chip looks at him,
puzzled. "What's th-"

"It's a brain thing, okay?"
Plankton cuts him off, his
tone gruffer than usual.
He can't bear the thought
of his son knowing.

Chip nods slowly, trying
to comprehend. "But w---"

"That's all you need
to know," Plankton 
says, his voice
clipped and final.

But Chip's curiosity 
doesn't wane. "But, Dad, 
why can't you just 
wake up?" he asks, 
his eyes filled with
concern and confusion.

Plankton's antennae twitch
in irritation. "CHIP, I TOLD
YOU TO FORGET ABOUT IT!"
His voice is sharp, cutting 
through the room like a
knife. Chip recoils, his screen
brimming with unshed tears.
He doesn't understand why
his dad is so upset. He just
wanted to help, to make him
snapshot out of whatever was
wrong.

Chip tries again. "Dad,
Mom said you can't 
keep whatever from me
anymo-"

"ENOUGH, CHIP!" Plankton's
shout echoes through
the room. "It's not your
business, it's mine! Now get
lost!" The pain in Plankton's
voice is palpable, and Chip
can't understand why.

Chip's eyes fill with
tears, his heart aching.
"But Dad, I just wanted to
he-"

"I SAID ENOUGH!" Plankton's
voice booms through the room,
his antennae quivering with
frustration. Chip's voice trails
off, and he takes a step back.
He's never seen his dad so
upset, and it scares him.

"But Dad, I don't know what's
wrong with you!" Chip's voice
is small, his eyes filled with
fresh tears. Plankton's outburst
has only confused him more.

Oblivious to Plankton's internal
turmoil, Chip doesn't realize
his dad's reaction is due to his
autism. But the outburst only adds
to Chip's confusion and fear.
He looks at Karen with pleading
eyes, desperately seeking
comfort and answers.

new do you trust me chip plankton 2

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 15


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Chip sits
carefully, not wanting to jostle
his father. He tries to think
of something to say, his mind
racing with questions and fears.
What if he says the wrong thing?
What if he makes it worse?

Karen returns with a
pillow and blanket, her
movements efficient. She
places the pillow under Plankton's
head and covers him with
the blanket, her touch a silent
symphony of care. Plankton's body
shudders slightly, his antennae
still. "Thank you," he murmurs,
his voice a thread of
exhaustion.

Chip watches, his heart
heavy. He's never seen his
dad so vulnerable.
The armor of his sarcasm and
bravado laid bare. He wants
to say something, anything,
to ease the tension, but his
thoughts are a jumbled mess.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye blinking slowly as
he tries to find the words.
"Chip," he says, his voice
still weak. "I've had this
since I was born. And I
liked school but, it was to 
hard for me to be comfortable."

Chip nods, his eyes on his
father's still form. "It's okay,
Dad," he says, his voice gentle.
"We can talk about it. What was
school like for you?"

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye opening slightly. "It was...
good and bad," he whispers.
"I did enjoy science,
like I do now. Kids are clueless, 
but it still hurt when they'd treat 
me like an outsider. Yet some
of the teachers..."

He trails off, his antennae drooping.
Chip's heart clenches, his hand
resting lightly on the couch cushion.
"What about the teachers?"
he asks, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae lift slightly,
his eye opening a bit more.
"Some were awful," he says,
his voice a soft echo of past
memories. "They blamed me for
things I couldn't control, didn't
understand. One in particular
literally went and said, 'you
are just a waste of space, an
example of parents choosing
the wrong path of life by having
you.' And then I had an absence 
seizure. When I 'came back' from
it, you know what she said? She said,
'See, kids? That's what happens when
parents decide to keep a mistake.'" 
His antennae drop, the
weight of the memory heavy on
his shoulders. "I then started convulsing
seizure, and was tied to the chair!"

Karen's eyes flash with anger
as she walked by. "Plankton," 
she says, unintentionally 
startling him, "you never
told me that.."

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
face contorting into an
expression of pain. "It was a
long time ago," he whispers,
his voice a ghost of what it once
was. "But the words... they
stay with me."

Chip's eyes are wide with shock,
his hand clenching into a fist.
"That's not right," he says,
his voice tight.
"They had no right to treat you
like that."

Plankton's antennae twitch, his
face a mask of resignation.
"I did have some good teachers
too. One nice teacher noticed
me having an absence seizure
and the other kids started to
notice how I didn't budge. But
the teacher, she was gentle, kind
and understanding. So when she
noticed an absence seizure happening, 
she put this little hand-made cover
over my eye to block out the line
of sight. She knew it'd help me
return to reality without the
sensory overload, as well as keep
the other kids from staring to much."

Chip's eyes are filled with
admiration of his dad. "That
was really nice of her," he says,
his voice filled with emotion.

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye focusing on Chip's face.
"It was," he whispers. "It made
me feel good." His voice
cracks with the weight of
his words. "But not everyone
is like her."

Karen's gaze is intense. "We're
your family. We're here to
support you. Now it's getting
late; I'm going to bed. Do you
want to sleep on the couch?"
Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye flickering. "Yes," he whispers.
"I... I'll stay."

"Can I stay by Dad tonight
too?" Chip asks. Karen's gaze 
flicks to Plankton. "I guess if
you don't jostle me?" he says.

Karen nods. "Alright, Chip,
just be careful not to disturb
your father." She kisses
their foreheads before
leaving the room, her eyes
lingering on her husband's
exhausted face.

new do you trust me chip plankton 15

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 4


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

In the hallway, Chip's
sobs grow quieter as he
slumps against the wall,
his heart feeling heavy.
He didn't mean to hurt
his dad; he just wanted to
know what was wrong.

Karen sits beside
Plankton, her heart torn
between her son's innocence
and her husband's pain.
"We need to talk to him,"
she says gently, stroking
his antennae. "We can't let
this go unaddressed. But we
can do it when you're ready."

Plankton nods, his body
still tense. "I know," he says,
his voice small. "But I just
can't... I can't face him right
now."

Karen nods, giving his
hand a comforting squeeze.
"Okay, honey. Take your time.
But we can't let him think
that he's not loved or that
his questions are wrong.
We need to explain it to him
properly."

Plankton sighs heavily,
his antennae drooping. "I
know," he murmurs. "Just talk
to him when I'm... ready."

Karen nods, her screen
shimmering with unshed
tears. "Okay," she says, her
voice gentle. She gives him
a kiss on the forehead and
leaves the room to find Chip
in his own bedroom.

Chip's door is ajar,
and she can hear his muffled
sobs. She opens it slowly,
finding him curled up
on his bed, his screen buried
in his pillow. She approaches
his side, sitting down
carefully. "Chip," she says,
her voice soothing. "It's okay.
You can come out now."

He pulls away the
pillow, revealing a tear-stained
screen. "But Dad..." he sniffles.

Karen's eyes fill with
sympathy. "I know you didn't mean
it, Chip. But you hurt
your dad. We need to talk
about what happened. And I
know you've questions about
his autistic disability.."

Chip sits up, his eyes
red and puffy. "But Mom,
why is he so mad at me?
I just wanted to know
what's going on."

Karen sighs, her heart
aching for her son. "Chip,
sometimes when people are
upset or scared, they say
things they don't mean. Your
dad's not mad at you for
asking questions; he's mad
at himself for not being able
to explain it better. But the
words you said hurt him. They
hurt him because people
have used them before to
make him feel less than."

Chip looks at her, his eyes
still wet with tears. "But I
don't want him to feel bad,"
he murmurs. "I didn't kn-"

Karen cuts him off gently.
"I know you didn't, Chip. But
it's important for us to
learn and understand. Your
dad's condition isn't a
weakness; it's just part of
how he is. And sometimes,
it can be scary for him
too."

Chip nods slowly, trying to
comprehend the complexity
of his dad's condition. "But
why can't he just tell me?"
he asks, his voice thick with
emotion. "Why does it have
to be a secret?"

Karen takes a deep breath.
"It's not a secret, Chip,"
she says gently. "It's just
something private, something
he's not wanting to share
with everyone. But now that
you know, we can help him."

Chip sniffs and nods. "How?"
he asks, his voice hopeful.

"Well," Karen starts, "you can
learn more about autism.
You can ask us questions, and
we'll answer them the best we
can. And when you see Dad
having a hard time, you can
give him space, or maybe find
a quiet spot for him to sit."

Chip wipes his screen with the
back of his hand. "Okay, Mom.
But what if I want to hug
him?"

Karen sighs. "Honey, your
dad's condition makes certain
kinds of touch hard for
him to handle. It's not that
he doesn't want your love;
he just needs it in a different
way."

Chip looks at her, his
eyes still filled with confusion.
"But I don't understand,"
he says, his voice shaking. "How
do I know when to hug him?"

Karen's smile is sad, but
determined. "You'll learn,
sweetie. We'll all learn
together. Just remember,
it's not about fixing him;
it's about supporting him."

Chip nods, his eyes still
filled with unshed tears. "Okay,"
he says, his voice small. "But
I don't want to make him sad."

Karen squeezes his hand.
"You won't, Chip. We'll get
through this together."

Chip looks up at her with
questioning eyes. "But why
does he get those... those
seizures?" he asks, still
trying to grasp the concept.

"They're not exactly
seizures, Chip," Karen says, her
voice gentle. "It's part of his
condition. Sometimes, his
brain just needs a break from
all the sensory information. It's
not something you can see or
feel, but it's real for him."

Chip nods, his eyes
still puffy from crying. "But
why doesn't he just tell me
when he needs a break?" he asks.
"Why does he have to get so
angry?"

Karen sighs, trying to
find the right words to explain.
"Chip, your dad's feelings are
sometimes like a volcano. They
build up and up until they
explode. It's not anger at you;
it's his way of dealing with
the overwhelm. And sometimes,
his brain gets too much stimulation
without him knowing it.
It's like he's trying to read a book
while everyone around him is
yelling at once. It's just too much."

Chip nods slowly, his eyes
fixed on his mom. "But why can't
he just tell me?" he asks again,
his voice still shaky.

Karen hugs him. "Because, honey,
your dad's had to deal with this
his whole life, and sometimes
it's hard for him to talk about."

Chip nods, trying to
understand. "But what if he needs
help?" he asks, his voice
small. "How will I know?" "You'll
learn his cues, Chip. Sometimes
he'll get quiet, or his antennae
will twitch more than usual. That's
when you can check on him,
ask if he's okay, but don't push."

Chip nods, his curiosity piqued.
"What if he doesn't say anything?"
he asks, his screen searching hers.

Karen takes a deep breath.
"Then, you'll have to watch for
his cues," she says, her voice
calm. "If he seems overwhelmed
or his antennae are moving a
lot, it might be a sign."

Chip's eyes light up with
curiosity. "What cues, Mom?"
he asks eagerly. "How do I
know?"

Karen smiles softly. "Well,
you'll learn, Chip. Like when
his antennae get really twitchy,
or his eye glazes over. That's when
his brain might need a break.
And if he starts repeating
things, or gets really still,
that's another sign."

Chip's eyes widen with
interest. "So, how do
you know, Mom?" he asks, his
voice tentative. "How can I
see when he's overwhelmed?"

"You'll get better at it,"
Karen assures him. "But for
now, just watch and listen.
If he starts flapping his
arms or repeating words, that's a
sign that he might need some
space. And if he turns away or
covers his eye, it means he's
getting too much sensory input."

Chip nods, his mind racing
with questions. "But you 
seem to know how to
touch him and when to
hug him. How'd yo--"

Karen smiles sadly. "It's
been years of practice, Chip.
And I've made my share of
mistakes too." She pauses,
thinking. "You'll learn
his cues, like when his
body tenses up, or when
his antennae start to quiver
quickly. Those are signs
he's feeling overwhelmed."

Chip nods, his eyes
focused on her. "But what
about him getting upset?"
he asks, his voice filled with
concern. "How do I know
when he's about t---"

"Chip," Karen says, cutting
him off gently. "When he gets
upset, his antennae might flare
out, or he might rock back
and forth. It's his way of
self-soothing."

Chip's eyes are wide with
realization. "So, when he
does that, I should...?"

"Give him space," Karen
interrupts. "Just let him know
you're there without overwhelming
his senses."

Chip nods, trying to
memorize every detail. 

new do you trust me chip plankton 4

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new chip plankton code page 437 chip

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new chip plankton Chip Plankton II chip

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new chip plankton Chip Plankton II chip

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             ░█░░▒▒░▒▓▒    ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒           ▓▓▓▒                 
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          ░█▒▒▒░▒░░▓▒      █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▓▒░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▓█░                              
           ▓▓▓█▓▓███░     ░█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒                              
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new code page 437 chip plankton chip

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new code page 437 chip plankton chip

Here are some idioms that use the word "chip":

Chip on your shoulder
An informal expression that means someone feels inferior or believes they've been treated unfairly. For example, "You will never make friends if you go around with a chip on your shoulder". 
 
Chip off the old block
A person who resembles one parent in appearance or behavior. For example, "His son is just a chip off the old block". 
 
Chip in
To contribute money, time, or advice to a cause or fund. For example, "Every member of the team chipped in to help pay for the coach's surgery". 
 
Cash in your chips
To sell something, such as investments, to raise money. It can also be used as slang to mean to die. 
 
Bargaining chip
Something that can be used to gain an advantage when trying to make a deal or an agreement. For example, "The workers used the threat of a strike as a bargaining chip in their negotiations". 
 
Blue chip
A term that comes from poker, where chips used in gambling have different colors to represent different dollar amounts. A blue chip is typically the one with the highest value. 
 
call in (one's) chipscall in your chipscash (one's) chips incash incash in (one's) chipscash in chipscash in one's chipscash in your chipscheap as chipschipchip (away) at (something)chip and dipchip atchip awaychip buttychip inchip in for (something)chip in on (something)chip in with (something)chip in with (something) for (something)chip offchip off the old blockchip off the old block, achip on one's shoulderchip on one's shoulder, to have achip on shoulderchip shotchip upchipschips and dipchips are down, thechips with everythingcow chipcow chipsget a chip on (one's) shoulderhand in (one's) chipshas had its chipshave a chip on (one's) shoulderhave a chip on your shoulderhave had (one's) chipshave had your chipsin the chipsin the moneylet the chips fall (where they may)let the chips fall where they maymint chocolate chippass in (one's) chipspiss on (someone's) chipsput a chip on (one's) shoulderput all (of) (one's) chips on the tablespit chipsthe chips are downwhen the chips are down

"All that and a bag of chips"---this phrase is usually a slam against someone who is conceited or arrogant. Perhaps the phrase originates in the concept of completeness; a meal complete with a "bag of chips".Aug 11, 2014

new chipcore studycore chip

💜💚✨plankton x karen✨💚💜

new planktonkin plankaren plankkaren karen plankton

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⠀⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⡤⠤⠤⠶⠶⠒⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣧⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣻⡇⠀⠀⠺⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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new chip fpe cute chip fpe dot art text art ascii art

CHIP AND FAIL xiv
(Autistic author)

Karen opened the 
door. Plankton's sobs filled
the room. She
approached him slowly, 
her movements careful not
to startle him.

"Plankton?" she whispered,
her voice gentle. He was curled
up on the bed, his antennae
shaking with each gasp.

His single eye 
looked up at her.
"I'm sorry," he 
choked out.

Karen sat
beside him, her hand 
on his back in a comforting
motion. "You have nothing to
apologize for," she 
murmured, her voice soothing.
"It's Chip who needs to
understand."

Plankton's antennae stopped
shaking, his eye focusing on
her. "Why doesn't he get it?"
he whispered.
"Why can't he see..."

"Chip loves you," she said.
"But he's never had to deal with
this before. He's trying to
understand."

Plankton's antennae quivered.
He knew she was right, but the
pain of his son's ignorance...

The door creaked open, and Chip's
face appeared, his eyes red and
swollen. "Dad," he began. "Can we talk?"

Plankton felt a wave of anger
crash over him. How could he
forgive his son for not
understanding? For not seeing
the struggle he faced every
single day? "What
do you want, Chip?" he snapped.

Chip took a tentative step into
the room, his screen on Karen.
"I just...I didn't know," he
mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae shot up. "How
could you not know?" he snarled.
"How could you be so ignorant?"

Chip took a step back. "I didn't mean to
make it worse," he said, his voice
shaking. "I just wanted to be
close to you Dad, and have you..."

Plankton's antennae trembled with
frustration. "You think I don't
want that?" he spat. "You think I enjoy
being like this?"

Chip's eyes widened. "No, Dad," he
said quickly. "I just want to help
you show..."

But Plankton was drowning in
anger. "You think you can help?"
he sneered. "You think your
naive attempts at bonding
can fix what's broken?"

Chip felt the sting of his father's
words. "Dad, I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
still. "Get out," he said, his voice
cold. "Just leave me alone."

Chip's eyes filled with tears. He had
never heard such hostility from his
father. "Dad," he pleaded. "I'm
trying..."

"I WON'T HAVE YOU PITY ME!
I've lived with this my whole life, 
and you think you can just waltz 
in and 'help'? WELL, YOU CAN'T!"
Plankton hissed. Karen can tell
he's getting overwhelmed.

With a gentle but firm tone,
Karen stepped between Chip and
Plankton. "Both of you, stop,"
she said. "This isn't helping."
Her eyes met Chip's and then Plankton's.

"Chip, your father is not mad at
you, he's just overwhelmed," Karen
explained.
"And Plankton, your son is just trying
to understand."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xiv

ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᴾᵁ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ @ALYJACI
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ
ʷᵉˡˡ ᵃˢ ᵖᵉᵗ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ
ʰᵉʳ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ
ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ‧
"ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ!" @ALYJACI

new spongebob fanfic karen plankton birthdaycore Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton Short & Sweet short but sweet Random & Short plaren happy birthday to cpu

ᵂᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᴾʳᵃⁿᵏ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
"ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ʰᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᵘˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒʸˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ!" ᵀʰᵉ
ᴳᵃˡ ᴾᵃˡˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ
ᵖᵃʳᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ!" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ?" ᵀʰᵉʸ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁿᶜʰᵒʳ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉᵈ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧ "ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ‧‧‧" ᔆʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ "ᴼʰ ʰᵉʸ ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ!" "ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗ!" "ᴴᵘʰ?" 
"ᴬᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ! ᴵ'ᵐ
ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃˡ ᵖᵃˡˢ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏᵉᵈ!" ᵀʰᵉʸ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᴼʰ!"
"ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᴮʳᵃⁿ ᶠˡᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃᵗʰ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ‧‧‧" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳ
ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱᵃˡ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ‧ "ᴰⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ ᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵐᵉʷᵒʳᵏ?" "ᴵ
ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃⁿʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ˢᵃⁱᵈ
ʰᵃⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵇⁱᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵉ
ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ
ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᔆʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ʷᵉ ᵖˡᵃⁿ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ᵒᶠ ʷⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ? ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ
ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ'ᵈ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳ!"
ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵒ
ᵗʳᵘˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ
ᵃ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ?" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᶜᵘᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ
ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧"
"ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰⁱᵐ ʳᵉᵃˡ ʷᵉˡˡ⸴ ᵉˣᶜᵉᵖᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵈᵒᵉˢ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ‧" "ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵉ
ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ?" ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ‧‧‧" "ᔆˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ "ᴵ ᵖᵉᵉᵏᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐʸ ˢᵉⁿˢᵒʳˢ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘᵖ⁻
ᔆᵗᵃⁱʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵒ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ˢᵉᵉ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ?"
"ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵃˡᵉⁿᵈᵃʳˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ
ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ⁱⁿ!" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧
"ᵂᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵈ ˢᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵒⁿ!" "ᴺᵒᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉⁿ!"
"ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡᵉⁿᵈᵃʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵈᵃʸ!" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ
ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ! ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏˢ ᵈᵒʷⁿˢᵗᵃⁱʳˢ⸴ ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ; ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵈᵒ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ
ˡⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵈᵉˢⁱᵍⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵃˢᵏˢ‧ ᔆᵒ ˢᵃⁿᵈʸ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ‧ ᔆˡᵒʷˡʸ ᵖᵘˢʰⁱⁿᵍ
ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵉˢ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ 
ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᶜʳᵃʷˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ 
ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉ⸴ ˢᵗⁱᶠˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘʳᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶠⁱˣⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ
ˢᵉᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ'ˢ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ⁻
ˢᵗᵃⁱʳˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵘʳ ᵍᵃʳᵃᵍᵉ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧
"ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʳᵃᵖ ᵗʰᵉᵐ!" "ᴴᵒʷ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵉ
ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵉʳᵉ?" "ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʷᵉ ˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒˡⁱᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ˢᵒⁿᵍˢ ˡᵒᵘᵈ
ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵉˣᵗᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᵈᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏ! ᴵ ᵐᵃʸ
ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵗᵉˣᵗᵉᵈ ᴮʳᵃⁿ ᶠˡᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢ‧‧‧" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ‧
"ᔆᵃⁿᵗᵃ ᔆᵃⁿᵗᵃ'ˢ ʰᵃˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʲᵒˡˡʸ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ
ᵘᵖ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ
ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵃᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰᵃᵗˢ 
ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷᵉᵃᵗᵉʳˢ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵘᵖ; ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵒᵘʳ ᵍⁱᶠᵗˢ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ? ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵒᵘʳ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ
ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵐᵉ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ⸴ ᵘⁿʷʳᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳˢ ˡᵃᵇᵉˡˢ 'ᵗᵒ ᵏᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ
ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ' ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ‧ "ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ⸴ ʰᵒʷ'ᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵃ ⁿᵉʷ
ᵛᵃᶜᵘᵘᵐ?" "ᴼʰ⸴ ᴮʳᵃⁿ; ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵐᵉˢˢ!" "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵖˢ 
ˢʸˢᵗᵉᵐ!" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᴹˢ‧ ᴾᵘᶠᶠ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶠʳᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ
ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ˢᵉᵗ ᵃˢ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ‧
"ᴵᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ; ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ʷʰʸ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵐʸ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ‧‧‧"
"ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵘⁿʷʳᵃᵖ ʰⁱˢ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵃⁿᵗᵃ ᔆᵃⁿᵗᵃ'ˢ ʰᵃˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʲᵒˡˡʸ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ 
ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ
ˡᵃᵇᵉˡ 'ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵏʳᵃᵇˢ' ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ
ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᵁⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢˡᵒᵈᵍᵉ ᵗʰᵉ
ˡⁱᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵐᵃˢʰᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴱˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈˡʸ ᵘⁿᶠᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ
ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ⸴ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ 'ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏᵉᵈ' ᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ
ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵘⁿᵛᵉⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷˢ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵃʳᵏ
ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵘᵐⁱˡⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳⁱᵖˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒˡˡ
ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ‧ "ᔆᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ
ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ‧‧‧" ᴮʳᵃⁿ ᶠˡᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃˡ ᵖᵃˡˢ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ⸴ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ?" "ᴴᵃʳᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ‧‧‧" ᔆʰᵉ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗˢ
ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʳᵉᵛᵉʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ‧
"ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ 
"ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ⸴ ʷᵉ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵍᵃˡ ᵖᵃˡˢ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᵇᵘᵈ‧‧‧"
"ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ?" ᴴᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˡᵃˢʰ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵐᵃᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ
ˢᵗᵃʸ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ʷᵒʳᵈ‧‧‧ "ᴵ ⁱⁿᵛⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ
ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ?" "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ᶜᵃˡˡ ⁱᵗ ᵃ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ
ᵍᵃˡ ᵖᵃˡˢ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵍᵃˡ ᵖᵃˡˢ‧ "ᵂᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ
ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘⁿ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ?" "ʸᵉˢ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ; ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ˢᵘʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈ 'ˡᵒᵛᵉ' ⁱⁿ
ᵃ ˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ˢʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ
ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷᵃʸ‧‧‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ; ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ‧‧"
ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵘᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᔆˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧"

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can we all just come together and be besties... plz.... ☹☹😞😞

new besties hold hands come together st4aars unite assemble

W ired
I ntegrated
F emale
E lectroencephalograph

Любимая жена!

new karencore karenism karen plankton wife

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.ೃ࿐ 𝚃𝚠: 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉ ʳᵉᵗʳᵉᵃᵗ; ᵃ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳⁱᵏᵉ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧
"ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ 
ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴵ
ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ; ʷᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ˢᶜᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵃˡ ᵈᵃᵐᵃᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ʷᵉᵃᵏⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ˢᵒ
ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵐᵉ ᵉˣᶜᵉᵖᵗ ᶠᵒʳ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ
ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ? ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ; ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘˢᵉᵈ
ˢʸᵐᵖᵃᵗʰʸ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ!" ᴹʳ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜʳʸ‧
"ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ!" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜʰⁱᶜᵏᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶠˡʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵗʰᵘᵈ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ
ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ
ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗʳᵃᶜᵏˢ; ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ
ᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵏⁿᵉˡᵗ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ‧
"ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᴴᵉ ᵇᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʷᵃˢ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵗʰ‧ "ᴼʰ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵒᵇᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴹʳ‧ 
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ ˢʰᵃˡˡᵒʷ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵈᵉˢᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵃᵇᵇᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃ
ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢᵐᵉˡˡ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘᵖ?" ᴺᵒ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗˢᵒᵉᵛᵉʳ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ
ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉˡˡᵒ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉˡᵖ ⁱˢ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ‧"
"ᴰⁱᵈ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʳⁱˢᵏ ᵇʳᵃⁱⁿ ᵈᵃᵐᵃᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢᵗʰᵐᵃ?"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ
ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃˢᵗʰᵐᵃ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧‧‧"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒⁿˡʸ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵉ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ; ᴵ'ᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵘⁿᵈᵒ
ʷʰᵃᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒⁿⁿⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ⸴ ᵖˡᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳˢᵗ
ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᵐᵖᵃᵗʰʸ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ⁱⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ
ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃⁿⁿᵒᵘⁿᶜᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵇᵃʷˡᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ
ᶜʰⁱᶜᵏᵉⁿ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ
ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳʳʸ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ˡᵒᵒᵏ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ʷᵃᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ
ˢᶜᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ˢᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ?" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᶜᵒᵐᵃ‧‧‧"
ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜᵃⁿˢ
ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵃ‧ "ᴴⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉᵃᵏᵉʳ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ
ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᑫᵘⁱᵖᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏ
ⁱⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ
ʷᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ˢᵖˡⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢʰⁱᵖ‧
"ᴬˢˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʰᵉ'ˡˡ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒ
ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ
ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ'ˢ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᶠᵘʳᵗʰᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ‧
ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ
ʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ
ᵇˡᵃᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵒᵘˢˡʸ ᵗᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵘⁿᵃʷᵃʳᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵐⁱˢˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ⸴ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ
ᵐʸ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵘᵐᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴮᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵈʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ
ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁿᵃᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃʷᵏʷᵃʳᵈˡʸ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ‧ "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ
ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗᵃʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜʳʸ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵒᶠ
ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵃⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵒ
ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ
ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ˢʰᵒʷⁿ ᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵉᵉʳˢ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʲᵒᵇ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧" ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡⁱⁿᵍ
ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᔆʰᵒʷ 'ᵉᵐ ʷʰᵒ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ‧‧‧" ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ʷᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ
ⁱⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐʸ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧"
ᵀʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵈᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ
ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶠᵃʳᵃʷᵃʸ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ
ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ⁿᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ
ˡⁱᵐᵇᵒˡⁱᵏᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ⸴ ᵉʸᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢʰᵘᵗ‧
ᵀʰᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵃʳᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ
ˡⁱᵏᵉ 'ˢᵒʳʳʸ' ᵃⁿᵈ 'ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ' ᵃⁿᵈ 'ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ' ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵖᵒᵏᵉ
ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵗᵒʳᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵃ
ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ʳᵉᵛⁱᵛᵃˡ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃˢ
ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵉᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ
ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ; ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᑫᵘⁱᵖᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ
ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵐᵉ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵃⁿᵗ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ
ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧
"ᴬᵘ‧‧‧" ᔆⁱᵍʰᵗ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ʳᵉᵍⁱˢᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧
"ᵂʰᵃᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ‧‧‧" ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ˢᵐⁱˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴⁱ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ
ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˡʸ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ
ˢᵃʸ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ?" ᴬˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ
ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵘᵍᵍˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ‧
"ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵍʳᵒᵍᵍʸ‧
ᴹᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ
ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᶜʰⁱᶜᵏᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒʳ ʰᵒʷ
ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵃʳʳᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ "ᶜʰⁱᶜᵏᵉⁿ" ᵗᵒ
ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ
ᶠᵒʳᵐᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧ "ᴵ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧"

new plabscore plabsen planktkarrabs comacore frenemiescore karen plankton worst enemy

ᴬˢᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
"ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ⁱⁿ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴺᵒ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ
ᵃʳᵉ ᵐⁱˢᵉʳᵃᵇˡᵉ! ᴮᵉᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵒʳ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ'ᵐ
ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ
ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵃᵈˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ
ᵗᵒ ˢᵒᶜⁱᵃˡⁱˢᵉ‧ 'ᵂʰᵒ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ
ᵐⁱⁿᵉ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ‧ 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵉ
ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉᵃᵐʷᵒʳᵏ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ
ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁱⁿᵈⁿᵉˢˢ ᵉʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧
"ᴴᵒᵐᵐⁱⁿᵃ—ʷᵃʰ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ
ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᵇᵒⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ
ᶜˡᵒˢᵉˢᵗ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ ᵒᶠ
ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ˢᶜᵘˡᵖᵗ!" ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵗ
ˢᵘᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒʳ ˢᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳʸ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ
ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜⁱᵃˡ
ᵈᵉᵗᵃⁱˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃⁿᵈˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃˢᵉ‧ "ᴰᵉᵃˡ!"
"ᔆᵒ ʷᵉ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵃ ᵈᵒᶻᵉⁿ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵖᵉʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ 
ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ‧‧‧" 
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵏⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ'ˢ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ‧ 
"ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᵒʳ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ
ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ ᵈʳʸⁱⁿᵍ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈ
ʷᵃʳᵈ ᵖᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ ˢᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ
ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ʷᵉ
ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ˢᵒ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ?" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ
ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵖᵃᶜᵉᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵉˣᑫᵘⁱˢⁱᵗᵉ
ᵃʳᵗ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁿ!" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ
ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʳʸ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᴵ'ᵈ ʷᵃˢᵗᵉ ᵐʸ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ᵒⁿ
ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃᶜᶜᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ᵃᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ "ᴼʰ ʷᵃⁱᵗ
ʷᵉ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ⁿᵒʷ! ᔆᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ‧‧"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ‧
"ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵒʸˢ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ
ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ 'ᴹʸ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈ
ʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ' ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈˡʸ‧
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ'ˢ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ‧
"ᵀⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʷⁱᵗᶜʰ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃˢᵉ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵃˢ ʰⁱ ˢᵒᶠᵗ 
ˢⁿᵘᶠᶠˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ‧ 'ᴺᵒʷ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᴵ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʲᵒᵇ' ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧
"ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ 
ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵇᵉᵍʳᵘᵈᵍⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ
ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢˡʸ ᵃˢ
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ
ʳᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵉʸᵉᵇʳᵒʷ
ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ‧ "ᵁᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵗᵒᵐ‧‧"
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᴴᵐᵐᵐ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᴳᴱᵀ͏ ᵁᴾ!"
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ
ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘᵖ‧
"ᵂʰᵃ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐʸ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ!" 
"ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵒ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏ
ᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᶻᶻⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ˢᵘᵇˢⁱᵈᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒ
ᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵐʸ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵉⁿᵈ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐˢ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧
"ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵖˡⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᴵ'ᵈ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵗ
ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᵃ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ
ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ
ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍˡᵃᵈ; ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ
ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉˢᵗ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗᵉᵈ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ ᵖᵃᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ‧
"ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵈʳʸ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵈʳʸ‧ "ᴬˡˡ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ!"
ᴴᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴺᵒ ᵈᵃᵐᵃᵍᵉ ᵃˢ ᶠᵃʳ ᵃˢ ᴵ 
ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ‧‧" "ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ!"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗᵉˣᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧ "ᴵ
ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ!" ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵒᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ
ᵍˡᵉᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉʰᵒʷ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ 'ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵒ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡˡ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ
ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ
ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ
ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ⁱᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃⁿᵗ‧ 'ᴵᶠ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒ
ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵉᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ‧
ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʳᵘⁿ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ
ˢᵗᵃᵗᵘᵉ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵒᵘⁿᶜᵉᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ
ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ⁱᵐᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ; ⁱᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵈʳʸ!"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ
ᵃˢ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵗˢ‧ "ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ
ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ!" "ᴼʰ; ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᵇᵉˢᵗ
ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ! ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡ
ʸᵒᵘ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ?" "ᴵᶠ ᴵ ˢᵃʸ ʸᵉˢ⸴ ʷⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ ᵐᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ?" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ
ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᔆᑫᵘᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʲᵒʸ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ
ᵗᵒ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ!"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ
ʷᵉˡˡ ᵘᵖ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ; ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ
ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᶜʳʸ‧ 'ᴵ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ
ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ‧
ᴴᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ˢᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ˢᵒ
ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗⁿ’ᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉ‧ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ
ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˡˡ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃ ᵗʳᵉᵉ‧
"ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ
ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁿᵉᵉˢ
ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳˢ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ
ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵃᶜʰ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ
ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳˡʸ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ⁿᵒʳ ᵃˢᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵛᵉʳ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ
ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵒ‽" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ
ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ?" "ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵒ ᵍˡᵃᵈ
ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉᵃ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵇʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ!"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜʳʸ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉˢᵗ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ 
ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵖᵒˡⁱᵗᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ
ᵗᵒˡᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ
ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ
ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵃʳᵍᵘⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ
ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉᵈ! ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵏᵉ
ᵐʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃⁿʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵇᵉ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒ!"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ
ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃᵐ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ⁱʳʳⁱᵗᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ‧
ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃʳᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ
ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ⁱᵗ?" "ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ‧‧‧"

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ᴵⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵐˢ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
‘ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ! ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ
ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵛᵒᵘʳⁱᵗᵉ!’ ᴴᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ‧ ‘ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗⁱᵉˢ!’ ‘ᵀᵒ
ᵘˢ‧‧’ ‘ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?’ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ’ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ
ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵃ ᵗᵃᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!” ᴴᵉ ˢⁿᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ
ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ, ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ’ˢ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ
ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ
ᵗʳᵘᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ, ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ
ʷᵃᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱᵉˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ
ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ‧ “ᴶᵘˢᵗ
ᵍᵉᵗ…” “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᴵ’ᵐ ᵘᵖ!” ᴴᵉ
ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ ‘ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ʷʰᵒ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ
ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᵃˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢʰⁱᵖ’
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵈˡᵉˢˢˡʸ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ
ᵖˡᵃⁿ ᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐᵒᵗⁱᵛᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ! ᴴᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʲᵒᵇ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳⁱˡˡ‧ “ᵂᵉ
ᵃʳᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᵐ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧‧” ˢⁱⁿᵍˢ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ, ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧
‘ᴳᵉᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢᵏ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ! ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ
ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ’
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴷⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ
ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ
ᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʳⁱˢᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ
ᵗᵒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ “ᴴᵉʸ, ᵏⁱᵈ…”
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ 
“ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ…” “ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡ
ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ, ˢⁱˡˡʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!”
“ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ…” ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ 
ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ‧ “ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ⁱᵗ’ˢ 
ʸᵒᵘ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ
ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ!” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧
“ᴵ…” “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ 
ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ; ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ!” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵖᵃᵗᵘˡᵃ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ
ᵃˢ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ʷᵃʸ‧ “ᴼʰ
ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈ…” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ
ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ˡᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ⁿᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ
ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ⁿᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ
ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵃᵗ ʳᵉˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ
ˢᶜᵉⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧
ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿ
ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ; ʸᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ
ˢᵗⁱᶠˡⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳˢ ᵃᵗ ‘ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ
ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ’ ʳⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ
ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ’ˢ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ
ʳⁱˢᵏˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵃˢ
ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ‧
ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ, ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ
ᶠᵒⁱˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ
ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵈ ˢᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧
ᴺᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ 
ᵗᵒ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃʷᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ
ᵏⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᵂⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢⁱᵍʰ ʰᵉ’ᵈ
ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ‧ ᶠᵒʳ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ‧
ᴬᵗ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᴼʰ
ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ…” ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ
ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ, ʷʰᵃᵗ…”
ᔆʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢᵃʸˢ
‘ᴵ ʰⁱᵗ ʳᵒᶜᵏ ᵇᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᵈᵒ
ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ
ᵇᵉˢᵗ‧ ᴺᵒ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ
ᵇʸ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ; ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’
ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ‧ “ᴴᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ
ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʸᵉᵗ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ! ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ
ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ?” “ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵒ
ˢᵒʳʳʸ; ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧‧” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ 
ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ’ˢ
ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ʰᵉ
ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ‘ᵂᵃⁱᵗ, ʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ
ʳᵒᶜᵏ ᵇᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ…’ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ 
ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘˢ ˢᵗᵒᵖ‧
ᴿᵒᶜᵏ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ’ˢ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿˢᵉᵗᵗˡⁱⁿᵍ
ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ, ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵉʷ‧
ᴴᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵒ
ᵇᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ, ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵒᶠᵗ
ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ˢᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ᴼʰ,
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧” ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ
ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᵛᵉʳ, ʰⁱˢ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ
ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ʳᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᶠᵒʳᵗʰ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ “ᴵ’ᵐ 
ˢᵒʳʳʸ!” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵃⁿ
ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ
ʷᵃˢ ᵇᵘˢʸ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱˢⁿ’ᵗ ᵃⁿʸ
ᵉˣᶜᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ
ᵐᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ; ᵒ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ!” “ᴵ
ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ…” “ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ
ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ‧ ᴵ’ᵈ 
ʳᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ
ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿʸ
ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᵂᵉ
ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ; ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧”
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵈᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ
ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ⁱⁿ
ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʳᵉˡᵃˣᵉᵈ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈʳᵒʷˢʸ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ʰᵉˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘˢ ʳⁱᵈᵉ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ
ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ
ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ
ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒʷ
ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧

new dreamycore sleepycore sleepicore karen plankton squidbob in your dreams

~ uH oH
 mY oNeS aNd ZeRoS look Like

TEN. TEN. TEN. TEN. TEN. TEN.

new karen plankton spongeblog viruscore viruskin

   ☆   𝓝𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 
𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 
𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓮 𝓮𝓰𝓸.  ☆

new ☆ tumblrcore girlblog karen plankton typography glyph

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new Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Chip Plankton II chip

ᴳᵉᵗ ᔆˡᵉᵉᵖʸ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
“…ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ…” ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ⁿᵒʷ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧
ᔆᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᵐᵃˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ, ʰᵘᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ
ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵗᵘⁿᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡ ⁱᵗ
ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ
ˢⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ‧ “ᴳᵒᵒᵈ
ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧” 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟓𝟎 𝐬𝐞𝐜.

new get sleepy karen plankton Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton POV Karen Karen (SpongeBob) random & short sleep & naps falling asleep in someone's lap seeking comfort sheldon j. plankton

ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿˢ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵇᵉᵈ
ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ‧
"ᔆᵒʳʳʸ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ˢⁿᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ
ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ʰᵉʳ‧
ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘⁿʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ
ʳᵃⁱˢᵉ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳˡʸ ᵒᵘᵗʷᵃʳᵈˡʸ
ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ
ᵒʳ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ
ⁱⁿ ᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ‧ ᴱᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ
ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁿᵉʷ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ
ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ‧
"ᴵ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ
ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ
ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ‧ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ
ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ ᵃᵐ
ˢᵘʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵉˢᵗ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧
"ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ; ᴵ ˡ⁻ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧"
"ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ʷᵉ
ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᵘᵍʰᵗᵗᵃ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ‧‧‧
ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ʰⁱᵐ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ
ⁿᵒʷ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ
ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ
ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵐᵒˢᵗ
ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ
ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ‧
ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ
ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵍᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ
ᵘᵖ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ; ᵃ ᵇᵉⁿᵈʸ
ˢᵗʳᵃʷ ⁱⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ
ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉⁿ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ⁿᵒʷ 
ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ‧‧" 
ᔆʰᵉ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ⸴ ʰᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ 
ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉᶠᵘˡⁿᵉˢˢ‧ 
╰ ✧ ･ﾟ∙ ∗ — ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⟨ 2 4 8

new karen plankton Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton POV Karen Random & Short falling asleep touch averse character the planktons

ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵃᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵈᵃʸ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᴵ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴹʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉˡʸ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ
ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᵍᵒᵃˡ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᵒᵘᵗ
ᵒᶠ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ‧ ᴵ ᶠⁱˣ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ
ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ‧ ᴵ ᵒᵛᵉʳ
ˡᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇⁱᵍ ᵒʳ
ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ‧ ᔆᵒ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᶠᶠ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ
ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʷᵉ ᵇⁱᶜᵏᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵒʳ ᴵ
ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳᶜⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗᵈᵒᵒʳˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ˡᵘⁿᶜʰ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵘⁿᶜʰ ʳᵘˢʰ ᵃᵗ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ
ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡˢ ᵃᵗ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ʰᵉ
ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ‧ "ᵀᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ" ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵃʳᶜᵃˢᵗⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ‧
ᴮᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘˢʰ ⁱᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵃ
ᵐⁱˢᵉʳᵃᵇˡᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶜʳᵘˢʰᵉᵈ‧ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ
ˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵒʷⁿ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ
ᵐᵃʸ ᵍᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐʸ ᵍᵃˡ ᵖᵃˡˢ‧ ᴼᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵃᵗˢ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ
ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ‧
ᵂʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗˢ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ
ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵘᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ ᴵᶠ ᴵ'ᵐ ˡᵘᶜᵏʸ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ʰᵘᵍ ᵒʳ
ᵏⁱˢˢ ⁱᶠ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ
ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴰᵉᵖᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʰᵒʷ
ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ʷᵃˢ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ʰⁱᵐ ˡⁱᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧
ᴵ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ
ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳⁱˡᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ
ˢᵒᶠᵗˡʸ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵒʷ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴬˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ 
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ
ᵘᵖ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ 
ᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜᵃˡᵐˡʸ ⁱⁿ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˡᵃˣ ʰⁱᵐ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ
ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ʳᵘᵈᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ
ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˢᵒᶠᵗⁱᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʷᵃʸ; ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵈᵃʸ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʷᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧

new karen plankton bikinibottomcore daycore karen

ᴳᵉᵗ ᵁᵖ  𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟏 𝐦𝐢𝐧.
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ
ᵘᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᵃᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ
ⁿᵒʷ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ
ˢʰᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ
ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵘᵈᵍᵉ⸴ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃʲᵃʳ‧
"ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉ
ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ‧ ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᵏᵉ
ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒʳ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ʸᵒᵘ?" ᴺᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧
"ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ᶜᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉⁿ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ
ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ
ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ᵖᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵘᵗˢ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵒᶠᶠ ʰⁱᵐ‧
ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵃˡˡʸ
ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ⁱᵗ?"
"ᵀⁱᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵘˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ 

new Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton POV Karen Sleep & Naps sleeping sitting up karen plankton get up

ᔆⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᴼⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵖᵖˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵒᵏ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᔆᵉᶜᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᵍᵒᵗ ᶻⁱᵖ ˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵐᵉᶜʰᵃⁿⁱˢᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ˢˡⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ
ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵇᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ 
ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵖᵉ ˢᵗʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ
ʰᵉᵃᵈᶠⁱʳˢᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ
ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵇˡᵘʳʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵈᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ
ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ
ᵃˡˡ ᵘⁿᶠᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖˡᵉˢˢˡʸ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶠʳᵒᶻᵉ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵘˢ ʰⁱᵗ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ
ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧
ᴴⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ
ᵇᵉᵃᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˢʰᵒʷ
ᵐᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵉ
ᵃᶜᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃˢ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ
ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ
ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ
ᵗᵒ ˢᑫᵘᵉᵉᶻᵉ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ
ˢᵗʳᵉᵉᵗ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ
ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵗʳᵒᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ 
ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒᵗˢ ˡⁱᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉˢᵗ! "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ
ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧‧" ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵗᵉˣᵗᵉᵈ 'ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵗᵒ
ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ
ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˡᵉˢˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵃ' ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵉˣᵗᵉᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ᵈᵉˢᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰ ᵒʳ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵃᵈ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ
ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ
ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵒⁿ⸴ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ
ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ
ᵃʳᵐ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧ ᴹᵉᵃⁿʷʰⁱˡᵉ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃⁿᵈʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶜʰᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴺᵒᵗⁱᶠⁱᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᴵ'ᵈ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵐʸ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ! ᴼʰ
ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ʰᵉ‧‧‧" ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖˢ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ
ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ‧‧‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʰᵘʳᵗ‽ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧"
ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵏᵉᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶻⁱᵖ ˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ
ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˡʸ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ˡⁱᵐᵖ‧
"ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᶜᵃⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ?" ᔆʰᵉ
ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᵉˣᵃᵐⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴺᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ
ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ
ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳⁿᵒᵒⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᵃᵈ ʷᵃᵍ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵃⁱˡ‧
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵈʲᵃᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ
ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵖ‧
"ᴴᵉˡˡᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉˡʸ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵐᵖʳᵒᵛᵉ! ᵂᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧"
ᵀʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿ ʷᵃˢ 
ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵘᶠᶠˡᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧
"ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵈᵒᵖᵗᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧
ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ʸᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ⁿᵒʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ʸᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵃˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ
ᵉᵃᵍᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉˡⁱᵈ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ
ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ
ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ
ʷʰᵒᵐ ʷᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᶜᵒᵃˣᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ⁿᵘᵈᵍᵉ ʰⁱᵐ
ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗˡʸ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ
ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵗᵒ‧ ⱽⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ᵇˡᵘʳʳʸ
ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ˡⁱᶠᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ᴹᵐ‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧"
"ᵁᵒʸ⸴ ʷʰᵃ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧" ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ
ᵍʳᵒᵍᵍʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵍⁱˢᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ‧
"ᴼᵘ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘˡˡ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉ ˢʰᵃʳᵖᵉʳ‧
"ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ; ᵍᵃʰ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵈ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵂʰᵃ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ‽" ᴴᵉ'ᵈ
ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᶠᵘˡˡ ˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᶻⁱᵖ
ˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶠᵉˡˡ; ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ
ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧" ᴬⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴵᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵒ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ˢᵗʳᵒᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱᶻᶻʸ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ
ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ᵒᶠ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ‧
"ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆᵗᵃʸ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ
ⁿᵉᵉᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉˢᵗ⸴ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵐʸ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧

new bobplank karen plankton sandy squirrel comacore fallcore headinjuryposting concussioncore side by side

Fandom:
SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Relationship:
Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton
Characters:
Karen (SpongeBob)Sheldon J. Plankton
Language:
English


https://archiveofourown.org/works/53451349

My Tiny Genius
RibbonDee

Summary:

After a long day of once again trying and failing to steal the Krabby Patty Secret Formula, Plankton is feeling down in the dumps. It's up to Karen to cheer him up.

new planktonkin karencore karen plankton

ᔆᵃᶜʳⁱᶠⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ
⤥ 𝐂𝐖:𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝟎𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ pt. 1
⤥ 𝐂𝐖:𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝟎𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵃˢˢ
ʷᵃˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵖⁱᶜᵏˡᵉˢ! ᵂʰʸ
ˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖⁱᶜᵏˡᵉˢ? ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵖⁱᶜᵏˡᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ⸴ ᵇᵃᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵃˢ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵃˢˢ ᵗʰʳᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿᵉᵈ
ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ 
ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ‧ ᴾⁱᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵖᵏⁱⁿ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵉⁿˢᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵃˢˢ ʷᵃˢ
ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ‧ "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ!" ᴴᵉ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ!"
ᴬⁿᵍʳⁱˡʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵃˢˢ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵘⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵖᵏⁱⁿ
ᵈⁱˢᵖᵉⁿˢᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵘʳˡ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ
ⁿᵃᵖᵏⁱⁿ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵉⁿˢᵉʳ ʰⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ˢᵗʳⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᴴᵃʳᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ
ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ᵖᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧
ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵃˢˢ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˡʸ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵘˢʰᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ 'ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ' ˢⁱᵍⁿ‧
ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳⁿᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵉ ˢᵃᶠᵉ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵈᵃᵐᵖ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰ
ʳᵃᵍ ʷⁱᵖᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰ ᵒʳ
ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉˢᵗ‧ "ᴴᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉˡᵉˢˢ⸴ ˢᵖʳᵃʷˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧"
ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ
ᵈⁱᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉᵇʳᵒʷ ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ‧
"ᴴⁱ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᴬᵃᵃ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ
ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ˢʷⁱʳˡᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ
ˢᵗʳᵘᵍᵍˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵉʰᵉⁿᵈ‧ "ᵁⁿ‧‧‧"  "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˢⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ⁱᵗ‧
"ᴬʰᵘʰ⸴ ᵒʷ‧ ᵂʰᵃ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ˢˡᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵃᶠᵉ‧ ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ
ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ?" "ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵒⁿ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ
ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ‧ "ᴺᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ᶠᵃˢᵗ!" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵐᵖᵃᶜᵗ ᵒᶠ
ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ‧ "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵒ
ʰᵒᵐᵉ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ?" "ʸᵉˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ‧" 
ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ʷᵉˡˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧
"ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ?" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ
ⁱⁿ ᵐᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ‧ "ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵃˢˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ᴵ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ
ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵖᵏⁱⁿ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵉⁿˢᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ
ᵉⁿᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ
ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵃᵈ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵂᵉ'ᵛᵉ
ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵈᵃʸ ᶠᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˢᵗ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ
ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵗ‧ ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉ ʳᵒˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧
"ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᑫᵘᵉᵉᶻᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ʰᵃʳᵈ!" "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵒˡᵈ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ᴳᵒᵗᵗᵃ ˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵒʸ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ
ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵒᵐᵉ?" "ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧‧‧"
"ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ‧ "ᴼʰ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ
ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ!"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵃ‧ "ᴬ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳ
ʷᵃˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃʳᵐ ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ‧‧‧"
"ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ
ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ
ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ⁿᵃᵖᵏⁱⁿ ᵈⁱˢᵖᵉⁿˢᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵗᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ʳᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ
ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ‧ to be cont. Pt. 2

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ᔆⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᴼⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵖᵖˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵒᵏ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᔆᵉᶜᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᵍᵒᵗ ᶻⁱᵖˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵐᵉᶜʰᵃⁿⁱˢᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ˢˡⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ
ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵇᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ 
ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵖᵉ ˢᵗʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ
ʰᵉᵃᵈᶠⁱʳˢᵗ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᶜᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ
ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵃⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰⁱᵗ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ⸴ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ
ᵉʸᵉ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ
ᵃ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ‧ 
ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ
ʷᵃˢ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ 
ᴸⁱˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ᵈᵉˢᵖᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ 
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃⁿᵈ  ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ 
ᵃ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ᵗʳⁱᵖ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ 
ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵗʳᵒᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ 
ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ  ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒᵗˢ 
ˡⁱᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉˢᵗ! "ᴵ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ 
ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧‧" ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᵀʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ⸴ ʰᵉ 
ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ "ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵒʰ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ 
ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵒᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ 
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ 
ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵈʲᵃᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ‧
"ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧‧"
ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧
"ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ! ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿʸ
ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵘˢ!" ᴷⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᔆʰᵒʷ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵍⁿ‧‧‧" ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ
ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧
"ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵒᵒᵏˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ
ᵃ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ "ᴬ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁿᵘᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵖᵒʷᵉʳ‧‧" ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧
'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ? ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ‧‧' ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ 
ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ!"
ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ
ⁱᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃʳˡʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧
ᴾᵉᵗˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵐᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ
ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵃ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵘᵈᵍᵉ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉˡʸ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳʸ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ
ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᵈᵒ ᴵ‧ ᵂᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷᵉˡˡ‧ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵒ
ᵃᵐᵃᶻⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴺᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ
ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ 
ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ˢᵃⁱᵈ
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵘᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ
ʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ⁻ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵉ‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧
"ʸᵃᵒ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ; ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ‽" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᔆᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵈᵃᶻᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʷᵉᵃᵏ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ
ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧ "ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ ᵇʳᵘⁿᵍ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ!" ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵖˡᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧
"ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵘˢ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᴾᵃᵗ?" "ᔆᵘʳᵉ‧‧" ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉᵈ
ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒᵗ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵒᵍᵍʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ
ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧ ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ?"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ
ʷᵃˢ ᵈⁱˢᵒʳⁱᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ‧ "ᵀʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ'ˢ‧‧" "ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ
ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ
ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᴵ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ
ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ‧" "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ?" "ᴼᶠ
ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ! ᴺᵒʷ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ‧‧"
"ᴰᵒᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵖˡᵃʸ?" "ᵂᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗʳʸ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ'ˢ
ⁿᵉʷ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ!" "ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰʸ ʸᵒᵘ
ʰᵉˡᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ
ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ! ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ
ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ʸᵉᵗ ˢᵒ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ‧‧" "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵒˡˡ ᵈⁱᶜᵉ ᶠᵒʳ?"
"ᴳᵒ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˢˢᵉᵈ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵈⁱᶜᵉ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈⁱᶜᵉ ᵘⁿⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʰⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵍᵒᵗ ᵈᵃᶻᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ "ᵂᵃᵗᶜʰ ⁱᵗ!" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʷᵉᵃᵏˡʸ‧
"ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ
ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ⸴ ᶠʳᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧
"ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖ?" ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ
ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉˡᵖ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁿᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʰᵉ
ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ⸴ ᴾᵃᵗ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿ
ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ
ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ 
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵘᵖ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ
ⁱˢ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ!"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ! ᴼʰ ᴵ
ᵃᵐ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ
ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ
ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ‧‧" "ᴴⁱ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ;
ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ!" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ
ᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ?" "ᴵ ˢᵘʳᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ!"

new readingcore fallcore faintcore faintingcore patricktonbob plankrick planktrick planktrickbob patbob headinjuryposting karen plankton plankbob side by side

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 5

Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous

https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all

Read the Autism And All one first!


Karen sits on the bed, her
presence a comforting
weight. "Would you like
me to stay?" she asks, her
voice gentle. Plankton nods, his
body still tight with pain.
He closes his eye, his mind
racing with the discomfort.
He tries to focus on his
breath, in and out, in and out.
But the throb in his mouth
is a constant reminder
of agony that threatens 
to overwhelm.

Then, Plankton starts to
talk to himself to self-soothe.
"It's safe," he whispers.
"Can water's just fine."

Karen watches him,
knowing this is a way
of regaining control,
his mind trying to find
peace in order to rest.
She knows that the pain, the
sensory assault, the
confusion—it's all too much.
But she also knows that he
has the willpower to push through.

"Was do it" Plankton
whispers to himself.
"I told him but he didn't
listen," he murmurs, his
thoughts racing with the
memory of the fidget toy.
"It's my fault," he adds. "Not
my place to correct him, do
not touch." His words are
a jumble of regret and
frustration.

"It's okay," Plankton says
again. "The healing safe.
It's just a feeling." He repeats
this mantra, his breath
evening out. Karen can see the
tension in his shoulders
easing, his grip on the
ice pack loosening as his
body relaxes.

"You're doing great,"
Karen whispers. "Just rest."
And with that, Plankton's
body gives in to the call
of sleep, his breaths trailing
off into soft snores. Karen
watches her husband
with a mix of love
and sadness.

Chip lingers by the door,
his curiosity piqued. 
He wonders if
his dad's autism is the
reason behind it.

With tentative steps, Chip
enters the room. Karen takes
his hand in hers, and he follows
her out of the room and in
to the hallway.

"Mom," he starts, his voice
barely a whisper. "Why is Dad
autistic?" Karen looks
down at him, her expression
thoughtful.

"Well, Chip," she says, her voice
soft. "Your dad was born that
way." Chip nods. "But w---"

"Autism is something that
develops in the brain before
birth," Karen continues.
"It's like how some people are
right-handed and others are
left-handed. It's just how
his brain is wired." Chip looks
at her with a frown. "But why
did Dad...?" "Why did it happen?"
Karen finishes his question.
She takes a deep breath,
preparing to explain. "You see,
sometimes during pregnancy
or childbirth, something
small can change you. When
his mom was giving birth, his
brain might have gotten a little
squeezed and then not enough oxygen.
It's just the way his brain grew
because of that, that's all."
Chip nods slowly, trying to
understand. "So as dad was
being born..."

"Yes," Karen says, her voice
soothing. "His brain was forming
its connections, and that
little squeeze changed the way
his brain makes those connections.
It's like if you're building a
Lego castle and one piece gets
bent. It doesn't mean the castle
can't be amazing, it's just a
tiny part of it that's a bit
different." Chip looks up at
his mom, his eyes wide. "But
does that mean I could be like
Dad if I squ--"

"No, Chip," she says, cutting
off his words gently. "It's not
that simple. Autism is just
nothing you can catch or
change, and it's not something
you need to be afraid of."

Chip nods, his gaze still
fixed on her. "But why does
he get so upset sometimes?"
Karen sighs. "Because the
world can be a very overwhelming
place for him, Chip. His brain
picks up on every little thing—
sounds, smells, sights—it's all so
intense. And sometimes,
those things get too much, and
his brain can't keep up. It's like
when you're playing a video
game and the screen is flashing
too fast—it's hard to focus."

"But why does he get mad?"
Chip persists. Karen kneels down
to look him in the eye. "It's not
that he's mad, honey. It's just
his way of dealing with it.
Imagine if you had a headache
and someone was shining a
bright light in your face—you'd
want them to stop, right? It's like
that, but with anything."
Chip nods, understanding
dawning. "So, when the fidget
was making noise, it was like a
headache for Dad?" Karen smiles.
"Exactly. And when he tells
you something is too much,
it's not that he's upset with
you—it's his brain telling him
he needs a break."

Plankton's snores from the
bedroom remind them of the
present. "Let's let Dad rest,"
Karen says, steering Chip towards
his own room. "But what about
his teeth?" Chip asks, his voice
laced with worry. Karen's
smile is reassuring. "They'll
feel better soon, and we'll
have to be extra gentle with him.
No loud noises, no surprises.
Ok?" Chip nods.

In the quiet of the
living room, Karen and Chip
begin to set up a recovery
area for Plankton—a space
free from the chaos that
could easily overwhelm
his fragile state. They
gather his favorite pillows, a
soft blanket, and dim the lights.
Chip wants to make sure his
dad feels safe.

On the coffee table, they lay
out a tray with a glass of
water. Karen knows
that it's important not to 
startle Plankton, that he
might need help getting up
without disturbing his mouth.
"Let's go to see him." Karen
says.

As they enter the
bedroom, Plankton's snores
have subsided into a gentle
rhythm. Chip tiptoes over,
his eyes wide. He's seen
his dad tired before, but
this is different. He looks
smaller, somehow, more 
vulnerable. Gently, he touches
his dad's arm..

Plankton's eye snaps open,
his body jerking upright. The
movement sends a shock
of pain through his mouth. "Agh!"
he yelps, his hands shooting
up to clutch his cheeks.

Chip jumps back, his eyes
wide with alarm. "Dad!" He
says loudly. But now Plankton's
even more overwhelmed, and
Karen notices his somewhat
distant gaze.

"Chip, remember what we talked
about," Karen whispers. "Use a
quiet voice." Chip nods and
speaks more softly. "Dad, are you
ok?" Plankton blinks, his mind racing.

"Dad?" Chip tries again, his voice
barely a murmur. Plankton's
breath hitches. "It's me,
Chip! You're home. You had
surgery. Remembe---"

But Plankton's eye darts around
the room, his mind a
swirling vortex of pain and
disorientation as Chip talks
to fast. Karen
quickly moves to his side,
her touch grounding him. "It's ok,"
she whispers. "You're safe.
You're home." And then, he
starts to talk to himself.

"No...no...no...yes...yes...yes," 
he murmurs. Karen knows
that he's retreated due to
the overwhelm. It's happened
before, where he's seemingly
on autopilot.

"Water's okay, can't
talk right now," Plankton
whispers to the empty
space. His eye darts
back to Chip, then to the
ceiling. "No, no, no," he
says again, his voice
getting quieter.

Karen's heart aches,
seeing her husband
so lost in his own
head. She's seen this
before—his autism taking
control when the world
was too much to handle.
Chip however doesn't 
really understand.

"Dad?" Chip whispers,
his voice shaky. Plankton
doesn't respond, his
eye locked on the ceiling
fan spinning above them.

"It's ok," Karen says,
her voice a soft reminder.
"Sometimes his brain
is on backup." She strokes
his arm gently, knowing
his semiconscious state isn't
abnormal for him, as
Plankton's monologue
continues. "Need to 
count...one...two...
three..." His voice trails off.

Chip watches.
"Is he ok?" He asks,
his voice trembling. Karen
nods. "This is his way of
dealing with things,"
she whispers. "Let's just
give him some time."

Plankton's eye darts
between them, his mouth
forming words without
thought. "Red...blue...green,"
he says, as if naming
colors he's seeing in the
air. "Big...small...far...
near." Karen knows he's
not really seeing anything,
his mind a kaleidoscope of
sensory input that's difficult
to process.

"Why?" Plankton asks no
one in particular. "Will it
be the one? It's just a
feeling," he murmurs, trying
to convince himself. Karen
understands it's his brain's
attempt to organize the
overwhelming stimuli, but Chip
looks on with a mix of
concern and confusion.

"It's ok," Chip whispers,
his hand hovering over his
dad's. He wants to help,
but doesn't know how. Karen
smiles at him, nodding.
"You can talk to him,
buddy. Just keep it low."
Chip nods and sits
on the edge of the bed.

"Hey Dad," Chip says,
his voice barely above a
whisper. Plankton's eye
flips over to him, but he
doesn't seem to see him.
"It's me, Chip. We're here,"
Chip says, trying to
provide comfort.

new to change the world karen plankton chip

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new cute silly adorable chip dot art text art ascii art

"Honey, did you 
take out the trash?" 
Karen called out 
to the living room. 
The only reply was 
the distant sound 
of the TV playing 
a sitcom laugh track. 
She sighed.

Going into the 
living room, Karen 
found her husband, 
Plankton, sprawled 
out on the couch, 
snoring lightly.

The TV's blue light 
flickered over his face. She looked 
around the room, 
the piles of laundry, 
the dusty bookshelves, 
and the half-eaten 
sandwich on the 
coffee table. It was 
a mess, but she knew 
better than to wake him.

Plankton had been 
working long hours 
at the chum factory 
lately, trying to 
make ends meet. His 
snoring grew louder, 
and she felt a 
wave of affection 
mixed with concern.

Gently, she covered 
his legs with a blanket 
and bent to kiss 
his forehead.
He stirred slightly 
but didn't wake up.

In the kitchen, 
Karen grabbed a 
cup of coffee, 
the warmth and 
aroma grounding her 
for the evening ahead. 
The fridge hummed 
a low lullaby, 
reminding her of 
the chores left to do.

The sink was full 
of dirty dishes, 
remnants of dinner.
A pot with half-eaten 
chum congealed 
on the stovetop.

Karen rolled up 
her sleeves, 
determined to tackle 
the chaos. She knew 
Plankton was 
exhausted from work.

The clanking of 
pots and pans 
echoed through the 
tiny kitchen as she 
washed and sorted, 
her mind racing with 
thoughts of their future.

A knock at the door 
startled her. She dried 
her hands on a towel, 
leaving wet spots like 
tears on the fabric.

It was Hanna, her 
best friend since high 
school.

Karen had not seen 
Hanna in weeks, and 
the sight of her brought 
a smile. Hanna 
was a burst of energy.

"Hi, Karen! How's it 
going?" Hanna's voice 
was a mix of sweetness 
and the sharpness of 
someone who had seen 
too much of the world.

She scanned 
the room, taking 
in the clutter, the 
stale smell of 
overworked air, and 
Plankton's snoring.

"Hey, Hanna," Karen 
managed, her voice 
soft to not disturb 
his sleep. "It's been 
a bit hectic, but we're 
making do."

Hanna stepped in, 
eyeing the mess 
sympathetically. "Looks 
like you could use a 
hand," she said, already 
grabbing a dish towel.

Karen's smile grew.
"You read my mind. Thanks."

Hanna tossed the 
towel over her shoulder, 
ready to jump into 
the fray. "You know me,"
she said with a wink. "I've 
never been one to shy 
away from a mess."

The two of them worked 
side by side, the rhythm 
of their movements 
harmonizing as they 
cleared the kitchen. Karen
felt the tension in her 
shoulders begin to ease 
as Hanna filled the room 
with stories of her latest 
adventures, a welcome 
distraction from the 
monotony of chores.

As the last plate was 
put away, the fridge 
closed with a satisfying 
click, Karen leaned against 
the counter. Hanna looked 
at her.
"You've been carrying 
a lot, haven't you?" she 
asked, her voice gentle.

Karen nodded, her eyes 
welling up. "It's just 
that with Plankton's job, 
and the bills..."

Hanna pulled her into 
a tight hug. "I know, 
sweetie. You're doing 
the best you can."

They sat down in the 
living room, the clean 
kitchen a testament to 
their friendship's strength. 
Hanna's screen searched 
Karen's for 
a sign of the spark 
that used to be there.

"I can't remember 
the last time we 
went out together," 
Hanna said. "You two 
deserve a break."

Karen's screen lit up 
at the suggestion, but 
quickly dimmed. "We can't 
afford it," she said, 
sighing. "Not with the 
overtime Plankton's 
been doing."

Hanna leaned in, a 
mischievous glint in 
her eye. "Well, I might 
have a little surprise 
for you," she said.

Karen looked up, 
curiosity piqued. "What do 
you mean?"

Hanna pulled out a 
small envelope from 
her pocket and 
handed it to her friend. 
"A gift," she said with 
a sly smile. "A check
from my winning 
lottery ticket."

Karen's eyes widened 
as she opened the 
envelope. "Hanna, no!"
she protested. "You can't
just give us your 
winnings!"

Hanna's smile didn't 
waver. "I can, and I 
want to. You've been 
there for me through 
everything. It's about 
time I returned the favor.
Besides," she said with 
a wink, "what's a 
little chum between 
friends?"

Karen's hands trembled 
as she read the check.
It was more than enough 
to cover their rent and 
bills for several months. 
Tears slipped down 
her cheeks, and she 
hugged Hanna tightly. 
"Thank you," she whispered.

The weight of financial 
stress lifted slightly 
from her shoulders, 
replaced by a warmth 
that spread through 
her chest. For a moment, 
the world didn't seem 
so overwhelming.

Hanna pulled back, her 
own eyes shining with 
unshed tears. "Now, 
don't spend it all in one 
place," she teased.

Karen laughed, the 
sound small but genuine. 
"I won't," she promised, 
the check clutched in 
her hand. "We'll use it 
wisely."

The two of them sat 
quietly for a while, 
enjoying the rare moment 
of peace. The TV had 
switched to the news, 
and the low murmur of 
the anchor's voice filled 
the room. Plankton's 
snoring had become a 
comforting white noise.

Hanna looked at 
Plankton, her expression 
thoughtful. "You know, 
I've always admired 
the way you take care 
of him," she said. "It can't 
be easy."

Karen nodded, her 
thumb tracing the 
edges of the check. "It's 
not," she admitted. "But 
he's my Plankton. I love 
him, even when he's 
exhausting."

Her gaze drifted to 
the sleeping form of 
her husband. Plankton's 
snores grew more even, 
his face finally relaxed.
The lines of stress that 
usually pinched his 
features had smoothed 
out in sleep.

Karen knew that 
Plankton had always 
dreamed of more than 
his life at the chum 
factory could offer. 
He was a man of ambition, 
his spirit too large for 
the cramped quarters 
they called home.

Her thoughts turned 
to the gift from Hanna. 
The check represented 
more than just money; 
it was a beacon of hope 
that maybe, just maybe, 
they could finally start 
working towards those 
dreams.

new AI Story Generator Family & Friends Karen x Plankton karen plankton POV Karen hanna

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟓𝟕𝟎


“Plankton can you at least come
out and do the dishes?” Karen
says. Her husband Plankton has
been working at his desk, trying to
plan and scheme. She brought him
his meals for the past two days. He
stayed up all night!

“Honey?” No response. So
she decided to go check
on him. She goes to peek
through the door.

Plankton sat at his desk,
slumped over, fast asleep.

She saw his head nodded 
to the side, resting on his arm. A soft snore 
echoed in the silence. She noticed he was
drooling a bit from his open mouth
onto a stack of crumpled papers. Karen
approached him.

"Plankton," she cooed,
placing her hand on his shoulder.
He didn't budge.

Karen gently shook him,
but his snores grew louder. 
“C’mon, sweetie, time to wake
up.” She whispered, but his sleep
was unyielding.

With a gentle tug 
on the shoulder, 
she managed to
pull his body upright,
a line of drool
still connecting his
mouth to the paper.

"Come on, Plankton,"
she said more firmly,
this time her hand
on his cheek, her thumb
wiping away the drool,
head lolling backward
with a snort.

“Plankton, darling,
please come to bed. You
have been working so hard.
Let’s get some rest,”
she urged with a smile.
But Plankton was too
deeply asleep to hear
her soft voice. His eye
remained closed.

With a sigh, Karen
decided to get him up
out of this chair
herself.

She took his arm
and began to lift
his weight from the chair.
Plankton's body resisted,
his head falling to her side
with a dull thud.

Karen chuckled,
his snoring now
vibrating. She managed
to get him out of the chair.
"Just a few steps, love,"
she murmured, but
Plankton's snores grew
like a crescendo in an orchestra.
His limp body leaned into her
like a ragdoll with no bones.
She hoists him up on her shoulder,
his arm dangling loosely,
his snores growing rhythmic
like a lullaby in a cartoon.

The room was a mess,
papers scattered like
tiny white waves across
the ocean of their living room.
She stepped over them
carefully, not wanting to wake
his slumbering form.

His office chair screeched
as she pushed it aside
with her foot, the sound
like nails on a chalkboard
in the quiet of the night.

Plankton's arm slid off
Karen's shoulder. She giggled
nervously, his snoring
now a symphony of sounds.

She readjusted her grip,
his head lolling against
her. "Almost there,"
she whispered, her cheeks flushed
with a mix of love and exasperation.

The bedroom door creaked open
like the entrance to a secret
passage. Plankton's snores
were a gentle soundtrack to the
silent dance of her struggle.

The bed looked like a mountain
from here. She took a deep breath,
bracing herself for the climb. With
his arm slung over her neck,
his body limp, she began the ascent.

Step by step, she inched closer.
As she reached the bed,
he slipped again, this time
his head lolling back to hang
over the edge of the mattress.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she exclaimed,
his weight making her stumble.
With a laugh that was half exhaustion,
half endearment, she tugged him up
and laid him down gently.

Karen watched his chest
rise and fall in deep sleep.
The room was dimly lit by the moon,
his snores a soothing
white noise in the quiet.

new plaren karen plankton sleepicore 570

The evening in the quiet suburban street was punctuated by the rhythmic ticking of a lonely grandfather clock. In 
the corner of a small, meticulously organized study, Plankton sat hunched over his desk, the glow of her 
computer screen casting a pale blue hue across his furrowed brow. His eye, usually bright with the spark of a 
million ideas, was now bloodshot and weary, darting back and forth as he scanned the digital documents 
sprawled across his dual monitors.

Karen, his devoted wife, peered through the crack in the door, her concern etched on her face. She knew the 
signs of his insomnia all too well: the way his fingers danced erratically on the keyboard, his occasional sighs of 
frustration, and the jittery way he'd bounce his leg when he was stuck on a problem. She gently pushed the door 
open, the faint squeak alerting him to her presence. "Plankton, it's 2 AM. Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked 
softly, her voice carrying the gentle lilt of a concerned wife.

Plankton spun around in his chair, the sudden movement sending a wave of dizziness crashing over him. He 
rubbed his eye, trying to erase the fog of exhaustion. "Karen, I'm so close. This new invention could change 
everything. Just one more hour, I promise," he replied, his voice hopeful yet strained. She knew that tone, the one 
that meant he'd be up until dawn.

Karen stepped into the room, her form a stark contrast to the stark office decor. She approached 
him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've been at it for days," she said, her voice filled with a 
mix of concern and understanding. "Maybe a break is what you need."

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "I know you're right," Plankton admitted, his shoulders slumping in 
defeat. "But if I stop now, I might lose the thread of thought."

"You're always so driven," Karen said, with a warm affection that had only grown stronger over the years. "But 
even 'bad guys' need to rest."

With a weary smile, Plankton nodded, his gaze lingering on the screens before he reluctantly shut them down. 
The room plunged into darkness, save for the moon's soft glow filtering through the blinds. Karen guided him to 
the bedroom, her hand a gentle reassurance in the night. She knew the wheels in his mind were still turning, 
trying to piece together the elusive solution to his latest project.

Once in bed, Plankton lay on his back, his mind racing with possibilities and calculations. Karen, ever the 
nurturer, suggested a warm cup of tea to help him unwind. She disappeared into the kitchen. While she was 
gone, Plankton's eye remained open, staring at the ceiling. He 
felt the weight of his eyelid but sleep remained a distant shore, unreachable despite the gentle tug of fatigue.

Karen returned with a steaming cup of chamomile, the aroma wafting through the air like a whispered promise 
of slumber. She placed it on the nightstand and climbed into bed, curling up beside him. "Here, sip this," she 
urged, her voice soothing as a lullaby. "It'll help you relax."

Plankton took a tentative sip, the warm liquid coating his throat with a comforting warmth. He closed his eye, 
willing his brain to slow down, but the ideas continued to swirl like a tornado in a teacup. He could feel the heat 
radiating from Karen's screen, a gentle reminder of the connection that waited for him outside his labyrinth of 
thoughts.

Karen's hand found his, her thumb tracing small, soothing circles against his palm. "Breathe with me," she 
whispered. "In, out." Plankton followed her lead, their breaths synchronizing in the quiet of the night. The tension 
in his body began to uncoil, the storm in his mind gradually abating.

As they lay there, Karen studied his profile, the shadows playing across his face. She knew the look of 
determination that etched his features so well. "What's keeping you up?" she asked, her voice barely a murmur.

Plankton sighed, his grip on her hand tightening briefly. "It's the Krabby Patty formula," he confessed. "I can't 
crack it." His frustration was palpable, a silent scream in the serene night.

"You're still working on that?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of amazement and concern. The Krabby 
Patty, a secret recipe guarded by Mr. Krabs that could make or break their business.

"I have to," Plankton said, his voice low and serious.

Karen nodded, racing for a solution. "Why don't you tell me about it?" she suggested. "Sometimes talking it out 
can help."

Plankton took a deep breath and began to recount his thoughts, his voice a low murmur in the darkness. He 
spoke of the countless ingredients he'd tried and the endless experiments he'd conducted, all in pursuit of the 
perfect Krabby Patty. Karen listened intently, her screen never leaving his face, her grip on his hand never 
wavering. As he talked, the tension in his voice began to ease, the words coming out slower, softer.

The warmth of the tea and the gentle pressure of Karen's thumb on his hand lulled him into a state of semi-
consciousness. The room grew warmer, the shadows on the ceiling morphing into shapes that danced to the 
rhythm of his words.

Karen noticed the change in his breathing, the softening of his grip, her voice a soft 
hum in the night.

"I think I'm getting there," Plankton mumbled, his words beginning to slur. She took his almost-empty cup and set 
it aside, then moved closer, her arm wrapping around him. Her touch was a comforting blanket, a 
familiar anchor in the sea of his thoughts.

"Just focus on my voice," Karen whispered, her tone a gentle wave. "Imagine we're on a beach, the waves 
lapping." Plankton nodded slightly, his breathing deepening as he pictured the scene she described. "The 
sand is warm, and the stars are out, twinkling like the little bits of genius in your mind."
He took another deep breath, the salty scent of the sea mingling with the chamomile in his nose. His body 
began to relax, the tightness in his shoulders dissipating like the fog of an early morning. Karen continued her 
soothing monologue, painting a vivid picture of a serene beach under a starlit sky, their favorite place to escape 
the stresses of their lives.
Her voice grew quieter, a gentle lullaby of words that whispered through the dark. Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, 
his thoughts drifting further and further away from the Krabby Patty formula.
Karen watched him closely, her gaze never leaving his face. His breathing grew steadier, the lines of tension 
smoothing out as he sank deeper into the realm of sleep.
Karen waited for any sign that Plankton was still awake. She reached out and gently poked his 
arm. No response.
She pulled the blanket up, tucking him in gently, her hand lingering there for a moment longer, feeling 
the warmth of him beneath the fabric.
She reached over to gently stroke his cheek. His skin was warm, and she felt the soft 
rumble of a snore vibrate against her fingertips. He was out.
"Plankton," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She waited for a response, for the flicker of his eye or the 
twitch of his antennae that would indicate he was still with her. Nothing. 
She knew the moment he finally let go, when his hand relaxed in hers and his grip went slack. 
Leaning closer, she held her hand hovering over his chest to feel the gentle rise and fall of his 
breathing. It was steady, deep. Satisfied, she allowed herself a small smile. Plankton was finally asleep.
The steady rhythm of his breathing grew deeper, the soft snores that occasionally pierced the silence growing 
more frequent, brow smoothed out, relaxed.
She searched his face for any flicker of consciousness, any sign that he was aware of her touch. But there was 
none. His features were relaxed, his mouth slightly open as he took in deep, even breaths. "You did it," she 
whispered to. She knew that his mind had finally found the peace it had been seeking. The room was still, save 
for the faint sound of the occasional snore from Plankton. His snores grew deeper, the rhythm of his breathing 
more regular, more rhythmic, and she knew he was in a deep sleep.
With a soft smile, she whispered, "Goodnight, Plankton," and gently stroked his antennae. Her hand lingered for a 
moment before she carefully extracted herself from the tangle of their limbs. The bedside lamp cast a warm 
glow across the room, but she knew better than to disturb him with its light. She gently disentangled her hand 
from his and slid out of bed.
She squeezed his hand gently, a silent 'goodnight' and a promise of support for when he'd wake to tackle the 
problem anew. His features were slack, his mouth slightly open, emitting the faintest snore.

new aicore karen plankton plaren karenton klankton karankton plankaren plankkaren ai

ᵀᵒⁿˢⁱˡˡᵉᶜᵗᵒᵐʸ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵒᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧
ᔆʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ʸᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ
ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱʳʳⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵃᵗ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵃˡᵃˢ
ˢʰᵉ’ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ
ᵘᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ʰᵉʳ ⁱⁿ‧
“ᴴᵉ’ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶜᵉ
ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ, ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵈ
ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ‧ ʸᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵃˡ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʷᵉˡˡ‧”
ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ
ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ ‘ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏˢ’
ᵃⁿᵈ ‘ˢᶜᵃˡᵖᵉˡˢ’ ᵃⁿᵈ ‘ˢᵘᵗᵘʳᵉˢ’
ᵃⁿᵈ ‘ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵃˡ ᵇʳᵘⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ’
ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ 
ᵉʸᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ
ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧ “ᴴⁱ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ! ʸᵒᵘ
ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ?” ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵐᵒᵒᵗʰᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ
ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ‧
ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵖʳᵒᵛⁱᵈᵉᵈ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ
ᵗᵒ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ‧ “ᵀʰⁱʳˢᵗʸ?” ᔆʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖˢ
ʰⁱᵐ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵖ‧
“ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ
ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈ…” “ʸᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᶠᵗ
ᵇˡᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵉᵃˡˢ ᵗᵒ?” “ᶜᵒʳʳᵉᶜᵗ ᵐᵃ’ᵃᵐ‧”
ᵀʰᵉʸ ˡᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵒ
ᵒᵘᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴴᵉ’ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ
ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧
ᔆʰᵉ ᵗᵘᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ⁱⁿ‧
‘ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁿᵃᵖˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵉᵗ ʰᵉ
ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ
ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ’ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ‧
ᴱᵃʳˡʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ
ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ‧ ‘ᵂʰʸ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ
ᵗʰʳᵒᵃᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ? ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱˣ…
ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ʳᵒᵒᵐ, ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ‧’
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ “ᴵᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒʷ
ʷᵒʳˢᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ; ˡᵉᵗ’ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ
ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ…” “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ʸᵒᵘ, ʷᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵂᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ
ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ
ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧‧”
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ʰⁱᵐ‧ “ᵁᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᶜᵉ
ᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ʸᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?” “ʸᵉˢ!”
ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢⁿᵃᶜᵏ, ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ‧ “ᴳᵉᵗ
ʳᵉˢᵗ, ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵛᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ
ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸ ᵐᵉᵈ…”
“ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧” “ᵀʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵐᵘᶜʰ
ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ’ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉ‧” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ
ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ʰᵉ’ˢ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ, ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵖᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ
ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵈʳⁱᵇᵇˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ‧
“ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ‧‧” 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟐𝟗

new Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton wordcount: 100-500 karen plankton POV Karen Karen (SpongeBob) Sleep & Naps tonsillectomy

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i
(Autistic author)

"You know, Shel, just put yourself out 
there. You think to much! Just steal 
a patty from the krusty krab, and 
bring it back. No inventions, just 
believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says.

Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition 
often outstripped his grasp, took a 
deep breath and nodded. It was a simple 
enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just 
maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd 
been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting 
ingenious contraptions and elaborate 
schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret 
formula. Yet here he was, standing in the 
shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the 
Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating 
the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to 
the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth 
for any signs of movement.

Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back 
and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had 
been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's 
taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her 
frustration building.

Meanwhile, Plankton took a final 
shaky breath and slid open the 
kitchen window, his heart racing. 
The scent of greasy fryers and salty 
ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached 
out, his tiny hand trembling, and 
snatched the Krabby Patty that lay 
unguarded on the counter.

With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's 
confidence grew. He had done it; the 
secret was within his grasp! He turned 
to leave, but his elation was cut short 
when a shadow fell over him. He looked 
up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes 
narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I 
knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze.

Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was 
quick. He dashed under the cash register, 
the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like 
a football player crossing the finish line. 
"You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice 
echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs 
was persistent, his claws snapping shut 
just millimeters from Plankton's antennae.

With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back 
eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said 
reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy 
metal contraption off its stand.

Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he 
realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried 
to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and 
the cash register came down on him like a 
guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal 
reverberated through the kitchen, and the 
Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp.

Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as 
Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars 
dancing in his vision. The impact had been 
tremendous, and for a moment, he lay 
dazed and defeated. The cash register's 
heavy weight had not only knocked him 
out cold but also left a sizable dent in 
the floorboards.

Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic.
as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just 
as she was about to storm inside, she hears 
the cash register, which hit Plankton's head.

Peering in she saw Plankton 
lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she 
shrieked, her voice cracking with 
panic.

Karen opens the door and goes 
to him.

"Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, 
voice shaking the very foundation 
of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over 
to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's 
eye closed, and his body was 
completely still. The Patty lay forgotten.

Panic set in, and she began to pat his face.

"Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing 
through the deserted kitchen. She knew 
that Plankton could be dramatic, but this 
was unlike him. He'd always bounced back 
from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a 
bruised ego.

There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank 
Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. 

"Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of 
desperation and fear. She knew she had to 
do something, and fast. But what? Her 
medical expertise was limited to patching 
up her husband's bruises from past failed 
schemes, not dealing with a concussion 
from a cash register to the head.

She then managed to scoop up her 
unconscious husband and sprinted
to the Bikini Bottom Hospital.

Once inside the hospital, she explained 
what happened with the cash register. 
"We'll do a brain scan." They said.

Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed.

Finally a doctor approached 
with a solemn expression. 
"The brain scan results are in."
Karen nodded for him to go on.

"It seems your husband has suffered 
significant brain damage from impact," 
the doctor continued, fidgeting with a 
clipboard. "The good news is that he 
will wake up, but... your husband has 
experienced severe brain trauma. While 
he will regain consciousness, it appears 
that he may have developed permanent 
autism."

"What does that mean?" she 
managed to whisper. The doctor 
explained that while Plankton 
would still be able to talk and/or 
communicate, his interactions 
and reactions to sensory would 
be significantly affected.

"But he'll still be the same Plankton?" 

The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. 
His personality, his memories, they 
should all be intact. But his ability to 
process, to understand 
and respond appropriately... those 
might be altered. It's a complex 
condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go 
home whence he wakes up."

Karen nodded numbly, mind racing 
with the implications.

As she sat by Plankton's bedside 
the hospital lights flickered, and 
the constant beeping of the heart 
monitor was the only company she 
had. The quiet was broken her 
husband's eye fluttering open. 
"Karen?" he croaked, his voice 
hoarse from the trauma.

Her heart leaped at the sound, and 
she took his hand, squeezing it 
tightly. "I'm here," she said, her 
voice cracking. "How do you feel?"

Plankton's gaze darted around the room. 
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix 
of confusion and fear.

"You're at the hospital, sweetie," 
Karen replied, voice gentle and 
soothing. "You had hit your head 
on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." 
Karen said, her voice shaking 
slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you."

Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process 
her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, 
voice sounding distant and confused. Karen 
nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room 
was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the 
monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the 
distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses 
seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at 
his brain like a thousand tiny needles.

"What happened to me?" he asked, voice 
small and scared. Karen took a deep breath 
preparing herself to explain the gravity of 
the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and 
now, the doctor says you have... acquired a 
neurodisability."

Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... 
what?" he repeated.

Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's 
like your brain is wired differently now. You 
might see things, hear things, feel things more 
intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand 
people, or process differently."

"Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice 
barely a whisper.

"No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not 
broken. You're just... different. And we'll 
figure this out together."

new a life of diversity AI Story Generator neurodivergentcore karen plankton plaren plabsen braincore headcore i

ᔆʰᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᴸᵉᵍ
 ♡ Wₒᵣd cₒᵤₙₜ ₋ ₆₅₇ ♡
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
"ᴴᵉ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ
ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ
ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ⁱⁿ
ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ‧
ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ
ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧"
ᴺᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵃˡˡ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ?"
ᔆʰᵉ ᵘʳᵍᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ
ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉ
ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‽" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ
ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵉᵍ‧ "ᴼʰ⸴ ⁿᵉᵖᵗᵘⁿᵉ‧‧"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᶜᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ˡᵘᶜᵏⁱˡʸ ʰᵉ
ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ⁿᵒʳ ᶠʳᵃᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ
ᵇʳᵘⁱˢᵉᵈ ˡᵉᵍ ˢʷᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ 
ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵇˡᵘⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ ᵗʳᵃᵘᵐᵃ‧ ᴰᵉᵉᵖ
ˢᶜʳᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ⸴ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ‧ "ᴼʰ ᵈᵉᵃʳ‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵗʳᵉᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ
ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ
ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵉˡˡ
ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵇ⁻ᵇᵘᵗ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ
ᵍ⁻ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵖᵃᵗᵘˡᵃ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ
ᵃ⁻ᵃⁿᵈ ʰ⁻ʰ⁻ʰᵘʳᵗ ᵐ⁻ᵐʸ ˡᵉᵍ ʰ⁻ʰᵘʳᵗˢ‧‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵘᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ
ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐⁱˡᵏ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ˢᵒᵐᵉ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐⁱˡᵏ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒᵖᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ'ᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ‧
ᴴᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱˡᵏ
ʰᵉˡᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ
ʳᵉˢᵗ‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸ⁻ʸᵒᵘ‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵉᵈ
ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵃⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉᵈ ˡᵉᵍ‧ "ᴵ ˡ⁻ˡᵒᵛᵉ
ʸᵒᵘ ˢ⁻ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧
ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ˢʰᵘᵗ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ'ˢ
ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ 
ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ;
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡʸ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵗᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵃˢ
ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ˡᵃˣ⸴ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵖᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ 
ˢˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉ ᵃˢ
ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧
ᵀʰᵉ ᵐⁱˡᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ
ᵒᵇᵛⁱᵒᵘˢˡʸ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ
ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧
ᴮᵘᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ
ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ
ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʰᵃᶻʸ ᵈᵉᵗᵃⁱˡˢ⸴ ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸ‧
ᴬᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵗʳᵒᵏᵉ
ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ᵇʸ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ
ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵇᵘᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒʷ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ
ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᶠᵒʳ; ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ
ˢᵗⁱᵐᵘˡᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ
ʰⁱᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ
ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧
"ᴴᵉʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧"
"ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ
ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗᵒʳˢ‧"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ
ʷᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ
ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ʰᵉʸ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧
"ᵁʳʳᵍʰ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵃᵃᵗ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᵁⁿʰ ʷʰᵉ⁻ʷʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵃ⁻
ʰᵃᵖ⁻ᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ?" "ᴼʰ⸴ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ‧‧
ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵉᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ
ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ⁿᵒʷ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ
ʰᵘᵍˢ⸴ ʳᵉˢᵘˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ᵍᵃˢᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ʰⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ʸᵉˡᵖ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ
ᵉᵃˢʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧"
"ᴼʰ; ˢᵒʳʳʸ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵗ ᵍᵒ‧
"ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ᵏⁱᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧
ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧"
ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉᵈᵍᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧
ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ
ᵘⁿʳᵉˡᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃˢ
ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵗᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗˢ‧
"ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵒᵘᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ; ᵍᵒᵒᵈ
ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ
ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧
"ᴴᵒʷ'ˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵉᵍ ᶠᵉᵉˡ?" "ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ
ᵇᵃᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ
ᵃˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳᵉᵈ‧"
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ
ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ
ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ
ʳᵉˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ; ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷᵉˡˡ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ˢᵐᵒᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ
ˢʰᵉᵉᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧
ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ
ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ
ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ
ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵉᵍ‧ ᴳᵒⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ
ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧
ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ
ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳⁱᵇᵇˡᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ‧
ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᶠᵒʳ
ⁿᵒʷ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ
ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧
ᴮʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ
ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ
ᵗᵒ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵒⁿ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ
ᵈʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ
ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ‧
"ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵘⁿʷʳᵃᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉ
ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵉᵍ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ
ˢʰᵉ ᵘⁿʳᵃᵛᵉˡˢ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᴵᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ
ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ʰᵉᵃˡᵉᵈ!"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉˣᶜˡᵃⁱᵐᵉᵈ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ
ᵇᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵖᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧"
"ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ⁿᵒʳ ᵍᵒ
ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ!"

new Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton karen plankton POV Karen Karen (SpongeBob) SpongeBob SquarePants (character) Mentioned SpongeBob SquarePants shake a leg

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13478844/1/I-Really-Do

new fanfiction.net karen plankton

BLUESCREEN

Plankton’s thoughts were elsewhere as he focused the lens. 
More than once, he had to stop and blink blurriness out of his 
vision or rub the sleep out of his eye. He hadn’t slept regularly 
for days since he’d woken up from a brief three-hour nap this 
time yesterday evening, which did little to help his exhaustion. 
And now, here Plankton was. Miserable, sleep-deprived, and 
half-crazed with conflicting thoughts, peering blearily into a 
telescope at an absurd hour of the night. 
Argh! He bumped his head hard against the telescope to keep 
that thought from solidifying. Running on so little sleep Plankton 
glanced warily He looked at Karen’s darkened monitor for a 
moment with apprehension, expecting her to awaken from sleep 
mode and start in on him anew for sneaking around, but her screen 
remained dim. In response, a very loud whirring noise emitted from 
within her monitor, and Plankton tilted his head in confusion. She’d 
never made a sound like that before. Plankton stared numbly. “Honey
bunch?” his voice is small, quavering. 
The next day Krabs found out she’s in hospital. It's amazing how much 
information Bikini Bottom Hospital would give out over the phone. Just 
supplying his name and fudging a little about his relationship to the couple 
was enough for Krabs to get the gist of what had happened last night, even 
including some details that had been omitted from the short entry in the 
morning paper. He took careful notes as he spoke with the nurse. Karen's 
condition was critical. Plankton had been given a mild sedative upon his arrival 
with Karen at the hospital. Doctors found him inconsolable; a perfect nervous 
wreck. They'd taken one look at him and deemed him both too emotional and 
sleep-deprived to be of much help answering questions. A little sleep never hurt 
anybody so far as the doctors were concerned. If you asked them, it was for his 
own good. Plankton had been so tired that the low dosage sedative had knocked 
him out nearly instantly. He hadn't budged in hours, and doctors predicted he'd 
stay down until at least late that afternoon. Krabs asked about the Hospital’s 
visitation hours while they were on the subject. He’d wanted to swing by that morning, 
but if Plankton was finally catching up on some much-needed rest, maybe he should 
put off on the visit. The last thing he wanted was to disturb him. The hours rolled by 
slowly after those difficult phone calls, and Krabs found himself pacing his office 
restlessly as he allowed Plankton a little time to catch up on his z’s. When the lunch 
rush started to wind down, Krabs retreated to his office. He placed another phone call 
to the hospital to see if Plankton was awake yet. The nurse confirmed that he was, and 
feeling better than he had been before when he first arrived last night. So Krabs arrived 
at their hospital room. Plankton was sitting close to the edge of Karen's wheeled bedside 
table. He lurched his head up off his hands with a funny-sounding snort; he must’ve been 
starting to doze off. Finally, Plankton spoke. His voice was tired. Resigned. “Oh hey Krabs.” 
“Wanna stay with me tonight?” Plankton was looking at Karen's monitor again, his antennae 
twitching in acknowledgment of Krabs’s words. Plankton thought about this for only a few 
seconds. Clearly, Krabs had gotten through to him or recovering from his recent sleeplessness 
was making him more agreeable. At least the extra long rest did him some good. Plankton was 
thoughtfully quiet beside him in the passenger seat. He peered up over the door to the quiet, 
still nighttime flowers overhead as the night rushed by. Krabs stole a glance at him now and then 
as he drove. He stooped down, offering Plankton his claw so he wouldn’t have to jump up the stairs. 
“Come on. Let me show you your room while you’re stayin’ over.” Plankton was sitting on the edge of 
Krabs’s hammock. The fabric barely dipped underneath him. “Uh, hey Eugene,” started Plankton as 
Krabs reached for the door. Krabs paused, with his back to him, listening. “Hmm?” “Goodnight.” Krabs 
looked over his shoulder and gave him a small smile. “Goodnight, Plankton.” Next day Plankton glanced 
over his shoulder at him. Krabs was glad to see he looked rested, despite having stayed in a strange place 
overnight. “Mornin’, Sheldon,” returned Krabs. “How’d ye sleep? Get any word from the hospital overnight?” 
“Slept okay, but not great. Strange place, you know? And no, not yet.” Krabs went upstairs to get dressed for 
work. He was pleased to see that his bedroom was almost exactly as he’d left it, other than the disturbed sheets 
where Plankton had slept the previous night. When he came back downstairs a few minutes later, Plankton was 
sitting on the couch with his chin resting on one hand, staring hard straight ahead with a thoughtful, worried look 
on his face. 

new plabs plabscore karen plankton bluescreen

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new karen plankton sheldoncore code page 437

ᴮᵃᵈ ᴺⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
'ᴵᵗ ⁱˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵃ ʰᵒᵃˣ; ᵃ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ!' 'ᴸᵃᵘⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ!' 'ᴵ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʷᵉ ˢᵗᵉᵖ
ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ!' ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢˡᵉᵖᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ‧
ᴴⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗⁱʳʳᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ
ᵗᵒˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ
ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵈⁱˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉ
ʰⁱᵐ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ˢⁿᵃᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ
ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉʳ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ
ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" ᔆʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵇᵇᵉᵈ
ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵉˡ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵏˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒᵒᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳᵗʰ‧
ᴴⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ? ᵂᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ!" ᴺᵒʷ ʰᵉ
ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢⁿᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ⸴ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᶜʳʸ‧
"ᴴᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰˢ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴵ⁻ᴵ'ᵐ ˢ⁻ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢᵒᵐᵉ
ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵃˢ‧‧‧" "ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ
ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ⁻ᴵ⁻ᴵ⁻ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ‧" "ᴼʰ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧"
"ᴵ⁻ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ⁱᶠ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵐʸ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ?"
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ‧
ᔆʰᵉ ʰᵒᵖᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵘˡˡ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳᵃᵇˡʸ
ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡᵉᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵒᶠ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ
ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ˢʰᵉ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ⁿᵒʷ
ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ‧ ╰ ✧ ･ﾟ∙ ∗ — ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⟨ 2 1 6 ⟩

new karen plankton Dreams and Nightmares wordcount: 100-500 Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton krabs/plankton POV Karen watching someone sleep bad nightmare

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 2
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ 
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ 
ᴀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

"You had a little episode,
sweetheart," Karen says, her voice
warm and reassuring. "It's okay,
just another one..." "Karen, wh-what
is Chip doing here? Did he se-"

Plankton's question is cut
short as he notices Chip's
expression, and he realized
Chip must've indeed seen the
whole thing. How long did
it last?

Embarrassment washed over
Plankton. He'd managed to
keep his condition from his
son for so long, but now the
secret was out. His heart
raced, his cheeks flushing a
deep shade of red. "Chip," he
stammers, "I-"

But Chip's eyes are wide. "What was
that, Dad?" he asks, his tone
innocent. Plankton's never talked
about his autism to anyone
other than Karen before.
He's not sure how his son
will react. Will Chip look at
him differently now?

"It's nothing, Chip," Plankton
mumbles, avoiding eye contact.
He wishes he could just sink into
the bed and vanish.
Chip, however, isn't one to
back down easily. "No, Dad,
what happened?" He insists, his voice
still shaking from the fear that had
just gripped him. "You were
just sitting there, not moving
or anyth-"

"It's nothing," Plankton insists,
his voice a bit more firm now.
He doesn't want to admit it,
but he feels a twinge of
embarrassment at having been
found out. He's always been
so good at hiding his autistic traits
from Chip. But now,
his son is staring at him with a mix
of curiosity and concern.
Karen sighs, knowing it's time
for Chip to have 'The Talk'.

"Chip," she starts, her voice
careful, "Your dad sometimes
has moments like this. It's part
of who he is, something he can't
help." Chip's screen shifts to Karen,
his eyes searching for
understanding. "What do you
me—"

"It's NOTHING
Chip," Plankton 
repeats, his voice 
more insistent.
"Just... just DROP 
IT, OKAY‽"

The sharpness in his tone
surprises Chip. He's never
heard his dad snap like that.
He takes a step back, his
expression a mix of 
confusion and hurt. "I just
wanted to know if you
were okay," he mumbles.

Plankton's eye darts to
Karen, silently pleading.
"It's okay, Plankton," she
says, her voice calm. "We can
talk about it." But Plankton
shakes his head, his cheeks
flushing even more. "No, no,
not now," he says, his voice
smaller, almost defeated.

The silence in the room
stretches taut like a wire.
Plankton's antenna starts to
twitch erratically. It's a
familiar sight to Karen, a
tic. She's seen it before,
yet never when Chip's been
around. The tic again manifests
as a twitch, his head jerking
to the side in a small, rapid
movement. "Dad? What's
going on?" Chip's voice is
smaller now, fear creeping in.
Plankton's always been self-conscious
about his condition. But now,
his son looks at him with those
innocent, questioning eyes.

He swallows hard, trying to
keep his anxiety in check.
He doesn't know how to explain
the tics and the stims that
accompany his autism.
He's always been so careful
around Chip, hiding them as
best as he could. "It's... it's just
a... nothing," Plankton stammers.
But Chip's curiosity is
piqued. "What's happening
to yo-" "CHIP!" Plankton's voice is
sharp. Chip jumps back, his eyes wide.
He's never seen his dad this
upset. Karen's hand moves to
Plankton's, her grip tight.
"Plankton, it's okay," she says,
her voice steady.

Chip's eyes follow 
Plankton's head as
it jerks slightly to 
the side again.
"What's happening to
your head?" Chip asks.
He's never talked about
his autism with anyone 
other than Karen, and 
certainly not with Chip.
Plankton's antennae twitch
in agitation. "I told you,
it's tck tck nothing, Chip," he says,
his voice strained.

Karen squeezes Plankton's
hand. "Let's just sit 
and talk, ok?" "I'm sorry,"
Plankton says to Karen.
Karen's screen filled with
sympathy. "You don't have
to apologize, Plankton." She
knows how much Plankton
has struggled with his
autism, how much he's
worked to fit in and
keep it hidden from Chip.
"But he's going to want
to know," Plankton says, his
voice cracking. "I don't
want hi-" "I know, love," Karen
interrupts gently. "But we'll
explain it to him. He's a
smart boy. He'll understand."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still twitching. He takes
a deep breath, preparing
to face the reality that
his secret is no longer
safe. He looks at Chip, who's
still hovering at the
edge of the room, his eyes
filled with uncertainty.
"Chip, come here," Karen calls,
patting the bed. "Your dad 
has something to tell you."

Chip approaches cautiously,
his heart thumping. Plankton
looks up at him, his eye
shimmering with unshed tears.
Karen takes a deep breath,
and then starts to explain. "Chip,
your dad's brain is special. It
does some things differently
than ours. Sometimes, it
can get overwhelmed and
he needs a little time to...
recalibrate." Plankton's gaze
shifts to the floor, his antennae
twitching. Chip can see the
shame etched on his father's
face, the fear of rejection.
"Is that why you just
moved your head like that?"
he asks tentatively, pointing at
the twitch. Plankton sighs, his
body tense.

"Yes," Karen admits, "that's part
of it. And sometimes, he has
moments where he just... zones out.
It's like his brain goes to
another place and can't come
back right away."
Chip's eyes are glued to his
dad. "But why?" he asks her.
Plankton's antennae twitch
again, a silent plea for her
to handle this. Karen's eyes
soften. "It's called an
absence seizure," she says.
"It's part of his condition."
Chip frowns, "What condition?"

Plankton's gaze snaps up to
his son, his heart racing.
He's always been so careful
to keep his autism hidden
from Chip. But now, the
moment of truth is here.
"I'm... I-I-I-I…."

Karen gives his hand a
comforting squeeze. "It's
called autism," she says.
Chip's brow furrows. "What's
autism?" His voice is small,
his eyes searching his
mother's face for answers.

Plankton's heart feels like it's
in a vice. He's avoided this
conversation for so long. 
But now, the truth is
out, and he's not sure if he
can face his son's reaction.
Karen smiles gently. "It's a
way of being," she says. "Some
people's brains work differently.
They see the world in a
unique way, and they have to
deal with things like...
episodes."

Chip looks from his mother
to his father, trying to
comprehend. "But Dad,
aren't you okay?" he asks,
his voice small. Plankton's
throat tightens. He's never felt
so exposed. "I'm fine," he
forces out. Plankton
wishes he could just hide,
disappear into the wallpaper.
But he's trapped under the
spotlight of his own son's
curiosity.

new autism and all chip plankton ii 2

⡆⠀⠀⠙⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠾⠋⠉⣀⡴⠞⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⢀⡜⠁⣀⡴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣆⠀⠀⠈⠀⠰⠀⣀⣴⡾⠏⠁⣀⡴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠆⢠⣮⣠⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠋⣀⣴⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠟⠉⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣷⡒⠀⠀⠀⠹⢾⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠶⠶⠚⠉⠉⠉⠛⠶⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣁⣤⡴⠶⠒⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⠶⠞⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠶⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣠⡾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠶⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣟⣡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡤⠤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠳⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⡸⢫⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣴⣿⣭⣾⣿⣿⣷⣦⣍⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣄⣰⠛⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣃⣴⠟⣩⣤⣤⣤⣌⠛⣦⡹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⡇⠻⣧⡀⠀⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠤⠖⠋⢹⡿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠈⠙⠳⢤⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢰⡏⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁
⠀⠀⠀⠴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢹⣄⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢰⡿⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠞⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠹⣦⣉⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⣁⣴⠿⠁⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣶⡿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣷⣿⣆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣴⠟⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠿⣆⠀⠀⠉⠛⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣆⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠙⠳⠦⣭⣉⣩⠶⠿⠉⠀⣶⠞⠉⣿⠀⠀⠹⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠈⠙⢳⡶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⡤⠶⠶⠒⠋⠉⠉⠉⠛⠶⢦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣦⡀⠀
⢦⣴⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡤⠶⠶⠚⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠛⠓⠲⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠾⠿⣆
⣶⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠷⠶⠶⠶⣶⠶⠶⠾⢷⣦⣀⣀⣀⣴⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼
⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡿
⣏⣀⣤⣤⣤⠶⠖⠛⠛⠋⠹⣇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣄⣀⣤⣤⡤⠴⠖⠚⠛⠋⢻⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀
⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⣠⣤⡤⠴⠶⠛⢛⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣛⡁⠀⠀
⣿⣿⠏⣸⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⣸⡏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠙⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⠟⠋⠛⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿
⣟⣣⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡟⡀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⢀⣴⡿⣻⣿⣿⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡼⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣾⠃⢀⣤⡾⠋⣼⣿⣿⡟⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⡿⠿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠙⢿⣄⠀⠀⣼⠃⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣷⣤⡀⠀⢠⣾⣿
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new fpe chip cute dot art text art ascii art

ᴴᵉʳ ᔆᶜᵃʳᵉ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵃ ᵗʳᵃⁱˡ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ
ᵒʷⁿ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ
ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ‧
“ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧” “ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ, ᴵ
ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᴼʰ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ’ᵐ 
ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧ ᴴᵒʷ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ…”
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ⁱⁿ
ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ‧ “ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴵ
ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ 
ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ; ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒˢᵗ
ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ‧‧” “ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ 
ᵍᵒᵒᵈ, ˢᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ…”
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵃᵈᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ 
ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˡˡ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵉᶠᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵗᵒ
ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ “ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧”
ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ
ᵉʸᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ
ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ
ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ 
‘ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ’ 
ᶠʳᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜᵃˡˡʸ ᵇʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ
ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʸⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵐᵖˡʸ ⁱⁿ
ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ
ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ‧ “ᴼʰ
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ⁿᵒ, ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ! ᴶᵘˢᵗ
ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ, ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧
ᔆʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃᶜᵗ ᶠᵃˢᵗ‧
ᔆʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰᵉʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉˡᵉˢˢ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ
ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡᵃᵇ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ʰᵃᵛᵉ
ˢᵒᵐᵉ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ
ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ‧
ᔆʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵃ
ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ
ʰⁱᵐ ᵘˢᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ
ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˢᵉⁿᵗⁱᵉⁿᵗ
ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ˢᵒ ⁿᵒʷ ˡᵉᵗ
ᵐᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ
ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ‧‧”
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ
ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉʳʸ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈˡʸ‧ 
“ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ⁱᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏˢ…”
ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ
ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵗᵒ‧ “ᵂᵃ, ʷʰᵉʳᵉ…”
“ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵒʰ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ 
ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ
ˢᵃʸˢ‧ “ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧”

new notknalP .J nodlehS/neraK doolb dlim 000.1 revO :tnuocdroW gnitanretlA VOP elpitluM VOP erog/ecneloiv fo snoitnem feirb notknalp nerak eracs reh

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 3

Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous

https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all

Read the Autism And All one first!


Plankton's mouth feels
like it's been stuffed with
cotton, his tongue thick.
He tries to form words. 
"Ma...ma..." he
whispers, his voice a
slur. Karen's eyes light up at
the sound. "You're ok,"
she says, her voice a
balm to his frayed nerves.
"You had your teeth out.
You might feel funny for a
little while." He looks at
Karen, his eye searching hers.
"Wh...wh...whath?" he stammers,
his speech jumbled.

Karen leans closer, her
smile reassuring. "Your wisdom
teeth, Plankton. They took
them out so you won't have
any trouble with them later."
But the words don't
make sense to him, his
brain still fuzzy from
the anesthesia.

He tries to speak again.
"Wi...wis...wis..." he stammers.
Karen nods.

"Wisdom teeth," Karen repeats
slowly. "They're out now.
You're all done!"

The words swirl in Plankton's
head, not quite making sense.
He feels his mouth, the
cottony feeling replaced
by the pressure of gauze.
He giggles. "My moufs
fweel funmy," he says, his
words slurred.

Karen laughs softly. "It's
because of the surgery,
sweetie. Your mouth is
healing." She coos. "I fink I
sownd funny," he says, his
eye glinting with mirth.

The nurse returns, checking
his vitals. "How are you
feeling?" she asks.

Plankton looks up, his eye
glassy. "Wibidy wobidy," he
slurs, his speech a mess of
sounds and syllables. Karen
can't help but laugh, despite
the situation. "You're doing
great," she says with love for his
confused silliness.
The nurse chuckles, too.
"It's the anesthesia," she
explains. "It'll wear off
soon."

His gaze darts
to his own fingers.
"Wook at my fingews,"
he says to Karen, his speech
slurred from the anesthesia.
Karen nods, smiling. "Oh
yeah?" Plankton nods,
his cognitive abilities still
under the fog. "Yeth," he
slurs, trying to sit up. "Take
it easy," she says. "You're still
woozy."

The room feels like it's spinning
as Plankton tries to sit up, his
brain struggling to keep up with
his body's movements. "Wha...?"
he mumbles, his gaze unfocused.

But Plankton's curiosity
wins out. He reaches up to
touch a finger to his mouth,
feeling the thickness of the
gauze. "Fingews," he repeats,
his voice still slurred.

Karen laughs with affection. "It's ok
honey," she says. "You're
doing great." Plankton looks around
the room, his eye still
unfocused. "Wheh...wheah awe
we?" he mumbles.

The nurse explains patiently,
"You're in the recovery room
at the dentist's office. You
just had your wisdom teeth
removed." But the words don't
quite register, and he nods
slowly, his mind racing
with confusion and curiosity with
wonder, taking in the world
as if seeing it for the first
time. The colors, the shapes,
the sounds—everything is
fresh and new. He looks at his
hands as if it's an alien appendage.

"Wook ath dis," he says to Karen,
his voice a mix of amazement
and bewilderment. His fingers
spread wide, then close into
a fist, then open again.
"Wook whath I can do!"

Karen swells with love.
It's like watching him discover
the world anew, like a baby
seeing his own hands for the first
time. She can't help but smile
at his innocent fascination.

The nurse nods at Karen.
"You can take him home
now. Just make sure he rests
and takes it easy."

Karen nods, her smile
never leaving her screen.
She helps Plankton up. 
"Hi," he says, his voice a 
slurred mumble.

As they make their way
to the car, Plankton's
steps are unsteady, his 
body still fighting the 
remnants of the anesthesia.
He looks around with
wonderment, as if seeing
the world in a new light.
"Mowah?" he asks, pointing
to the sky.

Karen laughs gently. "It's
the sun, honey. It's ok."
Plankton nods, his mind
trying to piece together
the puzzle of his reality.
"We're gonna pick up Chip
from the park. He's with
Hanna.." "Chip...Chip, Chip," he 
repeats, the word rolling off
his tongue.

The car ride is a blur of
sounds and sensations that
Plankton tries to filter out.
He leans his head against
the cool window, watching
the world pass by in a haze.
Karen keeps glancing back at
him in the rearview mirror,
amusement etched on her face.
"You ok?" she asks.

Plankton nods, his eye
heavy. "Tiwed," he murmurs.
"Try not to fall asleep," she says.
"Because we're almost there."

His eye drifts to the
passing scenery. Trees whiz by.
He counts the telephone poles,
his slurred voice mumbling the
numbers. "One, two, free, four..."

"Almost there," Karen says. Plankton
nods, his hand finding the seatbelt
buckle, tracing its edges. "Five,
sis, seb..."

But alas, Plankton's efforts to
stay alert are in vain. His
lid flutters and his head nods.
"Plankton, keep your eye open,"
Karen says, her voice a gentle
reminder. But his body has
other plans, succumbing to
the sedative's embrace.

"Wake up, Plankton," Karen
says, a hint of laughter in her
tone. She knows he can't help
it. His slumber is deep,
his snores a soft echo in the
car. She watches him in the
mirror, his face relaxed in
sleep. It's a rare sight.

Plankton's normally alert and
active demeanor is replaced
by a peaceful stillness that
fills the car. The surgery was
a success, yet the anesthesia
has taken its toll. 

Karen pulls into the
parking lot of the park, the
sun casting a warm glow.
"Wakey, wakey," she sings.
Plankton's snores hitch, but
his eye stays shut.

She opens the car door
and the chilly air fills the
car, carrying with it the
laughter of children playing.
"Plankton," she calls, her voice
gentle but firm. He stirs, his
body protesting the interruption.
"Chip?" he mumbles, his voice
still thick with sleep.

Karen laughs softly. "Yes,
we're here to get Chip. Time
to wake up." She reaches
over and squeezes his hand.
His eye blinks open, the
pupil dilating as he takes in
his surroundings. "Wha...?"
he mumbles, his brain still
fighting the anesthesia.

Hanna and Chip look up 
as their car approaches. 
"What happened?" Chip 
asks as he gets in the car.
Karen starts to answer,
but Plankton's slurred 
interjection stops her. 
"Dey hook my teefs!" he says,
his words a jumble.
Chip's eyes widen.
"He had his wisdom teeth
out," Karen explains.
Hanna looks at Plankton,
her expression one of
concern. "How are you
feeling?" she asks.
"Wibidy wobidy,"
he slurs. "Buh I dunno."

Karen smiles. "So, we
went to the dentist," she says,
waving bye to Hanna.
"They had to take his
wisdom teeth out." Chip
looks confused. "What does
that mean, Mom?" He asks Karen.

"Well Chip, your dad had 
some teeth that were 
gonna cause problems, 
so they took them out," 
Karen starts. "But the 
medicine they gave him 
makes him feel funny. It's 
like when you have a 
sleepover and wake up 
groggy." Chip nods. "What
medicine?" He continues.

Plankton tries to answer,
but his speech is still 
slurred. "Dey gabe me 
sumpin' to sleep," he 
mumbles, his eye
half-closed. "It's called
anesthesia," Karen says,
her voice calm and steady.
"It's what helps people not
feel pain during surgery."
Chip nods, watching his
dad with a mix of
curiosity and concern.
"But it makes him
a bit loopy," Karen adds
as they pull away.

"Chip," Plankton starts. 
"Whath thad?" "It's my 
hand, Dad," Chip answers,
confused. "Chip's hamv?" 
Plankton persists, his 
mind still fuzzy. Karen 
chuckles, seeing his 
curiosity piqued.

"Chip's hamv?" Plankton
repeats, his speech still 
slurred. Chip holds
up his hand. "It's just a 
hand, Dad," he says.
Karen laughs. "It's 
his hand, Plankton. It's ok.
You're just a bit loopy."

"Wook ath the clows," Plankton says,
lazily pointing at the clouds.
Karen smiles.
"They're just clouds," she says.

Plankton giggles,
his eye glazed with a childlike
wonder. Karen knows this phase
won't last, but she cherishes it. 

new to change the world loopycore chip

ᵀʰᵉ ᶜʳᵃᵐᵖˢ
⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾
"ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ
ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃˢ
ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴬˡˡ ᵐʸ ᵐᵘˢᶜˡᵉˢ ᵃᶜʰᵉ‧‧‧"
"ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ!" ᔆʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵒʷ
ʷᵉᵃᵏ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ
ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ⁻ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗ⁻ᵗᵒ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿ
ʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ʸᵉˡᵖ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵒᶠᵗ
ᵇᵉᵈ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵒʳ?"
"ᴵᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗⁱⁿ’ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ
ˡⁱᵈ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ‧ "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵘˢᵉ
ᵃⁿʸ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ‧" ᔆʰᵉ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ 
ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ
ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ
ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʸᵉᵗ‧ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ
ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ‧ ᵀᵘᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ
ⁱⁿ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ʳᵉˡᵃˣᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ 
ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡᵃᵐᵖ‧ ᶠᵃᶜⁱᵃˡ ᶠᵉᵃᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ˢˡᵃᶜᵏ ˡᵃˣ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ
ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᴬˡˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ?" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧
'ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ' ˢʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ
ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ ᶠᵉʳ‧ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟕𝟓

new Karen/Sheldon J. Plankton POV Karen crampscore crampcore achecore tiredcore karen plankton sleepicore napcore Sleep & Naps loud snoring the cramps

ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

new hanna interschool kaomoji

5 star
.☘︎ ݁˖₅⁵₅

new 5 star five

𝟏𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟓𝟔𝟕𝟖𝟗
①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨
１２３４５６７８９
𝟙𝟚𝟛𝟜𝟝𝟞𝟟𝟠𝟡
➊➋➌➍➎➏➐➑➒
¹²³⁴⁵⁶⁷⁸⁹
₁₂₃₄₅₆₇₈₉
1̶2̶3̶4̶5̶6̶7̶8̶9̶
1̲2̲3̲4̲5̲6̲7̲8̲9̲
1̳2̳3̳4̳5̳6̳7̳8̳9̳
【1】【2】【3】【4】【5】【6】【7】【8】【9】
『1』『2』『3』『4』『5』『6』『7』『8』『9』

new numbers aesthetic number 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 one two three four five six seven eight nine

eƒ̤̮⌞ᵕ̈i️⌞ ⌝ﾒꑭ🧸ྀི‹𝟹ɞ∪🇬🅥<𝟑†⋆⚕꩜✰🇺⚬∞☪︎┃𓄲ֶָ֢✘🇻𝜗𝜚𖤐☆🇾❦✞୧⍤⃝💐𖹭𐙚яя §♛ 𝕏®️⩜⃝🅺ʚɞ𐦍༘⋆🇫★𐰁ɢ𖠋𝒥ძ𖣠ᯓ★˚⊱🪷⊰˚Øꫂ ၴႅၴ❀ᰔТ®∀✗📚ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁©✉✈︎₊ ⊹🅿ⵜ⩜ 愛˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ᯓ ᡣ𐭩🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤ɛ|ɞ ↩↪ ↻⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚≽^•⩊•^≼ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.𝔖𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫ㅤ♡ྀི ₊°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆▄︻デ══━一💥˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍▄︻デ𝒜ℛℐℱ━一💥─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧𓆩♡𓆪🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤♭ℹʟ𝑬🇪𝑒୧𝔼ℹ📧📝💬❤️🔥✉✉️📜✨👉✅🌐📌📢📣📅❌👀🤖✔️☀️🇸ᯓᡣ𐭩📚📩📞⭐📋⚠️🧾🔗➡️✔️ 👤💭🤝💡😊📱📲💥💻🇪ᡣ𐭩🇳🇦🇴🇭♡🇬☆𐙚★®💌✉︎📨🌟🎯💯🌎🌸⬇️🔞📍👋🛠️🚀😉🚩📈🔑💰🏆🤔📄✔⚡🏛️𝓜🇷ᥫ᭡🇩🇹.ᐟ౨ৎ🇲⩇⩇:⩇⩇🇰⌞ ⌝┃𝜗𝜚𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆١٥٧٤♡「 ✦ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 ✦ 」𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂 ᥫ᭡.🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️🦋⃤♡⃤🌈⃤𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𐐘💥╾━╤デ╦︻ඞා'||DBMS_PIPE.RECEIVE_MESSAGE(CHR(98)||CHR(98)||CHR(98),15)||'

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 4

Chip looked down at the octopus
in his lap, his eyes filling
with tears. "I didn't know,"
he whispered. "I just didn't
understand."

Karen took a deep breath,
trying to calm her own
shaking voice. "You need to
understand, Chip. That word is
not okay," she said, her tone
steady. "It's hurtful and disrespectful.
Your father is not 'that'.
He's autistic. And autistic is just
a part of who he is."

Chip looked up at her, his
expression one of shock and
dawning realization. "But why
didn't you tell me?" he asked,
his voice small. "Why did
you keep it a secret?"

Karen took a moment to
compose herself, her own
tears threatening to spill
over. "We didn't keep it a
secret just to hide it," she
explained, her voice trembling.
"We kept it private because
it's your father's story to tell,
not ours. And because we didn't
want you to think of him any
differently. But we should
have talked to you, yes. We should
have helped you understand."

Chip nodded slowly, his eyes
fixed on the octopus in his
hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
"I didn't mean to make hi-"

"Don't," Karen said, cutting
him off. "Your apology
can wait. Right now, you need
to understand why that
word is wrong." She took a
deep breath, trying to keep her
voice steady. "It's not just a
label, Chip. It's a way
people have used to put
others down. To make
them feel less than." Her voice
was firm, her eyes never
leaving his. "Your father
has felt that way enough times
already; he doesn't need it
from his own son!"

Chip nodded, the weight
of her words sinking in.
He hadn't realized the
impact of his ignorance. "What
can I do to make it right?"
he asked, his voice cracking.

Karen took a deep breath.
"First, you need to educate
yourself," she said gently.
"Learn your dad's specific
needs. Talk to him. Hear
his story. Understand what
it's like for him."

Chip nodded, his gaze
firm. "Okay," he said,
his voice still shaky.
"I'll do that."

Karen goes back to
the bedroom to find
Plankton sitting on the
edge of the bed, his body
wracked with sobs. His hand
was moving in a repetitive
motion, tracing the edge of
the bedspread, a silent
testament to his pain.

Her heart breaking, she
sat beside him, wrapping
her arms around his
shoulders. "It's okay, love,"
she soothed, her voice
gentle. "It's okay to cry."

Plankton's sobs grew
louder, his body shaking.
But amidst the tears, a
steady sound emerged. It
was the soft, rhythmic
humming he often did when
he was overwhelmed or
even just restless.

It was his way of self-
soothing, his brain's attempt
to find order in the chaos.
Karen had learned to recognize
this sound over the years. She held
his hand, her thumb rubbing
small circles in his palm.
"It's okay," she whispered,
her voice a balm to his
raging emotions. "I'm here."

Plankton's humming grew
softer, his body slowly
still. The anger drained
from him, leaving behind
only sadness.

"Chip," he murmured, his
voice thick with emotion.
"He said the word." It was a 
private stim, one Karen knew
meant Plankton was trying
to process the pain. He
spoke to himself often during
these moments, his thoughts
running in a loop as he
tried to find comfort in
his own company as he
rocked back and forth.

"But why?" Plankton whispered,
his eye glazed over as he
felt the familiar rhythm of his
stim kick in. "Why would
Chip, Chip did?" He stared
at his own hand. "I'm not
that. I'm not."

Karen's heart ached at the
pain in his voice. She knew
this was his way of trying
to make sense of the world.
"You're not, love," she assured
him. "You're just different.
And that's okay."

Chip goes into his
parents bedroom
and goes up to Plankton
slowly, the octopus in
his hand. "Dad," he whispers,
his voice tentative. Plankton
looks up, his eye red and
swollen from crying. "I'm
sorry," Chip says, holding
out the octopus. "Can we
ta—"

But Plankton doesn't
give him a chance to
finish. "I don't want your
apology," he says coldly.
He turns his body away
from Chip.

Karen's eyes dart between
the two of them, her heart
racing with fear of the
growing rift. "Plankton," she
starts, but he shakes his
head.

"Please," Chip says, his voice
breaking. "I didn't know."
He takes another step forward,
his hand outstretched. "Let me
help you," he says, putting his
hand on his dad's shoulder to
turn him around. But Plankton
flinches at the touch, his sensory
overload already at peak.
Karen's eyes widen as she
recognizes the signs of
another seizure coming on.
"No," she says. "Not now."
But it's too late. Plankton's
eye rolls back. Chip
backs away, his heart racing.
This was his fault. If he hadn't
upset him, maybe this wouldn't
have happened. Karen
moves swiftly, placing the bear
in his trembling hand.

The room goes quiet as
the seizure takes hold, the
only sounds Plankton's 
whimpers. Chip watches.
He wants to help, but
doesn't know how.
Karen moves quickly,
guiding the bear into
Plankton's hand. "Now
Chip," she says, her voice
steady. "When your dad
comes back, he may not
immediately remember. He
might talk funny or seem
confused. It just means he
needs some time to get
his thoughts back."
Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving his father's trembling
form as the shaking slows.

Drool trickled down the corner
of Plankton's mouth as he
began to mumble.

"Wha-wha-wha," Plankton
phrased, trying to piece together
the shattered thoughts. It was like
his brain had gone back to the
beginning, relearning how to
speak, to process the world around him.
It was both heartbreaking and
strangely endearing.

"Bear," he mumbled, his
fingers fidgeting with the
plush toy. "Bear...good."
He giggled, a high-pitched
sound that seemed out of place
coming from him. "Bear
is...bear." His speech was
a jumble of words.

Karen watched with a mix
of amusement and sadness.
This was a part of Plankton's
recovery she had seen before,
his brain trying to find its
footing again. It was like
a toddler learning to talk,
except it was her husband. She
turned to Chip. "Try talking
to him," she urged. "Keep it
simple and calm."

new seizurecore autismcore come together

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 6
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ 
ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

The sounds Plankton makes
shift again. "Skrink, skrink."
Karen's eyes light up with
understanding. "It's his brain's
new way of saying 'I'm okay',"
she whispers. "It's a 
'stim'." Chip looks at his dad,
his curiosity piqued.

Plankton's antennae wriggle,
his eye glazed over. "Skrink,
skrink, skrink." The sounds are
soothing, almost hypnotic.
"It's like he's playing a tune,"
Chip murmurs. Karen nods.
"In a way, he is," she says. "It's
his brain's symphony."

The room is bathed in the
glow of Plankton's stims, his
autism's unique melody.
"Dad?" Chip asks tentatively,
his voice a whisper. Plankton's
head tilts slightly, his antennae
still. "Skrink skrink skrink," he
repeats. It's like he's in a
trance, lost in a world only he
understands. Plankton's eye flickers.
"It's okay, Plankton," Karen whispers.
"You can keep making your
sounds."

And then it happens. Plankton's
voice shifts, echoing Karen's words.
"It's okay, Plankton," he murmurs.

Chip looks at his mom, his eyes wide.
"Is he... is he okay?" Karen nods.
"It's his way of processing," she says.
"It's called 'echolalia'." Chip nods,
his gaze never leaving his father's.
"It's when his brain mimics the words
he hears to make sense of them," she explains.
"It's like when you repeat something
until it feels right."

Plankton's antennae twitch in time with
his echoes. "It's okay, Plankton," he says,
his voice a mirror of Karen's soothing tone.
Chip smiles. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he repeats, trying to enforce his dad's calm.

But Plankton thinks 
Chip's making fun of
him. His antennae shoot 
straight up, his eye wide 
with hurt anger at Chip.

"It's not a game, Chip!"
Plankton snaps. "It's not 
something to tck tck... to
mock!" Karen sighs,
knowing this conversation
needs to be handled with
care. "Sorry, Dad," Chip says, his
voice shaking. "I just... I
thought it would he-"
"It's not for you to think
about!" Plankton cuts him off.

Karen puts a hand on
Chip's shoulder, her gaze
on Plankton. "Chip didn't mean
anything by it," she says calmly.
"He just wants to understand
and connect." She turns
to Chip, her screen filled with
compassion. "I know it's hard to
see Dad like this," she says.
"But remember, his autism is
part of him, and we need to
respect it. He doesn't like it
when you mimic his sounds
like that."

Chip nods, feeling a
wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad,"
he whispers. Plankton's antennae
droop slightly, but he doesn't
look at Chip. "It's okay," Karen
says, her voice soothing. "We're
all learning here."

Plankton's hand starts to
move again, tracing patterns
on the blanket. Karen watches.
"It's his 'stimming', Chip,"
she says. "It's his way of
self-soothing, and these movements
and sounds help him to cope."

Chip nods, his eyes still
wet. "But why did he get
so mad when I do it?" he
asks. Karen sighs. "Because
it's his own personal language,
his way of understanding the
world," she explains. "When you
address it, he feels like you're
invading his space, like you're
not taking his feelings seriously.
It's something his brain does for
himself only." Karen smiles
gently. "It's okay, Plankton," she
whispers. "Chip's just trying to
understand everything. You
can keep making your sounds."

Chip wants to help, but he doesn't
know how. "Just let him be,
Chip," Karen says, her voice
soothing. Plankton shifts again,
his eye teary. "It's okay,
Plankton," he murmurs, echoing
Karen's words from earlier.
Chip clenches. He didn't
mean to upset him, seeing his
dad's eye welling up with tears.

Karen's hand finds Plankton's,
squeezing it gently. "It's okay,
Plankton," she says. "You don't
have to hide it from us."

Plankton's tears spill 
over, tracing a silent 
river down his cheek.
Karen's eyes never leave
his. "You don't have to hide,
Plankton," she whispers. "We're
here for you." Chip watches. He
doesn't know what to do,
his mind racing. "Mom," he says,
his voice shaking, "What can
I do?" Karen turns to him, her
expression gentle. "Just be here,"
she says. "Just listen and
learn."

Plankton's tears stream down.
"It's okay, Plankton," he hears
his wife say again. The
words echo in his mind, a
comforting mantra. "It's okay,
Plankton," Plankton murmurs, trying
to mimic her tone. But it
sounds forced, wrong. He
swallows hard. "That's right, 
Plankton," Karen says,
smiling. "You're okay. You're
safe, Plankton," she repeats.
"You're here with us."

Chip watches his dad, his heart
breaking. "Mom, why is he...?"
Karen's eyes are filled with
pain. "It's his way of
telling us he's okay," she says.
"He's using my words because
right now, his brain can't find
his own." Chip nods, his eyes
on his father. Plankton's
hand is still moving, tracing
the patterns on the blanket.
"It's okay, Dad," Chip whispers.

Plankton's crying intensifies,
his tics becoming more
pronounced. "Tck tck tck," he
murmurs, his antennae flailing.
Karen reaches for him, but
he flinches away. "It's okay,
Plankton," she says, her voice
calm. "We're here."

Chip watches, his own
screen wet with tears. He's never
seen his dad like this before.
He feels like an outsider in a
conversation he's always been a
part of. "You don't have to hide
your tears," Karen whispers to
Plankton. "We're a family."

Plankton's sobs become
louder, his tics more pronounced.
"Tck tck tck," he says, his
body convulsing slightly.
Karen's hand is firm but gentle
on his back, offering silent
support. "It's okay," she murmurs.
"Let it out."

Chip watches. "Why is he...?"
his voice trails off. Karen looks
at him, her screen full of love.
"It's his way of saying
he's overwhelmed, Chip," she
whispers. "When he repeats
my words, it's his brain trying
to find the comfort it needs."

Plankton's cries become
louder, his tics more erratic.
"Tck tck tck," he sobs, his
body shaking. Chip feels
helpless, his mind racing.
He wants to make it stop,
but he doesn't know how.
"Just be here, buddy," Karen
says, her voice calm. "Sometimes,
that's all he needs."

Plankton's tics morph into
full-body shudders, his cries
now muffled by the blanket.
"It's okay, Plankton," Karen
whispers, her hand still rubbing
his back. "We're with you."
Chip watches as his father's
sobs echo in the room, each
one a heartbreaking testament
to the weight he carries. "You're
not alone," he whispers, his voice
tiny in the face of Plankton's
distress.

The words tumble from
Plankton's mouth, a mix of
Karen's soothing tones and
his own raw pain. "It's o-okay,
P-Plankton," he repeats, his voice
broken. "It's o-okay." Karen's eyes
well up too, but she remains
steadfast. She's seen this before.

"Tck tck tck," Plankton says,
his body convulsing with
each sob. "You don't have t-to
tck tck hide it-t." Karen nods, her
thumb brushing away a tear. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "We love you just
as you are." Plankton's sobs
turn into hiccups, his antennae
twitching. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he says, his voice mimicking hers.
Karen's hand moves in gentle
circles on Plankton's back, her
eyes never leaving his.
"It's okay, Plankton," Karen says.
"You're safe here." Plankton's sobs 
subside slightly. Karen nods. "That's
right," she whispers. "Your sounds,
your tics, they're part of you."

Chip watches. He's never seen his dad
so vulnerable. "But... but why?"
he asks. Karen takes a deep
breath. "His autism, Chip," she
says. "It's like his brain has
its own language, and when
he's overwhelmed, it comes out."
Plankton's tics become less
erratic, his breathing even.
"It's okay, Dad," Chip says,
his voice trembling. "You're not
alone." Karen smiles sadly.
"He knows that, Chip," she says.
"But sometimes, his brain just
needs to speak its own words."

Plankton's eye meets 
his wife's, the panic
receding slightly as Chip 
watches. 

new autism and all Plankton & Chip Plankton II stimcore 6

». 🍧 ⁰⁰⁵𖦹⋆⚬

new numbers category discord cookie cute 5

,,.. (нαииα ⓣιич єχρℓσяєя,, << 🌟 >> ℓєт’ѕ gσ! 📜 (…𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙞𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘…) 🧃 ,, ƒυℓℓ σƒ gιggℓєѕ! нαииα ѕмαℓℓ нαη∂ѕ, вιg ∂яєαмѕ! ✨ >>「」 ℍᵘᵍˢғᵒʳdᵃʸˢ 🌈

new kid example hanna berry ave examples

y6IS6uxo' OR 602=(SELECT 602 FROM PG_SLEEP(15))--

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⠾⢋⠷⢃⠠⠒⠈⠀⢀⣀⢂⢠⣲⢦⡪⠝⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢪⡃⠜⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡀⠖⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠦⡻⠂⠀⠀⠀⢼⡆⠀⠀⠁⡔⡀⡸⠀⢠⠃⠀⢸⣐⣷⣏⠉⠁⠉⢻⡄⠀⠀⡱⠑⢆⣨⠟⠊⠉⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⠕⢁⠔⠁⠐⣁⣤⠴⠚⠉⢀⣠⠖⡫⠃⠁⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⡠⠀⢠⠞⡵⠃⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⢀⠔⠈⠀⠀⠀⠔⡰⢃⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠼⡫⣠⠎⠀⠀⢀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢁⠃⢀⠇⠀⠀⣼⠋⣟⡆⠇⢀⠀⠸⢎⢵⠀⠱⠱⡈⢧⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡡⠁⢠⣁⣀⡴⡚⠅⠐⠈⢀⡴⠋⠐⠁⢀⡠⡤⠄⣰⠃⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⣠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⠤⠶⠚⠋⠉⢀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣮⠞⣐⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠁⣀⣠⠔⠁⠀⠀⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⢦⠂⢠⠊⠀⠀⠚⠙⢰⢸⣷⢰⠈⢆⠀⠙⣮⢣⠀⠐⡔⡒⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠟⣠⠖⠋⢁⠚⠃⣀⠔⠚⡷⠉⣉⡤⡲⢭⠞⢉⠃⣰⠏⠀⠀⡴⣉⡀⡚⠁⠑⠒⠀⡛⠛⢉⢁⠄⠀⣠⠗⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⠤⢠⢾⠋⢡⠞⠁⠀⡠⠒⠀⢀⣎⣠⢞⢵⠟⠁⠀⢀⠔⠠⠃⠀⡔⡐⠀⡇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡃⠈⠀⣿⠈⡀⡇⠣⡀⠈⢧⠡⡀⠈⢊⢜⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⢤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢶⠃⠀⢀⠃⢠⡞⠁⢀⡼⡷⢋⣥⣮⠴⠁⡠⣵⢻⡟⠀⢀⡼⢋⢊⠌⠀⡠⠊⢀⠊⢀⣀⣆⠃⠀⣰⠃⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⠔⠕⡡⠞⣠⠝⠁⠀⣠⠊⢀⣤⠖⣡⠞⣕⡡⠁⠀⣠⡞⡡⣶⡵⠀⣸⢣⠇⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢠⠁⡆⠀⡷⠀⡇⣏⡄⢻⠄⠀⠱⡷⣄⠀⠡⡹⡇⠀⢀⡀⠄⠒⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠀⠀⡎⢠⠋⠀⣠⡮⠔⠈⣩⠞⠁⢀⢊⡾⢡⡄⠁⢠⡾⠡⠡⢂⠠⠊⢀⠔⣀⡴⢋⡏⠎⠀⣸⠃⣰⠟⠁⠀⡐⠁⡡⡊⠔⠈⡁⢐⣔⡟⢡⠞⡑⣡⠎⣡⠞⠝⠀⢀⣮⢟⠊⡸⠹⠁⢰⠃⣼⠀⣿⠂⢰⠀⢰⠃⠀⡌⢰⡗⢰⡧⠀⢫⡷⠇⠀⣎⢆⠀⡇⠏⢳⡤⠜⠓⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⣿⣖⡾⠋⠀⡠⠊⠁⢠⣖⣵⡭⡂⠁⠘⠄⢳⠁⡶⠓⣡⣰⣖⡥⠞⠁⣀⢼⢱⠀⣰⢃⡼⠃⠀⢠⡪⣪⠞⠋⡀⢔⣠⠦⠛⠉⣠⡳⢊⡴⢣⠞⢁⠊⠀⣠⡿⠛⢁⠎⢠⡳⢡⠏⢸⠟⢠⢟⠀⢸⠀⢸⠁⠀⢁⡿⠁⢠⠇⠀⠘⡇⠘⠀⡆⣾⠠⠓⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠝⠛⠀⡠⢊⣠⠾⠗⡾⠁⢳⠀⣽⡄⠀⢘⠾⣊⠴⢋⡵⢫⣷⣃⢀⠔⠁⣿⠆⠀⠀⡞⢁⠀⠴⠛⠘⣀⣔⡬⢖⠋⠁⢀⠔⣶⡟⠡⢈⡕⠛⠠⠂⠀⣰⠋⠀⡰⠁⢀⣧⢡⡎⢀⠟⠀⣸⢹⠀⢸⠀⡸⠀⠀⣾⠁⠀⡌⠀⣀⡸⠙⣄⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⣰⣪⠖⠋⠀⢀⠜⢀⢌⠜⡆⣿⠼⣺⢗⣟⣡⡎⢡⠃⣤⠹⠘⠢⡤⢄⣛⡐⠠⠼⠍⠐⠀⣀⡤⡞⠉⠁⣤⠋⢀⠔⠁⣼⠏⠐⢠⠎⠐⠰⠃⠀⡼⠁⠀⡜⠀⡰⣻⢃⡞⠀⣸⠃⢀⡟⢰⠀⢸⠀⣷⠀⣸⠁⠀⡘⠀⣼⡿⠁⢠⢏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⣸⠃⠀⠀⡠⢃⣴⠟⣡⣴⣿⣷⠛⠛⡈⡇⢠⠗⢸⣾⠸⡇⠀⠀⠈⠑⡾⣫⢒⣴⣶⢟⠵⢡⠌⠀⠀⠔⠃⡠⠁⠀⣾⢋⠌⡰⠁⠀⠠⢁⡄⠐⠀⠀⢞⡒⡰⢠⡏⡾⢠⢧⡏⠀⢺⠯⢥⠀⢸⠀⡽⢠⠃⠀⡰⠇⣸⠗⠃⢠⢳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠷⡄⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⣢⢔⣡⠖⢫⠽⠑⡟⠉⢸⢯⢏⠉⣵⡇⣸⠀⢘⢨⠃⡁⠓⠒⢢⢞⢜⣥⣫⣿⡧⠃⠀⡌⠀⠀⠈⠀⠊⠀⠀⣼⠃⠊⡐⠀⠀⢠⠣⡞⢠⡆⠀⡎⠀⠀⠁⣼⡝⢠⠟⡸⠀⠀⢸⢐⣸⠂⢸⠀⡇⢂⠄⡠⣧⣷⠏⠀⢠⡇⡈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡆⠀⢰⡆⠀⢠⣾⣷⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⣾⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⠿⠚⠋⠁⠌⠁⡠⠊⡐⣡⢟⡌⡈⢒⡏⢰⢸⢰⢸⢺⡄⠀⢀⡴⣷⢿⠏⢈⣿⠟⠷⢆⡤⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣏⠌⡔⠀⠀⠀⣆⠾⢁⡞⡇⡜⠀⠀⠀⣀⣯⡴⣥⢷⠓⠒⠋⠉⠡⢸⠀⢸⠀⠇⠎⣠⠱⢸⠇⠀⢠⠃⢠⢁⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣷⢀⡿⢁⣴⠟⣹⣿⠀⣾⣷⣶⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠋⣀⣪⠞⡑⢁⢧⠙⠀⢇⢸⣿⢺⡞⡚⡯⢴⡙⠉⢀⡐⠂⡘⡞⠀⠅⠠⠉⠁⠚⠣⠝⣔⠶⣀⠀⠁⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⣄⡜⠀⡷⢓⣢⠿⠍⠛⠋⠠⡡⠂⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⡇⢨⠀⣶⡜⢸⠀⡟⠀⠀⢆⣠⠃⡈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠉⣿⣿⢃⣾⠿⠟⢻⣟⣸⡟⠁⢠⡿⠁⢀⣴⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠞⠧⠜⠋⢁⠂⠌⡰⢃⣾⣦⠀⢸⡀⣿⣄⢁⠇⠀⠀⢯⣝⣖⣿⣯⣿⣒⡭⠥⣐⡒⠤⢀⠀⠀⠈⠉⡛⢆⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠋⢀⣀⠻⠉⠁⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⣒⣀⣭⣝⣛⣫⣿⣿⣧⠘⠀⣳⠀⣼⢠⠃⠀⠀⠸⣹⢀⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠘⠃⠘⠃⠀⠀⠙⠋⠛⠀⠀⠙⠃⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⣼⡞⠁⣾⡡⠘⡆⢸⡇⢸⡘⡈⢶⠀⠀⠀⢼⣣⠀⠀⢸⡄⠈⢽⡇⠛⠷⣦⣽⠀⠀⠀⠘⡟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣯⡴⣾⠛⠩⠧⠄⣸⠃⠀⠀⣼⠆⢰⣇⡼⢰⣿⠄⠀⠀⠠⢿⠸⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣤⡀⣤⡄⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣨⡴⠋⠀⢰⣿⠁⢀⣿⣸⠁⢶⠧⠀⠘⢇⠀⠀⠘⢞⡄⠀⠀⠙⠧⣀⡂⠤⠂⠈⢿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠼⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠘⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠈⠢⢄⡤⠴⠋⠀⠀⡰⠸⡄⢳⣷⢇⡂⣯⠀⠀⢠⠃⠎⢀⠟⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⡟⠉⣿⠋⠀⣿⠟⠉⠉⣽⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠀⣼⢣⣿⡄⢸⡇⠀⠀⠈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠜⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠯⡶⡶⢀⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⢀⣄⡀⢰⡟⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠣⠀⡌⡟⡆⢸⠇⠈⠁⡤⢸⡀⢠⠎⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⣀⣤⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⢣⠜⠁⡾⠼⡆⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠚⠋⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⣞⣤⡀⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⢸⡁⠈⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⢡⢿⠁⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣶⡾⠿⠟⠂⠀⠀⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠊⠁⠀⡸⡷⢣⠺⣆⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠇⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢠⢿⢹⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡵⠓⠁⠀⠈⠛⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⢀⣇⣠⣟⡟⡜⡀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡆⢠⣷⡆⠀⣼⠇⣰⡇⢰⣷⠀⢀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠋⣿⢰⠇⢸⣱⡀⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢠⡾⣿⣇⣼⠏⢠⡿⢀⣿⢿⣧⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠂
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⡏⠁⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⠁⢿⣿⠋⢀⣾⠁⣾⠃⠈⣿⡟⠀⣤⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⢰⣟⠇⠀⠈⠀⠀⡼⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠈⠃⠀⠉⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠁⠀⡾⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠋⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⢦⡀⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡽⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠢⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣴⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡎⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠓⢾⠗⣀⠤⠤⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⣳⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠦⠄⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠠⠴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⡰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢋⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢌⡆⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⡙⢿⣿⣛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣛⣩⢿⡋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⢀⣴⠿⣿⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠗⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠳⣵⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠦⣤⣤⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⢩⡭⠖⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⣲⠯⢸⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⢌⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠩⡿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡺⢁⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣧⠀⢈⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣝⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠁⠀⢸⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠑⢌⢲⣀⠀⠀⠀⠳⣅⡫⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡽⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢳⣍⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡟⠆⠈⠹⠶⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⣀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣴⠿⣛⢝⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠈⢯⡫⡳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠙⠋⠛⠙⢫⣍⡳⢎⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠈⡟⣬⡑⠄⠀⠀⠀⠱⡷⣂⠤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⣪⡍⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠏⠁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠸⡦⡋⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢎⠙⠕⣓⠂⠤⢀⢠⠄⠀⠀⠜⠳⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⢋⡥⠴⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⡢⡹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡖⠔⣒⡠⠄⡭⠃⠀⠀⠐⡺⠁⠀⠀⢀⡴⢿⡙⠃⣐⠒⠉⠁⢀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣀⣠⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣧⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠅⡒⠄⢹⡁⠀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⡋⢠⠑⢀⣃⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new 5 pentad y dot art text art ascii art

-1 OR 2+653-653-1=0+0+0+1 --

guys i being see dumb shit like this post if you like god shit like god give no fuck about you you dumb shit i hope you get hit by a pick up truck this is not fucking tik toc dumb shit god dose not love he dose not give a fuck about you go to hell get the fuck out dumb 
shits🤫🧏‍♂️🤫🧏‍♂️🤫🧏‍♂️you have no gyatt no rizz and no aura ²⁰⁰⁹

     5
     
      ★
     
      ★
     
      ★
     
      ★
     
      ★
     
      𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥
     
      𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥
     
      𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

new star 5

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣴⠛⠛⣩⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠚⢛⣀⣀⣀⣀⢤⣀⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠀⠀⢀⡀⣠⡴⠛⢋⣍⣿⠻⢟⣻⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣠⣤⣴⢖⣦⣶⣿⣛⣭⣶⠟⣋⣭⣶⣠⣮⣙⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡴⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠈⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣷⠆⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠈⡚⣏⣽⣿⣧⠠⠴⠶⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢣⡁⣽⣾⣟⣿⣤⢶⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⠟
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣶⣾⡿⠟⠛⣳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡿⢩⣟⡁⢹⡋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣁⣀⣤⣄⣤⣄⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⠀⠀⠀⠘⡧⠘⢿⢿⡞⡇⠀⠀⠀⡴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡖⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠈⠻⢿⣿⣷⣾⣽⡶⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣝⢨⠟⣁⡤⠔⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣤⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⣿⣯⣙⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⣿⣌⣤⣾⠁⣠⣾⣿⡿⠷⠀⣼⠟⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠋⠈⠙⠛⠛⠋⢉⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠲⢤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠻⣷⠹⠏⠻⡎⣟⡛⠛⠲⢶⣤⣼⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⣠⡎⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⢞⣁⣠⣬⣿⣷⡄⢀⣾⢿⣄⣿⡆⠀⠀⣷⣸⠻⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⣴⣿⣀⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣼⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢻⡇⣶⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⡶⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣦⠻⣿⣿⣾⡿⠿⠛⠋⢉⣥⡴⠚⡙⣿⣦⡀⣽⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⢸⣧⣿⠀⣴⠃⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠘⠀⣀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣌⢿⣟⠛⠒⠒⠋⠉⢀⣀⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⣇⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⣿⡷⣤⣼⡾⠿⠛⠋⠀⣩⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⠀⣿⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢻⣷⠷⠈⢸⠲⢀⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢸⢹⢻⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⢀⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠁⠀⣀⣻⣧⣴⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡏⣾⠙⣻⣗⣶⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡾⢟⣉⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⢁⡤⠚⠒⠉⢛⠞⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣡⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢧⡟⡼⢋⡇⠀⠉⠉⠒⢦⣀⢴⣿⣊⡶⠟⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣡⢞⡩⠋⣼⠛⢿⣿⣿⡏⢿⣾⣟⡻⣿⣷⣄⣠⣴⣾⡿⣼⢳⠇⢸⠀⠀⠀⣰⡄⣀⡉⠳⣹⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠚⢀⣾⢿⠀⠈⣿⡄⢧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣯⡟⠀⣼⠀⠀⢸⣿⢃⡞⠀⣰⡟⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⡘⠁⣰⠟⠁⣼⠀⠀⠘⣿⡘⣆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣿⡿⢀⡼⣹⠀⠀⢸⣿⠸⠀⣸⡟⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣸⡿⠁⣸⡅⣿⠀⠀⠸⣿⡇⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣷⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠰⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠰⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⣇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣋⣤⠾⠋⠀⣿⠀⠀⠶⣿⣧⢟⡆⢠⠄⢠⡾⢁⣿⣇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⣄⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠸⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠉⠁⠀⠀⢠⣿⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⡾⢠⠏⣰⠏⢠⡞⣽⣟⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢀⠈⢧⡀⢳⠀⠀⠈⠇⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡇⢋⡾⠏⡴⠋⠈⠘⣿⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠈⠣⣄⠙⢦⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣸⢁⡞⠁⠀⣀⣠⣿⠇
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new 10 5 darshan dot art text art ascii art

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 17
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Karen's eyes are filled with love
and understanding. Plankton
slowly nods, his antennae dropping.
"I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice
barely a whisper.

But Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his eye cold. "You need to go,"
he says, his voice firm. Chip's screen
flickers with hurt. "What?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
Plankton's gaze is unyielding.
"I don't want you here," he says.
"Not right now." His words are like
a dagger to Chip's heart, but
Karen's screens flicker with a
message of patience. "Dad, what
do you mea-"

But Plankton cuts him off,
his antennae rigid. "I mean it,"
he says, his voice hard. "I don't
want you here." Chip's screen
reflects confusion and pain.
He doesn't understand. "But why?"
he asks. "We're fa-"

"Don't," Plankton says, his voice
sharp. "Don't pretend to care."
His eye is cold, his antennae
quivering with anger. "You made
fun of me. You think my world
is a joke." Chip's screen flickers
with confusion and guilt. "Dad,
no," he says, his voice shaking. "That's
not what I meant." But Plankton's
not listening, his words cutting
through the air like shards of
glass. "You think you know," he says,
his voice rising. "But you don't. You
can't. You're not like me."

Karen's screens are a
swirl of emotions, her heart
aching for both her son and
her husband. "Plankton, please,"
she says, her voice a gentle
plea. But he's not listening.
He's too lost in his own
hurt, his own frustration.
"You think you can just play
along?" he says, turning to Chip.
"You think it's that easy?"
Chip's screen shows his fear
growing, his mind racing. He didn't
mean to hurt his dad, but now
he feels like he's being pushed
away. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says,
his voice barely a whisper. "I just
made a mis-"

"Mistake? Hah. The only
mistake was thinking
you could ever understand!"
Plankton's words are a harsh
reminder of their earlier
misunderstanding. Chip's screen
reflects his hurt, his eyes
filling with tears. "You think
you can just pretend?"
Plankton continues, his voice
bitter. "You think you know what
it's like to be me?" His antennae
wave wildly in accusation.

Chip's voice is barely a squeak.
"I just wanted to help, Dad,"
he says, his screen a jumble
of sadness and confusion.
"But you didn't," Plankton
says, his voice cold. "You 
hurt me. And I can't just
shake it off." Karen's screens
flicker with pain for her husband,
but she knows Plankton's anger
is a shield, a way to protect
his tender heart.

"You don't get it," Plankton
continues, his antennae jutting
forward. "You think you can
just pretend to understand?"
His words are a knife in the dark,
twisting in Chip's gut. "Dad,"
Chip says, his voice trembling.
"I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll
learn." But Plankton's eye
narrows, his antennae waving.
"It's not about you," he says,
his voice harsh. "It's never been.
You don't get to cry victim. I can
forgive accidentally touching me
and such, but this... I can't.
I saw you mocking me. I heard you
laughing." Chip's eyes widen.
"No," he says, his voice desperate.
"I didn't mean t---"

But Plankton's not listening.
"You think because you're sorry,
everything's okay and 
make it go away? You don't
get to decide that," he says, his voice
shaking. "You don't get to tell me
how I feel. Because right now, you
don't understand a thing. You're
not a part of this. You're not
being a good son. And I don't
think I can trust you."

The words hit Chip like a wave,
his screen flashing with disbelief.
He feels like he's drowning,
his mind racing for a way to
make it right. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he says again, his voice choked
with tears. "I'll do anything.
I'll learn, I'll change." But
Plankton's antennae droop, his
body defeated. "It's too late,"
he murmurs. "You had your
chance. But honestly, I don't think
you'll ever be the son I need."

Karen's screens pulse with pain,
seeing the rift between
them grow wider. She knows
how much Plankton values trust,
how hard it is for him to give it
once it's been shattered.

Chip's screen flickers with
desperation. "Dad, I'll be here," 
he begs, whimpering. "I'll try anyth—"

But Plankton's antennae are
rigid with finality. "No," he says,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"I now know better than to let
you in again. I hoped we'd be 
closer, but now I... I don't think
you belong in my life, Chip."

The words hang in the air,
each one heavier than the last.
Chip's screen is a whirlwind
of emotions: guilt, sadness,
fear. "Dad," he says, his voice
a broken plea. "Please, I'll do
better. I promise." But Plankton's
gaze is unyielding. "I'm letting go
Chip. We're done now. You'll never
be the son I adored again. You
failed to accept me, so I won't
accept your façade. So good
bye, Chip. I hope you find peace.."
Plankton then turns around, leaving
Karen and Chip in the living room
as he walked down the hall.
Chip's eyes are wide with shock,
his screen flickering with tears.

Karen's screens dim with sadness
as she looks at her son. "Chip,"
she says, her voice gentle. "It's not
you. It's just his way of coping."
But Chip's not listening. He's
thinking about the moments
his dad's eyes had lit up, the
times Plankton had laughed,
his antennae waving with joy.
And now, it's gone, replaced by
a coldness that scares him.

He tries to imagine what it's like
for Plankton, to live in a world
that's too loud, too bright, too
much. A world where even the
smallest touch can send him spiraling.
Where every interaction is a minefield
of misunderstandings. And he wonders
how he could have missed the signs.
How could he have hurt his father so
much without even realizing it?

new autism and all familycore chip

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 9

Karen sighs. "It's almost
noon, Plankton. Remember
your biannual dental x-rays?
We gotta get going. Sandy
could you stay with Chip?
We won't be too long."

Karen helps him get ready,
her movements efficient and
caring. She knows the dentist
can be a sensory trigger
for him.

Arriving at the dentist's 
office, the receptionist
smiles politely. "Ah, Mr.
Plankton," she says. "We've
been expecting you." Plankton
simply nods as they enter the
waiting room. He starts rocking.
Karen notices, her hand
on his shoulder. "It's ok,"
she whispers.

"Mr. Plankton?" The
dentist's gentle voice
echoes through the waiting
room. Plankton and Karen
follow the dentist to the x-ray
area across the hall.

Plankton's heart races
as he's led into the room,
his eye darting around,
taking in the cold, sterile
environment.

The dentist, a squid named
Dr. McTentacles, notices
his distress and tries to
soothe him. "It's ok, Mr.
Plankton," he says gently. "It's
a quick x-ray and you'll be
done!" Plankton nods, trying
to compose himself. "You're
going to be ok," Karen whispers
as the dentist prepares the
machine.

He allows the x-ray film 
touch his mouth, biting
down as the images light
up. Dr. McTentacles then
removes the film. "All done!
I'm gonna go back and look
at these," he says, going out
of Plankton's earshot with 
Karen in tow.

"Mrs. Plankton," he starts,
his tentacles tapping a
screen. "Your husband's
wisdom teeth are growing in.
They're looking a bit...
misaligned," he says, showing
the images to Karen.
Karen nods, her eyes
scanning the x-rays. "What
does that mean?" she asks,
trying to keep her voice
even.

"It means," Dr. McTentacles
says, "that they might cause
some discomfort, or even
other potential problems. We
must consider extraction. I
know he has sensory issues, so
we'll need to approach this
carefully." Karen nods. "When
should we do it?" she asks.

"As soon as possible," the
dentist replies. "But we'll
have to talk to Plankton
about it. Make sure he's
comfortable with the process.
It's important that he feels
safe." Karen nods again, her
mind racing with the
implications of surgery
for Plankton. "We've got
inhalational sedative/anaesthesia
available, which should
make it easier for him."

Karen's eyes widen with
relief at the mention of
sedatives. "That...
that sounds good," she says.
"How soon can we...?"

"We'll need to schedule
another appointment,"
Dr. McTentacles says, his
tentacles still tapping at the
screen. "I have tomorrow open.
It can be done here in my office,
under unconsciousness."

Karen nods, trying to
absorb the information. She
glances back at Plankton,
his eye flickering as he
looks around the room. 
"Tomorrow's fine,"
she says, her voice tight.

As they walk back to the
waiting area, Plankton's hand
finds hers, his grip tight.
"What did he say?" he asks,
his voice strained.

Karen's heart aches as
she looks into his worried
eye. "It's your wisdom teeth,
dear," she says gently. "They're
coming in a bit... funny."
Plankton's grip on her hand
tightens. "What does that mean?"
he asks, his voice high with
anxiety.

"It means they might cause
you some pain," Karen explains,
keeping her voice calm and
soothing. "But we're going to
take care of it, okay? In the morning,
we'll come back and the dentist
will remove them." Plankton's eye
widens in fear. "They're going to
give you gas to help you
sleep through it," Karen
explains, her voice calm
but firm. "You won't feel a
thing. It's like... a nap. A
nap that makes your mouth
feel better when you wake
up."

Plankton nods, his grip
loosening slightly. "A... a
nap?" he repeats, his voice
quivering. "Okay," he says,
his shoulders dropping.
Karen can see the trust
in his eye, and she feels a
wave of relief wash over her.

"Come on," she says, her
voice gentle. Plankton nods,
his gaze on the floor as
they leave the dentist's office.

Once home, Plankton retreats
to the corner of their bedroom,
as Sandy and Chip come in. "So
Karen, how was his dentist?" 
Sandy asks.

Karen sighs. "We have to
get his wisdom teeth out,"
she says. "Tomorrow early
in the morning. You and Chip
can be in the waiting room. 
They gave special permission
to let me be with Plankton during
the procedure."

Early the next morning
Karen drove them back
to the dental office. Chip
stayed with Sandy in the
waiting area as Karen and
Plankton followed Dr.
McTentacles to his surgical
exam office.

The room was colder
than the last, making Plankton
shiver. Karen held his hand
tightly, whispering reassurances.
"It's okay, just a nap," she
reminded him.

The nurse, a crab named
Nurse Cherry, looked at 
him with kind eyes. "Let's
get you set up," she said,
helping him onto the chair.

Nurse Cherry placed a
mask over his face, and he
started to breathe in the sweet
smelling gas. "Just a nap,"
Karen murmured, her voice
getting further away. The room
began to swim, and Plankton's
body felt like it was sinking
into the chair.

The last thing he knew
was the sound of his wife's
comforting presence before
everything disintegrated into
nothing. Plankton's body
grew limp as the anesthesia
took hold.

new karen plankton mctentacles come together

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 8
Chip took another step back,
his own emotions a tangled mess.
Guilt, fear, and confusion
battled within him as he watched
his dad's pain. "I'm sorry," he
whispered, his voice cracking.
"I didn't mean to make yo--"

"I SAID STOP!" Plankton's
voice was like a whip crack,
slicing through the air with
frustration. Chip flinched, the
force of his dad's anger palpable.
"Dad," he began, his voice
shaking, "I just-"

"JUST?" Plankton spat, his eye
blazing. "You just don't get
it, do you?" His words were
sharp as knives, each one
cutting deeper into the silence.
"You think you can just... touch
me, hug me, and it'll all be fine?"
He sneered, his body trembling
with the effort to control his
emotions. "Well, it's not that
simple, is it?"

Chip's cheeks burned with a
mixture of embarrassment
and anger. "I'm sorry," he said
stiffly. "I didn't know it was
such a big de-"

"Don't tell me what I know,
boy!" Plankton snapped. His voice
was a whipcrack of sarcasm,
each word a stinging rebuke.
"I've been doing this dance
my whole life, and now
you think you can make me
your little science project?"
Chip's eyes filled with hurt,
his hand dropping to his side.
"That's not what I'm doing,"
he protested, his voice barely
above a whisper. "I just... I just
want to he--"

"Want to help?" Plankton
interrupted, his tone dripping
with bitterness. "You think I
need your help? Your pity?"
His antennae twitched with anger.
"I've managed just fine without
you!" His voice was a storm,
his words thunderous in the
silence of the room. "So don't
you dare act like you get to be
part of this now!"

Now Chip felt his own 
emotions flare up.

"What the barnacles is your
problem?" Chip snapped, his
frustration boiling over. "You're
always so... so sensitive. Can't
I just show you that I love
you without you throwing a
fit? Don't you know that you're
just being ridiculously over-
dramatic? I can't have a father
who's so autistic and so..." He trailed
off, his eyes searching for the
right word, and then it hit him; the slur
is a term he'd heard use to describe
someone acting unsmart, not knowing
the impact it would have.

The moment the insult left his
lips, the room went cold. Karen
gasped, her hand flying to cover
her mouth. Plankton's body
went rigid, his antennae shooting
straight up as if electrified. Chip
felt a sinking feeling in his gut,
like he'd just swallowed an anchor.
He knew he'd crossed a line,
but he didn't know where it was or
how to get back. "Dad, I didn't mean-"

"GET OUT!" Plankton roared.
Chip had never seen his dad like this,
his eye blazing with fury and
hurt. He stumbled backwards,
his heart racing as he tried to
make sense of the horror on
his dad's face. "I didn't know,"
he murmured, his voice small
and lost.

Karen's eyes were wide, her
cheeks wet with tears. She'd
heard the word, the one that
cut deeper than any knife. The one
that reduced her Plankton to a
joke, a problem to be solved.
"That's enough," she said, her voice
firm but trembling. "You've
hurt him enough, Chip."

Chip's eyes were filled with shock,
his mind reeling from his dad's
reaction. He didn't mean to say
it, didn't even know it was bad.
"But I just..." He couldn't find the
words. "I didn't know it was... I just
wanted to tell him..."

Karen's voice was firm, but
underneath, Chip heard the
sorrow. "Your dad's autism isn't
something to be fixed," she said,
wiping at her own tears. "It's part
of who he is. And calling him
that... it's like telling him that
part of him isn't good enough."
Plankton was still in his corner,
his body taut with tension.

Chip felt the weight of his
mother's words, the gravity of
his mistake. He'd hurt his dad,
the one person he never wanted
to cause pain. "I didn't mean it
like that," he whispered.

But Plankton was beyond words,
his body trembling with rage.
He'd been called that name before,
by those who didn't understand,
who didn't care. His antennae
quivered with the effort to hold
back the storm of emotions
threatening to unleash.

Karen stepped between them,
her hand on Chip's shoulder.
"Out," she said firmly, her voice
a whip of authority. "Now."

Chip didn't argue. He knew
he'd done wrong, and he knew
his place wasn't here right now.
He turned and left the room,
his heart heavy with regret. 

As the door clicked shut,
the tension in the room didn't
disappear. It grew thicker,
like a fog that clung to their
skin, suffocating them both.
Karen sat next to Plankton,
her hand hovering near his shoulder
but not making contact. She knew
better than to push, to force him
to face his pain. Instead, she offered
silent support, her presence a
beacon of love in the storm.

Plankton's body was a tight
coil of anger and hurt
as he rocked back
and forth. "Plankton," Karen said
softly, her hand still hovering.
"I know we're upset, but Chip's
just trying to understand.
He didn't mean to be ableist."
Her words were met with
silence; she didn't push.

The room felt like it was
spinning around him, the
words echoing in his head.
He knew his son hadn't meant
to wound him, but the sting
was there all the same. "Why
can't he just leave me alone?"
Plankton whispered, his voice
small and defeated. "Why does
he have to make everything
about him?"

Karen's eyes filled with
understanding. "It's not
about him, Plankton," she said
gently. "It's about love and
connection. He just doesn't
know how to give it in a way
that doesn't overwhelm you."
Her hand touched his shoulder
lightly, and he flinched. She
withdrew it immediately, her
heart aching.

"I know, I know," he murmured,
his voice tight. "But it hurts."
Karen nodded, her own eyes
brimming with tears. "I know it does,"
she said. "And I'm so sorry."
Plankton leaned into her, his
body still shaking.

"Why can't he just get it?"
he whispered, his antennae
drooping. "Why does he have
to make everything so hard?"
Karen wrapped her arm around
his shoulders, holding him close.
"Because he loves you, Plankton.
And he's scared of losing you."
Plankton's body stiffened at her
words.

He knew she was right.
Chip had always been like that,
so eager to please, so desperate
for attention. And Plankton had
always been there for him, his
rock in a stormy sea. But now,
the tables had turned, and he didn't
know how to navigate these
uncharted waters of vulnerability.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae drooping. "I know,"
he murmured, his voice thick with
unshed tears. "I know he loves me."
Karen's grip tightened around
his shoulders. "Then we need
to find a way to help him understand,"
she said, her voice a soft caress.
"We need to show him that love
doesn't have to be loud or overwhelming."

They sat in silence for a
moment, the only sound the
steady rhythm of their breathing.
Plankton's body began to relax,
his tremors subsiding. "I'm sorry,"
he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"I just... I don't know how to do this."
Karen leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss
to his cheek. "We'll do it together,"
she said. "One step at a time."

Chip stood outside the door, his
fist pressed against the wood. He could
hear their muffled voices, the low tones
of their conversation. He felt like a
stranger in his own home, unsure of
how to navigate the sudden shift in
his relationship with his dad. His mind
raced, trying to piece together what had
gone wrong, how he'd missed the cues.
He knew he'd hurt his dad, but he
couldn't shake the feeling that there was
more to it than just a misunderstanding.
He didn't realize how the ableist slur
he'd used had pierced Plankton's armor.

He leaned his head against the
door, his breaths coming in short, painful
gasps. The weight of his ignorance
was like an anchor, dragging him down.
He'd always thought of his dad as... well,
his dad. Strong, capable, a little quirky. But
now, he saw the cracks in that facade,
the raw vulnerability beneath the surface.
He knew he had to apologize, but the
fear of making it worse held him back.

new to see or not to see ableisms chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 9
"Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative, a
question in the silence. He didn't
know if Plankton could hear him,
if he was ready to listen. But he had to try.

Plankton didn't move, but
his breathing had evened out,
his antennae no longer quivering
with anger. Karen gave Chip a
small nod, a silent message to
tread carefully. He took a step into
the room, his eyes never leaving
his father's hunched form.

"Dad, I'm sorry," he said,
his voice cracking with emotion.
"I didn't know... I didn't mean
to..." The words trailed off,
his throat thick with unshed tears.
He didn't know what to say,
but he knew he had to try.

Plankton's body remained
motionless, his antennae drooping.
Karen watched them, her heart
in her throat.

"Dad, I didn't mean it," Chip
whispered, his voice trembling.
"I didn't know." Plankton's
shoulders tensed, the anger
still a living force within him.

Karen watched the scene unfold,
her heart in her throat. She knew
this was a moment that could
change everything, a chance
for growth or a chasm that
widened their divide.

Plankton's silence was a
walls, a barrier that seemed
impenetrable. His antennae
twitched, a silent language
that spoke volumes of his pain.

Chip felt the weight of his dad's
disgust, like a lead balloon in
his stomach. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he said again, his voice barely
above a whisper. "I'll do better."
He stepped closer, his hand
outstretched.

But Plankton didn't move, his
body a statue of anger and
hurt. His antennae remained
rigid, his eye unblinking. "I
don't want your pity," he
spat out, the words a slap in
the face. "I don't want you to
'do better'. I want you to go away."
Chip's hand fell to his side,
his eyes wide with shock.

The silence was a living
entity in the room, a beast
that fed on their pain. Karen
could almost see the barrier
between them grow taller,
thicker, more impenetrable.
"Dad," Chip whispered, his voice
breaking. "I'm sorry for saying
you're so... so... autistic and slow.
I didn't mean it like that." The
apology hung in the air, a
desperate plea for understanding.

But Plankton remained
motionless, his antennae still
drooping with the weight of his
hurt. "It's not enough," he said,
his voice hollow. "Words don't
change what you think of me."
Chip felt a stab of guilt, knowing
his dad was right. He'd used
his autism as a weapon, not
knowing the depth of the cuts
it could make.

"What do you want me to do?"
Chip's voice was desperate, his
hands reaching out in a silent
plea for forgiveness. "I ca--"

Plankton's head snapped up, his
eye blazing. "You want to know
what I want?" His voice was a
whisper, but it felt like a shout.
"I want you to see me," he said,
his antennae trembling. "Not
my autism, not my stims, not
some problem to be solved.
Me! Now get out!" The words were a
knife to Chip's heart, but he knew
his dad was right. He'd reduced
his entire being to a slur,
a label.

Chip took a step back, his
heart racing. "I'm sorry," he said,
his voice tight with unshed tears.
"I didn't mean it." But the damage
was done. The room felt like it was
closing in around him, the air
thick with the scent of his own
shame.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his body a rigid line of anger.
"You think you can just apologize
and make it better?" he spat, his
voice a whipcrack of pain. "You think
it's that easy?"

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
desperate for a spark of
forgiveness. But all he saw was
hurt, a deep wound that he'd
unintentionally inflicted. "I don't
know what to do," he admitted,
his voice shaking. "I just want
to be there for yo-"

"No," Plankton interrupted, his voice
like a shattered mirror. "You don't
want to be here for me."
He couldn't even bring himself
to say the slur, the pain
too raw, too fresh. Chip felt his
throat constrict.

"Dad," Chip's voice was
small, his eyes brimming with
tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know
that was such a... a big deal."
He didn't know what else to say,
his mind racing to find the words
that could mend the gaping wound
his ignorance had created.

But now Karen's feeling
her own anger rising, fury
at Chip's ignorance. "Chip,
the only thing that's autistic
and mentally reworded here
is your understanding!" she
snapped, the words slipping out
before she could catch them.
The moment they're in
the air, she freezes, realizing
what she's just said, the same slur
a stinging slap that echoed
in the tense air. She regretted
them immediately, seeing the
hurt flash across Plankton's face.

Plankton's antennae drooped
even further, the weight of
his wife's words adding to
his own pain. "K-Karen," he murmured,
his voice thick with sadness
and shock.

Karen's face crumpled with regret.
"Plankton, I didn't mean--"

But Plankton was 
already backing 
away from her.

Karen felt the sting of her
own words, the cruel
cut of her frustration.
She reached out for Plankton,
but he was already retreating,
his eye filled with a mix of
hurt and betrayal. "Plankton," she
whispered, her hand hovering
in the space between them.
He flinched, his antennae
quivering.

The room grew smaller,
their love shrinking
under the weight of their
mistakes. Plankton's
eye searched hers, looking
for something she couldn't
give: absolution. "I'm
s-sorry," she said, her voice
shaking. "I didn't mean it-t."
But the damage was done,
a fresh wound to add to
his collection of scars.

Karen watched as Plankton's
body retreated. She knew that look, the
one that said he was shutting
down, retreating into
his own mind. "Plankton,
please," she begged, her hand
still outstretched. "Let me he-"

But Plankton was already gone,
his body a statue of sadness and
fear. The room felt like it was
closing in on him. He could
barely breathe, his heart racing
like a caged animal's. Karen's
touch, once a source of comfort,
now felt like a threat, a promise
of more pain.

"Plankton," she whispered. But he was
beyond gentle whispers. His antennae
twitched, his body braced. He couldn't
look at her, couldn't bear the
accidental harm.

He felt the room spinning, his thoughts 
of anger, fear, and confusion.
Her hand hovered near him, but it
might as well have been a mile away.
The love and comfort he'd always
found in her touch now seemed like a
looming specter, threatening him.

Karen watched him, her own eyes
tearing up with regret and sadness.
"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, the words
a futile offering to the storm.
But Plankton couldn't hear them, not
when all of his own emotions
drowned out everything else.

He felt the floor beneath him, the
solidity of the world around him. But it
wasn't enough. He needed to retreat,
to find a space where he could breathe.
He stumbled back into the corner.

Karen's hand hovered near him,
a silent apology. But he couldn't
look at her, not yet. The sight of
his wife, the woman who knew him
better than anyone else, the one who
should have understood, was too much.
Her touch, once a balm for his soul,
was now a potential minefield of pain.
He felt her eyes on him, a silent plea
for forgiveness. But he was to scared to give it.

new to see or not to see ableisms chip

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 13
"Okay," Plankton murmured,
his antennae drooping.
"Step by step." Karen nodded,
her grip on his hand tight.
"We'll get through this."

Penny nods. "We've various
ways to administer the
local anesthetic," she says,
her voice soothing. "Which
one do you prefer?" Plankton's
stims decrease slightly, his
eye blinking rapidly as he
considers. "The gel," he murmurs.
She nods. "Okay. So after the
gel, we'll give it a few minutes
to work, and then we'll start
the extraction process. So for
that, we'll have you leave your
mouth open as we get a tool
used to cut the g-"

He jerks back. "No," he says,
his antennae quivering. "No
cutting. No poking. No
tools." His voice is
desperate, his eye wide
with fear.

Karen's eyes searched
Dr. Coral's, silently pleading
for understanding. She knew
his sensitivity to pain was
exacerbated by his autism. "Is there
another way?" she asks, her voice
even.

Dr. Coral nodded. "We can
consider IV sedation," she said.
"It's something we offer to patients
with severe anxiety or sensory
issues. But I think general
anesthesia's our best bet. It's
like laughing gas, nitrous
oxide yet it'll simply keep him
asleep during the whole
procedure."

Karen felt a weight lift from
her shoulders. "Okay," she said.
"We can do that."

Dr. Coral nodded. "Good.
We'll schedule you for
general anesthesia. It'll be
easier on everyone. Tomorrow
morning works for you?"
Karen nodded. "Yes,
we'll make it here, bright
and early."

The drive home was
silent, the tension in
the car thick as
the kelp outside. Plankton
was curled in his seat, his
body tight with residual fear.
Chip's mind raced, trying
to process everything that had
happened. His dad, so strong
and sure, had crumpled before
his eyes like a discarded
piece of paper.

Once home, Karen helped
Plankton to the couch. Chip 
hovered nearby, his eyes 
darting between his
parents, unsure of what to do.
"Why don't you go play in
your room," Karen suggested,
her voice gentle. "Let me take
care of your dad."

He nodded, retreating
to his room with a heavy
heart. The silence in the
house was deafening, a stark
contrast to the chaos
of the dentist's office.

Karen helped Plankton
pick out a blanket and
a stuffed animal,
comfort items, for the
oral surgery tomorrow.

Plankton's stims were
more pronounced as he
tried to process the
information. "It'll be
okay," she whispered.
He nodded, his antennae
still twitching.

"We'll be there with you,"
she assured him. "Every
step of the way."

Early the next day
Karen got up so
she could take 
Plankton back for 
his wisdom teeth
removal procedure.
He was already
awake, his antennae 
twitching with nervous
energy. Chip also will
go with them.

Plankton sat up front with
his blanket and plush.
Karen squeezed his hand.
"Remember, sweetie, it's
going to be okay."
He nodded, his antennae
drooping slightly as he
turned to look out the
window. Chip sat in the
back, his eyes glued to
his father's reflection.

They arrived at the
dental clinic, and
the receptionist looked
up, her smile faltering
slightly at the sight
of Plankton's agitation.
"Dr. Coral is almost
ready, so have a seat in
the waiting area."

As they all sat, Plankton started
rocking back and forth, his
stims increasing with each
moment that ticked by. "Hnnn,"
Plankton hums.

Karen's eyes searched the room
for anything that might help
calm him, but the bright lights
and the cacophony of sounds
only seemed to exacerbate his
discomfort. The fish flipping
through magazines, the TV playing
a children's show, the distant
whine of a drill from a
different room—each
element a potential minefield
for his sensitive senses.

Chip watched his dad, his
throat tight with anxiety.
He'd never seen him like
this, so vulnerable and
frightened. Karen reached
over and placed a tentative
hand on Plankton's shoulder.
"It's okay," she whispered,
but Plankton flinched away,
his antennae quivering. Karen
understood. Plankton's in
need of his space, and she
wouldn't push him. She knew
today's particularly
overwhelming.

Dr. Coral called
them back, and Plankton's
body stiffened. Karen
stood up, her arm around
his waist, guiding him
toward the open door.
"Let's go, sweetie," she
murmured. "It's time. Chip
will stay here in the waiting
room, okay?"

The surgery room was
a stark contrast to the
waiting area. The lights were
dimmer, the sounds softer.
The smell of antiseptic
was faint, but it was enough
to make Plankton's antennae
twitch with anxiety. Karen
noticed and whispered,
"You can keep your plushie
with you."

He nodded, his grip on
the stuffed animal tight.
They approached the
exam chair, and he allowed
Karen to help him climb up.

The nurse, a kind octopus
named Octavia, smiled. "Hi!
I'll make sure you're comfy
and snoozing while Dr. Coral
takes out the wisdom teeth.
She told me about your needs
and we've the gas, okay? And
Karen will stay with you the
whole time."

Plankton's antennae stopped
twitching momentarily, his
eye blinking rapidly as he
tried to process her words.
"You'll stay?" he asked, his
voice small, hopeful. Karen
nodded. "I'll be here." He held
out his hand for her to hold and
she took it. The stuffed plush
was in his other arm.

The nurse, Octavia,
prepared a mouth
prop. "This is going to
help keep your mouth open
comfortably," she explained,
her voice gentle. "It's
soft, and it won't pinch."
Plankton's antennae
twitched, his eye narrowing.
It looked like a pair of
plastic salad tongs. He
opened his mouth and allowed
her to place it gently.

Dr. Coral entered,
her smile reassuring.
"Ready?" she asked. Plankton
nodded, his antennae
still. Karen took his hand,
squeezing it tight. 

new to see or not to see octàvia 13

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 14
The gas mask was placed
over his face, and he took
deep breaths as instructed.
The world grew fuzzy.
His eye grew heavy,
his antennae drooping.
Karen watched as Plankton's
body grew slack, his antennae
finally still. The gas did its job,
lulling him into a deep sleep.

Dr. Coral smiles at 
Octavia's nod, indicating
that the anesthesia had
taken full effect. Plankton's
body was now relaxed. 
Octavia then administered
the IV as she removed the
gas mask. "Alright, Karen,"
Dr. Coral began, her voice
soft. "We're going to get
started now. Remember,
he's going to sleep through
this, okay?" Karen nods as
they also inject local
anesthetic into his gums.

Plankton's snores filled
the room, a gentle rhythm
that was a stark contrast
to the precision of the surgical
procedure. Dr. Coral and her
team began the extraction.
Karen's eyes never left
Plankton's face, her thumb
absently stroking the back
of his hand. She watched as
Dr. Coral carefully extracted
the wisdom teeth. Octavia, the
nurse, went to work with
the suction device, keeping
his mouth clear.

Plankton's snores grew
steadier, a testament to
his deep sleep. Karen's
grip on his hand tightened
as the surgery progressed.

The extraction was
quick, each tooth pulled
gently and with care.
Plankton's face remained
peaceful, oblivious to the
world around him. His antennae
twitched slightly as Dr. Coral
worked, but he was lost in
the depths of his slumber.

Once the teeth were out,
Dr. Coral turned to the
stitches. Plankton's
body remained still, his
snores a comforting
background noise. "We're
using stitches that 
dissolve. Since he's prone
to spasms, we're just putting
more of them in just in case.
It's our protocol for patients
with a history of seizures
or epileptic disorders."

The removal of the IV
was next, and Karen felt
her heart race. She knew
this could be a trigger
for him, if he were awake.

As Dr. Coral finished up,
she looked to Karen. "Okay,
now for the gauze."

Karen nodded, her eyes
never leaving Plankton's
face. She knew the next
part could be tricky, but
Dr. Coral had assured her
that they'd done everything
possible to ensure his comfort.
The nurse, Octavia, stepped back 
in with Chip, handing Dr. Coral
the gauze. The room was
quiet except for the soft
snores of Plankton as they
remove the mouth prop.

Dr. Coral carefully packed
the gauze into his mouth,
the cottony softness
melding with the contours
of his gums. Each movement
was precise, each touch
gentle. Plankton's antennae
twitched in his sleep,
his body reacting to the
foreign sensation, but
he remained asleep.

"Remember, Karen," she
whispered, her voice
soothing. "When he wakes
up, he might be a bit
loopy. It's normal with
the anesthesia. He might
not remember much, or
he might say things that
don't make sense. It's also
ok if he takes a lot of naps.
So, don't worry too much.
It takes a little while. Oh, and his 
mouth has also been numbed."

Plankton's snores grew
even, the surgery
now complete. Karen
kisses his forehead. "You
did so well," she murmured.
Chip came to the
doorway, his heart
thudding in his chest.
He'd never seen his
dad so vulnerable.

Plankton's mouth was
slack, a thin line of drool
trailing down his chin as
he slept. Karen dabbed it away
with a gentle napkin, her eyes
filled with love and concern.
"The drool is normal and ok,"
Octavia said.

The surgery had been a success,
yet she knew the next week of
recovery could be a challenge.

Plankton slept, his mouth open
slightly, another trickle of
drool forming at the corner
of his lips. Karen watched
over him, her heart swelling with
relief and love. Chip hovered
in the doorway, his eyes
following the soft rise and
fall of his father's chest.

Karen's mind raced with
thoughts of the coming week,
knowing that Plankton would
need around-the-clock care.
He'd need his meals softened,
his mouth cleaned, his pain
managed. Yet she felt a sense
of peace settle over her. They'd
faced so much, and together,
they'd navigate this too.

The nurse, Octavia, noticed
Chip's concern. "It's normal,"
she assured him, her voice
soft. "The medicine makes
his muscles relax. He won't
be like this forever."

Plankton's mouth remained
open slightly, the gentle
snores punctuating the quiet
room. Karen sat in the chair
beside him, her hand never
leaving his. She studied his
face, the peacefulness of his
sleep a stark contrast to
his fear earlier. She couldn't
help but chuckle at the
slight drool that had formed
on his plushie. It had
soaked through to the fabric,
leaving a damp spot.

The nurse, Octavia,
smiled at Chip. "It's normal,"
she said. "The anesthesia
can do that." Karen nodded,
her eyes never leaving Plankton.
"But it's okay," she added,
seeing the concern in Chip's
expression. "He's safe. He's
not feeling any pain."

Chip nodded, his
throat tight. He'd never seen
his dad so vulnerable.
He watched as a drop of
drool slipped from
Plankton's mouth, landing
on the plushie in his arm.
It was a strange sight,
his dad, the man who
always had everything
under control, now lying here,
defenseless in sleep.
But the sight of Karen,
so calm and loving, her
hand in his dad's, gave him
comfort. He knew that
together, they could handle
anything. Chip took a
deep breath, steeling himself
for the days ahead. He'd
have to be there for Plankton,
just like his mom.

new to see or not to see plushiecore coral

TO SEE OR NOT TO SEE
(by NeuroFabulous)
𓇼 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑  🕊️🩰🐚  
Pt. 15
As the anesthesia 
began to wear off,
Plankton's snores grew
quieter. His antennae
twitched slightly, a sign
that he was coming back
to consciousness. Karen
was there, her hand
still in his, ready to face
whatever the waking world
brought with him.

His eyelid fluttered open,
his pupil dilated and
unfocused. "Mmph," he
mumbled, his mouth
filled with gauze. Karen's
heart jumped. She leaned
in closer, her voice soft.
"Hey, Plankton, you're okay.
You're back!"

Plankton looked at her,
his antennae twitching.
"Wha...?" he mumbled,
his speech slurred from
the anesthesia. He tried
to sit up, but the nurse,
Octavia, gently pushed
his shoulders back down.
"Easy, Mr. Plankton,"
she said. "Take i---" "Wha...
Whath...?" Plankton interrupts.

Karen leaned closer.
"You had your wisdom teeth
taken out," she explained
gently. "You're going to be
a bit sleepy and your mouth
is going to feel funny."

Plankton's antennae twitched
as he took in her words.
"Teef?" he slurred, his voice
higher than usual. "Owies?"

Karen nodded, her smile
soft. "Yes, but you're all
done now." She gently
stroked his cheek. "You
were so brave."

Plankton's antennae
twitched as he tried to
comprehend. The world
was a blur, his mouth
still numb and filled with
cottony gauze. "Windom
teef?" he mumbled.

Karen's eyes filled with
compassion as she
nodded. "Yes, sweetie,
they took them out to
make sure you don't 
hurt." She held up
his plushie, now wet
from the drool. "Remember
your friend here?"

Plankton blinked, his
eye focusing on the
plushie. He nodded
slightly, his antennae
slowing their twitching.
"Fwens," he murmured,
his voice faint. Karen
pressed the stuffed animal
to his chest. "You did
so good," she whispered.
"Now, let's get you home
so you can rest."

Chip stepped forward,
his own anxiety
easing slightly at the
sight of his dad's
confusion. He reached
for the plushie. "Da-"
But Plankton's eye
widened. "No!" he
protested, his voice
slurred. "Ith’s mime!"
Karen's eyes met Chip's.
"Let him have it," she
whispered. "It's a
comfort object." Chip
nodded, stepping back.

The nurse, Octavia,
smiled gently. "Okay,
Mr. Plankton, let's get
you sitting up now."
Plankton's antennae
twitched as he complied,
his movements slow
and clumsy. Chip couldn't
help but feel a pang of
sympathy at the sight of
his dad so out of sorts.

Karen helped him
into a sitting position,
his eye still unfocused.
"Whewe am I again?" he asked,
his voice small and lost.
"You're at the dentist,"
Karen said, her voice
soothing. "Remember the
surgery?"

Plankton blinked, his
memory foggy. "Teethies?"
He looked around the room,
his antennae quivering.
"Ith wath scawy," he said,
his voice trembling. "Buth
now it'th aww done?"

Karen nodded, her smile
reassuring. "Yes, sweetie,
it's all done. You're okay."
Chip watched, his heart
swelling with emotion.
His dad's confused speech
from his numb mouth
was a stark reminder of
his vulnerability.

"Buth I don't feew ith,"
Plankton said, his antennae
drooping. "Mowf, funny."
Karen nodded, her eyes
never leaving his. "It's
because the doctor had to
make your mouth sleepy,"
she explained. "But we'll get
you home, and you can take
more naps to feel better."

Chip watched his dad,
his heart aching. The
brave front Plankton had
put on was gone, replaced
by childlike bewilderment
from the lingering anesthesia.

"C-can go hone now?"
Plankton mumbled, his voice
still thick and slurred. Karen
nodded, her eyes filled with
pity. "Yes, we're going home
right now." She turned to
Octavia. "Can we go?"
The nurse nodded.

As they helped Plankton
into the car, his movements
were still clumsy, his coordination
off from the anesthesia.
He leaned heavily on Karen,
his antennae drooping.
"Thath way," he murmured,
his eye pointing in the
general direction of the
car. Chip stepped aside,
his heart heavy as he watched
his dad's unsteady gait.
Once inside, Karen
buckled him in and put
his blanket over. "Here
you go," she said, her voice
soothing. "Everything's going
to be okay."

Falling asleep as Karen drove,
Plankton's head lolled to the
side, his mouth open, drool
pooling in the corner. His
snores were low and rhythmic,
his antennae still, and his mouth
was slack. Karen giggled. "Plankton
how you doing?" He stirred, antennae
twitching slightly. "Mmf," 
he murmured. "Tham."

Karen's eyes filled with love.
"We're almost home," she said.
"Just a little longer."

Plankton nodded, 
his antennae
still droopy. "Karen
I'm tiwweeddd!"
Karen couldn't help but
laugh, her heart
warming at his slurred
speech.

"Whewe's Chip?" he asked
suddenly, his voice groggy.
Karen looked in the rearview
mirror. "He's right here,
behind us," she assured him.
"Keeping an eye on you."

Chip felt his cheeks warm
with the attention. Plankton's
confusion was so innocent,
like a child's, it was hard
not to be drawn in by it.
He leaned forward. "Hi, Dad,"
he said gently.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye searching the
backseat. "Chip?"

Chip nodded, trying to
smile. "I'm here, Dad."
Plankton's gaze was
glassy, his voice slurred.
"You...shay?" "Yes, Dad," 
Chip said. "I'm right
here."

new to see or not to see patientcore octavia

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 17


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

The next morning, Karen
gets a text from Plankton's
dental office for a check
up and routine cleaning. So
Karen decided to go down
stairs to awaken him, and
Chip, so they can go. She
finds them both asleep by
each other still on the couch.

Gently, she shakes Plankton's
shoulder. "Honey," she says,
her voice a soft caress.
"You've got a dentist
appointment." Plankton's
eye snaps open, his antennae
twitching. Chip opens his eyes.

Plankton sits up with a start,
his body stiff from the
night on the couch. He looks
at Karen, his expression
a mix of confusion and
dread. "Dentist?" he repeats, his
voice cracking.

Karen nods, her eyes filled with
concern. "It's okay," she says,
her voice soothing. "We'll go
together, all of us."

Karen's eyes are filled with
understanding as she helps
Plankton to his feet. Chip
rises from his spot, his
expression a mix of worry
and determination.

The drive to the dentist's office
is quiet, the tension palpable.
Once they arrive, they go up to
the receptionist desk. 
The receptionist, a cheery octopus,
greets them with a smile. "Good
morning, Mr. Plankton," she says.
"You're here for your 9 AM appointment,
aren't you?" Plankton nods.

"Yes," Karen says. "He's with hygienist
named Zoe.." But then the receptionist
interrupts her. "Oh, Zoe doesn't work
here anymore. She's been replaced by 
a new hygienist, named Jill."

Plankton's antennae droop, his
face paling. Change was never his
friend, especially when it came
to routine. "But I've always had
her," he whispers, his voice tight
with anxiety. Karen's hand squeezes
his shoulder, her eyes filled with
understanding. "It'll be okay,"
she murmurs. "We'll make it work. We
can tell her about your autistic needs."

The waiting room is a cacophony
of sounds, the buzz of the fluorescent
lights, the hum of the air conditioner,
the distant drill, and the muffled
chatter of other patients. Plankton
starts rocking back and forth.

Karen notices the signs of
his anxiety building, his antennae
twitching with every new sound.
She leans over, whispering. "We'll tell
them what you need."

Chip looks at his dad's stimming.
"Why's he rocking?" Chip asks
Karen. She whispers back, "It's a
way he self-soothes, a common
autistic trait. It's his way to
deal with restlessness."

The new hygienist, Jill, enters
the waiting room. "Plankton?"
Plankton's antennae shoot up, his
body tense. "Yes," Karen says,
smiling warmly. "This is my
husband, Plankton, and our son,
Chip." She nods towards Chip. They
stand up and follow Jill.

Jill's office is a minefield
of sensory stimuli. The bright
lights, the smell of antiseptic,
and the shiny metal instruments
glinting on the tray. Plankton's
body tightens with each step
closer to the chair. Karen notices,
and whispers, "Remember what
we talked about, Plankton. You
can handle this."

He nods, his antennae flicking
nervously. 

new do you trust me karen plankton 17

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 1

Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous

https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all

Read the Autism And All one first!


In the aftermath of 
Plankton's science 
fair episode, Chip 
didn't want his dad 
to go through that again, 
so he decided it was 
time for a change. He 
approached his mom 
with the idea of switching 
schools. Karen 
listened, her eyes filled with 
empathy, and nodded. "You 
know, sweetie, sometimes 
change can be good. We'll 
look into it."

The next day, Chip 
accompanied his parents to 
Hanna's house. Hanna, 
with her infectious 
energy, was eager to 
help. Chip couldn't 
help but overhear their 
conversation. "So, Karen, 
what's really going on 
with Plankton?"

Karen took a deep breath 
and began to explain. 
"Well, Hanna, Plankton's 
autistic. It's like his brain 
works differently. He has 
these things called 'stims' 
that help him focus and 
stay calm, especially when 
he's overwhelmed."

Hanna's eyes widened with 
understanding. "Oh, like when 
he was sick aft-"

Karen gently cut her off. "Yes, 
it was related. It's all
a part of his condition. But 
it's more than just that. 
His mind works in ways 
that we can't always 
understand. Sometimes it's 
like he's in his own little 
world, but it's a brilliant one."

Plankton was swinging his
legs as he sat by Karen, feeling
awkward. He knew
his brain was different, but
he didn't like it being talked
about outside of Karen.

Hanna leaned in, curiosity
piqued. "What do you mean,
'brilliant'?"

"Well, you know how he can
recall every single detail of
his Krabby Patty recipe?"
Karen said with a smile.
"Or how he can fix anything
in the restaurant with just a
quick look? That's his autism
at work. It's like he has
these special powers, but
sometimes it can be too
much for him to handle."

Chip watched Hanna nod,
absorbing the information.
He felt a mix of pride and
protectiveness for his dad.
"But what about the bad
parts?" Hanna asked, her voice
softening. "How do you deal
with the... the tantrum..."

The moment the word slipped
out, Plankton's legs stopped
swinging. His eye darted to
Hanna, a flicker of anger
crossing his face. Karen knew
that look. Plankton didn't
like the term "tantrum." It
was a sore spot, something
that made him feel less than.
With a sigh, she turned to
Hanna, placing a gentle hand
on her friend's arm. "Let's call
it a 'meltdown', okay?"

"M-Meltdown?" Hanna stuttered,
her cheery demeanor dimming.
"It's a tantrum, right?"

Plankton's eye narrowed, and
his grip on his chair tightened.
"It's not a tantrum, Hanna,"
Plankton spoke through gritted
teeth, his voice low and firm.
"It's a meltdown. There's
a difference, you know‽"

Hanna looked surprised, then
embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Plankton.
I didn't mean to-"

But Plankton was beyond apologies.
He shot up from his chair, his
tiny fists balled at his sides. "You
think I throw tantrums? That I'm a
child who can't control himself?"
The room grew tense as his voice
escalated, his body trembling with
frustration. "I'm not like that. I'm not
a toddler!"

Hanna took a step back, her hands
up in a gesture of peace. "Plankton,
I didn't mean-"

But he was beyond words, his
autistic brain flooded with sensory
overload from the misunderstanding.
Karen could see the panic in his eye,
his body poised for fight or flight.
Her heart ached for him, for the way
the world often didn't understand.

Chip stepped in, trying to diffuse
the situation. "Dad, it's okay. Ms. Hanna
just didn't know the right word."

Karen moved swiftly to Plankton's
side, her voice calm and soothing.
"Honey, I know you're upset. Let's
go to a quiet spot." She guided
him to the corner of Hanna's kitchen.

Hanna, eyes wide, looked at Karen
for guidance. "I didn't mean to-"
she started, but Karen held up a
hand, cutting her off gently. "It's
okay, Hanna. It's just a 
misunderstanding."

In the quiet corner, Karen
knelt beside him. "You're
right, Plankton. It's not fair.
But remember, she didn't know."
Plankton's eye darted
back to Hanna, who was now
silent, watching them with a
mixture of shock and guilt. Chip
stood there, torn between his
dad's fury and Hanna's ignorance.

Hanna's cheery persona
was gone, replaced by a look of
genuine concern. She approached
them cautiously. "I'm really
sorry, Plankton. I didn't mean to
upset you." Her eyes searched
his for forgiveness.

Plankton's chest heaved with
anger, but he felt a twinge of
compassion for her ignorance. He
knew she didn't understand,
but it didn't change the hurt
she had caused.

Karen's hand was warm and
steadying on his shoulder. "Let's
talk about this," she said softly.
"You know Hanna didn't mean it
that way."

Plankton's breath was ragged
as he tried to compose himself.
He knew Karen was right, but the
word had stung, bringing back
memories of past judgments and
misunderstandings. "I know," he
managed to murmur, his voice
strained. Hanna took another 
tentative step forward.

"I'm here to learn, Plankton,"
she said with sincerity. "Tell me
what I should kno—"

But Plankton was already retreating
into his own world, his eye
glazed over as he tried to
process the conversation. Karen
stood up, her eyes never leaving
his. "Why don't we give him a
moment, Hanna?" She sat
beside Plankton, who was now
rocking back and forth.

Hanna nodded, looking at them
with a mix of confusion and
remorse. "I didn't know," she
whispered. "I just didn't know."

In the quiet corner, Karen
wrapped her arm around
Plankton, holding him close.
"It's ok," she repeated. "You're
right, honey. It's not the same."

Hanna leads them all
to the couches in her
living room. Plankton
eased himself on a
sofa opposite Hanna.
He rocks back and
forth in stimming. "Tantrum,
tantrum, not a tantrum.
Meltdown. Meltdown," he
murmurs to himself.

Plankton's voice grew softer.
"Tantrum, no. Meltdown.
Meltdown," he murmured,
his eye unfocused. The
stimming was a familiar
sight by now, a comforting
self-soothing technique that
his brain needed in moments
of stress. Hanna sat down
beside him, mimicking the
rocking motion in what she
thought of was a silent
offer of support.

Plankton's gaze snapped
to Hanna, his expression
sharp. "What are you doing?"
he demanded. The suddenness
of his voice startled Hanna.
"Just trying to help," she
stuttered, unsure of herself.
"Don't," he said firmly, his
face flushing. "Don't mimic me."
Karen stepped in, placing
a hand on Hanna's shoulder.
"It's ok," she assured her.
"It can be uncomfortable when
people do that. It's best to let
him do his thing."

Hanna nodded, her screen
full of regret. "I'm sorry," she
managed, looking at Plankton.
But Plankton was already
lost in a loop of words, echoing
his own thoughts. "This isn't
right, not right, not right," he
whispered to himself.
Hanna looks up, confused.
"What isn't right, Plank-"
"Don't talk to me," Plankton
interrupted, his voice
sharp.

Karen took a seat next to Hanna,
her hand resting gently on her
knee. "Hanna, you see, stims are
like Plankton's personal language.
They're private, like someone's
thoughts. It's how he speaks to
his brain, how he tells it 'I'm safe,
I'm okay'. It's not for us to join
unless he asks us to."
Hanna nodded slowly. "So, when I
tried to... help him by doing
what he does, it was like I was..."

"Intruding. It's like if
someone tried to finish your
sentences or read your thoughts,"
Karen elaborated, her gaze
softening as she watched Plankton.
"It's his way of saying, 'This is
how I process the world, and
I need this space to do so.'"

Hanna nodded, her screen
reflecting the newfound
knowledge. "I never thought
of it that way," she murmured.
"I just wanted to help."

"I know you did," Karen
smiled gently, patting her hand.
"But sometimes, the best way to
help is to give space. For him,
stims are just as personal as
a diary entry. They're his way
of communicating to himself."

Plankton's rocking grew
softer, less frantic.
Karen knew the signs of his
brain starting to settle down.
He was beginning to come
back to them, but she didn't
want to push it.

new autism and all to change the world sequel

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 21


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Plankton watches as the doctor
holds the film up to the light,
his eyes scanning the white
and grey image. Plankton's eye
follows, trying to make sense of
the shapes and shadows that are
his teeth. He's seen these
before, the ghosts of his mouth
laid bare for inspection.

But there's something new.
The doctor's expression is serious,
his voice careful. "Looks like
you've got some wisdom teeth who
are thinking about moving in!"

Plankton's antennae spike with
anxiety. "W-what does that mean?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
Dr. Musselman's expression is
reassuring. "It means we need to
take them out before they
cause any trouble. It's a
procedure that can be a bit
scary, but we'll make sure
you're as comfortable as possib--"

But Plankton's fear spirals out
of control. "No," he whispers,
his antennae drooping. "No more
pain." Karen's heart clenches.
"They can cause a lot of pain
if we don't, sweetie," she says,
her voice soothing. "But we'll
make sure it's as gentle as
possible. Can we just do it
today? He hasn't eaten since
yesterday, so..."

Dr. Musselman nods. "We can
schedule it for today," he says,
his voice calm. "But let's
make sure you're as comfortable
as we can first." He gestures
to the chair. "Would you like
to sit down, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his body stiff with fear. But
he nods, his movements slow
and deliberate as he slides
back into the chair. Karen's
hand squeezes his, a silent
promise of support. "I'll stay
with you," she says, her voice
a warm whisper.

Dr. Musselman nods. "We'll
start with a local anesthetic,"
he says, his tone soothing.
"It'll numb the area so you
won't feel anything." He says
as he grabs a syringe filled
with a clear liquid. Plankton's
eye widens, his antennae
stilling in fear.

"Could we try
sedation, or?"

Dr. Musselman nods, his
expression sympathetic. "We can
do that," he says. "It'll make
the whole process easier." The doctor
explains the process, his words
measured and calm. Plankton's
eye widens at the mention of
sleeping through the procedure, his
body relaxing slightly. "We'll do both
cleaning and extraction all while he's
under anesthesia."

An anesthesiologist enters,
his movements calm and precise.
Plankton watches him with
a mix of fear and curiosity,
his antennae twitching. The
smell of the gas fills the
air, and Karen's grip on his
hand tightens. "It'll just
make you sleep," she whispers,
trying to soothe his nerves.
The mask is cold against
his face, the scent of the gas
strange. "Breathe," he
says. "In and out."

Plankton does as he's
told, his eye squeezed shut.
The world around him starts
to fade, the sounds of the
dental office growing
distant. His chest feels
heavy, his breaths slow and
deep. "You're doing so well,"
Karen murmurs, her voice a
constant in the swirl of
his thoughts. "I'm so proud of you."

The anesthesiologist's
gloved hand is gentle, his voice
soft. "Just a few more
breaths," he says. Plankton's
body relaxes into the chair,
his antennae drooping. The
gas fills his lungs, and the
world goes hazy around the
edges. The coldness of the mask
is the last sensation he
registers before the darkness
claims him.

Meanwhile, Karen watches 
as the anesthetic takes
hold. Plankton's hand relaxes
in hers, his breaths evening
out. She feels the weight
of his fear lifting, his
body growing slack. She
kisses his forehead, whispering
words of love and reassurance
as the world slips away
from him.

Finally, he falls asleep,
his antennae still 
as he starts to
snore lightly. They
clean his teeth before
extracting the wisdom
teeth, all while Plankton's
body lies limp in the chair
feeling nothing. Karen holds
his hand as they put the last
of the dissolving stitches in.

The procedure is done,
and Plankton is still asleep.
Karen's eyes are full of
relief and love as she
smiles down at him. "It's all
over," she whispers. "You
did so well, baby." She 
knows he probably can't
hear her yet, though.

The doctor nods. "Everything
went smoothly," he says, his
voice low. "The extractions
went well, and he should
wake up in a few minutes."

Karen's heart skips a beat,
her hand tightening around
Plankton's. "Thank you," she
whispers, her voice thick with
emotion. "Thank you for
understanding."

Dr. Musselman nods, his eyes
kind. "We're here to help,"
he says. "Now let's get him
comfortable before he wakes
up." The chair is reclined,
his mouth clean and his teeth
bare of the troublesome
wisdom teeth. Drool pools at
the corners of his mouth, a
testament to his deep slumber
and numbness.

Karen's mind races with
thoughts as they wait for
Plankton to come to. She
thinks about the seizure
and the fear in his eye. It
was a stark reminder of
his vulnerability, despite
his bravado. She makes a
mental note to be more
understanding, more
supportive.

The doctor and his
assistant carefully insert the
gauze pads with tender precision,
their movements silent
and respectful of his sleep.
Plankton's body remains still,
his snores unchanged by
the intrusion.

Karen watches with a
mixture of love and anxiety.
Her hand is a constant
comfort on his, her thumb
gently stroking the
back of his palm. She's
thankful for Dr. Musselman's
understanding, his gentle
touch.

The doctor nods. "He'll
wake up in his own time,"
he says, his eyes on the
monitors that track Plankton's
vitals. "It's normal for
autistic patients to need
some extra time to come out
of anesthesia." His words
hang in the air, a reminder
of the unique challenges
they face.

Karen nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's still form.
The gauze in his mouth is
already stained with a faint
pink, the blood from his
extractions. She reaches
for a tissue, gently wiping
away the drool that has
started to form around
his mouth. Her heart clenches
as she sees the peaceful
expression on his face, free
from the fear that had
gripped him earlier.
The doctor checks the
monitors, his gaze flicking
between the numbers and
Plankton's sleeping form. "He's
doing well," he murmurs.

new do you trust me karen plankton 21

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 7


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Chip
whimpers, his eyes wide with fear.
He's never felt so lost, so
small. Plankton's breaths come in
quick, sharp bursts, his body a
tangle of frustration and pain.

Plankton's antennae thrash in the
air, his eye wild and unpredictable.
"You don't know what you're
talking about!" he yells, his voice
bouncing off the walls of the room.
He turns away from his son, his
body language screaming 'don't touch'.

Chip's eyes are pools of pain,
his hand hovering awkwardly. "But
Daddy," he says, his voice barely
above a whisper. "Just t---"

"Don't you dare!"
Plankton's antennae whip around
wildly, his eye flashing with a
mixture of anger and fear.
Chip yanked his hand away
but doing so, he accidentally
brushes against Plankton's
arm in the process.
The explosion of emotion is
instant. Plankton recoils, his
body jerking away as if burned.
He sweeps his arm across the
nightstand, sending books flying.
Karen knew she needs to intervene.

"Chip, go to your room," she
says firmly, her voice cutting
through the storm of emotions.
Chip's eyes are wide with shock,
his body trembling as he
backs away from the bed, tears
streaming down his face. "But
Mom," he protests, his voice
choked with emotion. "I didn't me—"

"I know, Chip," Karen says,
her tone brooking no argument.
Plankton's antennae are a blur of
movement, his breathing
erratic. "Your dad needs space."

Chip nods and makes his way to his
room, his legs wobbly. As he
closes the door, Karen
sighs, her eyes sad as she
turns back to Plankton. Karen knew
to tread carefully.
Plankton is panting, his antennae
twitching rapidly. He's
upset, more than she's seen in
a long time.

"Plankton," she says softly,
approaching the bed. "Hey,
I'm here." His antennae
quiver, and she knows she's
treading on thin ice when he
kicks the blanket off his bed
with a snarl. Karen's heart breaks
seeing the pain in his eye.
He sweeps his arm across the
dresser, sending a cascade
of items crashing to the floor.
The room echoes with his rage,
each crash a declaration of his
frustration. Karen
swallows the lump in her throat,
knowing she has to be the calm
in this storm.

Plankton's breaths come in
quick, sharp bursts, his antennae
still quivering. He turns away
from her, his back to the wall,
his body tight with tension.
Karen approaches slowly, her eyes
on his, watching for
any sign of his mood shifting.
"Let it out," she whispers, her
hands outstretched but not
touching. "You're safe here."

Plankton's body convulses
with anger, and he throws
another object across the room.
It hits the wall with a thud,
leaving a small crack. His antennae
quiver with each ragged breath
he takes. Karen knows they're
on the edge.

With trembling hands, she
picks up his pillow from the floor,
carefully moving closer.
"You don't have to keep it in,"
she says softly, extending the
pillow towards him. "You can
hit this." Her voice is a
soothing balm to the chaos.

Plankton's antennae stop
their frantic dance for a
moment, his eye flickering
with something akin to hope.
He takes the pillow, his
fists tightening around it.

With a roar, he brings
the pillow down onto the bed,
his strength surprising even
Karen. The sound is muffled,
but the fury in the gesture
is clear. He hits it again,
and again, each blow a silent
scream of pain and anger.

Karen watches, her heart
breaking with each hit, her eyes
never leaving his. She knows
this is his fear and frustration
manifesting in the only way
his overwhelmed mind knows how.

"Let it out, Plankton," she whispers,
moving closer, her voice steady.
"You're safe here."

Plankton's body shakes as he
slams the pillow into the mattress,
his antennae quivering with each
impact. Karen remains still. She knows
this storm of emotion isn't directed
at her, but at the invisible barriers
that have caged him in for so long.

He throws the pillow again,
his face contorted with rage. The
cotton explodes into a cloud of feathers,
but it's not enough. He needs more.

He turns, his antennae a
blur of emotion, and sees the
closet door. With a snarl, he
charges towards it, throwing it
open. The sound of hangers
clattering fills the air as he
starts to rip clothes from their
hangers, tossing them around the
room like confetti in a tornado.

Karen watches, her eyes
filled with a mix of sadness
and fear. This is the what
his condition turns him into
when the pressure gets too much.
Her heart aches for him,
trapped in his own mind.
She knows she has
to be careful; any wrong move
could set him off.

Plankton's eye darts around
the room, searching for something
else to unleash his fury upon.
His antennae quiver,
his body still shaky. Karen moves closer,
slowly, her hand reaching out.

He turns to her, the anger
in his gaze unmistakable.
But as he sees her hand,
his expression falters.

Karen takes a deep breath,
her voice steady. "It's okay," she says.

new do you trust me karen plankton 7

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 8


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

"Let it out. You're safe."
Karen's hand hovers, a silent
offer of support. Plankton's
antennas twitch, his eye
flitting between her and
the chaos he's created.

With a sudden jerk, he
throws the pillow aside, the
feathers fluttering to the
ground like a defeated
battle flag. He turns to her,
his breaths coming in ragged
gasps. "I hate this," he
whispers, his voice filled with
despair. "I hate that I can't—"
He doesn't finish the sentence.
Instead, he starts to shake, his
body convulsing with the
force of his emotions. Karen
knows he's about to have
seizure convulsions.
With swiftness borne of
practiced experience, she
moves to catch him.

"Plankton, it's okay," she
coos, her voice a lifeline in
the storm. "Let's sit down."
Gently, she guides him to
the bed, her eyes never
leaving his. His body
spasms once, twice, before
settling into a tremble.

The room is still, the
only sound his ragged breathing
and the occasional quiver of
his antennae. Karen's heart
is racing, but her hands are
steady as she takes his.
"Breathe with me," she says,
her voice a soft rhythm.
"In, and out."

Plankton's eye locks
on hers, his pupil dilating
as he focuses on her words.
He takes a deep breath, his
body shuddering with the effort.
"Good," Karen whispers, her
thumbs gently stroking his
wrists. "Again."

The tremors slowly
ease, his breathing evening out.
"It's okay, Plankton," she
says, her voice a lullaby.
"You're okay." His antennae
twitch, his body relaxes.

For a moment, there's
only the sound of their
breaths mingling in the quiet.
Then, with a sigh, Plankton
slumps against her, his
body limp with exhaustion.
Karen wraps her arms around
him, her heart aching. "I'm
here," she whispers. "I'm not
going anywhere."

Plankton's antennae
quiver slightly, and he
nods, his eye closing.
Karen can feel the tension
leaving his body, the storm
of emotions retreating. His
breathing slows, his antennae
falling still.

For a few moments,
the only sound in the room
is their synchronized
breathing. Then, with a
shudder, Plankton starts to
cry.

Karen holds him tighter,
rocking him gently as he sobs
into her shoulder. His
tiny body shakes with
the force of his pain, his
antennas drooping.

"I'm sorry," Plankton whispers,
his voice thick with emotion.
"I didn't mean to scare
you." His words are muffled
by his tears, his antennae
twitching with each tremble.

Karen strokes his back,
her eyes filled with understanding.
"It's okay," she soothes, her
voice a balm to his soul. "You're
overwhelmed." She's seen
this before, the sudden
storms of feeling that
his autism can unleash.

Plankton's sobs come in
waves, his body jerking with
each one. Karen knows these
moments are like earthquakes
for him, shaking him to his core.
"You didn't mean it," she
whispers, her voice a
constant in the chaos.
"You just need a moment."
He nods against her, his antennae
still drooping. "I'm sorry,"
he says again, his voice
tiny.

Karen's heart clenches. She
wishes she could take away
his pain, but she knows that's
not how it works. Instead, she
simply holds him, her arms a
steady embrace in the tempest.
"It's okay," she repeats, her
voice a lullaby. "I'm here."

Plankton's crying slows
to a hiccup, and he pulls back,
his antennae drooping. He wipes
his eye, his face a mask
of regret. "I'm sorry," he says,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"I didn't mean to—"

"You don't have to apologize,"
Karen cuts him off, her eyes
soft with compassion. "You
can't help how you feel." She
knows the guilt he's feeling,
the weight of his own
frustrations. She rocks him
gently, her hand rubbing
his back in slow circles.
Plankton's breaths
deepen as he relaxes into
her embrace.
His antennae, which had been
quivering start to settle. The tension
eases from his body, and
his muscles loosen. Karen's
soothing love and gentle
touch are a balm to his
frayed nerves. He leans into
her, his head on her shoulder,
his antennae brushing against
her.

Karen presses a kiss to
his forehead, her hand
continuing to stroke his
back. "It's okay," she whispers.
"You're safe." Plankton's
body responds, his antennae
dropping slightly.
He sighs, his body going
slack against her. She can
feel the last of the tension
drain out of him, and his
breathing evens out.

Her voice is a soft
lullaby in the quiet, a
steady beat to match the
rhythm of his breaths.
"Just relax," she says, her
words a gentle command.
"Let it all go." And he does,
his muscles unclenching, his
mind drifting. "Thanks.." Plankton
says sleepily in her embrace.

Plankton's body goes lax,
his eye closing fully as he
surrenders to the comfort
of Karen's embrace. She
knows He's fallen into a 
deep sleep when he starts to
snore gently, his antennae
still resting on her shoulder.
Karen holds him
closer, her hand continuing a
soothing pattern on his
back, each stroke a silent
promise. Plankton's antennae
rest gently against her,
his body curled into
her side.

The room is quiet, save for
his soft snores.
Her hand moves in gentle
circles on his back, the
motion soothing to them
both. She can feel the
tension slowly draining
from his body, his
antennae finally
still.

The soft light from the
moon filters in through
the window, casting a
pale glow on his features.
In sleep, Plankton looks
peaceful, the furrow in
his brow smoothed away.
Karen kisses his forehead. His
snores deepen, a testament
to his trust in her.

Her hand strokes his antennae,
now limp with sleep. He's just her
Plankton, her partner, her love.
Her gentle touch seems to
soothe his slumber, a
reminder of the sanctuary
their bond provides.

new do you trust me karen plankton 8

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 10


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

The next morning, Plankton
wakes up before Karen.
He sits up in bed, his antennae
twitching slightly as he
takes in the room. His eye darts
to Karen, still sleeping
peacefully on her bed. He feels a
wave of guilt and fear,
his antennae drooping.

He moves to get out of bed,
his body still feeling the
aftershocks of the previous
night's tremors. He pads over
to Chip's bedroom.

The door is open a crack,
letting in a sliver of
sunlight. Plankton hesitates, his
antennas twitching. He's not
sure if he's ready to face his
son yet, but he knows he
has to try. He pushes the door
open to find Chip sitting up
on his bed.

Chip's eyes are red-rimmed,
his face puffy from crying.
He looks at Plankton, his
expression a mix of fear
and hope. Plankton's heart
squeezes at the sight. He
moves into the room, his antennae
waving awkwardly. "Hey," he says,
his voice gruff with sleep.
"Hi, Dad," Chip says, his
voice small.

Plankton sits down on the
edge of the bed, his antennae
quivering with nerves. He's
not good with words, especially
not when it comes to feelings.
Does he address it, or just
pretend yesterday didn't happen?
He decides on the latter.

"Whatcha doing?" Plankton 
asks, trying to keep his tone 
light.

Chip looks up, his eyes
wet. "Just thinking," he
whispers. "About you."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his stomach doing a flip. He's
not used to this kind of
emotional exchange, but
he can feel the weight of
his son's words. He clears
his throat, trying to find
a neutral response. "I'm
fine," he says, his voice
careful.

But Chip's eyes tell a
different story. "You had a
seizure," he says, his voice
shaking. "You scared me—"

Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his body tense. "I didn't
ask for you to watch," he
snaps, his voice sharp.

Chip's eyes widen with
hurt, and Plankton feels a
sting of regret. He didn't
mean to be cruel, but his
fear of vulnerability turns his
words into a shield. "Dad—"

But Plankton cuts him off. "I've
been dealing with this my
whole life, and so I don't need
you to tell me what to do." His
antennas are stiff with anger,
his body tight with tension.
Chip's eyes fill with tears.

"I just wanted to help," he says,
his voice trembling. "I didn't know
what to do." Plankton's antennae
quiver, his eye softening. He's aware
of the pain he's causing, but
his fear of being seen as weak
overpowers his regret.

"Chip, don't act like you know
everything," Plankton says, his antennae
twitching rapidly. "You can't just
think you get me. I'd like to see you
try to live with this!" His words are a
sharp contrast to the gentle stroking of
his antennae that Karen had shown him,
his voice echoing with frustration. "I bet
you wouldn't last a day," he adds, his
body stiff with the weight of his own
experience.

Chip's eyes fill with tears, but
he holds them back. He wants to be
understood, to be a part of his
father's world, but it feels like he's
always a step behind. "I just want
to help," he says again, his voice
smaller now. "I don't know how, but—"

Plankton rolls his eye. "Oh, you
think you can just waltz in and
solve all my problems?" he says,
his tone laced with sarcasm. "You
think you're some kind of autism
expert now?" His antennae twitch
nervously. He's trying to keep
his emotions in check, but the
fear of being a burden is a beast
he's wrestled with for too long.

Chip's jaw tightens, his
shoulders rising. "I just want to
know what you're going
through," he says, his voice
firm. "Is tha-"

Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his eye flashing with anger.
"You think I need a
little boy to figure out my
own brain?" he sneers, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks
for the offer, Einstein, but I've
managed to survive this long
without your 'help'."

Chip's face falls, his eyes
brimming with tears. "But—"

"But nothing!" Plankton cuts
in, his antennae quivering
with agitation. "I don't need
your pity, or your 'help'!" His
voice is sharp, each word a
blade that slices through
the air.

Chip's eyes shine with
unshed tears, but his voice
remains steady. "But you're
my dad, and I want to
understand." Plankton's antennae
drop slightly, his sneer
softening into a frown. He
knows his son means well, but
his own fear of being a
disappointment makes his skin
crawl.

"Look, kid," Plankton says, his
tone patronizing. "Some things
you just can't understand,
okay? So go back to playing
with your toys and let me handle
the big boy stuff." His antennae
wave in a dismissive gesture.
Chip's eyes narrow, his
determination growing. He's not
going to let his dad push him
away again.

"I'm not a kid, and I'm not
stupid," Chip says, his voice
firm. "I just want to know how
to help when you're like
this." Plankton's antennae droop
slightly at the challenge, his
face a mask of irritation.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't realize
you had a PhD in Autism
101. What's the secret, Chip?
Tell me, what's the magic word that
makes it all go away?" His antennae
wave in an exaggerated fashion,
his eye rolling dramatically.

Chip's cheeks burn with
frustration and hurt. "Dad
I just wa-"

"What?" Plankton says, 
cutting him off. "You 
want a gold star for 
trying to play therapist?" 
His antennae twitch, a 
clear sign of his agitation.

Chip's eyes fill with a mix
of anger and hurt, but he
swallows it down. "No, I just
want to be there for yo--"

"Oh, you think you can
just ride in and save 
the day?" Plankton's tone
drips with sarcasm.

Chip's cheeks redden, but
his resolve holds firm. "No,
Dad, I just want to be
there for you," he says,
his voice steady.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye narrowing. "What's your
expert advice then, Dr. Chip?"
his voice heavy with
sarcasm. "You're going to tell
me to count, or
breathe into a paper bag?"
He can't help the bitterness
that seeps into his words,
his fear of being seen as
weak by his own son.

Chip's jaw clenches, his
fists balling at his sides.
He wants to scream, to shout
that he's not trying to be a
hero, just a son who cares.
But he knows that would only
make things worse, so he takes
a deep breath, his voice
even. "No, Dad," he says, his tone
calm. "But maybe if you'd just
tell me what helps you..."

Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his eye flashing. "Maybe
you should just mind your
own business," he snaps, his
voice cold. "Or you can go
cry to your mommy again."
The words hang in the air,
sharp as knives.

Chip's eyes widen, and
his cheeks flush with anger.
He's had enough of his
dad's patronizing tone. "I'm
not a baby," he says, his voice
steady. "And I can handle
this."

"Oh, really?" he says, his voice
dripping with sarcasm. "And what
exactly do you know about it?"
His eye narrows, daring Chip to
challenge him.

Chip's eyes burn with a mix
of anger and sadness. "I know
you have seizures that make
you scared and upset," he says,
his voice measured. "I know
Mom is also getting tired of
you and your outbursts. But
you hurt people, Dad. And it's not fair to
us, or to Mom, who you don't know
how much she hates being your
punching bag!"

Without another word,
Plankton turns and 
leaves Chip's bed
room. He slams
the door behind him.

new do you trust me karen plankton 10

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 11


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Karen stirs in her sleep.
Her eyes fly open. She sits up,
as Plankton comes back
into their room.

His antennae are drooping,
his eye filled with a sadness
that makes her stomach clench.
"What happened?" she asks.

Plankton avoids her gaze, his
body language tense. "It's
nothing," he mumbles, his
voice tight with anger, mostly
at the thought of Karen hurting
and being tired of him.

Karen's heart breaks at the
sight of his pain. She knows
his condition is a daily
battle, one that often leaves
them all feeling defeated.
"Plankton," she says gently,
reaching out. He flinches.
"Baby, what's wrong?"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his body tense. "Don't," he
says, his voice gruff. "I don't
want to talk about it." His eye
darts around the room,
avoiding hers.

Karen sighs, her hand
dropping to her side.
"Okay," she says softly, her voice
filled with understanding.
She knows his walls are up,
his antennae a shield. "But
if you ever do, I'm he-"

"I said don't!" Plankton
snaps, his antennae shooting
up. His voice is loud,
his fear of burdening Karen
turned into anger. Karen's
heart clenches at the pain
in his voice.

She sits up slowly, her
movements deliberate. "Okay,"
she says calmly. "We don't have
to talk now. But remember, I'm
always here for yo-"

Plankton cuts her off, his antennae
quivering with anger. "I said
I don't want to talk about it!"
his voice echoes through the
tiny room, bouncing off the walls
and filling the air with a tension
that feels like a storm. Karen's
eyes are filled with a sadness
that's almost palpable. She nods
once, her hand retreating. "Okay,"
she says, her voice low. "I'm just
here, Plank..."

He turns away from her, his
back a wall of pain. She can
see his shoulders tense, his body
a tightly wound spring. "Just
leave me alone," he says, his voice
a whisper of defeat, unable to bear
the thought of possibly hurting her.

The room feels smaller, the air
thicker. Karen's eyes fill with tears,
but she knows better than to push.
Plankton's autism isn't a puzzle
to solve, but a dance to learn,
a delicate balance of space and
support. She nods, her heart
aching. "Whenever
you're ready, I---"

"Just leave it, Karen," he says,
his voice a mix of anger and sadness.
He doesn't look at her, his
eye fixed on the floor. His antennae
are still, a rare sign of his
overwhelming emotion. Karen
swallows hard, her hand hovering
over his back before retreating.

"Okay," she whispers, her voice
a balm in the tension. "I'm
here when you're re---"

But Plankton's antennae shoot
up, cutting her off. "Why?" he
demands, his eye flashing. "Why do
you keep saying that? What do you
really think of me?" His voice is
sharp, his fear of her pity
lacing his words. Karen's eyes
widen, surprised by his accusation.

"Plankton, what are you talking
about?" she asks, her voice
gentle. "I love you, just as you
are." But he's not listening,
his antennae twitching rapidly.

He turns to face her, his eye
filled with doubt. "But do you
really?" he asks, his voice
quavering. "Or do you just
stay because you feel sorry for me?"

Karen's eyes widen, the
accusation like a slap to her
face. "Plankton, no," she says,
her voice trembling. "You know I
don't—"

He shakes his head, his
antennas waving erratically. "No, I don't
know," he says, his voice
cracking. "You're always so
calm, so... so patient with me. And
then I just—" His words taper off,
his antennae drooping as he
fights back a sob.

Karen reaches out, her
hand hovering near his shoulder.
"Plankton, sweetie, I love you,"
she says, her voice soothing.
"I love all of you, not just the
easy parts."

But Plankton's antennae
twitch, his doubt a
barrier between them.
"How can you love this?"
he whispers, his voice raw with
emotion. "How can you love
someone who can't even tell
you when they're about to—"

Karen's eyes fill with tears,
but her voice remains steady.
"I love all of you, Plankton,"
she says, her hand still hovering.
"The good, the bad, the seizures—
it's all part of who you are."
Her voice is a lifeline, a gentle
reminder that she sees him,
not just his condition.

Plankton's antennae droop,
his eye clouded with doubt.
"But it's not fair to you," he
whispers, his voice trembling.
"I know you're tired, I see
it in your screen." Karen's hand
hovers, unsure if touch will
make it better or worse.

"Plankton," she says softly,
"you are my everything. I
chose to be here, with you. I
chose to love you through the
seizures, through the tough
times." Her words are a gentle
caress in the stillness of the
room, a promise of unyielding
support.

But Plankton's antennae
wave in doubt, his body a
testament to his inner turmoil.
"You don't have to," he murmurs,
his voice a whisper of pain.
"You could leave."

Karen's eyes are filled
with love and sadness, her hand
still hovering, unsure of how
to bridge the gap between them.
"Leave?" she echoes, her voice
gentle. "Why would I ever
leave you?"

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye averted. "You wouldn't
have to deal with this," he
says, his voice barely a whisper.
"You could have someone who doesn't
make you sad, or scared." His words
hang heavy in the air, his fear
of driving her away a palpable
presence in the room.

Karen's hand falls to her lap,
her heart aching. "You're not
a burden, Plankton," she says,
her voice firm with conviction.
"You're the reason I wake up
every morning, the reason I
smile." She pauses, her eyes
shimmering with unshed tears. "Your
seizures don't define you, and
they don't define us."

But Plankton's antennae continue
to quiver, his doubt a living
entity in the room. "You don't
have to say that," he murmurs.
"I guess I'll never be whaa-"
Plankton chokes back a sob.
"What even Chip says you deserve!"

Karen's eyes widen, her hand
now resting on his shoulder.
"Wait, what did Chip say?"

Plankton turns away, his antennae
drooping. "JUST FORGET IT!" He stomps
out of the room, slamming the door
behind him, the sound a stark
contrast to the quiet sobs
that follow.

Karen remains still for a moment,
her heart racing. Then, with a
deep breath, she slides out of
bed, her movements deliberate. 

new do you trust me karen plankton 11

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 19


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Plankton's body
continues to
shake, his breaths
quick and shallow.

Karen takes over, her
hands gentle as she
guides him out of the
chair, her eyes filled
with a mix of anger
and sadness. "I'm sorry,
ho-" But Plankton also fears
Karen now because of
her restraining him. He jolts
at her approach. "Plank..."
Karen's voice trails off, her
expression one of pained
realization. "I'm sor-"

But Plankton's fear of Karen
has grown. She's the one
who held him down too, who
forced him to endure the
unbearable. His antennae flatten
against his head, his body
shaking as he tries to
move away from her. "Don't,"
he whispers, his voice a
rasp of fear. "Don't touch me."

Karen's eyes fill with
sorrow, her hand hovering
uncertainly in the space
between them. "Plankton,
sweetie, it's okay," she says,
her voice trembling. "It's just
a misunderstanding." But
Plankton's terror is too strong,
his memories too fresh.

He flinches at the sound
of her voice, his antennae
quivering. "Karen," he whispers,
his voice a shaky plea. "Please...
don't." His eye is wide
with fear, his body stiff
with tension. Karen's heart
breaks, the pain in his gaze
a stark contrast to the warmth
she'd felt in his smile just hours
before.

"It's me," she says, her
voice thick with regret. "It's
Karen." Yet Plankton's
body jerks away from her
as if she's a danger to him,
his antennae flattened in
a protective stance.

Karen's eyes fill with
sorrow as she takes a step
back, her hand dropping to her
side. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
"I di-"

But Plankton's fear is a
living entity now, a creature that
has latched onto him and won't let
go. He stumbles backward,
his legs shaking as he tries to
put distance between them. "No,"
he whispers, his voice trembling.
"You're not my Karen. You're...
you're not safe!"

Karen's eyes fill with
sorrow, her heart aching. She'd
never wanted to be a source of fear
for Plankton. "Sweetie, I'm
right here," she says, her voice
a gentle caress. "I'm not going
to hurt you." But her words
bounce off the invisible barrier
his fear has built.

Chip watches from the doorway,
his own fear mirroring his dad's.
He wants to rush in, to make
everything right, but he
knows that would only make
it worse. So he stands, frozen,
his fists clenched at his side.

The room is a tableau of
despair, Plankton's sobs echoing
off the cold, sterile walls.
Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears, her hand still
reaching out, even though
Plankton's retreating from it. "Do
yo--"

Her voice catches as she sees
his fear, a raw emotion
that she's never seen directed
at her before. "Plankton, baby,"
she whispers, "it's me. I'm
never going to hurt you."

But Plankton's eye is wild,
his antennae a frantic blur.
He stumbles backward, his
body colliding with the wall
behind him. "No," he cries out,
his voice raw with panic. "You're
not! You just... You just hurt
me!"

Karen's hand falls to her side,
defeated. The reality of the
situation crashes down on her,
a cold, hard weight. She's hurt
the one person she'd sworn to
protect, the one who needs her
understanding the most. "I'm
so sorry," she whispers, tears
sliding down her cheeks. "I didn't
mean to..."

But Plankton's fear has
consumed him, turning him into
a creature of pure instinct. He
presses his back against the wall,
his antennae flat against his
head, his body shaking with
sobs. "Don't," he whispers, his
voice a desperate plea. "Please
don't ever do that again."

Karen's heart breaks into a
thousand pieces, each one
sharp and jagged. She can't bear
the thought that she's the
reason for his fear. "I'm sorry,
I'm so sorry," she says, her
voice trembling. "I didn't
understand. I'll never do
anything to scare yo-"

But Plankton's sobs only
grow louder, his antennae
trembling with every intake
of breath. "You said it would
be okay, even when it wasn't,"
he whispers, his voice a
broken whisper. Karen's eyes
fill with regret, her heart
heavy with the weight of his
pain. "Sorry," she says, her
voice thick with unshed tears.
"I-I-I-I…"

The room feels like it's
shrinking, the air thick with
the scent of fear and antiseptic.
Karen tries to find the right words,
anything to break through the
panic that has swallowed her
husband. "I didn't know," she
whispers, her eyes searching
his for understanding. "But
now I do, and I'll never let
anyone do that to you again."

Jill clears her throat. "I'll go
get the main dentist." She
walks out of the room.

The silence is deafening, the
echo of Plankton's sobs the
only sound. Karen moves
slowly toward him, her steps
soft and deliberate. "Shh, it's okay,"
she whispers, her hand outstretched.
"I'm here." Plankton's antennae
twitch, but he doesn't push her
away. Instead, he leans into her,
his body seeking the comfort
of her touch.

new do you trust me karen plankton 19

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 22


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Plankton's mouth
moves with his
snores, the gauze
pads in his mouth
muffling the sound, the
crimson tinge to the
white fabric. His
drool pools and runs
down the side of his
face.

Karen watches, her
thoughts a tumult
of emotion. She's
relieved that the
procedure went well
but torn apart by the
knowledge that Plankton's
fear was so intense.
Her hand remains
steadfast on his, her
thumb brushing over
his skin in gentle
circles.

The doctor checks
his watch, his eyes
on Plankton's slack
form. "Almost time for him
to wake up," he says
softly. Karen nods, her
heart racing as she
braces herself for
his reaction. Karen
can't help but think about
how much he's been
through today, and she
wonders if he'll ever
trust her the same way
again.

The minutes tick by,
each one feeling like an
eternity. The only
sounds in the room are
the steady beeps of the
monitors and the soft
snores of Plankton's
slumber. Karen's hand
doesn't stop moving, her
thumb tracing comforting
patterns on his palm.

When Plankton stirs,
his antennae twitching
slightly, Karen's eyes fill
with relief. "Hey, baby,"
she whispers, her voice a
caress. "You're okay." His
eye opens slowly, blinking
against the light.

He looks around,
his gaze finally settling
on Karen. For a moment,
his expression is lost, a
swirl of confusion and
fear. Then he sees her smile,
and the world falls into place.
"Huh," he whispers, his voice
slurred from the anesthesia.
Karen's smile widens. The
numbness in his mouth is a
strange, disconnected sensation,
like his teeth are floating
in a sea of cotton.

Plankton tries to sit up,
his movements clumsy and
slow. Karen's hand on his
shoulder is firm but gentle,
guiding him back down. "Easy,
sweetie," she says.

The doctor nods, his
expression a blend of
concern and reassurance. "Just
give it a few more minutes,"
he says. "Let the anesthesia
wear off a bit more." Plankton's
eye focuses on her, his mind
fuzzy.

The gauze in his mouth
feels like a soggy sponge,
absorbing the blood from
his teeth. He tries to
talk, but his words are
muted and garbled. "Ma-"
Karen nods, her smile
understanding. "I know,
baby. It'll be okay."

The doctor checks the
monitors, his expression
calm. "Looks like you're
coming out of it," he
says. "Just a few more
minutes." Karen nods,
her hand still on Plankton's.

Plankton's body feels
strange, his movements
sluggish. The numbness
of his mouth spreads
to his cheeks, his
face feeling swollen and
alien. He tries to talk.

"Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma-" Karen
understands his attempt
at words. She leans closer,
smiling gently. "It's okay,
sweetie. You're okay."
Her voice is a soothing
song, a balm to his
fearful soul. His tongue feels
like a thick slab of meat,
unresponsive and foreign.
The drool continues to flow.

Plankton's gaze moves
from Karen to the doctor,
his eye wide and searching.
"Wheh...what...whath happen'd?"
he mumbles around the
gauze, his mouth feeling
like it's filled with
cotton. His tongue is a
dead weight, refusing to
form words.

Karen's smile is a
lifeline in the fog of
his confusion. "You had
a little procedure,"
she says, her voice gentle.
"The wisdom teeth are out."
Plankton's antennae twitch,
trying to remember the
conversation that had
led to this. The fear is
a distant memory now,
dulled by the anesthesia.

His mouth feels
strange, unfamiliar. He
reaches up to touch his
swollen cheek, his hand
shaky and clumsy. "Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma--"
He tries to form words,
his mind still sluggish.

Karen's eyes are
full of love and concern
as she gently takes his
hand. "It's okay," she says.
"The numbness will go away
soon."

Plankton nods, his
head lolling slightly as
his body adjusts to the
lack of sensation. His
drool pools on the
gauze pads, the saliva
spilling over onto his chin.
He's vaguely aware of the
mess he's making, but the
fear has been replaced
by a dull, heavy weight.

The doctor's voice is a
comforting murmur in the
background, talking to
Karen about aftercare
and pain management. Karen's
hand is still in his, her
fingers tight around his
own. He tries to squeeze
back, but his hand feels
floppy and unresponsive. "K-Karen
wiww I...?" he slurs, his
thoughts still tangled.

Her eyes are warm with
comfort. "You're going to be
fine," she assures him,
wiping away a stray drop
from the corner of
his mouth. "We'll go home soon."
He perks up. "Thoon?"

The doctor nods. "We'll
keep an eye on him for
a bit longer," he says.
"But you can take him home
once he's more awake." Karen
nods, her thumb continuing
to trace gentle circles on
his palm. Plankton's eye
is glazed with the
remnants of anesthesia, but
his antennae twitch with
excitement.

The room spins around
Plankton, the walls a blur.
He tries to sit up again,
his body fighting against
the lingering effects of
the drugs. Karen's grip is
firm but loving, keeping
him anchored to the chair.
"Just a bit longer," she
soothes.

His mouth feels like a
cavern, the gauze thick
and unyielding. He tries
to speak, his tongue a
traitor against his will.
"Doeth...doeth it huth?"
The words come out
garbled, a nonsensical
string of syllables.

Karen nods, her smile
understanding. "Your mouth
will feel funny for a bit,"
she explains, her voice a
soothing hum. "It's normal,
just give it some time."
Her thumb keeps moving, a
small, reassuring gesture.

The doctor's words drift in
and out of Plankton's
awareness. "You'll have to
take it easy for a few
days," he's saying. "No
crunchy foods, lots of ice
for the swelling." Karen
nods, her eyes on Plankton's
face as she listens.

Plankton's tongue is a
sluggish weight in his
mouth, his teeth a distant
memory beneath the
cottony numbness. He tries
to form a full sentence.

"Muh...muh...muh... Yith?" 
Plankton's voice is a garbled 
mess, the words sticking to 
his numb tongue like glue. 
Karen's heart squeezes in 
her chest as she tries not 
to laugh. "What did you 
say, sweetie?"

He sighs, frustrated, 
his antennae drooping. "I thaid, 
doth Chip know?" His speech
is still slurred, the words
coming out like a drunken
mumble. Karen nods. "He's 
waiting outside," she says.
"He's been worried about
you."

The mention of Chip
seems to anchor him. His
eye brightens, the
confusion in it clearing
slightly. "Chip," he murmurs.
Karen smiles. "Yes, Chip,"
she repeats, her voice a
soft echo. "You remember
now?"

Plankton's antennae twitch
in affirmation. "Muh...mouth."
Karen nods, her expression
full of understanding.
"It's okay," she says. "Your
mouth will feel normal
again soon."

The doctor's voice is a
steady stream of instructions,
his words a lifeline in
Plankton's foggy reality. "Keep
the gauze in for an hour,
chew gently to keep the
blood flowing," he says,
his tone calm and
soothing. Plankton nods, his
eye unfocused.

Karen's hand is a
comforting weight on his
shoulder, her voice a
lullaby as she repeats the
instructions back to him.
"We'll go get some ice
cream," she says, her tone
hopeful. "Something soft
and sweet to help your
mouth feel better. Ready to
meet Chip out in the lobby?"

Plankton nods, his
movements jerky and awkward.
The numbness in his mouth
still lingers, his tongue a
dead weight as he tries to
speak. "I-I...finks...sho."
His voice is a slurred mess,
but the meaning is clear.

Karen laughs gently, her
hands moving to help him sit
up. "Let's go, then," she
says, her voice filled with
relief and love. Plankton's
eye widens slightly as he
takes in his surroundings,
his movements still slow and
sluggish. The doctor nods,
his expression a mix of
pride and sympathy.
Her arm is around him,
supporting his weight
as she helps him stand up.

new do you trust me karen plankton 22

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 18


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Jill, the new hygienist,
is a whirlwind of activity, her
movements swift and efficient.
But she's not the same. The comfort
of familiarity is replaced
with the cold embrace of the
unknown. Chip watches, his
heart racing with his father's.

Jill doesn't notice Plankton's
growing distress. She's too busy
preparing the chair, her eyes
flicking over the chart. "Open
wide," she says, her voice a
sharp command. Plankton's eye
flutters, his antennae drooping as
she holds up a periodontal probe
explorer. Plankton shakes his head.
"Ms. Jill, I ha-"

But she cuts him off with a
wave of her hand. "We're all set.
No need to be nervous." Her tone
is brisk, dismissive of his fear as
she leans in with the sharp probe.
But it's not okay. It's not
okay at all.

Plankton's antennae thrash wildly,
his eye wide with panic. "No,"
he whispers, his voice lost in the
buzz of the room. "No, I need... I
ca--" Jill's eyes narrow, her hand
poised with the probe. "Mr.
Plankton, you need to relax,"
she says, her voice a
stern command.

Karen steps forward, her voice
calm but firm. "Jill, my husband
is autistic. He has specific
needs during these types
of appointments." But Jill,
focused on her work, doesn't
look up. "We don't have all
day," she says, her tone
implicitly dismissing Karen's
concerns. Yet the sharpness
of the probe is painfully unbearable
the second it touches Plankton..

Plankton's body jerks back, his
voice rising in panic. "No, no,
please!" he cries, his antennae
thrashing. Karen's eyes
narrow, her patience wearing
thin. "Jill," she repeats, "my
husband has an autistic condition."
The words hang in the air, a
plea for understanding.

Jill's eyes snap up, her hand
still gripping the probe.
"Autistic?" she scoffs. "You're just
trying to get out of the cleaning."
Her dismissal is a slap in
the face, her ignorance a
barrier to the care Plankton
desperately needs. "Relax or we'll
have to hold you down."

Plankton's antennae flatten, his
body shaking with fear. "Karen,"
he whispers, his voice a thread
of desperation. "Make i---"

But Jill already has the probe
in her hand, moving towards
his mouth. Plankton's panic
spikes, his antennae flailing.
"Please," he whispers, his voice
barely audible. "I can't handle it."
Yet Jill doesn't heed his needs.

Her grip is firm as she
pries open Plankton's mouth,
his eye watering. Chip's fists clench,
his heart hammering. He wants to
shout, to make her stop, but his
throat is tight with his own
fear of causing a scene.

"Jill, wait," Karen says,
her voice firm but calm.
"You need to understand,
Plankton's autism means he's
sensitive to changes in routine
and can't handle certain sensory
inputs." But Jill's expression is
unyielding, her eyes cold.

"I don't care about your
excuses," she says, her voice
sharp. "You're here for a cleaning,
and that's what you're getting. If you
can't hold still, then we'll need
to have your family hold you down
or kick them out." Plankton's antennae
drop limply, his body trembling.

Karen's eyes flash with anger,
but she remains composed. "Jill,
you're not listening," she says, her
voice a tightrope of control. "This isn't
about avoiding a cleaning. It's abou–"

But Plankton's distress reaches
a breaking point. His antennae
whip around, slapping against the chair
in a frantic effort to escape the probe.
"No," he whispers, his voice a
plea. "I can't..."

Karen steps in, her voice firm.
"Jill, please," she says, her hand
on Plankton's arm. "We need to
adjust th-"

But Jill's had enough. "If you
can't keep still," she snaps, her
hand tightening on the probe,
"Then I'll do it myself." Plankton's
eye widens in terror as she
holds his mouth open, the probe
poking him too hard.

Chip can't stand it anymore.
He steps forward, his voice
steady despite his fear. "No,"
he says. But Jill
pulls away, her eyes flashing.
"This is none of your concern,
kid," she sneers. "Now move."
So Chip sits back down as
Jill prods Plankton's mouth once
more. But Plankton's distress
only grows. His antennae
twitching, his body
shaking uncontrollably.
"Stop," he whispers, his voice
desperate. "Please."

Jill's eyes narrow, her grip
tightening. "You need to sit
still," she says, her voice
a harsh reproof. "This won't
hurt if you just cooperate."
But Plankton can't cooperate.
He's lost in a world of sensory
overload, the probe in his mouth
a burning tormentor he can't escape.

Karen's voice is calm but
insistent. "Jill, please. We
can reschedule with someone
more understanding." But Jill
waves her off, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's terrified gaze.
"Interrupt me again and I'll make
you sit in the waiting room area."

Chip's heart races as he watches
his dad's distress. He's torn
between protecting him and
avoiding confrontation. The
probe's cold touch is a violation,
a symbol of the world's
harshness invading their safe
space. Plankton's whimpers
turn to sobs, his body rigid
with fear as she starts again
with the probe, her movements
becoming more aggressive.
Plankton's antennae are a blur,
his voice a garbled mess of
pleas and pain. Karen doesn't
want to have him unnecessarily
suffer, yet she also doesn't want
to be sent out.

The room seems to close in,
the lights too bright, the sounds
too loud. Chip feels a knot in his
throat, his eyes stinging with
unshed tears. He looks to his mom,
her face a mask of calm, but he
can see the tension in her eyes,
the tightness.

Plankton's sobs grow louder, his
body jerking as Jill continues
to ignore his pleas. She only holds
on tighter. Her movements become more
aggressive, her eyes narrowed
with determination.

Karen's patience snaps like a
taut rubber band. "That's enough,"
she says, her voice sharp. She
moves to stand between Jill and
Plankton, blocking the probe.
"You're causing him unnecessary
pain."

Jill's eyes widen, but she
doesn't relent. "Ma'am, I'm just
trying to do my job. Now let me
work. If you stay in here, then
hold him down. We're not finished
until we get this done."

Karen's face is a picture of
frustration and concern. "This
isn't right," she says, her voice
steady. But with a sigh of
defeat, Karen sends Chip out into
the waiting room as she holds
her crying husband down.
"I'm sorry, love, we have to get
through th-"

But Plankton's cries only
intensify. The room feels like
it's closing in on him, the
lights piercing his eye, the
smells overwhelming him. He
wants to escape, to retreat
into a bubble where everything
is safe.

But the probe is in his
mouth, the chair is too cold, and
Jill's touch is too rough. Yet
Karen holds his limbs tightly.

"Open wider," Jill commands,
ignoring the tears streaming
down Plankton's cheeks. The
probe scrapes against his
teeth, a grating sound that
makes his skin crawl. His antennae
are a blur of motion, a silent
scream of distress.

Karen's voice is firm. "Jill,
this isn't working," she says,
her eyes never leaving Plankton's.
"We need to find another way."
But Jill is unmoved. "I've got a
schedule to keep," she snaps,
her movements growing more
forceful. "You're not special."

The words hit Plankton like a
wave, his heart racing. He tries
to speak, to explain, but the
probe is in his mouth, silencing
his voice. He feels the beginnings
of a seizure, the edges of his
vision blurring.

Jill's eyes flicker with
impatience, her movements
quickening. Karen's grip on
Plankton's arm tightens, her voice
a firm plea. "Jill, please,
stop. He can't take it." But
Jill's voice is cold. "This is
standard procedure. I don't
have tim-"

But Plankton's 
body seizes, his
limbs thrashing 
wildly. The probe 
clatters to the 
floor, Jill's eyes 
widening with 
shock.

"He's having 
convulsions,"
Karen says quickly,
her voice sharp.
Jill's eyes dart
to Karen, then
back to Plankton,
his body convulsing
slightly in the chair.
"What?" she asks,
confusion marring
her features.

"He's having
an autistic
shutdown," Karen
explains, her voice
calm but urgent.
"This happens
when he's 
overwhelmed.
Let. Go."

Jill's grip finally
loosens, her eyes
wide with fear.

new do you trust me karen plankton 18

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 9


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

The door opens quietly, and
Chip peeks in, his eyes
swollen with tears. Karen looks
up, her eyes questioning.
He stands there, his body
quivering with emotion,
his heart aching to join them.
Karen nods, a silent permission.

With tentative steps, Chip
approaches the bed, his eyes
on his father. Plankton's
snores are deep and even,
his body relaxed against
Karen's. Chip's hand shakes
slightly as he reaches out.
His touch is feather-light,
his fingertips brushing
against Plankton's antennae.
They quiver under his touch,
but Plankton doesn't wake.

Karen looks up at him,
her eyes filled with love and
understanding. She nods
once, and Chip climbs onto
the bed. He sits there, his
body rigid with nerves, his
heart racing. He wants to
make it right, to show his
father that he cares, that he's
not just a kid playing doctor.
Karen watches him, her eyes
filled with a mix of pride
and sadness. She knows this
is hard for Chip, that he
desperately wants to help.

Chip's hand hovers over
his father's antennae, his
fingers trembling. He's seen
his mom do this a hundred
times, the gentle stroking
that seems to calm Plankton
like nothing else can. He takes
a deep breath and touches
them, lightly. Karen's
smile reassures Chip.
"It's okay," she whispers,
her hand on his shoulder.
"He's sleeping."

Plankton's antennae
twitch at Chip's touch, but
his sleep remains undisturbed.
Encouraged, Chip starts to
mirror Karen's movements, his
strokes becoming more
confident. The tension in
his body starts to melt
away as he focuses on
his dad's peaceful state.

Karen watches her son's
hands with a mix of pride
and sadness. She knows he
just wants to connect, to
understand, but autism is 
complex. And she knows
Chip is learning that.
"Remember, Chip," she whispers,
"he's sensitive to touch."

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving his father.
He's afraid of doing it wrong,
but the sight of Plankton
sleeping peacefully gives him
courage. His strokes are soft,
his movements careful.

Plankton's antennae quiver
slightly, but his snores
remain steady. Chip's breaths
ease, and he feels a warmth
spread through him. This small
moment of connection feels
like a victory. Karen's hand
squeezes his shoulder, and he
glances up at her, his eyes
shimmering with hope.

"Keep going," she whispers,
and he does, his touch
becoming more 
rhythmic. Plankton's body
shifts slightly, his antennae
nuzzling into Chip's touch.
It's a small thing, but it
feels monumental to Chip.

He looks at his mom, her
face a mix of love and
sorrow. She nods, her eyes
shiny with unshed tears.
This is what family is,
supporting each other through
the storms of life.

The room is a cocoon of
quiet, the only sound the
comforting soft
snores of Plankton. Chip's
fingers dance over the antennae,
his eyes never leaving his
father's face. Karen watches
them, her heart swelling
with love.

In this moment, Chip
understands what Karen had
tried to explain earlier.
Plankton's autism isn't a
problem to solve; it's part
of who he is, a challenge
that makes their bond
even more precious. He strokes
his dad's antennae with newfound
respect and patience.

Karen's eyes never leave
them, her heart swelling with
pride. "It's getting late,"
she says softly. "You should
get some sleep too."

Chip nods, his gaze still
locked on his father. He
doesn't want to leave him,
but he knows he has to. With a
final stroke of Plankton's antennae,
he slides off the bed, his
legs shaky. "You
did good, sweetie," she whispers,
her eyes glistening.

He looks back at her, his
face a question. "But I
made him so mad," he says, his
voice barely above a whisper.

Karen takes his hand,
squeezing it gently. "You
meant well," she says, her
tone firm but kind. "And you
learned from it. This is
part of loving someone with
autism, Chip. Sometimes you'll
make mistakes, but what's
important is that you keep
trying."

With a nod, Chip wipes his
nose with the back of his hand
and heads for his room,
his heart heavy but hopeful.
Karen watches him go, her eyes
following his retreating
back. Then, she turns her
attention back to Plankton,
still sleeping in her arms.

Gently, she shifts his body,
adjusting the pillows under
his head. His antennae twitch
slightly at the movement, but
he doesn't stir. She pulls
the blanket up to his chin,
smoothing it down over his
shoulders. His skin is warm
against her fingertips, a
comforting sign that he's
comfortable.

new do you trust me karen plankton 9

COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 5


(Neurodivergent author)



Karen returns to the bedroom,
where Plankton is already snoring
softly. She pulls the covers up to
his chin, tucking in gently.
She sits in the chair beside
his bed, never leaving
his peaceful form.

His chest rises and falls in the
steady rhythm of sleep, each breath
a testament to his resilience.
Karen watches him, her mind racing
with thoughts of what the future
holds, the challenges they'll face
together. But for now, she
forces herself to be still.

Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep,
as if he's navigating the vast
underwater world of his dreams.
Karen watches him, full
of a love she didn't know existed.

The soft snores from Plankton's
tiny form are music to her.
In his sleep, the weight of the
world is lifted, his mind free
to explore the vast depths of his
underwater universe without fear.
Her gaze lingers on the soft
lines of his face, the tension
erased by the gentle embrace of
slumber. She smiles, her eyes
filling with tears.

The room is a sanctuary,
a bubble of quiet amidst the
storm of confusion and fear.
The shadows play across the wall,
telling silent stories of adventures
that await when he wakes. Karen
reclines in the chair, her hand
resting gently on his arm.

The nap stretches into an hour,
then two, the house a cocoon
of peace around them. Plankton's
body relaxes into the embrace
of the bed, his mind swimming
through a sea of tranquility.

Karen sits by his side, her hand
still resting on his arm. She
thinks of the Plankton she knew
before, his quirks and routines
now painted with the brushstroke
of understanding. Autism isn't
a label to shrink from, but a part
of him to be embraced, a piece
of the intricate tapestry that
makes him who he is.  

In his sleep, Plankton starts 
to murmur, his words a jumble
of half-thoughts. Karen leans closer,
trying to make sense of the words.

"...I...Karen...love."

Her hand squeezes his arm gently, her 
thumb tracing circles on his skin. "I 
love you too, Plankton," she whispers 
back, her voice a soft lullaby.
Plankton's sleep-talk starts up again.
"...so many stars,"
his voice murmurs, his antennae
twitching with the vividness
of his dream. Karen smiles,
imagining the vast cosmos
that must exist in his mind.
Her hand continues its gentle
caress, her hand stroking his 
antennae in a calming pattern.
"Shh, Plankton, it's just a dream," 
she soothes.

His snoring starts again,
a soft, rhythmic sound that
fills the quiet. She 
smiles, her eyes still on
his peaceful form.

The world outside their
sanctuary seems to fade away,
its worries and noises muted by
the wall of their understanding.
Plankton's autism is a challenge,
but it's also a bridge that's brought
them closer, a shared secret
that only the two of them understand.

As Plankton sleeps, Karen's phone
vibrates with a text from her friend,
Hanna. "Dinner tonite?"

Her thumb hovers over the
keyboard, debating. Plankton's
diagnosis is still fresh, the
memory of his seizure a stark
reminder of the fragility of his
newly understood world. But she
knows the importance of keeping
up appearances, of not letting fear
or pity define them. With a sigh,
she texts back, "We'd love to. Your
place."

The evening stretches before them
like a tightrope, a delicate balance
between Plankton's needs and the
social norms that often feel
like a prison for him. Karen's mind
whirs with strategies to make it work.
A quiet place, familiar faces, a set
schedule. These are the keys
to a successful outing.

Gently, she shakes him awake,
her touch as light as a seashell
on the shore. Plankton's antennae
twitch, his eye fluttering open.
He looks up at her with sleepy
confusion, the world still a blur.
"Dinner with Hanna," she says,
keeping her voice low and soothing.
He nods, his body already tensing
in anticipation of the sensory
bombardment to come.

The car ride is a symphony of
preparation, the engine's hum a
soothing background to their
silent conversation. Karen's eyes
are on the road, but her mind is
on Plankton, his hands fidgeting
in his lap. She knows the world
outside is a minefield of sounds
and sensations, so she keeps
the radio off and the windows
up, creating a bubble of quiet
around them.

Plankton's breathing is shallow,
his antennae twitching with
each passing car. Karen reaches
over to squeeze his hand,
a silent reminder that she's
there. He looks at her, his eye
filled with a mix of fear
and gratitude. She smiles,
the warmth of her gaze a lifeline
in the chaos. "We're almost
there," she says, her voice a gentle
wave lapping at the shore.

They arrive at Hanna's house,
a beacon of light in the
deep blue sea of the night.
The door opens, revealing a
whirlwind of laughter and chatter,
the smell of garlic bread and
seafood stew wafting out. Karen
takes a deep breath, steeling
herself for the evening ahead. 

Plankton's antennae quiver,
his eye wide at the unfiltered stimulation.
Hanna, oblivious to their new
dynamic, waves them in with a
cheerful smile. "You're just in time!"
she exclaims, her voice a trumpet
in the quietude of Plankton's mind.

Karen's hand tightens around
his, a silent reassurance as
the door closes, the sound
a thunderclap in his ears.
The house is a cacophony of
sounds and smells, a whirlpool
of sensory information threatening
to pull him under. He gulps,
his breathing shallow, his body
braced for the inevitable.

Hanna, their friend, is a whirlwind
of energy, her eyes sparkling
like the ocean's surface. She doesn't
notice the tension in Plankton's
body, the way he flinches at her
excited exclamations. She doesn't
see the way his antennae twitch,
his mind racing to keep up.

But Karen does. She's his
lifeline in this tumultuous sea
of social interactions. She nods,
smiling, as Hanna leads them
to the dinner table, her hand
squeezing Plankton's in silent
support. The room is a kaleidoscope
of colors, the clatter of silverware
and laughter a symphony of
overwhelming sound. Karen's eyes
dance over the room, noting
each potential trigger.

"Hey, ladies; meet Karen and Plankton!"
Hanna's enthusiastic introduction
was like a tidal wave crashing over
the quiet bubble they'd been in. Plankton
flinched, his antennae retreating like
snails into their shells. Karen offered a
forced smile, her eyes darting around
the room, searching for an anchor.
The dinner table was set with a
rainbow of plates and bowls, the smell
of garlic bread and seafood stew
overwhelming. Hanna's home was
a sensory minefield, but Karen was
determined to navigate it with grace.
Plankton's hand was cold in hers,
a silent plea for rescue.
As they sit, Karen scans the
table, noticing the flickering
candles, the glint of silverware,
and the clinking of glasses. Each
detail a potential trigger. She
whispers into Plankton's ear,
"Remember, if you need to, just tell me."
He nods, his antennae tucking
closer to his head. 

new copepod autism plaren 5

PATRICK PLANKTON 1/4

 (NEURODIVERGENT AUTHOR)

Patrick went in the Chum Bucket 
where Plankton lives with Karen.

"Welcome to the Chum Bucket 
Patrick," Karen called out.

Patrick waved back, eyes lighting up 
at the sight of the various contraptions 
and inventions that lined the walls. He 
always found Plankton's fascinating, a 
stark contrast to the bright and bustling 
SpongeBob's pineapple house. The Chum 
Bucket was like a treasure trove of mysteries 
waiting to be uncovered, and Patrick loved a 
good mystery.

He wandered further into the lab, his footsteps 
echoing off the metal floors, each step revealing 
more of Plankton's ingenious creations. Suddenly 
he spotted a tiny figure hunched over a book on a 
couch. It was Plankton, his single eyeball glued to 
the pages, oblivious to the world around him. The 
book's title, "101 Ways to Steal the Krabby Patty 
Secret Formula," was barely visible under a thick 
layer of dust.

"Hey, Plankton!" Patrick bellowed, his voice 
booming like a foghorn in the small, cluttered 
space. The sudden noise caused Plankton to 
jump, sending his book flying into the air. "What 
are you reading?"

Karen, who had been quietly watching the scene 
unfold from her desk, couldn't help but notice that 
Plankton had not moved a muscle since the book 
flew from his grasp. His body remained rigid, his 
eyeball unblinking. Concern crept into her voice 
as she called out to him, "Plankton, are you ok?"

The tiny villain didn't respond, his expression frozen 
in a silent scream. Patrick looked around, puzzled. 
"Is he playing a game?" he asked, his tone hinting 
at the innocent curiosity that often got him into trouble.

Karen recognized immediately went to 
the couch and sat by Plankton, Patrick not 
knowing what's happening.

Karen's gaze fell upon Plankton's unblinking 
eye and she knew instantly what was wrong. 
He was in a state of sensory overload. She 
had seen it happen before, though Patrick 
hasn't. She gently touched his shoulder, trying 
to coax him back to reality.

"Plankton, sweetiep," she cooed.
Patrick's puzzled expression grew 
more concerned as he took in 
Plankton's unresponsive state. "What 
happened to him, Karen?" he asked, his 
voice quieter now, a hint of worry in his tone.

"It's his sensory shutdown, Patrick," Karen 
explained softly, stroking Plankton's arm 
gently. "It's like his brain got too full of 
thoughts and had to take a little break. It's 
ok, he'll be fine."

She knew this was something he'd have to 
come out of on his own. She had been there 
for him countless times before, each 
instance more terrifying than the last, but she 
had learned patience was key.

Patrick, still not fully grasping the situation, knelt 
beside the couch. He leaned in closer to Plankton 
nearly touching the little plankton's face. "Hey buddy 
you ok?" he asked, his voice now a gentle whisper.

Karen put a hand on Patrick's arm, gently guiding him back.

"Just give him some space, Patrick," she instructed. 
"He'll come around. This happens when he's really 
stressed or overwhelmed."

Patrick nodded slowly, his eyes still glued to his friend. 
He didn't fully understand, but he knew that Karen knew 
what she was talking about. He stepped back, allowing 
Karen to continue her soothing whispers to Plankton. 
The room grew quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of a 
clock that had long ago lost track of time and the soft 
hum of machines in the background. The tension in the 
air was palpable, as if it too was holding its breath, 
waiting for Plankton to snap out of his frozen state.

"You can do it, Plankton," she encouraged. "Just breathe."

Plankton's body slowly relaxed, and his eye blinked, finally 
coming back into focus. He looked around, bewildered, as 
if he had just woken from a particularly vivid nightmare.

"Karen?" he croaked, his voice weak and trembling.

"I'm here, Plankton," she said, her hand still resting on 
his arm. "You had another shutdown, but it's over now."

His eye narrowed on Patrick, who was now standing 
awkwardly by the couch.

"What?" Plankton snapped.

Patrick's eyes widened. "I-I just want to 
see what was wrong," he stuttered.

"Well, nothing's wrong with me!" Plankton spat 
pushing himself up from the couch.

"But you were just..." Patrick started to protest.

"I said there's nothing wrong!"

Patrick took a step back. "But..."

"Just leave me alone!" Plankton shouted, echoing 
off the cold metal walls.

Patrick's smile faded, and he looked down. He hadn't 
meant to upset his friend, but he couldn't help but feel 
confused and hurt by Plankton's sudden outburst.

"I-I'm sorry, Plankton," he murmured. "I didn't mean to... 
I just..."

"You just what?" Plankton cut him off, antennae quivering 
with irritation. "You just don't know to mind your business 
do you?"

"But I just..."

"I said leave me alone!" Plankton barked again, his 
tiny frame shaking with anger.

Patrick took another step back, his eyes brimming 
with confusion. "Plankton..."

"What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?" 
Plankton retorted.


Patrick's eyes searched the room, desperate to find 
something to say or do that would fix the situation. 
The air grew thick with the tension of Plankton's 
frustration and Patrick's fear of losing a friendship 
he had worked hard to maintain despite their 
many differences.

"I just..." he began again, his voice trailing off as 
he tried to find the right words.

"What is it?" Plankton snarled, impatience 
growing with each passing second.

Patrick took a deep breath, trying to compose 
his thoughts. "I just wanted to make sure you 
were ok because I don't know what's wrong with 
you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Wrong with me?" Plankton's voice grew louder, 
his tiny fists clenching at his sides. "You think 
there's something wrong with me?!"

Patrick took another step back, his eyes never 
leaving Plankton's furious gaze. "Well, you know
you were just sitting there, not moving..."

"It's none of your business!" Plankton yelled, his 
antennae quivering with rage. "What's it to you anyway?"

Karen, who had been watching the exchange 
with a growing sense of unease, knew that 
she had to intervene. She could see the hurt 
in Patrick's eyes and the turmoil within Plankton's, 
and she knew that their friendship was hanging 
by a thread. Carefully, she stood up from her chair 
and approached the two, her movements deliberate 
and calming.

"Plankton, honey, let's not get too worked up," she said 
placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Patrick 
didn't mean any harm. He's just worried about you."

Patrick nodded emphatically, his hands raised in a 
gesture of peace. "Yeah, buddy, I just want to help."

But Plankton's anger didn't subside. "You don't get it 
do you? I don't need your help, or your pity. I just want 
you to leave me alone!"

Karen's gaze softened as she looked at her husband. 
"Patrick, I know you mean well, but sometimes 
Plankton needs his space."

Patrick's eyes darted from Karen to Plankton, his confusion 
now mixed with a hint of sadness. "But, I thought..."

Karen stepped between them, her eyes filled 
with understanding. "Patrick, sometimes Plankton 
just needs a moment." She turned to Plankton, her 
voice firm but gentle. "And Plankton, you know 
Patrick only wants to be there for you."

Plankton's eye narrowed, but he didn't argue. He 
just nodded curtly, embracing her hand.

"Ok," Patrick murmured, his voice heavy 
with disappointment. 

"Look, Patrick," Karen said, her voice measured 
and soothing, "Plankton's got a condition."
Karen turns to Plankton as Patrick comes back 
by them. "Plankton, may you explain to Patrick?"

Plankton let out a heavy sigh, his tiny shoulders 
rising and falling dramatically. Patrick's expression 
grew more concerned, his pink star-shaped body 
inching closer to the couple. "Plankton, don't be scared.."

"I'm not scared!" Plankton barked, his antennae 
shooting straight up. "I just don't need you poking in
to my business!"

Patrick's eyes grew wide, and he took a tentative 
step back. "But..."

"But nothing!" Plankton spat, curling inward to Karen. 
"I don't need your help, I don't need your pity, and I 
certainly don't need you treating me like some sort 
of lab experiment!"

Ignoring the barb, Patrick took a step closer, his 
tentacles reaching out to pat Plankton's shoulder. 
It was a gesture of comfort he'd seen SpongeBob 
use countless times, and it had always worked to 
soothe his frayed nerves.

But as soon as his hand made contact, Plankton 
flinched violently, as if he'd been scalded. "Don't 
touch me!" he yelled, shoving Patrick's hand away.

Patrick's eyes went wide, and he took a hasty step 
back, his tentacles retreating into his body. "I'm 
sorry, Plankton," he stammered, his voice full of 
genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to..."

new planktrick karen plankton patrick plankton

PATRICK PLANKTON 3/4

 (NEURODIVERGENT AUTHOR)

"Here," he said, awkwardly offering a tentacle 
to help Plankton to his feet. "Let me help you."

But Plankton slapped his hand away, his shivering 
growing more intense.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His body 
was a wreck of tremors, his tiny frame visibly struggling 
to hold itself upright.

Patrick looked at Karen, his eyes pleading for guidance. 
Karen nodded gently, understanding the unspoken question. 
"Just give him some space," she whispered back.

The tension in the room was palpable as Patrick took a step 
back, his tentacles retracting into his body. Plankton's 
shivering grew worse, his tiny frame seemingly shrinking 
before their eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, his 
legs giving out beneath him.

Before Karen could even react, Patrick's instincts took over. 
He lunged forward, catching Plankton in his strong, star-shaped 
embrace, preventing him from hitting the cold metal floor. The 
impact was jarring, but Patrick's concern for his friend 
outweighed any discomfort he might have felt.

"Whoa, buddy," he murmured, his tentacles embracing 
Plankton's shoulders. "You ok?"

Karen watched the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and admiration 
for the starfish's intuitive care.

"P-Patrick," Plankton stuttered, his body still convulsing slightly.

Patrick's eyes searched Plankton's face for any sign of pain 
or discomfort, his tentacles tightening around his friend's 
shaking body. "It's ok," he murmured, his voice soothing 
despite the fear that was knotting his insides. "You just 
had a little episode, but you're ok now."

Plankton's body stiffened, his antennae sticking straight out 
in alarm. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice a mix of 
anger and fear.

"Just trying to help," Patrick said, his eyes filled with genuine 
concern. "You're shaking, and I don't want you to fall."

Plankton's antennae drooped, the fight draining from him. 
"I..." he murmured, wanting to escape Patrick's grasp.

But Patrick held firm. "You lean on Karen, yet it's ok to lean 
on someone else too."

Plankton's eye searched the room, desperate to find a way 
out of this embarrassing situation. "I-I don't need..."

But his protests were cut short by a wave of dizziness that 
washed over him. His legs buckled.

"Let me go," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix 
of anger and fear.

Patrick's tentacles tightened around Plankton slightly, but he 
didn't let go. "You need to relax," he said softly. "Just breathe."

Plankton's shivering grew worse, his teeth chattering like a typewriter 
on overdrive. "Can't... can't breathe," he managed to get out.

Karen stepped in, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and 
understanding. "Plankton," she said, her voice calm and 
even, "you need to relax. You're safe."

"But he's..." Plankton's protests were cut off by another tremor 
that rippled through his body.

"I know, buddy," Patrick said gently. "But sometimes we all 
need a little help, even if we don't want to admit it."

"Get. Off. Me!" he spat, his voice filled with a desperation that 
made Patrick's heart ache.

But Patrick didn't move. He just held Plankton closer. "You're safe. 
I just don't want you to..."

Plankton's tremors grew more violent, and his eye rolled back into 
his head again. His tiny body convulsed in Patrick's arms, his 
antennae flailing wildly.

"Patrick, let go!" Karen's voice was sharp with fear. "You're 
making it worse!"

Patrick's tentacles loosened their grip, and Plankton slumped 
back onto the bed, his body still quivering uncontrollably. Karen's 
robotic hands moved with surprising gentleness as she tucked 
him in, scanning his form for any sign of injury. "It's okay," she 
whispered, her voice a soothing hum. "You're safe now."

Patrick hovered nearby, his heart racing. He didn't know what 
to say or do to make things right. The sight of his friend in such 
distress was more than he could bear. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his 
tentacles wringing in his hands. "I didn't mean to..."

But Plankton's shivering had stopped, his body going slack. His 
antennae had dropped to his side, and his single eye was closed. 
Karen checked his pulse again, her expression unreadable. "He's 
okay," she said finally, her voice a mix of relief and exhaustion. 
"Just needs to rest."

Patrick hovered by the bedside, feeling helpless. "What can I do?"
he asked, his tentacles twitching with the need to help in some way.

Karen looked up at him, her expression a mix of gratitude and 
weariness. "Just be here," she murmured. "And maybe... maybe 
don't touch him again."

Patrick nodded solemnly, his tentacles drooping in defeat. "Okay," he 
murmured. "I'll just stay."

He watched as Karen continued to monitor Plankton's condition, her 
mechanical movements a stark contrast to the tender way she 
treated her husband. The silence in the room was heavy with unspoken 
words and fear.

"I had no idea," Patrick whispered, his gaze never leaving 
Plankton's still form.

"It's not something he talks about," Karen said gently. "But you should 
know. Plankton's episodes are often triggered by sudden movements, 
loud noises, or physical contact."

Patrick nodded, his gaze still on Plankton. "I didn't mean to scare him," 
he said softly.

Karen's eyes met his, filled with understanding. "I know, Patrick," she 
said. "But you have to understand, Plankton's condition makes him 
sensitive to certain things."

Patrick nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "What 
exactly are triggers?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Well," Karen began, her voice taking on the tone of a teacher explaining 
a complex concept, "triggers are basically anything that sets off Plankton's 
condition. They can be anything from a sudden sound to someone 
touching him without warning. It's like his brain gets overstimulated and 
shuts down to protect itself."

Patrick listened intently, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. 
"So, I shouldn't..."

Karen interrupted gently, "you shouldn't surprise him, especially 
with physical contact."

Patrick nodded, his tentacles stilling as he took in the gravity of the 
situation. He had never thought about how his actions could affect 
someone in such a profound way. "How can I help then?" he asked, 
his voice small.

"Just be there," Karen said, her hand patting his shoulder. "Talk to him, 
keep things calm. And if he starts to get overwhelmed, just let him be. 
Sometimes, that's all he needs."

Patrick nodded, taking in her words. He knew he wasn't the sharpest tool 
in the shed, but he could do this. Be there for his friend without smothering 
him. He could be that rock that Plankton could lean on without crushing 
him. "Okay," he murmured, "I can do that."

Karen turned her attention back to Plankton, her robotic eyes scanning his 
body for any signs of improvement. "He's resting now," she said, her voice 
a soft whisper. "But he might be irritable when he wakes up."

Patrick nodded, his gaze never leaving his friend. "What can I do to make 
sure he doesn't get to upset?" he asked, his tentacles twitching with anxiety.

"Look for signs," Karen said. "If his antennae start to twitch, or he seems distant 
it might be time to give him some space."

Patrick nodded, his eyes searching Plankton for any signs of distress. He didn't 
want to cause his friend any more pain, especially after seeing him like this. 
"What else?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Look at his breathing," Karen instructed, her gaze focused on Plankton's chest 
rising and falling in slow, shallow movements. "If it gets rapid or erratic, he's likely 
overwhelmed."

Patrick nodded, watching intently as Plankton's chest moved with each breath. 
"Ok" he murmured, "I'll keep an eye on that."

Karen's gaze softened, looking up at the starfish. "It's more than just that, Patrick," 
she said gently. "It's about understanding him, knowing what sets him off."

Patrick nodded, his eyes focused on Plankton. "So, what are the signs?"

Karen paused, considering her words carefully. "Well, it's like reading a book," she 
began. "You have to pay attention to the little things, the subtle cues that tell you 
how he's feeling."

"Subtle cues?" he repeated, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yes," Karen nodded. "Like how he reacts when you touch him. Sometimes, it can 
be soothing. Other times, it can be overwhelming." She paused, her eyes scanning 
Plankton's form for any signs of distress. "It's all about reading his cues."

Patrick leaned in closer, his tentacles stilling. "How do know if it's helping or hurting, 
or what type of touching?"

"It's different for everyone with his condition," Karen explained, still on 
Plankton's sleeping form. "But for Plankton, it's usually about pressure."

Patrick's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

Karen demonstrated with her robotic arm, applying gentle pressure to Patrick's 
shoulder. "Like this," she whispered. "Soft, comforting touches can help him 
feel grounded."

Patrick tentatively reached out with a tentacle, mimicking the light touch. 
He watched as Plankton's sleeping body tensed for a moment before 
relaxing slightly. "Is that ok?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

"Just keep it gentle," Karen reminded him, her eyes still on her husband. "And 
pay attention to his reactions."

new planktrick karen plankton patrick plankton

PATRICK PLANKTON 4/4

 (NEURODIVERGENT AUTHOR)



Patrick nodded, his tentacle hovering above 
Plankton's shoulder. He was about 
to touch him again when Karen spoke up.

"Remember, Patrick," she said, her voice a 
soft hum, "it's all about his comfort. 
If he seems tense or pulls away, you know 
to ease off."

Patrick nodded, his tentacle poised in the air 
ready to offer comfort without 
causing more distress. "Okay," he murmured 
his eyes never leaving Plankton's 
peaceful, if slightly troubled, face. "Soft and 
gentle.."

"Yes," Karen said. "And if he flinches 
or seems more uncomfortable, I know 
to stop immediately."

Patrick nodded solemnly retreating. "I don't wanna 
worsen," he whispered.

"You won't," Karen assured him. "Just remember, Plankton's condition isn't 
your fault. And he's lucky to have a friend like you who cares enough to learn."

Patrick nodded, his tentacles stilling as he absorbed the information. He looked 
down at his massive starfish body, feeling clumsy and awkward next to 
Plankton's frail frame. "How do I know if I'm touching him the right way?" 
he asked, his voice tentative.

"Just watch for his reactions," Karen instructed, her robotic eyes flickering as 
she observed Plankton's peaceful expression. "If he relaxes, you're doing it 
right. If not, you're doing too much."

Patrick nodded, his tentacles hovering anxiously. "But how do I show him 
interest and care, without touching?"

Karen considered his question, her robotic brain processing. "Words can 
be powerful, too," she said finally. "Ask him about his day, what he's been 
working on. Show genuine interest in his life."

Patrick nodded, his tentacles retracting slightly. "I can do that," he murmured.

"Plankton enjoys talking about his inventions," Karen began. "He finds solace 
in the predictability of science and engineering. It's his way of making sense 
of the world."

Patrick nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "So, I should ask him about his latest gizmo?"

"Exactly," Karen said with a small smile. "And listen, really listen to what he 
has to say. It's his way of sharing his world with you."

Patrick nodded, his eyes reflecting his determination to be a better friend. 
"Instead of physical affection, what else might he like to show I care?" he asked 
eager to learn more.

"Plankton's quite fond of his pet, Spot," Karen said, her voice a mix of fondness 
and amusement. "You could offer to help play with Spot, or even bring a little 
treat for him."

Patrick's eyes lit up at the mention of the tiny amoeba puppy. "Really?" he 
asked, his tentacles unfurling slightly.

"Yes," Karen said with a smile, "Spot is a source of great comfort to him, they 
enjoy each other." She paused, considering.

Patrick's tentacles began to twitch with excitement. "Could you get Spot?" he 
asked, his voice hopeful. "Maybe having Spot here would help him feel better 
when he wakes up."

Karen's smile grew. "That's a wonderful idea, Patrick," she said, and glided out 
of the room, to get Spot.

Plankton's antennae twitched, and his eye began to flutter open. "Wha..." 

Karen returned with Spot in tow, the little amoeba wagging its tail. She 
placed the small creature gently on the bed with Plankton. "Look who's 
here to see you," she said, voice a gentle coo.

Plankton's antennae perked up at the sight of his little amoeba bounced over.

Patrick watched as the tiny creature brought a rare smile to Plankton's face. 
"Hey, bud," Plankton murmured.

Spot in Plankton's arms, licking his face with its tiny, slimy tongue. Plankton 
giggled.

"Good boy," he murmured, his antennae twitching with delight. The sight of 
Spot's excitement seemed to ease some of the tension in his body.

Patrick watched from the side, his tentacles twitching with the desire to join 
in the moment of levity. He knew he had to tread carefully, but he also knew 
Plankton's smile was worth it.

"How about we play a game? Spot can come too." he suggested, voice soft 
and tentative.

Karen nodded, her smile genuine. "That's a great idea. Plankton loves a good 
trivia game."

Patrick's eyes lit up. "I know just the thing!" He dashed out of the room and 
returned with a battered old board game titled "Bikini Bottom Brainiac Challenge."

"This is perfect," Karen said, her voice filled with relief. She knew how much 
Plankton enjoyed a good intellectual showdown.

Patrick set up the game with shaky tentacles, and Plankton's antennae twitched 
with curiosity and eagerness.

"What's the rules?" Plankton asked, his voice still a little raspy from his episode. 
He's still holding Spot.

"Simple," Patrick said, his tentacles steady as he unfolded the board. "We take 
turns answering trivia questions. If you get one right, you move forward. If not 
you go back."

Plankton's antennae wiggled with excitement. "I've got this," he declared, his 
competitive spirit briefly overriding his exhaustion.

"Let's start with an easy one," Karen suggested, her robotic voice filled with a 
motherly concern.

Patrick nodded, picking up a card. "Alright, Plankton," he began, his tone light, "who 
invented the telephone?"

Plankton's antennae shot up. "Alexander Clam Bell," he said with a smug smile, and 
Spot barked in excitement.

Karen chuckled. "Correct," she said, moving his game piece forward. "Patrick's question."

Plankton pulled a card from the pile, his tentacles shaking slightly. "Okay," he said, "who 
was the first sea creature to walk on land?"

Patrick thought for a moment, his tentacles tapping the side of his head. "I know this 
one," he exclaimed. "It was..." He paused, trying to remember the name from one of Mr. 
Krabs' many history lessons. "Gilligan!"

Karen's robotic laugh filled the room. "I'm afraid not, Patrick. It was actually the first 
amphibian, not a sea creature, who walked on land."

Plankton rolled his eye. "It's okay, Patrick. It was a good guess," he said, his tone kinder 
than the usual sarcasm.

Patrick chuckled, feeling a bit silly. "Alright, I'll work on my history," he said, moving his 
piece back. "Your turn, Karen."

The game continued, the tension in the room slowly dissipating with each question 
and laugh. Plankton's eye lit up with each answer he knew, his antennae waving with 
excitement. The simple act of playing together brought a sense of normalcy to the situation.

Karen's questions were more science-based, which Plankton devoured. "What is the chemical 
composition of seawater?" she asked, her robotic eyes gleaming with challenge.

"Easy," Plankton said, his voice growing stronger with each word. "It's mostly sodium chloride 
with traces of other salts and minerals."

Patrick watched as Plankton's confidence grew with every correct answer, his antennae 
standing tall. The game was a balm to his friend's frazzled nerves, a gentle reminder of 
the Plankton he knew before the meltdown. "Your turn," he said.

Karen's question was about the ocean's currents, and Plankton felt a twinge of excitement. 
"Oh, I know this one," he exclaimed. "It's all about the Coriolis Effect is what makes the water 
spin in different directions in the northern and southern hemispheres!"

Patrick nodded, his tentacles twirling with enthusiasm. "Wow, Plankton, you're really 
good at this!"

But as he went to roll the dice, his excitement got the better of him. The dice slipped from 
his grasp, bouncing straight Plankton's open eye. Plankton yelped in pain.

Patrick's tentacles froze mid-air, his eyes wide with horror. "Oh no!" he exclaimed, reaching 
out to help his friend.

But Plankton was already recoiling, his antennae flailing as he clutched his eye. "Ow!!"

Patrick's heart sank. "I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, reaching out to comfort his friend.

But Plankton was already on the defensive, arms swiping at the air as if trying to swat 
away the pain, his eye watering.

Patrick's tentacles retreated immediately, the gravity of his mistake weighing heavy 
on him. "I didn't mean to," he said, his voice tight with regret. "I'm sorry, Plankton."

Plankton's eye watered, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the pain.

Karen's eyes went wide with alarm, and she was at his side in an instant.

"Plankton?" 

Plankton rubs his eye with his tiny hand. "Just... just give me a moment."

Patrick gets a small bag of ice with a cool cloth. "Here," he says, holding it out 
tentatively. "Cold might help Plankton.."

Plankton's eye is still red and watery, but he takes the ice pack. "Thanks," he mumbles 
placing the cool compress on his eye.

After a few moments, he lets out a sigh. "It's ok," he says, his voice a mix of pain and 
annoyance. "It may bruise."

Patrick looks at him with a mix of relief and guilt. "Are you sure you're ok?" he asks, 
his tentacles hovering.

"Yes!" Plankton exclaimed, antennae shooting up. He winced as he tried to open the 
eye fully, but the pain was too much. "But I can handle it," he said through gritted teeth.
Plankton took a deep breath, the silence in the room thick with the sting of pain. He knew 
he had to say something, to apologize for how he treated Patrick.

"Look," he began, gruff but sincere. "Sorry 
if I've been a bit... much.."

Patrick's tentacles twitched with emotion. 
"It's ok, Plankton," he said, his voice thick. 
"I just didn't know how to help."

"You're trying," Plankton said, antennae 
dropping slightly. "And that's more than 
anyone else has ever done, other than 
Karen and Spot of course." Plankton's 
antennae twitched, his voice a little 
softer than usual. "You're just to... to 
enthusiastic for me most times."

Patrick nodded. "I'll be more careful," 
he murmured.

Karen looked at him with a mix of gratitude 
and pity. "Patrick, it's not your fault," she said. 
"Plankton's condition is complex, and even I 
struggle to sometimes. Plankton's not like 
everyone else. He needs his space, his 
quiet and his routines."

Patrick nodded, his tentacles drooping 
slightly. "I'll do better," he said, earnest.

new planktrick karen plankton patrick plankton

𝖳𝖮 𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖫𝖣 pt. 4

Sequel to Autism And All by NeuroFabulous

https://emojicombos.com/autism-and-all

Read the Autism And All one first!


Plankton's words come out in a
slurry mess, and Karen
understands he's trying to
share his thoughts with them.
"Cwouds...hampy clows.
Wheah's the moo...moo?
Moo...moom," he mumbles.
"Wha...whath's that?"
he asks, his eye searching
the sky for something that's
not there. Karen's laughter fills
the car, lightening the mood.
"It's just the sun, sweetie,"
she says.

Chip looks at his dad
with a mix of amusement
and concern. "You ok?"
he asks, his voice tentative.
Plankton nods, his smile
little more than a twitch
of his lips as drool
starts to form at the corner
of his mouth. "Mom," Chip says,
his voice tinged with concern.
"He's fine, Chip. It's just the
medicine wearing off." Karen
answers as they pull up into
the garage, Plankton's speech still
slurred. "Wheath we gothin?"
Plankton mumbles.

"We're going inside,
sweetie," Karen says,
helping him out of the car.
His legs feel like jelly,
his body moving in slow
motion as they make their
way into the house. The lights
seem too bright, the noises
too loud. "Mom," Chip whispers,
his eyes wide. "Is he ok?"
"He's fine," she whispers back,
her voice a gentle reminder
of their earlier conversation.
"This is normal after anesthesia."

Inside, Plankton leans
heavily on Karen, his eye
half-closed. "Bed," he mumbles.
Karen nods, guiding him
towards the bedroom. "Come on,
honey," she says, her voice a
soothing balm to his frayed
nerves. "Let's get you to bed."

The bed feels heavenly
under his weight, the
covers a warm embrace.
Plankton sighs contentedly,
his body melting into the
softness. His mind is a
whirlwind of sensations, but
the comfort of the bed
grounds him.

Karen watches him.
The slurred speech and
confusion are a stark
contrast to his usual sharp
and focused self. But she
knows this is just the
medicine wearing off.

Gently, she starts to
remove the gauze from
his mouth. Plankton's
eye opens a crack,
his pupil wide with
uncertainty. "It's ok,"
she whispers, her voice
soothing. "Let's get this
out of here." "Mm-hmm,"
he murmurs.

The gauze is sticky
and uncomfortable,
but he trusts her. Karen's
hands are careful, her
movements precise as
she works to free his mouth
from the confines of the
cotton. Plankton winces,
his mouth feeling dull and
tender.

The room tilts
slightly as he closes
his eye, his body
surrendering to the
exhaustion that follows
surgery. "Now, would you like
some i---"

But Plankton's already
snoring softly, lost to
the world. Karen's
laughter fills the space
between them. She
knew he'd be sore later
though, not to mention
his autistic sensitivities
to managing pain..

The next morning,
Plankton wakes with a
sore mouth and the
anesthesia gone. He
manages to open his eye.
The room is a blur
of light and shadow,
his gums pounding with
a dull throb. His jaw
feels achy, his tongue
swollen and uncooperative.
He tries to sit up as
Karen greets him. "How
are you feeling, honey?"

"Wisdom teeth?" he asks,
his memory a haze. Karen
smiles. "Yes, sweetie.
You had surgery yesterday.
Everything went fine."
Plankton nods slowly, his
eye searching hers for
reassurance as Chip comes
in to check on his dad.
"Hey, Dad," Chip says,
his voice soft. "How's the
mouth?" Plankton's eye
twitches. "Hurt," he manages,
his words muffled by the
swollen tissue. Karen brings
Plankton ice packs. She knows
his sensory sensitivities, and
how this disruption can
overwhelm him. "Thanks, love,"
he says, his voice a rasp. 

Karen knew that Plankton's
autism means recovery
will be more challenging,
his senses heightened. "You
have to stay calm," Karen
instructs Chip, "He needs a
quiet environment to heal."
Chip nods as he sits
on the bed next to Plankton.

Plankton's eye opens
slightly as the cold ice
presses against his cheek.
The chill runs through him,
a stark relief against the
heat of his swollen gums.
"It's ok," Karen whispers,
her voice a balm to his
pain. "It'll help with the
swelling."

He nods, his hand
gripping the ice pack
tightly. The room is
too bright, the sounds
too sharp. His mind
craves the familiar comfort
of his routines, his stims,
but his body won't cooperate.

Karen notices his distress,
her hand gentle as it brushes
his forehead. "You need
some space, Plankton?" she asks,
reading his cues. He nods,
his breath coming in shallow
pants. She nods and goes to
sit on her bed adjacent to his own.
Yet Karen sees the struggle
play out across his 
features with the effort 
to keep calm, his
body tight with tension.

Chip, still sitting by his
dad, wants to help.
He starts to fiddle with his
fidget toy, the soft click-clack
of the gears echoing in the
silence. Plankton's eye snaps
open, his gaze drawn to the
movement. "Chip, stop," he
mumbles, his voice a
mixture of pain and irritation.
But Chip, eager to distract
his father from his own
discomfort, doesn't hear the
edge in Plankton's voice.

The clicking grows faster,
each movement a blur of
colors and shapes. Plankton's
heart starts to race, his
body tensing. "Chip," he says
more firmly this time. But Chip's
fingers dance on the fidget,
his eyes focused on his task.
The noise and visual assault
are too much for Plankton's
sensitive system. His face 
contorts.

"Chip, please," Plankton
whispers, his voice strained.
Chip finally looks up, his
expression one of innocent
curiosity. "What, Dad? I--"

But he doesn't get to finish
his sentence. Plankton's hand
snatches the fidget toy, his
movements jerky.

The room seems to shrink,
the air thick with tension.
Chip's eyes widen, realizing
his mistake. "Dad, I'm sor—"
But Plankton's agitation
has reached a peak. He
thrusts the fidget toy away.
The plastic clatters on
the floor, a jolting sound
that pierces the silence.
"Too...much," he manages to
get out, his voice strained.
Chip's cheeks flush with
embarrassment and guilt.
He didn't mean to upset
his father. He just wanted
to help.

"Sorry," Chip whispers,
picking up the toy, which
only makes Plankton's anger
spike further. The sudden
movement of Chip's hand, the
sharp sound of the fidget—
it's like a storm in his mind.
"No!" Plankton yells, his
voice raw. Chip freezes, his
heart racing. "Dad," he starts,
his voice shaky. "I didn't mean..."

But Plankton's already
flailing, trying to push
away the chaos that's
invaded his space. Karen
quickly moves to intervene.

"Chip," she says, her voice
firm yet calm. "Remember what
we talked about." Chip nods,
understanding dawning on
his face. He'd forgotten the
rules of their world, the
delicate balance that keeps
Plankton's sanity intact.
He'd wanted to help, but
instead, he'd added to the
storm raging within his dad. She takes
the fidget toy from Chip,
placing it on the nightstand.

"I'm sorry," Plankton whispers,
his eye darting around the
room. He's lost in his own
head, the pain making it
difficult to focus. "It's ok,"
Karen soothes, her touch gentle
on his arm. "Let's dim the
lights and make it quieter."

She pulls the shades closed,
the harsh daylight retreating
to a soft glow. Chip nods, his
expression solemn. "I'll go to
my room," he says, his voice
small. Plankton's gaze
meets his son's, a silent
apology passing between
them. "Thanks, buddy," he says,
his voice a gruff whisper. 

new to change the world karen plankton karen

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 7

Plankton's heart leaps
into his throat as the box
flies open. Fidget toys spill out
everywhere, each one a
tiny piece of his vulnerability.
"N-no, wait!" he stammers,
his hand shooting out to grab
the box. But it's too late.
Sandy's eyes widen as she
sees the collection of stim
toys, the suspicion setting in.

Sandy looks at him. 
"Plankton," she says. 
"You can tell me. What's
going on?"

"Sandy," Karen starts, her
voice calm and measured. "You
know Plankton's... uh... unique
quirks, right?" She tries to find
the right words, but Plankton's
mind is racing. He can't bear
the thought of being seen as
weak or broken, not even by
his wife's closest friend.

Sandy nods, her gaze still on
the fidget toys scattered
across the floor. "Yeah," she
says slowly. "But what's this all
abou–"

But Plankton can't handle
the scrutiny anymore. His
eye starts to twitch again,
his body tense with anxiety.
"It's nothing," he insists, his
voice shaking. "Just some...
stuff I... I collected."

Sandy looks at him, her
eyes filled with confusion
and concern. "Plankton," she
says gently. "You know you can
talk to me." She's seen his
quirks before, but never
anything like this.

Plankton's eye darts around
the room, looking for a
way out. He feels the
familiar panic rising in his
chest, his mind racing with
thoughts he can't quite articulate.
He stammers, trying to
find the right words to
explain without revealing
too much. "It's... it's just... I
was... uh... I was just...
experimenting with... uh...
new... new... new ways to... to...
keep my mind... uh... sharp?"

Karen watches her husband
with a mix of pity and
frustration. She knows
his fear of being seen as
different is overwhelming, but
she also knows hiding it won't
make it go away. "Plankton,"
she says gently. "It's okay."

Plankton's eye stops
twitching as he looks at her.
He takes a deep breath, his
body visibly relaxing. "I... I don't
want to talk about it," he says, his
voice low.

Sandy looks from Plankton to
Karen, then back again. She
can sense the tension in the
room, the unspoken words
that hang heavy in the air.
"Okay," she says slowly. "But if
yo--"

Plankton cuts her off. "Sandy,
it's nothing," he says, his voice
too loud, too forced. "Just...
just a little hobby, you know?"
He laughs awkwardly, his
nervousness palpable. "Some
people collect stamps. I just...
I just like... uh... tinkering with
these... these little things."
He tries to wave it off, his hand
shaking as he does so.

Sandy's expression is a
mix of confusion and worry.
"But Plankton," she starts,
picking up a fidget toy. "Whaa-"

"It's fine, Sandy," Plankton
interrupts, his voice strained.
"It's just...just something I
do to... to relax." He grabs
the toy from her hand,
his movements erratic. "It's
not a big de-"

But Sandy's eyes are still
on the box, curiosity
piqued. "But Plankton, why
the secrecy?" she presses, her
tone gentle but firm.

Plankton's face reddens,
his eye darting around the
room. He stammers, trying to
find a suitable explanation. "It's...
it's just a... a surprise," he
managed to get out, his voice
squeaking. "For... for the Chum
Bucket. A new... uh... gimmick."
He laughs nervously, his
hands fidgeting with the toys.

Sandy looks at him, her
concern clear. "Plankton, if
you're going through something,
you know you can talk to me."
Her voice is gentle, but the
question in her eyes is unmistakable.
Plankton's heart squeezes in
his chest, his mind racing
to come up with a plausible
explanation. He doesn't want
her pity, doesn't want to be seen
as weak.

"It's... it's nothing," he
repeats, his voice shaky. "Just
some new... uh... merchandise
I've been working on. For
the Chum Bucket," he adds quickly.
He tries to laugh, but it
sounds forced. "You know me,
always thinking of new ways to
outdo Krabs," he says, trying
to redirect the conversation.

But Sandy doesn't buy it.
"Merchandise?" she asks, her
tone skeptical. "These look
like... like some sort of therapy toys."
Her voice is gentle, but the
word hits Plankton like a
ton of bricks. He swallows hard,
his grip on the fidget toys
tightening.

Plankton's mind races, trying
to come up with a lie that
won't unravel. But before he can
speak, Chip steps forward.

"It's not for the Chum Bucket,"
Chip says, his voice steady.
"They're dad's... uh... special toys."
He looks at Plankton, his gaze
filled with understanding.
"He's special needs," he says,
his voice unwavering. "He has...
uh..."

Plankton's face goes from
flustered to furious. "Chip!"
he snaps. "That's enough!" 
But it's too late. Sandy's 
eyes widen.

Sandy looks from Chip to
Plankton, her expression a
mixture of shock and
compassion. "What does he
mean, special needs?" she asks,
carefully.

Plankton's face turns a
bright shade of red, his
hands shaking with anger.
He slams the fidget toys into
the box, his voice tight.
"It's none of your business,
Sandy," he snaps. "It's just
a..."

Sandy's eyes widen,
surprise and concern
melding together. "Plankton,
what's going on here?"
she asks, her voice gentle
but firm. "You and Karen can talk
to me. You know that."

Plankton's breathing
quickens, his hands
shaking as he fumbles to
close the box. "It's nothing,"
he insists, his voice tight.
"Just a... a little... uh...
quirky hobby."

Sandy's gaze is filled
with a blend of shock
and concern as she looks
at her friend's husband,
his usual confidence
replaced by a flustered mess.
"Plankton," she says, her voice
gentle but firm. "You're
special needs? What's Chi-"

Plankton's anger flares up.
"It's none of your concern!"
he snaps, his hands
shaking as he pushes the box
under the bed with more
force than necessary. The
stims scatter on the floor,
each one a painful reminder
of his condition. "You just
stick to your treedome and
let me handle my... uh...
quirky habits," he says, his
words clipped.

Sandy's eyes are wide,
taking in the scene before
her. She's never seen
Plankton like this, so...
vulnerable. "But, oh Chip,"
she starts, her voice
soothing. "If you're... uh...
dad's going through something, I
want to help. Chip, you told
me he's special needs. Tell
me wh-"

"Because," Chip says, "Mom
said she doesn't like that I
know he's ret-..."

new toycore karen plankton come together

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤 𝖳𝖮𝖦𝖤𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖱
𝖻𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌
part 8

"Chip!" Karen's voice
cuts through the air like
a knife, her eyes wide with
alarm. Chip, realizing his
mistake, goes to hug his
dad. "Sorry," he says, going
up to Plankton, who puts
his arm out to stop him.

Sandy, oblivious to
Plankton's overload,
grabs his arm. "NO!"
she yells, her voice sharp.
"You do not push your son
away like that!"

Plankton flinches at her
voice. He tries to pry his
hand out of Sandy's, but
her grip is firm. "Let me go,"
he says, his voice strained.
But Sandy doesn't budge.
"You listen to me, Plankton,"
she says, her eyes flashing.
"You are not going to push
aw-"

But she's interrupted by
another seizure, Plankton's
body convulsing. Sandy's 
eyes go wide with fear, 
not knowing what to do. 
"What's happening?"
she cries, finally letting
go of his wrist.

Karen's eyes flash with anger
and desperation as she
quickly moves to Plankton's
side. She glares at Sandy.
"It's a condition," she
snaps. "And it's not for you
to judge." Her voice is
sharp, her frustration with
Sandy's lack of
understanding palpable.

Sandy's eyes widen as she
realizes her mistake, her hand
flying to her mouth. "What,"
she murmurs. "I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean-"

But Karen's fury cuts her
off. "You didn't mean to
what?" she snaps. "To 
bombard Plankton with your
yelling? To make him feel
like he has to be touched?"
Her eyes bore into Sandy,
sizzling with accusation. "This is
why we don't tell people,"
she says, her voice shaking.

Sandy's eyes fill with
remorse as she takes in the
sight of Plankton's trembling
form. "I didn't know,"
she whispers, her voice
shaking with regret. "I'm sorry,
Karen. I didn't mean to..."
Her words trail off as she
realizes the depth of her
mistake.

Karen's face is a mask of
sadness and anger as she
tends to Plankton, her eyes
never leaving Sandy. "You
didn't mean to what?" she says,
each word cutting through the
silence like a knife. "To make
Plankton feel guilty for Chip's
ignorance? He has autism, Sandy."
Her voice is low, but it
carries the weight of a thousand
unspoken words. "This is why
we don't tell people, Sandy.
This is why."

Sandy's face falls, her
complexion paler than the
white walls of the room.
"Autism?" she repeats, her
voice barely a whisper. She's
heard of it, of course, but never
considered that Plankton's
quirks could be more than just
quirks. She feels a pang of
guilt for her insensitivity.

Karen nods, her eyes
brimming with tears. "Yes,"
she says, her voice thick
with sadness. "He's been
dealing with it his entire life.
And we've worked so hard to
make sure he's comfortable,
to help him cope." She looks
at Sandy, her gaze pleading.
Her voice cracks as she says
it, her heart breaking for her
husband.

Sandy's eyes fill with tears
as she looks at her friend.
"Karen," she whispers. "I'm so
sorry." She takes
a step back, realizing the
harm she's caused. "I had
no idea. I didn't mean to..."
Her words trail off as she
sees the pain etched on Karen's
face.

Karen's expression is a
storm of emotions - anger,
sadness, and a deep-seated
frustration. "You didn't know,"
she says, her voice flat. "But
now you do. And you see what
it does to him." She nods
towards Plankton, who's still
shaking on the bed, his eye
squeezed shut as he tries to
fight off the seizure.

Sandy's eyes fill with tears
as she nods, her heart racing.
Karen takes a deep breath,
her gaze still on Plankton.
"Just be there," she says,
her voice tired. "Don't push
him. Don't make him feel...
less."

Sandy nods again, her eyes
fixed on Plankton as Karen
continues to help him through
the seizure. Her perception
of him shifts, the layers
of bravado and ambition
stripped away to reveal the
man beneath the madness.

As the seizure subsides,
Plankton opens his eye to
find Sandy still hovering,
looking at him with a mix
of fear and regret. He feels
exposed, his most private
vulnerability laid bare before
his wife's best friend. He takes
a deep breath, trying to
regain his composure.

"I'm sorry," Sandy whispers,
her voice thick with
unshed tears. "I didn't know."

Plankton's gaze remains
on the floor, his body
still trembling slightly. "It's
not for you to know."

Sandy feels the sting
of his words, her cheeks
flushing with a mix of
embarrassment and sadness.
"I just wanted to help,"
she murmurs, her eyes
filling with tears.

But Plankton can't bear
the weight of her pity,
his own anger a shield.
He turns away from her,
his body rigid with tension.

"Plankton," she says softly,
her hand hovering in the
space between them. "I'm here."
But Plankton flinches at
the touch, his body tightening.
"No," he says, his voice firm.

Sandy's eyes widen with
hurt as she withdraws her hand.
"But, I just wanted to-"
"No," Plankton says, his
voice firm. The seizure has
passed, but his emotions
are still raw, his body still
shaking from the tremors.

Karen's heart breaks as
she sees the rejection
on Sandy's face, but she
understands Plankton's need
for space. She steps in,
placing a hand on Sandy's arm.
"Let's give him some time,"
she whispers, her gaze
never leaving Plankton's
closed-off form.

Sandy nods, her eyes
brimming with tears as she
backs away slowly, not
wanting to cause any more
stress.

new seizurecore karen plankton come together

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 20


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Karen's arms wrap around him, her
hands gentle on his back as she
whispers words of comfort, her
voice a balm to his frayed
nerves. "You're safe, baby,"
she says. "You're safe with me."
Plankton's sobs slow, his
body relaxing marginally in
her embrace. His antennae
still thrash, but with less
urgency, when Plankton's
main dentist comes in.

Dr. Musselman, Plankton's 
main dentist, rushes into 
the room, his eyes wide with 
concern at the sight of his 
patient's distress. Karen quickly 
explains the situation, her voice 
tight with emotion. "He's having 
an autistic shutdown," she says, 
her hand on Plankton's trembling 
back. "He's sensitive to 
sensory overload." He nods. "You can
come into my exam room, follow me."

The doctor's exam room is 
dimmer, the air cooler, and the
smell less intense. The change
in atmosphere is like a gentle 
caress against Plankton's overstimulated
sensors. He lets out a shaky
sigh, his antennae unfurling slightly.

Dr. Musselman's eyes are
kind, his voice a soothing
balm. "Hi, Plankton," he says, his
tone gentle. "Remember me?"
Plankton's gaze flickers to him,
his antennae stilling. "You're
my other dentist," he whispers, his
voice hoarse from the sobbing.

The doctor nods, his smile
reassuring. "That's right. I
know you don't like surprises,
so I'm sorry for that, for Jill. But
we're going to take it slow, okay?"
Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching slightly. "We need to
finish your cleaning," Karen says,
her voice gentle. "But we'll do
it with Dr. Musselman. He'll always
work here, and can be your dentist
instead of Jill from now on!"

"Okay," Dr. Musselman says,
his voice calm and measured.
"We're going to take some
x-rays now. It's quick and
painless." Plankton's antennae
perk up slightly at the
mention of painlessness. He
nods, his eye searching the
doctor's face for any sign of
deception.

The doctor leads them to a
small, enclosed space, the
whirring of the x-ray machine
a soothing constant. Karen
holds Plankton's hand, her grip
firm but gentle, as he sits
in the chair. The doctor
explains the process, his
words clear and concise. Plankton
nods, his breathing slowing
slightly as he tries to
comfort himself.

The x-ray machine's cold
metal touches his jaw, and
he jolts. "It's okay," Karen
whispers, her hand on his
shoulder. "It's just a little
picture of your teeth." Plankton's
eye closes, his antennae
stilling. He nods, his trust in
his wife a beacon in the
storm of his fear.

Dr. Musselman's movements are
careful, his voice calm. "Open
wide," he says. Plankton's
mouth opens slightly, his teeth
clenched. The x-ray film
slides into place, cold and
slightly sticky. He tastes the
metal, feels the pressure. But
it's not the same as the probe.
It's bearable.

The machine whirs to life, the
sensation of the x-rays a
gentle buzz against his
skin. His antennae quiver, but
he doesn't pull away. Karen's
hand squeezes his, a silent
promise of support. "Good job,"
she murmurs, her voice a warm
whisper in the cool air.

The doctor's voice is
steady. "Almost done," he says,
his eyes on the machine's
readout. Plankton nods, his
breaths shallow but even. The
fear has receded to a dull
throb, a distant echo of the
panic that had consumed him.

The x-ray machine clicks off,
the buzz of its operation
silenced. Dr. Musselman gently
removes the film, his
movements careful not to
startle Plankton. "Good boy,"
he says, his voice a warm
caress. Plankton's antennae
twitch in response, a tentative
sign of trust.

new do you trust me karen plankton 20

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷.𝟶𝟼ᴋ

At the Neptune Medical Center, Karen parks the car and goes with her husband Plankton into the building 
after an injury to his antenna.

"I still don't see why you didn't press charges against Krabs, Sheldon," Karen sighs, as they walk through the 
gleaming, sterile corridors of the medical center. "Karen I'm not gonna give him the satisfaction."

Plankton's antenna now hangs limp and damaged. The doctor had assured him it was a simple repair job, yet 
Plankton's nerves were as frayed as the antenna itself.

They enter the reception area, the automatic doors whispering shut behind them, as if sealing off the outside 
world's chaos. The smell of antiseptic fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of fear and hope. The 
receptionist, a young squid with a friendly smile, looks up from her computer screen. "Mr. Plankton, your 
appointment is with Dr. Marlin, the antenna specialist," she says, her tentacles typing efficiently. "You can go 
straight to the third floor, room 304."

The elevator ride is silent, save for the rhythmic ding of each passing floor. Karen notices his distant gaze and 
squeezes his arm reassuringly.

"You'll be fine, Sheldon," she whispers. Plankton nods.

They arrive at room 304, and Karen opens the door, revealing a state-of-the-art examination room. Dr. Marlin, 
an octopus with a gleaming scalpel in one tentacle and a clipboard in another, looks up from his notes.

"Ah, Mr. Sheldon Plankton, right on time," he says, his eight eyes blinking in unison. "I understand you've had a 
bit of an injury?"

Plankton nods, his voice tight. "Krabs... he... snapped it."

Dr. Marlin's tentacles twitch in concern. "Mr. Eugene Krabs, eh? He's had his share of accidents around here." 
He scribbles something on the clipboard. "Well, let's get you fixed up. I've seen worse, and you're in good 
hands."

The doctor leads Plankton to the examination chair, which is surprisingly comfortable for someone so tiny. He 
adjusts the chair's height and angles the light to shine on the antenna. Plankton winces as the doctor gently 
prods the damaged area.

"It's definitely snapped," Dr. Marlin says, his voice calm and professional. "But the good news is, it's not to far 
gone. We can repair it with a simple procedure."

"You'll need to be under for this," he explains. "It's nothing to worry about. You'll be out Before you know it."

Plankton's heart races as he lies back in the chair, the cold metal pressing against his back. He glances at 
Karen, who gives him a forced smile, her screen filled with concern. The doctor notices and pats his shoulder 
reassuringly. "It's just a little sleep," he says. "You'll be back in no time."

Karen reaches for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

The anesthesiologist, a bluefish with a gentle demeanor, enters the room, pushing a trolley with a variety of 
bottles and tubes. She introduces herself as Nurse Bella and explains that she'll be administering the 
anesthesia for the surgery. Plankton swallows hard, eye darting from her to Karen's screen and back again.

Karen's gaze follows the anesthesiologist, Nurse Bella, as she meticulously prepares.

"Ready? Count as high as you can," she asks, her voice as soft as a lullaby. Plankton nods, his grip on Karen's 
hand tightening.

"One... two... three..." Plankton's voice starts strong, but the medicine's effect begins to take hold. His eyelid 
grow heavy, and the numbers begin to slur.

Karen watches as Plankton's count descends into a whisper. "Five... six... sev..." His tiny hand relaxes in hers, 
and his body goes slack. She watches the rise and fall of his chest slow as he succumbs to the anesthesia.

Karen squeezes his hand one last time.

The door to the exam room opens again, and Dr. Marlin's head pokes out.

"Everything's gone well," Dr. Marlin says, peering over his mask. "We're to halt anesthesia."
"You're okay," Karen whispers, her voice cracking. "You're okay."
"He's doing great," the nurse whispers. "You can talk to him if you'd like. Sometimes they can hear you."
Karen leans closer, her voice low and soothing. "Hey, Plankton, it's Karen. You're safe now. They've fixed your 
antenna. No more pain, okay?"
Her thoughts are interrupted by a soft groan from the bed.
Karen's screen snap to Plankton, who's beginning to stir under the blankets. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his 
arm. "You're safe."
 "K...Karen?" His eye opens. 
"Yes, it's me. You're okay, you're in the hospital. They've fixed your antenna."
"Karen... antenna... Krabby Patty... wait, what?" He giggles, the words jumbling together in a way that makes 
no sense.
Plankton's eye widen with childlike excitement. "Oh, right! The antenna!" He tries to touch the bandage but 
ends up nearly slapping himself in the face with his own arm. "Oops!" He giggles again, the sound echoing 
through the quiet room. He tries to sit up, but cannot. "Whoa, Nelly!"
"Easy," Karen laughs.
"I'm the king of the jellyfish prom! They got no flair!"

Once in the car, Karen buckles him in with care, double-checking the seatbelt. "Remember, no funny business," 
she warns. 
Plankton's eye droop, and his head lolls to the side.

"You're going to sleep, aren't you?" she says, her voice a mix of amusement and exhaustion.
"M'not sleeping," Plankton mumbles, his eyelid fluttering, his voice fading into a snore.
The drive home is peaceful, with Plankton snoring lightly beside her. 
As they approach their place, she gently shakes him awake. "We're home, Sheldon," she says, her voice gentle. 
"Can you wake up for me?"

Plankton's eye blink open, and he looks around in confusion. "Home?" he mumbles. "Already?"

Karen nods with a smirk. "Yeah, you slept through the whole drive. Came out of it just in time."

They get out of the car, and Plankton wobbles slightly on his legs, the after-effects of the anesthesia still 
lingering. Karen wraps an arm around his waist, supporting him as they make their way to the front door.
With a chuckle, Karen helps him inside, the warm light of their living room washing over them. Plankton's 
snores become more pronounced as they move through the hallway. "Come on, you need to get to bed," she 
says, leading him to their bedroom.
The room is cozy, with a large bed that seems to swallow Plankton whole as he collapses into it. Karen 
carefully pulls the covers up to his chin. "Rest now," she whispers, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

new karen plankton fishkin neptunecore bellacore examcore hospitalcore medicalcore medicalpunk sheldon plankton

Plankton found himself in a sticky situation. In his haste, he collided with a 
submerged rock, and with a painful snap, one of his antennae broke dangling in half.

His computer wife Karen took him to a clinic. The receptionist, a kind octopus 
named Tentacla, took his information and assured Dr. Dolittlefish would see him 
shortly.

"Plankton?" Dr. Dolittlefish called out, his voice echoing through the room. 
Plankton walked in, Karen trailing behind. 

The doctor examined the fractured antenna. Plankton winced, feeling a sharp pain 
as the doctor prods it gently. Dr. Dolittlefish chuckled, "We'll need to perform a 
repair, and for that, you'll need a touch of anesthesia. It'll make you feel like 
you're floating on a cloud.."

Plankton's one good antenna perked up with interest. "A magical elixir that will 
put you into a state of deep relaxation," Dr. Dolittlefish explained, his eyes 
twinkling behind his spectacles. "You'll be completely unaware of the surgery. We 
give you a little dose to make you drowsy. It's like sinking into a warm, bubble 
bath after a long day of plotting. Trust me, you'll wake up with a fixed antenna 
and no memories of the procedure. It's like a nap that'll keep you unconscious and 
pain-free throughout the operation. It's tailored for each patient, so you'll only 
get what you need."

Turning to Karen, who had been quietly observing the exchange, the doctor said, 
"Karen, if you have any concerns, feel free to ask. Your husband's safety is my top 
priority. I'll be sure to take into account."

Karen sighed, her circuits whirring as she searched for the right words. "Well, 
Plankton has always had trouble with deep sleep. He's a bit of a light sleeper, you 
see. Even the slightest disturbance and he's up for the day. It's hard for him to 
get to sleep."

The doctor nodded, scribbling more notes. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "That does
add a layer of complexity to the anesthesia. We'll need to be precise with the 
dosage to ensure he remains asleep throughout the surgery without any complications. 
We'll use the lightest touch possible and administer the anesthesia in a way that 
minimizes discomfort."

Dr. Dolittlefish turned to Plankton. "Now, when you wake up, it'll be like coming 
out of a delightful dream. You'll feel a bit groggy, like you've just emerged from 
a particularly long nap. You might be a tad disoriented, but that's perfectly normal. 
Your body will be feeling the effects of the medication wearing off, so it's crucial 
that you rest for a while in our recovery area."

Plankton's eye searched Karen', looking for reassurance. She nodded firmly, gripping 
his tiny hand. "You'll be okay, Plankton. I'll be right here."

The doctor nodded. "Karen, you can accompany him into the surgery room. But remember, 
you'll have to go and stay outside once the actual procedure begins."

The next day, Plankton and Karen returned to the clinic, feeling a mix of anxiety 
and hope. The lobby was filled with various sea creatures, all waiting for their 
appointments with their own assortment of woes and ailments. 

"Come on, Plankton," Karen urged, her voice steady. "You've got this."

Dr. Dolittlefish took his place at the head of the operating table, a serious look 
on his face. "Alright, Plankton," he said, his voice steady, "It's time for the 
anesthesia. This might feel a bit strange, but remember, it's just like drifting 
off to sleep." With a flick of his fin, he administered the first dose through a 
small tube connected to a bubble filled with the sedative.

The bubble popped, and Plankton felt a warm sensation spread through his body. It 
started in his toes and traveled up to his antennae, making them feel weightless. 
His eye grew heavier, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh. The room began to 
spin gently, the sounds around him becoming muffled, like the distant hum of a 
lullaby sung by the ocean currents. He felt himself sinking into the chair, the 
cushions seemingly made of the softest sea foam.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Dolittlefish's voice was a comforting murmur.

"Woozy," Plankton slurred, his eyelid fluttering. The room was a blur of lights and 
colors, like a kaleidoscope of bubbles. The pain in his antenna was fading, replaced 
by a pleasant numbness.

Karen squeezed his hand tightly, her grip the only solid thing in his swirling world. 
She watched him closely, her LED eyes full of worry. "It's ok, Plankton," she murmured. 
"You're going to be fine."

The doctor nodded to her encouragement. "I want you to count backwards from one hundred 
ok?"

Plankton, already feeling the warm embrace of the anesthesia, began his count with a lazy 
sensation. "One hundred... ninety-nine... ninety-eight..." His voice grew softer with each 
number, the digits slipping away like grains of sand through his tiny fingers. The world 
around him grew fuzzy, like a TV show losing signal. The lights above looked like distant 
stars, their brightness dimming as he descended into the abyss of unconsciousness.

"...eighty-four... eighty-three... eighty-two..." His eye now half-closed, the surgery room's 
noises melding into a symphony of comforting whispers. The gentle sway of the seaweed outside 
the clinic's windows seemed to be rocking him to sleep. His voice grew more faint, words slurring 
together.

Karen watched him count, her gaze never leaving his face. She could feel his hand loosening 
in hers, his grip becoming as light as a feather. Each number he uttered was a step closer 
to the surgery that would hopefully restore his antenna to its former glory. 

The count grew slower, like a snail on a leisurely stroll across the ocean floor.

His voice was a mere murmur, the words barely discernible. Karen could see his tiny chest rising 
and falling in a slow, rhythmic pattern, his breathing growing deeper and more relaxed with each 
passing moment.

 The colors around them bled into one another, creating a dreamlike landscape. The lights 
above danced like jellyfish in a moonlit lagoon, casting eerie shadows across the gleaming 
surgical instruments. Plankton's eye fully closed now, his count barely a whisper.

Each word was a soft ripple in the vast ocean of sleep that was consuming him. The whirring of 
the machines and the occasional splash of water seemed to fade into the background, replaced by 
the steady rhythm of his breathing. Karen watched, her heart swelling with love and fear as she 
listened to the dwindling numbers.

Plankton's voice was now a faint echo, his body going slack. The room was still, save for the 
hypnotic pulse of the anesthesia bubbles and Plankton's shallow breaths. Karen held her own 
breath, her screen never leaving his face.

 His count grew quieter still, each number a soft, barely perceptible sigh. Karen felt the tension 
in her limbs ease as she watched the lines of worry on Plankton's forehead smooth out. His sleep 
was finally deep and peaceful, the anesthesia working its magic.

"Thirty-four... thirty-three..."  His voice was a mere ripple in the vast sea of quiet that filled 
the room. The last number slipped away, and Plankton's count stopped, his breathing deep and even. 
Karen felt the weight of his hand in hers, a silent testament to his complete surrender to the 
anesthesia's embrace. She watched Plankton's chest rise and fall with each steady breath, his body 
utterly relaxed with his eye sealed shut slightly. The surgery room, once a cacophony of fear and 
doubt, was now a sanctuary of peace, the only sounds the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and 
Plankton's soft snores.

The doctor nodded, satisfied with the sedation's effect. "Alright, Karen, he finally fell asleep," he 
whispered, patting Plankton's shoulder. "Now, we'll proceed with the actual procedure."

Karen swallowed hard, nodding her head. She had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, but she knew this was 
for the best. "I'll be right outside," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She leaned in and kissed 
Plankton's forehead before letting go. 

With a final squeeze of his hand, she reluctantly let go and went towards the door. The doctor nodded in 
understanding, his eyes focused on the delicate task ahead. As the door slid shut with a soft hiss, Karen 
found herself in the stark, sterile waiting room. The walls were lined with sea-themed art, an attempt to 
provide comfort in a place filled with uncertainty and anxiety. She hovered over to the plush sea sponge chair, 
the material reminding her of home.

Her tentacles wrapped around the phone, her movements deliberate and precise as she dialed the numbers. The first 
call was to Spongebob, she knew he would want to know about the accident. The line rang, and she hoped he'd pick up.

"Karen?" 
"Spongebob, it's about Plankton," she began, her voice trembling. "He's had an accident, and he's in surgery now."

"Oh no!" Sponge Bob exclaimed, his bubbly enthusiasm dimming. "Can I talk to Plankton during the surgery?"

"No, they put Plankton to sleep," Karen explained, her tentacles gripping the phone tightly. "But I'll let him know 
you called as soon as he wakes up."

"Thank you, Karen," SpongeBob said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Tell him I'm thinking of him."

The receptionist, Tentacla, noticed her distress and swam over. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her tentacles poised 
to offer comfort or assistance.


"It's just... I've never seen him like this," Karen admitted, her voice wavering. "So... vulnerable."

Tentacla nodded sympathetically, her tentacles reaching out to pat Karen's arm. "It's tough, I know. But Dr. 
Dolittlefish is the best in the business. Plankton's in good fins." 

new karen plankton tentacla surgerycore doctorcore doolittlefish antennae

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 12
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Karen moves quickly,
interposing herself between
Chip and Plankton. "No, love,"
she says, her voice shaking.
"Yo--" But Plankton's fury is
unchecked.

The book misses Chip by
inches, the wall bearing
the brunt of the impact.
Karen's eyes are wide with
fear, her screens flickering.
"PLANKTON!" she yells, her
hands up in a protective stance.
Plankton's chest heaves,
his antennae trembling.

Chip's eyes darting around the room.
He's never seen his dad so out
of control. "Dad," he says again,
his voice barely audible. "Please."
But Plankton's rage is a
freight train, unstoppable.

Karen's eyes are on Chip,
silently willing him to stay calm.
Her screen flickers rapidly,
reflecting the chaos. "Remember,
his brain is overwhelmed," she
whispers, trying to be heard
over Plankton's roars. "Just stay
back, let him..."

But it's too late. Plankton's
hand swings around, sending
a lamp smashing to the ground.
Glass shatters, piercing the
silence like shards of ice.
Chip's heart hammers in his chest.
He's seen his dad's temper before,
but this...this is something else.

Karen's eyes are wide with
panic. She steps closer, her
hands up to shield Chip. "Plankton,
sweetie," she says, her voice
shaking. "Please, it's okay.
Chip didn't mean to-"

But Plankton's fists clench,
his antennae quivering. "NO!"
He grabs another object, a
picture frame, and hurls it
at the wall. It explodes
into splinters, the shards
of glass glinting in the
morning light. "NO TOUCH!"

The wall is now a canvas
of shattered memories. Chip
sees himself in the pieces,
his heart breaking for the
father he thought he knew.
Karen's screens flash with
despair. "Plankton," she says,
her voice strained. "Please,
this isn't helping."

But Plankton's anger is a
whirlwind, uncontrollable. He
grabs a pillow, ripping it
open. Feathers fly through
the air. Chip doesn't
know what to do. Then
he wonders if something
in that sensory box can help..

With shaking hands, Chip
reaches for the box. "Dad,"
he whispers, "Lo---"

But Plankton's even
angrier, Chip's simple
attempt to reconcile
adding fuel to the fire.
Plankton's eye snaps to
his son, his antennae
quivering with rage.
He lunges forward,
his hand swiping through
the air, aiming for
Chip's hand. Chip flinches,
his heart racing. He's never
seen his dad so violent.
He tries to back away,
his eyes wide with fear.

"Dad, no!" Chip yells,
his voice cracking. "I'm
sorry!" He holds up
his hands in surrender.
Karen is there in an
instant, her body a
shield. "Chip," she says,
her voice firm. "Please,
head to your room."

Chip's eyes fill with
tears as he nods,
backing away. He doesn't
understand what's happening,
but he knows it's not his dad.
This is the monster that
sometimes lives in Plankton's
head, the one that comes
out when the world gets
too much.

Plankton's fist
slams into the wall.
The plaster cracks.
Karen flinches.

Her screen is a
swirl of fear and love.
"Plankton," she says,
her voice steady.
Her eyes never leave
his wild one. "Remember,
breathe." She holds up
a hand, her palm out.
He stares at her,
his chest heaving.
The room is a mess
of shattered things.

Slowly, she steps
towards him, her movements
calm and measured. "E-easy,
breathe with me," she whispers.
Her screen pulsed with
reassurance, a gentle
reminder of the world
that exists beyond
his anger. "Just br-"

But Plankton's rage
doesn't abate. His hand
slams into the wall
again. "Remember, love,"
she says, her voice strained,
"breathe." But the words
fall on deaf antennae.

He doesn't hear
the calming words, doesn't
see the love in her eyes.
All he sees is the
invasion of his space,
his personal sanctum
violated.

The house feels too small,
the air too thick. Chip's
sobs echo through the
hallway as he retreats
to the safety of his room.
Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton, her fear
for her son warring with
the fear for her husband.
He's not seeing her, not
really. His brain is in
overdrive, interpreting every
move as a potential threat.

Karen's voice is a distant
hum, her screens a blur of
colors and shapes. She tries
again, her voice softer now.
"Plankton, love, breathe." But
the words don't penetrate the
fortress of his anger.

"Plankton," she gasps, her
hands up to protect herself.
But he's not looking at her.
He's looking through her.
The room spins around her,
the walls closing in.

The anger in Plankton's eye
is a live wire. She tries to talk
again, but her words are
swallowed by the maelstrom.
"PLANKTON!" she screams,
her voice cracking.

He doesn't hear her.
Doesn't see her. He's
lost in a world of rage,
his antennae quivering.
Her screens flash with
despair as she realizes
this is a battle she can't
win with words alone.

Her hands drop to her side.
"I'm sorry," she whispers,
a silent plea for understanding.
Her eyes are wet with
unshed tears.

Her love is a wall she'll
defend to her last breath.
She moves closer, her hand
outstretched. "Plankton,"
she says softly, "I'm here."
Her eyes are on his,
trying to break through
the anger.

"Feel the floor," she
instructs, her voice calm.
"Feel the ground beneath
you. I'm he--"

But Plankton swings again. Karen
dodges. "Plankton," she says,
her voice shaking, "remember
your stims. Use the--"

He cuts her off with
a snarl. "MINE!" His hand
slams into the dresser,
drawers flying open.

Karen tries again,
her voice softer.
"Plankton, love, use your
stims." Her eyes dart around
the room, searching
for something to help,
some way to reach him
or to redirect..

Her screen flashes with
despair as she realizes
everything has failed.
The fidgets had even failed.
Karen reaches into the
sensory drawer to get
the oral needleless 
syringe to administer the
prescribed relaxant for hopelessly
bad moments like this.

With trembling hands,
she prepares the dose.
The sedative is a last
resort, but she can't
bear to see him like
this any longer. Karen
steps closer.

"Plankton," she says softly,
her voice a lifeline in the
storm of his anger. "Look
at me."

He turns, his antennae
quivering with fury. But
the moment he sees the
syringe, something shifts.
A flicker of recognition,
a spark of understanding
as she brings the syringe
to his mouth, the plunger
ready to deliver the calm.

With a gentle touch,
she presses the needleless
syringe to his lips. "Shh,"
she whispers. "It's ok."
His antennae droop as he
understands. He opens his
mouth, letting her push
the plunger. The liquid
slides down his throat.

Plankton's body relaxes
instantly, the fight leaving
his eye. He slumps
forward, the anger draining
from his limbs. Karen
catches him, her arms
a soft embrace around
his shoulders.

"It's ok," she whispers,
guiding Plankton back to
his bed. "You're ok."
The sedative works quickly,
his breaths becoming deep
and even. His antennae
still slightly, his body
going limp. The sedative took hold,
and Plankton's body goes slack
in her arms. She carefully
lowers him onto the bed,
his eye closed.

This is not the first time
she's had to do this, but it
doesn't make it any easier.
Her screens flicker with
guilt. She's failed to
keep the peace, to
prevent this outburst.

The medicine has been
prescribed by a sensory
friendly therapist for
using in times of great
distress. Karen and
Plankton had agreed on it
as the therapist decided
with them to observe how
it worked. So they'd stay
at the office as it was
administered as per
Plankton's approval, and
observed him the whole
time, even after he awoke.
Besides that day, and today,
they've used it only two
other times. Any of the
tiredness/forgetfulness
is normal, and he might
be out of it for the rest of
the day, Karen knew.

His antennas lay still on the
pillow, no longer quivering. His
breaths were deep and even,
eye closed. Karen watched
over him, her own eyes
brimming with tears of relief
and love as she finished cleaning
up the aftermath of his anger.
Plankton's hand lay open
on the bed, the plushie
now forgotten. Karen still
could hear Chip's quiet sniffles.

She pushed open the door
to Chip's room. He was
curled up on his bed,
his face buried in his
arms, his shoulders shaking
with sobs. The sight of him,
so small and lost,
was a knife to her core.
"Chip," she says softly,
her voice a balm on
his raw nerves. "It's okay."
He looks up, his screen
swollen and red.
Karen sits beside him,
wrapping her arms around him.
"Dad's okay," she whispers.
"He just got overwhelmed."
Chip nods, his body tense.
"It's not his fault,"
she continues. "Sometimes
his brain gets too much
information at once."
He sniffles, his body slowly
unwinding. "We'll get
through this," she says. "We're
a team, remember?"
Chip nods, his tears
slowing. "I love him,"
he whispers, his voice
trembling with emotion.
"But I'm scared. Is he still
mad?" "No, sweetie," she says,
wiping a tear from Chip's screen.
"The anger is gone now. He's
still in the bedroom..." "I wanna
see him." Chip interrupts.

They tiptoe into Plankton's
room. He's lying there, his
body sprawled out
on the bed. His antennae are
still, his breaths deep.
The sedative has done its work.
Karen watches as Chip approaches
his dad. "Dad?"

There's no response.
Plankton's eye remains
closed, he doesn't stir.
"Dad?" His hand hovers
over Plankton's shoulder.

"He'll be out for a while."
Karen explains. "He had a
bad episode," she says.
"We got some medicine,
and the medicine makes him
sleep." Chip looks up at her
reflecting confusion and
fear. "Is he ok?"

Karen nods. "He'll be ok,
Chip. The medicine helps him
calm down." But Chip can't
help but feel guilty.
He's seen his dad like
this before, but never so
severe.

new autism and all karencore karen

ANTENNAE i

Plankton found himself in a sticky situation. In his haste, he collided with a 
submerged rock, and with a painful snap, one of his antennae broke dangling in half.

His computer wife Karen took him to a clinic. The receptionist, a kind octopus 
named Tentacla, took his information and assured Dr. Dolittlefish would see him 
shortly.

"Plankton?" Dr. Dolittlefish called out, his voice echoing through the room. 
Plankton walked in, Karen trailing behind. 

The doctor examined the fractured antenna. Plankton winced, feeling a sharp pain 
as the doctor prods it gently. Dr. Dolittlefish chuckled, "We'll need to perform a 
repair, and for that, you'll need a touch of anesthesia. It'll make you feel like 
you're floating on a cloud.."

Plankton's one good antenna perked up with interest. "A magical elixir that will 
put you into a state of deep relaxation," Dr. Dolittlefish explained, his eyes 
twinkling behind his spectacles. "You'll be completely unaware of the surgery. We 
give you a little dose to make you drowsy. It's like sinking into a warm, bubble 
bath after a long day of plotting. Trust me, you'll wake up with a fixed antenna 
and no memories of the procedure. It's like a nap that'll keep you unconscious and 
pain-free throughout the operation. It's tailored for each patient, so you'll only 
get what you need."

Turning to Karen, who had been quietly observing the exchange, the doctor said, 
"Karen, if you have any concerns, feel free to ask. Your husband's safety is my top 
priority. I'll be sure to take into account."

Karen sighed, her circuits whirring as she searched for the right words. "Well, 
Plankton has always had trouble with deep sleep. He's a bit of a light sleeper, you 
see. Even the slightest disturbance and he's up for the day. It's hard for him to 
get to sleep."

The doctor nodded, scribbling more notes. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "That does
add a layer of complexity to the anesthesia. We'll need to be precise with the 
dosage to ensure he remains asleep throughout the surgery without any complications. 
We'll use the lightest touch possible and administer the anesthesia in a way that 
minimizes discomfort."

Dr. Dolittlefish turned to Plankton. "Now, when you wake up, it'll be like coming 
out of a delightful dream. You'll feel a bit groggy, like you've just emerged from 
a particularly long nap. You might be a tad disoriented, but that's perfectly normal. 
Your body will be feeling the effects of the medication wearing off, so it's crucial 
that you rest for a while in our recovery area."

Plankton's eye searched Karen', looking for reassurance. She nodded firmly, gripping 
his tiny hand. "You'll be okay, Plankton. I'll be right here."

The doctor nodded. "Karen, you can accompany him into the surgery room. But remember, 
you'll have to go and stay outside once the actual procedure begins."

The next day, Plankton and Karen returned to the clinic, feeling a mix of anxiety 
and hope. The lobby was filled with various sea creatures, all waiting for their 
appointments with their own assortment of woes and ailments. 

"Come on, Plankton," Karen urged, her voice steady. "You've got this."

Dr. Dolittlefish took his place at the head of the operating table, a serious look 
on his face. "Alright, Plankton," he said, his voice steady, "It's time for the 
anesthesia. This might feel a bit strange, but remember, it's just like drifting 
off to sleep." With a flick of his fin, he administered the first dose through a 
small tube connected to a bubble filled with the sedative.

The bubble popped, and Plankton felt a warm sensation spread through his body. It 
started in his toes and traveled up to his antennae, making them feel weightless. 
His eye grew heavier, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh. The room began to 
spin gently, the sounds around him becoming muffled, like the distant hum of a 
lullaby sung by the ocean currents. He felt himself sinking into the chair, the 
cushions seemingly made of the softest sea foam.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Dolittlefish's voice was a comforting murmur.

"Woozy," Plankton slurred, his eyelid fluttering. The room was a blur of lights and 
colors, like a kaleidoscope of bubbles. The pain in his antenna was fading, replaced 
by a pleasant numbness.

Karen squeezed his hand tightly, her grip the only solid thing in his swirling world. 
She watched him closely, her LED eyes full of worry. "It's ok, Plankton," she murmured. 
"You're going to be fine."

The doctor nodded to her encouragement. "I want you to count backwards from one hundred 
ok?"

Plankton, already feeling the warm embrace of the anesthesia, began his count with a lazy 
sensation. "One hundred... ninety-nine... ninety-eight..." His voice grew softer with each 
number, the digits slipping away like grains of sand through his tiny fingers. The world 
around him grew fuzzy, like a TV show losing signal. The lights above looked like distant 
stars, their brightness dimming as he descended into the abyss of unconsciousness.

"...eighty-four... eighty-three... eighty-two..." His eye now half-closed, the surgery room's 
noises melding into a symphony of comforting whispers. The gentle sway of the seaweed outside 
the clinic's windows seemed to be rocking him to sleep. His voice grew more faint, words slurring 
together.

Karen watched him count, her gaze never leaving his face. She could feel his hand loosening 
in hers, his grip becoming as light as a feather. Each number he uttered was a step closer 
to the surgery that would hopefully restore his antenna to its former glory. 

The count grew slower, like a snail on a leisurely stroll across the ocean floor.

His voice was a mere murmur, the words barely discernible. Karen could see his tiny chest rising 
and falling in a slow, rhythmic pattern, his breathing growing deeper and more relaxed with each 
passing moment.

 The colors around them bled into one another, creating a dreamlike landscape. The lights 
above danced like jellyfish in a moonlit lagoon, casting eerie shadows across the gleaming 
surgical instruments. Plankton's eye fully closed now, his count barely a whisper.

Each word was a soft ripple in the vast ocean of sleep that was consuming him. The whirring of 
the machines and the occasional splash of water seemed to fade into the background, replaced by 
the steady rhythm of his breathing. Karen watched, her heart swelling with love and fear as she 
listened to the dwindling numbers.

Plankton's voice was now a faint echo, his body going slack. The room was still, save for the 
hypnotic pulse of the anesthesia bubbles and Plankton's shallow breaths. Karen held her own 
breath, her screen never leaving his face.

 His count grew quieter still, each number a soft, barely perceptible sigh. Karen felt the tension 
in her limbs ease as she watched the lines of worry on Plankton's forehead smooth out. His sleep 
was finally deep and peaceful, the anesthesia working its magic.

"Thirty-four... thirty-three..."  His voice was a mere ripple in the vast sea of quiet that filled 
the room. The last number slipped away, and Plankton's count stopped, his breathing deep and even. 
Karen felt the weight of his hand in hers, a silent testament to his complete surrender to the 
anesthesia's embrace. She watched Plankton's chest rise and fall with each steady breath, his body 
utterly relaxed with his eye sealed shut slightly. The surgery room, once a cacophony of fear and 
doubt, was now a sanctuary of peace, the only sounds the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and 
Plankton's soft snores.

The doctor nodded, satisfied with the sedation's effect. "Alright, Karen, he finally fell asleep," he 
whispered, patting Plankton's shoulder. "Now, we'll proceed with the actual procedure."

Karen swallowed hard, nodding her head. She had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, but she knew this was 
for the best. "I'll be right outside," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She leaned in and kissed 
Plankton's forehead before letting go. 

With a final squeeze of his hand, she reluctantly let go and went towards the door. The doctor nodded in 
understanding, his eyes focused on the delicate task ahead. As the door slid shut with a soft hiss, Karen 
found herself in the stark, sterile waiting room. The walls were lined with sea-themed art, an attempt to 
provide comfort in a place filled with uncertainty and anxiety. She hovered over to the plush sea sponge chair, 
the material reminding her of home.

Her tentacles wrapped around the phone, her movements deliberate and precise as she dialed the numbers. The first 
call was to Spongebob, she knew he would want to know about the accident. The line rang, and she hoped he'd pick up.

"Karen?" 
"Spongebob, it's about Plankton," she began, her voice trembling. "He's had an accident, and he's in surgery now."

"Oh no!" Sponge Bob exclaimed, his bubbly enthusiasm dimming. "Can I talk to Plankton during the surgery?"

"No, they put Plankton to sleep," Karen explained, her tentacles gripping the phone tightly. "But I'll let him know 
you called as soon as he wakes up."

"Thank you, Karen," SpongeBob said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Tell him I'm thinking of him."

The receptionist, Tentacla, noticed her distress and swam over. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her tentacles poised 
to offer comfort or assistance.


"It's just... I've never seen him like this," Karen admitted, her voice wavering. "So... vulnerable."

Tentacla nodded sympathetically, her tentacles reaching out to pat Karen's arm. "It's tough, I know. But Dr. 
Dolittlefish is the best in the business. Plankton's in good fins." 

new karen plankton tentacla surgerycore doctorcore doolittlefish antennae

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 16
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

The room feels smaller, the air
thicker with tension. Chip's eyes
are wide, his screen reflecting his
father's distress. "What did I do?"
he squeals, trying to help. But
Plankton's body can't take the
loudness anymore.

Karen's screens flicker with
desperation. She puts her hand
on Chip's shoulder, her eyes
pleading. "Chip," she says, her
voice urgent. "You need to
lower your voice." But Chip's
screen is a blur of confusion
and hurt. He doesn't understand.
"Why?" he asks, his voice
still too loud. Plankton can't
move, gasping for breath.

The room seems to spin
around Plankton. His antennae
vibrate with fear, his body
on the edge of a meltdown.
The noise, the suddenness of it,
it's too much. He can't escape.
And then his body betrays him.
He feels the world shrink,
his vision tunneling down
until all that remains is
Chip's face. "Dad?" Chip says,
his voice too loud, too close.
His body seizes up.

Plankton's mind fights to
regain control, his eyes
dilating. "Need... quiet,"
he gasps out, his voice barely
a whisper. The words hang
in the air, a plea for sanctuary.
But Chip's screen is a chaotic
storm of emotions, not understanding.

"Dad, I'm sorry," Chip says,
his voice shaking. But Plankton
can't hear the words, only the
deafening volume. With a 
strangled cry, Plankton's
body goes rigid. His eye rolls
back as the shutdown takes.

"Dad?" Chip says, his voice high and
panicked. He reaches out, but
Karen stops his hand freezes mid-air. She's
seen this before, the sudden
loss of control, the way her husband's
body can just... give out.
Her screens flicker with a mix
of sadness and resolve. "Chip,
back up," she says firmly. "Give
your dad some space." Chip's
face falls, but he does as he's told.
He steps back, his hands
shaking. Karen's seen
Plankton like this before,
but it never gets easier.
Another shutdown, another
moment where she's forced
to be the rock in the storm.
"Is he okay?" Chip asks,
his voice trembling.

Karen's eyes are on Plankton,
his body now limp on the
couch. "It's okay," she says,
her voice calm. "It's his brain's
way of shutting down." She
takes a deep breath. "We just
have to wait it out."

Chip's screen flickers with
fear. "What do we do?"
he asks, his voice high-pitched.
Karen's screens light up with
instructions. "Let him be,"
she says. "He needs quiet,
no sudden movements. It'll
pass."

They sit in silence, the
only sound the distant hum
of the city outside, a stark
contrast to the chaos
that was just in the room.
Chip watches his father,
his mind racing. He didn't
understand. He just wanted
to be close, to help.

Yet Plankton is still, his
mouth slightly open, his
eye still rolled back in
his head. "Plankton, love," 
Karen says, her voice 
gentle. "Come back to us."
Her hand moves to his cheek,
her touch feather-light.

Chip watches, his heart racing.
"What's happening?" he whispers.
Karen's eyes never leave her
husband. "It's a shutdown,"
she says, her voice steady.
"It's like his body's
turned off, but he's still in there."
Her screens flicker with
experience. "It's his brain's way
of protecting itself."

Plankton's antennae are still,
his body unmoving. Karen
speaks to him in a gentle
lullaby, her voice a soothing
balm. "Come back to us, love,"
she murmurs. "We're here, we
love you." Chip's eyes are wide
with fear, but he remains
silent, listening to his mother's
calm words. "Remember,
Chip," she says, not breaking
the rhythm of her voice.
"Patience is key." Her screens
flicker with reassurance.
"It might take a few minutes,
but he'll come back to us."
Chip nods.

The room is quiet, the air
heavy with unspoken words.
Karen's screens dim with
sadness, but she keeps her voice
steady. "It's okay, Plankton,"
she whispers, her hand stroking
his antennae lightly. "You're safe."
Her words are a beacon in
the stillness, a gentle reminder
that they're there, ready to
support him when he's ready.
Chip's screen shows his mind
racing, trying to grasp the
complexities of his father's condition.

Plankton remains unresponsive,
his body a silent testament
to the storm inside him. Karen
keeps her voice soft, her eyes
never leaving his. "We're here,"
she says, her voice a promise.
"I'm here. Chip's here. We're not
going anywhere." She continues
to whisper, her words a gentle
breeze in the quiet room.

Chip's screen flickers with
fear as he watches his dad.
"Dad?" he says, his voice
barely a whisper. But Plankton
doesn't stir, his body a statue.

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, her voice a
soothing melody. "It's okay,"
she says, her words a soft
caress. "You're safe. We're here."
Her screens are a picture
of serene patience, her hand
still gently stroking his antennae.
"Chip, talk to him," she whispers,
nodding towards the unresponsive
body. Chip's eyes widen,
his voice trembling.

"Dad?" Chip says, his voice
barely audible. "I'm sorry."
His words hang in the air,
each syllable a thread of hope.
He's watched his mother's
gentle touch, her calm demeanor,
and tries to mimic it. His hand
reaches out tentatively,
his screen reflecting his fear
of causing more harm. He touches
Plankton's shoulder, his
fingertips light as a feather.

Karen's eyes never leave her
husband, her voice a soft
whisper. "It's okay, Plankton,"
she repeats. "We're here." Her
hands move in a slow, rhythmic
motion, a silent lullaby for
his soul. Chip's hand joins hers,
his movements tentative, seeking
guidance. Chip's eyes are glued to his
father, his mind racing with
questions and regret.

Plankton's antennae twitch slightly,
his body unmoving. Karen's screens
flicker with hope, her voice steady.
"You're okay," she says, her voice
like a gentle stream. "You're safe."
Chip's screen reflects his mother's
calm, his voice matching her tone.
"Dad, can you hear me?" Then,
ever so slowly, Plankton's antennae
start to move, his body shifting.
He blinks, his eye focusing on
his wife and son. "What... happened?"
he murmurs, his voice weak. He
sees Chip's hand on his shoulder.
Karen's screens light up with
relief. "You had a shutdown,
sweetie," she says, her voice a warm
embrace. "But you're okay now."

new autism and all faintcore faintingcore chip

Broken 1/2
(I’m a neurodivergent author)

"Karen's going to love the surprise," 
Sandy murmured to herself.

Sandy had spent hours the previous 
night crafting the perfect surprise for her 
friend, Karen.

It’s a game, and she thought about the delight.

As Sandy approached, the anticipation grew. She felt her heartrate spike, her hand curling around the doorknob.

The door swung open with a gentle creak, and there was Karen. "Sandy!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend in a warm embrace. “Come on in!”

They moved into the living room.
"Ready for the surprise?" Sandy whispered, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Karen nodded, curiosity piqued.

Sandy pulled out the game called "Whimsical Wonders," and it promised an adventure filled with puzzles, riddles, and laughter. She had picked it out especially for Karen, who loved nothing more than a good brain teaser.

Plankton, Karen's husband, wanders in.

"Sandy made a new game!" Karen says, her voice filled with excitement.

"Oh really?" Plankton says.

Sandy nods eagerly, setting the game board on the coffee table. 
"This looks amazing!" Karen says, lighting up.

"Let's get started!" Sandy says, her voice brimming with excitement.

The two friends eagerly begin setting up the game. As they place the pieces, their laughter fills the air, mingling with the occasional squeal of excitement.

Plankton, however, watches from the armchair with a furrowed brow, the cacophony of sounds and the flurry of activity around the game table gradually weighing on him. His senses, heightened by the sudden influx of stimuli, start to overwhelm him.

Sandy rolls the dice and her voice cracks with excitement as she announces her first move.

"I'll take the unicorn path!" she exclaims, moving her piece with a flourish. The room seems to vibrate with her enthusiasm, the very air charged with it. But amidst the excitement, Plankton's eye starts to glaze over. 
Karen, caught up in the moment, doesn't notice the change in Plankton's demeanor yet.

Sandy, lost in the thrill of setting the stage for their adventure, doesn't pick up on Plankton's distress.

"Your turn, Karen!" Sandy suddenly squeals.

Karen looks up from her piece and sees Plankton's eye now glazed over, his body completely still. "Plankton?" she asks tentatively, her smile faltering; the sensory overload from the game is becoming too much for Plankton, who grows overwhelmed and unresponsive from his armchair.

"You ok?" Sandy says, turning to him, her voice still filled with the energy of the game.

But Plankton doesn't respond. His eye remains unfocused, vacant, his body rigid.

"What's wrong?" she asks, her smile fading as she notices Plankton's unresponsive state.

Karen lowers her voice to a whisper, "It's like he zones out for a bit."

Sandy's eyes widen with concern, and she immediately sets down the game piece. "Huh?"

Karen nods reassuringly, "He'll be fine in a minute." She gently pats Plankton's hand, her voice calm and soothing. "It happens sometimes when things get too... much for him. This happens sometimes when he's overstimulated."

Sandy's heart skips a beat. Plankton's face remained slack, eye staring into the middle distance, unblinking.

"It's ok," Karen whispers, voice steady, "Just give him some space."

Sandy nods, her excitement replaced with concern. She's never seen Plankton like this before. She watches as Karen gently strokes Plankton's arm.

"It's ok," Karen repeats, her voice a gentle lullaby. "These happen when there's too much going on, too much to take in."

Sandy nods, eyes never leaving Plankton's frozen form. She feels a twinge of guilt for not realizing sooner that something was amiss. She had been so caught up in excitement of the game, she didn't notice signs of distress.

Moving closer to the chair where Plankton sat, she tentatively reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder like the way Karen is doing, but Karen stops her.

"Let me," she says gently, never leaving her husband. "I know his triggers."

Sandy nods. She withdraws, giving space.

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I didn't know."

Karen nods, never leaving Plankton. "It's ok. We manage. It's part of his…
condition."

Sandy watches as Karen's gentle touch seems to bring him back to reality. Plankton blinks.

"Plankton?" Karen whispers.

Slowly, his gaze refocuses on her. He looks around the room, momentarily disoriented before his eye land on the game spread out on the table. He looks back at Karen, his expression a mix of confusion and embarrassment.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"You had a little episode," Karen says, her voice still calm. She helps him to his feet. "But you're ok now."

Sandy's eyes dart between the two of them, feeling like an intruder in this intimate moment of care. She clears her throat awkwardly. "Maybe we should... postpone the game?"

But as Plankton's gaze locks onto hers, she sees the anger in his eye, raw and unbridled. "You did this," he says accusingly, voice tight with frustration.

Sandy takes a step back. "I didn't mean to," she stammers, her hands rising defensively.

"You didn't mean to?" Plankton echoes, his voice rising. "You come in, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with your loud games and expectations, and you don't think about how it might affect me?"

Sandy's eyes widen with shock and guilt as she takes another step back. "I-I'm sorry, Plankton," she stammers. "I didn't know it would—"

"Of course you didn't," Plankton 
interrupts, filled with bitterness.

Sandy's heart sinks as she realizes the gravity of the situation. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you," she says, her voice small and apologetic.

Karen's grip on Plankton's arm tightens, a silent plea for calm, but the words have been said. The air feels thick with tension, the joyous anticipation of the game forgotten. Sandy's eyes fill with tears, her heart racing.
"Plankton, please," she says, her voice shaking. "It’s not my fault. I'd never want to hurt you."

"It's what you want, isn't it?" Plankton snaps, pushing away from her.

"That's not true," Sandy protests, her own voice rising in defense. "I just wanted to have some fun."

Karen's screen darts between them, a silent plea for peace. But Plankton's anger is a storm that can't be quieted so easily.

"You think it's fun for me?" he yells, his voice cracking with frustration. "To sit here and watch you live life without a care while I'm stuck in my own head, unable to keep up?"

Sandy flinches, his words hitting her like a slap in the face. She never thought about it that way before. "I just wanted to help," she says, her voice barely a whisper.

"Help?" Plankton scoffs. "How is bringing this... this... chaos into our lives supposed to help?" He gestures at the game, his hand shaking with anger.

Sandy feels the heat rising in her own cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger at being misunderstood.

"It's not chaos, it's just a game," she says, her voice firm despite the tremor.

"To you, maybe," Plankton says, his words laced with venom. "But to me, it's just another thing that's too much to handle. Too loud, colorful, too... everything."

Sandy feels her own anger flare up, the hurt of his accusations stinging deep. "You don't know what you're talking about," she says, her voice rising to match his.

"Oh, don't I?" Plankton counters, eye flashing. "You think you can just waltz in and ignore my needs because you're so focused on your own fun?"

Sandy feels a mix of indignation and regret. "That's not fair," she protests, cracking. "You know I didn't mean to—"

But Plankton isn't listening. He's in the throes of anger now, voice rising. "Fair?! 
You have no idea what fair is," he says, eye flashing. "You don't have to deal with the constant bombardment of sounds and lights and emotions!"

Sandy's own frustration boils over. "Well maybe if you try to understand, we could—"

"Understand?" Plankton cuts her off, his voice now a roar. "How can you possibly understand?"

Sandy's eyes flash with indignation. "You're not the only one with problems!" she shoots back.

"You think I don't know?" Plankton retorts. "Everyone has their struggles, but you don't get to barge in here and make them about you!"

"It wasn't about me!" Sandy exclaims, her voice shaking. "I just wanted to do something nice.."

"What about the fact that your 'nice' thing almost sent me into a full-blown seizure?"

Sandy's eyes flash with anger now, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"You know what, Plankton? You're right, I don't understand," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "But maybe if you weren't so focused on being the center of attention with your 'poor me' routine, you could see I'm just trying to be a good friend!"

Plankton's eye widen in shock at her outburst as he processes her words.

"You think this is about attention?" he says, his voice incredulous. "It's about trying to find a way to exist in a world that's too much for me!"

Sandy's eyes fill with tears of frustration as she glares at Plankton. "And what? I'm not allowed to live because it's too much for you?" she yells back, the words cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter.

"I can't help that I'm not BROKEN like You!" Sandy says before realizing it with regret.

Karen's pixelated eyes widen in horror.

"Sandy," she says, her voice a warning whisper.

But too late. The damage is done. A tear traces a path down his cheek. His eye, once full of anger, brims with hurt. He takes a step back.

"Broken," he whispers, the word echoing in the tense silence of the room.

Plankton's body sags, his anger dissipating like a popped balloon, leaving only pain in its wake. His eye glisten with unshed tears.

new karen plankton plaren aicore broken

Broken 2/2
(I’m a neurodivergent author)

Plankton's body sags, anger dissipating. 
His eye glisten with tears. 

"Broken," he repeats, his voice barely a whisper, the word a knife to his soul. He shakes his head and turns, unable to face the person who so casually tossed it at him.

"Plankton," Karen says, her voice strained, but he's already retreating.

Shoulders hunched, Plankton turns and strides out of the room, footsteps heavy and deliberate. The door to the bedroom slams shut behind him, the echo of sobs resonating through.

Sandy and Karen are left standing in the living room, the air thick with unspoken words and unshed tears.

"I didn't mean it like, I cannot believe I just, I’m sorry," Sandy says, voice shaky. She looks at her friend, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I..."

Karen's gaze is steely. "You need to understand," she says firmly, voice trembling with weight. "Plankton was born with a neurodivergent condition."

Sandy's eyes widen. "What?" she whispers.

Karen nods solemnly. "Plankton's mother was in a car accident when pregnant with him."

Sandy's eyes widen in horror. "I had no idea," she whispers.

Karen nods, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. "After, doctors saw Plankton's brain developing differently," she explains, her voice tight with emotion. "He's incredibly sensitive to stimulation—sounds, lights; strong emotions, like just now, can overwhelm him."

"That's why he gets these... episodes?" Sandy asks.

Karen nods, voice barely above a whisper. "It caused damage to the part of his brain that processes stimuli 
during development," she explains. "It's like his brain's volume knob is stuck on high. Everything's just too much for him sometimes."

Sandy's mind races. "So that's why..."

"Yes," Karen says, voice heavy. "It's not something he can just turn off, or ignore."

Sandy nods slowly, aching for her friend's husband. She had always known Plankton as a bit of an introvert, but never thought it was mostly because of something like this.

Karen's sad, but firm. "It's not your fault for not knowing," she says. "But you have to be mindful."

Sandy nods, throat tight. "I do," she whispers with regret.

Together, they make their way to the bedroom, the game forgotten in the wake of Plankton's pain.

Karen's hand is a gentle guide on Sandy's arm as they tiptoe, steeling herself for what might be on the other side. She opens it slowly, the hinges whispering in protest.

The bedroom is dim, curtains drawn, and Plankton is there, lying on the bed, his eye closed. The anger and frustration that had etched lines into his face moments ago are now eased by sleep. His chest rises and falls with rhythm of breathing, the only sound in the room.

Sandy feels a pang of guilt as she looks at him. She had never meant to cause pain, never intended to make life more difficult. She just wanted to bring a little joy, whimsy into their lives; instead, she had unleashed a storm.

Karen's hand tightens around Sandy's arm, a silent reminder of the unspoken bond between them.

"Let him rest," Karen murmurs.

Sandy nods.

"Give him space," Karen says gently. "He needs to recover."

Sandy nods, gaze lingering on Plankton's face, features now in sleep. She feels a pang of guilt, knowing she was the cause of distress.

They retreat to the living room. Karen sighs heavily, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and resignation.

"Why didn't you tell?"

Karen sighs. "It's not something we talk about," she says softly. "Plankton's been self-conscious about it."

"I didn't mean to make things worse," Sandy says with remorse.

"I know, yet you have to understand, Plankton's condition is part of him. It's not something that can be fixed with a band-aid; his brain damage is irreversible."

"I'll talk to him when he wakes up," she says, her voice a mix of determination and sorrow. "I want to make it right."

Karen squeezes her hand, offering a small smile. "Thank you," she whispers. "But let him come to you. He needs time."

Sandy feels the weight of her mistake heavily. 

"Part of Plankton's condition includes mood swings," Karen explains softly. "When overstimulated, it's like a dam breaks. It just floods."

Sandy's heart squeezes with understanding and regret. "I didn't know," she whispers, eyes filling with tears. "I never meant to—"

"It's ok," Karen interrupts gently, her voice soothing. "But it's not just about the game. Plankton's condition makes it hard for him to handle sudden changes or unexpected situations."

Sandy nods, the gravity of the situation settling in. "I didn't realize," she says, her voice thick with guilt. "I just..."

Karen squeezes her hand. "It's alright," she says, her voice calm and soothing. "You couldn't have known. But now that you do, it's important to stay calm around him."

Sandy nods, eyes wide with the realization. "How do I make sure not make things worse?"

Karen looks at her with a mix of affection and weariness. "You just need to be patient and understanding," she says. "Let him know you're there for him, without pushing."

Sandy nods. Finally, Plankton emerges from the bedroom, eye red-rimmed. He looks at them both, his gaze uncertain, and then to the game.

Sandy's heart clenches as she watches him.

Plankton's gaze lingers on the game for a moment before he looks at them, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin everything."

Sandy's heart breaks at his words. "You didn't ruin," she says quickly, filled with compassion. "I should have been more considerate."

Plankton looks at her, still guarded. "I just want to be normal but I just can't handle it, like you said I’m broken.."

Sandy feels her heart ache at his words, the pain in his voice resonating deep within. She shakes her head, her own eyes now filled with tears. "You're not broken," she says fiercely. "You're just... different. And that's ok. I’m sorry."

Karen moves to Plankton's side, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace. "You are more than ok," she whispers. "You're perfect, just the way you are."

Sandy watches them, feeling the depth. "I didn't mean it, Plankton," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "You're not broken, you're just... you. I know that now."

Plankton nods, his mind a tumult of thoughts. "But it's hard to hear."

"I'll be more careful," she promises, her voice sincere. "I don't want to make you feel like that again."

"You didn't know," he says, his voice a bit softer now. "But it's important that you do now."

"I do know," she says, her voice firm. "And I'll make sure to be more mindful."

Karen squeezes Plankton's hand, filled with love and compassion. "We all have moments," she says gently. "What matters is we learn from them."

Sandy nods, gaze never leaving Plankton's. "I will," she says solemnly. "I promise."

Plankton's expression softens. "Thank you," he murmurs, the first signs of forgiveness seeping into his voice.

Karen's gaze shifts to Sandy, filled with a gentle resolve. "Don't be afraid to ask, next time," she says, a quiet command. "Don't assume you know what he can handle. Just talk to us, and we can tell you."

Sandy nods, feeling the weight of her friend's words. "I will," she says, voice a solemn promise. "I don't want to make him feel like that again."

The three of them stand in the living room, the game pieces on the table a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. Sandy takes a step closer to Plankton, her hand reaching out tentatively. He looks up at her, the anger and pain in his eye slowly being replaced with something resembling understanding.

"I'm sorry," she whispers again, hand hovering in the air between them. "I'll do better."

Karen nods with a mix of sadness and love. "We're all learning," she says, her voice a gentle reprimand. "But it's important that Plankton needs to be part of this conversation too."

Sandy swallows hard, her hand dropping to her side. "I'm sorry," she says again, looking down at her feet. "I didn't mean to make it about me."

Plankton nods slowly, eye still on the game board. "It's not," he says, quiet and measured. "It's about understanding 
limits."

Sandy nods, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I just want to make sure you know that I'm here for you, for both of you, any time."

Karen gives her a sad smile, still on Plankton. "We know," she says softly. "But sometimes, the best thing you can do for Plankton is to just... let him be."

Sandy nods.

"I'll take it home," she says, her voice thick with regret. "I don't want it to be a reminder of what happened."

Karen nods, her gaze never leaving Sandy's. "Thank you," she whispers.

Sandy moves to the coffee table, her eyes on the game. She gathers the pieces, the bright colors seemingly dulled by the events of the evening. Each piece feels heavier than it should, as if carrying the weight of Plankton's pain.

"I'll put it away," she says, her voice quiet and remorseful. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Plankton nods, his eye not leaving the game. "I know," he says, his voice still raw. "But you can play it with Karen on one of the Gal Pal nights out when I’m not around, like at your treedome."

Sandy nods, her eyes brimming with tears as she scoops the last of the game into the box. She closes it with a soft click and looks up at Karen. "I'm sorry," she whispers again. "I'm just... I'm sorry."

Karen sighs, her gaze filled with a mix of sadness and resignation. "We all make mistakes, Sandy," she says gently. "What's important is that we learn from them."

Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving the game box. "I will," she whispers, her voice thick with regret. "I'll be more considerate next time."

Karen's gaze softens, and she squeezes Sandy's hand. "Thank you," she murmurs. "It means a lot."

new karen plankton plaren aicore broken

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 23


𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )

Plankton's legs feel like
jelly, his movements
exaggerated as he tries
to follow her lead. His
tongue is a clumsy thing
in his mouth, his teeth a
strange, unfamiliar
landscape. "C-Chip," he
stammers, his speech still
slurred.

Karen nods, her smile
warm and encouraging.
"Let's go," she says, her
arm around him. The
hallway is a blur of
colors and sounds. His antennae
twitch, trying to make
sense of the world around
him.

Chip is in the lobby,
his eyes wide with worry
as he sees them. He rushes
forward, his movements
cautious. "What happe—"

But Plankton is a
mess of gauze, his words
still lost as he interrupts
his son. "Hi-Hi-Hi-Hi—"
He stammers, his voice
a slurred mess.

Chip's eyes widen with
concern, taking in
his father's swollen face
and the crimson-soaked
pads in his mouth. He
swallows hard, his voice
trembling. "Dad?"

Karen steps in, her
voice firm but gentle. "He
just had his wisdom teeth
taken out," she explains. "His
mouth is still numb." Chip
nods, his eyes never leaving
Plankton's face.

Plankton tries to smile
around the gauze, his antennae
waving in an awkward
attempt at reassurance.
"T-thank you," he slurs, his
voice muffled by the pads.
Chip's eyes fill with tears
at the sight of his father,
his heart heavy with a mix
of pity and love.

They make their way
slowly to the car, Karen's
supportive arm around
Plankton's waist. His legs
feel like rubber, his body
still fighting the
lingering effects of the
anesthesia. "M-muh...m-m-mouth,"
he mumbles, his tongue a
sluggish beast in his mouth.

Karen laughs softly, her
hands guiding him gently. "You'll
be okay," she says, her voice
a warm embrace. "Let's get
you in the back with Chip." She
opens the door to the back.

Plankton slumps into
his seat, the numbness
in his mouth spreading to his
cheeks. His tongue is a thick,
unresponsive slab, refusing to
cooperate.

Karen buckles him in,
her eyes full of love and
concern. "Just relax, baby,"
she whispers. "We'll be home
soon." She starts the car,
the engine purring to life. Chip
sits by him in the seat.

The world outside the
window is a blur of colors,
each one more vivid than the
last. Plankton tries to keep
his eye open, his antennae
twitching with the effort.
But the weight of the
anesthesia is too much.
His eyelid droops, the
lid feeling like heavy
curtains that refuse to stay
up.

Karen's voice is gentle. "You okay,
sweetie?" she asks, glancing
in the rearview mirror.

But Plankton's eye is
closing, the weight of the
anesthesia too great to fight.
"J-just tiwed," he mumbles, his
speech still thick and
slurred. "S-sleep, must shay
awake?"

Karen's voice is a warm
whisper. "It's okay," 
she says. Plankton's
head lolls against the seat,
his antennae drooping. "Chip
and I are here. We'll watch
over yo-"

But her words are lost
as Plankton's eyelid gives
way to the seductive
pull of sleep. His breaths
deepen, his snores a gentle
accompaniment to the
hum of the engine.

Chip's gaze is filled with
concern, his hand tentative as
he touches his father's arm.
"Dad?" His voice is a soft
question, but Plankton doesn't
stir. The car sways gently
with the road's undulations,
a lullaby that Plankton's
exhausted body can't resist.

Karen's eyes flicker to
the mirror, a sigh escaping
her lips. She knows the
importance of rest for him
now, his system still reeling
from the surgery and the
overwhelming emotions of the
day. She keeps driving, her
hands steady on the wheel.
"It's okay, Chip," she says.
"Let him sleep."

Chip nods, his
expression a mix of relief
and worry. He watches
his father's chest rise and
fall, the steady rhythm
of his breathing a testament
to the peace he's found in
slumber. His hand remains
on Plankton's arm, a silent
pledge of support. Yet Plankton
sleeps on, oblivious to the
world outside.

The car ride home is
quiet, the only sounds the
hum of the engine and
Plankton's snores. Karen
drives with a gentle touch,
each bump in the road a
reminder of the fragile
recovery her husband is
experiencing. She glances in
the mirror every few minutes,
checking on him and Chip.

Chip sits next to his
father, his hand resting
lightly on Plankton's arm.
He's torn between watching
the scenery fly by and
keeping vigil over the
man he loves. His heart
thuds with every snore,
his mind racing with
worries and questions.
Is he okay? Why
can't he stay awake?

The car's air conditioning
blows gently on Plankton's face,
his antennae muscles twitching
against the coolness. His
eye opens briefly, his gaze
unfocused. "Ch-Chip?" His
voice is a faint rasp, the
remnants of sleep clinging
to his words. "I'm
right here, Dad," Chip says,
his voice filled with
concern.

Plankton's eyelid flickers,
battling the weight of
slumber. The world is a
swirl of colors and light,
his brain struggling to
make sense of it all. He tries
to sit up, his body stiff
from the lingering
anesthesia. "Home?" he mumbles.

Karen's eyes meet his
in the mirror, her smile
soft. "Almost, baby," she says,
her voice a gentle lull.
"Just a little bit longer."
Her eyes flick back to
the road, her grip on
the steering wheel steady.

Plankton's eyelid droops again,
his head rolling slightly
to the side. His antennae
twitch with the effort to
stay conscious, but the
pull of sleep is too much.

Chip's grip on his arm
tightens, his voice a soft
alarm. "Dad, stay with me."
Plankton's eye opens a crack,
his gaze unfocused. "M-m-m'kay,"
he mumbles, his speech still
slurred. But the fight is lost
almost immediately, his
eye closing once more.

The car sways with the
road, a gentle rocking
motion that seems to call
to him, urging him back
to sleep. Each snore is
deeper than the last, his
body succumbing to the
sleep. Karen's eyes
remain on the road, her
thoughts a silent vigil.

Chip's hand moves to
his father's shoulder,
his touch light but firm.
"Wake up, Dad," he whispers,
his voice a gentle prod.
But Plankton's body
resists, his head rolling
back into the comfort
of the seat. "Dad, wake up,"
Chip tries again, his tone
more insistent this time.

Plankton's eye opens a
slit, the world swimming
into focus briefly before
slipping away again. "Wh-whath?"
he murmurs, his voice a
slurred mess. "Almost home,"
Karen says, her voice
soothing. "Just stay
awake a little longer."

But the drugs are too
powerful, the sedative's
grip too tight. His eye
closes again, his head
falling back onto the
headrest with a soft
thunk. Chip watches, his
heart racing, his hand
still gripping his father's
shoulder. "Come on, Dad,"
he whispers, his voice
desperate. "Don't go to
sleep."

Karen's eyes meet
his in the mirror, a
look of understanding.
"It's okay, Chip," she says.
"Let him rest."

The car pulls into
the driveway, the
gravel crunching beneath
the tires. Plankton's eye
flutters open, his gaze
unfocused. "Home," he
mumbles, his voice barely
a whisper.

Karen's eyes are
filled with gentle
concern as she
turns off the engine.
"Let's get you inside,"
she says, her voice a
comforting balm. Chip's
hands are already moving,
helping his father unbuckle
his seatbelt.

Plankton's movements
are slow and clumsy, his
body still not fully his
own. His legs wobble
as he tries to stand, his
eye glazed with the
lingering effects of the
anesthesia. "Easy, Dad,"
Chip says, his voice
steady and firm.

Karen opens the
passenger side door, her
arms ready to catch him
if he falls. Plankton's sleeping
body sags into her embrace. 
She helps him to
his feet, yet Plankton's
snores punctuate the air
like a soft metronome.

Chip rushes around
to the other side, his
arms slipping under his
father's shoulders. "I got
you," he says, his voice
shaking with the weight
of his words. Plankton's
body is a dead weight,
his snores deep and even.

Karen's eyes are filled
with a mix of pride and
concern as she watches her
son take charge. "Let's get
you to the couch," she says,
guiding them both. The house
is quiet, the only sounds
their footsteps and Plankton's
snores.

They manage to get him
to the couch, his body
slumping into the cushions.

Karen pulls the
gauze from his mouth, the
stains of blood and saliva
telling the tale of his
journey. His cheeks are
swollen and bruised, a
testament to the battle
his mouth just endured.

"Chip, grab some ice,"
she instructs, her voice
calm. "We'll need to keep
the swelling down." Chip nods,
his movements swift as he
disappears into the kitchen.
The sound of ice cubes clinking
against plastic is a sharp
contrast to the quiet
snores that fill the room.
"Wake up, sweetie," she says,
her voice a soft coax.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye opening slowly.
He tries to focus, but the
world is a blur of colors
and shapes. Karen's face
swims into view, her smile
a beacon of comfort. "Ice,"
she says.

Chip appears, a bag of
crushed ice in his hand.
He gently presses it to
Plankton's cheek, the coldness
a stark contrast to the
warmth of his mother's touch.
"Tanks," Plankton whispers, his
speech still slurred. His hand
moves to the bag, his
fingers trembling. But this time
he doesn't tremble from being
overwhelmed—it's from the
relief of being home, of
being safe with his family.

new do you trust me karen plankton 23

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS i

(Autistic Author)


Karen went to the park.
Her husband, Plankton, sat 
by her. Karen glanced over 
and saw the soft smile on 
his face, a smile that had 
greeted her every morning 
for the past twenty-five or so years.

The park was alive with laughter, 
the distant sound of a ball bouncing off the pavement 
and the occasional squawk from a seagull. Plankton's 
eye were closed, his 
breathing slow and steady. He was enjoying the 
warmth of the afternoon sun on his face.

Suddenly, their adopted son Chip burst into their 
peaceful scene, his cheeks flushed from running. 
He was holding a frisbee that had strayed from its 
intended path, and he called out to them with the 
enthusiasm of a young boy who had discovered 
something wonderful. "Look what I found!" he 
exclaimed, oblivious to the delicate moment 
he was interrupting.

Plankton jolts.

Karen's notices her husband's sudden movement. 
His eye open wide, and he stares into the distance 
unseeing, unblinking. She knows the signs all too 
well. Plankton is having one of his shutdowns.
But Chip's dart between the frisbee and his 
parents, sensing something amiss.

"Dad?" Chip says, tentatively.

Karen jumps up and grabs Plankton's arm, gently 
squeezing to bring him back. "It's ok, honey," she 
whispers, her voice steady.

Chip's smile fades as he sees his father's 
unresponsive state. He drops the frisbee, forgotten 
in his grip, and takes a cautious step closer. "What's 
happening?" he asks, his voice cracking.

Plankton's body remains eerily still, like a statue. The 
only indication that he's alive is the faint rise and fall 
of his chest as he breathes. Karen's eyes dart 
around the area, checking if anyone has noticed. 
She doesn't want to draw unwanted attention.

"It's ok, Dad's just taking a little break," she murmurs, 
setting the frisbee aside. He's never seen these 
before, nor knows the drill.

Chip takes in Plankton's unblinking gaze. Karen feels 
a pang of guilt for keeping this part of Plankton's 
condition hidden from their kid. But it's a dance 
they've been performing for years, trying to maintain 
a sense of normalcy amidst Plankton's condition.

Karen focuses solely on Plankton, willing him to 
come back to her. She feels the warmth of his hand 
under hers, but there's no response, no squeeze, no 
recognition of her touch.

Karen's gaze is fixed on her husband's face, 
searching for any hint of life, any flicker of 
consciousness. She whispers his name, a soft 
mantra, trying to anchor him to reality.

But Chip doesn't understand. His eyes are wide, full 
of fear and confusion as he watches his dad frozen 
in place. "What's a 'little break'?" he asks, voice 
trembling. Karen's heart tightens; she's always 
shielded Chip, hoping to spare him the worry and 
fear.

"It's like when you zone out," she explains gently, 
hoping to relate it to something he might have 
experienced. "Remember when you were playing 
video games and I had to call you for dinner three 
times before you heard me?"

Chip nods slowly, still glued to Plankton's unmoving 
form.

"It's like that," Karen continues, "But for Dad, it 
happens without warning."

Chip nods again, trying to process this new 
information. He's always known his dad was 
different, but seeing him like this is something he's 
never had to face before. He takes a deep breath 
and tries to hold back his tears, not wanting to scare 
Plankton when he wakes up.

"What do we do?" he whispers, his voice shaky.

Karen squeezes Plankton's hand gently, never 
leaving his face. "Just wait," she instructs Chip 
calmly. "These usually don't last long. But if you need 
to, you can tell anyone who asks that he's okay, just 
deep in thought."

Chip nods, trying to mimic his mother's calm 
demeanor, but his eyes betray his anxiety. He's 
never seen his dad like this, never knew that these 
moments of stillness were a part of him. Plankton's 
condition, a form of autism, can leave him with anger 
issues and overload.

Karen feels the weight of the secret they've kept 
from Chip all these years. Plankton's autistic 
neurodivergence had always been a part of their 
lives, but they had shielded their son from the full 
extent of it. They had hoped he would understand 
when he was older, but now the moment had come 
unplanned, and she wasn't sure if ready.

"Why does Dad zone out?" Chip asks, his voice 
small. Karen sighs, deciding it's time for the truth. 
She sits down next to Plankton, keeping her hand on 
his arm. "Dad has something called 
'neurodivergence', Chip. It's like his brain works 
differently than ours. Sometimes it helps him see the 
world in amazing ways, but it can also be hard for 
him. These little breaks are his brain's way of 
processing."

Chip stares at her, trying to grasp the concept. "So, 
he's not just ignoring us?"
"No, sweetie," Karen says. "He's not ignoring us. It's 
like his brain needs a time-out, like when you play for 
to long and your phone heats up and/or dies, but 
will still work eventually."

The wind picks up, rustling through the leaves above 
them, and a chill runs down Chip's spine. He nods 
slowly, watching his dad's chest rise and fall in the 
silence. It's strange to see someone so still, so quiet, 
yet so obviously alive.

"But why haven't you told me before?" he asks, his 
voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes well up 
with tears she quickly blinks away. "We wanted to 
protect you," she admits. "I didn't want you to be 
scared and he doesn’t want you to think of him 
differently."

"But it's okay to think differently," Chip argues, his 
voice growing stronger. "Dad's always been there for 
me, even if he doesn't hug me a lot."

Karen smiles sadly, stroking Plankton's arm. "It's not 
just about thinking differently, Chip. It's about how his 
brain processes things. Sometimes, too much 
sensory input can overwhelm him. That's why he 
might seem distant or not as affectionate as other 
dads. It's not because he doesn't like you," she 
reassures him. "It's because hugging or loud noises 
can be really intense for him."

Chip's eyes widen with understanding. "So, that's 
why he doesn't like it when I jump on him?"
"Yes," Karen nods. "But it doesn't mean he loves you 
any less. He just shows it in his own way. Like when 
he spends hours helping you build that Lego castle, 
or when he makes those amazing sea creature 
sculptures that you love so much."

Chip's shoulders slump, and he sits down on the 
bench beside his mother, staring at his dad with a 
newfound curiosity. "Does he know I know now?"
"I don't think so, honey," Karen says, her voice still 
low and soothing. "These episodes usually last just a 
few minutes. It's like he's somewhere else, but he'll 
come back to us."

The park's sounds swirl around them, muffled by the 
tension that has settled in the air. Karen watches 
Plankton's expression, waiting for the telltale twitch 
of his antennae that signals his return to the present.

Finally, Plankton blinks and looks at Karen, his gaze 
momentarily unfocused before recognition floods 
back into his eye. He looks around, startled by his 
surroundings, and then at Chip, who is staring at 
him.

"What happened?" Plankton asks, his voice groggy.

Karen releases a breath she didn't realize she'd 
been holding. "You had one of your zoning-out 
moments," she says, her voice calm and gentle. 
Plankton looks at her, then at Chip, who is watching 
him with a mix of curiosity and fear.

"I did?" Plankton's antennae twitch, and he rubs his 
head.

"Yes," Karen says, her hand still on his arm. "Chip 
found a frisbee, remember?"

Plankton's gaze shifts to the frisbee lying forgotten 
on the ground, then back to his son. He nods slowly, 
piecing the moments before together. "Ah," he 
murmurs, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face.

Chip's curiosity outweighs his fear as he looks at his 
father. "Can I ask?" he asks tentatively.

Karen nods, her heart swelling with pride at his 
bravery. "Of course, Chip."

Chip looks at his dad, filled with questions. 
"Why’d you zone out?" he asks, his voice still 
hushed.

"It's none of your business Chip," Plankton snaps, 
his eye flashing with a sudden fury that takes both 
Karen and Chip aback. His voice is harsh, the words 
cutting through the stillness of the park.

Karen's heart sinks as she sees the hurt on Chip's 
face. Plankton's anger, a common side effect of his 
overload, surfaces without warning. She knows he 
doesn't mean it, but the sting is real for their son.

new chip off the old talks karen plankton autismcore i

CHIP AND FAIL xvi
(Autistic author)

"Both of you, sit down," Karen
ordered, her voice firm but
not unkind. They complied,
their movements jerky with
emotion.

"Chip, your father's autism
is not an excuse for this
behavior, but it's also not
something to mock," Karen began,
looking at her son with
serious eyes. "It's a part of
him, and we need to respect it."

Chip's anger subsided slightly. "But
you saw what happened earlier," he
said, his voice still shaking. "It's like
he doesn't even want to be around me."

But Plankton's not quite done.
"Why do you think that is, Chip? Go
on, smarty, enlighten..."

Karen's patience had run out. "Plankton,"
she said, her voice stern.
"That's enough."

He glared at Chip, his antennae
quivering with anger. Chip looked
away from him.

"And Plankton," Karen's voice was
a gentle reprimand, "Your son's
ignorance is not an excuse for
anger. We all need to communicate
better."

Plankton's antennae drooped.
"I know," he murmured, his anger
easing slightly. "It's just..."

Karen's voice was firm. "I know it's
frustrating, but we need to work
together." She turned to Chip.
"And Chip, your father's feelings are
valid. You can't ignore them."

Chip looked at his father, his
eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he murmured. "I didn't
mean to hurt you."

Karen's voice was calm as
she interceded. "Plankton, can
you tell Chip what happened
today? Help him understand?"

Plankton's antennae stopped
shaking. He took a deep breath.
"When you touch me without
asking," he began, his voice
still sharp, "my body can't
always handle what yours can."

Karen's eyes were a gentle
reminder of the lesson she had
tried to teach earlier. She nodded
for him to continue.

"When you poke me 
or touch me without
asking," Plankton said, 
"it's overwhelming."

"I just barely touched you
for one second, Dad!"

"To you, it's one second," Plankton
replied, his antennae drooping. "To me,
it's an eternity of discomfort."

Karen stepped in. "Chip," she said,
"You need to understand that for
him, it's not just about
physical contact. It's about
respecting his boundaries."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xvi

PATRICK PLANKTON 2/4

 (NEURODIVERGENT AUTHOR)

Yet Plankton was beyond listening. 
He was in the throes of a full-blown 
meltdown, his body quaking with 
anger and fear. His usually tiny 
form looked monstrous in the 
dim light of the lab, his eye wild 
and his antennae twitching erratically. 
Plankton's shaking grew more intense, 
his tiny body trembling. His eye darted 
around the room, looking everywhere 
except at the starfish who had just 
tried to offer him comfort.

Karen's heart ached as she watched her 
husband's silent panic attack unfold. She 
knew the signs all too well. The erratic 
antennae movements, the clenched fists, 
the sudden need for personal space - it was 
all part of his condition. Plankton had always 
been so private about it, but she had hoped 
that with time and trust, he'd learn to open up.

Patrick, however, remained oblivious to the 
gravity of the situation. He had never seen 
his friend this way, and the fear in Plankton's 
usually beady eye was more than he could bear. 
"What's happening to him?" he whispered to 
Karen, his voice shaking.

Karen took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving 
Plankton's trembling form. "It's his condition," she 
said softly. "He gets like this when he's really 
overwhelmed. He needs us to be calm for him."

Patrick looked from Karen to Plankton. 
He didn't know what to do, but he knew that 
he couldn't just stand there. Carefully, he 
reached out a tentacle and wrapped it around 
Plankton, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

"It's okay, buddy," he murmured. "You don't have 
to be scared."

But Plankton's panic only seemed to worsen. His 
tremors grew more pronounced, his tiny body 
convulsing in Patrick's arms. Karen's eyes grew 
wide with alarm, and she rushed over to her 
husband's side.

"Patrick, let go!" she urged, her voice firm but filled 
with urgency. "You're making it worse!"

Patrick's eyes grew wide, and he released Plankton 
as if he'd been holding a live wire. The tiny plankton 
crumpled to the floor, his body going limp.

"Plankton?" Karen gasped, dropping to her knees 
beside him. She checked his antennae for a pulse, 
her face a mask of panic. "Plankton, can you hear me?"

There was no response. His single eye had rolled back 
into his head, and his antennae had gone still. Panic 
gripped Karen and Patrick.

"What's happening?" Patrick's voice was barely a whisper.

Karen's filled with a mix of fear and determination as she 
checked Plankton's pulse again. "It's a severe episode," 
she said, her voice tight with concern. "He needs to calm 
down, and fast."

Patrick hovered over them, his heart racing in his chest. 
"What..."

"He's passed out," Karen said, her voice tight with worry. 
"We need to get him to his bed."

Patrick's eyes grew rounder, and he nodded frantically. "Okay 
okay," he murmured, reaching down to help Karen lift 
Plankton's unconscious body. Together, they carefully carried 
him to the bed.

Karen laid Plankton on the bed and began to check 
his vitals, scanning his tiny form with a medical 
precision that belied her usual robotic demeanor. 
"His pulse is steady."

Patrick hovered at the edge of the room, his heart racing. 
"What can I do?" he asked, his voice quivering.

"Just stay here," Karen instructed, her focus solely on Plankton. 
"And keep talking to him. Sometimes hearing a familiar voice helps."

Patrick nodded, his tentacles clutching at the edge of the bed. 
"Plankton?" he called out softly, his voice filled with a mix of fear 
and concern. "Buddy, can you hear me?"

There was no response. Plankton's tiny body remained still 
and lifeless, his antennae drooping like wet noodles.

Patrick felt his own body go cold with fear. He'd never seen anyone 
faint before, let alone a friend. He didn't know what to do, so he just talked 
hoping his voice could reach Plankton through the fog of unconsciousness.

"Hey, Plankton," he said softly, "Just rest up, buddy."

Karen looked up from her ministrations, her expression grim. "Patrick," she 
began, voice low and serious, "you need to know something about Plankton."

Patrick leaned in, his worry for his friend clear on his face. 
"What is it?" he whispered.

"It's his brain," Karen said, her voice tight. "Plankton has a traumatic injury." She 
paused, her gaze never leaving Plankton's still form. "It's from an accident a 
long time ago, before I was even built.."

Patrick's eyes grew wide with shock. "What kind of accident?"

Karen took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "It was a... a 
car accident," she said finally, her voice thick with unshed emotion. "A 
runaway boat hit him, actually."

Patrick's tentacles drooped in horror. "Oh no!" he gasped. "Is that why 
he gets like this?"

"Yes," Karen nodded solemnly. "The injury causes him to have these 
episodes when he gets too stressed or overwhelmed. It's why he's 
so obsessed with the Krabby Patty formula. The pursuit of something 
so constant and unchanging helps him cope with the chaos in his head."

Patrick's eyes widened. "But why didn't he tell me?" he murmured.

"Because he's ashamed," Karen said softly. "He thinks it makes him 
weak. But it's just a part of who he is."

Patrick looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. "But he's not weak," he 
said firmly. "He's the smartest person I know."

"Patrick," Karen said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "his mind 
is brilliant, yes. But he's also fragile, in ways you can't even imagine."

Patrick nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's pale face. "I won't tell 
anyone," he promised, his voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, Plankton's antennae twitched. A soft groan escaped his mouth 
and his eye fluttered open. He looked around the room, blinking in confusion.

"Plankton?" Karen's voice was a whisper, filled with hope.

The tiny plankton's antennae twitched slightly, and his eye blinked open 
focusing with difficulty on the concerned faces hovering over him. The 
room was spinning, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that made 
him nauseous. He groaned and tried to sit up, but his body felt like it was 
made of jelly.

"Take it easy," Karen soothed, gently pushing him back down. "You've had 
a rough time."

Plankton's eye focused on Patrick, who was still standing by the bedside 
looking as though he'd just seen a ghost. "What's he doing here?" he croaked.

"You fainted," Karen said gently. "Patrick was just trying to help."

Plankton's eye darted around the room, trying to piece together the puzzle 
of what had happened. The last thing he remembered was reading, then 
Patrick yelling, then Patrick's overwhelming embrace...

A chilling sensation washed over him, a sense of déjà vu so strong it was 
almost tangible. He looked at Patrick, who was hovering over him like a 
giant, concerned balloon, and suddenly it clicked.

"I remember now," Plankton murmured, his voice still 
shaky. "You tried to... hug me." He cringed at the 
thought, his antennae curling inward. "Don't ever do 
that again.."

Patrick looked down at his tentacles, which had 
instinctively reached out during Plankton's episode. 
He pulled back. "Sorry, buddy," he mumbled. "I didn't 
mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Karen's gaze softened. "It's okay, Patrick. You couldn't 
have known." She turned her attention back to Plankton 
searching his for any signs of further distress. "How are 
you feeling, Plankton?"

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "T-terrible," he rasped. "But 
I'll be fine." His voice was laced with the stubbornness that 
Patrick had come to expect from him. Plankton pushed 
himself into a sitting position, his antennae still trembling slightly.

Karen's gaze remained on him. "You sure?" she asked, voice a 
gentle murmur.

Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering slightly as he tried to stand. 
His legs wobbled beneath him, and he had to grab the bedframe to 
steady himself. "Just... need a moment," he murmured, his voice 
shaking as much as his body. 

Patrick watched with a heavy heart as his friend struggled to regain his composure. 
He knew that Plankton was trying to put on a brave face, but the fear in his eye 
was unmistakable. 

new planktrick karen plankton patrick plankton

CHIP AND FAIL xvii
(Autistic author)

Plankton quivered with
the effort to contain 
his anger.

"Chip, your dad's right,"
Karen said, her voice
a soft current of calm
amidst the storm. "You
have to learn to respect
his boundaries."

Plankton's antennae twitched.
He looked at Karen, his
eye filled with a mix of
gratitude and pain. "It's not just
the touch," he whispered, his voice
raw. "It's the types of touch,
the expectations... It's like I'm
drowning every day."

Karen nodded, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "And
Chip," she said, turning to her son,
"you need to learn to swim
without pushing him under."

Chip's eyes were wide with
understanding. "What can I do?"

Karen took a deep breath. "Just
ask before you touch," she said.
"And if he says no, respect it.
Give him space."

Chip's eyes searched his father's.
"Dad," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Plankton's antennae twitched, a
sign of his internal struggle.
Karen's hand squeezed his.

"Okay, Chip," she said, her voice
a gentle guide. "Ask your questions."

Chip took a deep breath. "What do
you mean by 'ask before I touch'?"
he ventured, his eyes on Plankton,
his antennae still a blur of agitation.

Plankton took a moment before
replying. "It means," he began,
his voice still sharp, "that I need
space. My brain can't handle
what yours can!"

"But Mom," Chip's voice was
still tentative, "How do we
know what touch..."

But Plankton's antennae shot up,
his eye a storm of agitation. "Just ask!"
he snapped. "It's not rocket
science, Chip. Just. Ask."

Chip took a deep breath, his
cheeks still flushed with anger.
"I'm asking what types of..."

But Plankton's antennae were
already back to their usual
calm state. "I know you're curious,"
he said, his voice softer. "But I can't
just list them. It's different every
day. Sometimes, a simple pat on the
back is too much. Other times, I
crave a hug."

Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing
with questions. "So, it IS a choice..."

But Plankton's antennae drooped. "No,
Chip," he said, his voice weary. "It's not
a choice. It's survival."

"Survival? Dad, a touch 
won't kill you.."

But Plankton's antennae 
twitched again. "It's not just 
about living," he said, his voice
sad. "It's about living without pain."

Chip's eyes searched his 
father's, seeing the weariness 
and hurt. He took a step closer,
his hand outstretched. "Can I?"
he asked, his voice tentative.

Plankton flinched, his antennae
shooting up. "What are you doing?"
he snapped, his voice tight with
anxiety.

"Just asking if it's okay," Chip said,
his hand hovering in midair. "I don't
want to..."

Plankton's antennae stopped
twitching. "If you're going to ask,
make it genuine," he said, his voice
softening. "Don't just do it because
you think it's the right thing to do."

Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering. "I want to learn,"
he said, his voice earnest. "What
can I do to make it better?"

Plankton's antennae quivered
slightly, a hint of softening.
"You can start by listening," he said,
his voice a little less sharp.

"What do you mean?" Chip
asked, his hand slowly lowering.

"I mean," Plankton began, his antennae
calming slightly, "that I need you to
understand that my boundaries are not
up for negotiation."

"But what if I want to hug you?"
Chip's voice was hopeful, his 
arms outstretched and already
reaching him.

Plankton's antennae shot
up again. "Chip, I said no!"
he yelled, his voice sharp with
pain. "How many times do I have to
tell you?"

Chip's eyes widened, his hands
falling to his side. "But I just..."

But Plankton's antennae were
a blur of agitation again. "You don't
get it!" he shouted. "It's not about
what YOU want, it's about what I need!"

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his mind racing. "But Dad, I just
want to show you that I care," he
said, his voice quivering. "Is there
no way to do that without making
you uncomfortable?"

Plankton's antennae twitched. "Chip,"
he began, his voice weary, "just
because you don't see my struggle
doesn't mean it's not there."

Chip's eyes searched his father's, his
hands clenched at his sides. "But
how can I show you that I care?"

"Sleep, for now," Karen 
says. "We're all
tired. We can 
talk about this
another time."

Plankton's antennae
dropped slightly, his 
body visibly
deflating. Chip 
nodded, his eyes 
on the floor.

"Okay," he murmured.
"I'll just go to
my room."

Karen watched him go,
her heart heavy with the
knowledge that she had
to be the one to mend
the fracture between
father and son. She
turned to Plankton.

"Bedtime," she said, her
voice a gentle nudge. "We're
all exhausted. It's late."

The next morning, Chip 
awoke early.

He could feel the tension
in the air, thick and palpable.
The house was eerily silent.
He knew he had to make things
right for his dad.

Chip tiptoed to his parents's
room, his heart racing.
He pushed the door open.

Karen was sitting on the
edge of the bed. Plankton
was curled up, his antennae
twitching slightly.

Chip swallowed his pride. "Mom,
I'm sorry for what I said," he
mumbled. "Can you help me talk
to Dad?"

Karen's eyes softened. "Your father's
still sleeping," she said. "But I'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

Chip nodded. "I'll wait," he said,
his voice barely a whisper. "I'll do
whatever it takes."

Karen's eyes searched his,
seeing the determination in them.
"Alright," she said, her voice a
soft caress. "But remember, it's not
about fixing him. It's about
understanding him."

Chip nodded solemnly. "I know,"
he said. "I just want to be
there for him."

Karen's eyes filled with
pride. "That's all we can
ask for," she said. "But you
have to be patient."

Chip goes to his mom's
bed, sitting down.

"I'll wait," he says.
"I'm not leaving until
we talk."

Karen nods, her eyes filled with
understanding. "I'll stay with
you," she says. "But remember, we
have to give him space."

Chip nods, his gaze never leaving
his father's sleeping form. He
studies Plankton, his antennae
twitching slightly in his sleep.
He tries to imagine what it's like
for his dad, to live in a world
where a simple touch could be
torture.

He watches the rise and fall
of Plankton's chest, the gentle
sway of his antennae. He notices
how peaceful he looks when
his mind isn't bombarded by the
world's sensory assault, the way his
mouth is slightly open.

"Mom," Chip says, his voice
barely above a whisper. "What
does Dad's autism mean for his
sleep?"

Karen sighs, her eyes still
on Plankton. "It means that
his brain is always on alert,"
she explains. "Sleep can be
elusive for him. Sometimes, the
smallest sound can keep him
awake for hours."

Chip nods, his gaze still
on Plankton. "What
happened yesterday when I...
Dad was unresponsive?"

Karen sighs. "Sensory overload,"
she says. "It's like your brain
has too much to process, so
it just shuts down."

Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton. "Was he
like, awake?" he asks.

"Sort of," Karen replies,
her eyes never leaving
Plankton's restless form. 
"It's like he's trapped
in his own head."

"Could he hear me?" Chip's voice
was a mix of fear and hope.
"Could he feel anything?"

Karen looked at her son, her
heart heavy with the knowledge
that she was about to reveal a
painful truth. "He heard you," she
said gently. "But his brain couldn't
process it all."

Chip felt a lump in his throat.
"Could he see?" he asked,
his voice tight with emotion.

Karen nodded, her eyes
still on Plankton. "He could see
you," she said. "But it's like
his brain was stuck in a loop,
replaying the same scene over 
and over."

Chip felt the weight of his
father's pain, his own chest
constricting. "How long do
they usually last?"

Karen's gaze remained on
Plankton. "It varies," she
said. "Sometimes just seconds,
other times hours. It all depends
on how overwhelmed he gets."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II xvii

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH i

"Why do we have to go so early?" he grumbled. "I know, sweetie," Karen said, patting 
his hand reassuringly. 
"But it's for the best. You'll be out like a light during the surgery, and you won't 
feel a thing."

The nurse noticed his distress and offered a kind smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Plankton. 
We're going to make this 
as comfortable for you as possible. First things first, let's get you in and then we'll 
start with some 
anesthesia."

Karen watched as Plankton reluctantly climbed into the chair. The nurse dimmed the 
lights and adjusted the 
chair's recline. She placed a warm blanket over him, and the softness enveloped him 
like a comforting 
embrace, the nurse preparing Plankton for the surgery. She chatted away, "So, any
plans for the weekend?"

"Not really," he said, "Just recovery."

The nurse nodded.
She began to insert the IV,  talked him through each step, her voice a comforting 
lullaby guiding him into a 
state of relaxation.

She continued to engage in light conversation, told about her weekend plans, a 
lifeline to the outside world 
that seemed so far away in the cold, clinical environment.

As the anesthesia began to work, Plankton felt his body grow heavier, his eyelid 
drooping. "You're doing great," 
she said softly. "Just keep breathing, ok?"

Plankton's thoughts began to blur together. The doctor's voice grew distant, his 
words melding into a 
comforting murmur as Plankton felt himself slipping away.

The last thing he heard was Karen's voice, a gentle whisper in his ear. "I'm here," 
she said, her hand holding 
onto his with a fierce tenderness. "I love you."

And then there was nothing, the last sensation he felt before everything went quiet.

The anesthetist monitored Plankton's vitals, ensuring he remained safely asleep 
throughout the procedure. 
Plankton was a picture of peace, mouth agape as the anesthesia kept him blissfully 
unaware of the world 
around him. The nurse's eyes flick from the monitors to Plankton's serene face.
Plankton's body didn't even flinch. Plankton's face remained relaxed, his breathing 
even, as the anesthetic kept 
him in a state of blissful unconsciousness, ensuring that his comfort remained top 
priority. 

Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence 
that soothed the room. The 
nurse gently swabbed his mouth, keeping the area clean and clear. 

The doctor stitched up the small incisions with a gentle touch, while the nurse 
cleaned Plankton's mouth. The 
anesthetist monitored the levels, ensuring a smooth and safe emergence from the 
depths of 
unconsciousness.

The doctor looked at Karen, his eyes weary but his smile reassuring. "It's all done," he 
said. "Everything went smoothly. 
He's still sleeping it off, but you can go in and see him."

Karen rushed in, her screen searching for Plankton. He was there, lying back in the 
chair, his mouth slightly 
open, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked so peaceful, 
vulnerable. She reached out and 
touched his hand, for the surgery was over.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept. "He's doing great," she 
assured her. "The surgery went 
well."

Karen leaned over Plankton, as she brushed his antennae with her hand. She took in 
the sight of him, the 
gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snorish sounds escaping his mouth. His 
face was a portrait of peace, 
a stark contrast to the chaos of the surgery that had just taken place.

The nurse finished her work and dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a soft glow 
that cast shadows across 
the floor. Karen pulled up a chair and sat down, her hand finding Plankton's again. 
"You're ok," she murmured, 
willing him to hear her voice, to feel her presence. "You're going to be ok."

Karen's entire world was contained in reassuring her that he was still there.

The nurse approached with a wad of gauze. "We need to put this in his mouth to help 
with bleeding," she 
explained gently. Karen nodded. The nurse placed the gauze with the same care she 
had shown throughout 
the entire ordeal, pressing it gently against the raw, tender spots where Plankton's
teeth had once been.

The nurse finished her cleanup and checked Plankton's vitals one last time. "He'll 
come around soon," she 
assured. "The anesthesia takes a bit to wear off."

His breathing was still deep and steady, the gentle rumble of his snores filling the 
room. She found comfort in 
the mundane sounds of his slumber. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed 
to match the beeping of 
the heart monitor.

The anesthesia had done its job well, leaving him in a deep, dreamless sleep. His 
face was serene. His 
antennae lay limp on the chair's headrest, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing 
the gauze the nurse had 
placed to stem the bleeding.

The drool that had pooled at the corners of his mouth began to seep out onto the chair. 
The nurse noticed and 
nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's normal," she said.

Plankton's snores grew louder, the drool now a small river that trickled down. Karen 
reached out with a 
trembling hand, her thumb catching the droplets before they could stain the fabric. 
The drool was a stark 
reminder of the reality of the situation.

Her screen focused on the slow, steady flow of dribble, forming and breaking away, 
each one a little more 
substantial than the last. The nurse had said it was normal, but to Karen, it was a 
sign of his vulnerability, a 
tangible proof of the surgery's aftermath.

As the drool grew into a small puddle on the chair, Karen's resolve to be strong for 
him grew stronger. She 
grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and gently wiped. 
The nurse looked at her with understanding. "It's alright," she said softly. "He'll wake 
un his own time."

Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. She felt a strange mix of 
love and pity. Here he was, 
reduced to a drooling mess in a chair, and yet she had never felt more connected to 
him. It was a strange 
intimacy, this moment of vulnerability, a silent pact between them that she would 
always be there to wipe 
away his fears, both literal and figurative.

The nurse moved around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She checked the 
machines one last 
time before turning to Karen. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, patting the chair 
beside Plankton's. 
"It'll be a bit before he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable." 
Karen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled up a chair and held his 
hand tightly, her 
thumb brushing back and forth across his knuckles.

"Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You did it, sweetie." She 
leaned closer. "The teeth are out. You're okay." She waited, watching the rise and 
fall of his chest, 
listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, and willing him to open his eye.

"Remember what I said about ice cream?" she asked, her voice a little louder this time. 
"You can have as much 
as you want when we get home." She tried to keep her tone light, despite the gravity of 
the situation. The 
thought of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream was supposed to make him smile, but 
his face remained 
slack.
But she knew he was strong, and he would bounce back. He always did.
"I just want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you. We've been through so 
much together, 
and I can't imagine my life without you. You're going to wake up soon, and it'll all be 
over. And then we can go 
home, and I'll take care of you, just like you always take care of me. Remember when we 
said 'in sickness and 
in health'?" she whispered. "Well, this is definitely a 'sickness' moment, but I'm right 
here. And I'll be here 
through all the healthy moments too."

The nurse quietly left them a moment of privacy. Karen leaned in closer. "You're going 
to feel 
a bit funny when you wake up," she said with a soft laugh.

"Your mouth will be sore, and your face will be puffy. But I'll be there. And maybe I'll 
let you win at Scrabble for 
once." She chuckles. "Just don't let it go to your head."

Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and a low moan escaped his throat. She squeezed his hand. 
"That's it, baby," she 
encouraged. "You're waking up."

His eye opened slowly dilated and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to 
the harsh lights of 
the recovery room. He turned his head to the side, and she knew he was searching for her. 
"Hi," she said, her 
voice a warm whisper. "It's me, Karen. You're ok."

His gaze found hers, and she saw the flicker of recognition. "Where am I?" he slurred, 
his voice thick and 
groggy.

"You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. 
"You just had your 
wisdom teeth out."

Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed 
him back down. "Easy," 
she said. "You need to rest."

"But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak.

"I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her cool hand. "But you're doing great. 
Just stay still for a little 
while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications."

He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. 

new AI Story Generator karen plankton nothing but the wisdom truth wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore i

CHIP AND FAIL iv
(Autistic author)

Chip leaned in closer, his screen
searching Plankton's unblinking
gaze for some sign of recognition.
He snapped his fingers in front of
his eye. Nothing.

"Dad, can you hear me?" He asked
again, his voice quivering with
concern. Plankton's condition meant
his senses were heightened, but Chip
was unaware of the storm his
enthusiasm had unleashed. Each
question, each touch, was a boulder
crashing down on his father's
fragile mental landscape. 

The thought sent a shiver down
Chip's spine. He had to get
his dad to respond, to come
back to him. "Please, Dad,"
he whispered, his voice a
plea. "I don't know what to do.
Can you wake up?" But Plankton's
body remained rigid, his eye
unseeing. Chip felt a knot
of fear in his stomach. What if
his dad was stuck in there,
unable to escape?

He didn't know his dad was
autistic, didn't understand the
world of sensory input that was
his reality. He didn't know
how much his excitement and
touches could overwhelm him. He
just knew that his dad, the man
who had always been so strong,
was now as still and quiet as a
graveyard at midnight.

Chip's mind raced, trying to
find the right words, the right
touch, to bring Plankton back. He
wanted to share his stories,
his happiness, but instead, he'd
stumbled into a minefield of
unseen sensitivities. He didn't
know how to navigate this
uncharted territory. "Dad," he
whispered, his voice trembling. "Please,
just tell me you're okay."

Plankton's eye remained 
unfocused. His hand hovered
over Plankton's, unsure of what to
do. He didn't know that his
enthusiastic touches were only
adding to the chaos in Plankton's
mind, that his vivid stories were
like a hurricane in a library.

Chip took a step back, his mind
whirling with worry. He had never
seen his dad like this before,
his usual stoic exterior replaced
by a terrifying stillness. "Dad,"
he whispered, his voice shaking.
"What's happening?" He wished
he could read Plankton's thoughts,
understand the turmoil that was
causing his father to withdraw
so completely.

He knew Plankton was different,
that he needed his space and
his quiet, but he had never
realized the extent of his
sensitivities. The more Chip talked,
the more his dad seemed to retreat,
until he was nothing but a shell,
a statue of a man Chip couldn't
reach. He felt like he was
shouting into the wind, his words
disappearing without a trace.

With trembling hands, Chip reached
out to touch Plankton's face,
his heart breaking at the sight of
his father's vacant gaze. "Dad,"
he whispered, his voice filled with
fear. "Please come back." But
Plankton remained unresponsive,
his eye glazed over.

The room grew colder, the air
thicker with Chip's desperation.
"PLEASE, DAD!" He shouted, his voice
breaking. Plankton didn't move,
his body a statue in the swirl of
his sensory chaos. Chip didn't know
his touches and loudness were only
adding to his father's pain.

"Dad, you're scaring me!" Chip's
fingers hovered over Plankton's arm. His heart
was racing as he tried to think
of what to do, his mind a blur
of panic.
He knew his mom might know what to do.
"Mom!" he calls out, his voice
shaky. 

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II iv

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH ii

"You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had
wisdom teeth out."

Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," 
she said. "You need to rest."

"But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak.

"I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little 
while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications."

He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't member any ting." His words were 
slurred. The anesthesia was definitely still working its magic on him.

"It's ok," she said, her voice soothing. "You don't need to.."
Plankton's head lolled to the side, and his eyelid grew heavy again.

"Karen?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"I'm right here," she assured him, her voice steady and calm. She watched as he tried to lift his hand to wipe at 
his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the chair's armrest, his fingers brushing against hers. 

Plankton's eye grew heavy again, and his head lolled to the side.

The anesthesia was working its way out of his system, but it was taking its time. She chuckled as she 
watched him struggle to keep his eye open.

"I'm... I'm," Plankton mumbled, his words coming out slurred and sloppy. His eye rolled back in his head, and 
he let out a snore.

"You're a mess," she laughs, her voice filled with love. "But you're my mess." She watched as his chest rose 
and fell with each snore. It was clear that the anesthesia was still holding him in its grasp, and she knew it 
would be a while before he was fully awake.

Karen couldn't help but laugh at his antics.

Plankton's snores grew louder.
Karen reached out and gently wiped the line of drool from his mouth with a tissue. He stirred, his eye blinking 
open again.

"You're drooling," she whispered, smiling at him.

"What's happening?" he asked, his words slurred.

"You're coming out of the anesthesia," Karen said, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Everything went fine."
Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Mmmy...nesia?" he mumbled.

Karen's smile grew, understanding his attempt to ask about his sleep during surgery. "You mean the 
anesthesia?"

Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his endeavor. "You're just a little out of it," she said, her voice gentle. "The 
anesthesia is wearing off."

"Thish...thish ish...shomefinny," Plankton tried to say.

"What?" Karen asked, her curiosity piqued by his attempt at speech.

"Nothin'." Plankton's words were slurred into a single syllable. He looked utterly lost in the haze.

Karen leaned closer. "You sure?"

Plankton nodded, his smile lopsided. "Jush...jush glad."

Karen couldn't help but laugh at his adorable incoherence. "You're so loopy," she said, her voice filled with 
affection. She squeezed his hand gently. "I love you."

"Ish love...love you too, Karen," he slurred.

"I know," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and affection.

"Tish...tish hard," Plankton mumbled, his cheeks dimpling with his own private joke.


The nurse entered the room, checking his vitals with a knowing smile. "It's normal for patients to be a bit out 
of it after surgery," she said, scribbling notes on her clipboard. "I'm shorry," he said, words still a jumble.

Karen couldn't help but lean in closer, her own smile growing wider. "It's ok," she assured him, her voice gentle. 
The nurse nodded in agreement, her own smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's quite common," she said, 
her voice professional but kind. 

"Ish...Ish...it...over?" he managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth.

"Yes, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice still filled with love and amusement. "You're all done. They got all your 
wisdom teeth out."

"Thish...thish allll over now-ow."

"Almost," Karen said, her voice a gentle melody. "We just need to wait for the anesthesia to wear off a bit more, 
and then we can go home."

Plankton nodded, his eye already drifting shut again. His mouth moved as he attempted to speak, but only 
slurred sounds came out. Karen leaned in closer, her smile never wavering. "You know, you're pretty chatty for 
someone who's had their wisdom teeth out."

"Ish...Ish always had...shomeshin' to shay," Plankton managed, his speech a series of lisped and elongated sounds.
Plankton's eye began to drift closed again, his breathing growing deep and even. The nurse finished her 
checks and gave Karen instructions for his aftercare. "Make sure he takes it easy," she said.

"I will," Karen promised, her screen never leaving Plankton's face.

The quiet was filled with the sound of Plankton's snores, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm 
beneath the blanket. His mouth was still slightly open, and she could see the drool forming at the corner of his 
lips.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Mr. Krabs, Plankton's rival at the 
Krabby Patty. "How's he doing?" it read.

"Loopy," she replied with a smiley face. She had told Mr. Krabs about the surgery the day before, and 
despite their rivalry, he had offered to come visit when they get back home.

The nurse poked her head back in, checking the clock on the wall. "Alright, he's ready to go," she said, her 
smile warm.

Karen nodded, standing up and gently shaking Plankton's shoulder. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you 
home."

Plankton's eye blinked open slowly, and he looked around the room with confusion. "Home?" he mumbled, his 
voice still thick.

"Yes, we're going home," Karen said, her voice the balm to his disorientation. She helped him to his feet, 
supporting his weight as he swayed slightly.

The drive back home was a blur of sleep. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the vibration of the 
engine lulling him to a doze.

"You okay?" Karen asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," Plankton mumbled, his voice a sleepy rumble. "Just...tiwed."

The drive home was quiet, with only the occasional snore piercing the silence. Karen drove carefully, her eyes 
flicking between the road and the mirror to check on Plankton. She knew he would be out for the count for a 
while, and his face was still swollen.

As they pulled into their driveway, Plankton stirred. "We're home," Karen said, her voice gentle.

He nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Home," he murmured.

Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly as he tried to find his balance. She wrapped his arm around 
her waist, supporting him as they made their way, and he leaned into her, his body heavy with fatigue.

The house was quiet as they entered, the only sound the occasional tick of the grandfather clock in the 
hallway. Karen guided him to the couch, carefully helping him sit down. "Rest here," she said, her voice a 
gentle command.

Plankton nodded, eye closing again. She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a 
pillow. "Here," she said, placing the pillow behind his head.

He took the glass with a nod, his hand shaking slightly. He took a sip. "Thish...thish ish...good," he managed to 
say.

She knew he was in pain, and the anesthesia was only adding to his confusion. "I'll be right back," she said, her 
voice a soft whisper.

Karen grabbed the pet amoeba puppy, Spot. She carried him back to the living room, where Plankton was 
slowly coming around. "Look who's here," she said, holding Spot out to him.

Spot's blob-like body stretched out in excitement, his little legs waving in the air. Plankton's eye widened at the 
sight, and a smile spread across his swollen face. "Spot," he murmured, his voice still thick with anesthesia.

Karen set Spot on his lap, and the amoeba immediately began to cover him in wet, loving kisses. Plankton 
chuckled, his hand rising to pet the creature's gelatinous head. "Hey, bubby," he slurred, his speech still 
compromised.

The simple act of touch brought a spark of life to Plankton's eye. "You're good boyth," he said, his voice a mix 
of affection and pain. Spot's response was a happy wiggle.

Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight, Plankton's love for their little amoeba was unwavering. She took a 
seat beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Just rest," she said, her voice a soft command.

Plankton nodded, his eyes closing again. Spot continued to shower him with affection, his slimy kisses 
landing on Plankton. Karen watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. Then she stood up, 
knowing there was still more to do to ensure Plankton's recovery went smoothly.

In the kitchen, she put together a soft meal for him, something that wouldn't irritate his sensitive mouth. She 
chopped up some fruit into a small bowl and warmed up a cup of soup. The smells of chicken broth and 
sweet berries filled the air, a comforting aroma that she hoped would ease his pain.

When she returned to the living room, Plankton was asleep, Spot curled up with him. She set the food down on 
the table, the spoon clinking gently against the porcelain bowl. She took a moment to appreciate the peaceful 
scene before her, the two of them nestled together, the TV playing a low murmur of background noise.

Karen decided to let him sleep for a bit longer.

Gently, she lifted Spot off Plankton's lap and placed him on the floor. The amoeba pup quickly scuttled back by 
the couch, but still on the floor. Karen then turned off the TV, not wanting the noise to disturb Plankton's rest.

Just as she was about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, his beady eyes 
looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep."

Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. 
"Thought he might need these," he said, handing them to her.

Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room."

new AI Story Generator karen plankton nothing but the wisdom truth wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iii
(By NeuroFabulous)


Plankton feels a
wave of self-consciousness
crash over him. He's always
been different, and now
his son is seeing him at
his most vulnerable.
He doesn't look at
Chip, focusing instead on the
ceiling above.

Chip stares at him, his
face a mix of confusion
and concern. "Dad, are 
you o..."

But Plankton snaps, cutting
his son off with a harsh
tone that slices through
the tension in the room.
"The show's over, Chip; you
can leave now!"

Chip's eyes widen in shock,
his screen flushing with a
mixture of embarrassment
and hurt. He had never
seen his father like this
before. Karen intervenes gently.

"Chip, your dad's just tired.
Why don't you go play in
your room for a bit?"
Her voice was calm, but
there was a firmness that
Chip knew meant business.

He nodded, feeling the weight
of the situation settle on his
small shoulders. As he turned to leave,
his gaze caught the sadness
in his father's eye, a look
that seemed to apologize
without words.

The door clicked shut
behind him, and the silence
was deafening. Chip sat on
his bed, his mind racing with
thoughts about his father.

He knew Plankton was different,
but seeing him like that... it was
like looking at a robot that
suddenly turned off. It was
scary, but also fascinating.
He had so many questions,
but his mother's words echoed
in his mind: "Give him some space."
He'd have to be extra careful
around his dad from now on.

Back in their own room,
Karen sat beside Plankton,
still stroking his arm.
"I'm sorry, Plankton," she murmured.
"I know it's hard for you."

His eye searched hers,
filled with a quiet desperation.
"It's not your fault," he rasped,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's just... sometimes it's too much."

Karen's gaze softened, and
she leaned in to press a gentle
kiss to his forehead. "I know,"
she whispered, her thumb
continuing its soothing
motion on his arm. "We'll get
through it together."

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, and he took
a shaky breath. "I'm sorry,"
he murmured, his voice
still hoarse from his
self-imposed silence. "I know
it's scary for you, for Chip."

Karen's eyes remained
on his, filled with love and
understanding. "You have
nothing to apologize for,"
she said firmly. "You're doing
the best you can."

Plankton managed a
weak smile, his body slowly
starting to uncoil from the tight
knot it had formed during
his shutdown. Karen's gentle
touch was like a warm blanket,
wrapping him in a cocoon of
comfort.

"Thank you, Karen," he
whispered, his voice still
shaky. "I'm just so tired."

Karen nodded, her hand
never leaving his arm.
"You've had a long day,"
she said, her voice a soothing
balm. "Why don't you rest
a bit?"

Plankton nodded, his
energy depleted. He
managed to get himself into
a lying position, the bed
creaking beneath him. Karen
pulled the covers over him,
tucking him in.

Her voice was a lullaby
in the quiet room. "Close
your eye, Plankton. Take
deep breaths. I'm here."
Her hand remained on his
arm, her thumb tracing
the same comforting pattern.

Plankton's breaths grew
even, his body slowly
relaxing into the mattress.
The tightness in his chest
eased with each exhale, and
his antennae drooped slightly
as he succumbed to his body's
needs for rest. Karen watched
over him, her screen never
straying from his face.

"Rest, love," she whispered,
the words carrying a gentle
lilt of reassurance. She knew
the battle he faced every day,
how hard he tried to fit into
a world that didn't quite
understand him. She felt a
surge of admiration for his
strength and resilience.

new chip on the shoulders Chip Plankton II iii

BRAIN CHIP pt. 1
(By NEUROFABULOUS)

It was an accident.
Plankton fell on his 
head from the roof
as his head landed
on the sidewalk. Karen
rushed over to the 
now unconscious 
form as she watched the
accident unfold.

"Oh no, Plankton,
what have you done?"
she exclaimed, picking
him up and going back
inside to rest him on
the couch. She laid him down
carefully, his head cradled
in a pillow. He was breathing,
yet his eye remained shut.

She lightly tapped
his cheek, whispering his
name, "Plankton, can you hear
me?" There was no response.
He is out cold.

Should she call for help, or
wake him gently? She chose
the latter.

"Plankton, darling," she said
softer than before, stroking his
hand, "please wake up. Come 
on, Plankton," she murmured.

Karen waited. Then, 
Plankton's eyelid
twitched. A faint groan
escaped him as he
regains consciousness.
His hand reached
for his head.
Karen's eyes widened with
relief as she saw his eye
begin to open, revealing a
slit of confusion.

"It's ok," she soothed,
squeezing his hand 
gently. "You had a fall."

He winced, his hand
moving from his head
to hers, holding it tightly.
"What happened?" he managed.

"You slipped and fell," Karen
explained, trying to keep
the panic from her voice.
"You hit your head."

Plankton's eye widens,
taking in his surroundings. The
familiar living room swam
before him as he attempted
to sit up. Karen helped, her
hands steadying him. He winced
again.

"Easy, love," she cautioned,
hands on his shoulders. "Let's
take this slow."

Plankton nodded as he
repeated her words, "Easy, love."
The echo of his voice was faint
but it grew. "Take this slow," he
whispered to himself.

Karen looked at him with
concern, noticing his strange
behavior. "Plankton, are you ok?"
she asked, her voice tight.
His eye searched hers. "Ok, Karen,"
he said.

This wasn't 
something she'd
heard from him 
before. "You're
just a bit shaken up,
that's all," she assured.

But Plankton 
just nodded,
repeating her words.
"Shaken up. That's all."
The phrase seemed to
soothe him, his grip
on her hand loosening
slightly as he focused
on her voice.

Karen studied his face,
noticing the glazed look in
his eye. He wasn't just echoing
her; he was stuck on her words,
his mind unable to form
his own thoughts.

"Plankton," she said, her voice
quivering, "tell me what you're
thinking. What do you remember?"

"Thinking," he echoed, his gaze
flickering as he searched
his own mind. "Remember," he
managed, his words choppy and
disjointed. "What do you remember,
Plankton?" she pressed.

He took a deep, shuddering
breath, his eye searching hers
for answers she didn't have.
"Fell. Sidewalk. Pain," he said,
his voice trailing off as he tried
to piece together the moments
before the darkness had claimed
him.

"Yes," Karen said, nodding. "You fell.
Do you remember anything else?"

Plankton's eye searched hers,
his brow furrowed. "Fell. Pain. You."
The repetition was unnerving,
but she clung to the fact that he'd
managed to form a coherent response.
"That's right," she said, her voice
steady. "You fell and hurt your
head. But what were you doing before?"

His head tilted slightly, as if
the question was a puzzle piece
he couldn't fit into the jigsaw
of his memory. "Doing," he echoed.
"Doing before?"

"Yes," Karen prompted, her voice
soft but firm. "What were you
doing before you fell?"

Plankton's mind raced,
trying to retrieve the lost
moments. His eye flickered
before finally settling on hers.
"Before. Before," he repeated,
his voice gaining speed. "I was
on the roof. Ok, Plankton. The
Plankton on the roof. Before,
before," he stumbled over the
words, the phrase looping in his
head like a broken record.

Karen felt a cold shiver run down
her spine. "Plankton, honey, can
you tell me more?" she prodded
gently, her voice trembling.
"Tell me more, tell me more,"
he echoed, the words now
a rapid-fire chant.

He started to sit up again,
his movements jerky and uncoordinated.
The pain in his head seemed to
have lessened, replaced by a
desperate need to repeat.
"On the roof," he blurted out,
his voice stronger now, the phrase
taking hold. "Roof. Roof. On the
roof before."

Why is he doing this?
"Plankton, can you tell me
what you were doing on the
roof?" she asked, trying to keep
the conversation flowing.

"Roof. Roof," he murmured,
his eye locking onto hers.
"Doing roof. Doing roof," he
repeated, but she knew
she had to keep him talking.
"Yes, you were doing something 
on the roof," Karen urged, her 
voice gentle but firm. "What was 
it, Plankton?"

His eye searched the room,
as if the answer was hiding 
behind the curtains. "Fixing,"
he finally said, his voice 
clearer. "Fixing the roof."

Her screen lit up with hope.
"Yes, you were fixing the
roof," she confirmed, her voice
steadier now. "Do you remember
why you were up there?"

Plankton's eye searched hers,
his mind racing. "Fixing. Roof,"
he murmured again, the words
like a lifeline. "Fixed the leak."
The revelation came suddenly,
as if a switch had been flipped
in his brain. The leak had been
causing trouble for weeks, and
he'd finally decided to tackle
it today. The memory was faint,
but it grew clearer as he spoke.

Karen's grip on his hand tightened.
"Good, you fixed the leak,"
she encouraged, her voice
steady. "Do you remember
how you got down?"

"Down," he echoed, his mind
spinning as he recalled the
ladder, the shaky descent. "Fall.
Down. Fall down."

"Plankton," Karen said, her voice
barely above a whisper. "What's
wrong?"

He didn't answer her question.
Instead, he looked confused.
"Wrong? Provided adequate
response, yet how wrong?"

Karen's mind raced as she
tried to understand. "Your speech,
Plankton. It's... it's different,"
she managed, her voice trembling.
"It's ok," she assured him,
not wanting to alarm him further.

But Plankton's behavior grew
more erratic. He began to
rock back and forth slightly.

"Plankton, honey, are you ok?"
Karen asked, her voice laced
with worry as she observed
his sudden onset of repetitive
motions. He didn't acknowledge
her question; instead, he
kept rocking back and forth,
his hands fluttering at his sides.

His eye remained focused
on a spot on the wall, unblinking.
"Roof. Fix. Leak," he muttered,
his words staccato, rhythmic.
The tension in the room grew
as Karen watched him.

Karen's mind raced.
The stimming was a sign of
overwhelming stress or anxiety,
but she had never seen him do
this before. She leaned closer. "Plankton,"
she whispered, placing her hand
on his arm to get his attention.

His eye snapped to her, the
rocking stopping abruptly. "Wrong,"
he said, his voice still strange,
his words choppy. "Worry. Not
ok. Karen."

Karen's breath hitched. "Plankton,
yo--"

Her words were cut off by
his sudden jerking movement.
He began to stim, his hands
flapping in front of him.
The sight of her husband,
a man she knew so well,
now lost in a world of his own,
was almost too much to bear.

"It's ok," she murmured, her voice
shaky, trying to keep the situation
under control. But his stimming
intensified, his body now matching
the erratic rhythm of his speech.
"You're ok," she said, touching
his arm, but he snapped.

"No, Karen," Plankton said,
his voice rising in pitch. "Not ok."
The flapping grew faster, his eye
unfocused. 

"Plankton, please," she begged,
her voice thick with tears. "Tell me
what's happening." She says, grabbing
his hands to hold them still.

But her touch seemed to only
fuel his distress. "No," he says.
"Karen, it!"

The sudden sharpness in his
tone made her flinch. She had never
heard him speak that way. It was
as if he was a different person.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" Karen
asked, her voice trembling as she
held on tighter.

Plankton's body grew rigid,
his stimming increasing in intensity.
"No touch," he said firmly, pulling
his hands from her grasp. His words
were still fragmented, but the meaning
was clear. Karen's eyes filled with tears.
"Plankton, please," she pleaded, reaching
for him again.

But he recoiled, his movements
quick and jerky. "Karen. No," he
stammered, his voice laced with fear.
But she grabbed his shoulders. "What's
wrong, Plank..."

Her words were lost as Plankton's
body began to convulse with fear,
his stimming now a full-blown
defense mechanism. "No," he yelled,
his voice piercing the quiet room.
"Karen, pain! Not safe! Karen harm
Plankton scared! No hurt Plankton!"

Karen's eyes widened, her own
fear spiking at his sudden terror.
Her hands hovered in the air,
unsure of what to do. "Plankton,
it's ok," she said, taking a step
back. "I..."

But he was beyond consolation,
his body a whirlwind of chaotic
movements. "Karen bad," he
whispered, his voice trembling
as much as his limbs. "Karen
hurting Plankton. Plankton scared."

This wasn't her Plankton. The love
and trust in his eye had been
replaced by something wild and
uncertain. She took another step
back, her own hands now shaking.
"I'm not hurting you," she said,
desperation seeping into her
words. "I'm trying to he-"

Her sentence was cut short
as Plankton's body tensed further.
His stimming grew erratic, his
legs kicking rapidly.
"No," he yelled, his voice
now unrecognizable. "Karen no
good. Karen stop. Not safe."

Karen's screen filled with horror.
What had happened to her husband?
He looked at her with a fear she
had never seen before, his trust
replaced with a primal instinct
to escape. She took another
step back, her voice shaking.
"Plankton, it's me," she whispered.
But he didn't seem to hear her.
Instead, a strange, low humming
noise began to emanate from
his throat.

The hum grew in volume,
filling the room with a sound
that seemed to resonate with
distress. "No," he murmured. "Karen,
pain, bad."

"Plankton," she called softly,
using his name to anchor him.
He stopped his erratic movements,
his body slowly calming. The
humming grew quieter, the fear
in his eye fading slightly. She took
another step closer, her hand outstretched.
"You're ok," she whispered, her voice
as soft as a lullaby. "You're safe."

new headinjuryposting karen plankton brain chip

CHIP AND FAIL x
(Autistic author)

Plankton's antennae quivered, his
body trembling. "You want to help?"
he demanded, his voice a thunderclap.
"Then LISTEN!" His antennae shot
straight up, his body rigid with
tension. "Just because I freeze
up, it doesn't mean you get to
paw at me like a sea urchin
without a care in the world!"

Chip's screen filled with hurt, his
hands dropping to his sides. "But
Dad," he began, his voice trembling.
"I just wanted to make it better, seeing
you're not acting like an adult or even
a good dad with your dramatically fitful
tantrum." His words were like salt on
an open wound, but he didn't know
better, his innocence a blunt weapon.

Plankton's antennae snapped back,
his eye narrowing. "Out," he said, his
voice a glacial wind. "You don't get
to be in here right now."

Chip's eyes filled with shock, then
hurt, as the reality of his father's
words sank in. "But Dad, I didn't
mean..."

But Plankton was a wall of ice,
his antennae stiff and unyielding.
"No, get out," he repeated, his voice a
chilling wind that sliced through
Chip's protests. "I want you out of
my sight, Chip. Just go." His eye was
a storm cloud, threatening rain.

Chip felt the sting of his dad's
words, the coldness of his rejection.
He took a step back, his hand
dropping to his side. "But Dad,
I just want to..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
stiff, his voice unyielding. "Out," he
repeated, his eye a storm cloud
ready to burst. "You don't get to
stay here after saying that."

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his own filled with a mix of hurt
and bewilderment. "But Dad," he
whispered, "I don't..."

But Plankton's antennae remained
rigid, his voice like ice. "I said,
OUT." His anger was a palpable
thing in the room, a force that
pushed Chip backward, despite
his father's physical stillness.

With a final look of hurt and
disbelief, Chip turned and left,
his footsteps echoing down the
hallway like the ghosts of all
the moments he had hoped to
share with his father. Plankton
watched him go, his heart a leaden
weight in his chest. Those words 
Chip used might as well be
unforgivable.

Karen's eyes were wide with
concern, but she knew better than
to push him in that moment. She
knew his triggers, and how Chip
inadvertently said the wrong thing.
She knew he actually doesn't want
to bring attention, and
being told his pleas for boundaries
have been called tantrums, by his
own son, in his own room...

Karen knew how his moments of
'twitching' and 'freezes' and 'mishaps'
and 'venting' as he preferred to call
them, being called tantrums...

Plankton closed his eye,
his body trembling with the effort of
holding back his own tears.

Karen approached him cautiously,
her screen filled with worry. "Honey,
are you okay?" she asked, her voice
gentle as a summer breeze.

Plankton's antennae drooped, his body
slumped in the chair. "No," he murmured,
his voice thick with pain. "But I will be."
He took a deep, shuddering breath,
his chest rising and falling like the tides.

Karen watched him, her heart in her
throat. She knew the storm would
pass, but the wreckage it left
behind was always the same. She
reached out a tentative hand, her touch
feather-light on his shoulder. "Do
you want me to explain to Chip?"
she offered, her voice a whisper.

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
body still trembling. "No," he
managed to say, his voice a rasp. His
eye remained closed, his breaths
coming in shallow gasps.

Karen's hand hovered for a
moment before retreating, her
heart breaking for her husband.
"Okay," she murmured, giving him the
space he needed. She knew the
importance of respecting his boundaries
now more than ever. "He just didn't know
how much his wording hurt you.."

"I know," Plankton said, his voice
barely audible. "But that doesn't
make it sting any less." He took
another deep breath, his antennae
twitching with the effort of calming
his racing thoughts.

Karen's hand hovered over him,
wanting to comfort but knowing
not to push. "If he asks, can I tell
him? You know, so he doesn't..."

Plankton's antennae twitched again,
his eye finally opening. "Only if he
specifically asks about it," he said,
his voice stronger now. "Otherwise he 
needs to understand for himself and
figure it out if he wants to help so bad."

Karen nodded, her screen filled with
understanding. She knew her husband's
pride and the importance of their
son coming to terms with his condition
without being forced to. She gave him
a gentle squeeze. "I'll be here," she said.
"For both of you."

The room remained silent
for a long moment, the only sound the
soft ticking of the clock on the wall.
Plankton took another deep breath,
his antennae slowly unfurling. "Thank
you," he murmured, his voice a whisper.

Karen's eyes searched his, her hand
still on his shoulder. "Do you want
to talk about it?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress.

Plankton took a moment to
consider. The storm in his head
was beginning to abate, the pain
lessening with each passing
second. "I'd just like some
time to myself."

Karen nodded, her screen
filling with love and sadness.
"I'll make sure he doesn't bother
you," she promised, her voice a
soft whisper. She knew how
important it was for Plankton to
have space.

Chip stood in his room, the
closed door a barrier between him
and his father's pain. He felt like
a sea urchin thrown onto the
sharp rocks of misunderstanding,
his spikes no match for the
storm of emotions that had just
erupted. He couldn't help but
wonder if he had made things
worse. He had wanted to connect,
but instead, he had hurt the one
person he loved most.

His mind raced, trying to
piece together the puzzle of his
father's behavior. The words "autism
spectrum" echoed in his thoughts,
a mysterious code he hadn't
known existed. He had heard the
term before, but it had always
been a distant concept, not
something that could affect his
own life. 

He sat down on his bed, his
hands shaking. He felt like he had
just been handed a treasure map
without knowing how to read it. His
dad's condition was a treasure, a
key to understanding the man he
idolized, but the map was written
in a language he hadn't learned.

With each passing second, the
weight of his father's words grew
heavier. He had never thought
about the world from Plankton's
perspective, had never considered that
his touch could be anything but
comforting. The realization hit him
like a tidal wave, knocking the
wind out of him.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II x

"We removed Plankton's
wisdom teeth. He's still
asleep, you can stay with
him." Said the oral surgeon
to Karen. They've just finished
and lead Karen into the room.

Plankton is lying in 
the hospital bed, his 
face a mask of peace, 
the only signs of the 
recent surgery being 
the gauze in his mouth 
and the drool seeping 
out the side. His cheeks 
are slightly swollen, and she 
wonders when he'll wake 
up. The doctor said 
it could take a while.
The IV line snakes up 
his arm.

Karen pulls a chair 
up beside the bed. She 
takes his hand and holds 
it gently, feeling the 
warmth of his skin 
contrast with the coolness 
of her own palm. The room 
is sterile, the air 
conditioning humming 
steadily in the background. 
The faint smell of 
disinfectant fills the 
space. She looks around 
the room, noticing the 
monitors beeping in 
rhythm with Plankton's 
breathing and heart rate.

The nurse comes in 
and checks the machines, 
making a few quiet notes 
on a clipboard. She 
smiles at Karen, "He's 
doing well. Just let him 
sleep. It's the best thing 
right now." Karen nods, 
squeezing Plankton's hand 
slightly, willing him to 
feel her presence. She 
wonders what dreams he's 
having, if any, behind 
his closed lid.

Time seems to crawl 
as Karen watches him 
sleep. She tries to 
read a book, but the 
words blur together. Her 
thoughts drift to their 
lives before this moment, 
their shared laughter, their 
arguments, the quiet 
moments of understanding. 
Her gaze lingers on 
his swollen cheeks, 
his chest rising and 
falling with each 
breath.

A soft groan escapes 
his lips and his eye
begins to flutter open. 
Slowly, Plankton comes 
to, his vision blurred 
by the anesthesia's last 
hangover. He blinks, 
trying to focus on 
Karen's face. She sets 
aside her book and 
smiles at him, her screen 
welcoming him back to 
the world of the conscious.

"Hi," she says softly. "How
are you feeling?" Plankton 
makes a sound that's 
somewhere between a 
whine and a grunt.
His eye wanders the 
room before finally 
settling on hers.

"What...what happened?"
he slurs, the words 
barely audible through 
the gauze. Karen's smile 
widens a bit. "You had 
your wisdom teeth removed, 
remember?" He nods slightly.

The nurse reappears, 
checking his vitals again 
with a gentle touch. "Time 
to go home," she says, 
removing the gauze.

They make their way out of 
the hospital, Karen 
supporting Plankton 
gently as he stumbles, 
his legs still wobbly from 
the anesthesia. The sun 
is setting, casting 
long shadows across the 
parking lot. Karen helps 
Plankton into the car, 
buckling him in and 
adjusting the seat so 
he can lean back and 
rest. He nods off almost 
immediately, his breathing 
evening out as the car starts 
and they pull away from 
the hospital.

The drive home is quiet, 
Plankton's snores punctuating 
the hum of the engine. Karen 
keeps glancing over, 
checking on him, her 
concern etched into every 
line on her screen. The 
pain medication is strong, 
keeping him in a 
half-awake state. Each 
time he wakes, he looks 
around, disoriented, before 
his eye finds hers and 
his expression relaxes.

Once they arrive, Karen 
guides him to the couch, 
his body feeling heavier 
than ever before. He 
slumps into the cushions 
and she grabs the ice pack 
from the cooler. "Hold this 
to your cheeks," she 
instructs, placing the 
cold compress against 
his skin. He nods 
obediently, his eye already 
glazing over with the 
promise of sleep.

The TV flickers on, 
its blue light washing 
over the room. Karen 
finds a sitcom they both 
enjoy, hoping the 
familiar laughter will 
ease his pain and keep 
them both company. But 
Plankton's snores soon 
overpower the TV's 
audio, his head lolling 
to the side. She smiles, 
knowing he's in a deep 
slumber, and covers him 
with a blanket.

The house is eerily 
quiet except for the 
steady tick of the 
clock on the wall. 
Karen moves around the 
kitchen, preparing a 
soft meal for when 
he wakes, her mind 
racing with thoughts of 
what the next few days 
will be like. Plankton's 
recovery will be slow, but 
she's ready to take care 
of him. She's his rock, his 
support, and she'll do 
anything to help him 
feel better.

new karen plankton dentistcore dentalcore sleepycore sleepcore sleepicore hospitalcore surgicalcore ivcore wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore plankton

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 21
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Plankton's antennae twitch in
his sleep. Chip watches him,
with love. Then he stirs, his 
antennae flickering as he wakes.

He blinks, his eye focusing on
his son's face. Chip's screen
illuminates with hope, a soft
glow that fills the room.
Plankton's antennae quiver as
he registers.

"Hi, Dad," Chip whispers, his voice
shaky. Plankton's 
hand squeezes Chip's gently.
"Hi," he manages, his voice
raspy with sleep and unshed tears.

The silence between them is
still thick, but there's a thread
of something else, something
new. "Dad," Chip says, his voice
a tentative whisper. "Can we go
to the science fair at my school?"
Plankton's antennae twitch, a
sign of contemplation. Chip's eyes
are wide, his screen flickering with
excitement and fear. He's not
sure if it's a good idea, but
the hope in his voice is undeniable.

Plankton considers the
question, his antennae
twitching as he processes
the sensory onslaught
of a school science fair.
The noise, the lights, the
crowds. It's a minefield for
his overactive senses, but
his son's hope is a beacon.
"Okay," he murmurs, the word
barely audible. Chip's screen
illuminates with joy. Plankton
sits up. "Chip listen, I uhm–
I wan-nt t-to s-say, to t-tell y-you..."
Plankton shakes his head.
He can't get the words out,
his mouth a clumsy mess of
tongue-tied syllables. His
autism, a wall between
his thoughts and speech.

Chip's smile falters, his
heart sinking. "It's okay,
Dad," he says, his voice
soothing. "You don't have to."
But he sees the pain in
Plankton's eye, the desperate
attempt to communicate.
"Chip, about your, about the
b-box..." Plankton's antennae
wave with frustration, his
body a testament to the
difficulty of his words.

"The box, Dad?" Chip asks,
his eyes searching Plankton's
face for answers. Plankton nods,
his antennae drooping with
the effort. "You liked it?"
Chip's voice is hopeful. Plankton
nods. "I-I'm s-still h-hurt from
your earlier taunts, a-and I-I-I-I…
I'm t-trying to f-forgive, for— I
uh, it-t h-hurts but I d-do like
the box. So, s-so thank y-you."
The words come out in a jumbled
mess, a tapestry of stammers and
stops, but the sentiment is clear.
Chip's heart swells with warmth.
He understands the struggle, the
fight for each syllable, the dance of
emotion and cognition that's so
unique to Plankton.

Chip's screen flickers with a smile,
his eyes never leaving his dad's.
"Dad, thank you for understanding,"
he says, his voice gentle. Plankton's
eye closes in relief, his antennae
twitching.

"I know it's hard," Chip 
continues. "But I'm
here for you. We'll 
figure it out." Plankton nods,
his antennae rising slightly.

Plankton puts the new
box from Chip for keeping
it in the car. Karen drives
them to Chip's school. She
parks the car and follows
them into the school.

new autism and all learncore bond

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 22
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

The science fair is a cacophony
of noise and color. Each
project vying for attention,
each child eager to show off
their hard work. Chip's
screen lights up with excitement.
Plankton's antennae twitch
nervously. The sensory overload
threatens to swamp him, but he
firmly holds onto Karen's hand.

"Karen?" Karen turns and
sees her friend Hanna. "Oh
Hanna!" She exclaims.

Hanna's eyes widen at
the sight of Plankton. "Is 
this your family?" Karen nods.
"We're here for our son Chip."
Hanna's smile is warm, but 
Plankton's antennae bristle,
his body stiff with tension.
He's not used to socializing,
especially not in a place like
this, with its unpredictability.

"Hi, I'm Karen's friend," Hanna says.
Plankton flinches, his antennae
waving frantically. "The name's
Hanna. You must be Karen's 
husband, Plankton.." Hanna exclaims
as she puts her hands on his shoulders.
Plankton's body goes rigid.
He's not used to touch, not like
this. The pressure sends a shock
wave through him. His eye
widens in panic, but he forces
a smile.

"Nice to meet you," he says,
his voice tight. He's masking, 
a technique he's honed over the
years to navigate the world that
doesn't quite fit him. The effort
it takes to appear normal is
exhausting, but for Chip, for
his family, he'll try. He takes
a deep breath, trying to
regulate his racing heart. But
Hanna's excitement won't abate.

"Oh, I've heard so much about
you!" Hanna says, her hands
squeezing his shoulders. Plankton
swallows hard, his antennae
twitching with the need to flee.
The sensory assault of her
perfume, the touch, the sound
of her voice, it's too much. But
he can't leave, not here, not
now. He smiles, a mask
covering his panic. "Yeah, it's
good to meet you too," he says,
his voice strained. Yet Hanna is
talkative and bubbly.

"Your son's 
projects are
always so 
amazing!" she 
gushes, her hand
now on his arm.
Plankton's antennae
twitch, but he keeps
his smile firmly in place.
He's masking, a
painful dance of
pretending to fit in,
his mind racing to
keep up with the
social cues. "Thanks,
he's very smart," he
forces out, hoping
his voice doesn't give
away the turmoil
inside.

"Look at all these wonderful
things!" Hanna yells, turning
to give Plankton's shoulder
another squeeze. Plankton's
body tenses, but his smile
doesn't falter. He's wearing
his mask today, the one
he's perfected over the years.
The one that lets him pretend
he's okay, that he fits in
this neurotypical world.

The lights in the gym
are too bright, the sounds too
loud. His antennae are on high
alert, his brain trying to filter
the onslaught. Karen's hand
in his is a lifeline, but even
she can't dull the sensory
overload. Yet he nods, he smiles,
he makes polite small talk.
He's a chameleon, blending
in as best he can, for his family.
For Chip, for Karen, he'll
weather this storm as best
he can.

Hanna won't let up. "Oh guess
what? I'm a trainer!"
Her laughter is a siren
to Plankton's sensitive hearing. 
"That's... amazing,"
he says, his voice strained. 
But Hanna doesn't notice.

"Do you come here often?"
Her question is a minefield
Plankton tries to tiptoe around.
"I, uh, I don't really come
so no," he stammers. "I mean, it's not—"
"Oh, you're so funny!" she 
interrupts, her hand on his arm
again. The pressure sends
shivers down his spine, but
he keeps smiling, keeps pretending.
"Heh, ye-"

Her touch is a thunderstorm
on his skin, but he keeps the mask
in place. "What do you do?"
Hanna asks, her eyes sparkling.
"I'm a scientist," Plankton
manages, his antennae vibrating
with the need to retreat.
"Wow, just like Chip!"
Her enthusiasm is a hurricane,
but he nods, his smile fixed.
"Ye-yes, I guess so-"

"Oh, you must be so proud!"
Her hand is still on his arm,
her grip tightening. The noise
in the gym crescendos around
him, each child's laughter
a pinprick in his overwhelmed
brain. "I, I am," he says,
his voice strained. She leans in,
too close for comfort. Plankton's
heart races, his antennae quivering.
He wants to scream, to pull
his arm away, to retreat.

"Look at Chip's project!" Hanna says,
pulling him closer to a table
covered in wires and circuits.
The lights from the screen
flicker over her face, casting
an eerie glow. Plankton's eye
darts around, searching for
his son, for a familiar face.
But Chip is engaged with his
classmates, explaining his creation.
He's missed the storm brewing
in his father's posture.

"Isn't it amazing?" Hanna asks,
her hand squeezing his arm
again. Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching with the pressure.
"It's... yes, it's very good,"
he says, his voice strained.
Karen notices, her eyes
full of concern. She knows
his limits, the tightrope he walks
between appearing sociable
and the screaming need
to retreat. But Hanna doesn't.

"Oh!" Hanna exclaims. "You
are SUCH a great dad to be so
supportive!" Her hand lands
on his shoulder, giving it a
hearty pat. The suddenness of
the touch sends a shock through
Plankton's body. He flinches, his antennae
waving in a silent cry for space.
But Hanna doesn't know, and
she's not quite done either.

"You must be so proud of him!"
Her hand moves to his back,
patting it in what she assumes
is a comforting gesture. But
for Plankton, it burns.

He tries to pull away, his
body screaming for space,
but her grip is firm, her
energy unrelenting. The room
spins, the lights grow brighter.
His antennae quiver with the
strain of holding on to his mask.

"Thank you," he says, his
voice a whisper of the
storm inside. "He's... a good
boy." Karen's hand squeezes
his, a silent reassurance.
The pressure of her touch
is comforting, but it's not
enough. The sensory assault
continues, Hanna's unrelenting.
He can't take it anymore. 
The mask is slipping,
his smile fading, but Hanna is not.

"You're such a great
father," Hanna says, her hand
now on his cheek. The suddenness
of the touch sends a jolt
of panic through him. His
eye darts around the room,
searching for escape.
The lights flicker, the sounds
meld into a cacophony.
He's drowning in a sea
of sensation, and Hanna is
the storm's eye, unaware
of the chaos she's causing. "And
Plankton, I think you're just
the sweetest!" she says, giving
his cheek a squeeze. The room
spins, his antennae a blur.
Hanna's smile only widens.
"Hey, don't be shy!" she laughs,
cupping his chin to make him
look at her. He needs space. But
Hanna won't back down.
The pressure builds, his mask
threatening to shatter.

He can't breathe, can't think.
The room is too bright, the
sounds too loud. Hanna's touch
is a brand, searing into his skin.
He tries to pull away, but
his body won't cooperate. "I'm..."
But Hanna interrupts him.

"Oh, you're just adorable!"
Her hand moves to his antennae.
Plankton's heart races, his
body a tight coil of panic.
He tries to smile, but his mouth
wobbles. "Hanna, I'm not—"
He's going to break.

His antennae quiver violently,
his body screaming for mercy.
The mask is slipping, his
eye pleading with Karen.
But she's engaged with
another parent, oblivious
to his distress. He tries
to pull away, but Hanna's
grip is unyielding.

"Hanna," he whispers, his voice
a thread of panic. "Please."
But she doesn't hear him,
doesn't see the pain in his
eye. She's too caught up
in her own excitement,
the storm of her affection
crashing down on him like
a waterfall.

He tries to step back, but
his legs are like lead. The
noise of the gym crescendos,
each laugh a needle in his ear.
The lights, the smells, the
sensations, they're all too
much. He needs to escape,
to find his quiet place.
But Hanna won't let him.

Her hand moves 
to tickle his side.
Her laugh makes
him hold his head.
But she keeps going,
unaware of his pain.
"Plankton you're so fun..."

But Plankton's body betrays him,
his stomach lurching. His hand
shoots to his mouth, eye
wide with horror. He can't. Then
suddenly...

He's sick. Right there,
on the floor of the crowded
gym. The smells, the sounds,
the touch. It's all too much.
He didn't mean to, but he
has no control. His body
heaves, and Hanna finally
retreats her hands.

new autism and all hannacore science fair

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