Pneumoniacore Emojis & Text

Owego (New York) Times January 12, 1913 Newark Heights, Dec. 29 - Mr. & Mrs. Elmer Shoultes had the misfortune to lose their little baby girl, ten months old. She had been ill for about a month. The little one suffered terribly, and Christmas Day, died and was buried Friday. The whole family had the sympathy of the neighbourhood. Helen Marie, only child of Mr. & Mrs. Elmer Shoultes, who had been ill for nearly four weeks, died at 1:30 p.m. Christmas Day, of pneumonia. The funeral was held at the house Friday. Interment was at the East Newark Cemetery. The little one was 10 months and 13 days of age. The family had the greatest sympathy of many friends. SOURCE UNKNOWN

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- BROWNING, Alford; d 1915 Mar 17, a4mo; mthc C29-E4; FR; .....d at home of BURTIS, George, Canby Pct, pneumonia; IR 1915 Mar 19; ifa24-5 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/truth-about-becky-bell-12000

Joyce Hulfish BIRTH 22 Feb 1928 Evansville, Vanderburgh County, Indiana, USA DEATH 23 Feb 1928 (aged 1 day) Evansville, Vanderburgh County, Indiana, USA CENOTAPH Oak Hill Cemetery Evansville, Vanderburgh County Burial: Oak Hill Cemetery Feb 24, 1928 Age 1 day 11 hrs, d at the family residence, C.O.D.: Bronchial Pneumonia, due to Aspiration of Amniotic fluid (new born)

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

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👩‍⚖️⏏️✅

..._...|..____________________, , ....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D ...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/ .....), ---.(_(__) / ....// (..) ), ----" ...//___// ..//___// .//___// ιf уσυ ωσυℓ∂ נυмρ ιи fяσит σf α вυℓℓєт fσя уσυя gιяℓfяιєи∂, вσуfяιєи∂, єχ-gιяℓfяιєи∂, єχ-вσуfяιєи∂, вєѕт fяιєи∂, fαмιℓу мємвєя, σя נυѕт α ρєяѕσи уσυ ℓσνє, яє ρσѕт тнιѕ σитσ уσυя ραgє!

vicenarian (20–29) tricenarian (30–39) quadragenarian (40–49) semicentenarian (50) quinquagenarian (50–59) sexagenarian (60–69) septuagenarian (70–79) octogenarian (80–89) nonagenarian (90–99) ultracentenarian (100+) centenary semisupercentenarian (105–109) supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian centevicenarian ages 120-129 ↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓ sesquicentenarian (150–159) bicentenarian (200–299) multicentenarian (200+) tricentenarian (300–399) quadricentenarian (400–499) quincentenarian (500–599)

My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide Foeticide, of a fetus Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months Avunculicide, one's uncle Fratricide, one's brother Mariticide, one's husband or significant other Matricide, one's mother Nepoticide, one's nephew Parricide, of one's close relative Patricide, of one's father Sororicide, of one's sister Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend Nepticide, of one's niece Amiticide, of one's aunt Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide

░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░ ▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░ ░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░ ░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░ ▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░ I 🤍 DAD

July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents. Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me. I smiled and asked, “How do you know?” He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.” Love GMH

Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015

one's mother matricide one's parent(s) parenticide one's brother fratricide one's sister sororicide one's husband mariticide, viricide one's wife uxoricide one's son or daughter filicide, prolicide a close relative parricide father Patricide woman femicide, gynecide, gynaecide an infant infanticide a fetus aborticide, feticide, foeticide old men senicide a king regicide a lord or master hericide a philosopher philosophicide a prophet or poet vaticide a tsar czaricide a bishop episcopicide an apprentice prenticecide a Brahmin Brahminicide, Brahmanicide a Spartacus member Sparticide a modernist modernicide a guest or host hospiticide a favorite nepoticide a friend ambicide an enemy hosticide a heretic hereticide, heretocide a tyrant tyrannicide of bears ursicide of birds avicide, birdicide of boars apricide of bulls tauricide of cats felicide chickens or turkeys gallinicide of cows vaccicide of deer cervicide of dogs canicide of fish piscicide of fowls gallicide of fox vulpicide of goats hiricide of kangaroos macropocide of leeches hirudicide of mice muricide of moles talpicide of oxen bovicide of partridges perdricide of reptiles herpecide, herpicide of snakes serpenticide of snails/molluscs molluscacide of vermin verminicide of whales ceticide of wolves lupidide of aphids aphidicide, aphicide of bedbugs cimicide of bees apicide of fleas pulicide, pulicicide of flies muscacide, muscicide of gnats or mosquitos culicicide, culicide of lice lousicide, pediculicide of mites acaricide, miticide of mosquitos anophelicide, mosquitocide of spiders or scorpions arachnidcide of wasps vespacide Amebae amebacide, amebicide, amoebicide Animal parasites epizocide Anthrax anthracocide Bacilli bacillicide Bacteria bactericide, bacteriacide, bacteriocide Blood corpuscles globulicide Blood flukes schistosomacide, schistosomicide Cancerous cells tumorcide Cells cytocide Diarrhea-causing parasites trichomonacide Fever (reducing fever) febricide Germs germicide Gonorrhea gonococcide, gonoccocide Intestinal worms helminthicide, vermicide Leukocytes leukocide, leucocide Malarial parasites gametocide, plasmodicide, schizonticide Microbes microbicide Nematode worms nematocide, nematicide, nemacide Oxyuris worms oxyuricide Parasites parasiticide Parasitic bacteria treponemicide Protozoans protozoacide Roundworms ascaricide, filaricide, lumbricide Scabies scabicide, scabieticide Sleeping sickness infection trypanocide, trypanosomacide Sperm spermicide, spermatocide, spermatozoicide Spirilla bacteria spirillicide Spirochetes bacteria spirocheticide, spirochaeticide Spores fungicide, sporicide Staph staphylocide, staphylococcide, staphylococcicide Streptococci bacteria streptococcicide Tapeworms taenicide, taeniacide, teniacide, tenicide Toxins toxicide, toxinicide Tuberculosis bacilli tuberculocide Viruses viruscide, virucide flowers floricide of plants herbicide, phytocide of a giant gianticide of a monster monstricide putrid things putricide Destruction of books tomecide Destroying words logocide, verbicide Destruction of a culture ethnocide Destruction of ancient buildings/monuments petracide Destruction of laws legicide Destruction of liberty liberticide Destruction of life biocide Ruining a suitor's chances suitorcide Ruining someone's reputation famicide the mind (brainwashing) menticide a faith fideicide facts (distorting the truth) facticide someone with a motor vehicle autocide Destruction of everything onmicide Destruction of the entire world mundicide Destruction of the natural world ecocide of all people populicide

December 13, 1977, Evansville Aces players, coaches, supporters and flight crew boarded a chartered DC-3 plane to travel to Murfreesboro for a game against Middle Tennessee. Just one minute after taking off, at 7:22 p.m. crashed, tragically taking the lives of everyone onboard. The only member of the Purple Aces who did not die in the crash was 18-year-old freshman David Furr; he was out for the season with some infirmary and thus was not on the plane that day. Lucky break? Well… Davis Lee Furr, weeks after the plane crash, and his younger brother Byron were killed in a car accident near Newton, Illinois, leaving the entire 1977 Evansville team dead.

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago daneylion I was told that I was getting too old to be a pilot and that this would be my last flight before retirement. I’m going to make sure for everyone on board that it’s their last flight too.

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy

----///-\\\----ιf уσυ нανє єνєя fєℓт ---|||---|||---αℓσиє ---|||---|||---нαтє∂ ---|||---|||---ѕυι¢ι∂αℓ ----\\\-///----αρραтнєтι¢ -----\\///-----∂єρяєѕѕє∂ ------///\-----σя -----///\\\----נυѕт ----///--\\\---fєєℓ ιи ραιи ---///----\\\--ρυт тнιѕ σи уσυя ¢нαииєℓ

ᶜᵒⁿᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴾʳⁱⁿᶜⁱᵖˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴰᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᴱᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖʳⁱⁿᶜⁱᵖˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒʳᵃˡˡʸ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵐᵉᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉˣᵃᵐᵖˡᵉ ˢʰᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ ⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿ ᵉᶜᵗᵒᵖⁱᶜ ᵖʳᵉᵍⁿᵃⁿᶜʸ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵇᵒʳⁿ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵈᵉᵛᵉˡᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵛⁱᵈᵘᶜᵗ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵘᵇᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵘᵖᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉˡʸ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ‧ ᴬˢˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉ ⁱᵐᵖˡᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ⸴ ˡᵃᵖᵃʳᵒʰʸˢᵗᵉʳᵒˢᵃˡᵖⁱⁿᵍᵒᵒᵒᵖʰᵒʳᵉᶜᵗᵒᵐʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ‧ ᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿ ˡᵃʷ ʳᵉᑫᵘⁱʳᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵐᵖˡⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ʷᵃʸ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵃˢˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵛⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵘˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵐᵉᵗʰᵒᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉʳᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖʳᵉᵍⁿᵃⁿᶜʸ ⁱˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ᵃˢ “ᵇⁱʳᵗʰ⸴” ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁿⁱⁿᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰˢ’ ᵍᵉˢᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧

Baby Moses law for abandoning newborns In Texas, if you have a newborn that you're unable to ca̢re for, you can bring your baby to a designated safe place with no questions asked. The Safe Haven law, also known as the Baby Moses law, gives parents who are unable to ca̢re for their child a safe and legal chøice to leαve their infant with an employee at a designated safe place—a hospıtal, fire station, free-standing emergency centers or emergency medical services (EMS) station. Then, your baby will receive medical ca̢re and be placed with an emergency provider. Information for Parents If you're thinking about bringing your baby to a designated Safe Haven, please read the information below: Your baby must be 60 days old or younger and unhἀrmed and safe. You may take your baby to any hospıtal, fire station, or emergency medical services (EMS) station in Texas. You need to give your baby to an employee who works at one of these safe places and tell this person that you want to leαve your baby at a Safe Haven. You may be asked by an employee for famıly or medical history to make sure that your baby receives the ca̢re they need. If you leαve your baby at a fire or EMS station, your baby may be taken to a hospıtal to receive any medical attention they need. Remember, If you leave your unhἀrmed infant at a Safe Haven, you will not be prosecuted for abandonment or neglect.

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝔃𝓮: 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 & 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮. ଓ

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.

Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM Mom <Your great aunt just passed away. LOL Why is that funny?> <It's not funny! Wht do you mean? Mom lol means laughing out loud!> <Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.

i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...

Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vía such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."

http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/stmaryscem.htm

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ 🚩⠀ One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.

“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer

🔵 The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 - - also on December 20. 🔵

In the original story of "Peter Pan", Peter murders the Lost Boys when they seem to grow too old to still live in Neverland, because being an adult in this place is against the rules. In the middle of a battle against pirates, he would sometimes even switch sides and start killing Lost Boys for fun.

𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 ~ 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷

👩‍⚖️🤰⏏️✅

Horror Confessions @Horror_Fessions "When I was 8 I would hear what seemed like a younger girl calling for me in my back yard, my mom decided to ask around to see if any young boys had the same name as I did, turns out 8 years prior, a girl and her brother with the same name as I were murdered in a courtyard behind our house."

Anglo-Celt Published in Cavan, county Cavan Ann MORRISON for her child on 5th January last. Frances MORROW, sworn and examined -- Knows Ann MORRISON who was in her service ; she came to witness' house on the 10th of January ; she asked her what became of the baby, prisoner said it was dead-born ; did not say who the father was ; she remained nine days in her house, and the Head-Constable arrested her the Friday after. James SPROULL, Esq., M.D., sworn and examined. He deposed to having made a post mortem examination ; the child must have from strangulation ; there was a conjestion(sic) of the lungs ; there was a mark on the left side of the neck ; strangulation must have been caused by the thumb ; the child was a fine child. The witness gave similar testimony to the Court. http://www.irelandoldnews.com/Cavan/1857/MAR.html March 5, 1857

My baby boy Baby Name: Brackston Arthur Maurer Birth Date: February 23 2008 It’s been 15 years and my heart still breaks. I remember hearing your little heart beat on the ultrasound like it was yesterday. Your little ultrasound pic is right next to my bed. Even after the doctor told us you wouldn’t live I still should’ve fought harder to keep you. As your father it’s my job to protect you and I didn’t. It haunts me at night still thinking about what you must’ve felt and how alone you were. Your mom wasn’t parenting material and I would’ve raised you alone with your sister. But not a day goes that I wish I had that opportunity. I know God will forgive me but I really still haven’t forgiven myself. Your in the arms of Jesus now and there isn’t a better place to be. Just know that your daddy loves you and I will see you one day. Posted: Jun 12, 2023

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS v (Autistic Author) Karen watches the exchange, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. "Plankton," she says gently. "What can Chip do to help you?" "Just be patient," he says. "And maybe don't touch me to much." Chip's eyes widen at the admission, and he nods solemnly. "Okay," he says. "But what if you don't look okay?" Plankton's antennae twitch in what Karen recognizes as a sign of discomfort, but he answers. "Inform Karen, I mean uh ‘Mommy’, but just wait for me to come back I guess," he says. "Don't call panicked attention to it." Chip nods, his eyes searching Plankton's face. "But what if you fall down or something?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Well, if that happens," he says, his voice gruff but gentle, "you can offer to help me up, yet also same thing. But then just remember to give me some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I will, Dad," he says, voice earnest. Karen feels a knot in her throat, watching the two of them. Plankton's vulnerability is a rare sight, but she knows it's a step in the right direction. She decides to push the conversation a bit further. "Chip," she says softly. "Do you have any more questions?" Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching. "Why’d you get so mad when asking you questions?" Plankton's antennae twitch again, a hint of frustration in his eye. "It's just... it's hard to explain," he says, his voice tight. "I know you're trying to help, but sometimes it feels like you're poking at a sore spot." Chip's expression falls, his lower lip trembling. "But I didn't mean to hurt you, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping to his side. "I know you didn't," he says, his voice softer. "It's just that sometimes, when people ask questions about it, it feels like they're not accepting me the way I am." Karen's heart breaks a little at her husband's words, but she knows this is a breakthrough. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "What Daddy's trying to say is that sometimes, it's hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "But you're still my dad," he says, his voice firm. "I'll always love you, no matter what." Plankton's antennae twitch as he nods and for a moment, Karen sees a flicker of emotion in his eye. The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Karen's heart is racing, knowing this is a pivotal moment. Plankton has always struggled with expressing his emotions, especially with their son. The words "I love you" are as foreign to him as the surface world. "I know you do, buddy," Plankton says, his voice gruff. He clears his throat, looking down at the rock on the coffee table. "But for me, it's not always easy to say those words." He looks up at Chip, his eye filled with something Karen can't quite place—pain, perhaps, or regret. "But just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "But why can't you say it?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennae droop, and he looks away, his eye avoiding contact with both Karen and Chip. "I just want to make sure you know that I love you," Chip says, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Isn't that what families do?" The room seems to shrink around them, the air charged with anticipation. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up, and his eye narrows into a glare. Karen can almost see the cogs turning in his mind, the struggle to find the right words. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp as a knife. Chip flinches, but Karen squeezes his hand, giving him the courage to keep asking. "I just want to understand," Chip whispers. Plankton's eye flashes with irritation. "Why does it matter so much?" he snaps, his antennae quivering. "Why do you have to know everything?" Chip shrinks back, his voice trembling. "Because I don't want you to be sad," he says, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton processes Chip's words. His antennae quiver, his eye flitting between his son and Karen, who's watching with a silent plea for patience. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What's so important about me saying it?" Karen's eyes are filled with a silent apology as she sees the confusion and hurt on Chip's face. She knows Plankton's words are a defense mechanism, a way to keep his own fears at bay. But she also knows how much their son needs to hear those words. "Plankton," she says gently, her voice a soft reminder of the love in the room. "Chip just wants to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping in defeat. "I know," he murmurs. "I just... I don't know how to explain it so he gets it." Karen nods, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Chip," she says, her voice soft. "Daddy's trying, okay?" But Chip's eyes are on Plankton, searching for answers that Plankton seems unwilling to give. Plankton's antennae are a blur of movement, his frustration palpable in the air. "I don't know how to explain it so you'll get it!" he snaps, his voice echoing off the walls. Chip's eyes widen, and he withdraws further into himself, clutching the rock tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice shaking. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, a silent plea for calm. "Plankton," she says gently, "you don't have to explain everything right now. We just want to help." But Plankton's antennae are a blur of agitation, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I don't know what you want from me," he says, his voice tight. "I'm trying to be honest, but it feels like no matter what I say, it's not enough." Karen can see the frustration in her husband's movements, his antennae waving erratically. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she soothes, her voice a gentle reminder of the love in the room. Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae stiff with tension. "But Chip expects me to," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of accusation. "You want me to just lay it all out, like it's simple." Karen can feel the frustration rolling off of him, and she knows that pushing him further won't help. "I know it's hard," she says, her voice soothing. "But we can take it slow, okay?" Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his eye still narrowed in irritation. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't expect me to be good at it." The tension in the room is thick, but Karen refuses to let it linger. She takes a deep breath, her eyes on Chip. "Why don't we start by talking about what happened today?" she suggests, her voice calm and even. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, his eye flicking to Chip before looking away again. "Ok," he says, his voice tight. "Do you remember what happened at the park today?" Karen asks, keeping her voice gentle and steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods stiffly. "Yes," he says, his voice tight. "I had one of my... moments." Chip looks at him, his eyes wide with concern. "Is it okay with Dad…" "I'm right here, buddy," Plankton interrupts, his antennae still, his eye fixed on the floor. "And I'm okay." But Chip isn't convinced. "But you weren't okay at the park," he says, his voice quivering. "You were scared I think.." Plankton's antennae shoot up in frustration. "I was not scared!" he snaps, his voice echoing through the room. "It's just... it's hard to explain!" Karen's heart squeezes, watching her husband's distress, but she knows they need to keep the conversation going. "Chip," she says gently, "why don't you tell us what you felt when you saw Daddy's moment?" Chip looks at Karen, his eyes glistening. "I was scared," he admits, his voice shaky. "I didn't know what to do, and everyone was looking." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flicking to the floor. He's visibly upset, and Karen can see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I just want to know," Chip says, his voice trembling, "I wanna know why you…" But before he can finish, Plankton's antennae shoot up in anger, his eye flashing with a fury. "Why do you keep poking at me like that?" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he jumps back, his small body trembling. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the fear in her son's eyes, and she knows that Plankton's outburst isn't helping. "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension.

Even being in my 60s, my abortion remains the single greatest regret of my life, which has caused me immeasurable grief. Some years have been more difficult than others to weather the storm of emotions. For the most part I’ve found peace, however grief and regret lurk always just beneath the surface. Young and unable to recognize the enormity of my decision, I made a cavalier, impulsive choice. How I wish — oh, how I wish — I had been unable to make that choice! — Diane Marie / Naples, Fla.

https://abortionmemorial.com/

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 yr. ago normancrane I learnt my mum and dad were both proudly pro-choice parents. That's why, as I fatally strangled them with my umbilical cord, they must have respect my choice to not have parents.

https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/exception-to-save-the-life-of-the-mother-12052

r/TwoSentenceHorror 34 min. ago MistStarz “Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” mother comforted her terrıfıed daughter. “So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”

July 1996 . Twins can be conjoined at the: Abdomen (omphalopagus). Chest (thoracopagus). Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus). Head only (craniopagus). Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus). Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus). Rump-to-rump (pygopagus). Vertebral column (rachipagus). Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs. Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs. Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused. Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects. Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos

As my spirit left my body I could see all my children cradled in the arms of God ✨ I should ask for their forgiveness for aborting them.

22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby. Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned. Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later. Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH. Dec 1st, 2014

Unknown Female Infant Found Baby in a Creek. Đeađ Bødy Discovered in Race at Rose Valley. New Born Child Fished Out of the Water in the Rear of Fausts' Tannery on Monday--No Clue to Parties Whom Neglected the Baby--Coroner investigating. A déád female infant was found at Rose Valley, Upper Dublin township, at noon on Monday by Alvin Faust. It's discovery caused considerable excitement in the ancient village. The bødy, which was that of a white child, was found lying in the race of the tannery just back of Mr. Faust's new residence and near the small bridge which spans the creek. The bødy was that of a child apparently but a few hours old. From appearances the child could not have been placed there before late Sunday evening as Mr. Faust uses the bridge frequently during the day in passing from his house to the barn of his farm, which lies just over the creek to the south. The discovery was immediately phoned to the Coroner's office at Norristown and instructions were returned to place the corps in the hands of Undertaker Davis, of Ambler which was done immediately. Coroner Kane is expected over in Ambler this Wednesday to investigate the discovery of the déád bødy and ascertain if possible any clues which may lead to the apprehension of the guilty parties. Just a week ago Samuel Tyson, of near Hatboro, found the bødy of a baby girl in a four quart jar in a quarry near that place. The theory was advanced at that time the bødy in the bottle may have been a physician's specimen. The finding of a second baby in an interval of less than a week at a point not less than eight miles distant presents an entirely different line of thought--the possibility that the proprietors of baby farms in Philadelphia are taking this method of disposing of bødies rather than risk further chance of discovery and arrest for conducting the nefarious busıness, by disposing of the bødies in Philadelphia. [Source: Ambler Gazette, April 7, 1904, p. 1. Submitted by Nancy.]

girl misunderstood 51 followers 82 following ~♥~ уσυ нανє тσ тαкє тнє gσσ∂ ωιтн тнє вα∂, ѕмιℓє ωнєη уσυ'яє ѕα∂, ℓσνє ωнαт уσυ gσт αη∂ яємємвєя ωнαт уσυ нα∂. αℓωαуѕ ƒσяgινє вυт ηєνєя ƒσяgєт, ℓєαяη ƒяσм уσυя мιѕтαкєѕ вυт ηєνєя яєgяєт, ρєσρℓє ¢нαηgє, тнιηgѕ gσ ωяσηg, ѕσ נυѕт яємємвєя тнαт ℓιƒє gσєѕ ση...~♥~ ~♥~ ι ωαηт тσ вє яємємвєяє∂ αѕ тнє σηє ωнσ αℓωαуѕ ѕмιℓєѕ єνєη ωнєη нєя нєαят ιѕ вяσкєη, αη∂ тнє σηє ωнσ ωσυℓ∂ αℓωαуѕ вяιgнтєη υρ уσυя ∂αу, єνєη ωнєη ѕнє ¢συℓ∂η’т вяιgнтєη υρ нєя σωη ~♥~ ~♥~ ωє єηנσу ωαямтн вє¢αυѕє ωє нανє вєєη ¢σℓ∂. ωє αρρяє¢ιαтє ℓιgнт вє¢αυѕє ωє нανє вєєη ιη ∂αякηєѕѕ. ву тнє ѕαмє тαкєη, ωє ¢αη єχρєяιєη¢є נσу...вє¢αυѕє ωє нανє кησωη ѕα∂ηєѕѕ ~♥~ ~♥~ ∂ση'т єνєя gινє υρ ιƒ уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ωαηт тσ тяу, ∂ση'т єνєя ωιρє уσυя тєαяѕ ιƒ уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ωαηт тσ ¢яу. ∂ση'т єνєя ѕєттℓє ƒσя αη αηѕωєя ιƒ уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ωαηт тσ кησω. ∂ση'т єνєя ѕαу уσυ ∂ση'т ℓσνє нιм ιƒ уσυ ¢αη'т ℓєт нιм gσ ~♥~ ~♥~ ƒσя єνєяу вєαυту тнєяє ιѕ αη єує ѕσмєωнєяє тσ ѕєє ιт. ƒσя єνєяу тяυтн тнєяє ιѕ αη єαя ѕσмєωнєяє тσ нєαя ιт. ƒσя єνєяу ℓσνє тнєяє ιѕ α нєαят ѕσмєωнєяє тσ яє¢єινє ιт ~♥~ ~♥~ тнє ¢яα¢кѕ ιη тнє ¢ση¢яєтє яємιη∂ тнαт ησ мαттєя нσω ѕтяσηg уσυ αяє, уσυ ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ ƒαℓℓ αραят αт ѕσмє ρσιηт ιη уσυя ℓιƒє ~♥~ ~♥~ ηєνєя ƒяσωη...єνєη ωнєη уσυ'яє ѕα∂ '¢αυѕє уσυ ηєνєя кησω ωнєη ѕσмєσηє'ѕ ƒαℓℓιηg ιη ℓσνє ωιтн уσυя ѕмιℓє ~♥~ ~♥~ ι ωαℓкє∂ тняσυgн тнє нαℓℓωαу нσℓ∂ιηg му ωяιѕтѕ, нσριηg ησ σηє ωιℓℓ ѕєє мє ℓιкє тнιѕ. нє ℓσσкѕ αт мє, ѕ¢αяє∂ ωнαт нє'ℓℓ ƒιη∂. нє ηєνєя тнσυgнт ι нα∂ тнєѕє тнιηgѕ ιη мιη∂. нє αѕкѕ мє, "...ιѕ тнєяє αηу мσяє؟" ℓσσкιηg αт нιм ωιтн тєαяѕ ιη му єуєѕ ι ωнιѕρєя α ѕιмρℓє яєρℓу,...'єνєя ωση∂єяє∂ ωнαт вяα¢єℓєтѕ ωєяє ƒσя'..؟ ~♥~ ~♥~ ѕσмєтιмєѕ ωє мυѕт вє нυят ιη σя∂єя тσ gяσω, ƒαℓℓ ιη σя∂єя тσ кησω, ℓσѕє ιη σя∂єя тσ gαιη. αη∂ ѕσмєтιмєѕ ωє нανє тσ вє вяσкєη ѕσ ωє ¢αη вє ωнσℓє αgαιη ♥~ ~♥~ ησт єνєη мαкє υρ ¢συℓ∂ мαкє нєя вєαυтιƒυℓ...вє¢αυѕє яєαℓ вєαυту ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм ℓσνιηg уσυяѕєℓƒ αη∂ тнαт'ѕ ѕσмєтнιηg ѕнє ¢αη ηєνєя ∂σ ~♥~ ~♥~ яєαℓ тєαяѕ αяє ησт тнσѕє тнαт ƒαℓℓ ƒяσм тнє єуєѕ αη∂ ¢σνєя тнє ƒα¢є вυт αяє тнσѕє тнαт ƒαℓℓ ƒяσм тнє нєαят αη∂ ¢σνєя тнє ѕσυℓ ~♥~ ~♥~ ℓєαяη тσ αρρяє¢ιαтє тнє яαιηвσω αƒтєя ¢υяѕιηg тнє яαιη. ιт’ѕ נυѕт ℓιкє ℓσνιηg αgαιη αƒтєя єχρєяιєη¢ιηg тнє ραιη ~♥~ ~♥~ уσυ ηєνєя кησω ωнєη уσυ ωιℓℓ ℓσѕє ѕσмєσηє, ѕσ gяαв тнєм αη∂ тєℓℓ тнєм тнαт уσυ ¢αяє ησω вє¢αυѕє ιт мιgнт вє тнє ℓαѕт тιмє уσυ ωιℓℓ єνєя вє αвℓє тσ ~♥~ ~♥~ тнє ѕку ιѕη'т αℓωαуѕ вℓυє. тнє ѕυη ∂σєѕη'т αℓωαуѕ ѕнιηє. ѕσ ιт'ѕ σкαу тσ ƒαℓℓ αραят ѕσмєтιмєѕ ~♥~ ~♥~ мσѕт σƒ тнє ιмρσятαηт тнιηgѕ ιη тнє ωσяℓ∂ нανє вєєη α¢¢σмρℓιѕнє∂ ву ρєσρℓє ωнσ нανє кєρт ση тяуιηg ωнєη тнєяє ѕєємє∂ тσ вє ησ нσρє αт αℓℓ ~♥~ ~♥~ тєαяѕ ƒяσм тнє нєαят, тєαяѕ ƒяσм тнє ѕσυℓ, тєαяѕ ƒяσм єνєяуωнєяє, тнєу тαкє ¢σηтяσℓ ~♥~ ~♥~ ωнєη ι ∂σ ѕσмєтнιηg gяєαт, ησ σηє єνєя ѕєємѕ тσ яємємвєя, вυт ωнєη ι ∂σ ѕσмєтнιηg ωяσηg, ησ σηє ¢αη єνєя ѕєєм тσ ƒσяgєт ~♥~ girl misunderstood 51 followers 82 following

In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later. Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby. Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy. Mom, your LGMH Dec 1st, 2014

Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones Amicicide: of one’s friend (amicus - friend) Avunculicide: of one’s uncle (avunculus - maternal uncle) Familicide: of one’s family (spouse and children) (familia - family) Filicide: of one’s daughter or son (filia - daughter; filius - son) Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling) Mariticide: of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse) Matricide: of one’s mother (mater - mother) Neonaticide: of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born) Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father) Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring) Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man) Sororicide: of one’s sister (soror - sister) Uxoricide: of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse) Amiticide: of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt) Aniclicide: of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman) Avicide: of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather) Conjicide: of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife) Nepticide: of one’s niece (nepti - niece)

WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 hr. ago AnonymousNeverKnown ↓ I chuckled to myself, changing the 'is" to "was" on celebrities' wikipedia pages when they weren't dead. Imagine my horror when I saw breaking news about a plane crash, killing those very celebrities.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago myymyy Rollercoaster "Mooooom, I don't like it. I want to get off!" I was a bit surprised. He had always been so brave. I was way more afraid than him when we got on. I never liked to be so high up from the ground. "This will be so much fun!", he had said when we were parking the car. I had kinda hoped he would be strong for both of us. "Oh honey, I'm sorry but we can't get off now, the ride has already started. But remember the small rollercoaster, in the park we went to when you were little? With the funny clown? This is just like that, only bigger. And remember how AWESOME it was?" My son looked at me with watery eyes. He had been so excited about this. I tried to swallow my own nervousness and keep talking to calm him down. My voice was shaking a bit, but I managed to put on a smile. "It's okay, it's okay. You might feel a bit funny in your stomach. It's because of the speed and the changes in the force that pushes you. It's normal! Listen, do you hear? Other people are scared too." He looked at me with his kind, blue eyes and nodded. Just barely. I wanted to hug him, but my back was pressing to the seat so heavily I couldn't move enough. So was his. My eyes caught a glimpse of the sun over my sons head. The sky was so bright. I tried to ignore the metallic clanging sound and people screaming somewhere that seemed to be so far away. Oh, how I missed the ground. Then I felt a big drop on my stomach. We were going faster and faster. My son started sobbing and I tightened my grib on his hand. I thought that he would become such a handsome man someday. He would end up having a good life, and marry a nice girl - or a guy, who knows? I didn't care as long as he was happy. That's all I wanted. For him to be happy and not scared. "Hey, you know what? Close your eyes. This will be over soon. I'm here. I'm not letting go." Someone behind us started to scream. I felt my blood run cold. I tried to keep my focus on the one thing that mattered: my sons hand and my calm voice that kept telling him that it was all going to be okay. Oh, he would become such a handsome man someday. But at this moment he was just a 6 year old boy on his first flight, going to surprise his grandparents all the way across the country. And the last thing I saw before I closed my own eyes, was the second engine on fire...

❝ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶤᶰ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶤᶰᶰᵉʳ❞

r/shortscarystories 10 hr. ago KieranWriter Family Photo The father stood at the front of the family photo and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side and he had his arms around her. The camera was an automatic one the father had set before quickly running to get in to the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes... The father put the kids to their beds and then his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives; her favourite! It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything that he said he would. A real whizz around the house. The house was sparkling by the time he had finished. There was a chime on Deborah’s phone. It was her sister Mary - Hey, not heard from you all day. You ok? Deborah won’t mind, I will just shoot off a short message so that Mary isn’t too alarmed. - Hey all good, just watching TV, really tired. Long day. Off to bed soon xx. It’s fine. They look at each other’s phones all the time. There’s trust in this relationship. A reply from Mary - OK call me tomorrow xx The father thought for a moment, just a moment, a flicker of worry, then replied - sorry better I don’t, I’ve caught a bad sore throat. The father went into the living room to Deborah and gave her a big kiss on the forehead... The next day, the father puts the frame up in the hallway, it will be the first thing that people will see when they walk into the house - the beautiful family, everybody’s dream... Then he spent about an hour mowing the lawn. After everything around the house was sorted, the father knew he could relax, finally relax and that the pressure was on for anything unexpected visits, so they don't walk into a dirty home... He got into the car and took it out of the garage, turned it around and hit the road heading out of suburbs and through the city. He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes a man needs a change and this father needs a fresh start. It wasn’t his first change of scenery. He looked at the copy of the picture of his wife and kids on the dash board and he felt a stab of pain... If only he had taken that picture when they were still alive...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago SkullStar “I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled. The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.

I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him. Amen." Little kids GMH Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR

https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B Francis Edmund Bessette Male 1904 - 1917 (~ 12 years) Name Francis Edmund Bessette Father Augustin Seymour Bessette, b. 1870, d. 28 Aug 1948 (Age 78 years) Mother Marie Louise Poulin Born Jul 1904 Richford, Vermont Gender Male Died 1917 Richford, Vermont The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919 Boy Suffocates In Elevator Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath. The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours. The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation. Buried All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B

Today my aunt found out she's having a girl She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as wonderful" My aunts love for me GMH:) Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S

Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it". Loving families like this GMH ! Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E, Nashville, TN

I destroy the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. by KMApok 'Why is there bad in the world?' It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. Light and dark. Without one, the other cannot exist. I roam the Earth, disposing of the bad wherever I find it. I destroy the ones you don’t even want to know about. I eliminate them completely so you can sleep at night. You people have no idea how many of you live because of the suffocating work I do. 'What about criminals, Mussolini, Adolph...' Well, those are the 'minor' ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I suffocatingly destroy are too horrible and vile to even speak of... You see, I would wager you never have heard of me, specifically in any religious texts. Still I bet you have known of me. Some, for example, have their own name for me: SID's short for what you might call Sudden Infant Death Syndrome..

‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage She's gone, all because of him. Dead. He killed my wife. She'd still be here, if it's not for him. If only he could speak with reason; I could’ve let him live long enough to explain. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago...

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Classic-Dog8399 ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵖˡˢ ⬇️ When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her. It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.

Mary Bell, 11-Year-Old Serial Kıller, Scotswood, England, 1968 - M*rdered Martin Brown (age 4) on May 25, 1968 and Brian Howe (age 3) on July 31, 1968. Her best friend Norma Bell, 13, (not related) took part in the 2nd m*rder. Mary attempted many mvrders besides those. Quotes: “I like to hur͘t people.” - “Brian Howe had no mother, so he won’t be missed.” - “Mvrder isn’t that bad, we all dıe sometime anyway...”

🔴 - 🔪 - 🔴 🔪 - 😈 - 🔪 🔴 - 🔪 - 🔴

💊⏏️🥚➡️🗑️✅

Raͩnͤsͣoͭmͪ

__________ [___________] | . - . | | , ( o . o ) . | | > | n | < | | ` ` " ` ` | | POISON! | ` " " " " " " " `

i̸̦͙̯̐ͅt̵̛͍͓̱͔̳̍̓͋̽̓͑̚͝͠'̴̧̧̩̝̓ͅs̸͓̲̜͒̌... m̵̨̨̢̢̡̢̢̡̨̨̡̧̢̧̛̛͔̞̖̝͔͕̮͖̹̩͚͙̰͎̺͔̠͙̬͈̦͍̟̲͍̩͖͈̬͙̱̳̭̘͎̳̜̟̱̱̥̫̙̰̺̹̬̟̝͖̫͉̣̪̘̠̙̫̣͉͈͍̱̙̞͖̗͚͍͍̼͇͍̪̝͚̟̙̞̬͈̱͙̠̣̖̭̰̹̤͈͍̭͈̪̰̥̦̠̑̔̏̑̊͆̑̿̽̔̄̓͒̀̄̄̈́̆͂̍̎̇̑͂̔̑̿͐͌͌̾͋̀͒̒̇̂̊̏̂͒͊̌͛͂̈́̀̆́͆͌̑̿̇̑̆̉͆̑͐̍̌̇͑͐͆͌̂̍́͑̃̈̌̾͆́͑̅͑̐̋̒͗̽̉̂̀͑͑̾̅̔͂́̇̓́͆̈͒̎̊͗̔͌̈́̔̔́̈́͋́͒̍͆̉̀̏͛̏̈́͊́̓̌̉̑̾̒̔́͌̑̎͗͆͛̍̎̒̎́̊̓̽͌́͆͌́͐̏̌̒͑͛͗̀̌̀̇͂̍́̒̽̇̈́̔͂̏̌̎͐̿͐̈́̅̉͋̈̔̓̓̀͑̿̔̋̾́͌͘͘̚̚̚͘͘͘̚̚̕̕͜͜͠͠͠͠͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅë̵̡̨̡̢̧̡̦̫̗̞͕̱͉̪͉̼̫̱̯̳̗̱͎̥͈̪̮̺̺̪̼̗̬̭͙͓̙̮͎̼͇͇̻̼͙͉̲̭̲͓̮́̐͗͆̓͐̽̀̽̒̎̈̎͒͜͝͝͠ͅͅ?̵̧̧̧̢̡̡̧̢̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͉͎̮̟̞͓̪̜̻͕̳̞̰͚̘͍̠̼̫͈͙͉̙͇̰̠̼̲̼̟̹͎̞̙͔̹̻͙͉̞̩͚̫̮͖̳̳͉̩̳̹̞̝̹̰̩͈̮͙̦̻̩̤͕͚̗̻̩͕̫̣̦̰̬̮̩͈͔̮̜̙̟̺͍̤͈͔̺̬̳̫̟͔̙̣͖͎͍̗͓̜̙̯̹̗͓̗̖̱͉̦͊̉͐̋̑͆̓̉͊̒̃̎̾̈́̎̍̉͛̈́̂̾͋͊̈́́̓̓̐̈́̈́̋̌́̌͒̿̿͒̌̓̽̌̈́͗̉̎̀͐̃̈́̔̈́̐̄̑̅̾̐̉̿͛̆͊̉̈́͂̉̋́̽͂͗̄̄͛͂͆͊̃͑̉̏́̑̅͗̑̋͌̑̉̅͒̋̐̌͐͛̿̐̅͑͑̌̓̃͂̓̂̌́̄̊͌̋̍̀̂̀̿̐̐̿͆́̇̋̈́̎͛̆̈́̓͆́̃͐͐̅͋̾̆̅͆͌͊̄͋͑̿̑̍̓͑̀͒͂̏͑͂̈́̎̀́͊̑͌͋͊̾̔̅̓͂́̃̉̀́̿̍̿͛͒̓̈́̀̇̇̍̈́͊͆̑̽̍́̈̌̉͒̈́̒̀͒̅͗̈́̏͊̾̂͌̎͗̽̒͆́̀͒̀́͋̏͌͒͛͒͛̌͐̀͂̓͊͘̚̕̕̚̕͘͘̚̚͘͘͘͘̚̕̚̚̚̚̚͘̚̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ

What GENS are y’all? 🤨 Lost Gen – 1883-1900 😩 Greatest Gen – 1901-1927 👵🏽👴🏾 Silent Gen – 1928-1945 🤫 Baby Boomer Gen – 1946-1964 👩🏽‍🍼👶🏽👨🏾‍🍼 Gen X – 1965 - 1980 ❌ Millennial – 1981-1996 💎 Gen Z – 1997-2012 💤 Gen Alpha – 2013 - present 🎁

r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago deontistic Unnatural Birth ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance. Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed. I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın. I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . . I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .

r/shortscarystories 1 day ago CBenson1273 My Aunt Tried To Protect Me From My Mother My childhood was a nightmare. My mother hated me and took every chance to show it. Nothing I ever did was good enough. ‘B’s on report cards were because I was stupid. Unfinished chores were because I was lazy. Any beatings I got were because I deserved them. And my father was just as bad. Fortunately, her sister was my refuge. When things got too bad, I could go over there to escape for a day or two. Perhaps that was why my mother didn’t like Aunt Lisa. The feeling was mutual. So I was surprised when my aunt told me she’d invited my parents over for tea tomorrow. “Why would you invite them here? The whole reason I come here is to get away from them!!” “I know,” she replied. “But that all ends tomorrow. I’m going to have a talk with them; they aren’t going to mistreat you anymore.” I knew in my heart they’d never change, but she was determined to try. The next day, I sat in the corner as my parents entered. “There you are, you wretched child,” my mother said. “Come home this instant and stop causing trouble!” “Now, now, Lydia,” replied my Aunt. “That behavior is exactly why I called you over today. It’s quite enough.” “HOW DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO RAIS—!” “Do calm down, Lydia. All that screaming isn’t good for your blood pressure. What’s say we all relax, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss this like adults?” My mother still looked furious, but she took the proffered cup and retook her seat. “How you treat Annie isn’t right. It needs to stop.” “You have no say in what I do in MY home. And whatever MY daughter gets, I can assure you it’s deserved.” “So you aren’t open to change, then?” “Absolutely not - that girl’s gotten exactly what she deserves.” “Very well, then. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” “Come to wh—“ my mother started when she suddenly began to foam at the mouth and grasp at her throat. “Don’t mind that,” my Aunt said. “Just a bit of poison I placed in your cups. I was hoping you’d agree to change your ways, but clearly you never will. Goodbye, sister.” After my parents had collapsed on the floor, I looked over at my aunt. “What did you do?” “What needed to be done,” she replied. “But what if they’d agreed to stop?” “Then I’d have given them the antidote I was keeping in my purs—“ A look of shock crossed her face as her throat closed, replaced by panic as she rifled desperately through her purse. “Looking for this?” I asked, holding up her syringe. “But…. why?” my aunt asked as she collapsed. “Remember all those times you saw my bruises and scars and sent me back there anyway?” “But I loved you like a daughter,” she gasped with her final breath. “Then you should’ve done better,” I said

r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago Intrepid_Wanderer ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ Delivery Room My grandparents were worried when I said I'd decided to get the tablet. They're a bit old-fashioned, but they mean well. The thing is, it's 2084. Most people who can get the tablet just go ahead and accelerate through all nine months of pregnancy. The baby can be born as soon as the parents like- no need to endure mornıng sickness or false warnings for labor. And miscarriages are nearly a thing of the past- most babies are accelerated at the first warning. Medical technology is truly amazing. Not everyone accelerates. Some people worry about those obscure studies on bonding ability in accelerated babies, some consider a "natural" course an unmissable experience and some just don't have access to it. Most of the time, though, people accelerate. I was so excited to get to the hospital. I didn't even get an ultrasound done first- the test was positive, and I was about to see my baby anyway in a few minutes. There were the occasional horror stories. Most of them were urban legends, tales of some quack who messed up and made horrific things happen. Truth was, there was very little to mess up, especially at a nice clinic like this one. With today's medications, I could expect to hardly feel the labor and go home with my family on the same day. They said I'd feel a tingling in my abdomen, maybe even some light kicking. At first I did, but it was more uncomfortable than I'd imagined. It was like a twisting, stretching sensation inside of me. I hated to imagine what it might have been like if the tablet didn't also act as an aesthetic. I tried to close my eyes and breathe through it. Something was soaking through the bed- must be my water breakıng. But it smelled metallic, and I was so dizzy. Why didn't I hear crying? Shouldn't it have worked by now? Someone started shouting, but I couldn't open my eyes to see why. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a doctor asking about ultrasounds and the words "ectopic pregnancy."

To my dear darling baby. Author: Anonymous Baby Name: Baby Zepeda Birth Date: May 2011 Abortion Date: October 2010 The pain sometimes is so hard to bear, even after 11 years. I regretted it all the moment I woke up from the procedure. I screamed, “My baby!”. I’m so sorry I was weak and insecure. Your dad didn’t want to keep you because we were barely making it and didn’t want to give you a bad life. I was scared, no one would love me like your dad and he would leave me if I kept you. How wrong we were. He wouldn’t have left me. He would have loved you so much. Baby, you are missed every second of my life. Both your dad and I regret our decision. He also hurts for you too even tho he doesn’t show it. You have 2 sisters and 1 brother. I can’t wait to hug you and hold and kiss you in heaven. Oh my baby. How could I have been so stupid and weak. I know you are with God, Jesus y tu bisabuela y tus tios! I love you with all my being and hope you can forgive me. Your passing lead me to God. The only positive. I love you! Posted: Jul 6, 2022

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 8 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) As she pulled the blankets up to his chin, Plankton's hand reached out, grasping for hers. "Stay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen squeezed his hand gently. "Always," she promised. They sat in the quiet of the room, the only sound the rhythmic squeezing of the fidget toy. Plankton's eyelid grew heavy, his breathing deepening. "It's ok," Karen whispered, stroking his forehead. "Rest now." Plankton's hand tightened briefly around hers before his grip slackened. His eye fluttered closed, and she watched him slip into a deep, much-needed sleep. During the week, Plankton got more comfortable as Karen helped make adjustments. She let him stim safely without any judgment, even suggesting different ways to fidget. And she saw Plankton's old self shine through, too. As usual, he stayed up late watching movies. He'd sigh and lightly tease Karen when it came to mundane matters. Yet she knew when it came to sensory matters and potential triggers, it's unnegotiable. He did open up to her more due to his fears which came from the autism. He didn't try to steal the krabby patty formula any more, but that didn't stop him from spying on the krusty krab. But their son Chip, whom they adopted at birth, was going to come home. Chip had left during the beginning of the week before Plankton acquired autism, to a week long camp with some school mates of his. But now it's the weekend, and Chip will be coming back from his trip today. Karen felt a pang of anxiety as she thought about Chip seeing Plankton. Would he understand? Would he be scared? Would he still love him? "Plankton, Chip's old enough to underst--" "No," Plankton said firmly, his voice clear. "I don't want anyone to know." Karen knew his fear of change, of being different. "But, Plankton," she began, her voice gentle. "Chip is our son, and he might notice changes..." Plankton's eye grew stormy. "No," he repeated. "I don't want to be..." Plankton trails off as Chip himself came in excitedly. "Mom; Dad!" Plankton's gaze darted to their son, his hand tightening around his fidget toy. She watched as Chip rushed over, his eyes full of excitement from his camp adventures. "Hi, I'm home!" Chip says, hugging Karen before turning to Plankton. Plankton's body tensed, his eye avoiding Chip's gaze. "Hi, son," he murmured, his voice forced, But Chip, ever cheerful, doesn't seem to notice. "Dad!" Chip said, launching himself at Plankton. "Welcome home," Plankton said, his voice a monotone. Chip's expression fell a little, but his excitement was too great to be dampened. "How was camp?" Karen asked, trying to ease the tension. Chip's enthusiasm was infectious. "It was amazing! We did archery, and I even made a new friend!" Plankton's gaze remained on the fidget toy, his thumb flicking the switch back and forth. "That's... nice," he managed, his voice tight. Karen could see the effort he was making to engage. Chip chattered away, not noticing the strain in Plankton's voice. "Her name's Luna, and she's super cool! We're gonna be pen pals!" Plankton's gaze flicks up to meet Karen's. She gave him an encouraging smile, willing him to find his place in the conversation. "Cool," he murmured, his mind racing to process the sudden flood of information. "Pen pals." Karen watched as Chip's eyes searched Plankton's face, his youthful innocence unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "Why don't you show us if you've any pictures you took?" she suggested, trying to shift the focus. Chip nodded, eagerly pulling out his phone. He sat beside Plankton, scrolling through the photos, his excitement a stark contrast to his father's detached demeanor. Plankton's eye flicked to the screen, his heart racing at the thought of impending touch. Karen watched as Chip's fingers hovered over a picture of himself and Luna. "Look, Dad," he said, holding out the phone. Plankton blinked. "Oh nice," he says. But as Chip's hand reached out to hug, Plankton's arm shot up, his antennae quivering. "Don't," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Don't touch me." Chip's hand hovered in the air, confusion clouding his features. "But, Da-" Karen stepped in quickly. "It's ok," she whispered. "We're all family."

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 12 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) But Plankton was too lost in his rage to hear her. "Get OUT!" he screamed, his antennae thrashing. "I don't need Chip!" The words were a knife in Karen's, but she knew they were not truly his own. "Dad," Chip's voice was small, his eyes wide with shock. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's anger was a beast that had been unleashed, his words cutting like a knife. "I said get out!" he roared, his body vibrating with rage. Chip's eyes searched his father's, looking for the man he knew beneath the storm of emotions. But all he saw was a stranger, a creature of fear and frustration. He took another step back, his heart racing. "But Dad," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't do anything wrong.." Plankton's antennae stilled, his breathing erratic. "You're right," he murmured, his voice deflating like a balloon. "You haven't done anything wrong, in fact, you're pretty perfect." The words were laced with sarcasm, a bitterness that made Karen's fists clench. "After all, it's not like you called me burdensome or anything," he added, his voice dripping with false sweetness. Chip's eyes widened, the impact of his father's words hitting him like a slap. He looked at Karen, his eyes pleading for help, for understanding. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "That's not what I me-" But Plankton's anger had become a living entity in the room, feeding off his fear and frustration. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Did my little falling accident hurt your precious wittle feelings?" His antennae twitched, his eye glinting with rage. Chip took another step back, his chin quivering. "But Dad," he protested, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean-" "I know you didn't mean it," Plankton interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're so innocent, so pure." His antennae waved erratically. "But let me tell you a secret, Chip. You see, there's a wonderful thing called tact. Maybe you should try it sometime!" Chip felt his screen burn with embarrassment, his eyes filling with tears. "But Dad," he whispered, his voice shaky. "I just wanted to-" "Oh, I know what you wanted," Plankton sneered, the sarcasm dripping from his words like acid. "You wanted to be the hero, didn't you? The big strong boy who saves his daddy from his own brain!" His antennae twitched erratically. "But let me tell you something, Chip. You can't fix this. You can't make it all better with your toys and your stupid questions. So why don't we all just praise perfect little Chip for trying, shall we.." The words were a slap in the face, each one hitting Chip harder than the last. Chip's eyes filled with tears, his body trembling. "But Dad," he whispered, his voice desperate. "I just want to help." "Oh, how noble," Plankton said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Want a medal?" His antennae quivered with anger, his eye glinting with spite. "I just want to be with you," Chip said, his voice breaking. "To make you happy." "Well, you're doing a fine job," Plankton said, his voice like a whip. "Keep it up, Chip. You're a regular miracle worker." His words were barbed, each one designed to cut deep. Chip's eyes searched his father's, desperate for some sign of the love he knew was there. But all he found was anger, a wall so thick it was suffocating. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm sor-" "Don't," Plankton interrupted, his voice cold. "Don't you dare say you're sorry. You don't get to feel sorry for me. You don't get to pity me." His antennae twitched with agitation. "You don't even get to be upset about what you said. Because it's all true, isn't it?" His eye bore into Chip's, his voice like ice. "I'm a burden. That's all I am. That's all I'll ever be." Chip's breath hitched, the weight of his father's words crushing him. "Dad," he managed, his voice a whisper. "That's not what I-" But Plankton talked over him, his voice a sneer. "Oh, I see. You're going to play the innocent now, are you? Pretend like you didn't just say I'm a burden?" His antennae were a blur of movement, a silent testament to his rage. "How convenient." Chip felt his world crumbling, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. "But Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I didn't-" "Don't you dare lie to me," Plankton's voice was like a knife, cutting through the air. Chip felt the room close in, his throat tight. "But Dad," he choked out, "I didn't mean-" "Oh, the poor little hero," Plankton said, his voice a mocking whisper. "So misunderstood." He rolled his eye dramatically. "It's always about you, isn't it?" The sarcasm was a knife twisting in Karen, but she knew it was the fear and pain speaking. Chip's eyes searched his father's, his own brimming with tears. "But Dad, I just want to help," he whispered, his voice shaking. "To make things right." Plankton's antennae stilled, his gaze cold. "You want to make things right?" he echoed, his voice laced with condescension. "How sweet! Why don't you go play the hero somewhere else!" Chip felt the sting of his father's sarcasm, his eyes welling up. "But I'm your son," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm supposed to-" "Oh, I know your role," Plankton said, his tone biting. "The golden child, always trying to fix things." His antennae quivered with disdain. "Dad," Chip protests, "I just want you to be happy." Plankton's eye narrowed, his face a mask of condescension. "How sweet," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you see, Chip, happiness is a concept lost to me. I'm just a broken toy now, remember?" He twirled the fidget toy in his hand, his thumb moving compulsively over the patterns. Chip's cheeks flushed, his eyes filling with tears. "But Dad," he whispered, "you're more than that." Plankton's antennae shot up, his face a contorted mask of disdain. "Oh, really?" he said, his voice thick with patronizing sarcasm. "Enlighten me, oh great and wise Chip. Tell me what I am." He leaned back in his chair, his antennae waving in the air as if inviting a lecture from his son. Chip took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're my dad," he said, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "And you're... you're still you, even if you're a little different now." But Plankton's sarcasm was a shield he couldn't penetrate. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "The ever-elusive 'you're still you' argument. How original." His antennas twitched in disdain. "You don't get it," Chip's voice was desperate, his eyes pleading. "I don't care if you're different. I just want you to be happy." But Plankton's anger had become a shield, his words a barbed wire fence keeping his son at bay. "Oh, you don't care?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How magnanimous of you." His antennae twitched in a mock salute. "Well, let me tell you something, Chip. You can't just ignore the fact that your perfect little world has been shaken up, can you?" Chip felt the sting of his father's patronizing tone, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "But Dad," he said, his voice quivering. "I just want to-" "Oh, I know what you want," Plankton interrupted, his voice dripping with condescension. "You want the perfect little storybook ending where we all hold hands and skip off into the sunset." His antennae waved in the air dramatically. "But life doesn't work that way, Chip. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people, and there's no magical cure for it." His eye was cold, his antennae stilled. "So save your pity for someone wh-" Karen stepped in, her voice calm and firm. "Plankton, that's enough." She knew his words were a defense, a way to push away the pain. "Chip's just trying to help." Plankton's antennae stilled, his breath hitching. He looked at his wife, his anger momentarily fading. "I know," he murmured. "But I don't want his pity." Karen's gaze was filled with understanding. "It's not pity, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "It's love." Plankton's antennae twitched, his expression softening slightly. "But what good is love when I can't eve-" "Love is more than just touch," Karen interrupted, her voice gentle. "It's understanding, it's patience, it's being here for you." She took another step towards him, her hand outstretched. "It's about connecting in other ways." Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye flicking to her hand and then back to her face. He knew she was right, but the fear was a beast that ruled him. "But I don't know how to," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "How do I connect without... without the things I used to do?" Karen ached, her hand still extended. "We'll find a way," she assured him, her voice steady. "Together."

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 13 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye focusing on the fidget toy in his hand. It was a silent testament to his internal turmoil, his mind racing with thoughts and fears. He knew Karen was right, that love didn't need to be physical, but the concept was still so alien to him, so difficult to grasp in his current state. "I'm trying," he murmured, his voice tight. "But it's just..." Karen's hand reached out to cover his, her touch gentle. "We all are," she said, her voice soothing. "And that's all we can do." Her gaze was filled with understanding, her eyes speaking volumes without a single word. "We're all just trying to navigate this new world, together." Chip watched his parents. He knew his father was struggling, but he also knew that love didn't have to be about touch. He took a step forward, his hand hovering.. Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye wide with fear. Karen quickly intervened, placing a hand on Chip's shoulder. "Not now," she whispered, her screen meeting her son's. "Let's give Dad some space." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's, the desire to connect with his father a palpable force. But Plankton's reaction was a stark reminder of the invisible barriers his injury had erected, the sensory minefield that surrounded him. The room was thick with silence, the only sound the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Karen's hand remained on Plankton's, her touch a gentle reminder of her presence. "It's ok," she murmured, her voice soft. "We're all learning together." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye meeting hers with a glimmer of hope. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "But it's so hard." The words were a confession, his vulnerability laid bare. Karen ached, her grip on his hand firm. "I know," she said, her voice understanding. "But we'll get through this. Together." Chip took a deep breath, his eyes still locked on his father's. He knew that his dad's reactions were not personal, that his brain was just trying to make sense of the world in a way that was different now. He forced a small smile, his voice steady. "We're here for you, Da-" But Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening. "Don't," he murmured, his voice tight. "Just... don't." Karen stepped in, her voice calm and firm. "Plankton," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "Chip's just trying to tell you that he loves you." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye flicking to his son and back to Karen. The words hung in the air, a bridge between his old life and his new reality. He knew his son was trying, but the fear was a thick fog that clouded his mind, making it difficult to see the love beyond the barrier of his own emotions. Chip knew his father was in pain, and his words had only added to it. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I don't want you to feel li—" "Don't," Plankton interrupted, his antennae drooping. "I know what you're trying to do." His voice was a mix of fatigue and frustration. "But it's not that simple." Chip's eyes searched his father's, the depth of his pain mirrored in the tremble of his chin. "But Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I just want to make you happ..." Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening like a board. "Don't," he murmured, his voice strained. "I don't want your pity." The words were a warning, a reminder that his love was not conditional on his ability to function in the traditional sense. Karen's gaze remained steadfast on her husband's face, seeing the raw pain beneath the anger. She knew his frustration was a shield, a way to protect himself from the overwhelming sensory assault that his brain was still trying to comprehend. "It's getting late," she said. "Let's all get to bed." Plankton's antennae drooped, his body slumping in defeat. He was tired, so tired of fighting, of trying to make sense of this new world of sensory overload and fear. He nodded, his voice a whisper. "Ok." The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken words that hung in the air like a thick fog. As they made their way to their separate rooms, the weight of the evening's interaction settled on Chip's shoulders. He knew his father's reaction wasn't personal, but it was hard not to take it that way. He lay in bed, his mind racing with thoughts of his dad, his heart heavy with the knowledge that their relationship was forever changed. The next morning, Chip awoke and went to his parents room. The door was open, the light filtered through the blinds. Plankton was sitting on the edge of the bed, his antennae drooped low. He looked up as Chip entered, his eye wary, as if expecting another onslaught of emotions he couldn't comprehend. Chip paused. He knew he had to tread carefully, his father's sensory issues a delicate dance they were all still learning. "Hey," he said, his voice soft. "How are you?" Plankton's antennae twitched, a sign of his internal struggle. He took a deep breath, his eye flicking to the fidget toy resting on the bedside table. "I'm... ok," he murmured, his voice tentative. "Just tired." Chip took a step closer, his movements deliberate and slow. "Do you want to talk?" he asked, his tone gentle. Plankton's antennae quivered, his expression a mix of fatigue and frustration. "Talking doesn't change anything," he said, his voice flat. "But if it makes you feel better..." His eye met Chip's, the unspoken challenge clear. Chip took a deep breath, his mind racing. He knew his dad was in pain, knew that he needed to be patient. He sat down on the bed, his movements careful. "It's not about making me feel better," he said. "It's about... understanding." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Chip. For a moment, the anger and fear receded, replaced by a hint of curiosity. "Understanding what?" his voice was gruff, but there was a crack in the armor, a glimpse of the man he used to be. Chip took a deep breath, his heart racing. "Understanding... how to be there for you," he said, his voice earnest. "How to love you in a way that doesn't... hurt." He swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I know it's different now, but I still want to be your son." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flicking to the floor. He was quiet for a long moment, his thoughts racing. He knew Chip meant well, but the concept of nonverbal love was so foreign to him. "I know you do," he murmured, his voice tight. "But it's not your job to fix me." "I don't want to fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "I just want to be with you." He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering over the fidget toy. "Can I?" Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye wide with fear. "No," he said, his voice sharp. "Don't touch it." He knew the toy was a lifeline, a way to ground himself in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control. But he also knew his son meant well. Chip's hand retreated, his eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just want to... connect." Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye closing briefly. He knew his son's intentions were pure, but his own fear was a cage he couldn't seem to escape. "I know," he said, his voice softer. "But it's not that simple." Chip felt his chest tighten, his desire to help his father a physical ache. "But there must be a way," he said. "We'll find it." Plankton's antennae quivered, a tiny spark of hope igniting in his eye. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice tentative. "But you have to be patient." He picked up the fidget toy, his thumb tracing the patterns. Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his father's. "I can do that," he said, his voice determined. "I'll do whatever it takes." Plankton's antennae twitched, a tiny glimmer of appreciation in his eye. "Thank you," he murmured. The words were a lifeline, a connection in the storm of his emotions. "But you have to understand," he continued, his voice strained. "Sometimes, I just need to be left alone." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his father's. "I get it," he said. "But I'll always be here when you're ready."

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 14 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Karen's voice was gentle but firm. "Plankton," she said. "Chip's right. We'll find a way to connect that works for all of us. We just have to keep trying. Why don't we all go drive to the new sensory park they just opened?" It was a place designed for those with sensory processing disorders, with areas that catered to different sensory needs. "It's a bit of a drive across town, but do you wanna try going?" They both nodded. They parked the car. "Let's go slow, ok?" Plankton nodded. They approached the sensory garden, a place designed to be calming. The scent of lavender was thick in the air, and the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet was a comforting contrast to the harshness of the city. As they walked through the gates, Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye scanning the area. The sensory park was a symphony of soft colors and soothing sounds, designed to minimize the overstimulation that so often triggered his seizures. "This is nice," he murmured. Chip watched his father, his heart in his throat. He knew how much this meant to him, how much Plankton was struggling. "It is," he said, his voice matching his dad's quiet tone. He took a deep breath, his sensors tuned to his father's every movement. "Do you want to go on the swings?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flicking to the swing. He nodded slowly. Chip led the way, his movements cautious. He knew his dad needed space, needed to feel safe. They approached the swing set, a simple metal frame with plastic seats. Plankton closed his eye, the rhythm familiar and comforting as he swings. Chip took the swing next to Plankton, his movements tentative. He knew his father's fear of touch was a battleground, and he didn't want to cross any lines. The squeak of the chains and the gentle breeze through the leaves of the nearby trees were the only sounds that accompanied them as they swung back and forth, side by side. Chip watched his father. He wanted so badly to reach out, to hold Plankton's hand, but he knew the boundaries. Instead, he focused on matching his swing to Plankton's, their motion in sync. He hoped the rhythm would be a comfort to his dad, a small piece of the connection they used to share. As they swung, the tension slowly began to ease from Plankton's antennae. The back-and-forth movement was soothing, a gentle rocking. After a while, they got off the swings. Plankton's antennae were still twitching with the residual energy of the movement, his body craving the sensory input that had become so rare. Chip noticed and searched the park for a suitable activity. His eyes lit upon the sandbox. "How about playing in the sand?" he suggested, his voice hopeful. Plankton's antennae quivered with interest, his eye lighting up slightly. He had always enjoyed the feel of sand between his... well, the equivalent of fingers. Karen smiled, seeing the potential for a positive interaction. They approached the sandbox, the fine grains glinting in the sunlight. Chip took a seat on the wooden bench beside it, watching as Plankton tentatively placed his hand into the cool sand. His antennae quivered with pleasure at the sensation, his body relaxing slightly. Chip followed suit, his movements deliberately slow and cautious, mirroring his father's. He knew that sudden movements or touch could send Plankton spiraling, so he remained still, his eyes on the sand. Together, they began to sculpt the sand, their hands moving in harmony without any need for words. The gentle scrape of the grains against their hands was a soothing balm, a silent conversation that transcended the barriers of language and injury. Plankton's fears and anger from the night before seemed to melt away with each mound of sand that took shape. Chip watched his father, his heart swelling with hope. He had found a way to connect, a sensory experience that didn't overwhelm Plankton. As they played, he noticed his father's breathing slow, his antennae relaxing slightly. It was a small victory, but it felt like a huge step in the right direction. The sun grew higher in the sky, casting warm rays down on the sandbox. Karen sat beside them, her eyes filled with gratitude for this moment of peace. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he focused on the sand, his movements precise. Chip watched, mimicking his father's careful touch. The sand was a bridge between them, a shared experience that didn't require words. They built sandcastles together, their hands working in harmony despite the unspoken fear that hung in the air. Chip felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he saw Plankton's eye light up with each new creation. The sand was a therapy in itself, a gentle reminder that love didn't need to be loud or physical to be felt. They built a sandcastle together, their silent companionship a balm to the wounds of the previous night. After a while, they finished. "Want to try something else?" Chip asked, his voice soft. Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye flicking to the nearby beach ball. "Maybe a game of catch?" Plankton suggested, his voice tentative. Chip nods. He knew his dad's fear of the unexpected, so he rolled it gently to him. Plankton caught the ball. He tossed it back to Chip, his eye watching the arc of its flight with a hint of excitement. Chip's throw was careful, underarm, keeping it within Plankton's visual comfort zone. He knew his dad's limits, his fear of fast movements. Plankton's antennae twitched as he caught the ball again. The sensation of the cool, smooth plastic was a comfort in his hands. He threw it back to Chip, his movements calculated, his mind focused on the game. It was a simple activity, but it was one where he felt in control. Chip watched his father, his movements mirrored. He knew his dad's fear of the unexpected, so he threw the ball with a gentle underhand toss, keeping it slow and predictable. Plankton smiled slightly, his eye tracking the ball's trajectory. Later, Karen told them it's time to go, to start the drive back home. She got in the driver's seat as Plankton and Chip sat in the back together. Chip's eyes were on his dad, his heart racing with excitement. The car's movement was a gentle rocking, akin to the swing. Plankton watched the world pass by. The sensation of the car's vibrations was soothing. Karen glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes searching for any sign of distress. But Plankton was calm, his antennae still. The drive was a quiet reprieve, a chance for them to process the newness of their relationship. Chip knew that his dad's sensory issues made the world a minefield, but in this moment, the steady hum of the car was a comfort. As Karen drove, Plankton's eyelid began to droop, his antennae slowing. The gentle vibration of the car and the predictable rhythm of the road was a balm. He leaned back, his head resting against the seat, his hand clutching the fidget toy. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye half-closed, head dropping. Chip felt his heart swell as Plankton's head slowly dropped onto his shoulder. And as Plankton starts to snore gently, Chip realized his dad had fallen asleep, his head resting heavily on his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, fearing that any sudden movement might wake his father, might disrupt the fragile peace they had found. But Plankton's snores grew deeper, the tension leaving his body. Karen glanced in the rearview mirror. "It's ok," she murmured. "You're doing a good job." Chip felt his muscles relax slightly, the weight of his father's head a comfort. He knew that this moment was precious, a sign that his efforts were not in vain. He leaned into the warmth of his dad's body, his hand finding its way to the fidget toy. His thumb traced the patterns, mimicking the rhythm that Plankton had found soothing. Chip then decides to take a selfie. He holds up his phone after looking at his dad, who started to drool at the corner of his open mouth. He chuckles quietly, snapping the photo as Plankton remains asleep. Chip posts the picture with adding this caption: "Went to the park with my dad @ Sheldon Plankton today 💙👨‍👦💨 " Plankton still snored softly against Chip's shoulder. Chip noticed more drool escaping the corner of his mouth and felt a surge of affection mixed with concern. "Mom, he's drooling," he whispered to Karen, his voice barely audible over the car's hum. Karen chuckled, her eyes meeting Chip's in the mirror. "It's ok," she said softly. "It's a sign of his tiredness. Let him sleep."

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 24 (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 "I've had enough of this!" Vickie snaps. "He's just a burden. Look at him, he can't eve-" Chip's fist hits the desk with a loud smack, cutting Vickie's words off. His eyes blaze with a fiery determination. "That's my dad you're talking about!" he says, his voice shaking with anger. The room stills, the tension thick. "And he's not a burden!" Vickie's face contorts in shock. Karen's eyes are proud, but filled with fear. She watches as Chip's shoulders square, his voice strong and firm. "I'm not leaving without this," he declares, his jaw set. "And if you want him hurt, you'll have to kick me out too." Nurse Vickie looks at him. "Oh you've done nothing wrong, sweet..." But Chip doesn't care, his mind racing. "I have!" he says, his voice rising. "I'm the one causing trouble!" He glares at her, his fists clenched. "I'm the problem, not him!" He throws his backpack at the wall. The room echoes with the sound of books hitting the floor, the clatter of his defiance. "Now, are you going to kick me out or keep hurting him?" Vickie's eyes narrow, suspicion growing. "What are you playing at?" "I'm not playing," Chip says, his voice shaking. "If you want a problem, I'll give you one. Just leave him alone." He kicks over a chair, his heart racing. He's fighting for his father, for the right to be understood. Vickie's eyes narrow, her mouth a thin line. "Young man," she says, her voice stern. "You need to calm down." But Chip's not calming down. He's just getting started. "You think you know him?" he challenges her, his eyes filled with a passion that's been building for too long. "You think you know what it's like to live with autism?" His voice echoes through the small office. Vickie takes a step back, her hands on her hips. "I know what's best for this school," she says firmly, her eyes cold. But Chip's not backing down. "You don't know anything," he says, his voice shaking. "You don't know what it's like to have a meltdown, to need space." He slams his fist into the desk again, the sound ringing out like a declaration of war. "You don't know what it's like to be him!" The room is silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Karen's heart swells with pride, but her stomach is in knots. "Chip, please..." she says, but he's not listening. He's fighting a battle she wishes he never had to face. Vickie's expression flickers between annoyance and confusion. "Young man, if you don't calm down, I will be forced to call the principal," she says. But Chip just shakes his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "Then do it," he challenges. "Call the principal. Tell them to kick me out. Tell them to leave my dad alone. I don't wanna attend a school where my dad isn't respected." His voice cracks, the tears he's been fighting spilling over. Karen's hand is on his shoulder, trying to calm him, but Chip's determination is a force to be reckoned with. "Chip, sweetie, you don't have to do this," she whispers. But he shrugs her off. "I do," he says, his voice steady despite the tremble in his chest. "I won't let anyone hurt him like this again." His eyes are wet, but his stance is firm. "I'd rather be kicked out than see him suffer. I've made mistakes, but he's not a mistake. He only got sick because his needs weren't respected. Now, let us all go." Vickie's face reddens, her patience wearing thin. "Fine," she says through gritted teeth. "I'll call the principal. You're both coming with me." She grabs Plankton's arm, ignoring his flinch. Karen and Hanna follow Chip as he trails behind Vickie. The walk to the principal's office feels like a march to the gallows. Plankton's body is tight with tension, his antennae twitching with every step. Chip's heart races, his mind a tornado of fear and anger. He can't believe he's doing this, but he's seen his dad suffer enough. The principal greets them all. "Nurse Vickie, and Chip; hello!" But Chip's face is a mask of determined anger, his eyes fixed on the woman who had caused his father so much pain. "My dad's in trouble because he's different, and she won't let him be!" He points an accusing finger at Vickie, his words a declaration. The principal's eyebrows shoot up, his screen a picture of surprise. "What seems to be the trouble?" his voice calm, his eyes quickly assessing the situation. Vickie starts to explain, her voice a river of accusations. "He's a disruption, he's..." But Chip cuts her off, his voice a knife. "I'm the disruption!" he says. "I'm the one who threw the chair, I'm the one who yelled. My father's condition is not a disruption. It's a part of who he is." He turns to Vickie. "I'd appreciate it if you could be more understanding." The principal's eyes flicker between Chip and Vickie, his expression neutral. "Chip, I understand you're upset. But throwing chairs and yelling is not the way to express yourself." He pauses, looking at Plankton huddled in the corner. "But I also see that something has happened here that we need to address." Vickie's grip on Plankton's arm loosens, her face a mask of defensiveness. "The father was just being difficult, and was acting strangely." The principal's gaze sharpens. "Difficult? Strangely?" he repeats, his eyes drilling into hers. "Care to elaborate?" Vickie stammers, her confidence waning. "He was rocking back and forth, and... his antennae... they... I don't know, just..." She trails off, unsure of herself. The principal's gaze remains on her, his patience thinning like a wavering thread. "I see," he says, his voice calm. He turns to Plankton, his expression gentle. "Is that right?" Plankton's antennae quiver, his body a taut wire of nervous energy. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "It's... it's just me." He can't meet the principal's gaze, his eyes darting to the floor. "I... I just need..." But Chip's voice cuts through the silence like a sword, his words a shield for his father. "It's not his fault," he says firmly. "Autisticaphobia exists in this school. It's not his behavior that's the issue, it's the lack of understanding and empathy." The principal's eyes narrow, his gaze on Vickie, who shifts uncomfortably under the weight of accusation. "Is this true?" he asks her, his voice calm but his eyes like steel. Vickie opens her mouth, but no words come out. She looks from Plankton, huddled in the corner, to Chip, standing tall and furious. "I was just trying to calm everyone," she says weakly. The principal's gaze never wavers from her. "What happened in my office, Nurse Vickie, is not calming. It's discrimination." His voice is low, but it resonates like a thunderclap. "Your job is to support our students and their families, not to make them feel less than." Vickie's cheeks burn with shame, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't mean..." But Chip's voice is a wall, his words unyielding. "It's not about what you meant," he says. "It's about what you did." His eyes are on the principal, his stance unwavering. "He's my dad, and I'll do anything to protect him." The principal's face is still, his eyes thoughtful. "Chip, you need to understand that this isn't the way to handle things," he says, his tone measured. "But I also appreciate your concern for your father." He looks at Vickie, his gaze stern. Vickie's eyes dart around the room, her discomfort palpable. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her voice small. "I didn't know..." The principal's gaze is steady, his voice firm. "Ignorance is no excuse," he says. "We will have a training session for all staff on autism awareness, and we'll make sure everyone understands neurodiverse needs." He turns to Plankton, who's still huddled in the corner. "Mr. Plankton, I'm sorry for any discomfort you've felt here today," he says, his tone soothing. "Your son has made it clear that your needs are important, and we will respect them." He glances at Vickie. "This won't happen again." Chip's chest loosens, his breaths coming easier. He's done it. He's protected his father. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye flickers up to Chip's. There's something in them, something new. Recognition? Pride? Chip isn't sure, but his heart swells with hope. Slowly, tentatively, Plankton moves towards him, his tiny body shaking with the effort of controlling his overwhelmed senses. Chip holds his breath, his eyes on his father. Karen watches the scene with a mixture of pride and sorrow as Plankton's arms extend, a silent offering of love and comfort. Chip's heart races, his eyes wide. He's never seen his dad want to hug him before. But his instincts kick in, the days of learning about autism guiding his actions. He steps forward, his own arms wrapping around Plankton's shoulders. Their embrace is tight, a physical manifestation of the bridge they're building. Chip can feel Plankton's heart racing against his chest, his antennae twitching slightly. But it's not with fear or panic, it's with a love so pure it's overwhelming. He squeezes his dad tighter, his eyes closing as he whispers, "I've got you."

Pfbdoll • 6d ago • I would’ve been 3 months pregnant yesterday, and it breaks my heart knowing I let my baby go. I wish I wasn’t so weak and easily convinced to do this, I don’t think I’ll ever recover. Ik God is taking care of my baby and I hope he forgives me

r/abortion 7 days ago Substantial_Bag_4526 I had an abortion in March this year. My baby would have been due September 26. I feel so sad right now. I miss my baby. I should be carrying her in my arms right now. Its my birthday today and I cant even celebrate it because my heart hurts. I feel like i wronged my baby. Ive asked her for forgiveness countless times, that she understand i love her. I still feel like its not enough. I think she hates me.

Birth Date: 9/21/94 Abortion Date: 1/26/94 I loved you and still love you. I never forgot you, I cry when I think about that day and how hurt I felt knowing that I had to do it because I had to have spine surgery. I regret my decision of having an abortion You would’ve been 30 year’s old next month. There’s not a day that I don’t think about you! I wonder how you would’ve looked like and what you would’ve become. I had asked for the sonogram picture, but they said they could not give it to me. I love you and always will! Hopefully, I’ll see you in Heaven!

DON’T 👏🏼 SAY 👏🏼 YOU 👏🏼 BELIEVE 👏🏼 IN 👏🏼 BIBLICAL 👏🏼 MARRIAGE 👏🏼 IF 👏🏼 YOU 👏🏼 DIDN’T 👏🏼 OFFER 👏🏼 THREE 👏🏼 GOATS 👏🏼 FOR 👏🏼 YOUR 👏🏼 WIFE

Drowning In Sorrow I had a cousin who drowned when I was much younger. At the time, he was off at college, so nobody knew about it until the next day. His parents were taking care of his 2-year-old niece. The night he drowned, she woke up screaming in the night and would not go to sleep. She just kept pointing to a picture of him that was on the nightstand. His parents gave it to her, and she hugged it and wouldn't let go of it all night.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vi (Autistic Author) "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Let's take a breathe." He glares, his antennae vibrating with agitation. But he does as she says, taking a deep, shaky breath. Chip watches him, eyes wide and full of tears. "Chip," Karen says, her voice calm. "Why don't you go to your room and play for a bit?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. He slips off the couch, clutching the rock to his chest. But doing so, Chip accidentally touches Plankton when he passes, and Plankton yelps in alarm when Chip brushes his shoulder. "Sorry," Chip whispers. Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting straight up as he jolts back from the contact. "I told you, no touching!" he snaps, his voice a thunderclap in the tense silence. Chip's eyes widen with fear and confusion, his lip quivering as he backs away, holding the rock protectively. "I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae wiggle in an exaggerated fashion, his eye rolling dramatically. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says in a high-pitched mockery of Chip's voice. "I didn't mean to touch you and make everything about me." Karen's face falls, and she knows they've taken a step backward. But she also sees the hurt in Plankton's eye, the pain that he's trying to hide with anger. "Dad," Chip says, quivering. "That's not fair, I..." But Plankton doesn't let him finish. "You know what's not fair?" Plankton spits, his antennae whipping back and forth in fury. "Is having a son who thinks he knows everything about me!" Chip's eyes fill with tears as he stumbles back, clutching the rock tighter. "I just wanted to help," he whispers, his voice breaking. Plankton's in a sarcastic imitation of Chip's movements. "Oh, the great helper," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can just fix me with your questions and your pity?" Chip's eyes fill with hurt as he watches his father mock his innocent concern. Karen feels a mix of anger and sadness, but she knows she must tread carefully. "Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaking as he puts the rock down, "I'm sorry if I made you mad." But Plankton isn't listening. He picks up the rock and with a sudden, violent movement, he throws it against the wall. It shatters into a hundred pieces, the sound echoing through the room. "Son, I’m sorry if I made you mad!” Plankton's sarcastic tone cuts through the silence like a knife, his antennae flailing wildly. Chip flinches at the sudden outburst, his eyes wide with shock. "That's what you want, right?" Plankton continues, his voice rising. "To fix everything? Sorry doesn't cut it," Plankton snaps, his antennae trembling with rage. "No, Dad," Chip says, his voice barely audible, "I just wanted to understand." But Plankton isn't done. "Oh, I'm sorry, little genius," Plankton says, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Is that what you want to hear?" Chip stares at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "No," he whispers. "I just want you to be okay, I love you!" But Plankton's anger is a living, breathing thing, swirling around him like a storm. "Love isn't enough, Chip!" Plankton yells, his antennae quivering with rage. "You can't just love away my problems! You don't get to decide that for me!" Karen's heart is in her throat, but she forces herself to speak calmly. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice shaking. "You're scaring him." Chip nods. “I just…” But Plankton's fury is unrelenting. "You think a simple game of 'I love you' is going to make everything okay?" Plankton interrupts, his voice a roar that shakes the walls of their tiny underwater home. Chip's eyes fill with confusion, and he takes a step backward, trembling. "But, Dad," he whispers. "But nothing!" Plankton's antennae whip around, and he stands, his whole body vibrating with anger. "You think you can fix me? You think you can just love me and everything will be fine?" Karen tries to interject, but Plankton's rage is like a tidal wave, crashing over everything in its path. "You think you gotta have the last word just to show how great and special you are Chip. But in the real world No means No so BACK OFF." Chip's eyes widen, and he stumbles backward, the shattered rock on the floor a stark reminder of Plankton's outburst. "Daddy," he whispers, his voice trembling. Plankton's antennae only stiffen further. "I'm sorry, Chip," Karen says, her voice a thread of calm in the storm. "Let's go to your room, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton, who's still standing with his antennae flailing. Karen can see the hurt in her son's gaze, and it breaks her heart. She helps him off the couch, and together, they navigate the shards of rock on the floor. As they leave the room, Karen casts a sorrowful glance at Plankton, who's now slumped into the couch, his antennae drooping. The anger seems to have drained out of him, leaving behind a tired, defeated creature. In Chip's room, Karen helps her son sit on the bed, the soft glow from the glowfish lamp casting a warm light on his tear-stained face. She sits beside him, her hand gently rubbing his back in comforting circles. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie," she whispers. "Daddy just has a hard time with his feelings." Chip's eyes are glued to the floor, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. "But why?" he asks, his voice cracking. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Sometimes, when people are upset or scared, they don't know how to show it," she says gently. "Daddy's just trying to deal with his own stuff, and it can be hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on the floor. "But why does he have to get so mad?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's not that he's mad at you," she says softly. "It's just that he doesn't know how to express himself without getting upset." "But why?" Chip asks, his voice muffled by the pillow he's buried his face in. Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes misting over. "Daddy's brain works differently, Chip," she says, her voice cracking. "Sometimes, when we're sad or scared, we get mad instead." Chip lifts his head, his eyes red and wet. "But why doesn't he just tell me he loves me?" he asks, his voice a broken whisper. Karen sighs, sad but understanding. "Some people show love in different ways," she says. "Daddy might not say it out loud, but he does it every day. Like when he takes you on adventures or when he makes you laugh." "But why can't he just say it?" he asks. Karen's throat tightens. "Sometimes, it's hard for Daddy to say the words," she explains gently. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it." Chip sniffles, his eyes never leaving hers. "But why can't he just tell me?" Karen sighs, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's complicated," she says. "Daddy's brain is like a treasure chest with lots of locks. Some days, the right words just can't find the key." Chip looks at her, his eyes searching for a simple truth amidst the complexity. "But I want him to feel happy with me," he murmurs. Karen nods, her voice soft. "And he is, sweetie," she says. "Just in his own way." They sit in silence for a moment. Then Karen stands, her movements slow and deliberate. "Let's leave Daddy alone for now," she suggests. "He needs some space to sort through his feelings." Chip nods, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. Together, they leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. As they walk down the corridor, Karen's thoughts are a tumult of emotions. She's angry at Plankton for his outburst, but she also understands his pain. He's been dealing with his condition alone for so long, and now he's forced to confront it with their son's innocent curiosity. They enter the living room, and she can see Plankton sitting on the couch, his antennae drooping. He looks up as they come in, his expression a mix of guilt and defiance. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "Why don't we watch a movie?" she suggests, her voice gentle. "Something to help us relax?" Chip nods, still sniffling, and Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. It's a small victory, but it's something. They settle on the couch, Chip curled up in the middle with a blanket. Karen chooses a movie they've watched together before, a silent gesture of comfort and familiarity. Plankton's eye is on the screen, but his antennae are still twitching with leftover anger.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS x (Autistic Author) Karen's heart squeezes as she sees the vulnerability in her husband. She reaches out and takes Plankton's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We're all learning here," she says. "And we'll keep figuring it out together." Then, Chip speaks up again, his voice a little stronger. "Daddy," he says, "I still want to show you affection." Plankton looks up, his antennae twitching with a hint of sadness. "I know, buddy," he says. "And I appreciate that. But sometimes, my brain needs a different kind of love." Chip frowns. "But I don't know how," he says. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he thinks. "How about this?" he suggests, his eye brightening slightly. "You can make me a 'love rock'." Chip's eyes light up with excitement, and Karen nods encouragingly. "You can pick out a rock from the beach or the yard, and every time you feel like giving me a hug but know I might not be able to handle it, you can give me the rock instead. That way, I'll always know you're thinking of me." Chip nods eagerly, already imagining the perfect rock in his mind. "I'll find the biggest, smoothest rock," he says, his eyes shining with purpose. Plankton's antennae rise slightly, and he manages a smile. "That's my boy," he says, his voice a little less strained. “I’ll go look in our backyard right now,” Chip says as he does so. Karen watches him run off and looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with emotion. "You ok?" she asks, squeezing his hand. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "I think so," he murmurs. "Thank you, Karen." Karen squeezes his hand in return, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're doing great," she whispers. As Chip rummages outside, the sound of his little feet pattering on the ground, Karen and Plankton sit in the quiet kitchen, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but there's a newfound openness in his gaze. "Do you think he'll understand?" Plankton asks, his voice still raw from the previous night's emotions. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes filled with warmth. "He's a smart kid," she reassures him. "And he loves you. He'll get it." They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of Chip's exploration. Then, Plankton speaks up, his voice tentative. "What if I have another meltdown?" he asks. Karen squeezes his hand, her gaze unwavering. "We'll be there for you," she says. "We'll help you through it." The sound of the back door opening and closing echoes through the house, and Chip returns, holding a rock that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. It's smooth, with a slight shimmer in the light. "Here it is!" he exclaims, holding it out to Plankton. "It's your love rock!" Plankton's antennae lift, and a genuine smile spreads across his face as he takes the rock. "It's perfect," he says, his voice filled with emotion. He can feel the warmth from Chip's hand still lingering on the stone. "Thank you, buddy." Chip beams, his earlier fears forgotten in the excitement of the moment. "Can we go to the park now?" he asks, hopeful. Karen looks at Plankton, who nods wearily. "Sure," she says, pushing her chair back. "But let's take it slow, okay?" The park is a familiar place, filled with the sounds of children's laughter and the distant hum of the city. As they walk, Chip chats away, his voice a balm to Plankton's nerves. Karen notices the subtle changes in her husband's gait, the way his antennae twitch with every new sound or sight. She knows he's trying hard to stay present, to not get overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught of the outside world. When they reach the playground, Chip runs off to the swings, his love rock clutched tightly in his hand. Plankton watches him, his gaze a mix of pride and concern. He knows his son's energy can be too much for him sometimes, but he doesn't want to miss out on these moments. Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae wiggling as he gathers his courage. He approaches the swing set, his eye scanning the area for any potential triggers. The chains of the swings glint in the sun, and he can almost feel the sway of the seat beneath him. He hasn't swung in years, not since before Chip was born. Plankton sits on the swing by Chip. The metal is cold and hard beneath him, but as he starts to push off with his foot, the chains begin to squeak a comforting rhythm. The motion is familiar, almost soothing, reminding him of a time when the world was simpler, less stormy. He watches Chip, his heart swelling with love as his son's laughter fills the air. As they swing side by side, Plankton's antennae twitch with every movement of the breeze, every giggle that escapes Chip. The wind rushes through the playground, and he feels the rock in his pocket, a reminder of their newfound understanding. The rhythmic motion of the swing starts to work its magic, and Plankton's beginning to relax. The gentle sway feels like a lullaby for his overstimulated brain. Plankton smiles, his antennae waving in a way that says everything is ok. They swing in silence for a while, the steady back and forth a comforting metronome to the chaotic symphony of the playground around them. Plankton can feel the tension in his body slowly uncoiling, the squeak of the chains becoming a familiar melody that soothes his frazzled nerves.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 12 hr. ago CalebVanPoneisen ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Stinging paın jolts me awake, but my broken bødy reminds me that I did survive the plane crash. Dozens of exotic snails are grazing my motionless bødy, slowly tearing into my flesh, while I can do nothing but silently witness my torment..

GREAT CHIP ix (Autistic author) Chip took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I know I can't fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving, his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you can support me. You can be there without trying to change me." Chip nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say. "But I want to understand. I want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?" he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds fun, right?" Chip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite the tension, which only adds to Plankton's anger. "Well, when you put it that way..." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye squinting at his son's response. "What?" he barked, his voice sharp. Chip tried to hold onto his smile, his heart racing. "I mean, if it's like a pinball machine, I can learn the patterns," he said, his tone carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video games, so..." Plankton's antennae waved wildly, his eye flashing with anger. "You think this is a game?" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "You think I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!" Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide with shock at his father's outburst. He took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I just..." "You just what?" Plankton spat, his small body vibrating with rage. "You just don't get it! You can't get it! You're not autistic, you don't know what it's like to have your brain turn on you like that!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at the accusation. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying." Plankton's antennae quivered with the force of his rage. "You don't know," he said, his voice cold. "You can't know. All I see is a little child playing pretend, thinking he can understand what I go through! And yet you're the one asking for help! Face it, you're never going to get it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!" Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting like a sledgehammer. He had never seen his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae stopped their wild movements, his eye focusing on his son with a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to help by poking fun at my condition?" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Plankton's antennae waved, his eye still cold and distant. "Don't," he said, his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten it. And don't you DARE make fun of it." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his heart aching with the weight of his father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I di-" "You're sorry?" Plankton's voice was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing their plates to rattle. "You think an apology is enough when you belittle what I go through?" Chip's eyes widened with fear as his dad's anger grew. He'd never seen Plankton like this before, his tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae thrashing like live wires. The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in. "Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean it that way." But Plankton was beyond listening, his tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!" Chip took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-" he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop. "You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted, his antennae a blur of motion. "You think it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew louder, his words sharper. "You think it's easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?" Chip's eyes filled with tears as his father's anger grew, his voice crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make light of his dad's condition, but now it seemed as if he'd made everything worse. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands shaking. Plankton's antennae whipped around his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't make it go away!" he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You think you can make it better with a laugh?" He slammed his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot. "It's not a joke, Chip!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched his father's outburst, his heart pounding. He had never seen Plankton like this, his anger a living, breathing thing that filled the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But I want to help." Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want to help? Then stop making it about you!" Chip's eyes grew wide with fear as he watched his father's anger boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please," he whispered, his heart racing. Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body vibrating with uncontrollable rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the coffee mug from the table, flinging it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere, puncturing the silence like shrapnel. "Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He had never seen Plankton this out of control. And Karen knew she had to act fast. Her voice was calm but firm as she approached Plankton. "Sweetie, it's okay," she said, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Let's go to your workshop. You know that's your safe space." Plankton's antennae thrashed, his eye darting around the room, seeking anything to target his anger. "I don't want to go anywhere!" he roared, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "It's not okay!" Karen stepped closer, her voice steady. "It's okay to be upset," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "But Chip..." But Plankton's rage was unstoppable. He lunged for the nearest object, a framed photo of Chip, his grip tightening as he raised it over his head, ready to smash it against the floor. Karen's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Plankton, no," she pleaded, her voice steady. "Please, don't." But Plankton's rage had taken over, his body moving on autopilot as he swung the photo frame with all his might. It crashed to the floor, the shattering glass echoing in the small room. Chip's eyes grew round with shock, his body frozen in place as he watched his father's tantrum unfold. "Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!" But Plankton's rage was a runaway train, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his anger. He stomped over to the counter, grabbing a plate and flinging it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen stepped in front of Chip, placing herself between him and the storm of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly, her voice a calm oasis in the chaos. "You're scaring him." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Karen with a mix of anger and confusion. For a moment, his body seemed to pause, his arm still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it, the soft fabric landing limply on the floor. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, seeing the turmoil behind the rage. "Please, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's talk about this." But Plankton's anger was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He picked up another mug, his arm winding up to throw it, when Chip suddenly stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father's. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't." Plankton's antennae paused, his arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled, his eye wild with anger. "You think you can just tell me what to do?" And then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction, Plankton hurled the mug in front of Chip, purposefully missing him. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mug spun through the air, the shattering of porcelain on the tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not about control. It's about us. Our fam..." But Plankton was beyond words, his rage a living entity that consumed him. He grabbed a toaster, his grip white-knuckled, and hurled it at the fridge, the metallic clang a cacophony in the small kitchen. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi (Autistic Author) The wind whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, but one that Plankton has often missed in his quest to protect his son from the storms in his own mind. Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a ball comes hurtling through the air, narrowly missing Plankton's head. He flinches, his antennae shooting straight up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The children playing nearby laugh, unaware of the chaos their game has brought to the quiet corner of the playground. Plankton's eye darts around, trying to process the sudden assault of sound and movement. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can see the beginnings of a panic attack forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip shouts, jumping off his swing and racing to his side. With surprising speed and grace, Chip leaps into action, catching Plankton just as he starts to topple off the swing. "Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with urgency as he gently guides Plankton's unresponsive body to the soft grass below. The love rock still clutches in his small hand. Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling beside them. Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "What do we do?" Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and love as she takes in the sight of Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, his antennae limp. She's been here before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," she says, her voice calm despite her racing heart. "Just give him a moment. He'll come back to us." Chip nods, his grip on the love rock tightening as he watches his father. The world seems to slow down around them, the laughter of the other children fading into a distant memory. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The seconds tick by like hours, each one filled with the weight of uncertainty. Chip clutches the love rock, willing his dad to come back. He's seen this before, but it never gets easier. He remembers the first time it happened, the fear that had gripped him, the feeling of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed over. But now, he knows what to do. He's not as scared; he's prepared. With trembling hands, Chip takes out the love rock, its smoothness a comforting reminder of their conversation. He places it gently in Plankton's palm, curling the slender fingers around it. "You're ok," he whispers, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "We’re here." Plankton's body remains still, a stark contrast to the vibrant world around them. The squeaks of the swings, the laughter of the children, the distant crash of waves, all seem to fade into the background as they wait for him to return from his brief retreat. Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Time seems to stand still as they wait, the rock in Plankton's hand a silent testament to their newfound bond. The park's vibrant sounds muffle into a distant symphony, the world holding its breath for Plankton's return. Above them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, the shadows dancing as if in a silent ballet of concern. The seconds stretch into eternity, each one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes never leave his father, willing him back with all his might. The rock in Plankton's palm is a symbol of love and understanding, a bridge connecting them through the stormy seas of his mind. As Plankton's body remains frozen, the world around them seems to hold its breath. The rustling of the leaves above, the distant laughter of children, even the crash of waves in the background seem to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the universe itself is offering a quiet sanctuary for Plankton's return. Chip's eyes never leave his father's face, his grip on the love rock in Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart races with fear, but he squeezes the rock tighter, trying to channel the love and support he feels into his dad's unresponsive hand. Chip decides to whisper comforting words. "Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're safe here with me and Mom." Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and admiration for her son's courage. She watches as Chip decides to continue. "Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip whispers. "It's my way of saying I love you." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a glimmer of recognition in his eye. The world around them seems to hold its breath, the very air thick with anticipation. Chip's voice is the only sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony of the playground. The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches as Plankton's antennae slowly start to wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice barely audible. "I'll always be here." Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her eyes glistening with tears she's trying hard to hold back. The sight of her son's unwavering support is both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Plankton's chest rises and falls more steadily, his breathing evening out. The rock in Plankton's hand seems to pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen sees the tension in Plankton's features begin to ease, his antennae drooping slightly as he starts to come back to them. It's a delicate process, like waking a sleeping dragon. Any sudden movement could send him back into the storm. Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding Plankton through the fog. "It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's antennae twitch again, and Karen can see the spark of understanding in his eye. Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. The tension in his shoulders eases, and his antennae twitch in a way that tells Karen he's listening, that he's with them again. His breathing evens out, and his eyelid flickers closed. For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, Plankton's hand tightens slightly around the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s asleep," she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of humor and love. Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like that for a while, the three of them, in the quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The storm in Plankton's mind has passed, leaving them in a gentle lull. The playground's sounds slowly start to filter back in, the chatter of children, the distant hum of the city, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps whispering, his voice a gentle caress in the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're safe." Karen watches her son with a mix of love and sadness, knowing the weight he now carries. He's growing up too fast, she thinks, but he's handling it with more grace than anyone could ask for. Plankton's hand relaxes around the rock, his breathing deep and even. The storm inside him has passed for now, leaving them with a quiet, precious moment. Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?" Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," she says. "Rest is sometimes the best thing for him after an episode." Chip nods, his grip on the rock in Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He looks around the park, the world coming back into focus. The other kids are playing, their laughter a gentle reminder of the life that goes on outside their little bubble of concern. "Should we go home?" Chip asks, his voice still hushed. Karen nods. "Let's get him into the shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him good." Together, they gently lift Plankton and carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip is careful not to jostle him too much, his little hands supporting Plankton's head. Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on the ground and they place him down. His antennae are still now, no longer dancing with the stress of the seizure. His breath is deep and even, his features relaxed in sleep. Chip watches him intently, his thumb tracing the smooth surface of the love rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xii (Autistic Author) The tree above them provides a gentle canopy, casting dappled shadows on Plankton's sleeping form. The leaves rustle in the breeze, creating a natural lullaby that soothes not only him but Chip and Karen as well. The world outside the shade seems to melt away, leaving them in a quiet cocoon of peace. Karen watches her son with a mix of admiration and sadness. He's growing up so fast, she thinks, having to learn about things most kids his age don't have to. But Chip's strength is undeniable, and she knows that together, they'll navigate the storms that come with Plankton's condition. The park's cacophony slowly starts to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of Plankton's deep, even breathing. Chip sits next to him, the love rock still in his hand, his thumb tracing the smooth surface. The shadows from the tree above dance across their faces, creating a mesmerizing pattern of light and dark that seems to mirror the complexities of their lives. Karen pulls out a small blanket from their bag and covers Plankton gently, tucking it around his small body. She looks at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and sadness. "Why don't you sit with him for a bit?" she suggests. "I'll grab the car." Chip nods solemnly, taking a seat beside his father. He places the love rock in Plankton's palm, curling his slender fingers around it. The park's sounds seem to fade away as he focuses on Plankton's peaceful face, the only indication of life the steady rise and fall of his chest. Chip's eyes drift over to the swings, now silent, the chains still swaying slightly from their earlier use. While Karen walks to get the car, Chip sits in quiet contemplation, feeling the weight of their conversation from the night before. He's learned so much about his dad, about the storms in his brain that make him different. But instead of fear, Chip feels a newfound respect and love, a bond stronger than any storm could break. Plankton's eye flutter open, the sleepy confusion fading as he sees Chip sitting beside him, the love rock still clutched in his hand. He looks around, the park coming back into focus. His antennae twitch slightly, searching for the source of comfort. "Hey, buddy," Plankton says, his voice groggy. "What happened?" Chip's eyes light up, his grip on the rock tightening. "You had a seizure," he explains, his voice steady. "But you're ok now. We're just waiting for Mom to bring the car." Plankton nods, his gaze drifting to the rock. He opens his palm, revealing the smooth, shimmering stone. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Chip looks up, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It's our love rock," he says simply, his voice filled with the weight of their new understanding. Plankton's antennae twitch, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I remember," he says, his voice a little stronger. "It's a good rock." The two sit in companionable silence, the rock a tangible symbol of their bond. The park's sounds slowly filter back in, the laughter of children, the squeak of the swings, the distant bark of a seagull. Life goes on around them, but in this moment, their world is small and focused. As Karen pulls up with the car, she sees them sitting under the tree, the love rock in Plankton's hand. She parks and walks over, her eyes filled with concern. "Ready to go home?" she asks gently. Plankton nods, his antennae rising slightly. "Yeah," he says, his voice still shaky. "Let's go." They carefully help him into the car, the love rock still nestled in his hand. The drive home is quiet, the weight of the day's events hanging heavy in the air. Chip watches his dad, his heart aching for the silent struggle he knows he's facing. As they pull into the driveway, Karen looks back in the rearview mirror. "Remember, Chip," she says, her eyes meeting her son's in the reflection, "today was a learning experience. We all need to be patient with each other." Chip nods solemnly, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. He sees the exhaustion etched into his father's features, the quiet strength that hides beneath the storm. "I know," he whispers, his voice filled with understanding beyond his years. The house is a welcome retreat from the overwhelming sensory assault of the park. Inside, everything is familiar and comforting, a bastion of predictability in a world that often seems too loud and too bright for Plankton. Karen helps Plankton into bed, tucking him in with the care of a lighthouse keeper guiding a ship to safety. Chip sits on the edge of the bed, holding the love rock out to Plankton. "Do you still want this?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton's hand reaches out, his eyes never leaving the rock. He takes it, his grip firm. "Yeah," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It's comforting." Karen gives them both a soft smile before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her. The room is filled with the hum of the fish tank, the calming blue light casting a soothing glow. Chip sits with his father, the love rock nestled in Plankton's hand, a silent sentinel of their bond. For a moment, they just breathe together. Then, Chip decides to speak. "Daddy," he says, his voice gentle and soothing, "I'm here for you. No matter what happens, ok?" Plankton's eye flicker with understanding, and he squeezes the rock in his hand. "Thank you, Chip," he murmurs, his voice filled with more emotion than Chip has ever heard from him. "I'm lucky to have you." The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, as Chip nods, his own eyes brimming with tears. He leans in to offer Plankton his hand to hold. Plankton takes it, his grip firm, his eye searching Chip's for reassurance. The love rock remains a silent witness to their conversation, a physical representation of the unspoken affection that flows between them. Slowly, Plankton's eye grow heavy, the lid drooping as sleep claims him once more. His hand relaxes around Chip's, the rock still cradled in his other palm. Chip watches his father's chest rise and fall with each deep, even breath, the storm of the day finally abating. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens, a glimmer of understanding piercing the tempest. His antennae still, his body going rigid with the effort of speaking. He draws in a deep breath, his eye locking onto Chip's and also Karen’s, the love rock a bridge between them. "Lo..." he manages to murmur, the word a tremor in the quiet room. Karen's eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat. "Lo..." he tries again, the syllable a whisper of hope. The room feels like it's expanding, the walls stretching with the weight of his effort. "Lo...ve," he finally says, the word a shaky but clear declaration. The air shimmers with the power of the spoken word, the love rock in Chip's hand feeling like it's vibrating with joy. Karen's eyes overflow with tears as she squeezes Plankton's hand, her voice choking with emotion. "Oh, honey," she says, her voice a gentle caress, "we know." Chip's own eyes sparkle with unshed tears, his voice trembling as he speaks. "We love you too, Daddy." "Lo...love," he manages to repeat, the word a treasure pulled from the depths of his mind. Chip feels a tear slide down his cheek, the love rock in his hand a warm emblem of victory. "You don't have to say it, Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaky but earnest. "We know." But Plankton's eye determined, the word 'love' a beacon he needs to reach. With a Herculean effort, he whispers, "Chip...Karen...love...you." The room is suffused with a warmth that feels like a sunrise, the shadows retreating to the corners. Karen stands with love for her family. She knows that this is just the beginning of their journey, that there will be more storms to weather. But with Chip by his side, she feels a glimmer of hope that Plankton's world will be a little less overwhelming.

GREAT CHIP xi (Autistic author) After a moment, she turned and walked towards the workshop door, her steps slow and deliberate. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, looking back at Chip with a mixture of pain and resolve. "I'll check on your father," she said, her voice a whisper. "You... you clean up here." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his mother's. He knew she was hurting too, but she was putting on a brave face for him. As she disappeared into the workshop, his heart felt like it was in a vice. He'd never seen his parents like this before. The kitchen was a mess of shattered dishes and splattered jelly, a stark contrast to the usually pristine space. He took a deep breath and began to collect the broken pieces, his mind racing with thoughts of his father's pain. Karen's footsteps were quiet as she approached the workshop, the door slightly ajar. She could hear Plankton's muffled sobs from inside, his tiny body hunched over his workbench. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she might find. The room was a whirlwind of half-finished inventions, wires and gadgets scattered about. Her heart broke at the sight of her husband, the usually stoic and resourceful Plankton, reduced to a tiny, shaking figure, his antennae drooped like the wilted leaves of a forgotten houseplant. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft whisper, cutting through the quiet. He didn't look up, his sobs the only sound in the cluttered room. Slowly, she approached, her eyes taking in the chaos around them. "Honey," she began, her voice trembling. "I know you're upset, but..." Plankton's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Karen reached out, her hand hovering over his shoulder, uncertain whether to touch him. Finally, she decided that in this moment, space was what he needed most. She stood there, a silent sentinel, her presence a gentle reminder that she was there for him. "Plankton," she said softly, her voice a balm in the storm of his rage. "Can I get you anything?" Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his tiny frame heaving with the weight of his emotions. "No," he said, his voice muffled. Karen took a step closer, her hand still hovering. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her tone gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his head nodding slightly. It was the barest of movements, but it spoke volumes to Karen. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to press too hard. He stiffened at first, but then, ever so slightly, leaned into her. Her embrace was gentle, her touch like a soft breeze, offering comfort without smothering his pain. "I always love you." The words hung in the air, their quiet strength a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. Plankton felt his body begin to relax, his sobs easing as Karen's warmth seeped in. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I don't know..." Karen's grip tightened, her hand sliding up to cradle his head. "It's okay," she soothed, her voice a gentle lullaby. Plankton's antennae twitched nervously against her, but he didn't pull away. He knew she was there for him, even when his own mind was a tempest of confusion. "You don't have to apologize," Karen whispered. Her words were a balm to Plankton's raw nerves, and he leaned into her embrace. She knew he was sensitive post-episode, his emotions like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Her heart ached for him, for the fear and frustration he felt in those moments. Karen's eyes scanned the room, noticing the chaos of Plankton's workshop, his mind's refuge. Usually, the disarray was organized, each gear and wire in its place. Now, it was as though a tornado had swept through, leaving a trail of half-finished inventions in its wake. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body still tense under her touch. "I just... I don't want you to look at me and see something broken and unlovable.." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "You are you, and that is all I've ever loved." The words hung in the air, a gentle rebuttal to the harshness of the earlier scene. Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his breathing evening out. Chip hovered at the entrance, his heart a tumultuous sea of regret and fear. He'd hurt his father, and he didn't know how to fix it. He took a tentative step into the workshop, his eyes scanning the room. The mess was a stark reminder of the turmoil Plankton was feeling, and it only served to amplify Chip's own guilt. He watched his mother's careful movements, her gentle touch, and he desperately wanted to do the same.

She Knew Something Was Up When my great-grandma was on her last legs, she was convinced that my mom was having a baby and wanted to know if it was a girl or boy. My mom replied by telling her that she was not pregnant, and after asking the same to my aunt she said, "Oh, guess I was wrong". Here's where it gets unsettling. Exactly nine months later, I was born.

Spiritually — I will win. Financially — I will win. Career wise - I will win. Mentally - I will win. Emotionally - I will win. Physically - I will win. Family wise — I will win. Love Life - I will win. In my life — I will win. I will have it all I'm claiming it.

😘😘💚🐾

My wife and I have three beautiful children. However, that would not be without access to abortion. [With] an ectopic pregnancy, it was devastating that we had to choose one life over another. But we did … and to our surprise the doctor recommended continuing to try. After the elective abortion, we had two more healthy babies. — Jamie Doherty / Torrington, Conn.

~ Doubting Blood My father got a DNA test done on my autistic, non-verbal little brother because he didn't think he was his child. The results came back and it turns out my brother is his son, but my mother has no idea my dad ever got that done.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT xi (Autistic author) Karen stood up. She needed to check on Chip, to make sure he was okay after the scary scene he had witnessed. She stepped out of the room, leaving the door cracked open, listening for any sign of movement from Plankton. The house was quiet, the only sound being the distant thump of Chip's footsteps. She walked down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. When she reached Chip's room, she found him sitting on his bed, his screen blurry with unshed tears. He looked up as she entered, his eyes wide with worry. "Mom," he said, his voice small. Karen's heart broke anew. She crossed the room and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around his small frame. "Chip," she whispered, "it's okay." Chip leaned into her embrace, his body shaking with sobs. "But Dad...," he choked out. "Dad was so mad at me." Karen's heart was heavy. She stroking his back. "He's not mad at you, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "His brain is just... different now. He's scared and overwhelmed." Chip sniffled, his shoulders heaving. "But why?" "Because of his autism," Karen explained, her voice soft and steady. "It's like he's experiencing the world with all his senses turned up to max. Sometimes it's too much, and it can make him upset." Chip's sobs grew quieter as he absorbed her words. "But I didn't mean to," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I know, buddy," Karen said, her voice soothing. "And Dad knows you didn't mean to. We all just need to learn how to be more careful with each other." Chip nodded against her shoulder, his body slowly relaxing into her embrace. "I don't want him to be sad," he whispered. Karen kissed his forehead. "I know, Chip. And we'll make sure he isn't. We'll all learn together." They sat in silence for a few more moments, until Chip's sniffles subsided. "Would you like to go see him?" Karen asked, her voice tentative. Chip nodded, his screen wiping away tears. "But I don't want to make Dad mad again," he whispered. "You won't," Karen promised, her voice filled with warmth. "We'll go in together, and I'll be right here with you." They walked back to Plankton's room, their steps measured. Karen pushed the door open carefully, her gaze flicking to the bed. Plankton was still asleep, his snores now a comforting lullaby in the quiet space. Chip's eyes were glued to his dad, his antennae quivering slightly. "Dad?" he whispered. Karen nodded, swiping at her own tears. "Let's just watch him for a moment," she said, guiding Chip to the chair beside the bed. They sat down together, their hands joined. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly in his sleep, and Karen held her breath, fearing he might wake up. But he remained still, his tiny frame nestled under the blanket. "Look, Chip," she whispered, pointing to Plankton's peaceful face. "Dad's sleeping. Let's not wake him up yet." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving his father. "But I want to tell him I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can tell him later," Karen assured, squeezing his hand. "Let's let him rest for now." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "Okay," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'll make it up to him. I've a science fair at school tonight and would like you both to come. I know he enjoys science." Karen's heart swelled with pride and hope. "That's a wonderful idea, Chip," she said, smiling through her tears. "I'm sure your father would love to see your project." They sat in companionable silence for a few moments more before Karen stood up. "Go get ready," she said, gently tugging on Chip's arm. "We have a science fair to attend." Chip's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really?" "Yes," Karen nodded, standing up. "We'll all go together and support you." Chip perked up, and he scurried out of the room, eager to get ready for the science fair. Karen watched him go, his enthusiasm a tiny beacon of light in the heavy silence that lingered. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the task ahead.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT xv (Autistic author) Karen's heart breaks a little more with each word. "Chip, please," she says, her voice shaking. "Your dad doesn't mean to be..." But Chip's anger has taken over. "Dad you just touched me! So I think at this point, you don't get to tell me what to do!" he yells, his voice a mix of pain and anger as he once again pokes Plankton. This time, Plankton's response is explosive. He jumps off the bed, his antennae flaring with fury. "DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME!" he roars, his voice booming in the confines of the room. The power behind his words sends a shiver down Karen's spine. "Chip, stop it," Karen says, her voice firm. "Your dad's autism makes him sensitive to touch right now. You know this." But Chip is beyond reason, his own pain fueling his actions. He pokes at Plankton again, his eyes filled with anger. Plankton's antennae quiver, his body tight as a spring. "Don't," he warns, his voice low and dangerous. But Chip doesn't listen. He reaches out once more, his finger poised like a dart. Karen can see the internal battle raging behind that one word, the need for his personal space and the fear of what could happen if it's violated. The moment Chip's finger makes contact with his arm, Plankton's unable to take much more. With a whimper that sounds like the sigh, he crumples back onto his bed as his eye rolls back in his head. His body convulses once, twice, and then stills as his eye closes. Karen's seen this before, but the sight of it never gets easier. She rushes to Plankton's side. "Daddy!" Chip's voice cracks, his anger dissolving into fear. "Mom!" Karen's eyes widen as she sees Plankton's body go limp. She quickly assesses his condition, seeing the signs of a meltdown turning into a full-blown shutdown. "Mom?" Chip's voice is shaky, his anger now replaced with fear. "What's happening?" Karen's heart is racing as she gently cradles Plankton's head. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice calm but filled with urgency. "He's just overwhelmed." Chip stands frozen, his hand still in midair. The reality of what his words have caused crashes over him like a wave, soaking him in guilt. "Dad?" he whispers, his voice tiny and scared. Karen's eyes meet Chip's, full of pain. "I'll take care of your father," she says, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "Why don't you go to your room?" She nods towards the door. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. He backs out of the room, the weight of his guilt following him like a shadow. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving Karen alone with Plankton. The silence is heavy, the air charged with the residue of their outburst. Karen pulls the blankets up to Plankton's chin. "You're okay," she whispers, her voice barely audible over his shallow breaths. She runs her hand over his forehead, soothing his antennae. Plankton's body shudders under her touch, his mind reeling from the sensory assault. "You're okay," Karen repeats, her voice a gentle lullaby in the storm of Plankton's thoughts. She continues to stroke his antennae, trying to ground him. Plankton's eyelid flickers, his mind slowly coming back to his surroundings. The weight of his exhaustion is like a heavy blanket, smothering him. "Chip," Karen says, her voice tight with worry. "Come back in. I need you to see this." Chip's eyes are red from crying, but he obeys, his gaze falling on his father's still form. "Look at him," Karen says, her voice thick with emotion. "This is what your words did." Chip's eyes fill with horror as he looks at his father's form. "Dad," he whispers, his hand reaching out tentatively. But Plankton doesn't react, his mind shut down. Karen's eyes are filled with despair, watching her husband, her partner, her best friend, trapped in his own overwhelmed world. "Oh, Plankton," she whispers, her voice shaking with concern. Chip's hand hangs in the air, his heart racing. He doesn't know what to do. "He's in a shutdown," Karen explains, her voice calm but strained. "It's like his brain has turned off to protect itself." Chip's hand drops to his side, his eyes never leaving his father's motionless body. "But why?" he asks, his voice small and scared. Karen sighs, exhaustion etching lines into her face. "It's his autism, Chip. It's like his brain's way of saying 'I can't handle any more'." She swipes at her own tears, trying to keep her voice steady. "When the stimulation gets to be too much, his body just...shuts down." Chip looks at his dad, his heart heavy with regret. "But I didn't know it would be this bad," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to be heard." Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "I know, sweetheart," she says. "But you see, your dad's brain works differently than yours or mine." She takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "When there's too much noise, or too many people, or even just too much expectation," she pauses, her hand still stroking his antennae, "it can be like someone's turned the volume up too high, and everything just becomes too much." Chip sighs. "But why did we have to leave?" he asks, his voice small and lost. Karen looks at Plankton, his body still shaky from his meltdown. "The science fair was too much for Daddy," she says gently. "You know how I said he overwhelms easy?" Chip nods, his eyes glued to the floor. "At the science fair, Daddy had a kind of seizure," Karen explains, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's like his brain got too full of information and it couldn't process it all. To many people were talking all at once." She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. "It's not that he didn't want to be there for you, Chip. It's that his body simply couldn't handle it." Chip's eyes widen with understanding. "But he looked normal," he says, his voice tinged with doubt. "He didn't..." Karen sighs, taking Chip's hand. "It's not like a normal seizure," she explains. "It's called an absence seizure. He's semiconscious but his mind kind of... leaves him for a moment." Chip nods slowly, his eyes focused on Plankton's face. "But why was he so mad at me?" Karen looks at her son, her heart aching for both of them. "It was just his brain's way of dealing with the overload. And when you kept poking him and blaming him," she sighs, her eyes filling with tears, "it just added to his stress. He's just... overwhelmed." Chip stares at the floor, his eyes wide with guilt. "I didn't mean to," he whispers. "I just wanted you to be proud of me." Karen's heart aches for her son. She knows his intentions were pure, but the impact of his words was like a bomb exploding in Plankton's mind. "I know, Chip," she says gently. "But sometimes, we have to think about how our words affect others, especially when someone's going through something as hard as your dad. Now it's getting late; we could all use some rest." Chip nods, his throat tight with unshed tears. He kisses Plankton's forehead, his heart heavy with regret. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispers, his voice cracking. "I'll do better." Karen watches as her son backs out of the room, the weight of the evening's events weighing heavily on his small shoulders. She wishes she could take away his pain, his guilt. Turning back to Plankton, she gets in his line of sight and speaks softly. "Plankton, honey, are you awake..." His single eye opens slightly, a tiny slit in his otherwise still form. "Yes," he whispers, his voice hoarse with fatigue. Karen's heart clenches with relief. "How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice gentle. Plankton's eye flickers, his antennae barely moving. "Tired," he whispers. Karen nods, understanding. "I'll be right here," she promises, her voice a gentle caress.

𝖡𝖱𝖠𝖨𝖭 𝖢𝖧𝖨𝖯 𝗉𝗍. 15 (𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖤𝖴𝖱𝖮𝖥𝖠𝖡𝖴𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲) Eventually, they pulled up into their driveway, Karen parking the car. Plankton stirred slightly, his antennae twitching as the car's engine purred to a stop. Chip's heart raced. Gently, Karen turned around, her eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and hope. "Plankton," she whispered, her hand reaching out to his arm. "We're home." Plankton's eyelid fluttered open, his antennae shooting up. His eye darted around, his mind racing to catch up with reality. With dawning horror, he realized he had fallen asleep. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he jerked away from Chip's shoulder. Plankton's hand flew to his mouth, his antennae quivering in embarrassment as he felt wetness. Chip looked at him, his expression gentle. "You ok, Dad?" he asked. Plankton nodded, his voice gruff. "Fine," he murmured, his hand still covering his mouth. The house was quiet as they entered. Karen led the way, her steps measured and calm. Plankton shuffled behind, his eye cast downward. The embarrassment of falling asleep in the car clung to him. As he went into his bedroom Plankton decided to check his social media. He then found Chip's selfie post: "Went to the park with my dad @ Sheldon Plankton today 💙👨‍👦💨 " Plankton's antennae quivered with embarrassment. He sat down, his hand still clutching the fidget toy. He scrolled to the comments on Chip's post, his heart pounding in his chest. The first comment's from Hanna, which read: "Aw, so sweet! 😍 Looks like you guys are bonding! Keep it up, @ Chip 💪🏻" Bonding? Was that what they were doing? He wasn't sure. The next one was from a user named @LoveforAll. "Sending all my ❤️✨☮️ to you and your dad, Chip! @Hanna told me about Plankton's case, as I've the same acquired autistic condition which is a rare form of Autism, so she told me. #acquiredautism" Great. Not only is his sleepy features public, but also his condition. Plankton felt a knot in his stomach, his antennae twitching with discomfort. He viewed a reply to @LoveforAll's comment, from @SpongeBob: "☹️☹️☹️ Plankton, hope you're ok buddy! 🐠💨 Sensory parks are the best! Keep fighting the good fight! 💪🏻💨 I'm born with autism, so yea." Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye wide with shock. He read the comment again, his mind spinning. He had never considered that his friend SpongeBob of all people might understand! The next comment was from his rival @Krabs: "Plankton?! 🦑👀 What's going on over there? Hope you're not planning any Krabby Patty stealing schemes with that fidget toy, haha! 🤑😂 #KrabsVsPlankton #Frenemies" Plankton's antennae drooped, his heart sinking. Even Mr. Krabs couldn't resist a joke at his expense. But then he saw Karen's comment, her emoji-laden response to their day out: "☮️💨💖 Such a wonderful day at the sensory park with my two boys! 👨‍👦💨👨‍👦 Proud of you both for trying new things! 💃🏻💨💃🏻 @ Sheldon Plankton sorry for the picture, love!" Putting his phone aside Plankton saw Chip come in the bedroom doorway. "Hey, I got some science homework if you'd like to..." "I'll help," Plankton interrupts. "How many pages, Chip?" "It's ok, Dad. It's just basic stuff. But if you really want to, it's only five pages." Chip sits on his dad's bed with the homework packet. Plankton's antennae quiver with excitement. He had always loved helping Chip with homework! Plankton leaned in close as Chip hands him the homework. Plankton's antennae twitched as he took the homework. "Alright," he murmured, his voice steady. "Let's start wi- Ow!" Plankton screams. He had sliced his finger on the corner of the page. The pain was intense, a sudden shock that sent his senses into overdrive. He flaps his hands. Karen rushed into the room at the sound of his distress. "Plankton, what happened?" she asked. "It hurts, it hurts," he cries, his voice desperate as he cradles the injury. The sight of his dad's pain hit Chip like a brick. "It's just a paper cut," he mumbled, his voice shaking. But to Plankton, it was a sensory assault, the pain sharp and overwhelming. He hadn't had a paper cut since before the accident, and the suddenness of it was to much. Karen's eyes widened. "Let me see," she said, her voice calm and soothing. Plankton shakily extended his hand. Her eyes took in the cut, her mind racing. They had to find a way to help him manage this pain, without causing more distress. Gently, she took the fidget toy from his other hand. "Look at this," she instructed, her voice soothing. "Let's focus on th-" But Plankton's agony was too intense, the pain of the paper cut like a siren in his mind. "Make it stop," he whispered, his eye squeezed shut in pain, his body trembling. Chip watched, his own panic rising. He had never seen his dad so overwhelmed by such a small injury. He knew his father's sensory issues were severe, but the sight of his distress was almost too much to bear. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. If only he had been more careful with the homework. Karen took charge, her eyes focused. "Plankton, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice calm and steady. "Look at the fidget toy, ok?" She placed it in his good hand. "Squeeze it. Squeeze it a-" But Plankton couldn't hear her over the roar of pain in his head. His entire body was trembling, his breath coming in sharp gasps. His antennae quivered with the effort of blocking out the sensory storm. Karen's mind raced. They had to get him to a calm state, to help him understand that the pain wasn't going to last. She quickly grabbed a clean cloth and gently pressed it to the cut, applying just enough pressure to stem the flow. "Look at me, Plankton," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Look at me." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye searching for hers. "It's ok," she whispered. "I'm here. It's just a paper cu-" But her words were drowned out by his sobs. Karen's mind raced. She needed to find a way to soothe him, to get through the chaos of sensory overload. She remembered Hanna's advice about using deep pressure to help with pain management. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, applying firm, comforting pressure. "It's ok, Plankton," she murmured, her voice steady. "I've got you." Plankton's antennae stopped quivering as he felt Karen's embrace, the pressure grounding his overstimulated mind. He took a deep, shaky breath, the pain starting to recede slightly. "It h-hurts," he managed to say, his voice still tight with pain. Chip's eyes were wide with fear, watching his dad's reaction to something so simple. He had never seen Plankton in such pain, his usually stoic father reduced to this trembling wreck. It was like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of how much had changed. Plankton's breaths grew shallower, his antennae shaking violently. The pain was unbearable, the sensations were too much. Karen's arms tightened around him. "It's ok, Plankton. It's just a paper cut. I know it hurts, but it'll be over soon." He clung to her, his body shaking with sobs. Chip watched, feeling utterly helpless. Plankton's eye darted around, searching for escape from the pain. He couldn't handle it. "Look at me," Karen whispered. "Just lo---" But Plankton's sobs overwhelmed her words. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his antennae quivering with the effort of trying to find calm. Karen's voice grew stronger, her grip on him firmer. "You're safe, Plankton. It's just a paper cut. It'll be better soon." Chip felt his own eyes well up, the fear and helplessness mirrored in his mother's gaze. Plankton's sobs started to slow, his body calming under the steady pressure of Karen's embrace. The pain was still there, a pulsing throb in his finger, but it was more manageable now as it slowly dwindled. "It's ok," she said, her voice gentle. "We're going to get through this, together." Chip watched. He had never seen his dad like this, so overwhelmed by something so small. But he knew now that for Plankton, the world was full of sensory landmines. Every moment had to be navigated with caution. Plankton's grip on the fidget toy tightened, his breaths evening out as he focused on the gentle pressure Karen applied. His antennae slowed their erratic dance. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice still shaky. Karen's eyes were filled with love and determination. "It's ok," she said, her voice a gentle caress. "We're all here for you." Slowly, Plankton leaned into her embrace with relief. He closed his eye. The pain was dimming. Chip noticed his hand slacken around the fidget toy, his grip loosening. Karen felt his weight shift against her, and she knew he was slipping into sleep. Gently, she eased him onto his bed, she covered him with the weighted blanket, his body relaxed beneath the comforting pressure. Plankton's antennae twitched once more before stillness claimed him. The fidget toy slipped from his grasp, landing silently. Karen reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek. "Rest now," she whispered.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 17 (𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ. sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ Karen's eyes are filled with love and understanding. Plankton slowly nods, his antennae dropping. "I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice barely a whisper. But Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye cold. "You need to go," he says, his voice firm. Chip's screen flickers with hurt. "What?" he asks, his voice shaking. Plankton's gaze is unyielding. "I don't want you here," he says. "Not right now." His words are like a dagger to Chip's heart, but Karen's screens flicker with a message of patience. "Dad, what do you mea-" But Plankton cuts him off, his antennae rigid. "I mean it," he says, his voice hard. "I don't want you here." Chip's screen reflects confusion and pain. He doesn't understand. "But why?" he asks. "We're fa-" "Don't," Plankton says, his voice sharp. "Don't pretend to care." His eye is cold, his antennae quivering with anger. "You made fun of me. You think my world is a joke." Chip's screen flickers with confusion and guilt. "Dad, no," he says, his voice shaking. "That's not what I meant." But Plankton's not listening, his words cutting through the air like shards of glass. "You think you know," he says, his voice rising. "But you don't. You can't. You're not like me." Karen's screens are a swirl of emotions, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice a gentle plea. But he's not listening. He's too lost in his own hurt, his own frustration. "You think you can just play along?" he says, turning to Chip. "You think it's that easy?" Chip's screen shows his fear growing, his mind racing. He didn't mean to hurt his dad, but now he feels like he's being pushed away. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "I just made a mis-" "Mistake? Hah. The only mistake was thinking you could ever understand!" Plankton's words are a harsh reminder of their earlier misunderstanding. Chip's screen reflects his hurt, his eyes filling with tears. "You think you can just pretend?" Plankton continues, his voice bitter. "You think you know what it's like to be me?" His antennae wave wildly in accusation. Chip's voice is barely a squeak. "I just wanted to help, Dad," he says, his screen a jumble of sadness and confusion. "But you didn't," Plankton says, his voice cold. "You hurt me. And I can't just shake it off." Karen's screens flicker with pain for her husband, but she knows Plankton's anger is a shield, a way to protect his tender heart. "You don't get it," Plankton continues, his antennae jutting forward. "You think you can just pretend to understand?" His words are a knife in the dark, twisting in Chip's gut. "Dad," Chip says, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll learn." But Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae waving. "It's not about you," he says, his voice harsh. "It's never been. You don't get to cry victim. I can forgive accidentally touching me and such, but this... I can't. I saw you mocking me. I heard you laughing." Chip's eyes widen. "No," he says, his voice desperate. "I didn't mean t---" But Plankton's not listening. "You think because you're sorry, everything's okay and make it go away? You don't get to decide that," he says, his voice shaking. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. Because right now, you don't understand a thing. You're not a part of this. You're not being a good son. And I don't think I can trust you." The words hit Chip like a wave, his screen flashing with disbelief. He feels like he's drowning, his mind racing for a way to make it right. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says again, his voice choked with tears. "I'll do anything. I'll learn, I'll change." But Plankton's antennae droop, his body defeated. "It's too late," he murmurs. "You had your chance. But honestly, I don't think you'll ever be the son I need." Karen's screens pulse with pain, seeing the rift between them grow wider. She knows how much Plankton values trust, how hard it is for him to give it once it's been shattered. Chip's screen flickers with desperation. "Dad, I'll be here," he begs, whimpering. "I'll try anyth—" But Plankton's antennae are rigid with finality. "No," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I now know better than to let you in again. I hoped we'd be closer, but now I... I don't think you belong in my life, Chip." The words hang in the air, each one heavier than the last. Chip's screen is a whirlwind of emotions: guilt, sadness, fear. "Dad," he says, his voice a broken plea. "Please, I'll do better. I promise." But Plankton's gaze is unyielding. "I'm letting go Chip. We're done now. You'll never be the son I adored again. You failed to accept me, so I won't accept your façade. So good bye, Chip. I hope you find peace.." Plankton then turns around, leaving Karen and Chip in the living room as he walked down the hall. Chip's eyes are wide with shock, his screen flickering with tears. Karen's screens dim with sadness as she looks at her son. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "It's not you. It's just his way of coping." But Chip's not listening. He's thinking about the moments his dad's eyes had lit up, the times Plankton had laughed, his antennae waving with joy. And now, it's gone, replaced by a coldness that scares him. He tries to imagine what it's like for Plankton, to live in a world that's too loud, too bright, too much. A world where even the smallest touch can send him spiraling. Where every interaction is a minefield of misunderstandings. And he wonders how he could have missed the signs. How could he have hurt his father so much without even realizing it?

SHELF IMPROVEMENT x (Autistic author) Plankton's body finally stilled, his breathing evening out. The room was now quiet, the only sounds their combined exhales and the distant hum of the house. Karen could feel the weight of his fear slowly lifting, his body becoming less rigid under her touch. "Gentler," he murmured, his eye looking up at her. Karen's hand trembled slightly as she brushed his antennae, trying to give him comfort. "We're going to get through this," she promised, her voice firm. Plankton's antennae twitched in response, his gaze searching hers. "Together?" Karen nodded, a warm smile spreading across her screen. "Together, Plankton. We're a family." Plankton's antennae quivered with relief, his body slumping into the pillows. "Together," he echoed, his voice weak but steady. Karen felt a weight lift. "Yes, together," she said. They sat in silence for a moment, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. Plankton's antennae twitched, and he reached out to grasp her hand, and Karen squeezed back. "Karen," he murmured, his voice still weak from his meltdown. "Thank you." Karen's eyes watered as she squeezed his hand back. "Always," she whispered. The room was still, the only sounds the soft sighs of relief from both of them. Plankton's antennae slowly relaxed, his grip on her hand loosening. "Tired," he murmured, his eye half-closed. Karen nodded, wiping her own tears away. "Why don't we get some rest?" she suggested, her voice still a whisper. She helped him lay down properly, adjusting his pillows and covering him with the blanket. Plankton's antennae nodded slightly. "Rest," he murmured, his voice fading. Karen sat beside him, her hand still in his, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. She felt his grip tighten briefly, a silent plea for her not to leave. As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the room began to unravel. The steady rhythm of his breaths grew deeper, his body relaxing into the embrace of the soft mattress. Plankton's antennae twitched one last time before going still, and Karen heard the telltale rumble of his snores. They were faint, almost imperceptible. It was the sound of his body letting go of the fear and anger, surrendering to sleep. With a sigh of relief, she gently released his hand, placing it by his side. Her heart ached as she took in the sight of him, so small and vulnerable. This was their new normal, and she had to be strong for both of them.

r/confessions 4 yr. ago guppy_gills My mother tried to abort me when I was in her belly and I remember it I remember the dark place inside of my mother. Then I remember a machine coming to get me. I moved away from it and fought it off. Eventually it went away. Years later my mother admitted that she tried to have an abortion but it didn't take. I told her how I remembered and she cried and said she was sorry. I forgave her but when I remember that moment I sometimes feel traumatized still

r/confessions 3 mo. ago Beautiful-Mix-4813 I was slightly over 10 weeks when I had my abortion. I just regret it. I could’ve kept it the whole time as I got pregnant months after. Tbh the process was pretty horrific and painful. I bled so much. I took the pills at home, alone and just bled for over 14 hours. I saw everything that came out of me. When the sac passed I wrapped it up in my sweatpants and gently set it in the trash can. I really wanted to bury it. I stayed up and watched the trash get picked up from the city. It was devastating. I think about my little jelly bean from time to time. I feel like a monster. I’m such a maternal being that I’m just not really able to cope with what I did. Every time I get my cycle it reminds me of what I did. I remember swallowing the pill and running to the bathroom to cry. I knew in that moment it was a mistake. I act like it was the best decision for me at the time and I have no regrets, but the truth is it wasn’t the best decision at the time and I wish so badly I could hug the human my 10-week old jelly bean would’ve been. I hope their soul forgives me. I hope I’m able to forgive myself one day, too.

To My Precious Little Baby Author: Anonymous Baby Name: Saige Birth Date: February 2025 Abortion Date: June 2024 I wish we were in a position to have you. It has been two weeks since your dad and I found out about you. It was a decision made in haste. When we found out I was 3 months postpartum with your sister. There was also other health concerns factored into our decision and I was in no shape to have another child. There is much more I could add but it would just feel like I am making excuses. I wish someone would have insisted I kept you. I can’t take it back and I am so so sorry. I give you back to God and pray that you both can forgive me. I love you so much, you will always be apart of our family even if we have failed you. You are loved. Posted: Jun 18, 2024