Touchingcore Emojis & Text

..._...|..____________________, ,
....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D
...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/
.....), ---.(_(__) /
....// (..) ), ----"
...//___//
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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!

new lovecore livecore excore familycore riskycore boyfriendcore girlfriendcore lifecore

Here are some idioms that use the word "chip":

Chip on your shoulder
An informal expression that means someone feels inferior or believes they've been treated unfairly. For example, "You will never make friends if you go around with a chip on your shoulder". 
 
Chip off the old block
A person who resembles one parent in appearance or behavior. For example, "His son is just a chip off the old block". 
 
Chip in
To contribute money, time, or advice to a cause or fund. For example, "Every member of the team chipped in to help pay for the coach's surgery". 
 
Cash in your chips
To sell something, such as investments, to raise money. It can also be used as slang to mean to die. 
 
Bargaining chip
Something that can be used to gain an advantage when trying to make a deal or an agreement. For example, "The workers used the threat of a strike as a bargaining chip in their negotiations". 
 
Blue chip
A term that comes from poker, where chips used in gambling have different colors to represent different dollar amounts. A blue chip is typically the one with the highest value. 
 
call in (one's) chipscall in your chipscash (one's) chips incash incash in (one's) chipscash in chipscash in one's chipscash in your chipscheap as chipschipchip (away) at (something)chip and dipchip atchip awaychip buttychip inchip in for (something)chip in on (something)chip in with (something)chip in with (something) for (something)chip offchip off the old blockchip off the old block, achip on one's shoulderchip on one's shoulder, to have achip on shoulderchip shotchip upchipschips and dipchips are down, thechips with everythingcow chipcow chipsget a chip on (one's) shoulderhand in (one's) chipshas had its chipshave a chip on (one's) shoulderhave a chip on your shoulderhave had (one's) chipshave had your chipsin the chipsin the moneylet the chips fall (where they may)let the chips fall where they maymint chocolate chippass in (one's) chipspiss on (someone's) chipsput a chip on (one's) shoulderput all (of) (one's) chips on the tablespit chipsthe chips are downwhen the chips are down

"All that and a bag of chips"---this phrase is usually a slam against someone who is conceited or arrogant. Perhaps the phrase originates in the concept of completeness; a meal complete with a "bag of chips".Aug 11, 2014

new chipcore studycore chip

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

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)

new oldcore agecore grandparentcore familycore mathcore centenarianism

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.

new familycore twistedcore carcrashcore ghostkin revengecore obsessivecore excore loricore jackcore lilycore lostcore my family

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

new amicide murdercore familycore https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_types_of_killing

░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░
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▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░

I 🤍 DAD

new dadcore familycore

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

new lgmh boyfriendcore familycore lovecore LoveGivesMeHope

Repost this If you miss
someone right now.

July 27, 2015

new memorycore friendcore familycore tumblrcore instagram

The Missed Call
May 23, 2008 / Strange and Unexplained / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading

.

Estimated reading time — < 1 minute

A strange ringtone plays on your cell phone, you reach for it but whoever it was must have hung up, a wrong number maybe. You look at the phone anyway. You’ve missed a call. You listen to it. When you put the phone to your ear. Suddenly you hear a scream of pain, you toss the cell across the room, but you can still hear it.

When you finally pick the phone up you see who the call was from, you realize who’s voice it was.

Yours.

new creepypastacore voicecore strangecore

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

new girlcore familycore romancecore femalekin romanticise

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.

new horrorposting horrorposters familycore

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.

new familycore smscore smartphowned

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...

new familycore twistedcore horrorposting ✨ horrorbuff

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

new papcore testcore viruskin femalekin abusecore abortioncore familycore healthcore pap

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."

new reddit blindcore familycore horrorbuff the blind child

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

new familycore cemeterycore st. mary's cemetery burials

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

new timecore shockcore airplanecrashcore familycore glasscore terrorwave twistedcore

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. 

new hamilton taxicore bikercore 1970s brothercore familycore

“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

new horrorposting girlfriendcore familycore

🔵
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.
🔵

new hoover tierney familycore

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

new momcore blesscore blessedkin blessedcore familycore babywave unknown

 July 9, 2013 | Sleep Talking
Sleep talking involves unconscious talking during sleep. Sleep talking varies in
content and presentation, ranging from mumbling, gibberish, and nonsensical words 
to coherent. Sleep talking can be spontaneous, but may also be induced by some 
else who talks with them while asleep. This nocturnal language can even sound 
different from their wakeful speaking voice! The content of sleep talking can be 
completely random, but it may also be related to past or present daytime experiences. 
Decoding it can be impossible (or not even necessary) as sleep talking happens out
side of conscious awareness. Sleep talking can happen at any time during the night 
and during any stage of sleep. In the earlier part of the night, people tend to be 
more in the deeper stages of sleep (Stage 3 or 4) and sleep talking may sound more 
like gibberish or mumbling. As the night progresses, sleep becomes lighter (REM sleep 
like Stages 1 and 2) and can be more understandable to a bed partner. Most sleep talkers 
won't remember a thing about their midnight murmurs — which, more accurately, can range 
from babbling to coherent sentences and even raised voice. Sleep-talking or somniloquy 
can range from random noises to complete sentences. It can also be brought on by stress
or reacting to dream sequences.

new voicecore slumbercore somniloquence sleeptalk somniloquist somniloquism sleeptalking sleeptalker somniloquy talk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new autism and all chip plankton chipcore

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.

new chip off the old talks familycore

r/TwoSentenceHorror
1 day ago
CenturyCoal

I pressed the stuffed teddy bear's chest to hear it's voice box 

the bear should have said 'i love you'  not 'let me out'

new teddycore bearcore voicecore stuffiecore reddit TwoSentenceHorror

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.”

new dollkin dollcore familycore sitcore twistedcore terriblecore horrorbuff

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 

new familycore healthcore surgerycore conjoint

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

new lgmh neighborcore familycore abortioncore gmh

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

new lgmh miscarriagecore abortioncore familycore gmh

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)

new murdercore familycore friendcore grandparentcore friendscore

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.

new familycore twistedcore wife

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...

new familycore hometowncore horrorkin family photo

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.

new familycore pregcore twincore feticidal

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

new familycore kgmh gmh

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

new familycore vermontcore bessette

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

new lgmh familycore gmh

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

new yesterdaycore familycore gmh

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.

new soulcore horrorpost horrorposters horrorbuff familycore mentalcore acrania

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 🎁

new familycore listcore peoplecore gens

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 . . .

new familycore surgerycore reddit

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

new familycore unaliving reddit

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."

new familycore Science Fiction & Fantasy delivery room

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was long ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family post-ictal planktons

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family post-ictal postictal

Why Privacy Matters
For teens, having a space to call their own is key to feeling safe and respected. Losing a bedroom door, especially as a punishment, can feel like losing a big chunk of personal dignity. It’s more than just a door—it’s about having a safe spot to chill, change clothes, or just be alone with your thoughts.

What’s Legal vs. What’s Right
So taking off a bedroom door might not break any laws, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best move for the kids. It’s a grey area, legally speaking, but when it comes to what’s best for the teens, it’s pretty clear that this kind of punishment might be missing the mark.

jared555
•5y ago
Not having a door on your bedroom would likely be considered a safety hazard by most fire departments. The departments near me occasionally post videos on Facebook recommending sleeping with your bedroom door shut.


If your parents remove your door, calmly but firmly express your need for privacy and discuss the situation with them, potentially seeking mediation or outside help if necessary. 
Here's a more detailed breakdown of what to do:
1. Understand the Reason:
Ask for Explanation: Calmly and respectfully ask your parents why they removed the door and what they hope to achieve.
Listen to Their Perspective: Try to understand their reasoning, even if you don't agree with it. 
2. Express Your Needs and Concerns:
State Your Need for Privacy:
Explain that you need a space where you can be alone and have privacy for things like dressing, showering, and studying.
Point Out Potential Problems:
Explain that removing the door can lead to feelings of discomfort, vulnerability, and a lack of personal space.
Consider the Impact:
Discuss how this situation might affect your ability to function and your overall well-being. 
3. Seek Mediation or Outside Help:
Talk to a Counselor or Therapist:
If you're unable to resolve the issue with your parents, consider seeking professional guidance from a counselor or therapist. 
Involve a Trusted Adult:
If you feel comfortable, talk to a trusted teacher, family friend, or other adult who can help mediate the situation. 
Contact Child Protective Services (CPS):
If you feel your safety or well-being is at risk, or if you believe your parents are neglecting your needs, contact CPS. 
4. Consider Your Actions:
Don't React Emotionally: Avoid yelling, slamming doors, or engaging in other destructive behaviors. 
Find Alternatives: Explore ways to create privacy within your room, such as using curtains, screens, or rearranging furniture. 
Document Everything: Keep a record of the conversations you have with your parents and any incidents that occur. 
⣞⢽⢪⢣⢣⢣⢫⡺⡵⣝⡮⣗⢷⢽⢽⢽⣮⡷⡽⣜⣜⢮⢺⣜⢷⢽⢝⡽⣝ ⠸⡸⠜⠕⠕⠁⢁⢇⢏⢽⢺⣪⡳⡝⣎⣏⢯⢞⡿⣟⣷⣳⢯⡷⣽⢽⢯⣳⣫⠇ ⠀⠀⢀⢀⢄⢬⢪⡪⡎⣆⡈⠚⠜⠕⠇⠗⠝⢕⢯⢫⣞⣯⣿⣻⡽⣏⢗⣗⠏⠀ ⠀⠪⡪⡪⣪⢪⢺⢸⢢⢓⢆⢤⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢊⢞⡾⣿⡯⣏⢮⠷⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠊⠆⡃⠕⢕⢇⢇⢇⢇⢇⢏⢎⢎⢆⢄⠀⢑⣽⣿⢝⠲⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠂⠠⠀⡇⢇⠕⢈⣀⠀⠁⠡⠣⡣⡫⣂⣿⠯⢪⠰⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡦⡙⡂⢀⢤⢣⠣⡈⣾⡃⠠⠄⠀⡄⢱⣌⣶⢏⢊⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢝⡲⣜⡮⡏⢎⢌⢂⠙⠢⠐⢀⢘⢵⣽⣿⡿⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⣺⡺⡕⡕⡱⡑⡆⡕⡅⡕⡜⡼⢽⡻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣳⣫⣾⣵⣗⡵⡱⡡⢣⢑⢕⢜⢕⡝⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⡽⡑⢌⠪⡢⡣⣣⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡟⡾⣿⢿⢿⢵⣽⣾⣼⣘⢸⢸⣞⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠇⠡⠩⡫⢿⣝⡻⡮⣒⢽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀

new familycore spacecore doors dot art text art ascii art

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family familycore adaptability

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

new familycore abortioncore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family sleepicore somniloquist

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."

new familycore lunacore brain chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family stimcore stimming

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."

new familycore emotionalcore brain chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry, Dad," he says
softly, his voice thick with
disappointment. "I didn't
know." Plankton's antennae
droop, guilt swamping him.
"It's okay," he mumbles,
his voice tight. "Just...
please, respect my space!"

The room is quiet 
except for the distant
hum of the city outside.
Karen sets up his bag 
on the bedside table, 
her movements
calm and precise.

Plankton takes the 
squishy ball, his 
fingers digging into 
the soft material. 
He starts to bounce 
it slightly, the 
rhythmic motion
helping to ease 
his nerves.

Karen gives him 
a knowing look, 
sitting next to him
on the bed. "Let's
tell Chip what 
you're feeling?" 
she suggests. 
"It'll help him 
underst--"

"I don't know 
how!" Plankton 
interrupts, his 
frustration clear. 
He throws the 
ball onto the 
carpet. "I don't 
know how.."

Karen's expression 
softens. "Plankton, 
you just need to tell 
him how you feel." She 
takes his hand in hers.
"He loves you. He just 
wants to help."

But Plankton's on the 
verge of a meltdown. 
Chip's eyes widen as 
his father starts to 
rock back and forth, 
his hands flapping 
slightly. He's never seen 
his dad like this before, 
and it scares him.

"Dad, what's happening?"
Chip asks, his voice 
quivering. Karen steps 
in, placing a hand on
Chip's shoulder.

"Remember, Chip; your
dad's stims are personal,"
Karen says gently. "They're
not for us to take or use
without his permission.
Just because we know
about them, doesn't mean
we should invade his space."
She looks at Plankton, her 
eyes full of empathy. "It's
alright Plankton, you can
keep doing what you need
to do," she adds.

Chip nods. "I'm sorry,
Dad," he whispers. "I 
didn't know."

Plankton keeps
rocking. "So much...
stuff. Too much...
stuff." He murmurs.

Chip nods. "It's
okay, Dad. You 
can do your st-"

"Don't!" Plankton's 
voice cracks, his
stims increasing.
"It's mine," he snaps.
"Just for me!" His
body rocks faster, his 
hands flapping more 
in agitation.

"It's okay, Chip," Karen
says softly, her voice
steady. "Let him have
his space."

Chip nods, his eyes 
still on his father.
He can see the 
tension in Plankton's 
body, the way his 
hands move.
He's never seen 
his dad so lost in
his own world. 
He sits down on
the bed. He wants to 
help, but he doesn't 
know how.

Karen wraps her 
arms around Chip, 
pulling him into a 
hug. "It's okay,"
she whispers. "Dad's 
just overwhelmed.
But those stims are 
for him. They're his 
way of trying to make 
sense of the world."

Chip nods. "Can I
get a fidget sensory
toy from hi-"

"NO!" Plankton's 
voice cracks like a 
whip, his eye 
snapping to Chip.
"It's not for you to 
touch!" Chip's eyes
drift to Karen.

"It's okay, Chip,"
she soothes, her 
voice a gentle 
whisper. "These 
are Dad's 
personal tools
for managing his 
moments." She 
gestures to the 
sensory bag 
on the adjacent
nightstand. "We 
respect that."

Chip nods slowly,
his gaze still 
on his dad's 
twitching antennae. 
He feels a pang 
of sadness, a 
desire to fix what
he can't understand. 
"I just want to 
he--"

"NO!" Plankton 
suddenly shouts, 
his antennae 
straightening. "You
don't know! You can't 
know!" His voice
shakes with rage, 
his body trembling. 
"You can't just...
take my things and 
use them like they're 
yours!" His hands
slam the bed as
Karen quickly moved
between them, her 
hands up.

"Plankton," she says 
firmly, her voice 
calm. "You're 
upset. It's okay. 
We're here for you."
But Plankton's 
seething now, his
breaths quickening.

new adaptable family hotelcore mmph

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."

new familycore emotionalcore brain chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family meltdowncore spacecore

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."

new familycore emotionalcore brain chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 8

Chip's eyes 
well up, his 
body shaking.
He doesn't 
understand why
his dad is so 
angry with him. 
He thought he
was just trying
to help.

"Dad, please," 
he whispers, his 
voice thick with 
unshed tears.
"I just wan–"

"NO!" Plankton 
shouts, pushing 
his son away.
Plankton's sobs 
turn to heavy 
breaths. Karen 
watches them both, 
her heart breaking.

Chip's eyes 
brim with tears 
as he retreats, 
his voice barely 
a whisper. "But Dad..."

Plankton turns to 
his side, his 
back facing Chip, 
his antennae 
thrashing violently. 
"I'M TRYING!" He 
screams into the 
silent room. Chip
then makes the
mistake of putting
his hand on his
dad's shoulder.
"Don't touch me!"
Plankton shrieks,
his body jolting.

The room seems to
shrink around
them, the tension 
pressing down 
like a heavy
wet blanket. 
Chip feels a 
wave of fear wash 
over him. He's
seen his dad upset
before, but 
never like this.

He moves his 
hand away, his 
throat tight. "I'm
so sor—"

"I SAID, DON'T 
TOUCH ME!" 
Plankton's scream 
reverberates through 
the room, echoing 
off the walls as his
sobbing turns 
to anger, his 
body stiff as 
he glares at Chip.

Chip jumps back, 
his heart racing.
He's never seen 
his dad like this, 
so out of control.
He looks to Karen,
his eyes wide with 
fear. "What's happe—"

"Chip," she says 
quickly, her voice 
sharp with urgency. 
"Give him some 
space. Now." She 
moves closer to 
Plankton, her hand
outstretched but 
not touching, giving
him the option.

Chip nods, his 
face crumpled with 
hurt and confusion.
He retreats to his 
own bed, his 
eyes on the floor.
The room feels like 
it's closing in on 
them, the silence
deafening. Plankton's
sobs turn to 
angry grunts as 
his breaths become
more pronounced.

Karen sits next 
to Plankton, her 
hand hovering near
his, but not 
touching. "It's okay,
babe," she whispers.
"We're here." Plankton's
body tenses further.
"I DON'T NEED 
CHIP'S HELP!" He 
doesn't wanna lash
out, yet Karen knows
he needs to let out
the storm inside. She
can feel the energy
building in Plankton,
his body a coil 
ready to snap.

With a sudden 
explosion of rage, 
Plankton yells, 
"I'M THE ONE 
WITH A PROBLEM‽"
Plankton's limbs
flail erratically, 
his voice hoarse 
from screaming. 
Karen's heart 
aches for him, 
for the pain he's 
in, the pain he 
can't express in 
any other way.
She needs to
redirect his energy.

"Plankton," she says
firmly, her hand 
still hovering 
just out of 
reach. "Take a 
deep breath." 
But Plankton's 
too far gone.

He starts to kick 
the bed, the 
mattress shaking 
as his body 
thrashes. Karen
flinches, but 
doesn't move as
the tantrum 
intensifies, his 
tiny fists 
slamming into 
the mattress.

Karen's eyes 
are wide, her 
body tense, but 
she remains calm, 
knowing that 
this is part 
of his coping 
mechanism.

He kicks the 
bed harder, 
his fists 
clenching the 
covers. Yet
Karen remains 
steady, her voice 
calm and firm. "Hey,
look at me," she 
instructs, her hand 
still hovering. "Take
a deep breath with me."
He doesn't move, 
his fists clenched 
in the sheets. 
Her voice doesn't
waver. "In and out, 
babe. In and ou-"

Suddenly, Plankton's 
body goes rigid. 
He inhales deeply, 
his antennae 
shaking with the 
effort. His 
eye snaps to hers, 
his breath hitching.

For a moment, 
there's silence. 
Karen holds her 
breath, noticing he's
gonna have one of
his seizures. Then
as Chip comes back
through the curtain
Plankton starts 
to shake as it
finally took over.
Karen tucks Plankton
in loosely.

"Dad?" Chip asks, 
his voice shaking.
Karen's eyes dart 
to him, filled with
the knowledge that
he's gonna be fine.
"It's ok Chip," she 
whispers. "Just watch
from here." 

Plankton's body 
shakes harder, 
his breaths coming 
in short bursts. 
He's lost in a 
world of sensory
overload, his 
body reacting to 
the chaos around 
him. Karen strokes 
his arm gently.
"It's ok, Plankton,"
she whispers. "We
are right here."

The seizure 
lasts for a few
moments, and as 
it now subsides, 
Plankton's body 
goes limp with
exhaustion. Karen
knew his postictal
phase can bring on
some loopiness.

Plankton's antennae
twitch erratically,
his eye unfocused.
He giggles, a sound
so unlike his usual
self. "Karen? Oh!
You're so...shiny."
Karen can't help but
smile at her husband's
post-seizure loopy state.
"Yes, I'm right here,"
she says.

Chip's eyes are 
wide with worry,
his voice a tremble.
"Is he okay?"

Karen nods, her 
smile tinged with 
sadness. "He's 
in his post-
seizure phase. It's
normal for him to 
be like this."

Plankton giggles again,
his voice slurred as he
tries to sit up, his 
body wobbly. "I'm 
fine, I'm fine," he 
mutters. He then 
reaches for Karen,
his hand missing
by a mile.

Chip watches, his 
heart racing. He's 
seen his dad act weird 
before, but never 
like this..

"It's part of his 
autism, Chip," Karen 
explains gently, her 
hands steady. "After a 
big meltdown or usually a 
seizure, he can get 
disoriented." Plankton's
head lolls to the 
side, his antennae
twitching erratically.

"You're...so...far
away..." He giggles,
his body swaying 
slightly with the 
effort of speech.

Karen takes his
hand, her eyes 
understanding.
"You're fine."

Plankton's hand
shakes in hers, his
eye half-closed. 
"No, no, I wanna...
play." He giggles 
again, his body 
lurching forward.

Karen sighs.
"I wanna go on 
an adventure,"
he slurs, his 
body listing to 
one side.
Karen tightens her 
grip on his hand, 
keeping him grounded.
"We can go on 
an adventure later,
babe," she promises. 
"For now, let's just 
get some sleep. It's
bedtime for all of us!"

Plankton's giggles 
turn into a 
snore, his body
going limp. 
Karen gently 
guides him to lie 
down, his breathing
evening out. 
She covers him 
with the blanket, 
his antennae 
twitching slightly.

new adaptable family sensoryoverloadcore overloadcore

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."



 

new familycore autism and all schoolcancelationcore chipcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 9

Chip watches, 
his eyes red 
from crying. 
"Is he okay?" He 
asks again, his 
voice small.
Karen nods, 
wiping her own 
tears away. 
"He'll be okay," 
she whispers. 
"We just need to 
rest now."

Chip crawls into 
his own bed, 
his thoughts racing. 
He doesn't know 
what to make of 
his dad's outburst 
or the seizure. 
He feels scared and 
alone. Karen 
notices and comes 
to sit beside him.

"Chip," she says 
gently. "Dad's okay.
This can happen.
It's just how his 
brain works. It gets 
overwhelmed. Now
when he's like that, 
it's important we 
let him be, okay?"
Chip nods, his 
throat tight. "But 
I di-"

"You didn't do 
anything wrong,"
Karen cuts him off. 
"You just didn't 
understand. And 
that's okay." She 
smiles at him, her 
eyes warm. "He
just gets frustrated
when his stims are 
interrupted. It's 
his way of dealing 
with the world."
Chip nods, watching
his mom as she 
carefully organizes 
Plankton's sensory 
items back.

"But why does
he let you when
he doesn't let 
me—"

"Because, Chip,"
Karen says, her voice
still gentle, "I know
how to support
his stims without
causing him more
distress. You'll learn
too, with time." She
picks up the
fidget toy, her eyes
on Plankton's still 
form. "Remember, his
needs are different
than ours. Sometimes,
his brain needs extra
help to make sense
of things, and these
stims are a way of 
doing that."

Chip nods, his 
understanding growing.
He watches as Karen
places the toys 
back into the bag.
"But why'd he yell?"
he asks, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper.

"It's not that he
doesn't love you,"
Karen explains. "It's
just that sometimes,
his brain feels like
it's going a million
miles an hour, and
his body needs to
catch up." She looks
at Plankton's sleeping
form. "When you
touched him, his fidgets
you stopped that for
him. And it was too
much to handle. So
he could only express
his frustration."
Chip's eyes never left
his dad's peaceful
expression. "But he
was so mad..."

"It's not you, Chip.
It's the world," Karen 
sighs. "Sometimes,
it's just too much 
for him. And when
that happens, he needs
his stims." She stands
up, moving to 
Plankton's side 
of the bed. "Let's let
Dad sleep now.
Tomorrow's a big day.."

The next morning, Karen
went in through Plankton's
curtain to wake him. "Hey,
sleepyhead," she whispers,
her hand brushing his 
shoulder gently. "It's time
to get up."

Plankton's antennae 
twitch as he opens
his eye, looking around
disoriented. "Whaa-"
he mumbles.

Karen smiles softly, 
his post-seizure 
loops already 
worn off. "Good
morning," she says, 
helping him sit up.
"It's time for 
the science fair.
Let's wake Chip
up, ok?"

Plankton nods 
slowly. He can
remember the
stimming and
his outburst at
Chip. He sighed.
"I'm sorry," he
mutters, his voice
still thick with
sleep. "I didn't
mean to..."

"You don't have to
apologize," Karen says, 
interrupting him. "You
were just trying to 
cope." She helps him 
to his feet, her 
hands steady. "We'll
talk to Chip about
it after I wake him."

Plankton nods, his
eye still half-closed.
He follows Karen to 
Chip's bed, feeling
guilt heavy in his 
heart. His son's 
sleeping form is
peaceful.

"Chip," Karen says 
gently, shaking him 
awake. "It's time
for the science
fair, buddy!"
Chip blinks, the
memory of last
night's events
flooding back. He
looks at Plankton, 
his heart aching 
with guilt and fear.

Plankton sees the
look on Chip's face
and sighs, sitting
down on the bed 
beside him. "Hello."
Chip's voice is 
barely above a 
whisper. "Hi, Dad."

Karen watches them
both, knowing that
now is the time 
for Plankton to 
try and explain. But
his words are stuck,
his mouth dry. He 
doesn't know how
to put into words
his regret for last
night's outburst.

"Chip," Plankton 
begins awkwardly. 
"I...I uh, I-I-I-I…"
He stammers, 
his antennae 
twitching with 
the effort of 
finding the words. 
Karen watches with 
concern, knowing 
his difficulty with 
expressing emotions, 
especially in moments 
like these. "It's okay," 
she murmurs, her hand 
on his back.

Chip looks at 
his dad, his 
eyes questioning. 
He's seen Plankton 
stim before, but 
his stuttering is 
new, his body 
seemingly frozen 
with anxiety.

Plankton's antennae 
wave nervously. 
"I...I'm I-I'm, I-I-I-I…"

He tries to say
sorry, but the 
word is stuck, 
his brain racing. 
Karen's hand 
squeezes his shoulder,
silent support. 
"It's okay," she 
whispers. "Take your 
time."

Plankton's antennae
twitch faster, his 
face contorted with
the effort to 
articulate his 
thoughts. "I...I..." 
his voice cracks. 
He looks at Chip, 
his son's gaze 
filled with 
concern and fear.

The silence stretches
between them, a 
tense wire threatening
to snap. Plankton 
knows he must find 
the words, must explain
his behavior, but
his mouth refuses to 
cooperate. His mind
whirls with the 
desire to apologize, 
but the words are 
elusive.

Chip's gaze is 
steady, his 
fear replaced with 
sympathy as he 
watches his dad 
struggle. He knows 
his dad didn't mean 
to scare him last 
night. He knows 
his dad's brain works
differently, and he 
wants to understand.

"Chip, I'm so...so..."
The words won't come
out. He's trapped in
his own head, a 
prisoner to his 
autism's quirks.

Karen's hand 
squeezes tighter, 
urging him on. "It's
okay, Plankton," she
says softly. "Just tell
him what yo--"

But Plankton's 
stuttering stops 
abruptly, his 
single eye wide
with panic. "I-I-I-I-I-"
He can't form the 
word, his mouth
opening and closing.

Karen's heart
aches for him, 
seeing his 
desperation to
connect with Chip.
"It's okay," she 
soothes. "We can 
just talk about what 
happened."

Plankton nods, 
his antennae 
slowing down.
"I d-didn’t m-mean to 
scare y-you," he 
finally manages to 
say, his voice 
still shaky. "My 
brain gets...messy."

Chip looks at his 
dad, his eyes 
filled with a 
mix of emotions.
"It's okay," he 
whispers, his voice 
small but sure. "I know
you didn't mea-"

"No, it's not okay!"
Plankton's voice 
cracks. "I need to
apologize! I need to 
make it right!" His
body starts to 
tremble. Karen's eyes 
fill with compassion.
"Plankton," she says 
softly. "You don't have
to force it. Ju—"

But Plankton's 
desperation 
overwhelms him. "I-I-I...
I hurt you," he 
stammers, looking 
at Chip, his antennae 
drooping. "I didn't 
mean to, I didn't 
mean to!"

Chip's eyes 
fill with tears 
as he reaches 
for his dad's 
hand. "Dad, I--"

But Plankton 
flinches away. "No," 
he says, his voice 
harsh in agitation.

Chip's hand 
drops back to 
his lap with
confusion.

Plankton's face 
twists in some
thing akin to
disgust as he 
quickly pulls away
from Chip's touch,
his hands waving 
in a frenzied 
manner. Chip's 
eyes widen
with confusion.
Karen steps in.

"Remember, Chip," 
she says softly. "Your 
dad's brain is 
sensitive to certain 
touches. It's not 
you, it's just his 
autism." She gives 
his hand a gentle 
squeeze. "We've 
got to respect 
his boundaries."

Chip nods, 
his eyes never 
leaving Plankton's 
face. "I-I'm sorry," 
he stammers. "I'll 
try to do better."

Plankton's hands do
not stop their frantic 
movement. "I-I know 
my brain...it just
doesn't like it."
He rocks slightly 
back and forth. "No
no, not the touch.
The surprise," he 
whispers. "Must not 
touch, must not 
touch," he repeats
to himself in a stim.
"Gla-gla-glitch,"
he murmurs. His 
hands flap at his 
sides as Karen 
watches him
without interrupting
his self-soothing.

new adaptable family sorrowcore brained

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 10

Chip feels a 
lump in his 
throat, his heart 
heavy. He wants 
to hug his dad,
to make it all
better, but he 
remembers his mom's
words and stays put.
He looks at Plankton, 
his mind racing 
to understand.

Karen's eyes are 
full of emotion 
as she watches 
them both. "Chip," 
she says, her voice 
steady. "You don't 
have to apologize. 
You didn't do anything
wrong. Your dad's 
brain is just different.
And sometimes, it needs
more time to process
things, okay?"

Chip nods, 
his gaze never
leaving Plankton. 
"But I want to 
make it right," 
he whispers.
Plankton's stims
slow down a bit. 
"I know," he says, 
his voice quieter. 
"And I'm s-sorry 
I did not tell 
you last night."

Chip sniffles. "It's ok,
Dad. I just...I just
wanted to help."

Plankton's antennae
still, his face 
softening slightly.
He looks at Chip,
his single eye 
full of regret. "I know,"
he says, his voice 
barely a whisper.
"Now let's do this
science fair of yours.."
Karen nods, 
seeing his effort
to move on. "Okay, 
let's get going!"

The three of them 
go to the reserved
theater for Chip's
event. Karen and
Plankton find seats
in the audience to
watch the competition.
The stage buzzes with 
excitement as Chip
sets up his project by
the other contestants.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, absorbing 
the cacophony of 
sounds and smells. 
The lights are 
too bright, the 
chatter too loud, 
but he tries to 
keep it together. 
He's proud of Chip.
Though the sensory 
bombardment was 
too much for Plankton's
system to handle, 
for his son, he'd try.

He watches Chip 
nervously fidget 
with his project, 
his heart racing. 
This is his son's 
moment, and he 
doesn't want to 
ruin it with another
outburst or meltdown. 
He grips the 
armrests of his 
chair, his body tense.

The announcer's 
megaphone pierces 
the air, making 
his antennae spike 
with discomfort. The 
sharp, high-pitched
noise feels like a 
knife to his sensitive 
ears. He flinches, 
his eye squeezing 
shut involuntarily as 
his hands fly to 
his head, trying 
to muffle the sound.

Karen notices 
his distress, her 
face etched with 
concern. She 
reaches for him, but 
thinks better of it.
"Plankton," she 
says, her voice 
gentle but firm. 
"The megaphone 
will be here 
all day. We need 
to find a way to 
make i---"

He cuts her off. 
"I know," he snaps. 
"But I can't just ignore 
it!" His antennae 
spike again as 
another announcement 
blares through the 
speakers. He winces, 
his body visibly 
shaking with the 
overstimulation.

Karen nods, 
understanding. 
"Let's go outside 
for a bit," she 
suggests, her voice 
soothing. "Maybe 
some fresh air will 
he--"

But before she can
finish, Plankton 
shakes his head 
frantically. "No," he 
whispers, his eye
squeezed shut. "I-I 
can't leave Chip." His 
body is rigid with 
the effort of 
containing his
sensitive auditory 
processing system. He 
flinches, his antennae 
retracting, his skin 
crawling. "Chip's up soon," 
he stammers. "Can't leave 
now." His voice 
cracks with 
anxiety, his body 
trembling with the 
effort of staying 
seated. Karen nods, 
understanding the 
importance of this 
moment for both of 
them. 

The lights dim, 
and the theater 
silences as the 
judges take their 
places. Plankton's 
heart races as he 
watches Chip approach 
the podium, his 
hands fidgeting 
nervously with 
his project. The 
megaphone booms 
once more, 
announcing the 
beginning of the 
presentations.

The first contestant
steps up, their 
project a whirl of 
colors and 
sounds that 
make Plankton's antennae 
spike. He grits 
his teeth, trying 
to focus on his 
breathing, but the 
clapping that follows 
is like nails on a 
chalkboard to his 
sensitive hearing. He 
wishes he could 
cover his ears, but 
his pride in Chip 
keeps him in his 
seat, his hands 
white-knuckled on the 
armrests.

As the applause 
continues, Plankton's 
body starts to 
shake, his antennae 
twitching erratically. 
He feels the pressure 
building in his 
chest, the need 
to escape this 
tormenting cacophony. 
The clapping seems 
to go on forever, 
each sound a 
sting to his 
overwhelmed mind.

Karen notices his 
distress, her 
heart aching. She 
reaches for his hand, 
but he flinches away, 
his eye wide as Chip
demonstrates his 
project. The applause
erupts again, a round of
cheers. Plankton 
squeezes his eye
shut, his antennae 
flattened against 
his head. He 
wants to scream, to 
run, but he's 
frozen, his eye
squeezed shut, his 
breaths coming in 
quick, shallow 
gasps. But then it
proves to be too
much for his body.
Karen's hand 
instinctively goes 
to his shoulder. 
"Plankton?" She asks, 
concern etched into 
her voice.

He doesn't 
answer, his body 
now rigid with 
pain. He feels like 
his insides are 
being torn apart. 
The noise, the 
crowd, it's all 
too much. He's 
going to be sick. 
He can feel it, 
the bile rising 
in his throat. 
The lights are 
spinning, and the 
world is closing in.

Karen's grip 
on his shoulder 
tightens. "What's 
wrong?" She asks, 
alarmed.
Plankton's eye 
flips open, and he 
swallows hard. 
"I-I don't...I ca--"

His words cut off as 
his stomach revolts, 
his body lurching 
forward as he vomits, 
sounds and crowds 
of the science fair 
overwhelming him.

Karen jumps to 
action, guiding 
Plankton out 
quickly, her arm 
around his 
wobbling frame. 
The coolness of the 
hallway is a 
relief, but Plankton 
can't stop shaking, 
his antennae flat 
against his head.

"I-I'm sorry," he 
whispers, his voice 
shaking as much 
as his body. "I-I 
couldn't take it."
Karen nods. "It's 
okay," she says, her 
tone calm and 
steady. "Let's get 
you cleaned up." She 
knows his sensory 
overload can lead to 
such outbursts, and 
it breaks her heart to 
see him in such 
distress,  his 
unshed tears.

They make their 
way to a water 
fountain, running 
cool water over his 
hands as he rinses 
his mouth. "Sorry, 
Karen," he says, 
his voice barely 
above a whisper.
"I didn't mean to 
do this." He looks 
at her, his single eye
filled with guilt. "I
wanted to be there 
for Chip."

Karen takes his 
hand. "You can't 
control how your 
brain reacts to 
things, and that's 
okay."

new adaptable family braincore control

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 11

They find an
empty corner, away
from the chaos.
Plankton leans 
against the wall, 
his breathing still 
rapid. "I-I just... 
wanted to be 
normal," he says, 
his voice trembling. 
"But I can't even 
sit through this."
Karen squeezes 
his hand. "You are 
normal, Plankton. 
Your normal." She
wipes his forehead
with her hand, her 
movements gentle.

"But Chip..."
Plankton's voice
trails off, his 
thoughts racing.
"He'll understand,"
Karen reassures him.
"He loves you, just
the way you are."

They sit in 
silence in the 
corner, the 
buzz of the fair 
muffled by the 
closed doors.
Plankton nods, 
his shoulders 
slumping with 
fatigue. "Let's just 
wait here," Karen 
suggested, her 
voice gentle. "We'll 
hear when the 
winner is announced."

He nods. He 
feels drained, his 
body heavy. He 
closes his eye, 
his breathing 
evening out as 
he leans against 
Karen's shoulder. 
The coolness of 
the wall is a 
comfort, 
his antennae 
finally still. 
He's exhausted, 
too tired to keep
his eye open.
Plankton's breathing
deepens, his 
body finally 
relinquishing to 
sleep's embrace.

Karen feels the 
weight of his 
head shift and 
knows he's asleep,
his mouth slightly 
open, a soft snore 
escaping, his 
hands resting 
quietly on his 
legs. Her eyes trace 
his peaceful 
features, the 
slight furrow 
on his brow 
smoothed out.

The science fair 
continues beyond 
the doors, but in 
this quiet corner, 
Plankton is safe. 
Karen pulls out 
her phone, 
texting Chip where
they are whenever
the winner has been
announced. Plankton's 
snores are rhythmic, a 
testament to his 
exhaustion. Chip's text 
pings through: "I won."

Karen's eyes light 
up with pride, 
but she keeps her 
voice low. "Chip 
won," she whispers, 
nudging Plankton 
gently. His snores 
don't even hitch, 
his slumber deep,
still slack against 
Karen's side. She 
smiles, her eyes 
misting over.

Chip comes out
with his first-place
ribbon and trophy.
"Hey," Chip says. 
"Uh, Dad; you okay?"
Plankton's antennae 
twitch at the sound, 
but he doesn't wake
as Chip goes to Karen's
side.

"He's just tired,
sweetheart," Karen 
explains, her voice 
quiet. "The fair
was a bit much 
for him." Chip nods. 
He looks at 
his dad, his
heart swelling 
with love and 
concern. "Can we 
wake him up?" He
asks, holding 
his trophy 
tightly.

Karen shakes her
head. "Let him 
sleep," she says. 
"We'll celebrate
when he wakes up.
Right now, he 
needs his rest."
Chip nods again, 
his eyes never 
leaving his dad's 
sleeping face. 
He's never seen 
his dad like this, 
so vulnerable. 

They sit in silence, 
the only sound 
being Plankton's 
steady snores. Chip 
holds his trophy 
carefully, the 
weight of the 
moment heavy in 
his hands. He's 
proud of himself, 
but there's a 
hole where his 
dad's presence 
should be.

Karen's hand 
squeezes Chip's 
shoulder. "He'll 
be so proud 
when he wakes up," 
she whispers. 
Chip nods, his 
throat tight with
emotions. "I know,"
he murmurs. "Do
we go back to the
hotel, or stay here
in the theater lobby?
You're sitting on the
ground, so.."

Karen looks
around, noticing
the concerned 
glances from 
passersby. "Let's
find a quieter 
spot," she says,
gesturing to 
a bench.

They move to 
the bench, 
Chip setting his 
trophy down 
carefully beside 
them. Karen slides 
her arms under 
Plankton's legs 
and shoulders, 
lifting him with a 
surprising ease. His 
body is limp, 
his antennae 
still, his 
snores a soft 
comfort in the 
silence.

The walk to 
the bench is 
slow, Karen's steps 
careful not to 
jostle him 
awake. Plankton's 
head lolls back, 
his eye still 
closed, as if 
the world can't 
reach him in 
his sleep. Chip 
walks alongside, 
his heart 
thumping with 
worry and love.

They lay him 
gently on the 
bench, Karen 
adjusting his 
body so he's 
comfortable. His 
snores deepen, 
his chest rising 
and falling 
evenly. Chip 
sits beside him, 
his eyes on 
his dad, his mind 
racing. "What happens 
now?" Chip whispers 
to his mom. "Now, we 
wait," Karen says, 
sitting down 
next to him, 
her arm around 
his shoulder. "And 
we talk." She 
squeezes him 
gently. "Do you 
have any 
questions about 
your dad's 
autism?"

Chip nods. "Why 
does it make 
him so tired?" He 
asks, his voice 
small. "Well," 
Karen starts, "his 
brain works differently 
than ours. It's like 
his game console 
is always on the 
highest setting, and 
it takes a lot 
more energy to 
process everything."

"So when 
he's overwhelmed, 
his battery runs 
out faster?" Chip 
asks, his gaze 
still on his 
snoring father.
Karen nods. "Exactly. 
And when that 
happens, he needs 
some quiet time 
to recharge, like 
a phone plugged in
its charger."

The bench 
creaks gently 
as Karen shifts 
her weight. "You 
can ask me any
thing you want." 

new adaptable family faircore sleepicore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 12

Chip looks at 
his mom, his 
thoughts racing. 
"How'd Dad get 
this way?" He 
whispers, his voice 
barely above the 
soft snores of 
his father. Karen 
sighs, her eyes 
looking over at her
husband's sleeping 
form.

"It was during 
his birth," she 
begins, her voice 
soft. "It was a 
difficult delivery.
Ma, his mother, had
complications, and 
his brain was...affected."
Chip's eyes widen. 
"What do you mean?"

"Well," Karen 
explains, "his 
brain developed 
a bit differently, 
because of the 
troubles during 
his birth." She 
takes a deep 
breath, her eyes 
misting over. 
"Before he was
born, everything 
was fine. But 
his delivery was 
what they call a 
traumatic one. It 
caused some 
damage to the 
part of his brain 
that controls how 
he experiences 
the world."

Chip nods, his 
thoughts racing. 
He's heard of 
autism before, but 
never knew his 
dad's was due 
to an injury. "So 
his brain got 
hurt?" He asks, 
his voice small.

"In a way," 
Karen says, 
wiping a tear 
away with her 
free hand. "It's 
not exactly like
brain damage, as 
you might think of it.
It's more like... his
brain's wiring 
got a bit scrambled
right at the start. 
So, he feels, sees, 
hears, and thinks 
about things in a way 
that's unique to him."

Chip nods, his 
thoughts swirling. 
He looks back at 
his dad. "I don't want
him to be in pain,"
Chip says, his voice
breaking. As if on cue, 
Plankton's snores 
begin to quiet, 
his chest rising 
and falling more 
slowly. Chip holds 
his breath, watching
his dad's face 
for any signs 
of waking.

Karen notices 
the shift first, 
her gaze 
sharpening. "He's 
waking up," she 
whispers to Chip, 
squeezing his 
hand gently.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, his snores 
growing softer, 
until they stop 
altogether. His 
eye opens slowly, 
blinking against 
the harsh light. He 
looks around, 
confused, before 
his gaze falls on 
his family. Karen 
smiles gently, 
relief flooding 
her features. "Hey! 
We're on a bench," she 
says, stroking his 
forehead. "You had 
a bit of an overwhelm 
and fell aslee—"

He sits up with 
a start, his 
body stiff. "The 
science fair!" He 
exclaims. "Did I 
miss Chip's turn?"

Karen smiles, 
taking his hand. "No,
you didn't miss it. 
Chip's already done
his presentation. 
And guess what?" She 
pauses, her eyes 
twinkling as she
turns to Chip.

Chip's face lights 
up with excitement. 
"I won," he says, 
his voice filled 
with pride. Plankton's 
eye goes wide, his 
body straightening 
as the words 
register. "You did?"
He asks, his voice 
hoarse from sleep 
and the earlier 
overstimulation.
Karen nods. "Yes, 
he did," she says, her 
smile warm. Plankton 
turns to Chip.

"Congratulations," 
he murmurs, his 
eye swiveling to 
his son's trophy.

"Dad, I got 
first place," Chip 
says, his voice 
swelling with pride. 
He holds up his 
ribbon, the gold 
glinting in the 
harsh light of the 
lobby. Plankton 
manages a smile, 
his antennae 
quivering slightly. 
"You did," he 
whispers. 

Karen looks 
between them, 
her heart swelling. 
This moment, 
despite the 
difficulties, was 
exactly what they 
needed. "We're all
so proud of you, 
Chip," she says, 
her voice thick 
with emotion. 
"Let's go back 
to the hotel and 
celebrate," she says, 
glancing at 
Plankton, who 
nods. Yet Chip
looks confused,
expecting more
excitement from
his dad. He looks
at Plankton, who
doesn't seem to
have any emotion
at all. 

"Dad, aren't you 
glad I won?" Chip 
asks. Plankton
however doesn't
even notice Chip's 
disappointment.

Plankton nods. "Of 
course," he says, 
his voice distant. "It's 
amazing, son." But 
his words don't 
match his tone.

Chip's smile falters 
slightly. "But do you 
feel it?" He asks, 
his voice small. 
Plankton looks at 
his son, his antennae 
twitching. "What?"
He asks, genuinely 
confused. "Dad, I
WON. I won the fair.
Don't you feel excited?"

Plankton nods. 
"I'm happy for 
you, Chip." He 
tries to smile, but 
it doesn't quite 
reach his eye.

Chip's shoulders 
slump. He doesn't 
know Plankton 
can't do feelings 
the same way he 
expresses them.

"Come on, Dad," 
Chip says, his 
voice a mix of 
frustration and 
sorrow. "Can't you 
just be happy with 
me?" Plankton
blinks. "Yea?"

But Chip takes it
personally. Yet
Plankton can't see
disappointment 
and confusion 
in his son's eyes.
He's trying, really
trying, but his 
autistic brain 
can't process any
thing wrong.

He tries to 
mirror Chip's smile,
his antennae 
waving slightly. 
But Chip can't 
see it, not 
really. He just 
wants his dad 
to be as 
excited as he is, 
to scream and 
cheer and jump 
around like 
everyone else's 
dad would.

Chip's eyes 
brim with tears. 
"You don't even 
know how much this 
meant to me," he 
mutters, his voice 
choking with 
emotion. "And all 
you do is sit there 
like nothing's 
happened."

Plankton registers 
the silence. "Uh, is 
something w---"

"You don't get it," 
Chip says, his voice 
cracking. "You never 
get it!" The accusation 
hangs in the air, 
sharp as a slap. Plankton 
reels, his antennae 
drooping. "I'm sorry,"
he whispers. "I'm 
trying." But it's not 
enough. Chip's 
frustration boils 
over.

He jumps to his 
feet, the ribbon 
waving in the 
air like a sad 
banner of victory. 
"You're always 
trying," Chip yells. 
"But you never 
understand!" His voice 
echoes in the empty 
lobby, and Plankton 
wishes the floor 
would swallow him 
whole. Karen's 
expression tightens, 
but she stays 
silent, giving 
them their space.

Plankton tries to 
stand, but his legs 
shake, his body 
still weak from 
overstimulation. "Chip,
please," he stammers, 
his voice trembling. 
"I'm here, I'm 
proud of you, I'm---"

But Chip isn't 
listening. His anger 
has taken over, 
his young mind 
unable to comprehend 
his dad's condition. 
"You're being 
selfish," Chip 
accuses, his eyes 
brimming with 
tears. "You can't 
even pretend to 
be happy for me!"
Plankton's antennae 
droop further.

Chip's chest 
heaves with 
sobs, his fists 
clenched at his 
sides. "You always 
make everything 
about you," he 
accuses, his voice 
high with anger. "You 
can't even pretend 
to be happy for 
me! You're just re---"

Plankton's 
body goes rigid, 
his antennae 
springing straight. 
His eye widens
in shock. The 
slur cut deep, 
deeper than 
anything. He's 
heard it whispered 
behind his back, 
seen it scribbled 
on bathroom walls, 
but never from 
his own son.

new adaptable family emotionalcore mood

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 13

"You're a 
ret-" Chip 
screams.

The words hang 
heavy in the 
air, each one a 
knife to Plankton's 
heart. He's 
spent his whole 
life trying to 
prove he's not, 
and in one 
moment, his 
son has 
reduced him to 
a cruel epithet.
He feels the 
sting of tears 
in his eye, but 
his body won't 
let them fall. 
He's frozen, 
his mind racing. 
What did he do
wrong? How could 
his own flesh 
and blood say 
something so 
hurtful?

Karen jumps to 
her feet, her 
face a mask of 
fury. "Chip," she 
says, her voice 
dangerously calm. 
"That's enough."

Chip turns to 
his mom, 
his eyes wide and 
wet. "But he just 
doesn't get it," 
he wails.

Karen takes a 
deep breath, 
her eyes on her 
son, her voice 
steady. "Chip, 
Dad is not 
that word. He's 
autistic, and that 
means he 
processes things 
differently. He's 
always trying to 
understand you, 
just like you're 
trying to understand 
him."

Chip's anger 
subsides, now
replaced by 
guilt and 
confusion. He 
looks at 
Plankton, who's 
still frozen on the 
bench. "But I just 
wanted him to 
be happy for me," 
Chip says, his voice 
small. Karen 
kneels beside 
him, taking his 
hand. "And he is," 
she says firmly. "You 
just have to learn 
how to read his 
emotions differently."

Chip frowns. "What
do you mean?" He
asks her.

Karen takes a 
deep breath, her
heart aching for 
both her son and
her husband. "Your 
dad shows his love 
and pride in 
his own way, Chip. 
Sometimes, it's not 
the same as everyone 
else's." She looks 
at Plankton, who's 
still sitting on the 
bench, his antennae
drooped low. "But 
that doesn't mean
it's not there," she 
adds softly. "His
autism just makes 
it harder for him to 
show it like other
people do."

Chip looks at 
Plankton, his 
chest tightening 
with regret. "I'm 
sorry," he says, 
his voice barely 
a whisper. Plankton
doesn't move, but 
his antennae twitch 
slightly. "Dad, I'm 
sorry!" Chip repeats, 
his voice stronger.

Plankton blinks, 
his eye swiveling 
towards Chip. "I
don't get it," he said, 
his voice flat. "Chip
what makes you think
I wasn't pro-"

But Chip doesn't 
let him finish. 
"You never cheer," 
he says, his voice 
breaking. "You 
never clap, you 
never jump around. 
You're always so 
still and quiet. It's 
like you don't even 
care. You say you're 
proud, but you don't 
show i---"

Karen cuts him 
off with a gentle 
squeeze of his 
hand. "That's not 
true, Chip," she 
says, her voice 
calm. "Your dad 
shows his feelings 
in his own way. It's 
just different from 
what we're used 
to." She turns to 
Plankton, her 
expression 
softening. "Plankton, 
can you tell Chip how
you felt when you 
heard he won?"

But Plankton's in
his own world now.
"Chip won, Chip
won, Chip won,"
he repeats, his eye 
unfocused. "I'm 
proud but, you
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. I'm proud, I'm
proud, Chip won. I'm 
proud. But you
don't show it, I'm 
sorry," he says 
to the empty 
air. "Chip won."

His voice is 
monotone, his 
body rocking 
slightly, his 
stim. "Chip, I'm 
proud, Chip won. But 
you don't show it. I'm 
sorry. I'm proud, I'm 
proud, I'm proud," 
he murmurs.
The words repeat 
like a broken 
record, each one 
more painful 
than the last. Karen
sighs, her heart 
breaking for her 
husband, and also
her son.

Chip stares 
at him. Plankton's 
stim doesn't stop,
tears in his eye.
"I'm proud, Chip 
won, I'm sorry. I'm 
proud," he continues,
upset at himself.

Karen steps 
forward, her eyes
filling with 
compassion. "Plankton,
you're doing just 
fine," she says, 
trying to cut 
through the 
repetitive phrase. 
"We know you're 
proud. It's okay."

But Plankton's 
stim doesn't stop. 
"I'm proud. But you 
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. Chip won."
His voice is 
mechanical, his 
thoughts locked in 
a painful loop. Karen
sits beside him.

"It's okay," she 
soothes. "Chip 
knows you're proud.
You don't have to 
keep saying it."

But the words 
don't stop, the 
stim a shield 
against his son's 
pain. "I'm proud, 
but you don't show 
it, I'm sorry. Chip 
won." His voice 
cracks, his antennae 
quivering with 
each syllable. Karen 
wraps her arm around 
his shoulders, 
pulling him into 
her embrace. "You're 
doing great, Plankton.
We're all proud 
of Chip. We just 
have to remembe---"

But Plankton 
can't stop, the 
phrase playing 
like a broken 
record in his mind. 
"I'm proud, but 
you don't show it, 
I'm sorry," he whispers, 
his antennae drooping. 
He can't look at 
his son, the hurt 
in Chip's eyes 
too much to bear. 
"Chip won." His 
voice is a 
whisper now, his 
body still.

Karen's arms 
tighten around 
his shoulders. "It's 
okay, Plankton," she 
soothes. "You're 
doing your best." 
But he can't hear 
her over the hurt. 
"I'm proud," he 
whispers, his voice 
cracking. "I'm proud."

Chip watches, his 
tears falling freely 
now. "Dad," he says, 
his voice thick with 
sorrow. "I know you're 
proud of me. I know 
you love me!"

But Plankton's 
stim continues, his 
voice a sad refrain. 
"I'm proud, but 
you don't show it, 
I'm sorry. Chip won."

Karen's eyes 
fill with tears. 
"Chip," she says 
softly, "Your dad's 
stim is his way of 
coping with his 
emotions right now. 
He's trying to 
say he's proud, but 
his brain's stuck 
in a loop."

Chip wipes at 
his own tears, 
his heart aching. 
"I didn't mean to 
make him sad," he 
whispers. "I just 
wanted him to be 
happy."

Karen nods, her 
own eyes wet. "I 
know, sweetheart," 
she says, her voice 
soothing. "And yet,
it's hard for people 
with autism to 
show their feelings 
the way we do. And 
right now, your dad's 
feeling a lot of 
things. He's sorry 
he can't be like 
everyone else, but 
he's also really proud 
of you."

new adaptable family meancore attitude

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 14

Plankton's voice 
doesn't waver from 
his sad mantra. 
"I'm proud, but you 
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. Chip won." His 
body rocks slightly, 
his antennae 
quivering. The 
lobby seems to 
spin around him, 
his heart heavy with 
shame and love.

Chip's eyes are 
glued to his 
father. "Dad," he said 
again, his voice 
trembling. "You 
don't have to be 
sorry." But Plankton 
doesn't seem to
hear his son.

Karen's eyes 
are filled with 
sadness, but 
she nods firmly. "Chip, 
your dad loves you. 
He's just... stuck."

The words 
hang in the air, 
Plankton's voice 
still echoing through 
the lobby. "I'm 
proud, but you don't 
show it, I'm sorry. 
Chip won." His 
stim isn't letting 
up, his body 
rocking slightly, 
his antennae 
trembling with 
each repeated phrase.

Chip watches, his 
heart breaking. He 
understands now, the 
complexities of his 
father's mind. He 
can see the love 
behind the words, 
the pain in his 
eye. "Dad," he 
whispers, kneeling 
before him. "I know 
you're pro-"

But Plankton's 
stim doesn't let 
his voice rest. "I'm 
proud, but you 
don't show it, I'm 
sorry. Chip won." His 
body rocks more 
now, his antennae 
shaking with 
each syllable. "But 
you don't show 
it, I'm sorry."

The words become 
a rhythm, a sad 
song of regret 
and pain. Chip's 
heart breaks a 
little more with 
each repetition. 
He doesn't know 
how to reach 
his dad, how to 
tell him that his 
love is enough.

Karen watches, 
her own heart 
breaking for her 
family. She knows 
this isn't easy for 
any of them, but 
she also knows 
they're making 
progress. She 
squeezes Plankton's 
hand, trying to 
transfer some of 
her strength to him.

Chip's eyes never 
leave his dad's 
face. He sees the 
love in Plankton's 
eye, the pain 
behind the words.

"Dad," he says, 
his voice shaky. 
"I know you're 
proud of me."
But Plankton's 
stim doesn't 
acknowledge his 
words. "I'm proud, 
but you don't show 
it, I'm sorry. Chip 
won." His voice is 
a sad refrain, his 
body stuck in a 
painful routine.

Karen's grip on 
his hand tightens, 
and she whispers 
soothingly into his 
ear. "We're all 
so proud of Chip, 
Plankton," she says. 
"You've got to 
believe th-"

But Plankton's 
stim continues, 
his voice a sad 
reminder of his 
inability to connect 
in the way Chip 
craves. "I'm proud, 
but you don't show 
it, I'm sorry. Chip 
won." His antennae 
quiver with each 
word, his body 
still.

Chip's heart 
swells with 
understanding, his 
frustration giving 
way to compassion. 
He reaches out 
his free hand to 
his dad, placing 
it gently on his 
shoulder. "Dad," he 
whispers, "I know 
you're proud. I can 
see it."

But Plankton's 
body goes rigid
at Chip's touch.

The words 
suddenly stop.
The lobby seems
to hold its breath.
Plankton's antennae 
fall limp. His eye 
rolls back, and 
his body goes 
slack. Karen's 
grip on his hand 
tightens instinctively 
as he starts to 
slump over.

With a gasp, 
she catches him, 
his head falling 
heavily onto her 
shoulder. Chip's eyes 
widen with 
fright as they 
manage to 
lay Plankton down
on the bench. "It's 
his autism," she 
explains. "Sometimes
his brain gets 
overwhelmed 
and he can faint. It's ok, 
Chip. This happens 
sometimes." 

Plankton's body 
is limp, his eye 
closed, his
mouth slightly 
agape. Chip's heart 
thunders in his 
chest, his 
hands trembling. 
He's seen his dad 
have meltdowns 
before, but 
this is new. 
Karen's voice is 
calm. "It's okay, 
Chip," she says. 
"This is just 
his brain's way 
of saying it's had 
enough."

Her words 
aren't enough to 
soothe the 
fear in Chip's 
heart. He watches 
his dad, 
desperately 
wishing he could 
understand, could 
fix him, could 
make him okay. 
But he knows he 
can't. Autism 
doesn't work that 
way. It's a part 
of Plankton, a 
part of their 
life, a part 
they have to 
navigate together.

Karen checks 
Plankton's pulse, 
relief flooding 
her when she feels 
his steady 
heartbeat. She 
turns to Chip. 
"He's okay," she 
assures. "Just 
needs some time 
to recover." 
Her voice is 
calm.

But Chip's 
heart won't slow 
down. His eyes 
are wide with 
fear, his breaths 
coming in 
quick gasps. "Dad," 
he whispers, 
his voice 
shaky.

Karen nods, 
wiping a 
stray tear from 
her cheek. "Let's 
take him to the 
hotel," she says, 
gently. "He'll 
be okay. Get
your prizes, and
get to the car."

Chip nods, his 
hands shaking as 
he picks up his 
trophy and ribbon.
He watches as 
his mother lifts 
his father with 
care, her eyes 
filled with fierce
determination. She 
knows Plankton 
better than anyone.

new adaptable family consciouscore chipcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 15

Karen's arms 
wrap around 
Plankton's slender 
form, his head 
lolling back 
against her shoulder. 
Her eyes are 
filled with a mix 
of love and 
exhaustion. The 
weight of her 
husband seems to 
double as she 
carries him out 
of the lobby, 
his antennae brushing 
against her cheek. 
The world outside 
the science fair 
seems to fade 
away as they 
move to their
parked car. Chip 
follows closely, 
his small hand 
clutching his 
trophy, his 
ribbon fluttering 
in the breeze.

The car door 
opens with 
a metallic 
creak, and Karen 
gently lowers 
Plankton into 
his seat. His 
body is limp, 
his eye still 
closed. She 
buckles him in, 
her movements 
precise and 
careful, as if 
handling a fragile 
piece of glass. 
The engine roars 
to life, and 
they pull away 
from the curb, 
leaving the 
science fair and 
its chaos behind.

Chip sits in 
the backseat, 
his eyes never 
leaving his 
father's face as
they arrive at the
hotel's parking
lot.

Karen's breaths 
are deep and 
even as she 
lifts Plankton 
once again, his 
body heavier 
than it was before. 
The cool night 
air brushes against 
his antennae, 
but there's no 
response. "Come 
on, Plankton," 
she whispers, 
as if her voice 
could coax him 
back to reality.

With each step 
towards the hotel, 
his weight seems 
to increase, 
but Karen's 
strength doesn't 
waver. She's 
done this before, 
carried his burden 
when he couldn't 
bare it himself. 
The doors slide 
open with a 
whoosh, the lobby's 
warmth enveloping 
them. The bellhop 
looks up from 
his desk, his 
smile faltering 
at the sight of 
their distress.

"Is everything 
okay?" He asks, 
his voice tentative. 
Karen nods, a 
single tear 
escaping down 
her cheek. "Just 
tired," she lies, 
her voice strained 
from the weight 
of her words. 
They make their 
way to their room.

In the quiet 
of their hotel 
chamber, Karen 
gently lays 
Plankton on the 
bed, his antennae 
flaccid against 
the pillow. Chip 
watches from the 
doorway, his 
trophy and ribbon 
forgotten by the 
sight of his 
father's stillness. 
"Dad?" He whimpers, 
his voice 
quivering.

Plankton doesn't 
respond. "Dad," Chip 
tries again. He sets 
his trophy and 
ribbon on the 
nightstand, 
his eyes never 
leaving his 
father's face. 
The room is 
silent, save for 
the faint 
humming of the 
air conditioner 
and the distant 
sound of laughter 
from the 
hallway outside.

Plankton's antennae 
tips twitch 
slightly, a small
sign of life that 
offers Chip a 
tiny sliver of hope.
"Dad?" Chip says 
again, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper.

Plankton's eye 
slowly opens, 
his pupil dilating 
as he adjusts to 
the soft light of 
the hotel room. 
He looks at Chip, 
his gaze 
uncertain, as if 
seeing him for 
the first time. "Chip?" 
He whispers, his 
voice hoarse.

Chip rushes to 
his side, his 
small hands 
gripping the 
covers. "You're 
awake," he says, 
his voice filled 
with relief.

Plankton's antennae 
lift slightly. "What 
happened?" He 
asks, his voice 
weak. Karen 
sighs, sitting 
beside him on 
the bed. "You had 
a bit of an 
overload, honey," 
she says, her 
hand smoothing 
his antennae. "But 
you're okay now."

Chip watches 
his dad, his 
heart racing. "You 
were saying sorry," 
he says softly. 
"For not showing 
you were proud 
of me."

Plankton blinks, 
his antennae 
twitching as 
his thoughts realign. 
"Oh," he says, 
his voice still 
weak. "I'm sorry, Chip."

Chip shakes his 
head. "You don't 
have to be sorry," 
he says, his voice 
trembling with 
emotion. "I just 
wanted you to 
be happy, for me."

Plankton's antennae 
rise, his eye 
widening slightly. 
He tries to sit 
up, but his body 
betrays him, 
weak from the 
overwhelming 
stimulation. Karen 
quickly supports 
his back, her 
expression a mix 
of love and 
concern. "I was 
happy," Plankton 
says, his voice 
gaining strength. 
"So proud." He
pats the bed.
"Come here," he 
whispers, his voice 
unusually gentle.
Chip crawls onto
the bed.

The two sit 
silently for a 
moment, their 
bodies close, their 
eyes locked. It's 
a rare moment 
of physical 
intimacy for 
Plankton, who's 
usually so guarded 
about his personal 
space. But now, 
his barriers are 
down, and he's 
opening himself up 
to his son.

"I'm sorry," 
Plankton says 
again, his voice 
quivering with 
the weight of 
his words. "I 
don't know how 
to show it, Chip. 
But I'm so proud 
of you." His voice 
is raw, emotions 
laid bare.

Chip scoots 
closer. "It's 
ok, Dad," he 
says, his 
voice shaky. "I 
know you're 
proud. I can 
see it."

Plankton's 
body relaxes. 
He looks at 
Chip, really 
looks at him, his 
eye searching. "You 
see it?" He asks, 
his voice 
hopeful.

Chip nods, 
his eyes shining 
with tears. "I 
see it, every 
day," he says. "When 
you help me 
with my homework, 
when you're there 
for me." He 
swallows hard, 
his voice thick 
with emotion. "I 
see it when 
you try so hard 
to be part of 
things."

Plankton's antennae 
quiver. "But not 
today?" He asks, 
his voice 
vulnerable.
Chip shakes his 
head, his voice 
steady. "Today too, 
Dad," he says. "You 
were proud today. 
You just had a hard 
time showing it."

Karen's eyes 
brim with tears 
as she watches her 
family. This is what 
she's fought for, 
this understanding. 
This connection.
Plankton's expression 
softens. "Thank 
you, Chip," he 
whispers. "Thank you 
for seeing me. You
wanna share this
bed with me?"
Chip nods eagerly, 
scooting closer 
to his dad as Karen
tucks them in.

And for the first 
time, Plankton 
lets himself lean 
on Chip's shoulder.
Chip feels the weight 
of his father's head 
on his shoulder, and 
it's comfortable in a
way he has never felt 
before.

His dad's antennae 
brush against 
his cheek, and he 
doesn't flinch. Rather, 
he leans in closer, 
his arm wrapping 
around Plankton's 
tiny form, pulling 
him closer.

The warmth of 
his father's 
body, the steady 
beat of his heart, 
it's all Chip needs 
to feel the love 
he's always known 
was there. "It's okay, 
Dad," he whispers, 
his voice filled with 
understanding beyond 
his years.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 16

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, and his 
body relaxes further 
into the embrace. 
He's safe here, with 
his son, in a world 
that so often feels 
like too much. Chip 
doesn't need him to 
be like everyone else, 
and that knowledge 
brings him peace.

The room is silent 
but for the soft 
snores of Plankton 
as he drifts into 
sleep. His breathing 
is even, his body 
finally at ease. 
Chip watches him, 
his own eyes growing 
heavy. He's learned 
so much today, 
about his dad, 
about himself, about 
their complex life.

He lies back, his 
head resting on the 
pillow, his arm 
still wrapped 
around his dad. 
How can he show 
love to him? To be a 
supportive son?

The next morning
Chip awoke to find
his mom gathering
their suitcases, as
they'd make the 
drive back home
today. She put Chip's
trophy and ribbon in
his suitcase. Plankton's
still asleep, his head
on Chip's shoulder.

Chip felt a gentle
warmth in his chest
looking at his dad,
his antennae slightly
quivering in his sleep.
He didn't want to wake
him too abruptly. So,
he gently began to
move his fingers
along Plankton's arm.

The soft touch seemed
to resonate within
Plankton's dream, his
body giving a slight
twitch. Chip took a
deep breath and continued,
his fingertips tracing
slow circles, hoping 
it would be enough 
to rouse him without
causing distress.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched again, 
picking up on the 
comforting pattern.

"Dad?" Chip 
whispered, his 
voice gentle. He did
not want to startle 
his father, who 
was finally at 
rest after the 
overwhelming day.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched again, 
his eye still closed.
"DAD," Chip tried 
again, a little too
loud this time.
Plankton jolted 
awake, his antennae 
springing to life.

"What?" He asked, 
his voice filled with 
slumber. Chip felt 
his heart race. "It's 
time to go home, Dad.."

Plankton's antennae 
relaxed at the 
familiar voice, his 
body slowly moving 
from the warmth of 
his son's embrace. He 
sat up, rubbing his 
eye. "Home," he repeats, 
his mind slowly 
waking up to the 
world around him.

Karen looked up 
from her packing, 
smiling at the 
scene. "That's 
right," she said, her 
voice soft. "We need 
to get going."

Plankton blinked 
slowly. "Home," 
he murmurs again.

Chip nodded. 
"Yeah, home," he 
says, his voice 
trembling slightly. 
He'd had enough 
of the repetition, 
his mind craving 
a break from the 
endless cycle of 
his dad's words.

Plankton's facial
expression remains
neutral, his eye
not quite focusing. 
"Home" he parrots,
his voice flat. "Ho-"

Chip's patience 
starts to fray. "Yes, 
Dad, home," he says, 
his tone sharper 
than he intended. He's 
tired of the same 
words, the same 
questions, the same 
look of confusion. 
It's like talking to 
a broken record.
"You DON'T have to 
repeat everything," he 
exclaims, making
Plankton jump.

Karen pauses in 
her packing, her 
heart racing. She 
knows this is a 
moment that can 
spiral quickly, but 
she also knows 
Chip's frustration 
is real, too.

"Chip," she says, 
her voice calm. 
"Remember, Dad's 
autism makes 
things hard for 
him. He's just 
trying to 
make sense of 
what we're 
saying." She 
crosses the room 
to stand beside 
them, her hand 
on Chip's shoulder.
Plankton's antennae 
are still.

Chip's face softens. 
"Okay, Dad," he says, 
his voice gentle. "We're 
going home soon."
He reaches up to 
stroke Plankton's 
cheek.

But Plankton's 
reaction isn't what 
he expects. His 
dad's antennae 
snap back, and his 
face contorts in 
discomfort. "Chip," 
he says, his voice 
strained. "No."

Chip's hand 
freezes, his eyes 
wide with shock. He 
quickly withdraws 
his touch, his 
heart racing. "I'm 
sorry," he whispers.
"I didn't mea-"

But Plankton 
doesn't let him 
finish. "No," he 
says again, more 
firmly this time. 
"I don't like that!"

"Dad," Chip says, 
his voice small. 
"What's w---"

But Plankton 
interrupts, his 
voice rising. "I said 
no, Chip! I DON'T 
WANT THAT!" His
hands balled into 
fists. Karen 
moves closer.

The room feels
smaller, the air 
thicker. Chip 
swallows hard. "I'm 
sorry," he says again.
"I didn't kn-" "I 
JUST WANT TO GO 
HOME!" Plankton
shouts over Chip.
"So STOP TOUCHING 
ME!" His antennae 
vibrate in frustration, 
a rare show of his
physical anger.
"I don't want to 
be touched right 
now!"

Karen's eyes 
fill with sadness. 
She knows Plankton's 
boundaries, has seen 
his frustration boil 
over before. But 
it never gets 
easier, never 
hurts less. But
Chip wants to
fix it, in the only
way he knows how.

He reaches out 
his hand again, 
slowly, tentatively, 
his eyes searching 
his father's. "It's 
okay, Dad," he says, 
his hand hovering 
above Plankton's 
shoulder. "I just 
wa-"

But Plankton's 
frustration turns to 
fear. "NO!" He yells, 
his body tensing. 
"PLEASE!"

Chip's hand 
freezes in midair, 
his eyes wide with 
surprise and 
hurt. He hadn't 
meant to upset 
his dad so much. 
He'd just wanted 
to help. So he pulls 
his hand back, but 
accidentally brushes 
his arm against 
Plankton's. The 
contact is light, 
barely noticeable 
to anyone else, but 
for Plankton, it's 
like a jolt of electricity.

Plankton's antennae 
shiver violently, 
his body convulsing. 
His one eye 
rolls back in his 
head as he 
collapses onto the 
bed, his legs 
thrashing against 
the mattress. Karen
sighs.

"Another seizure,"
Karen says. "It's his 
brain's way of 
dealing with stress," 
she explains.

Chip nods, his 
heart racing. Plankton's 
tiny body convulses 
on the hotel bed, 
his antennae flailing 
wildly. Karen quickly 
moves to his side.
Her eyes never 
leave his. She's done 
this before, so 
many times, but 
each seizure still 
slices through her 
like a knife. "It's 
okay," she murmurs
as Chip watched.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 17

Chip feels helpless, 
his hands trembling 
as he tries to 
think of something, 
anything, to make 
it better. "What 
do we do?" He asks, 
his voice shaky.
Karen's voice 
is steady. "Just 
wait it out," she 
instructs him. 
"It'll pass."

The seizure 
seems to last 
forever, but in reality
it's only minutes. 
Chip watches, his 
heart in his throat, 
his mind racing. 
He's seen this 
before, but it never 
gets easier. The 
way Plankton's 
body contorts, the 
fear in his eye 
right before it 
rolls back, the 
helplessness of it all.

As the convulsions 
start to slow, 
Plankton's antennae 
finally still. His 
body relaxes, but 
his mind is still 
far away, lost in the 
nonsensical state that 
follows a seizure.

"Chip, get our stuff
and we'll help your
dad to the car." Karen
says, ready to head
back home.

Chip nods, his 
hands shaking as he 
quickly gathers their 
belongings. His mind 
is racing with 
concern for his dad, 
his heart aching at 
the sight of him 
still and silent on 
the bed. The science
fair feels like a
distant memory.

He carefully picks up
his trophy, his ribbon 
crinkling under his 
fingertips. The pride 
he once felt for his
accomplishment now
seemed so trivial 
compared to the 
overwhelming love and
fear that filled him 
for Plankton, who
finally opened his eye.

Plankton's pupil 
was wide, unfocused, 
his antennae still. 
Chip's heart 
pounds in his chest, 
his mind racing. What 
has he done? "Dad?" 
Plankton doesn't 
react. Karen helps
him up to his feet.
"Hey there, Planky-Poo;
let's get ourselves home!"
Karen says to him. He
simply blinks.

"Wok?" Plankton's voice
is slurred, his usual 
sharpness blunted by 
the postictal phase. 
He looks around the 
hotel room with 
confusion. "Wok,"
he repeats, as if 
trying to convince 
his own brain.

Chip and Karen 
exchange a look 
full of their silent 
understanding as
Karen leads them
to the car, buckling
Plankton in. After
Chip puts everything
in the trunk, he sits
by his dad as Karen
starts the engine.

Plankton's eye is 
glassy, his antennae 
barely moving. He's 
in his own world. 
"We're all going 
home," Chip says, 
his voice calm.

But Plankton's 
attention is 
elsewhere, his 
brain still reeling 
from the seizure. 
"Gwed?" He says.
Karen nods. "Yes, 
we're going home,"
she answers, her 
voice soothing. 
"Everything's ok."

Plankton's head 
lolls against 
the window, his 
antennas drooping. 
The world outside 
the car is a blur 
of colors and 
shapes, not yet 
making sense. "Yeh
was’at?" Plankton
said.

Chip looks at him.
"You had a seizure," 
he says softly. "It's 
okay. We're going 
ho-"

But Plankton 
interrupts, his voice 
slurred and distant. 
"Wh-wha' 'bout 
science fair?" He 
slurs. "Did I... did 
I win?" His antennae 
twitch slightly, 
trying to remember.
Karen sighs, her 
hands on the 
stearing wheel. "It's 
like he's drunk," she 
explains to Chip. 
"But it's his 
brain trying to 
recover."

Chip nods, 
his eyes never 
leaving his dad's 
face. "You were 
so proud, Dad," he 
says, hopeful. But 
Plankton just blinks, 
his gaze unfocused.

"S'not fair," 
Plankton says, his 
voice still slurred. 
"I wan' be 
proud too." He's 
clearly trying to 
piece together the 
shattered bits of 
his memory.
Karen looks at 
Plankton in the 
rearview mirror, 
her eyes filled 
with love and 
concern. "You 
were proud, hon," 
she says.

But Plankton's 
brain isn't cooperating. 
"I wan' to be a
thor," he slurs, 
his words jumbled. 
Chip looks at him, 
his heart heavy with
sympathy. "You're my 
hero, Dad," he says, 
his voice earnest. "You
always will be."

Karen's eyes 
brim with tears as 
she hears Chip. 
"That's right," she 
says, her voice 
shaky. "You're our 
big strong hero." She 
swipes at her eyes, 
fighting the emotion 
that threatens to 
spill over.

Plankton's head 
bobs slightly, his 
eye still unfocused. 
"Thas... that's 
nice," he says. 
The car's motion 
lulls him closer 
to sleep, but he
fights to stay awake.

"Wanna see me 
win," he mumbles, 
his words slurred. 
Chip nods, his 
throat tight. "I know, 
Dad," he says. "You'll 
see it when you're 
feeling better."

Plankton's antennae 
twitch again, his 
eye blinking slowly. 
"Win," he repeats, 
his voice softer. 
He blinks, his mind 
trying to grasp the 
concept. "W-w-win," 
he stammers. His 
body feels so heavy.

The car ride 
continues, the 
hum of the tires 
against the road 
lulling Plankton 
closer to sleep. 
His head nods 
slightly with each 
bump in the 
road, his antennae 
drooping more 
with every mile. 
Chip watches him 
carefully, his heart 
breaking at his 
father's vulnerable 
state, for Plankton's
mouth was now
slightly open, his
head leaning on
the car door window.

"Dad?" Chip says, 
his voice quiet. Plankton
doesn't respond, 
his breathing 
evening out. "Dad?" 
He tries again, 
but there's no 
reaction. He looks 
at Karen.

Her eyes are 
on the road, but 
she nods. "He's 
asleep, Chip," she 
whispers. "It's his 
brain's way of 
recovering."

"Dad?" Chip 
says softly. No 
response. "Dad, 
are you okay?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch slightly, 
his eye still 
closed. His breaths 
are deep and 
even, his body 
completely relaxed 
against the car seat.

"Dad, wake up," 
Chip whispers. "Wake 
up, Dad," Chip 
says again, his 
hand gently shaking 
his father's 
shoulder.

But Plankton's 
snores are the 
only response, 
his antennae 
quivering with 
each inhale and 
exhale. The car's 
soft rocking and 
the steady 
hum of the engine 
have lulled him 
into a deep, much-
needed sleep.

Chip's hand 
lingers on his 
dad's shoulder, 
his eyes scanning 
his father's 
peaceful face. He 
can't help but feel 
a twinge of sadness, 
his mind replaying the 
confusion and fear 
from the seizure. But 
he also feels relief, 
knowing that Plankton 
is safe, that they're 
going home.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 19

Chip's hand 
remains on his 
father's arm, his 
touch light. "So
what can I do to
make sure I don't
make you upset?"
He asks, his eyes
full of concern.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch. "Just... just 
ask before you touch 
me," he says, his voice 
soft. "And if I say no, 
don't take it personally."
Chip nods. "I will, Dad,"
he says, his hand now
slowly retreating. "But 
what about the seizures?"

Plankton sighs. "I don't
always know why they 
happen," he admits. "But 
when they do, it's 
important to keep me 
safe. No loud noises, no 
bright lights. And if you 
can, stay calm. I know 
it's scary, but it's just 
my brain saying it needs 
a break. But they can
happen if I'm really scared
and upset, or if my
body feels like it's too 
much to handle." His 
antennas droop slightly.

Chip nods, his 
mind racing with 
questions. "But why 
do you sometimes just 
freeze?" He asks, his 
voice gentle. "Or get 
really still and don't 
talk at all?"

Plankton's antennae 
quiver slightly. "That's 
called shutdown," he 
explains. "It's like...
my brain's had enough.  
It's like it's in a traffic 
jam, and all the messy
mixed up signals are 
confusing. So it just...
stops. It's my body's 
way of protecting me 
from stimulation I guess.
They're absence seizures,
and I don't always know 
I'm having them."

Chip's eyes widen. "So, 
it's like you're there, 
but not really?" He 
asks, his voice soft 
with curiosity.

Plankton nods. "It's 
like everything goes 
on autopilot," he says. 
"I may see and hear, 
but it's like my 
brain's on a break
to where I might not
recognize what's going 
on around me. It's like 
being lost in a dream
state, even though I'm
not 'dreaming' but, it's
like trying to remember
a dream after you've 
woken up. I also might
feel like I'm having a
headache." Chip listens 
intently, his mind 
trying to comprehend 
the complexity of 
his father's 
experience. "So, what 
can I do to help 
you when you're in a 
shutdown?" He asks, 
his voice laced with 
concern.

"Just be there," 
Plankton says. "And 
give me some space. 
Don't try to shake me 
out of it. Just wait 
until I come back. It's 
not something I can 
control." He pauses. "And
if you can, maybe 
find a quiet place 
for me to go to, where 
there are no bright 
lights or loud noises. If
your ever concerned go
get your mother. But my
absence seizures can be
triggered by stress too. So 
just keep an eye on 
me and help me to avoid 
getting too anxious."

Chip nods, 
his eyes wide with 
understanding. 
"What else can
trigger them? And
how come you don't
blink during them?"

Plankton's antennae
wave thoughtfully.
"It's like my brain 
is trying to reboot,"
he explains. "And the
not blinking is part
of it. It's like my 
body's way of saying, 
'I'm processing, hold
on.' It's hard to 
explain, but it's 
like everything else
about me, it's just 
how my body does.
As for what can trigger
them, it's often when
I'm really scared, or
there's too much 
going on around me. 
Sensory overload. But
déjà vu can trigger one,
maybe rapidly flashing
lights of bright colors.
Sometimes overlapping
chatter, if multiple people
talk at once. Or if you talk
too fast."

Chip nods, taking 
in every word. "What
about the times when
you steal from the 
Krabby Patty restaurant?" 
He asks, his eyes 
innocently curious.

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly, his 
face a mask of 
resignation. "It's 
because my brain 
doesn't always work 
like everyone else's," 
he says. "I've had close
calls at the Krusty Krab
before. None of them
are to know about my
autism.."

Just then, Karen comes
in and sees them both
openly talking. "Aw-"

"Before you ask, if I say
yes and admit we're 
bonding, will you not
start with the aww-ing?"
Plankton says, rolling his
eye at her.

Karen laughs, wiping
at the corner of her
eye. "I just think it's
sweet, you two
talking like this!"

But Chip's mind is 
still racing with 
questions. He looks 
up at Karen. "Mommy, 
does Dad have doctors
to-"

Karen cuts him off 
quickly. "It can't be 
cured, sweetheart," she 
says gently. "But a lot 
of the time, it's just 
about understanding 
his needs and making 
sure he's comfortable. 
Now if something came
up or if he's even got
something like a cold,
we've a sensory friendly
specialist for those times.
Like when we travel, such
as for your science fair, I'd
look up nearest sensory
clinics, just in case. It's
because a regular medical
office setting can be too
much for him. A hospital
environment can be really
overwhelming for anyone,
but especially for him. Now
his dentist knows about his
autism and accommodates
him, but otherwise we'd only
reach out to the sensory ones
if a medic's needed." She
turned to Plankton, who's now
rocking on the bed, his knees
pressed against his chest, 
his antennae tucked in.

Karen looked back at
Chip. "He doesn't like
that question. If some
thing's needed, I know
to discuss it with him
and look at alternatives.
Otherwise, unless he has
a scenario in his head or
something, even in some
emergency, I know it's a
bad subject for him. I'm
always truthful with him
and I know him. I know
you meant nothing by it,
but unless absolutely
necessary or if he brings
it up, do not needlessly
bring up his healthcare
or whatnot. If anything
that is up to him. So, if
you're ever concerned,
you can ask me and we'll
tell you what you need to
know. The sensory specialist
is who we'd call, not any
ambulances or whatever,
and they're high-tech
and skilled with all topics
having to do with health.
Otherwise, do not bring up
anything like that. Do you
understand, Chip?"

Chip nodded, his 
eyes wide with 
understanding. "I'm
sorry, Dad," he says, 
his voice small. "I did
not know it was a bad 
question." But Plankton
didn't even respond.

Plankton's rocking 
is even more 
pronounced. It's 
his way of 
stimming, a way to
calm himself. "Dad?" 
Chip says again, but 
Plankton doesn't react.

Chip watches him, 
his curiosity 
piqued. He's seen 
this behavior before, 
but now he 
understands it's not 
because Plankton is 
mad or upset with him. 
It's just how he copes.
He decides to try 
something new. "Dad," 
he says softly, "can 
you show me how 
you stim?" Plankton
still doesn't seem to
hear him.

Karen notices 
the tension in 
Chip's voice and 
quickly steps in. "Why 
don't we all sit down 
and talk more 
about this?" She suggests, 
her tone soothing. 
"Plankton, can you tell 
Chip about stimming?"
But Plankton doesn't
even budge.

Chip watches 
his father's 
steady rocking, 
his curiosity 
growing. He tries 
again, his voice 
even softer. "Dad, 
please?" Yet Karen
notices his eye is
unfocused, distant.

"Plankton," Karen 
intervenes gently, 
"Plankton honey, 
are you okay?"

Plankton's rocking 
slows down as his
body stiffened. And
Karen knew exactly
what was happening.

"Chip," she says
gently, "Your dad's
experiencing a bit of
a seizure right now.
It's okay, he'll come
back to us."

Chip nods, his
heart racing as he
watches his father.
He's seen this before,
but now he understands.
It's not just strange
behavior, it's part of
his autism.

new adaptable family seizurecore chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 20

With gentle curiosity,
Chip moves closer to 
his dad, his hand 
outstretched but not
touching. "Dad?
Can I... can I help 
with your stimming?"
Plankton's antennae 
twitch slightly, but
his eye remains 
unblinking as his
body sits rigid.

"Chip," Karen says, 
her voice calm. "It's 
okay, honey. Just 
wait. He'll come back 
to us soon."

Chip nods, his 
heart racing as he 
watches Plankton's 
stillness. He's seen
this before, but this 
time feels different. 
This time, he knows.
With a deep breath, 
he sits down beside 
his father, his hand 
still hovering. He 
doesn't want to scare 
Plankton, doesn't want 
to do anything wrong. 
But he also doesn't 
want him to be alone.

Plankton's antennae 
begin to twitch, 
ever so slightly, as 
his breathing slows. 
Chip whispers, "It's ok, 
Dad," his voice 
barely audible.

The minutes stretch 
like hours as Chip 
watches his father. 
His mind fills with 
everything he's learned 
about autism, about 
his dad's challenges. 
He knows Plankton's 
brain is just trying 
to find peace amidst 
the chaos of sensory 
input. And even though
his hand is still, he 
knows he's there for 
his dad, ready to help 
whenever he needs it.

Slowly, Plankton 
blinks. His one eye 
meets Chip's, and for 
a moment, Chip sees 
fear, confusion, and 
then... recognition?
Plankton's body relaxes, 
his antennae drooping.
"Chip," he says, his 
voice a whisper. "Chip,
here. Did here, here.."

Chip nods, 
his heart racing. He 
knows his dad is 
trying to communicate, 
his mind still not
clear from the seizure. 
He gently takes Plankton's
hand and starts to 
stroke it, light and 
soothing. "It's okay, 
Dad," he whispers. "I'm
right here."

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, and he blinks 
again. His voice is 
still weak, but he tries 
to form words. "Chip... 
you... you're so... good."
The words come out 
slurred, but the warmth
is unmistakable.

Chip feels a weight
lifting from his chest. 
His dad's okay. "Thanks, 
Dad," he says, his voice 
steady now. "I'm just 
trying to underst--"

Plankton's antennae 
suddenly shoot up, 
his eye wide. "Wait," 
he says, his voice 
slightly stronger. "Your 
hand... it's... it's 
helping me?"
Plankton looks at 
his hand in wonder.

Chip nods. "Yeah, Dad. 
It's like... it's calming
you down," he says, 
his voice filled with 
a mix of confusion and 
relief.

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly as he 
looks up at Chip, 
his expression a mix 
of amazement and 
gratitude. "Yippee!"

Chip's eyes light up 
at his father's rare 
outburst of joy. "You 
see, Dad?" He says, 
his voice filled with 
pride. "I can help you
just like you help me."
Plankton nods, his 
expression still 
somewhat dazed but 
now with a hint of 
smile.

"Oh, did I ever show
you our selfie I took
of us on the way to
my science fair? You
fell asleep on me!" He
says, pulling out his
phone to show Plankton.

Plankton, still not quite
conscious/aware in his
postictal state, claps as
he laughs. "Eeeeee! Post
it and let it go viral!" He 
squeals in delight, his 
eye wide and childlike.

Chip smiles. "Can I put
in the caption that you
have a neurodisability?"
Chip asks, to which his
dad nods eagerly.

Karen watches the
interaction with a soft
smile. She knows this
might be a pivotal moment
for both of them. "Remember,
Chip," she says, "It's important
that we respect your father's
boundaries. Even if he's okay
with sharing about his autism
right now, he might not always
feel like that. It's his story to-"

"Karen it be good!" Plankton
interrupts her as Chip writes
this as the caption:

'🐠💤💻💨: When your 
neurodisabled dad falls 
asleep on the way to
your big science fair, you 
gotta catch those Z's... 
and the moment! 😂👨‍🔬💤'

Chip posts it. 
"Ok then,
we all gotta 
get to bed,"
Karen says.

The next morning
Plankton wakes up
oblivious to what's
happened during
last night, obviously
not knowing about
Chip having such a
picture, let alone the
post itself.

Chip woke up early,
his heart pounding
from a mix of excitement
and anxiety. He quickly
checks his phone to
find the post has gone
viral, with dozens of
likes and comments.
His face beams with
pride.

Karen knew better
than to greet her
husband with such
news. Even though
he did unknowingly
consent to it, he was
not actually have any
awareness/explicit 
memory of it. So she
wouldn't bring it up in
front of Plankton.

"Good morning," Karen
greets him as usual, like
nothing happened. "How
did you sleep?"

Plankton rubs his
eye. "Fine, I guess,"
he says, still groggy.
Chip looks up from his
phone, his heart racing.

He's torn between 
sharing the viral post
and keeping the peace. 
But as Plankton heads 
towards the kitchen,
his antennae perk up.
"Is something wrong?"
He asks, his voice 
full of concern.

Chip takes a deep
breath and decides 
to hold off on the
news. "No, Dad," he
says, his voice 
steady. "Everything's
fine." Plankton nods
and continues into 
the kitchen, his mind
already racing with
thoughts of how he's
gonna attempt stealing
his rival Krabs formula
this morning.

Karen gives Chip 
a knowing look, and 
he nods. He understood.
For now, they'll keep the
viral post between 
them. They see Plankton
using his telescope to
spy on the Krusty Krab.

"What's your plan for
today? Perhaps any
thing that's successful?" 
Karen teased. "Hardy
haaaaaaahhhhh, Karen,"
Plankton replied, rolling
his eye. "I'll just wing it.."

new adaptable family seizurecore chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 21

Plankton went into the
Krusty Krab, oblivious
to the customer's subtle
different ways they look
at him. They've all seen
the post, even though he's
not even aware of it. Some
stifled laughter, some pitied,
some even admired as he
came in.

Plankton didn't think
anything odd, until a
person, instead of
running into him, stops
short. "Oh, hey! Sorry,
you go ahead Plankton."
Plankton looked up to
find the owner of said
voice to step aside to
let him by. Huh.

He goes to steal as
usual, but another
smiles at him with 
sympathy. "How's it
going, Plankton?"
They ask, their tone 
kind but with an
underlying curiosity.

Plankton freezes, his 
antennas waving in 
confusion. "I-I'm fine,"
he stammers, his usual
quick-wittedness nowhere
to be found. He's never
been talked to like this 
before. He glances 
around, noticing more
people giving him 
odd looks. Customers who
usually look at him with
disgust when he'd wreak
havoc, actually seemed kind.

He tries to focus on
his mission, but the 
whispers and stares are
distracting him. He's 
not used to being the
center of positive
attention. His brain, still
adjusting to the calmness
of the morning, struggles
to process the change in
the environment.

As he's about to grab
the secret ingredient,
Mr. Krabs, the Krabby
Patty's creator, calls
out to him. "Plankton,
what are ye up to?" His
voice is not the usual
snarl of annoyance but
rather, one of genuine
concern. His nemesis
seems not so mad today.

Plankton, caught off
guard, drops the 
bottle he's holding, 
his antennae waving 
frantically. "J-just...
just looking," he stammers.
Mr. Krabs approaches, 
his eyes softening. "Lookin'
good, Plankton," he says.
"How's the family?"

The sudden 
friendliness throws
Plankton off his usual
scheme. "T-they're 
good," he replies as he
tries to understand 
the shift in dynamic.

Mr. Krabs nods. "Can't 
say I understand, but I
see you're still giving
it your all. That's the
Bikini Bottom spirit!"

Plankton's antennae 
quiver with confusion.
"I'm not following?"

Mr. Krabs nods. "Aye,
Plankton" he says 
matter-of-factly. "Ye
got a right to be proud
of how ye handle 
everything, frenemy. If
ya ever need a break, 
don't ya hesitate to 
tell me."

Plankton's eye widens, 
his mind racing. He 
doesn't know how to 
process this. His enemy 
has never talked to 
him like this before. 
He's used to anger, to 
sarcasm, but this... 
this was different. 
He nods, not trusting
his voice to speak.

Mr. Krabs pats him
on the back. "Now, get
back home," he says, 
his voice still kind. "I'll 
still keep an eye out for 
ya, okay?" He says, as
he picks up the bottle.

As Plankton goes to
leave, a random kid
goes up to him, her
eyes curious.

"Are you okay?" She
asks, her voice 
kind, not the usual
taunts he's grown
accustomed to. "Oh,
and do you snore?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave in surprise, 
his usual snappy
comeback stifled by 
his confusion. "I-I don't 
know," he says, his 
voice sharp. "But why 
are you talking to me like
that?"

The little girl 
smiles, her eyes 
innocent. "Because
my brother's like you,"
she says. Plankton
remains confused.

"What do you mean?"
He asks, his antennae
waving slightly.

The little girl giggles. 
"I know you have a
special brain," she
explains, her voice filled
with wonder. "And my
dad snores when he's 
really tired. Like in the
car," she adds, somewhat
mischievous.

Plankton's antennae 
wave as he tries to
comprehend her 
odd statements, 
his cheeks turning a
slight shade of pink.
"Special?"

The little girl nods. 
"Yeah, like my brother.
He has a disability too!"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch. "I'm not- WHAT?"
He falters.

The little girl nods 
again, her expression 
placid. "Yeah, he's 
fallen asleep in the
car before too! You
looked so peaceful in
that picture," she says,
oblivious to the chaos
she's just unknowingly
caused in Plankton's mind.
"What picture?" He asks.

The girl points to 
a phone in her mother's
hand, the post still 
on the screen. "That 
one," she says. Plankton's 
heart sinks as he realizes
his son has posted 
a picture of him, asleep
on his shoulder. 
He also reads the caption
and sees Karen put a like.

Humiliation and anger
swirl within him. Now,
everyone knows. How
could they?

new adaptable family bikinibottomcore post

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 22

Plankton storms back into the
Chum Bucket, slamming
the door. Karen looks
up. "So, did you ste—"
Karen starts, but then
sees Plankton's face.

"What happened?"
She asks, her tone
concerned. Plankton
holds up his phone,
the post on full 
display. "This,"
he says, his voice
shaking with 
anger. "This is what
happened!"

Karen's understanding
as she reads the 
caption. "Oh, Plankton,"
she says gently,
stepping towards him.
"Plankton I know you don't 
remembe---"

But he cuts her off, 
his antennae waving 
frantically. "How could
you? How could you do this
to me?" He shouts,
his voice filled with 
hurt and betrayal.
Karen knows she needs
to give him space,
but also knows that she 
needs to explain.

"Plankton, honey, I know 
you didn't really consent to 
this. But Chip, he just 
wanted to show his love 
and admiration for you,"
she says, her voice calm.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in agitation. "It's 
not just about the photo!" 
He yells, his voice 
cracking with emotion. 
"It's about the caption!"

Karen nods, her eyes
full of empathy. "I know, 
honey. But sometimes, 
people don't understand 
how their words can 
affect others. Chip didn't 
mean to hurt you, he was 
just trying to share something
he thought was special 
about you." Karen says as she
steps closer, her hand 
outstretched.

Plankton looks away
as his humming starts
up, a stim. He rocks 
back and forth, his
body trying to process
the overwhelming
information. Karen
watches him carefully,
picking up on the signs.
Her heart breaks for
his distress, but she
knows pushing him now
won't help. She's learned
his cues over the years,
how his body speaks when
his words can't.

She approaches slowly,
her movements calculated
to avoid startling him.

"Plankton," she says softly,
her voice soothing.
"You're okay." She doesn't
reach out to touch him,
but her hand lingers close.
She knows the calming
effect her presence has
on him. "Just breathe."
But he rocks faster, his
hands over his head.
He's overwhelmed, she
can see it. His body is
telling her that this is not 
the time to press the issue.
He's in his own world,
trying to make sense of the 
storm of emotions that
the viral post has brought
on. Karen takes a step back,
giving him more space.

Plankton's eye is 
squeezed shut. She knows 
his brain is in overload.
"Do you need to be alone?"
Her voice is gentle, non-
threatening. She's learned
over the years to read his 
body language, the way 
his antennae flatten when
he's anxious, how his 
hands flap when he's 
excited. He nods, his body 
still rocking. She 
understands his need for
space. She knows he'd come
to her.

Chip, who had been 
watching the scene 
unfold, steps out, his
face a mix of regret and
concern. He didn't mean 
to hurt his dad. He just
wanted to share a 
moment. He approaches
them cautiously. "Dad?"

Plankton's rocking slows
but doesn't stop. He 
doesn't look at Chip, 
his eye focused on the 
far wall. "It's okay, 
Chip," Karen says gently.
"Just give him some 
space." But Chip can't 
help but feel a knot 
in his stomach, his 
dad's reaction not what
he expected.

After a few moments, 
Plankton's stimming stops,
his antennae dropping 
to his side. He opens 
his eye and looks at 
Chip, his gaze intense. 
"You didn't ask," 
he says, his voice 
steady but firm. "I did
too ask! You're the one
who told me to post it
and okayed the caption!"
Chip says.

Karen sighs, seeing both 
their misunderstanding.
"Chip," she says, "you
know your dad sometimes
doesn't remember things
right after a seizure. He
might not have underst--"

"But he smiled, Mom," Chip
interrupts her. "He said it
was fine."

Plankton nods, his voice
softening. "Let's say I did. I
don't remember any
of it, and now..." he 
trails off, his antennae 
drooping. "Now, everyone 
knows. Everyone's looking
at me differently."

Chip's face falls, his
excitement turning to 
regret. He'd wanted to 
make Plankton feel 
seen, understood. Not 
this. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he says, his voice 
cracking. "I didn't 
know it would be like 
this. I just..."

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "You just
thought you were helping,"
he finishes for Chip.
"Whatever," he says, 
his voice tired. "I know you 
meant well. I've my annual
x-rays at the dentist tomorrow
and the squirrel is gonna watch
you." "Her name is Sandy," Karen
says to Plankton, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever," Plankton repeats,
his mind still reeling. "Can I
have some time alone?"

Karen nods, understanding
his need for solitude.
"Of course, honey." She
squeezes his arm gently,
and Chip nods in agreement.
"Besides, it's bedtime."

As the room quiets, his mind
begins to unravel the
threads of the situation.
He's not used to being the
center of attention for
anything other than his
failed attempts to steal the
formula. This... this is
different. It's about him,
his life, his autism. And
it's out there for everyone
to see, to judge, to 
sympathize. 

The next morning, Chip
is dropped off right at
Sandy's doorstep. "Hi
Ms. Sandy.." Chip says.
Sandy, Karen's best gal
pal, waved as Karen 
drove off with Plankton
to the dentist.

new adaptable family bikinibottomcore post

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 23

Sandy's tree dome is
always a wonder to
Chip. She opens the
door for him. "Hey there, 
buddy!" She says, her
accent a Texas drawl.

Chip's eyes widen as 
he looks around, the 
contrast from his 
typical day to the 
alien world of Sandy's
dome. It's like stepping
into a grassy paradise!

Sandy, with her squirrel-
like cheerfulness, 
shows Chip around. 
"So, what's the plan?"
Chip asks, his voice 
tentative.

"Well, we're gonna have 
some fun!" Sandy says, 
clapping her hands 
together. "Whatcha
wanna do?"

Later, as Chip and
Sandy kick a ball
around, Sandy's
phone rings. It's
Karen, calling from
the dentist.

"Is everything okay?"
Chip asks, his eyes
widening in worry.
Sandy nods, holding
up a finger for him to
wait as she answers.
"Howdy, Karen! How's..."

Her voice trails off as
she listens intently. 

Chip watches her face 
for cues, his heart 
racing. Sandy's 
expressions shift from 
concern to confusion
to something he can't
quite read.

"Okay," she says into 
the phone. "We'll be 
ready. I heard about
his autism, so I can
imagine how worried..."

Chip's mind races as
he tries to listen in 
on the conversation.
What could be wrong?
He watches Sandy as
she's still on the phone.

"What's going on?"
He asks, his voice
laced with fear. But
Sandy holds up her
hand for him to wait.

"Oh," she says into the
phone. "And uhm, how's
Plankton gonna..."

Suddenly, she's cut off
by Karen's voice. "Now?"
Sandy repeats. "I can't
really see Plankton being
agreeable to that, Karen.
How..."

Her eyes widen as
she listens to Karen's
explanation. "Oh no,"
she says, her voice 
concerned. "Oh, poor
Plankton! I'm sorry to
hear that, Karen. How
long will the surgery 
be? Oh, they'll do it
in the same building?
That's good, at least.."

Chip's anxiety 
spikes as he 
overhears the word 
"surgery." Plankton's
face flashes in his
mind, and he 
remembers his dad's
fear of doctors. "What
about Dad?" He asks, 
his voice shaky. But
Sandy's still talking to
Karen.

Sandy nods, her 
face etched with
worry. "Okay, just
keep us updated
and let me know
when we can come.
Wishing Plankton a
speedy recovery! Yes.
See you on the flip
side; bye.."

Chip's stomach drops 
as he looks at Sandy.
"What happened to Dad?"

Sandy takes a deep 
breath. "He's gotta
have some extra
teeth removed," she 
says gently. "It's a common
procedure, but for someone
like him, it's gonna
be a bit tricky. But they
are going to accommodate 
him. It's a preventative..."

Chip nods, his mind 
whirling. "But Dad's 
so scared of doctors,"
he says, his voice 
small. "How are we 
gonna get him through 
this?"

Sandy gives him a
comforting smile. "Your
mom's got it handled," she 
assures him. "They have
an oral surgeon at his
dental office. They're 
gonna make sure
he's as comfortable as
possible, and your mom
will let us know when we
can come up there."

A little while later
Sandy gets a text
update from Karen
with a picture.

The image is of
Plankton lying in a
dental chair, his 
eye closed, a mask
covering his face.
The message reads:
"The gas put him
right to sleep, and
now they're gonna
put in the IV before
removing the gas mask.
They're letting me stay
with him the entire time."
Then another image of
Karen's hand holding
Plankton's limp one.

Chip's heart sinks. 
He's never seen his 
dad like this before. 
So vulnerable. He feels
like he should be there,
but Sandy's comforting 
presence reminds him 
that his mom's got it 
under control.

Sandy puts her arm
around Chip's shoulder. 
"Why don't we do 
something to keep our 
minds off it?" She suggests,
trying to ease his 
concern. "We could 
play some soccer!"

Chip nods, though 
his mind is still
somewhere with Plankton.
But he knows his mom's
got this. And Sandy's 
his best bet at distraction.

Later, the next update is 
texted and Sandy reads 
Karen's message.

"The surgery went well,"
it says. "He's in recovery,
you can come whenever.
They knew about his
seizures so they used
extra sutures, but they
are dissolving stitches.
They're just preparing 
before the wake-up starts.
He's still under. They took
x-rays after, too, and every
thing's perfect. He did so
excellent, and will be numb
and groggy for today but
might be in some pain and
swelling for the next week."

Sandy looks at Chip, 
her eyes filled with 
concern. "You ready 
to see your dad?" She
asks. Chip nods, nerves
frayed but his 
determination to 
be there for his dad 
unchanged. He takes a 
deep breath and they 
both head out to 
the dentist. 

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 24

The operating center is 
a blur of white and 
sterile smells as they 
walk in. Chip's eyes 
quickly adjust to the 
bright lights, looking 
for any sign of 
his dad. They're met
by a nurse, who leads
them back to the 
recovery room.

Sandy comes in and saw
Plankton, still unconscious, 
surrounded by beeping
machinery. His antennae 
are still, a stark contrast 
to the usual flurry of 
movement. Karen's sitting
by his side, holding his 
hand, looking tired but 
relieved as Sandy lets
Chip come in as the nurse
smiles at them, but he's
focused on seeing his dad.

Chip notices his dad's
mouth. Plankton's tongue
barely lolls out slightly to
where his bottom lip is.
It's the first thing that 
catches his eye, other than
the red gums where the
wisdom teeth have been
taken out. Chip's eyes
widen, and he takes a
step back. "It's okay," Karen
says, her voice soothing. 
"They had to keep his 
mouth open like that for 
the surgery."

Chip can't help but
stare, his heart racing. 
He's never seen Plankton
so still, so... helpless.
It's a stark contrast to
his usual antics, to his 
endless plotting and 
scheming. Now, his 
dad's the one who's been 
silenced.

He tries to shake off 
the fear, reminding 
himself that Plankton's
just asleep.

The nurse notices 
their unease and 
smiles gently at 
them. "He's doing 
well," she says, 
nodding towards 
Plankton. "We're just
about to remove the 
IV now."

With a swift, 
practiced movement,
she carefully takes
out the needle, her 
gloved hands moving
quickly yet delicately.
Plankton's arm barely
twitches in response,
his sleep deep.

The nurse tapes a
cotton ball to his arm
where the IV was, 
then wraps it in a 
snug bandage, her 
movements methodical. 

Karen watches, her 
heart racing, feeling 
like an outsider in 
this medical world 
that's so foreign to 
their usual life.

"It's okay," the 
nurse says, noticing 
the tension. 
"He's going to be 
just fine." She turns 
to Plankton and 
gently lifts his eyelid, 
checking his pupil's 
reaction before closing
it again. "Looks like 
he's still under," she
mutters, then turns to 
Karen. "He'll be out 
for a bit longer, but 
let's get gauze ready 
before he wakes up."

Karen nods. 

Chip watches as the
nurse unwraps a 
piece of gauze, 
his mind racing with 
questions about the 
recovery process. Sandy
squeezes his shoulder 
reassuringly.

The nurse gently 
inserts the gauze into
Plankton's mouth, her 
movements precise and 
careful. His tongue is back
in his mouth. The white 
cotton fills the void
where his wisdom teeth 
were. Chip then sees
blood on her gloves when
she pulls them out, 
his heart skipping a 
beat.

"It's normal," Sandy
whispers, noticing his 
reaction. "It's just a 
little bleeding. It'll 
stop soon. And he's
gonna be numb, so he 
won't feel much."

The nurse nods. "She is
right. The gauze is to
help stop the bleeding,
and it's common after
wisdom teeth surgery."

Karen's eyes are 
glued to Plankton's 
face, his chest rising
and falling with each
deep breath. She 
swallows hard, her
throat dry. "Thank you,"
she murmurs to the
nurse, who nods
understandingly.

Chip stands by his
mom's side, his gaze
flitting between her
and his dad. He feels
awkward, unsure how
to act around his
unconscious father.
Plankton's usually so 
full of life, so... Plankton.
Drool is forming at the 
corner of his mouth, 
his antennae still.

The nurse finishes 
wrapping the gauze. "Ok,"
she says, her voice 
soothing. "You can talk
to him if you want. He
might not hear you, but
it can be comforting."

Chip steps closer 
to the bed, his 
heart thumping 
against his chest. 

He looks down at 
his dad, so still and 
peaceful, and feels a 
wave of anxiety. "Dad?"
He whispers, his voice 
shaky. "You okay?"

There's no response. 
Plankton's chest rises
and falls in a steady 
rhythm, his breathing 
deep and even. 

Chip's eyes well 
up, a mix of fear 
and love. He's never 
seen his dad like this 
before, not even during
his seizures. This is 
different. This is a 
kind of vulnerability 
that he isn't used to.

He reaches out a 
tentative hand, touching
his father's arm lightly.
"It's okay, Dad,"
he whimpers.

Chip feels a tear 
slip down his cheek.
"Wake up, Dad," he whispers,
his voice barely above a 
mumble. "Please wake up."

Plankton remains 
still. Chip backs
up, feeling his
stomach churn. 
Sandy frowns. "You
okay, Chip? Karen,
Chip's not looking 
so go—"

But Chip is already 
at the trash can, his
body heaving. Sandy
rushes over, her eyes
wide as he retches.

"It's okay," Karen
whispers from beside
the bed, her hand 
still clutching 
Plankton's. "Chip, I'm
so sorry. I know it's
hard. Your dad won't
be like this forever. It'll
be okay."

Chip nods, wiping
his mouth with the
back of his hand.
The nurse takes the
trash out before she
returns back with wet
wipes for Chip.

He takes them 
gratefully, his 
cheeks flushing with 
embarrassment. "Thanks,"
he mumbles. The nurse
nods. "Now, Mr. Plankton
will most likely wake up
feeling pretty groggy and
disoriented," she says, 
turning her attention
back to Plankton. "But
it's all part of the 
recovery process."

Karen nods, her 
throat tight. She's heard
this before, but with 
his autism, she can't 
help but worry how
Plankton will react to
waking up in such an
unfamiliar environment.
The nurse sees her 
concern and gives her 
a reassuring smile. "We're
used to this. We've got
everything under control."

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 25

Time seems to drag
as they wait for Plankton 
to wake up. But finally
Karen notices a slight 
twitch in his eyebrow, 
his antennae starting to 
move slightly.

Sandy squeezes Chip's 
hand. "Look, he's 
coming around," she 
whispers. Chip's eyes 
snap to his dad's face, 
his heart racing.

Plankton's single eye 
flickers open, looking 
around the room with 
a haze of confusion. 
Karen rises from her 
chair, her hand 
still tight around 
his. "Hi, honey," she says 
gently. "You're okay.
You just had a little 
surgery. Your dentist
removed your wisdom
teeth. Are you almost
ready to go home?"

Plankton's gaze settles
on her face, his 
expression still cloudy. 
He tries to speak, but 
his mouth is thick with 
cotton. "Wha..." he 
mumbles, his tongue
fumbling with the 
gauze and numbness.

Karen's eyes fill with
relief. "Shh, it's okay.
You're in recovery."
Her voice is a soothing 
balm to his confusion.
Sandy steps forward, 
her eyes shining with
concern. "You're okay,
buddy! How goes it?"

Plankton blinks 
slowly, the world
swimming before his
eye. "M'th... moufth?"
he mumbles, his speech
slurred from the numbness
and remaining anesthesia.

Sandy and Karen
can't help but chuckle
at his antics. "Your
mouth is okay, Plankton,"
Karen explains, her voice
patient. "They just
removed extra molars."

Plankton's antennae
wave erratically as
his eye widens. "I can'th
fee my teef," he says,
his voice still thick. He 
tries to sit up, only to fall 
back with a thump,
his antennae drooping.
"Whoa," he says, his
eye spinning. "The floor
moveths." 

Chip giggles nervously,
his heart racing. He's 
seen his dad act weird 
before, but not like
this. Sandy's laughter 
fills the room. "Oh, 
Plankton," she says. "You're
always full of surprises."

The nurse smiles. 
"It's the anesthesia,"
she explains. "It'll
wear off in a bit. But
for now, keep talking to
him."

Karen nods, her
relief palpable. She
knows her husband's
quirks, but this is new
even for him. She leans
in. "You're ok, Plankton.
We're here for you."

Plankton's antennae
twitch as he tries to 
comprehend. His voice
slurs more, "Whewe am I?"
He looks around, his 
eye blinking. "I'm in’a
white... box?" His words
slur together, and he 
starts to giggle. "I thishk
I'm in a fridge!"

The nurse, Karen, and
Chip all chuckle despite
themselves. The tension
in the room breaks a
little. "Dad, you're
still at the dentist,"
Chip says, trying to
keep a straight face.

"Dentith?" Plankton
slurs, his antennae waving 
in confusion. "Why am I
in da fridge den?" His
laughter turns into a
snort, and the gauze in
his mouth shifts, 
causing him to drool.
"Careful, buddy," Sandy
says, her eyes crinkling
with amusement. "You've
got gauze in your mouth."
Plankton looks up. "Gosh?"

Chip can't hold in his
laughter anymore. He
sees the humor in the
situation, despite the
anxiety from earlier.
"You're in the surgery
recovery room, Dad," he 
explains, trying not
to laugh. "You had
some teeth removed."

Plankton's antennae
wave wildly. "Teesh?"
He asks, his voice
slurred. "I can'th feel 
my teethies. Dith they 
tik dem aww?"

This sets off a 
fit of giggles from 
the group, even Karen
can't hold back. "They
just took out your 
wisdom teeth, love,"
she says, her voice 
full of mirth. "They
had to, remember?"

Plankton's eye crosses. 
"Wi’dom teefs?" He
repeats, his voice 
slurred. "Buth... but I'm 
smart wifth aww my 
teef!" He tries to 
touch his mouth, but 
his arm flops back 
down, too heavy. 
"Windom teefs awe 
supposeth to be...
smart?" His voice
trails off into a 
silly giggle.

The nurse laughs 
lightly. "Mr. Plankton,
you're adorable. But 
yes, wisdom teeth 
can cause problems.
They're like the extra 
baggage in your mouth 
that you don't need."

Sandy looks at him.
"Do you recall anyth—"

But Plankton's eye rolls
back and he's out again,
snoring gently. The nurse
chuckles. "It's the 
medicine," she says. "He's
still under the effects.
Give him some time."

Karen nods, her 
smile lingering despite
the situation. She's 
seen Plankton act silly
before, but never 
like this. The anesthesia
has brought out a
whole new side of him.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 26

The nurse checks
his vitals, then looks
at the family. "He's
going to be fine," she
reassures them. "This is 
normal. Just keep
talking to him."

Sandy nods. "Plankton
what do you recall?"

Plankton's eye flickers
open again. "I... I
wuz... it wuz...
scawy! Buh feelth
wike a melting gill
sheesh san witch
floating. Karen thpinned
thoo! Thpun awound.."

Karen looked intrigued.
"I was spinny?" She asked
him. "Yesh," Plankton nods.
"Youw wiz." He tried to sit
up again.

Sandy couldn't help
but laugh harder. "Looks
like you had quite the
adventure, Plankton."
He nods, his antennae
bobbing. "I di'n't even
hafe tho weave de chaw
fo' de rollercoatheth," 
he mumbles, his voice
still slurred.

The nurse checks
his gauze and nods.
"Everything's going
as planned," she says.
"He's just feeling the
after-effects of the
anesthesia."

Plankton tries to 
focus on the three
figures before him. "Youwre
aww... fuzzy," he murmurs,
his voice muffled by
the gauze. "Nurse?"
The nurse's smile widens.
"Yes, Mr. Plankton?"

"I had a mask,"
he slurs. "I wath...
thwimming wif... I din't
floth my teef?" He giggles
uncontrollably at the 
thought. "Ith thweemed
wif... I dunno? I forgot 
to floth yestewday. Sho
thad can'th be wight.."

The nurse and 
Karen share an 
amused glance, 
while Chip tries to 
keep a straight face.
"It's okay, Plankton," 
Karen says, her voice 
trembling with laughter.
"You're okay. You're just 
a little loopy right now.
Let it run its course,"
she says with a smile
as Plankton notices the
bandage on his hand.

"Oooh, accessowry?"
Plankton asks, staring at the
bandage where the IV was
removed, his eye squinting
in confusion. "I din't member,
how I geth thish?"

Karen chuckles, wiping 
away a tear from her 
eye. "You had surgery,
sweetie. They had to give 
you something to make
you sleep through it, the IV."

Plankton's not following.
"I'vth? Whath's an I'vth?"

The nurse's laugh is
gentle. "It's a tube,
Mr. Plankton. It helped
you sleep." Plankton nods
slowly, still confused. "A
tube? Whath tube? I din't
thee any tube.."

Karen's smile widens.
"You had it in your
arm," she says, pointing.
Plankton looks down, his
eye still unfocused. "Oh,"
he says, his voice faint.
"I din't member thad.
Wheh dith thish tube thingy 
happn’ nurse? Karen, member
the mask?"

The nurse nods. "You
were given a mask with
gas to help you sleep,"
she explains. "And then
we moved to the IV after
that. You're going to be 
a little out of it for a 
while, but that's normal."

Plankton processes
the information. "Oh,"
he says, his voice 
slightly clearer. "Thath's 
why I feelth wike I'vth
been hith by a party
balloon filled wifth...
wather?" He giggles, 
his cheeks turning
pink. "I don't wike
balloonth. They pop
loud." 

Chip can't help but 
smile, seeing his 
dad in this state. 
It's like watching a
child discover the world
for the first time, all 
over again. "You're okay,
Dad," he says, his voice
filled with affection as
Sandy goes to hug Plankton.

But Plankton flinches,
his antennae shooting up. 
"No huggles!" He says, 
his voice panicked. "I'm 
thtick!" He tries to
push her away, but his 
movements are slow
and clumsy. Sandy pulls back, 
understanding. "It's okay, 
Plankton," she says. "We're
just happy to see you. And
you're not sick, silly!"

Chip watches, his heart 
warming at Sandy's gentle 
tone. It's clear she's 
learning too, adapting 
to Plankton's quirks.
Plankton's eye finally
focuses on her. "Oh, 
wight," he says, his voice 
still slurred. "Ish thcared?
I'm mawwied to Karen and
she woffth meeeeeee!"

This sets off another 
wave of laughter. "We 
know, Plankton," Karen says, 
trying to keep a straight 
face. "But you're okay 
now. No need to be 
scared. Chip was a bit
scared though," she adds, 
nudging their son with 
her elbow. "But he's 
brave for you."

Plankton looks at Chip, 
his antennae drooping.
"Whewe's Chip? Can, can
shay hi? Shay hi to Chip?"

Chip leans in, his 
laughter subsiding. "Hi,
Dad," he says gently. 
"I'm right here."

Plankton's antennae 
wave in recognition. 
"Chip! Thpuny Chip!"
He slurs, his eye
widening. "Shay, shay
hi, Chip?"

Chip nods, his smile
soft. "Hi, Dad."
Plankton laughs.
"Hi Chip!" He says,
his voice still slurred.
"Youw... wookth...
so... biggew!" He 
tries to sit up, but Chip
gently pushes him back down.
"Easy Dad," he says. "You
got stitches. We don't want 
to pop those stitches, or—"

But Plankton's antennae
drop instantly. "Stitchesh?"
He says, his voice filled with
fear. "Stitchesh thurtth?"
He starts to panic, his 
body tensing. The nurse 
quickly intervenes. "Mr.
Plankton, no, no," she
soothes. "Chip, we gave
your dad strong but dissolving
sutures! They're specially 
made for patients with a
history of seizures and special
needs. They're not like regular
sewing stitches. He'll be fine."

But Plankton's fear has
taken over, and his 
single eye starts to 
water. "I don't wike
stitchesh," he mumbles,
his voice shaking. "Karen
pwease, no stitchesh!"

Karen's heart breaks
seeing her husband so
upset. She takes his hand
again. "Plankton, no.
You don't have stitches
that hurt," she says, her
tone gentle and firm. "They
used special ones that
dissolve on their own.
Remember we talked about
this befo—"

But Plankton's
fear isn't easily
soothed. He starts to
hyperventilate, his 
single eye wide with
panic. "Karen, Karen, no
stitchesh! No stitchesh!"
His antennae are 
quivering, and his 
body is tense. Chip 
swallows hard, his
hands clenching into 
fists at his side.

Karen's eyes fill 
with tears, and she
quickly stands up. "Chip,
Sandy, I need you to go
wait outside for a 
moment," she says, 
her voice shaking. "Let me
talk to him alone."

Sandy nods, her own 
concern etched on her 
face, and gently 
guides Chip out of the 
recovery room. "Let's get 
some air," she says, 
leading him to the 
waiting area. Karen and
the nurse turn to Plankton.

"Plankton," Karen says, 
her voice calm yet 
firm, as she sits on the
edge of the bed, her 
hands gripping his. "Look
at me. Look at me." 
Plankton's eye is 
teary, his breathing 
quick and shallow. "You're 
safe," she whispers. "You
don't have the stitches that 
hurt. Chip didn't know
about the dissolving 
ones, that's why he said
that. But I know, and 
you know, because we talked
about it. Remember?"

Plankton's antennae
quiver as he tries to
focus on her words, his
body slowly relaxing. 
"Ditholvish..." he mumbles,
his voice small and 
scared. "No stitchesh?
No popping!"

Karen nods, her 
own eyes filling with
tears. "No stitches that 
pop, love," she says. "You're
okay. You're safe." She 
holds his hand tighter, 
feeling his fear 
dissipate slowly. "Remember
the plan? The one we
made together?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, and he nods 
slightly, his breathing
easing. "Yeth," he says, 
his voice weak. "Dotholvish
stitchesh."

The nurse steps in, 
her voice calm and 
soothing. "Mr. Plankton,
your wife's right. We
used dissolving ones.
We just want you to
be careful because of
the pain can be worse
if you jostle too much."
Plankton's antennae
wave slightly, his
expression still fearful.

Karen nods. "We talked
about it, Plankton.
Remember the special 
plan?" She whispers, her
eyes filled with love
and understanding. "You
have to stay calm and let
the medicine work. No
stitches to pop. No pain
like that. We discussed it
before, right? Now, let's
get ready to go home!"

Plankton's antennae 
still, his breathing 
steadies. He nods 
slowly. "Home?" He 
slurs, his mind still 
fuzzy from the anesthesia. 
"I wath... I wath 
thcared of stitchesh."

Karen's smile is 
relieved, her eyes 
glistening with tears. 
"You're safe, Plankton. 
We're going home soon. 
Ready to go?" She 
strokes his cheek.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in acknowledgment, 
his single eye focusing
on hers. "Home," he 
repeats her. "Yeth."

The nurse nods, 
satisfied with his 
response. "Alright,
Mr. Plankton; let's get
you into a wheelchair!"

With the nurse's help,
Plankton is transferred
to the chair, his legs
dangling over the 
edge. "It's just to get
you to your car."

Plankton nods, 
his eye still a bit 
glazed over, but his
body more cooperative
now. His antennae 
wave slightly as he 
tries to sit up straighter. 

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 27

The nurse pushes the 
wheelchair through the
hospital corridors. Chip
and Sandy come into his
line of vision.

"Hi Dad," Chip says, 
his voice tentative. Plankton's
eye snaps to his son. "No?"
He says, his voice clearer
now. "You'we... you'we
liar?" Karen steps in, 
laughing gently. "He's not
lying, Plankton. You had
special stitches. No 
popping, remember?"

Plankton's antennae
drop, his expression 
clearing slightly. "Oh,"
he says, his voice still 
slurred. "Speshul...
stitchesh." He nods, 
his mind slowly piecing
things together. "Wight. No 
popping."

Chip's shoulders relax, 
his smile returning. "Yeah,
Dad. No popping. And we're
all here for you," he says, 
his voice filled with 
reassurance. Sandy 
nods in agreement, her
eyes soft. "You're gonna
be okay. I'll get going now.
Bye, y'all!"

The nurse wheels
Plankton closer to the 
car, and Chip rushes to 
open the door for them.
Karen helps him into the
backseat, making sure
he's comfortable, while 
his head lolls back onto
the headrest. The nurse
waves, taking away the
wheelchair as Karen starts
the car. Chip helps Plankton
buckle in.

In the car, Plankton's
eye keeps fluttering. 
"You okay?" Karen
asked him, unable
to hide her amusement.

Plankton nods, his
speech still slurred. "Jush
tiwed," he says. "I wath...
I wath... I wath on a
speshul day," he 
mumbles, his eye
half-closed. "Tish fwom...
the denthit?"

Karen laughs softly,
her hand on the
steering wheel. "We're in
the car now. You're okay,
sweetie. Just tired from
the medicine."

Plankton's antennae 
wave slowly, his eye
half-closed. "Caw," he
slurs. "Caw wike a...
Chip... merry-go-round?"
"No, no," Karen says, 
smiling. "Just stay put.
You're safe." Chip, sitting
the seat by Plankton, 
watches his dad with 
mixture of humor and 
concern. "Mom's driving
us home, Dad."

"Home?" Plankton 
repeats, his voice
slurred. "Home, wike...
whale wash?"
"Sure, sweetie," Karen 
says, her voice gentle. 
"We will be there soon."

"Dad, do you wanna tell
us about the dentist?" 
Chip asked, starting to
record a video on his phone. 
He doesn't want to startle 
his father, who's already 
so sensitive to his 
surroundings.

Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly. "Nendis?"
He mumbles. "Yeath, nentis."
He closes his eye, 
his antennae moving
as he tries to recall..

"I wath... I wath at
de dentith," he slurs, 
his voice lilting in  
sleepy confusion.
"They goth my wizdam
teef. Teefies?" He giggles
to himself. "Tho many
teefies. Dey maketh a
chaw. I thit down and
dey thaid, 'Bweath in de
gas mask,' and den...
de wowld wath... woozy.
I dunno how bu’ dey aww
of a sudden I’th wakey-wakey
wiff no mowf bu’ on my
hand wath a ban-aid." He 
holds up his hand with
the bandage for emphasis, 
his antennae bobbing 
slightly with each word. "I
thenked dey put me on
de rollercoath, but ended
up in thith caw!" His hand
plopped down in his lap.

Chip and Karen share
a look in the rearview
mirror. "Dentist," she
corrects gently, her 
laughter bubbling up.
"You're still loopy
from the anesthesia.
And that was a wheel
chair, Plankton."

Plankton giggles. "Wheel
chaw," he repeats, his
voice slurred. "Wheelchaw
in a caw." His antennae
wave in delight. "Bu’
Chip wath tho mean. He
tolb me I pop oud my
stitchesh." Chip snickers, 
his hand over his mouth.
Then Plankton continues,
but his voice wobbles sadly.

"Ith’s scawey," Plankton
says, wiping away tears.
"Chip wathn't weal truthful
and thaid I got stitchesh
wiww end up popping.
It wath... wath it...
wath it... my moof." His 
antennae quiver. "Bu’ 
Karen thaid it’th noth
twue. No pop stitchesh!"

Karen's smile fades a 
bit. "Plankton," she says
seriously. "Chip didn’t know
about the dissolving
ones. But I'm here,
and I'll always tell you
what's happening. No
surprises, okay? He was 
just trying to—"

But Plankton's head lolls 
to the side. He's asleep, 
his mouth slightly open. 
His snores are quiet, 
the gauze in his mouth
muffling them. Chip then
ends the video, saving it
on his phone. 

The car ride home is
mostly silent, save for 
Plankton's soft snores.
Karen keeps glancing 
in the rearview mirror,
making sure he's okay.
Chip can't help but 
smile at his dad.

As they pull into
the driveway, Plankton 
stirs slightly, his 
antennas waving in 
his sleep. "Whe... whe're
weh?" He mumbles. "Home,"
Karen says softly. "We're 
home. I'll help you in—"

But Plankton's eye 
closes again, and his
snores grow louder, 
his body relaxed
against the car seat.

Karen gently shakes
his shoulder. "Plankton,
we're home," she says,
trying not to disturb him
too much. His antennae
twitch in his sleep, 
but he doesn't wake up.

With a sigh, she gets
out of the car and opens
his door. "Come on," she
coaxes, her voice 
soothing. "Let's get
you inside!" His eye
opens again. "Home,"
he says, his speech still 
slurred. Karen carefully helps
him out of the car. Yet
Plankton's eye starts
to droop again. "Walky
walky," he murmurs. 

Chip jumps out of the 
car, coming around to
open the front door.
Plankton's legs give out
under him, and he 
sags against Karen, his 
antennas drooping. "Walky," 
he mumbles again, his 
eye fluttering shut.

Karen laughs softly, 
shaking her head. "Come 
on," she says, supporting 
his weight. "Let's get 
you to bed. You gotta 
walk, honey. Are you
even awake?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "Awake," 
he mumbles. He takes 
a step, then another, 
but then his legs give
out again.

"Dad, you need to stay 
awake," Chip says, 
his voice filled with 
concern. But Plankton's
eye closes again, his 
body leaning heavily on
Karen as his snores
are heard. 

With a deep breath,
Karen wraps her arm 
around his waist. "Come
on, love," she says, her
tone gentle but firm. "We're 
almost there. Can you
wake up for just a bit?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch as he nods, his
body wobbly. He takes
another step, his eye
fighting to stay open.
"Walky, walky," he says,
his voice sleepy. They 
inch their way up the
walkway, Chip hovering
behind them, ready to 
catch his dad if he 
fals again.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 28

The home's warmth
envelops them as they
enter, Plankton's eye
fully closing. "Bed," he
mumbles into Karen.
"Wan' bed."

Karen laughs. "You can
do i---"

But Plankton's head
droops again, snores
now echoing through
the house. She sighs,
her smile never leaving
her face. "Come on," she
whispers, half carrying him
toward the bedroom. "You're
almost there. Wakey-wakey," 
Karen coos. Plankton's
eye opens a slit. "Heh?"
"Dad," Chip says. "You need to 
stay awake a bit longer."

They manage to get
to the bedroom,
his legs dragging.
Karen helps him onto the
bed, his head rolling to
the side. "Bed," he says,
his voice barely a murmur.
"Wan' bed."

Chip watches, his
heart heavy. He notices
his dad's mouth moving,
his teeth chattering slightly
as he chews on the
gauze. "Dad, no," Chip
whispers, reaching out to
his father's cheek. "You're
not su—" Chip's eyes 
widen with realization.
"Oh," he says softly. "Your
mouth's numb. Mom, is this
normal?"

Karen nods, her eyes 
on Plankton's face. "Yes,
it's a side effect of the
local anesthesia," she 
explains, her voice calm
and reassuring. "It'll wear
off soon." Plankton's 
antennas wave slightly, 
his chewing growing more
frantic. "It's okay, Plankton,"
she says. "It's just to
keep the blood clots forming
in place. It won't hurt you."

Chip's brow furrows as
he watches his dad's 
mouth move uncontrollably.
"Can we give him something
for it?" He asks, his
hand hovering over the 
gauze in Plankton's mouth.
"Chip, don't. It's just the meds
wearing off. Let's get you comfy,"
Karen says, her tone soothing.

They manage to get him
sitting up, his head 
lolling slightly. Plankton
makes an "mph" noise,
his antennae waving as 
he tries to communicate.
Karen gently takes the
gauze out, revealing a
swollen, numb mouth. 
"Can you feel that?"
Chip asks, his voice 
concerned. Plankton shakes
his head, his eye wide
with confusion. "No?" He says,
his voice slurred. "Karen, I
canth feel my mouthie!"

Karen laughs softly, 
her eyes brimming with 
love. "It's normal, love.
The feeling will come back."

Plankton's antennae 
wave in frustration. "But it'th
so... weiwd," he mumbles.
"Wha’ abouth the gosh?"

Karen takes his hand
gently. "The gauze is
gone, Plankton. Just
try to relax."

Plankton's antennae
quiver as he nods. He
tries to talk again, but
his tongue feels thick
and awkward. "Karen,"
he slurs, "Ith’s wike...
ith’s wike I'vth goth 
a mout' full of
cotton candies. I stiw
feelth gosh?" His tongue
visibly gets in the way
of his chewing.

Karen nods, her hand
on his shoulder. "It's
normal, Plankton. Just
stop chewing your cheek,
okay?" She says, her voice
kind. But Plankton's 
still confused. 
"But it'th not wike...
I'm not gonna bithe
mithelf," he says.

But even as he's talking,
his teeth catch his
tongue. "Thee," he says, 
his voice slurred. "It'th
I'm biting gosh, not mysethf."

Chip's eyes widen.
"No Dad there's no
gauze STOP!" Chip
yells, making him
wince. "Chip thoo
loud! Kare----" "Dad 
you're being louder
than me!"

Karen quickly takes 
control of the situation.
"Plankton, you're okay.
You're just biting your lip
because your mouth is
still numb from the 
medicine," she explains.
"It's a common side
effect. And Chip, please
keep your voice down."

Plankton's antennae
drop in understanding,
his body relaxing 
slightly. "Numb?" He 
repeats, his voice
slurred. "I bith my lithpth?"
He looks at Karen, his 
eye filled with concern.

"It's okay," Karen 
says, her voice calm. 
"It's not gonna cause
complications but it'll
make the pain worse
once it's worn off."

Plankton's antennae 
wave in understanding, 
his eye drooping. "Ow-wee?"
he mumbles, his speech 
still slurred. "I'm sorthy."

Karen nods, her smile
reassuring. "It's okay,
sweetie. Just try to keep 
still," she says.

But Plankton's mouth 
slightly starts to drool 
due to the numbness.
"Ith'th gothta... gothta 
geth muh gosh," he asks.

Karen nods, her
movements swift. She
grabs gauze from the
nightstand. "Open,"
she instructs, her voice
calm and soothing.
Plankton's mouth opens
obediently, and she gently
puts the fresh gauze in.
"Better?" She asks, her
tone tender.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in relief as he 
nods. "Tankyew," he
mumbles, his speech
slurred.

Karen and Chip 
exchange a look, 
both of them trying
not to laugh at the
sight of Plankton's 
drool.

"It's okay," Karen
says, her voice calm. 
"It's normal." She 
wipes the drool from
his chin with a gentle
tissue. "But you
have to keep the
gauze in tonight."

Plankton nods, his 
antennas drooping slightly.
"Thath what dey
thoid," he murmurs. "But
it’th... it’th juth...
tiwweeddd.."

Karen giggles, her 
eyes shining with love.
"I know, Plankton," she
says. "But it's all going
to be okay. You just
have to keep the gauze
in for now." Plankton's
eye closes in sleep.

Chip watches his dad, 
his heart swelling with 
concern. He's never 
seen him like this 
before, so vulnerable. "Mom,
should we be worried?"
He whispers, his voice
shaky. Karen smiles at
his anxiety. "No, no
complications. He'll just
be in pain is all. And his
autism might make it
tougher for him to 
really communicate
what he's feeling without
getting frustrated, so
be prepared for that."

As they get him settled 
in bed, Plankton's drool 
continues to leak out 
despite the gauze.
Karen carefully tucks him
in, making sure the
gauze stays in place. 
"Goodnight, Plankton," 
she says, even though
he's already snoring
softly. She kisses his 
forehead, her heart aching 
for the pain he'll feel 
once the anesthesia 
fully wears off tomorrow.

Chip lingers in the 
doorway, watching his 
dad sleep. His mind 
whirrs with thoughts 
about his dad's 
autism, his surgery,
and the drooling. It's 
strange to see such a
powerful character in 
his life so vulnerable. 
He knows Plankton 
wouldn't want anyone 
to see him like this, 
but he also knows
his dad is safe here.

He turns to Karen,
his voice low. "Mom, is he
going to be okay?"
Karen nods, her eyes 
still on Plankton. "He's
going to be fine. The 
dental work was 
minor. The autism 
just makes everything
more... intense for him."

All the anesthesia and
numbness has worn
off overnight while
Plankton was asleep.

The next morning
Plankton awoke to
a dull ache in his
mouth and jaw.

Karen hears him
groan loudly and
she went right to
his side.

His antennae now
twitched in pain. "Wha'..." 
Plankton then remembers.
The dentist. He had
his wisdom teeth out!
He recalls the mask.
He remembered Sandy
dropped Chip off at
the dentist, and Karen
drove Chip and him home.
Anything else after that,
he'd forgot.

He opens his eye
slowly, his mouth 
now feeling thick 
and swollen. "Karen,"
he murmurs. He then
took his soggy gauze
out, now stained with
pink. "Urrg, m-my face.."

Karen, sitting beside 
him, smiles. "Good 
morning, Plankton. 
How are you feeling?"
Her tone is gentle.

Plankton's antennae 
wave in response. 
"Dunno," he mumbles. 
"Why's the pillow wet?"

Karen laughs softly.
She sits down beside 
his bed, her expression 
kind. "It's because the
medicine they gave 
you made your mouth 
numb. You couldn't 
feel it, so you drooled in
your sleep."

Plankton nods, his 
face scrunching up in 
realization. "Oh," he
says, but winces at 
the pain in his jaw.
"Take it easy," Karen 
instructs, her hand 
steadying his shoulder. 
"You're going to be 
sore for a few days. And 
you had those special 
stitches that dissolve.
You're going to need 
rest."

Chip knocks on the 
doorframe, his eyes 
full of concern. 
"Hey, Dad," he says 
softly. "How's it going?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "Chip," 
he says, his voice 
still thick from sleep.
"Uh, how was Sandy?"

Chip steps into the 
room, his eyes 
scanning his father. 
"Ms. Sandy's good," he 
replies. Plankton nods.
"Sandy dropped you
off at the oral surgeon
office at my dentist 
yesterday, right?"

Chip nods, his eyes
worried. "Yeah, Dad. 
We both came after
surgery." He pauses, 
a smile tugging at his 
lips. "You had some
funny moments."

Plankton's antennae
perk up, his curiosity
piqued despite the pain.
"Funny moments?" He 
asks, nervous. "What
do you mean..."

Chip pulls out his 
phone, scrolling to
the video from the
previous day. He 
presses play. In
the video, they're
in the car, Chip in
the video talking.
'Dad, do you wanna tell
us about the dentist?'
Then Plankton came
into view.

Plankton's eye
opens wider 
as he watches 
his sleepy, post-
surgery self mumble
about the "nentis" and
his "mowf bu' on my
hand wath a ban-aid." 
He watches his own 
confusion with
mortification. "What
bandaid..." Plankton sees
it on his hand. "I
don't remember having this
on my hand. What was it for?"

Karen chuckles. "It was the
IV, but you won't
remember because 
they did it when you
were already sleepy."

"Oh," Plankton says. He 
looks down.
"I don't remember," he mumbles,
wincing as he took off his
bandage. Karen nods, her 
expression sympathetic.
"That's because of the 
medicine, Plankton. You
were pretty out of it."

Chip chuckles. 
"You talked about 
chairs turning into
a rollercoaster," he says.
"It was pretty funny."
Plankton's antennae droop
slightly. "I talked about 
what? It was all a...
a blur."

Karen nods. "You were 
loopy from anesthesia.
But it's over. 
You're safe at home, and
we'll help you out."

Plankton sat up, movements 
cautious due to the 
throbbing in his mouth.
"Th-thank you," he says. "My 
mouth feels... pain."
Karen nods, handing 
over a glass of water 
and a bottle of pain 
meds. "Here. It'll help."

Plankton nods, his 
face contorted in 
discomfort as he took
the pills with a grimace. "Euh– " 

Chip watches his dad
carefully with love. He 
can't imagine what it's
like and his dad's autism make
it more challenging for him to 
understand. He sat down 
on the bed, his hand 
reaching out to cover 
his dad's. But
Plankton retreats his
hand before Chip can 
touch.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 29

"Daddy?" Chip asks,
his voice full of 
concern. "You ok?"

Plankton's hand moves.
"I don't wanna be 
touched," he says 
in annoyance. "Pain."
Chip's face falls, but
he understands. "Okay, 
Dad," he says, pulling
his hand back. "Do you 
want me to ge-"

"No," Plankton says, 
his voice firm. "I don't."
Karen nods, her eyes
knowing. "Remember, 
Plankton," she says gently. 
"You might be even more 
sensitive to touch 
right now because of 
the surgery. It's okay 
to tell us if something 
bothers you."

Chip nods, his 
expression solemn. 
They both know that 
Plankton's autism means 
senses can be overwhelmed
even on a good day. Now,
with his mouth sore from
the surgery, any touch 
could be agonizing.

Plankton takes a sip
of water, but does little
for the ache in his jaw. 
He leans back into the 
pillows, his eye
half-closed. Chip sits
on the bed by him.

"Dad," Chip starts, 
his voice tentative. "I'm
here for you." Plankton's
antennas twitch slightly.
"I know, buddy," he says,
voice strained. "Thanks."

Karen looks at Chip,
her eyes filled with
appreciation. "Why don't
you read to him?" She
suggests. "It might 
help distract him."

Chip nods, his mind
racing. What would
his dad want to hear?
He settles on a book 
about sci-fi, something
that usually interested 
him. He sits down by
Plankton on the bed.

He opens the book and 
begins to read, his voice 
low and steady. "Once
upon a time, there was 
a utopian world," he 
reads, his eyes glancing
at Plankton. His dad's 
antennas twitch slightly 
in response. Good, he's 
listening.

As Chip reads about
molecules and atoms,
Plankton's eye begins to
glaze over. The story 
is interesting, but the
pain in his mouth
makes it hard to focus.
He can feel his anxiety
start to rise, his chest
getting tighter.

Karen notices his
discomfort and touches
his hand lightly. "Honey,
are you okay?" She asks.
But then the doorbell 
rings, interrupting their 
moment. Chip jumps up, 
excited for a break. 
"I'll get it," he says, 
his voice hopeful. 
Karen nods, her gaze 
still on Plankton. Chip
finds Sandy at the door!

"Hi Chip," she says,
her smile wide. "I
thought I'd stay a bit,
keep y'all company
or whatnot." So she
follows Chip into his
parents bedroom.

Plankton's antennae
twitch at the sight of
Sandy. "Hi," he mumbles,
not really focusing. Karen
knew this look usually
meant an oncoming
absence seizure for him.

"You okay?" Sandy asks,
her eyes searching his.
Plankton doesn't respond.
Sure enough, Karen knew
an absence seizure's starting.

Still Sandy approaches, her
movements slow and
careful, not wanting to
overwhelm him. "Plankton?"

Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly, but he doesn't
react. His mind is 
somewhere else. Karen 
quickly explains, "It's okay,
Sandy. He's having an
absence seizure."

Sandy gasps, for she 
has never seen this 
before. "Oh no," she 
whispers, her eyes wide.
"It's okay Sandy," Karen
says, her voice calm. "It's
just a part of his autism."

Sandy looks at Karen,
her eyes questioning.
"An absence seizure?"
Sandy asks, her voice
quiet. Karen nods, her 
hands steady. "They're
harmless, but can be
disconcerting if you're
not used to them. They
can last anywhere from a
few seconds to a couple
of minutes, even a few
hours." They both sit on
his bed.

Plankton's antennae
twitch once more before
his body goes still. The
only sign he's alive is
his chest rising and
falling with his shallow
breaths. Sandy watches, 
concern etched on her 
face. "What can we do?"
she whispers to Karen.

Karen shakes her head, 
keeping her voice low.
"Just stay with him. 
Perhaps talk to him, but
don't touch unless he 
initiates. Keep it calm."

Sandy nods, taking a
deep breath. She sits 
on the edge of the bed, 
her eyes never leaving
Plankton's still form. "H-
hey, Plankton," she says 
softly, her voice trembling.
"It's me, Sandy. I came
to check on you."

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, watching
closely for any sign 
of the seizure's end. She 
smiles gently at Sandy. 
"It's okay, sometimes he can
hear us. Just keep talking."

Sandy nods, her voice 
soft. "Plankton, I'm here,"
she says. "Your surgery 
was yesterday!" She smiles 
nervously, hoping to 
engage him. Plankton
remains motionless.

Karen squeezes his hand
gently. "You had a good
night's sleep," she says, 
continuing to talk to 
him as if he's just
daydreaming. "Your 
mouth will heal soon."

Sandy nods, her voice 
even softer. "Yeah, 
Plankton. And Chip
and I are gonna help 
you through this, okay?" 
Plankton's antennae
barely move. The 
seizure seems to be 
continuing. Karen 
sighs, her hand 
still in his.

Chip watches his dad
with a heavy heart. 
He wishes there was 
more he could do than 
just sit doing nothing. 
He glances at them, 
his eyes questioning.
Karen shakes her head, 
keeping her voice low.
"It's normal," she 
explains. "It's just his 
autism making it 
harder for him to deal 
with pain. He'll come
out of it in his own time."

"How might I know when 
it's over?" Sandy whispers.
Karen nods, her gaze
still on Plankton. "When 
his antennae move 
again, or when he blinks.
It's like he's just 
spaced out, but his brain's
not processing 
anything around him."

"How do you know if or
when he can hear us?" 
She asks, watching his chest 
rise and fall rhythmically.
Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's still form. "Sometimes,
during these seizures, 
he can still process what's
being said around him. It's like 
his brain's on pause, but 
the background's still playing.
It's why we keep talking."

"So what do we talk 
about?" She whispers. Karen 
smiles gently. "Just keep
it simple and calm. 
Talk about his favorite
things, or ask questions
that don't require an answer."
Sandy nods, taking a
deep breath.

"Plankton," she says 
softly. "You know, I
was thinking, going through
surgery can't be easy for 
anyone, but especially not
for someone with sensory 
issues like you." But still
Plankton doesn't budge.

But Sandy's still curious.
"Karen, why doesn't
he blink during these?"
Sandy whispers, her
eyes never leaving 
his face.

"It's a part of the 
seizure," Karen says 
quietly. "His body goes 
still, and his brain does
not send signals to 
blink or move. It's like
his body's frozen in 
time. Why don't you
try to keep his mind 
engaged?"

Sandy nods, leaning
closer. "Plankton," she 
whispers. "You know 
what I was thinking?" 
Her voice is soft, almost 
a sing-song. "We could 
have ice cream. What do 
you think?"

There's a pause. Then, a
tiny twitch in his antenna.
Karen smiles. It's working.

"Maybe mint chocolate chip,"
Sandy suggests, her voice
soothing. "Or would you
prefer vanilla?" "Villa,"
Plankton replies, a glimmer of
life returning to his eye.
Karen's smile widens. "Look,
he's coming back," she whispers.

Chip's eyes light up,
his voice eager. "Can we
have ice cream too?" Karen
nods. "Of course. But let's
wait until later."

Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly, but
his eye remained 
unblinking. So Sandy
tries again.

"What's your favorite 
flavor, Plankton?" She 
asks him, her voice 
barely above a whisper. 
This time, there's more
life in his antennae. They 
wave slightly. "Villa," 
he murmurs. Sandy nods.
"Okay, vanilla it is. Great!
We'll have a little 
celebration later with
your ice cream, okay?"

And then, finally, his 
eye blinks. "Welcome
back," Karen says, her 
voice a warm smile. 
Chip's face breaks into a
grin, and Sandy looks 
at him with a mix of
relief and curiosity.

Plankton looks around
a bit confused, seeing
Sandy sitting by him.
"S-Sandy?" He says, 
his voice weak. "How long
have you been here!"

Sandy smiles warmly, 
her eyes filled with 
relief. "Not long," she
says. "Just waited for
you to come back to us."
Plankton nods, his 
antennas drooping. 
"I-I must've had a seizure.."
Karen nods gently. "Yes,
you did," she confirms. 
"But it's over now, and
you're ok." She squeezes
his hand, her eyes full of
warmth and reassurance.

Sandy scoots beside
Plankton. "Back when
I was in Texas, I gotta
extra copy of a Texan
science book and just
knew you'd like to keep
it!" She pulls out a big
book. Plankton's eye lit
up. "Ooh, let's look at
the index!"

"What, why the index?"
Sandy asks. "It's just a
part of his autistic brain
that he always likes the
index." Karen interjects.
"Read the title and page
to him; it might help him
relax a bit."

Sandy nods, her voice
soft as she reads. "Alright,
Plankton. 'The Wonders of
Texas Mechanics'... page 32.
'Life in Texas'... page 110." Sandy
holds the book in front of them
as Plankton peers over by her
shoulder, following along.

Sandy continues on
reading. "Texan
Electricity... page 240.
Alien Technology... 
page 478. Unusual
Texas Phenomena...
page 520. New Texan
Inventions... page 600."

Sandy reads on. 
"Discoveries in Texas
Biology... page 780. The
Molecular Universe...
page 850. Li—" Sandy
is cut off by a soft snore.
Plankton's antennae had
stopped twitching and
his eye was now fully
closed. Sandy looks to
find his head resting
against her arm,
his mouth slightly open.

Karen smiles gently. "Looks
like he's out," she whispers.
Sandy nods, setting the
book down carefully. "I
think so," she whispers back.
"He must be exhausted.
And the pain probably wore 
him out."

They sit in quiet 
companionship. 
His snores are soft 
and rhythmic. Sandy's
arm is now around 
Plankton's shoulders, 
supporting him.

Chip looks at his 
mom and Sandy, a 
question in his 
eyes. Karen nods. "It's 
okay," she whispers. 
"Let him sleep. He 
needs rest."

Sandy nods with 
compassion. She gently 
shifts her arm around 
Plankton, making sure 
his head is comfortably
propped on her 
shoulder. Chip 
watches, feeling a mix
of awe and confusion.
He's never seen his 
dad trusting and relaxed.

Karen whispers, "Why
don't you go play, 
Chip? We'll keep an
eye on him." Chip 
nods, his eyes 
lingering on his 
father. He doesn't 
want to leave, but he 
understands that his 
dad needs peace.

new adaptable family wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore

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

new 👏🏼 familycore christianity religion church christian goat

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.

new drownedcore familycore factinate

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.

new chip off the old talks familycore x

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.

new chip off the old talks familycore autismcore

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.

new great chip familycore ix

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.

new chip off the old talks familycore xii

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.

new factinate familycore reproductioncore parenthood

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.

new spiritualcore familycore wins

😘😘💚🐾

new spotcore familycore green

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."

new chip off the old talks familycore xi

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 17

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Chip's eyes
widen. "What‽"

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore pt

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.

new great chip familycore xi

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 18

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

~ 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.

new autismcore familycore

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

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.

new shelf improvement familycore xi

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

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. 

new shelf improvement familycore xv

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖬 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖠𝖫𝖫 pt. 17
(𝖻𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌)
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ 
ᴡᴀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀʟ
ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ/ꜰᴀᴄᴛ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ 
ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 
ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇꜱ. 
ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ 
ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ 
ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ 
ꜰᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ.
sᥙρρort to thosᥱ ιmρᥲᥴtᥱd
ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴩᴛ- 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➸ 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 
ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ🙂ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

Karen's eyes are filled with love
and understanding. Plankton
slowly nods, his antennae dropping.
"I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice
barely a whisper.

But Plankton's antennae shoot
up, his eye cold. "You need to go,"
he says, his voice firm. Chip's screen
flickers with hurt. "What?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
Plankton's gaze is unyielding.
"I don't want you here," he says.
"Not right now." His words are like
a dagger to Chip's heart, but
Karen's screens flicker with a
message of patience. "Dad, what
do you mea-"

But Plankton cuts him off,
his antennae rigid. "I mean it,"
he says, his voice hard. "I don't
want you here." Chip's screen
reflects confusion and pain.
He doesn't understand. "But why?"
he asks. "We're fa-"

"Don't," Plankton says, his voice
sharp. "Don't pretend to care."
His eye is cold, his antennae
quivering with anger. "You made
fun of me. You think my world
is a joke." Chip's screen flickers
with confusion and guilt. "Dad,
no," he says, his voice shaking. "That's
not what I meant." But Plankton's
not listening, his words cutting
through the air like shards of
glass. "You think you know," he says,
his voice rising. "But you don't. You
can't. You're not like me."

Karen's screens are a
swirl of emotions, her heart
aching for both her son and
her husband. "Plankton, please,"
she says, her voice a gentle
plea. But he's not listening.
He's too lost in his own
hurt, his own frustration.
"You think you can just play
along?" he says, turning to Chip.
"You think it's that easy?"
Chip's screen shows his fear
growing, his mind racing. He didn't
mean to hurt his dad, but now
he feels like he's being pushed
away. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says,
his voice barely a whisper. "I just
made a mis-"

"Mistake? Hah. The only
mistake was thinking
you could ever understand!"
Plankton's words are a harsh
reminder of their earlier
misunderstanding. Chip's screen
reflects his hurt, his eyes
filling with tears. "You think
you can just pretend?"
Plankton continues, his voice
bitter. "You think you know what
it's like to be me?" His antennae
wave wildly in accusation.

Chip's voice is barely a squeak.
"I just wanted to help, Dad,"
he says, his screen a jumble
of sadness and confusion.
"But you didn't," Plankton
says, his voice cold. "You 
hurt me. And I can't just
shake it off." Karen's screens
flicker with pain for her husband,
but she knows Plankton's anger
is a shield, a way to protect
his tender heart.

"You don't get it," Plankton
continues, his antennae jutting
forward. "You think you can
just pretend to understand?"
His words are a knife in the dark,
twisting in Chip's gut. "Dad,"
Chip says, his voice trembling.
"I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll
learn." But Plankton's eye
narrows, his antennae waving.
"It's not about you," he says,
his voice harsh. "It's never been.
You don't get to cry victim. I can
forgive accidentally touching me
and such, but this... I can't.
I saw you mocking me. I heard you
laughing." Chip's eyes widen.
"No," he says, his voice desperate.
"I didn't mean t---"

But Plankton's not listening.
"You think because you're sorry,
everything's okay and 
make it go away? You don't
get to decide that," he says, his voice
shaking. "You don't get to tell me
how I feel. Because right now, you
don't understand a thing. You're
not a part of this. You're not
being a good son. And I don't
think I can trust you."

The words hit Chip like a wave,
his screen flashing with disbelief.
He feels like he's drowning,
his mind racing for a way to
make it right. "Dad, I'm sorry,"
he says again, his voice choked
with tears. "I'll do anything.
I'll learn, I'll change." But
Plankton's antennae droop, his
body defeated. "It's too late,"
he murmurs. "You had your
chance. But honestly, I don't think
you'll ever be the son I need."

Karen's screens pulse with pain,
seeing the rift between
them grow wider. She knows
how much Plankton values trust,
how hard it is for him to give it
once it's been shattered.

Chip's screen flickers with
desperation. "Dad, I'll be here," 
he begs, whimpering. "I'll try anyth—"

But Plankton's antennae are
rigid with finality. "No," he says,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"I now know better than to let
you in again. I hoped we'd be 
closer, but now I... I don't think
you belong in my life, Chip."

The words hang in the air,
each one heavier than the last.
Chip's screen is a whirlwind
of emotions: guilt, sadness,
fear. "Dad," he says, his voice
a broken plea. "Please, I'll do
better. I promise." But Plankton's
gaze is unyielding. "I'm letting go
Chip. We're done now. You'll never
be the son I adored again. You
failed to accept me, so I won't
accept your façade. So good
bye, Chip. I hope you find peace.."
Plankton then turns around, leaving
Karen and Chip in the living room
as he walked down the hall.
Chip's eyes are wide with shock,
his screen flickering with tears.

Karen's screens dim with sadness
as she looks at her son. "Chip,"
she says, her voice gentle. "It's not
you. It's just his way of coping."
But Chip's not listening. He's
thinking about the moments
his dad's eyes had lit up, the
times Plankton had laughed,
his antennae waving with joy.
And now, it's gone, replaced by
a coldness that scares him.

He tries to imagine what it's like
for Plankton, to live in a world
that's too loud, too bright, too
much. A world where even the
smallest touch can send him spiraling.
Where every interaction is a minefield
of misunderstandings. And he wonders
how he could have missed the signs.
How could he have hurt his father so
much without even realizing it?

new autism and all familycore chip

𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖤 𝖳𝖮 𝖡𝖤 𝖣𝖨𝖥𝖥𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖳
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) 𝗉𝗍. 23

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new dare to be different sensoryoverloadcore marla

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