Overloadcore Emojis & Text

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 5

Karen saw the flicker
in Plankton's eye that 
signaled his return to 
the present. She then
motioned for Chip to 
back up. Plankton let go
of the bear, his gaze
flitting around the room
as if searching. Karen
wiped the drool from his
chin. "Welcome back," she
whispered, her voice
calm and soothing.

Plankton's eye met 
Karen's screen. "I'm 
here," she said, her
own voice thick with
relief. "You had another
seizure, but it's over now."

Plankton nodded
slowly, his antennae
drooping as he tried
to piece together what
had happened. The fog in
his mind was lifting,
but the weight of his
emotions remained as he 
looked over to Chip.

Chip's eyes met his,
full of uncertainty. "Dad,"
he began, but his voice
trailed off as Plankton's eye
flickered with recognition.
Chip's own eyes lit up with
relief and hope.

Plankton's antennae
slowly raised, his gaze
focusing on his wife 
and son.

"I remember," Plankton said
through gritted teeth. The
memory of Chip's innocent yet
hurtful word stung. "He said
I was... 'slow'. He said it!"
The anger in his voice
was palpable, his antennae
quivering with agitation.

Karen's heart ached
for her husband's pain, but she
knew that anger was a part
of his post-seizure
frustration. She approached
the bed, her voice calm
but firm. "Plankton, Chip
didn't mean it that way. He's
scared and confused. He
doesn't know how much that
word can hurt."

Plankton's antennae
trembled with anger. 
"But it did!" he 
exclaimed. "It does!"
His voice grew louder,
no longer slurred.

Karen's eyes searched
his, understanding the
pain he was feeling.
"I know you're upset," she
said gently, "but let's talk
about thi—"

"Talk?" Plankton spat, his
body tensing with rage. "How
can I talk to him after what
he said?" The words echoed in
his mind, a cruel reminder
of his fears.

Chip took a step back, his
heart racing. He hadn't meant
to cause such pain, but the
look on his dad's face was
unmistakable. He had hurt
his hero, the one person he
looked up to more than
anyone else. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he whispered, his voice
shaking with emotion. "I
really didn't kn-"

But Plankton was beyond
hearing apologies. His antennae
were a blur with rage. "You
think I'm 'slow'?" he roared,
his voice echoing in the
small room. "You think that's all
I am?" His words were
sharp as knives, cutting
through the tension.

Chip felt the sting of his
father's anger, his screen
filling with tears. "No, Dad,
that's not what I mea-"

But Plankton's rage was
a force unto itself. "How
dare you!" he yelled, his
voice shaking the walls. "After
everything I've done for you.."

Tears spilled from his
single eye, his antennae
quivering uncontrollably.
"How could you say that?"
he sobbed, his voice
breaking with pain.

Chip's eyes were wide
with shock and fear at
the sight of his father's
distress. He hadn't really
seen Plankton cry before,
and the raw emotion was
overwhelming.

Plankton's sobs were
deep, his antennae shaking
wildly as he wept into
his pillow. Karen stood
at the side of the bed, her
heart breaking as she
stroked his back.

Chip watched, feeling
his own eyes burn with
tears. "I'm sorry," he
repeated, his voice small.
"I didn't know. I won't
say it ever ag-"

But Plankton didn't
seem to hear him, lost
in his own grief. His
sobs grew louder, his body
shaking with the force
of his emotions. Karen
could see the hurt and fear
reflected in her son's
face, and she knew they had
to get through this together.

"Chip," she said gently,
guiding him closer to
his father. "Your dad needs
love right now." She placed
his hand on Plankton's
back. "Tell him you
love him."

Chip took a deep
breath, his hand trembling
slightly. "Dad," he began,
his voice cracking. "I love
you." Plankton's sobs
continued, unabated but
his antennae quivered
slightly, as if acknowledging
his son's presence.

Karen watched as Chip
sat on the edge of the
bed, tentatively placing
his hand on Plankton's
back. "I'm sorry," Chip
whispered. "I didn't mean
to hurt yo-"

But Plankton's sobs
interrupted him, his
body wracked with emotion.
His antennae thrashed about,
his crying a silent
testament to the
pain he felt. The room
was suffused with his
sorrow, a stark contrast to
his usually stoic demeanor.

Chip felt the weight of his
father's grief, his
own chest tightening
as he watched the man
he idolized break down.
He had never seen
his father so exposed,
so vulnerable, and it
frightened him.

He swallowed hard,
his throat thick with tears.
"Dad," he tried again,
his voice barely above a
whisper. "I didn't mean to
hurt-"

But Plankton's sobs
drowned out his words, his
body convulsing with
the force of his grief.
Karen wrapped her arms
around Chip, pulling him
closer to her side. "Let him
cry it out," she murmured.
"He needs this."

The room was filled
with the sound of Plankton's
sobs, each one a raw
expression of the pain
he felt. His antennae
twitched erratically, as if
trying to find a way to
express the emotional
thoughts inside his head.
Chip sat there, frozen, his
hand hovering over
his father's back, unsure
of what to do next.

Karen watched them both,
her own heart torn by the
scene before her. She knew
Plankton's autism made
his emotions intense, and
this misunderstanding had
triggered a deep-seated fear
of rejection. She also knew
that Chip didn't intend to
hurt his father—he was just
a child, trying to understand
a complex world.

"Chip," she whispered, 
her voice thick with 
emotion. "It's ok.
Just love him." 
She nodded
towards Plankton.

Chip took a deep
breath, his hand 
shaking slightly. He
slowly placed it on
his father's back, feeling
the warmth and tremble
of his dad's shoulders. 
"I love you," Chip
managed, his voice
barely audible.

new dare to be different crycore chip

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 1

Chip dragged his bag 
through the doorway.
Adopted at birth by his
parents Karen and
Plankton, his bus from
camp came earlier than
originally planned. Chip's
thus not expected to be
home from another hour
yet he's home.

His parents weren't in
the living room, so he
crept to the bedroom
of his parents to see a
peculiar sight.

Plankton only allowed
Karen to know about
his neurodisability. He
sometimes gets harmless
nonepileptic seizures due
to his autism. He's having
one when Chip came home
but neither he nor Karen
noticed their son's arrival.

Chip's heart pounded in
his chest as he peered
into their bedroom. Plankton
was lying on the bed, eye
open, his body stiff. Karen
was at his side.

"It's okay, it's okay,"
Karen murmured, stroking
his arm gently. Her voice
was soothing, a stark
contrast to the chaotic
silence of the seizure.
Then Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly. It was a
sign that the seizure was
passing. Karen recognized
this phase as the postictal
period, where her husband's
mind was trying to reboot.

Plankton's eye flickered,
his speech slurred and
incoherent. "Wha... wawl...
bibble," he mumbled, his
face a mask of confusion.
Chip felt his breath catch
in his throat, unsure of
what he was witnessing.
This wasn't the Plankton he
knew—his dad was always
sharp and quick-witted. The
contrast was jarring, and
his heart ached for the
man struggling to regain
his composure.

Karen nodded gently,
her eyes never leaving
Plankton's face. "You're
safe, my love," Karen
whispered. "It's alright."
Chip's curiosity grew
as he listened to his
father's disjointed words.

"Wish... bof... not
enough," Plankton said,
his voice strained. Karen
squeezed his hand.
"Shh, Plankton, you're home," 
she soothed, cooing.

"What's he talking about?"
Chip thought to himself, his
confusion swelling. He had
never seen his dad like this.
This was his dad, the strong,
clever Plankton he knew, now so
vulnerable and lost.

Plankton's eye searches 
the ceiling as if trying to 
find answers there.

Chip's curiosity morphed
into concern. He had
always known his dad
was different, but this was
new. "Bof... bibble," Plankton
repeated, his eye still
dazed. Chip's mind raced,
trying to piece together what
his father's nonsensical words
could mean.

"Don't worry, you'll feel
better soon," Karen says.

Plankton's babbling grew
more childlike.

"Bibble-bobble... more...
choxie," Plankton said with
a weak smile, his voice
slurred like a toddler's.
Karen chuckled softly, her
hand still resting on his arm.

"Choxie?" she questioned,
gently. "Do you want any
thi—"

Before she could finish,
Plankton chuckled, drool
sliding down his chin. 
"Eeeeee?"

Karen wiped it 
away with a
tissue, her gaze 
filled with a mix 
of tenderness 
and understanding,
knowing Plankton's
state was temporary.

"Choxie?" Chip
whispered to himself,
his curiosity piqued.
He'd never heard
his dad talk like
this before. It was
almost as if Plankton
was speaking in
another language—a
child's babble filled with
longing and innocence.

Karen leaned in,
listening intently to
his garbled speech.
Her eyes searched Plankton's
face for any hint of
recognition or meaning.

"Kay... more... love,"
Plankton murmured, his
eye fluttering closed.

Karen's heart tightened,
but she kept her voice steady.
"More love?" she asked,
interpreting his words with
care. "I love you too, Plankton."

Plankton's smile grew
slightly, his antennae
twitching in contentment.
It seemed as if his
garbled words were a
request for comfort, and
his wife's gentle voice has
sufficed.

Chip watched from the
shadows, his mind racing
with questions. His dad,
usually so sharp and in
control, was reduced to
this. He noticed the way Karen's
face softened as she spoke,
how she treated Plankton
like he was the most
important being in the
world. It was clear that
this wasn't the first time
she'd seen him like this,
but the sight was still
heartbreakingly new to Chip.

"Gibble... gibble," Plankton
continued, his body
starting to relax as the
seizure's aftermath ebbed
away. His hands began to
fidget, as if trying to grasp
at the air. Chip's chest
tightened, watching his dad
so helpless.

Plankton's antennae waved.
"Wibble... wobble... waddle," he
managed to say, his speech
still slurred but slightly
more coherent as Karen
helps him sit up. Plankton's
body felt heavy and awkward
in her arms, but she managed
to get him into a sitting
position. He looked at her
with a mix of relief and
exhaustion.

"Wobble?" Karen questioned,
trying to decode his speech.
"Do you want one of your
sensory fidget toys?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched erratically as
his speech grew slightly
more coherent. "Bibble...
bobble," he said, looking
around the room with
a child-like curiosity.
Chip felt his own curiosity
building, watching the scene
unfold with a mix of concern
and fascination.

"Fibble... wibble," Plankton
tried again, his words
still jumbled. Karen nodded
encouragingly, handing him a
sensory fidget toy from the
nightstand. It was a small,
colorful object with various
textures and shapes.

As his hand closed around it,
his eye lit up with
recognition. "Wibble!" he
exclaimed, his grip tightening
on the toy.

He began to fiddle with it,
his movements becoming more
precise. "Fibble... fibble,"
he murmured, his voice gaining
strength.

Karen watched him with
relief, knowing that his
recovery was underway.
But Chip remained in the
doorway, his eyes glued to
his father's face.

"Dibble-dibble... wobble-wobble,"
Plankton mumbled to himself,
his fingers tracing the toy's
intricate patterns. His voice
was still not quite right, but
it was a step closer to the
clever and crafty man they knew.

Karen watched with a soft smile,
her eyes reflecting the warmth
of her love for her husband.
"You're coming back to us,"
she whispered.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his eye slowly focusing on
his wife's face. He blinked
a few times. "K-Karen?"
Her smile grew wider. "Yes,
love, it's me," she said, her
voice brimming with love
and relief.

He looked around, taking in
his surroundings with a
confused gaze. "Wha?"
he finally managed to say,
his voice still shaky.

"You're home," Karen said,
smiling as she held his hand.
"You had a seizure, but
you're okay now."

new dare to be different neurodisabled chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 

"Gordon, I think 
it's happening," Ma 
Plankton said, her 
voice tight with both
excitement and nerves.
as she felt pressure build
within her tiny frame.
Her husband, Gordon 
Plankton, paused in
his work. They've had
lots of kids already, so
Gordon Plankton knew 
the drill.

Ma Plankton's antennae
quivered, hinting at
the imminent arrival
of their newest addition.
Gordon walks closer, his
eye wide. "Ya think it's now?"

The room was simple,
but meticulously clean.
Ma Plankton's bed was
ready, filled with warm
blankets at the hospital.
Gordon had worked hard.
Anticipation grew as Ma
Plankton felt contractions.

The nurse rushed in.
"It's time," she announced,
her claws clicking in
efficiency, calm but firm.

The nurse called for the
doctor, who rushed in
as the baby's tiny head
started to emerge. But then it
stopped, the baby unable to
go any further.

The doctor called for
more staff, and the room
was suddenly filled with
medics. "Ma'am, we're 
going to need to assist.
The baby's stuck. We must 
be careful to manually
pull him out."

The medical staff
moved swiftly, their gloved 
hands interlocking to form a
careful grip around the
baby's tiny form. Sweat
beaded on the doctor's
forehead as she applied 
gentle but firm pressure.

Ma Plankton gritted her
teeth, her eye's squeezed shut
as she bore down with all
her might. Each push
was met with resistance,
the baby's struggle echoing
her own internal fight.
Gordon hovered nervously.

The doctor's voice was
steady. "Again, Ma.
We're almost there."
With a final, desperate 
heave, the baby's
head was free.

The medical staff paused,
their eyes flicking to the
X-ray ultrasonography. The
doctor nodded to the nurse,
who rolled it closer with
quick, precise movements
to baby Sheldon Plankton before
comparing prenatal imaging
to the new antenatal one.

Ma's heart raced.
"Is everything ok?" she
asked, voice quivering.

The doctor took a deep breath
before speaking. "Ma'am,
the birth was dystocic. Your
baby's delivery was...complicated.
But we managed to get Sheldon
out safely." She paused, glancing
at Gordon, then back to Ma.
"Yet the birth impacted his
brain structure irreversibly. As
he was being born, Plankton
experienced severe stress
that affected his neural pathways.
He has acquired autism."

That was long ago.

That was Sheldon 
Plankton's birth. His
own neurodisability.

Now, Plankton and Karen,
who's learned every
little thing about his
autistic seizures and
preferences, fell in love
as they grew up.
Eventually, Chip, their
son adopted as a new-
born, came into the 
picture. Plankton adored
his son, yet Plankton's
pride was why nobody
else other than Karen
knew he's neurodisabled.

"Be home at least by
dinner!" Karen had 
last told Chip before
he went to play. Yet
Chip came home 
earlier than that, and
his parents didn't
immediately know he'd
arrived back.

And that's how Chip
accidentally found
out about his dad's
neurodisabilities.

Karen had Plankton's
special box of sensory
items nearby, as he's
exiting one of his mini
seizures. Sometimes
after a seizure, his 
neuroregressions can
be alarmingly odd for
those who wouldn't
know. And now Chip
saw them.

Chip peeked into his
parent's bedroom to
find Plankton on his
bed with Karen.

Sheldon Plankton's 
postictal loopiness 
was something 
Karen had grown 
used to. After a 
seizure, Plankton 
often retreated into 
his own world, his 
thoughts tangled in 
sensory overload 
and confusion. He'd 
laugh at nothing, or 
become fixated on a 
random object with 
childlike wonder. This 
was his brain's way of 
recalibrating, of finding 
a new equilibrium 
amidst the chaos.

On this particular 
afternoon, Chip watched 
from the doorway, 
his curiosity piqued. He
saw his dad playing with
a box of sensory toys, 
his eye alight with
joy. There were squishy 
balls, fidget spinners, and 
even a special pillow.

Plankton picked up 
a soft, fuzzy toy and
strobed it in front of 
his eye, chuckling to 
himself. Karen noticed 
Chip's shadow in the 
doorway and turned to
see their son watching 
them. Her expression
softened. "Sweetie, come 
here," she called, patting
the bed. "I need to talk
to you about something."

Chip approached cautiously,
his eyes never leaving his
father. He knew his dad
was quirky, but he had
never seen this. "Is he
ok?" he asked, his voice
small and uncertain.

Karen took a deep breath,
her hand resting on Plankton's
shoulder as she turned to
face their son. "Your dad's
brain works differently,
honey. Sometimes, when
his body gets overwhelmed,
he has these moments."
Plankton, still in the throes
of his postictal loopiness,
noticed Chip and his eye
lit up. He held out the fuzzy
toy, still strobing it. "Meee!"
He giggled, oblivious to the
seriousness of the situation.

"Daddy has autism," Karen
explained gently, her voice
soothing. "And when he
has a seizure, his brain
needs some extra love and
care to get back to normal."
Chip's eyes widened.
He heard about autism
from school, but he never
imagined his dad had it.
He looked at Plankton
playing with the toys,
his movements erratic,
yet somehow soothing.

Plankton had always
been so good at hiding it.
Now, Chip realized that
his dad's quirks weren't
just quirks - they were
his way of coping with
a world that was often
too loud, too bright, too much.
He felt a pang of sadness,
but also admiration. Plankton
was so strong.

Karen saw the wheels
turning in Chip's mind. She
knew this was a big revelation
for him. "It's okay to feel
confused," she assured him.
"But what's important is that
we support Daddy. He loves
you so much, and this is just
a part of who he is."

Chip nodded slowly, still
watching Plankton with the
fuzzy toy. He was trying to
process it all. Autism. Seizures.
This secret. "Can I sit
with him?" he asks tentatively.

Karen smiles and nods,
"Of course, honey." She moves
over to make space for Chip
on the bed. "Just remember
to be gentle."

new adaptable family post-ictal planktons

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 2

Plankton, still in his
sensory-induced giggle fit,
notices Chip's approach.
Chip sits carefully beside
his father, the bed dipping
slightly under his weight.

He reaches out a hand,
slow and steady, and touches
the fuzzy toy. Plankton
stops strobing it and
instead hands it to Chip. "Yi,"
he says.

Chip takes the toy, unsure
what to do, but his dad's
calm demeanor reassures him.
He runs his thumb over
the soft fur, feeling the
tiny fibers tickle his skin.
Plankton watches with
a gentle smile. "Spin?" he asks,
his voice a gentle rasp.

Chip nods and starts to
rotate the toy. Plankton's
eye follows the motion, a look
of contentment washing over
his face. It was strange to
see his dad like this, so...
vulnerable. But Chip felt
his own heart swell with love.

As the toy spins, the colors
blur into a mesmerizing
whirl. Chip feels the tension
in the room ease slightly.
He's never seen his dad so
open, so unguarded. It's like
getting a glimpse into a
part of Plankton that's been
locked away. Yet Karen knows
Plankton's not gonna be pleased
when he comes out of it to see
his son interacting with him and
his sensory items!

Plankton's giggles continue
to fill the room as Chip spins
the fuzzy toy, matching his
dad's earlier rhythm. The
colors swirl into a hypnotic
dance, and for a moment, it's as if
the world outside their bubble
doesn't exist. Chip feels a strange
connection forming, a bond
born from this shared experience.

Slowly, Plankton's laughter
fades into quietude, his
eye blinking rapidly as he
begins to emerge from the loop.
Karen watches closely,
ready to step in if needed.
But then Plankton's gaze
meets Chip's.

The boy's eyes are wide with
understanding and concern.
Plankton feels a sudden
wave of self-consciousness
sweep over him, his cheeks
flushing a deep shade of red.
He hadn't meant for Chip
to see him like this, so
exposed.

The silence is thick with
emotion as Plankton tries to
piece together what happened.
He knows he had a seizure, but
his memories are hazy, like
fragments of a forgotten
dream.

"Chip," Plankton starts, his
voice gruff and defensive.
"What are you doing here?"
Chip jumps back. "I-I was just
looking for you," he stammers.
"But then I saw..." His voice
trails off.

Plankton snatches the
toy away, his movements
quick and jerky. "These are
mine," he snaps. "Not for you."

Chip's eyes water, the
sudden anger from his
dad catching him off-guard.
He hadn't meant to intrude,
but now he felt like he'd
broken something fragile.

"But Dad," Chip stammers,
his voice quivering. "I didn't
know. I ju—"

"You shouldn't have been
snooping!" Plankton snaps, 
trying to shield himself 
from his son's innocent 
curiosity. Karen sighs.

The room is suddenly 
charged with tension. Chip's
heart sinks. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he whispers, his eyes
glistening. "I didn't mean to—"

"Out!" Plankton yells, his
voice echoing sharply in the
small space, cutting off Chip's
apology. The boy jumps up
from the bed, dropping the
fuzzy toy, and runs out of
the room. Karen sighs,
exasperated. "Sheldon, that
wasn't fair," she scolds,
using his full name to
convey her seriousness.

Plankton's shoulders 
slump. "I just...I can't 
have him seeing me 
like this," he mutters, 
his voice tight. "Unfair
is the fact that I have to
deal with this, myself.
Why did he have to find 
out like that?"

Karen sits beside him,
placing a comforting 
hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay to be upset,
Plankton," she says, her tone
kind but firm. "But you
can't hide from Chip forever.
You're his father, and he loves
you. He's going to have
questions."

Plankton turns away, his
eye misty. "I don't know
how to explain it to him,"
he murmurs. "What if he
thinks I'm weak?"

Karen's hand tightens 
on his shoulder. "You're
not weak," she says firmly.
"You're strong, and you're
brave. And autism is just
a part of what makes you,
you." Plankton nods slowly,
his shoulders still tense.
He takes a deep breath,
his chest rising and falling
with the effort. "Okay," he
finally says, turning back
to face her. "But what do
I tell him?"

Karen squeezes his hand.
"You tell him the truth," she
says gently. "You tell him that
autism is just a part of
who you are, and that you
have good days and bad days,
just like everyone else."

Plankton nods slowly, taking
another deep breath. He's
always been good at hiding
his condition, blending in
with the rest of the world.
But from the moment Chip
was born, he knew he had
to be a strong, stoic figure
for his son. Yet now, with
his secret out in the open,
he feels exposed.

He squeezes Karen's hand
back, feeling a mix of
fear and relief. "What if
he's scared of me?" he
asks, his voice barely a
whisper. Karen shakes
her head firmly. "He's not
going to be scared, Plankton.
He's going to be curious.
And he'll love you just as
much, if not more, for
being honest with him."

With a heavy sigh,
Plankton nods. He knows
his wife is right. It's time
for Chip to understand
his father's world, a place
filled with sensory overload
and silent battles.

He finds Chip in his
bedroom, curled up on the
bed with a favorite book.
The room is quiet, the only
sound the faint rustle of
pages turning. Plankton's
heart clenches at the sight
of his son's sadness. 
"Chip," he calls, his voice
barely above a whisper. 

Chip looks up, his eyes
red-rimmed from crying.
He sees his dad standing
there, looking so small and
vulnerable, and his own
walls crumble. He jumps up,
running into Plankton's arms.
"I'm sorry," he sobs, burying
his face in Plankton's chest.

But Plankton's body stiffens.
He's not used to this kind of
contact, especially when he's
fresh from a seizure. The
sensation of Chip's arms
wrapped around him is too
much, and he feels the beginnings
of a meltdown brewing. He
doesn't know how to tell his
son that he needs space,
that touch isn't always comforting.

Gritting his teeth, Plankton
endures the embrace for a
moment longer before gently
pushing Chip away. "Not now,"
he says, his voice strained.
"I need...I don't need touch."

Chip's eyes widen in regret.
He steps back, his arms
dropping to his sides. "I'm
sorry," he says again, his voice
small. "I didn't know."

new adaptable family post-ictal postictal

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 24

"Come to steal the
formula again, have ya?"
Krabs asks, his grip on
the cash register tight.
Plankton's eye widens,
his lie evident. "N-no!"
he says, his voice
shaking. "I just- I just
came for a visit!"
But Krabs' gaze is
thoughtful, his mind
spinning with the
knowledge he gained
the night before. "Well,
Plankton," he says, his
voice gruff but not
unkind. "Why don't we
have that chat?"

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his body tense.
"Chat?" he repeats, his
mind racing. Krabs
nods. "Sure," he says.
"Let's go to me office."
He leads the way,
his heart pounding.
Plankton follows, his eye
lingers on the Krabby Patty.
"W-what do you w-want
to talk about?" Plankton
stammers as they enter
the office.

Krabs sighs, sitting
behind his desk. "Look,
Plankton," he says, his
voice gruff but sincere.
"I know it's hard for
ye to understand, but
sometimes, people have
things they can't control."
Plankton's eye widens,
his grip on the chair
arm tightening. Plankton's
expression is a mix of
fear and confusion. "What
are you playing at?"
he asks, his voice shaky.

Krabs leans back, his
expression serious. "I'm
not playing at anything,"
he says. "I just... I want
ye to know that I get
it now." Plankton's antennae
quiver, his eye darting
to the Krabby Patty
formula safe behind
glass. "Get what?"

Krabs sighs, his hand
rubbing his chin. "Your...
situation," he says,
avoiding the word 'autism'
for fear of upsetting
his rival. Plankton's body
stiffens, his gaze
snapping to Krabs. "What
do you mean?" he asks,
his voice sharp.

Krabs clears his throat,
his eyes flicking to the
formula behind the
glass. "I mean," he says,
his voice gruff, "that I
know ye got challenges.
And I ain't gonna make
fun of ye for it." Plankton's
expression remains
guarded, his antennae
twitching rapidly. "What's
gotten into you?" he
asks suspiciously. "What
challenges? What do 
YOU know?"

Krabs looks at him,
his eyes serious. "I
know you're unique,
Plankton," he says. "And
I know that sometimes
you do things that don't
make sense to me, or to
anyone else." He pauses,
his voice gentle. "But I
promise you, I'll try to
underst--"

Plankton's eye narrows.
"Unique?" he says, his
voice laced with sarcasm,
when Squidward opens
the office door. "A customer
wants to 'speak with the
manager' apparently," he says
as said customer enters the
office. Squidward leaves the
room, closing the door. But
Plankton recognizes the guy.
And his breath hitches.

The customer's one of
Plankton's professors
when he attended college
long ago. One of his most
ableist teachers he's had!
And the teacher recognizes
Plankton as well.

"My burger is lukewarm
and I... Sheldon Plankton
what are you doing here?"

Plankton's antennae quivered
as he stood up, his face
flushing a deep red. "I-it's
a coincidence," he stuttered.
"I-I just came for a Krabby
Patty." His voice was
shaky, a stark contrast to
his usual bravado. The
professor's gaze was cold,
his arms crossed over his
chest.

Krabs' eye twitched. He
could see Plankton's distress,
but he couldn't let him lie
right now. "Plankton," he said,
his voice firm. "What's going on?"
The teacher's eye darted
between the two, sensing the
tension in the air.

Plankton's lie was evident,
his eye darting around
nervously. "I-it's nothing,
Mr. Krabs," he said, his voice
higher than usual. "Just a
misunderstanding." Krabs
raised an eyebrow, his gaze
unwavering. "I'm sure
it's more than that," he said.
The professor's stare was
like a spotlight, exposing
his lie. "You never understood
anything when I had you in
my class," the professor said,
his tone icy.

Plankton's throat tightened,
his heart racing. "I-I've changed
since then," he said, his voice
small. "I-I've learned?" The
professor's smile was cold.
"Is that so?" he said, his voice
dripping with disdain. "Then
tell me, what's the Pythagorean
theorem?" Plankton's eye went
blank, his mind racing. "Proves
my point." He says.

The room felt smaller,
the air thick with tension.
Krabs watched, his fists
clenching. He'd never seen
Plankton so... vulnerable.
The professor's gaze
was like a knife, slicing
through Plankton's already
fragile defenses. "Why do
you keep pushing?" Plankton
whispered, his voice shaking.

The professor's smile was
cruel. "Because you know
your place isn't here,"
he said, his voice
deliberately harsh. "You
never belonged." Plankton's
body trembled, his antennae
waving erratically. "But
I've changed," he repeated,
his voice strained. "I have
a family no-"

The professor scoffed. "A family?"
He leaned closer, his eyes
bore into Plankton's. "How
do you think they'd feel
knowing they've been fooled
by a profoundly severely
mentally re--- being like
you, whom Neptune himself
has cast as—"

Krabs snaps, his claws
slamming down on the desk.
"That's enough!" he roars,
his voice thunderous.
The professor jumps back,
his smug smile wiped clean.
"What did you call him?"
Krabs asks, his eyes
blazing. Plankton's gaze
flits to Krabs, shocked.

The professor sneers.
"I called him what he is,"
he says, his voice cold.
"A mistake." Krabs' fist
clenches, his eyes
never leaving the professor's.
"Get out," he says, his voice
low and dangerous. "Get out
of me restaurant. I don't
want your kind here." Plankton's
eye widens. "K-Krabs?"

The professor laughs,
his eyes cold. "You're
defending him?" he asks.
"After al-"

But Krabs cuts him off,
his voice like steel. "I'm
defending a man, a man
who's had to fight harder
than anyone I know
just to be understood."
Plankton's antennae
perk up slightly, his
face a mask of shock.
"Apologize," Krabs says,
his eyes narrowed.

The professor's smile
dwindles, his gaze
shifting from Krabs to
Plankton. "I... I'm sorry
your parents decided to
keep you," he says, his
voice dripping with
condescension. Plankton's
face falls, his eye
filling with hurt.

Krabs' claw shoots out,
his grip on the
professor's collar tight.
"You'll leave now," he says,
his voice deadly calm.
"Or I'll show you the
exit meself." The professor
sputters, his face reddening.
"You can't-"

But Krabs cuts him off.
"I can, and I will." His
eyes are hard as diamonds.
"Get out." Plankton watches,
his heart racing. He's never
seen Krabs this protective
over him.

The professor's eyes widen,
his arrogance faltering. He
quickly leaves the office, his
cheeks burning with humiliation.

Krabs looks at Plankton.
"He had no right to speak to
you like that. You're not
a mistake, you're a fighter.
And I'm sorry, for not
seeing that sooner. Now, I 
gotta get back to counting
me money. You go on and
get some rest; take care.."

Plankton nods before
running back home.

new dare to be different ableisms chat

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 3

Plankton takes a moment.
He looks at Chip, really looks
at him. "It's ok," he says, his
tone a mix of sadness and
resignation. "I know it's hard
to understand, but I'm going
to try to explain."

He sits down. "You
see, buddy, I have something
called autism," Plankton
begins, his voice shaking
slightly. "It's like my brain
has its own special rules.
Sometimes it makes things
easy for me, like remembering
everything I've ever seen
or heard. But other times,
it makes the world too loud,
too bright, too much to handle."

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's. "And
sometimes," Plankton continues,
his antennae drooping slightly,
"I have these moments called
seizures. They're like when
you get really, really dizzy
and your body just needs a
stop, except mine happens
without much warning."

Chip sits down beside him,
his curiosity outweighing
his sadness. "What were
those toys in your bedroom 
for, Dad?" he asks.

Plankton glances at the
closed door, then back at 
Chip. "Those are my sensory 
toys," he explains, his voice
still shaky. "They help me
stay calm when things get
restless. Like when I have
a meltdown or a seizure."
He pauses, gathering his
thoughts. "You know how
sometimes you get overwhelmed
with homework, and you just
need to take a break?"
Chip nods. "Yeah," he says,
his voice barely audible.

Plankton sighs. 
"It's like that for 
me, but all the 
time." Chip nods.

He remembers his dad's
strange behaviors, his
avoidance of certain textures
and sounds, the way he'd
always have to sit in the
same spot at the dinner table.
"It's like my brain wants those
toys to reset, like when your
game console freezes and
you have to unplug it," Plankton
says, trying to find a metaphor
his son would relate to,
relieved that his son
is trying to understand. "And
you get those...seizures?" Chip
asks him.

Plankton nods solemnly.
"Yes, buddy," he says.
"They're like storms in
my head. They come and go,
but when they're here, they're
real big." He pauses, searching
for the right words. "And when
the storm is over, I can get
this...funny feeling. That's
when I might start laughing
at things that aren't funny or
thinking things that aren't there.
It's like my brain's way of
getting back to normal."

Chip nods, his 
eyes never 
leaving his 
father's face.

"But it's not all 
bad," Plankton adds, 
trying to inject a 
little humor into the 
conversation. "Sometimes, 
my brain does cool 
things. Like when I
can remember every
single Krabby Patty 
formulation we've ever 
tried to steal. Or when 
I can see patterns that
other people miss." He 
smiles faintly. "But it's not 
always fun. Sometimes
it's really hard, and I 
need help. Your mom's been
my biggest help," he tells 
his son. "Without her, I
don't know what I'd do."

Chip nods, his eyes
welling up again. "I want
to help too," he says 
determinedly. "What can
I do?" Plankton's heart 
swells with pride.

"You can just be you," 
Plankton tells him, his 
voice a bit stronger 
now. "And if I ever
seem weird or different,
just remember that I'm 
still me. That's all I 
ask." He pauses, then adds,
"And maybe...maybe we can
find some things that are 
soothing for me, together."

Chip nods, a glimmer of
excitement in his eyes. 
"Okay," he says, his voice
still shaky. "We can do that."
Plankton smiles, the first
genuine one since before
his seizure. "Good," he says.
"Because I'm not going
anywhere, buddy. I'm still
your dad, and I'm still
the best darn Krabby Patty
thief in Bikini Bottom."

They share a tentative laugh,
the tension in the room
dissipating slightly. Chip 
wipes at his eyes, a hint of
a smile playing on his lips.
"So, what now?" he asks.
Plankton takes a deep 
breath. "Now, we move 
forward," he says. "You know 
about my autism, and you 
know I'll have moments. But
I want you to understand
that I'm okay." He looks
at Chip, his eye searching
for any lingering fear or
confusion. "I've had this
all my life."

Chip nods, his gaze
steady. "What about your
seizures?" he asks, his voice 
barely a whisper. Plankton 
swallows hard, his antennae
twitching nervously. "They're 
part of me too," he admits.
"But with your mom and
now you, I'm not alone. Now
it's getting late. We all need 
to go to bed." Plankton goes
to his shared room with Karen
but Chip follows. "Can I sleep 
with you tonight?" Chip asks,
his voice hopeful.

Plankton hesitates. He's a
light sleeper, and even the
faintest noise can wake him.

"I don't know, Chip," he says,
his voice thick with exhaustion.
"I might wake you up with my
movements." But Chip's hopeful
expression is hard to resist.

"Please, Dad," Chip whispers,
his eyes pleading. "I want to be
close to you." Plankton feels a
lump form in his throat. He
knows that Chip is just trying
to process the new information,
to understand his father's
condition. He nods, his antennae
drooping slightly. "Okay," he says.
"But just roll over if I start
making noise or moving around
too much." Karen nods. "It's part
of his autism." Chip then
crawls into his dad's bed.

Plankton's movements are
slow and deliberate, his 
body still recovering from
the seizure. He lies down,
his antennae drooping.
Karen tucks the covers 
around them both, giving
them a gentle kiss on the
forehead. "Sleep tight," she
whispers before switching
off the light. 

new adaptable family familycore adaptability

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 𝟩

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄
𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍'𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅
𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽. "𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒?" 
𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒.
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖨'𝗆
𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾," 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽.
"𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈.."

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁
𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆.
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈
𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽
𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾
𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗓𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌
𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍'𝗌
𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. "𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈
𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽
𝗈𝗎𝗍. "𝖠𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍; 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇!"
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍 
𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾
𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋
𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌
𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽
𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋
𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗍𝗈
𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗌. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀,
𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗈 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌
𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆,
𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁
𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍
𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈
𝖺 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀-𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿
𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾
𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇
𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋
𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌
𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗈𝖽𝗒
𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋
𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗃𝗈𝗒.
𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝖽
𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍
𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝗐𝗎𝗇𝗀. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌,
𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗌, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾
𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌
𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿
𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺
𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.
𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝗅𝗒,
𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍
𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗍.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇
𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽,
𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇.
𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍
𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗂𝗇
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐
𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽
𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌
𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅.

"𝖣𝖺𝖽!" 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽,
𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈
𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾
𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗒𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗆. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅,
𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌
𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾
𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗒.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌
𝗎𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗌𝖾
𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽
𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 
𝗌𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌
𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 
𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 
𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒
𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽
𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍
𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌.
𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽
𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉
𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋
𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍
𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍
𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌
𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗆𝗈𝗆 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽 
𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍
𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗌
𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗈𝖿
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖽
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄.

"𝖲𝗁𝗁," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽,
𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌.
"𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒, 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎."
𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽
𝗎𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺
𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽.
𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍. 𝖭𝗈𝗐.

𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉,
𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆
𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒
𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌.
𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍
𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍
𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾.
𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺
𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿. "𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁
𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾
𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆."

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗇𝗅𝗒,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽
𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒
𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍
𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾
𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌. "𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒,
𝖣𝖺𝖽," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗈
𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍
𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽
𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺
𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗂𝗌𝖾
𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋
𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐
𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽
𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽
𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇
𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗌
𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒
𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌
𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍
𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒
𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍
𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝖽
𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽
𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾.

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾
𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾
𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍. "𝖣𝖺𝖽, 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝖾,
𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗋𝖾," 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗉
𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒. "𝖡𝗎𝗍
𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗄 𝗇𝗈𝗐." 𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗇'𝗌
𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗋,
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖺𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇
𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 
𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌.
𝖧𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌
𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝖪𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇
𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋.

new dare to be different swingpunk pt

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 4

The room is plunged into
darkness, and Plankton feels
his body begin to relax. 
He's exhausted as his eye 
flutters closed, his breathing 
evened out.

But Chip is wide awake, 
his mind racing with thoughts 
of his dad's revelation. He
watches Plankton's chest rise 
and fall in the dim moonlight.
He's never seen him so still,
so peaceful. It's a stark contrast
to the manic energy he usually
exudes while scheming or
running from Mr. Krabs.

Plankton's breathing becomes
steadier, a soft snore escaping
his mouth as he slips into
sleep. Chip lies there for a
while, listening to the gentle
rhythm, feeling the warmth of
his father's body next to him.

He notices Plankton's
hand, lying open on the
bed, fingers slightly curled.
Without thinking, Chip 
reaches out and takes it. 
It's comforting. Plankton's 
hand twitches slightly
in his sleep, but he doesn't 
wake up. Chip 
thinks back to all the 
times his dad had been
there for him, the endless
stories of adventure and
mischief, the way he'd 
always made him laugh.

Eventually later in
the night, Chip starts to
notice something new.
His father's quiet 
snores are interrupted
by his voice.

"Mm... osem...," Plankton 
mumbled in his sleep, his 
hand twitching slightly in 
Chip's grasp. He'd never 
heard this before!

Curiosity piqued, Chip
listened closer, his dad's 
words growing clearer. 
"Neur...where... hiding...ula..." 
Plankton mumbled before
his voice trailed off into 
another snore.

It dawned on Chip that 
his dad was talking in 
his sleep. It was like 
his brain was still working 
on autopilot, processing 
things even when he 
wasn't conscious. The
rest of the night goes
without incident.

The next morning, the
sun peeks through the
cracks in the curtains, 
Chip's eyes blinking 
open to the sight of his
father, still sleeping soundly.
Plankton's hand is still
wrapped around his, their
fingers entwined in a silent
testament to their newfound
bond. Chip smiles, feeling
his heart swell with love.
He's always known his dad
was special, but now he
understands why in a way
he never did before.

Karen stirs in the early
morning light, glancing at
the bed beside her. She knows
this is a momentous
step for Plankton, letting
Chip in on his secret.
She smiles gently as she
watches Chip wake.

"Good morning, Chip," she says,
keeping her voice low so
not to disturb Plankton. "How
did you sleep?" Chip sits up
slowly, his eyes wide.
"I heard Dad talking in
his sleep," he whispers, his
face scrunched in puzzlement.
"It was weird, but I liked
it. It felt like he was still
with me, even when he was
dreaming."

Karen nods, her smile
soft. "That's his brain
doing its thing," she says.
"Sometimes people with
autism have a harder
time turning off their
thoughts at night. It's like
his brain is still working
on all the patterns and
things he loves. He doesn't
always do it, but it's not
uncommon." Chip looks
thoughtfully at his dad.

Plankton stirs, his eye
opening to see Chip
staring at him. He blinks
a few times, then sits up,
his antennae springing to
life. "Ah, morning," he says,
his voice groggy. Chip 
quickly pulls away his
hand, but not before Plankton
notices. He clears his throat,
his gaze shifting away from
his son. "How'd you sleep?"
he asks, trying to sound
nonchalant. But Chip
doesn't miss the look of
vulnerability in his dad's
eye.

"Good," Chip replies, 
his voice still quiet.
"Why do you snore, 
Dad?" He asks, as
Karen stifles her 
laughter. "Is that
because of aut-"

Plankton's antennae shoot
up in alarm. "WHAT?" He cuts
Chip off abruptly, his eye
darting to Karen. She nods
gently. "It's not an autistic
trait, but many people do."

But Plankton's mind is racing.
He's never heard himself snore.
The realization that his son
has noticed something so
intimate, something he wasn't
even aware of, sends a jolt
of panic through him. "I... I
don't snore," he stammers,
his antennae quivering.
Chip looks confused. "But
you did, Dad," he says, his voice
still soft.

Karen steps in, trying to
ease the tension. "It's just
how some people breathe
when they sleep," she explains.
"It doesn't mean anything's
wrong with you. Now Chip,
you won your school's science
fair and are going to the final
competition right? If so, we
need to pack and get on the
road, as it'll take all day for
me to drive to the hotel the
program booked!"

Plankton nods, relieved at
the change in subject. "Yes, yes,"
he says, his voice a bit too
eager. "The science fair.
Chip's going to win." He turns
to his son. "You're going to
make me proud, aren't you?"
Chip nods, a hint of a smile
on his face. "I'll do my best,
Dad," he says.

They start to pack, the
morning air filled with the
bustle of activity. Plankton
moves around the room, his
movements sharp and precise.
Chip watches him, noticing
how his dad's autism affects
even the simplest of tasks.
Everything has to be in its
place, every item packed
just so. "Mom, what about
the sensory toys?" Chip asks,
his voice a mix of curiosity
and concern.

Karen glances at Plankton,
then back at her son. "We
have another box in the car,"
she says, her voice calm. "But
Dad doesn't need them every
second." Plankton nods,
his antennae still quivering.
"Just ones for travel," he adds,
his voice tight.

new adaptable family sleepicore somniloquist

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 8

Karen rushed over, her
face a mix of relief
and concern. "Plankton,
are you ok?" she asked,
her voice filled with
care. Plankton nodded,
his antennae moving 
slowly as he took in
his surroundings.
He looked around, his
eye darting to Chip.
"H-How did we get
here?" His voice was
weak, his antennae
still trembling slightly. 
"You fell off the swing,"
Chip said, trying to keep
his voice steady. "But
Mom and I caught you."
He hoped the gentle
explanation would ease
his father's confusion.

Plankton's antennae
stilled for a moment,
his eye focusing on Chip.
He nodded, understanding
dawning on his face.
"Thank you...tired."

Karen's eyes searched
his face, reading his
autistic cues. "Let's go
home," she said gently,
helping him to his feet.
His legs were shaky, his
balance precarious.

With a nod, Plankton
allowed her to guide him
to the car, leaning heavily
on her. Chip climbs into
the back seat with Plankton.

Karen pulled out of
the park. "I'm proud of
both of you," she said,
glancing in the rearview
mirror at Chip and Plankton.
"You handled that so well."

Plankton sat next to
his son, still exhausted.
Chip looked at his dad, his
heart heavy with guilt.
He reached for the plush
bear he had brought from
the house, placing it
gently in Plankton's lap.
"Here," he said softly. "It
helps, right?" Plankton's 
antennae twitched,
his gaze flickering to the
toy. He took it, his
fingers curling around
the soft fabric, finding
comfort in the familiar
texture. "Thanks," he
mumbled, his voice a
whisper of its usual
strength.

Chip watched as
his father's eye grew
heavy with sleep, his
head nodding slightly
as the car pulled away
from the park.

Plankton's antennae
twitched as he fought
the pull of slumber,
his grip tightening
around the plush bear.
Plankton's antennae were
twitching slower now, his
eye half-closed. Karen knew
her husband was trying to
stay present, to show
his strength. But the
exhaustion was clear.

"Home," Plankton murmured,
his eyelid drooping. "Yes, we're
taking the trip home," Karen
affirmed, her eyes flicking
back to the road.

The car's gentle hum was
soothing, the vibrations
of the engine lulling Plankton
closer to sleep. Chip 
noticed his father's antennae
quivering with each 
bump in the road, his body 
slumping against the car seat.

Karen glanced in the
rearview mirror, her
expression a mix of 
concern and love.

Plankton's antennae stilled
as sleep claimed him, his
body leaning against Chip's
shoulder. Chip felt the
weight of his dad's head.

Chip knew that he was
tired, but he also knew
his father didn't like to
admit when he needed
help, especially in public.
But here they were.

Plankton's antennae
barely twitched, his
snores soft but steady.
Karen's eyes remained
on the road, her gaze
flitting to the rearview
mirror to check on him.
Chip watched his father's
sleeping form.

The car's air conditioner
blew a soft breeze across
his dad's sleeping form,
his antennae fluttering
with the occasional draft.

"Mom," Chip 
whispers from 
the back seat, 
his eyes never 
leaving his 
father's sleeping 
form. "Can I stay
with him when we 
get home?"

"Of course, sweetheart,"
Karen responded, her
voice calm and reassuring.
"We'll all need some
rest after today. Just make
sure he's comfortable."

As they arrived home,
Plankton was still fast
asleep, his antennae barely
twitching. "What do we
do now, Mom?" Chip asked,
unbuckling his seatbelt.
"We get him to bed,"
Karen said firmly,
opening the car door.
"You can help me."

With care, Karen
lifted Plankton out of
the car, his body
limp with sleep.
Chip opened the house
door, holding it wide as
his mother carried his
father inside,
each step precise and
calculated to avoid
disturbing Plankton.

The coolness of the
air-conditioned house
was a stark contrast to
the warmth of the car,
and Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly at the
change in temperature.
Karen's grip was gentle
but firm, her arms steady
as she carried him to their
bedroom. Karen laid
Plankton down carefully,
his body sinking into
the softness of the bed.

Plankton's antennae
twitched once more
before coming to
rest against the pillow.
His snores grew quieter,
his body fully surrendering 
to sleep. Chip hovered at the
foot of the bed,
his heart heavy. "Can
I stay with him?"
he asked, his voice
small in the quiet room.
Karen looked at her
son, the question in
his eyes. She nodded,
her heart aching for
the burgeoning bond
between them. "Yes, but
don't disturb him," she
instructed, her voice
barely above a whisper. 

Chip climbed into
the bed with his
father, his movements
careful not to wake
his dad. He lay down
next to Plankton.

Plankton's antennae
were still now, his
snores even and
deep. Chip studied
his father's face, the
way his antenna fluttered
with every breath,
his grip on the bear
unwavering. He was so
vulnerable in sleep, so
different from the
man who had been
consumed by anger.

Chip felt a mix of
emotions—guilt for
his carelessness,
fear of what could
have been, and a
newfound love for
his father that was
both fierce and gentle.
He lay there, listening
to the steady rhythm
of Plankton's soft snores.

new dare to be different tiredcore pt

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 5

As they pack the last of their
things, Plankton can't help but
wonder what the science fair
will be like. So many people,
so many sounds, so much to
process. It's a minefield of
overstimulation, but for Chip,
he's gonna try.

Bags in the trunk, Karen
gets in the driver's seat
as Plankton and Chip sit
in the back together.

"You okay, Dad?" Chip asks,
his voice gentle. Plankton
nods, his antennae still as
the car starts with a purr.

After leaving the driveway
Chip notices his dad's
humming to himself, a soft,
steady rhythm. Plankton's
hands are in his lap,
fidgeting slightly as he
focuses on the hum.

"What are you doing?"
Chip asks, his curiosity
getting the better of him.

Plankton jumps in his seat,
antennae shooting up. "I'm...
uh...just...thinking?" He's
flabbergasted that his son
has caught him stimming.
He's still trying to process
the idea that his son now
knows his deepest, most
personal secret.

Chip's eyes widen. 
"Thinking?" He 
repeats. "With a so-"
"Chip," Karen interrupts.
She knows Plankton's 
stimming, which he never
likes to speak of. Yet she
also knew Chip's trying to
understand, and decided
it's time to explain.

"Your dad's humming is a 
stim," she says gently, 
keeping her eyes on the 
road ahead. "It's something 
some autistic folks do to 
help manage their sensory 
input or self-soothe."
Chip nods, filing away the 
new information. "Oh," he says,
as Plankton freezes. "So Dad, 
is that why you sometimes 
do that spinning thing with 
your fing--"

"Chip!" Plankton 
snaps, his voice 
harsher than he 
intends. So Karen 
jumps in.

"Sweetie," she says,
turning in the 
passenger seat to 
face her son, "Dad's 
stims are private.
They're like his 
personal way of 
taking a deep breath 
when things get too 
much. He doesn't do
it for anyone else, 
just for himself. And
if he's alright with
sharing them with us,
that's his choice. But
it's important we
respect his privacy."

Plankton's gaze 
meets hers in the 
rearview mirror,
gratitude in his 
eye, hands stilling
as Karen continued.
"And unless he 
says so, it's not for 
us to bring up or
comment on them," 
she explains to Chip.
"So your dad hums,
or flaps his arms, or 
rocks his body, even
muttering to himself. 
They're all his ways of 
stimming, and aren't
to be interrupted or 
discussed unless he 
initiates it. If he seems
distressed, you can ask if
he needs anything, but
otherwise, just be there 
for him."

Chip nods, his 
face a picture of
concentration. "Ok,
Mom," he says. 
"But could, can I 
tr-" "NO!" Plankton's 
voice cuts through 
the car, sharp 
and sudden.
He turns to face 
his son, his eye
blazing. "I don't
want you staring at 
or making fun
of me!"

Karen's eyes meet
Plankton's in the 
mirror, filled with
a mix of love and 
frustration. She knew
this outburst is rooted in 
fear and vulnerability.
"Chip wasn't trying to, 
Plankton," she says.
Chip shrinks back, his
face reddening. "I'm so
sorry," he stammers.
Plankton's face softens,
his antennae drooping.
"I know," he murmurs.
"It's just...it's hard."

Karen nods. "So the
science fair is gonna
be tomorrow, so the
hotel we're going to
tonight has reserved
the contestants and
their families rooms!
So the three of us are
gonna have to share 
the hotel room."

Plankton's antennae
twitch. "And, Dad," 
Chip says, his voice
full of excitement. "It's 
going to be so cool! 
There'll be so many 
science lovers like us!"

Plankton nods, trying
to mirror his son's
enthusiasm, but inside
he's panicking. So many
people, so many
potential triggers. But
he can't let Chip see
his fear. He takes a
deep breath, his hand
against his own seat
in a stim. "Yea."

The car ride is 
quiet for a while, 
and Plankton
finds himself
getting drowsy.
He fights the urge
to close his eye.

He knows if he 
dozes off, he'd be
embarrassed, and he 
can't let that happen 
now, not with Chip
watching him so 
closely. He focuses
on the scenery 
passing by, the 
rhythm of the 
car's tires on the 
road, anything to 
keep himself awake.

But it's a losing 
battle. His eyelid 
keeps drooping, his 
brain begging for 
rest. He starts 
counting the yellow 
lines on the road, 
then switches to red
cars, but the 
monotony of it all 
just makes him 
sleepier. His head 
nods, and he jolts 
awake with a 
start, his heart 
racing for a 
moment. Chip 
glances at his
father. "You okay, 
Dad?"

Plankton nods, 
his antennae 
twitching with 
the effort to stay 
awake. "Fine, buddy," 
he says. But his 
body feels heavy, 
like he's sinking into 
the car seat. He 
decides to try 
distraction. "So, tell 
me more about your 
science fair schedule," 
he asks, hoping that 
his son's excitement 
will keep him alert.

Chip's face lights 
up. "Well, tomorrow 
we've got the setup 
in the morning, then 
the judging starts 
right after lunch."
He rattles off the 
various categories and
his predictions for 
each, his voice rising 
and falling with 
enthusiasm. Plankton 
nods along, trying to 
keep up with the 
flurry of information.
But his eyelid starts 
drooping again.

"And then there's the 
final round!" Chip says, 
his voice carrying 
on despite Plankton's 
fading attention. "I've got 
my experiment all set up 
by myse—"

Plankton's snore cuts 
his son off mid-sentence
as his head lolls, his
mouth slightly open, to 
Chip's shoulder.

Chip looks at Karen 
in the front seat, her 
eyes glancing back at 
them in the mirror with 
a knowing smile. "It
looks like he's really
tired," she says, keeping
her voice low. "It's
okay to let him sleep."
Chip nods, feeling a
wave of protectiveness
over his father. He
chuckles, taking a selfie
with Plankton's sleeping
face on his phone. He
forwards the selfie to
Karen's phone. She tries
not to giggle. "Oh, Chip,"
she smiles, "Dad's not
gonna take that too
kindly when he wakes up."

new adaptable family stimcore stimming

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 9

Eventually, Plankton 
groans awake to 
find his son sitting
beside him on his 
bed. "Hey, buddy,"
he says. "What's
going on?"

Chip looks at him,
his eyes filled with
worry. "You had
another seizure at
the park," he says,
his voice low. "Do
you remember?"
Plankton nods.
The memory of the
loud music and the
sensory overload
floods back. "I'm 
sorry," he says.

"It's not your fault,"
Chip says quickly.
"But I promise to
try to be a better
son, to understand."
Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly. "I'm
sorry too," he mumbles.
"For what, Dad?"
Chip asks, his voice
filled with confusion.
"For not telling you,"
Plankton says, his gaze
shifting to the floor.

"What do you mean,
Dad?" Chip asks, his voice
filled with curiosity.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Plankton sighs, his
antennas drooping. "Because
it's hard, Chip," he says,
his voice cracking. "It's
not something people
understand easily. I don't
even fully understand it."
Chip frowns, his eyes
searching Plankton's. "But
now I know," he says. "I want
to understand, Dad. I want
to learn."

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his gaze meeting
his son's. "Okay," he says
slowly. "What do you want
to know?"

Chip's eyes widen.
"Everything," he says.
"What do you prefer
me to call it?"

Plankton pauses, his
single eye looking into
his son's earnest gaze.
"Autism," he says.
"Or, if you want to get
specific, my form is
neurodevelopmental autism."
He takes a deep breath.
"It's a type of disability.
It affects how I think,
how I learn, and how I
interact with the world."

Chip nods, taking it in.
"So, like, why do you
sometimes get so upset
about noises or lights?"
Plankton sighs, his
antennas drooping slightly.
"It's like my brain can't
filter everything out.
It's all too much at once.
It's like listening to a
thousand TVs at full volume.
It overwhelms me."

Chip's eyes widen
further. "And the
seizures, Dad?"

Plankton's antennae
twitch in thought.
"They're a part of
it, too," he says, his
voice strained. "It's like
my brain's wiring gets
tangled up, and it has
to reset. It's not always
predictable, and it can be
scary. It doesn't happen
every single day."

Chip nods solemnly,
his curiosity piqued.
"What about the toys?"
he asks, gesturing to
the plush bear still
in Plankton's hand.

"They're sensory
items," Plankton explains,
his antennae straightening.
"They can help me when I'm
overwhelmed. Something to
fidget, when restless. Like
comfort items, if you will."

Chip nods, processing.
"So, like, how long have
you had this, uhm, autism?"
Plankton's antennae
twitch at the question.

"Since I was born," he
replies. "It's always been a
part of me. It's just the
way my brain works.
Some days are easier than
others. But it's not to be
cured or reversed. I acquired
it at birth. When my mum
was to give birth to me,
something happened, and
it changed the way my brain
developed. What exactly
happened was during the
birth, my head somehow got
stuck, and it affected my brain."

Chip's eyes widened. "But
you're so smart," he said.
"Does it affect your
intelligence?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly as he
considered his son's
question. "It's not that
simple," he said. "It's like
some things are easier for
me, like solving complex
problems or remembering
details. But other things, like
reading social cues or
understanding sarcasm, are
really hard."

"But you're so good at
inventing," Chip said.
"Does it help with that?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched. "Yes," he said.
"My brain works differently.
It lets me see patterns
and connections that
others might miss. But it
can also make simple
things like talking to
people really tough."

Chip nodded, his hand
still resting on the
plush bear. "Can I ask
you someth...? I just,
the bad wor— I'm sorry;
I just wanna ask about the
slur I used."

Plankton flinched at the
mention of the slur.
He took a deep breath.
"As long as you know it
was wrong, and you don't
do it again," he said.
"I'll tell you about it."

Chip nodded, his eyes
intent on his dad's.
"Why did it hurt?" he
asked, his voice soft.

Plankton's antennae
twitched with the pain
of the memory. "Because
those words, they're not
just words," he said.
"They're like punches.
They hurt because they're
not true. They're not who
I am. And when people
use them, it feels like
they're trying to define
me by something that's
just a part of me. And
that particular slur is used
to mock, to belittle." "But, why?"
Chip asks. "How's it a slur?"

"That term has been
used to refer to people
with neurodisabilities
like including autism in 
a way that suggests, um..."
Plankton paused to wipe
a tear from his eye. "Sorry,"
he whispers, taking a deep
breath. "There were
diagnosticians, non-
disabled, who coined
that term," he began, his
voice shaky. "They
referred to neurodisabled
people that, and then
those neurodisabled people
were then had or given
options to be 'fixed' by
either trying torturous
methods to 'normalize'
them or, if that didn't
eventually work, they'd
just... tell caregivers
or their guardians to
refuse necessities including
food or water until they'd
ultimately pass away."

Chip's shocked into silence
as Plankton wiped another
tear, sniffling.

"And instead of giving any
accommodations, they'd
punish you. As if you were
choosing to be something
so wrong," Plankton continues, 
his voice quivering. "And in
grade school, when kids
couldn't understand, they'd
use it as a weapon, to mean
anything they didn't like.
I personally was bullied a
lot when I'd blurt out some
random science fact or, just
was left out. And even teachers
sometimes, they'd say
I was just being 'that'. And I'd
get in trouble for 'that'.
And when you said that
Chip, it just... brought it
all back."

new dare to be different strongcore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 10

Plankton wiped the
rest of his tears as
Chip took in his dad's
story, his eyes wide.

"So, you've had to deal with
that your whole life?" Chip
asked, his voice filled with
a newfound empathy. 
"Yeah," Plankton
nodded, his antennae
twitching slightly. "But
it's not all bad. There's
beauty in being different,
you know. And your mom
and I, we've learned to
make it work."

Chip looked at the
plush bear in his dad's
hand, now understanding
its significance.
"What happens during
a seizure, Dad?"
Plankton took a deep
breath. "My brain gets
overwhelmed, like too
much data coming in at once.
It's like a circuit
breaker trips and
everything goes haywire.
My body can't handle it,
so it shuts down a bit.
It's like my brain's
way of hitting the reset
button."

"Does it hurt?" Chip
asked, his eyes searching
his dad's.
"No, not physically,"
Plankton said, his antennae
twitching slightly. "But it's
scary, and it can leave
me feeling really tired.
And sometimes it's
embarrassing, because
it happens when I'm not
expecting it and I might
act a bit strange after.
Like, I might not 
recognize anything for a
little bit. But it's like coming
out of a daydream. You're
just... there, but not quite.
And then the real world hits
as it passes. And most of
the time I don't even know
it's happening until it's over."

Chip nodded, his hand
tightening around the bear.
"But why don't people
understand, Dad?"
"I guess because autism
is internal," Plankton
explained. "People can't
see it. They don't know
what's going on inside
my head. They just see
me acting differently, and
that annoys them. They don't
know how to react, I guess.
It's a spectrum," Plankton
continued. "There are
lots of people like that.
And some have it a lot
worse. They can't talk or
can't do things that come
easy to me. It's just
how their brains are."

Chip frowned, deep in
thought. "But you let
Mom hug you but, not
me; is that part of it?"

Plankton nodded, his antennae
drooping. "Sometimes, Chip,"
he said. "It's about comfort
and safety. With Mom, we know
what to expect, but with
you, it's still new. It's not that
I don't love you or don't
want to hug you. It's just...
hard sometimes. Certain
touches can be too much."

Chip's eyes searched
his father's face. "But, I'm
your son," he said, his voice
small.

Plankton nodded. "And I love
you more than anything," he
replied. "But sometimes,
my brain gets confused by
touch, especially when
it's unexpected. It's not
because I don't want to be
close to you, it's because
it's too much for me to handle.
And there are days where
it's easier than others. But she
knows what to do, and she
understands when I can't take
much more."

Chip looked down
at the bear, his eyes
filling with tears. "I
don't want to make it
worse," he whimpered.
"Just ask before you touch 
me, ok? And if I say no, don't 
take it to personally. It's not about
you, Chip; it's about what I can 
handle, what my body craves."

Karen then came to check
on them. "How are we doing?"
she asked, her voice gentle.
"I see you're awake.."

Plankton nodded weakly.
"We're okay," he said.
"Chip and I were just...
talking."

Karen's gaze moved
from her husband to
her son, noticing the
bear in Chip's hand.
"Oh?" Karen's eyebrows
raised in suspicion.

"Yeah," Chip said, 
his voice steadier 
now. "I just want to
know more about... 
about Dad." Karen
sat on the bed's edge.
"You're growing up,"
she murmured.

"Ok," Plankton said.
"But keep it simple.
I'm pretty tired." Chip 
nods as Karen moves
closer to them.

"So, Dad, what do
you want me to do when
you have a seizure?"
Plankton's antennae
twitched in thought.
"Just stay calm," he
instructed. "And keep me
safe. Sometimes, I might
lash out without knowing
it, so keep yourself safe
too. And if you can, help
me find something to
fidget with, like offering
me the bear. But even if
it's not at home, inform
your mother. Perhaps find
a quiet spot."

Chip nodded, his mind
racing with information.
"What about when you
move your hands like,
is that because of it?"
He turns to Karen.

"Yes," Karen said, taking
his hand in hers. "It's called
stimming. It's a way for
your dad to self-soothe or
if jittery. It's usually when
really emotional or just
restless. And he does it to
help manage the input his
brain's receiving."

Chip's eyes widen.
"So it's for fun; can 
I try?" But Plankton 
shook his head. "No
Chip, it's not a toy 
for you.."

Karen squeezed Chip's
shoulder gently. "It's okay to
ask questions, honey," she
said. "But remember, everyone's
experience is different. For
your dad, he can stim by
fidgeting with his hands or
talking to himself. He might
hum or rock. But he doesn't
like it to be mimicked. It's
not for us to point out or
make comments on, unless to
offer support or ask if he'd
like help. It's just something
he does for himself, not for
us."

Chip nodded, his gaze
back on Plankton. "And
what about those moments
where you just... zone out?"
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly. "Those are called
absence seizures," he said.
"They're like staring spells.
They can happen anywhere,
anytime. It's like my brain
pauses for a bit. It can be
unsettling, but they usually
don't last long. Just stay
calm and let me know when
I come back, okay?"

"Okay," Chip said, nodding.
"What about when you get
upset and repeat words?"
Plankton sighed. "That's called
echolalia," he explained.
"It's when I repeat what
I've heard, or something
I've said before. It's a way
for me to cope with stress or
anxiety. Sometimes, it's just
easier than finding new
words. But usually it's to
process verbal directions.
Palilalia is all part of
the autism spectrum."

Karen watched 
the two of them, 
warmth spreading
through her heart. 

new dare to be different learncore pt

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 7

Chip starts to move
closer, but Karen's 
quick shake of the 
head stops him. 
She knows Plankton 
needs space, and he's
agitated, so he's 
on the verge of a 
full-blown meltdown.

"Back off," Plankton 
growls, his voice low 
and threatening to
Chip. His body's stiff,
and Karen knows she
has to act fast before 
the situation escalates
any further.

"Chip, Dad needs a 
moment. Pick the
bed you want and 
I'll get you set up," Karen 
says, her voice firm but 
kind. She knows this
is hard for her son, 
but Plankton's needs
have urgency.

Reluctantly, Chip goes
through the curtain,
choosing the bed 
farthest from his
dad's, feeling like 
he's pushed away.

Plankton's breaths
are ragged, for he's 
angry at Chip's 
invasion of his 
personal space, 
his private 
mechanisms for 
coping with the 
overwhelming 
world. Karen sits 
by his side.

"Plankton, sweetie,"
she says calmly,
placing a hand 
on his shoulder.
"Wanna talk about 
it?" Her touch
is gentle, but
his antennae flinch.
He's still reeling
from the sensory
overload and his
son's innocent
mistake. She can 
see the turmoil 
behind his 
single eye and
retreats her hand.

He turns away, his 
back to her, his 
body still rigid. 
"I'm not mad at 
you," he whispers. 
"I'm mad at myself,
and Chip." Tears 
form in his eye.

Karen's hand still
remains hovering 
for a moment before 
she decides against 
touching him again.
"Mad at yourself?"
she asks gently,
her voice a soft 
caress. "Why?"
Plankton sighs, 
his shoulders 
slumping. "I can't
control it," he 
says. Karen nods.
"You don't have to,"
she says, her voice
soothing. "Your
autism is yours.
It's part of you, and
we love all of you."

Plankton's antennae
twitch again, his
body needing the
release of his stims
as Chip comes back
through the curtain.
Plankton resumes his
rocking as he starts 
talking to himself.

"I can't believe it," he
mumbles. "My own 
son, my own son.."

Chip watches his 
dad, his heart 
heavy with sadness.
He doesn't know 
what to do, what to say.
He just wants to help.

He approaches 
Plankton's bed, 
his steps cautious.
"Dad, can I sit 
with yo--" "STOP
STARING at me!"
Plankton snaps.

Chip's eyes 
widen in 
surprise, his 
heart racing. 
He didn't mean 
anything by it, 
but he knows he's
upset his dad.
"I'm not staring,
Dad," he says
quickly, taking
a step back. "I just..."

But Plankton's
too lost in his 
own world to
notice, his 
stims taking
over as he
talks to himself. 
"I'm here," he 
whispers, his
voice barely 
a murmur.
"So here." His 
hands keep 
flapping, his 
body rocking.

Karen sits 
quietly beside 
the bed, 
watching her 
husband. She
knows he's 
trying to 
process the 
world around 
him. She
wishes to
make it easier.
Chip watches 
his father, his 
heart aching.
Tension is 
thicker than 
the blackout 
curtains that 
hang around 
Plankton's bed.

Plankton's 
hands kept
on flapping. 
"I can't know 
this," he says. 
"Can't...can't...
can't know it."

Karen looked at
Plankton, her heart
heavy. She knew
the pressure
mounting on him,
and wished she
could just take
it all away. She
moved closer.

"Plankton," she 
whispers. "Can 
I help?" Her hand 
reaches out, but 
stops just short 
of his arm. She 
doesn't want to 
startle him.

He doesn't look
at her, his focus 
inward. "Who's 
always watching,"
he murmurs. "Will
don't do, it's not. 
Tell to me. Don't 
know, don't know, 
don't know..."

Karen's hand 
hangs in the air 
for a moment 
before she 
slowly withdraws 
it, giving him the 
space he needs.

Chip's eyes 
well up with 
tears. "Dad, I'm 
not wa-"

"NOT FOR YOU!" 
Plankton yells, 
his voice echoing
in the small
hotel room. He 
flaps his hands
harder, the 
frustration 
escalating.

Chip's voice 
cracks. "Dad, I'm 
not watching!" 
He says a bit too
loud and sudden.
Plankton starts
to cry, tears 
leaking out of his 
single eye as he
continues to 
talk to his stims.
"No no, no. Isn't
for one, tone. Not 
too much." His voice
hitches in between 
his crying.

Karen's eyes are
wet, watching 
Plankton's painful
self-talk. "Chip," 
she whispers, "Do
NOT raise your voice
like that to your dad.
Not only is it uncalled
for, but it can be
traumatizing to him."

Chip nods, his face
going pale. "I'm sorry,"
he whispers to the 
space between them.
"I didn't mean to..."

Plankton's mumbling
becomes more coherent,
his words mixing with
sobs. "Know tone on
watch, not does, no one
knows. Alone, always
alone." His antennae
wave frantically, his 
body shaking with
the intensity of his 
emotions.

Chip's heart breaks
as he watches his dad's
pain. He's never 
seen him like this 
before, so vulnerable,
so lost in his own 
thoughts. He wants 
to reach out, his hand
extending again.
"You're not al—"

But Karen's hand 
stops him, her 
eyes firm. "Let him 
have his moment,"
she whispers, 
squeezing his
shoulder gently.

Plankton sobs
as he hiccoughs
between phrases, 
his voice soft.
"Must be quiet, 
can't let for know."
He's speaking to his
stims, his voice 
barely a murmur.

Karen's eyes are 
full of immense love 
and sadness. She
wants to hold him,
to comfort him, but
knows the boundary.
Instead, she watches
over him. Chip watches, 
his heart in his
throat. He feels like
he's intruding, but
he can't just ignore 
his dad's pain. He 
swallows hard. "Dad,"
he says, his voice 
quiet. "You're not 
a-"

"I KNOW!" Plankton's
voice cracks. He turns
to face Chip. His sobs
become louder, more
desperate.

Chip feels his chest
tighten. "Dad," he says
slowly, "I didn't mean
to up-"

"Do you HAVE 
to keep on 
interrupting me‽"
Plankton accuses.

Chip shrinks 
back, his eyes 
filling with 
remorse. "Dad, I'm 
sorry, I just want 
you to know I'm 
here for yo-"

"NO!" Plankton's 
voice is a 
whipcrack, 
cutting off his
son's words. "I
don't need your pity!"
He turns away, 
his body wracked 
with sobs, 
his antennae 
thrashing about.

Karen watches 
helplessly, her
heart in her 
throat. She 
understands his
pain, his need 
for solitude, but
also the hurt in
Chip's eyes as he
crawls onto Plankton's 
bed, his body tentative.
But Plankton's having
none of it! "Get OFF!" 
Plankton's voice is 
sharp. Chip 
flinches, his eyes
filling with 
tears. "Dad, I ju—"
"I said, GET OFF!"

new adaptable family meltdowncore spacecore

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 11

"What about 
when you
won't look 
people in 
the eye?" 
Chip asks.

Plankton nods. 
"It's not that I 
don't try to, 
sometimes it's just
too intense," he 
explains. "It's like
looking into the 
sun. It's just to
much. It's part of 
being on the 
spectrum."

Chip nods, his 
curiosity unabated. 
"But why?" he 
presses on. "Why 
can't you look at 
someone's eyes?"
Plankton sighs, his 
eye fluttering closed. 
"Look, Chip, it's like 
my brain's got a lot 
going on," he says. 
"Looking someone 
in the eye is like...
like uncomfortable,
I don't know‽ But 
when I'm with
people I trust, like
you and mom, it's 
easier. Eye contact 
can be really intense, and 
it can be overwhelming. 
But I know we don't
mean it that way. It's just
how I experience it."

"What about 
when you talk about
the same thing over
and over again?" 
Chip asks, his voice
careful. Plankton nods. 
"That's perseveration,"
he says. "It's like my brain
can't let go of an idea. It's
not that I don't want to talk
about other things; it's just
that the idea keeps
spinning around in my
head. I know it might get
repetitive, for others."

Karen smiles at
Chip's earnestness.

"Dad," Chip asks,
his voice gentle.
"What's your favorite
thing about being 
autistic?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitched in surprise.
"Favorite thing?" he
repeats. He thinks for
a moment, his eye
focused on the ceiling.
"Well," he says slowly,
his antennae lifting a
little, "I guess it's my
ability to focus on
tiny details that others
might miss, sometimes."

Chip's eyes light up.
"Like when you make
those amazing
inventions?" he asks, 
his voice filled with
admiration.

Plankton's antennae 
perk up slightly, a
tiny smile gracing his
face. "Yes," he says.
"Exactly. It's like my
brain is wired to see
the world in a unique
way, and that helps me
solve problems or create
things others might not 
think of."

Chip nods, his mind 
spinning with questions.
"What about how you 
talk in a monotone?"
he asks. "Is that part of it?"
Plankton nods again.
"Yes," he says. "It's
because my brain doesn't
interpret emotions the
way other people do. It's
hard for me to express
how I'm feeling, like in my
voice sometimes. So in every
day things, my voice will be
flat. But don't worry,
it doesn't mean I'm not
feeling them. I'm just...
different, at showing it."

Karen watches them, 
proud of Chip for
his empathy. "Dad,
what about people
skills?" Chip asks. "Why 
do you have trouble?"

Plankton sighs. "It's
because autism affects
how I understand unsaid
social cues," he explains.
"Sarcasm, faces, those
things are like a
different language to
me. I have to learn them.
It's hard to read people,
to know what they're
feeling just by looking.
And sometimes, I say things
that don't come out right,
because I don't always get
how they'll be taken."

Chip nods, his eyes
still wide with curiosity.
"But you're so good at
understanding mechanics
and inventing," he points out.
"If you can do that, why is
underst--"

Plankton's antennae
twitch. "It's a different
kind of understanding,"
he says. "My brain is good
at patterns and logistics.
Social interactions are more
complex, less predictable. I
might say something in a way
that ends up sounding rude,
but it's not intentional.
It's just... I miss the subtleties.
And people usually get upset
if you don't get their jokes
or understand their expressions.
When me and Krabs fed Jenkins
our burger, he got food poisoning.
I wanted to comfort Krabs by
showing we're not to blame, and
I said, 'Jenkins is old' and, I've
nothing against elderly. Krabs
got mad, so I wanted to tweak
the burger recipe, but Krabs’s
had none of it. So that's why
we became enemies."

Chip nods, his eyes
still glued to his dad.
"But what about your
relationship with Mom?"
he asks. "It's complicated,"
Plankton admits. "Sometimes
my autism can make it hard
for me to understand what
she's feeling, but we've learned
each other's patterns. And
she's really patient with me."
He glances at Karen, who
smiles back, her eyes
shimmering with affection.
"We usually cook at home or
order takeout because crowded
restaurants can make me really
overwhelmed. She gets it."

"But what if she's sad and
you don't know it?" Chip
persists. "Well, she'll tell me,"
Plankton says, his antennae
twitching. "And if she needs
something, she'll explain."
He looks over at Karen, who
nods in agreement. "It's a
team effort, buddy," she says.
"We communicate in our
own way."

"But what if you don't get
what she's saying?" Chip
asks, his brow furrowed.
"Then I'll ask for help,"
Plankton responds. "Or she'll
find another way to tell me.
We've had our ups and
downs, but we figured it out.
It's not always easy, but we
love each other. And she
knows that I'm trying my
best to understand her."

"But what about others,
Dad?" Chip asks. "Have
you ever felt left out?"

Plankton's antennae droop.
"Yes," he admits, his voice
quiet. "There are times
when I don't know what's
going on, or I miss a joke.
And it can be lonely and
tiresome. I was the nerdy
weirdo, but Krabs was poor
so we were both outcasts.
But once Krabs perfected
the burger recipe for himself,
that changed. My only friend
left me behind. But yes, kids
went out of their way to make
sure I was excluded. They'd
see I was 'quirky' and a bit of
a loner. They'd say I was that
slur you used the other day."

Chip's eyes widen
in horror. "But that's not
right," he says. "And I'm sor—"
"I know," Plankton nods.
"But it's how some people
see it. And it's hard to
explain to them that it's not
my choice. That I'm just
different, not less. But they
didn't care."

"But what about Mr.
Krabs?" Chip asks, his voice
small. "Couldn't he help?"
Plankton's antennae twitch.
"Krabs didn't know about
my disability, he still doesn't.
But now that we're rivals, I
doubt he'd change his ways.
He's a simple creature, driven
by greed. I don't think he's
gonna suddenly understand
neurodiversity if he found out!"

Chip looks down at the
floor, his eyes filling
with tears. "But why, Dad?"
he whispers. "Why did you
have to be different?"

Plankton's antennae
twitch gently as he
considers his son's
question. "Everyone's
different, Chip," he says.
"Some people have two
eyes, some like me have one.
Some people are tall, some
like me are short. And some, like
me, have brains that
work a little differently. 
Remember I told you when I
was born, I got stuck and that
changed my brain structure?
Well, it's like that. It's just
how I ended up, and it's not
something anyone could
have prevented."

Chip nods, his
thoughts racing. "But what
about friends?" he asks.
"Do you have any that
understand you?"
Plankton's smile is sad.
"Friends are hard to come
by," he admits. "But I have
you and your mom, and that's
enough. And there's SpongeBob.
He's a good... acquaintance?"
He pauses. "He tries to be kind to
everyone, but sometimes, well,
his enthusiasm can be a bit
much. But he's a good egg."

Chip looks over at
his mom, who nods, her
eyes shimmering with pride.
"Dad's right," she says. "Now
it's getting late, which means
bedtime. And you need to
let him rest." She stands up,
stretching slightly.

Plankton nods. "Yeah, I
really need some sleep."

new dare to be different meancore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 12

Chip climbs into the bed,
his mind racing. "Can I
be with you?" he asks, his
voice tentative.

Plankton opens his eye
slightly, looking over at
his son. "If you're quiet,"
he says, his voice tired but
not unkind. "But remember,
I might stir a bit.."

Chip nods, climbing into
the bed. He lies down
next to his father, 
his heart racing. Plankton's
arm moves slightly, to avoid
touching Chip's shoulder.

Chip lies there, his mind 
spinning with the new
information about his
father. He thinks about
his dad's struggles, his
dad's brilliance, and his
dad's love for them.

Plankton's breathing
becomes even, a sign
he's falling asleep.
Karen kisses Chip's forehead
and whispers, "I'm proud
of you, for wanting to
understand."

Chip lies there, his
thoughts racing.
This is the same dad who
invents amazing things,
who tells the best bedtime
stories, and who loves him
so much.

He looks over at his
dad, who's now asleep,
single eye closed, 
his chest rising and
falling steadily as he
snores lightly. Chip
can't help but wonder
what it's like to live in
his world, where sounds
are too loud, lights too
bright, and people are
too confusing. But he's
determined to learn.

The room is quiet,
except for Plankton's
snores as Chip lies there
thinking about what his
dad said. His heart
swells with love and 
understanding.

Eventually, Plankton starts
to mumble in his sleep, his
voice a whispered jumble of
nonsensical words that make
no sense to Chip. "Moh-moh-
molasses... nuns..." Chip
frowns, deciding to nudge his
mom awake. "Mom," he 
whispers, tugging on her arm 
gently.

Karen's eyes open, and
she looks at her son, 
concerned. "What is it?"
she whispers back.

Chip points 
to Plankton.
"Dad's talking. 
Is he ok?"

Karen nods,
her eyes sleepy.
"It's just his brain
working through it,"
she whispers back.
"And sometimes
even when he's 
sleeping, his thoughts
are still busy. It's 
happened before. It's
his brain dreaming,"
she says. "It's nothing 
specific, just his mind
processing. He'll 
probably wake up 
not remembering a 
thing. Pretty much
like a word salad."
Chip nods as Plankton
resumes his regular
snoring. "Okay," he says,
his voice still hushed.

It makes him
want to protect his dad
even more, to create
a world where his dad
doesn't have to feel so
overwhelmed.

As Chip drifts off to
sleep, he makes a silent
promise to be the best
support he can.

The next morning
Chip woke up with a
determined look on his
face. He had an idea to
help Plankton feel more
comfortable and understood.
He grabbed a piece of
paper and some crayons
from his desk and set to
work, his young mind
whirring with thoughts.

He drew a picture of
his dad with a cape
on, flapping his hands
as he soared over the
city, and labeled it 'Super
Sensory Dad'. He hoped 
for it to possibly help
his dad feel seen and
even understood. Chip
smiled as he wrote a
message next to the
picture: 'Neuro-awesomeness
is AUsome. From your
sidekick Chip, who loves
your special powers!' Chip
felt so excited; his dad will
love that!

Plankton stirred
slightly, his antennae
twitching as the dawn
light crept through
the blinds. He blinked open
his eye, sitting up as
Chip came into view,
holding the drawing in
his hand.

"What's this?" Plankton
asked, his voice still
raspy with sleep.

Chip handed him
the drawing, his heart
racing. "It's you," he
said, his voice filled
with excitement. "It's a
superhero. 'Super Sensory
Dad'. Because your
autism is a super power.
A special drawing, for my
special dad!" Chip beamed.

Plankton took the
picture, his antennae
twitching with surprise.
He studied it for a
moment, his eye
taking in the image
and caption.

new dare to be different meancore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 13

But instead of the joy
Chip had anticipated,
a flicker of discomfort
crossed Plankton's face.
Plankton's antennae
flattened as he looked
at the picture, his
expression unreadable.
"What's wrong, Dad?"
Chip asked, his
excitement fading as
he saw the tension in
his father's eye, for
Plankton's hand tightened
around the drawing, his
mouth a thin line.

"It's not a super power,"
Plankton said, his voice
sharp. "It's a disorder."
He threw the paper to the
ground. "It's not
something for you to
make a game out of."
Chip's eyes widened in
shock. "But, I thought...
you said it made you
special," he stuttered.

"Special?" Plankton's
voice grew louder, his
body tensing up. "I can't go
to the store without
flapping my hands. I can't
even look people in the
eye. That's not special,
Chip. I'm not your little
project." Chip's smile
disappeared, his eyes
filling with confusion. "I just
wanted to make you
feel better," he said, his
voice small.

"Well, it doesn't!" Plankton
snapped, his antennae
quivering. "It doesn't change
anything! You don't get to
just decide it's a super power
because you want it to be!"
Chip's eyes filled with tears as
he stared at his dad, who was
now sitting up in bed, his voice
rising with every word. "It's
not a game, Chip. It's my life!"
Karen awoke and sat up in bed,
concern etched on her face at
the commotion.

"Sheldon," she 
said, her voice 
calm, "what's 
going on?"

Plankton took a deep
breath, trying to 
regain his composure.
"He's making fun
of me," he said,
his voice quivering.

"I'm not making fun
of you, Dad," Chip said,
his eyes wide with fear.
"I just wanted to
make you hap–"

But Plankton's anger can't
be stopped. "I don't need
you to make it into
something it's not!"
he interrupted, his antennae
quivering with rage. "It's
not cute or heroic! It's
exhausting, confusing, and
often painful!"

Karen stood up. "What
happened?" She asks,
looking at them.

"I just made him a
drawing," Chip said, his
voice shaking. "To make
him feel better." He hands
it to her, and she looked at
it as understanding dawns
on her features.

"Plankton he didn't mean
to make fun," she said,
picking up the crumpled
paper. "He's trying to
understand and support you.
But I can see how it might
have upset you." Chip looks
confused. "But..."

"I know, honey," Karen cuts
in gently. "But let's remember,
your dad's had a hard time with
this his whole life. He's not used
to people trying to make
it seem... glamorous. It's just
his reality, not a costume
he can take off. Yet I know you
meant well." She turns to
Plankton, her voice firm but
kind. "Honey, I know you're
upset, but you have to understand
Chip's just trying to connect
and show his love in his
own way. He's still learning."

Plankton's antennae stop
quivering, and he sighs. "I
know, Karen," he says. "But it's
NOT a toy, it's NOT A GAME!"

Karen nods, setting
the drawing down on the
dresser. "I know, sweetie,"
she says softly. "But let's
talk to Chip abou–"

But Plankton's anger isn't
abating. "Why can't he ju—"

Karen cuts him off. "Let's not
do this, okay?" she says, her
tone firm but gentle. "Let's
not fight."

But Plankton can't let it
go. "It's not fair!" he says,
his body tense but shaky.
"I have to deal with this
every day, and now you
want me to pretend it's
never been anything but
positive?" He felt his ears
ringing and Karen knew
the look of overstimulation
well. But he's not quite
done with anger yet.

"Dad," Chip says, his voice
small. "I didn't mean to make
yo--" "I SAID ENOUGH!" Plankton
shouts, and Karen knew that a
seizure's edge was near. The
overwhelming emotion was
too much for him to handle,
his headache likely growing
by the second.

The room grew tense,
his antennae quivering with
frustration. He stood up,
his body shaking slightly,
his eye unfocused. "I DON'T
LIKE IT!" he yelled. Karen saw
the first signs of a seizure
starting to form as his breaths
quickened. "Plankton, you outta
sit down," Karen urged, knowing
what stress can do.

Sure enough, his
body jerked, and
he stumbled slightly.
Chip's eyes grew wide
in terror as he saw his
dad's knees give way.
Karen rushed over
to Plankton, knowing
his seizures like the 
back of her hand, 
lowering Plankton
gently to the floor.
Plankton's eye rolls
back into his head,
his limbs jerking
uncontrollably as he
was gripped by the
seizure.

Chip watched,
his heart racing.
This was the second
time he'd seen this, and
it was just as terrifying.
"It's okay, honey," she
whispered to Chip. "This
is what we talked about.
Remember? Stay calm,
don't touch him, and
it'll be over soon."
Chip nodded, his eyes
fixed on his father.

Karen quickly
moved any sharp
objects out of the way,
then she knelt beside
Plankton, her hand
steadying his head, her
voice calm and soothing.
"It's okay," she murmured.
"I'm here." Chip felt guilty
as his father's body
shook violently.

Chip felt his throat
tighten as he watched,
his heart racing. He knew
he had to be strong for
his dad. He took a deep
breath and whispered,
"I'm sorry," hoping the
words would penetrate
the chaos of Plankton's
mind. "It's all my fa-"

But he's cut off by his
mother's firm voice. "Chip,
now is not the time," Karen
says, her eyes never leaving
Plankton's convulsing
form. "This is NOT your
fault. Just stay calm and
keep talking to him. It'll
help him feel safe."

Chip nods, his voice
steadying as he watches
his dad's body contort.
He speaks softly, his words
meant to soothe. "Dad," he
whispers, "I love you. It's
okay, you're okay."

new dare to be different meancore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 15

Chip's eyes are
filled with worry
as he watches his
father's struggle.
"Dad," he says, his
voice soothing. "We're
here. It's okay." He
reaches for the ball,
yet Plankton's hand
flaps it away, his gaze
distant. He starts to
laugh again.

"Ma... ma... make me
happy," Plankton says,
his voice a mix of
confusion and joy.
Karen's eyes water as
she sees the innocence
in her husband's gaze,
his autism making
his thoughts a tangled
mess. "You're okay,"
she whispers, her voice
soothing, but she plays 
along, knowing it's part of
his post-seizure state.
"Yes, love," she says.

Plankton giggles, his
hands flapping slightly.
"Ma... me... make... happy,"
he repeats, his eye
locking onto the squishy
ball. It's a sight that
makes Chip's heart
ache, but he joins in,
his voice gentle. "We're
playing catch, remember?"
He rolls the ball back
to Plankton, who's hand
reaches for it again,
his movements more
purposeful now. His
fingers graze the toy,
his laughter subsiding.
"Ga... good?" he says,
his voice a soft echo.

Karen nods, her eyes
brimming with tears.
"Yes, baby," she says.
"You're doing so good."

Plankton's hand closes
around the ball, his
grip firming as he tries
to focus, his antennae
twitching slightly as he
starts fully coming back,
groaning as he leans on
to his hands. He gets
himself upright, a bit 
confused/disoriented.

Chip's heart races as
he sees his father's
condition improve. "Dad,"
he says, his voice
filled with hope.
"Do you want to sit down?"
Plankton looks at
his son, his eye blinking
slowly as he tries to
process the words.
"Sit... down?" he
repeats. Karen nods,
gesturing to the bed.
"What happened?"
he asks, his voice
weak but growing 
more clear.

Karen sighs, her
hands shaking slightly.
"You had a seizure,
honey," she says, her
voice gentle. "But it's
over now."

Plankton's eye widen
slightly as he looks
around the room,
his mind slowly piecing
together the events.
"Oh," he murmurs, his
hand moving to his head.
"The... drawing?"

Karen nods, her voice
soft. "You got upset.
You had a seizure."

Plankton looks down
at the folded paper,
his expression a mix of
embarrassment and anger.
"I didn't mean to scare
you," he says, his voice
barely above a whisper.
"I'm s-sorry."

Chip's eyes widen,
his heart racing. "Dad,
I just wanted to make
you feel better."

Plankton's gaze
meets Chip's, his
expression filled with
remorse. "I know," he says,
his voice a mere murmur.
"But sometimes, it's just...
too much." He sighs, his
body still trembling slightly.
"I didn't mean to..."

Karen wraps an arm
around Plankton, her
eyes filled with love
and understanding. "It's
okay," she whispers. "We
know." She turns to Chip,
her expression earnest.
"Your dad's brain works 
differently, Chip. It's not 
his fault. And, it's not 
your fault for trying to 
be nice. We all just
need to find better ways to
support each other."

Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton. "I'm
sorry, Dad," he says,
his voice thick with
emotion. "I didn't know
it'd be rude, I just made
it to show how much I care."
Plankton's gaze softens
slightly, his antennae
twitching as he processes
his son's words.

"I know you did, buddy,"
Plankton says, his speech
still slurred. "But autism
isn't a costume or a
game. It's how I am."
He takes a deep breath,
his hand finding Karen's.
"It's hard for me to
explain sometimes. It's
just... it's complicated."
Chip nods, his eyes
filling with tears. "But
you're still my hero,"
he says, his voice shaky.
"And I'll always love you
no matter wh-"

But Plankton cuts
him off, his voice firm.
"I understand," he says,
his antennae flattening.
"I l-love y-you too. Yet
I'm not... I'm not okay
with this right now."

Karen looks at Chip,
her gaze pleading.
"Honey, why don't you
sit down? Let your dad
have a moment."

Chip nods, his
eyes brimming with
tears. He sits on the
edge of the bed,
his heart racing as he
watches his father.
Plankton's eye is
now focused, but the
exhaustion is palpable.

"I just want to
make sure you're okay,"
Chip says, his voice
barely a whisper. "I
don't want you to be
up-"

But Plankton shakes
his head. Karen sighs.
"Chip, he's okay. He
just needs his own
moment. He's not up
to talking right now."
Chip nods, his eyes
still on his father.

Chip watches as his 
dad's face twists into 
an expression of 
sadness. "It's not
a game," he murmurs,
talking to himself as
Karen recognized it as
his stim.

"I know," Chip says
quickly. "But it's part
of who you are. And
that's am-" "Chip,"
Karen interrupts, her
tone firm but gentle.
"Come sit by me on
my bed," Karen says,
getting off Plankton's
bed. Chip does so,
sitting on the bed
placed adjacent.

"Chip," Karen begins
quietly, "Your dad's 
talking to himself in
a stim, and it's not
for us to interrupt.
He's in his own 
personal space, and
he dislikes that right
now. Remember, his
stims are only for him
and we shouldn't make
a fuss about it. It's his
way, and he personally
gets frustrated when we
needlessly interrupt."

Chip nods, his
throat tight with
unshed tears. "I
just don't want him
to be sad," he says,
his voice quivering.

Karen hugs him
close. "I know, baby,"
she whispers. "But
sometimes, it's okay
for people to be sad.
And sometimes, the
best thing we can do
is just let them be. We
can't fix everything. All
his emotions are valid."
Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton.
He whispers, "I'll
always be here for
you, Dad."

Plankton's antennae
twitch as he hears
his son's words, his
stimming pausing briefly.
He looks over, his eye
meeting Chip's. "Thank
you," he murmurs. "I...
I just n-need a moment."
Chip nods, his heart
swelling with love
and regret.

new dare to be different seizurecore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 16

Karen sits down
next to Chip, pulling
him into a hug. "It's
going to be ok," she
whispers. "And he's
proud of you for
trying to understand."

Plankton's stimming
continues, his hand
moving in repetitive
motions, his gaze
fixed on the wall. Karen
can feel the tension in
his body slowly dissipate.

He starts to murmur,
his words barely
audible. "Did... I do
something wrong?" 
He mumbles as he
pulls his knees up to
his chest, now rocking
back and forth. "Say
others don't want me
because I'm... dif-fer-ent."
The words are like a
knife to Chip's heart,
but he knows not to
interrupt.

Plankton's voice
cracks. "Why can't they
see that I'm more than...
I'm not a monster,"
he whispers, his voice
full of pain. Chip's eyes
brim with emotion.

Karen squeezes 
Chip's hand as
Plankton's mumbling
continues, his voice
filled with a
world of hurt. "I... I
just want to be,"
he says, his hands
flapping slightly as he
speaks. "But I... I can't."
His voice is a jumbled
mess of thoughts, but
his pain is clear.

Chip's heart breaks
hearing his dad's
self-doubt, his young
mind trying to grasp
the depth of Plankton's
lifelong struggle. He
wants to run to him,
to tell him he's not
different, he's just...
unique. But Karen's
grip holds him back.
"He needs this,"
she whispers. "To
let out his thoughts."

Plankton's voice
continues to murmur.
"I'm not... not... not,"
he repeats, his voice
getting softer with
each word. It's as
if he's trying to convince
his own brain that he's
worthy of love and
acceptance.

Chip watches, his
heart in his throat.
He's never seen his dad
this vulnerable, this
broken. It's a stark
contrast to the cunning,
determined man he
knows from their battles
against Mr. Krabs. He
wants to comfort him,
to tell him that he's
enough just as he is, but
knows he needs to give
his dad space, feeling
his own tears fall as he
listens to his dad's
whimpers, filled with
self-doubt and fear of
being misunderstood.

Plankton's body
trembles as he
continues to rock,
his antennae drooping.
He's curling into
himself, a protective
shell against the
world that's often too
loud, too bright, too much.
His voice is a soft
whisper, a plea to
his own mind. "I'm not
a burden," he says,
his words almost silent.

Chip carefully selects a
spinner from the nightstand,
his hands trembling slightly.
He approaches Plankton,
his heart racing. "Dad,"
he says softly, holding
out the toy. "Would you li—"

"No!" Plankton yells, 
his voice sharp. 
"Don't touch.."
Chip freezes.
Karen stands up,
turning to Chip.

"Chip," she says
gently, "remember,
his space is his when
he's like this."
Chip nods, his eyes
filling with tears as
he puts the spinner
right back on the
nightstand the way
as he found it.

"But he's hurting,"
Chip whispers,
his voice filled with
despair. "I don't want
him to—"

Karen nods,
her eyes reflecting
his pain. "I know,"
she says, her voice
soft. "But this is how
he deals with it. And
we have to respect
that. Remember, he's
trying to sort through
his feelings without
getting overwhelmed."

Chip sniffs, his
hands clutching the
bedspread. "But w---"

"Chip," Karen says
firmly. "Let him be.
We're here if he needs us,
but this is his process."
Chip nods, his eyes
still on Plankton.

Plankton's whispers
turn into a soft,
almost inaudible,
humming. "Hmmmmm.."

Chip's eyes are
fixed on his dad,
his heart breaking
as he watches him
from the bed.

Plankton's humming
increases slightly in
volume. Karen sighs.
"It's okay," she whispers.
"This is your dad's way
to calm down. To find
his center again."
Chip nods, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's
form. He's seen his
dad upset before, but
never like this. It's a
sight that makes him
feel so powerless. He
wipes away a stray tear.

The room is silent
except for Plankton's
hums. Karen watches her
husband with a mix of
love and sadness, her
hand still clutching Chip's.

Plankton's rocking
slows down, his hums
becoming softer until
they're barely a breath.
Karen can see the
exhaustion in his posture,
his shoulders drooping.
"It's okay," she whispers.

Plankton's eye finally
meets Karen's, and she
sees the fear in it, the
knowledge of his own
vulnerability. She nods,
her eyes filled with
understanding. "Come
here," she says, patting the
space beside her on
the bed. Plankton's antennae
twitch, and he looks
uncertain. But then,
slowly, he unfurls himself,
his legs swinging over
the side of the bed, his
bare feet touching the
floor as he goes over to
Karen's bed.

He sits down, his body
still tense. Karen opens
her arms, and Plankton
collapses into them, his
body curling into a ball
as he presses into her,
his antennae drooping.
"It's okay," she whispers,
stroking his back. "You're
safe." Chip watches, his
heart in his throat.
He's never seen his dad
this way before. So
vulnerable, so... clingy.
It's strange, but also
somehow comforting.
Plankton is usually
so independent, so
strong. But here, in
this moment, he's just a
scared, overwhelmed
person who needs comfort.

Plankton scoots closer.
"M-my head hurts," he
mumbles, his voice
still shaky. Karen nods,
her eyes filled with
sympathy. "I know, love.
It's part of the overwhelm.
Just let it pass."

Chip watches his
parents, feeling like
an outsider in this
intimate moment. He
wipes away a tear.

Plankton's grip
tightens around
Karen's. "I'm here," 
she whispers,
rocking him slightly.
"It's okay."

Chip's eyes are
fixed on his dad,
his heart breaking
for him. He's never
seen him so... needy.

new dare to be different stimcore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 17

Plankton's body relaxes
slightly, his breathing
evening out as Karen
continues to stroke his
back. Chip feels a
lump in his throat. He
wants to help, to ease
his dad's pain. "I never
meant to hurt you," he
whispers, his voice
hoarse with emotion.

Karen looks over, her
expression a mix of
love and sadness. "You
didn't, sweetie," she says.
"But sometimes, even
good intentions can
be overwhelming for your
dad. It's not your fault.
Just like it's not his."

Plankton's antenna
twitches, his gaze 
shifting to Chip.
He takes a deep 
breath as Karen's 
hands continue to 
stroke his back. His 
body relaxes a little
more, his grip on 
Karen loosening.
"Dad?" Chip whispers, 
his voice tentative.
Plankton eye opens.

"Can I...?" Chip 
gestures towards
his dad, his hand 
now outstretched.

Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly, his 
eye darting to Karen.
She nods, her smile
reassuring. "If you like,"
she whispers.

With tentative movements,
Chip's hand reaches for his
father's shoulder. Plankton 
flinches slightly. "Gentle."

Chip nods, his touch
featherlight as he rests
his hand on Plankton's 
shoulder. "It's okay,"
he murmurs. Plankton's
body relaxes a fraction
more under the warmth
of his son's hand, his eye
now closing.

Karen's eyes meet
Chip's, and she smiles
weakly, her gaze filled
with gratitude. "Thank
you," she mouths. Chip
nods, his hand still on
his dad. Plankton's 
humming has stopped,
his breathing steadying
as Karen holds him.

For the first time,
Chip feels a profound
sense of understanding
for his father. He's
seen his strength in
the face of Mr. Krabs'
competition, his genius
in his inventions, but
now he sees his softer
side, his vulnerability.
And it makes him love
his dad even more.

Plankton's breaths have
now turned into a soft
snore, his body relaxed
against Karen's. Chip
can see the exhaustion
in every line of his
father's face, a testament
to the battle he's just
faced. "He's asleep,"
Karen whispers, her voice
filled with love and
relief.

Chip nods, his hand
still on Plankton's shoulder.
"Should we...?"
Karen shakes her head.
"Let him rest," she
says, her voice a mere
whisper. "He's had
a long day."

Plankton's clinginess
was a stark contrast to
his usual demeanor.
Karen knew all too
well the emotional toll
his seizures took on
him. But it was the
first time Chip had
seen his dad so...
dependent on someone
else for comfort. It
was jarring, but it also
made him realize the
strength that Plankton
held within himself, the
courage to face, alone.

As Plankton sleeps,
his snores are rhythmic.
It's a sound that
Karen finds soothing,
a sign that he's at peace. 
His body seems to melt
into her side, his
muscles unclenched.

Chip watches him,
his mind racing with
thoughts. He's seen
his dad's fiery temper,
his ingenious inventions,
his unwavering drive,
but never this, raw and
exhausted. It's a stark
contrast that makes
his chest ache.

Plankton's snores
remain steady, his body
completely relaxed
against Karen's side.
Karen looks over at Chip,
her expression a mix
of love and sadness.
"He's been through a lot,"
she whispers. "But he's
stronger than anyone I
know." Chip nods, his
hand still resting lightly
on his father's shoulder.

Karen gently shifts 
Plankton, getting 
ready to tuck him
into his bed, his 
snores unchanged,
his mind resting.

Karen carefully 
slides her arm from
underneath Plankton's
head, her movements
practiced and gentle.
Chip watches, his eyes
never leaving his father's
face, as if afraid to miss
anything. Plankton's
snores hitch, but 
don't stop.

As Karen pulls the
covers over Plankton,
his snores don't miss
a beat. His body sags
against the pillow,
his antennae still.

Chip watches his dad
sleep, a sight that
both comforts and
saddens him. He's
seen Plankton's fiery
determination in
their battles against
Mr. Krabs, but now
his father seems so
small, so vulnerable.

Karen nods to Chip,
whispering, "Why don't
you go to your room?
I'll keep an eye on
him." Chip hesitates,
his hand still on Plankton's
shoulder. "But what if
he wakes up?"

Chip's concern is
palpable, but Karen's
smile is reassuring.
"I'll wake you if he
needs you," she promises.
"But he's in a good
place right now. He
just needs rest."
Chip nods, his
hand lingering on
Plankton's shoulder
for a moment longer.
He gently withdraws it,
his gaze still locked
on his father. "Okay,"
he whispers, his voice
barely audible.

Karen stands up,
her movements silent
as she crosses the
room. "You've had a
long day too," she
says softly, her hand
on Chip's shoulder. "Why
don't you get some
sleep as well? Your dad's
got an appointment
tomorrow with his
sensory therapist."

But Chip's eyes
widen. "What‽"

"It's okay," Karen
whispers, her hand
on Chip's shoulder.
"It's just to help him
and us understand
his senses better."

The next morning
Karen wakes Chip
up. "We're about to
go; I'll wake your dad."

Chip nods sleepily,
his eyes still adjusting
to the light. He
walks into the room
to find Plankton still
asleep, his body
still curled into a
tiny ball, his snores
steady and deep.

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 18

Karen moves quietly.
She gently shakes him.
"Plankton, wake up,"
she whispers. "The
therapist."

Plankton's antenna
twitches, his eye
slowly opening. "Oh,
right," he mumbles,
his voice groggy. "He
usually comes over
when Chip's at school
or someth-"

Plankton startled at
a knock on the front
door, the sensory
therapist arriving for
the session. Chip
follows his parents to
open the door.

The therapist, a calm
and kind octopus,
enters the room, her
arms filled with toys
and devices. She
smiles warmly at
Plankton. "Good
morning," she says.
"And who's this young
man I see?" She looks
at Chip. Chip smiles shyly.
"Our son Chip," Karen said,
introducing her son.
"He's here to learn too."
The therapist nods, her
eyes understanding. "It's
important for everyone to
understand, isn't it?" she
says, her voice gentle.
Karen turns to Chip. "So
Chip, this is Dr. Marla."

"Hello," Dr. Marla
says, coming in
to the living room.
"I've known your
father and worked
with him for ages.
Let's all sit on the
living room floor."

Chip nods, his heart
racing. This is the
first time he's met
someone who's known
his dad's secret. He
sits down next to
Plankton, who's now 
fully alert as they all
sit in a circle.

Dr. Marla opens
a bag filled with
various sensory
toys. "Plankton," she
says, her tone gentle,
"I assume your son
has learned about
your condition. How'd
that come about?"
Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly. "It was
an accident," he says,
his voice a mix of
embarrassment and
resignation. "But it led
to... to a good
discussion? It was
when he saw me having
one of my seizures.."

Chip looks down at
his hands, feeling
his cheeks grow warm
as he remembers that
moment. Karen's hand
finds his, giving it a
squeeze. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "You
can talk about it. Now
is the time to ask, Chip."

Dr. Marla nods. "And
how has that affected
your father and son 
relationship?" She asks.
Chip looks up, his eyes
meeting hers. "It's...
it's different," he says.
"But in a good way, I
think." He glances at
Plankton, who nods in
agreement. "I've learned
so much about his...
his autism. And I know
now that he's not just
being mean, sometimes."

Dr. Marla nods, her
expression gentle. "That's
important," she says. "It's
about understanding and
compassion. Now, I'd
like to ask if there have
been any mishaps with
said relationship?"

Plankton's antennae droop,
his eye flicking to Karen.
"Well," Karen says, "There
was the time Chip tried
to be supportive, yet he
accidentally used a slur.."

The therapist nods
sympathetically. "It's a
learning process,"
she says, her tone
reassuring. "Missteps
are common when
navigating new
understandings." She
glances at Chip, her
expression encouraging.
"But it's how you
apologize and move forward
that shows growth. May I
ask what slur wa-"

"It was just a... a
silly thing I said," Chip
interjects, his voice
small. "I didn't kno—"

"It's okay," Dr. Marla
interrupts, her eyes
kind. "We're here to
learn together. What
was the slur?"

Chip swallows hard.
"I... I called him a
ret-" he admits, his
voice barely above a
whisper. "I just saw 
him acting..."

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his gaze dropping
to the floor. Karen's
grip on his hand tightens
slightly, a silent
reassurance. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "You didn't
kn-"

But Plankton's anger
surges up, cutting her
off. "No, it's not okay!"
he snaps, his voice
sharp. "I can't believe you
said it, again!" His eye
narrows, and he pulls
his hand away from
Karen's grasp.

Chip shrinks back, his
heart racing. He's never
seen his dad so upset
with him. "Dad, I'm
sorry," he stammers. "I
really di-"

But Plankton isn't
listening, his antennae
thrashing. "How could
you?!" he yells. "After
everything we talked
about!" His voice is
loud, echoing in the
small room, and Chip
flinches. Karen's eyes dart
between her husband and
son, her heart breaking
for both of them. She
knows Plankton's anger
is a defense mechanism,
a way to cope with
his pain. But she also
knows the pain Chip is
feeling, the guilt and
fear of losing his dad's
trust. "Plankton," she
says, her voice calm,
"Let's talk about this
with Dr. Marla; she's he--"

"No!" Plankton shouts,
his eye wide with rage.
He stands up, his fists
clenched as he grabs a
pillow, throwing it
across the room.

Karen flinches as
the pillow hits the
wall, but her voice
stays calm. "Plankton,
sweetie, let's breathe."
But Plankton's in
his own world, his
autism exacerbating
his reaction to the
painful word. He's
spinning, his antennae
thrashing as he searches
for something, anything
to release his anger.

"Dad," Chip whispers,
his voice trembling.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

But Plankton's in
the throes of his
tantrum, his body
moving erratically.
He grabs a book from
the shelf, tossing it
across the room.
Karen jumps up,
intervening before
anything else can fly.
"Plankton," she says
firmly, her voice a
steady force in the
storm of his anger.
"Look at me. Look at
me," she repeats, her
hands up, palms out.
"Just br-"

But Plankton isn't
calming down, his
eye wild, kicking a
chair over. Dr. Marla
approaches them.

"It's okay, Plankton,"
she says calmly. "Your
feelings are valid. But
right now, let's find a
better way to express
them." She holds out
a fidget toy, her voice
steady. "Remember,
this can he-"

But Plankton's anger
has taken over. He
swipes at the toy,
sending it flying. He
then moves to a shelf,
his hand grabbing a
picture frame. It hits
the floor. "No!" Karen
yells, but it's too late.

Dr. Marla approaches
Karen and Chip. "See,
this is the anger," she
says, her voice calm
and understanding. "It's
common with autism.
He's feeling overwhelmed
and doesn't know
how to express it.
This is Plankton's autism
flaring up, and this is
Plankton's way of
dealing with it. This is
Plankton's way of saying,
'I'm in pain, and I need
help.' Plankton is angry,
yes, but he's also scared." 

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 19

Dr. Marla gestures
to the corner of the
room, where there's a
calming space set up
specifically for times
like these. "Let's go over
there," she suggests,
her voice calm and
soothing. But Plankton's
rage is like a tornado,
spinning him in circles.

Karen tries to guide
him gently, but he
shrugs her off, his
body tight with tension.
Chip's eyes are wide
with fear, watching his
dad's outburst. He's seen
his father's temper
before, but not like
this, not with such
unbridled fury.

Plankton's movements
are jerky, his face
distorted with anger
and pain. His breaths
are quick, his eye
unfocused. Karen
moves closer, her voice
still calm. "Let's go
to this calming corner,
sweetie," she says. But
Plankton's rage doesn't
abate. He throws
another pillow, knocking
over a lamp. The room
is a mess, a reflection
of the turmoil within
him.

"Dad, please," Chip
whispers, his voice
shaking. He's never
seen his dad like this,
his usually stoic
facade crumbling into
a chaos of emotions.

Plankton's body jerks,
his limbs flailing as
his anger escalates.
He knocks over a table,
his eye unseeing as
his senses overload.

Karen moves quickly,
trying to guide him
to the calming corner,
but he resists.
"Dad, please," Chip
pleads, his voice trembling.
But Plankton's anger is
uncontrollable, knocking
over furniture, his eye
filled with a mix of
fury and fear.

The therapist's calm
demeanor remains. She
knows this is part of
his condition, and she
doesn't flinch as a
book flies past her.
"Plankton," Karen says,
her voice firm but
gentle, "we need to—"

But Plankton isn't
listening, his rage
consuming him. He
grabs another pillow,
squeezing it tightly. His
eye darts around the
room, searching for an
outlet for his anger.
"Daddy, no!" Chip
whispers, his voice
shaking. His heart is
racing as he watches
his father, his hero,
fall apart.

Chip tries to
intervene, but
Plankton swats 
his hand away, 
his movements
wild. "Dad," Chip 
says, his voice 
louder, more
urgent. "Please, 
let's talk!" But 
Plankton can't 
hear him, his 
mind lost in
his emotions. 
He throws the 
pillow, watching
it soar through
the air before it
slams into the wall,
the feathers 
exploding out.

The room is a
whirlwind of 
movement and 
noise, and Chip 
can't help but 
flinch with every 
crash and smash. 
Karen's eyes are
wide, her face
pale. She's seen 
this before, but
it never gets
any easier.

Plankton's breaths
are coming in
quick gasps, his
body trembling
with the effort
of containing his
emotions. He throws
his head back, letting
out a scream that 
echoes through
the room, his antennae
whipping around. 
Karen's heart is in
her throat, but she 
knows she has to 
stay calm.

"Plankton," she says,
her voice steady.
"Come to the
corner, please." She
holds out a hand, 
but Plankton's too
far gone to see it. 
He throws another
book, his screams
filling the room.

Karen's heart is
racing, but she
keeps calm.
"We're here for
you," she repeats.
Yet Plankton's rage
continues to build,
his movements 
more erratic.

The therapist 
watches, ready to
step in if needed.
"It's okay," she says
soothingly. "Let's all
stay calm and sa-"

But Plankton's meltdown
reaches a crescendo.
He stumbles. Chip's eyes
widen in horror as
his father's body jerks
uncontrollably. So
Chip gets the box of
all the sensory items
and brings it out. But
that ends up being a
huge mistake.

Plankton's flailing ends
up kicking, sending every
thing flying, everything 
slamming into the wall,
the plaster cracking. The
destroyed sensory box
and unfixable items are
what breaks the straw on
the camel's back. His eye
rolls back in his head,
his body going slack.

Karen gasps, her hand
flying to her mouth.
"Plankton!" she cries out,
catching him as he falls.
Chip jumps forward, his
fear turning to dread.
But the sensory therapist
has seen it all before. "Let
him down gently, his body
and his brain have just
decided to take a break."

"But he's not moving,"
Chip cries, as Karen
lowers Plankton. Dr.
Marla opens her bag.

"It's okay," she says
calmly, her voice steady.
"This is called a shut-
down. His body has
simply had enough. But
I've got some new stuff
for him. I'll show you as
I set it up." 

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 20

Dr. Marla opens her
bag, pulling out an
extending rod black
out curtain. "It kinda
looks like a shower
curtain, but these
curtains muffle sound
and block light."

Karen nods, her eyes
on Plankton's still
form. "We've tried
things before, but
this is new." Dr.
Marla nods. "We're
always learning,
aren't we?" She unfurls
the curtain around
Plankton, creating a
small, cozy space. "This
will help him feel
safe and reduce his
sensory input. It's
good for absence
seizures too."

Plankton's breathing
slows as he sinks
into the curtained
cocoon. Dr. Marla
continues. "It's like
you power off a tablet
to restart, and it will
gradually come back
on, right? That's what
Plankton's doing. And
as he 'reloads' he might
act like a newborn seeing
the world for the first time
as he wakes up. Meaning
he might not recognize
anything, speak incoherently,
etc. Plankton might take a
little while to fully come
back. Like a file downloads
it loads info little by little
until it's finished, only
then can you view it; so as
with Plankton's consciousness."

Karen nods, her eyes
never leaving her husband.
Her heart aches for him,
but she knows that he's safe,
his body cocooned in the
sensory curtain. Chip, still
shaking, watches his dad,
his eyes wide as Plankton's
eye blinks open. His gaze is
as if he's trying to
relearn his body. "K-kay?"

Karen smiles softly, her
voice gentle. "It's okay,
sweetie," she says, her
hand reaching for the
curtain. "Your dad's just
restarting, remember?"

Chip nods, his eyes
glued to Plankton's
form as he sits up,
his eyes blinking
slowly. "Hi," Chip
whispers, his voice
barely above a breath.

Plankton's eye
focuses on him, and
his mouth moves, but
only one word comes
out: "Hi." It's a
tiny victory, but
Chip feels a surge
of relief. He knows
his dad is okay, or
at least on his way
back to okay.
Dr. Marla nods.
"It's normal for
someone coming
out of a shut-
down to speak in
single words or not
at all for a while."

Karen strokes
Plankton's antenna.
"How do you feel?"
she asks softly.
Plankton's gaze is
vacant, his voice
weak. "Sedm."
Chip looks at him
confused, his heart
racing. "Dad?"
The therapist nods.
"It's normal," she says.
"After a shut-down,
his words may come
slowly. Give him
space, let him come
back to us."

Plankton blinks,
his eye unfocused.
"Mm." It's all he says,
his mouth moving
slightly, as if tasting
the air for words.
Karen nods encouragingly.
"Good job," she murmurs.
"You're doing great."
Chip feels like he's
watching a newborn
learn to speak again.

The therapist sits
beside Plankton, her
voice calm. "Would you
like a new fidget toy?"
"Buth," he mumbles, his
eye still glazed. His
brain isn't comprehending.

Karen nods, her hand
gently taking the toy.
"It's okay," she says, her
tone soothing. "You
just need to relax."
Plankton takes the
fidget toy, his hand
shaking. He clutches it,
his gaze unseeing.

Chip sits cross-
legged, his heart
pounding. He watches
his dad, his mind
racing. Why is he
like this? He's so
smart, so capable, but
right now, he seems
so... lost. "Thuh..."
Plankton whispers.

Karen nods, her
voice soft. "Take your
time," she says. "We're
not going anywhere."
Chip nods, his throat
tight. "I'm here," he
says, his voice barely
a murmur.

Plankton's hand
shakes, his grip
on the fidget toy
loosening. His eye
blinks rapidly, his mind
trying to come back
online. "Ba-back?"
he whispers, his voice
tiny.

The therapist, Dr. Marla,
sits back, her eyes
assessing. "It's normal,"
she repeats. "Your brain
needs a moment to
recalibrate." Plankton's
breathing slows, his
body uncurling from
its defensive ball. He
takes the fidget toy,
his hand trembling.

Karen's heart aches as
she watches her husband
struggle to find words.
Chip's eyes are wide
with concern, but he
doesn't interrupt, giving
his dad space. "Th-the...
hash?" Plankton says, his
voice barely a whisper.

The therapist nods.
"Good," she says. "Keep
going." Plankton's hand
shakes, the fidget toy
clutched tightly. "Doge."
Karen smiles gently. "Yes,
you're getting there," she
says. Chip watches, his
heart in his throat.

"Toy?" Plankton says,
his voice a little
stronger. Dr. Marla
smiles. "Yes, the toy
is helping," she says.
"Keep playing with it."
Plankton nods, his hand
moving slightly as he
flips the fidget toy in
his hand. "Yea," he whispers.

Chip watches his dad,
his own hands still. He's
seen Plankton in tough
situations before, but
never like this. It's like
his mind is a computer
that's been hit by a
virus, trying to reboot
with only basic
functions. "Dad," he
says, his voice filled with
longing. "Can you tell me
what yo-"

But Plankton's gaze
remains unfocused, his
mouth moving slightly.

"Chip," Karen says,
interrupting gently. "Give
him a minute, okay?"
Chip nods, his eyes
still on his father. He
doesn't want to leave, but
he understands. He sits
back, his heart racing as
he watches Plankton's
slow progress.

Plankton's hand
moves, the fidget toy
spinning in his grip.
"Good," he murmurs, his
voice a little stronger.
"Home." The word is a
relief, a sign that he's
coming back to them. Karen
smiles, her eyes filled
with love and concern.
"Would you like to sit up?"
she asks, her voice soft.
Plankton nods, his body
moving in slow motion
as he sits. The curtain is
still up, creating a
small, safe space for him.

Chip watches, scared,
but he's also in awe of his
dad's strength. Plankton,
his hero, who's faced so
much and is still here.
"D-dad," he says, his voice
shaking. "You okay?"
Plankton's eye flicks
to Chip, his mouth
opening slightly. "Yeahhh."
It's a simple word, but
it feels like a lifeline.
"Need?" he whispers,
his voice strained.

Karen nods, her hand
still on his back. "We're
here," she says, her eyes
never leaving him. "We're
always here for you."
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye focusing a little
more. "Th-thank," he
stammers. Chip feels his
heart swell with love.
He's still in there,
his mind just needs 
to recalibrate.

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 21

The room is quiet,
except for the soft
whir of the fidget toy.
Plankton's breathing
evened out, his eye
focusing on the spinning
discs. "More?" he asks,
his voice a whisper.
Karen nods, her heart
swelling with pride.
"You're doing so well,"
she says, her voice
gentle. "We're here for
you." Chip's eyes are
wet, but he nods in
agreement. He wants
to hug his dad, but
he knows Plankton needs
his space right now.

Plankton's hand shakes
as he holds the fidget
toy, his gaze fixed
on it. "Ma-more?" he
asks again, his voice
still a whisper. Dr.
Marla nods, reaching
for a weighted blanket.
"Let's try this," she
suggests, her tone calm.
Karen helps drape it
over him, the heavy
material grounding him.
"Ma-make it," he says,
his voice slightly
stronger. Chip's heart
leaps at the sound. "Make
what?" he asks, his voice
eager.

But Plankton can't
quite articulate. He
just shakes his head,
his eye squeezed shut.
"M-make," he repeats,
his frustration clear.
Karen nods, her hand
on his shoulder. "We
know you can," she says.
"Ma-make it st-sto-"
He stammers, his
body trembling with
the effort of speech.
"Ma-make it stop," he
whispers, his voice
breaking. His gaze
meets Chip's, desperation
in his eye.

Chip looks up at the
therapist, his eyes
pleading for guidance.
"What do we do?"
Dr. Marla nods, her
expression calm. "Just
keep talking to him," she
instructs. "Use simple
words, and let him
know you're here."

So Chip does, his voice
softer than ever. "Dad,
we're with you." 
Karen's eyes are wet, but
she smiles encouragingly.
"You're doing so good,"
she says, her voice
barely above a murmur.

Plankton's hand clutches
the blanket, his breath
coming in quick gasps.
"Ma-make," he says again,
his voice strained.
"Ma-make it sto-"

Karen nods, her voice
soothing. "You're
doing so well, sweetie,"
she says. "Keep going."
Chip watches, his eyes
filled with hope.
"Ma-make it qui-et,"
Plankton whispers, his
body still trembling.

The therapist nods,
understanding. "Let's
turn down the lights,"
she suggests, her voice
calm. Karen nods and
moves to the switch, the
room plunging into a
soft glow. "Ma-more?"
Plankton whispers.
"Ma-make it qui-et,"
he repeats, his hand
flapping slightly. Karen's
heart aches, but she
nods. "We're here," she
says, her voice steady.

Chip looks around, his
thoughts racing. "How-
how do we do that?"
he asks, his voice
shaking. Dr. Marla
smiles gently. "Just talk
to him," she says. "Keep
your words simple, and
use a sensory toy to help."

So Chip picks up
a small, squishy ball,
its surface covered
in bumps. "Dad," he
says, his voice soft.
"Look." Plankton's eye
sluggishly turns to the
toy. "Ball," Chip says,
his voice clear. Plankton's
gaze flicks to the
therapist, then back to
Chip, his mouth
moving slightly. "Bah,"
he tries, his voice
barely a whisper. It's a
start, a tentative step
forward in understanding.

The therapist nods.
"Good," she says. "Keep
trying." Plankton's hand
reaches out, his grip
weak. Chip places the
ball in his palm, and
his dad's eye light up
slightly. "Bowl," he says,
his voice a little
stronger. It's a simple
word, but it feels like a
breakthrough.

Chip nods, a smile
spreading across his
face. "Ball," he repeats,
his voice encouraging.
"Ball," Plankton says,
his tongue wrapping
around the word
slightly. "Ball." It's a
small victory, but it's
enough to make Chip's
heart soar. He picks up
another toy, a plush
octopus. "Dad, look,"
he says, his voice
trembling. "Octo."
Plankton's gaze
shifts, his antennae
twitching slightly. "Ah-
pple," he says, his voice
confused. "No," Chip says
gently, taking the octopus.
"This is octo. Octo." He
shakes it slightly, the
legs flailing. "See?"

Plankton's eye widens
slightly, his mouth
forming an "o." "Ah-
tto," he whispers. It's not
perfect, but it's a start.
Karen's hand squeezes
his shoulder. "Good
job, Plankton," she says,
her voice filled with
relief. The therapist
smiles, her eyes
observing them both. "Keep
going," she says. "This
is great progress."

Chip holds up the
octopus closer to
him. "But-but," 
Plankton murmurs.
Karen smiles. "You 
can do it." Plankton's
hands are still, his gaze
locked on the octopus.
"Octo," Chip says again.

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly, his mouth
moving. "Ah-tto," he 
tries again, his voice
slightly louder. Chip's
heart skips a beat. 
"No," he says gently.
"Octo." He waves the
toy in front of him.
"Octo." Plankton's antennae
twitch, his mouth
forming the word.
"Octo," he repeats, his
voice stronger. Chip
can't help the grin that
spreads across his face.

"Good," Dr. Marla says,
nodding. "Keep working
together." Karen's hand
squeezes Chip's shoulder,
pride in her eyes. Plankton
holds the octopus, his hand
still shaking. "Ma-make
it sp-spin?" he asks, his
voice hopeful. Chip nods,
his hand steady. He
spins one of the octopus's
arms. "Spin," he says.

Plankton's eye follows the
spinning arm, his gaze
focused. "Spin," he whispers,
his tongue working the
word. "Spin." His voice
grows stronger, the word
becoming more than just a
sound. "Spin," he says,
his hand tentatively reaching
for an arm. "Mo-
re," he whispers, his
hand reaching out. Karen
smiles encouragingly. "Good
job," she says. "Keep
talking to us."

Chip nods, his heart
racing. He holds up
another toy, a shiny
spinner. "Dad," he says,
his voice hopeful. "See
this?" Plankton's antennae
twitch. "Spin?" he asks,
his voice a question.
"Yes," Chip says, his
voice steady. "Spin." He
flips the spinner, watching
the colors blur.

Plankton's eye follows
the movement, his mouth
opening slightly. "Clis,"
he whispers, his voice
barely audible. Karen
smiles, her eyes shining.
"Keep going," she says.
"You're doing so well."

Chip nods, his hand
steadier. "Dad, watch,"
he says, his voice filled
with hope. He picks
up a small, plush star,
its material soft and
comforting. "Look," he
says, his voice clear.
"This is star." Plankton's
eye flicks to the toy,
his hand reaching out. "Sta,"
he tries, his tongue
sluggish. Chip nods, his
heart racing. "Yes," he
whispers. "Star."

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 22

Karen watches, her eyes
glistening. "Keep
going," she says, her
voice filled with
admiration. Plankton
fumbles with the star,
his hand shaking. "Sta,"
he whispers again, his
voice stronger. "Sta."
The therapist smiles.
"This is excellent," she
says. "Keep up the good
work." Chip's eyes are
on his dad, his mind
racing with ideas for
more words.

"D-dad," Chip says,
his voice gentle. "Look
at me." Plankton's
gaze shifts to Chip,
his eye unfocused.
"Look at me." Plankton's
eye narrows slightly,
his antennae twitching.
Karen's hand strokes
his shoulder. "Come
back to us," she says.
"Ma-make it... Ma-make
it... qui-et?" he whispers.

The therapist nods.
"Good job," she says,
smiling. "Keep focusing
on the toy." Chip
holds the star closer.
"This is... star," he says,
his voice calm. Plankton's
eye follows the toy,
his hand reaching out.
"Sta," he murmurs. "Yes,"
Karen says, her voice
soothing. "It's a star."
Plankton's hand
closes around the
star, his grip firm. "Sta,"
he repeats, his voice
growing stronger.

Chip feels his heart
swell with hope. He
picks up a small, plush
dolphin. "Dad," he says,
his voice clear. "Look."
Plankton's gaze shifts,
his hand still shaking.
"Dolf," he says, his voice
slurred. Chip nods. "Yes,
it's a dolphin. Can you say
dolphin?" Plankton tries, his
mouth moving slightly.
"Dolf," he whispers. Chip's
face lights up. "Yes,"
he says, his voice filled
with excitement. "Dolf."

The therapist smiles,
seeing the progress.
"Keep it up," she says.
"You're both doing
wonderfully." Plankton's
hand clutches the dolphin,
his gaze unfocused.
Karen's heart aches, but
she knows this is a step
forward. "You're doing
so good," she says.

Chip nods, his eyes
on his dad. "More?"
he asks. Plankton's eye
flicks to him, his mouth
opening slightly. "Ma-make?"
he whispers. Karen's
hand squeezes his shoulder.
"What else would
you like?" Plankton's hand
shakes, the dolphin
dropping to the floor.
"Ma-make it... K-Karen.
Neeeed Karen!"

Karen's eyes fill
with tears, but she
smiles, her voice gentle.
"I'm right here," she
says, moving closer.
"Yo--"

Plankton's body jerks
slightly, his gaze
shifting to her. "Ka,"
he whispers, his voice
a plea as tears stream
down his face. Karen's
heart breaks, but she
smiles. "I'm here," she says,
her voice a lifeline.
"Karen," he repeats,
his hand reaching out
but not recognizing her.

Karen takes his hand,
her eyes never leaving
his. "You're okay,"
she whispers, her voice
soothing. "I'm right
here." Plankton's eye
lock onto hers, his tears
falling harder. "Karen,"
he says again, his voice
a desperate whimper.

Chip watches, his heart
wrenched. He's never
seen his dad like this,
so vulnerable and lost.
He picks up the dolphin,
his hand trembling. "Dad,"
he says, his voice gentle.
"This is do-"

But Plankton's cry
interrupts him, his
body trembling. "Karen!"
he sobs, his hand reaching
for her. Karen takes
his hand, her eyes
filled with love. "You're
right here," she whispers.
"I'm right here with yo-"

But Plankton's cries
grow louder, his grip
on her hand tightening.
"Karen! Need Karen!" His
eye is wild, his body
shaking uncontrollably.
Karen's heart aches as
she tries to calm him,
her voice steady. "You
have me," she says. "I'm
right here." But he's lost
in his own world, his
fear overwhelming his
senses.

"Karen," he sobs, his
voice breaking. Chip's
heart is in his throat, his
hands clutching the
dolphin toy tightly. He's
never seen his dad so
desperate, so lost. The
therapist, Dr. Marla,
watches them, her eyes
knowledgeable. "It's
okay," she says, her
voice calm. "This is part
of the process." But Chip
can't help feeling
helpless, his mind racing
to find a way to reach
his dad.

Karen's eyes never
leave Plankton's as she
speaks to him gently. "You
have me," she repeats,
her voice a lullaby. "I'm
right here." Plankton's
grip on her hand is
crushing, his sobs
becoming more
desperate. "Karen! Ka-
ren!" he cries, his body
wracked with tremors.
Karen's eyes fill with
determination. "I know
you're scared," she whispers.
"But I'm here. You're sa-"

Her words are cut
off by another sob from
Plankton. Chip feels his
heart tear in two, watching
his father's agony. "Dad,"
he says, his voice shaking.
"We're here." But Plankton's
gaze remains unfocused,
his mind lost in a
whirlwind of overstimulation.

Karen's eyes are wet,
but she keeps talking,
keeping her voice steady.
"You're okay," she says,
her hand stroking his
back. "You're safe." Plankton's
body convulses, his cries
escalating. "Karen!" he
wails, his voice raw.
"Need Karen!"

The therapist nods
at Karen, her gaze
compassionate. "Keep
going," she whispers. "This
is a breakthrough."
Karen's voice is a beacon
in the storm. "You have
me," she repeats. "You
have us."

Plankton's cries
turn into sobs, his
body convulsing with the
force of his emotions.
Karen's hand remains
steady on his back, her
heart breaking for him.
"You're okay," she
soothes, her voice a gentle
wave of comfort. "We're
right he--"

But Plankton's panic
doesn't abate. "Karen!"
he cries out, his voice
shattered. "Need Karen!"
Chip feels his own tears
burn his cheeks as he
watches his father's pain.
"Dad," he whispers, his
voice trembling. "You're
not alone." But Plankton's
eye is wild, his mind a
tempest of fear and
overwhelming stimuli.

Karen leans in, her
face close to his. "Look
at me," she says, her
voice firm but gentle.
"You're safe with me."
Plankton's gaze shifts,
his sobs quivering his
body. "Safe? If with Karen
safe.."

Karen's hand moves to
his cheek, her thumb
wiping away a tear.
"Look at me," she says
again, her voice a soft
command. "You're okay."

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 23

Plankton's sobs echo
through the room, his
body shaking with the
force of his emotions.
"Karen," he whispers,
his voice hoarse.

Karen's eyes are wet,
but she holds his gaze,
her voice a lifeline.
"I'm here," she says, her
hand steady on his cheek.
"You're safe." Plankton's
breath hitches, his eye
flickering with recognition.
"Safe," he repeats, his
voice a mere breath.

The therapist nods
encouragingly, her eyes
on the two of them. "Keep
going," she murmurs. "You're
getting through to him."

Karen's eyes never
leave Plankton's. "You're
safe," she repeats, her
tone soothing. "You're with
me, and Chip." Plankton's
sobs slow, his body
still trembling. "Wi-with
me," he whispers, his
hand tightening on hers.

The therapist nods,
smiling slightly. "Good,"
she says. "Keep it simple."
Karen nods, her voice
steady. "You're okay,
Plankton," she says. "We're
right here." Plankton's
breathing hitches, his
body slowly calming, when
Krabs barges in.

Krabs hadn't seen his
rival Plankton much so
he thought perhaps
Plankton's up to some
thing big. "Alright, funny
business; where are ye-"

But then he sees the
scene before him as
Plankton once again slips
into a shut-down, his
body going limp in Karen's
arms. Chip's eyes widen
with fear, the room
spinning. "Dad!" he cries.
"It's okay," Dr. Marla says.

Krabs freezes, his eyes
taking in Plankton's
state. "What in Neptune's
name is goin' on here?"
his voice gruff, but
concerned as he never
knew of Plankton's
neurodisability.

Karen's gaze
meets his, her 
voice steady. "It's a
sensory overload,"
she explains. "When
his mother was to
give birth, somehow his
head got stuck. It was
nobody's fault, just
a tough delivery. But it
caused his brain
structure to develop
differently. When he
got stuck, the lack
of oxygen and blood
flow, along with
pressure, affected the
way his neurons
connect. And some
parts of his brain just
couldn't handle the
stress, dwindling and
pretty much depleted
the resources that
were allocated for his
senses and social skills."

Krabs' eyes
widen, his usual
grumble replaced with
a rare moment of
sympathy. "So that's
why he's always been...
Neptune." he says.

Karen nods, her
expression calm but
sorrowful. "It leads
to moments like what
you're seeing right now,"
Dr. Marla explains.

Krabs looks at Plankton,
his eyes filled with a
mixture of shock and
remorse. "But he
always seemed so...
I'll leave ye alone." He 
leaves with a heavy heart.

Chip wipes at his own
tears, feeling a weight
lifting. "Dad," he says,
his voice shaking.
"You're okay." Plankton's
breathing slows, his grip
on Karen's hand loosening
as he rubs his eye, finally
coming back to them.

Plankton looks around,
his gaze confused. "Huh?"
he murmurs. Karen nods,
smiling through her
tears. "You're okay," she
says again. "You had a
big moment, but you're
safe now." Plankton's eye
finds Chip, and his
expression relaxes slightly.
"Where," he says, his voice
still weak.

Karen's voice is soft.
"You're at home," she
explains. "Dr. Marla is
gonna get going, but
you gotta new box
of sensory items!" She
says, deliberately leaving
Mr. Krabs’s discovery out.
They all knew he won't 
take it lightly.

Dr. Marla leaves, 
and Chip smiles,
his eyes shining. 
"You're all better," 
he says, his voice 
filled with relief.

Meanwhile, Krabs
went to his own
home feeling quite
conflicted with new
found knowledge
of Plankton's autism.

He'd always seen
his rival as a mere
annoyance, a pebble in
his otherwise smooth
existence. But now,
he couldn't shake the
image of Plankton's
desperate sobs and
his own lack of
understanding.

Krabs sat in his
dimly lit bedroom,
thoughts racing as he
stared at the wall.
He'd never known
Plankton's struggles
went so deep, that
his brain was wired
differently. It made
sense now, the way
his rival would react
to things dramatically. 
The way he'd just
bluntly speak his mind.
He'd just thought Plankton
was weird, but now,
he knew better.

The next day, Krabby
Patty's sales were
booming, but Krabs'
mind was elsewhere.
He thought of what
Karen told him about
Plankton's birth and his
autism. It was a lot to
take in, but he couldn't
decide how to interact
whenever Plankton next
comes around. He knew
Plankton has no idea that
he found out.

As he counted his
money, his heart felt
heavier than the
gold coins. He'd always
seen Plankton as a
nuisance, a constant
thorn in his side. But
now, he saw a different
side to him. A side that
was struggling, a side
that was just trying to
navigate a world that
wasn't made for him.

Krabs sighs, his
thoughts deep. He 
knew he couldn't 
bring himself to
mock Plankton 
anymore, yet he
knew Plankton might
be suspicious if he
suddenly acts any
different than their
usual competitiveness.
He decided to keep
his newfound
understanding to
himself, for now, but
his interactions
could be more
considerate.

Moments later
Plankton, obviously
oblivious to the
shift in Krabs'
demeanor, attempts
to steal the Krabby
Patty secret formula.

Krabs, still deep in
thought, catches him
mid-sneak by the
cash register as the
cashier, Squidward,
read some magazine.

Plankton's antennae
perk up as he's caught.
"Mr. Krabs," he stammers,
his eye darting around.
"Just... just popping
in for a... uh...chat?" 
Plankton lied, his usual
bravado apparent.

Mr. Krabs looks at
his rival, his expression
unreadable. "Oh, I see,"
he says, his voice calm.
Plankton didn't notice
the subtlety of Krabs’s
tone being a bit nicer.

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 26

The room is silent
except for the sound of
his quiet sobs, his body
shaking with the force
of his emotion. The pillow
is damp from his tears.
He clutches it tightly to his
chest. His antennae
hang limply, no longer
twitching with his usual
energy. "It's not your fault,"
he whispers again, his voice
shaking. "It's not your
fault. Why did it take this
for him to see me?" He
wipes his eye with the
back of his hand, sniffling.
"But he did see me," he says,
his voice a little stronger.
"He saw me and didn't
laugh."

He lies down, his body
exhausted from the day's
emotional rollercoaster. The
weight of his thoughts
presses down on him like
a heavy blanket, making
his eyelid feel heavy.
He takes deep breaths, his
body slowly calming down.
"It's not your fault," he whispers,
his voice barely audible.
"You're not."

The darkness of the
room envelops him, the
silence a stark contrast
to the cacophony of his
thoughts. His hand reaches
for a favorite plushie,
the small, squishy octopus
that Chip had picked out
for him. He squeezes it tightly,
his body curling around it.
The softness and familiarity
of it grounds him, bringing
a small measure of comfort.
"It's not your fault,"
he murmurs, his voice
like a lullaby to himself.

Plankton's sobs
have slowed, his breaths
now hitching in his chest.
His antennae lie flat, his
body still. The words
repeat in his head, a
comforting mantra. "It's not
your fault." He whispers it
again and again, his voice
soft and soothing.

He closes his eye,
his grip on the plushie
loosening slightly. His
thoughts are a jumble,
but he tries to sort
them out, one by one.
Krabs had seen his
weakness, his fear, and
instead of mocking him,
he'd been... kind.

Plankton's mind reels
with the implications.
Was it pity?
Or could it be...
respect? He doesn't
know. All he knows
is that it feels...
different.

The darkness wraps
around him like a cocoon,
his plushie a silent
witness to his pain.
His thoughts swirl.
What does it mean?
Does Krabs really see
him now? Or is this
just a fluke?

Yet his breathing 
evens out, his body 
relaxing into the 
embrace of the bed.
as sleep claims him.

The room is
still, his plushie
a silent sentinel
keeping watch over
his slumber. His
stims cease, his
hands uncurling from
their tight fists. His
eyelid flutters closed,
his antennae drooping.

Plankton's breathing
deepens, his body
surrendering to sleep.

Karen, outside the door,
leans closer, finally heard 
the gentle snores that 
signal he's asleep. She
wipes a tear from her 
eye and slowly opens the 
door, peeking in to check 
on her husband.

Plankton's body is
still, his antennae no 
longer quivering with
stress. He's curled into 
a tiny ball, his plushie 
pressed against his 
chest.

Karen watches from the
doorway, her heart
heavy with the weight
of emotions. She 
wants to rush in, to 
pull him into a tight
embrace, to whisper that
everything will be okay.
But she knows better.
He needs this space, this
silence, to process today.

The next morning, Karen
awakes to find Plankton
sitting by her on her bed,
holding hands.

"I'm sorry," he says.
"For what?" she asks.
"For pushing you away."
Karen shakes her head.
"You didn't push me away,"
she says, squeezing his hand.
"You needed space."
Her voice is gentle.
"It's okay to be upset."
Her eyes are filled with
understanding. "It's okay
to need time."

He looks at her, his
eye searching. "But I
was mean," he whispers.
"No, you're overwhelmed."
Her smile is soft. "And
that's okay. I know it's a
lot to take in." Plankton
nods slowly.

They sit in silence,
their hands entwined. Karen's
thumb strokes the back of
his hand, a soothing gesture
that Plankton has come to
rely on. "I'm here," she says.
"I'll always be here." He
swallows hard, his antennae
twitching. "Thank y-you,"
he whispers.

Suddenly, there's a
knock on the front
door. Chip's camp
friend, JoJo, was
here to visit Chip.
"Hi, JoJo!" he says,
opening the door wide.
"How are you?" JoJo
smiles shyly. "I'm okay,"
they said, their eyes
darting around. "Do your
parents know about me?"

Chip shook his head.
"I haven't really gotten
around to talking much
about camp because
uh, family situation.
Everything's fine though!"

Karen heard the door
and talking. "Who's
Chip talking to?" "I
don't know Plankton,
but it doesn't sound
like Krabs. I'll go check!"

She left the bedroom,
her heart racing. Who
did Chip let in?

"Oh, my mom's coming!"
Chip says to JoJo. "Mom,
meet JoJo; I met them at
my camp!" Karen enters
the living room. "Well, it's
nice to me—" Karen falters
at the sight of JoJo.

JoJo has two heads,
each looking at her
with a shy smile. She
quickly recovers, her
face a mask of polite
interest. "Hello," she says,
extending her hand. "It's
um, nice to meet you, JoJo?"
she says awkwardly, not sure
how to greet someone
with two heads. She never
even knew such a condition
existed! Her eyes darted
between Chip and JoJo.

Chip's grin is wide,
his eyes shining with
excitement. "Yeah, JoJo's
my new friend from camp!"
he says. Karen's heart
swells with pride at her
son's openness and
kindness. JoJo's heads nod
in unison, their eyes sparkling.
"Hi, Mrs. Plankton," one head says,
while the other nods, adding, "It's
great to meet you!" Karen's hand
shakes JoJo's, her mind racing
with questions. How does it feel
to be two in one? How do they
see the world? How do they...
WHAT?

Her thoughts stumble
over themselves, and she
quickly recovers with a
warm smile. "Welcome
to our home," she says,
hoping to cover her initial
shock. But JoJo notices.

"It's okay," one of JoJo's
heads says with a gentle
smile. "Lots of people
are surprised at first."
The other head nods. "I
get it," they add. "It's just
how we are. We identify
as one person." Karen's
mouth opens and closes,
trying to find the right
words. "Okay! Um... I, I'm
sorry if I was rude," she
stammers. "I just wasn't
expecting... I mean, it's just
that..."

"You're not the first,"
the second head says with
a laugh. "And you won't be
the last." JoJo's eyes, all
of them, are kind. "It's
fine, really. And I know
what you're wondering, but
our parents are both single-
headed," they explain. Karen
can't help but laugh a
little, her nerves easing.
"Chip's dad, just to warn
you, can be blunt. He's
curious and loves science
so I'm sure he'll most likely
ask more questions," Karen
tells JoJo.

JoJo nods, both heads
thinking the same thing.
"It's okay," they say. "We're
used to it." Karen looks
at her son, who's
beaming, his face lit up
by the simple joy of
having a friend over. "So,
what do you want to do?"
Chip asks, his voice
excited. JoJo's heads look
at each other, then back
at Chip. "How about a
game?" they suggest.

new dare to be different headcore pt

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 27

Plankton ventured out
of the bedroom to find
Karen and Chip, but also
two guests? He heard
the knock on the door
and came to see, not
yet noticing the heads
shared the same body.

"Hi, Dad!" Chip called
out. "This is JoJo, my
new camp friend!"

Plankton emerged
from the hallway. "I
didn't know we're
having company.."

He saw Chip and...
another child? But 
he was coming from
the side, not seeing
that they're one kid.

Plankton approached, his
eye squinting. "Hi," he
managed, his voice a
little unsure. "And, who's
the other one?" He asks,
pointing to the other.
"They're both JoJo,"
Chip clarifies, his voice
filled with excitement.

"Hello!" JoJo says
as they turn to face
Plankton, now in
front of him. He then
sees the one body,
sharing both heads.

Plankton's antennae
twitch in surprise,
his eye wide. "You're
joined," he states, his voice
soft and curious. JoJo nods,
both heads tilting slightly.
"Bicephalous," they explain.
"It's a rare condition. We
aren't twins, yet we share
a body. It's complicated
to explain!" One head
giggles while the other
says, "I'm sure you being 
a one header won't know
what it's like to have both
teachers and students see
you as the class weirdo
despite getting good grades.."

Plankton's eye narrows.
"What do you mean?" "I
mean, Chip says you're
so good at science. We
bet the other one headers
loved you for it!" JoJo says.
"We're smart, but some
weren't so accepting and
had to sometimes get taken
out of class just because
of how we're born! But you're
lucky to be admired for your
intelligence without worrying
about bullies.."

Plankton's gaze falters.
Being autistic, he's gone
through the same thing!
Despite being the best
at science, he's been 
singled out repeatedly.

He looks at JoJo, his
heart aching. He knows
exactly what it's like to
be seen as different, to
have people whisper about
you, to be misunderstood.
He takes a deep breath,
his antennae drooping.
"Actually," he says, "I've a
neurodisability, making some
stuff easier but others hard."

JoJo's heads lean in,
their curiosity piqued.
"Oh, cool!" one says. "What
kin-"

But Karen cuts
them off. "He's
a bit sensitive
about it, with his
own experiences,"
she explains gently.
JoJo nods. "We all
have things," they say.

Plankton looks at
them, his antennae
twitching in thought.
"Would you like to
play?" Chip asks,
his voice hopeful. JoJo
nods, their heads bobbing.
"Sure, I'd love to,"
they say.

JoJo follows Chip to
his bedroom, leaving
Karen and Plankton
face to face.

Karen looks at him,
concern etched into
every line of her
face. "Are you okay?"
she asks, her voice
gentle. Plankton nods,
his antennae still. "I'm
fine," he says, his voice
quiet. "It's just..." He
pauses, searching for
the right words. "It's just
that JoJo, they're...
different, more than me."

He sighs, looking at
his son's retreating
back. "I know how
it feels to be... less
than, to be seen as a
freak," he whispers. Karen
squeezes his hand. "You're
not a freak, Plankton."
Her voice is firm, her gaze
steady. "You're you.
And you're incredible."

He looks at her, his
eye glistening. "But what if
Chip... what if he
doesn't understand?"
Her grip tightens. "Chip
understands more than you
think. And JoJo, they're
different too, in their
own way. They'll learn
from each other."

Their eyes lock, and
Plankton sees the love
and determination in
Karen's gaze. He nods.
"Okay," he says, his voice
shaky. "Okay."

They walk into
Chip's room, where
the two children are
already engrossed in
a board game, their
heads bent over the
colorful pieces. Plankton
watches them, his antennae
twitching.

The sight of Chip
laughing with JoJo,
his excitement unbridled,
makes him feel a
swell of pride. His
heart aches for the
times he couldn't connect
with others, but here,
his son is, sharing
his world with someone
who's different too.

He watches as Chip
explains the rules of
his favorite game,
his voice earnest and
his eyes shining. JoJo's
heads nod in
understanding, their
smiles matching Chip's.

"Karen," Plankton says
to his wife, "I'm gonna
go to the Krusty Krab
to see what happens."
Karen looks at him,
surprise in her eyes.
"Again? Even aft-"

"Yeah," he cuts her
off. "I need to
understand."

Karen nods. She
knows. "Be safe," 
she whispers,
kissing his cheek.

Plankton nods,
his antennae twitching
slightly. "I will,"
he promises, his voice
determined. He heads
out the door, the
fresh ocean air
whipping around him.
The Krabby Patty
factory looms in the
distance, its lights
always on. He's been here
before, but today is
different. He's going
alone, not as a thief,
but as himself.

He opens the door,
his heart racing.
Krabs looks up, his
eyes widening. "What
do you want?" he said.

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"To talk," he says,
his voice steady. Krabs
frowns, but nods, gesturing
to the counter. Plankton
slides onto the stool, his
body tense.

"What about?" Krabs
asks, although he's
figured out exactly
why Plankton came.

Plankton takes a deep
breath. "I wanted to...
talk about what happe—"

Krabs interrupts, his
claws tapping on the
countertop. "You mean the
other day?" His eyes
narrow slightly. "Why? I
kicked out that ableist!"

Plankton nods. "I know.
Thank you for that." His
voice is sincere. "But I
wanted to talk about..."
He pauses, gathering his
thoughts. "About me,"
he finally says. "What your
knowledge of my autism
means for us.."

Krabs' claws still, his
expression unreadable.
"Look, Plankton," he says,
his voice gruff. "I dunno
much about all that brain-
stuff. But if it's important
to you, I'll try." This is
his chance to bridge
the gap, to explain
his world to someone
who's never truly
understood.

Plankton's antennae quiver.
"It's just," he starts, his
voice shaky. "When you
see me, do you see me?"
He looks into Krabs' eyes,
his own filled with hope
and fear. "Or do you now
see autism?"

Krabs' face softens, his
claws still. He considers
the question. "I see you,"
he says, his voice firm. "And
yes, I see the autism. But
it's not all of you. Which is
why I'll still keep me eyes
peeled for any shenanigans!"
A small smile plays
on his lips, hinting at his
understanding.

Plankton's antennae
quiver. "But it's a part of me,"
he says. "A big part."
Krabs nods. "Aye, it is,"
he says. "And it's why I'm
tryin' to be more...
understandin'." He pauses,
his eyes searching Plankton's.
"I don't always get it, but
I'll try. But still, hands off me
secret recipes as always, yeah?"

Plankton can't help but
laugh a little, his antennae
lifting slightly. "Always,"
he promises. "Still, can't
say I won't try!" Krabs'
smile widens. "Aye, get
on outta here before you do!"
He waves Plankton off, both
their hearts lighter.

The conversation lingers
in Plankton's mind as he
walks back home. The
Krusty Krab no longer feels
like enemy territory. It's
still competitive, but now
it's tinged with a new
dynamic. One of... camaraderie?
Or at least mutual
understanding.

JoJo is just leaving as
Plankton returns back.
"It was great meeting
you, Mr. Plankton!" JoJo
says, their heads
nodding in unison.
Plankton's always felt
so isolated in his
differences, and now he
sees that Chip is forming
bonds with someone who's
even more unique. "You too."
Plankton replies.

new dare to be different headcore bicephalous

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 3

Chip looked up, his eyes
reflecting the confusion
he felt. "What happened,
Mom?" he asked, his voice
smaller than usual.

Karen took a deep breath,
trying to keep her anger
in check. "Your dad is upset,"
she began, her voice tight.
"You used a word that hurt
his feelings."

Chip's eyes widened in
shock. "What wor—"

"Don't lie to me," Karen
snapped, her voice
unusually harsh. "I know
what you said. That word
is not okay."

Chip looked at her,
his face a picture of
innocence and confusion.
"But it's just what
you said," he protested.
"What?" Karen's voice
was a mix of anger and
despair. "I only talked
about your dad's
autism, Chip. I never
called him that."

Chip had only been
trying to repeat what
he thought she had
told him. "But I didn't
know it was bad," he
whispered, his eyes
welling up. "I just didn't
know what to call it."

Karen sat by him. "Do you
understand why Dad was
upset?"

Chip nodded, his eyes
brimming with tears. "But I
didn't know it was a
bad word," he said, his
voice cracking. "What's it
mean?"

Karen took a deep breath,
trying to keep her emotions
from overwhelming her. "It's
a very hurtful word," she
explained gently. "It's used
to hurt of people who are
different, like those who have
neurological conditions like
your dad's. It's not right,
and it's not even accurate."
Chip felt his heart sink.

"But Mom," Chip protested,
"I didn't mean it like th-"

Karen's voice was firm
but not without gentleness.
"It doesn't matter how
you meant it, Chip. That word
is not acceptable. It's
hurtful and it makes people
feel less than who they are.
Your dad is not 'that'. He's
just your dad, and he loves
you more than anything."

Chip looked down,
his screen blurring with
tears. He hadn't meant
to cause pain, but the
realization of what he'd
done made his stomach
twist with guilt. "I'm sorry,"
he mumbled, his voice
barely audible.

Karen sighed, her
frustration dissipating into
sadness. She knew her son
wasn't cruel—just confused.
"I know you didn't mean it,
Chip," she said, her voice
softening. "But it's important
that you know that words
have power. They can build
people up or tear them down."

Chip nodded, feeling
the weight of his
mistake. He had never
seen his mother so upset,
and he hated that he was
the cause.

"Let's go talk to Dad," Karen
said, her voice softening.
"We need to tell him that
you didn't mean it, and that
you understand now."

They walked back to
the bedroom, Karen's hand
in his. Plankton sat on
the bed, his back to them.

"Daddy?" Chip's voice
was tentative. Plankton's
body tensed, his antennae
twitching with the effort
not to turn around.

"It's okay, Plankton,"
Karen said softly, stepping
forward. "Chip didn't
know that word was
hurtful. He's sor-"

Plankton's antennae shot
up, his eye burning with
a mix of sadness and pain.
"How could you, Karen?"
he spat out, his voice
shaking. "You, of all people.
How could you let him
think that about me?"
Karen stepped closer,
placing a gentle hand on
his shoulder. "I didn't,
Plankton. Chip just heard
me mention your autism
and he didn't underst--"

But Plankton jerked away,
his antennae quivering with
frustration. "That's not
what he said!"

Karen's screen filled with
puzzlement. "What did
he say, then?"

"That you said I was..."
Plankton paused, his antennae
drooping. "That I was...
that."

Karen's eyes searched
his face, her heart breaking.
"Plankton, no. I swear, I
would never use that word
for you. You're not 'that'.
You're just you—my love,
my partner, Chip's dad. Autism
is just a part of yo-"

But Plankton was
too caught up in his own
turmoil to hear her. "It's
always been there," he
whispered, his antennae
drooping. "Everyone else
can see it. Why couldn't
I?"

Chip watched, feeling
his own heart break at the
sight of his dad's pain. He
wanted to fix it, to make
everything right again.
"Daddy," he said, his voice
shaking with emotion. "I
don't think you're that way.
You're just... Daddy."

Plankton's antennae
perked up slightly at the
sound of his son's voice. He
turned to face them, his eye
swollen with unshed tears.
"I'm sorry," Chip continued,
his voice trembling. "I didn't
know that word was bad.
I just wanted to tell you
how much I love y—"

"Love?" Plankton choked out,
his antennae twitching. "How
can you love someone who's...
who's like me? After all, you
just called me tha-"

"Daddy, I didn't know it
was bad," Chip said, his
voice filled with sincerity. 
"But I do now. And it doesn't
change anything. You're still
my dad. You're still the best
person I kno—"

But Plankton can't bear
to hear any more. "Get 
out!" he roared.

Karen and Chip stared at 
his outburst, shocked by
his sudden anger. They
could see the pain in
his eye, the deep-seated
fear of being misunderstood.

new dare to be different karencore karen

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 7
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) 

They moved to the floor,
a cushioned area where Plankton
felt more comfortable. Hanna
produced a variety of textures
for him to explore. "Slowly,"
she instructed, "let's introduce
his hands to different fabrics."

Karen watched as Plankton's
fingers danced over the softness
of velvet, his expression
unreadable. Then Hanna presented
a piece of sandpaper. His hand
retracted instantly, his eye
squeezing shut. "No," he murmured,
his voice tight with distress.

"It's ok," Karen said, taking
his hand. "We'll try something
else." She offered him a smooth
piece of silk instead. His eye
widened, his breath catching.
"Nice?" she asked, her voice
gentle.

Slowly, Plankton's hand
unfurled, his fingertips brushing
against the fabric. "Silk," he
whispered, his voice filled with
wonder. He began to stroke it,
his movements rhythmic and
comforting. Hanna nodded,
making a note. "Good," she said.
"That's a positive response. Now
let's try different tactile sensations."
Hanna says, taking the fabrics away.

She presented a tray with a
variety of objects: a cold metal
spoon, a soft feather, a bumpy
rock. Plankton's hand hovered over
each item, his gaze intense. "Choose
one," Karen urged, her voice gentle.

He reached for the feather,
his eye closing in anticipation.
As the soft plumes brushed against
his skin, a shiver of pleasure
went through him. "Good," he murmured,
his hand moving in a soothing
motion. Karen watched.

Hanna offered the cold spoon next.
Plankton's hand jerked back at
first, his eye widening in
fear. But with Karen's gentle
encouragement, he touched it again,
his breath hitching as he
experienced the coolness. "Cold,"
he whispered, his voice filled
with wonder before retreating his
hand again.

They moved to the rock,
its surface a study in contrasts.
Plankton's hand hovered, then
touched the rock tentatively. His
face contorted as he felt the
bumpy, unyielding surface. "Odd,"
he murmured.

Hanna nodded, her gaze
studying him. "It's ok to not
like everything," she said. "But
it's ok to explore." She
sets out a sharpened point to
test his reaction.

Plankton's hand hovered over
the pointed tip, his antennae
twitching. He looked to Karen,
his eye searching for reassurance.
"It's ok," she whispered, taking the
point and pressing it lightly into
her own palm. "It's just a sensation I
vaguely feel," Karen says, barely
pressing onto his skin. Slowly, touching the
point with the pad of his finger...

His body jolted, his breath
screeching. "Pain," he murmured,
his hand retreating quickly. "Too much!"
Hanna nodded, her expression
thoughtful. "It's ok," she said. "This
is all about finding what you
can ha-"

But before she could finish,
Plankton's body stiffened,
his eye rolling back with a cry. Karen
watched another seizure
take hold. "No!" she cried, her voice
a mix of fear and frustration.

Hanna was quick to act,
guiding him back to the couch
and speaking soothingly. "It's
ok," she murmured. "You're safe."
They waited for the seizure
to pass, Karen's hand tightly
clutching Plankton's, offering silent
comfort. When he came to,
his gaze was haunted, his hand
still wrapped around the fidget
toy. Hanna tried the point again,
only for Plankton to cough up his
toast, tears streaming down his face.

"We need to stop," Karen said,
her voice shaking. "This isn't
helping." Hanna nodded, her
expression filled with understanding.
"We've learned a lot today,"
she said. "We know what
to avoid now. Let's stop."

They moved back to the couch,
Karen's arm around Plankton,
his body trembling. She knew
his sensory overload was at its peak.
The room felt too bright,
too loud, too much.

"Let's dim the lights," Hanna
suggested, her voice gentle. "And let's
try some deep pressure."

Karen nodded, rushing to
the dimmer switch and
adjusting the lights to a
comfortable level. She then
wrapped a weighted blanket
around Plankton, his body
relaxing almost immediately
under its embrace. His eye
closed, and his breathing grew
steady as the pressure helped
soothe his overwhelmed senses.

They sat in silence for a
moment, Karen stroking
his arm, avoiding any
sudden movements that might
startle him. "It's ok," she
whispered. "You're safe."

Hanna spoke softly. "It's
important to create a sensory
friendly environment," she
explained. "We'll need to
make some adjustments
around the house."
Karen nodded, her gaze
never leaving Plankton's
face. "I'll do anything," she
said. "Whatever it takes."

Hanna's eyes searched the
room, her mind working.
"Let's start with visual
stimuli," she said.

They moved through the
place, Karen following
Hanna's instructions to
cover the windows with blackout
curtains and remove any
items that might be overstimulating.
The room grew dimmer,
the only light coming
from a single, soft lamp.

Plankton's breathing slowed,
his body visibly relaxing.
Hanna spoke calmly. "Now, let's work
on some verbal exercises."

Karen watched as Hanna
selected a set of cards with
simple pictures and words.
"We'll start with matching,"
she said, holding up a card
with an image of a cat. "What
does this say?"

Plankton's eye focused on
the card, his hand fidgeting
with the blanket's edge.
"Cat," he murmured sleepily.

Hanna nodded, her gaze
meeting Karen's. "Good job,"
she said. "Now, let's try
another one." She held up
a card with a picture of a
tree.

Plankton's eye searched the
card, his mouth moving as if
he was trying to form
the word. "Tree," he managed
after a moment, his voice
slightly more confident, yet he
felt drowsily exhausted.

Hanna nodded, pleased with
his progress. "Very good,
Plankton," she said, placing
the card down. "Let's keep
going." But Plankton's tired.

"Maybe we should take a
break," Karen suggested,
seeing the fatigue in his
posture. "He's had a lot to
process today."

Hanna nodded, her gaze
kind. "It's been a big day
for him. Let's not push it."

They decided to end the
session, Karen helping
Plankton to bed, the weighted
blanket still wrapped around him.
His eye were half-closed,
his movements sluggish as he
sank into the mattress, the
sensory overload leaving him
drained. "Thank you," Karen murmured
to Hanna. "For everything."

Hanna's smile was gentle. "It's
what I'm here for," she said.
"We'll take this one step at a
time. Remember, patience and
understanding are key."

Karen nodded with tears as she
tucked Plankton into bed. His
body was still, his breaths
deep and even under the
soothing weight of the blanket.
The room was now a cocoon
of calm, designed to protect
his sensitive system from the
onslaught of the outside world.

new touchingcore sensoryoverloadcore brain chip

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 4

"Plankton, please," Karen
pleaded, reaching out to
touch his arm. "Let's ta—"

But Plankton's 
eye starts to
glaze over, his 
body trembling
on his bed. Karen
knew another
seizure's coming
on now. "Dad?" Chip's 
voice was filled with
fear and confusion.
"I'm here," Karen assured.
She rushed to his side.
"It's okay," she murmured,
her voice a gentle whisper.
"You're safe, Plankton."
She knew this was
part of the process, that
his mind was trying to
recalibrate, yet it never
got easier to watch.

The room grew
dimmer as Plankton's
seizure took hold, his
body stiffening, his 
eye rolling back.
Karen's eyes filled
with tears as she watched
his silent struggle.
"It's okay, baby," she
whispered.

Chip stood there, his
hands balled into fists at
his sides, feeling helpless.
He had never seen his
dad so vulnerable before.
The man he knew was
always in control, always
the smartest in the room,
was now at the mercy of
his own brain's whims. It
was something that his
parents had dealt with
for years, something that
he had only just become
a witness to.

Karen's eyes remained
on Plankton's contorted
face as the seizure's grip
began to loosen, his body
twitching slightly.

As the seizure
subsided, he's falling
into a semiconscious
postictal state. "Dad?" Chip's
voice's filled with fear.
Karen nodded, her gaze
still fixed on her husband.
"It's okay."

Plankton's antennae
twitched erratically,
his body moving in jerky
motions. It looked like
his mind was trying
to regain control of his
physical form.

He began to crawl
on the bed. His eye's
unfocused. "Hummus,"
Plankton babbled.

Karen's heart
ached as she watched
his regression. Plankton's
autism had always
been a part of their lives,
but these moments,
where he slipped into
his own world, were the
hardest to bear. She knew
he was in there, somewhere,
fighting to come back.

Plankton's eye darted
around the room without
really seeing. "Tos, sub."

Karen's heart broke a
little more as she
witnessed her husband's
descent into the child-like
state that often followed
his seizures. She knew
it was temporary, yet the
sight of this strong man
reduced to such vulnerability
was always jarring.

"Dad," Chip said tentatively,
his voice quivering with
fear and confusion. He had
never seen his dad like this
before—so lost, so dependent.

Karen's eyes remained
glued to Plankton's face,
silently willing him to come
back to them. "It's ok,
sweetheart," she murmured.

Plankton's movements
were like those of 
a baby discovering
the world anew, his 
hands playing with
the blankets as if they
were a toy. "Hamv," he 
murmured.

Karen's heart ached,
but she knew from
experience that this
was a phase that
would pass. She talked
to him softly, her voice
soothing and familiar,
like a lullaby. "You're
safe, Plankton," she
whispered. She got
a plush stuffed bear
handing it to Chip. "Try
to get him to interact
by this," she suggests.

Chip took the bear
tentatively, his hands
shaking slightly. He
approached the bed, his
dad's eyes still unfocused.
"Dad?" he whispered,
shaking the toy slightly.
Plankton's antennae
twitched, his eye
flitting towards the
bear. "Look, it's a toy,"
Chip said, his voice
quivering. "Do you like
it?"

Plankton's hand reached
out, his movements
sluggish as if swatting
the bear, his fingers
exploring its soft fur.
"Tibble," he murmured.

Karen watched, her heart
swelling with hope. This
was the first step back to
reality. "Good job,"
she said to both of 
them. "Keep it up, Chip.
Keep talking, with the bear."

Chip nodded, his voice
steadier now. "It's
a bear, Dad," he said, his
tone gentle. "See? It's got
a cute little nose. Do you
want to hold it?"

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, and
his hand reached out
slowly, his fingers
wrapping around the
plush toy. "Sav," he
says, his voice a
little stronger.

Karen's eyes lit up
with hope. "That's it,
sweetheart," she said,
encouraging Chip. "Keep
going."

Chip held the bear
closer to Plankton's
face. "Look, Dad," he
whispered, his voice
steady despite the fear
still lingering in his
heart. "It's smiling at you.
It's happy to see you. It
wants you to be happy
too. Do you want to play?"

Plankton's antennae
quivered, his eye focusing
on the toy for a moment.
He reached out again,
his hand shaking slightly,
and touched the bear's snout.
"Ivh," he murmured, a
ghost of a smile playing
across his lips, resulting in
drool.

Encouraged, Chip
continued. "It's smiling
because it loves you, Dad,"
he said, his voice cracking.
"See, it's happy because
you're holding it. Can you
make it dance?" "Da-dance,"
he managed to say, his smile
broadening.

Karen watched,
her eyes brimming with
tears of hope. "That's it,"
she whispered, her voice
barely audible. "Keep going."

Chip nodded, his
fingers gently moving
the bear's arms and
legs in a makeshift dance.
"Look, Dad, the bear is
dancing just for you," he
said, his voice trembling
with emotion. Plankton's
eye followed the
toy's movements.

Plankton's hand
twitched, his antennae
perking up slightly. "Dibble,"
he murmured, a spark of
understanding in his eye.
He reached out to mimic
Chip's movements, his hand
shaking as he tried to make
the bear dance too.

Chip's heart swelled with
pride and love for his dad.
He had never seen this
vulnerable side of him before,
but in this moment, he knew
his father was still there,
fighting to reconnect.

new dare to be different seizurecore postictal

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 6

Plankton snores 
softly, his antennae
twitching slightly with
each breath. Chip can't
help but watch him, the
snores reminding him
of the moments they
shared the night before.

Karen keeps her eyes
on the road, her mind
racing. She's proud of
how Plankton's trying
to be more open about
his condition, but she
knows how much effort
it takes for him to do so.
And she's equally proud
of Chip for his own
understanding and love.

Plankton slept as they
finally pulled up to the
hotel parking lot that
evening. Karen looked
back at them.

"Wake up, sweetie,"
she said gently, her
hand on Plankton's
shoulder. "We're
here."

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, but
his eye remained closed.
"Mmph," he murmured,
his hand moving to 
cover his face. Karen
smiled. "Come on, Plankton,"
she urged. "Chip's eager to 
see the hotel." She shakes
his shoulder gently.

He jolts awake, his
eye shooting open. 
"What?" He asks, 
his voice groggy. 
Chip laughs. "The hotel,
Dad!" He says. "We're
here!" Plankton 
blinks rapidly, trying 
to clear his vision.

He's embarrassed
that he fell asleep in
the car, embarrassed
they had to wake him
up. He sits up too
quickly, his antennae 
straightening out. "Oh,
right," he says, trying
to cover discomfort 
with a forced smile
as Karen got the bags.

Entering the hotel, kids
were everywhere, even
though the fair's not
tonight. Parents were
chatting in the lobby
as contestants mingled.

Karen noticed Plankton's 
discomfort immediately, 
his grip tightening on 
her hand. "Let's get to 
our room," she says, 
checking in.

The room is a typical
hotel suite, clean and 
impersonal. Plankton 
looks around, his antenna
twitching. Chip bolts to the 
window, his eyes wide 
at the view of the city 
scape. "Wow, Dad, look 
at the lights!"

Plankton's gaze 
follows Chip, but
his mind is racing. 
He's overwhelmed. 
Karen sees the 
look on his face. 
"Why don't you sit 
down, Plankton?"

He nods, his 
body moving 
mechanically to 
a bed by the
wall. Karen 
got his travel
bag of sensory
items and fidgets.
"Thank you, Karen,"
he murmurs, his 
body rocking 
slightly. She nods,
understanding as
she gets out his
rod blackout curtain
to set-up around
Plankton's bed.

Chip watches 
curiously as 
his mom 
hangs it up. 
"Why a curtain, 
Mom?" he asks.

Karen then
explains, "It's 
to block out 
the extra light
and muffle the
sound. It'll help 
Dad feel more 
comfortable."
Plankton nods,
his body relaxing
slightly as the
curtains are drawn.

Chip nods,
his curiosity 
piqued. He
reaches and
pulls out a 
small, squishy 
ball from his bag.
"This helps?" He
asks, holding it.
"Don't!" Plankton 
snaps, his voice 
sharp as a knife.

Chip's hand 
freezes mid-air,
his eyes wide with
surprise and 
hurt. "But you said-"

"Chip," Karen gently
interrupts, seeing the
hurt on her son's
face. "Those are Dad's
special things. They're
not toys for everyone."
Chip looks down, his
hands dropping.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he says
softly, his voice thick with
disappointment. "I didn't
know." Plankton's antennae
droop, guilt swamping him.
"It's okay," he mumbles,
his voice tight. "Just...
please, respect my space!"

The room is quiet 
except for the distant
hum of the city outside.
Karen sets up his bag 
on the bedside table, 
her movements
calm and precise.

Plankton takes the 
squishy ball, his 
fingers digging into 
the soft material. 
He starts to bounce 
it slightly, the 
rhythmic motion
helping to ease 
his nerves.

Karen gives him 
a knowing look, 
sitting next to him
on the bed. "Let's
tell Chip what 
you're feeling?" 
she suggests. 
"It'll help him 
underst--"

"I don't know 
how!" Plankton 
interrupts, his 
frustration clear. 
He throws the 
ball onto the 
carpet. "I don't 
know how.."

Karen's expression 
softens. "Plankton, 
you just need to tell 
him how you feel." She 
takes his hand in hers.
"He loves you. He just 
wants to help."

But Plankton's on the 
verge of a meltdown. 
Chip's eyes widen as 
his father starts to 
rock back and forth, 
his hands flapping 
slightly. He's never seen 
his dad like this before, 
and it scares him.

"Dad, what's happening?"
Chip asks, his voice 
quivering. Karen steps 
in, placing a hand on
Chip's shoulder.

"Remember, Chip; your
dad's stims are personal,"
Karen says gently. "They're
not for us to take or use
without his permission.
Just because we know
about them, doesn't mean
we should invade his space."
She looks at Plankton, her 
eyes full of empathy. "It's
alright Plankton, you can
keep doing what you need
to do," she adds.

Chip nods. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he whispers. "I 
didn't know."

Plankton keeps
rocking. "So much...
stuff. Too much...
stuff." He murmurs.

Chip nods. "It's
okay, Dad. You 
can do your st-"

"Don't!" Plankton's 
voice cracks, his
stims increasing.
"It's mine," he snaps.
"Just for me!" His
body rocks faster, his 
hands flapping more 
in agitation.

"It's okay, Chip," Karen
says softly, her voice
steady. "Let him have
his space."

Chip nods, his eyes 
still on his father.
He can see the 
tension in Plankton's 
body, the way his 
hands move.
He's never seen 
his dad so lost in
his own world. 
He sits down on
the bed. He wants to 
help, but he doesn't 
know how.

Karen wraps her 
arms around Chip, 
pulling him into a 
hug. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "Dad's 
just overwhelmed.
But those stims are 
for him. They're his 
way of trying to make 
sense of the world."

Chip nods. "Can I
get a fidget sensory
toy from hi-"

"NO!" Plankton's 
voice cracks like a 
whip, his eye 
snapping to Chip.
"It's not for you to 
touch!" Chip's eyes
drift to Karen.

"It's okay, Chip,"
she soothes, her 
voice a gentle 
whisper. "These 
are Dad's 
personal tools
for managing his 
moments." She 
gestures to the 
sensory bag 
on the adjacent
nightstand. "We 
respect that."

Chip nods slowly,
his gaze still 
on his dad's 
twitching antennae. 
He feels a pang 
of sadness, a 
desire to fix what
he can't understand. 
"I just want to 
he--"

"NO!" Plankton 
suddenly shouts, 
his antennae 
straightening. "You
don't know! You can't 
know!" His voice
shakes with rage, 
his body trembling. 
"You can't just...
take my things and 
use them like they're 
yours!" His hands
slam the bed as
Karen quickly moved
between them, her 
hands up.

"Plankton," she says 
firmly, her voice 
calm. "You're 
upset. It's okay. 
We're here for you."
But Plankton's 
seething now, his
breaths quickening.

new adaptable family hotelcore mmph

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 9

Chip watches, 
his eyes red 
from crying. 
"Is he okay?" He 
asks again, his 
voice small.
Karen nods, 
wiping her own 
tears away. 
"He'll be okay," 
she whispers. 
"We just need to 
rest now."

Chip crawls into 
his own bed, 
his thoughts racing. 
He doesn't know 
what to make of 
his dad's outburst 
or the seizure. 
He feels scared and 
alone. Karen 
notices and comes 
to sit beside him.

"Chip," she says 
gently. "Dad's okay.
This can happen.
It's just how his 
brain works. It gets 
overwhelmed. Now
when he's like that, 
it's important we 
let him be, okay?"
Chip nods, his 
throat tight. "But 
I di-"

"You didn't do 
anything wrong,"
Karen cuts him off. 
"You just didn't 
understand. And 
that's okay." She 
smiles at him, her 
eyes warm. "He
just gets frustrated
when his stims are 
interrupted. It's 
his way of dealing 
with the world."
Chip nods, watching
his mom as she 
carefully organizes 
Plankton's sensory 
items back.

"But why does
he let you when
he doesn't let 
me—"

"Because, Chip,"
Karen says, her voice
still gentle, "I know
how to support
his stims without
causing him more
distress. You'll learn
too, with time." She
picks up the
fidget toy, her eyes
on Plankton's still 
form. "Remember, his
needs are different
than ours. Sometimes,
his brain needs extra
help to make sense
of things, and these
stims are a way of 
doing that."

Chip nods, his 
understanding growing.
He watches as Karen
places the toys 
back into the bag.
"But why'd he yell?"
he asks, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper.

"It's not that he
doesn't love you,"
Karen explains. "It's
just that sometimes,
his brain feels like
it's going a million
miles an hour, and
his body needs to
catch up." She looks
at Plankton's sleeping
form. "When you
touched him, his fidgets
you stopped that for
him. And it was too
much to handle. So
he could only express
his frustration."
Chip's eyes never left
his dad's peaceful
expression. "But he
was so mad..."

"It's not you, Chip.
It's the world," Karen 
sighs. "Sometimes,
it's just too much 
for him. And when
that happens, he needs
his stims." She stands
up, moving to 
Plankton's side 
of the bed. "Let's let
Dad sleep now.
Tomorrow's a big day.."

The next morning, Karen
went in through Plankton's
curtain to wake him. "Hey,
sleepyhead," she whispers,
her hand brushing his 
shoulder gently. "It's time
to get up."

Plankton's antennae 
twitch as he opens
his eye, looking around
disoriented. "Whaa-"
he mumbles.

Karen smiles softly, 
his post-seizure 
loops already 
worn off. "Good
morning," she says, 
helping him sit up.
"It's time for 
the science fair.
Let's wake Chip
up, ok?"

Plankton nods 
slowly. He can
remember the
stimming and
his outburst at
Chip. He sighed.
"I'm sorry," he
mutters, his voice
still thick with
sleep. "I didn't
mean to..."

"You don't have to
apologize," Karen says, 
interrupting him. "You
were just trying to 
cope." She helps him 
to his feet, her 
hands steady. "We'll
talk to Chip about
it after I wake him."

Plankton nods, his
eye still half-closed.
He follows Karen to 
Chip's bed, feeling
guilt heavy in his 
heart. His son's 
sleeping form is
peaceful.

"Chip," Karen says 
gently, shaking him 
awake. "It's time
for the science
fair, buddy!"
Chip blinks, the
memory of last
night's events
flooding back. He
looks at Plankton, 
his heart aching 
with guilt and fear.

Plankton sees the
look on Chip's face
and sighs, sitting
down on the bed 
beside him. "Hello."
Chip's voice is 
barely above a 
whisper. "Hi, Dad."

Karen watches them
both, knowing that
now is the time 
for Plankton to 
try and explain. But
his words are stuck,
his mouth dry. He 
doesn't know how
to put into words
his regret for last
night's outburst.

"Chip," Plankton 
begins awkwardly. 
"I...I uh, I-I-I-I…"
He stammers, 
his antennae 
twitching with 
the effort of 
finding the words. 
Karen watches with 
concern, knowing 
his difficulty with 
expressing emotions, 
especially in moments 
like these. "It's okay," 
she murmurs, her hand 
on his back.

Chip looks at 
his dad, his 
eyes questioning. 
He's seen Plankton 
stim before, but 
his stuttering is 
new, his body 
seemingly frozen 
with anxiety.

Plankton's antennae 
wave nervously. 
"I...I'm I-I'm, I-I-I-I…"

He tries to say
sorry, but the 
word is stuck, 
his brain racing. 
Karen's hand 
squeezes his shoulder,
silent support. 
"It's okay," she 
whispers. "Take your 
time."

Plankton's antennae
twitch faster, his 
face contorted with
the effort to 
articulate his 
thoughts. "I...I..." 
his voice cracks. 
He looks at Chip, 
his son's gaze 
filled with 
concern and fear.

The silence stretches
between them, a 
tense wire threatening
to snap. Plankton 
knows he must find 
the words, must explain
his behavior, but
his mouth refuses to 
cooperate. His mind
whirls with the 
desire to apologize, 
but the words are 
elusive.

Chip's gaze is 
steady, his 
fear replaced with 
sympathy as he 
watches his dad 
struggle. He knows 
his dad didn't mean 
to scare him last 
night. He knows 
his dad's brain works
differently, and he 
wants to understand.

"Chip, I'm so...so..."
The words won't come
out. He's trapped in
his own head, a 
prisoner to his 
autism's quirks.

Karen's hand 
squeezes tighter, 
urging him on. "It's
okay, Plankton," she
says softly. "Just tell
him what yo--"

But Plankton's 
stuttering stops 
abruptly, his 
single eye wide
with panic. "I-I-I-I-I-"
He can't form the 
word, his mouth
opening and closing.

Karen's heart
aches for him, 
seeing his 
desperation to
connect with Chip.
"It's okay," she 
soothes. "We can 
just talk about what 
happened."

Plankton nods, 
his antennae 
slowing down.
"I d-didn’t m-mean to 
scare y-you," he 
finally manages to 
say, his voice 
still shaky. "My 
brain gets...messy."

Chip looks at his 
dad, his eyes 
filled with a 
mix of emotions.
"It's okay," he 
whispers, his voice 
small but sure. "I know
you didn't mea-"

"No, it's not okay!"
Plankton's voice 
cracks. "I need to
apologize! I need to 
make it right!" His
body starts to 
tremble. Karen's eyes 
fill with compassion.
"Plankton," she says 
softly. "You don't have
to force it. Ju—"

But Plankton's 
desperation 
overwhelms him. "I-I-I...
I hurt you," he 
stammers, looking 
at Chip, his antennae 
drooping. "I didn't 
mean to, I didn't 
mean to!"

Chip's eyes 
fill with tears 
as he reaches 
for his dad's 
hand. "Dad, I--"

But Plankton 
flinches away. "No," 
he says, his voice 
harsh in agitation.

Chip's hand 
drops back to 
his lap with
confusion.

Plankton's face 
twists in some
thing akin to
disgust as he 
quickly pulls away
from Chip's touch,
his hands waving 
in a frenzied 
manner. Chip's 
eyes widen
with confusion.
Karen steps in.

"Remember, Chip," 
she says softly. "Your 
dad's brain is 
sensitive to certain 
touches. It's not 
you, it's just his 
autism." She gives 
his hand a gentle 
squeeze. "We've 
got to respect 
his boundaries."

Chip nods, 
his eyes never 
leaving Plankton's 
face. "I-I'm sorry," 
he stammers. "I'll 
try to do better."

Plankton's hands do
not stop their frantic 
movement. "I-I know 
my brain...it just
doesn't like it."
He rocks slightly 
back and forth. "No
no, not the touch.
The surprise," he 
whispers. "Must not 
touch, must not 
touch," he repeats
to himself in a stim.
"Gla-gla-glitch,"
he murmurs. His 
hands flap at his 
sides as Karen 
watches him
without interrupting
his self-soothing.

new adaptable family sorrowcore brained

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 10

Chip feels a 
lump in his 
throat, his heart 
heavy. He wants 
to hug his dad,
to make it all
better, but he 
remembers his mom's
words and stays put.
He looks at Plankton, 
his mind racing 
to understand.

Karen's eyes are 
full of emotion 
as she watches 
them both. "Chip," 
she says, her voice 
steady. "You don't 
have to apologize. 
You didn't do anything
wrong. Your dad's 
brain is just different.
And sometimes, it needs
more time to process
things, okay?"

Chip nods, 
his gaze never
leaving Plankton. 
"But I want to 
make it right," 
he whispers.
Plankton's stims
slow down a bit. 
"I know," he says, 
his voice quieter. 
"And I'm s-sorry 
I did not tell 
you last night."

Chip sniffles. "It's ok,
Dad. I just...I just
wanted to help."

Plankton's antennae
still, his face 
softening slightly.
He looks at Chip,
his single eye 
full of regret. "I know,"
he says, his voice 
barely a whisper.
"Now let's do this
science fair of yours.."
Karen nods, 
seeing his effort
to move on. "Okay, 
let's get going!"

The three of them 
go to the reserved
theater for Chip's
event. Karen and
Plankton find seats
in the audience to
watch the competition.
The stage buzzes with 
excitement as Chip
sets up his project by
the other contestants.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, absorbing 
the cacophony of 
sounds and smells. 
The lights are 
too bright, the 
chatter too loud, 
but he tries to 
keep it together. 
He's proud of Chip.
Though the sensory 
bombardment was 
too much for Plankton's
system to handle, 
for his son, he'd try.

He watches Chip 
nervously fidget 
with his project, 
his heart racing. 
This is his son's 
moment, and he 
doesn't want to 
ruin it with another
outburst or meltdown. 
He grips the 
armrests of his 
chair, his body tense.

The announcer's 
megaphone pierces 
the air, making 
his antennae spike 
with discomfort. The 
sharp, high-pitched
noise feels like a 
knife to his sensitive 
ears. He flinches, 
his eye squeezing 
shut involuntarily as 
his hands fly to 
his head, trying 
to muffle the sound.

Karen notices 
his distress, her 
face etched with 
concern. She 
reaches for him, but 
thinks better of it.
"Plankton," she 
says, her voice 
gentle but firm. 
"The megaphone 
will be here 
all day. We need 
to find a way to 
make i---"

He cuts her off. 
"I know," he snaps. 
"But I can't just ignore 
it!" His antennae 
spike again as 
another announcement 
blares through the 
speakers. He winces, 
his body visibly 
shaking with the 
overstimulation.

Karen nods, 
understanding. 
"Let's go outside 
for a bit," she 
suggests, her voice 
soothing. "Maybe 
some fresh air will 
he--"

But before she can
finish, Plankton 
shakes his head 
frantically. "No," he 
whispers, his eye
squeezed shut. "I-I 
can't leave Chip." His 
body is rigid with 
the effort of 
containing his
sensitive auditory 
processing system. He 
flinches, his antennae 
retracting, his skin 
crawling. "Chip's up soon," 
he stammers. "Can't leave 
now." His voice 
cracks with 
anxiety, his body 
trembling with the 
effort of staying 
seated. Karen nods, 
understanding the 
importance of this 
moment for both of 
them. 

The lights dim, 
and the theater 
silences as the 
judges take their 
places. Plankton's 
heart races as he 
watches Chip approach 
the podium, his 
hands fidgeting 
nervously with 
his project. The 
megaphone booms 
once more, 
announcing the 
beginning of the 
presentations.

The first contestant
steps up, their 
project a whirl of 
colors and 
sounds that 
make Plankton's antennae 
spike. He grits 
his teeth, trying 
to focus on his 
breathing, but the 
clapping that follows 
is like nails on a 
chalkboard to his 
sensitive hearing. He 
wishes he could 
cover his ears, but 
his pride in Chip 
keeps him in his 
seat, his hands 
white-knuckled on the 
armrests.

As the applause 
continues, Plankton's 
body starts to 
shake, his antennae 
twitching erratically. 
He feels the pressure 
building in his 
chest, the need 
to escape this 
tormenting cacophony. 
The clapping seems 
to go on forever, 
each sound a 
sting to his 
overwhelmed mind.

Karen notices his 
distress, her 
heart aching. She 
reaches for his hand, 
but he flinches away, 
his eye wide as Chip
demonstrates his 
project. The applause
erupts again, a round of
cheers. Plankton 
squeezes his eye
shut, his antennae 
flattened against 
his head. He 
wants to scream, to 
run, but he's 
frozen, his eye
squeezed shut, his 
breaths coming in 
quick, shallow 
gasps. But then it
proves to be too
much for his body.
Karen's hand 
instinctively goes 
to his shoulder. 
"Plankton?" She asks, 
concern etched into 
her voice.

He doesn't 
answer, his body 
now rigid with 
pain. He feels like 
his insides are 
being torn apart. 
The noise, the 
crowd, it's all 
too much. He's 
going to be sick. 
He can feel it, 
the bile rising 
in his throat. 
The lights are 
spinning, and the 
world is closing in.

Karen's grip 
on his shoulder 
tightens. "What's 
wrong?" She asks, 
alarmed.
Plankton's eye 
flips open, and he 
swallows hard. 
"I-I don't...I ca--"

His words cut off as 
his stomach revolts, 
his body lurching 
forward as he vomits, 
sounds and crowds 
of the science fair 
overwhelming him.

Karen jumps to 
action, guiding 
Plankton out 
quickly, her arm 
around his 
wobbling frame. 
The coolness of the 
hallway is a 
relief, but Plankton 
can't stop shaking, 
his antennae flat 
against his head.

"I-I'm sorry," he 
whispers, his voice 
shaking as much 
as his body. "I-I 
couldn't take it."
Karen nods. "It's 
okay," she says, her 
tone calm and 
steady. "Let's get 
you cleaned up." She 
knows his sensory 
overload can lead to 
such outbursts, and 
it breaks her heart to 
see him in such 
distress,  his 
unshed tears.

They make their 
way to a water 
fountain, running 
cool water over his 
hands as he rinses 
his mouth. "Sorry, 
Karen," he says, 
his voice barely 
above a whisper.
"I didn't mean to 
do this." He looks 
at her, his single eye
filled with guilt. "I
wanted to be there 
for Chip."

Karen takes his 
hand. "You can't 
control how your 
brain reacts to 
things, and that's 
okay."

new adaptable family braincore control

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 14

The seizure seems to
last an eternity, each
second stretching into 
a minute. "Just keep 
talking to him. That's 
all we can do. Keep the
drawing out of his line of 
sight," Karen instructs, her
hands steady and calm.

Chip nods, his eyes 
never leaving his
father's face. "It's ok,
Dad," he repeats as
he folds up the paper.

Plankton's body stiffens
then relaxes, the seizure
passing into the postictal
phase. His single eye opens
slowly, unfocused. Karen
holds his hand, her voice
calm. "You're okay, you're
safe," she repeats.

Plankton's speech 
is slurred, a child-
like lilt to his words.
"Yi," he says. "Loog?"
He looks around, 
confusion clouding 
his features. Chip's 
heart breaks, but he
knows what to do.

"Hi, Dad," Chip says,
his voice gentle.
"You had a seizure,
but it's over now.
You're safe." Plankton's
eye widens, trying to
to sit up, but Karen
eases him back down.

"Shh," she whispers,
stroking his forehead.
"Easy, love. We're
right here."

Plankton's eye darts
around the room, his
speech coming out
in jumbles. "Ka...ken...
Utz...?" His voice
cracks, and Chip's heart
swells with love and
fear.

"It's okay, Daddy,"
Chip says, his voice
steady. "You're safe.
I'm sorry if I hu-"

But Plankton cuts him
off, his speech still
slurred, his thoughts
scattered. "Ha... happy?
Haff... h-elp?"

Karen's heart breaks as
she sees the fear in
his eye. "Yes, darling,"
she says, her voice
soothing. "We're here to
help. It's okay." She turns
to Chip. "Can you get a
stim toy?" Chip nods,
quickly retrieving a
soft, squishy ball from
the shelf. He brings it
over, placing it gently
by Plankton's hand.

"Dad, look," Chip
says, showing
Plankton the ball.
"Can you hold it?"

Plankton's hand
reaches for the ball,
his movements
slow and clumsy. He
squeezes it tentatively,
his face contorting
as if trying to remember
what it's for. His eye
is glazed, and his voice
slurred. "Buh," he says.
Karen nods at Chip.
"Good," she whispers.
"Keep it up."

Chip takes a deep
breath. "Can you
roll the ball over?"

Plankton looks at
his hand. "O... kay,"
he says, his voice
thick with confusion.
He rolls the ball
to Chip, his eye 
following its
path. "Ba... baball," he
mumbles. Chip's eyes
well up with tears
but he forces a smile.
"That's right, Dad,"
Chip says, his voice
shaky but hopeful
as he rolls the ball
back to him again.
"It's a ball. You can
roll it back to me."

The simple act of
interaction seems
to help Plankton.
He rolls the ball
to Chip, antennae
twitching slightly.
"Ga... game?" he
asks, his voice still
out of it.

Chip nods, his
smile growing.
"Yeah, Dad," he 
says. "We're 
playing catch.
Just like we
always do. Do
you remembe---"

But Plankton's
eye glazes over
again, his hand
dropping the
stim toy. "G-game,"
he stammers, his
speech jumbled.

"It's okay, Dad,"
Chip says, his voice
soothing despite his
concern. "You're safe
now." He picks up the
ball, rolling it back
to his father gently.

Plankton watches
the ball's journey with
sluggish curiosity, his
eye still unfocused.
"M-make... it... go?"
His hand reaches
out, his grip unsteady as
he tries to roll the ball
back. It wobbles before
finally reaching Chip.
"Good job, Dad," Chip
praises, his heart heavy.
"You're doing great."

Karen's eyes
are filled with
love. "Good
Chip, just keep
talking to him,"
she whispers.

Chip nods,
his voice shaky.
"Dad, remember
we talked about
how you see the
world?" Plankton's
single eye flickers,
his antennae moving
slightly. "You're so
good at making
things, because
you notice details
others don't. That's
because of your
autism. It's not a
weakness, it's a
strength."

Plankton's gaze
focuses a bit more,
his eye searching
Chip's face. "Ma...
make... things?" He
whispers. "Ma...
make... bah?"

Chip nods,
his smile gentle.
"You make amazing
things, Dad. Your
inventions are like
none other because of
how your brain works.
It's not a bad thing," he
says, trying to reassure
his father. "It's what makes
you, you."

Plankton's hand
shakes as he
fumbles with the
stim toy. "B-but...
Ka... Chi... Utch...?"

Karen sighs, her
heart aching. "It's okay,
love," she says, her
voice a gentle whisper.
"We're here. You're okay."

Plankton's hand
continues to fumble
with the ball, his
movements erratic and
slightly uncoordinated.
"Ma... mesh... ba...
baball?" he mumbles,
his brain still in a
state of confusion.
Chip nods, his
heart aching. "It's
okay, Dad," he says,
his voice filled with
patience. "You just had
a seizure. You need
some time to recover."

Karen watches as Chip
interacts with Plankton,
his words gentle and
understanding. She's
proud of how he's
handling the situation,
despite the fear that must
be coursing through
his young body. She
smiles at him, giving
a small nod of
encouragement.
Plankton's gaze
shifts, his eye
still not quite focused
as he laughs softly.

"Ma... m-m-make me,"
he stammers, his
voice childlike in 
innocence. "Meeeeeee.."

Karen's heart clenches
at the sound of his
babbling. She knows
this phase all too
well, the aftermath
of a seizure leaving
Plankton in a vulnerable,
confused state. "We're
right here, baby," she
coos, her hand
stroking his arm. She
knew the neuroregression
he experiences all too well.

new dare to be different seizurecore pt

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 11

They find an
empty corner, away
from the chaos.
Plankton leans 
against the wall, 
his breathing still 
rapid. "I-I just... 
wanted to be 
normal," he says, 
his voice trembling. 
"But I can't even 
sit through this."
Karen squeezes 
his hand. "You are 
normal, Plankton. 
Your normal." She
wipes his forehead
with her hand, her 
movements gentle.

"But Chip..."
Plankton's voice
trails off, his 
thoughts racing.
"He'll understand,"
Karen reassures him.
"He loves you, just
the way you are."

They sit in 
silence in the 
corner, the 
buzz of the fair 
muffled by the 
closed doors.
Plankton nods, 
his shoulders 
slumping with 
fatigue. "Let's just 
wait here," Karen 
suggested, her 
voice gentle. "We'll 
hear when the 
winner is announced."

He nods. He 
feels drained, his 
body heavy. He 
closes his eye, 
his breathing 
evening out as 
he leans against 
Karen's shoulder. 
The coolness of 
the wall is a 
comfort, 
his antennae 
finally still. 
He's exhausted, 
too tired to keep
his eye open.
Plankton's breathing
deepens, his 
body finally 
relinquishing to 
sleep's embrace.

Karen feels the 
weight of his 
head shift and 
knows he's asleep,
his mouth slightly 
open, a soft snore 
escaping, his 
hands resting 
quietly on his 
legs. Her eyes trace 
his peaceful 
features, the 
slight furrow 
on his brow 
smoothed out.

The science fair 
continues beyond 
the doors, but in 
this quiet corner, 
Plankton is safe. 
Karen pulls out 
her phone, 
texting Chip where
they are whenever
the winner has been
announced. Plankton's 
snores are rhythmic, a 
testament to his 
exhaustion. Chip's text 
pings through: "I won."

Karen's eyes light 
up with pride, 
but she keeps her 
voice low. "Chip 
won," she whispers, 
nudging Plankton 
gently. His snores 
don't even hitch, 
his slumber deep,
still slack against 
Karen's side. She 
smiles, her eyes 
misting over.

Chip comes out
with his first-place
ribbon and trophy.
"Hey," Chip says. 
"Uh, Dad; you okay?"
Plankton's antennae 
twitch at the sound, 
but he doesn't wake
as Chip goes to Karen's
side.

"He's just tired,
sweetheart," Karen 
explains, her voice 
quiet. "The fair
was a bit much 
for him." Chip nods. 
He looks at 
his dad, his
heart swelling 
with love and 
concern. "Can we 
wake him up?" He
asks, holding 
his trophy 
tightly.

Karen shakes her
head. "Let him 
sleep," she says. 
"We'll celebrate
when he wakes up.
Right now, he 
needs his rest."
Chip nods again, 
his eyes never 
leaving his dad's 
sleeping face. 
He's never seen 
his dad like this, 
so vulnerable. 

They sit in silence, 
the only sound 
being Plankton's 
steady snores. Chip 
holds his trophy 
carefully, the 
weight of the 
moment heavy in 
his hands. He's 
proud of himself, 
but there's a 
hole where his 
dad's presence 
should be.

Karen's hand 
squeezes Chip's 
shoulder. "He'll 
be so proud 
when he wakes up," 
she whispers. 
Chip nods, his 
throat tight with
emotions. "I know,"
he murmurs. "Do
we go back to the
hotel, or stay here
in the theater lobby?
You're sitting on the
ground, so.."

Karen looks
around, noticing
the concerned 
glances from 
passersby. "Let's
find a quieter 
spot," she says,
gesturing to 
a bench.

They move to 
the bench, 
Chip setting his 
trophy down 
carefully beside 
them. Karen slides 
her arms under 
Plankton's legs 
and shoulders, 
lifting him with a 
surprising ease. His 
body is limp, 
his antennae 
still, his 
snores a soft 
comfort in the 
silence.

The walk to 
the bench is 
slow, Karen's steps 
careful not to 
jostle him 
awake. Plankton's 
head lolls back, 
his eye still 
closed, as if 
the world can't 
reach him in 
his sleep. Chip 
walks alongside, 
his heart 
thumping with 
worry and love.

They lay him 
gently on the 
bench, Karen 
adjusting his 
body so he's 
comfortable. His 
snores deepen, 
his chest rising 
and falling 
evenly. Chip 
sits beside him, 
his eyes on 
his dad, his mind 
racing. "What happens 
now?" Chip whispers 
to his mom. "Now, we 
wait," Karen says, 
sitting down 
next to him, 
her arm around 
his shoulder. "And 
we talk." She 
squeezes him 
gently. "Do you 
have any 
questions about 
your dad's 
autism?"

Chip nods. "Why 
does it make 
him so tired?" He 
asks, his voice 
small. "Well," 
Karen starts, "his 
brain works differently 
than ours. It's like 
his game console 
is always on the 
highest setting, and 
it takes a lot 
more energy to 
process everything."

"So when 
he's overwhelmed, 
his battery runs 
out faster?" Chip 
asks, his gaze 
still on his 
snoring father.
Karen nods. "Exactly. 
And when that 
happens, he needs 
some quiet time 
to recharge, like 
a phone plugged in
its charger."

The bench 
creaks gently 
as Karen shifts 
her weight. "You 
can ask me any
thing you want." 

new adaptable family faircore sleepicore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 12

Chip looks at 
his mom, his 
thoughts racing. 
"How'd Dad get 
this way?" He 
whispers, his voice 
barely above the 
soft snores of 
his father. Karen 
sighs, her eyes 
looking over at her
husband's sleeping 
form.

"It was during 
his birth," she 
begins, her voice 
soft. "It was a 
difficult delivery.
Ma, his mother, had
complications, and 
his brain was...affected."
Chip's eyes widen. 
"What do you mean?"

"Well," Karen 
explains, "his 
brain developed 
a bit differently, 
because of the 
troubles during 
his birth." She 
takes a deep 
breath, her eyes 
misting over. 
"Before he was
born, everything 
was fine. But 
his delivery was 
what they call a 
traumatic one. It 
caused some 
damage to the 
part of his brain 
that controls how 
he experiences 
the world."

Chip nods, his 
thoughts racing. 
He's heard of 
autism before, but 
never knew his 
dad's was due 
to an injury. "So 
his brain got 
hurt?" He asks, 
his voice small.

"In a way," 
Karen says, 
wiping a tear 
away with her 
free hand. "It's 
not exactly like
brain damage, as 
you might think of it.
It's more like... his
brain's wiring 
got a bit scrambled
right at the start. 
So, he feels, sees, 
hears, and thinks 
about things in a way 
that's unique to him."

Chip nods, his 
thoughts swirling. 
He looks back at 
his dad. "I don't want
him to be in pain,"
Chip says, his voice
breaking. As if on cue, 
Plankton's snores 
begin to quiet, 
his chest rising 
and falling more 
slowly. Chip holds 
his breath, watching
his dad's face 
for any signs 
of waking.

Karen notices 
the shift first, 
her gaze 
sharpening. "He's 
waking up," she 
whispers to Chip, 
squeezing his 
hand gently.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, his snores 
growing softer, 
until they stop 
altogether. His 
eye opens slowly, 
blinking against 
the harsh light. He 
looks around, 
confused, before 
his gaze falls on 
his family. Karen 
smiles gently, 
relief flooding 
her features. "Hey! 
We're on a bench," she 
says, stroking his 
forehead. "You had 
a bit of an overwhelm 
and fell aslee—"

He sits up with 
a start, his 
body stiff. "The 
science fair!" He 
exclaims. "Did I 
miss Chip's turn?"

Karen smiles, 
taking his hand. "No,
you didn't miss it. 
Chip's already done
his presentation. 
And guess what?" She 
pauses, her eyes 
twinkling as she
turns to Chip.

Chip's face lights 
up with excitement. 
"I won," he says, 
his voice filled 
with pride. Plankton's 
eye goes wide, his 
body straightening 
as the words 
register. "You did?"
He asks, his voice 
hoarse from sleep 
and the earlier 
overstimulation.
Karen nods. "Yes, 
he did," she says, her 
smile warm. Plankton 
turns to Chip.

"Congratulations," 
he murmurs, his 
eye swiveling to 
his son's trophy.

"Dad, I got 
first place," Chip 
says, his voice 
swelling with pride. 
He holds up his 
ribbon, the gold 
glinting in the 
harsh light of the 
lobby. Plankton 
manages a smile, 
his antennae 
quivering slightly. 
"You did," he 
whispers. 

Karen looks 
between them, 
her heart swelling. 
This moment, 
despite the 
difficulties, was 
exactly what they 
needed. "We're all
so proud of you, 
Chip," she says, 
her voice thick 
with emotion. 
"Let's go back 
to the hotel and 
celebrate," she says, 
glancing at 
Plankton, who 
nods. Yet Chip
looks confused,
expecting more
excitement from
his dad. He looks
at Plankton, who
doesn't seem to
have any emotion
at all. 

"Dad, aren't you 
glad I won?" Chip 
asks. Plankton
however doesn't
even notice Chip's 
disappointment.

Plankton nods. "Of 
course," he says, 
his voice distant. "It's 
amazing, son." But 
his words don't 
match his tone.

Chip's smile falters 
slightly. "But do you 
feel it?" He asks, 
his voice small. 
Plankton looks at 
his son, his antennae 
twitching. "What?"
He asks, genuinely 
confused. "Dad, I
WON. I won the fair.
Don't you feel excited?"

Plankton nods. 
"I'm happy for 
you, Chip." He 
tries to smile, but 
it doesn't quite 
reach his eye.

Chip's shoulders 
slump. He doesn't 
know Plankton 
can't do feelings 
the same way he 
expresses them.

"Come on, Dad," 
Chip says, his 
voice a mix of 
frustration and 
sorrow. "Can't you 
just be happy with 
me?" Plankton
blinks. "Yea?"

But Chip takes it
personally. Yet
Plankton can't see
disappointment 
and confusion 
in his son's eyes.
He's trying, really
trying, but his 
autistic brain 
can't process any
thing wrong.

He tries to 
mirror Chip's smile,
his antennae 
waving slightly. 
But Chip can't 
see it, not 
really. He just 
wants his dad 
to be as 
excited as he is, 
to scream and 
cheer and jump 
around like 
everyone else's 
dad would.

Chip's eyes 
brim with tears. 
"You don't even 
know how much this 
meant to me," he 
mutters, his voice 
choking with 
emotion. "And all 
you do is sit there 
like nothing's 
happened."

Plankton registers 
the silence. "Uh, is 
something w---"

"You don't get it," 
Chip says, his voice 
cracking. "You never 
get it!" The accusation 
hangs in the air, 
sharp as a slap. Plankton 
reels, his antennae 
drooping. "I'm sorry,"
he whispers. "I'm 
trying." But it's not 
enough. Chip's 
frustration boils 
over.

He jumps to his 
feet, the ribbon 
waving in the 
air like a sad 
banner of victory. 
"You're always 
trying," Chip yells. 
"But you never 
understand!" His voice 
echoes in the empty 
lobby, and Plankton 
wishes the floor 
would swallow him 
whole. Karen's 
expression tightens, 
but she stays 
silent, giving 
them their space.

Plankton tries to 
stand, but his legs 
shake, his body 
still weak from 
overstimulation. "Chip,
please," he stammers, 
his voice trembling. 
"I'm here, I'm 
proud of you, I'm---"

But Chip isn't 
listening. His anger 
has taken over, 
his young mind 
unable to comprehend 
his dad's condition. 
"You're being 
selfish," Chip 
accuses, his eyes 
brimming with 
tears. "You can't 
even pretend to 
be happy for me!"
Plankton's antennae 
droop further.

Chip's chest 
heaves with 
sobs, his fists 
clenched at his 
sides. "You always 
make everything 
about you," he 
accuses, his voice 
high with anger. "You 
can't even pretend 
to be happy for 
me! You're just re---"

Plankton's 
body goes rigid, 
his antennae 
springing straight. 
His eye widens
in shock. The 
slur cut deep, 
deeper than 
anything. He's 
heard it whispered 
behind his back, 
seen it scribbled 
on bathroom walls, 
but never from 
his own son.

new adaptable family emotionalcore mood

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 13

"You're a 
ret-" Chip 
screams.

The words hang 
heavy in the 
air, each one a 
knife to Plankton's 
heart. He's 
spent his whole 
life trying to 
prove he's not, 
and in one 
moment, his 
son has 
reduced him to 
a cruel epithet.
He feels the 
sting of tears 
in his eye, but 
his body won't 
let them fall. 
He's frozen, 
his mind racing. 
What did he do
wrong? How could 
his own flesh 
and blood say 
something so 
hurtful?

Karen jumps to 
her feet, her 
face a mask of 
fury. "Chip," she 
says, her voice 
dangerously calm. 
"That's enough."

Chip turns to 
his mom, 
his eyes wide and 
wet. "But he just 
doesn't get it," 
he wails.

Karen takes a 
deep breath, 
her eyes on her 
son, her voice 
steady. "Chip, 
Dad is not 
that word. He's 
autistic, and that 
means he 
processes things 
differently. He's 
always trying to 
understand you, 
just like you're 
trying to understand 
him."

Chip's anger 
subsides, now
replaced by 
guilt and 
confusion. He 
looks at 
Plankton, who's 
still frozen on the 
bench. "But I just 
wanted him to 
be happy for me," 
Chip says, his voice 
small. Karen 
kneels beside 
him, taking his 
hand. "And he is," 
she says firmly. "You 
just have to learn 
how to read his 
emotions differently."

Chip frowns. "What
do you mean?" He
asks her.

Karen takes a 
deep breath, her
heart aching for 
both her son and
her husband. "Your 
dad shows his love 
and pride in 
his own way, Chip. 
Sometimes, it's not 
the same as everyone 
else's." She looks 
at Plankton, who's 
still sitting on the 
bench, his antennae
drooped low. "But 
that doesn't mean
it's not there," she 
adds softly. "His
autism just makes 
it harder for him to 
show it like other
people do."

Chip looks at 
Plankton, his 
chest tightening 
with regret. "I'm 
sorry," he says, 
his voice barely 
a whisper. Plankton
doesn't move, but 
his antennae twitch 
slightly. "Dad, I'm 
sorry!" Chip repeats, 
his voice stronger.

Plankton blinks, 
his eye swiveling 
towards Chip. "I
don't get it," he said, 
his voice flat. "Chip
what makes you think
I wasn't pro-"

But Chip doesn't 
let him finish. 
"You never cheer," 
he says, his voice 
breaking. "You 
never clap, you 
never jump around. 
You're always so 
still and quiet. It's 
like you don't even 
care. You say you're 
proud, but you don't 
show i---"

Karen cuts him 
off with a gentle 
squeeze of his 
hand. "That's not 
true, Chip," she 
says, her voice 
calm. "Your dad 
shows his feelings 
in his own way. It's 
just different from 
what we're used 
to." She turns to 
Plankton, her 
expression 
softening. "Plankton, 
can you tell Chip how
you felt when you 
heard he won?"

But Plankton's in
his own world now.
"Chip won, Chip
won, Chip won,"
he repeats, his eye 
unfocused. "I'm 
proud but, you
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. I'm proud, I'm
proud, Chip won. I'm 
proud. But you
don't show it, I'm 
sorry," he says 
to the empty 
air. "Chip won."

His voice is 
monotone, his 
body rocking 
slightly, his 
stim. "Chip, I'm 
proud, Chip won. But 
you don't show it. I'm 
sorry. I'm proud, I'm 
proud, I'm proud," 
he murmurs.
The words repeat 
like a broken 
record, each one 
more painful 
than the last. Karen
sighs, her heart 
breaking for her 
husband, and also
her son.

Chip stares 
at him. Plankton's 
stim doesn't stop,
tears in his eye.
"I'm proud, Chip 
won, I'm sorry. I'm 
proud," he continues,
upset at himself.

Karen steps 
forward, her eyes
filling with 
compassion. "Plankton,
you're doing just 
fine," she says, 
trying to cut 
through the 
repetitive phrase. 
"We know you're 
proud. It's okay."

But Plankton's 
stim doesn't stop. 
"I'm proud. But you 
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. Chip won."
His voice is 
mechanical, his 
thoughts locked in 
a painful loop. Karen
sits beside him.

"It's okay," she 
soothes. "Chip 
knows you're proud.
You don't have to 
keep saying it."

But the words 
don't stop, the 
stim a shield 
against his son's 
pain. "I'm proud, 
but you don't show 
it, I'm sorry. Chip 
won." His voice 
cracks, his antennae 
quivering with 
each syllable. Karen 
wraps her arm around 
his shoulders, 
pulling him into 
her embrace. "You're 
doing great, Plankton.
We're all proud 
of Chip. We just 
have to remembe---"

But Plankton 
can't stop, the 
phrase playing 
like a broken 
record in his mind. 
"I'm proud, but 
you don't show it, 
I'm sorry," he whispers, 
his antennae drooping. 
He can't look at 
his son, the hurt 
in Chip's eyes 
too much to bear. 
"Chip won." His 
voice is a 
whisper now, his 
body still.

Karen's arms 
tighten around 
his shoulders. "It's 
okay, Plankton," she 
soothes. "You're 
doing your best." 
But he can't hear 
her over the hurt. 
"I'm proud," he 
whispers, his voice 
cracking. "I'm proud."

Chip watches, his 
tears falling freely 
now. "Dad," he says, 
his voice thick with 
sorrow. "I know you're 
proud of me. I know 
you love me!"

But Plankton's 
stim continues, his 
voice a sad refrain. 
"I'm proud, but 
you don't show it, 
I'm sorry. Chip won."

Karen's eyes 
fill with tears. 
"Chip," she says 
softly, "Your dad's 
stim is his way of 
coping with his 
emotions right now. 
He's trying to 
say he's proud, but 
his brain's stuck 
in a loop."

Chip wipes at 
his own tears, 
his heart aching. 
"I didn't mean to 
make him sad," he 
whispers. "I just 
wanted him to be 
happy."

Karen nods, her 
own eyes wet. "I 
know, sweetheart," 
she says, her voice 
soothing. "And yet,
it's hard for people 
with autism to 
show their feelings 
the way we do. And 
right now, your dad's 
feeling a lot of 
things. He's sorry 
he can't be like 
everyone else, but 
he's also really proud 
of you."

new adaptable family meancore attitude

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 14

Plankton's voice 
doesn't waver from 
his sad mantra. 
"I'm proud, but you 
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. Chip won." His 
body rocks slightly, 
his antennae 
quivering. The 
lobby seems to 
spin around him, 
his heart heavy with 
shame and love.

Chip's eyes are 
glued to his 
father. "Dad," he said 
again, his voice 
trembling. "You 
don't have to be 
sorry." But Plankton 
doesn't seem to
hear his son.

Karen's eyes 
are filled with 
sadness, but 
she nods firmly. "Chip, 
your dad loves you. 
He's just... stuck."

The words 
hang in the air, 
Plankton's voice 
still echoing through 
the lobby. "I'm 
proud, but you don't 
show it, I'm sorry. 
Chip won." His 
stim isn't letting 
up, his body 
rocking slightly, 
his antennae 
trembling with 
each repeated phrase.

Chip watches, his 
heart breaking. He 
understands now, the 
complexities of his 
father's mind. He 
can see the love 
behind the words, 
the pain in his 
eye. "Dad," he 
whispers, kneeling 
before him. "I know 
you're pro-"

But Plankton's 
stim doesn't let 
his voice rest. "I'm 
proud, but you 
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. Chip won." His 
body rocks more 
now, his antennae 
shaking with 
each syllable. "But 
you don't show 
it, I'm sorry."

The words become 
a rhythm, a sad 
song of regret 
and pain. Chip's 
heart breaks a 
little more with 
each repetition. 
He doesn't know 
how to reach 
his dad, how to 
tell him that his 
love is enough.

Karen watches, 
her own heart 
breaking for her 
family. She knows 
this isn't easy for 
any of them, but 
she also knows 
they're making 
progress. She 
squeezes Plankton's 
hand, trying to 
transfer some of 
her strength to him.

Chip's eyes never 
leave his dad's 
face. He sees the 
love in Plankton's 
eye, the pain 
behind the words.

"Dad," he says, 
his voice shaky. 
"I know you're 
proud of me."
But Plankton's 
stim doesn't 
acknowledge his 
words. "I'm proud, 
but you don't show 
it, I'm sorry. Chip 
won." His voice is 
a sad refrain, his 
body stuck in a 
painful routine.

Karen's grip on 
his hand tightens, 
and she whispers 
soothingly into his 
ear. "We're all 
so proud of Chip, 
Plankton," she says. 
"You've got to 
believe th-"

But Plankton's 
stim continues, 
his voice a sad 
reminder of his 
inability to connect 
in the way Chip 
craves. "I'm proud, 
but you don't show 
it, I'm sorry. Chip 
won." His antennae 
quiver with each 
word, his body 
still.

Chip's heart 
swells with 
understanding, his 
frustration giving 
way to compassion. 
He reaches out 
his free hand to 
his dad, placing 
it gently on his 
shoulder. "Dad," he 
whispers, "I know 
you're proud. I can 
see it."

But Plankton's 
body goes rigid
at Chip's touch.

The words 
suddenly stop.
The lobby seems
to hold its breath.
Plankton's antennae 
fall limp. His eye 
rolls back, and 
his body goes 
slack. Karen's 
grip on his hand 
tightens instinctively 
as he starts to 
slump over.

With a gasp, 
she catches him, 
his head falling 
heavily onto her 
shoulder. Chip's eyes 
widen with 
fright as they 
manage to 
lay Plankton down
on the bench. "It's 
his autism," she 
explains. "Sometimes
his brain gets 
overwhelmed 
and he can faint. It's ok, 
Chip. This happens 
sometimes." 

Plankton's body 
is limp, his eye 
closed, his
mouth slightly 
agape. Chip's heart 
thunders in his 
chest, his 
hands trembling. 
He's seen his dad 
have meltdowns 
before, but 
this is new. 
Karen's voice is 
calm. "It's okay, 
Chip," she says. 
"This is just 
his brain's way 
of saying it's had 
enough."

Her words 
aren't enough to 
soothe the 
fear in Chip's 
heart. He watches 
his dad, 
desperately 
wishing he could 
understand, could 
fix him, could 
make him okay. 
But he knows he 
can't. Autism 
doesn't work that 
way. It's a part 
of Plankton, a 
part of their 
life, a part 
they have to 
navigate together.

Karen checks 
Plankton's pulse, 
relief flooding 
her when she feels 
his steady 
heartbeat. She 
turns to Chip. 
"He's okay," she 
assures. "Just 
needs some time 
to recover." 
Her voice is 
calm.

But Chip's 
heart won't slow 
down. His eyes 
are wide with 
fear, his breaths 
coming in 
quick gasps. "Dad," 
he whispers, 
his voice 
shaky.

Karen nods, 
wiping a 
stray tear from 
her cheek. "Let's 
take him to the 
hotel," she says, 
gently. "He'll 
be okay. Get
your prizes, and
get to the car."

Chip nods, his 
hands shaking as 
he picks up his 
trophy and ribbon.
He watches as 
his mother lifts 
his father with 
care, her eyes 
filled with fierce
determination. She 
knows Plankton 
better than anyone.

new adaptable family consciouscore chipcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 15

Karen's arms 
wrap around 
Plankton's slender 
form, his head 
lolling back 
against her shoulder. 
Her eyes are 
filled with a mix 
of love and 
exhaustion. The 
weight of her 
husband seems to 
double as she 
carries him out 
of the lobby, 
his antennae brushing 
against her cheek. 
The world outside 
the science fair 
seems to fade 
away as they 
move to their
parked car. Chip 
follows closely, 
his small hand 
clutching his 
trophy, his 
ribbon fluttering 
in the breeze.

The car door 
opens with 
a metallic 
creak, and Karen 
gently lowers 
Plankton into 
his seat. His 
body is limp, 
his eye still 
closed. She 
buckles him in, 
her movements 
precise and 
careful, as if 
handling a fragile 
piece of glass. 
The engine roars 
to life, and 
they pull away 
from the curb, 
leaving the 
science fair and 
its chaos behind.

Chip sits in 
the backseat, 
his eyes never 
leaving his 
father's face as
they arrive at the
hotel's parking
lot.

Karen's breaths 
are deep and 
even as she 
lifts Plankton 
once again, his 
body heavier 
than it was before. 
The cool night 
air brushes against 
his antennae, 
but there's no 
response. "Come 
on, Plankton," 
she whispers, 
as if her voice 
could coax him 
back to reality.

With each step 
towards the hotel, 
his weight seems 
to increase, 
but Karen's 
strength doesn't 
waver. She's 
done this before, 
carried his burden 
when he couldn't 
bare it himself. 
The doors slide 
open with a 
whoosh, the lobby's 
warmth enveloping 
them. The bellhop 
looks up from 
his desk, his 
smile faltering 
at the sight of 
their distress.

"Is everything 
okay?" He asks, 
his voice tentative. 
Karen nods, a 
single tear 
escaping down 
her cheek. "Just 
tired," she lies, 
her voice strained 
from the weight 
of her words. 
They make their 
way to their room.

In the quiet 
of their hotel 
chamber, Karen 
gently lays 
Plankton on the 
bed, his antennae 
flaccid against 
the pillow. Chip 
watches from the 
doorway, his 
trophy and ribbon 
forgotten by the 
sight of his 
father's stillness. 
"Dad?" He whimpers, 
his voice 
quivering.

Plankton doesn't 
respond. "Dad," Chip 
tries again. He sets 
his trophy and 
ribbon on the 
nightstand, 
his eyes never 
leaving his 
father's face. 
The room is 
silent, save for 
the faint 
humming of the 
air conditioner 
and the distant 
sound of laughter 
from the 
hallway outside.

Plankton's antennae 
tips twitch 
slightly, a small
sign of life that 
offers Chip a 
tiny sliver of hope.
"Dad?" Chip says 
again, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper.

Plankton's eye 
slowly opens, 
his pupil dilating 
as he adjusts to 
the soft light of 
the hotel room. 
He looks at Chip, 
his gaze 
uncertain, as if 
seeing him for 
the first time. "Chip?" 
He whispers, his 
voice hoarse.

Chip rushes to 
his side, his 
small hands 
gripping the 
covers. "You're 
awake," he says, 
his voice filled 
with relief.

Plankton's antennae 
lift slightly. "What 
happened?" He 
asks, his voice 
weak. Karen 
sighs, sitting 
beside him on 
the bed. "You had 
a bit of an 
overload, honey," 
she says, her 
hand smoothing 
his antennae. "But 
you're okay now."

Chip watches 
his dad, his 
heart racing. "You 
were saying sorry," 
he says softly. 
"For not showing 
you were proud 
of me."

Plankton blinks, 
his antennae 
twitching as 
his thoughts realign. 
"Oh," he says, 
his voice still 
weak. "I'm sorry, Chip."

Chip shakes his 
head. "You don't 
have to be sorry," 
he says, his voice 
trembling with 
emotion. "I just 
wanted you to 
be happy, for me."

Plankton's antennae 
rise, his eye 
widening slightly. 
He tries to sit 
up, but his body 
betrays him, 
weak from the 
overwhelming 
stimulation. Karen 
quickly supports 
his back, her 
expression a mix 
of love and 
concern. "I was 
happy," Plankton 
says, his voice 
gaining strength. 
"So proud." He
pats the bed.
"Come here," he 
whispers, his voice 
unusually gentle.
Chip crawls onto
the bed.

The two sit 
silently for a 
moment, their 
bodies close, their 
eyes locked. It's 
a rare moment 
of physical 
intimacy for 
Plankton, who's 
usually so guarded 
about his personal 
space. But now, 
his barriers are 
down, and he's 
opening himself up 
to his son.

"I'm sorry," 
Plankton says 
again, his voice 
quivering with 
the weight of 
his words. "I 
don't know how 
to show it, Chip. 
But I'm so proud 
of you." His voice 
is raw, emotions 
laid bare.

Chip scoots 
closer. "It's 
ok, Dad," he 
says, his 
voice shaky. "I 
know you're 
proud. I can 
see it."

Plankton's 
body relaxes. 
He looks at 
Chip, really 
looks at him, his 
eye searching. "You 
see it?" He asks, 
his voice 
hopeful.

Chip nods, 
his eyes shining 
with tears. "I 
see it, every 
day," he says. "When 
you help me 
with my homework, 
when you're there 
for me." He 
swallows hard, 
his voice thick 
with emotion. "I 
see it when 
you try so hard 
to be part of 
things."

Plankton's antennae 
quiver. "But not 
today?" He asks, 
his voice 
vulnerable.
Chip shakes his 
head, his voice 
steady. "Today too, 
Dad," he says. "You 
were proud today. 
You just had a hard 
time showing it."

Karen's eyes 
brim with tears 
as she watches her 
family. This is what 
she's fought for, 
this understanding. 
This connection.
Plankton's expression 
softens. "Thank 
you, Chip," he 
whispers. "Thank you 
for seeing me. You
wanna share this
bed with me?"
Chip nods eagerly, 
scooting closer 
to his dad as Karen
tucks them in.

And for the first 
time, Plankton 
lets himself lean 
on Chip's shoulder.
Chip feels the weight 
of his father's head 
on his shoulder, and 
it's comfortable in a
way he has never felt 
before.

His dad's antennae 
brush against 
his cheek, and he 
doesn't flinch. Rather, 
he leans in closer, 
his arm wrapping 
around Plankton's 
tiny form, pulling 
him closer.

The warmth of 
his father's 
body, the steady 
beat of his heart, 
it's all Chip needs 
to feel the love 
he's always known 
was there. "It's okay, 
Dad," he whispers, 
his voice filled with 
understanding beyond 
his years.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 16

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, and his 
body relaxes further 
into the embrace. 
He's safe here, with 
his son, in a world 
that so often feels 
like too much. Chip 
doesn't need him to 
be like everyone else, 
and that knowledge 
brings him peace.

The room is silent 
but for the soft 
snores of Plankton 
as he drifts into 
sleep. His breathing 
is even, his body 
finally at ease. 
Chip watches him, 
his own eyes growing 
heavy. He's learned 
so much today, 
about his dad, 
about himself, about 
their complex life.

He lies back, his 
head resting on the 
pillow, his arm 
still wrapped 
around his dad. 
How can he show 
love to him? To be a 
supportive son?

The next morning
Chip awoke to find
his mom gathering
their suitcases, as
they'd make the 
drive back home
today. She put Chip's
trophy and ribbon in
his suitcase. Plankton's
still asleep, his head
on Chip's shoulder.

Chip felt a gentle
warmth in his chest
looking at his dad,
his antennae slightly
quivering in his sleep.
He didn't want to wake
him too abruptly. So,
he gently began to
move his fingers
along Plankton's arm.

The soft touch seemed
to resonate within
Plankton's dream, his
body giving a slight
twitch. Chip took a
deep breath and continued,
his fingertips tracing
slow circles, hoping 
it would be enough 
to rouse him without
causing distress.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched again, 
picking up on the 
comforting pattern.

"Dad?" Chip 
whispered, his 
voice gentle. He did
not want to startle 
his father, who 
was finally at 
rest after the 
overwhelming day.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched again, 
his eye still closed.
"DAD," Chip tried 
again, a little too
loud this time.
Plankton jolted 
awake, his antennae 
springing to life.

"What?" He asked, 
his voice filled with 
slumber. Chip felt 
his heart race. "It's 
time to go home, Dad.."

Plankton's antennae 
relaxed at the 
familiar voice, his 
body slowly moving 
from the warmth of 
his son's embrace. He 
sat up, rubbing his 
eye. "Home," he repeats, 
his mind slowly 
waking up to the 
world around him.

Karen looked up 
from her packing, 
smiling at the 
scene. "That's 
right," she said, her 
voice soft. "We need 
to get going."

Plankton blinked 
slowly. "Home," 
he murmurs again.

Chip nodded. 
"Yeah, home," he 
says, his voice 
trembling slightly. 
He'd had enough 
of the repetition, 
his mind craving 
a break from the 
endless cycle of 
his dad's words.

Plankton's facial
expression remains
neutral, his eye
not quite focusing. 
"Home" he parrots,
his voice flat. "Ho-"

Chip's patience 
starts to fray. "Yes, 
Dad, home," he says, 
his tone sharper 
than he intended. He's 
tired of the same 
words, the same 
questions, the same 
look of confusion. 
It's like talking to 
a broken record.
"You DON'T have to 
repeat everything," he 
exclaims, making
Plankton jump.

Karen pauses in 
her packing, her 
heart racing. She 
knows this is a 
moment that can 
spiral quickly, but 
she also knows 
Chip's frustration 
is real, too.

"Chip," she says, 
her voice calm. 
"Remember, Dad's 
autism makes 
things hard for 
him. He's just 
trying to 
make sense of 
what we're 
saying." She 
crosses the room 
to stand beside 
them, her hand 
on Chip's shoulder.
Plankton's antennae 
are still.

Chip's face softens. 
"Okay, Dad," he says, 
his voice gentle. "We're 
going home soon."
He reaches up to 
stroke Plankton's 
cheek.

But Plankton's 
reaction isn't what 
he expects. His 
dad's antennae 
snap back, and his 
face contorts in 
discomfort. "Chip," 
he says, his voice 
strained. "No."

Chip's hand 
freezes, his eyes 
wide with shock. He 
quickly withdraws 
his touch, his 
heart racing. "I'm 
sorry," he whispers.
"I didn't mea-"

But Plankton 
doesn't let him 
finish. "No," he 
says again, more 
firmly this time. 
"I don't like that!"

"Dad," Chip says, 
his voice small. 
"What's w---"

But Plankton 
interrupts, his 
voice rising. "I said 
no, Chip! I DON'T 
WANT THAT!" His
hands balled into 
fists. Karen 
moves closer.

The room feels
smaller, the air 
thicker. Chip 
swallows hard. "I'm 
sorry," he says again.
"I didn't kn-" "I 
JUST WANT TO GO 
HOME!" Plankton
shouts over Chip.
"So STOP TOUCHING 
ME!" His antennae 
vibrate in frustration, 
a rare show of his
physical anger.
"I don't want to 
be touched right 
now!"

Karen's eyes 
fill with sadness. 
She knows Plankton's 
boundaries, has seen 
his frustration boil 
over before. But 
it never gets 
easier, never 
hurts less. But
Chip wants to
fix it, in the only
way he knows how.

He reaches out 
his hand again, 
slowly, tentatively, 
his eyes searching 
his father's. "It's 
okay, Dad," he says, 
his hand hovering 
above Plankton's 
shoulder. "I just 
wa-"

But Plankton's 
frustration turns to 
fear. "NO!" He yells, 
his body tensing. 
"PLEASE!"

Chip's hand 
freezes in midair, 
his eyes wide with 
surprise and 
hurt. He hadn't 
meant to upset 
his dad so much. 
He'd just wanted 
to help. So he pulls 
his hand back, but 
accidentally brushes 
his arm against 
Plankton's. The 
contact is light, 
barely noticeable 
to anyone else, but 
for Plankton, it's 
like a jolt of electricity.

Plankton's antennae 
shiver violently, 
his body convulsing. 
His one eye 
rolls back in his 
head as he 
collapses onto the 
bed, his legs 
thrashing against 
the mattress. Karen
sighs.

"Another seizure,"
Karen says. "It's his 
brain's way of 
dealing with stress," 
she explains.

Chip nods, his 
heart racing. Plankton's 
tiny body convulses 
on the hotel bed, 
his antennae flailing 
wildly. Karen quickly 
moves to his side.
Her eyes never 
leave his. She's done 
this before, so 
many times, but 
each seizure still 
slices through her 
like a knife. "It's 
okay," she murmurs
as Chip watched.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 17

Chip feels helpless, 
his hands trembling 
as he tries to 
think of something, 
anything, to make 
it better. "What 
do we do?" He asks, 
his voice shaky.
Karen's voice 
is steady. "Just 
wait it out," she 
instructs him. 
"It'll pass."

The seizure 
seems to last 
forever, but in reality
it's only minutes. 
Chip watches, his 
heart in his throat, 
his mind racing. 
He's seen this 
before, but it never 
gets easier. The 
way Plankton's 
body contorts, the 
fear in his eye 
right before it 
rolls back, the 
helplessness of it all.

As the convulsions 
start to slow, 
Plankton's antennae 
finally still. His 
body relaxes, but 
his mind is still 
far away, lost in the 
nonsensical state that 
follows a seizure.

"Chip, get our stuff
and we'll help your
dad to the car." Karen
says, ready to head
back home.

Chip nods, his 
hands shaking as he 
quickly gathers their 
belongings. His mind 
is racing with 
concern for his dad, 
his heart aching at 
the sight of him 
still and silent on 
the bed. The science
fair feels like a
distant memory.

He carefully picks up
his trophy, his ribbon 
crinkling under his 
fingertips. The pride 
he once felt for his
accomplishment now
seemed so trivial 
compared to the 
overwhelming love and
fear that filled him 
for Plankton, who
finally opened his eye.

Plankton's pupil 
was wide, unfocused, 
his antennae still. 
Chip's heart 
pounds in his chest, 
his mind racing. What 
has he done? "Dad?" 
Plankton doesn't 
react. Karen helps
him up to his feet.
"Hey there, Planky-Poo;
let's get ourselves home!"
Karen says to him. He
simply blinks.

"Wok?" Plankton's voice
is slurred, his usual 
sharpness blunted by 
the postictal phase. 
He looks around the 
hotel room with 
confusion. "Wok,"
he repeats, as if 
trying to convince 
his own brain.

Chip and Karen 
exchange a look 
full of their silent 
understanding as
Karen leads them
to the car, buckling
Plankton in. After
Chip puts everything
in the trunk, he sits
by his dad as Karen
starts the engine.

Plankton's eye is 
glassy, his antennae 
barely moving. He's 
in his own world. 
"We're all going 
home," Chip says, 
his voice calm.

But Plankton's 
attention is 
elsewhere, his 
brain still reeling 
from the seizure. 
"Gwed?" He says.
Karen nods. "Yes, 
we're going home,"
she answers, her 
voice soothing. 
"Everything's ok."

Plankton's head 
lolls against 
the window, his 
antennas drooping. 
The world outside 
the car is a blur 
of colors and 
shapes, not yet 
making sense. "Yeh
was’at?" Plankton
said.

Chip looks at him.
"You had a seizure," 
he says softly. "It's 
okay. We're going 
ho-"

But Plankton 
interrupts, his voice 
slurred and distant. 
"Wh-wha' 'bout 
science fair?" He 
slurs. "Did I... did 
I win?" His antennae 
twitch slightly, 
trying to remember.
Karen sighs, her 
hands on the 
stearing wheel. "It's 
like he's drunk," she 
explains to Chip. 
"But it's his 
brain trying to 
recover."

Chip nods, 
his eyes never 
leaving his dad's 
face. "You were 
so proud, Dad," he 
says, hopeful. But 
Plankton just blinks, 
his gaze unfocused.

"S'not fair," 
Plankton says, his 
voice still slurred. 
"I wan' be 
proud too." He's 
clearly trying to 
piece together the 
shattered bits of 
his memory.
Karen looks at 
Plankton in the 
rearview mirror, 
her eyes filled 
with love and 
concern. "You 
were proud, hon," 
she says.

But Plankton's 
brain isn't cooperating. 
"I wan' to be a
thor," he slurs, 
his words jumbled. 
Chip looks at him, 
his heart heavy with
sympathy. "You're my 
hero, Dad," he says, 
his voice earnest. "You
always will be."

Karen's eyes 
brim with tears as 
she hears Chip. 
"That's right," she 
says, her voice 
shaky. "You're our 
big strong hero." She 
swipes at her eyes, 
fighting the emotion 
that threatens to 
spill over.

Plankton's head 
bobs slightly, his 
eye still unfocused. 
"Thas... that's 
nice," he says. 
The car's motion 
lulls him closer 
to sleep, but he
fights to stay awake.

"Wanna see me 
win," he mumbles, 
his words slurred. 
Chip nods, his 
throat tight. "I know, 
Dad," he says. "You'll 
see it when you're 
feeling better."

Plankton's antennae 
twitch again, his 
eye blinking slowly. 
"Win," he repeats, 
his voice softer. 
He blinks, his mind 
trying to grasp the 
concept. "W-w-win," 
he stammers. His 
body feels so heavy.

The car ride 
continues, the 
hum of the tires 
against the road 
lulling Plankton 
closer to sleep. 
His head nods 
slightly with each 
bump in the 
road, his antennae 
drooping more 
with every mile. 
Chip watches him 
carefully, his heart 
breaking at his 
father's vulnerable 
state, for Plankton's
mouth was now
slightly open, his
head leaning on
the car door window.

"Dad?" Chip says, 
his voice quiet. Plankton
doesn't respond, 
his breathing 
evening out. "Dad?" 
He tries again, 
but there's no 
reaction. He looks 
at Karen.

Her eyes are 
on the road, but 
she nods. "He's 
asleep, Chip," she 
whispers. "It's his 
brain's way of 
recovering."

"Dad?" Chip 
says softly. No 
response. "Dad, 
are you okay?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch slightly, 
his eye still 
closed. His breaths 
are deep and 
even, his body 
completely relaxed 
against the car seat.

"Dad, wake up," 
Chip whispers. "Wake 
up, Dad," Chip 
says again, his 
hand gently shaking 
his father's 
shoulder.

But Plankton's 
snores are the 
only response, 
his antennae 
quivering with 
each inhale and 
exhale. The car's 
soft rocking and 
the steady 
hum of the engine 
have lulled him 
into a deep, much-
needed sleep.

Chip's hand 
lingers on his 
dad's shoulder, 
his eyes scanning 
his father's 
peaceful face. He 
can't help but feel 
a twinge of sadness, 
his mind replaying the 
confusion and fear 
from the seizure. But 
he also feels relief, 
knowing that Plankton 
is safe, that they're 
going home.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 18

Finally, they reach
their home, Karen
turning the car 
off with a sigh 
of relief. Chip 
watches as she 
carefully opens the 
car door, her 
movements slow 
and deliberate.

Plankton stirs 
slightly, his 
antennas twitching.
"Dad?" Chip says, 
his voice gentle.
Plankton's eye opens.

Home. The 
word echoes in 
his mind as 
his senses slowly 
recalibrate to the 
familiar surroundings. 
"You're okay," 
Chip says. 
"You had a 
seizure, but you're 
okay now."

Plankton blinks 
slowly, taking in 
his son's face. 
Home. Yes, this 
is where he 
belongs.

Karen helped them
both unpack. And
then Plankton went
onto his own bed.
"Hey Chip, come
sit," Plankton says,
patting the bed.

So Chip sits 
carefully, his 
heart racing.

Plankton's antennae 
quiver slightly as 
his eye searches 
Chip's. "I'm... sorry," 
he says, his voice 
weak. "I don't know 
why I had a seizure
but I'm okay now. So
uhm, do you want to... 
talk?"

Chip nods, his 
heart pounding in 
his chest. He's 
always known his 
dad was different, 
but seeing him 
like this, so vulnerable 
and open, it's 
both terrifying and 
comforting. "Sure," he 
says, his voice small.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch. "I'm... I'm 
glad we went to 
the science fair," 
he says, his voice 
no longer slurred. "I
know it was hard 
for you to see me 
like that." His antennae 
droop slightly, 
his one eye looking 
up at Chip with 
apology.

Chip's eyes 
fill with tears. "Dad, 
you don't have to 
apologize," he says, 
his voice cracking. 
"I'm just happy 
you're okay! I 
love you.."

Plankton's antennae 
perk up at the 
word "love," his 
eye focusing on 
Chip's face. "I-I 
lo-ove you too, bud," 
he says, his voice 
stronger. "I'm 
sorry if I couldn't 
show it properly."

Chip wipes his 
tears. "It's okay," 
he says. "I know 
you do."

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "I'm 
not always good 
at it, though," he 
admits, his voice 
laced with regret. 
"But I try, Chip. 
I really... I just want 
you to know that."

Chip nods, his 
throat tight. "I do 
know, Dad," he 
says. "And I'm 
proud of you, 
too." His words 
hang in the air 
like a promise.

Plankton's eye 
met Chip's with 
intensity. "Why do 
you say that?" He 
asks, genuine 
curiosity in his 
voice.

"Well, because you 
always try so hard," 
Chip responds, his 
words earnest. "You 
help me with my 
homework, and you 
always want to 
be there for me. But 
I also know it's hard 
for you." He pauses, 
his mind racing with 
questions he's held 
back for so long. "Why 
do you sometimes 
repeat words?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch with thought. 
"It's called echolalia," 
he says. "It's when 
I hear something and 
my brain just... repeats 
it. It helps me to
understand better. 
And sometimes, it's 
because I'm nervous."

Chip nods, 
his curiosity 
growing. "But why 
do you get so 
upset when I touch 
you sometimes?" He asks, 
his voice tentative.
Plankton sighs, his 
antennas drooping. "It's 
because I have 
sensory issues," he 
explains. "Some 
touches feel good, 
but others... they're 
just too much. It's like 
my body's on fire, but 
I don't know how to 
tell it to stop."

Chip's eyes 
widen in 
understanding. "So 
it's not just that you 
don't like me 
touching you," he says, 
his voice hopeful.
"It's just that 
sometimes, it's too 
much for you?"

Plankton nods, 
his antennae 
relaxing a bit. "Yeah," 
he says. "It's 
not that I don't 
love you, Chip. It's 
just that sometimes, 
my body gets 
overwhelmed."

Chip's hand 
trembles slightly. 
"But Mom seems
to be the best at
it, when it comes
to touching?"

Plankton nods. "It's
because she's been
with me for so 
long, she's learned 
what I like and 
don't like. And she
does it gently," he 
explains. "She knows 
how to make it feel 
right. She knows my 
limits."

"But what about 
when you don't want 
anyone to touch 
you at all?" Chip 
asks, his eyes 
searching.

Plankton sighs. 
"That's when I'm 
overstimulated," he 
explains. "It's like 
everything's too bright, 
too loud, too much. And 
then, even the softest 
touch feels like it's 
going to break me." His 
eye blinks slowly. "I
might end up hurting 
people's feelings without 
meaning to."

Chip nods. "But why 
did you get upset when 
I just want to help?"
He asks, his voice 
tiny.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch with consideration. 
"Sometimes, even 
the best intentions 
can be too much," he 
says. "My brain gets 
overwhelmed, and I 
can't process what's 
happening. It's like... it's 
like you're speaking 
another language and 
I'm trying to keep up, 
but my brain just 
can't. And then I 
don't know how to tell 
you to stop without 
sounding mean." "So, it's 
not that you don't 
want my help," Chip 
says, his voice 
thoughtful. "It's just 
that sometimes, you 
need to be left alone?"

Plankton nods. "Yeah, 
buddy," he says. "But 
don't think I don't 
appreciate it. It's 
just... I need a little 
extra space to figure 
things out."

Chip nods, 
his eyes never 
leaving his dad's. 
"What about when 
you get really sad 
or really happy?" He 
asks. "Why do you...
stim? And why don't 
you like it when I
notice?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly as 
he thinks. "Stimming 
is like my brain's 
way of... letting off 
steam," he explains. 
"It helps me 
regulate my 
emotions. And when 
you point it out, it's 
like... it interrupts 
that process. That,
and I don't like to 
admit that I'm 
different sometimes," 
he adds, his voice 
softening.

"But you are, Dad," 
Chip says, his 
hand reaching out to 
his father's. "And 
that's what makes 
you special." But
Plankton leans away
from his touch.

"It's okay," Chip 
quickly says, 
his hand retreating. 
"I just want to 
know more." He 
swallows hard. "What 
about... when you 
have those meltdowns?"

Plankton's antennae 
still, his eye 
focusing on Chip. "Those 
are... tough," he 
says. "They're like... 
my brain's way of 
telling me that 
I've had too much 
of something. Too 
much noise, too 
much light, too much 
of everything." His voice 
cracks. "And I... I 
can't always control 
it. And if I don't get 
anything to help me, it's 
like... I get stuck. And 
then I just... I just 
need to let it all out."

Chip nods, his 
heart pounding in 
his chest. "But why 
do you get mad at me 
when I want to help?" 
He asks, his voice 
shaking slightly.

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "It's not 
that I'm mad at you, 
Chip," he says, his 
voice filled with 
sincerity. "It's just... 
sometimes, I don't know 
how to accept help. I 
get scared. I've had 
so many people in my 
life who didn't 
understand me, who 
thought I was just being 
difficult or strange." His 
eye blinks rapidly. "But 
you... I guess even though
you mean well, I just
get flustered when you 
see me like that, or I
can feel rushed to 
explain."

Chip nods, his 
understanding deepening. 
"But I want to learn 
more, Dad." His hand 
trembles as it hovers 
over Plankton's arm. "Is 
this okay?" He asks, 
his eyes searching 
his father's for 
permission.

Plankton looks at 
Chip's outstretched 
hand, then up into his 
eyes, and nods slightly. 
"Just... just a 
little," he says, his 
voice barely above 
a whisper. Chip's 
fingers touch Plankton's 
arm, gentle and 
tentative.

The sensation 
doesn't overwhelm 
Plankton this time. 
"Thank you, Chip," 
he says, his eye 
softening.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 19

Chip's hand 
remains on his 
father's arm, his 
touch light. "So
what can I do to
make sure I don't
make you upset?"
He asks, his eyes
full of concern.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch. "Just... just 
ask before you touch 
me," he says, his voice 
soft. "And if I say no, 
don't take it personally."
Chip nods. "I will, Dad,"
he says, his hand now
slowly retreating. "But 
what about the seizures?"

Plankton sighs. "I don't
always know why they 
happen," he admits. "But 
when they do, it's 
important to keep me 
safe. No loud noises, no 
bright lights. And if you 
can, stay calm. I know 
it's scary, but it's just 
my brain saying it needs 
a break. But they can
happen if I'm really scared
and upset, or if my
body feels like it's too 
much to handle." His 
antennas droop slightly.

Chip nods, his 
mind racing with 
questions. "But why 
do you sometimes just 
freeze?" He asks, his 
voice gentle. "Or get 
really still and don't 
talk at all?"

Plankton's antennae 
quiver slightly. "That's 
called shutdown," he 
explains. "It's like...
my brain's had enough.  
It's like it's in a traffic 
jam, and all the messy
mixed up signals are 
confusing. So it just...
stops. It's my body's 
way of protecting me 
from stimulation I guess.
They're absence seizures,
and I don't always know 
I'm having them."

Chip's eyes widen. "So, 
it's like you're there, 
but not really?" He 
asks, his voice soft 
with curiosity.

Plankton nods. "It's 
like everything goes 
on autopilot," he says. 
"I may see and hear, 
but it's like my 
brain's on a break
to where I might not
recognize what's going 
on around me. It's like 
being lost in a dream
state, even though I'm
not 'dreaming' but, it's
like trying to remember
a dream after you've 
woken up. I also might
feel like I'm having a
headache." Chip listens 
intently, his mind 
trying to comprehend 
the complexity of 
his father's 
experience. "So, what 
can I do to help 
you when you're in a 
shutdown?" He asks, 
his voice laced with 
concern.

"Just be there," 
Plankton says. "And 
give me some space. 
Don't try to shake me 
out of it. Just wait 
until I come back. It's 
not something I can 
control." He pauses. "And
if you can, maybe 
find a quiet place 
for me to go to, where 
there are no bright 
lights or loud noises. If
your ever concerned go
get your mother. But my
absence seizures can be
triggered by stress too. So 
just keep an eye on 
me and help me to avoid 
getting too anxious."

Chip nods, 
his eyes wide with 
understanding. 
"What else can
trigger them? And
how come you don't
blink during them?"

Plankton's antennae
wave thoughtfully.
"It's like my brain 
is trying to reboot,"
he explains. "And the
not blinking is part
of it. It's like my 
body's way of saying, 
'I'm processing, hold
on.' It's hard to 
explain, but it's 
like everything else
about me, it's just 
how my body does.
As for what can trigger
them, it's often when
I'm really scared, or
there's too much 
going on around me. 
Sensory overload. But
déjà vu can trigger one,
maybe rapidly flashing
lights of bright colors.
Sometimes overlapping
chatter, if multiple people
talk at once. Or if you talk
too fast."

Chip nods, taking 
in every word. "What
about the times when
you steal from the 
Krabby Patty restaurant?" 
He asks, his eyes 
innocently curious.

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly, his 
face a mask of 
resignation. "It's 
because my brain 
doesn't always work 
like everyone else's," 
he says. "I've had close
calls at the Krusty Krab
before. None of them
are to know about my
autism.."

Just then, Karen comes
in and sees them both
openly talking. "Aw-"

"Before you ask, if I say
yes and admit we're 
bonding, will you not
start with the aww-ing?"
Plankton says, rolling his
eye at her.

Karen laughs, wiping
at the corner of her
eye. "I just think it's
sweet, you two
talking like this!"

But Chip's mind is 
still racing with 
questions. He looks 
up at Karen. "Mommy, 
does Dad have doctors
to-"

Karen cuts him off 
quickly. "It can't be 
cured, sweetheart," she 
says gently. "But a lot 
of the time, it's just 
about understanding 
his needs and making 
sure he's comfortable. 
Now if something came
up or if he's even got
something like a cold,
we've a sensory friendly
specialist for those times.
Like when we travel, such
as for your science fair, I'd
look up nearest sensory
clinics, just in case. It's
because a regular medical
office setting can be too
much for him. A hospital
environment can be really
overwhelming for anyone,
but especially for him. Now
his dentist knows about his
autism and accommodates
him, but otherwise we'd only
reach out to the sensory ones
if a medic's needed." She
turned to Plankton, who's now
rocking on the bed, his knees
pressed against his chest, 
his antennae tucked in.

Karen looked back at
Chip. "He doesn't like
that question. If some
thing's needed, I know
to discuss it with him
and look at alternatives.
Otherwise, unless he has
a scenario in his head or
something, even in some
emergency, I know it's a
bad subject for him. I'm
always truthful with him
and I know him. I know
you meant nothing by it,
but unless absolutely
necessary or if he brings
it up, do not needlessly
bring up his healthcare
or whatnot. If anything
that is up to him. So, if
you're ever concerned,
you can ask me and we'll
tell you what you need to
know. The sensory specialist
is who we'd call, not any
ambulances or whatever,
and they're high-tech
and skilled with all topics
having to do with health.
Otherwise, do not bring up
anything like that. Do you
understand, Chip?"

Chip nodded, his 
eyes wide with 
understanding. "I'm
sorry, Dad," he says, 
his voice small. "I did
not know it was a bad 
question." But Plankton
didn't even respond.

Plankton's rocking 
is even more 
pronounced. It's 
his way of 
stimming, a way to
calm himself. "Dad?" 
Chip says again, but 
Plankton doesn't react.

Chip watches him, 
his curiosity 
piqued. He's seen 
this behavior before, 
but now he 
understands it's not 
because Plankton is 
mad or upset with him. 
It's just how he copes.
He decides to try 
something new. "Dad," 
he says softly, "can 
you show me how 
you stim?" Plankton
still doesn't seem to
hear him.

Karen notices 
the tension in 
Chip's voice and 
quickly steps in. "Why 
don't we all sit down 
and talk more 
about this?" She suggests, 
her tone soothing. 
"Plankton, can you tell 
Chip about stimming?"
But Plankton doesn't
even budge.

Chip watches 
his father's 
steady rocking, 
his curiosity 
growing. He tries 
again, his voice 
even softer. "Dad, 
please?" Yet Karen
notices his eye is
unfocused, distant.

"Plankton," Karen 
intervenes gently, 
"Plankton honey, 
are you okay?"

Plankton's rocking 
slows down as his
body stiffened. And
Karen knew exactly
what was happening.

"Chip," she says
gently, "Your dad's
experiencing a bit of
a seizure right now.
It's okay, he'll come
back to us."

Chip nods, his
heart racing as he
watches his father.
He's seen this before,
but now he understands.
It's not just strange
behavior, it's part of
his autism.

new adaptable family seizurecore chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 20

With gentle curiosity,
Chip moves closer to 
his dad, his hand 
outstretched but not
touching. "Dad?
Can I... can I help 
with your stimming?"
Plankton's antennae 
twitch slightly, but
his eye remains 
unblinking as his
body sits rigid.

"Chip," Karen says, 
her voice calm. "It's 
okay, honey. Just 
wait. He'll come back 
to us soon."

Chip nods, his 
heart racing as he 
watches Plankton's 
stillness. He's seen
this before, but this 
time feels different. 
This time, he knows.
With a deep breath, 
he sits down beside 
his father, his hand 
still hovering. He 
doesn't want to scare 
Plankton, doesn't want 
to do anything wrong. 
But he also doesn't 
want him to be alone.

Plankton's antennae 
begin to twitch, 
ever so slightly, as 
his breathing slows. 
Chip whispers, "It's ok, 
Dad," his voice 
barely audible.

The minutes stretch 
like hours as Chip 
watches his father. 
His mind fills with 
everything he's learned 
about autism, about 
his dad's challenges. 
He knows Plankton's 
brain is just trying 
to find peace amidst 
the chaos of sensory 
input. And even though
his hand is still, he 
knows he's there for 
his dad, ready to help 
whenever he needs it.

Slowly, Plankton 
blinks. His one eye 
meets Chip's, and for 
a moment, Chip sees 
fear, confusion, and 
then... recognition?
Plankton's body relaxes, 
his antennae drooping.
"Chip," he says, his 
voice a whisper. "Chip,
here. Did here, here.."

Chip nods, 
his heart racing. He 
knows his dad is 
trying to communicate, 
his mind still not
clear from the seizure. 
He gently takes Plankton's
hand and starts to 
stroke it, light and 
soothing. "It's okay, 
Dad," he whispers. "I'm
right here."

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, and he blinks 
again. His voice is 
still weak, but he tries 
to form words. "Chip... 
you... you're so... good."
The words come out 
slurred, but the warmth
is unmistakable.

Chip feels a weight
lifting from his chest. 
His dad's okay. "Thanks, 
Dad," he says, his voice 
steady now. "I'm just 
trying to underst--"

Plankton's antennae 
suddenly shoot up, 
his eye wide. "Wait," 
he says, his voice 
slightly stronger. "Your 
hand... it's... it's 
helping me?"
Plankton looks at 
his hand in wonder.

Chip nods. "Yeah, Dad. 
It's like... it's calming
you down," he says, 
his voice filled with 
a mix of confusion and 
relief.

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly as he 
looks up at Chip, 
his expression a mix 
of amazement and 
gratitude. "Yippee!"

Chip's eyes light up 
at his father's rare 
outburst of joy. "You 
see, Dad?" He says, 
his voice filled with 
pride. "I can help you
just like you help me."
Plankton nods, his 
expression still 
somewhat dazed but 
now with a hint of 
smile.

"Oh, did I ever show
you our selfie I took
of us on the way to
my science fair? You
fell asleep on me!" He
says, pulling out his
phone to show Plankton.

Plankton, still not quite
conscious/aware in his
postictal state, claps as
he laughs. "Eeeeee! Post
it and let it go viral!" He 
squeals in delight, his 
eye wide and childlike.

Chip smiles. "Can I put
in the caption that you
have a neurodisability?"
Chip asks, to which his
dad nods eagerly.

Karen watches the
interaction with a soft
smile. She knows this
might be a pivotal moment
for both of them. "Remember,
Chip," she says, "It's important
that we respect your father's
boundaries. Even if he's okay
with sharing about his autism
right now, he might not always
feel like that. It's his story to-"

"Karen it be good!" Plankton
interrupts her as Chip writes
this as the caption:

'🐠💤💻💨: When your 
neurodisabled dad falls 
asleep on the way to
your big science fair, you 
gotta catch those Z's... 
and the moment! 😂👨‍🔬💤'

Chip posts it. 
"Ok then,
we all gotta 
get to bed,"
Karen says.

The next morning
Plankton wakes up
oblivious to what's
happened during
last night, obviously
not knowing about
Chip having such a
picture, let alone the
post itself.

Chip woke up early,
his heart pounding
from a mix of excitement
and anxiety. He quickly
checks his phone to
find the post has gone
viral, with dozens of
likes and comments.
His face beams with
pride.

Karen knew better
than to greet her
husband with such
news. Even though
he did unknowingly
consent to it, he was
not actually have any
awareness/explicit 
memory of it. So she
wouldn't bring it up in
front of Plankton.

"Good morning," Karen
greets him as usual, like
nothing happened. "How
did you sleep?"

Plankton rubs his
eye. "Fine, I guess,"
he says, still groggy.
Chip looks up from his
phone, his heart racing.

He's torn between 
sharing the viral post
and keeping the peace. 
But as Plankton heads 
towards the kitchen,
his antennae perk up.
"Is something wrong?"
He asks, his voice 
full of concern.

Chip takes a deep
breath and decides 
to hold off on the
news. "No, Dad," he
says, his voice 
steady. "Everything's
fine." Plankton nods
and continues into 
the kitchen, his mind
already racing with
thoughts of how he's
gonna attempt stealing
his rival Krabs formula
this morning.

Karen gives Chip 
a knowing look, and 
he nods. He understood.
For now, they'll keep the
viral post between 
them. They see Plankton
using his telescope to
spy on the Krusty Krab.

"What's your plan for
today? Perhaps any
thing that's successful?" 
Karen teased. "Hardy
haaaaaaahhhhh, Karen,"
Plankton replied, rolling
his eye. "I'll just wing it.."

new adaptable family seizurecore chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 21

Plankton went into the
Krusty Krab, oblivious
to the customer's subtle
different ways they look
at him. They've all seen
the post, even though he's
not even aware of it. Some
stifled laughter, some pitied,
some even admired as he
came in.

Plankton didn't think
anything odd, until a
person, instead of
running into him, stops
short. "Oh, hey! Sorry,
you go ahead Plankton."
Plankton looked up to
find the owner of said
voice to step aside to
let him by. Huh.

He goes to steal as
usual, but another
smiles at him with 
sympathy. "How's it
going, Plankton?"
They ask, their tone 
kind but with an
underlying curiosity.

Plankton freezes, his 
antennas waving in 
confusion. "I-I'm fine,"
he stammers, his usual
quick-wittedness nowhere
to be found. He's never
been talked to like this 
before. He glances 
around, noticing more
people giving him 
odd looks. Customers who
usually look at him with
disgust when he'd wreak
havoc, actually seemed kind.

He tries to focus on
his mission, but the 
whispers and stares are
distracting him. He's 
not used to being the
center of positive
attention. His brain, still
adjusting to the calmness
of the morning, struggles
to process the change in
the environment.

As he's about to grab
the secret ingredient,
Mr. Krabs, the Krabby
Patty's creator, calls
out to him. "Plankton,
what are ye up to?" His
voice is not the usual
snarl of annoyance but
rather, one of genuine
concern. His nemesis
seems not so mad today.

Plankton, caught off
guard, drops the 
bottle he's holding, 
his antennae waving 
frantically. "J-just...
just looking," he stammers.
Mr. Krabs approaches, 
his eyes softening. "Lookin'
good, Plankton," he says.
"How's the family?"

The sudden 
friendliness throws
Plankton off his usual
scheme. "T-they're 
good," he replies as he
tries to understand 
the shift in dynamic.

Mr. Krabs nods. "Can't 
say I understand, but I
see you're still giving
it your all. That's the
Bikini Bottom spirit!"

Plankton's antennae 
quiver with confusion.
"I'm not following?"

Mr. Krabs nods. "Aye,
Plankton" he says 
matter-of-factly. "Ye
got a right to be proud
of how ye handle 
everything, frenemy. If
ya ever need a break, 
don't ya hesitate to 
tell me."

Plankton's eye widens, 
his mind racing. He 
doesn't know how to 
process this. His enemy 
has never talked to 
him like this before. 
He's used to anger, to 
sarcasm, but this... 
this was different. 
He nods, not trusting
his voice to speak.

Mr. Krabs pats him
on the back. "Now, get
back home," he says, 
his voice still kind. "I'll 
still keep an eye out for 
ya, okay?" He says, as
he picks up the bottle.

As Plankton goes to
leave, a random kid
goes up to him, her
eyes curious.

"Are you okay?" She
asks, her voice 
kind, not the usual
taunts he's grown
accustomed to. "Oh,
and do you snore?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave in surprise, 
his usual snappy
comeback stifled by 
his confusion. "I-I don't 
know," he says, his 
voice sharp. "But why 
are you talking to me like
that?"

The little girl 
smiles, her eyes 
innocent. "Because
my brother's like you,"
she says. Plankton
remains confused.

"What do you mean?"
He asks, his antennae
waving slightly.

The little girl giggles. 
"I know you have a
special brain," she
explains, her voice filled
with wonder. "And my
dad snores when he's 
really tired. Like in the
car," she adds, somewhat
mischievous.

Plankton's antennae 
wave as he tries to
comprehend her 
odd statements, 
his cheeks turning a
slight shade of pink.
"Special?"

The little girl nods. 
"Yeah, like my brother.
He has a disability too!"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch. "I'm not- WHAT?"
He falters.

The little girl nods 
again, her expression 
placid. "Yeah, he's 
fallen asleep in the
car before too! You
looked so peaceful in
that picture," she says,
oblivious to the chaos
she's just unknowingly
caused in Plankton's mind.
"What picture?" He asks.

The girl points to 
a phone in her mother's
hand, the post still 
on the screen. "That 
one," she says. Plankton's 
heart sinks as he realizes
his son has posted 
a picture of him, asleep
on his shoulder. 
He also reads the caption
and sees Karen put a like.

Humiliation and anger
swirl within him. Now,
everyone knows. How
could they?

new adaptable family bikinibottomcore post

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 22

Plankton storms back into the
Chum Bucket, slamming
the door. Karen looks
up. "So, did you ste—"
Karen starts, but then
sees Plankton's face.

"What happened?"
She asks, her tone
concerned. Plankton
holds up his phone,
the post on full 
display. "This,"
he says, his voice
shaking with 
anger. "This is what
happened!"

Karen's understanding
as she reads the 
caption. "Oh, Plankton,"
she says gently,
stepping towards him.
"Plankton I know you don't 
remembe---"

But he cuts her off, 
his antennae waving 
frantically. "How could
you? How could you do this
to me?" He shouts,
his voice filled with 
hurt and betrayal.
Karen knows she needs
to give him space,
but also knows that she 
needs to explain.

"Plankton, honey, I know 
you didn't really consent to 
this. But Chip, he just 
wanted to show his love 
and admiration for you,"
she says, her voice calm.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in agitation. "It's 
not just about the photo!" 
He yells, his voice 
cracking with emotion. 
"It's about the caption!"

Karen nods, her eyes
full of empathy. "I know, 
honey. But sometimes, 
people don't understand 
how their words can 
affect others. Chip didn't 
mean to hurt you, he was 
just trying to share something
he thought was special 
about you." Karen says as she
steps closer, her hand 
outstretched.

Plankton looks away
as his humming starts
up, a stim. He rocks 
back and forth, his
body trying to process
the overwhelming
information. Karen
watches him carefully,
picking up on the signs.
Her heart breaks for
his distress, but she
knows pushing him now
won't help. She's learned
his cues over the years,
how his body speaks when
his words can't.

She approaches slowly,
her movements calculated
to avoid startling him.

"Plankton," she says softly,
her voice soothing.
"You're okay." She doesn't
reach out to touch him,
but her hand lingers close.
She knows the calming
effect her presence has
on him. "Just breathe."
But he rocks faster, his
hands over his head.
He's overwhelmed, she
can see it. His body is
telling her that this is not 
the time to press the issue.
He's in his own world,
trying to make sense of the 
storm of emotions that
the viral post has brought
on. Karen takes a step back,
giving him more space.

Plankton's eye is 
squeezed shut. She knows 
his brain is in overload.
"Do you need to be alone?"
Her voice is gentle, non-
threatening. She's learned
over the years to read his 
body language, the way 
his antennae flatten when
he's anxious, how his 
hands flap when he's 
excited. He nods, his body 
still rocking. She 
understands his need for
space. She knows he'd come
to her.

Chip, who had been 
watching the scene 
unfold, steps out, his
face a mix of regret and
concern. He didn't mean 
to hurt his dad. He just
wanted to share a 
moment. He approaches
them cautiously. "Dad?"

Plankton's rocking slows
but doesn't stop. He 
doesn't look at Chip, 
his eye focused on the 
far wall. "It's okay, 
Chip," Karen says gently.
"Just give him some 
space." But Chip can't 
help but feel a knot 
in his stomach, his 
dad's reaction not what
he expected.

After a few moments, 
Plankton's stimming stops,
his antennae dropping 
to his side. He opens 
his eye and looks at 
Chip, his gaze intense. 
"You didn't ask," 
he says, his voice 
steady but firm. "I did
too ask! You're the one
who told me to post it
and okayed the caption!"
Chip says.

Karen sighs, seeing both 
their misunderstanding.
"Chip," she says, "you
know your dad sometimes
doesn't remember things
right after a seizure. He
might not have underst--"

"But he smiled, Mom," Chip
interrupts her. "He said it
was fine."

Plankton nods, his voice
softening. "Let's say I did. I
don't remember any
of it, and now..." he 
trails off, his antennae 
drooping. "Now, everyone 
knows. Everyone's looking
at me differently."

Chip's face falls, his
excitement turning to 
regret. He'd wanted to 
make Plankton feel 
seen, understood. Not 
this. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he says, his voice 
cracking. "I didn't 
know it would be like 
this. I just..."

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "You just
thought you were helping,"
he finishes for Chip.
"Whatever," he says, 
his voice tired. "I know you 
meant well. I've my annual
x-rays at the dentist tomorrow
and the squirrel is gonna watch
you." "Her name is Sandy," Karen
says to Plankton, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever," Plankton repeats,
his mind still reeling. "Can I
have some time alone?"

Karen nods, understanding
his need for solitude.
"Of course, honey." She
squeezes his arm gently,
and Chip nods in agreement.
"Besides, it's bedtime."

As the room quiets, his mind
begins to unravel the
threads of the situation.
He's not used to being the
center of attention for
anything other than his
failed attempts to steal the
formula. This... this is
different. It's about him,
his life, his autism. And
it's out there for everyone
to see, to judge, to 
sympathize. 

The next morning, Chip
is dropped off right at
Sandy's doorstep. "Hi
Ms. Sandy.." Chip says.
Sandy, Karen's best gal
pal, waved as Karen 
drove off with Plankton
to the dentist.

new adaptable family bikinibottomcore post

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 23

Sandy's tree dome is
always a wonder to
Chip. She opens the
door for him. "Hey there, 
buddy!" She says, her
accent a Texas drawl.

Chip's eyes widen as 
he looks around, the 
contrast from his 
typical day to the 
alien world of Sandy's
dome. It's like stepping
into a grassy paradise!

Sandy, with her squirrel-
like cheerfulness, 
shows Chip around. 
"So, what's the plan?"
Chip asks, his voice 
tentative.

"Well, we're gonna have 
some fun!" Sandy says, 
clapping her hands 
together. "Whatcha
wanna do?"

Later, as Chip and
Sandy kick a ball
around, Sandy's
phone rings. It's
Karen, calling from
the dentist.

"Is everything okay?"
Chip asks, his eyes
widening in worry.
Sandy nods, holding
up a finger for him to
wait as she answers.
"Howdy, Karen! How's..."

Her voice trails off as
she listens intently. 

Chip watches her face 
for cues, his heart 
racing. Sandy's 
expressions shift from 
concern to confusion
to something he can't
quite read.

"Okay," she says into 
the phone. "We'll be 
ready. I heard about
his autism, so I can
imagine how worried..."

Chip's mind races as
he tries to listen in 
on the conversation.
What could be wrong?
He watches Sandy as
she's still on the phone.

"What's going on?"
He asks, his voice
laced with fear. But
Sandy holds up her
hand for him to wait.

"Oh," she says into the
phone. "And uhm, how's
Plankton gonna..."

Suddenly, she's cut off
by Karen's voice. "Now?"
Sandy repeats. "I can't
really see Plankton being
agreeable to that, Karen.
How..."

Her eyes widen as
she listens to Karen's
explanation. "Oh no,"
she says, her voice 
concerned. "Oh, poor
Plankton! I'm sorry to
hear that, Karen. How
long will the surgery 
be? Oh, they'll do it
in the same building?
That's good, at least.."

Chip's anxiety 
spikes as he 
overhears the word 
"surgery." Plankton's
face flashes in his
mind, and he 
remembers his dad's
fear of doctors. "What
about Dad?" He asks, 
his voice shaky. But
Sandy's still talking to
Karen.

Sandy nods, her 
face etched with
worry. "Okay, just
keep us updated
and let me know
when we can come.
Wishing Plankton a
speedy recovery! Yes.
See you on the flip
side; bye.."

Chip's stomach drops 
as he looks at Sandy.
"What happened to Dad?"

Sandy takes a deep 
breath. "He's gotta
have some extra
teeth removed," she 
says gently. "It's a common
procedure, but for someone
like him, it's gonna
be a bit tricky. But they
are going to accommodate 
him. It's a preventative..."

Chip nods, his mind 
whirling. "But Dad's 
so scared of doctors,"
he says, his voice 
small. "How are we 
gonna get him through 
this?"

Sandy gives him a
comforting smile. "Your
mom's got it handled," she 
assures him. "They have
an oral surgeon at his
dental office. They're 
gonna make sure
he's as comfortable as
possible, and your mom
will let us know when we
can come up there."

A little while later
Sandy gets a text
update from Karen
with a picture.

The image is of
Plankton lying in a
dental chair, his 
eye closed, a mask
covering his face.
The message reads:
"The gas put him
right to sleep, and
now they're gonna
put in the IV before
removing the gas mask.
They're letting me stay
with him the entire time."
Then another image of
Karen's hand holding
Plankton's limp one.

Chip's heart sinks. 
He's never seen his 
dad like this before. 
So vulnerable. He feels
like he should be there,
but Sandy's comforting 
presence reminds him 
that his mom's got it 
under control.

Sandy puts her arm
around Chip's shoulder. 
"Why don't we do 
something to keep our 
minds off it?" She suggests,
trying to ease his 
concern. "We could 
play some soccer!"

Chip nods, though 
his mind is still
somewhere with Plankton.
But he knows his mom's
got this. And Sandy's 
his best bet at distraction.

Later, the next update is 
texted and Sandy reads 
Karen's message.

"The surgery went well,"
it says. "He's in recovery,
you can come whenever.
They knew about his
seizures so they used
extra sutures, but they
are dissolving stitches.
They're just preparing 
before the wake-up starts.
He's still under. They took
x-rays after, too, and every
thing's perfect. He did so
excellent, and will be numb
and groggy for today but
might be in some pain and
swelling for the next week."

Sandy looks at Chip, 
her eyes filled with 
concern. "You ready 
to see your dad?" She
asks. Chip nods, nerves
frayed but his 
determination to 
be there for his dad 
unchanged. He takes a 
deep breath and they 
both head out to 
the dentist. 

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 24

The operating center is 
a blur of white and 
sterile smells as they 
walk in. Chip's eyes 
quickly adjust to the 
bright lights, looking 
for any sign of 
his dad. They're met
by a nurse, who leads
them back to the 
recovery room.

Sandy comes in and saw
Plankton, still unconscious, 
surrounded by beeping
machinery. His antennae 
are still, a stark contrast 
to the usual flurry of 
movement. Karen's sitting
by his side, holding his 
hand, looking tired but 
relieved as Sandy lets
Chip come in as the nurse
smiles at them, but he's
focused on seeing his dad.

Chip notices his dad's
mouth. Plankton's tongue
barely lolls out slightly to
where his bottom lip is.
It's the first thing that 
catches his eye, other than
the red gums where the
wisdom teeth have been
taken out. Chip's eyes
widen, and he takes a
step back. "It's okay," Karen
says, her voice soothing. 
"They had to keep his 
mouth open like that for 
the surgery."

Chip can't help but
stare, his heart racing. 
He's never seen Plankton
so still, so... helpless.
It's a stark contrast to
his usual antics, to his 
endless plotting and 
scheming. Now, his 
dad's the one who's been 
silenced.

He tries to shake off 
the fear, reminding 
himself that Plankton's
just asleep.

The nurse notices 
their unease and 
smiles gently at 
them. "He's doing 
well," she says, 
nodding towards 
Plankton. "We're just
about to remove the 
IV now."

With a swift, 
practiced movement,
she carefully takes
out the needle, her 
gloved hands moving
quickly yet delicately.
Plankton's arm barely
twitches in response,
his sleep deep.

The nurse tapes a
cotton ball to his arm
where the IV was, 
then wraps it in a 
snug bandage, her 
movements methodical. 

Karen watches, her 
heart racing, feeling 
like an outsider in 
this medical world 
that's so foreign to 
their usual life.

"It's okay," the 
nurse says, noticing 
the tension. 
"He's going to be 
just fine." She turns 
to Plankton and 
gently lifts his eyelid, 
checking his pupil's 
reaction before closing
it again. "Looks like 
he's still under," she
mutters, then turns to 
Karen. "He'll be out 
for a bit longer, but 
let's get gauze ready 
before he wakes up."

Karen nods. 

Chip watches as the
nurse unwraps a 
piece of gauze, 
his mind racing with 
questions about the 
recovery process. Sandy
squeezes his shoulder 
reassuringly.

The nurse gently 
inserts the gauze into
Plankton's mouth, her 
movements precise and 
careful. His tongue is back
in his mouth. The white 
cotton fills the void
where his wisdom teeth 
were. Chip then sees
blood on her gloves when
she pulls them out, 
his heart skipping a 
beat.

"It's normal," Sandy
whispers, noticing his 
reaction. "It's just a 
little bleeding. It'll 
stop soon. And he's
gonna be numb, so he 
won't feel much."

The nurse nods. "She is
right. The gauze is to
help stop the bleeding,
and it's common after
wisdom teeth surgery."

Karen's eyes are 
glued to Plankton's 
face, his chest rising
and falling with each
deep breath. She 
swallows hard, her
throat dry. "Thank you,"
she murmurs to the
nurse, who nods
understandingly.

Chip stands by his
mom's side, his gaze
flitting between her
and his dad. He feels
awkward, unsure how
to act around his
unconscious father.
Plankton's usually so 
full of life, so... Plankton.
Drool is forming at the 
corner of his mouth, 
his antennae still.

The nurse finishes 
wrapping the gauze. "Ok,"
she says, her voice 
soothing. "You can talk
to him if you want. He
might not hear you, but
it can be comforting."

Chip steps closer 
to the bed, his 
heart thumping 
against his chest. 

He looks down at 
his dad, so still and 
peaceful, and feels a 
wave of anxiety. "Dad?"
He whispers, his voice 
shaky. "You okay?"

There's no response. 
Plankton's chest rises
and falls in a steady 
rhythm, his breathing 
deep and even. 

Chip's eyes well 
up, a mix of fear 
and love. He's never 
seen his dad like this 
before, not even during
his seizures. This is 
different. This is a 
kind of vulnerability 
that he isn't used to.

He reaches out a 
tentative hand, touching
his father's arm lightly.
"It's okay, Dad,"
he whimpers.

Chip feels a tear 
slip down his cheek.
"Wake up, Dad," he whispers,
his voice barely above a 
mumble. "Please wake up."

Plankton remains 
still. Chip backs
up, feeling his
stomach churn. 
Sandy frowns. "You
okay, Chip? Karen,
Chip's not looking 
so go—"

But Chip is already 
at the trash can, his
body heaving. Sandy
rushes over, her eyes
wide as he retches.

"It's okay," Karen
whispers from beside
the bed, her hand 
still clutching 
Plankton's. "Chip, I'm
so sorry. I know it's
hard. Your dad won't
be like this forever. It'll
be okay."

Chip nods, wiping
his mouth with the
back of his hand.
The nurse takes the
trash out before she
returns back with wet
wipes for Chip.

He takes them 
gratefully, his 
cheeks flushing with 
embarrassment. "Thanks,"
he mumbles. The nurse
nods. "Now, Mr. Plankton
will most likely wake up
feeling pretty groggy and
disoriented," she says, 
turning her attention
back to Plankton. "But
it's all part of the 
recovery process."

Karen nods, her 
throat tight. She's heard
this before, but with 
his autism, she can't 
help but worry how
Plankton will react to
waking up in such an
unfamiliar environment.
The nurse sees her 
concern and gives her 
a reassuring smile. "We're
used to this. We've got
everything under control."

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 25

Time seems to drag
as they wait for Plankton 
to wake up. But finally
Karen notices a slight 
twitch in his eyebrow, 
his antennae starting to 
move slightly.

Sandy squeezes Chip's 
hand. "Look, he's 
coming around," she 
whispers. Chip's eyes 
snap to his dad's face, 
his heart racing.

Plankton's single eye 
flickers open, looking 
around the room with 
a haze of confusion. 
Karen rises from her 
chair, her hand 
still tight around 
his. "Hi, honey," she says 
gently. "You're okay.
You just had a little 
surgery. Your dentist
removed your wisdom
teeth. Are you almost
ready to go home?"

Plankton's gaze settles
on her face, his 
expression still cloudy. 
He tries to speak, but 
his mouth is thick with 
cotton. "Wha..." he 
mumbles, his tongue
fumbling with the 
gauze and numbness.

Karen's eyes fill with
relief. "Shh, it's okay.
You're in recovery."
Her voice is a soothing 
balm to his confusion.
Sandy steps forward, 
her eyes shining with
concern. "You're okay,
buddy! How goes it?"

Plankton blinks 
slowly, the world
swimming before his
eye. "M'th... moufth?"
he mumbles, his speech
slurred from the numbness
and remaining anesthesia.

Sandy and Karen
can't help but chuckle
at his antics. "Your
mouth is okay, Plankton,"
Karen explains, her voice
patient. "They just
removed extra molars."

Plankton's antennae
wave erratically as
his eye widens. "I can'th
fee my teef," he says,
his voice still thick. He 
tries to sit up, only to fall 
back with a thump,
his antennae drooping.
"Whoa," he says, his
eye spinning. "The floor
moveths." 

Chip giggles nervously,
his heart racing. He's 
seen his dad act weird 
before, but not like
this. Sandy's laughter 
fills the room. "Oh, 
Plankton," she says. "You're
always full of surprises."

The nurse smiles. 
"It's the anesthesia,"
she explains. "It'll
wear off in a bit. But
for now, keep talking to
him."

Karen nods, her
relief palpable. She
knows her husband's
quirks, but this is new
even for him. She leans
in. "You're ok, Plankton.
We're here for you."

Plankton's antennae
twitch as he tries to 
comprehend. His voice
slurs more, "Whewe am I?"
He looks around, his 
eye blinking. "I'm in’a
white... box?" His words
slur together, and he 
starts to giggle. "I thishk
I'm in a fridge!"

The nurse, Karen, and
Chip all chuckle despite
themselves. The tension
in the room breaks a
little. "Dad, you're
still at the dentist,"
Chip says, trying to
keep a straight face.

"Dentith?" Plankton
slurs, his antennae waving 
in confusion. "Why am I
in da fridge den?" His
laughter turns into a
snort, and the gauze in
his mouth shifts, 
causing him to drool.
"Careful, buddy," Sandy
says, her eyes crinkling
with amusement. "You've
got gauze in your mouth."
Plankton looks up. "Gosh?"

Chip can't hold in his
laughter anymore. He
sees the humor in the
situation, despite the
anxiety from earlier.
"You're in the surgery
recovery room, Dad," he 
explains, trying not
to laugh. "You had
some teeth removed."

Plankton's antennae
wave wildly. "Teesh?"
He asks, his voice
slurred. "I can'th feel 
my teethies. Dith they 
tik dem aww?"

This sets off a 
fit of giggles from 
the group, even Karen
can't hold back. "They
just took out your 
wisdom teeth, love,"
she says, her voice 
full of mirth. "They
had to, remember?"

Plankton's eye crosses. 
"Wi’dom teefs?" He
repeats, his voice 
slurred. "Buth... but I'm 
smart wifth aww my 
teef!" He tries to 
touch his mouth, but 
his arm flops back 
down, too heavy. 
"Windom teefs awe 
supposeth to be...
smart?" His voice
trails off into a 
silly giggle.

The nurse laughs 
lightly. "Mr. Plankton,
you're adorable. But 
yes, wisdom teeth 
can cause problems.
They're like the extra 
baggage in your mouth 
that you don't need."

Sandy looks at him.
"Do you recall anyth—"

But Plankton's eye rolls
back and he's out again,
snoring gently. The nurse
chuckles. "It's the 
medicine," she says. "He's
still under the effects.
Give him some time."

Karen nods, her 
smile lingering despite
the situation. She's 
seen Plankton act silly
before, but never 
like this. The anesthesia
has brought out a
whole new side of him.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 26

The nurse checks
his vitals, then looks
at the family. "He's
going to be fine," she
reassures them. "This is 
normal. Just keep
talking to him."

Sandy nods. "Plankton
what do you recall?"

Plankton's eye flickers
open again. "I... I
wuz... it wuz...
scawy! Buh feelth
wike a melting gill
sheesh san witch
floating. Karen thpinned
thoo! Thpun awound.."

Karen looked intrigued.
"I was spinny?" She asked
him. "Yesh," Plankton nods.
"Youw wiz." He tried to sit
up again.

Sandy couldn't help
but laugh harder. "Looks
like you had quite the
adventure, Plankton."
He nods, his antennae
bobbing. "I di'n't even
hafe tho weave de chaw
fo' de rollercoatheth," 
he mumbles, his voice
still slurred.

The nurse checks
his gauze and nods.
"Everything's going
as planned," she says.
"He's just feeling the
after-effects of the
anesthesia."

Plankton tries to 
focus on the three
figures before him. "Youwre
aww... fuzzy," he murmurs,
his voice muffled by
the gauze. "Nurse?"
The nurse's smile widens.
"Yes, Mr. Plankton?"

"I had a mask,"
he slurs. "I wath...
thwimming wif... I din't
floth my teef?" He giggles
uncontrollably at the 
thought. "Ith thweemed
wif... I dunno? I forgot 
to floth yestewday. Sho
thad can'th be wight.."

The nurse and 
Karen share an 
amused glance, 
while Chip tries to 
keep a straight face.
"It's okay, Plankton," 
Karen says, her voice 
trembling with laughter.
"You're okay. You're just 
a little loopy right now.
Let it run its course,"
she says with a smile
as Plankton notices the
bandage on his hand.

"Oooh, accessowry?"
Plankton asks, staring at the
bandage where the IV was
removed, his eye squinting
in confusion. "I din't member,
how I geth thish?"

Karen chuckles, wiping 
away a tear from her 
eye. "You had surgery,
sweetie. They had to give 
you something to make
you sleep through it, the IV."

Plankton's not following.
"I'vth? Whath's an I'vth?"

The nurse's laugh is
gentle. "It's a tube,
Mr. Plankton. It helped
you sleep." Plankton nods
slowly, still confused. "A
tube? Whath tube? I din't
thee any tube.."

Karen's smile widens.
"You had it in your
arm," she says, pointing.
Plankton looks down, his
eye still unfocused. "Oh,"
he says, his voice faint.
"I din't member thad.
Wheh dith thish tube thingy 
happn’ nurse? Karen, member
the mask?"

The nurse nods. "You
were given a mask with
gas to help you sleep,"
she explains. "And then
we moved to the IV after
that. You're going to be 
a little out of it for a 
while, but that's normal."

Plankton processes
the information. "Oh,"
he says, his voice 
slightly clearer. "Thath's 
why I feelth wike I'vth
been hith by a party
balloon filled wifth...
wather?" He giggles, 
his cheeks turning
pink. "I don't wike
balloonth. They pop
loud." 

Chip can't help but 
smile, seeing his 
dad in this state. 
It's like watching a
child discover the world
for the first time, all 
over again. "You're okay,
Dad," he says, his voice
filled with affection as
Sandy goes to hug Plankton.

But Plankton flinches,
his antennae shooting up. 
"No huggles!" He says, 
his voice panicked. "I'm 
thtick!" He tries to
push her away, but his 
movements are slow
and clumsy. Sandy pulls back, 
understanding. "It's okay, 
Plankton," she says. "We're
just happy to see you. And
you're not sick, silly!"

Chip watches, his heart 
warming at Sandy's gentle 
tone. It's clear she's 
learning too, adapting 
to Plankton's quirks.
Plankton's eye finally
focuses on her. "Oh, 
wight," he says, his voice 
still slurred. "Ish thcared?
I'm mawwied to Karen and
she woffth meeeeeee!"

This sets off another 
wave of laughter. "We 
know, Plankton," Karen says, 
trying to keep a straight 
face. "But you're okay 
now. No need to be 
scared. Chip was a bit
scared though," she adds, 
nudging their son with 
her elbow. "But he's 
brave for you."

Plankton looks at Chip, 
his antennae drooping.
"Whewe's Chip? Can, can
shay hi? Shay hi to Chip?"

Chip leans in, his 
laughter subsiding. "Hi,
Dad," he says gently. 
"I'm right here."

Plankton's antennae 
wave in recognition. 
"Chip! Thpuny Chip!"
He slurs, his eye
widening. "Shay, shay
hi, Chip?"

Chip nods, his smile
soft. "Hi, Dad."
Plankton laughs.
"Hi Chip!" He says,
his voice still slurred.
"Youw... wookth...
so... biggew!" He 
tries to sit up, but Chip
gently pushes him back down.
"Easy Dad," he says. "You
got stitches. We don't want 
to pop those stitches, or—"

But Plankton's antennae
drop instantly. "Stitchesh?"
He says, his voice filled with
fear. "Stitchesh thurtth?"
He starts to panic, his 
body tensing. The nurse 
quickly intervenes. "Mr.
Plankton, no, no," she
soothes. "Chip, we gave
your dad strong but dissolving
sutures! They're specially 
made for patients with a
history of seizures and special
needs. They're not like regular
sewing stitches. He'll be fine."

But Plankton's fear has
taken over, and his 
single eye starts to 
water. "I don't wike
stitchesh," he mumbles,
his voice shaking. "Karen
pwease, no stitchesh!"

Karen's heart breaks
seeing her husband so
upset. She takes his hand
again. "Plankton, no.
You don't have stitches
that hurt," she says, her
tone gentle and firm. "They
used special ones that
dissolve on their own.
Remember we talked about
this befo—"

But Plankton's
fear isn't easily
soothed. He starts to
hyperventilate, his 
single eye wide with
panic. "Karen, Karen, no
stitchesh! No stitchesh!"
His antennae are 
quivering, and his 
body is tense. Chip 
swallows hard, his
hands clenching into 
fists at his side.

Karen's eyes fill 
with tears, and she
quickly stands up. "Chip,
Sandy, I need you to go
wait outside for a 
moment," she says, 
her voice shaking. "Let me
talk to him alone."

Sandy nods, her own 
concern etched on her 
face, and gently 
guides Chip out of the 
recovery room. "Let's get 
some air," she says, 
leading him to the 
waiting area. Karen and
the nurse turn to Plankton.

"Plankton," Karen says, 
her voice calm yet 
firm, as she sits on the
edge of the bed, her 
hands gripping his. "Look
at me. Look at me." 
Plankton's eye is 
teary, his breathing 
quick and shallow. "You're 
safe," she whispers. "You
don't have the stitches that 
hurt. Chip didn't know
about the dissolving 
ones, that's why he said
that. But I know, and 
you know, because we talked
about it. Remember?"

Plankton's antennae
quiver as he tries to
focus on her words, his
body slowly relaxing. 
"Ditholvish..." he mumbles,
his voice small and 
scared. "No stitchesh?
No popping!"

Karen nods, her 
own eyes filling with
tears. "No stitches that 
pop, love," she says. "You're
okay. You're safe." She 
holds his hand tighter, 
feeling his fear 
dissipate slowly. "Remember
the plan? The one we
made together?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, and he nods 
slightly, his breathing
easing. "Yeth," he says, 
his voice weak. "Dotholvish
stitchesh."

The nurse steps in, 
her voice calm and 
soothing. "Mr. Plankton,
your wife's right. We
used dissolving ones.
We just want you to
be careful because of
the pain can be worse
if you jostle too much."
Plankton's antennae
wave slightly, his
expression still fearful.

Karen nods. "We talked
about it, Plankton.
Remember the special 
plan?" She whispers, her
eyes filled with love
and understanding. "You
have to stay calm and let
the medicine work. No
stitches to pop. No pain
like that. We discussed it
before, right? Now, let's
get ready to go home!"

Plankton's antennae 
still, his breathing 
steadies. He nods 
slowly. "Home?" He 
slurs, his mind still 
fuzzy from the anesthesia. 
"I wath... I wath 
thcared of stitchesh."

Karen's smile is 
relieved, her eyes 
glistening with tears. 
"You're safe, Plankton. 
We're going home soon. 
Ready to go?" She 
strokes his cheek.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in acknowledgment, 
his single eye focusing
on hers. "Home," he 
repeats her. "Yeth."

The nurse nods, 
satisfied with his 
response. "Alright,
Mr. Plankton; let's get
you into a wheelchair!"

With the nurse's help,
Plankton is transferred
to the chair, his legs
dangling over the 
edge. "It's just to get
you to your car."

Plankton nods, 
his eye still a bit 
glazed over, but his
body more cooperative
now. His antennae 
wave slightly as he 
tries to sit up straighter. 

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 27

The nurse pushes the 
wheelchair through the
hospital corridors. Chip
and Sandy come into his
line of vision.

"Hi Dad," Chip says, 
his voice tentative. Plankton's
eye snaps to his son. "No?"
He says, his voice clearer
now. "You'we... you'we
liar?" Karen steps in, 
laughing gently. "He's not
lying, Plankton. You had
special stitches. No 
popping, remember?"

Plankton's antennae
drop, his expression 
clearing slightly. "Oh,"
he says, his voice still 
slurred. "Speshul...
stitchesh." He nods, 
his mind slowly piecing
things together. "Wight. No 
popping."

Chip's shoulders relax, 
his smile returning. "Yeah,
Dad. No popping. And we're
all here for you," he says, 
his voice filled with 
reassurance. Sandy 
nods in agreement, her
eyes soft. "You're gonna
be okay. I'll get going now.
Bye, y'all!"

The nurse wheels
Plankton closer to the 
car, and Chip rushes to 
open the door for them.
Karen helps him into the
backseat, making sure
he's comfortable, while 
his head lolls back onto
the headrest. The nurse
waves, taking away the
wheelchair as Karen starts
the car. Chip helps Plankton
buckle in.

In the car, Plankton's
eye keeps fluttering. 
"You okay?" Karen
asked him, unable
to hide her amusement.

Plankton nods, his
speech still slurred. "Jush
tiwed," he says. "I wath...
I wath... I wath on a
speshul day," he 
mumbles, his eye
half-closed. "Tish fwom...
the denthit?"

Karen laughs softly,
her hand on the
steering wheel. "We're in
the car now. You're okay,
sweetie. Just tired from
the medicine."

Plankton's antennae 
wave slowly, his eye
half-closed. "Caw," he
slurs. "Caw wike a...
Chip... merry-go-round?"
"No, no," Karen says, 
smiling. "Just stay put.
You're safe." Chip, sitting
the seat by Plankton, 
watches his dad with 
mixture of humor and 
concern. "Mom's driving
us home, Dad."

"Home?" Plankton 
repeats, his voice
slurred. "Home, wike...
whale wash?"
"Sure, sweetie," Karen 
says, her voice gentle. 
"We will be there soon."

"Dad, do you wanna tell
us about the dentist?" 
Chip asked, starting to
record a video on his phone. 
He doesn't want to startle 
his father, who's already 
so sensitive to his 
surroundings.

Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly. "Nendis?"
He mumbles. "Yeath, nentis."
He closes his eye, 
his antennae moving
as he tries to recall..

"I wath... I wath at
de dentith," he slurs, 
his voice lilting in  
sleepy confusion.
"They goth my wizdam
teef. Teefies?" He giggles
to himself. "Tho many
teefies. Dey maketh a
chaw. I thit down and
dey thaid, 'Bweath in de
gas mask,' and den...
de wowld wath... woozy.
I dunno how bu’ dey aww
of a sudden I’th wakey-wakey
wiff no mowf bu’ on my
hand wath a ban-aid." He 
holds up his hand with
the bandage for emphasis, 
his antennae bobbing 
slightly with each word. "I
thenked dey put me on
de rollercoath, but ended
up in thith caw!" His hand
plopped down in his lap.

Chip and Karen share
a look in the rearview
mirror. "Dentist," she
corrects gently, her 
laughter bubbling up.
"You're still loopy
from the anesthesia.
And that was a wheel
chair, Plankton."

Plankton giggles. "Wheel
chaw," he repeats, his
voice slurred. "Wheelchaw
in a caw." His antennae
wave in delight. "Bu’
Chip wath tho mean. He
tolb me I pop oud my
stitchesh." Chip snickers, 
his hand over his mouth.
Then Plankton continues,
but his voice wobbles sadly.

"Ith’s scawey," Plankton
says, wiping away tears.
"Chip wathn't weal truthful
and thaid I got stitchesh
wiww end up popping.
It wath... wath it...
wath it... my moof." His 
antennae quiver. "Bu’ 
Karen thaid it’th noth
twue. No pop stitchesh!"

Karen's smile fades a 
bit. "Plankton," she says
seriously. "Chip didn’t know
about the dissolving
ones. But I'm here,
and I'll always tell you
what's happening. No
surprises, okay? He was 
just trying to—"

But Plankton's head lolls 
to the side. He's asleep, 
his mouth slightly open. 
His snores are quiet, 
the gauze in his mouth
muffling them. Chip then
ends the video, saving it
on his phone. 

The car ride home is
mostly silent, save for 
Plankton's soft snores.
Karen keeps glancing 
in the rearview mirror,
making sure he's okay.
Chip can't help but 
smile at his dad.

As they pull into
the driveway, Plankton 
stirs slightly, his 
antennas waving in 
his sleep. "Whe... whe're
weh?" He mumbles. "Home,"
Karen says softly. "We're 
home. I'll help you in—"

But Plankton's eye 
closes again, and his
snores grow louder, 
his body relaxed
against the car seat.

Karen gently shakes
his shoulder. "Plankton,
we're home," she says,
trying not to disturb him
too much. His antennae
twitch in his sleep, 
but he doesn't wake up.

With a sigh, she gets
out of the car and opens
his door. "Come on," she
coaxes, her voice 
soothing. "Let's get
you inside!" His eye
opens again. "Home,"
he says, his speech still 
slurred. Karen carefully helps
him out of the car. Yet
Plankton's eye starts
to droop again. "Walky
walky," he murmurs. 

Chip jumps out of the 
car, coming around to
open the front door.
Plankton's legs give out
under him, and he 
sags against Karen, his 
antennas drooping. "Walky," 
he mumbles again, his 
eye fluttering shut.

Karen laughs softly, 
shaking her head. "Come 
on," she says, supporting 
his weight. "Let's get 
you to bed. You gotta 
walk, honey. Are you
even awake?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "Awake," 
he mumbles. He takes 
a step, then another, 
but then his legs give
out again.

"Dad, you need to stay 
awake," Chip says, 
his voice filled with 
concern. But Plankton's
eye closes again, his 
body leaning heavily on
Karen as his snores
are heard. 

With a deep breath,
Karen wraps her arm 
around his waist. "Come
on, love," she says, her
tone gentle but firm. "We're 
almost there. Can you
wake up for just a bit?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch as he nods, his
body wobbly. He takes
another step, his eye
fighting to stay open.
"Walky, walky," he says,
his voice sleepy. They 
inch their way up the
walkway, Chip hovering
behind them, ready to 
catch his dad if he 
fals again.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 28

The home's warmth
envelops them as they
enter, Plankton's eye
fully closing. "Bed," he
mumbles into Karen.
"Wan' bed."

Karen laughs. "You can
do i---"

But Plankton's head
droops again, snores
now echoing through
the house. She sighs,
her smile never leaving
her face. "Come on," she
whispers, half carrying him
toward the bedroom. "You're
almost there. Wakey-wakey," 
Karen coos. Plankton's
eye opens a slit. "Heh?"
"Dad," Chip says. "You need to 
stay awake a bit longer."

They manage to get
to the bedroom,
his legs dragging.
Karen helps him onto the
bed, his head rolling to
the side. "Bed," he says,
his voice barely a murmur.
"Wan' bed."

Chip watches, his
heart heavy. He notices
his dad's mouth moving,
his teeth chattering slightly
as he chews on the
gauze. "Dad, no," Chip
whispers, reaching out to
his father's cheek. "You're
not su—" Chip's eyes 
widen with realization.
"Oh," he says softly. "Your
mouth's numb. Mom, is this
normal?"

Karen nods, her eyes 
on Plankton's face. "Yes,
it's a side effect of the
local anesthesia," she 
explains, her voice calm
and reassuring. "It'll wear
off soon." Plankton's 
antennas wave slightly, 
his chewing growing more
frantic. "It's okay, Plankton,"
she says. "It's just to
keep the blood clots forming
in place. It won't hurt you."

Chip's brow furrows as
he watches his dad's 
mouth move uncontrollably.
"Can we give him something
for it?" He asks, his
hand hovering over the 
gauze in Plankton's mouth.
"Chip, don't. It's just the meds
wearing off. Let's get you comfy,"
Karen says, her tone soothing.

They manage to get him
sitting up, his head 
lolling slightly. Plankton
makes an "mph" noise,
his antennae waving as 
he tries to communicate.
Karen gently takes the
gauze out, revealing a
swollen, numb mouth. 
"Can you feel that?"
Chip asks, his voice 
concerned. Plankton shakes
his head, his eye wide
with confusion. "No?" He says,
his voice slurred. "Karen, I
canth feel my mouthie!"

Karen laughs softly, 
her eyes brimming with 
love. "It's normal, love.
The feeling will come back."

Plankton's antennae 
wave in frustration. "But it'th
so... weiwd," he mumbles.
"Wha’ abouth the gosh?"

Karen takes his hand
gently. "The gauze is
gone, Plankton. Just
try to relax."

Plankton's antennae
quiver as he nods. He
tries to talk again, but
his tongue feels thick
and awkward. "Karen,"
he slurs, "Ith’s wike...
ith’s wike I'vth goth 
a mout' full of
cotton candies. I stiw
feelth gosh?" His tongue
visibly gets in the way
of his chewing.

Karen nods, her hand
on his shoulder. "It's
normal, Plankton. Just
stop chewing your cheek,
okay?" She says, her voice
kind. But Plankton's 
still confused. 
"But it'th not wike...
I'm not gonna bithe
mithelf," he says.

But even as he's talking,
his teeth catch his
tongue. "Thee," he says, 
his voice slurred. "It'th
I'm biting gosh, not mysethf."

Chip's eyes widen.
"No Dad there's no
gauze STOP!" Chip
yells, making him
wince. "Chip thoo
loud! Kare----" "Dad 
you're being louder
than me!"

Karen quickly takes 
control of the situation.
"Plankton, you're okay.
You're just biting your lip
because your mouth is
still numb from the 
medicine," she explains.
"It's a common side
effect. And Chip, please
keep your voice down."

Plankton's antennae
drop in understanding,
his body relaxing 
slightly. "Numb?" He 
repeats, his voice
slurred. "I bith my lithpth?"
He looks at Karen, his 
eye filled with concern.

"It's okay," Karen 
says, her voice calm. 
"It's not gonna cause
complications but it'll
make the pain worse
once it's worn off."

Plankton's antennae 
wave in understanding, 
his eye drooping. "Ow-wee?"
he mumbles, his speech 
still slurred. "I'm sorthy."

Karen nods, her smile
reassuring. "It's okay,
sweetie. Just try to keep 
still," she says.

But Plankton's mouth 
slightly starts to drool 
due to the numbness.
"Ith'th gothta... gothta 
geth muh gosh," he asks.

Karen nods, her
movements swift. She
grabs gauze from the
nightstand. "Open,"
she instructs, her voice
calm and soothing.
Plankton's mouth opens
obediently, and she gently
puts the fresh gauze in.
"Better?" She asks, her
tone tender.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in relief as he 
nods. "Tankyew," he
mumbles, his speech
slurred.

Karen and Chip 
exchange a look, 
both of them trying
not to laugh at the
sight of Plankton's 
drool.

"It's okay," Karen
says, her voice calm. 
"It's normal." She 
wipes the drool from
his chin with a gentle
tissue. "But you
have to keep the
gauze in tonight."

Plankton nods, his 
antennas drooping slightly.
"Thath what dey
thoid," he murmurs. "But
it’th... it’th juth...
tiwweeddd.."

Karen giggles, her 
eyes shining with love.
"I know, Plankton," she
says. "But it's all going
to be okay. You just
have to keep the gauze
in for now." Plankton's
eye closes in sleep.

Chip watches his dad, 
his heart swelling with 
concern. He's never 
seen him like this 
before, so vulnerable. "Mom,
should we be worried?"
He whispers, his voice
shaky. Karen smiles at
his anxiety. "No, no
complications. He'll just
be in pain is all. And his
autism might make it
tougher for him to 
really communicate
what he's feeling without
getting frustrated, so
be prepared for that."

As they get him settled 
in bed, Plankton's drool 
continues to leak out 
despite the gauze.
Karen carefully tucks him
in, making sure the
gauze stays in place. 
"Goodnight, Plankton," 
she says, even though
he's already snoring
softly. She kisses his 
forehead, her heart aching 
for the pain he'll feel 
once the anesthesia 
fully wears off tomorrow.

Chip lingers in the 
doorway, watching his 
dad sleep. His mind 
whirrs with thoughts 
about his dad's 
autism, his surgery,
and the drooling. It's 
strange to see such a
powerful character in 
his life so vulnerable. 
He knows Plankton 
wouldn't want anyone 
to see him like this, 
but he also knows
his dad is safe here.

He turns to Karen,
his voice low. "Mom, is he
going to be okay?"
Karen nods, her eyes 
still on Plankton. "He's
going to be fine. The 
dental work was 
minor. The autism 
just makes everything
more... intense for him."

All the anesthesia and
numbness has worn
off overnight while
Plankton was asleep.

The next morning
Plankton awoke to
a dull ache in his
mouth and jaw.

Karen hears him
groan loudly and
she went right to
his side.

His antennae now
twitched in pain. "Wha'..." 
Plankton then remembers.
The dentist. He had
his wisdom teeth out!
He recalls the mask.
He remembered Sandy
dropped Chip off at
the dentist, and Karen
drove Chip and him home.
Anything else after that,
he'd forgot.

He opens his eye
slowly, his mouth 
now feeling thick 
and swollen. "Karen,"
he murmurs. He then
took his soggy gauze
out, now stained with
pink. "Urrg, m-my face.."

Karen, sitting beside 
him, smiles. "Good 
morning, Plankton. 
How are you feeling?"
Her tone is gentle.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in response. 
"Dunno," he mumbles. 
"Why's the pillow wet?"

Karen laughs softly.
She sits down beside 
his bed, her expression 
kind. "It's because the
medicine they gave 
you made your mouth 
numb. You couldn't 
feel it, so you drooled in
your sleep."

Plankton nods, his 
face scrunching up in 
realization. "Oh," he
says, but winces at 
the pain in his jaw.
"Take it easy," Karen 
instructs, her hand 
steadying his shoulder. 
"You're going to be 
sore for a few days. And 
you had those special 
stitches that dissolve.
You're going to need 
rest."

Chip knocks on the 
doorframe, his eyes 
full of concern. 
"Hey, Dad," he says 
softly. "How's it going?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "Chip," 
he says, his voice 
still thick from sleep.
"Uh, how was Sandy?"

Chip steps into the 
room, his eyes 
scanning his father. 
"Ms. Sandy's good," he 
replies. Plankton nods.
"Sandy dropped you
off at the oral surgeon
office at my dentist 
yesterday, right?"

Chip nods, his eyes
worried. "Yeah, Dad. 
We both came after
surgery." He pauses, 
a smile tugging at his 
lips. "You had some
funny moments."

Plankton's antennae
perk up, his curiosity
piqued despite the pain.
"Funny moments?" He 
asks, nervous. "What
do you mean..."

Chip pulls out his 
phone, scrolling to
the video from the
previous day. He 
presses play. In
the video, they're
in the car, Chip in
the video talking.
'Dad, do you wanna tell
us about the dentist?'
Then Plankton came
into view.

Plankton's eye
opens wider 
as he watches 
his sleepy, post-
surgery self mumble
about the "nentis" and
his "mowf bu' on my
hand wath a ban-aid." 
He watches his own 
confusion with
mortification. "What
bandaid..." Plankton sees
it on his hand. "I
don't remember having this
on my hand. What was it for?"

Karen chuckles. "It was the
IV, but you won't
remember because 
they did it when you
were already sleepy."

"Oh," Plankton says. He 
looks down.
"I don't remember," he mumbles,
wincing as he took off his
bandage. Karen nods, her 
expression sympathetic.
"That's because of the 
medicine, Plankton. You
were pretty out of it."

Chip chuckles. 
"You talked about 
chairs turning into
a rollercoaster," he says.
"It was pretty funny."
Plankton's antennae droop
slightly. "I talked about 
what? It was all a...
a blur."

Karen nods. "You were 
loopy from anesthesia.
But it's over. 
You're safe at home, and
we'll help you out."

Plankton sat up, movements 
cautious due to the 
throbbing in his mouth.
"Th-thank you," he says. "My 
mouth feels... pain."
Karen nods, handing 
over a glass of water 
and a bottle of pain 
meds. "Here. It'll help."

Plankton nods, his 
face contorted in 
discomfort as he took
the pills with a grimace. "Euh– " 

Chip watches his dad
carefully with love. He 
can't imagine what it's
like and his dad's autism make
it more challenging for him to 
understand. He sat down 
on the bed, his hand 
reaching out to cover 
his dad's. But
Plankton retreats his
hand before Chip can 
touch.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 29

"Daddy?" Chip asks,
his voice full of 
concern. "You ok?"

Plankton's hand moves.
"I don't wanna be 
touched," he says 
in annoyance. "Pain."
Chip's face falls, but
he understands. "Okay, 
Dad," he says, pulling
his hand back. "Do you 
want me to ge-"

"No," Plankton says, 
his voice firm. "I don't."
Karen nods, her eyes
knowing. "Remember, 
Plankton," she says gently. 
"You might be even more 
sensitive to touch 
right now because of 
the surgery. It's okay 
to tell us if something 
bothers you."

Chip nods, his 
expression solemn. 
They both know that 
Plankton's autism means 
senses can be overwhelmed
even on a good day. Now,
with his mouth sore from
the surgery, any touch 
could be agonizing.

Plankton takes a sip
of water, but does little
for the ache in his jaw. 
He leans back into the 
pillows, his eye
half-closed. Chip sits
on the bed by him.

"Dad," Chip starts, 
his voice tentative. "I'm
here for you." Plankton's
antennas twitch slightly.
"I know, buddy," he says,
voice strained. "Thanks."

Karen looks at Chip,
her eyes filled with
appreciation. "Why don't
you read to him?" She
suggests. "It might 
help distract him."

Chip nods, his mind
racing. What would
his dad want to hear?
He settles on a book 
about sci-fi, something
that usually interested 
him. He sits down by
Plankton on the bed.

He opens the book and 
begins to read, his voice 
low and steady. "Once
upon a time, there was 
a utopian world," he 
reads, his eyes glancing
at Plankton. His dad's 
antennas twitch slightly 
in response. Good, he's 
listening.

As Chip reads about
molecules and atoms,
Plankton's eye begins to
glaze over. The story 
is interesting, but the
pain in his mouth
makes it hard to focus.
He can feel his anxiety
start to rise, his chest
getting tighter.

Karen notices his
discomfort and touches
his hand lightly. "Honey,
are you okay?" She asks.
But then the doorbell 
rings, interrupting their 
moment. Chip jumps up, 
excited for a break. 
"I'll get it," he says, 
his voice hopeful. 
Karen nods, her gaze 
still on Plankton. Chip
finds Sandy at the door!

"Hi Chip," she says,
her smile wide. "I
thought I'd stay a bit,
keep y'all company
or whatnot." So she
follows Chip into his
parents bedroom.

Plankton's antennae
twitch at the sight of
Sandy. "Hi," he mumbles,
not really focusing. Karen
knew this look usually
meant an oncoming
absence seizure for him.

"You okay?" Sandy asks,
her eyes searching his.
Plankton doesn't respond.
Sure enough, Karen knew
an absence seizure's starting.

Still Sandy approaches, her
movements slow and
careful, not wanting to
overwhelm him. "Plankton?"

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly, but he doesn't
react. His mind is 
somewhere else. Karen 
quickly explains, "It's okay,
Sandy. He's having an
absence seizure."

Sandy gasps, for she 
has never seen this 
before. "Oh no," she 
whispers, her eyes wide.
"It's okay Sandy," Karen
says, her voice calm. "It's
just a part of his autism."

Sandy looks at Karen,
her eyes questioning.
"An absence seizure?"
Sandy asks, her voice
quiet. Karen nods, her 
hands steady. "They're
harmless, but can be
disconcerting if you're
not used to them. They
can last anywhere from a
few seconds to a couple
of minutes, even a few
hours." They both sit on
his bed.

Plankton's antennae
twitch once more before
his body goes still. The
only sign he's alive is
his chest rising and
falling with his shallow
breaths. Sandy watches, 
concern etched on her 
face. "What can we do?"
she whispers to Karen.

Karen shakes her head, 
keeping her voice low.
"Just stay with him. 
Perhaps talk to him, but
don't touch unless he 
initiates. Keep it calm."

Sandy nods, taking a
deep breath. She sits 
on the edge of the bed, 
her eyes never leaving
Plankton's still form. "H-
hey, Plankton," she says 
softly, her voice trembling.
"It's me, Sandy. I came
to check on you."

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, watching
closely for any sign 
of the seizure's end. She 
smiles gently at Sandy. 
"It's okay, sometimes he can
hear us. Just keep talking."

Sandy nods, her voice 
soft. "Plankton, I'm here,"
she says. "Your surgery 
was yesterday!" She smiles 
nervously, hoping to 
engage him. Plankton
remains motionless.

Karen squeezes his hand
gently. "You had a good
night's sleep," she says, 
continuing to talk to 
him as if he's just
daydreaming. "Your 
mouth will heal soon."

Sandy nods, her voice 
even softer. "Yeah, 
Plankton. And Chip
and I are gonna help 
you through this, okay?" 
Plankton's antennae
barely move. The 
seizure seems to be 
continuing. Karen 
sighs, her hand 
still in his.

Chip watches his dad
with a heavy heart. 
He wishes there was 
more he could do than 
just sit doing nothing. 
He glances at them, 
his eyes questioning.
Karen shakes her head, 
keeping her voice low.
"It's normal," she 
explains. "It's just his 
autism making it 
harder for him to deal 
with pain. He'll come
out of it in his own time."

"How might I know when 
it's over?" Sandy whispers.
Karen nods, her gaze
still on Plankton. "When 
his antennae move 
again, or when he blinks.
It's like he's just 
spaced out, but his brain's
not processing 
anything around him."

"How do you know if or
when he can hear us?" 
She asks, watching his chest 
rise and fall rhythmically.
Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's still form. "Sometimes,
during these seizures, 
he can still process what's
being said around him. It's like 
his brain's on pause, but 
the background's still playing.
It's why we keep talking."

"So what do we talk 
about?" She whispers. Karen 
smiles gently. "Just keep
it simple and calm. 
Talk about his favorite
things, or ask questions
that don't require an answer."
Sandy nods, taking a
deep breath.

"Plankton," she says 
softly. "You know, I
was thinking, going through
surgery can't be easy for 
anyone, but especially not
for someone with sensory 
issues like you." But still
Plankton doesn't budge.

But Sandy's still curious.
"Karen, why doesn't
he blink during these?"
Sandy whispers, her
eyes never leaving 
his face.

"It's a part of the 
seizure," Karen says 
quietly. "His body goes 
still, and his brain does
not send signals to 
blink or move. It's like
his body's frozen in 
time. Why don't you
try to keep his mind 
engaged?"

Sandy nods, leaning
closer. "Plankton," she 
whispers. "You know 
what I was thinking?" 
Her voice is soft, almost 
a sing-song. "We could 
have ice cream. What do 
you think?"

There's a pause. Then, a
tiny twitch in his antenna.
Karen smiles. It's working.

"Maybe mint chocolate chip,"
Sandy suggests, her voice
soothing. "Or would you
prefer vanilla?" "Villa,"
Plankton replies, a glimmer of
life returning to his eye.
Karen's smile widens. "Look,
he's coming back," she whispers.

Chip's eyes light up,
his voice eager. "Can we
have ice cream too?" Karen
nods. "Of course. But let's
wait until later."

Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly, but
his eye remained 
unblinking. So Sandy
tries again.

"What's your favorite 
flavor, Plankton?" She 
asks him, her voice 
barely above a whisper. 
This time, there's more
life in his antennae. They 
wave slightly. "Villa," 
he murmurs. Sandy nods.
"Okay, vanilla it is. Great!
We'll have a little 
celebration later with
your ice cream, okay?"

And then, finally, his 
eye blinks. "Welcome
back," Karen says, her 
voice a warm smile. 
Chip's face breaks into a
grin, and Sandy looks 
at him with a mix of
relief and curiosity.

Plankton looks around
a bit confused, seeing
Sandy sitting by him.
"S-Sandy?" He says, 
his voice weak. "How long
have you been here!"

Sandy smiles warmly, 
her eyes filled with 
relief. "Not long," she
says. "Just waited for
you to come back to us."
Plankton nods, his 
antennas drooping. 
"I-I must've had a seizure.."
Karen nods gently. "Yes,
you did," she confirms. 
"But it's over now, and
you're ok." She squeezes
his hand, her eyes full of
warmth and reassurance.

Sandy scoots beside
Plankton. "Back when
I was in Texas, I gotta
extra copy of a Texan
science book and just
knew you'd like to keep
it!" She pulls out a big
book. Plankton's eye lit
up. "Ooh, let's look at
the index!"

"What, why the index?"
Sandy asks. "It's just a
part of his autistic brain
that he always likes the
index." Karen interjects.
"Read the title and page
to him; it might help him
relax a bit."

Sandy nods, her voice
soft as she reads. "Alright,
Plankton. 'The Wonders of
Texas Mechanics'... page 32.
'Life in Texas'... page 110." Sandy
holds the book in front of them
as Plankton peers over by her
shoulder, following along.

Sandy continues on
reading. "Texan
Electricity... page 240.
Alien Technology... 
page 478. Unusual
Texas Phenomena...
page 520. New Texan
Inventions... page 600."

Sandy reads on. 
"Discoveries in Texas
Biology... page 780. The
Molecular Universe...
page 850. Li—" Sandy
is cut off by a soft snore.
Plankton's antennae had
stopped twitching and
his eye was now fully
closed. Sandy looks to
find his head resting
against her arm,
his mouth slightly open.

Karen smiles gently. "Looks
like he's out," she whispers.
Sandy nods, setting the
book down carefully. "I
think so," she whispers back.
"He must be exhausted.
And the pain probably wore 
him out."

They sit in quiet 
companionship. 
His snores are soft 
and rhythmic. Sandy's
arm is now around 
Plankton's shoulders, 
supporting him.

Chip looks at his 
mom and Sandy, a 
question in his 
eyes. Karen nods. "It's 
okay," she whispers. 
"Let him sleep. He 
needs rest."

Sandy nods with 
compassion. She gently 
shifts her arm around 
Plankton, making sure 
his head is comfortably
propped on her 
shoulder. Chip 
watches, feeling a mix
of awe and confusion.
He's never seen his 
dad trusting and relaxed.

Karen whispers, "Why
don't you go play, 
Chip? We'll keep an
eye on him." Chip 
nods, his eyes 
lingering on his 
father. He doesn't 
want to leave, but he 
understands that his 
dad needs peace.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 14
(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 beside Karen, watching
his dad sleep. He's quiet, his mind
racing with questions. How can
someone so strong, so in control,
be brought to this? The room feels
heavy with silence, the air thick
with unspoken fears and love.
Plankton's snores are a comforting
reminder that he's okay, that the storm
has passed. Chip's screen flickers
with the memory of his dad's
favorite pranks, his laughter echoing
in the quiet room. But now, his dad
looks so small, so fragile.

Karen notices Chip's distant gaze.
"Remember, Chip, he's still
the same person." She pauses,
searching for the right words.
"His autism doesn't change who
he is, just how he experiences
the world." Chip nods, but the doubt
lingers. How can he understand
a world so alien to his own?
The silence in the room
is broken by Plankton's sudden
mumble.

"Karen?" His voice is a whisper,
his antennae slowly rising.
Her screen lights up with
relief and love. "You're okay,"
she says, her hand stroking his.
Plankton's eye opens,
unfocused and tired. "Chip?"

He sees his son, sitting
on the bed, his screen filled
with uncertainty. "Dad?"
Chip whispers.

Plankton's antennae twitch
as he tries to sit up. "I'm okay,"
he says, his voice hoarse.
Karen's hand on his shoulder
steadies him. "Just tired."
The weight of sleep lifts
from his eyelid.

Chip watches, his screen
reflecting the hope that
his dad is okay. "Do you...
Do you remember?"
Plankton's eye widens,
his antennae quivering.
"Chip," he murmurs, his voice
filled with regret.

"It's okay, Dad," Chip says,
his voice firm. "You had
a meltdown." Plankton's antennae
fall, his gaze dropping.
"I'm sorry," Plankton whispers,
his voice thick with guilt.
"It's not your fault," Karen says,
squeezing his hand. "We know it's
not."

But Chip is full of questions.
"What can I do?" he asks,
his screen eager. "How can I
help?" Karen smiles, her eyes
filling with pride.

"You're already helping,"
she says. "Just by being here,
just by loving him."

But Chip wants more. He wants
to understand, to help in
the way Karen does. "What are
his triggers?" he asks.

Karen's screens flicker with
thought. "Well," she says, "it's different
for everyone. For him, it can be
sudden noises, changes in routine, or even
his belongings being moved without
his knowing." Chip nods, his mind racing.
"But what about his stims?" he asks.
"Those are his way of coping," Karen
explains. "When he flaps his arms,
spins, or repeats words, he's trying
to regulate his sensory input.
It's like he's tuning in to the world."
Karen says. "And when he repeats
words or phrases, it helps him
make sense of what's happening.
Let him do his thing. Sometimes
he'll need help to calm down,
like with the squeezy ball or
his fidget toy. And sometimes,
just being there, quietly, is all
he needs. As long as you
listen and respect his boundaries,
you'll be his best helper."

Chip's curiosity is
piqued. He looks at his dad,
now easing himself onto
the pillow. "What types of
touch does he like?" Chip's
voice is soft. Karen's screens
flicker with memories of
trial and error, of finding
the right balance. "Some
autistics like deep pressure,"
she says. "It can be soothing.
But he's different. He usually
prefers light touches, like strokes
or holding hands."

Plankton's antennae twitch
at the mention of his
name. "What do I do if he
has another meltdown?"
Chip's voice is earnest.
"Just be there," Karen says.
"Sometimes, just knowing
you're there can make all
the difference." She sighs.
"But if it's really bad,
we'll have to get the medicine
again, as a last resort. It's hard,"
she admits. "But I love him.
And I'll always be here for him."

Chip nods. "I love him too,"
he says, his voice barely
above a whisper. "I want
to help him."

Karen's screens glow with
pride. "You already do,"
she says. "But I know
you want to understand more."

Chip nods. "What about when
he's really happy?"

Karen's screens light up with
a smile. "Oh, his laughter
is the sweetest sound.
But if he reaches for you,
if he wants to share that joy,
just be there, okay?"

Chip nods, eager to learn.
"What if he starts repeating
things again?"

Karen's screen softens.
"It's called echolalia,"
she says. "It's his brain's
way of processing. Just
let him finish, and then
you can talk." She pauses, her
thumb tracing a pattern
on Plankton's hand. "And if
you repeat something with
understanding, it can help
make him feel heard."

Chip nods, his mind racing.
He's seen his dad do this before,
but never knew what it meant.
"What about his rocking?"
he asks. Karen's screens flicker
with knowledge. "That's his way
of self-stimulating," she says.
"It helps him regulate his
nervous system. Sometimes
it's soothing, sometimes it's
how he thinks. Remember,
his body's his own. If he
pulls away, it's not personal.
It's just his way of saying
he needs a break." "How
did you learn all of this?"

Karen looks down at their
intertwined hands, her screens
reflecting the journey. "Trials and
errors, love," she says. "And
listening to him. Everyone's
autism is different. What
works for one might not work
for another. We just have to keep
trying, keep learning."

Chip nods, his mind racing
with questions. "How do we
know if he's about to have
a meltdown?" Karen looks at
Plankton, his antennae still.
"Look for the signs," she says.
"Sudden agitation, avoiding eye
contact, flapping his arms, or
repeating words. That's when
you know he's overwhelmed."

He nods, trying to picture it.
"What about his box?"
"That's sensory aids," she explains.
"They help him cope with stress.
It's important we don't touch
it without asking first."
"What's in there? Dad, can I see?"
But Plankton cuts him off.
"Absolutely NOT!" he says.

Karen's screen flickers with a smile.
"It's his personal space,"
she tells Chip gently. "Those
things are special to him,
his tools to stay calm."
Chip nods, his curiosity
still unquenched. "Can I..."

But Plankton's antennae shoot up.
"I just said no, Chip!"
He's alert, his voice sharp.
Karen's grip on his hand tightens.
"Remember," she says calmly,
"his box is his sanctuary."
Plankton's gaze locks with Chip's,
his eye wide with agitation.
"Okay, okay," Chip says, his
hands up in surrender.
He can feel the tension in
the air, the unspoken
words heavy between them.
"What if I just peek?" he asks him.
Plankton's antennae quiver. "No,"
he says firmly. "It's not for playing."
"Dad, I--" "How about NO?"
Plankton says, his voice still
a little rough around the edges.

Chip nods, his curiosity
now mixed with respect. "Okay,"
he says. "But can you show me?"

Karen looks at Plankton,
his antennae still. "It's okay,"
she says softly. "We can show
him together." Plankton's
eye narrows, but he doesn't
resist as Karen opens the box.

new autism and all sensoryoverloadcore box

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 6
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) 

Hanna pulled out a notepad
from her bag. "Let's try some
communication exercises," she
suggested. "Karen, can you ask
Plankton a simple question?"

Karen swallowed hard, her voice
shaking slightly. "Plankton, what
color is the sky?"

Plankton's hand paused in its
squeezing. His eye searched
the room before finally
meeting hers. "Sky," he murmured,
his voice a little more present.
"Blue. The daytime sky appears 
blue because air molecules 
scatter shorter wavelengths of 
sunlight more than longer ones.
The blackbody spectrum of sunlight 
coming into th-"

"Thank you," Hanna said, her
tone measured. "Now, let's try 
again. What does the sky look
like right now?"

Plankton's gaze shifted to
the window, the curtains pulled
back to reveal the soft blue
of the early morning. "Sky,"
he murmured. "Blue." His hand
resumed its rhythmic squeezing
of the fidget toy, a silent
companion to his thoughts.
Hanna nodded, scribbling
quick notes on her pad. "Very good,
Plankton. Now, can you tell
me why you don't like to be
touched?"

He paused, his hand still. "Touch,"
he said, his voice tight. "Overwhelming."
Karen clenched at his
word choice. "Too much," he added.
"Sensory overload."

Hanna nodded, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's face. "Okay.
What about sounds? Are there any
sounds that bother you?"

Plankton's hand stilled on the
fidget toy, his gaze drifting
away. "Sounds," he murmured.
"Some are too loud." He paused,
his brow furrowing. "The toaster,"
he said, his voice filled with
distress. "It hurts."

Hanna made another note. "We'll
have to be mindful of that,"
she said. "And what about light?"

Plankton's hand resumed its
squeezing. "Light," he murmured.
"Sometimes too bright, if sudden."

Hanna nodded, her expression
sympathetic. "It's ok," she
said. "We'll make sure the lights
aren't too harsh. Now, Plankton,
can you tell us what you enjoy
doing?"

He looked up at them, his
eye searching their screens. "Read,"
he murmured, his voice gaining a
tiny bit of animation. "Books,
knowledge."

"Okay," she said, her voice
steady. "I'm going to set a tablet
in front of you, to gauge your
reactions to different sounds
and sights."

They sat at the dining table,
Plankton's eye flicking to the
new device. Hanna had downloaded
various apps to help with
sensory integration. "Remember,
you can tell us if anything
makes you uncomfortable. 
We're just going to
start with some simple
patterns and sounds."

The screen lit up with
colorful shapes, moving
slowly and predictably. Plankton's
hand stilled on the fidget toy.
His eye followed the patterns,
his expression unreadable. 

"Good," Hanna murmured, her
finger swiping the screen. "Let's
try some more different sights
now." The patterns on the screen
then shifted to a kaleidoscope of
flashing lights.

Plankton's eye grew wide, his
hand frozen on the fidget toy.
Karen watched as his gaze
locked onto the screen, his body
going rigid. "Plankton?" she
asked, a hint of alarm in her
voice. But he didn't respond. His
eye remained unblinking, unmoving.

Hanna's hand shot out, her
finger pressing the screen to
pause the app. "It's ok,"
she murmured. "Take deep
breaths." But Plankton didn't
move, his body eerily still.

"What's happening?"
Karen whispered, her voice
trembling.

Hanna's eyes darted to her
notepad, scribbling furiously.
"Absence seizure," she murmured.
"It's common with autism. It's like
his brain has gone on pause."
Karen's chest tightened as she
watched Plankton's unblinking
eye. "What do we do?"

"Stay calm," Hanna said, her
voice steady. "Let it run its
course. It'll be over soon."

Karen's hand hovered over
Plankton's shoulder,
wanting to comfort him,
but she held back, afraid
to trigger something worse.
The silence in the room was
deafening, only punctuated
by the soft ticking of the
wall clock. Each second felt
like an eternity as she
waited for Plankton to come
back to them.

Suddenly, his eye
twitched, and the tension
in his body began to ease.
He blinked, his gaze returning
to the present, and took a deep,
shaky breath.

"Plankton?" Karen asked,
her voice a whisper. He looked
at her, his expression confused.
"Are you ok?"

Hanna stepped in, her voice
calm and soothing. "It's all right.
You just had a little seizure.
It happens sometimes."

Plankton's hand tightened
on the fidget toy, his gaze
flitting between Karen and
Hanna. "Seizure," he murmured,
his voice a little shaky. "Why?"

Hanna's hand paused over her
notepad, her expression
compassionate. "It's part of the
autism spectrum," she said,
carefully choosing her words.
"Sometimes the brain gets
overwhelmed and needs a brief
rest. It's nothing to be scared
of, but we'll keep an eye on
it. How did you feel in that moment?"

Plankton took a moment to
consider, his hand still
squeezing the fidget toy. "Went
away," he murmured. "Everything
went away, yet it was all...
too much. Felt like...
dizzy in a blender."
Hanna nodded, her gaze
thoughtful. "It's like your
brain was trying to process
too much, and it needed a
moment to reset." She made
another note. "We'll need to 
test sounds."

They moved to the living
room, where Hanna had set
up a speaker. "We're going
to play some noises," she said.
"Tell us if any are too loud
or bother you."

The first sound was a gentle
rainfall. Plankton's antennae
twitched but he remained calm.
Hanna made a note. "Good," she
murmured. Next, she played a recording
of people talking fast over one
another.

Plankton's hand squeezed the
fidget toy until his knuckles
whitened. "Too much," he
whispered, his voice strained
as he felt another absence seizure
coming on.

Karen's eyes grew wide with
concern. "Stop," she said, her
voice firm. "That's enough."

Hanna nodded, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's face. She
reached over and turned off
the speaker. "It's ok," she
soothed. "We're going to take
this slow." She made a note
of the reaction before looking
at Karen. "We need to build
his tolerance, but not push him
past his limits. Let's try tactile
whenever his seizure completely
stops."

new seizurecore sensoryoverloadcore brain chip

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 6

Plankton's sobs grew
louder, the sound a
physical presence in
the room. Karen
tightened her grip
on Chip, her eyes
never leaving Plankton's
face. She knew
this moment was
crucial, a chance for
them to bridge the gap
that had formed.

Chip felt the warmth of
his mother's embrace,
her love grounding him.
He took a deep breath,
his hand still on his
dad's back. "I'm sorry,"
he said again, his voice
steadier this time.
"I didn't know that
word was bad. I love
you, Dad."

Plankton's sobs
continued, but Chip
thought he felt a slight
lessening in their
intensity. Karen
nodded, her eyes
swollen with tears. "Keep
going," she urged.

Chip took a deep
breath, his voice
barely above a whisper.
"I love you, Dad," he said,
his hand rubbing slow
circles on Plankton's
back. "I'm sorry for
hurting you."

Plankton's sobs grew
less intense, his antennae
stilling slightly. His body
shuddered with the effort
of controlling his emotions.
He was still lost in his
pain, but he could feel
the warmth of his son's
hand, a silent apology.

Karen watched, her
heart aching for both of
them. She knew that
autism could amplify
emotions to an unbearable
degree, and she could see
Plankton's struggle to
comprehend the hurt
he had just experienced.
"Keep talking to him,
Chip," she urged, her voice
soft. "He needs to know
how much you love him."

Chip nodded, his
throat tight with emotion.
He leaned closer to
his father, his voice
shaking. "You're not
slow, Dad," he said, his
eyes never leaving
Plankton's. "You're just...
you. And I love you,
just the way you are."

Plankton's sobs grew
slightly quieter, his
body still shaking with
the aftermath as Chip's
hand moves in soothing
circles on Plankton's
back, mimicking Karen's 
own soothing gestures.

Chip felt his own tears
fall now, his heart
breaking for his dad
now that he had hurt him.
He took a deep breath
and continued to speak.
"You're so smart," Chip
whispered, his voice
shaky but earnest.
"You're the best chef in
Bikini Bottom. You're...
you're just you, that's all."

Plankton's sobs grew
more muffled, his antennae
slowly calming. The sound
of Chip's voice, the warmth
of his touch, it was all
familiar and comforting.
He knew his son didn't
mean it, but the sting
of the slur was hard to
ignore.

Karen watched the
interaction, her own
heart heavy with the
weight of Plankton's pain.
But she also saw the love
and understanding growing
between her husband and
their son.

Slowly, Plankton's sobs
began to subside, his
breathing growing more
even. His antennae stopped
quivering.

Karen watched as Chip's
hands continued to make
soothing circles on his
father's back. She knew
that touch for Plankton
can be either a comfort
or a trigger.

Plankton's breaths grew
even, his sobs fading into
a quiet whimper. His antennae
finally stilled, and his body
seemed to melt into the bed.
The exhaustion that
always followed a seizure
was setting in, compounded
by the emotional turmoil.

Chip watched his dad, his
own eyes red with tears.
He didn't know what else to
say, so he just sat there,
his hand still on Plankton's
back, providing the
comfort he hoped his father
could feel. Karen's eyes
were filled with love and
pride as she watched her son.

Plankton's whimpers grew
softer, his body growing
heavier with each breath.
Karen knew he was
exhausted, both physically
and emotionally, taken a
toll on him. She reached
over to stroke his arm, her
fingers gentle.

"Plankton," Karen 
said softly. "You're
okay. It's okay."

Plankton's whimpers
gradually subsided as
his eyelid drooped. His
body grew heavier with
each breath, his antennae
coming to rest against the
pillow. Karen could see
the exhaustion in his
every movement, the toll
his seizure and the
intensity of his emotions
had taken.

Chip watched as his
father's breathing grew
steadier, his body
relaxing under his
touch. The room was
now silent except for
the quiet rustle of
sheets and Plankton's
soft snores.

Karen gently eased
Chip's hand away, her
own hand lingering for
a moment longer. She
whispered, "Let him rest
now, sweetheart."

Chip nodded, his
eyes still fixed on
his father's peaceful
face. He knew Plankton
was asleep now, his
body finally at ease.
The anger had drained
from the room, leaving
behind a quiet sadness.

Karen reached for
the plush bear on the
nightstand, placing
it in Plankton's outstretched
hand. His antennae
twitched slightly in his
sleep, his grip tightening
around the toy. She
smiled softly as Plankton's
snores grew deeper.

Chip stared at his
father, his own eyes
heavy with the weight
of the evening's events.
He had never seen his
dad so vulnerable, so
overwhelmed by his own
emotions. It was a stark
contrast to the Plankton
he knew—the clever,
resourceful, and often
frustratingly stoic man who
was his hero. But here
he was, a man who needed
comfort and reassurance.

The next day, Karen
woke Chip up. "We're
gonna go across town
to a big park, okay?"
Chip nodded, following
her to Plankton's bed.

Plankton was still asleep,
his antennae twitching 
slightly as he dreamt.
Karen approached the
bed, her steps light. She
knew he's a light sleeper,
yet waking him can be
startling, so she knew to
be extremely gentle.

Her hand hovered over
his shoulder. "Plankton," 
she whispered, her voice
barely a breath.

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, a sign
that he was coming
to. She waited, giving
his brain time to catch
up with the world. His eye
flitted open, his gaze
unfocused for a moment.

"Hey, sweetie," Karen
said, her voice gentle.
"We're going to a new
playground across town.."

new dare to be different cryingcore sorry

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) pt. 2

Plankton's cheeks flushed a
deep shade of red as he
processed her words.
Embarrassment flooded him
as he realized what must
have happened.

"It's okay," Karen assured, her
tone soothing as ever. She
wiped any last remnants of
drool from his chin, her
movements tender. "I think
we outta tell Chi-"

"N-no, Karen... we're not
gonna tell Chip," Plankton
stammered. The thought of
his son seeing him in such a
vulnerable state was too
much to bear. He didn't want
Chip to see him as weak, or
worse— someone to be pitied.

But it was too late. Chip
stepped out of the shadows,
his eyes wide and full of
unanswered questions. "Dad,
are you okay?" he asked, his
voice quivering with concern.

He didn't like the 
idea of Chip
seeing him in 
such a state of 
vulnerability. He 
had always 
worked hard to
mask his 
neurodisability 
from his son.

The room was
suddenly thick
with tension as
Plankton's eye
snapped to Chip, 
his antennae
drooping with 
embarrassment. 
He tried to hide 
his trembling 
hands, feeling 
exposed and 
weak.

"Chip," Karen began,
turning to her son,
her eyes pleading 
for understanding.
"It's just something
that happens sometimes.
Daddy's okay. Now, how
was summer ca--"

"What's wrong with him?"
Chip interrupted, his voice
cracking with emotion.
He had seen his dad act
different before, but this was
on a whole new level.

Karen sighed heavily,
guiding her son out of
the room. "Your dad has a
neurodisability, Chip. It's
called autism. Sometimes,
his brain does things that
are hard for him to control."

Chip's eyes grew even wider,
his heart racing as he
tried to process this new
information. "But why did
he talk like that?" he asked,
his voice barely above a
whisper. "It's just a
part of a condition,
sweetheart," she explained.
"It's like his brain gets
scrambled for a bit after
his seizures."

They sat down on the couch,
Karen's eyes filled with
compassion as she saw the
fear in her son's eyes.
"But he's going to be okay."
Chip looked at her with a
mixture of confusion and
concern. "What do you mean,
his brain gets scrambled?"

"It's like when you're playing
a video game, and the screen
glitches for a moment," she
tried to explain. "It just
takes him a little time to get
his thoughts straight after
one of these episodes."

Chip nodded slowly,
his gaze drifting back
to the bedroom door.
"I'll make us some
cookies, ok?" Karen 
said, giving him a 
gentle nudge.

Chip goes back
to his parents
bedroom. Plankton
was still on his
own bed. "What d-did
your mother t-tell you?"
Chip thought of how
to phrase his answer,
forgetting what his
mom called it.

"She told me that 
you're just re---"

Plankton's eye widened, his
face flushing with a mix
of anger and pain. The slur
cut deeper than any physical
blow could. "Don't you ever
call me that," he said, his
voice shaking. "Do you
underst--"

"It's just what mom 
said," Chip responded, 
his voice trembling.

But Plankton's expression 
was one of hurt and anger. 
He had worked so hard
to keep his condition
hidden from his son,
and now, in his most 
vulnerable moment,
his own wife had supposedly
betrayed him?

"What did she tell you?"
Plankton demanded, his
voice harsher than Chip had
ever heard before. His father
was clearly upset, and Chip
was torn between defending
his mom and trying to
understand what was happening.

"It's just what she
told me," Chip shrugs,
not knowing it's a
slur. "I'll go unpack."

Moments after Chip
left to his own room,
Karen comes back,
not knowing what Chip
said to him. "Plankton," 
she said softly, "I made 
some cookies!"

Plankton ignored her,
turning away.

"What's wrong?" 
Karen asked.

Plankton's antennae
twitched with agitation.
"You told him," he said
accusingly, his voice
shaky.

Karen's smile faded,
replaced by a look of
concern. "I didn't tell
him anything bad," she
explained gently. "Just
that you ha—"

"Don't say it," Plankton
interrupted, his voice
sharp. "Chip told me
what you said. How
could you do that?"

Karen's eyes widened in
surprise. "What do you
mean?" she asked.

"The... the 'R' word,"
Plankton cried, tears
streaming down.

Karen's heart sank, realizing
his fear. "Oh, Plankton, no,
not that," she said, reaching
for his hand. "I never called
you that, I pro-"

But Plankton was beyond
consolation, the damage
already done. "You did,"
he insisted, his voice
breaking. "You said it,
right there! I thought
you were the one person
who understood me.."

Karen felt a coldness
spread through her. "Plankton,
I swear, I never said that.
I just told him about your
autism! You know I'd
never call you that. Ever. I
would never use that
term."

Plankton's antennae
trembled with anger. "Then
why did Chip say it? He
said you told him I wa-"
Plankton choked back
a sob.

Karen's eyes searched
his face, desperation
creeping in. "Chip
must have misunderstood,"
she said. "Let's go talk
to him; we'll clear this up."
But Plankton's trust was
shaken, and his anger
was palpable. "No," he
snapped. "I don't w-want
to see either of you right
now." His voice cracked
under the weight of his
emotions.

Karen felt the sting of
his rejection, but she knew
his pain was deeper.
With a heavy heart,
she left the room. As she
closed the door, she heard
Plankton's muffled sobs,
and it broke her heart.

Making her way to
Chip's room, she tried to
prepare for the
conversation she knew
was coming. She wanted to
explain everything to her
son, to ease his fears
and misunderstandings.

When she reached Chip's
bedroom she took a
deep breath, steeling
herself for the emotional
conversation.

"Hey Chip," she said,
opening the door softly.
Chip sat on his bed, his
face etched with worry.
"We need to talk."

new dare to be different neurodisability chipcore

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