Wisdomtoothcore Emojis & Text

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES i

Karen sat by her husband
Plankton, who's in the dentist
chair. They numbed his arm
where the Iv's to go in; today
Plankton gets his wisdom teeth
surgically removed.

The dentist, a man named Dr.
Finnegan, leaned in and said,
"Plankton, you're going to start to
feel sleepy now." Dr. Finnegan
started the Iv.

"Are you sure? I'm still awake
and not to mention a light
sleeper," Plankton says, "I don't
feel anyth—" His voice trails
off as his eye flutters closed, his
mouth opens slightly, revealing
his tiny white teeth, and his
body goes limp. His head tips
to one side, and Karen reaches
over to gently push it back to a
more comfortable position.
Plankton's snoring echoes softly in
the surgical room. Karen watches Dr.
Finnegan as he starts to prep
for the procedure. He's all smiles
and nods, assuring her that
everything will be fine.

The smell of antiseptic fills
the room as Dr. Finnegan
cleans the area around Plankton's
mouth with a cool, minty
solution. Karen's grip on her
husband's hand tightens
instinctively, even though he
doesn't stir, lost in the
depths of sleep.

Dr. Finnegan's assistant, a
slender young man with a gentle
touch, carefully inserts the
mouth prop to keep Plankton's
mouth open. Plankton's snores
change pitch slightly, but he
still doesn't wake.

Karen squeezes Plankton's hand,
even though he's unconscious.

The assistant nods at Dr.
Finnegan, who begins to explain
the procedure to Karen. She
nods, trying to focus on his words,
but her eyes keep drifting to her
snoring husband. She can't help
but feel a mix of anxiety and
affection. Plankton, ever the
worrier, had been so nervous about
the surgery. Now he's out like a
light, blissfully unaware of the
impending extraction.

The assistant places a soft
bib under Plankton's chest to
absorb any excess saliva. His
snoring gets a little louder, and
Karen can't resist the urge to
smile.

Dr. Finnegan then starts
the actual surgery, making an
incision in Plankton's gum.
The sound of the drill starts to
fill the room, a high-pitched
whine that makes Karen's teeth
ache in sympathy. She watches
as the assistant suctions the
area to keep it clean. Plankton's
body remains still, his breaths
deep and even.

The tension in the room is
palpable, even though Plankton
is completely oblivious to it. Karen's
thumb rubs his knuckles in a
soothing rhythm as she watches Dr.
Finnegan's steady hand make the
first incision, and Plankton's
snores hitch slightly before
resuming their normal rhythm.

The assistant, noticing Karen's
nervousness, gives her a reassuring
smile. "It's normal for any
snoring to change a bit. He's
still deep in sleep."

Plankton's snores become more
rhythmic as the surgery progresses.
Dr. Finnegan's expert hands navigate
the tight space of his mouth with
ease. Karen's gaze shifts from the
dental tools to the monitor above
them. It displays an X-ray of
Plankton's mouth with the wisdom
teeth highlighted, their jagged
edges pressing against the other
teeth. The reality of the procedure
sets in, but she trusts the dentist.
Her thumb continues to stroke
his hand.

The drill's whine grows louder,
and the smell of bone dust mingles
with the antiseptic. Plankton's
snores remain unfazed, a testament
to the anesthesia's effectiveness.
The assistant periodically wipes
away the blood and saliva that
collects in the corners of his mouth,
his eyes never leaving his task.

Karen's eyes dart to the clock.
Time seems to crawl as the minutes
pass. Each snore from Plankton
is a comforting metronome,
keeping her anxiety in check.

The surgical team works with
precision, their movements
choreographed from years of
practice. The nurse keeps a close
watch on the monitors, noting
Plankton's vitals with a nod of
approval. Dr. Finnegan's
concentration is unbroken, his
expression a mask of focus.

The sound of the drill pauses, and
Karen's heart skips a beat, but
it's quickly followed by the
crunch of bone as the first
wisdom tooth is exposed. Plankton's
snoring doesn't miss a beat. She
swallows hard, her eyes stinging
slightly from the tension.

The nurse notices her
discomfort and offers a kind word,
"You're all doing great." Karen nods as
Dr. Finnegan gently probes the
tooth with a tiny pair of forceps,
his brow furrowed in
concentration.

The drill starts up again,
cutting through the bone.
Karen's eyes dart between her
husband's face, the X-ray
monitor, and the clock, each tick
another step closer to the end of
this ordeal.

Plankton's snores don't even
hitch as Dr. Finnegan applies
gentle pressure to the tooth. The
forceps clamp down, and the
tooth gives a little. Karen holds
her breath, her eyes wide with
anticipation.

The tension in the room is like a
tightrope, but Plankton remains
completely relaxed, unshaken by the
invasion in his mouth.

With a final, almost
ceremonial scraping, the first
wisdom tooth is free. Dr.
Finnegan's smile widens as he
holds it up for Karen to see before
disposing of it.

"One down, three to go,"
he says cheerfully, as if
removing teeth is as simple
as plucking daisies. 

new wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore i

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES iii

The nurse's voice is calm as
she informs Dr. Finnegan that
his blood pressure is stable,
his oxygen levels good. The
monitors beep steadily, a lullaby
of safety amidst the cacophony
of surgical sounds.

With one final tug, the fourth
wisdom tooth gives way, and
Plankton's snoring remains a
steady crescendo in the background.
The doctor holds it up in
triumph, and Karen feels a weight
lift from her chest as the wisdom
teeth are disposed of. A trickle of 
drool starts to form at the corner 
of Plankton's mouth.

The assistant quickly moves in to
clean up the remaining debris,
his movements efficient and
precise. Plankton's snores
morph into something closer to
a gentle purr, his mouth open wide
and vulnerable, revealing the
now empty sockets where the teeth
once were.

Dr. Finnegan takes a step
back, wiping his brow with a
satisfied sigh. "Alright, that's
the last one," he says, looking
over at Karen. She lets out the
breath she's been holding, her
grip on Plankton's hand finally
loosening.

The nurse begins to clean
Plankton's mouth, the suction tool
humming as it removes blood
and excess saliva. His snoring
softens, turning into a gentle
purr that's almost endearing in
its vulnerability. Karen can't help
but feel a swell of love for
his unconscious form, even as
Dr. Finnegan's hands probe his
swollen gums.

The assistant starts to
stitch the incisions closed,
his movements swift and sure.
The sound of the needle
passing through Plankton's gums
makes Karen wince, but Plankton
doesn't flinch. He remains a
picture of peace, his snores
continuing their lulling rhythm.

The room's tension dissipates
as the final stitch is placed.
Dr. Finnegan steps back, a
satisfied look on his face as
he surveys his handiwork. "We're
almost done here," he says,
his voice calm and soothing.
The nurse begins to prepare
the recovery area, laying out
gauze and ice packs, as the
mouth prop is gently removed
from Plankton's mouth. His
snores become a little less
snuffly.

Karen leans in closer,
whispering, "You did so good,
babe," to him. The nurse chuckles
lightly. "He's a champ," she says,
applying pressure to the
gauze to stem the flow of
blood from the stitched sockets.

Dr. Finnegan nods in
agreement, his eyes on the
monitors. "Just a few more
minutes," he tells her, his voice
soft and reassuring.

"He'll be out of it for a
bit when he wakes up," Dr.
Finnegan says with a chuckle,
looking over at Karen. "The
anesthesia can make people
act a little... peculiar."

The nurse gently wipes
Plankton's mouth with a
moist cloth, his head lolling to
the side. Karen's heart is a
wild thing in her chest, but she
can't help the smile that tugs
at her lips.

"He might say some funny
things when he wakes up," Dr.
Finnegan says, his voice low
and amused. "The anesthesia
can do that."

The nurse nods in
agreement. "Don't worry, it's
completely normal. He might not
even remember most of it, or he
may just feel a bit loopy." Karen
smiles nervously, her mind racing
with all the funny scenarios
that could play out.

"But for now," Dr. Finnegan
says, patting Plankton's shoulder,
"he's going to keep sleeping
while we make sure everything
is all set."

The nurse administers a
final dose of anesthesia in
his gums to numb his
mouth to keep Plankton 
comfortable.

"When he wakes up,"
Dr. Finnegan says, his
gloved hands now free of
blood, "his mouth will be
a bit swollen, and he'll
probably be groggy. The
important thing is to keep
his head elevated and have
him use the ice packs to
reduce the swelling. And
don't let him eat anything
too solid for the next few
days. Soft foods only."

The nurse adds, "And if he
says anything strange or
does something unexpected, just
roll with it. It's the anesthesia
talking."

Karen nods, her mind racing
with the instructions, the
possibilities of Plankton's
anesthesia-induced ramblings.
He's always had a wild imagination,
so who knows what might come out
once the drugs kick in?

The nurse gently wipes Plankton's
face, catching the droplets of
drool that form at the corners
of his mouth. His snores turn
into a soft snuffle as his mouth
shifts with each breath.

Karen can't help but chuckle
softly at the sight, the tension of
the surgery giving way to the
comfort of knowing it's almost
over. Plankton's arm, still
numb from the I.V., hangs
loosely by his side. His chest
moves up and down in a deep,
steady rhythm, the only
indication of life amidst the
stillness of his body.

new wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore iii

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES ii

Karen's relief is palpable, but she
squeezes Plankton's hand
even tighter.

The process repeats.
Karen's eyes never leave his
face, searching for any sign
of discomfort, but all she
sees is peaceful oblivion.

The second tooth comes out
without much fanfare, and Plankton
snores on, a symphony of deep,
contented breaths that seem almost
comical against the surgical backdrop.

Karen's eyes stay glued to the
monitors, watching the blips and
waves that indicate her husband's
steady heartbeat and rhythmic breaths.
The assistant works quietly,
keeping the area clear and sterile,
his movements a silent ballet that
complements the dentist's more
forceful actions.

The third tooth is a tougher
proposition. The drill's whine
deepens, the smell of bone dust
more pronounced.

Karen's knuckles are white
from her tightened grip. The
nurse notices and places a
hand on her shoulder. "It's okay.
He's fine," she whispers. The sight
of his mouth, open and vulnerable,
filled with foreign instruments,
should be terrifying, but his deep,
unbothered breaths reassure Karen.

The drill's pitch changes
again as the third tooth
resists extraction. Plankton's
snoring adjusts to a deeper, more
rumbling tone, vibrating the chair.

Dr. Finnegan's smile
diminishes slightly, his brow
furrowed as he applies more
pressure. The forceps clamp
and pull, the tooth refusing to
budge. Sweat beads on the
assistant's forehead as he
quickly switches tools, preparing
for a tougher extraction.

The room falls quiet
except for the persistent
snoring. Plankton's chest
rises and falls with each breath,
his head resting back against
the chair, utterly at ease. Karen
wonders how he can be so
comfortable amidst the chaos.

The nurse monitors the
vitals, nodding slightly to
herself, a silent mantra of
reassurance. Dr. Finnegan
grunts as he applies more
pressure to the stubborn tooth.
The forceps clamp down again,
their metallic grip unyielding.
The tooth shifts, just a little,
and the tension in the room
releases slightly.

Plankton's snoring changes
once more, a symphony of
slurps and gurgles as saliva
threatens to spill over the
prop. Karen giggles, the
tension breaking like a dam. The
assistant glances over with a
smile of his own.

"It's okay," he whispers,
"It's normal. He's still
under."

Karen nods, her eyes
fixed on the nurse's calm
expression as much as the
monitors. The fourth tooth is
proving to be the most
challenging yet, the drill's
buzz a constant reminder of
the work being done.

The nurse whispers, "This
one's a little stubborn," but
doesn't look up from her
task. Plankton's snoring
continues, now a mix of deep,
even breaths and the occasional
snort that makes Karen want
to laugh despite the gravity
of the situation.

Dr. Finnegan's grip on the
forceps tightens. He wiggles the
fourth tooth gently, then with
more insistence. The drill starts
up again, the sound echoing in
the small room.

Karen's heart is in her
throat, but Plankton's snores don't
change. They're a comforting
white noise, a reminder that
despite the chaos, he's still
deeply asleep, unaware of the
dance of metal and pressure in
his mouth.

new wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore ii

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD iii

He took another sip of water,
his cheeks puffing out as he
swished it around his mouth.
"Mmph, tath's betta," he said,
handing the cup back to the nurse.

Karen couldn't help but chuckle
at his antics. "Okay, let's get
you up," she said, her voice
still filled with laughter. Plankton
nodded, his antennae bobbing.

He swung his legs over the side
of the bed, his movements slow
and clumsy. Karen slipped her arm
under his and helped him stand. His
balance was wobbly, like a newborn
foal taking its first steps. She had to
stifle her giggles as he tried to
navigate the unseen world with his
numbed mouth.

"Mmph... Kahen," he began,
his voice a series of muffled sounds.
"How long wi’ this lafs?"

Karen chuckled at his question.
"It'll wear off in a few hours.
But until then, you're going to
have to be careful."

Plankton's antennae wiggled
with determination. "Mmph, I'm
a bih boy," he slurred.

Karen couldn't help but laugh
at his bravado. "Yes, you are,"
she said, her voice warm and
supportive. "Let's get you to
the car."

With Plankton leaning heavily
on her, they shuffled down the
hallway."

"Mmph... Kahen," Plankton slurred,
his words still thick with the
remnants of the anesthesia. "You know,
I've alwaths wanthed to know...
how youw wove me wath."

Karen raised an eyebrow, her
smile growing.

"What do you mean, Plankton?"
she asked, her curiosity
piqued by his sudden
sentimental turn.

"Mmph, wike, how... how youw...
feww in wove?" he managed,
his tongue thick and clumsy.

Karen's smile grew tender at
his earnest question. "Well, it's
complicated," she began, her voice
soft. "But I guess it started
when we met. Now, let's get in
the car."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving with understanding.
"Mmph, okay."

Karen helped him shuffle
his way out of the hospital,
his feet dragging slightly.
He was still groggy from the
anesthesia, but his curiosity
was in overdrive.

"Mmph, Kahen," Plankton
slurred, his voice barely above
a whisper. "Wha's wove wike?"
Karen glanced down at him,
his expression earnest. "It's like
when two people really, really
like each other," she replied,
her voice gentle.

"Wike... I wove youw tho 
mush." He says.

Karen couldn't help but laugh 
again. "Plankton, you're not
making any sense," she said,
her voice filled with affectionate
exasperation. His antennae
drooped slightly, his eye looking
disappointed.

"Mmph... I'm tawwy," he mumbled,
his mouth still a mess of numbness.
"It's just... I wove youw Kahen."
Karen's heart skipped a beat,
his words a sweet jumble of slurs.
"I know, Plankton," she said,
her voice thick with emotion.

They reached the car, and Karen
gently guided him into the passenger seat.

"Mmph, Kahen, wath's that?"
Plankton asked
pointing to the dashboard.

Karen chuckled. "It's the 
car's dashboard, Plankton.
You're just seeing things differently because
of the medicine." She buckled his seatbelt,
his movements exaggerated.

"Mmph, oh," he murmured, his
interest shifting to the
windshield wipers. "Mow, theath 
things, they'we like... like... arms,"
he said, his speech still a
slurry mess. Karen laughed,
shaking her head.

"They're wipers, Plankton. For
the rain," she corrected, starting
the engine.

He nodded, his antennae still
waving with fascination. "Mmph, wath's
theath wound?" he asked, pointing
at the steering wheel.

Karen couldn't help but laugh.
"That's the steering wheel,
buddy. It's what I use to drive
the car," she said, her voice
still filled with humor. Plankton
stared at it for a moment, his
expression thoughtful.

"Mmph, and theath wound?"
he asked, his finger tracing
the path of the windshield
wipers.

Karen couldn't help but
laugh. "It's to keep the
windshield clear, so we can see
while driving."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
twitching with curiosity.
"Mmph, so many tings in this
big wowld."

Karen couldn't help but laugh,
his innocent wonder bringing
a smile to her face. "Yes,
Plankton, there are so many things
to discover," she said, backing out of
the parking spot.

"Mmph, and wath's wath?"
Plankton asked, pointing out the
window at a passing scallop.
"That's a scallop, Plankton. It flies
in the sky," she explained, her voice
still filled with amusement.

He nodded, his antennae bobbing
as he took it all in. "Wow, so-o
beautiful," he slurred, his eye
gazing out the window like a child
seeing the world for the first time.

Karen couldn't help but be
captivated by his innocent
wonder. "You know, Plankton,
sometimes you say the sweetest things
without even realizing it."

His antennae perked up. "Mmph, do I?"
he asked, his speech still a
garbled mess. Karen nodded,
her smile tender. "You do."

"Mmph, gweat," he says with a
slow nod of his head.

Karen steers the car onto the
road, the sun casting a warm
glow over Plankton's sleepy face.
His antennae wilt slightly as
his eye struggles to stay open.

"Mmph, Kahen, theath sun is so
bright," he complains, his voice
still slurred from the anesthesia.
Karen chuckles, reaching over
to adjust the visor. "Better?"

He nods, his antennae drooping.
"Mmph, yeth. Thanf you." He
said, as drool began to form
again in the corner of his
mouth. Karen reached over
with a tissue, carefully
dabbing it away. Plankton
flinched slightly, his mouth
still too numb to feel the
touch.

"Mmph, I wathn't expehcting
this," he mumbles, his gaze
fixed on the passing scenery.
The world outside the car
was a blur of colors and shapes,
his mind still trying to
make sense of it all. Karen
navigated the road, her eyes
flipping between the road
and Plankton's amusing expressions.

"Mmph, Kahen, wath's thaf?"
he asks, his eye half-closed.

Karen looks over at the
traffic light, its red light a stark
contrast to the bright sun. "It's
a stoplight, Plankton. It tells
me when to stop and go."

Plankton nods, his antennae
barely moving. "Mmph, wike a
twail." His eye closes, and Karen
can feel his weight shift slightly
toward her as sleep begins
to claim him again.

"Mmph, Kahen?" Plankton's voice
interrupts the quiet hum of the
engine, his words a soft whisper.
"Ith wike I'm swimmin' in
molasses," he says, his mouth
still not cooperating.

Karen laughs, keeping one
eye on the road and the other
on his peaceful face. "You're
just tired from the surgery,"
she assures him. "You'll be
fine once you get some rest."

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye opening slightly. "But,
Kahen, I don't wan' to sleep,"
he slurred. "I wan' to expehrience
this wowld with you." His words
were earnest, his gaze
firm despite his grogginess.
She watched him fight
the tide of sleep, his eyelid
drooping again.

"Mmph, wath's theath wowndow?"
he asked, pointing at the car's side mirror.

Karen couldn't help but chuckle
at his confusion. "It's a mirror,
sweetheart," she said, her voice
soothing. "So we can see what's behind us."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
barely moving. "Mmph, wike a... wike
a... wookie," he mumbled, his speech
still a garbled mess. Karen laughed,
shaking her head. "It's okay, Plankton.
You're just tired."

His eyes grew heavier, his
lid drooping. "Mmph, I am,"
he admitted, his voice a faint
whisper. The car's gentle rocking
and the hum of the engine began to
lull him into a doze.

Karen watched him, his
snores growing louder as he
succumbed to sleep. His hand
still held hers, the connection
warm and comforting. She felt
his grip loosen slightly, his
body relaxing into the seat.

His breathing grew deep
and even, his antennae
quietly bobbing with each
exhalation. Karen couldn't help
but feel a swell of affection
for this vulnerable side of
Plankton she'd never seen before.

The car ride home was
quiet, punctuated only by
Plankton's gentle snores
and the rhythmic swish of the
windshield wipers. Karen
smiled to herself, her grip on
his hand never loosening.

new the tooth of a child wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore iii

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KAREN AND THE TEETHIES vi

Plankton's eye opens
again. "Hey Karen
guess whath.."

"What, sweetie?"

Plankton's mouth moves
slowly, his tongue thick in his
mouth. "Dentish... man... I
heard him shay I'll feel 
rea-ea-eal sleeepy, and den he
gabe me magic sweep juice," he
slurs, his eye half-closed. "Den
I fell asweep wight aweay."

Karen laughs, her hand
still stroking his antennae.
"That's right, babe. He gave
you something to make you
sleep through the surgery."

Plankton's eye opens wider,
his voice gaining a hint of excitement.
"Magic sweep juice," he repeats,
his mouth forming a goofy grin.
"And den... den... I'm habing a
dweam whewe I woke up in teh
fishy chair," he says, his speech
still slurred.

Karen chuckles, her eyes
twinkling with affection. "It's not
a dream, Plankton," she corrects
gently. "You had surgery to take
out your teethies, that really happened!"

But Plankton's mind is still
swirling with the anesthesia.
"Tish... tish... took... took out...
my teefs?" he repeats, his
voice a mix of wonder and
disbelief. "Buh I don’ eben
fink I haz teefsies!"

Karen's laughter fills the room,
her eyes sparkling with love.
"Yes, Plankton, they took out
your big teefies," she says,
using her fingers to mimic
tiny teeth being removed.

Plankton's eye widens, his
expression a mix of awe and
confusion. "Tish... tish...
teefies," he repeats, his hand
going to his mouth. "But... but...
I don't... don't... don't 'member
anyfing."

The nurse laughs gently. "That's
okay, Mr. Plankton. Sometimes
the medicine makes it so you don't
remember much."

Plankton nods, his head
bobbing slightly. "Buth... buth...
whath... wait whewe's you come 
fwom, nurse? How youw jush
now?" he slurs, his speech still
a slow and unsteady stream.

The nurse laughs kindly.
"I've been here the whole time,
Mr. Plankton, making sure you're
okay."

Plankton's gaze shifts
to her, his mind still foggy.
"Buth... buth... how youw got...
got heaw?"

The nurse's smile never
fades. "You're just a bit
sleepy, Mr. Plankton. I've been
right here."

Plankton's eye widen with
realization, his voice a slurred
whisper. "Oh... oh... sho... so-o
it's wike... youw wike a magician?"

The nurse nods, her smile
broadening. "In a way, yes.
We made sure everything went
smoothly so you wouldn't feel
anything."

Plankton's eye lights up
slightly, a childlike wonder
filling his gaze. "Wike... wike a
booboo kiss?" he mumbles, his
hand still fumbling at his mouth.

"Sort of, but for your teeth,"
Karen says, her voice gentle. "The
doctor took out the ouchies."

Plankton's eye widens.
"Tish... tish... toofies," he
mumbles, his hand moving to
his mouth again. "Ouchies gone?"

Karen nods, her smile warm.
"Yes, the ouchies are gone. You
were so brave," she says, her voice
soothing.

Plankton's hand falls to his
lap, his head wobbling. "Brah...
brave?" he repeats, his voice a
slurred whisper. "I... I don't
'member bein brah-ave," he says,
his mouth curving into a sleepy
smile. "I ownwy 'member...
ownly 'member... magic sweep
juice."

Karen's heart melts at his
innocent expression. "You were
very brave," she insists, her voice
filled with love. "The doctor
was like a superhero, and he took
out your booboo teethies with his
magic tools."

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly, his mind trying to grasp
the concept. "Superhero... tooth
faiwy?" he mumbles, his gaze
drifted. "Did... did he weave me
a penny?"

Karen laughs softly, her
hands still gently stroking his
antennae. "No, honey, not a
penny," she says, her voice filled
with amusement. "But he did make
your mouth all better."

Plankton's gaze is
somewhat unfocused as he tries
to piece together the story.
"Tooth faiwy... magic... magic
juice," he murmurs, his
thoughts jumbling together. "Dentish
man... took... took out...
my... my... tish... tish... teethies."

The nurse nods encouragingly.
"That's right, Mr. Plankton. Dr.
Finnegan is like a superhero,
and he took out your teethies
while you were asleep. And now
Karen can drive you home!"

Plankton's head bobbles. "Dweam...
dweam... I had a dweam," he
slurs, his voice barely above
a murmur. "Dentish... man... took
out... tish... tish... teethies...
wiff... wiff... magic wand?"

Karen laughs softly, her
heart brimming with love for
his innocent confusion. "Yes,
sweetie, he used special
magic tools," she says, her voice
a comforting lullaby. "Are you
ready to go home?"

Plankton's eye rolls back,
his head nodding slightly. "Home...
yesh... yesh," he mumbles, his
mouth still not fully cooperating.
"But... but... I want... I want
my Karen."

Karen leans in closer, her
face soft. "I'm right here,
Plankton," she says, her voice a
whisper of reassurance.

Plankton's gaze locks onto
hers, his mouth moving in a
sluggish imitation of speech.
"But... buth... I... I had out
my mouthy thingsies. Sho Karen
nee to come," he says, his
voice barely coherent.

Karen chuckles, her heart
swelling with affection. "I
was here the whole time,"
she says, her voice a gentle
reminder. "You were just
sleeping while Dr. Finnegan
fixed your mouth."

Plankton's eye flutter
closed again, his words
slurred and dreamy. "Sleepy
time... Karen was... was...
dere. Toofy-woofy man... took
out... took out... booboo tish."

Karen giggles, her heart
warm with love. "Yes,
the toothy-woofy man took
out your booboo teeth," she
says, playing along with his
nonsensical speech. "And now
you get to go home to your
comfy bed."

Plankton nods, his eye
half-closed. "Beddy-bye,"
he murmurs, his voice a
slurred whisper. "But... buth...
Karen... Karen wiww shupposht
to come... to... to... tish... tish..."

But before he can
finish his sentence, his
head lolls back and his eye
slip shut, his body
going slack against the chair.
Karen laughs softly, her heart
filled with affection. She
kisses his forehead, her
touch gentle and loving. 
His snores are gentle,
his face relaxed in sleep.

The nurse watches with a
kind smile, used to the quirks of
post-anesthesia patients. "He'll be
out for a bit," she tells Karen.
"It's normal. But let's get to the car."

With gentle hands, they lift
Plankton's slumbering form, his
body boneless with sleep. His head
lolls against Karen's shoulder.

"Beddy-bye?" he mumbles, his
voice a breathy whisper against
her neck. She laughs softly, her
arms cradling him.
"Let's get you to the car,"
Karen murmurs. "Just a 
little more."

But Plankton's eye is
falling shut, his head drooping
against her shoulder.

"Buth... buth... Karen," he
slurs, his voice fading into
nothingness as sleep pulls
him under.

Karen laughs softly,
adjusting his head. "Hold on,
just a bit longer," she whispers,
his words barely reaching her.

But Plankton's fight against
sleep is futile. His eyelid
twitches as he mumbles incoherently,
his breaths growing deeper.
Karen's heart swells with love
for his stubbornness. She leans in,
kisses his forehead, and whispers,
"You can sleep, Plankton."

His response is a faint snore,
his head heavy on her shoulder.
The nurse nods with a knowing smile.
"Let's set him in the chair in the 
waiting room area."

They move him gently, his body
going limp again as sleep takes
over. His snores become more
pronounced as he sits, his head
bobbing slightly.

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore vi

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES viii

With the nurse's help, they
manage to get Plankton into the car.
Karen buckles him in, his eye
opening briefly before dropping shut
again. His snores fill the car as
she starts the engine. She
glances at him, his mouth hanging
open slightly, and laughs. "You
can sleep when we get home,
Plankton," she whispers, her voice
filled with affectionate amusement.

But Plankton's snores are a
steady beat, his body swaying
slightly with the car's movement.
His head tips back.
Karen smiles, reaching over to
adjust his seatbelt, making sure
it's snug but not too tight. She
kisses his forehead, her
laughter a soft sound in the quiet
car. "You're such a goofball,"
she murmurs.

But Plankton's eye won't open,
his snores gentle. His head
rolls against the headrest,
his mouth hanging slightly open.

Karen shakes him gently.
"Wake up, babe," she whispers,
her voice a soft laugh. "We're
going home." She says as she
drove out of the parking lot.

But Plankton's only response
is a snort, his snores
continuing. His head
lolls to the side, his mouth
open, a thin line of drool
connecting his lip to his chin.

Karen's smile widens, a
mixture of affection and
exasperation. She reaches
over with a napkin to wipe
his mouth gently. "You're
such a sleepyhead," she whispers,
his snores the only reply.

The car's engine purrs
as they pull onto the street.
Plankton's snores crescendo
into a gentle snort, his
body jolting slightly in the
seat. But sleep wins again,
his head drooping to the side.

Karen's eyes dart between
the road and Plankton's sleeping
form. His snores are a soft
comforting background noise.

Plankton's head tips to the side,
his mouth drooping open. A thin
line of drool forms, and Karen
quickly darts a napkin to catch
it. She giggles softly to herself,
his peacefulness a stark contrast
to his usual frenetic energy.

"You're going to wake up in a
puddle of drool," she whispers, her
voice filled with amusement.
But Plankton's snores are a sweet
lullaby, unchanged by her words.
His body sags into the car seat,
his chest rising and falling with
each deep, sleepy breath.

As they hit a bump in the road,
his head jolts up, his eye
half-open. "Wha... wha..." he
mumbles, his voice a thick slur.
But the moment passes, and his
head lolls back again, snores
picking up where they left off.

Karen's laughter fills the car,
her hand reaching over to
stroke his antennae gently. "You're
such a mess," she whispers, her
voice a mix of love and amusement.
"But you're my mess."

Plankton's snores are the
only reply, his head
bobbing with the car's movement.
Karen watches him sleep,
his mouth slightly open,
drool glistening in the
soft light from the dashboard.

Each time she looks over,
his snores crescendo, and
she can't help but smile.
"Sleepy Plankton," she whispers,
her voice filled with love.

They arrive home, the
car's engine silenced in the
quiet neighborhood. Plankton's
snores continue, unbothered
by the change in scenery.

Karen shifts into park,
turning to look at him. His
snores are a soft whisper in
the quiet car, his body still.
His head tips to the side,
his mouth open slightly, drool
pooling on his chin.

"Home," she whispers, her voice
a gentle wake-up call. But his
snores are unbroken, his body
remaining slack.

With a sigh, she opens
his door, her arm slipping
under his to support his weight.
"Wake up, Plankton," she says,
her voice a soft nudge. "We're home."

But Plankton's snores are
the only answer, his body
unmoving. Karen shakes her
head, a smile tugging at her
lips. She carefully lifts him,
his legs swinging like a ragdoll's.

"Wake up," she whispers, her
laughter a soft caress. "We're
inside." Plankton's snores
pause briefly, his eye
flickering open before shutting
again. "Home," he mumbles, his
voice barely audible.

Karen chuckles, her
strength carrying his
weight. "You can sleep all
you want in bed," she promises,
his snores the only answer.

They stumble into the
hallway, Plankton's snores
bouncing off the walls. She
guides him to the couch,
his legs giving out with a
thump. "Come on," she whispers,
laughing. "Bedtime."

But Plankton's eye is
closed, his snores a soft
whisper. He slumps against
the couch cushions, his body
unyielding. Karen sighs, her
smile filled with affection.
"You're so stubborn," she
says, her voice a gentle scold.

With a grunt, she shifts
his weight, his head rolling
to the side. "Wake up," she whispers,
a hint of laughter in her voice.
But Plankton's snores are a sweet
testament to his deep slumber.

"We're almost there,"
she whispers, her voice a gentle
reminder. But his body is a
deadweight, his snores echoing
through the quiet house.

With a soft chuckle, Karen
shifts him into a standing
position, his snores hitching for a
moment before resuming their
steady rhythm.

"Walk, Plankton," she whispers,
guiding his sleepy steps. But his
body sags again, his head rolling
back with a snore. "Come on,
sweetie," she says, her voice a blend
of amusement and persistence.

Karen's heart swells with love
for his adorable state. She
manages to carry him to their
bedroom, his snores a gentle
reminder of his deep sleep. She
eases him onto his bed, his body
falling into the soft embrace of the
mattress with a final, heavy snort.

Karen props his head with
pillows, his mouth still open.
She wipes the drool from his
chin with the napkin, her touch
gentle and loving.

"You're home," she whispers,
his snores the only response.
Her eyes scan his face,
his features relaxed in sleep.
With a soft sigh, she tucks
the blanket around him.
"Rest well, my love," she says,
kissing his forehead.

Plankton wakes up the next
morning, finding himself in
his own bed after his 
appointment for wisdom 
teeth removal. The anesthesia
worn off overnight.

He looks around, his head
feeling light and his mouth
feeling... strange. He touches
his cheeks gingerly with his
fingers, feeling the absence
of his teeth. "What happened?"
he mumbles, his voice groggy with
sleep. Last thing he remembers is
the dentist's chair and Karen's
soothing whispers.

Karen walks in, her smile
bright. "You're awake," she
says, her voice a soft
caress. "How do you feel?"

Plankton's hand moves to his
swollen mouth, his eyes
wide with surprise. "What...
how'd I get here?" he
slurs, his speech still thick with
sleep.

Karen laughs, her eyes
sparkling with mirth. "You
fell asleep at the dentist's
and I brought you home,"
she explains, her voice filled
with humor. "Do you remember
the surgery?"

Plankton's eye widen,
his brain foggy with
recollection. "I... I think so,"
he mumbles, his hand
still cupping his cheek.
"I recall the chair...
and your voice..."

Karen nods, her smile
warm. "You were pretty
out of it," she says, her voice
a gentle tease. "But you're
all healed now."

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore viii

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD ii

The nurse finished up the
paperwork and handed it to Karen.
"You're all set to go home
once Mr. Plankton is ready.
Just remember, he'll need to take
it easy for a few days. No
solid food, only soft things like
soups and mashed potatoes."

Karen nodded, her gaze
still locked on Plankton's
fascinated expression. "I've got it
covered," she said. Plankton,
seemingly oblivious to the
instructions, was busy poking
his cheeks with his fingers,
his mouth still numb and frozen.

He looked up at her, his
eye twinkling. "Kay... Kahen...
anotha... anotha teeth."
The nurse had left the room,
leaving them in a quiet
solitude punctuated only by
the rhythmic beeping of the
monitors and the occasional
swish of hospital curtains.

Karen couldn't resist the
urge to laugh. "You're
already asking for more?"
she teased. Plankton shrugged, his
expression as goofy as a puppy's.
"Ith... wothless... wifout...
wisdom," he mumbled.

Her amusement grew.
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment
to the teeth or an insult to
me," she said playfully.

Plankton's antennae shot up,
his cheeks flushing a brighter shade
of pink. "Mmph... no, no... gwed...
wisdom..." he insisted, his speech
still slurred. Karen couldn't help but
smile at his earnestness.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind,"
she said, her voice filled with affectionate
sarcasm. "So, what's the first thing
you want to do when we get home?"

Plankton's antennae twitched with excitement.
"Mmph... mow... wock?" he slurred, his voice
muffled by the anesthesia.

Karen raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden
interest in music. "You want to rock?"
she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Plankton nodded vigorously, his antennae bobbing.
"Mmhmm," he managed, his mouth still
refusing to cooperate. "Wock and wowl."

Karen couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I'll
make sure to have some rock music ready
for when we get home." Plankton's eye lit up,
his enthusiasm clear despite the numbness.

"Gweat," he murmured, his antennae swaying
to an unheard melody. Karen watched him,
his normally stoic face now a canvas of
comical expressions and muffled sounds. It was
surreal to see him like this, but she
found his vulnerability endearing.

"But first, we need to get you home,"
she said, her voice a gentle reminder
of reality. Plankton nodded, his
eye closing in exhaustion. He leaned
his head back on the pillow, his
snoring resuming its soft crescendo.

The nurse returned to check on them.
"Looks like he's comfortable," she said
with a smile. "You can take him home
whenever you're ready." Karen nodded,
still watching Plankton's peaceful face.

"Mmph... Kahen?" Plankton's eye
opened again, searching for her.
"Ca-- we go now?" he slurred, his voice
laced with hope. Karen couldn't resist the
urge to lean over and kiss his forehead.
"Soon, buddy," she whispered.

He nodded, his antennae waving
sluggishly. His hand found hers again,
his grip firm despite his grogginess.
Karen felt her heart melt at his
determination. "Mmph... I teww you 'notha
tink?" he mumbled, his smile hopeful.

"Sure," she said, leaning closer.

"Wheh, mmmph... the dentist
made every ting awwright, yet
firsh, they saith I woul’ be in
surgery. Bu’ they didn’t even
cuth me openth! They jus’
made every ting go woozy,"
Plankton slurred. "Then youw
face wath theath wight bulb on
top."

Karen couldn't stop herself from
laughing. "What are you talking
about, Plankton?" she asked, her voice
filled with warmth.

He tried to enunciate, his
lips moving awkwardly. "Mmph, Kahen,
the dentist... they... they put me to
sweep wi’out cutting me." His
words were jumbled. Karen's curiosity
piqued, she leaned in closer.

"What do you mean, without cutting you?"
she questioned, her voice filled
with gentle amusement.

Plankton's antennae waved wildly.
"Mmph, they goth me all sleepy and
then I woke up wifout getting cuth!"
he exclaimed, his words still thick.

Karen couldn't contain her laughter.
"They didn't cut you because they already
took your teeth out while you were asleep,"
she explained, her voice a blend of humor
and affection.

Plankton's antennae drooped, his eye
looking disappointed. "Mmph, oh... I wath
expehcting a magith trick." He slumped
back into the pillow.

Karen chuckled, stroking his
hand. "It's like magic, isn't it?"
she said, her voice light. "You
went to sleep with four extra teeth
and woke up with none."

Plankton's antennae shot up again.
"Ma... ma... magic?" he repeated,
his voice filled with wonder.
Karen nodded. "In a way, yes.
They used sleepy medicine so you
wouldn't feel a thing."

He stared at her, his eye wide
with fascination. "Wow, Kahen.
They're wike wizawds!" he exclaimed,
his speech still slurred but his
enthusiasm unmistakable. Karen laughed
again, her heart feeling lighter.

"Mmph, can they make me
fwee too?" Plankton asked,
his voice filled with hope. Karen
shook her head, her smile never
leaving her lips. "Sorry, Plankton.
Only in your dreams."

He pouted, his cheeks puffing
out like a chipmunk's. "Mmph, no fun."
His eye grew heavy again, his body
still feeling the weight of the
anesthesia. Karen stood, gently
squeezing his hand. "Let's get you
up, okay?"

With a groan, Plankton
managed to push himself into
a sitting position, his legs
dangling over the side of the bed.
Karen supported him, her arm
wrapped around his shoulder. His
head lolled to one side.

"Mmph... wath... whath... 
whath's that?"

Plankton's voice was a muffled
mess, his words tripping over
his still-numb tongue. Karen
followed his gaze to the
plastic cup of water.

"Mmph... wath's in thef?"
he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Karen laughed gently. "It's for rinsing,
buddy. To keep your mouth clean."
Plankton nodded, his antennae
still waving with excitement.

The nurse stepped in to help,
handing him the cup filled with
water. "Here, take
a sip."

Plankton's antennae waved
nervously as he took the cup,
his hand trembling. He took
a tentative sip, his mouth
filling with the cold liquid. "Ah, gwed,"
he slurred, his speech still
affected by the anesthesia.

Karen watched him with
amusement. "You're doing great,"
she encouraged, her voice
soothing. Plankton managed
a wobbly nod. "Mmph... wath's nxt?"

"Now, we just need to get
you home,"
she said, her eyes sparkling
with mirth. Plankton's antennae
drooped slightly. "Mmph... dawes?"

Karen nodded, her smile
never fading. "Yes, darling,
we're going home now." Plankton's
eye lit up with excitement,
his slurred speech a cute contrast
to his usual sharp wit.

new the tooth of a child wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore ii

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

THE TOOTH OF A CHILD i

Karen had been pacing 
the waiting room.

Finally, the doors 
swung open and 
Dr. Castellanos 
stepped out. Karen 
rushed over. "How's 
Plankton?" she asked, 
her voice cracking slightly.

Dr. Castellanos offered 
a small, reassuring smile. 
"The surgery went well. 
We removed all four wisdom 
teeth without any complications.
He's in recovery."

Karen followed the dentist
Dr. Castellanos down the 
hallway. 
They entered a small, curtained 
area.

There lay Plankton, 
his snoring soft and 
even, surrounded by the 
beeping monitors. 
Karen felt a gentle wave 
of relief wash over her, 
seeing his usually furrowed brow 
now relaxed in sleep, 
his mouth slightly ajar.

"We numbed his mouth even
though he's slept under the
anesthesia, so he might not
feel that part of his face for
today. The anesthesia can
normally cause patients to
act a bit peculiar when they first
wake up," Dr. Castellanos explained
as Karen studied Plankton's
slack features, his antennae
twitching with each snore.

As if on cue, a string of drool
slithered out of the corner of
Plankton's mouth and dangled. Karen
chuckled at the absurdity
of it all.

"Don't worry, it's perfectly
normal," Dr. Castellanos assured
her with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"The numbness can cause that.
It'll wear off by tomorrow. He'll wake
up anytime though."

Karen nodded, her eyes
never leaving Plankton's peaceful
face. The surgery was a success,
but she knew the real test would
be when he came to. Would he be
in pain? Would he be groggy or scared?
The what-ifs swirled in her mind like
a tornado of uncertainty.

The room grew quiet, the only
sounds the persistent rhythm of
the heart monitor and Plankton's
slight snores. Karen pulled up a chair
and took his hand, her thumb
gently stroking the back of his palm.

As the minutes ticked by, the
curtain around the bed parted
and in stepped a nurse, her shoes
squeaking softly on the clean,
white floor. "Miss?" she said quietly.
"When Mr. Plankton wakes up, he might
be disoriented. We've prepared a
cup of water if he's thirsty."
Karen nodded her understanding,
squeezing Plankton's hand slightly.

The nurse checked the monitors
and stayed with them. Karen leaned
in, whispering to Plankton, "You're
going to be okay."

Eventually, Plankton's snoring 
grew less pronounced, and his 
eye began to flutter open. He 
looked around the unfamiliar 
space with a dazed expression, 
confused and unfocused. Karen 
leaned in closer, her eyes brimming 
with a mix of concern and relief.

Plankton's eye settled 
on Karen's face. She 
offered a tentative 
smile, not wanting to 
startle him. "Hey, buddy," 
she whispered, her voice 
soothing. "You're all done. 
You're in recovery now."

His eyes searched hers, 
slowly focusing. He tried to 
mouth a question, but 
the numbness took hold. 
All that came out was 
a muffled, "Mmmm?"

Karen's smile grew wider. 
"You're okay," she assured 
him, her voice calm and 
soothing. "You had your 
wisdom teeth removed. 
Remember?"

Plankton blinked a few times, 
his gaze flicking from Karen 
to the unfamiliar surroundings 
and back again. 
He attempted to speak again.

"Mmph?" It was barely audible,
his mouth refusing to cooperate.
Karen nodded, her grip on his 
hand tightening slightly. "You're 
in the dentist, remember? 
You had surgery to remove your 
wisdom teeth."

Plankton's eye grew wider,
his mind trying to piece together
the hazy fragments of memory.
"Windom eet?"

Karen chuckled despite
herself. "Yes, all four,"
she confirmed, nodding.

Plankton's eye grew
even wider, and he
managed to nod, a look
of astonishment spreading
across his face. The nurse
came over.
"Here, let's help you sit
up," she said, placing a
pillow behind his back.

As Plankton sat up, his
face contorted with
confusion, his mouth
feeling like it was filled
with marshmallows. He
tried to talk again.

"Mmph... Kahen...?"
he slurred, his tongue
fumbling over the words.
Karen laughed softly.

"Yes, I'm here," she said.

Plankton's eye lit up at
the sound of her voice, and
his cheeks puffed up as he tried
to smile.

"Mmph... gweat," he managed to
say, the words a garbled mess.
Karen couldn't help but laugh
at his endearing attempt to speak,
his numbness adding an unintentional
comedic twist to the situation.

He reached out a wobbly arm,
his hand grasping for the cup of water
the nurse had left on the tray.
Karen carefully lifted it to his lips,
supporting his head as he took a sip.
The cool liquid trickled down his throat,
a welcome reprieve from the dryness.

"Mmph, gwood," he murmured.
The nurse gave a knowing smile,
accustomed to the peculiarities of
waking patients.

Karen couldn't help but be
enchanted by Plankton's
delirious state. His usual stern
expression was replaced with one of pure
joy, his eye twinkling like stars
on a cloudless night. He began to
flail his arms around, knocking over
the surgical tray with a clatter.
The nurse quickly intervened,
stabilizing the situation with a laugh.
"Whoa there, Mr. Plankton! Take
it easy," she said, her voice
filled with good humor.

With great effort, Plankton
managed to articulate a slurred
sentence, his mouth feeling like
cotton. "Kahen, teww me a
stoy," he begged, his speech
garbled by the anesthesia. Karen
was surprised by the childlike
innocence in his tone.

Karen glanced at the nurse,
who nodded with amusement. She
took a deep breath, thinking of
a simple tale that wouldn't cause
any distress. "Once upon a time,
there was Plankton,
and he gets to go home
from the dentist. The end!"

Plankton's eye squinted,
his antennae waving slightly.
"Mmph... wow, a reawy gweat
stoy," he slurred, satisfied with
the storytelling for now.

The nurse, unfazed by the
unusual scene, began to prep
his discharge papers. Karen
couldn't help but feel a warmth
spread through her chest, watching
his vulnerability. The fierce,
cunning villain she knew from
the cartoons had been replaced
by a gentle soul, his words as jumbled
as a bowl of alphabet soup.

"Mmph, Kahen," Plankton
slurred again, his hand reaching
for her arm. "Whas' tha... tha...?"
He pointed to the monitor,
his curiosity piqued by the
dancing lines and numbers.

"That's your heart rate, buddy,"
Karen explained, her voice
still tinged with amusement.
"It's showing that you're okay."
Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving with excitement.

"Mmph... mow...?" he
managed, his mouth feeling
like it had been stuffed
with pillows.

Karen leaned in, her
laughter bubbling up. "It's okay,
you're just talking funny
because of the medicine."

Plankton's eye grew more
curious. He pointed at
his mouth with a
thumb, his antennae drooping.
"I... hoth?"

Karen nodded, her smile
sympathetic. "No, buddy,
you're just numb. It'll go away."

Plankton's antennae
perked up. "Whuh, wike dis?"
he asked, his voice still
slurred. He tried to stick out
his tongue, only to find
it thick and uncooperative.

Karen nodded. "Exactly like that.
But don't worry, you're doing
fine," she said, her tone
reassuring. Plankton's cheeks
puffed up as he nodded,
his eye glued to the
monitor with childlike wonder.

new the tooth of a child wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore i

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES v

Plankton's eye drifts
closed again, his mouth
still moving slightly as he
makes an attempt at speech. "Buh
my... my moufs..."

The nurse nods. "It's
normal to feel funny. Just
let the anesthesia wear off."

Plankton's hand flaps
weakly in the air. "But... buth...
my mouf... mouthie... mouthie
not wooking," he mumbles, his 
fingers trying to feel his
swollen cheeks.

Karen and the nurse exchange
a knowing smile. "It's okay,
babe," Karen says, taking his hand
in hers and guiding it back to
his lap. "You're going to be fine."

Plankton opens his eye. 
"Whath... whath youw... 
wooking ath?"

The nurse chuckles. 
"We're just checking to
make sure you're okay, Mr.
Plankton," she says, her voice
gentle.

Plankton's head wobbles
slightly. "Mmph... check... check...
my mouthie," he slurs, his
hands reaching up to his face.
Karen can't help but laugh
quietly, her nerves finally
starting to ease.

The nurse gently takes his
hands away. "We've already
checked, Mr. Plankton. Everything
is fine."

Plankton's eye rolls
back slightly, his head lolling
as he tries to process her
words. "Mouf... mouthie," he
slurs, his tongue thick in his
mouth. "Thish... thish chair...
comfortabwe?"

Karen laughs softly, her
anxiety dissipating with each
slurred syllable. "It's supposed
to be," she reassures him,
adjusting his head so that it
rests comfortably against the
chair.

Plankton's mouth opens and
closes, his tongue lolling out
like a tired puppy's. "Buth...
buth... is not... not
comfowtable," he mumbles, his
cheeks bulging with the effort
to speak.

The nurse and Karen exchange
glances, the humor of the
situation not lost on them.
"It's the anesthesia," the nurse
explains gently. "It'll wear
off soon. Just keep talking
to him, Karen. It'll help him
stay with us."

Karen nods, stroking his antennae.
"Remember, Plankton," she says,
enunciating clearly, "you're
in the dentist's office."

Plankton's eye rolls to meet
hers, his gaze still unfocused.
"Dentish... office?" he repeats,
his voice a slurred mess. "Whath...
whath I do heaw?"

Karen smiles warmly, her
hands continuing to gently
stroke his antennae. "You had
your wisdom teeth taken out," she
reminds him, her voice clear
and calm.

Plankton's eye rolls in his
head, trying to comprehend
the words. "Tish... teethies?" he
repeats.

"Yes, your wisdom teeth," Karen
says with a gentle smile, her voice
a beacon of clarity in the fog
of his confusion.

Plankton blinks heavily, his
eye struggling to focus on her.
"Windom teethies... takesh out...
my... my... mouthie," he
slurs, his hand moving to his
swollen cheek.

The nurse nods, her smile
still in place. "That's right,
Mr. Plankton. Dr. Finnegan
took them out for you."

But Plankton's not ready
to concede. His hand
moves to his mouth, his
fingers probing the swollen
gums. "Buth... buth... I
can't... I can't feel them,"
he mumbles, his voice filled
with skepticism.

The nurse and Karen share
a knowing look. This was
part of the anesthesia's charm,
the temporary loss of sensation
that came with the territory.
"They're gone," Karen says, her
voice filled with love and patience.

But Plankton isn't
convinced. He opens his mouth
again, his tongue sliding out
like a slug. "Where'd they
goeth?" he slurs, his voice a
comical blend of sleepiness
and bewilderment.

Karen laughs softly, her
heart swelling with affection.
"They're gone, sweetie.
Dr. Finnegan took them out and
now your mouth will feel much
better."

Plankton's tongue lolls out
of his mouth, his eye still
half-closed. "But... but... mouthie
feesh funmy," he murmurs, his
words a drunken mess.

Karen can't help but laugh.
"It's just the anesthesia,
babe," she says, her voice a
soothing balm. "You're
going to be okay."

Plankton's tongue rolls
around his mouth, his eye
half-closed. "Fish... finny...
fish... I'm not a fish," he mumbles.

Karen's laughter fills the
room, her heart warmed by
his nonsensical ramblings.
"No, Plankton, you're not a
fish," she says, her voice
laced with amusement. "You're
just a little out of it."

Plankton's head wobbles as
he tries to form words. "Fishy...
not... not fishy," he slurs,
his tongue thick and uncooperative.
The nurse can't help but giggle,
finding his confusion endearing.

"No, Plankton, you're not a fish,"
Karen repeats, her voice filled with
affection. "You're just feeling
a bit funny because of the
medicine."

Plankton blinks slowly, his
eye focusing on her for a brief
moment before it wanders again.
"But... buth... I'm not a fish," he
mumbles, his voice barely audible.

Karen laughs, her nerves
completely at ease now. "No,
honey, you're not a fish," she
reassures him, her voice gentle.
"You're just groggy from the
surgery."

Plankton's eye blinks
slowly. "Sur... surgery?"
he repeats, his voice a mere
whisper. He looks around
the room, his gaze unfocused
and bewildered. "Whath... whath
was’at that... that sownd?"

The nurse and Karen
share a confused smile. 
"What so—"

But Plankton cuts her off
again, his mouth moving in
slow motion. "Thish chair...
fishy chair... not... not comfowt," he
mumbles, his tongue slipping
over his teeth.

Karen can't contain her
laughter. "It's not a fishy
chair, Plankton," she says, her voice
full of mirth. "It's just a chair."

Plankton's eyelid flaps
weakly, his gaze shifting to
Karen. "Buth... buth... ith's...
it's mooving," he insists, his voice
slurred and sleepy.

Karen wipes away the last
of his drool with a tissue,
trying not to laugh. "The chair
isn't moving, babe," she says,
her voice filled with humor. "It's
just the anesthesia playing
tricks on you."

But Plankton's not buying it.
"Fishy chair... mooving," he
slurs, his hand flapping
weakly at the chair. The nurse
stifles a giggle, while Karen
shakes her head, her smile
widening.

"It's not moving, Plankton,"
she says, her voice filled with
affectionate amusement. "It's
just the anesthesia. Remember,
you're at the dentist."

Plankton's head lolls to the
side, his gaze unfocused. "Den...
tish?" he repeats, his tongue
fighting the thickness of his
mouth. "Wha... wha for?"

Karen's laughter is soft and
warm. "For your mouth to
feel better," she says, her voice
patient. "So you can eat all the
soft foods you like."

Plankton's eye rolls back
slightly. "Foo?" he mumbles, his
mouth working around the word.
"Can I... can I eated... fishies?"

Karen laughs, her heart
full. "You'll need to
stick to soft foods for a
few days."

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore v

 ☆ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ





"You nervous?" Karen asked.

Plankton was about to
undergo the ordeal of 
getting wisdom teeth 
removed.

Dr. McStingray entered 
the room with a gentle 
smile and a reassuring 
pat on Plankton's shoulder.

"Just breathe in deeply," 
he instructed.

Plankton's eye grew heavy
by the time he felt the chair 
recline, the last sensation 
he recalled.

The room grew quieter as 
anesthesia took hold
and the steady beep of the 
monitor filled the space like 
a metronome. Karen 
remained fixed on her husband's 
face, a mask of serene 
oblivion. Now, watching Plankton's 
open mouth, she felt a strange mix 
of relief and anxiety.

The surgical team moved with 
precision. Dr. McStingray 
donned his magnifying 
glasses, peering into the cavernous 
mouth. His assistant, a young 
woman with a gentle touch,
prepared the instruments 
on a gleaming tray. 

Karen could see 
the muscles in his jaw 
twitch slightly, but otherwise,
he remained still and silent,
his breathing deep and even.

The assistant passed 
Dr. McStingray the necessary 
instruments with swift, 
practiced motions. Each 
item was sterilized, each step 
carefully explained to Karen 
to ease her worries. She nodded,
trying to focus on the 
technicalities rather than 
the reality of her husband's 
mouth being pried open and
his teeth being forcibly extracted.

The doctor's hand hovered 
over Plankton's mouth, his 
fingers poised like a pianist's.
He took one final look at the 
x-ray before plunging into 
the surgery. The drill whirred 
to life once more, a high-
pitched sound that seemed to 
echo in the small space. Karen 
closed her eyes, not wanting to 
see the actual extraction, but 
the sound was too much. She 
quickly opened them again, 
forcing herself to watch.

The nurse handed Dr. McStingray 
the forceps. With a swift,
confident movement, he clamped 
down on the first tooth. Plankton's 
face remained slack, but Karen 
could almost feel the pressure 
building in the air around them.
The doctor's grip tightened, 
his knuckles white with focus. 
He applied gentle force, rocking 
the tooth back and forth. There 
was a faint crack, and Karen 
swallowed hard, her heart racing.

The sound grew louder as 
the doctor worked, the forceps 
scraping against bone. The 
tension grew palpable, even 
though Plankton remained 
unconscious. Each tug was 
accompanied by a soft groan 
from the chair, as if it too 
sympathized with the struggle. 
The young assistant offered 
words of encouragement, 
her voice low and soothing.

The first tooth gave way 
suddenly, and the doctor 
lifted it out with a flourish, 
like a magician pulling a coin 
from behind an ear. 
The nurse dabbed 
at Plankton's mouth with a 
cotton swab, the crimson 
stain stark against the 
white cloth.

Karen felt a pang of 
nausea, but she couldn't 
look away. The surgical 
site was a bloody mess, 
but the doctor's steady 
hands were already moving 
on to the next tooth. 
The dance of instruments 
resumed, a symphony of 
clinking steel and suction 
whirring as they cleared the 
debris away.

The second tooth was 
stubborn, embedded deeper 
than the first. Dr. McStingray 
paused, studying the x-ray 
once more before diving in.
This time, the process was 
more intense, the chair's 
hydraulics hissing with 
each push and pull. 
Karen's knuckles were white 
as she gripped the chair, 
her eyes glued to the 
scene unfolding before her.

The forceps clamped down, 
the doctor's face a mask of 
concentration. The room grew 
silent save for the 
steady beep of the monitor 
and the occasional slurp 
of saliva being suctioned away. 
Sweat beaded on Dr. McStingray's 
forehead, and his grip on the 
tools tightened. He applied 
more pressure, and Karen 
could see the muscles in his 
arms tense.

The tooth resisted, rooted 
like an ancient tree in the 
rock of Plankton's jaw. The 
doctor's face grew stern, 
his brow furrowed in 
determination. He leaned in 
closer, his breath misting 
his mask as he whispered 
to the assistant, who nodded 
and passed him a different 
instrument. The new tool 
was a wrench-like contraption, 
designed to grip the tooth 
more securely.

With a swift twist, the 
doctor applied torque to the 
wisdom tooth. Karen's heart 
thudded in her chest, 
mirroring the tooth's struggle 
for freedom. The chair's 
mechanisms groaned in 
sympathy as Plankton's mouth 
was opened wider. The 
young assistant's eyes met 
Karen's, and she offered a 
quick nod of reassurance. But the 
tension didn't abate. The 
tooth was a stubborn sentinel, 
refusing to be moved.

The doctor's grip was 
firm, his knuckles bulging 
against the chrome handle 
of the tool. He pulled with 
a slow, steady force, his 
biceps flexing with the effort. 
The sound of bone and 
tooth grating against each 
other was muffled by the 
suction's constant whisper. 
Karen's eyes watered, not 
from pain but from the sheer 
intensity of the scene. Plankton's 
body remained still, 
his chest rising and falling 
rhythmically with each breath.

With a final, decisive 
yank, the second tooth 
was freed from its prison. 
The doctor held it up to 
the light, inspecting 
the gnarled root before 
dropping it into a metal 
tray with a clink. The 
nurse swabbed the blood 
away with a gentle touch, 
and Karen let out the 
breath she hadn't realized 
she'd been holding.

The third tooth was the 
easiest, sliding out as 
if it had been waiting 
for its turn to escape. 
The room felt lighter, the 
tension dissipating like 
the evaporating mist of 
the antiseptic spray. The 
last tooth, however, was 
a different beast entirely. 
It was lodged in at an 
angle, trapped by the 
crowded jaws of its 
neighbors.

Dr. McStingray paused, 
wiping his brow with the 
back of his hand. He 
glanced at Karen, his 
eyes flickering with 
concern. "This one might 
take a bit longer," he 
said, his voice calm 
despite the gravity of 
his words.

The nurse applied 
pressure to Plankton's 
cheek, pushing his mouth 
open wider to give 
the doctor a better 
angle. The young 
assistant readied herself, 
gripping a pair of 
retractors. The doctor 
inserted them carefully, 
spreading the gum tissue 
to expose the trapped tooth. 
Karen could see the 
tiny bead of sweat 
forming on Plankton's 
temple, even though 
he was unconscious.

Dr. McStingray 
selected a slender, 
curved scalpel and 
began to cut the 
gum away from the 
final tooth. The scalpel 
was precise, a delicate 
instrument in the 
hands of a master. The 
tissue parted like 
the pages of an old 
book, revealing the 
wisdom tooth's crooked 
root in all its glory.

The doctor's hand 
was a blur of motion, 
his scalpel carving a 
path through the 
swollen gum tissue. 
Blood flowed 
freely, and the assistant 
quickly placed a 
gauze pad to.

With a flick of his 
wrist, Dr. McStingray 
severed the last 
connective tissue, 
freeing the final tooth. The 
nurse suctioned the area 
once more, the sound of 
the machine like a 
sigh of relief.

The doctor then picked 
up a set of stitches, his 
hands moving with the 
precision of a 
seamstress on a tight 
deadline. He began to 
sew up the gum, his 
fingers moving in a 
quick, delicate dance. 
The needle glinted under 
the surgical lights as he 
pulled the thread through 
the tender flesh. Karen 
watched, but she knew this 
was a crucial part of the 
procedure.

The stitches were 
tiny, almost invisible. 
Each one pulled the 
gum tissue together 
like the threads 
on a fine tapestry, 
weaving a pattern of 
recovery. The doctor's 
fingers moved with 
practiced ease, looping 
and tying off each 
suture with a gentle 
pull. 

As the final knot was 
tied, Dr. McStingray 
stood back, surveying his 
work with a critical 
eye. "We're all done," 
he announced, his voice 
soft and soothing. 
The assistant began to 
clean up the surgical 
field, the clinking of 
instruments a familiar 
symphony that signaled 
the end of the operation.

The doctor turned to 
Karen, his smile warm. 
"He'll be waking up 
soon," he said, his 
gloved hands coming 
to rest on the chair's 
armrest. "The recovery 
will be a bit uncomfortable, 
but we've given him the 
best care possible."

Karen nodded, her 
hands trembling slightly. 
The nurse began to 
clean Plankton's face, 
his breathing remained 
steady and deep.

The anesthesia started 
to wear off, Plankton's 
eyes fluttered open. His 
gaze was hazy, trying to 
focus on the blurred shapes 
above him. The room was 
still, the only noise 
the faint beeping of the 
heart monitor. Karen 
reached for his hand, 
squeezing it tightly. "It's 
over," she whispered, her 
voice cracking with 
relief.

The nurse applied 
pressure to the gauze 
in Plankton's mouth. 
He groaned softly, 
his voice muffled by the 
cotton wad.

The nurse removed the 
cotton from his mouth, 
carefully checking the 
stitches. Dr. McStingray 
cleaned up the last of the 
blood, wiping Plankton's 
face with a cool cloth. His 
eye fluttered open, and Karen 
smiled down at him. "It's over," 
she murmured. "You did so well."
Plankton groaned, his eye
unfocused as the fog of 
sleep retreated. The pain 
was already setting in, a 
dull throb. "You're ok," she 
whispered, her hand 
shaking slightly as she 
stroked him.

new wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore ☆ bikinibottomcore wisdom tooth

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES vii

"Wake up, Plankton," Karen whispers,
shaking him lightly. "We're not
even to the parking lot yet!"

Plankton's eye opens. "Tish... tish...
Karen?" he mumbles, his voice
a sleepy whine. "Why we not... not
at home?"

Karen laughs, her voice a gentle
lullaby. "We will be soon," she
says, her grip on him firm but
caring. "Just stay with me a
little longer. Let's make our way
to the car; yea?"

But Plankton's eye is
already drooping. 
"Caw... car?"
he mumbles.

Karen nods, her smile
soft. "Yes, the car. We're
going home."

But Plankton's eyelid
flaps heavily, his gaze
unfocused. "Home... home,"
he repeats, his voice a
slurred echo. His head wobbles
against her shoulder, his
body slack.

Karen sighs, her
laughter mingling with the
slight exasperation in her voice.
"Just a bit more, Plankton,"
she whispers, patting his
back. "Stay with me. Let's stand
up now."

But Plankton's body is
already succumbing to the
warm embrace of sleep. His
eyelid flaps once, twice, before
his eye closes completely. He
slumps back into the chair,
snoring gently. Karen chuckles,
shaking her head. "Come on,"
she says, her voice a blend
of humor and patience.

With a sigh, she stands,
his weight still leaning on
her. "You need to wake up
for just a little bit more,"
she insists, her voice a mix
of playfulness and firmness.

But Plankton's snores are
already steady.
"Wake up," she whispers,
shaking him gently. "We
have to go."

His eyelid twitches,
his mouth moving in a
slight snore. "Home?" he 
mumbles.

Karen laughs softly, her hand
still on his shoulder. "Yes,
home," she repeats, her voice
a gentle prodding. "Let's go."

But Plankton's snores are
now a symphony of sleep. His
body sags, his head lolling to
the side, and Karen knows the
battle is lost. She looks to the
nurse, who nods in understanding.
"Let's get him to the car," she says,
her voice a whisper of amusement.

They lift him again, his arms
draped over their shoulders like a
tiny, uncooperative ragdoll.

"Wake up, Plankton," Karen whispers
again, her voice filled with a mix
of humor and exasperation.
"We're almost there."

But Plankton's snores are a
testament to his deep slumber.
His head tips to the side,
his mouth hanging open. The
nurse's smile widens, and she
nods to Karen. "It's okay. He's
comfortable. We'll get him to
the car."

They manage to stand him up,
his legs wobbly as a newborn
deer's. Karen's arm is wrapped
around his waist. "Come on,
babe," she coaxes, her voice
laced with affection. "Walk with
me to the car. Wake up.."

But Plankton's snores are a
constant background noise,
his body swaying with the rhythm
of sleep. He opens his eye with
difficulty, his gaze unfocused.
"Wha... wha..."

Karen chuckles, her
arm tightening around him.
"Walk, Plankton," she whispers,
guiding his unsteady steps.
"You're doing so well."

But Plankton's body has
other ideas. His knees buckle,
and he sags against her, his
snores growing louder. "Wake
up, babe," she whispers, her voice
filled with affectionate
frustration. "You can't sleep
until we're in the car."

Plankton's head wobbles, his
eye half-opening. "But... buth...
I'm tiwed," he mumbles, his speech
still thick. "Tish... tish...
chair is... is... is so comfowt."

Karen laughs softly, her
patience unwavering. "You need
to wake up, sweetie," she
says, her voice a gentle prod.

But Plankton's snores are
the only response, his head
lolling to the side. His body
sags heavily against her.

"Wake up, Plankton," Karen whispers,
a hint of a laugh in her voice.

But Plankton's only response
is a sleepy snore, his body
relaxing further against hers.

"Come on, Plankton," Karen
whispers, her voice a blend
of amusement and urgency.
"You're gonna need to get in
to our car."

Plankton's eye opens with
effort, his gaze unfocused.
"Caw... caw?" he mumbles,
his speech still a thick
slur.

Karen laughs softly, her arm
supporting his wavering body.
"Yes, car," she repeats, her voice
a gentle nudge. "We're going home."

But Plankton's eye droops closed
once more, his snores a soft
symphony of unconsciousness.
"Buth... buth... Karen," he mumbles,
his words barely audible.

Karen's laugh is a soft
whisper of affection. "You're
so sleepy," she says, her voice
a gentle reminder. She tightens
her grip on him, her arm
supporting his wavering frame.
"Just a few more steps."

But Plankton's snores are
a sweet lullaby, his body
heavy with slumber. His legs
barely move, his feet
dragging against the floor.
Karen's arm tightens, her
strength the only thing keeping
his body upright. "Wake up,"
she whispers, her voice
a soft caress. "Almost there."

Yet Plankton's only response
is a snort, his head rolling
back. Karen looks to the nurse.

"It's okay," the nurse whispers,
her smile warm. "Let's get him
to your car. He'll sleep it off."

They shuffle towards the
exit, Plankton's snores a soft
accompaniment to their quiet
steps. Karen's arms are tight
around his waist, her strength
the only thing keeping him from
sliding to the floor. His head
rolls back, mouth open, a soft
snore escaping him.

"Wake up, Plankton,"
Karen whispers, her voice
a gentle plea. "We're almost at
the car." The nurse holds the
door open for them.

Plankton's eyelid flaps
weakly, his mouth dropping
open with a snore. "Caw?"
he mumbles, his gaze unfocused.

"Almost, sweetie," Karen says, her
voice a blend of humor and
determination. She shifts his weight
slightly, her arm still supporting
his waist. "Just a few more
steps."

But Plankton's body is a
deadweight, his snores a
testament to his deep slumber.
His head tips back, mouth
open wide, and Karen can feel
his body going slack again.
"Wake up. We're so close."

But his only response is
another snore, his chest rising
and falling with the rhythm
of his sleep. Karen laughs
softly, her arm tightening
around him. "You're so
funny when you're sleepy,"
she whispers.

The nurse opens the
door to the car, but Plankton remains
deeply asleep. His snores echo
through the empty space,
his body a ragdoll in Karen's arms.

Karen tries to
rouse him once more. "Come on,
Plankton," she whispers, her voice
a soft coax. "Wake up."

But Plankton's snores are
a sweet symphony of exhaustion.
His head tips back, his mouth
open wide, and Karen feels his
body go limp again. She sighs
with affectionate exasperation.
"You're so stubborn," she murmurs,
his weight a testament to his deep sleep.

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore vii

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ┃ ┃ ɴᴇᴇᴅʟᴇs, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

"You okay?" Karen's voice was a 
gentle caress in the cold 
antiseptic room.

Plankton nodded, his eye tightly 
shut. The nurse had told him it 
would be quick, that he'd be under 
before he knew it, but that didn't 
stop his heart from thudding like a 
bass drum. He took a deep breath, 
trying to ignore the cold hands 
fussing over him, the tightening 
of the blood pressure cuff around 
his arm.

"Count backward from ten," the 
anesthesiologist's voice was calm 
and steady, as if he did this a 
thousand times a day. Plankton 
obliged, his voice quivering on 
each number. "Ten... nine... eight..."

The world grew fuzzy around the 
edges, the cold metal of the bed 
beneath him feeling like it was 
sinking. "Seven... six... five..." His 
body grew heavier, each breath 
more difficult to draw in. Karen 
squeezed his hand tightly, her eyes 
brimming with tears she refused to 
let fall. The doctor's face grew 
distant, his voice a distant echo.

With a final exhale, the room 
faded to black. Plankton was 
now adrift in a sea of 
oblivion, his bødy relaxed and 
weightless.

 

🦷🦷🦷🦷

 

The surgical team waited a 
moment, watching the 
monitors. The anesthesiologist 
then nodded to the surgeon, who 
carefully lifted Plankton's eyelid, 
revealing a sti̕ll, unseeing eye, then
shining a light to his pupil before
closing his eyelid again. He 
then took a reflex hammer and 
tapped gently on Plankton's knee. 
No reaction. The nurse noted the 
time. "He's under," she murmured.

They went through the 
checklist, ensuring his bødy was 
completely relaxed, his reflexes 
gone. The surgeon 
smiled at Karen, who had been 
watching anxiously from her seat.
"Everything's going to be okay," he 
assured her. She nodded.

Karen watched, as
Plankton's fac͘e remained 
peaceful, his breathing steady 
under the influence of the 
anesthesia.

The surgery began with a 
whir of instruments. Plankton's mouth 
was propped open, a rubber 
dam holding back his tóngue. The 
surgeon leaned in, peering into the 
cavern of his møuth, a flashlight 
illuminating the pearly white 
teeth and the troublesome 
wisdom teeth that had been 
causing him so much pain. He 
selected a tool, a kind of plier-like 
instrument, and with a gentle but 
firm touch, began to probe at the 
first tooth.

Karen's stߋmach clenched as she 
saw the surgeon's hand move with 
precision, applying just enough 
pressure to loosen the tooth. 
She tried to focus on her 
breathing, willing her heart to 
slow down. The room was filled 
with the faint smell of antiseptic 
and the metallic scent of 
dental instruments. Plankton's 
face remained serene, his chest 
rising and falling steadily as he lay 
unaware of the work being 
performed on him.

The first tooth came out with a 
sudden pop, making Karen flinch. 
The nurse quickly handed over 
a small metal tray, catching the 
tooth as it was extracted. The 
surgeon worked with a 
methodical calm, moving on to the 
next one without pause. Karen 
squeezed her eyes shut for a 
moment, only to open them again 
as she heard the sound of 
Plankton's snoring, the kind that 
only came when he was in a 
deep sleep. It was strange, 
comforting even, to know that 
his bødy was oblivious to the 
paın that had been plaguing him 
for weeks.

The second wisdom tooth proved to 
be more stubborn. The surgeon 
muttered something to his assistant, 
who nodded and handed him a 
different tool. Karen's grip on 
Plankton's hand tightened, her 
knucklєѕ white with tension. She 
could feel the sweat beading on 
his palm despite the coolness of 
the room. The surgeon's 
expression grew more focused, his 
movements more deliberate as 
he worked to free the tooth from 
its bony prıson.

The tension in the room was 
almost palpable. The only 
sounds were the muffled beeps 
of the heart monitor and the 
slight sucking noıse as the 
surgeon worked in Plankton's møuth. 
Karen's eyes darted around the 
surgery, taking in the gleaming 
tools, the blue-green light of the 
overhead lamp, the masked faces of 
the medical staff. The nurse 
noticed her distress and offered a 
reassuring smile, but it did little to 
ease her mind. She wanted to 
scream, to tell them to be careful, 
but she knew better than to 
disturb the surgery.

With a grunt of effort, the 
surgeon finally managed to 
loosen the second tooth. Karen 
could feel Plankton's hand 
spasm in hers, a reflexive response 
that had her heart racing. But 
his face remained serene, his 
snores unchanged. She watched as 
the tooth was lifted out, a tiny 
drop of b!ood escaping from the 
gum. It was placed on the tray 
with its twin, two small, sharp 
reminders of the paın he had 
endured. The surgeon moved to 
the third tooth, his movements 
now more practiced, more 
confident.

The extraction of the third tooth 
was swift, almost anticlimactic. 
The fourth, however, was a 
different story. It was 
impacted, buried deep in the 
bone, and the surgeon's 
expression grew taut as he 
attempted to coax it out. Karen 
could feel the tension in the 
room, the air thick with it. The 
whirring of the drill was a 
steady background noise, 
punctuated by the occasional 
spurt of water and the smell of 
bone dust. Plankton's chest 
continued to rise and fall 
evenly.

The surgeon leaned in closer, 
his brow furrowed with 
concentration. Karen watched 
as beads of sweat formed on 
his forehead, despite the coolness 
of the surgıcal suite. The nurse 
stood by, ready with gauze and 
more tools. Plankton's face was 
a mask of peace, his møuth a 
dısturbıng contrast of serenity 
and the tug of war 
taking place within.

With a final, firm pull, 
the fourth tooth gave way, 
accompanied by a sound that 
made Karen's stߋmach churn. It was 
a wet, final release, and the 
nurse swiftly handed over the 
tray to catch the tooth. The 
surgeon wiped the b!ood with a 
quick, efficient motion, revealing 
the gaping hole where the tooth 
once had been. The surgical 
assistant suctioned the b!ood, 
the sound echoing in the quiet 
room. Plankton's bødy jerked 
slightly, but he remained 
asleep, lost in the depths of 
the anesthesia.

Karen couldn't help but 
think about the paın 
Plankton must have felt 
before this moment. The 
constant, throbbing ache that had 
kept him up at night, the 
swollen jaw that had made 
eating a chore. Now, it was 
over, or at least the 
worst part was. The surgeon 
nodded to the nurse, who 
began to prepare the 
stitches that would close the 
wounds. The needle glinted in 
the harsh light, a stark contrast 
to Plankton's slack, unfeeling 
features.

The surgical team moved 
efficiently, their movements 
choreographed by years of 
experience. They stitched and 
cleaned, ensuring that 
everything was perfect before 
they allowed him to wake. 
Karen felt a strange mix of 
relief and fear. Relief that 
the ordeal was almost over, 
fear of the paın that would come 
once the anesthesia wore off.

As the surgeon finished 
his work, he nodded to the 
anesthesiologist. "He's all 
set. We're going to start bringing 
him out of it now."

Karen watched as the 
anesthetic was turned down. 
The nurse wiped his 
face with a damp cloth, gently 
cleaning the b!ood and saliva. 
Karen spoke to him in a 
soothing voice, "Plankton, you're 
almost done. Time to wake up."

Plankton's eyelid fluttered, 
his hand still in Karen's tight 
grasp. His eye opened slowly, 
unfocused at first, then gradually 
finding her face. He blinked 
several times, his gaze 
uncomprehending. The nurse 
smiled at him, "You did great."

new wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore surgerycore dentalcore 🦷

NONE OF THE WISER 1/3


The doctor, noticing Plankton's discontent, 
injected a painkiller into his IV.

Plankton's eye glazed over as the 
medication took hold. "I feel...floaty," he 
murmured, his usually sharp gaze clouded 
with sedation.

SpongeBob nodded understandingly. "It's ok,
Plankton. The medicine is helping you feel 
better."

Plankton giggled, his tiny body swaying 
slightly with the effort. "Sponge Bob...you 
know what?" His speech was slurred, his 
thoughts scattered by the painkillers.
"You're...so...spongy," Plankton giggled, his 
arm flailing in a lazy arc to poke at Sponge 
Bob's side. His finger bounced off the soft 
yellow like a spring.

Sponge Bob chuckled. "I've always been 
spongy, Plankton. It's what makes me, me!" 
He gently took hold of Plankton's waving 
hand and held it still. "But, remember, you’re 
going under for wisdom teeth removal."

The giggles grew more frequent, turning into 
hysteric laughter. "Wisdom teeth," he 
chuckled, "Why do they call them that? They 
don't make you smarter, they just make 
you...oh!" His laughter trailed off as he 
winced, the pain briefly piercing through the 
fog of the painkillers.

Sponge Bob's smile never wavered. "They're 
called wisdom teeth because they come in 
when you're older and wiser, Plankton," he 
explained patiently. "But don't worry, you'll be 
fine. The dentist is the best in Bikini Bottom."

Plankton's giggles turned into a low, throaty 
chuckle. "Best...in Bikini Bottom?" He 
squinted, eyelid drooping. "That's like being 
the smartest kid in a school for jellyfish."

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at the 
ridiculousness of the statement. Plankton's 
usual sharp wit was dulled by the 
medication, leaving room for unexpected 
silliness. "Well, you know what they say, 
Plankton. In the ocean, even a sea 
cucumber can shine if it tries hard enough."

Plankton's chuckles grew quieter as the 
sedative began to fully take effect. His eyelid 
drooped further, and a little drool escaped 
from the corner of his mouth.

"Plankton, you're gonna be fine," Sponge 
Bob reassured, patting him on the shoulder. 
"Just close your eye and think happy 
thoughts."

"Happy...thoughts," Plankton mumbled, his 
voice trailing off as he drifted closer to sleep.

Sponge Bob watched with a mix of 
amusement and concern. The usually 
devious and scheming Plankton looked so 
vulnerable, lying there giggling about sea 
cucumbers and wisdom teeth. It was a rare 
sight, one that made Sponge Bob feel a 
pang of something unfamiliar.

The doctor and nurse returned, their 
expressions professional but with a hint of a 
smile at the sight of the odd couple. "It's time 
to up the dosage," the doctor announced.

Plankton's eye snapped open. "Dosage?" he 
slurred. "But, but, I'm already floating!" He 
tried to sit up, his body moving in slow, 
wobbly motions.

Sponge Bob chuckled, gently pushing him 
back down. "It's ok, Plankton. You just need 
to relax. The more you fight it, the less fun 
it'll be."

The nurse adjusted the IV, increasing the 
flow of. Plankton's body went slack again, 
his eye rolling back into his head. 
"Wooo...I'm going on a magic carpet ride," 
he mumbled, his voice faint and distant.

Sponge Bob couldn't help but smirk at 
Plankton's dopey state. He'd never seen the 
tiny villain so out of sorts, and it was almost 
endearing. "Just keep floating, Plankton," he 
said, patting his hand. "You're going to the 
land of nod."

Plankton's eye rolled back into his head, and 
he started to mumble incoherently. "Land 
of...nod...sounds...like a...a...pirate's treasure 
map," he babbled.

Sponge Bob watched him, a smile playing 
on his lips. "Just think happy thoughts, 
buddy," he said, his tone gentle.

Plankton's voice grew faint as the sedative 
deepened. "Happy 
thoughts...like...like...Karen's secret Krabby 
Patty recipe," he mumbled, his mind 
wandering into a cloud of oblivion.

Sponge Bob's smile widened. "Well, if that's 
what floats your boat, Plankton," he said, 
patting the sea creature's hand again.

Plankton's words grew softer, turning into a 
series of slurred mumbles. "Mm, Krabby 
Patties...so...so...scrumptious." His eye 
remained closed, but a small smile tugged at 
the corners of his mouth.

The doctor and nurse exchanged a knowing 
look. "Looks like he's almost ready for the 
procedure," the doctor said, nodding to the 
nurse who began preparing the surgical 
equipment.

Sponge Bob's smile grew. He leaned in 
closer to hear the last of his friend's delirious 
words. "And...and...the secret 
ingredient...is...wuv.." Plankton's mumbles 
turned into snores, and Sponge Bob had to 
stifle a laugh.

The doctor and nurse moved around the 
bed, setting up the instruments for the 
surgery. The doctor, a stern-looking fish with 
a white lab coat and a stethoscope around 
his neck, checked Plankton's vitals. "He's 
ready," he said, nodding to the nurse who 
had administered the anesthesia.

As Plankton drifted off into sleep
Sponge Bob squeezed his hand. "You're just 
going to sleep for a little while, Plankton. It's 
time for your wisdom teeth to come out."

Plankton's hand went limp in Sponge Bob's.

Sponge Bob watched the doctor and nurse 
with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. 
He'd never seen a surgery before, not even 
on TV. The doctor nodded to him. "You can 
stay if you want."

Sponge Bob nodded bravely, gripping the 
railing of the bed. He didn't want to leave 
Plankton's side. The doctor and nurse began 
to work, their movements swift and precise. 
The room was filled with the clanking of 
instruments and the occasional beep from 
the heart monitor.

The doctor leaned over with a scalpel, and 
Sponge Bob had to look away. The thought 
of someone poking around in Plankton's 
mouth was too much, even if it was to make 
him feel better. He focused on the wallpaper, 
a pattern of cheerful fish and bubbles, trying 
to block out the sounds of the surgery.

He heard the doctor's voice. 
"Everything's going smoothly, Sponge Bob. 
Nothing to worry about."

Sponge Bob nodded. He peeked over at 
Plankton, whose mouth was now open wide, 
filled with a series of metal instruments that 
gleamed under the harsh surgical lights. The 
nurse was busy suctioning out who knows 
what, keeping the area clear for the doctor to 
work, all while Plankton’s fully under 
anesthesia.

"Almost done," he announced. Sponge Bob 
looked back at the bed to see the doctor 
carefully sewing up the small incisions in 
Plankton's gums. The nurse was already 
preparing the recovery room, laying out soft 
gauze and a cup of water.

When the surgery was over, the doctor 
stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. "It 
went well," he said, turning to Sponge Bob. 
"He'll be out for a while, but he'll be good as 
new when he wakes up."

Sponge Bob let out a sigh of relief, his grip 
on the bed rail easing. "Thank you, doctor," 
he said, his voice sincere.

The nurse moved to the bedside, checking 
Plankton's vital signs. "You can stay with him 
if you'd like," she offered. "He'll be waking up 
soon."

Sponge Bob nodded gratefully, taking a seat 
beside the bed. He picked up Plankton's 
hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. The 
doctor and nurse began to clean up, their 
movements swift and efficient.

The doctor and nurse finished up their work, 
the room now a symphony of orderliness 
and cleanliness. The doctor turned to 
Sponge Bob with a kind smile. "He'll be out 
for about an hour. You can even talk to him 
while you wait if you'd like." Sponge Bob 
nodded, even if Plankton couldn't 
understand him at the moment.

The nurse dimmed the lights, leaving 
Sponge Bob alone with his thoughts and the 
gentle sounds of Plankton's snoring.

A soft beep from the heart monitor brought 
him back to reality. Plankton's chest was 
moving faster, and his eyelid began to twitch. 
Sponge Bob sat up straight, gripping his 
friend's hand tightly. "Plankton, wake up," he 
said gently.

The snores grew less frequent, and his body 
began to stir. His eye fluttered open, 
focusing on Sponge Bob with a confused 
gaze.

"Wh...where...what happened?" Plankton 
slurred, his mouth feeling thick and 
uncooperative.

Sponge Bob offered a warm smile. "You had 
your wisdom teeth removed, buddy. You're 
all done," he said, his voice gentle.

new none of the wiser wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore none the wiser

NONE OF THE WISER 2/3


Plankton blinked a few times, his mind foggy 
with the remnants of the anesthesia. 
"Wisdom... teeth?" he mumbled, his voice 
groggy. "Oh...right." He tried to sit up, but the 
nurse had anticipated his movement and 
gently pushed him back down.

"Take it easy, Mr. Plankton," she said, her 
voice soothing. "You need to rest. The 
surgery went well, yet your body is still 
recovering."

Plankton looked up at the nurse with a 
dazed expression, his eye struggling to 
focus. The world felt wobbly, like jelly. "But, 
but, I... I don't remember anything," he 
mumbled, his voice thick with confusion.

Sponge Bob chuckled softly. "That's because 
you were asleep, Plankton," he said, his tone 
still filled with the gentle patience from 
earlier.

Plankton's eye searched the room, looking 
for something familiar. "Sponge...Bob?" he 
croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Right here, buddy," Sponge Bob said, 
patting his hand reassuringly. Plankton's 
gaze finally found him, and a goofy smile 
spread across his face. 
"You...you're...so...spongy," he giggled, his 
words still slurred from the medication.

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at his 
friend's loopy state. "You're pretty funny 
when you're all doped up," he said, his heart 
swelling with affection. Plankton's usual 
sharp tongue was now a jumble of 
nonsensical giggles and random thoughts.

"Everything's...so...so...shiny," Plankton 
mumbled, his eye half-open and unfocused. 
He tried to lift his head to look around the 
room, but the effort was too much, and he 
flopped back down onto the pillow with a 
contented sigh.

Sponge Bob chuckled, watching his friend's 
antics with amusement. "It's the medicine, 
Plankton," he said, patting his hand. "It's 
making everything seem a bit... different."

Plankton's eye grew wide as he stared at the 
ceiling. "Look at those lights! I…" he 
exclaimed, pointing upwards with a wobbly 
finger.

"They're just lights, Plankton," Sponge Bob 
said, his voice filled with amusement.

Plankton's eye rolled around in his head like 
a marble in a pinball machine. "No, no, 
they're not just lights," he insisted, his voice 
taking on a dreamy quality. "They're... they're 
the stars of the sea... twinkling... twinkling... 
for me."

Sponge Bob couldn't hold back his laughter 
anymore. The sight of his usually cunning 
adversary reduced to a babbling, star-gazing 
patient was to much. "You're definitely 
feeling the effects of that medicine," he said, 
shaking his head.

Plankton's smile grew even wider, if that was 
possible. "I... I feel like I'm swimming in a 
sea of marshmallows," he slurred, his limbs 
moving in a slow, dream
like fashion. "Everything's so...so... squishy!"

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at his 
friend's silliness. "Marshmallows, huh?" he 
said, gently poking Plankton's arm. "You're 
definitely feeling the love from those meds."

Plankton's smile grew even goofier as he 
nodded. "Yeah, I... I think I'm in love with this 
pillow," he mumbled, hugging it tightly to his 
chest. The nurse chuckled as she checked 
his chart. "The effects of the anesthesia can 
be quite entertaining," she said with a wink.

Sponge Bob watched as Plankton began to 
drift off again, his chuckles turning into 
snores. "Rest up, buddy," he whispered, still 
holding onto his hand. "You're going to need 
all the energy you can get for when you 
wake up."

As Plankton slept, Sponge Bob's thoughts 
turned to the Krabby Patty secret recipe. It 
had always been a source of contention 
between them, but in that moment, it didn't 
seem as important as it once did. He knew 
Plankton would be back to his old tricks soon 
enough, but for now, he was just happy to 
see his friend safe and sound.

The nurse returned to the room, her smile 
just as bright as before. "Alright, Mr. 
Plankton, it's time for you to go to your 
recovery room," she said, her voice cheerful.

Plankton's eye shot open, and he looked 
around, his gaze still a bit hazy. 
"Recovery...room?" he mumbled. "But...but 
I'm already in a room!" His giggles bubbled 
up again, and Sponge Bob couldn't help but 
join in.

The nurse, unfazed by Plankton's state, 
carefully lifted him onto the gurney. "You're 
going to a special room where you can rest 
and let the medication wear off," she 
explained, her voice soothing. "It's like a VIP 
lounge for post-surgery patients."

Plankton's smile grew even dopier as he 
took in her words. 
"VIP...lounge...sounds...sounds like...like...a 
secret lair!" he exclaimed, his imagination 
clearly still running wild despite the 
sedatives.

Sponge Bob helped the nurse maneuver the 
gurney out of the surgical room, the wheels 
squeaking slightly on the linoleum floor. The 
recovery room was dimly lit, with soft blue 
lights that reminded him of the ocean at 
night. Plankton was laid down on a 
comfortable chair, surrounded by pillows and 
blankets.

"Now, you just stay here and rest," she said, 
patting him on the shoulder. "Your friend 
Sponge Bob can keep you company."

Plankton nodded, his smile never leaving his 
face. "Friend...Sponge Bob," he murmured, 
his voice barely above a whisper. His 
thoughts were a whirlpool of jellyfish-shaped 
clouds, each one filled with a different, 
nonsensical idea.

The recovery room was quiet, the only 
sounds the occasional beep of the heart 
monitor and the gentle lapping of the waves 
outside. Plankton's eye, usually sharp and 
calculating, now glazed over with 
contentment. 

"He'll be like this for a while," she said, her 
voice low so as not to disturb Plankton. "The 
medication can make people say some 
pretty out there things."

Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze still on 
Plankton's peaceful face. "It's like he's in his 
own little world," he said, his voice filled with 
wonder.

The nurse chuckled. "It's the anesthesia. It 
can do funny things to people," she said, 
jotting down notes on Plankton's chart. "But 
don't worry, he'll be back to his usual self in 
no time."

Plankton's face was a picture of pure bliss, 
his mouth hanging open slightly as he 
drooled onto the pillow. "Sponge Bob," he 
mumbled, his voice thick with the aftermath 
of the anesthesia. "You... you're... 
so...so...fluffy."

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh at 
Plankton's loopy antics. "Fluffy?" he echoed, 
gently wiping the drool away with a tissue. "I 
think you're still a little out of it, buddy."

Plankton giggled, his eye half-closed. "Yeah, 
I... I am," he admitted, his voice a slur. "But, 
but you're so...so...comfortable!" He leaned 
into the sponge, his head lolling against 
Sponge Bob's shoulder.

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh, feeling 
the warmth of Plankton's body against his 
own. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," he 
said, his voice filled with affectionate 
amusement. "So, go ahead, get 
comfortable."

Plankton's giggles grew softer, his eye finally 
closing all the way. His breathing evened 
out, and Sponge Bob knew he was asleep. 
He gently placed the pillow under Plankton's 
head, making sure he was comfortable. The 
nurse returned to the room, her eyes 
twinkling with amusement at the sight of 
them. "He'll be out for a bit," she said. "You 
can stay here as long as you like."

Sponge Bob nodded, not wanting to leave 
Plankton's side. He had never seen him so... 
peaceful. The doctor's words echoed in his 
mind: "Take it easy, Mr. Plankton. You need 
to rest." It was strange to hear those words 
directed at someone who was usually so full 
of energy and schemes.

The nurse dimmed the lights, leaving the 
room in a gentle glow. The soft hum of the 
hospital machinery and the distant sound of 
waves outside the window filled the space. 
Sponge Bob watched as Plankton's chest 
rose and fell, his breathing slow and steady. 
It was like watching a tiny, harmless sea 
creature, rather than the usual plotting 
nemesis.

Plankton's head lolled to the side, his mouth 
hanging open slightly. Sponge Bob couldn't 
help but chuckle. He'd never seen Plankton 
so relaxed, so utterly carefree. It was as if all 
the tension between them had been washed 
away with the waves of anesthesia.

The nurse returned with a cup of ice chips, 
the sound of her footsteps echoing in the 
quiet room. "Here you go, Mr. Plankton," 
she said, her voice gentle as she offered the cup. 
"These will help with the swelling."

Plankton's eye slowly opened, his pupil 
dilated and unfocused. "Wha... what's that?" 
he mumbled, his voice still thick with the 
medication.

Sponge Bob looked down at the ice chips in 
the cup. "It's just some ice to help with 
swelling," he said, holding it up for Plankton 
to see. "You're supposed to put in your mouth."

Plankton's eye grew wide with excitement, 
his pupil dilating even further. "Oooh, ice," he 
murmured, his voice still slurred. He reached 
for the cup with a wobbly arm, his hand 
barely missing it several times before finally 
making contact.

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh as he 
took the cup from the nurse and held it to 
Plankton's lips. "Here you go, buddy," he 
said, his voice filled with kindness. "Just a 
little bit."

Plankton's tongue flicked out, tasting the 
cold ice. His eye rolled back in his head as 
he let out a contented sigh. "Ahh... heaven," 
he mumbled, his speech still thick with the 
sedatives. He took a few more chips, his 
chewing slow and methodical.

Sponge Bob watched him, his smile never 
faltering. It was strange, seeing the usually 
crafty Plankton so doped up and docile. The 
nurse had warned him that the medication 
could cause some people to become overly 
affectionate, but he didn't expect him to be 
quite this intense.

new none of the wiser wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore none the wiser

NONE OF THE WISER 3/3

As Plankton chewed on his ice chips, his 
grip on reality grew looser and looser.

The nurse looked over at them, her smile 
never faltering. "It's the medication," she 
assured Sponge Bob, shaking her head. 
"He'll be fine."

Plankton's giggles grew even louder, his 
eye watering with joy. "You... you're the 
best... best... best Sponge Bob ever!" he 
exclaimed, his arm shooting up to give 
Sponge Bob a high-five. It was a gesture 
that was met with air, as his coordination 
was still compromised by the anesthesia.

Sponge Bob couldn't help but laugh, his
heart swelling with warmth. He had never 
seen Plankton so... so utterly ridiculous. 
"Thanks, Plankton," he said, his voice filled 
with affection. "But maybe save the high-
fives for when you're not so... wobbly
."

Plankton's arm flopped back onto the chair, 
his smile still plastered on his face. "Wob... 
wobbly," he repeated, his eye crossing 
slightly as he tried to focus on Sponge Bob. 
"You know, I've always... always wondered 
what it's like to be... to be a jellyfish." He 
began to sway slightly, his body mimicking 
the graceful movements of the jellyfish in the 
sea.

Sponge Bob couldn't hold back his laughter 
any longer. "You're definitely not a jellyfish," 
he said, his voice filled with mirth. "But I’m 
afraid I saw you’d bitten your cheek or 
tongue in your numbed state.."

Plankton's grin grew even wider, his cheeks 
reddening with the effort. "I'm... I'm a sea 
worm," he said, his voice a drunken slur. 
"But in my heart, I'm a... a... jellyfish!" He 
began to wobble his body back and forth, his 
movements exaggerated and clumsy.

Sponge Bob couldn't help but chuckle at the 
sight. "You're definitely not a jellyfish," he 
said, his voice filled with affectionate teasing. 
"But you're definitely something special 
Plankton."

The nurse checked Plankton's vitals one last 
time before leaving them to rest. 
"Remember, Mr. Plankton, don't bite your 
cheeks," she said, a knowing smile on her 
face.

Plankton nodded solemnly, his eye still half-
closed. "I'll... I'll be... careful," he murmured, 
his voice a slow, lazy drawl. Sponge Bob 
couldn't help but feel a sense of
responsibility for his well-being. It was a 
strange feeling, but one that felt oddly right 
in that moment.

Karen standing there, her robotic eyes 
blinking in surprise at the sight of him.

"Karen?" Plankton mumbled, his voice 
groggy. "You came?"

"Of course, I did, you little meatball," Karen 
said, her voice filled with the usual sass. "I'm 
your ride home." She looked at Sponge Bob 
with gratitude.

Sponge Bob helped Plankton sit up, who 
was still groggy from the anesthesia. 
"Thanks for taking care of him," Karen said, 
her tone softer than Sponge Bob had ever 
heard.

"No problem, Karen," he replied, his smile 
genuine. "He's... well, he's not all bad."

Karen's expression softened, something 
Sponge Bob had rarely seen. "Thank you, 
Sponge Bob," she said, her robotic voice 
sounding almost warm. "You've always had 
a way of seeing the best in him."

With Karen's help, they managed to get 
Plankton into the car. The drive to the Chum 
Bucket was a blur of twinkling streetlights 
and the soothing hum of the engine. 
Plankton leaned his head against the window, 
eye half-closed, mumbling to 
himself about jellyfish ballet and the beauty 
of Krabby Patties. Karen chuckled, shaking 
her head at his nonsensical ramblings.

Sponge Bob sat in the back, feeling a 
strange mix of amusement and concern. 
He'd never seen Plankton like this before—
so vulnerable, so open. It was as if the 
surgery had peeled back a layer of his tough 
exterior, revealing the softer core beneath. 

Karen navigated the streets of Bikini Bottom 
with ease, the neon lights of the underwater 
city reflecting off her metallic exterior. 
Plankton's mumbling grew quieter, his 
breaths deepening as the painkillers and 
exhaustion pulled him into a sleep. Sponge 
Bob watched him, his thoughts swirling with 
a newfound understanding of the tiny villain.

As they approached the Chum Bucket, the 
garish sign loomed over them, its neon lights 
flickering like a beacon in the murky water. 
The car came to a gentle stop outside the 
grimy building, and Sponge Bob helped 
Karen unbuckle Plankton from his seat. 
"Careful," Karen warned, her robotic arm 
steadying him as they made their way to the 
door.

The inside of the Chum bucket was a stark 
contrast to the hospital—messy and 
cluttered with contraptions and half-eaten 
food. Plankton's eye lit up with a mix of pain 
and nostalgia as he took in his surroundings. 
"Home sweet home," he slurred, his smile 
genuine despite the chaos.

Sponge Bob and Karen managed to get him 
into his bed, the springs groaning under his 
weight. Plankton looked up at them with a 
dazed expression. "Than...thank you," he 
mumbled, his eye already drooping again.

Karen turned to Sponge Bob, her robotic 
eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room. 
"Thank you for being here," she said, her 
voice filled with a rare sincerity. "I know we 
haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but you're a 
true friend to him."

Sponge Bob felt a warmth spread through 
his pores, his eyes misting over slightly. 
"It's... it's no problem, Karen," he stuttered, 
feeling a lump in his throat. "He's... well, he's 
Plankton."

Karen's robotic hand patted his shoulder in a 
rare gesture of camaraderie. "You're a good 
sport, Sponge Bob," she said, a hint of 
affection in her voice. "Now, let him get some 
rest. He's going to need it."

With a nod, Sponge Bob retreated to the 
living room, his mind racing with thoughts of 
the day's events. He couldn't shake the 
image of Plankton's sincere smile, nor the 
gentle warmth that had filled his heart when 
he heard the words 'best friend'. It was a 
side of Plankton he had never seen before—
a vulnerable, endearing side. He glanced 
around the cluttered room, noticing the faded 
family photos and half-built inventions 
scattered across the surfaces. There was 
more to the villain than met the eye.

As the hours ticked by, Plankton's snores 
grew quieter, the anesthesia's grip on him 
loosening. Sponge Bob sat on the floor, 
surrounded by a pile of Plankton's favorite 
comic books and a half-eaten bag of jellyfish 
jellies. He couldn't help but feel a strange 
sense of belonging in the enemy's lair. It was 
peaceful, in a chaotic sort of way.

The room was a testament to Plankton's life: 
a mishmash of inventions, half-finished 
plans, and the ever-present scent of chum. 
Yet, amidst the clutter, there was a 
comforting familiarity. The walls were lined 
with shelves of dusty tomes titled "1001 
Ways to Steal a Recipe" and "The Art of the 
Scheme." Above the bed, a poster of the 
Krabby Patty looked down, a silent judge of 
Plankton's many failed attempts to crack its 
secret.

Sponge Bob sat by the bedside, his spongy 
form hunched over with concern. The light 
from the hallway cast an eerie glow across 
the room, illuminating Plankton's sleeping 
form. The snores were soft and rhythmic, a 
stark contrast to the usual cacophony of his 
machinations.

As the hours passed, Plankton's snores 
grew quieter, and his eyelid began to flutter 
open. His pupil were still hazy, but there was 
a spark of recognition in them as they 
focused on the yellow sponge hovering over 
him. "S...Sponge Bob?" he mumbled, his 
voice hoarse.

Sponge Bob jolted to attention, his eyes 
widening. "You're awake!" he exclaimed, a 
relieved smile spreading across his face.

Plankton squinted, his eye slowly focusing 
on the sponge above him. "What...what are 
you doing here?" he asked, his voice groggy 
and confused.

"I brought you home from the hospital," 
Sponge Bob said, his smile gentle. "You had 
your wisdom teeth out, remember?"

Plankton's eye grew wide as the events of 
the day flooded back to him. "H-hospital?" 
he stuttered, his hand flying to his mouth. 
His cheeks felt puffy and tender, a stark 
reminder of the surgery he had just 
undergone.

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes filled with 
empathy. "Yeah, buddy," he said, his voice 
soothing. "You had a bit of a tough day, but 
you're okay now."

Plankton's gaze darted around the room, his 
brain slowly piecing together the puzzle of 
the day. "How... how did we get here?" he 
mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

Sponge Bob chuckled, his smile gentle. 
"Karen picked us up and brought us here," 
he explained, his voice a soothing lullaby in 
the quiet room. "You were out of it pretty 
much the whole time."

Plankton's hand fell to the bed with a soft 
thump. "Karen...right," he murmured, his eye 
drooping again. The painkillers were still 
working their magic, but the fog in his head 
was starting to lift. He vaguely remembered 
the car ride, the neon lights of Bikini 
Bottom's streets blurring together in a 
kaleidoscope of color.

Sponge Bob watched with a gentle smile, his 
eyes filled with a warmth that Plankton 
hadn't seen in a long time. "Do you need 
anything?" he offered, his hand hovering 
over the bedside table, ready to fetch a glass 
of water or a fresh pillow.

Plankton's eye searched Sponge Bob's face, 
looking for a sign of the usual sarcasm or 
competitive edge. But all he found was 
genuine concern. "No, I'm ok," he murmured, 
his voice barely above a whisper. "Just... 
stay for a bit?"

Sponge Bob's smile grew, and nodded 
without hesitation. "Of course, Plankton," he 
said, settling beside the bed. "I'm not going 
anywhere."

new none of the wiser wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore none the wiser

WISDOMS i


Plankton had an appointment at the dentist 
and Karen promised to take him.
SpongeBob, an ever-cheerful neighbor, had 
offered to come along.

The trio stepped out of the car, the door 
of dentist's office chiming a tune that seemed 
like the 'Jolly Roger' theme. Sponge
Bob bounced in place.

The door to the room opened, and in 
waddled Dr. Bubblefish.

"Ah, Mr. Plankton, right on time 
for x-rays!"

The room was a stark contrast to the 
playful tune. It smelled faintly of mint 
and antiseptic, with 
the metallic instruments glinting in 
bright lights. Dr. Bubblefish waddled 
over, his 
flippers moving swiftly as 
he gestured to the chair. 
Plankton's eye darts around.

"Now, Mr. Plankton 
if you could just open 
wide," Dr. Bubblefish instructed 
holding up a 
contraption.

Karen gave a gentle pat on his shoulder. 
"It's ok, Plankton. It'll be over 
before you know it," 
she assured with a comforting smile.

Plankton took a deep breath 
and opened his mouth. Sponge Bob 
stood by his side.

Dr. Bubblefish slid the x-ray plate in
to place and positioned the contraption. 
"Here we go," he 
announced, as he stepped back 
and pressed the button. Sponge Bob watched 
in fascination.

"Alright, all done!"

The plate was removed, and Dr. Bubblefish took 
a moment to examine the results. "Hmm," he 
murmured, holding the film 
up to the light. "It seems 
we have a situation with your wisdom 
teeth."

Plankton's eye bulged with alarm. 
"Wisdom teeth?" he squeaked. 
"But I'm a microscopic creature! I 
don't have room for those!"

Dr. Bubblefish nodded solemnly. 
"Which is why we need 
to remove now them to 
prevent any issues."

Karen's grip tightened on 
Plankton's shoulder. "Removal?"

Dr. Bubblefish nodded. "It's the best 
course of action, a common procedure."

The doctor led them into his office, walls 
lined with diplomas.

Dr. Bubblefish noticed apprehension 
and offered a smile.

"Now, Mr. Plankton, I know this might be 
a bit daunting, but I assure you, I'm quite 
skilled at working. Let's go over details 
of the procedure, shall we?"

Karen's grip tightened more. "You're going 
to be ok," she whispered.

Sponge Bob, the optimist, patted 
Plankton's arm. "Don't worry, buddy!"

Plankton swallowed hard as he sat 
down in the chair. It was like sitting 
in a moon crater compared to his usual 
chair at the Chum Bucket. He gripped the 
chair's armrests.

"But how does it work?" Plankton's voice tight 
with anxiety.

"It's quite simple 
really. We use anesthesia," he explained, 
"which will drift off to sleep. You won't feel 
a thing."

"It's like a little nap," Karen offered 
trying to ease his fears.

Dr. Bubblefish nodded. "The 
anesthesia will make you unconscious for 
duration of the procedure. It's safe painless 
way to ensure you don't experience discomfort 
during extraction."

The doctor began preparing. 
Sponge Bob looks through the 
window, mix of curiosity and concern. 
He had never 
seen anything like this. 
Plankton's eye pleaded with him 
for assurance, and Sponge 
Bob gave him a thumbs up.

The chair reclined, and Karen held 
Plankton's hand tightly.

"Ready?" Dr. Bubblefish asked, voice 
a gentle rumble.

Plankton nodded, though his eye
shut. Karen 
squeezed his hand. "You can do 
this, Plankton," she whispered.

The doctor approached with 
what looked like a pair of tiny 
tongs. "This will help keep your 
mouth open," he said, inserting 
the device into Plankton's mouth. 

The nurse came over. "This is the 
anesthesia," she said 
cheerfully, tentacles flicking 
the air. "It'll make every
thing nice and relaxing."

Plankton nodded, his grip tightening. 

He felt the room spin.

"Just breathe," Karen said, the only steady 
thing in the spinning room. "You're great."

Sponge Bob watched as Plankton's eye
lid grew heavy, his grip 
on chair armrests loosening. Dr. Bubblefish nods
to the nurse. Plankton took a deep breath, eye 
shut, body went slack. His grip on the chair arm
rests loosened 
and his breaths grew even. Karen felt 
a mix of relief and 
anxiety as the doctor nodded 
in satisfaction. "And 
he's out," he murmured.

The room was silent except for 
the occasional blip of 
medical equipment and sound of 
Dr. Bubblefish preparing 
for the extraction. Karen's gaze fixed 
on Plankton, watching his 
chest rise and fall with each breath. 
Sponge Bob leaned in 
closer, his curiosity piqued.

Plankton remained still, lost in 
his anesthesia-induced slumber.

"Sponge Bob, you can wait out
side now," Karen said gently 
never leaving her husband.

After surgery, Karen calls Sponge 
Bob from the waiting room. 
"He's in recovery now," she says. 
"You can come 
see him."

Sponge Bob bounces in, eyes wide 
with excitement. He goes in 
the room, his curiosity piqued by 
the sight of Plankton lying 
peacefully on the chair, his mouth 
slightly open but without the 
prop anymore. Plankton's hand lies limp 
on his own lap.
The room remained silent except 
for the steady beep of the heart 
monitor and occasional snore from Plankton.
"The surgery went well. He'll wake in a bit."

Sponge Bob peers closer 
at Plankton, noticing drool 
formed at the corner of his mouth. 

He reaches out and gently 
strokes Plankton's forehead. 
"You're ok," he whispers.
But Plankton was deep in the 
abyss of sleep, breathing even 
and calm.

"What's that?" he pointed to a 
beeping machine.

Karen looked over. "That's a monitor," she said 
softly. "It makes sure 
everything's ok with Plankton while he's out."
The nurse comes in checking vitals. "He's 
doing great," she says 
with a nod. "He'll wake up soon."

"Wakey, wakey, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispers, a 
hint of excitement 
in his voice. He reaches out a finger, gently 
poking Plankton's arm. 
No response. Plankton's chest continues to rise 
and fall rhythmically.
Plankton didn't react. "Wow, he's really out," Sponge
Bob murmured.

"Just don't startle him. He'll wake up groggy."

The nurse gently wiped Plankton's mouth 
with a damp cloth, cleaning 
away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side.

"Alright, let's get some gauze," 
Dr. Bubblefish said, voice interrupting 
the quiet.

Sponge Bob's eyes grew even wider 
as he watched the nurse 
carefully fold a piece of white gauze in
to a minuscule square. It looked 
like a tiny cloud in her tentacle. She 
approached Plankton with the 
utmost care, as if handling some
thing incredibly delicate.

With a gentle touch, she inserted gauze 
into Plankton's mouth, pressing 
it against his gums. Plankton didn't flinch 
or stir, his breathing deep and even. 
The nurse stepped back and gave a satisfied nod.

"Alright, he's all set," Dr. Bubblefish said, his 
voice a comforting rumble. "The gauze will help 
with any bleeding and keep the area clean."

Karen nodded. 
"Thank you, doctor," she murmured.
The room remained silent, except for 
the steady beep of the 
heart monitor and the occasional snore 
from Plankton.
"Let's get you sitting 
up, Mr. Plankton," Dr. Bubblefish instructed 
as he lifted Plankton's head back up. The 
chair whirred in
to an upright position.

After a few moments, Plankton's eye
lid began to flutter. He blinked, his 
vision blurry from anesthesia. He groaned,
mouth feeling strange and full.

"You're all done!"

"Plankton," Karen says, voice soft and warm.

Sponge Bob nods eagerly, his eyes never leaving 
Plankton's face. "How do you feel?" he asks.

"Wha..." Plankton mumbles, voice muffled 
by the gauze. "Wh-where am I?"

Karen chuckles. "You're in the dentist's 
office, Plankton. 
You had wisdom teeth removed."

Sponge Bob's face lights up. "Yeah, buddy, you're 
all fixed up!"

Karen gently helps Plankton sit 
up, supporting him 
with an arm around his back.

"You're going to feel a bit woozy," she warns.

Plankton spots Sponge Bob's grinning face.

"Hey, Spongey," he says, his voice still slurred.

"Hey, Planky!" Sponge Bob says, smile growing 
wide. "You're done! No more teeth woes for you!"
"W-who's Planky?" Plankton mumbles, voice thick 
from anesthesia.
Sponge Bob laughs, his laugh echoing. 
"That's you, buddy! Planky, Plankton!"

"I survived the tooth monster.."

Sponge Bob nods. "Yep, the pesky things 
in your mouth supposed to make smarter
were just causing trouble!"
"Troub...troub...tweef?"
"Yes, Plankton. 
Your wisdom 
teeth are gone."

"Miwwow, miwwow, on the wawl," he slurred, 
wobbly. "Do I wook smarter wi’out my tweef?"


Patrick Star was waiting outside the dentist office, his 
large, star-shaped body leaning against the wall. 




Patrick Star was waiting outside the dentist's office, his 
large, star-shaped body leaning against the wall. 
He had heard that Sponge Bob was escorting 
Plankton and Karen to the appointment. 

Once Plankton was discharged, the four 
crammed into the car. Plankton sat 
in between Sponge Bob and Patrick, but  
was too groggy to care.

Karen took the wheel, her grip firm. 
"Alright, let's get you home," she said, starting the engine.

new wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore plankbobs wisdoms

WISDOMS ii


The car pulled out of the 
dental office's lot, tires 
humming against the asphalt.

"Hang in there 
buddy," Patrick said.

Plankton's head lolled 
to the side, a stream of 
drool escaping the 
corner of his mouth.

"Hey, Plankton, you ok?" 
Sponge Bob asked 
nudging him gently.

Plankton's only response 
was a faint, "Mmph," as 
his head grew heavier and 
his body leaned in
to Sponge Bob's side. 
Sponge Bob, ever the 
gentle soul, adjusted 
his position to 
accommodate his tiny 
friend, offering his shoulder 
as a makeshift pillow. The 
car's gentle sway and 
the comforting hum of the 
engine soon lulled 
Plankton into sleep. His 
breathing grew rhythmic 
as he snored lightly.

Patrick leaned over 
to whisper, "Aw, isn't 
that cute?"

Sponge Bob nodded, a 
soft smile spreading 
across his face.
He knew Plankton had 
been nervous about 
the appointment.
They had all been 
through a lot together 
but this was the first
time Plankton had allowed 
himself to be this vulnerable.

Patrick, ever the opportunist, 
decided to take advantage of
the situation. He leaned over 
snapping a photo with his phone.

"Look at this," he whispered 
to Karen, showing her the
picture with a wide grin.

Karen rolled her eyes, keeping 
her focus on the road.
"You do know he's going to get 
you when he sees that, right?"

Patrick just shrugged, 
his grin unwavering.
"It's just a little joke, 
Karen. Besides, he's out 
cold."

The car ride back to the 
Chum Bucket was quiet, only
interrupted by the occasional 
snort from Plankton's snores
and the soft murmur of the 
radio. Karen's eyes darted to the
rearview mirror, watching the 
unlikely companions.

Sponge Bob felt a strange 
sense of peace, his arm around
his arch-nemesis-turned-friend
providing comfort and
support.

As the car approached the Chum 
Bucket, Plankton's snores grew 
louder, echoing in the small 
enclosed space. Sponge Bob 
couldn't help but chuckle quietly, 
feeling the warmth and weight of 
his friend against him. It was a 
peculiar sight, the villainous 
Plankton, usually so full of 
energy and cunning schemes, 
now reduced to a sleeping, 
drooling mess. But in this 
moment, all animosity was 
forgotten. They were just 
friends sharing a car ride 
home after a long day.

Karen pulled into the Chum 
Bucket's dilapidated parking 
lot, the headlights casting 
eerie shadows across the 
rusted metal exterior. She 
turned off the engine and 
the silence grew thick. 
Plankton's snores seemed 
to fill the void, a gentle 
reminder of the peacefulness 
that had descended upon them.

Sponge Bob carefully lifted 
Plankton's head off his shoulder. 
"Hey, Plankton, we're home," he 
whispered.

Plankton's eye fluttered open, and 
he looked around, momentarily 
confused. Then, he groaned and 
rubbed his jaw. "Oh," he mumbled, 
his voice thick.

Sponge Bob and Patrick helped him 
out of the car, each taking an arm 
to support him as he swayed on 
his tiny legs. The anesthesia still 
had a firm grip on him, making his 
movements clumsy and awkward.

"Careful," Karen warned.

The two friends carefully 
maneuvered Plankton 
door of the Chum Bucket, 
his feet barely touching the 
ground as they shuffled along. 
Plankton's usual meticulousness 
had been replaced by post-surgical 
disarray. Sponge Bob and Patrick 
gently set him down on the couch.

"I got you some new 
fresh gauze," Sponge 
Bob offered. "Open up!"

Plankton, still groggy, opened his mouth 
allowed Sponge Bob to place the gauze. 
"Tanks," he murmured, his voice muffled 
by the material. He leaned back into the 
couch cushions, his eye drifting shut again.

Patrick and Sponge Bob exchanged a look.

"Do you need anything else?" Sponge Bob 
asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

"N-no," Plankton stuttered. "Jush nee... tiwweeddd."

"Alright, we'll be right here," Patrick assured 
him, plopping down onto an armchair. Sponge 
Bob took a seat on the floor beside the couch.

Patrick, ever the one for a good laugh, couldn't 
resist teasing Plankton.

"You know what they say, Plankton," he quipped. 
"A picture's worth a thousand words!"

Sponge Bob shot him a warning look 
but Plankton was already snoring again, 
oblivious to the potential embarrassment 
that awaited him when he woke up.

The two friends settled in for an unexpected 
night at the Chum Bucket. The next morning 
Plankton's the last to wake up, any trace of 
anesthesia now gone.

He stirred slowly, his single eye blinking open 
to the harsh reality of daylight filtering through 
the grimy windows. His mouth felt like it was 
filled with cotton, and his jaw ached. He tried 
to sit up.

"Whoa, easy," SpongeBob said, placing a 
comforting hand on Plankton's shoulder. 
"You had quite the nap."

Plankton's eye widened as he took in his 
surroundings. He was in his own living 
room, but Sponge Bob and Patrick were 
sitting there, too. His mind raced as he 
tried to piece together what had 
happened. He touched his mouth 
gingerly, feeling the gauze. "Wh...what?" 
he croaked.
Plankton's confusion grew as the fog of 
anesthesia lifted.

"You had a little dental work done," Sponge 
Bob said with a smile. "Remember?"

Plankton's eye narrowed as 
his only memories of yesterday 
began to flood back. The dentist's 
chair, the bright lights, and his mouth 
open for wisdom teeth?

"You mean, I actually went through wivv it?" 
he whispered to himself, hand shooting to 
his mouth.

"Yeah, you did," Patrick said, his grin spreading 
wider. "And you slept like a baby all the way home."

Plankton looked down, his mind racing. "How 
did I get here?" he asked, his voice still thick 
with grogginess.

"Well, you don't remember?" Patrick said 
with a smirk. "We had to practically carry 
you out of the dentist's office and into the car."

"What? You... you 
carried me?" he sputtered, 
indignation rising in his tone.

Sponge Bob nodded 
trying to keep his 
laughter at bay. "You 
were pretty out 
of it, Plankton."

Plankton's eyes grew as realization sank in. 
"Wait, you thaw me wike that?" He sat up to 
quickly, wincing as pain shot through his jaw. 
"What did I do?"

Sponge Bob handed him a glass of water. 
"Don't worry, you just fell asleep."

Plankton took the water 
with a trembling hand, his 
mind racing. "But... what 
abou- my... my dignity?"

Sponge Bob chuckled. "Don't worry 
Plankton. You've still got plenty of 
that. You just needed a little help, is all."

Patrick couldn't resist adding fuel 
to the fire. "Yeah, you were so out 
of it, you didn't even notice when I 
took a selfie of us all in the car. Sponge 
Bob was being such a good nurse!"

Plankton glowered at the starfish. "You what!"

Patrick held up his phone, showing 
the incriminating photo. Plankton, 
mouth wide open and drooling, was 
sandwiched between the two friends. 
Sponge Bob looked concerned and 
slightly amused, while Patrick was 
grinning like he'd just won the Krabby 
Patty secret formula. "I sent it to ourselves!"

"You... you..." he sputtered, unable to form a 
coherent sentence. The sight of himself 
drooling and vulnerable was so much. His 
pride had always been his armor, and it had 
been dented.

Patrick chuckled, enjoying the moment. "Don't 
worry, Plankton. It'll be our little secret."

"You're lucky I don't remember thish," he grumbled.

Sponge Bob got fresh gauze 
for Plankton. "Open up," he instructed.

With a begrudging sigh, Plankton complied. 
His mouth was a cavern of pain. Sponge 
Bob gently placed the gauze in, and Plankton 
couldn't help but wince. "Thanks," he 
murmured, his voice sounding even 
smaller than usual.

The room was quiet for a moment, then, the 
silence was broken by a notification from 
Patrick's phone. He picked it up and looked 
at the screen, his grin growing even wider.

"What?" Plankton asked 
suspiciously, his pride still bruised.

Patrick couldn't hold it in 
any longer. He burst in
to laughter, holding out his 
phone to show the latest 
meme he'd created from 
the photo. It was the picture 
of Plankton drooling onto 
Sponge Bob's shoulder, with 
the caption: "When you realize 
you're too small to get your 
own wisdom teeth out without 
snoring through it."

Sponge Bob's cheeks turned pink 
with laughter, despite his efforts 
to remain serious. "Patrick, that's 
not nice," he managed to say 
between chuckles.

"What? He did," Patrick exclaimed.

Plankton's embarrassed. "I... I 
did not," he protested weakly.

"Oh, but you did," Sponge Bob said, his 
laughter bubbling up. He couldn't help 
himself; the sight of Plankton all loopy 
from anesthesia was to much. "It was 
kind of adorable."

Plankton huffed, but despite his 
embarrassment, he couldn't stay to 
mad at them. They had been there 
for him, and that was worth something. 
He took a sip of water. "You two are 
never to speak of this again."

Sponge Bob and Patrick nodded solemnly. 
Eventually, Plankton's eye grew heavy again, 
and he drifted off into a nap.

"Looks like he's out," Patrick said.

Sponge Bob nodded, still smiling at the thought 
of Plankton's uncharacteristic vulnerability. "We 
should let him rest."

Patrick stood up, stretching his arms. "Yeah, I guess 
we've had our fun for the day. Time to let you get 
back to your schemes, Plankton."

Sponge Bob gently placed a pillow under Plankton's 
head. "Rest up, buddy. We can check on you later."

new wisdoms wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore patricktonbob

"Hi, my boss Mr. Krabs told me I need to
work on my people skills and to volunteer.."
SpongeBob says in the surgery room before
recognizing Plankton and Karen.

Plankton lay on 
the operating 
table, a small tube 
delivering medicine that kept 
him asleep. Karen sat by him.

"Plankton‽"

"Plankton's had his 
wisdom teeth removed." 
She glanced at the sleeping 
Plankton with affection.

Sponge Bob leaned closer. 
He poked Plankton gently. 
"Hey, Plankton; wake up, buddy!" 
No response. Plankton's 
breathing remained slow 
and even, the rhythm 
unchanged by Sponge 
Bob's nudges. Karen's 
robotic hand shot up to 
stop Sponge Bob's poking.

"He's not going to wake up 
anytime soon, Sponge Bob. 
The anesthesia will wear off 
in a couple of hours," she 
explained in her usual monotone. 
Sponge Bob's bubbly demeanor 
deflated a bit. He had never seen 
Plankton so... peaceful. Usually 
the tiny villain was full of mischief 
and plotting his next Krabby Patty heist.

But the sight of his arch-nemesis 
helpless and snoring?

"Karen, do you think a little light chat 
would help him wake up?"

"Sponge Bob, the purpose of 
anesthesia is to keep him 
unconscious during surgery 
and ensure a painless recovery. 
Your efforts are futile."

Undeterred, Sponge Bob leaned in closer. 
"Come on, Plankton. Time to wakey-wakey!" 
He waved his hands in front of Plankton's face, 
creating a gentle breeze that tickled his antennae. 
Still, Plankton remained steadfast in his slumber, 
oblivious to the world around him.

Karen sighed again, the closest she ever got to 
expressing exasperation. "As I said, Sponge Bob, 
he's under the effects of anesthesia. There's 
nothing you can do to wake him up." She went 
back to reading her magazine, the glow from her 
screen casting a soft blue light on her metallic features.

Sponge Bob studied Plankton's sleeping features. His 
mouth was open just enough to reveal his top row of 
teeth, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a giggle when a 
small bubble of drool formed at the corner of his mouth.

"You know," he mused aloud, "I never realized 
Plankton had such a... cute snoring sound."
The statement hung in the air, and even the 
normally stoic Karen couldn't resist cracking a 
smile. "Cute is hardly the word I'd use," she 
murmured, but the warmth in her voice belied 
the affection she had for her partner.

Sponge Bob's curiosity grew as he continued to 
gaze at the unconscious Plankton. He'd seen 
him in various states before—angry, plotting 
and occasionally defeated—but never so vulnerable. 
The sight was strange yet fascinating. He reached 
out and carefully wiped away the drool. Plankton's 
head lolled to the side, but he remained asleep.
SpongeBob put his head back up on a pillow. 
Plankton's snores grew quieter as his head settled 
into the cushioned embrace.

"Don't worry, Plankton," he whispered, patting the 
villain's arm gently. "I'll watch over you."

Sponge Bob's curiosity grew stronger as he watched 
the drool form at the side of Plankton's mouth. He 
leaned in closer, studying the phenomenon. He'd 
never noticed Plankton drool before.

"It's like a tiny river," he said 
to himself.

What would happen if he tried to touch it? He tapped 
it lightly. It wobbled, bulging slightly before collapsing 
back into its original state.

He poked the drool again. This time, it grew slightly larger 
before popping, leaving a tiny, wet splatter on the pillow. 
Plankton's snores grew louder for a moment, but didn't stir.

Sponge Bob couldn't resist a grin spreading across his face. 
"Looks like he's enjoying his nap," he whispered to Karen 
who remained engrossed in her magazine. The drool was 
fascinating—like a living organism, pulsating with 
every one of Plankton's breaths.

He poked it again, gently this time. The drool grew larger, stretching 
out like a bubble of gum. It was almost mesmerizing. "I wonder if 
I can make it pop," he thought, eyes gleaming with child-like excitement.

Slowly, Sponge Bob poked the drool bubble once more. It grew to 
the size of a marble before it burst with a tiny splat, splattering on
to the pillow. Plankton's snoring remained undisturbed.

Sponge Bob could see the light from the ceiling reflecting off 
the droplet's surface. He waited, the anticipation building, eyes 
fixed on the wobbling mass.

At the last second, he poked it. The bubble popped with a sound 
that echoed through the quiet room. Plankton's snore caught in 
his throat for a split second, then resumed with renewed vigor. 
The splatter was more substantial 
this time, leaving a wet spot on the pillow.

The sudden noise made Karen look up from her magazine. 
"What on earth are you doing, Sponge Bob?" she asked, voice 
a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Just... science," Sponge Bob said, his grin unabated. "I'm studying 
Plankton's snoring pattern... and drool."

Karen rolled her digital eyes. "Fine. Just don't wake him. And 
for the love of Krabby Patties, please don't make a mess." She 
returned her focus to her magazine, seemingly unfazed by the 
sight of her arch-enemy playing with drool.

Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his eyes lighting up with newfound 
purpose. He decided to be more strategic in his scientific endeavor. 
He would need precision and timing.

The drool bubble grew again, this time larger and more robust. 
Sponge Bob waited, his heart beating faster with every pulse of 
Plankton's snore. He took a deep breath, held it, and at the peak 
of the snore's crescendo, poked the bubble with a controlled flick.

It exploded with a sound like a miniature water balloon, splattering 
across Plankton's cheek. The pillow was now a Jackson Pollock 
canvas of drool. Plankton's snoring hitched but he didn't wake.

"Oops," Sponge Bob whispered, giggling quietly. He reached for a near
by tissue to clean up the mess, his eyes glancing nervously at Karen. 
She peeked over her magazine, the corners of 
her robotic mouth curving upward slightly.

"If you're going to play, at least be tidy," 
she said, voice a blend of reprimand 
and amusement.

Sponge Bob nodded, eyes sparkling 
with mischief. "Of course, Karen," he 
whispered back, dabbing at Plankton's 
cheek with the tissue. The drool 
was sticky and clung to the fabric 
but Sponge Bob managed to clean 
when Plankton's snoring hitched.

This time, Plankton's eyes opened a crack, 
his single eyelid revealing a sliver of his iris 
before dropping shut again. 
"What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily.

Sponge Bob froze, tissue in mid-air. "Oh 
nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound 
nonchalant. "Just admiring your snoring."

Plankton's eyelid quivered but remained shut. 
"Mmph." His mouth moved around the word.

"Don't worry, buddy," Sponge Bob said softly 
patting Plankton's arm. "You're just resting. 
Nothing to worry about."

The half-awake Plankton mumbled something 
unintelligible, and Sponge Bob took it as a sign 
to back off. He retreated to his chair, watching 
as Karen put down her magazine and began 
to fuss over Plankton, checking his 
vitals and making sure he was comfortable.

For once, he wasn't at odds with Plankton. 

new plankarenbob splankaren splanktoren wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore droolcore hospitalcore plankkarenbob AI Story Generator

NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH i

"Why do we have to go so early?" he grumbled. "I know, sweetie," Karen said, patting 
his hand reassuringly. 
"But it's for the best. You'll be out like a light during the surgery, and you won't 
feel a thing."

The nurse noticed his distress and offered a kind smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Plankton. 
We're going to make this 
as comfortable for you as possible. First things first, let's get you in and then we'll 
start with some 
anesthesia."

Karen watched as Plankton reluctantly climbed into the chair. The nurse dimmed the 
lights and adjusted the 
chair's recline. She placed a warm blanket over him, and the softness enveloped him 
like a comforting 
embrace, the nurse preparing Plankton for the surgery. She chatted away, "So, any
plans for the weekend?"

"Not really," he said, "Just recovery."

The nurse nodded.
She began to insert the IV,  talked him through each step, her voice a comforting 
lullaby guiding him into a 
state of relaxation.

She continued to engage in light conversation, told about her weekend plans, a 
lifeline to the outside world 
that seemed so far away in the cold, clinical environment.

As the anesthesia began to work, Plankton felt his body grow heavier, his eyelid 
drooping. "You're doing great," 
she said softly. "Just keep breathing, ok?"

Plankton's thoughts began to blur together. The doctor's voice grew distant, his 
words melding into a 
comforting murmur as Plankton felt himself slipping away.

The last thing he heard was Karen's voice, a gentle whisper in his ear. "I'm here," 
she said, her hand holding 
onto his with a fierce tenderness. "I love you."

And then there was nothing, the last sensation he felt before everything went quiet.

The anesthetist monitored Plankton's vitals, ensuring he remained safely asleep 
throughout the procedure. 
Plankton was a picture of peace, mouth agape as the anesthesia kept him blissfully 
unaware of the world 
around him. The nurse's eyes flick from the monitors to Plankton's serene face.
Plankton's body didn't even flinch. Plankton's face remained relaxed, his breathing 
even, as the anesthetic kept 
him in a state of blissful unconsciousness, ensuring that his comfort remained top 
priority. 

Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence 
that soothed the room. The 
nurse gently swabbed his mouth, keeping the area clean and clear. 

The doctor stitched up the small incisions with a gentle touch, while the nurse 
cleaned Plankton's mouth. The 
anesthetist monitored the levels, ensuring a smooth and safe emergence from the 
depths of 
unconsciousness.

The doctor looked at Karen, his eyes weary but his smile reassuring. "It's all done," he 
said. "Everything went smoothly. 
He's still sleeping it off, but you can go in and see him."

Karen rushed in, her screen searching for Plankton. He was there, lying back in the 
chair, his mouth slightly 
open, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked so peaceful, 
vulnerable. She reached out and 
touched his hand, for the surgery was over.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept. "He's doing great," she 
assured her. "The surgery went 
well."

Karen leaned over Plankton, as she brushed his antennae with her hand. She took in 
the sight of him, the 
gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snorish sounds escaping his mouth. His 
face was a portrait of peace, 
a stark contrast to the chaos of the surgery that had just taken place.

The nurse finished her work and dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a soft glow 
that cast shadows across 
the floor. Karen pulled up a chair and sat down, her hand finding Plankton's again. 
"You're ok," she murmured, 
willing him to hear her voice, to feel her presence. "You're going to be ok."

Karen's entire world was contained in reassuring her that he was still there.

The nurse approached with a wad of gauze. "We need to put this in his mouth to help 
with bleeding," she 
explained gently. Karen nodded. The nurse placed the gauze with the same care she 
had shown throughout 
the entire ordeal, pressing it gently against the raw, tender spots where Plankton's
teeth had once been.

The nurse finished her cleanup and checked Plankton's vitals one last time. "He'll 
come around soon," she 
assured. "The anesthesia takes a bit to wear off."

His breathing was still deep and steady, the gentle rumble of his snores filling the 
room. She found comfort in 
the mundane sounds of his slumber. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed 
to match the beeping of 
the heart monitor.

The anesthesia had done its job well, leaving him in a deep, dreamless sleep. His 
face was serene. His 
antennae lay limp on the chair's headrest, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing 
the gauze the nurse had 
placed to stem the bleeding.

The drool that had pooled at the corners of his mouth began to seep out onto the chair. 
The nurse noticed and 
nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's normal," she said.

Plankton's snores grew louder, the drool now a small river that trickled down. Karen 
reached out with a 
trembling hand, her thumb catching the droplets before they could stain the fabric. 
The drool was a stark 
reminder of the reality of the situation.

Her screen focused on the slow, steady flow of dribble, forming and breaking away, 
each one a little more 
substantial than the last. The nurse had said it was normal, but to Karen, it was a 
sign of his vulnerability, a 
tangible proof of the surgery's aftermath.

As the drool grew into a small puddle on the chair, Karen's resolve to be strong for 
him grew stronger. She 
grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and gently wiped. 
The nurse looked at her with understanding. "It's alright," she said softly. "He'll wake 
un his own time."

Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. She felt a strange mix of 
love and pity. Here he was, 
reduced to a drooling mess in a chair, and yet she had never felt more connected to 
him. It was a strange 
intimacy, this moment of vulnerability, a silent pact between them that she would 
always be there to wipe 
away his fears, both literal and figurative.

The nurse moved around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She checked the 
machines one last 
time before turning to Karen. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, patting the chair 
beside Plankton's. 
"It'll be a bit before he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable." 
Karen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled up a chair and held his 
hand tightly, her 
thumb brushing back and forth across his knuckles.

"Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You did it, sweetie." She 
leaned closer. "The teeth are out. You're okay." She waited, watching the rise and 
fall of his chest, 
listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, and willing him to open his eye.

"Remember what I said about ice cream?" she asked, her voice a little louder this time. 
"You can have as much 
as you want when we get home." She tried to keep her tone light, despite the gravity of 
the situation. The 
thought of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream was supposed to make him smile, but 
his face remained 
slack.
But she knew he was strong, and he would bounce back. He always did.
"I just want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you. We've been through so 
much together, 
and I can't imagine my life without you. You're going to wake up soon, and it'll all be 
over. And then we can go 
home, and I'll take care of you, just like you always take care of me. Remember when we 
said 'in sickness and 
in health'?" she whispered. "Well, this is definitely a 'sickness' moment, but I'm right 
here. And I'll be here 
through all the healthy moments too."

The nurse quietly left them a moment of privacy. Karen leaned in closer. "You're going 
to feel 
a bit funny when you wake up," she said with a soft laugh.

"Your mouth will be sore, and your face will be puffy. But I'll be there. And maybe I'll 
let you win at Scrabble for 
once." She chuckles. "Just don't let it go to your head."

Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and a low moan escaped his throat. She squeezed his hand. 
"That's it, baby," she 
encouraged. "You're waking up."

His eye opened slowly dilated and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to 
the harsh lights of 
the recovery room. He turned his head to the side, and she knew he was searching for her. 
"Hi," she said, her 
voice a warm whisper. "It's me, Karen. You're ok."

His gaze found hers, and she saw the flicker of recognition. "Where am I?" he slurred, 
his voice thick and 
groggy.

"You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. 
"You just had your 
wisdom teeth out."

Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed 
him back down. "Easy," 
she said. "You need to rest."

"But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak.

"I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her cool hand. "But you're doing great. 
Just stay still for a little 
while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications."

He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. 

new AI Story Generator karen plankton nothing but the wisdom truth wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore i

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NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH ii

"You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had
wisdom teeth out."

Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," 
she said. "You need to rest."

"But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak.

"I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little 
while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications."

He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't member any ting." His words were 
slurred. The anesthesia was definitely still working its magic on him.

"It's ok," she said, her voice soothing. "You don't need to.."
Plankton's head lolled to the side, and his eyelid grew heavy again.

"Karen?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"I'm right here," she assured him, her voice steady and calm. She watched as he tried to lift his hand to wipe at 
his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the chair's armrest, his fingers brushing against hers. 

Plankton's eye grew heavy again, and his head lolled to the side.

The anesthesia was working its way out of his system, but it was taking its time. She chuckled as she 
watched him struggle to keep his eye open.

"I'm... I'm," Plankton mumbled, his words coming out slurred and sloppy. His eye rolled back in his head, and 
he let out a snore.

"You're a mess," she laughs, her voice filled with love. "But you're my mess." She watched as his chest rose 
and fell with each snore. It was clear that the anesthesia was still holding him in its grasp, and she knew it 
would be a while before he was fully awake.

Karen couldn't help but laugh at his antics.

Plankton's snores grew louder.
Karen reached out and gently wiped the line of drool from his mouth with a tissue. He stirred, his eye blinking 
open again.

"You're drooling," she whispered, smiling at him.

"What's happening?" he asked, his words slurred.

"You're coming out of the anesthesia," Karen said, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Everything went fine."
Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Mmmy...nesia?" he mumbled.

Karen's smile grew, understanding his attempt to ask about his sleep during surgery. "You mean the 
anesthesia?"

Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his endeavor. "You're just a little out of it," she said, her voice gentle. "The 
anesthesia is wearing off."

"Thish...thish ish...shomefinny," Plankton tried to say.

"What?" Karen asked, her curiosity piqued by his attempt at speech.

"Nothin'." Plankton's words were slurred into a single syllable. He looked utterly lost in the haze.

Karen leaned closer. "You sure?"

Plankton nodded, his smile lopsided. "Jush...jush glad."

Karen couldn't help but laugh at his adorable incoherence. "You're so loopy," she said, her voice filled with 
affection. She squeezed his hand gently. "I love you."

"Ish love...love you too, Karen," he slurred.

"I know," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and affection.

"Tish...tish hard," Plankton mumbled, his cheeks dimpling with his own private joke.


The nurse entered the room, checking his vitals with a knowing smile. "It's normal for patients to be a bit out 
of it after surgery," she said, scribbling notes on her clipboard. "I'm shorry," he said, words still a jumble.

Karen couldn't help but lean in closer, her own smile growing wider. "It's ok," she assured him, her voice gentle. 
The nurse nodded in agreement, her own smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's quite common," she said, 
her voice professional but kind. 

"Ish...Ish...it...over?" he managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth.

"Yes, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice still filled with love and amusement. "You're all done. They got all your 
wisdom teeth out."

"Thish...thish allll over now-ow."

"Almost," Karen said, her voice a gentle melody. "We just need to wait for the anesthesia to wear off a bit more, 
and then we can go home."

Plankton nodded, his eye already drifting shut again. His mouth moved as he attempted to speak, but only 
slurred sounds came out. Karen leaned in closer, her smile never wavering. "You know, you're pretty chatty for 
someone who's had their wisdom teeth out."

"Ish...Ish always had...shomeshin' to shay," Plankton managed, his speech a series of lisped and elongated sounds.
Plankton's eye began to drift closed again, his breathing growing deep and even. The nurse finished her 
checks and gave Karen instructions for his aftercare. "Make sure he takes it easy," she said.

"I will," Karen promised, her screen never leaving Plankton's face.

The quiet was filled with the sound of Plankton's snores, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm 
beneath the blanket. His mouth was still slightly open, and she could see the drool forming at the corner of his 
lips.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Mr. Krabs, Plankton's rival at the 
Krabby Patty. "How's he doing?" it read.

"Loopy," she replied with a smiley face. She had told Mr. Krabs about the surgery the day before, and 
despite their rivalry, he had offered to come visit when they get back home.

The nurse poked her head back in, checking the clock on the wall. "Alright, he's ready to go," she said, her 
smile warm.

Karen nodded, standing up and gently shaking Plankton's shoulder. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you 
home."

Plankton's eye blinked open slowly, and he looked around the room with confusion. "Home?" he mumbled, his 
voice still thick.

"Yes, we're going home," Karen said, her voice the balm to his disorientation. She helped him to his feet, 
supporting his weight as he swayed slightly.

The drive back home was a blur of sleep. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the vibration of the 
engine lulling him to a doze.

"You okay?" Karen asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," Plankton mumbled, his voice a sleepy rumble. "Just...tiwed."

The drive home was quiet, with only the occasional snore piercing the silence. Karen drove carefully, her eyes 
flicking between the road and the mirror to check on Plankton. She knew he would be out for the count for a 
while, and his face was still swollen.

As they pulled into their driveway, Plankton stirred. "We're home," Karen said, her voice gentle.

He nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Home," he murmured.

Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly as he tried to find his balance. She wrapped his arm around 
her waist, supporting him as they made their way, and he leaned into her, his body heavy with fatigue.

The house was quiet as they entered, the only sound the occasional tick of the grandfather clock in the 
hallway. Karen guided him to the couch, carefully helping him sit down. "Rest here," she said, her voice a 
gentle command.

Plankton nodded, eye closing again. She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a 
pillow. "Here," she said, placing the pillow behind his head.

He took the glass with a nod, his hand shaking slightly. He took a sip. "Thish...thish ish...good," he managed to 
say.

She knew he was in pain, and the anesthesia was only adding to his confusion. "I'll be right back," she said, her 
voice a soft whisper.

Karen grabbed the pet amoeba puppy, Spot. She carried him back to the living room, where Plankton was 
slowly coming around. "Look who's here," she said, holding Spot out to him.

Spot's blob-like body stretched out in excitement, his little legs waving in the air. Plankton's eye widened at the 
sight, and a smile spread across his swollen face. "Spot," he murmured, his voice still thick with anesthesia.

Karen set Spot on his lap, and the amoeba immediately began to cover him in wet, loving kisses. Plankton 
chuckled, his hand rising to pet the creature's gelatinous head. "Hey, bubby," he slurred, his speech still 
compromised.

The simple act of touch brought a spark of life to Plankton's eye. "You're good boyth," he said, his voice a mix 
of affection and pain. Spot's response was a happy wiggle.

Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight, Plankton's love for their little amoeba was unwavering. She took a 
seat beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Just rest," she said, her voice a soft command.

Plankton nodded, his eyes closing again. Spot continued to shower him with affection, his slimy kisses 
landing on Plankton. Karen watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. Then she stood up, 
knowing there was still more to do to ensure Plankton's recovery went smoothly.

In the kitchen, she put together a soft meal for him, something that wouldn't irritate his sensitive mouth. She 
chopped up some fruit into a small bowl and warmed up a cup of soup. The smells of chicken broth and 
sweet berries filled the air, a comforting aroma that she hoped would ease his pain.

When she returned to the living room, Plankton was asleep, Spot curled up with him. She set the food down on 
the table, the spoon clinking gently against the porcelain bowl. She took a moment to appreciate the peaceful 
scene before her, the two of them nestled together, the TV playing a low murmur of background noise.

Karen decided to let him sleep for a bit longer.

Gently, she lifted Spot off Plankton's lap and placed him on the floor. The amoeba pup quickly scuttled back by 
the couch, but still on the floor. Karen then turned off the TV, not wanting the noise to disturb Plankton's rest.

Just as she was about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, his beady eyes 
looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep."

Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. 
"Thought he might need these," he said, handing them to her.

Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room."

new AI Story Generator karen plankton nothing but the wisdom truth wisdomteethcore wisdomtoothcore

"We removed Plankton's
wisdom teeth. He's still
asleep, you can stay with
him." Said the oral surgeon
to Karen. They've just finished
and lead Karen into the room.

Plankton is lying in 
the hospital bed, his 
face a mask of peace, 
the only signs of the 
recent surgery being 
the gauze in his mouth 
and the drool seeping 
out the side. His cheeks 
are slightly swollen, and she 
wonders when he'll wake 
up. The doctor said 
it could take a while.
The IV line snakes up 
his arm.

Karen pulls a chair 
up beside the bed. She 
takes his hand and holds 
it gently, feeling the 
warmth of his skin 
contrast with the coolness 
of her own palm. The room 
is sterile, the air 
conditioning humming 
steadily in the background. 
The faint smell of 
disinfectant fills the 
space. She looks around 
the room, noticing the 
monitors beeping in 
rhythm with Plankton's 
breathing and heart rate.

The nurse comes in 
and checks the machines, 
making a few quiet notes 
on a clipboard. She 
smiles at Karen, "He's 
doing well. Just let him 
sleep. It's the best thing 
right now." Karen nods, 
squeezing Plankton's hand 
slightly, willing him to 
feel her presence. She 
wonders what dreams he's 
having, if any, behind 
his closed lid.

Time seems to crawl 
as Karen watches him 
sleep. She tries to 
read a book, but the 
words blur together. Her 
thoughts drift to their 
lives before this moment, 
their shared laughter, their 
arguments, the quiet 
moments of understanding. 
Her gaze lingers on 
his swollen cheeks, 
his chest rising and 
falling with each 
breath.

A soft groan escapes 
his lips and his eye
begins to flutter open. 
Slowly, Plankton comes 
to, his vision blurred 
by the anesthesia's last 
hangover. He blinks, 
trying to focus on 
Karen's face. She sets 
aside her book and 
smiles at him, her screen 
welcoming him back to 
the world of the conscious.

"Hi," she says softly. "How
are you feeling?" Plankton 
makes a sound that's 
somewhere between a 
whine and a grunt.
His eye wanders the 
room before finally 
settling on hers.

"What...what happened?"
he slurs, the words 
barely audible through 
the gauze. Karen's smile 
widens a bit. "You had 
your wisdom teeth removed, 
remember?" He nods slightly.

The nurse reappears, 
checking his vitals again 
with a gentle touch. "Time 
to go home," she says, 
removing the gauze.

They make their way out of 
the hospital, Karen 
supporting Plankton 
gently as he stumbles, 
his legs still wobbly from 
the anesthesia. The sun 
is setting, casting 
long shadows across the 
parking lot. Karen helps 
Plankton into the car, 
buckling him in and 
adjusting the seat so 
he can lean back and 
rest. He nods off almost 
immediately, his breathing 
evening out as the car starts 
and they pull away from 
the hospital.

The drive home is quiet, 
Plankton's snores punctuating 
the hum of the engine. Karen 
keeps glancing over, 
checking on him, her 
concern etched into every 
line on her screen. The 
pain medication is strong, 
keeping him in a 
half-awake state. Each 
time he wakes, he looks 
around, disoriented, before 
his eye finds hers and 
his expression relaxes.

Once they arrive, Karen 
guides him to the couch, 
his body feeling heavier 
than ever before. He 
slumps into the cushions 
and she grabs the ice pack 
from the cooler. "Hold this 
to your cheeks," she 
instructs, placing the 
cold compress against 
his skin. He nods 
obediently, his eye already 
glazing over with the 
promise of sleep.

The TV flickers on, 
its blue light washing 
over the room. Karen 
finds a sitcom they both 
enjoy, hoping the 
familiar laughter will 
ease his pain and keep 
them both company. But 
Plankton's snores soon 
overpower the TV's 
audio, his head lolling 
to the side. She smiles, 
knowing he's in a deep 
slumber, and covers him 
with a blanket.

The house is eerily 
quiet except for the 
steady tick of the 
clock on the wall. 
Karen moves around the 
kitchen, preparing a 
soft meal for when 
he wakes, her mind 
racing with thoughts of 
what the next few days 
will be like. Plankton's 
recovery will be slow, but 
she's ready to take care 
of him. She's his rock, his 
support, and she'll do 
anything to help him 
feel better.

new karen plankton dentistcore dentalcore sleepycore sleepcore sleepicore hospitalcore surgicalcore ivcore wisdomtoothcore wisdomteethcore plankton

I	V	X	L	C	D	M
5	10	50	100	500	1000

🔢

Individual decimal places
Thousands	Hundreds	Tens	Units
M	C	X	I
MM	CC	XX	II
MMM	CCC	XXX	III
CD	XL	IV
D	L	V
DC	LX	VI
DCC	LXX	VII
DCCC	LXXX	VIII
CM	XC	IX

new 🔢 listcore schoolcore i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii xviii xix roman alphabet operating system

pack for u!!

section 1 :  fonts

𝐴 𝐵 𝐶 𝐷 𝐸 𝐹 𝐺 𝐻 𝐼 𝐽 𝐾 𝐿 𝑀 𝑁 𝑂 𝑃 𝑄 𝑅 𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝑉 𝑊 𝑋 𝑌 𝑍 

𝑎 𝑏 𝑐 𝑑 𝑒 𝑓 𝑔 ℎ 𝑖 𝑗 𝑘 𝑙 𝑚 𝑛 𝑜 𝑝 𝑞 𝑟 𝑠 𝑡 𝑢 𝑣 𝑤 𝑥 𝑦 𝑧

𝐀 𝐁 𝐂 𝐃 𝐄 𝐅 𝐆 𝐇 𝐈 𝐉 𝐊 𝐋 𝐌 𝐍 𝐎 𝐏 𝐐 𝐑 𝐒 𝐓 𝐔 𝐕 𝐖 𝐗 𝐘 𝐙 

𝐚 𝐛 𝐜 𝐝 𝐞 𝐟 𝐠 𝐡 𝐢 𝐣 𝐤 𝐥 𝐦 𝐧 𝐨 𝐩 𝐪 𝐫 𝐬 𝐭 𝐮 𝐯 𝐰 𝐱 𝐲 𝐳

𝗔 𝗕 𝗖 𝗗 𝗘 𝗙 𝗚 𝗛 𝗜 𝗝 𝗞 𝗟 𝗠 𝗡 𝗢 𝗣 𝗤 𝗥 𝗦 𝗧 𝗨 𝗩 𝗪 𝗫 𝗬 𝗭 

𝗮 𝗯 𝗰 𝗱 𝗲 𝗳 𝗴 𝗵 𝗶 𝗷 𝗸 𝗹 𝗺 𝗻 𝗼 𝗽 𝗾 𝗿 𝘀 𝘁 𝘂 𝘃 𝘄 𝘅 𝘆 𝘇

𝓐 𝓑 𝓒 𝓓 𝓔 𝓕 𝓖 𝓗 𝓘 𝓙 𝓚 𝓛 𝓜 𝓝 𝓞 𝓟 𝓠 𝓡 𝓢 𝓣 𝓤 𝓥 𝓦 𝓧 𝓨 𝓩 

𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃

𝐴 𝐵 𝐶 𝐷 𝐸 𝐹 𝐺 𝐻 𝐼 𝐽 𝐾 𝐿 𝑀 𝑁 𝑂 𝑃 𝑄 𝑅 𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝑉 𝑊 𝑋 𝑌 𝑍 

𝒂 𝒃 𝒄 𝒅 𝒆 𝒇 𝒈 𝒉 𝒊 𝒋 𝒌 𝒍 𝒎 𝒏 𝒐 𝒑 𝒒 𝒓 𝒔 𝒕 𝒖 𝒗 𝒘 𝒙 𝒚 𝒛

𝙰 𝙱 𝙲 𝙳 𝙴 𝙵 𝙶 𝙷 𝙸 𝙹 𝙺 𝙻 𝙼 𝙽 𝙾 𝙿 𝚀 𝚁 𝚂 𝚃 𝚄 𝚅 𝚆 𝚇 𝚈 𝚉 

𝚊 𝚋 𝚌 𝚍 𝚎 𝚏 𝚐 𝚑 𝚒 𝚓 𝚔 𝚕 𝚖 𝚗 𝚘 𝚙 𝚚 𝚛 𝚜 𝚝 𝚞 𝚟 𝚠 𝚡 𝚢 𝚣

𝕬 𝕭 𝕮 𝕯 𝕰 𝕱 𝕲 𝕳 𝕴 𝕵 𝕶 𝕷 𝕸 𝕹 𝕺 𝕻 𝕼 𝕽 𝕾 𝕿 𝖀 𝖁 𝖂 𝖃 𝖄 𝖅 

𝖆 𝖇 𝖈 𝖉 𝖊 𝖋 𝖌 𝖍 𝖎 𝖏 𝖐 𝖑 𝖒 𝖓 𝖔 𝖕 𝖖 𝖗 𝖘 𝖙 𝖚 𝖛 𝖜 𝖝 𝖞 𝖟

𝔄 𝔅 ℭ 𝔇 𝔈 𝔉 𝔊 ℌ ℑ 𝔍 𝔎 𝔏 𝔐 𝔑 𝔒 𝔓 𝔔 ℜ 𝔖 𝔗 𝔘 𝔙 𝔚 𝔛 𝔜 

𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷

𝘼 𝘽 𝘾 𝘿 𝙀 𝙁 𝙂 𝙃 𝙄 𝙅 𝙆 𝙇 𝙈 𝙉 𝙊 𝙋 𝙌 𝙍 𝙎 𝙏 𝙐 𝙑 𝙒 𝙓 𝙔 𝙕 

𝙖 𝙗 𝙘 𝙙 𝙚 𝙛 𝙜 𝙝 𝙞 𝙟 𝙠 𝙡 𝙢 𝙣 𝙤 𝙥 𝙦 𝙧 𝙨 𝙩 𝙪 𝙫 𝙬 𝙭 𝙮 𝙯

𝒜 ℬ 𝒞 𝒟 ℰ ℱ 𝒢 ℋ ℐ 𝒥 𝒦 ℒ ℳ 𝒩 𝒪 𝒫 𝒬 ℛ 𝒮 𝒯 𝒰 𝒱 𝒲 𝒳 𝒴 𝒵 

𝒶 𝒷 𝒸 𝒹 𝑒 𝒻 𝑔 𝒽 𝒾 𝒿 𝓀 𝓁 𝓂 𝓃 𝑜 𝓅 𝓆 𝓇 𝓈 𝓉 𝓊 𝓋 𝓌 𝓍 𝓎 𝓏

𝔸 𝔹 ℂ 𝔻 𝔼 𝔽 𝔾 ℍ 𝕀 𝕁 𝕂 𝕃 𝕄 ℕ 𝕆 ℙ ℚ ℝ 𝕊 𝕋 𝕌 𝕍 𝕎 𝕏 𝕐 ℤ 

𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫

Numbers 

①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨⑩

⑪⑫⑬⑭⑮⑯⑰⑱⑲⑳

₀ ₁ ₂ ₃ ₄ ₅ ₆ ₇ ₈ ₉

➊➋➌➍➎➏➐➑➒➓

𝗊 ᥕ ᥱ r 𝗍 ᥡ ᥙ і ᥆ ⍴ ᥲ s ძ 𝖿 g һ ȷ k ᥣ z ᥊ ᥴ ᥎ ᑲ ᥒ m

Hi (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝ if u wanna, please join my server! it's brand new lol,
i just opened it today! thank you! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

https://discord.gg/MPxWfxwRuT

here's my font hoard so this post isnt useless:

ᥲ ᑲ ᥴ ძ ᥱ 𝖿 g һ і ȷ k ᥣ m ᥒ ᥆ ⍴ 𝗊 r ᥉ 𝗍 ᥙ ᥎ ᥕ ᥊ ᥡ z

𝒶 𝒷 𝒸 𝒹 𝑒 𝒻 𝑔 𝒽 𝒾 𝒿 𝓀 𝓁 𝓂 𝓃 𝑜 𝓅 𝓆 𝓇 𝓈 𝓉 𝓊 𝓋 𝓌 𝓍 𝓎 𝓏
𝒜 𝐵 𝒞 𝒟 𝐸 𝐹 𝒢 𝐻 𝐼 𝒥 𝒦 𝐿 𝑀 𝒩 𝒪 𝒫 𝒬 𝑅 𝒮 𝒯 𝒰 𝒱 𝒲 𝒳 𝒴 𝒵

𝓐ᥲ     ℬᵇ     𝓒ᒼ     𝓓𝒹     ℰᥱ     ℱᶠ     𝓖ᧁ   
ℋₕ     𝓘ⁱ     ℐⱼ     𝓚κ     𝓛𝓁     𝓜ₘ     
𝓝n     𝓞ο     𝓟ᴘ     𝕼ǫ     ℛr     ℐ𝘴     ๋𝓽    
 𝓤υ     𝓥𝓿     𝓦ᐜ     𝓧𝔁     Ⴘყ     𝒛𝚣

Letters 

𝐴 𝐵 𝐶 𝐷 𝐸 𝐹 𝐺 𝐻 𝐼 𝐽 𝐾 𝐿 𝑀 𝑁 𝑂 𝑃 𝑄 𝑅 𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝑉 𝑊 𝑋 𝑌 𝑍 

𝑎 𝑏 𝑐 𝑑 𝑒 𝑓 𝑔 ℎ 𝑖 𝑗 𝑘 𝑙 𝑚 𝑛 𝑜 𝑝 𝑞 𝑟 𝑠 𝑡 𝑢 𝑣 𝑤 𝑥 𝑦 𝑧

𝐀 𝐁 𝐂 𝐃 𝐄 𝐅 𝐆 𝐇 𝐈 𝐉 𝐊 𝐋 𝐌 𝐍 𝐎 𝐏 𝐐 𝐑 𝐒 𝐓 𝐔 𝐕 𝐖 𝐗 𝐘 𝐙 

𝐚 𝐛 𝐜 𝐝 𝐞 𝐟 𝐠 𝐡 𝐢 𝐣 𝐤 𝐥 𝐦 𝐧 𝐨 𝐩 𝐪 𝐫 𝐬 𝐭 𝐮 𝐯 𝐰 𝐱 𝐲 𝐳

𝗔 𝗕 𝗖 𝗗 𝗘 𝗙 𝗚 𝗛 𝗜 𝗝 𝗞 𝗟 𝗠 𝗡 𝗢 𝗣 𝗤 𝗥 𝗦 𝗧 𝗨 𝗩 𝗪 𝗫 𝗬 𝗭 

𝗮 𝗯 𝗰 𝗱 𝗲 𝗳 𝗴 𝗵 𝗶 𝗷 𝗸 𝗹 𝗺 𝗻 𝗼 𝗽 𝗾 𝗿 𝘀 𝘁 𝘂 𝘃 𝘄 𝘅 𝘆 𝘇

𝓐 𝓑 𝓒 𝓓 𝓔 𝓕 𝓖 𝓗 𝓘 𝓙 𝓚 𝓛 𝓜 𝓝 𝓞 𝓟 𝓠 𝓡 𝓢 𝓣 𝓤 𝓥 𝓦 𝓧 𝓨 𝓩 

𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃

𝐴 𝐵 𝐶 𝐷 𝐸 𝐹 𝐺 𝐻 𝐼 𝐽 𝐾 𝐿 𝑀 𝑁 𝑂 𝑃 𝑄 𝑅 𝑆 𝑇 𝑈 𝑉 𝑊 𝑋 𝑌 𝑍 

𝒂 𝒃 𝒄 𝒅 𝒆 𝒇 𝒈 𝒉 𝒊 𝒋 𝒌 𝒍 𝒎 𝒏 𝒐 𝒑 𝒒 𝒓 𝒔 𝒕 𝒖 𝒗 𝒘 𝒙 𝒚 𝒛

𝙰 𝙱 𝙲 𝙳 𝙴 𝙵 𝙶 𝙷 𝙸 𝙹 𝙺 𝙻 𝙼 𝙽 𝙾 𝙿 𝚀 𝚁 𝚂 𝚃 𝚄 𝚅 𝚆 𝚇 𝚈 𝚉 

𝚊 𝚋 𝚌 𝚍 𝚎 𝚏 𝚐 𝚑 𝚒 𝚓 𝚔 𝚕 𝚖 𝚗 𝚘 𝚙 𝚚 𝚛 𝚜 𝚝 𝚞 𝚟 𝚠 𝚡 𝚢 𝚣

𝕬 𝕭 𝕮 𝕯 𝕰 𝕱 𝕲 𝕳 𝕴 𝕵 𝕶 𝕷 𝕸 𝕹 𝕺 𝕻 𝕼 𝕽 𝕾 𝕿 𝖀 𝖁 𝖂 𝖃 𝖄 𝖅 

𝖆 𝖇 𝖈 𝖉 𝖊 𝖋 𝖌 𝖍 𝖎 𝖏 𝖐 𝖑 𝖒 𝖓 𝖔 𝖕 𝖖 𝖗 𝖘 𝖙 𝖚 𝖛 𝖜 𝖝 𝖞 𝖟

𝔄 𝔅 ℭ 𝔇 𝔈 𝔉 𝔊 ℌ ℑ 𝔍 𝔎 𝔏 𝔐 𝔑 𝔒 𝔓 𝔔 ℜ 𝔖 𝔗 𝔘 𝔙 𝔚 𝔛 𝔜 

𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷

𝘼 𝘽 𝘾 𝘿 𝙀 𝙁 𝙂 𝙃 𝙄 𝙅 𝙆 𝙇 𝙈 𝙉 𝙊 𝙋 𝙌 𝙍 𝙎 𝙏 𝙐 𝙑 𝙒 𝙓 𝙔 𝙕 

𝙖 𝙗 𝙘 𝙙 𝙚 𝙛 𝙜 𝙝 𝙞 𝙟 𝙠 𝙡 𝙢 𝙣 𝙤 𝙥 𝙦 𝙧 𝙨 𝙩 𝙪 𝙫 𝙬 𝙭 𝙮 𝙯

𝒜 ℬ 𝒞 𝒟 ℰ ℱ 𝒢 ℋ ℐ 𝒥 𝒦 ℒ ℳ 𝒩 𝒪 𝒫 𝒬 ℛ 𝒮 𝒯 𝒰 𝒱 𝒲 𝒳 𝒴 𝒵 

𝒶 𝒷 𝒸 𝒹 𝑒 𝒻 𝑔 𝒽 𝒾 𝒿 𝓀 𝓁 𝓂 𝓃 𝑜 𝓅 𝓆 𝓇 𝓈 𝓉 𝓊 𝓋 𝓌 𝓍 𝓎 𝓏

𝔸 𝔹 ℂ 𝔻 𝔼 𝔽 𝔾 ℍ 𝕀 𝕁 𝕂 𝕃 𝕄 ℕ 𝕆 ℙ ℚ ℝ 𝕊 𝕋 𝕌 𝕍 𝕎 𝕏 𝕐 ℤ 

𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫

Numbers 

①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨⑩

⑪⑫⑬⑭⑮⑯⑰⑱⑲⑳

₀ ₁ ₂ ₃ ₄ ₅ ₆ ₇ ₈ ₉

➊➋➌➍➎➏➐➑➒➓

↶ some cutesy letters for group bios, or regular bios ! ↷

 ω, α, ᑲ, ℓ, υ, ρ, ᑯ, 𐓣, ყ, ι, ო   = w, a, b, l, u, p, d, n, y, i, m

these letters in a sentence (。・∀・)ノ

normal : The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog ＞︿＜
cute : The qυιck ᑲroω𐓣 fox jυოρs over the ℓαzყ ᑯog (^人^)

search mangoflamingo567 for more tips, group bios, and more! 😊

new luvrscut fonts f2u tumblr for you i love all bloodypaws zurril thunderspears heartf4ngzz packofluv

⠀⠄⡀⠰⣀⠂⠄⢀⠠⢀⠀⠄⢂⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⠀⠄⡀⠠⢀⠠⢀⠠⠐⡀⢂⠤⠀⠄⡀⢀⠂⢀⠠⢀⠀⠄⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠠⢀⠂⡀⠄⠠⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀
⠈⢄⠡⠐⡠⠁⠎⠀⠄⠂⠈⠄⡈⠄⠐⠠⠐⠠⢀⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⠂⠄⠐⡀⠂⠄⠡⠐⡀⠁⠄⡀⠂⠄⢂⠁⡂⢂⠍⢠⠐⢀⠈⠄⡀⠂⠨⢀⠂⠄⠐⠠⠐⠀⠄⠂⠄⡀⠂⠄⠂⠠⠐⠠⠐⢀⠂⠐⠠⠀⠂⠄⡀⠂⡀⠄⠂⡀⠂⠄⠐⠠⠐⠀⠄⠂⠠⢀⠂⠄⠂⠠⠐⠀⠌⢀⠂⠈⠄⡀⢂⠐⡈⠄⡐⠠⢀⠂⠄⠀
⢈⠂⠱⡈⠄⠃⠌⠂⠐⠈⠐⠠⠐⠈⠐⠀⠂⠁⠀⠀⠂⠄⠁⠄⠀⠡⠐⠀⠂⠈⠀⠌⠐⠠⠈⠐⠠⠁⠐⠈⠄⠠⠁⠂⠄⠂⠁⠂⠌⠠⠂⠀⠈⠀⠀⠁⠄⠁⠀⠈⠐⠀⠂⠁⡐⠈⠀⠐⠠⠈⠐⠀⠡⠐⠈⠀⠀⠁⠂⠁⠂⠐⠀⡁⢀⠂⡐⠀⠂⠈⠠⠁⠂⠈⠐⠈⡐⠀⠀⠂⠁⠄⠡⠈⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⡀⠂⠐⠠⠐⠠⠀⠂⠌⡀
⠀⠎⢡⠀⢸⣶⠀⢰⣶⣄⠈⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⣼⢹⣧⠀⠀⢰⣶⣆⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⣶⠀⠀⢀⣷⡦⠀⣶⣶⠀⠀⠡⠈⢰⡞⣿⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⣿⡿⠿⠇⢐⣾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠄⢈⠀⣷⡆⠀⣶⣶⡀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢠⣴⣶⣶⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⣴⢻⣇⠀⠀⢰⣶⣆⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⢸⡶⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠀⢠⣶⡀⠀⣰⡶⠀⠈⢀⠐
⠈⡔⢁⠂⢸⣿⠀⢸⣇⢻⡆⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⢠⡯⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⣧⢻⣇⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣧⠿⣾⡃⠀⠐⠀⣿⠂⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢈⣿⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⣿⡇⠀⢻⡝⣷⡀⠀⠻⡇⠀⣿⣿⡀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⢰⡏⠈⣿⡀⠀⠸⣟⢻⣆⠀⠘⢿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣰⠟⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄
⢂⠰⠈⠄⣸⣿⠀⢸⣿⠈⢻⣆⠸⣿⠀⠀⣾⡗⠛⢻⣷⠀⠀⣿⡂⠻⣧⠀⣿⡃⢨⣿⡆⠀⢿⣾⠀⠛⠀⢿⣧⠀⠀⣸⣿⠚⠺⣿⡀⠈⡐⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠠⣿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠐⡀⠌⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⡗⠘⢿⡄⢸⡇⠀⠀⠙⠻⢷⣤⡀⠀⢀⣿⡗⠛⢻⣧⠀⠀⣿⠂⠻⣧⠀⣿⡀⢸⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠐⠠⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⢀⠡⠈⠄
⢀⠃⡜⠀⣹⣿⡆⠀⣿⡇⠀⢻⣧⣿⠀⣸⣿⠃⠀⠈⣿⡆⠀⣿⡇⠀⠹⣷⣿⡇⢸⣽⡇⢰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⡀⢠⣿⡏⠀⠀⢻⣧⠀⠐⠀⣿⣽⠀⢀⠀⣿⡀⣀⣀⣠⣤⠀⠐⠀⢀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣽⠀⠈⢿⣼⣷⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣽⡧⠀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠘⣿⡆⠀⣯⡇⠀⠹⣧⣿⡅⣸⣿⡇⠀⠠⠀⣿⡇⠀⢀⠂⠁⣼⣿⡀⠀⠠⠐⢈⠐
⡀⠎⡐⡀⠙⠛⠃⠀⠛⠃⠀⡄⠙⠛⠀⠉⠉⠀⢰⡇⠘⠉⠀⠛⠛⠀⢀⠙⠛⠃⠘⠛⠃⠘⠛⠃⠀⠀⡁⠐⠛⠇⠈⠉⠀⠀⡀⠈⠋⠀⠀⠂⠙⠛⠀⢀⠀⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠌⠀⠛⠛⠀⠸⠛⠂⠀⠈⠛⠓⠀⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⡀⠘⠁⠀⠟⠓⠀⠀⠙⠛⠃⠛⠛⠃⠀⠠⠀⠛⠃⠀⠠⢈⠀⠛⠛⠃⠀⠂⡐⢀⠂
⠰⣌⣰⣡⣢⣖⡲⣖⡴⣢⢖⣟⢷⣖⣲⡜⣖⠲⣭⢻⣕⣲⣚⡴⣤⣖⣺⡂⢀⠀⠠⢀⠀⡀⠀⠄⡀⢂⠐⡀⠄⠠⠀⠄⢂⠠⠐⡁⠠⠐⡈⢐⠀⣂⠐⣀⠂⡄⢠⠀⡀⠄⡀⠄⡈⠄⠡⢀⠀⠠⠀⡀⠄⠐⠠⢀⡀⠄⠠⡀⢂⠐⡀⠂⠌⡀⠄⡐⠠⠐⡀⠠⠀⠄⡀⠠⠐⡀⢀⠠⠀⡀⠄⢀⠂⠡⠀⠄⡐⢀⠂⠄⡀⢀⠠⢀⠁⠄⠂⠌
⢂⠌⡹⠓⢧⣚⠷⡧⢽⡹⣎⢯⡟⣮⢿⡬⡺⢽⣱⡷⡾⣿⣿⣿⣾⣜⡿⢷⣤⠈⣁⠂⠌⡐⢉⠐⠰⢀⠒⠠⢈⠔⠉⡐⢂⢂⠱⢀⠃⠅⠒⡈⠔⡠⠃⡄⢒⠈⢢⠑⡤⠡⠐⡠⠁⡌⠰⡀⡉⠤⠁⠔⡈⠌⡐⠂⠐⠈⠄⡑⢂⡑⢠⠃⢂⠔⢂⡐⠡⡑⢠⠑⠨⡐⠄⣁⠒⠈⢄⠂⠅⡰⠈⠄⠌⢂⠉⡐⠠⠂⠌⡐⢈⠐⢂⠄⡉⢄⠱⣨
⠌⡒⢤⠉⠆⡌⠙⠞⡥⠷⠩⣞⢝⡦⣫⠝⣯⢒⡳⣼⠱⣞⢭⣞⡷⢿⣼⣻⢿⣿⣆⠈⡔⡈⢄⠃⡒⢨⢀⠃⢆⠨⡐⢁⠆⡂⠔⡨⠐⡌⣁⠒⡌⠤⡑⢌⠢⡉⢆⠱⣀⠣⠜⢠⢁⠢⢡⠐⡐⠢⡑⠌⠰⢠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠘⠀⢎⠰⡈⠆⡄⢃⠄⣃⠌⢒⠠⠒⡄⡘⢌⠠⢊⠔⡠⢑⡈⠆⣁⠒⡈⠥⡈⠔⢨⠐⡌⣐⣂⡔⣨⣶⣿
⣾⡟⣶⣋⡒⡌⡱⢘⠤⢣⠑⣄⠊⡜⠨⣉⢚⡩⢑⠮⢛⠸⣣⢞⣜⠳⠝⡓⢋⠛⠛⠷⠶⡒⠤⡑⡐⢂⠌⢢⠌⡂⠜⡠⢂⠱⡈⡔⢡⡐⢢⠡⢰⢁⠒⡌⢡⠜⣠⢃⡄⢣⢊⡅⢢⠑⡄⠣⢌⠡⠂⠉⠂⠁⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠤⠃⠜⡰⡈⢆⡘⢠⢎⡰⢁⠣⣐⠡⢂⡑⢂⡌⡐⢢⠐⡌⢄⠢⣁⠆⡱⢈⢢⢁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣿
⣭⡛⡽⢿⡷⣜⢰⣩⢂⢇⡩⢄⠣⡌⢱⡀⢣⠰⣁⠚⡄⡓⠤⢊⡔⡩⡘⢄⠣⡘⢌⡡⢃⠔⡡⠆⠅⠃⠚⡄⢪⠐⡉⠴⣭⡆⠱⢈⠆⡌⣅⢊⡅⣊⠱⢌⢢⡉⢦⣈⠒⡥⢊⠬⣑⢊⡔⠃⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠢⡍⢒⠤⣡⠋⡴⣁⢎⠰⣌⠡⢂⡅⢣⠘⡄⢣⠑⡢⢜⣴⣦⡁⣾⣿⣻⢳⢯⣟⡵⣻
⢠⢒⡱⢊⡔⣊⠖⣡⠏⡘⡴⣉⠞⣌⠣⡜⣡⠓⡌⠳⡰⢉⢎⠥⡒⡱⡘⣌⠲⡉⢆⠲⣉⢚⡀⢲⣶⡀⢬⣤⣥⣬⡖⣠⣿⡇⡘⢌⡜⡰⢂⠣⡘⢤⠋⣆⠣⢜⠢⣌⠳⡘⡜⠦⢡⠣⣌⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠡⢈⠐⡀⠀⠱⡘⣌⠒⠁⠙⡔⡡⢎⡱⢌⢣⠣⣘⠥⢚⣌⠥⡙⠄⣿⣿⢿⣏⣿⢿⡿⣯⣛⢾⡵⣻
⢠⠇⡧⣩⠖⣍⠺⡔⣩⠓⢦⡱⢚⡴⢣⡓⡤⢛⣌⢳⡡⢏⡎⣖⢱⢣⡱⢌⢣⠝⣨⠲⣡⢎⠲⡄⢻⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⡇⣿⡿⠅⣸⡴⡶⠒⡥⡂⣝⠢⡝⣤⠫⡜⡱⡌⢧⣙⠀⠀⠈⡳⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⡀⠀⠀⢳⠌⢀⡀⢤⠓⣜⢢⢭⡞⡆⣋⡰⣾⣾⣿⣷⣶⡾⣿⡿⢯⡿⡜⡭⢖⡳⡜⢧⣹⢳
⢢⠝⡦⢱⣋⢦⠳⣜⡡⢏⠶⡱⣍⢲⢣⡝⡲⣥⢊⡇⢶⣉⠈⠈⢁⡳⢜⡬⢲⡩⣒⠵⢊⡤⠶⠶⠤⢩⢉⣈⣈⡡⢤⠤⣌⠶⣒⡲⡄⡏⡔⣣⠸⣡⠓⡦⢛⡴⢣⡝⡲⢬⡹⡜⣥⣀⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⡥⡸⡜⣜⢪⠳⣌⠞⡬⣛⠴⣙⢥⡊⢭⣒⡒⢮⠭⠭⣕⠫⣖⠹⡜⣣⠽⣙⠞⣰⢫
⡘⡎⣕⢣⡇⣎⢳⢬⡓⣭⡚⡵⢬⡓⢮⠴⣙⠶⣩⠞⠑⠊⠀⠀⠓⠣⡝⢬⢣⡕⡅⢰⣒⢖⡻⣌⠿⡥⢏⠶⣬⠹⣍⠷⣎⡝⣮⡱⡇⢬⠱⢆⠸⠀⢀⠵⢋⣜⣡⡾⡴⢧⣲⠴⣤⢌⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⢣⢧⡹⢴⢣⢏⠶⣹⠸⣥⢫⡜⢦⣹⢒⡦⡝⣎⠞⣥⣋⠞⡴⢫⡕⢦⡛⣬⠹⣥⢚
⠸⣅⡏⢮⡳⣙⢎⢮⡕⢦⡝⣜⢣⡝⣫⠞⡍⠋⢀⠠⠀⠐⠀⠀⢂⠐⡄⠉⢶⡹⠞⠸⣘⢮⣓⠽⠊⡱⢉⠞⡰⠉⠈⡑⢦⡙⣆⠻⡴⢉⠞⡸⠈⡔⢋⡴⣛⣮⡽⢶⣫⢟⢮⡻⣝⢮⣛⡽⣫⡳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣮⢱⣎⡵⣋⠞⣬⠳⣥⢛⢦⢣⡛⣎⠶⣙⡲⡝⣬⢛⡴⣩⠞⣍⢳⡜⣣⡝⢦⣛⠴⢫
⠱⣎⡵⢫⡕⣫⢞⢺⡜⣣⢽⡘⢧⢺⡱⠏⠀⡐⠀⡀⠄⠁⡈⠀⠄⢂⠈⢆⠀⢧⡀⠀⡏⠶⣉⢆⡀⢡⢉⠦⢡⢃⠄⣱⢣⡝⣬⢳⣹⢈⡞⡁⢂⣴⡻⣜⡻⢖⡻⣏⡽⣛⢾⢳⠯⣞⢧⡏⢷⡽⣎⡷⣢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡔⡯⢶⡹⣍⡛⣖⢫⡼⡹⢎⡳⠽⣌⠻⡴⣓⡹⢦⢫⠖⣧⡛⣜⢣⡞⣥⠻⡜⢮⡝⣫
⢱⢎⡧⣻⡜⣧⢞⡳⣜⢧⢳⡝⣧⢣⠟⠁⡐⠀⢀⠀⠄⠂⣀⠐⡀⢂⠐⡈⢆⠘⢠⠇⣙⢧⡓⣎⠼⣡⢎⡜⣥⠚⠜⣁⠓⢚⡴⣫⡜⡆⠕⣠⢯⡶⣝⡾⣝⡯⣷⠻⣜⡻⣮⢷⣻⡜⡿⣼⢳⡞⣼⢳⡍⣯⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀⠄⠠⡀⠀⠈⠉⠃⠷⣱⢛⡼⣣⠾⠙⠧⡝⡧⣏⢿⡱⣝⠮⠳⠏⠾⠱⠯⢜⣳⢚⡵⣫⡝⢾⡸⢵
⠬⣇⠷⣱⢏⡶⢭⡞⡼⣎⢷⣚⢦⡏⡏⠀⠀⠄⢂⣀⡴⢮⡝⢧⣄⠂⠐⠠⠈⠄⡦⣄⢸⢲⢽⡸⣝⡖⠋⢀⡀⢬⠤⡔⣆⡻⣜⣳⣚⡅⢰⢯⣞⡵⢯⡼⢧⡿⠀⣀⡷⣻⣜⣧⢷⠋⢹⣞⡷⣝⣮⣳⡝⢶⡃⠀⠀⠀⢀⠐⡈⢄⠂⡡⢊⠁⠤⢉⠐⣂⠰⢀⠈⠋⣶⢹⠆⠀⣠⣓⠧⠛⠊⠁⡀⠀⡄⢠⡒⠠⠀⠂⠌⠙⢖⡧⣛⡮⣵⢫
⢜⡣⣏⢳⣏⡞⣵⢺⠵⣎⠷⣙⢮⣝⣣⠄⠀⢰⠧⣏⡞⣧⢛⢧⡞⣅⠀⠁⠁⠂⡷⣼⠘⣬⢳⡳⢞⠶⠬⠳⠞⠙⣚⡘⢉⣩⢨⡅⢀⠀⣯⣞⢼⢫⠝⠛⠩⠹⡾⣝⠾⠳⠭⠮⢟⣀⣴⡳⡽⣏⣾⣡⡏⢷⡂⡤⠀⢀⠂⢌⠐⡠⠘⣀⠂⠌⡐⢈⠒⠤⡁⠆⡌⣀⠈⠏⢀⡾⡱⠉⠀⢠⠐⡠⢈⠡⣐⠣⢀⠃⡐⠢⡀⠑⡀⠙⣼⣱⢣⣟
⢸⡇⣏⡳⣎⡽⣪⢝⣫⡜⡯⣝⡺⢬⠁⠀⢀⡯⣞⣥⣛⡼⣛⠮⣝⡯⠀⠀⠈⣶⢳⡜⣦⠥⣆⠀⠶⡲⢊⢴⢫⡝⡞⡷⣛⡥⠀⣿⣆⡼⢸⢎⡟⢀⡖⣯⡄⣠⠧⠀⠀⠒⠒⠂⠉⢛⡼⢯⠗⣟⢮⣓⣏⢧⣓⠀⡀⢂⠌⡠⠊⠄⡡⠄⠊⡄⠑⡈⠜⡠⢑⠈⠀⢄⠠⠀⢾⡺⠁⢀⡐⠂⡅⠢⠁⡰⡌⢁⠎⠠⠐⡁⠐⡁⠀⢂⠐⣧⢻⡼
⢸⡜⡧⣝⢎⠷⣹⢎⡶⣹⢳⡹⢞⡇⠀⠀⣼⡱⢏⡶⡹⢞⡵⢻⡼⡹⠇⠀⠀⢸⡣⣽⢪⢏⡷⣤⢀⣴⡹⡞⣧⠻⡼⠍⠀⠀⠀⠓⠫⠝⡈⣿⣣⣄⡿⣼⣹⢽⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣏⠀⣀⣤⠉⢺⡹⠞⡶⣙⠂⢐⠠⢂⠡⠌⠒⠠⠌⠡⡀⠃⢌⠠⠑⡌⠰⡀⠎⠠⢁⠈⡷⠀⠂⢄⠃⠐⡁⡰⡱⠀⠈⠀⡰⢁⠰⠁⡘⡀⠠⠀⢹⢣⣟
⢮⣜⣳⣪⣟⣺⣑⣫⠞⠁⠉⠉⠋⠀⠀⠠⠓⠾⠹⣺⡙⣷⣚⢧⡝⣧⢇⠀⠁⠀⡟⣲⡝⣎⡇⡟⣮⣳⡽⢉⡸⠁⠁⠀⡀⠂⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠷⣩⢷⣞⡷⠃⠀⢀⡠⣔⡲⢘⡷⣭⢟⣟⣾⠃⡮⢽⣹⢚⠁⠀⡐⠂⠔⠂⢌⠂⠅⡘⠠⢁⠜⡀⢂⠥⢀⡑⠈⡄⠀⢂⠀⣟⠀⠌⡐⡀⠀⢀⡱⠁⠆⠠⡐⠀⠀⢂⠡⠐⠡⢀⠁⢸⢳⡞
⣿⣾⣿⡿⣿⣽⠋⠁⠀⡀⠄⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠴⠎⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠉⠁⠙⠊⢆⢳⡱⢏⡰⠥⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠐⠀⠈⠄⠀⠁⠄⠀⠣⢯⡶⡽⣳⡶⣤⡬⣁⣉⣀⣹⣜⣯⣞⢶⣖⢻⡕⡮⢃⠀⠐⠠⠑⡈⠌⡄⡘⠠⢁⠆⡁⢂⠌⠄⢢⠐⢠⠡⠐⢄⠢⠀⡯⡄⠐⠠⡐⠡⠎⠁⠜⢀⠡⠐⠀⠄⠂⡄⢃⠐⠀⠂⣜⠶⠉
⡇⠞⢿⡀⠀⠙⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠐⢠⢂⠀⠀⠨⣭⢓⣵⠂⠀⠁⠠⠁⠀⠀⠠⠁⢀⠈⠀⠂⠠⠀⠘⠍⠀⠃⣹⢧⡻⣕⣻⢼⣣⣏⡶⣚⢯⣜⠳⢊⣴⢋⡀⠈⡐⢈⠰⠀⠆⡠⠑⢂⡐⠌⠠⠌⡐⠡⠈⠄⠂⡉⠀⠆⢠⢧⢳⠈⠐⡰⢢⠀⡌⠠⠀⠄⠠⠌⠠⢁⠰⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀
⣷⣝⠬⢀⣴⣄⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠄⠀⢣⣝⣺⠀⢀⠂⠁⡀⠁⠀⠀⠄⢀⠠⠀⢂⠁⠀⠈⠀⠀⢈⡚⠳⠭⣛⢞⣳⣙⠦⠛⢉⡄⠤⡞⡵⡪⠉⢆⠀⢀⠂⠄⢉⡐⠄⠡⢂⠐⣈⠁⠒⡈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡼⡸⣍⠖⣄⠑⠃⡔⠠⢁⠌⠰⢁⠘⡄⠡⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣯⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠅⠀⠂⠒⠚⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⣾⢳⡄⠀⢀⠂⢀⠀⠢⣤⣬⣤⣤⡤⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⢠⣎⢵⣫⢖⣦⢲⠄⠀⠒⠈⠋⠀⠀⠉⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⡁⢂⠡⠄⢊⠡⠀⢠⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣱⠓⣎⠷⠹⢷⣂⣀⡁⠢⠌⠒⠠⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠀⠀
⣿⣷⣿⣹⠯⣿⣧⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠀⠠⠀⠂⢀⣹⣎⣟⣦⠀⠀⠐⠠⢀⠀⠸⣻⣿⠟⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⡀⢸⣜⠲⣇⡇⠈⠙⠂⠀⡀⠀⢀⠐⡀⠀⠐⠠⠁⠐⠀⠌⠀⠂⠠⠁⣰⡟⠀⠡⠈⠄⢂⠡⠀⠃⠈⠀⣠⢞⡴⢣⠟⣼⠳⡄⠀⠘⣡⠠⢾⡇⠸⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠀⠀⠠⠀
⡝⣾⡻⠃⠤⡈⢻⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡋⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠚⢬⡄⢾⢞⣖⡄⠈⠄⠠⠐⡀⠀⡀⠀⠄⠁⠠⠀⠀⡐⡸⣬⠳⠝⠆⠀⡀⠀⠐⠠⠐⠀⠠⠀⠈⠐⠠⠁⠀⠌⡀⠂⢀⠂⣰⡟⠀⠀⢂⠡⢈⠠⠀⠂⢀⠴⣋⠶⣳⡜⢧⣛⢦⡛⣴⠰⣿⡏⠸⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠠⠐⠀⠀
⡳⣜⢡⢋⣴⣎⢠⠙⡀⣸⣦⡠⢀⡄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠡⠄⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠰⠻⢀⡳⠜⣌⢫⢼⡛⠡⠀⠁⡀⢀⡀⠄⠡⢀⠱⠈⠀⢀⠀⡗⣧⠀⠀⠀⡀⠐⢈⠀⠁⠠⠀⠁⢂⠀⠠⠁⢀⠂⠐⠀⡀⠄⣰⡟⠀⠀⢄⠠⢀⠰⠲⠌⠙⠰⠚⠱⠞⠱⣎⠷⣩⠮⠝⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⠀⢀⠐⠀
⣿⣆⣣⣾⣿⣟⣗⡀⣱⣿⣛⣷⠈⡐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡅⠂⡖⣶⢢⠘⠽⠤⠖⠲⢙⠒⡋⠂⠎⠃⣌⢲⡀⠁⠐⠂⠐⠈⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⣟⠲⣄⠈⢀⠀⠐⠀⡀⠀⠁⠂⠁⡀⠂⠀⢈⠀⠠⠁⠀⠄⣰⡟⠠⠄⠈⠀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢀⠂⠀⠀
⣿⣿⢿⣿⣹⢾⣿⢿⣿⠷⠋⠁⣀⣁⢃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠥⠴⢒⢚⠪⢍⠩⢍⠫⠙⠭⣉⡀⠀⠀⠣⢐⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢀⣏⢳⢥⢳⣀⠀⠂⠁⢀⠁⠀⠀⡁⠀⠂⠀⣀⣤⠐⠀⠁⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠁
⡟⣿⣿⠟⠘⢿⣽⣿⣻⠄⢩⢱⠊⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢴⣺⣉⣀⣂⣁⣉⣂⣦⣥⣬⢤⠖⣖⡻⠽⣍⢻⣀⠀⡸⢘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡘⢧⢞⣣⢎⡳⣄⠈⢀⠠⠈⡀⠐⠈⣠⣼⣿⠟⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⠠⢤⢤⢤⡲⠖⠲⠒⠎⢋⡙⡙⣉⠡⡄⢀⣾⣿⣿⡟⠻⠂⣢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠁⢹⠢⡐⡃⢆⠙⠾⠃⠈⠤⠡⠤⠄⠈⠄⠀⠀⣸⠉⠑⡄⢸⣲⢹⣟⣯⢙⠚⢳⣒⢮⣈⠠⢹⡲⣝⡧⣏⠶⡁⠀⠴⠋⣨⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢮⠹⣎⠞⣦⢫⡵⣋⠳⣄⠀⡐⠀⠙⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠰⡀⢆⢢⡐⢎⠥⣩⠜⡡⢆⡱⢌⡒⠴⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠟⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁
⠀⠀⢣⣾⣿⣦⡉⠔⠀⡒⢎⡱⢬⠹⡄⠂⠀⠀⢲⠀⠀⠙⠀⡧⣏⣷⣚⣿⠋⠸⣬⣓⠾⡅⢀⡷⣺⡜⣥⢫⠕⡆⠶⣫⠗⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠳⣮⣝⣦⠳⣚⡭⣛⣬⠳⣆⡀⠄⠂⢀⠂⠄⠁⣰⠏⠀⣠⡄⠱⠀⣆⢣⠜⢬⠒⣡⠚⡴⢁⠆⣣⢘⡱⢸⣯⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣞⣿⡧⡀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀
⠀⠀⢘⣯⣟⣿⣿⣷⡄⢑⢎⡱⢪⡍⠇⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠸⣱⠸⣟⡼⣧⢰⢧⠯⠾⠹⠶⢫⠵⣛⡼⣡⢛⠀⢳⢧⢃⠇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠇⢛⣛⠻⠷⠶⠮⢵⣾⠉⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⢀⠂⣰⠏⠀⣰⠉⡇⠠⠃⢌⡒⡘⣂⠫⢔⡩⡐⢩⠘⡄⢣⠰⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠻⣾⣽⣻⢽⠟⢂⠠⠔⠆⣒⣤⣌⡀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⢻⢽⡷⡋⠡⠖⠚⠉⠀⠀⠁⠷⡸⣕⡋⠰⡈⢃⠌⠠⠌⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣠⣤⣶⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⠷⠶⢒⣒⣲⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⢡⣴⣇⠠⢃⠐⠦⡑⢢⢍⢢⠱⢌⠡⢎⠰⣁⠚⡈⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢉⣙⠛⠟⢋⣤⣶⠸⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂
⠀⠀⠀⠘⡈⠻⡽⢋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠱⢧⢻⡖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⢒⡜⢐⡡⠔⠁⠢⣡⣶⡀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠿⠛⢛⣉⣩⣥⢴⣲⣾⣏⣿⣽⣳⢷⢸⣶⡄⣰⠏⠀⠀⠢⢀⣿⠯⠐⠀⣈⠁⡉⠤⢤⠀⢣⠘⡆⠎⢆⠥⠚⡄⣟⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⡹⠸⠻⠿⠿⠛⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀
⠀⠀⠐⠀⢌⠡⢀⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠓⡀⠀⠈⠑⠦⣀⣀⣈⠫⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠞⠥⠛⡀⠎⡐⠤⠔⣠⠉⠞⡋⠤⢒⣛⣉⡭⣤⢶⣦⠀⣤⣿⣮⢷⣯⡟⠉⢦⠭⡑⢾⠁⠀⢘⠟⠐⠋⣴⠶⠛⠈⠋⣀⡐⢬⠱⠜⡬⢱⡉⢖⡂⢈⠦⠱⠘⠌⠒⠑⠀⠱⣻⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀
⠀⠈⢀⠀⠘⠇⣈⢩⣉⣩⣉⣉⢍⡩⢤⠰⠐⡊⣱⣥⡀⠠⠀⢠⣤⡰⠄⠇⠈⠂⢀⣠⢶⣭⢫⢯⠙⣡⠾⠹⠞⢽⡃⡶⣖⣾⣏⣿⢶⣏⣟⣻⢮⡷⣿⠉⢾⣝⣯⢾⡅⠀⠘⣺⠭⡌⣦⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣔⢊⢻⣦⠙⡬⡑⣥⢊⡕⡂⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣞⣷⢻⣭⢿⡿⣿⢯⣿⣻⡽⣟⡾⣟⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄
⠀⠀⠂⡀⠐⠀⣾⣶⣷⣦⣷⣾⡶⠖⠰⠿⢟⡓⣈⠤⣆⠀⠌⠀⢿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢉⣈⣀⢦⡀⢡⡲⢶⣀⠙⠀⢽⣟⢮⣟⢾⣻⠞⡩⣉⠻⣞⢯⠀⣡⣽⢾⡟⣟⣦⣍⣃⣛⣠⣟⡷⣶⠆⠁⠄⠀⠀⢠⢯⣽⣦⡡⠙⢷⡔⢑⢢⢃⣎⡱⠠⢁⢀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠙⠷⢿⣻⠛⠙⢫⢾⣻⡽⠿⠛⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀
⠀⠈⠠⠀⠄⠘⡰⢐⠤⣒⡐⢢⡔⠆⢮⡑⣎⠂⠈⡳⢌⠀⠒⠣⠌⣁⢀⠀⠀⠁⡀⢠⢿⡞⣥⢗⡺⠄⠙⠏⠀⠀⠀⢈⠍⠻⣞⣻⠇⡎⡴⣩⢇⡏⢠⡆⣦⣌⡙⢛⣋⣅⠠⠰⡷⣟⡾⣿⠽⡧⢀⠀⢠⡀⡜⣨⠳⣮⡻⣎⠈⠻⣦⡃⠋⣀⢤⠀⠂⠄⠂⢄⠁⠂⠀⠀⠀⣁⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⣀⣭⠁⢀⠀⡈⠇⠀⡀⢀⠠⠐⠀⠠⠁
⢠⡁⣆⡰⣠⡀⠧⡙⠲⢤⡙⠦⣍⠀⢐⠺⣔⠣⣤⢹⡘⡆⠀⠐⣈⣀⣂⣅⡒⣐⣠⣀⠙⢾⣱⢾⣁⠀⢒⣀⣂⣐⣊⣁⢂⣀⠹⣾⣇⠳⠼⣡⢾⣳⣄⡁⠹⠿⠇⠸⠿⢋⣠⢶⣟⣾⣽⡡⣋⡷⠈⢛⠿⠇⠃⣃⢖⡙⢷⡟⠓⠁⠘⠷⠌⠚⢀⠄⣠⡘⣀⣂⢌⣠⠥⡴⢈⣀⣀⣠⠁⠀⣠⣤⣶⣴⣤⣤⣤⣀⠒⠀⠤⣐⣠⢂⣡⢂⣁⢌
⢱⢫⠵⡹⢖⡃⠵⣈⢓⢦⡙⠲⣌⠉⢪⡱⣌⠳⡌⠳⣘⠆⢹⠀⡸⢇⠾⣌⠿⡜⡧⠉⠶⠯⠼⠦⠓⢋⣠⣈⠳⢞⡱⢯⡽⡜⠃⣽⣞⢷⣾⣽⣳⡟⣾⡽⣻⢷⣖⣢⣟⣿⣞⣿⠮⠷⠚⠛⣉⠤⡚⡭⣜⡃⢸⢀⠫⢖⠤⡱⣀⣾⢦⡂⡠⣤⡙⡄⢳⣩⢓⡹⣊⣓⢏⡝⣫⢜⡣⢉⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡿⣟⡷⠆⢁⢧⣫⡜⡭⢎⡽
⢂⠧⡓⣍⠖⣍⠲⡡⢎⡢⢱⡙⡌⢦⣀⠘⠌⢃⠰⣰⢉⡖⠀⡬⢍⣍⠫⣜⣩⠉⣴⣲⣲⣖⣒⡶⢯⠏⠶⠊⠃⣈⠡⡴⡄⢌⣶⠟⣉⠻⣎⣷⡍⢋⡉⢛⠛⠛⠒⢋⠙⡡⠤⢄⡆⠐⢯⡱⠎⠧⡝⣲⢡⡝⠀⡌⠎⣍⢲⡁⠈⠫⣏⣷⣄⠊⠻⡄⠰⠰⢎⡔⣣⠜⡪⢴⠱⠎⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣯⣷⣿⣾⣫⣭⠋⢠⡜⡜⠦⡖⡼⣘⠧⣜
⢨⢃⠷⣨⠳⡜⠀⡱⢨⡑⢣⠜⣙⠦⢙⡒⣜⠣⠓⣁⣭⡶⢠⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣍⣁⠀⠠⢐⡀⣌⡀⢖⢪⡱⠀⠁⢣⠌⠻⠦⠥⠾⠛⢃⠐⢣⢔⡒⢊⠳⡘⠎⡅⠲⢍⠓⣜⢣⠄⠁⠠⠜⡥⠓⠦⡍⡇⠰⠩⣌⠣⠜⣄⠄⡘⠋⠛⣠⡐⠥⢘⡍⢮⡜⢦⠹⢥⢣⠏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣯⣟⣿⡳⣯⠁⡘⢦⠹⡸⣑⢎⡱⢊⡓⣬
⢠⢋⡜⣂⠳⣘⠃⢱⣧⣭⣥⣭⣄⢀⣀⣵⣶⠾⢟⡛⣍⠒⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡦⠌⠐⠀⣜⢢⡓⢦⠲⣬⡙⢶⠀⠐⣃⠸⡜⠌⡅⢊⠜⠭⣒⠱⠎⡔⠫⢎⠸⠤⠭⡜⠤⢏⠭⠔⢫⢅⡓⠜⡄⠑⢢⡙⡜⢢⡙⣒⠬⠻⣵⠻⣎⠀⠏⡖⣘⠦⢛⢬⠃⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣾⣷⣿⣯⢿⠃⢠⠉⠖⡩⠱⠌⠦⣑⢃⠞⢰
⢌⡣⠞⣌⢇⢣⢣⠐⠤⠩⠩⠭⠍⢠⠳⠐⠦⣙⣂⣭⣴⡟⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣶⣌⠒⢙⡎⠳⡆⡝⢣⢄⠸⡌⢧⡙⠥⣽⢫⣎⠳⣤⠧⡜⣌⠱⣈⠎⡥⢓⠬⣙⡌⢎⡙⢆⠎⣌⠳⡘⠄⠱⡘⡔⣣⠒⡥⢎⡳⣈⠻⣽⠀⠣⡜⣄⠋⢈⠐⡐⠛⠻⠿⠽⣾⣿⣿⣻⣿⣾⢾⣿⠀⠢⣉⠜⡡⢃⠎⡑⢄⠪⡘⠤
⢬⡑⡏⢜⡊⠥⢊⡄⠹⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⠖⢻⣿⠿⠟⠋⢩⣶⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡶⢠⣤⣻⣿⣷⣄⠘⠡⢎⡑⠎⠬⡑⡜⢂⡜⠢⣗⡳⢬⠹⡔⢳⡙⣊⢇⠰⢊⠔⡡⢊⠤⡐⢆⡘⠢⡑⠢⢁⠓⡌⡂⠑⠐⠃⠉⠈⠀⠀⠁⠁⠉⠀⠱⢐⢢⠁⠢⡍⡄⣯⣽⡆⠠⠤⣀⠄⣉⠉⢉⠙⠃⠀⠛⠤⠚⡔⢃⠚⣐⠊⡔⣡⢊
⠤⠳⡌⢣⠝⡌⠧⠜⡑⢀⣮⣭⣭⣤⣤⠀⠶⢺⣿⣷⡈⡙⠃⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⡅⣌⡛⣿⣿⣷⣹⣷⡄⠱⡈⠭⡑⢌⡒⠡⠆⡵⠎⢧⣍⡚⡍⢦⡱⢡⠎⡜⠨⢆⠥⣩⠒⠱⢌⣦⣡⣉⣁⠉⠒⠴⣡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢤⠒⠀⠓⠸⠐⠶⠤⢄⡃⠧⣐⠩⠤⡉⠆⡐⠈⡔⠈⢆⠩⢌⠬⡑⡌⠒⣌⠰⢠
⠰⠡⡌⡡⢎⡰⢡⠋⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢛⠀⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣿⣦⠘⠤⡉⢆⠬⠱⡘⣼⢺⡱⢆⡩⡘⢆⡣⢏⠰⣈⠕⡊⠂⣠⣶⣿⢿⣾⣿⢿⠿⣛⣷⠦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠣⣍⠣⡓⠆⠀⢀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠈⠑⠒⠉⠂⠄⠃⠀⣘⠨⡘⢌⠢⡑⢌⠱⡈⠜⡠
⢌⠣⣌⠱⣂⣑⠂⠰⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣳⡿⣇⠀⡱⢈⠆⡓⢌⡷⠀⡱⢋⡆⠘⣬⡑⡇⡜⣤⠊⣠⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⣾⣿⠃⣾⣿⣿⣅⠈⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠱⣈⠆⠀⡀⠀⠀⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⡒⠤⣃⠱⢊⠥⡘⠤⢃⠜⡡⢒
⡂⢗⢢⠓⡖⠎⢰⣦⡈⢣⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢷⣿⣽⡆⠐⡁⠎⡔⢪⡝⣧⡙⠧⠒⢘⢠⢹⠐⡰⠀⣴⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢆⠱⢨⠀⠀⡐⢀⠐⠠⠈⠄⠀⠡⠐⠈⠀⠰⡑⢊⠔⡩⠘⠤⠣⡑⢪⠘⡔⢨
⠐⡌⢢⠑⡌⠀⣿⣶⠶⠀⠁⣾⣿⣿⠛⢿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠍⡀⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣶⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⢯⡿⣿⡀⡁⢎⠰⡹⡆⠲⣶⣶⡿⠃⡆⢯⠐⠁⣸⣽⣷⣿⣿⣾⣷⣿⠁⠻⣿⣷⣍⡃⠈⢟⣴⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⢎⠰⢡⠀⠀⠄⡀⠈⠀⠂⠀⢀⠐⡀⠠⠀⠰⠘⠤⢊⠔⡩⢂⠕⡌⢢⢘⡐⢢
⠐⡄⢣⠘⡐⢰⣿⣿⣿⠿⠄⠙⣴⣿⣷⣶⣤⣬⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠉⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⣵⠂⠰⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡾⠉⠓⢻⡇⠐⡌⠲⣭⢽⡠⠙⠛⡡⢜⡰⡃⠜⠀⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣽⠙⠻⢦⣶⣿⡿⣿⣷⣴⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠩⢂⡍⢢⡐⠤⡀⠀⠐⠠⠀⠌⠀⡀⠀⠄⠀⠣⡉⢆⡡⢊⠔⡡⢂⠜⡠⠒⡌⠰
⠰⡈⠦⡉⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠄⠋⣴⣿⣿⣿⠏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠘⣿⡿⠋⢸⣯⡔⠰⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣽⢶⡄⠈⢿⠀⠂⢭⢎⡳⡌⢯⡱⣙⠦⣱⠃⢨⠀⡿⠞⢻⡿⣿⣻⡀⠳⠶⠬⣍⣛⡛⠻⠿⠿⠟⣟⣿⣻⠀⡡⠃⠀⡀⠆⢒⠈⠰⠁⠀⠀⡄⢃⠜⡀⠀⠂⢁⠀⠂⠀⠔⢂⠔⡡⠒⡄⢒⠡⡘⢄⠡⢊⠔⡡⢘⠰
⠠⡑⢢⠑⡂⢸⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣻⠄⢋⣼⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡿⠋⣠⠀⣾⣟⣡⡀⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣟⡷⣯⡿⣿⣲⣤⠀⢐⡪⢏⡳⡙⢦⠓⡍⢞⡄⠈⠆⡄⠃⣠⡼⣿⣟⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⢃⣶⣿⡿⡿⠀⡐⢁⠢⡑⡈⢆⠩⠄⡀⢠⠑⡌⠢⣘⠀⠀⠡⠀⠂⠀⠘⡌⢢⠘⠐⠁⠘⢠⠃⠜⡠⢃⡌⠢⢑⠌⢒
⠠⡑⢢⠑⠤⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠧⠈⢟⣹⣿⣷⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢋⣠⣾⣿⠀⡏⣿⡟⡂⠨⣭⣿⣿⣿⡽⣟⡷⣿⣳⢿⣯⠀⠌⡿⣹⠴⣙⢦⡹⢜⢢⡙⢠⠀⣀⠈⢷⣻⣮⡻⣿⣿⡀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣷⣿⠃⠠⠌⡌⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⠀⠀⢀⠣⣘⠰⠄⠀⠠⠁⠐⠀⠁⠈⠔⠡⣉⠀⠄⢪⠐⡘⠌⡔⡁⠦⠑⡌⡘⠤
⠠⡑⢢⠘⡰⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡿⠂⠹⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠏⢉⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⡟⢀⣿⣿⣿⡟⡀⠩⣽⣿⡿⣽⣿⡽⣷⢯⣟⡇⠀⢂⢷⡹⢦⠱⢎⡔⣋⠶⢉⠰⡈⠔⡠⠈⢳⣭⢿⣮⣝⣷⠀⠳⣹⠦⠄⣠⣮⣿⣗⡿⠃⢀⡘⠤⡑⠌⣂⠱⡈⢆⡑⢂⠀⠃⠦⠑⠂⠀⠐⡈⠐⠀⠀⠉⠄⠃⠀⠀⠌⡄⢡⠘⡈⠄⠄⠡⠊⠄⡑⢈
⠠⡑⢌⠢⡑⢂⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢗⠰⠟⡛⠛⠟⠋⢉⣠⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣾⡗⠀⢭⣽⣿⢿⣭⣟⣯⢿⡽⠀⡘⣀⠢⡹⠌⠓⠉⡈⢁⠙⠀⠣⠌⣂⠑⠢⠄⠙⠻⣮⣟⡾⣶⣤⣁⣥⣞⡷⣯⡽⠎⠁⠀⠂⠒⠐⠁⣈⣀⣡⣤⣤⣮⣥⣶⣤⣤⠐⠀⠀⡁⠠⠐⠈⠀⢃⠒⠤⡉⠜⡰⢈⠆⡘⠤⡉⠌⡅⢣⠘⡰⢈
⠠⡑⠊⡔⠡⢊⠀⢿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣷⠀⡾⢿⣦⡈⠻⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡇⠀⢩⣽⣻⣻⣽⡾⠻⠃⠀⠥⠠⠑⠀⡠⠈⠠⠀⠠⠈⠐⡀⠁⠀⣉⡑⠈⠱⢀⡈⠑⣟⣷⣻⢏⠻⣞⣿⣻⠀⢠⠊⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⢛⣩⡄⠀⠠⢀⠁⠄⠀⠀⡅⢊⠤⡑⠌⡄⢡⠊⠔⡡⢘⡐⠌⡄⢣⠐⢌
⠐⣀⠃⡌⠱⡈⠆⠈⢱⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣫⢿⣷⡷⠀⢠⣴⣿⣿⠅⠀⠈⠹⠤⡄⠒⠠⠀⠂⠓⡈⠑⢊⠀⢀⠊⡐⢀⠈⢱⢢⠀⠀⠀⣯⡿⣿⣬⢱⣿⠛⣿⠀⠂⣀⠠⣙⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⣩⣭⣤⣶⣾⣟⣿⣧⠀⠐⢀⡀⠀⠀⠘⡄⢃⢂⠱⡈⠔⡁⢎⢂⡑⠢⠘⠰⠈⠤⢉⠰
⠐⡄⠣⢌⠱⡈⢌⠱⡀⢸⢿⣿⣷⣦⠈⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣉⠙⠋⣁⣤⣿⣿⡿⣟⣿⠾⣽⣻⣞⣷⣷⠂⠠⣶⣿⠁⠐⠀⠂⢸⠜⢀⠂⡡⠑⢂⠔⡡⢂⠘⡄⢢⠁⡌⠀⢸⡒⠠⠁⠀⠉⢀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⠠⠀⣿⡻⠿⠻⣿⣿⣏⢉⠙⣿⣿⣾⢿⣾⣿⡀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⢨⠐⠌⣂⠱⢈⠆⡑⢂⠆⢌⡡⠉⢆⠩⢄⠣⢐
⠐⡈⠅⡌⢆⠱⣈⠒⡰⢀⠙⢿⣶⡍⢨⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣳⣿⣟⣯⡿⢷⣻⣞⣯⣷⣻⡆⡐⠀⡀⢈⠠⠁⢎⡼⢀⠘⢠⠑⡈⠀⢀⠌⡰⢐⠠⢁⢈⠀⣣⠜⠠⢀⠀⠀⠄⠂⠄⠡⠘⣩⠀⠡⢀⠣⠄⢸⡇⠀⠟⢻⣿⣉⡉⠉⣿⣷⣯⣿⣷⡿⡇⠀⠀⠄⠂⢀⠂⡜⠰⡀⠦⢁⠎⡰⠡⢌⠢⡐⡉⢆⠒⢌⠒⣈
⠠⢁⠒⡈⠆⠒⠤⡑⢄⠃⢆⡀⠉⠁⣊⣽⡿⣽⣻⣞⣷⣻⣽⣳⣯⡿⣽⣻⣽⣯⢿⣭⣿⢾⣽⢯⡷⣟⡾⣯⠏⠈⢀⠤⠁⠠⢀⠁⢎⠴⢀⠊⠄⢢⠁⠈⢄⠒⡐⠀⠐⣈⠰⠀⡥⠆⡐⠠⡀⠀⠈⡐⠈⠄⠡⠄⠠⠀⢀⠃⠆⠘⣿⢿⣄⣼⣿⣿⣷⢶⣿⢟⣯⣿⣾⢿⣿⠀⠀⠄⠐⡌⠰⡈⢆⠱⣀⠣⠌⡄⢃⠆⡰⢁⠔⡈⠆⡌⢢⠐
⠐⢂⠡⢘⠠⣉⠐⡈⢄⠊⡄⡈⠆⣀⠉⠛⢾⣿⡽⣟⣷⢿⣳⣯⢷⡿⣽⣳⣟⣾⢿⣽⣳⣯⣟⣯⣟⡿⠋⢁⠠⡘⠤⠀⠁⠂⢀⠂⡜⠼⢀⠨⡐⠡⣀⠘⡠⠌⡐⢂⠰⡀⠃⢀⠖⡃⠄⠐⠀⠠⠄⠀⠐⠠⠀⠀⡀⢂⠌⡘⠰⠀⣏⣟⣿⡿⠩⠩⠔⠂⢀⠉⠻⣽⡿⣿⣞⠀⠀⢡⠀⠠⠑⡈⠄⡁⢂⠘⡐⠄⠣⠌⠰⠁⡌⢢⠑⡈⢆⠘
⢀⠃⡂⢅⠒⡄⢃⡘⠄⢃⡐⠡⠌⣀⠒⡠⠄⡈⠙⠻⠯⣿⣻⣽⡿⣿⣻⢿⣞⡿⣯⣿⢽⠾⠛⠋⢁⠀⠄⠀⠣⠘⠀⠀⠀⢈⠠⠀⡜⡱⢀⢂⠑⠰⣀⠣⠐⠢⠑⠌⠄⣁⠃⢈⢮⠁⠄⠌⠀⡀⢈⠐⠄⡀⠀⢠⠑⡨⢐⡁⢃⠆⢸⡼⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠔⣋⣤⣶⣿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢂⠀⠁⠀⠈⡔⢂⠒⡈⠌⡑⠌⢡⠃⢌⠢⠡⠘⡄⢊
⠀⠆⡡⢌⠂⡔⠡⠘⡌⢂⠌⡱⠈⡔⢂⠡⢒⢀⠣⡐⠠⡀⣀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⠁⡀⠄⣀⠒⡈⢆⡉⢢⠡⢄⠠⠠⠡⠀⢂⠠⠁⡜⡥⢀⠢⠌⡑⠠⢀⠉⢉⠈⣁⠰⢀⠃⢨⠲⢀⠂⡘⠐⡌⢂⡉⠢⠔⢀⠂⡜⡐⠢⡘⠄⢀⠀⡿⣼⣿⣆⣤⣶⣿⣟⣿⣯⡿⣿⣿⠞⠁⠀⠀⠣⢄⢀⠢⢑⠠⢃⡘⢄⠣⡘⠌⢢⠘⡠⢃⠅⢣⠘⢠
⢈⠂⡅⢢⠘⠤⡁⢣⠐⡌⢒⠠⢃⠔⡨⢐⠡⢊⠔⡡⢑⠰⡀⠃⠠⠘⠄⠣⠘⡄⠒⠡⢊⠄⠣⠌⠰⡈⠔⣈⠢⣁⠣⢁⠃⠀⠰⠀⠲⡅⠰⡐⢢⢁⠡⢂⠜⡠⠌⠄⠒⠌⠀⢮⡱⠀⠀⢂⠱⠈⠔⡠⢃⠀⠀⠁⠒⠄⡃⢌⠢⡀⠀⠘⠷⠿⠿⠷⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⢁⠀⢄⠂⡔⠩⠔⡊⢄⠣⠌⡒⠤⠘⡄⢢⠁⠎⡄⢣⠐⡡⠘⡄⢃⠢
⢀⠒⡄⢢⠁⢆⠡⠂⠥⣀⢃⠰⢈⡐⡐⢈⠰⢁⠀⠀⠀⠒⠀⡀⢂⠆⡰⠠⠄⠠⠄⡐⡀⣀⠠⠐⡀⡀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠁⠠⠈⠁⠀⠀⠓⠁⠀⠠⠀⠂⠀⠂⠐⠠⢂⠰⠀⠐⠀⠠⢠⠐⡌⢄⠢⣁⠢⡐⠄⢢⠐⠤⡈⡔⠰⡀⠆⡡⢄⠢⢄⠠⢄⠀⠠⣀⠂⡅⠀⠘⠠⠊⡔⢨⠐⡅⡊⢔⡈⢆⡘⠤⣁⠣⠌⠤⡉⢆⡘⠤⡘⢄⠣⠘⠤⠘
⢀⠒⡄⢢⠉⠆⡁⢎⠐⡀⠎⡠⠡⢄⡑⡈⢒⠨⡐⠠⠀⠀⡐⡈⢆⠰⣀⠱⢈⠡⡘⢠⠐⡄⢂⠱⢀⡘⢠⠁⠎⣈⢂⠡⡘⢐⡐⢢⠐⠄⢢⠐⡐⢂⠆⡀⠀⢄⠢⣀⠃⠆⡄⢃⢂⠔⡨⢄⠒⡠⢡⠘⡨⢄⠊⡄⠡⢌⢂⠱⠈⡔⠢⡘⠀⠉⠂⡈⠔⡠⢁⢢⠉⠀⣀⠒⡈⠤⢑⠠⡑⢂⡘⠤⣀⠣⢄⡘⢌⡐⢡⢂⡘⢄⠡⢊⠤⡉⢆⠩
⠀⠆⡄⠣⠌⡒⠡⢌⠢⠑⡌⡐⢡⠂⠤⡑⠨⢄⠡⢃⡑⢢⠑⣈⠂⡱⢀⠱⡈⢂⡑⢂⠱⡈⢄⠃⠆⡘⠤⢉⠒⠄⡌⠢⠑⡌⡐⢢⠉⡘⠄⢣⠘⠄⡊⠔⣈⢂⡑⢠⢉⠒⡈⠆⡉⢂⠅⢌⠢⢁⠆⠱⠐⡌⠂⡍⠒⡈⠆⠡⠃⡔⢡⠒⡠⠄⡠⢑⠨⡐⢡⠂⣉⠒⡠⢡⠘⢠⠃⢢⠑⣂⠘⡰⢀⢃⠢⠘⠤⠘⡄⢂⡘⠄⢃⡌⠒⡈⢆⠘
⢈⠂⡔⢡⠂⡅⠃⡌⢂⠱⢠⠑⢂⡉⠒⣈⠱⢈⠆⡡⢂⠅⣊⠄⠣⡐⠡⢂⡑⠂⡜⡀⢣⠐⠌⡘⠤⠑⡌⠂⡍⠒⡈⢅⠃⡔⠁⢆⠱⠈⡜⠠⢃⠜⡠⢃⠔⢢⠘⢄⠊⡔⢡⢊⠰⣁⠊⡄⠣⠌⡌⣁⠣⡐⠡⢌⡑⠨⢌⡁⢣⠘⢄⠢⡑⢌⠰⡁⢆⡑⢢⠑⡄⢣⠐⡡⢊⠤⡉⢂⠱⡀⢣⠐⡡⢂⠥⢉⠢⠑⡌⢢⠈⡜⠀⢆⡑⢌⢂⡘

new object-show osc object show inanimate insanity ii cute dot art text art ascii art

⠾⡿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠿⠻⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠟⠻⠟⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠚⠛⠛⠛⠓⠛⠛⠛⢛⠛⠛⠛⠚⠛⢺⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⣥⣀⣀⡤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⢤⡤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣧⣶⣴⣦⣦⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣇⡶⠶⠶⠾⢯⡿⠶⠶⠶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣴⣤⣄
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⠤⠌⢻
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣦⢤⣤⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣆⣀⢀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣸⣿
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⢸⡇⠀⠁⠀⠉⠉⠁⢛⣿⠋⠉⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠛⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠶⠳⠞⠶⠳⠞⠶⠳⠳⠞⠳⠞⠳⠞⠇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⠐⡂⢆⠰⣀⠢⡐⢄⠢⡐⢄⠢⡐⢠⠀⡄⣶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠾⠯⠿⠽⠿⠽⠯⠿⠿⠿⠽⠿⠯⠿⠯⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡘⠐⢂⠒⣀⠒⠰⢈⠰⠐⢂⢂⠑⠂⠥⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⣆⡈⣉⢉⡈⣀⢁⣈⢀⡁⣉⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⣬⣥⣦⣬⣤⣬⣤⣥⣦⣭⣤⣦⣬⣥⣦⣥⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⢈⠀⠡⠈⠄⠡⠈⠄⠡⢈⠠⠁⡈⠄⠁⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⣤⡾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣀⣈⣀⣁⢂⡠⢁⣂⡐⣀⢂⡐⣀⣈⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⢄⣧⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠠⢀⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⢀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⡿⣿⣄⣤⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠐⡀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠄⠠⠀⠂⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠁⡟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠙⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣀⣈⣀⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣈⣀⣁⣠⣀⣿⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡧⠀⠀⠀
⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠙⠋⠛⠉⠋⠙⠉⠋⠙⠉⠋⠙⢻⣽⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠛⠟⠻⠗⠀⠀⠀
⡄⣇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠑⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⠿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new cabby osc inanimate insanity ii cabby inanimate insanity dot art text art ascii art

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢁⠔⠚⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⠒⢄⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠬⠬⠽⠉⠉⠝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡷⠈⡆⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢩⣋⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣘⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⡉⢹⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⡃⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⡇⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⡆⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢰⡇⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⡇⠀⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠟⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿
⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠈⢻
⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸
⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠉⣁⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⣦⣄⣤⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣀⠈⠻⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⠘⠋⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠀⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
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new mephone4 inanimate insanity osc bfdi ii mephone mephone4 inanimate insanity osc bfdi dot art text art ascii art

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY iii
(Autistic author)

"It's okay, Plankton," Sponge 
Bob said, his voice soothing. 
"We're just going for a walk. 
Nothing to worry about."

The three of them walked in 
silence for a while, the only 
sounds the lapping of the 
waves and the occasional 
squawk of a seagull. Karen 
could feel the tension, and 
she wondered what was going 
on inside his head.

As they neared the jellyfish fields 
Sponge Bob perked up. "Hey, 
Plankton, you remember jellyfishing
right?" He asked, his tone hopeful.

Plankton's antennae stopped the 
nervous twitching for a moment. 
"Jellyfishing," he murmured, the 
memory sparking a glimmer of 
interest. "Jellyfish sting."

Sponge Bob's smile grew wider. 
"Yeah, but it's fun, right?" He said
trying to keep the conversation 
light. Karen could see the effort 
in his eyes and felt a pang of guilt 
for ever thinking poorly of him.

"Jellyfish... fun," Plankton repeated, his 
voice still flat.

Sponge Bob looked at him, his smile fading 
slightly. "Yeah, jellyfishing's the best!" he said 
trying to keep the energy up. "Remember all 
the good times we had?"

Plankton nodded, his gaze distant. "Good 
times," he echoed.

Sponge Bob's smile faltered, and he shot a 
questioning glance at Karen. "Is everything ok 
with Plankton?" he asked, his voice tinged 
with concern.

Karen took and squeezed Plankton's 
hand. "Hold on, Sponge Bob," she said gently. 
"Plankton, can you find us a rock? A pretty 
sparkly rock."

Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, and she could 
see the gears turning in his head. He nodded, his 
antennae tilting slightly. "Find rock," he said, before 
going in the familiar jellyfish fields.

Sponge Bob watched him go, his expression a 
mix of confusion and concern. "Is Plankton ok
Karen?" he asked.

"He's just... different now," Karen said, voice 
tight with emotion. "He had an accident, and 
the doctor says 
he has acquired autism."

Sponge Bob's eyes went wide. "Hey I think 
I have that, too! But what does that mean 
for Plankton?" he asked, his voice filled with 
genuine concern.

"It means he's going to need some help," Karen 
said, her voice calm and measured. "He'll still be 
the same Plankton we know, but his brain works 
differently now."

Sponge Bob's eyes searched hers, trying 
to understand. "Different like how?"

Karen took a deep breath. "Well, he might repeat 
what we say," she began, watching Plankton as 
he picked up rocks and examined them. "It's 
called echolalia. It's a way for him to process 
language now."

Sponge Bob's eyes widened with understanding. 
"Oh, like a parrot!" he exclaimed, nodding.

Karen chuckled, despite the heaviness of the situation. 
"Sort of," she said, "but it's more than just repeating 
words. It's how he processes information now."

Sponge Bob watched Plankton, who had found a 
particularly shiny rock and was now examining it 
with intense focus. "What else, Karen?" he asked.

Karen took a deep breath, trying to explain as best 
she could. "Sometimes, Plankton might need more 
time to understand what people are saying to him."

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes never leaving 
Plankton. "How might he act?"

Karen sighed, looking at the ocean. "Well, sometimes 
he might get overwhelmed by sounds, lights, or even 
textures," she said. "It's like his senses are on overload. 
Although he'll have it for the rest of his life, he can 
potentially improve his skills. It happened yesterday, 
I don't think you were working but Krabs hit Plankton's head.."

Sponge Bob's expression grew serious, and he nodded 
solemnly. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Karen," he said, 
his eyes filled with genuine empathy. "Plankton's always 
been pretty tough, but I won't let Mr. Krabs know."

Plankton returned with the sparkly rock, his gaze still a bit 
unfocused. "Pretty rock," he said, holding it out to Karen.

Karen took the rock. "Thank you, Plankton," she said, her 
voice filled with warmth.

"Good find," Sponge Bob added, giving him an 
encouraging thumbs-up.

The walk continued, yet a distant wail of a boat's horn 
created a symphony that seemed to overwhelm him. 
He stopped, his antennae flattening against his head, 
his eye wide with distress.

"Too loud," he murmured, his voice strained.


Karen noticed Plankton's agitation. They guided him 
to a nearby bench, and he sat, his arms wrapped 
tightly around himself, rocking back and forth.

"It's okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice calm. 
"Just breathe, darling."

Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his 
antennae quivering.

"What's wrong, Plankton?" SpongeBob asked, voice 
filled with concern.

Plankton didn't respond, his eye squeezed shut as 
he hummed a tune to himself.

Karen and Sponge Bob sat beside him, giving him 
space and waiting for the overwhelming sound to 
pass. After a few moments, the boat's horn ceased 
and Plankton's breathing began to even out. He looks up,  
gaze still slightly unfocused.

"Plankton ok now?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice gentle.

Karen nodded. "I think so," she said, watching Plankton's 
antennae slowly untangle from their protective pose. 

"Sounds can be really intense for him now."

Sponge Bob nodded solemnly. "We'll keep it down 
then," he said, his voice a whisper.

Karen smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Sponge 
Bob," she said. "It means a lot."

They sat for a few more moments, the sound of the 
waves crashing against the shore acting as a soothing 
lullaby for Plankton. Finally, he spoke up, his voice still 
flat. "Home now," he said, his eye still on the horizon.

Karen nodded. "Alright, let's go home," she said, her voice 
gentle.

"SpongeBob?" Plankton asks, wanting him to come with.

Sponge Bob looks to Karen, who nods with a grateful smile. 
"We'd love for you to come, Sponge Bob," she says. "We can 
all help each other understand."

Plankton's gaze immediately falls on a biology 
book that's been lying on the coffee table, half 
open to a page about jellyfish. His antennae start 
twitching rapidly, and he picks it up with a new
found interest.

"Look, Karen," he says, his voice filled with excitement 
as he points to a picture of a jellyfish. "Jellyfish."

Karen nods. "Yes, Plankton," she says gently. "That's a 
jellyfish."

Plankton opens the book wider, eye scanning the pages 
with a fervor that was almost palpable. His antennae 
quivered with excitement as he absorbed every piece of 
information he could find about jellyfish. It was as if he 
had found a new obsession, a puzzle to solve that could 
potentially drown out the cacophony of the world around 
him. "Jellyfish," he murmurs to himself, his eye scanning 
the text. "Jellyfish sting. Jellyfish pretty."

Sponge Bob's curiosity peaks, and he leans over to look 
at the page Plankton is fixated on. "Jellyfish, huh?" He 
says, his voice soft so as not to disturb Plankton's focus.

Karen nods. "It's like he's trying to make sense of everything 
again," she explains. "It's one of his special interests now."

Sponge Bob nods. 

Karen watches as Plankton traces the outline 
of a jellyfish with his hand. "It's called hyper
fixation," she explains. "It's when extremely 
focused on something to the point where it's 
almost all he can think about."

Sponge Bob nods thoughtfully. "Well, Plankton 
I see you like the book of jellyfish?"

Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering with 
excitement. "Jellyfish book," he murmurs, his eye 
never leaving the page.

Sponge Bob nods, a smile spreading 
across his face. "I can see you really 
love jellyfish, Plankton," he says, 
trying to keep the conversation flowing.

new a life of diversity jellyfishcore iii

WHERES ALL THE YOYLE CAKE LOVING BFB/BFDI/II/BFDIA/TPOT 
FANZ >_< ;; NEW WRITTER MIMI<3

*teleportz to mimi* you hav zummoned me. (im a bfb fan and im ztarting to watch hfjone lulz)
-zombie gutz ^_^

new zombie gutz bfb ii object shows bfdi bfdia tpot hfjone one

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⠿⠛⠛⠛⠿⢶⣄⡀⢸⡿⢰⠃⠀⠁⠌⡐⢀⣂⣄⣡⣤⣷⠿⠟⡁⢊⢰⡃⢀⣿⣿⣯⢳⡟⣖⡫⢼⣽⣿⣽⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠃⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣾⡇⢸⠀⠠⠁⠂⠄⡈⢉⠉⡉⠉⠄⢂⡐⢠⠁⢊⡀⢸⣿⡿⣞⡽⣞⣭⡷⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠋⠴⠾⠃
⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⡎⠀⢀⠡⠈⡐⢀⠂⠌⠠⠁⡌⠠⠐⣀⠊⢼⠀⣽⣿⣟⣻⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⢿⣷⣿⣻⢿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⡀⡿⢀⠠⢀⠡⢀⠂⠌⠠⢁⠂⠄⡁⠒⠤⢈⡇⢀⣿⣿⠾⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣞⣧⢟⡼⣹⡛⢿⡻⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠇⠀⡀⠂⠄⢂⠈⠄⡁⠂⠌⡐⠠⢁⠒⢠⠇⢸⣿⣗⣫⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣳⢥⣛⣶⣻⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣧⡀⠘⠀⡐⠈⡀⠌⠐⠠⢁⠂⠄⡁⢂⠌⣸⠀⢾⣿⣼⡿⠏⠁⢻⣿⣟⢧⡟⡿⢮⡽⢧⡽⣾⣿⣿⢯⣿⠏⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⡁⡝⣷⣆⠐⢀⠐⠠⠈⠄⡁⠂⠌⡐⠀⠆⡐⣸⠀⣾⡿⠛⠁⠀⢄⠀⢿⣯⡻⣼⡹⣧⣟⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠟⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡏⠁⠈⢿⣇⠀⡈⠀⠁⠆⡀⠁⠆⡀⠁⠶⢀⡇⢰⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠸⣿⢷⣷⢿⣷⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠉⠀⣀⡶⣿⣿⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⣿⣿⡟⠀⠐⡀⠙⣷⣤⠁⠌⠠⢀⠁⠂⠄⡑⠠⢂⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠠⠂⠠⠀⣿⣿⣽⡿⣯⣷⣿⣿⢿⠋⢁⣠⣴⠻⣥⣷⣾⡿⠃⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠟⡑⠀⠄⠠⠁⡈⠹⣿⣦⡁⠄⡈⠐⢂⠰⠑⢸⡇⢾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⣠⡴⣯⣳⣾⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢀⡇⠈⡀⠂⠁⠄⢂⠀⡙⠻⣶⣤⣁⠂⠆⣁⢺⠁⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣺⣿⣿⠟⠛⠁⠀⣸⣿⣷⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣯⢸⡅⠂⢀⠡⠈⡐⠀⠂⠄⡁⢈⠙⠻⣷⣶⣄⣚⢸⣿⡿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⢀⣿⠻⠁⢠⡟⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⣸⠀⠐⠠⢀⠡⠀⠌⡐⠠⠐⠠⢈⠐⠠⠨⢙⡛⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢃⣴⣋⣾⣿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣦⣄⡀⠀⣿⠁⣏⠠⢈⠐⠠⠐⠈⠄⡐⠠⢁⠂⠄⡈⡆⠡⢸⠀⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣠⢶⣻⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠏⠉⠛⠻⢷⣿⡆⢣⠐⢀⠂⠁⠄⡁⢂⠐⡀⠂⠌⡐⢠⠐⢡⡞⢸⣿⣿⣿⡾⠟⢀⡴⣿⣽⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣮⡆⠠⢈⠐⠠⠐⡀⠂⠄⡁⢂⠐⡄⠌⣰⠃⣸⣿⡿⠋⣀⣴⣯⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣌⢻⣧⠀⠌⠠⢁⠐⢈⠐⡀⢂⢂⢐⡼⢁⣼⡿⠋⣠⣶⣿⣿⠿⠿⢶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡙⠦⣌⡐⠠⠈⠄⢂⣐⣤⠶⢋⣠⣾⠋⣠⢾⣽⣿⣯⣭⠓⣄⠂⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠠⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣄⠈⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣶⣤⣍⣉⠉⠉⣉⣁⣤⣴⡾⠋⣠⣞⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣼⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠛⣿⡟⠻⣿⣶⣭⣿⡿⣿⡛⠉⠁⠈⢻⣦⣌⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡗⠀⠈⠙⡿⠛⠀⢹⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⡀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⣄⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢰⣿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⣿⡆⠀⣼⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⡿⠁⠘⣿⣧⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⠈⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⡄⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣼⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠟⠃⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vi


(Autistic author)



"Why don't we stay in, Plankton?"
Sponge Bob suggested, noticing
his friend's lingering anxiety.
"We can still have fun."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he considered the
proposal. The thought of going
outside was overwhelming.
"Okay," he agreed, his voice
soft. "Inside."

Sponge Bob nodded, his smile
reassuring. "How about a board
game?" he offered.

Plankton's antennae twitched in
consideration. "Game," he echoed,
his voice tentative.

Sponge Bob's smile grew. "Yeah!
Which one do you want to play?"

Plankton's antennae perked up at the
mention of something familiar. "Game,"
he murmured, his voice a little
more steady. "Choose."

Sponge Bob beamed at him, happy
to see his friend willing to
participate. He picked a simple
game of checkers from the shelf,
knowing it would be less
overwhelming than the loud, bright
electronic games that Plankton had
once enjoyed.

Plankton's antennae quivered with
excitement as Sponge Bob set
up the board, his eyes fixated on
the red and black pieces. "Checkers,"
he murmured, his voice filled with
anticipation.

Sponge Bob nodded, placing the
checkers in their starting
positions. "You go first," he said,
his voice calm and steady.

Plankton's antennae quivered as
his eyes focused on the board.
He picked up a black piece, his hand
shaking slightly. "Checkers," he
whispered to himself, echoing Sponge
Bob's words. He placed it with
precision on the board.

Sponge Bob watched him.
"Good job, Plankton," he said, 
his voice soothing. "You're doing 
great."

Plankton's antennae twitched with 
each word, echoing the comfort. 
"Great," he murmured, his gaze
never leaving the checkers. He
moved a piece, his mind working
quickly to calculate his next
move. The repetitive nature of
the game was calming, a familiar
rhythm that helped him find a
moment of peace in the chaos.

"Checkers," he said again, his
voice a little more stable. The
game was a dance of strategy,
and it was a dance Plankton had
always loved. But now, it was
more than that—it was a lifeline.

The game continued, the
quiet clicks of the pieces
moving across the board
providing a soothing rhythm
to the otherwise
silent room. Plankton's antennae
stayed mostly still, only
twitching when he felt the
need to move a piece. His eye
flitted from the board to
Sponge Bob and back again, seeking
reassurance that he was doing
this right.

Sponge Bob watched him, his
face a mask of concentration,
his spongy body still. "Your turn,
Plankton," he said, his voice
calm and steady.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
quivering slightly as he reached
for a piece. He moved it with
careful deliberation, his gaze
never leaving the board.

"Good move," Sponge Bob said,
his voice a gentle encouragement.

Plankton's antennae twitched in
response, his eyes lighting up
for a moment. "Good move," he
repeated, his voice echoing
Sponge Bob's tone. The words
comforted him, a familiar
refrain in a world that had
become unpredictable.

Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's. "Your
turn," he prompted gently.

Plankton's antennae quivered as
his hand hovered over the board.
"Good move," he murmured, echoing
Sponge Bob's words from moments
before. His eyes focused
intently on the board, his mind
racing to find the perfect
place for the checker.

The echo of their shared phrase
was like a soft lullaby in the
quiet room, a gentle reminder of
their longstanding friendship.
Sponge Bob noticed the comfort
it brought to Plankton, the way
his body relaxed slightly with
each repetition. "Good move,"
Sponge Bob said again, his voice
soft and encouraging.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye focusing on the board.
He moved a piece, whispering
"good move" under his breath.
Sponge Bob watched him, his
expression a mix of wonder and
concern. Plankton had always been
so sharp, so quick-witted, and now,
his brain was navigating a new
kind of maze.

But in this moment, as the
game progressed, it was clear
that Plankton's strategic mind
was still sharp. His moves
were calculated, precise. He
was winning, and Sponge Bob
could see the pride in his
tiny friend's eye.

Sponge Bob felt a swell of
happiness as Plankton's antennae
quivered with excitement. "King me,"
he murmured, placing his checker
on the board's edge.

Sponge Bob did so, his heart
swelling with pride for his
friend. "You're really good at this,"
he said, his voice gentle.

Plankton's antennae curled with
satisfaction. "Thanks," he
murmured, his voice a little
more stable now.

Sponge Bob watched as Plankton
placed the kinged piece back on
the board, his eyes never leaving
the game. The tension in the
room had dissipated, replaced by
the rhythmic exchange of
checkers and echoing affirmations.

"Good move," Plankton murmured
again, his voice a testament to
his focus. His antennae quivered
slightly as he anticipated Sponge
Bob's next play.

Sponge Bob studied the board,
his yellow brow furrowed. He knew
that Plankton had always been
smart, but this was something
else—a silent, intense
concentration that seemed to
have taken over his friend's
tiny form. With a soft click, he
moved his piece, watching as
Plankton's antennae followed the
move, his eye calculating.

Plankton's response was swift and
confident, his antennae barely
twitching. "Good move," Sponge Bob
said, echoing Plankton's words.
He felt a sense of awe as Plankton
countered with a move that
won the game.

Sponge Bob's cheer was sudden,
his spongy hands slapping
together with joy. "You did
it, Plankton!" he exclaimed.

Plankton's antennae shot up, his
body stiffening at the unexpected
noise. His eye grew wide, the
world around him seeming to
shrink for a moment as he was
jolted out of his focused
trance.

Sponge Bob's cheer had
unintentionally startled him,
his sudden movement a stark
contrast to the calm rhythm of
the game.
"Sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob
apologized, quickly
lowering his voice, 
his expression
softening. "I forgot."

Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae slowly
lowering.

Sponge Bob watched him
closely, his own excitement
dimming in the face of his
friend's distress. "It's ok," he
whispered. "You won, Plankton."

Plankton's antennae gradually
stilled, his breathing slowing
down. He nodded, his voice
small. "Won," he murmured, his
eye refocusing on the board.

Sponge Bob's smile faltered,
his heart heavy at the sight
of Plankton's distress. He
knew his cheer had been too
much, too soon. "Sorry," he
whispered, his hand hovering
above the board, unsure if he
should clean up the pieces or not.

Plankton's antennae quivered,
his gaze lingering on the
game. "Enough checkers."

Sponge Bob nodded, his
expression understanding. "Okay,
Plankton," he said, his voice
gentle. "Let's do something else."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he considered his
options. "Movie?" he suggested, his
voice tentative.

Sponge Bob's eyes lit up. "Yea!
What do you want to watch?"

Plankton's antennae twitched. "Simple
story," he murmured, his voice
still shaky. "No loud noises."

Sponge Bob nodded eagerly,
quickly searching through the
DVDs for a film that would be
comfortable for his friend. "How
about 'The Great Snail Race'?"
he suggested, holding up the
case.

Plankton's antennae twitched
with consideration. The film
was a classic, a story of
endurance and friendship, and
his brain processed the quiet
nature of the plot. "Yes," he
murmured. "Snail Race."

Sponge Bob's smile grew as he
inserted the DVD into the
player. The familiar tunes of
the opening credits filled the
room, and Plankton's antennae
swayed gently to the rhythm, his
body visibly relaxing into the
soft cushions of the couch.

Karen watched from the
sidelines, her eyes misty with
relief. Sponge Bob had always
known how to reach Plankton in
a way she couldn't. His simple,
understanding nature seemed to
break through the barriers that
autism had constructed around
his friend.

Sponge Bob pressed play, the
screen flickering to life.

The soft light from the TV cast a
glow, Plankton's eye
fixed on the snails that began to
race across the screen.

Sponge Bob sat next to Plankton.
He knew he had to
tread carefully, to be a source
of comfort without overwhelming
his friend. As the snails
moved slowly across the screen,
Plankton's antennae stilled, the
story's gentle pace a balm to
his overstimulated mind.

The movie's quiet humor
elicited a small chuckle from
Plankton, a sound that was
music to Karen. She watched
from the kitchen doorway.
Sponge Bob had always been
there for Plankton, and 
was grateful for his unwavering
support. 

new autism in the plankton family plankton vi

JUST A TOUCH vi
(Autistic author)


Plankton's antennae twitch
slightly. His eye dart
to the clock on the wall. "Must rest,"
he murmurs, his voice low.

Karen nods, her hand
squeezing his shoulder 
gently, which makes
him flinch.

"I'm sorry," she says,
quickly withdrawing it.

They sit in the quiet,
Plankton's mind racing, trying
to process the onslaught of
the day. Karen's eyes are on him,
a mix of sadness and love. He
can feel it, even through the
wall of his new condition.

He reaches out, tentatively,
his hand hovering over hers.
It's a peace offering, a silent
request for the comfort she
always provided. Karen's eyes widen,
surprise and hope flickering
in their depths. She places her hand
under his, allowing him to guide
it to his cheek.

"Plankton can, may I ask
you something?" Karen
says quietly.

He nods once, his antennae
still. "Yes," he says.

"What were you experiencing
when you froze today? You
know, before we came to
our bed? When Hanna was..."

Plankton's antennae quiver,
his gaze shifting to hers. "Too much,"
he murmurs. "Could tell you're here
and talking but, cannot comprehend.
Plankton felt dizzy in the head. Was
present yet not present."

Karen's eyes fill with
understanding. "It's like your brain
was on overload," she says, her
voice soft. "And my touch...it helped?"

Plankton shrugs, his antennae
lifting slightly. "Familiar. Soothing."
He looks at her, his gaze
intense. "Needed more of you."

Karen's eyes water, a soft
smile playing on her lips.
"I'm here now," she whispers.
But Plankton notices the
tears in her eyes.

"Why sad?" he asks, his voice
still flat. "Karen crying. Crying
sad. Thus, Karen's sad.."

Karen sniffles, her thumb
wiping away a tear. "I'm just
overwhelmed," she says. "I'm
trying to understand and be
there for you, but sometimes
it's hard."

Plankton's antennae droop.
"Karen not at fault," he says,
his voice devoid of emotion.
"Plankton's brain... different, now."

Karen nods, her hand
still in his. "I know," she whispers.
"But I'm here to learn with you."
Her words hang in the air, a promise
of support and patience.

Plankton's gaze lingers
on their joined hands, his
thumb tracing gentle circles on
her palm. The sensation grounds
him, a lifeline in the storm
of his new reality. He tries
to formulate his next words,
his mind racing. "Thanks,"
he finally says, his voice a
barely-there whisper.

Karen smiles softly, her
eyes never leaving his. 
"For what?"

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"For... being... understanding."
The words are forced, but the
sentiment is clear. Karen's
heart swells with love and
determination.

They sit in silence for a
moment, the gentle pressure
of their joined hands speaking
louder than any words could.

Plankton's gaze shifts
from their interlocked hands
to Karen's eyes. He can see
the love and concern in them,
and it calms him in a way
nothing else can.

He takes a deep breath,
his chest rising and falling
slowly. "Karen," he says, his voice
still monotone but with a
hint of longing. "Can... be
in your arms?"

Karen's eyes widen with
understanding. She nods,
moving closer to him. "Of
course," she whispers, opening
her arms. Plankton shifts his
body, his movements stiff
but deliberate as he
slides closer to her.

He nestles into her embrace,
his antennae resting on her
shoulder. Her arms close
around him, enveloping
his small form in warmth.

He takes a deep
breath, his body finally
beginning to unwind.

Plankton's antennae
still, his breathing
evening out.

Karen holds him.
Her hand gently 
strokes his back—
a soothing motion.
Plankton's eye
closes.

Karen's heart swells with
relief as Plankton's body
gradually relaxes into her embrace.
The weight of the day's
stresses seems to melt away
as she holds him, feeling the
steady rhythm of his breaths.
This is a new chapter in their
relationship, one filled with
unexpected challenges and a
deeper understanding of each
other's needs. She's aware that
his autism isn't something
to be cured or fixed, but a part
of who he is now, something
to be accepted and supported.

She strokes his back, her movements
slow and measured, mimicking the
calm she wishes to impart. His
breaths deepen, and she can feel
his body grow heavier in her arms.

Plankton's antennae droop with
fatigue, his eyelid flickering
as he succumbs to sleep. His
tiny hand remains in hers, a silent
plea to not let go. Karen
squeezes gently, her screen
never leaving his face.

The room is bathed in the soft
glow of the bedside lamp, the
shadows playing across the wall
like a silent guardian. The only
noise is the steady tick of the
clock and the occasional
snore from Plankton.

Karen watches him sleep, his
tiny form nestled in the crook
of her arm. His antennae rest
peacefully against her shoulder,
his breaths deep and even.
Her heart swells with a mix
of love and fear. She's afraid
for him, for the world
he's woken up to, a place
where every sound, every touch,
every interaction is a minefield.
But she's also proud of him,
the way he's trying to navigate
this new reality with a stoicism
that belies his size.

Plankton stirs slightly, his
eyelid fluttering. Karen holds
her breath, afraid to disturb
his fragile peace. His hand tightens
on hers, and she knows he's
aware of her presence. It's a
small victory in a day filled
with confusion.

He opens his eye, looking
up at her with a gaze that's
both familiar and foreign.
"Karen," he says, his voice
still monotone.

Karen's screen brightens with
relief. "Yes, Plankton?"

He shifts, his gaze drifting
to the book on the nightstand.
"Book," he says, his voice
barely audible. "Read."

Karen nods, understanding
his need for the familiar. She
picks up the book, her eyes
skimming over the pages. "Which one?"
she asks softly. Plankton's
eye darts to the title.

"The... puzzle," he murmurs,
his voice a mere echo. Karen opens
the book to the puzzle they'd
been working on. His gaze
follows her finger as she traces
the words. His antennae twitch.

"Would... you like to hear it?"
she asks tentatively. He nods,
his body still tense. Karen
clears her throat, her voice gentle
as she reads the words aloud.

Plankton's eye drifts
closed again, the sound of her
voice a comforting lullaby.
His hand relaxes in hers, the
tension in his body dissipating.

Karen reads on, her voice
a steady rhythm that fills the
silent room. The words from
the puzzle book form a bridge
between them, connecting them
in a way that's both new and
comfortingly familiar. Plankton's
mind focuses on the patterns
and sequences, the logical
structure a sanctuary in the
chaos.

As she reads, Karen can feel
his muscles relaxing further, his
breathing deepening into sleep.
The room's quietude wraps
around them like a cocoon,
their shared history a warm
blanket. It's a stark contrast
to the panic and confusion
that had gripped him earlier.

The puzzle's words weave
themselves into a tapestry
of comfort, each syllable a
stitch in the fabric of their
new reality. Plankton's love
for order and patterns hasn't
changed, but the way
he interacts with them has.
The autism has transformed
his world, but not the essence
of who he is.

As Karen reads, her voice
soothing his frayed nerves,
she can't help but feel a
sense of awe at his resilience.
He's still her Plankton, the
same being she's known for so long,
but now he's also someone new,
someone she's just beginning to
understand. His mind operates
on a different wavelength, one
that she's eager to tune into.

Then the door
bell rings. It's
Sandy!

Plankton's antennae shoot up,
his body stiffening in Karen's arms.
"Who is it?" he asks, his voice
sharp with anxiety.

Karen's eyes dart to the
clock on the wall. "It's just
Sandy," she says, her voice
calm. "It's okay."

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye searching hers for
reassurance. "Sandy?" he repeats,
his voice unsure.

Karen nods, her smile gentle.
"It's okay," she says, her voice a
whisper. "We'll take this slow."

Plankton's gaze locks onto
Sandy as she enters the room,
his eyes darting around to
assess the new presence. Sandy
watches him, her face a mix of
curiosity and concern. "Howdy,
Plankton," she says, her voice
soft. "How are y'all?"

Plankton's antennae twitch.
He's heard her voice before,
but it's different now. Too
loud, too bright. He shrinks
back into Karen's embrace. "Good,"
he says, his voice tight. "Good."

Sandy's eyes dart between
them, her smile fading. "What's
wrong?" she asks, her voice
gentle. Karen sighs.

"Plankton's had an... accident,"
she says carefully.

Sandy's eyes widen with shock,
her hand flying to her mouth.
"What happened?"

Karen's gaze doesn't waver
from Plankton's. "He's
been diagnosed with Acquired
Autism," she says softly. "From
a head injury."

Sandy's eyes widen in
disbelief. "Oh no," she whispers.
"I had no idea."

Karen nods, her screen
reflecting the weight of
the last few hours. "It's a lot to take
in," she says. "We're still learning."

Sandy steps closer, her
movements slow and deliberate.
"What can I do?" she asks.

Karen's shoulders
slump with relief. "Just...
be patient with him,"
she says. "He's still the same
Plankton, but... different."

Sandy nods solemnly.
"I will," she promises.

new just a touch sandarenton vi

NEW REALITY viii
(Autistic author)

"I don't
understand," she says, her voice
filled with distress.

Plankton's hand clenches, his
body vibrating with tension.
"Numbers," he repeats, his voice
edging on a scream. "They
make quiet."

Hanna's eyes widen, her smile
fading to a look of horror.
"But Plankton," she says, her voice
shaking, "it's just a clock."

But her words are like fuel
on the fire of his distress.
He steps closer to the clock,
his hand outstretched as if
to will it to silence. "Numbers,"
he whispers, his voice a
plea. "They make quiet."

Hanna's eyes fill with
sympathy, but her words only
worsen his agitation. "Plankton,
it's just a clock," she says,
reaching out to touch him.

Karen's heart hammers in
her chest as she sees his
body tense even further.
"Hanna, don't," she warns, her
voice tight. "Please don't touch
him right now."

But Hanna doesn't hear her,
her own voice rising with
frustration. "It's just a clock,
Plankton," she repeats, her hand
covering his shoulder. "Nothing's
going to hurt you.."

The touch sends him spiraling,
his body convulsing with
overstimulation. "No touch!"
he screams, his hand slapping
at her arm, his face a mask of
fear and anger.

But Plankton's outburst has
ignited something in Hanna,
a spark of anger.

"Why can't you just be normal?"
she snaps, her voice echoing
through the tense room.

Karen's heart breaks as
Plankton's eye goes wide, his
body jerking away from her.
"Hanna, please," she says,
her voice tight with pain.

But Hanna's words keep coming,
a barrage of misunderstanding.
"You can't just ignore us,"
she says, her voice rising. "You have
to interact with the world."

Plankton's body recoils, his
skin seemingly vibrating with each
of her words. "Interact," he echoes,
his voice strained.

Karen's heart is in her throat.
"Hanna, please," she says, her
voice tight with pain. "You're
not helping."

But Hanna's eyes are
glassy with frustration. "How
can I help if he won't even
look at me?" she asks,
ignoring the desperation in
Plankton's gaze as she holds
his arms tightly.

Karen's eyes plead with her,
but Hanna's grip doesn't loosen.
"Let go," Plankton whimpers,
his voice tight with tension.

Hanna's smile is forced,
her grip unyielding. "Look at me,
Plankton," she says, her voice
laced with irritation. "You can't
just..."

But her words cut him like
knives. "Look
away," he murmurs, his voice
strained, his body begging for
the pressure to ease.

Hanna's smile falters, her
grip tightening. "Why can't
you just look at me?" she asks,
her voice edged with annoyance.

Plankton's breath hitches,
his antennae drooping. "Can't," he
whispers, his gaze flickering
between her and Karen.

Hanna's eyes narrow, her
grip on his arms tightening.
"You can," she insists, her
voice firm. "Just..."

But Plankton's whimpers
grow louder, his body
shaking with the effort
to pull away.

Hanna's smile fades, her
grip tightening in frustration.
"Why can't you just be like
everyone else?" she asks, her
tone no longer gentle.

Plankton's whimpers become
sobs, his body shaking with
the effort to break free.
Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she watches
the scene unfold, her heart
breaking for him.

Hanna's grip remains firm,
her expression a mix of
confusion and annoyance.
"Why are you doing this?"
she demands, her voice
sharp. "You're just being
difficult."

Plankton's sobs grow more
desperate, his body
twisting in her grasp.
"Let go," he whispers, his voice
a strained plea.

Hanna's eyes flash with
irritation. "Why ca--"

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Hanna,
please," she says, stepping
between them. "You're
upsetting him."

But Hanna's confusion turns
to anger. "How can I not
be upset?" she retorts, her
grip on Plankton's arms
tightening. "He won't even..."

Her words are cut off by
Karen's firm voice. "Please,
Hanna," she says, her eyes
pleading. "You don't
understand."

Suddenly, Plankton's legs
buckle, his body going slack
as Hanna finally releases
his arms. He crumples to
the floor. He's retreating, Karen
realizes, her heart racing.
He's retreating into himself.

Karen's eyes fill with
fear as she watches him, his
sobs subsiding into quiet
whimpers. "Plankton," she
whispers, her voice a prayer.

Hanna's face falls, her anger
replaced with shock. "What's
wrong with him?" she asks,
her voice trembling.

Karen's eyes are wet with
unshed tears as she crouches
beside him. "It's a condition,"
she says, her voice tight with
frustration. "He needs time
and space to process everything."

Hanna's face crumples, her
hands going to her mouth.
"I didn't know," she whispers,
her eyes wide with regret.
"I'm sorry."

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's huddled
form. "It's not your fault,"
she says, her voice thick with
emotion. "But we all have
to learn."

Hanna nods, her eyes
brimming with tears.

Karen wraps her arms
around Plankton, her
touch gentle. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "I'm here."
He trembles against her,
sobbing.

Hanna stands there,
apology etched in every
line of her face. "What can
I do?" she whispers.

Karen looks up, her eyes
wet. "Just give us a moment,"
she says, her voice a gentle
command.

Hanna nods, backing away
slowly, her eyes on Plankton.
"Okay," she murmurs, the weight
of her words heavy in the
silent room.

Karen holds Plankton tightly,
his body a trembling mass
of emotion. "It's okay,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing balm. "You're safe."

He nests his head into
her shoulder, his whimpers
softening to quiet sobs.
The room feels thick with
their shared pain, the air
charged with the tension
of misunderstanding.

Hanna's eyes dart around,
looking for anything that might
soothe him.

Karen's gaze meets hers,
a silent plea for understanding.

"It's called autism," Karen says softly,
her voice a gentle explanation.

Hanna's eyes widen, her face
a canvas of realization. "Oh," she
whispers, the word a soft
exhalation of breath.

Karen nods, her gaze never
leaving Plankton's tear-stained
face. "It's a spectrum,"
she says, her voice calm and
steady. "And he's on a part
of it that's very sensitive to
stimulation."

Hanna nods slowly, her
understanding growing. "I'm
sorry," she says, her voice
full of regret. "I didn't know."

Karen's grip tightens around
Plankton's shoulders. "It's okay,"
she murmurs. "We're all still
learning."

Hanna nods, her eyes never
leaving Plankton's trembling
form. "I'll go," she says, her voice
small. "I didn't mean..."

Karen nods, her gaze
steady. "Thank you," she whispers.
"We can talk soon."

Hanna nods, her eyes filled
with sadness. "Of course," she says,
turning to leave.

The door clicks shut behind her,
leaving Karen and Plankton in the
heavy silence. Karen's arms
remain around him, her body
a protective cocoon against
the harshness of the world.

Plankton's sobs slowly
ease into quiet sniffs, his body
still trembling in her embrace.
Her heart aches for the pain
he's feeling, the fear that
Hanna's misunderstanding
has brought to the surface.

"I'm sorry," she whispers
to him, her voice
shaking.

Plankton's trembles begin
to subside, his breathing
evening out. He pulls back,
his eye searching hers. "No,"
he murmurs, his voice hoarse
from crying. "Not at fault."

Karen's eyes fill with
relief, her grip on him
loosening slightly. "It's
okay," she says, her voice
a gentle caress. "We just need
to find ways to help you."

Plankton nods, his eye
fluttering shut.

Karen's mind races with
thoughts of what more she
can do, what she can say
to make him feel safe.

"We'll get through this,"
she says, her voice a promise.
"Together."

Plankton's eye opens,
his gaze meeting hers.
"Together," he echoes, his
voice a whisper.

Karen's heart swells with
love for him, her eyes
shimmering with determination.
"We'll find what works,"
she says, her voice firm.

Plankton nods, his gaze
dropping to the floor.
"Thanks," he murmurs, his
voice barely audible. "Tired.."

Karen's heart breaks at the
exhaustion etched into his
features. "I got you, you
can rest," she says, her
voice a gentle whisper.

They move to the couch,
Plankton's body curling into
her side. She wraps the
weighted blanket around him,
still within their embrace.

His breathing slows, his body
relaxing against hers. The
whirring fan above offers
a steady rhythm, a lullaby for
his troubled mind.

Karen's hand strokes his
back in gentle circles, her
thumb tracing patterns that
seem to soothe his nerves.

The fan's steady whir
fills the room, a calming
symphony that lulls Plankton's
racing thoughts to a crawl.

Karen's thumb moves in
soothing circles on his back,
each pass sending a ripple
of comfort through him.

Plankton's breathing evens,
his body slack against hers.
The fan's steady hum is a
lullaby in the quiet room,
a metronome for his racing
thoughts.

Karen's hand continues its
soothing dance across his back,
his eye finally closing.

The room is a cocoon of
silence, the fan's whisper the
only sound breaking the stillness.

Plankton's breathing slows,
his body melts into Karen's embrace.
Her hand continues its gentle
caress, a metronome of comfort as
he finally surrenders to sleep.

new new reality hannacore viii

GREAT CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

When Plankton finally came out
Chip approached with caution. He didn't want to scare
his dad, didn't want to cause another seizure.
"Hey, Dad," he said softly. "How are
you feeling today?"

Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye
flicking towards Chip. "Tired," he murmured,
his voice hoarse from sleep. "But okay."

Chip felt his chest tighten with relief.
He'd been worried about his dad all night,
scared that another seizure would strike 
without warning.

"Can we talk?" Chip asked, his voice
gentle as he approached Plankton.
He didn't want to push, but he needed
to make sure they were okay.

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
eye searching Chip's face. "Of course,"
he said, his voice still groggy.
He sat down at the kitchen table,
his body language open but cautious.

Chip took a deep breath, his heart
racing with the need to get this right.
"Dad, I know last night was...
scary," he began, his voice shaky.
"But I want to be there for you."

Plankton's antennae waved slightly,
his expression a mix of confusion and
fatigue. "What do you mean?" he asked,
his voice still thick with sleep.

Chip took a deep breath, trying
to find the right words. "I mean,
I want to understand your seizures
and what you go through," he said,
his eyes never leaving his father's.
"So that maybe I can help."

Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye
narrowing slightly. "What do you want
to know?" he asked, his voice a mix
of curiosity and caution.

Chip's eyes searched his father's,
his thoughts racing. "Everything," he said,
his voice earnest. "What happens
before, during, and after. What you feel,
what you see..."

Plankton's antennae twitched, his
face scrunching up slightly. "Why?"
he snapped, his voice sharp. "What's
the point of reliving it?"

Chip took a step back, surprised
by his father's sudden irritation.
"I just want to understand,"
he said, his voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae waved erratically,
his eye flashing. "It's not a show, Chip,"
he snapped. "It's not something to be
poked and prodded at."

Chip felt his cheeks flush with heat,
his hands balled into fists at his sides.
"I'm not trying to pry," he said, his voice
shaking with frustration. "I just want to help!"

Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye
narrowed. "You can't help," he said,
his voice cold. "You don't get it."

Chip's heart sank, feeling the distance
between them growing wider. "But Dad,"
he began, his voice trembling. "I'm trying."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his face a mask of agitation. "You can't,"
he said, his voice clipped. "You don't know
what it's like!"

Chip felt a wave of frustration
crash over him, his hands
clenching into fists. "That's why
I'm asking!" he exclaimed. "I'm not
trying to make it about me!"

Plankton's focusing solely on Chip.
"You don't get it," he said, his voice
softening slightly. "It's not about you,
but it's also not something you can fix."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his heart racing with a mix of anger
and hurt. He knew Plankton wasn't
trying to be cruel, but the words stung.
"I just want to be there for you,"
he said, his voice shaky. "To make
sure you're okay."

Plankton's antennae twitched rapidly,
his eye flashing with agitation. "I don't
need you to fix me," he snapped, his voice
sharp as a knife. "I just need you to leave me
alone sometimes."

Chip took a step back, his eyes
watering with the sting of his father's
words. "I just want..."

"I know what you want," Plankton cut
in, his antennae vibrating with irritation.
"But you can't fix this, Chip. It's not a puzzle
you can solve with a pat on the back or a hug."

The room grew tense, the air thick
with unspoken words. Chip felt his throat
tighten, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
He knew his father's snappy tone was a defense
mechanism, a way to keep the world at bay
when it all became too much. But it still hurt.

new great chip arguecore viii

CATCH IN MY CHIP viii
(Autistic author)

The room is bathed in a soft
moonlight, the shadows playing
across Plankton's sleeping features. His
body, once taut with tension,
has relaxed into the embrace
of the bed, his arm curled
around a pillow. His antennas
now rest gently on the
pillowcase, no longer quivering
with agitation.

Karen watches him sleep, her
thoughts a jumble of worry and
love. She knows he's tired, that the
weight of the world can be too
much for him to bear at times. But
she also knows that he's strong,
that he'll face tomorrow with
determination.

The first light of dawn filters
through the curtains, painting the
room in soft shades of pink and
orange. Karen gently squeezes his
shoulder before standing, her eyes
never leaving his peaceful face.
She knows that today will be a
day of apologies and
understanding, of teaching Chip
about his dad's autism and how to
navigate the world around him.

With a soft sigh, she heads to
Chip's room, her footsteps silent
on the cool floor. She opens the door
to find him sitting up in bed,
his eyes red and puffy from crying.
He looks at her.

"Is Dad okay?" he asks, his
voice thick with sleep and the
remnants of his earlier distress.

Karen nods, her eyes filled
with a quiet determination. "We'll
talk to him when he wakes up."

The words hang in the air, a gentle
reminder of the conversation that
needs to be had. Chip nods, his eyes
still puffy from crying. He clutches
his pillow, the fabric damp from
his tears.

"But what do I do?" he asks, his
voice small and scared. "How do
I make sure I don't make him
upset again?"

Karen sits on the edge of the bed,
her hand stroking his. "You
just keep being you, Chip," she
says, her voice warm. "Daddy loves
you, and we'll learn together how
to make sure he doesn't get
overwhelmed."

Chip nods, his eyes searching
hers for reassurance. "But what
about my trophy?" he asks, his
voice still shaky.

Karen's hand stops, her gaze
dropping to the shard of plastic
he holds tightly in his fist. "We'll
fix it," she says, her voice
filled with conviction. "Together."

The promise brings a small
smile to Chip's face, his eyes
lighting up. "Really?"

Karen nods, her own smile
genuine. "Of course, honey,"
she says. "We're a family. We
stick together."

With that, she stands up, her
body weary but her spirit
resolute. The room feels
lighter somehow, the air less
charged with tension.

Chip clambers out of bed, his
small hand reaching for hers.
Together, they walk to the
bedroom, the shattered
remnants of the trophy
glinting in the early light.

Plankton is still asleep,
his chest rising and falling in
a steady rhythm. Chip
looks at him, his eyes filled
with a mix of sadness and
curiosity.

"We'll talk to him when he
wakes up," Karen says, her voice
soft.

They sit beside Plankton's
bed, the room still and quiet.
Chip's hand trembles slightly as
he holds the broken piece
of trophy. "But what if he's still
mad?" he whispers, his voice
barely above the silence.

Karen's hand squeezes his.
"He'll understand," she says,
her voice filled with a calm
certainty. "He loves you, and he
knows you didn't mean to hurt
him."

The words are a gentle balm
to Chip's fears, but the doubt
lingers. He nods, his gaze
never leaving his father.

"Remember, Chip," Karen says, her
voice a soft whisper. "Daddy's
brain is different."

Chip nods, his eyes fixed on
his dad's sleeping form. He's
seen Plankton stressed before,
but never like this. He wants to
show him love.

With tentative steps, he moves
closer to the bed, his heart
beating a staccato in his chest.
He reaches out, his hand shaking
slightly as he hovers it over
his dad's arm.

"Chip," Karen whispers, her hand
covering his. "Remember, gentle."
Her words are a gentle
reminder of the invisible lines
that can be crossed.

Chip nods, his eyes on Plankton's
peaceful face. He takes a deep
breath, his hand steadying. Slowly,
so slowly it's almost imperceptible,
he brings his palm to rest
on Plankton's forearm, his touch
as light as a feather.

Plankton's body tenses for a
moment, a reflexive reaction to
the sudden contact. Chip holds
his breath, waiting, hoping.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he feels
his dad's arm relax under his hand.

"It's okay," Karen whispers, her
voice a gentle breeze. "He's okay."

Chip's hand remains hovering, his
heart in his throat. Plankton's
body remains still, his breathing
even. Karen's touch is a guide,
her hand resting on Chip's.

"It's okay," she whispers, her voice
a soft encouragement. "You can
do it."

With a deep breath, Chip's hand
descends, his fingertips brushing
against Plankton's arm.

Plankton's antennas twitch.
Karen watches, her eyes never
leaving her husband's face.

Chip's hand hovers, his
heart racing. He wants to
reassure his dad, to let him
know he's there. He's
learned about space and
understanding, but all he
can think of is the warmth of
his touch, the comfort
he craves to give.

His fingertips graze Plankton's
arm, the contact so light it's
barely there. He watches,
waiting for a reaction, for a
sign that he's crossed the line.
But Plankton remains still,
his breathing unchanged.

Encouraged, Chip presses down
slightly, his hand a soft
weight on his father's arm.
He feels the warmth of his
skin, the steady pulse beneath.
It's a tentative connection,
fragile as spider silk.

Plankton's antennas quiver,
but his body remains still.
Chip's heart hammers in his chest,
his breaths shallow and quick.
He's afraid to move, afraid
to break the spell.

Karen watches, her eyes
filled with a quiet hope.
The air in the room is thick
with anticipation.

Chip's hand hovers over
Plankton's arm, trembling
slightly with nerves and
love. He's unsure if this
small gesture will be met
with anger or acceptance.

Karen's gaze is a silent
cheer, urging him on. Plankton's
breaths remain steady, his body
still. Chip's heart is a
drum in his chest, each beat
a silent plea for
understanding.

With a tremble, he lets his hand
settle, his fingertips barely
grazing the fabric of the blanket.
He feels the heat of Plankton's skin,
the rise and fall of his chest.
It's a gentle touch, the lightest
of caresses.

Karen's hand remains on his,
guiding him, encouraging him.
Plankton's breaths remain steady,
his body still. Chip's eyes
are wide with hope, his hand
poised above the blanket.

With a tremble, he lets his
fingers come to rest on the
cotton, feeling the warmth
of his father's arm beneath.
He holds his breath, waiting
for a reaction, for any sign
that he's done the right thing.

Plankton's body remains still,
his breathing unchanged.
Karen's eyes are glued to
his face, watching for any
hint of distress. But there's
none. Only the gentle rise
and fall of his chest, a testament
to his deep sleep.

Chip's hand is a butterfly
landing on Plankton's arm, his
fingers fluttering slightly
against the warmth of his
skin. He's never felt so
exposed, so vulnerable. But
his love for his dad is stronger
than his fear.

Karen watches the silent
exchange, her heart in her throat.
The moment feels sacred, a
testament to their growing
understanding of each other.

Chip's hand remains on Plankton's
arm, the warmth of his touch a
promise of comfort and love.
He's afraid to move, afraid to
disrupt the delicate balance.
Karen's hand is a soft presence,
guiding him, giving him
the courage to stay.

Plankton's breaths are slow
and even, his body relaxed.
Chip wonders if he's dreaming, if he's
in a world where the sensory
overload doesn't exist. His heart
swells with hope, with the
desire to protect his dad from
the world's harshness.

Karen's hand on his is
a gentle reminder that he's not
alone. She gives him a small,
encouraging nod, her eyes filled
with understanding. He takes a
deep breath, his hand moving
slowly, so slowly, to cover his dad's.

The moment their skin
touches, it's like a dam breaks.
Chip feels a rush of warmth, a
connection that's been missing.
He squeezes Plankton's arm lightly,
his heart pounding. He's afraid to
move, afraid to breathe too loudly.

Karen's eyes never leave
Plankton's face, watching for any
sign of distress. But his features
remain relaxed, his antennas
still. The room is a sanctuary
of quiet, the only sound their
melded breaths. Chip feels a
lump form in his throat, his eyes
welling with tears.

He whispers, "Thank you," to
his mom, his voice shaky with
emotion. She nods, her hand
still covering his. "Remember,"
she says, her voice a soft
caress. "Gentle."

With trembling fingers, Chip
tucks the blanket closer around
Plankton, the fabric smoothing
over his shoulders. It's a
tiny act of love, a silent
apology. He wants to crawl into
the bed beside him, to wrap
his arms around his dad..

He looks up at Karen, his
eyes pleading. "Can I?"

Karen nods, her smile sad
but understanding. "Just be
careful not to wake him,"
she whispers.

With the grace of a
cat burglar, Chip slides into the
bed, his movements slow and
calculated. He's careful not
to disturb the sheets, not to
make a sound that could break
the tranquil silence.

Plankton's arm is a warm
mound beside him, and he
reaches out tentatively, his
fingers seeking the comfort
of his dad's skin. He finds it,
his hand coming to rest lightly
on the crook of his elbow.
The connection feels right,
like finding a piece of himself
he didn't know was lost.

He snuggles closer, his head
resting on the pillow beside
Plankton's.

Karen watches, her heart
swelling with love for her son.
"It's ok," she whispers. "Just be
gentle."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II viii

JUST A TOUCH viii
(Autistic author)


After dinner, they
retreat to the living room.
Plankton's eye is glued
to the puzzle book on the
coffee table, his antennae
twitching with unspoken
longing. Karen picks it up,
opening to a new page.

"Would you like to work
on this one together?"
she asks, her voice gentle.
He nods, his eye lighting
up with the familiar challenge.

Together, they tackle the
puzzle, Karen's voice a gentle
narration as Plankton's antennae
move in time with her words.

The patterns on the page
hypnotize him, drawing him in.
Plankton's antennae stop
twitching, his focus solely
on the words before him.

And then the doorbell rings,
breaking the spell. Karen's
heart skips a beat, her hand
tightening around the puzzle
book. Plankton's head snaps up,
his eye wide with alarm. "Who
is it?" he asks, his voice
sharp.

Karen's eyes dart to the clock.
"It's probably SpongeBob,"
she murmurs. Plankton's antennae
perk up at the mention of his
friend's name. "Party," he says,
his voice hopeful. Karen nods,
swiping at the tear that's
managed to escape. "Yes, Plankton.
SpongeBob's probably here
to invite us to a party at the
Krusty Krab. Do you
think you're up for it?" she asks,
her voice tentative.

Plankton's antennae droop
slightly. "Maybe," he says,
his voice unsure. The thought
of the bright lights and loud
noises at the party sends a
shiver of anxiety through
his tiny body. But the
prospect of seeing Sponge
Bob is tempting.

Karen sighs, understanding
his hesitation. She walks
to the door, her movements
slow and deliberate. Sponge
Bob's cheerful greeting floods
the hallway. "Hey,
Karen! Plankton! You guys
coming to the party?"

"Hey, Sponge Bob," she says,
her smile forced. "What's the
occasion?"

Sponge Bob's face lights up
like a Christmas tree, his
spongy body bobbing with
excitement. "Mr. Krabs is
throwing a bash at the
Krusty Krab!" he says, his
hands gesturing wildly. "You
guys are coming, right?"

Plankton's antennae quiver
at the mention of the party.
The thought of the loud
noises and the jostling
crowd makes his stomach
churn, but the prospect of
seeing his friend shines like
a beacon through the fog
of his fear.

Karen watches him,
reading his emotions like
a book. "It's okay," she says,
her voice a gentle reminder.
"We can go for a little bit."

Plankton nods, his antennae
still. "Okay," he says, his voice
barely a whisper. Karen can
see the internal struggle
playing out across his features.
"Just stay as long as you're
comfortable," she adds. "I'll
just stay, you go with him."

Sponge Bob's eyes light up.
"Great!" he says, bending
down to hold his hand. He
holds his finger as they go.

Plankton's grip is tight,
his antennae flat against
his head. The noise of the
Krusty Krab is a cacophony
of sounds, each one
stabbing at his heightened
senses. But the warmth of
Sponge Bob's hand, the
familiarity of their friendship,
anchors him.

Mr. Krabs sees Plankton
clinging to Sponge Bob's 
side.

"What's going on, laddie?"
he asks, his voice gruff but
concerned at the sight of
their hands.

Plankton's antennae
twitch, his gaze darting
to the floor. Mr. Krabs' 
eyes narrow.

"Why did ye invite
Plankton?" he asks
with suspicion.

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "Well,
he's always welcome..."

Mr. Krabs' eyes narrow.
"But he's our enemy.."

Sponge Bob's smile
doesn't waver. "He's my friend,"
he says firmly. "And I'm watching
to make sure he won't steal any
thing, boss.."

Mr. Krabs' eyes soften,
his suspicion giving way to
reluctant acceptance. "Alright,
but keep an eye on him," he says,
his voice gruff.

Sponge Bob nods, his grip
on Plankton's hand tightening.
Plankton's antennae quiver,
his heart racing at the sudden
influx of stimulation. The
colorful lights, the smells of
frying food, the laughter of
the patrons—it's all so
much. But Sponge Bob's hand is
warm, a lifeline in the chaos.

They move through the
crowd, Plankton's steps small and
careful. His eye darts around,
trying to take it all in without
getting overwhelmed. Sponge
Bob's voice cuts through the
noise like a knife. "You okay,
buddy?" he asks, his smile
concerned. Plankton nods, his
voice a strained whisper. "Good,"
Sponge Bob says, his eyes never
leaving Plankton's.

As they reach the party
area, Plankton's antennae start to
wave erratically. The lights
are too bright, the sounds too
loud. He clutches Sponge
Bob's hand tighter. 
Plankton takes a deep breath,
his chest expanding with the
effort. It's like trying to
swim through jello, his senses
on high alert.

Sponge Bob feels the
change in his friend's grip,
his own heart racing with
concern. "You okay, Plankton?"
he asks again, his voice
barely audible over the din.
Plankton nods, his eye
focused on the floor. The
pattern of the tiles is
soothing, grounding him amidst
the chaos.

A flash of pink darts
through the crowd, and Plankton's
antennas twitch. "Patrick!"
Sponge Bob says, letting go
of Plankton's hand.

Plankton looks around and
sees Squidward doing the
dishes, but in a disorganized
manner that Plankton needs
to correct.

The sight of the
scattered plates, the water spots
on the glasses, sends a jolt of
anxiety through him. His
compulsion to straighten, to
organize, to make it right, is
almost unbearable. So he goes
to Squidward by the sink to interfere.

Squidward glances up, his
tentacles frozen mid-wash. "What
are you doing here?" he snaps.

Plankton's antennae twitch,
his gaze fixated on the mess.
"Help," he says, his voice tight.

Squidward rolls his eyes, grabbing
another plate to wash as he ignores
Plankton.

Plankton's antennae quiver, his
eye darting between the chaos
and Squidward's dismissal. He's
doing the dishes wrong and needs
him to help!

"Squidward, let Plankton assist,"
he says, his voice formal.
Squidward sighs, shaking his
head.

"Look, I don't have time for
this," he says, his tentacles
moving rapidly. Plankton's
body tenses, his need for
meticulousness consuming him.

As Plankton approaches Squidward,
his movements are precise, almost
mechanical. His antennae twitch
in time with his racing thoughts,
his need for order a silent
scream in the noisy room. He
holds out his hand, palm up.
"Wash," he says, his voice firm.
Squidward pauses, eyeing him
warily. "What?"

Plankton's gaze is unwavering,
his voice steady. "Smudges.
Wash dishes. Correct way."

Squidward's grip on the plate
slackens, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean?"

Plankton's antennae wave
frantically. "Correct way,"
he repeats, his voice a
desperate whisper. "No smudges.
Wrong order."

Squidward's tentacles still,
his gaze sharpening. "What's
gotten into you?" he asks, his voice
filled with skepticism.

Plankton's antennae twitch.
"No smudges," he says again,
his voice a mix of urgency and
desperation. Squidward sets
the plate down with a clatter.
"What are you on about, Plankton?"

But Plankton's focus is solely
on the task at hand. He reaches
for the dish soap, his movements
precise.

Squidward watches him, his
expression a mix of annoyance
and curiosity. "What's going on?"
he asks, his voice gruff. Plankton's
antennas twitch, his eye darting
to Squidward. "Just helping,"
he says, his voice flat as he puts
the now clean dish away. But he
sees imperfections on some of the
clean dishes, handing them over
for Squidward to wash as he straightens
up the other plates.

Squidward's eyebrows furrow,
his gaze flicking between Plankton
and the dishes. "What are you
doing?" he asks again. Plankton's
grip on the towel tightens, his
body vibrating with the need for
perfection. "It's not right,"
he says, his voice strained. "Has to be
right."

"Those I've cleaned!" Squidward
says as Plankton puts them in
the sink for him to wash over
again. "Squidward look. No..."

But before Plankton can
finish, Squidward snatches the plate
from his tentacles. "Look, I don't
have time for your... whatever
this is," he says, his voice gruff. He
takes it and haphazardly shoves
it with smaller plates. Plankton
can't take the misalignment!

Plankton's antennae stand on
end, his eye wide with horror.
"No!" he says, his voice rising.
"Wrong order!" His hands
shake as he tries to grab the
plate, his mind racing with
the need to correct the mistake.

Squidward pulls away, his
expression a mix of confusion
and irritation. "Plankton, what's
wrong with you?" he snaps.

"Plankton's centrum semiovale has
restricted inhibitory synaptic
transmission!" Plankton's
voice is a mix of panic and
frustration, his antennae waving
wildly. Squidward's eyes narrow,
his grip on the plate tightening.
"What are you talking about? I
am not going to wash this again,"
he says, his tone firm.

Squidward's words hit a nerve,
triggering a cascade of emotions
in Plankton. "It's not
about Squidward!" he says, his voice
sharp. "It's about the order! Cleanliness..."

"PLANKTON I SAID NO!" Squidward
yells, startling him as he turns back
to the sink.

new just a touch neurodisability viii

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM iii

(Autistic author)

Inside, she sets him down 
on their favorite couch, the one 
with the frayed edges and 
the squeaky spring that always 
reminded them of their first date. 
The room is cluttered with 
half-finished inventions and 
plans for Krabby Patty heists. 
She sits beside him.

The silence stretches on, 
heavier than a net full of 
anchovies. Plankton's antennas 
twitch, his eye darting around 
the room, taking in the chaos. 
Karen's mind is racing, 
wondering if he recognizes any 
of it, if it brings back any 
memories of their life together.

"Home," he murmurs, his 
voice filled with uncertainty. 
The room feels smaller, more 
cramped than she remembered, as if 
the walls are closing in on them.
"Do you like it here?" she asks, 
trying to gauge his reaction.

He looks around, his antennas 
moving slightly as he processes 
his surroundings. "Home," he says 
again, his voice a mix of 
curiosity and confusion.

The room is a jumble of 
wires, gadgets, and half-eaten 
chum sticks. Karen's 
with tears as she realizes 
how much she's taken for granted 
their life together. She had 
always loved Plankton's quirks and 
his boundless energy, but now 
his mind seemed to be stuck in a 
loop, unable to move beyond 
the basic functions of 
acknowledgment.

"Home," Plankton says again, 
his antennas drooping. "Home with 
Karen."
The repetition of the words 
stirs something within Karen. 
Echolalia, the doctor had called it, 
a common trait in those with 
autism. It was Plankton's way 
of trying to understand the 
world around him, to find 
comfort in familiar words and 
phrases.

"Yes," she whispers, her 
throat tight with emotion. "This 
is our home."

The room seems to 
shrink around them as Plankton's 
echolalic chant of "home with 
Karen" repeats in a soothing 
loop. Each time he says it, 
Karen feels a pang of hope. 
Maybe, just maybe, he was 
finding comfort in the 
simplicity of their life together.

"Home with Karen," he 
says again, his antennas 
slightly more animated. 
Karen nods, 
brimming with tears. "Yes, 
Plankton, we're home."

But she sees a flicker of 
distress in his eye. "Sponge Bob," 
he whispers, his antennas 
quivering with urgency. "Where's 
Sponge Bob?"

Karen's heart squeezes at the 
mention of him. "Sponge Bob's not 
here right now," she says, 
choosing her words carefully. 
"But he'll come to visit."

Plankton's antennas shoot up, 
his eye wide. "Sponge Bob," he 
repeats, his voice gaining 
strength. "Friend. Need Sponge Bob."
The desperation in his tone is 
heart-wrenching, and Karen knows 
she needs to act fast to soothe his 
anxiety.

"Ok, ok," she says, her voice 
calm. "Let's call Sponge Bob."

Karen picks up the phone, her 
hands shaking slightly as she 
dials the familiar number. The 
phone rings once, twice, before 
it's answered by a cheerful 
voice.

"Karen?" Sponge Bob's voice 
sounds surprised but concerned. 
"Is everything ok?"

Karen takes a deep breath, 
trying to keep her voice steady. 
"It's Plankton," she says. "He's 
asking for you to come over."
There's a pause on the 
other end of the line. "Plankton? 
But we're... I mean?" Sponge 
Bob's voice is filled with 
confusion.
Karen's with 
desperation as she watches 
Plankton rock back and forth 
on the couch, his chant 
growing louder. "Sponge Bob. Need 
Sponge Bob."

"Please, Sponge Bob," she 
pleads, her voice cracking.

Sponge Bob's voice on the 
other end of the line softens.
"Of course, Karen. I'll be right 
over."
The line goes dead, and Karen 
hangs up the phone, feeling a 
tiny spark of hope. Plankton's 
cries for Sponge Bob have become 
more insistent, his rocking more 
pronounced. She gently places 
a hand on his shoulder, trying 
to soothe him.
"Sponge Bob's coming, Plankton," 
she says, her voice steady. "He'll 
be here soon."

Plankton's rocking slows, 
his antennas drooping slightly. 
"Sponge Bob," he whispers, 
his eye searching hers. "Safe."
The word hangs in the air, and 
Karen realizes that despite his 
confusion, he feels comfort in 
Sponge Bob's presence.

A few moments later, they 
hear the telltale sound of 
bubbles popping against the 
glass, and a knock on the door. 
With a tremble, Karen 
stands and opens it to reveal 
Sponge Bob, looking slightly 
nervous but determined.

"Hi, Plankton!" he exclaims. 
Plankton's antennas shoot up at 
the sound of his name, and he 
whips his head around to face 
the door. "Sponge Bob!" he 
shouts, his eye lighting up 
with an unmistakable joy.

Sponge Bob steps into the room.

"Sponge Bob!" he exclaims, his 
voice a mix of excitement and 
relief. He lunges forward, 
wrapping his tiny arms around 
the larger sponge in an embrace.

Sponge Bob looks surprised but 
quickly returns the hug, his 
spongy form enveloping Plankton 
completely. "Plankton, what's 
going on?" he asks, his eyes 
wide with concern. He's never
seen Plankton like this.

Plankton pulls back, his 
expression a jumble of 
emotions. "Sponge Bob," he says 
again, his voice filled with 
affection. He grabs Sponge 
Bob's hand and tugs him closer.
"Home with Karen. Need you."

Sponge Bob looks to Karen, 
his eyes filled with 
uncertainty, but she nods 
encouragingly. "It's ok," she 
says. "He's just happy you're here."

The sight of Plankton's 
excited state brings a smile 
to Sponge Bob's face, despite 
his confusion. He sits down 
next to him on the couch, 
his own excitement growing.
"What do you want to do?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice 
filled with genuine enthusiasm.

Plankton's antennas twitch 
as he thinks, his eye darting 
around the room.

"Let's play a game," he 
suddenly exclaims, his voice 
filled with a child-like 
excitement that hadn't been 
there before.

"What kind of game, Plankton?"
Karen asks, eager to encourage 
his newfound energy.

"Chess!" he exclaims, pointing 
to a dusty board in the corner 
of the room. Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with surprise, but he 
doesn't hesitate. He leaps up 
from the couch and wipes the 
dust from the board with his 
spongy hand, setting up the 
pieces with surprising 
efficiency.

Karen watches from the 
sidelines, her heart swelling 
with love and hope as Plankton's 
enthusiasm grows. 
He moves the pieces with a 
frenetic energy, his eye
alight with a joy she hadn't 
seen since before the accident. 
Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, 
matches his excitement, even 
though he's clearly outmatched 
by Plankton's strategic mind.

"Checkmate!" Plankton cries out, 
his antennas waving with 
each word. Sponge Bob's 
expression is a mix of 
surprise and admiration. "Wow, 
Plankton, you're really good at 
this!"

The room echoes with Plankton's 
laughter, a sound that's both 
familiar and foreign to Karen's 
ears. The old Plankton would 
have gloated.

"Checkmate," he says again, 
his antennas bobbing in 
excitement. "Checkmate, 
checkmate."

Sponge Bob laughs, a 
wonderful, genuine laugh that 
fills the room. "You win, Plankton," 
he says, his hands clapping 
together.

Plankton's antennas stop 
twitching for a moment, and he 
looks at Sponge Bob, his eye 
studying the sponge's reaction. 
"Win," he repeats, a hint of 
understanding in his voice. 
"Win at chess." He claps like
SpongeBob.

Sponge Bob's eyes light up, 
seeing the connection. "Yes, 
Plankton, you won the chess 
game," he says, his voice 
soothing. "You're really good 
at it."

Plankton's antennas start to 
twitch again, his eye darting 
between the board and Sponge 
Bob. "Win," he murmurs, his 
voice filled with a newfound 
sense of pride. "Win with Sponge 
Bob."
The phrase becomes a chant, 
his brain finding solace in 
the repetition. "Win with Sponge 
Bob, win with Sponge Bob."

Sponge Bob smiles warmly, 
picking up the rhythm of 
Plankton's words. "Yes, 
Plankton," he says, his voice 
soothing. "You won the game. 
You're a great chess player."
Plankton's antennas quiver, 
his eye locking onto Sponge 
Bob's. "Great chess player," 
he echoes, his voice a mix of 
pride and amazement. 
"Win with Sponge Bob."

Karen watches from the 
sidelines with hope. 
Maybe, just maybe, this was 
the breakthrough they needed. 
Sponge Bob's presence was 
calming him, bringing out a 
side of Plankton she hadn't 
seen since the accident.

new a journey to autism plankarenbob iii

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS viii

(Autistic Author)


They sit in silence for a few moments, 
the sound of Plankton's slowing breaths 
filling the space. Karen's mind races with 
the conversation they need to have with 
Chip.

"How do we explain it?" Plankton asks, 
finally breaking the silence. His 
antennae still, his eye looking at the 
floor.

"We tell him the truth," Karen says firmly. 
"But we also remind him of all the 
wonderful things you do for him, all the 
ways you show him love."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping 
further. "I know I'm not the dad he 
deserves," he murmurs.

Karen's voice is firm, but filled with 
warmth. "You are the dad he needs," 
she corrects. "And we'll get through this 
together."

Finally, Plankton's 
antennae perk up slightly. "I'm sorry," he 
says again, his voice still thick with 
emotion.

Karen nods. "I know," she says softly. 
"But we can't keep hiding this from him. 
He needs to understand."

Plankton sighs, his antennae drooping. 
"I know," he admits. "I just don't know 
where to start."

Karen gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 
"We'll start by talking to him," she says, 
her voice strong and reassuring. "When 
you're ready."

They sit there for a while longer, the 
rhythm of Plankton's breathing slowly 
returning to normal. Karen's mind is 
racing with thoughts of how to navigate this 
chapter in their lives. How to help Chip 
understand his father's condition without scaring 
him or making him feel responsible.

Finally, Plankton turns to her, his antennae still shaky. 
"What do we do now?" he asks, his voice a mix of exhaustion and fear.

Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes filled with resolve. 
"First," she says, "we make sure you're ok."

They sit there, the only sound in the room the distant 
hum of the TV. Plankton's antennae are still, his eye 
focused on the floor. Karen's hand remains on his 
back, a silent promise that she's there for him.

"Let's get you to bed," she says softly. "You need to rest."

With her help, Plankton stands, his legs wobbly from 
the intense episode. Together, they make their way 
to their bedroom, the quiet of the house a stark 
contrast to the emotional upheaval they've just 
experienced.

Once Plankton is tucked into bed, Karen sits beside 
him, her hand resting on his arm. "We'll get through 
this," she says, her voice a gentle reassurance in the 
stillness. "We're a family."

Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of doubt, and 
he looks up at her, his eye searching hers for 
understanding. "But what if I can't?"

Karen's gaze is unwavering. "You can," she says 
firmly. "You're strong, Plankton. And we're here to 
help you."

Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods slowly. 
"Ok," he whispers. "Ok."

Karen leans in, kissing his forehead. "Rest," she 
says. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

With a nod, Plankton closes his eye, and Karen slips 
out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She 
heads to Chip's room, heavy with the weight of the 
conversation they need to have.

Chip is lying on his bed, his small form wrapped in a 
blanket, staring at the ceiling. His eyes are red, and 
he looks up as Karen enters.

"Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. 
"Can we talk?"

Chip nods, his eyes still wet with tears. "What's 
wrong with Daddy?" he asks, his voice shaky.

Karen takes a deep breath, choosing her words 
carefully. "Daddy has something called Autism, 
sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "It makes his 
brain work a bit differently from ours. Sometimes, 
when he's really upset or overwhelmed, his body can 
react in ways that might seem strange or scary."

Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity, and he nods 
slowly. "Is that why he gets so mad?" he asks.

Karen takes a moment before responding. "Sometimes, yes," 
she says. "It's his way of dealing 
with big feelings. But it's not because he's mad at you, ok?"

Chip nods, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. 
"But why does he get so mad?" he asks again, his 
voice quivering.

Karen sighs, her hand stroking him. "Daddy gets 
overwhelmed by his feelings, and it's hard for him to 
express them," she explains. "Sometimes, when he 
can't find the right words or when things get too 
much, he feels like he's going to break apart. That's 
what we call a meltdown."

Chip sniffs, his eyes glued to the ceiling. "It's like 
when I'm really sad and I don't want to talk?"

Karen nods, her heart swelling with love for her son's 
empathy. "Exactly," she says. "And just like you, 
Daddy needs some space when that happens."

Chip looks at her, his eyes serious. "But what if I 
want to show him my affection?"

Karen smiles sadly. "You can, Chip," she says. "Just 
remember to be gentle, and maybe use words or 
gestures that aren't to overwhelming for him."

Chip nods, his eyes still on the ceiling. "But what if I 
make it worse?" he whispers.

Karen's heart clenches at his fear, and she takes his 
hand in hers. "Sometimes, we just need to learn new 
ways to show and receive love."

Chip nods, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 
"Ok," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Karen leans in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 
"You're brave," she says, her voice filled with pride.

"But what about the rock he broke?" Chip asks, his 
voice still shaky.

Karen sighs, her eyes meeting his. "Daddy didn't 
mean to scare you," she says. "Sometimes, when 
people are upset, they do things they don't mean to. 
It's part of how they cope."

Chip nods, his grip on her hand tightening. "But 
Dad now," he says again, his voice small.

"We'll give him some time to rest," Karen assures him. 
"And tomorrow, we'll talk about it more."

With that, she tucks the blanket around him and turns 
to leave. As she reaches the door, Chip's voice stops 
her. "Mom," he says, his tone tentative. "Can I go to Daddy?"

Karen's heart skips a beat, and she looks back at 
him, her eyes filled with both concern and hope. "Do 
you think that's a good idea, sweetie?"

Chip nods. "I want to tell him I love him," he says, his 
voice barely above a whisper.

Karen's heart squeezes. "Ok," she says, taking a 
deep breath. "But remember, we need to be gentle 
with him right now. Let's go to his room together."

They tiptoe down the hall, the house eerily quiet. 
Karen can feel Chip's hand in hers, small and warm 
and trembling slightly. When they reach the bedroom, 
she opens the door quietly and peeks in. Plankton is 
lying on his back, his antennae still, his chest rising 
and falling with deep, even breaths.

They approach the bed, and Karen can see the 
tension in Plankton's body, even in sleep. She
whispers to Chip, "Remember, sweetie, just a little. 
And if he wakes up, tell him you love him."

Chip nods solemnly, and together, they tiptoe to the 
bedside. Chip extends a tentative hand and gently 
pats Plankton's arm. Plankton's antennae twitch, but 
he doesn't wake. "I love you, Daddy," Chip whispers, 
his voice quivering.

Karen's eyes fill with tears at the sight of her son's 
bravery and love. She gives Chip's hand a squeeze.
"That was perfect," she says, her voice barely a 
murmur.

They stand there for a moment, watching Plankton's 
chest rise and fall in the dim light of the moon 
peeking through the curtains. Then, with a heavy 
heart, Karen leads Chip back to his room.

Once Chip is tucked in, she kisses his forehead and 
whispers, "You're a brave boy, and I'm so proud of 
you." His eyes, still red and swollen from crying, 
meet hers with a quiet understanding beyond his 
years.

new chip off the old talks neurodivergentcore viii

JUST A TOUCH iii
(Autistic author)

 ¦ ᶠˡⁱⁿᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ

Once home, she helped him
settle into his favorite chair,
his eye scanning the room.
Everything was in its place,
exactly as he liked it. Karen
noticed his breathing slow
as the familiarity washed over
him. She knew that routine
and order could be vital to his
comfort now to avoid
triggering his anxiety.

Then suddenly, Plankton
began to rock back and forth.

Karen recognized the motion.
It was a new behavior, one
she hadn't seen before. His
body swayed with a rhythm that
matched the ticking of the
antique clock on the wall. "It's okay,
sweetie," she said, trying to keep
her voice steady. "We're home now."

The rocking grew more intense,
his eye darting around the room,
his antennae vibrating with each
back-and-forth movement. Karen's
mind raced, trying to remember
the doctor's words. Sensory
overload. He needed calm.

Swiftly, she dimmed the lights,
the neon signs from the Krabby Patty
franchise across the street casting
soothing shadows through the windows.
The glow was just enough to
illuminate the space without
causing further distress, and
she watched as Plankton's rocking
subsided. She sat by him.

She grasped and squeezed
his shoulder. But
this time, he flinched.
"Plankton?" she asked,
concern etching her voice.
He pulled away from her,
his antennae dropping to
his side.

The doctor had
mentioned that some with
autism might have heightened
sensitivity to touch.
Karen felt a knot in her
stomach. "What if he
doesn't like me touching
him anymore?" she thought.
"What if I can't comfort
him when he's upset?"

She decided to
test the waters gently.
Reaching out, she lightly
trailed her finger over his
hand. Plankton didn't react. Encouraged,
she placed her hand on
his shoulder again,
this time more softly.
He tensed, then relaxed.
It was progress.

"Let's start with simple touch,"
she said, her voice soothing.

The doctor had mentioned that
Plankton might be hypersensitive
to certain types of touch,
and Karen was determined to
navigate this new aspect of their
relationship with care. She placed
a gentle hand on his knee, and Plankton
flinched, his antennae retreating.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice
as soothing as a lullaby. "It's just me, Karen."
Her hand hovered over his, unsure
of the best way to provide comfort.

Karen took a deep breath,
deciding to try again. This time,
she approached with care, her touch
feather-light, gliding over his hand
like the softest of sea breezes.

Plankton's antennae twitched, and
his gaze remained on her hand,
watching the movement as if it were
the most fascinating thing he had
ever seen. Gradually, the tension in
his body eased, and his hand
lifted to meet hers. It was a tentative
touch, his fingers brushing against
hers, testing the waters.

Karen felt a rush of
relief. "See, it's okay," she murmured,
keeping her voice low and even.
Plankton's hand was cold, his grip
firm but not painful. His eye
locked onto hers, searching for
reassurance.

Slowly, she began to stroke his
hand with her thumb, applying
the slightest pressure. His breathing
evened out, his antennae rising slightly.
Encouraged, she tried a different
type of touch—a gentle squeeze.
This time, he didn't flinch. Instead,
his hand returned the gesture,
his own grip matching hers in strength.

Karen felt a flicker of hope.
"Maybe we can find a way
through this," she thought.

They sat in silence for
a few moments, their hands
entwined, as Karen tried to
think of the next step. The
doctor's words echoed in her
mind: find what works for him.

Gently, she began to rub
his hand, her thumb moving in
small, soothing circles. Plankton
seemed to find comfort in the
predictable pattern, his body
unwinding a fraction more.
Encouraged, Karen leaned in closer,
her other hand reaching out
to tap his shoulder. But as soon
as her hand made contact with
his skin, he jerked away, his
eye flashing with fear and
pain.

"I'm sorry," she said
quickly, her heart racing.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
Plankton stared at her, his
expression unreadable. "It's just,
sometimes touch feels..." His words
trailed off, and Karen felt her
own fear rising.

"Painful?" she guessed, her voice
trembling. Plankton nodded,
his antennae drooping. "Some
touches are okay, others..."
He paused, his eye darting
to his hand, which was still
wrapped around hers. "It's confusing."

Karen nodded, her heart
aching for him. She
knew she had to be more mindful
of his sensory needs. Carefully,
she pats his cheek with
the back of her hand, the lightest
of touches.

Plankton's antennae
flinched, but he didn't pull
away until she put both of
her hands on his shoulders. The
sudden pressure was too much,
like an electric shock. "Karen,"
he said, his voice tight with
discomfort, "too much."

Karen nodded, her
hands retreating to her lap.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice
small. "I didn't mean to..."

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye searching hers. "It's okay,
Karen," he said, his voice measured.
"But some touches are too much."

Karen nodded, her heart
heavy. She had so much to learn
about this new Plankton, this
person she knew so well yet
barely knew at all. "I'll be
more careful," she promised,
squeezing his hand gently.

Plankton's gaze remained
steady on hers, his expression
neutral. "Thank you, Karen,"
he said, giving her a side hug.

This was a Plankton she had
never seen before, one who
spoke in a staccato rhythm,
his movements precise and
calculated. Yet, in the safety
of their home, Karen saw
glimpses of the man she knew.

Her eyes fell upon a
pamphlet the doctor had
given her, titled 'Understanding
Neurodivergence'. She picked
it up and began to read.

The first few pages were
dedicated to explaining
what it meant to be neurodivergent,
how it wasn't an illness
but a natural variation in the
brain. Plankton's new
condition, Acquired Autism, was one of
the many spectrums that
fell under this umbrella.

Karen read through
the descriptions of different
behaviors, her eyes widening
as she recognized some
of the changes in Plankton—
his need for order, his heightened
sensitivity to stimuli, and his
newfound obsessions. The
pamphlet explained that these were
common in individuals with
his condition and offered
optional suggestions for 
supporting them.

Her gaze fell upon a section titled
'Seizure Protocols'.

Karen's eyes widened as she
read about the different types
of seizures that could occur
due to neurodivergence.
Some were minor, like staring
spells, while others could be
more severe. Her heart raced
as she thought of Plankton,
his body stiffening and shaking.
The pamphlet recommended to
keep any sharp or harmful
objects away from him. It was
important not to restrain him,
but instead, to gently guide him
to the floor if necessary.

The next section discussed
how to communicate with someone
on the spectrum. It suggested
using clear, direct language,
avoiding sarcasm and idioms.
Karen realized that she would
have to learn a new way
of speaking with Plankton.

Her screen skimmed over
the pages, absorbing the
information like a sponge.
The pamphlet highlighted the
importance of individuality
and diversity, emphasizing
that Plankton's brain was not
broken, but simply wired differently.
This was a concept she had
heard of before, but it had
never hit so close to home.

The causes of neurodisability
varied widely, from genetics
to congenital to trauma.
One paragraph caught her
attention—brain injuries
could lead to conditions like
Acquired Autism. The words
swirled in her mind, a stark
reminder of the wrench that
had changed everything.

As Karen read on, she
learned about the complex
interplay of biological factors
and life experiences that can shape
a person's neurodivergence.
It was both overwhelming and
fascinating, a glimpse into a world
she had never truly understood.

new just a touch neurodivergentcore iii

GREAT CHIP iii
(Autistic author)

Karen followed, her screen
on her husband's tentative steps.
"Chip," she called out softly,
knocking gently. "Can we come in?"

There was no immediate response,
just the faint sound of sniffling.
"It's ok, sweetie," she said.
"Your dad and I want to talk to you."

Slowly, the door cracked open,
and Chip's tear-stained screen peeked out.
His eyes searched theirs, looking
for answers, for reassurance.

Plankton's heart twisted at the sight.
He had never wanted to cause his son
any pain, especially not like this.
He felt a wave of self-consciousness
wash over him as he stepped into the room,
his every move feeling clumsy and exposed.

"Chip," he began, 
his voice strained,
"It's just..."

Plankton's words trailed off,
his gaze flitting around the room
as if searching for the right ones.
The air felt thick with tension.

Chip looked up at him, his eyes
swollen with unshed tears.
"Dad, I'm sorry," he managed to say,
his voice thick with emotion.

But Plankton's anger hadn't
subsided entirely. "You shouldn't have
touched me," he snapped, his voice
sharp, his frustration still palpable.
"You now know better than that!"

Chip flinched at his father's tone,
his own eyes brimming with tears.
"But Dad, I didn't mean to," he protested.

Plankton's gaze was unyielding.
"You should know better!" he insisted,
his voice echoing with accusation.
"You're not a baby anymore!"

Chip's eyes fell to the floor,
his shoulders shaking 
with held-back sobs.
"But I didn't know!" he choked out,
his voice small and defensive.

"Well, now you do," Plankton said firmly,
his eye still avoiding Chip's.
"You have to respect my space!"
The room felt too small,
his emotions too big.

Chip's face crumpled, his voice
barely audible. "I just wanted
to..."

But Plankton's anger was like
a storm, unyielding. "I don't care
what you wanted!" he shouted. "You
can't just touch me like that!"

The room felt like it was closing in,
his heart racing faster with each word.
He saw the hurt on Chip's face, but
his own emotions were a tornado
whipping through his thoughts.
He couldn't stop, couldn't apologize.

"It's your fault for not knowing!"
Plankton's voice was like thunder,
filling the room with accusation.
Karen's eyes grew wide with shock,
but she didn't dare to interrupt.

Chip's sobs grew louder, his body
shaking with the weight of his father's
wrath. "But I didn't know, Dad,"
he pleaded, his voice thick with pain.

Plankton's eye was like a stone,
his words cutting through the air.
"That's no excuse!" he bellowed.
"You should've learned by now!
Or are you just to busy with your
silly games and neurotypical friends
to care about your own father?"

Chip's shoulders shook
as he tried to hold back his sobs.
He didn't know what to say,
his mind a jumble of emotions.
All he knew was that he had hurt
his dad, and now his dad was hurt
and mad at him.

"Dad, I'm sorry," he whispered again,
his voice trembling.
"It was an accident, I didn't know!"
But Plankton's anger didn't abate.

"Accident or not, you should've known better!"
Plankton's voice grew louder,
his words piercing the air like knives.
"You're not a baby anymore, so
don't act like one!"

Chip felt his world crumbling.
He didn't mean to upset Dad,
but he didn't know what to do.
He just wanted to help, to show
his love, but it all went wrong.

"But Dad," he tried again, his voice
barely a whisper, "I didn't mean to..."

"I DON'T CARE!" Plankton roared,
his anger a living, breathing entity
that filled the room. His words were
sharp, like shards of glass in the air.

Chip's sobs grew louder, his heart
breaking with each accusation.
He didn't understand why his dad
was so mad at him. "I'm sorry," he choked,
his voice barely audible. "I didn't know..."

Plankton's anger didn't waver.
"You never know!" he spat. "You
never pay attention!" His words were
like a whip, each one stinging Chip's
already bruised heart. "You think
the world revolves around you!"

Chip's eyes were a pool of tears,
his body trembling as he tried to
find the right words. "But Dad,
I just..."

Plankton's anger grew with each
of Chip's stumbling attempts.
"You just what?" he snarled,
his senses overwhelmed by the
emotional turmoil. He felt
the urge to break something,
anything to release the pressure
building in his chest.

With a roar, he swiped
his hand across Chip's desk,
sending papers flying and toys clattering
to the floor. "DO YOU SEE?"
he yelled, his voice shaking
the walls. "DO YOU SEE HOW YOU
MAKE ME FEEL?"

Chip cowered, his eyes
locked on the chaos, his mind
whirling. He hadn't meant to make
his dad feel like this. He didn't
understand why his curiosity
was so wrong. "I'm sorry,"
he whispered again, his voice
tiny and lost in the maelstrom
of Plankton's rage.

Plankton's eye was wild,
his movements erratic. He knew
his anger was a storm, but
he couldn't stop it. The room
spun around him, his thoughts
a jumbled mess. He felt a hand
on his arm, Karen's voice cutting
through the noise in his head.
"Plankton, please," she begged.

But he shrugged her off, his rage
now a living, breathing monster
inside of him. He picked up
a toy, one of Chip's beloved creations,
and threw it across the room.
It shattered against the wall,
the sound piercing the silence
that followed. Chip's sobs
grew quieter, his body trembling
with fear.

"This," Plankton said,
his voice low and dangerous,
"is what you do to me."
He picked up another toy,
his hand shaking with anger.
"This is what your curiosity does!"

Chip's eyes widened with fear
as Plankton's hand arced back,
ready to hurl it. But as
the toy could leave his grip,
his body seized up again,
his legs buckling. Another
absence seizure had struck.

Karen's heart raced as she watched
her husband's uncontrolled
movements. She knew she had to
intervene before things escalated.
She rushed to Plankton's side,
grabbing his arm to steady him.
"Stop," she whispered urgently.

Chip's sobs grew quieter,
his eyes wide with fear.
He had never seen his dad
so out of control before.

Plankton's seizure
was taking over, his body
betraying him once again.

Karen's voice pierced
the chaos, a beacon of calm.
"Chip, let me handle this."

Her son nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's
shaky form.

Karen turned to Plankton's
form, supporting.
"Come on," she said firmly,
guiding his trembling form
to their own bedroom.
"Let's sit down, okay?"

As they do, Plankton's
still caught in the throes
of the seizure.

Chip felt like he was watching
a stranger, his dad's body
twitching uncontrollably.
He didn't know what to do.

new great chip fitscore iii

SHELF IMPROVEMENT iii
(Autistic author)

As the minutes ticked 
by, Plankton's trembling 
subsided. He looked up at 
her, his antennae still 
twitching slightly. "Sorry," 
he murmured, his voice 
barely audible. "Plankton
sorry Karen." This 
wasn't like him. Plankton had 
his quirks, sure, but this 
was something else entirely. 
It was as if the fall had 
shaken something loose 
in his mind, revealing 
a part of him she had 
never seen before.

Her arms tightened around 
his slight frame, and she 
pressed her screen to his 
forehead. "Don't be sorry," 
she whispered. "You're 
scared, and that's okay."

Plankton nodded, his 
single eye squeezing shut 
as if to hold in his fear. 
He leaned into her embrace, 
his body finally going 
limp. Karen felt his 
wetness on her neck, and 
realized he was crying.

"It's okay," she 
whispered again, her voice 
the only sound in the 
silent room. "You're safe 
with me."

Plankton's antennae 
stilled against her, 
and she felt his breathing 
grow calmer. The quiet was 
unusual for their home, 
but in this moment, it 
was a welcome balm.

Her mind raced, trying to 
recall any signs she might 
have missed, any indication 
that Plankton was suffering 
from something deeper than 
the physical trauma of the 
fall. Was this a sudden 
onset of a condition? Or had 
it been there all along, 
masked by his quirks and 
his usual bravado?

"Karen," Plankton murmured 
again, his eye squeezed 
shut. "Karen Plankton."

"It's okay," she soothed. 
"You're okay."

But the silence grew 
louder, and she knew 
it was more than just 
the quiet of their usual 
bickering. This was a 
new Plankton, one she 
wasn't sure how to reach. 
His repetition of her 
name was like a 
mantra, a lifeline to 
the world he knew.

Karen held him 
closer, her own eyes 
now brimming with tears. 
They had been through 
so much together, and 
she had always been 
his anchor, the one 
constant in his life. But 
now, she felt adrift, 
uncertain of how to 
navigate these uncharted 
waters.

Plankton's grip 
around her tightened, 
his breath hitching in 
sobs. His muttered 
repeating of her name grew 
louder, almost frantic. 
"Karen, Karen, Karen..."
It was like he 
was stuck in a loop, 
his mind unable to 
comprehend the sudden 
change around him.

"Shh," she soothed, 
stroking his back. "It's okay, 
we're here, together."

Plankton's repetition 
of her name grew more 
frantic. "Karen, Karen, 
Karen," he chanted, his 
voice rising in pitch. "It's okay, 
Plankton," she said, her 
voice steady despite her 
internal turmoil. "Everything's 
going to be okay."

But his chanting 
continued, growing 
louder and more 
desperate. She knew she 
couldn't just sit here 
forever, she had to do 
something. But what?

Her mind raced, 
thinking of all the 
times Plankton had 
fixed her when she 
was broken. Now it 
was her turn. She had to 
find a way to reach him.

"Plankton," she 
whispered, her voice 
steady despite the 
tremor in her chest.
"Look at me." She gently
lifted his chin so he 
was forced to meet her 
screen. "You're okay, 
we're together."

His eye searched 
hers, desperation 
clear in its depths. 
The chanting of her 
name grew softer, but didn't 
cease. Karen's mind 
raced, trying to think 
of anything that 
could help him snap 
out of this state.

"Remember the chum?" 
she said, her voice 
trembling slightly. "The 
time we had a picnic 
and the seagulls came?"

Plankton's chanting 
paused for a moment, 
and his eye flickered 
with recognition. 
It was a memory from 
their early days, a 
moment of shared 
joy amidst their usual 
bickering.

"Chum," he murmured, 
his antennae twitching 
slightly. "Seagulls."

Karen's screen lit up 
with hope. It was a 
start, a crack in the 
facade of his fear. "Yes, 
the seagulls," she said, 
smiling through her 
tears. "Remember how we 
laughed when they stole 
our sandwiches?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitched again, and a 
tiny smile graced his 
lips. "Seagulls," he 
repeated, his voice a 
little less shaky.

Encouraged, Karen 
pressed on. "And remember 
how we chased them 
together?"

Plankton's smile grew 
slightly, and his antennae 
moved a bit more 
naturally. "Chased," he 
agreed, his voice 
still wobbly but with a 
hint of his usual spirit.

Karen felt a 
wave of relief wash over 
her. He was remembering, 
engaging with her. "Yes, 
we chased them, and we 
got the chum back," she said, 
trying to keep the 
conversation going.

Plankton's antennae 
moved slightly, and he 
nodded, his eye focusing 
more clearly on her. 
"Chum," he murmured, his 
voice stronger now. "Good 
chum."

Karen took a 
deep, shaky breath, 
fighting the tears that 
threatened to fall. She had 
to keep him grounded, 
keep him with her. "Yes," 
she said, her voice 
determined, "good chum."

Plankton's antennae 
stilled, and he took a 
deep, ragged breath.

"Karen," he said, his 
voice a little stronger. 
"Chum."

Karen's eyes searched 
his, seeing the flicker 
of the man she knew. 
"Yes, Plankton, chum."

The room remained 
silent, except for the 
sound of Plankton's 
deepening breaths. The 
word "chum" seemed to 
have a calming effect on 
his agitated state. He 
repeated it to himself, 
his antennae finally 
stilling.

Karen watched him, 
relief and sadness 
mingling within her. 
This was a side of 
Plankton she had never 
seen before, a raw 
vulnerability that made 
her ache. He was 
like a lost child, seeking 
comfort in familiar words.

"Chum," he murmured 
once more, his eye
shutting.

Karen nodded. "Yes, chum,"
she said, her voice 
soothing.

Plankton's body 
relaxed in her arms, 
his breathing evening out.

For a moment, 
the room remained 
still, save for the 
steady rhythm of his 
breath. But then, 
his antennae began to 
move again, not with 
fear this time, but 
with something else. 
It was almost as if 
his mind was racing, 
trying to process the 
world around him. Karen 
felt his grip on her loosen, 
his body shifting slightly 
in the couch cushions.

"Plankton?" she 
asked, her voice tentative. 
He didn't respond, but 
his eye fluttered open, 
his gaze focused on a 
spot on the wall.

"Looks like he's in a 
trance," Karen thought 
aloud, her voice 
barely above a whisper. 
"What's going on with 
you?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitched rapidly, as if 
trying to capture 
invisible signals. His 
face was a mask of 
concentration, his body 
tense and poised like 
he was ready to flee.

Karen felt a cold 
wave of understanding 
wash over her. This 
wasn't just fear or 
confusion, it was 
something deeper. She
scanned his brain, and
then she saw the results.

"Oh, Plankton," she 
breathed. He had 
developed autism. The 
fall had triggered 
something within his
brain, irreversible
damage to. She 
felt a mix of shock 
and sorrow, but also 
a fierce determination 
to support him. "Autism.
You're autistic now."

He looked at her, 
his eye blinking in 
understanding. "Autism," 
he echoed. "Different."

Karen nodded. "Yes, but 
you're still my Plankton."

Plankton's expression 
was a jumble of 
emotions. Recognition,
fear, confusion, and a
tiny spark of hope. "Different,"
he repeated. "But... same?"

Karen nodded, 
squeezing his hand. 
"Different, but still 
my Plankton." She 
swiped at her tears, 
determined to be strong 
for him. "We'll get 
through this, I 
promise."

Plankton looked 
at her with a mix 
of relief and fear. 
"Karen... love."

Karen felt 
love and pain. "I love 
you, Plankton," she 
whispered, her voice 
shaking. "We'll get 
through this together."

Plankton's antennae 
stopped twitching for 
a moment, and he 
squeezed her hand. "Together,"
he repeated, his voice 
small but firm.

Karen nodded, 
swiping at her tears. "We'll 
face this together, I 
promise. Now, it's late; 
let's get to sleep.." She cleaned
up the remnants of the
shelf.

new shelf improvement karen plankton iii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iii
(Autistic author)

"Now let's go 
to the living room 
and I'll go pick up
a smoothie for you.
Can you stay here by
yourself?"

He nodded, his 
expression slightly 
less tense.

"I'll be back 
soon," she assured him, 
squeezing his 
shoulder before 
leaving the 
Chum Bucket.

Just moments later, 
Karen's friend Hanna
came for a surprise
visit. She knew Karen
had a husband named
Plankton, but she never
met him. Plankton was 
now back on the
living room couch.

"Oh, you must be 
Plankton!" Hanna 
exclaimed.

Plankton's eye 
flitted to her, 
his expression 
unreadable.

Hanna walked 
over to the couch, 
her smile wide and 
genuine. "It's so 
nice to finally 
meet you," she said, 
embracing him in
a hug.

Plankton stiffened, 
his eye wide with 
surprise. 
His body tensed, 
his mind racing 
to process this 
new sensory input.

"You ok?" Hanna 
asked, pulling back 
slightly. She had 
noticed his reaction 
but didn't know 
the reason behind 
it.

Plankton nodded, his 
eye darting around 
the room again. 
He wasn't used to 
such spontaneous 
affection, and the 
unexpected sensation 
of Hanna's arms around 
him had thrown him 
off balance.

"Yes, I am Plankton," 
he murmured, his 
voice monotone. 
He wasn't quite 
sure how to respond.
Hanna's smile didn't 
waver, unaware of 
the turmoil within 
his mind. "How are 
you feeling today?"
Plankton's gaze 
flicked to the 
ceiling, his mind 
racing to find 
the right words.

"Today, feeling," 
he echoed, his voice 
still a whisper. 
The repetition 
was a comfort, a 
way to process the 
flood of sensory 
information that 
assaulted him 
continuously.

Hanna looked at 
him with a 
puzzled expression.

"You know, your 
wife Karen tells me 
you're an inventor,"
she said, her tone 
innocently curious.

Plankton's eye 
locked onto hers, 
his mind racing 
to understand 
the context of her 
words. "Inventor," 
he repeated, his voice 
flat. It was a word 
he knew, but it 
felt foreign 
now, as if it belonged 
to someone else.

"Yes, inventor," 
Hanna said, nodding 
enthusiastically. "I've 
heard so much 
about your gadgets 
and contraptions. 
What are you working 
on these days?"

Plankton's eye 
flitted around the 
room again, 
his mind struggling 
to grasp the 
concept of 'working'. 
"Gadgets, contraptions," 
he murmured, his voice 
a broken record.

Hanna's expression 
was one of 
confusion, her smile 
beginning to fade. 
"Well, what do you do 
all day?" she 
prodded gently, 
trying to coax him 
out of his silence.

Plankton's 
reply was 
immediate and 
robotic, "Do, all day, 
all day."

Hanna's brow 
furrowed, 
uncertain how 
to interpret 
his repetitive 
response. She had 
known Karen for 
years, but Plankton's 
behavior was unlike 
anything she had 
ever heard of her 
friend's husband.

"Do you like 
the beach?" she 
asked, hoping to 
engage him in 
conversation.

Plankton's eye 
blinked slowly, 
his mind processing 
the question. 
"Beach," he echoed, 
his voice hollow.

Hanna nodded, 
encouraged by his 
response. "Yes, the 
beach! It's such a 
beautiful place. Do 
you ever go there?"

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to the 
window, the 
memory of sand 
and surf a distant 
whisper. "Go, beach, 
beautiful place," he 
said, his words a 
stuttered echo of hers.

Hanna's smile 
dimmed slightly. 
This wasn't the 
witty banter she 
was expecting from 
Karen's husband. 
"Is there anything 
you'd like to talk 
about?" she asked, 
uncertain.

Plankton's eye 
moved to hers, 
his gaze intense. 
"Talk," he repeated, 
his voice a 
whisper.

Hanna felt a 
twinge of 
discomfort. Something 
was off about 
his responses, but 
she couldn't quite 
put her tentacle on 
what it was. 
"Well, what do you 
like to do for fun?" 
she tried again, her 
tone tentative.

Plankton's eye 
wandered back to 
his own hand, 
fidgeting with his 
fingers. "Do, fun," 
he murmured, the 
words a reflexive 
response to the 
question.

Hanna's eyes 
narrowed slightly. 
"What do you do for 
fun?" she clarified, 
wondering if he had 
simply misunderstood.

Plankton's gaze 
remained on his 
fidgeting hand, 
his mind racing 
to connect the 
concept of 'fun' with 
his new reality.
"Do, fun," he 
repeated, his voice 
devoid of the 
mirth he once 
expressed so freely.

Hanna's smile 
was now forced, her 
confusion growing 
with each 
interaction.

"Plankton, can you 
tell me what you 
enjoy doing?" she 
asked, hoping for 
a clearer response.

He looked up at 
her, his gaze 
slightly less 
focused than before. 
"Enjoy doing," he 
repeated, his voice 
a faint echo.

Hanna's 
twitched with 
concern. "You know, 
like hobbies or 
interests," she 
prompted gently, 
trying to keep her 
voice light.

Plankton's eye 
moved back to 
his fidgeting hand, 
his mind a 
whirlwind of 
thoughts and 
sensory overload. 
"Hobbies, interests," 
he murmured, his 
voice a hollow echo.

Hanna's concern 
was now clear 
on her screen.

"You know, like 
things you like 
to do in your free 
time," she tried again, 
her voice a little 
less bright.

Plankton's eye 
latched onto hers. 
"Free time," he 
repeated, his voice 
a monotone. "Like to 
do."

Hanna's eyes 
widened slightly, 
her confusion 
growing with each 
word he said. 
"Yes, exactly," she 
nodded, her voice 
a little more 
cautious now. "What 
do you like to do 
in your free time?
Well, other than 
repetition.." She 
awkwardly laughs
as she elbows him
multiple times, not 
knowing how her
touch is irritating
Plankton.

Plankton's getting
more frustrated/angry
now, as Hanna goes
to pat his shoulder.
He can't take much 
more now.

Hanna's touch 
was like a brand, 
searing his already 
overwhelmed senses. 
He flinched away, 
his body rigid with 
tension.

"Plankton, are 
you ok?" Hanna 
asked, her voice 
filled with 
concern. She noticed 
his discomfort but 
couldn't pinpoint the 
cause.

He nodded 
slightly, his 
expression unreadable. 
"Ok, ok," he 
mumbled, his voice 
still a monotone.

Hanna looked 
at him with 
concern, her 
smile slipping. 
"Karen said you 
used to be quite 
the conversationalist. 
What happened?" She
says, grabbing his
elbow; but that's the
last straw for Plankton.

Plankton's 
eye snapped up to 
hers, his voice 
sharp. "What happened?
You happened!" He 
snapped, his words 
sharp as a knife. 
The sudden aggression 
in his tone 
was like a slap in 
the face, catching 
Hanna off guard.

She took a step 
back. "I'm sorry, 
I didn't mean to..."
she began, but Plankton 
was on a roll now.

"You don't know 
what happened!" 
his voice grew 
louder, his words 
quickening with 
each syllable. "You 
don't know anything!"

Hanna's eyes went 
wide with shock. 
This was not the 
Plankton Karen had 
described. Her arms 
flailed in the air as 
she tried to placate 
his sudden anger. 
"I'm sorry, Plankton. 
I just didn't know..." 

new neurobehavioral plankton neurodivergentcore iii

CHIP AND FAIL viii
(Autistic author)

Karen's hand was a lifeline,
her voice a gentle guide. "Chip,"
she called out.
"We need to talk."

Chip stopped in the hallway. 
Why was Dad acting so
weird? He turned to face his
mother, his eyes brimming with
unshed tears. "What's wrong with
him?" he demanded, his voice
filled with accusation. "He doesn't
deserve to be called my dad if
he can't even..."
But that's when it happens.
That's when Plankton started
hyperventilating, and that's
when Plankton can't take
anymore.
That's when it happened.
Chip's words were like a match
striking too close to a powder keg.
Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae
twitching erratically. Karen rushed to
his side, her screen wide with concern.
"Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice
a gentle caress. She holds her arms
out to catch Plankton.

But Plankton's mind was a
whirlwind, his body a live wire.
He couldn't answer, couldn't find
the words to explain the chaos
that was his reality. His antennae
trembled as he struggled to
breathe, his body rigid with fear.
He had hoped to keep this
hidden, to protect Chip from the
truth, but it was too much.
The storm inside him grew
wilder, each breath a battle.

Chip's eyes searched his
father's, his own confusion
mirroring the chaos in the
room. "What's wrong with you?"
he repeated, his voice a mix of anger
and desperation.

But Plankton's mind was a tornado,
his thoughts swirling too fast
for words. He could feel his chest
constrict, his heart pounding
like a drum.

Karen watched her son's screen,
seeing the hurt in his eyes, the
misunderstanding etched
deep. She took a deep breath,
knowing the moment had arrived.
"Chip," she began, her voice
soft but firm, "there's something
you need to know about your dad."

Chip looked at her, his expression
a mix of anger and confusion. "What
could possibly make him act like
this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why
did you marry him? He's just nothing but..."

"Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his
hands in hers, when Plankton
starts to wheeze heavily, his body
constricting with each shallow breath.

Chip's anger faded, replaced with
fear as he watched his father's
distress. "Dad?" he whispered,
his voice shaking.

Plankton's body trembled as his
legs gave out, collapsing into the
embrace Karen had been ready to offer.

"Dad?" Chip's voice was barely
above a whisper, his eyes wide
with fear and confusion. He had
never seen his father so
overwhelmed, so vulnerable.

Karen knelt beside Plankton, her
hands gentle on his trembling
body. "It's okay, love," she
whispered, her voice a salve
on his raw nerves. "Just breathe."

Chip's eyes were glued to his
father with fear. He had never seen him
like this before, his body a
stranger's under his own touch.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked
again, his voice shaking.

Karen took a deep breath, her
hands trembling as she smoothed
back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your
dad was born with something..."
Her voice trailed off, the words
stuck in her throat like a piece
of unchewed food.

Chip's eyes searched hers, his
confusion a storm cloud
gathering. "What do you mean?"
he asked, his voice small and
scared.

Karen took a deep breath, her
heart aching for both her son
and her husband. "Your dad," she
began, her voice shaking with
the weight of her words, "was born
different, Chip." Plankton's
eye flickered open, filled with a
mixture of fear and hope.

"What do you mean, 'different'?"
Chip asked, his voice small and
scared. He had never heard his
mother talk about his dad this
way before.

Karen took a deep breath,
swallowing the lump in her
throat. "When your dad was born,
Chip," she began, her screen
filled with a sadness that
threatened to spill over, "his brain
was injured during delivery. When
the doctors pulled him out, they
didn't realize how fragile he was
and they..." Her voice trailed off,
the memory too painful to
recount. "They had to get him out
and applied too much force on his
head, which caused some damage.
It gave him a type of condition, where
he's on what's called autism spectrum."

Chip's eyes widened, his grip on
his shirt tightening. "But that's
not his fault, right?" he asked, his
voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't
want to think of his dad as
damaged or broken.

Karen nodded, her screen filled
with love for both her husband and
her son. "No, honey, it's not his
fault," she said, her voice steady.
"It's just how he's. And
it's not something you can see or
touch. It's like having a radio in
your head that's always tuned to the
loudest station, and sometimes
the static gets too much."

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II Karen/Chip Plankton II viii

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY iii


(Autistic author)



Karen picked him up, and carried
his limp form to his bed. She
stood there for a moment, watching
his chest rise and fall. The
snores grew quieter as sleep
consumed him.

The weight of what had just
happened settled on her shoulders.

Karen lay him down gently. She
tucked him in, his antennae 
resting against the pillow.

The room was quiet except for
his soft snores, a stark contrast
to the chaos that had filled it
moments before. Karen sat by his
side, her hand on his arm.

After a few moments, she
stood up and walked to the door,
closing it gently behind her. She
found Hanna in the living room,
her eyes red-rimmed and worried.

"Hanna, I need to talk to you,"
Karen said, her voice firm but not
accusing. Hanna looked up, her
expression hopeful for guidance.

Karen sat beside her, her eyes
on her own hands, which were
fidgeting in her lap. "Plankton's
been through a lot," she began, her
voice measured. "He's different now."

Hanna nodded, her eyes wide
with unspoken questions.

"Still coming to terms with it but you're
just fine. It's a rarity, yet he'll be fine."

"I guess I'll head out. I never meant 
to cause Plankton distress."

Karen nodded, her eyes still on her
fidgeting hands. "Thank you for
understanding. I'm pretty sure he
knows you didn't mean to, but I
can still tell him when he wakes up."

Hanna left, and Karen went back
to the bedroom.
Plankton was still asleep, his
breathing steady and peaceful.

Karen sat by the bed.

Plankton's snores were the 
only sound in the room, a 
gentle reminder of the peace 
that sleep brought him from 
his tumultuous world of 
heightened senses.

Karen took a deep breath, 
her thoughts racing. This was 
their new normal, a dance 
of understanding and patience 
they would have to learn.

When Plankton next woke up,
his eye searched the room, 
his antennae twitching slightly.
He looked over to find Karen
sitting in a chair beside the bed,
her gaze on him.

"Hi," she said, her voice gentle.
He sat up slowly, the fabric
of the bed rustling beneath
his weight.

"How are you feeling?" Karen's
concern was palpable, her eyes
scanning his face for any signs
of distress. Plankton took a
deep breath, trying to organize
his thoughts. Karen's presence
was a balm to his soul, her
understanding a lifeline in the
storm of sensory input.

"Where's Hanna?"

Karen sighed, her gaze never leaving
his face. "She left, sweetie. You were
a bit...overwhelmed."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
twitching with the memory of the
sensory assault.

"It's okay," Karen assured him, her
voice a soft whisper. "She just
didn't understand, and felt bad
for the way she treated you."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
still. The room was quiet, a stark
contrast to the chaos from before.
He took a moment to collect himself,
his thoughts racing.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice
barely a whisper. Karen reached out
and took his hand, her grip firm
but gentle. "You have nothing to
apologize for," she said, her tone
soothing. "This is all new to us.
Would you like to eat?"

Plankton nodded.

"I'll get you something quiet and simple," Karen
said, standing up. She knew that too
much stimulation could send him spiraling.

In the kitchen, she prepared a
snack of plain crackers. She
placed the plate on the table
carefully, not wanting to startle
his heightened senses again.

Plankton entered the room, his
movements deliberate and slow.
He sat down across from her, his
eye darting around the room.

"It's ok," Karen reassured him,
handing him the plate of crackers.
"Just food."

"Just food. It's ok; just food." He
repeats back to himself, focusing
on the plate. Each cracker was a
tiny square of safety, a familiar
comfort in a sea of sensory
uncertainty.

He took a deep breath and
selected one. The taste was
comforting, a reminder of
a simpler time. Karen watched
him, her screen filled with love.

Plankton took a sip of water,
his eye never leaving hers. "It's
ok just food," he said again, his 
voice still low. "Karen good and
good food. It's ok."

Karen nodded, her smile a mix
of relief and sadness. She knew
his echolalic tendencies was
the autism, but she's glad he
likes the food as well.

They sat in silence, the only
sound the crunch of crackers
and the occasional sip of water.

Plankton's eye focused on the
cracker in his hand, the patterns
on the surface a comfort. His
autistic brain craved the predictability,
the sameness that calmed his
nerves.

This was the man she knew, yet
he was different. The Plankton who
was always plotting and scheming
was now one who found
comfort in the mundane.

His mind felt clearer
now, the overwhelming chaos of
the earlier encounter with Hanna
beginning to fade.

Karen watched him, her heart
breaking for the silent struggle
she knew he faced every moment.
"I'll talk to Hanna," she said
gently. "I'll explain. What do you
want me to tell her? What'd you
like for her to know?"

Plankton's gaze remained on the
cracker, his thumb tracing the
edge. "Tell her sorry," he
mumbled.

"What else? I mean, is it ok if
I tell her you're autistic now?
Or what about the accident
that lead to the autism?"

Plankton's antennae twitched at
the word 'accident', his mind
reeling with memories of the
stove, the fight with Mr. Krabs,
the pain. But he nodded slowly.
"Ok," he murmured.

Karen's heart ached at the
simplicity of his response. The
complexity of his thoughts was
now a tightly guarded secret, hidden
behind a wall of sensory overload.

"Okay, I will," Karen said, her voice
soft. "But remember, it's ok to be
different." 

Plankton nodded, his eye still on
his food. But as he took another
cracker, he paused. He looked up,
his gaze locking with hers.

"Karen," he said, his voice a
little stronger now. "I, I l-love you."

Karen's eyes widened at the sudden
declaration. "Oh, Plankton," she
whispered, her voice thick with
emotion. "I love you too." 
Plankton nodded, his gaze never leaving 
hers. "Karen making everything okay," he 
murmured.

He took another cracker, his
hands shaking slightly. "You make 
Plankton feel safe," he continues 
with sincerity. "In a world that's too
much, Karen not too much."

Karen's eyes filled with tears
at his heartfelt words. She reached
across the table and took his
hand. "Plankton, I'm here for
you. Always."

Plankton's antennae stopped
twitching. He looked into her screen,
his own filled with a depth of
emotion that hadn't seen
before. "You good, Karen," he said,
his voice steady. "Helping
Plankton."

Plankton was finding his way to
express himself, to connect with
her in a way that was meaningful.
She squeezed his hand.
"I'll always help you," she promised.

"Karen," Plankton began, his
voice tentative. He took a deep
breath, trying to find the words.
"I love you, Karen," he said finally, his
eye intense with feeling. 

Karen swelled with love
and pride. Despite his struggles,
Plankton was learning to express
his emotions in a way that made
sense to him. It was a victory,
small but significant.

"Thank you, Plankton," she said,
squeezing his hand. "Your love makes
me happy." His antennae twitched
slightly, a sign of his awkwardness
with the emotional exchange.

The room was quiet, the only
noise the soft sound of their
breathing and the occasional
crunch of a cracker. Plankton's
eye searched hers, looking for
reassurance.

"Plankton need...space," he 
managed, his voice
shaky. "Too...much emotional
interaction. Still love."

Karen nodded, understanding
dawning. "Okay, sweetie," she said,
releasing his hand. "I'll be right
here. Take all the time you need."

new autism in the plankton family plaren karen plankton iii

CHIP AND FAIL iii
(Autistic author)

"Ok Dad," he said.
"Let's go to your workshop."
Maybe there, he would
be able to come back to himself. But
Plankton's not budging, despite Chip's
efforts to get him up. "Come on,"
he said, his voice gentle, trying to
mask his own fear. "Let's go."
But he sees it's not gonna work.

He hadn't realized that his
excited touches and loud
laughter were only making
things worse. Plankton's condition
meant that even the smallest
disruption could send him spiraling,
and here Chip was, bombarding him
with sensations.

With a tremble in his voice,
Chip tried one more time to
reach his father. "Dad, can you
just come with me?" He asked,
his voice small and hopeful. "We'll
talk in the workshop." But Plankton
still didn't move, his eye
fixed on some unseen horizon.

Chip stood up, wiping the
tears from his screen, trying
to listen for his dad's breathing.

Chip doesn't like this.

Chip's face crumpled, 
realizing that his dad isn't okay.

This was chilling.

The more Chip talked, the
more he touched, the deeper
Plankton's mind spun into a vortex
of overstimulation. 

"Dad, you're not talking," Chip
whispered, his voice cracking with
concern. He had never seen his
father like this, so silent and
still. He didn't know that the
affectionate gestures and loud
stories were only adding to
Plankton's distress.

"Dad, please," Chip said, his voice
small.

This wasn't right.

This is wrong.

Something is very wrong
with his dad.

Chip's eyes
filled with tears,
his mind racing
with fear and confusion.
Something's wrong with
his dad.

"Dad, you're not okay," Chip said,
his voice filled with a new
urgency. But now, he
knew it was something more, something
he didn't know how to fix. But he
needs to try. "Can you tell me
about your week too?"

Absolutely no sign of life
from him. This is bad.
He's getting worse...

Chip didn't know that Plankton's lack of
response was due to his autism, that
his sensory system was in overdrive.
All he knew was that he needed to
help, to do something.

With a tremble in his hands, Chip
gently touched Plankton's shoulder.
"Dad, can you hear me?" He asked, his voice
soft and soothing, hoping to cut through
the storm in his father's mind. But Plankton's
expression remained unchanged, his eye
unfocused. Chip felt like he was
shouting into a void, his words
disappearing without a trace.

The room was spinning, the air
thinning with each shallow breath
Plankton took. Chip's mind raced
with scenarios, trying to piece
together what could've caused
this sudden change. "Is there
something wrong?" He asked, his voice
quavering. "Did something happen?"
But Plankton was lost, the cacophony of Chip's
excitement echoing through his
overstimulated brain like a never-
ending nightmare.

Chip's touches grew gentler, his
laughter fading into a soft
concern. "I don't get it," he said,
his voice thick with confusion. "I
just wanted to tell you about my
week." Plankton felt the pressure but
his mind was a maelstrom of sensation.

"Dad," Chip said, his voice barely
above a whisper, "I don't know what's
going on." He nudged him, and he
remained still and unblinking as the
prod toppled him onto his side, with
no reaction.

The room felt colder, the air
heavier with each passing second.
He had never seen his father so
unresponsive, so utterly lost to the
world around him. "Dad," he tried
again, his voice trembling. "You're
scaring me."

Plankton's eye remained fixed.
The gentle touches from Chip were
now a maelstrom of sensation, each
one a wave crashing against the
shore of his overwhelmed mind.

Chip's smile faded as he watched
his father. "Dad,
you're not okay," he murmured, his
voice laced with concern. He didn't
know about Plankton's condition,
how his brain processed stimuli
differently, how easily it could
be overwhelmed. All he knew was
that his dad, the man he looked
up to, was trapped in a silent
prison of his own making.

new chip and fail Chip Plankton II Sheldon J. Plankton & Chip Plankton II iii

THE LIFE OF UNITY iii
(Autistic author)

Kevin's laughter reaches a crescendo as 
he takes a step closer to Plankton. 
"What don't I know?" he asks, his voice 
sharper than ever. "That PLANKTON 
JUST. DON'T. WUV. THEM. JELLYFISH. 
YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY..."

But his words are cut off by the 
sight of Plankton, his antennae 
drooping, his eye brimming with 
tears. The tiny creature's body 
trembles as Kevin's to 
loud words settle upon him, and 
suddenly, all the pent-up frustration and pain 
come rushing out in a torrent as 
a single tear forms and slides down his face. 
Plankton's antennae quiver uncontrollably, and 
he squeaks out a sob, his tiny 
body convulsing with the weight of Kevin's cruel words.

SpongeBob is shocked.

Kevin's words hang in the water, his 
laughter fading into an awkward silence 
as he watches Plankton's reaction. The sea 
cucumber's eyes widen as he 
takes in the sight of Plankton's tears, his 
own expression morphing from smug 
to surprise, then to something akin to fear.

"Plankton?"

Plankton's antennae quiver as he sniffs, 
trying to compose himself, his 
monotone voice thick with emotion. "Plankton... 
brainless," he murmurs, his 
one eye filled with unshed tears. "Plankton," he 
adds, his voice cracking, 
"Plankton... not like jellyfish."

Sponge Bob's heart squeezes tight 
in his chest. "Hey, Plankton," he says 
softly, "it's ok. Kevin didn't mean it."

But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone 
voice echoing Kevin's hurtful 
words. "Kevin... right," he murmurs, his eye 
glistening with tears. "Plankton... 
brainless. Like jellyfish."

Kevin's expression morphs from 
smugness to shock, his eyes wide as he 
realizes the impact of his words. "It's just... 
you know, a joke."

But Plankton's antennae quiver, his 
monotone voice trembling. "Joke?" he 
murmurs. "Plankton... a joke. Plankton... 
brainless."

Kevin's grin falters, his eyes widening in 
horror as he sees the pain etched 
on Plankton's tiny face. "No," he stammers, 
his voice cracking. "It was just a... I 
didn't mean it like that."

But Plankton's antennae continue to 
quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo 
of Kevin's cruel words. "Plankton... no 
purpose in life," he murmurs, his one 
eye filled with a sadness so profound it 
seems to suck the color out of the 
surrounding waters.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock. 
"Plankton," he says gently, "you 
have friends. You have a purpose."

But Plankton's antennae droop even 
lower, his monotone voice a sad 
echo of his own self-doubt. "Plankton mindless.."

Kevin's smugness evaporates, replaced 
with a flicker of concern as he 
watches the usually unflappable Plankton 
crumple under the weight of 
his words. "Look, Plankton," he says, reaching 
out to touch him.

But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering 
with pain.

"Plankton," Kevin says, his voice a mix of 
surprise and regret, "I didn't mean 
it like that. I was just messing around."

But Plankton's antennae continue to 
quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo 
of Kevin's insults. "Mindless," he murmurs, 
his one eye fixed. "Brainless."

Sponge Bob's eyes wide with shock and 
sadness. "Plankton," he whispers, his 
voice filled with a tenderness Plankton 
rarely hears from anyone. "You're 
not brainless."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
doubt, his monotone voice echoing 
Kevin's words. "Plankton... mindless," 
he murmurs, his one eye unable to 
meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Like jellyfish."

SpongeBob knew that Plankton's obsession 
with jellyfish is more than just a 
hobby; it's a deep connection, a part of 
who he is after the traumatic brain injury. 
And now, Kevin's careless words have struck 
a nerve, leaving him feeling 
exposed and vulnerable.

"Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice gentle, 
"you're not like that. You're 
smart. You're... you're you."

But Plankton's antennae quiver 
with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad 
echo of Kevin's words. "Mindless," he 
murmurs, his one eye still avoiding 
contact. "Plankton... like jellyfish."

SpongeBob understood 
that the brain 
trauma has 
affected him, making him 
more vulnerable to words that question 
his intelligence and identity due to his autism.

"Plankton," he says, his voice filled with 
concern, "you know that's not true. 
You're not like jellyfish in that way."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, 
his monotone voice a sad echo 
of Kevin's mockery. "Mindless," he 
murmurs. "Mindless, brainless."

Sponge Bob's heart aches for his friend, 
reaching out to offer 
comfort. "Plankton, you're not like that," 
he says, his voice gentle 
and assuring. "You're brilliant. You 
know more about jellyfish than anyone."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with 
insecurity, his monotone voice a sad 
echo of Kevin's laughter. "Mindless," 
he murmurs, eye downcast. 
"Plankton... brainless."

Sponge Bob tries to find the right words 
to say. "Plankton," he says gently, 
"you're not like that. You're so much 
more than what Kevin said."

But Plankton's antennae quiver, his 
monotone voice a sad echo of the 
cruel words. "Mindless," he murmurs, 
his one eye avoiding Sponge Bob's 
gaze. "Plankton... no purpose."

Kevin's eyes dart from Plankton to 
Sponge Bob, his grin faltering. "What's going 
on?" he asks, his voice tight with confusion. 
"You guys are acting weird."

Sponge Bob's embrace tighten around 
Plankton's tiny body, his voice firm 
but kind. "Kevin," he says, his gaze fixed 
on Plankton, "you don't know what 
happened to Plankton."

Kevin's laughter fades into a puzzled look. 
"What do you mean?" Kevin's 
smirk fades, his eyes narrowing with 
confusion. "What are you guys talking 
about?" he asks, his voice tight.

Sponge Bob hesitates, glancing at 
Plankton, who nods almost imperceptibly. 
"Kevin," he says, his voice serious, "Plankton 
had a bad accident. He hit his 
head, and now he's... different."

Kevin's tentacles freeze in mid-air, his 
smugness evaporating. "What do you 
mean, 'different'?" he asks, his voice tentative.

Sponge Bob sighs. "Plankton's had a 
brain injury," he says, his eyes never 
leaving Plankton's quivering antennae. 
"He's... autistic now."

Kevin's eyes widen, his tentacles dropping 
to his sides. "What? No way," he 
stammers, his smugness gone. "You're... 
you're joking, right?"

But Sponge Bob's expression is serious, 
gently stroking 
Plankton's antennae. "It's true, Kevin," he 
says, his voice gentle. "Plankton's 
had a tough time, and he's different now."

"Plankton, joke."

Kevin's confusion turns to shock as he 
looks from Sponge Bob to Plankton, 
his tentacles dropping to his sides. "But... 
but why didn't you say anything?" 
he asks, his voice trembling.

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix 
of sadness and determination. "We 
didn't think it was anyone's business,"
he says tightening around Plankton's 
shaking antennae. "But now you know
Kevin. And we need you to be cool 
about it."

new the life of unity bullycore iii

CATCH IN MY CHIP iii
(Autistic author)

They sit in silence for a few
moments, Chip's screen glued to
his dad's still form. The only
sound is the steady rhythm of
Plankton's shallow breathing.

As the minutes tick by, Chip's
thoughts swirl with confusion and
guilt. He had no idea that his
dad's quirks and sensitivities were
part of something so complex.
He'd just thought Plankton was
easily annoyed or tired.

Karen notices his son's distress
and decides it's time to explain
more. "You know how sometimes
you get really excited about
something, and you just can't
keep it in?" she asks.

Chip nods. "Yeah, like when I
see a new toy or when I've got
a great idea for a sandcastle."

"Well, for Dad, it's like that
all the time," Karen continues.
"Every little thing can be a
big deal, and sometimes it's just
too much." She pauses, looking at
Plankton with a mix of love and
concern. "But he's also the smartest
person I know, and he loves you
so much. That's what's important."

Chip nods, his eyes filling
with tears as he watches
his mom care for his dad. He'd
always felt a bit left out, not
understanding why Plankton would
sometimes retreat from the world.
But now he gets it. It's not that
his dad didn't want to share in
his excitement, it's just that sometimes,
the world was too much for him.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he whispers, his
throat tight with emotion. "I didn't
mean to make him... like this."

Karen pulls him into a warm
embrace. "You didn't do anything
wrong, Chip. This isn't your fault.
Dad's brain just works differently.
And now that we know, we can help
each other understand."

Chip sniffles against her,
his thoughts racing. "Does
he know what's happening
or can he understand us?"

"Sometimes he can," Karen says,
her voice low and soothing. "But
right now, I don't think he realizes
anything's happening around him."

"What if he doesn't wake up?"
The fear in his voice is palpable.

"He will, honey," Karen says, her
tone reassuring. "It just takes
a little time. It's like when you're
really tired and you need a nap.
His brain needs to rest."

The room is quiet except for
the occasional sound of the
air conditioner kicking in,
a stark contrast to the excitement
that had filled it just moments ago.
Chip watches his dad, feeling a
wave of emotion wash over him.
He wants to laugh and share more
stories, but he knows now that
his dad's brain needs a break.

As they wait, Karen starts to
clean up the mess Chip made.
The sand and papers scattered
across the floor seem so trivial
now, a stark reminder of the chaos
his enthusiasm can create for
his dad. He helps her, carefully
picking up each piece, placing
them back into their rightful
spots. His mind is racing with
thoughts of how to be a better
son, how to make sure his dad
doesn't feel like this again.

They work in silence, the only
sounds the rustling of papers and
the occasional clank of a metal
item being set back on the desk.
The room slowly transforms back
to its usual state of order, a stark
contrast to the turmoil Plankton
was experiencing. Chip's eyes never
leave his dad, hoping to see
any sign of improvement.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity,
Plankton's eye blinks, and the tension
in the room shifts. His breathing
becomes deeper and more regular.
Karen's shoulders relax as she sees
the first signs of Plankton coming
back to himself. She gives Chip's hand
a gentle squeeze. "Look, honey. He's
starting to come out of it."

Chip stares, hope filling his chest.
Plankton's antennas twitch slightly.
He blinks a few more times, as if trying
to bring the room into focus. "What...
what happened?" His voice is weak,
almost a whisper.

Karen's grip tightens on Chip's hand.
"You just needed a little break,
sweetie," she says softly. "It's okay."

new catch in my chip Chip Plankton II iii

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY viii
(Autistic author)

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his grip on Plankton's wrists
loosening. "What
accident?" he asks, his voice
filled with dread.

Plankton's smile is gone,
replaced by a look of sadness.
"Head," he says, his voice
a barely-there whisper. "Hurt." He
touches his forehead gently,
his antennas drooping.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
realization, his grip on Plankton's
wrists loosening entirely. "You
got hurt?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What happened?"

Plankton nods, his antennas
still drooping.

Sponge Bob's confusion
grows, his anger replaced
with worry. "What do you
mean?" he asks, his voice
softening. "What happened to
your head?"

Plankton's antennas twitch, his
smile a distant memory. "Fall," 
he says, his voice a monotone.

Sponge Bob's heart skips a beat.
"You fell?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "When? How?"

Plankton nods, his eye
flickering with something
akin to pain. "Recently," he says,
his voice flat. "Head bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock,
his mind racing with questions.
"You fell and hurt your head?" he
repeats, his voice filled with
disbelief. "Why didn't you tell
me?"

Plankton's gaze drops to his book,
his hands fluttering over the
pages. "No tell," he whispers, his
voice filled with regret. "Shame."

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with
understanding, his anger
evaporating like mist in the sun.
"Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice
soft. "You didn't have to keep
this to yourself."

Plankton's smile is a
pale imitation of his usual
self, his antennas still. "No good,"
he whispers, his voice barely
audible. "Head hurt. Plankton bad."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with worry as he tries to
comprehend his friend's cryptic
words. "You're not bad, Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "You've
just had an accident."

Plankton's gaze remains fixed
on the book, his hands
flapping over the pages. "No,"
he says, his voice a sad echo.
"Head bad. Plankton bad." His body
slumps, his usual vibrant energy
dimmed by his distress.

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with sadness as he tries to
comfort his friend. "You're not
bad, Plankton," he says, his voice
soothing. "You're just hurt right?"

Plankton's antennas twitch slightly,
his hand stilling on the book. "Hurt,"
he echoes, his voice a monotone.
"Inside head." He taps his forehead,
his eye searching Sponge Bob's
for understanding. "Grey matter.
Neural pathways."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
confusion growing. "What do
you mean, Plankton?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "What's
going on with your brain?"

Plankton's hand continues to
tap his forehead, his voice
detached. "Neurochemicals," he says,
his voice a robotic recital. "Synaptic
connections. Autism." His smile
is a mere memory, his eye
glazed over with a faraway look.

Sponge Bob's heart squeezes in his
chest, his mind racing. "You're
talking about your brain," he says,
his voice tentative. "What's wrong
with it?"

Plankton's hand stops tapping,
his gaze focusing on Sponge Bob.
"Wiring," he says, his voice a
monotone explanation. "Neuro-
typical patterns disrupted affect
the parts of brain when result
in autism." His words are precise,
his tone devoid of emotion.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen with
comprehension, his spongy heart
sinking. "You're saying you have
autism now?" he asks, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton nods, his eye
still fixed on the book. "Neurotypical
divergence," he confirms, his voice
still devoid of emotion. "Synaptic
variance, myelination discrepancies."
He speaks in a monotone, his words
sounding rehearsed and mechanical.

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears,
his heart breaking for his friend.
"What does that mean, Plankton?"
he asks, his voice shaking.
"Does that mean you're not okay?"

Plankton's gaze remains on
the book, his hand tracing the
spine. "Neuro-typical divergence,"
he repeats, his voice a flat
recitation of medical terms.
"Synaptic connections altered.
Atypical neural patterns. Autism."
He speaks as if recounting
a scientific paper, his tone
lacking any personal connection.
"When hit head, damaged the
myelination," he says, his hand
continuing its mechanical movement
against the book. "Myelination is
the insulation around the axons
that speeds up the nerve impulses 
made in a part of brain we call
the cerebral cortex. My cerebral
cortex now restricts, slows
down impulses."

Sponge Bob listens, his
mind racing to keep up with
Plankton's sudden shift in
vocabulary. "But what does that
mean?" he asks, his voice
filled with concern. "How'd the
damage give you autism?"

Plankton's hand stops
its movement along the book.
"Neurodivergence," he says, his
voice a clinical recount. "My brain
now operates outside typical
parameters. Synaptic pruning,
myelination patterns altered.
Atypical neural networks formed."
He speaks as if discussing a
complex scientific experiment,
his words a jumble of medical
terminology that Sponge Bob
barely understands.

"Does that mean you're not okay?"
Sponge Bob asks, his voice
filled with fear.

Plankton's hand stills on the book,
his gaze unfocused. "Functional
diversity," he says, his voice
a hollow echo of the medical
lingo he's been taught. "Neurodivergence
can lead to unique cognitive
strengths, but also challenges."
He taps the book, his antennas
waving slightly. "My brain's wiring
changed," he says, his voice
a monotone. "Synaptic clefts
widened, neurotransmitters less
efficient. Restricted blood flow to
temporal lobes."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with a mix of confusion and
fear. "Does that mean you can't
be... fixed?" he asks, his voice
small.

Plankton's antennas twitch,
his gaze still unfocused. "Can't fix,"
he echoes, his voice a sad
recitation. "Neuroplasticity, yes.
Rewire, adapt. But cerebral
cortex, permanent. Autism, permanent."

Sponge Bob's eyes are wide,
his mind reeling with the
complexity of Plankton's words.
"But, Plankton," he says, his voice
quivering. "What about the Krabby
Patties? Your plans?"

Plankton's gaze snaps up, his
hands still. "No plans," he says,
his voice a sad echo. "No more steal."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his heart racing. "You don't want
to steal the Krabby Patties anymore?"
he asks, his voice filled with
hope and disbelief.

Plankton's antennas droop, his
hands flapping slightly. "No more
schemes," he whispers, his voice a
monotone. "No more steal." His eye
meet Sponge Bob's, a flicker of
his old mischief briefly shining
through. "But," he adds, his
smile mischievous, "still have
competitive spirit." His hands
begin to flap with excitement.

Sponge Bob's heart soars with
relief, a smile spreading across
his face. "So, you're still
the same Plankton," he says, his
voice filled with hope. "Just...
different. Ok, cool!"

Plankton nods, his smile a
ghostly reflection of his usual
self. "Different," he repeats, his
voice a sad echo. "But still
have friend?" His antennas
wave slightly, his eye searching
Sponge Bob's for reassurance.

Sponge Bob's heart swells with
affection. "Of course, Plankton,"
he says, his voice firm. "We're
still friends. Nothing can
change that." He squeezes
Plankton's shoulder, trying
to convey his support. 

new karen and the autistic journey corpus callosum anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) braincore autismcore headinjuryposting neurodivergentcore neurodisability viii

me📱4️⃣

new mephone4 ii iii OBJECTSHOW

me📱4️⃣

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new iii emoseerht ijome tra tod tra txet tra iicsa

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY ii
(Autistic author)

The next morning, Karen woke up to
find Plankton still asleep, his hand
still clutching hers. She gently
pulled her hand away and stood up.

Plankton's snores echoed 
through the quiet room. Karen 
studied his peaceful expression, his 
features softer in sleep, and felt a
surge of affection for the man she
had married so many years ago.

In the cold light of day, the reality
of his condition settled in. 
He was different, but she 
would not let that change the way
she saw him. As a robot, Karen
understood the importance of
adjusting to new situations, and
this was no exception.

As Plankton stirred, she quickly
moved to his side, ready to face
whatever challenges the day 
might bring. His eye opened,
looking around the room
before settling on her.

"Karen," he said, his voice
still flat, but with a hint of
recognition.

"Good morning, Plankton," she
replied.
This was their first day facing
his autism together, and she had
spent the night
preparing.

Plankton sat up, his eye
locking onto hers. "Morning," he
repeated. His movements were
slow, deliberate, as if his brain
was processing each action. "Would
you like some breakfast?" she asked.

He nodded.
"No vault," he murmured, and she
could see the beginnings of a frown.
Karen nodded, knowing that
his obsessions might become more
pronounced. "It's okay," she said.
"We don't need the vault."

Plankton's eye searched her face,
his expression unreadable. "No
vault," he repeated, his voice
rising slightly. "Good."

Karen nodded. "Let's start the
day," she suggested, trying to
shift the focus. She led him to the
tiny kitchen area, the smell of
chum wafting through the air.

Plankton followed her, his steps
measured and precise. His gaze
flitted around the room, taking
in every detail. 

"Would you like eggs or chum?"
she asked.
"Both," he said, his voice clearer 
than before.

Karen nodded, cracking an egg
over the sizzling pan. Plankton sat
at the table, rocking back and forth
slightly. It was clear that
his senses were heightened, every
sound and smell more intense than
before.

"Here's your breakfast, Plankton,"
she said, placing the plate in front
of him. His gaze fixated on the
food, his eye narrowing as if
studying a complex puzzle. "Thank
you," he said, the words coming out
mechanically.

But as Karen stirred the chum and
eggs together, something shifted in
his demeanor. He stiffened in his
chair, his rocking coming to an
abrupt halt. "What's wrong?" she
asked, noticing the sudden change.

Plankton's eye grew wide. "No," he
whispered, his voice strained. "Not
together. Separate," he
demanded, his voice growing more
urgent.

Karen paused, her circuits racing.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I'll
fix it." She carefully scraped the
food onto two separate places, one
with egg, one with chum. She placed
it in front of him, hoping she
was interpreting his needs correctly.

Plankton stared. "Different plate,"
he murmured. "And a new spoon.
And new eggs not touching new chum."

Karen nodded, quickly moving to
comply with his requests. She knew
that routines and sensory preferences
could be crucial for individuals with
autism, and she wanted to make sure
his first breakfast post-diagnosis was
as comfortable as possible. She
replicated his meal with meticulous
precision, ensuring every detail was
exactly as he had specified, ridding of
the old food.

The new plate was set before him,
the eggs and chum neatly separated.
Plankton's shoulders relaxed slightly.
He picked up the spoon, his gaze
intensely focused on the task at
hand. Karen watched as he took a
tiny bite in what seemed like pleasure.

"Good?" she ventured.

Plankton nodded, his eye not
leaving the plate. "Good," he echoed,
his voice still monotone.

Karen observed him as he
methodically ate his breakfast,
each bite the same size, each chew
lasting the same amount of time.
It was fascinating and slightly
disconcerting to watch the man
she knew so well now engaging with
the world in such a different way.

Plankton's routine was always
important, but now it had taken
on a new level of significance.
The clink of the spoon against the
plate was the only sound in the
room, the rhythm of it almost
hypnotic. 

As Plankton finished his meal,
his head snapped up, his gaze
sharp and focused on her. "Karen,"
he said, his voice now clear and
concise.

"Yes, Plankton?" she replied,
wiping down the counter.

"Thank you," he said, his eye
fixed on the now-empty
plate.

Karen nodded, taking the
dishes to the sink. She could feel
his eye on her as she moved about
the room, the weight of his
silence a stark contrast to his
usual incessant chatter. She knew
that autism would bring
challenges, but she was
determined to be there for him.

new karen and the autistic journey breakfastcore ii

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON ii
(Autistic author)

The doctor stepped in, 
his tentacles moving 
gently as he spoke. 
"Mr. Plankton, it's 
important to stay 
calm. This is a 
big change. Can
you tell me your name?"

Plankton's gaze 
flicked from Karen 
to Dr. Kelp, his 
expression a mask 
of confusion. 
"I'm Plankton," he 
managed to say, his 
voice shaky.

The doctor nodded, 
his tentacles still 
and calm. "Good. That's 
good, Mr. Plankton. Do 
you know where you 
are?"

Plankton's eye 
darted around the 
room again, his 
breathing growing 
rapid and shallow. 
He looked down
and then back up at 
Karen. "What's happening?"
he repeated for the third 
time, his voice 
now a little more 
frantic.

Karen's heart 
was in her throat. 
The doctor's 
explanation was 
beginning to take 
root in her mind, 
and she could see 
the stark reality 
of their situation. 
Plankton's repetition, 
his difficulty with 
understanding new 
surroundings and his 
increased sensitivity 
to sound—these were 
all hallmarks of his 
new autism.

The doctor 
continued his 
assessment.

"Mr. Plankton, 
can you tell me 
your wife's name?" 
he prompted.

Plankton's gaze 
shifted to Karen, 
his expression 
becoming more 
focused, as if her 
presence was the 
only familiar 
thing in the room. 
"Karen," he said, 
his voice 
softening slightly.

The doctor 
nodded, making 
a note on his 
clipboard. "Good. 
Now, can you tell 
me what happened 
before you woke up?"

Plankton's eye 
flitted back to 
Karen, searching 
for answers. 

He began to 
rock slightly, his 
body moving in 
a rhythmic 
motion, a common 
self-soothing behavior 
for those on the 
autism spectrum. 
Karen recognized 
it immediately
but seeing it in 
Plankton was 
jarring.

His gaze darted 
around the room, 
his pupil dilating 
with every new 
sound or movement. 
The doctor's tentacles 
were a blur of 
activity making notes.

"Mr. Plankton, I 
see you're feeling 
You're almost ready
to go back home
with Karen." Dr. Kelp 
says calmly. "Just
one more question, 
if you don't mind. Now, 
can you tell me if you
have any pets?"

Plankton's eye
flitted around the 
room. "Pets? Spot!
Yes, Spot. Amoeba
puppy; Spot.."

The doctor nodded, 
his tentacles 
still scribbling notes. 
"Very good, Mr. Plankton. 
It seems like your long-term 
memory is intact, which is a 
positive sign. Now Karen can
take you home!"

Karen felt a 
wave of relief 
crash over her, but 
it was tinged with 
the stark reality that 
their life was never 
going to be the same. 
Plankton's autistic 
mannerisms were 
now a constant 
reminder of the 
accident—his 
newfound need for 
routine, his heightened 
sensitivity to 
surroundings, and the 
way his eye would 
dance around the room 
as he tried to 
make sense of 
his environment.

As they arrived home, the 
stark reality of their new 
life hit Karen like a wave. 
His once-quick steps had 
been replaced with a 
cautious shuffle, as if the 
very floor beneath him was 
unpredictable.

Inside, Plankton 
was drawn to the 
rhythmic ticking of the 
grandfather clock, 
his eye fixated on the 
second hand's journey. 
Karen watched him. His 
newfound need for 
predictability was 
overwhelmingly apparent.

"Let's sit down," 
she suggested, 
guiding him to their 
couch, which was 
now occupied by
Spot.

Plankton's gaze 
flitted around the 
living room, 
his eye alighting 
on his beloved
amoeba puppy
Spot.

"Spot," he murmured, 
his voice tentative, 
as if unsure if 
his words would 
have the same 
effect they once did.
The pup looked up 
at him, its blob-like 
form shifting 
slightly with excitement.

But instead of the
weariness Plankton 
has shown today, he
joyfully watched Spot's 
movements. Karen felt a 
moment of warmth—
his love for Spot hadn't
changed, nor their usual
interactions.

The doctor had 
told her that routines 
were vital for those 
with his condition. So,
she decided to start 
their day with a 
familiar activity: 
breakfast.

Plankton's eye
lit up at the 
sight of the 
familiar kitchen. 
He took his usual 
seat at the table, 
his hands fidgeting 
with the napkin. Karen
noticed his meticulous
arrangement of his 
silverware, the way 
he lined up his plate 
and cup perfectly 
parallel to the edges.

As she prepared 
their meal, she 
could feel his 
gaze on her, 
his eye darting 
between her and 
Spot, who was now 
playfully chasing 
his own tail in a 
loop around the 
living room.
He began to 
hum a tune, 
his voice off-key 
and repetitive. 
Karen's with love 
despite the 
pain she felt.

The clanging 
of pans was 
loud in the 
silence, making 
Plankton flinch—this 
was going to be 
so much harder 
than she had 
anticipated.

The doctor's 
instructions echoed 
in her mind: 
stick to routine, 
keep things simple.

Karen set the 
breakfast plates 
down carefully, 
each item placed 
exactly where 
Plankton liked it.
His eye grew wide 
as she slid his plate 
closer. He stared at 
the food for a 
moment, then picked 
up his spoon.

The clink of 
metal on porcelain 
was like a gunshot 
to his heightened 
sensitivity. He 
dropped the spoon, 
his hands shooting up 
to cover his head in
distress.

"It's okay, 
sweetheart," Karen 
soothed, moving 
quickly to 
his side. She 
retrieved the 
spoon and set it 
aside, her hand 
trembling slightly.

"You don't 
have to eat 
right now," she 
said softly, her voice 
a gentle caress 
against the tension 
in the room.

Plankton 
nodded slightly, his 
breathing slowing as 
his hands uncovered 
his ears. He 
fidgeted in his 
chair, his eye
darting to the 
ceiling as if 
searching for something.

"Let's go read
a book," Karen suggested, 
desperate to find 
anything that might 
calm his nerves.

Plankton nodded 
slightly, his gaze 
still unfocused. He 
stood up carefully, 
his body moving 
with the precision 
of a man who knew 
his world had changed.

As they approached 
the bookshelf, 
his eye caught 
a glint of metal 
from the corner 
of the room. 
The invention 
that had brought 
them here lay in 
a tangled heap, 
its wires and gears 
silent and 
ominous, giving
him déjà vu.

Plankton stopped, 
his body rigid, 
his gaze locked 
on the machine. 
He stared unblinking, 
his mind racing 
back to the crash.

Karen notices his
suddenly unmoving
form and gets concerned.

"Plankton?" she calls
softly, but he doesn't
react.

His entire being 
seemed to be 
consumed by the 
wreckage of his 
former life.

The invention, a 
testament to his 
former brilliance, 
now a grim 
reminder of the 
accident.

"Plankton, honey," 
Karen's voice was 
barely a whisper 
as she tried to 
get him to talk. 
He didn't move.

The invention, a 
tangled web of 
wires and gears, 
seemed to hold 
his gaze captive. 
It was the very 
machine that had 
caused this 
transformation.

Karen followed 
his gaze, her heart 
sinking as she 
realized the source 
of his distress.

"Let's go to 
another room," she 
suggested gently, 
her hand resting 
on his arm. 
But he didn't move.

Karen felt the 
weight of the 
moment settle 
heavily on her 
shoulders. It was 
time to face the 
reality of their new 
life together—a 
life where Plankton's 
once sharp wit and 
innovative spirit 
were now clouded by 
a disorder she 
was only beginning to
understand.

Her heart 
swelled with 
sorrow as she 
observed his 
interaction with 
the inanimate objects 
around him. The 
love she had for 
him remained 
unshaken, but the 
thought of what 
they had lost—what 
he had lost—was 
almost too much to 
bear.

"Come on," she 
coaxed, her voice 
gentle as a lullaby. 
"Let's go to the 
living room. I'll 
read you a story?"

Yet Plankton remains
frozen. So Karen made a 
decision. She 
couldn't bear the 
thought of that 
accursed machine 
looming over them, 
a constant 
reminder of the 
tragic turn their lives 
had taken.

With a fierce 
determination she 
hadn't felt in 
ages, she strode 
over to the invention 
and began to dismantle 
it, piece by painful 
piece.

The metal 
clanked and clattered 
as she worked, 
her movements 
quick and sure, 
each part coming 
off with a 
satisfying crunch. 
Plankton's eye 
followed her, his 
expression unreadable.

When the last 
piece was removed, 
his gaze lifted 
to meet hers, 
his eye filled 
with something 
that looked akin 
to gratitude.

"Thank you, Karen," 
Plankton murmured, 
his voice a 
quiet rumble in 
the stillness of the 
now bare room.

Karen paused in 
her task, her eyes 
meeting his with a 
surprised expression. 
This was the first
time since the 
accident that he had 
spoken to her with 
anything other than 
fear or confusion.

"You're welcome," 
she said, her voice 
choked with emotion.

new neurobehavioral plankton plaren ii

TEETHIES ii

The nurse dimmed lights and adjusted the bed, giving Plankton's body a chance to recover from the wisdom tooth surgery. 

Gently, Karen began to hum a tune she knew Plankton loved. The melody filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm blanket. His breathing grew a little easier, the tension in his hand loosening slightly. 

Plankton stirred, eye fluttering open to reveal a world still blurred by the fog of anesthesia. "Where... what...?" Plankton slurred. "Who... who are you?" 
"The dentist had to get your wisdom teeth out in surgery." Karen told him. "Wis...dommm...surgery? I don't...I don't remembe--- much." Plankton says. "Had to take them out. You've been asleep for a while." The nurse said. 

The door to the room creaked open to SpongeBob, his face a picture of concern. "Plankton!" he exclaimed. "How are ya?"

Plankton, still groggy from the surgery, tried to form a coherent sentence. "S-SpongeBob," he slurred. "M-more wike... 'Arrr, matey' than usual, I s'pose." 

Karen rolled her pixel eyes. "It's the anesthesia."

Plankton chuckled. "Ahoy ther- Spongey! Aye, it's awh’ 'cause of tweasare... I mean, surgery," he corrected, his speech still swaying. 
"You two are always so... " Karen trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Inseparabubble?" Plankton suggested.  
Sponge Bob's laughter bubbled up again. "You mean, no Krabby Patty stealing schemes?"

"Thath's righ'. No mow... Krabby... Patties... fow awhile." The words came out in a drawn-out slur, his head lolling slightly on the pillow. "Thath's... wath I wath thhinking," his speech still slurred but fading as his eyelid growing heavy.

"Arr, thith... thith way, me... hearty," Plankton mumbled, as the nurse helped 'em into the car.  "Arr, me... tweasuwe... home,".

Sponge Bob watched his eyelid grew heavier. Plankton's head lolled back against the seat and his mouth fell open slightly, emitting a soft snore. 

"He's gonna be out for a bit," Karen said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "The anesthesia usually takes a few hours to wear off completely. He'll be fine."

He reached out and gently patted Plankton's arm, whispering, "Don't worry, buddy. We're almost there."

"We're home, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a gentle nudge.

Sponge Bob turned to see Plankton's chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths, his mouth open in snore's. His usually scheming eye were shut tight. Karen carefully opened the door. Sponge Bob looked at Plankton, who was still out cold. Sponge Bob leaned over the seat, his arms wrapping around Plankton's frail body. Plankton's head lolled back, his mouth still open in snore's.
"Should we... should we wake him?" "Let him rest, Sponge Bob. He's had a rough day." Karen puts him on the couch.

"Do you think he'll... you know, remember any of this?" Sponge Bob asked, his voice low and tentative.
Karen's smile was a gentle wave. "I doubt it. The anesthesia usually wipes out memories for a bit."

"Rest well, honey," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You've had a long day."

Suddenly Plankton stirs in his sleep, his snores morphing into a groan as he shifts beneath the blanket.
"Is he okay?" SpongeBob asks.
"He's okay," she nods, her voice a gentle lullaby in the stillness. "Just anesthesia wearing off." She stood by him. "Easy, Plankton," Karen cooed, gently rubbing Plankton's back. "You're okay."

The little villain's body twitched, and his eye fluttered open. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his gaze before he spotted Sponge Bob and Karen. "W-wha... whass happening?" Plankton's words were slurred, his lisp more pronounced than ever.

"You're home, Plankton. You had wisdom teeth removed."

"W-what? Did I miss... somefink?" He tried to sit up, his body moving as if through syrup.

"You've been out for a bit," Karen said. "But you're home now." 

Plankton blinked. "Home?" he mumbled.

"Yes, sweetie," Karen said, her voice a gentle caress. "You had your wisdom teeth out. You're going to be fine."
 "Oww... wha’ happened to my mouf?"

"Your wisdom teeth were out." "Oh... wight," he murmured.
"Need anything?" "Could... could I have some... ice... cweam?" His voice was a whispered plea. They get him some. "Thath's... thoothing. So, how'd I get home?" 
"Karen and I brought you back," Sponge Bob said. "You were out cold. Didn't even wake up when we carried you in."
"Did... did you two... take care of me?" His voice was a mix of surprise and vulnerability.

"Of course, Plankton!"

He turned to Plankton. "Want me to pick something to watch?"

"Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, eye already closing again.

Sponge Bob flicked through the tv channels, finally settling on a rerun of their favorite show, "Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy." The familiar theme song filled the room, and Karen took a seat next to Plankton on the couch, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

As the adventure unfolded on the screen, Plankton's breathing grew deeper and more regular, his body gradually relaxing into the cushions.

"Looks like he's out again," Karen said softly.  

Sponge Bob nodded, watching Plankton's chest rise and fall rhythmically. "Guess the surgery really took it out of him."

The room grew quiet, save for the distant laugh track of their favorite show and the occasional snore from Plankton. Karen's hand remained on his shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles. At night, turning the tv off, 
Spongebob picked Plankton up, cradling him. His friend's head lolled back, his mouth slightly open in a peaceful snore. Sponge Bob carefully made his way to his bed, setting him down. He pulled the blanket up to Plankton and gave him a soft pat. 
They both settled into the makeshift beds they had set up next to Plankton's. 

The next morning, both woke up before Plankton. Karen chuckled. "We should take a picture."
Spongebob snapped a picture of Plankton, still asleep with his mouth slightly open, a trail of drool escaping onto the pillow.

"Morning, Captain Snores-a-lot," Sponge Bob whispered with a smirk, rousing Plankton.
Plankton's eye opened, only to wince. "Oww... wath... what's happening?"
"It's morning, Plankton," Karen said, her tone still gentle.
"Look your post-surgery glamour shot," Spongebob teased, holding the phone out of reach. "You were out cold last night."
Plankton's eye widened as he took in the image. "You... you took a picture of me?!" He was half horrified, half amused.

"Couldn't resist," Karen said, grinning.

Plankton rolled his eye and wiped his mouth, then winced. "How wong hav- I been out?"

"Overnight," Sponge Bob said, unable to hold back a chuckle. "You had quite the ride home yesterday."

Plankton groaned, his hand reaching up to gingerly touch his swollen cheek. "Whath happened?"

"You had your wisdom teeth out," Karen reminded him, her voice filled with a touch of amusement. "It's normal to be a bit out of it after surgery."

"Wisdom teeth?" Plankton echoed, his voice still groggy. "Oh, wight. The dentist."

Karen chuckled. "Yeah, you don't remember much, do you?"

Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You talked like a pirate all the way home, matey."

Plankton's eye widened in horror. "I did what?"

Sponge Bob nodded. "Yeah, you kept calling me 'Spongey' and said we were 'inseparabubble'."

Plankton blushed. "Oh, come on," he mumbled, trying to hide his face in the pillow.

Sponge Bob and Karen shared a knowing look, their laughter subsiding into a comfortable silence. They could both tell that despite his tough exterior, Plankton was a bit embarrassed.

Plankton sighed, his small body sinking deeper into the pillows. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But if I don't get to do anything, can I at leash wash TV?"
"Of course," Karen said, handing him the remote. "But take it easy today, okay?"
With a groan, Plankton managed to sit up, his hand still tentatively exploring his tender cheeks. He squinted at the TV, searching for something to watch. His eye lit up when he found a science fiction marathon. "Jackpot," he murmured.

new teethies post awakening plankarenbob AI Story Generator ii

🖌 X 💡 lightbulb x painty!!

new lightbulb paintbulb painty ii OBJECTSHOW

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM ii

(Autistic author)

His eye took a moment to focus 
on her, and when it did, she saw a 
flicker of confusion, followed by 
a glimmer of recognition. "Karen?" 
he repeated, his voice still faint.

"Yes, it's me, 
Plankton. You're ok."

But his gaze remained distant, 
his focus unsteady. "Where...where 
are we?"
"We're at the hospital, sweetheart," 
Karen said softly, stroking his antenna. 
"You had an accident."

The confusion in Plankton's eye grew, 
and he tried to sit up, but a wave of 
dizziness forced him back down. "What 
kind of accident?" His voice was 
still weak, but there was an urgency 
to his words that hadn't been there 
before.

Karen took a deep breath, her 
grip on his hand tightening. "Mr. 
Krabs...he hit you with a fry pan."
The words tasted bitter 
but she had to tell him the 
truth. Plankton's eye widened 
slightly, and she watched as the 
puzzle pieces of the situation 
slowly clicked into place in his 
mind.

"Krabby Patty," he murmured, 
his voice distant.
"Yes, Plankton, you were trying to 
get the recipe again," Karen 
whispered, aching at 
the memory. "But it's over now. 
You need to rest."

His eye searched hers, and 
for a moment, she thought she saw a 
flicker of his old self, the cunning 
and ambitious man she had married. 
But it was gone as quickly as it 
appeared, replaced by a vacant 
stare.
"Don't... don't remember,"
he mumbled, his antennas drooping.
This wasn't the 
Plankton she knew, the one who 
schemed with a glint in his eye 
and a plan in his pocket.
"It's ok, Plankton," she 
soothed, her voice trembling.
She took a deep breath, 
trying to compose herself. "Do you 
remember me?"

Plankton's gaze remained 
steady for a moment, and then he 
nodded slowly. "Karen," he said, 
his voice a hoarse whisper. But 
the spark of recognition 
was tinged with confusion, as if 
he wasn't quite sure how he knew her.

Karen's felt like 
breaking into a million tiny pieces. 
But she knew she had to stay 
strong. For Plankton. For them. 
"You don't remember what happened, 
do you?" she asked gently. "What else
do you remember?"

Plankton's antennas twitched 
slightly, his eye searching hers. 
"Don't know," he admitted, 
his voice barely above a whisper. 
Karen's chest tightened as she 
held back a sob. "It's ok," 
she reassured him, her voice 
shaky.

"Do you remember your name?" 
she asked, her voice hopeful.
He blinked slowly, his gaze 
fading in and out of focus, his brow 
furrowing as he concentrated. 
"Sheldon... Plankton?"
The sound of his voice saying 
his own name brought a small 
smile to Karen's face. "Yes, that's 
right," she said, her voice filled 
with relief.

"Do you remember where we live?"
she continued, her tone gentle.
Plankton's eye searched the 
ceiling of the hospital room, as if 
the answer was written there. 
"The Chum Bucket," he murmured, 
his voice unsure. Karen nodded, 
encouraged by his response.
"Good, good," she said, smiling 
weakly. "What about our friends?"

Again, the confusion clouded his 
gaze. "Friends?" he repeated, 
his voice tentative. "SpongeBob, 
Sandy...?"
"Yes," Karen said, her voice 
soft. "Do you remember them?"

Plankton's expression grew more 
distressed, his antennas drooping.
"Square...SpongeBob. And a 
squirrel, yes?" He paused, trying 
to piece together the fragmented 
memories.

Karen nodded, brimming 
with unshed tears. "Yes, SpongeBob 
SquarePants and Sandy Cheeks. They're 
friends."

Plankton's antennas twitched as he 
processed the information, his brow 
furrowing with the effort. "Friends," 
he repeated, the word sounding 
foreign. Karen could see 
the gears turning in his tiny head, 
his brain desperately trying to 
make connections to his past.

"Do you remember anything about 
your life before the accident?" Karen 
asked, her voice trembling with 
anticipation.

Plankton's eye searched hers, 
uncertain. "Life...before?"
Her heart sank. "You know, our 
adventures, our home, our love?"

He stared at her, his expression 
unreadable. "Love?" The word was 
barely a whisper.

"Yes, Plankton," she said, her 
voice cracking. "We love each other. 
We've been married for a long time, 
and we've had so many adventures 
together." She paused, willing 
the words to resonate with him, to 
ignite a spark of memory. "Do you 
remember any of that?"

Plankton's gaze remained 
vacant for a moment before he 
nodded slightly. "Married," he murmured, 
as if tasting the word for the first 
time. "To Karen." His antennas lifted 
slightly, a glimmer of something 
familiar flickering in his eye.
"Karen Plankton computer wife."
"Yes, Plankton," Karen said, her 
voice thick with emotion.
"Does that mean something to you?"
she asked, her heart in her throat.

He nodded slowly, his antennas 
waving slightly. "Computer wife,"
he murmured again, his voice 
gaining a hint of warmth. "Karen."

Karen felt a flicker of hope. 
"Yes, Plankton, I'm your 
wife." She leaned closer, her voice 
gentle. "Do you remember anything
about us?"

Plankton's antennas twitched as he 
thought. "Wife," he said slowly, 
his voice a faint echo of the man 
she knew. "Wife...Karen. Married
July 31, 1999."

That was their 
wedding day, a date they had 
celebrated every year since. "Yes," she 
whispered, her voice choking. "We
got married on July 31, 1999."

The hospital room felt thick with 
silence as she waited for his next 
words. Plankton's eye searched 
the room, his antennas twitching 
as he tried to piece together the 
shards of his past.

"Plankton, can you tell me about 
yourself?" Karen asked, her voice 
gentle. "What do you like to do?"

Plankton's antennas twitched as he 
thought. "Invent," he said, his voice 
still weak but with a hint of pride. 
"Science?"
The words came out as a question, 
as if he wasn't quite sure of his 
own identity.

"Yes," Karen said, her voice 
brightening slightly. "You're a 
genius inventor. You've made so 
many wonderful things." She 
paused, hoping to see some spark of 
recognition in his eye. "Do you 
remember any of your inventions?"

Plankton's antennas waved in 
the air, as if searching for the 
memories that remained elusive. 
"Inventions," he murmured, his 
single eye searching the ceiling. 
"Gadgets...machines."
"That's right," Karen encouraged, 
squeezing his hand. "You've created 
so many amazing machines. Can you 
describe one of them?"

He blinked, his antennas 
stilling for a moment. "Chum...Chum 
Dispenser 3000," he said, his voice 
picking up a bit. "It makes...makes 
food for fishies."
Karen's smile grew despite the 
pain. The Chum 
Dispenser 3000 was one of 
his earlier inventions, a 
failed attempt to lure customers 
to their restaurant, but it was a 
testament to his ingenuity. 
"That's wonderful, Plankton," she 
said, her voice thick with emotion.
"How about something more 
recent?" she prompted, eager to 
see how much of their shared 
history remained with him.

Plankton's antennas twitched as 
his brain worked overtime. "Um... the 
Incredibubble," he said, his voice 
picking up speed as he talked. "It's a 
bubble that can shrink things down to 
microscopic size."

Karen felt a jolt of excitement. 
"That's right!" she exclaimed, 
squeezing his hand. "You used it to 
get to find a secret plan."

Plankton's gaze remained 
distant, but there was a hint of 
curiosity in his eye. "Computer... 
plan?"
"Yes," Karen said, her voice 
shaking. "We've had so many 
adventures together, Plankton. We've 
faced so much together."

He nodded, his antennas 
twitching slightly. "Together," he 
repeated, as if testing the word 
on his tongue.

"Do you remember any of 
those adventures?" Karen 
asked, her voice trembling.
"Adventures?" Plankton's eye 
flickered, and she could almost see 
the wheels turning in his mind.
"With Karen... wife?"

"Yes, with me. We've 
traveled the ocean, faced so 
many challenges together."

The doctor came in. "You can go
home now," he said.

Karen nodded, never 
leaving Plankton's face. She had 
spoken to the doctor about his 
condition, about the autism, but 
she still wasn't sure how to 
process it all. How would their 
life change now?

"Come on, Plankton," she said, 
helping him sit up gently. "Let's 
get you home."

She buckles him into his side of the car, 
his newfound passivity making the 
usual struggle unnecessary. The 
engine of the tiny vehicle roars to 
life, and Karen guides them out of the 
hospital parking lot. 

The ride back to the Chum 
Bucket is quiet, the only sound 
being the hum of the car's engine 
and the occasional splash from 
the waves outside. Karen keeps 
glancing at Plankton, his antennas 
listless as he stares out the 
window. His mind seems to be 
somewhere else, lost in a world of 
his own making.

When they arrive, she helps 
Plankton out of the car and 
supports him as they make their 
way to the door. The neon sign 
flickers in the gloom, casting 
erratic shadows across the 
sand. The once bustling 
environment now feels eerie and 
desolate. Karen's mind is racing 
with thoughts of how to make 
this place feel like home again for 
Plankton.

new a journey to autism plaren memorycore ii

📄×🍊🧃

new paper x oj inanimate insanity ii objectshows OBJECTSHOW couple pair duo 2

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON vi
(Autistic author) (see notes below)
* ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Plankton's eye 
closed slowly, his 
breathing evening out 
under her calming 
touch. His body 
relaxed into the 
cushions of the couch, 
his mind still racing 
but his body succumbing 
to the siren call of 
sleep. The smoothie 
and Karen's comforting 
presence had 
worked their magic.

Karen sat beside 
him, 
wrapped protectively 
around his small 
form. She watched 
his chest rise and 
fall with each 
breath, her heart 
heavy with the weight 
of the day's events. 
The Chum Bucket 
was quiet now, the 
silence a stark 
contrast to the 
shouts and sobs that 
had filled it moments 
before. Karen's
heart breaks for Plankton
yet she knows Hanna's
never met him, never heard
of the accident nor diagnosis.

With a sigh, she 
picked up the phone 
that lay on the 
end table and 
dialed Hanna's number. 
The line rang once, 
twice, three times 
before Hanna's 
voice filled the 
line. "Hello?"

Karen took a 
deep breath, 
steeling herself for 
the conversation 
she had to have. "Hanna, 
it's me," she 
said, her voice 
calm despite the 
whirlwind inside her.
"I need to talk to 
you about what 
happened."

Hanna's tone 
shifted immediately, 
concern lacing her 
words. "Is Plankton 
okay?"

Karen's grip 
on the phone 
tightened. "No," she 
admitted, her voice 
a whisper. "He's 
asleep now, but he's 
not okay."

Hanna's voice 
was a mix of 
shock and 
disbelief. "What do 
you mean?"

Karen took 
another deep 
breath, her eyes 
never leaving 
Plankton's peaceful 
face. "There was 
an accident," she 
began, her voice 
steady. "He hit his 
head and..." She 
swallowed the lump 
in her throat. "Acquired 
Autism Spectrum Disorder."

The line was 
silent for a 
moment before 
Hanna's voice 
came back, filled 
with horror. "Oh 
Neptune, I had 
no idea!"

Karen's tentacles 
trembled slightly 
as she recounted 
the doctor's words, 
the diagnosis that 
had turned their 
world upside down. "It's 
permanent," she 
whispered. "They said 
his corpus callosum 
and cerebellum were 
damaged. He's...he's 
not the same, Hanna."

On the phone, 
Hanna's voice 
was a mix of 
sympathy and 
confusion. "But 
why didn't you tell 
me sooner?"

Karen's sigh 
was heavy with 
regret. "We've 
been dealing with 
this alone," she 
explained, her tentacle 
tracing patterns 
on the couch cushion. 
"It's so new, so 
overwhelming."

Hanna's voice 
was gentle now, 
understanding in a 
way that made Karen 
feel less alone. 
"I'm so sorry, Karen," 
she said, her 
concern genuine. "I 
had no idea."

Karen's 
eyes remained 
locked on Plankton's 
face, his chest rising 
and falling with 
each breath. "It's 
been a rollercoaster," 
she admitted, her 
voice tight. "But 
we're trying to 
make the best of it."

Karen hangs up and
turns her focus back to
Plankton, his small 
body curled tightly 
under the blanket.
She notices 
the way his 
antenna twitches 
as if he's dreaming.

Her hands 
gently adjust the 
blanket, her touch 
feather-light against 
his skin. Plankton's 
face is a mask of 
peace in sleep, a stark 
contrast to the 
turmoil of the 
waking world. His 
snores are faint, a 
soothing rhythm 
that fills the 
otherwise silent room.

Just as Karen 
begins to relax, 
the door to the Chum 
Bucket bursts open, 
letting in a rush 
of sunlight and 
SpongeBob's 
unmistakable 
laughter. "Plankton?" 
he calls out, his 
voice high and 
cheerful.

Sponge Bob's 
entrance is a 
whirlwind of 
energy, a stark 
contrast to the 
heavy silence that 
hangs over the 
laboratory. He 
doesn't notice the 
tension in the 
air as he bounds 
towards the couch, 
his eyes widening 
in surprise when he 
sees Plankton's 
unusual position.

"Whoa, Plankton," 
Sponge Bob says, 
his voice a 
chirp of curiosity. 
"Looks like you're 
taking a siesta!" 
He laughs, not 
comprehending the 
depth of emotion 
that has just 
played out in 
the room.

Karen looks 
up from her 
watchful vigil, 
her eyes tired but 
determined. "Sponge 
Bob," she says, 
keeping her voice 
steady, "Plankton's 
not feeling well."

Sponge Bob's 
face falls, his 
cheerfulness 
dimming. "Oh no," 
he says, his 
concern genuine. 
He approaches 
the couch with 
caution, his eyes 
fixed on Plankton's 
peaceful form.

"What happened?" 
he asks, his 
voice hushed. 
"Is he okay?"

Karen's eyes 
meet Sponge Bob's, 
full of a sorrow 
he can't quite 
comprehend. "It's 
been a...difficult 
day," she says, her 
tentacles tightening 
slightly around 
Plankton. "He had 
an accident."

Sponge Bob's 
expression shifts 
from confusion to 
alarm. "Is he 
going to be okay?" 
he asks, his voice 
filled with 
concern. Karen 
sighs, her tentacle 
stroking Plankton's 
forehead in a 
soothing motion. 
"He's just...different 
now," she says, her 
voice tight.

Sponge Bob 
frowns, his 
bubbles popping 
with worry. "What 
kind of different?"

Karen's 
expression is 
guarded, her 
eyes never leaving 
Plankton's sleeping 
form. "He's been 
diagnosed with... 
autism," she 
whispers, the word 
sounding foreign 
even to her.

"Hey, I was born with
idiopathic Autism!" 
Sponge Bob says.

"Well Plankton's got
an acquired form, it's
a rarity," Karen 
explains to Sponge
Bob, her voice 
barely a murmur so 
as not to disturb 
the sleeping Plankton.
Sponge Bob nods 
slowly, his 
understanding of 
the situation 
deepening with 
each word.

"So his accident gave
him autism; when?"

"Yesterday, when he hit 
his head on an invention."

Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with realization. 
"Oh," he says, 
his voice filled with 
sympathy.

He sits down 
on the floor 
beside the couch.

"It's okay, Karen," 
Sponge Bob says 
softly, his eyes 
full of 
understanding. "We'll 
figure this out 
together."

Plankton stirs 
beneath the 
blanket, his 
small form 
shifting slightly.

Karen's gaze 
snaps to him.

"Plankton?" she 
whispers, her 
tentacles poised 
to comfort him if 
his distress 
resurfaces. But his 
eye remains closed, 
his breathing even.

Sponge Bob's 
expression is 
thoughtful as he 
looks at the 
sleeping Plankton. 
"You know, Karen, 
being different isn't 
so bad," he says 
gently. "I mean, 
look at me."

Karen's tentacles 
relax slightly 
as she looks at 
Sponge Bob, his 
optimism a balm 
to her weary 
spirit. Karen smiles.
"Tell that to Hanna,"
Karen mutters to
herself.

"Who's Hanna?"

"A friend," Karen
explained, her 
voice still tight. 
"She came over 
today, didn't know 
about Plankton's 
diagnosis. She said 
things she shouldn't 
have."

Sponge Bob's 
frown deepens. 
"What kind of 
things?"

"She said 
he's a burden, 
that maybe I should 
put him in an 
institution," she 
whispers, her voice 
shaking with anger.

Sponge Bob's 
face falls in shock. 
"That's not 
right, Karen," 
he says firmly. "You 
don't have to 
listen to her. What's an
institution?"

"It's a place where 
clinically crazy people
are sent to rehabilitation
be 'taken care of.' But 
it's not like that 
really for neurodivergent
people. It's more like 
a...a prison where they 
deprive them, and 
often...never make it.
But mostly it's for people
who are violent, which isn't
the case for..."

Her voice trails off as
Plankton stirs again, 
his antennae twitching 
slightly.

Sponge Bob looks at 
Plankton, his eyes 
filled with 
compassion. "He's not 
going anywhere, Karen," 
he says firmly. "You guys 
are like family to 
me. I'll help you 
take care of him."

Plankton's single 
eye opens slightly, 
his gaze unfocused.

"Shh, it's okay," 
she whispers, her 
voice a soothing 
caress.

Plankton blinks 
slowly, his eye 
coming into focus 
as he sees Sponge 
Bob.

A smile 
spreads across his 
face, a rare 
expression of pure 
joy that lights up 
his features. His 
body uncoils from 
its tense curl, 
his antennae 
perking up with 
excitement.

"Sponge Bob," 
Plankton whispers, 
his voice filled with 
a warmth that 
surprises Karen. 
He sits up slowly, 
his movements 
calculated to 
avoid any jolts 
to his sensitive 
system.

Sponge Bob's face 
splits into a 
beaming smile, 
his eyes 
shining with 
joy. "Hey, Plankton!" 
He says.

Plankton's gaze 
remains fixed on 
Sponge Bob, his 
expression a 
mixture of 
gratitude and 
comfort. "You're 
here," he says 
simply, his voice 
a rough whisper.

Sponge Bob nods, 
his smile never 
wavering. "Of course 
I am," he says, 
his voice gentle. 
He reaches out 
a hand tentatively, 
his movements 
slow and deliberate.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch, then he 
reaches out, 
his grip firm but 
not too tight. 
The two of them 
sit there, 
the silence 
comforting rather 
than oppressive.



**NOTEs As an autistic
writer (and I used AI to
help me with the words)
I do not encourage the
ableism people have
shown in their ignorance.
Depending on when and
where you live, some
people have thought 
such therapies might be
good, without actually
accepting nor helping.
Even Hans Asperger
has supported eugenics
during the war, sending
people to internment
camps leading to demise.
I came across the site 
autismmemorial.wordpress.com
if you'd like to educate yourself
about how people have
endured such.*

new neurobehavioral plankton comfortfic vi

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton holds up the science book
he had been clutching, the
pages fluttering in his excitement.

Sponge Bob's eyes flick to the book,
then back to Plankton's face.
"You're acting
different."

Plankton's smile falters, his
hands stilling momentarily. "No bad,"
he insists, his voice a bit too
cheerful. "Just happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes search Plankton's,
trying to read the truth behind
his words. "But you've never
been this... affectionate before,"
he says, his voice tentative.

Plankton's smile widens. "Sponge
Bob," he says, his voice a sing-song.
"You are good friend." He leans
in closer, his antennas quivering.
"Best friend."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen further,
his spongy cheeks reddening. "Plankton,
what's going on?" he asks, his
tone filled with confusion. "You've
never said that before."

Plankton's smile only grows
broader. "No bad," he repeats,
his voice still monotone. "Good
day. Happy." He starts to rock
back and forth on the bed, his
hands flapping in a pattern that
seems almost... happy?

Sponge Bob's confusion
deepens. Plankton had never
been one to show affection,
let alone so openly. "What's
going on?" he asks again, his
voice laced with concern.

Plankton's response is a
repetitive giggle, his eye
locked on Sponge Bob's
face. "Good day," he says, his
hands flapping in a pattern that
matches his words. "Best friend."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in
surprise. Plankton nods vigorously, his
hands flapping rapidly. "Very happy,"
he says, his voice high and
excited. "Best friend happy."

Sponge Bob's confusion turns
to concern. "Plankton, are you
okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

Plankton's giggle turns to a
laugh, a sound Sponge Bob rarely
hears from him. "Yes," he says,
his voice still monotone. "Happy."

Sponge Bob watches his
friend, his heart racing. "What
happened to you?" he asks, his
concern growing with each passing
moment.

Plankton's laughter fades into
a grin. "No bad," he says, his
hands still fluttering in the
air. "Just happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with worry. "What's really going on?"

Plankton's grin turns into a
frown, his hands stopping their
motion. "Sponge Bob," he says,
his voice dropping to a whisper.
"No bad. Happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with confusion, but he
can't ignore the desperation
in Plankton's tone. He reaches out,
his hand resting gently on
Plankton's arm. "But why are you
so happy?" he asks, his voice
filled with genuine concern.

Plankton's frown deepens,
his mind racing to find the
right words. "Because,"
he says, his voice strained. "I
have friend. Best friend."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his hand still on Plankton's
arm. "But we've always been
friends," he says, his voice
filled with confusion.

Plankton's smile is wide, his
eye unblinking. "Yes," he says,
his voice still monotone. "Best
friends. Happy."

Sponge Bob's mind races.
Something is clearly different about
Plankton, but he doesn't know
what. "But, Plankton," he starts, his
voice tentative. "What happened to
make you so... so...?" He struggles
for the right word.

Plankton's smile fades slightly,
his gaze dropping to the book
in his lap. "Book," he says, his
voice flat. "Good book."

Sponge Bob nods, trying to
follow the conversation. "Yeah,
it looks interesting," he says,
his eyes searching for a clue.

But Plankton's gaze is fixed
on the book, his hands
resuming their rhythmic
flapping. "Good book," he repeats,
his voice a gentle mantra.

Sponge Bob's eyes flick from
the book to Plankton's
hands, his mind racing to
connect the dots. "Is something wrong,
Plankton?" he asks, his voice
soft with worry.

Plankton's hands stop
their flapping abruptly, his
eye snapping to Sponge Bob's
face. "No wrong," he says, his
voice earnest. "Just happy."

Sponge Bob's expression is one
of bewilderment. "But you've
always liked your science books,"
he says, trying to find some
semblance of normalcy in the
situation. "What's different about
this one?"

Plankton's smile returns, his
hands resuming their flapping.
"This one," he says, his voice
filled with a newfound enthusiasm.
"Good book. Happy book."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
spongy heart swelling with a
mixture of joy and concern.
"What makes this one so special?"

Plankton's hands flutter with
excitement as he opens the book
to a random page. "Look," he says,
his voice a high-pitched squeak.
"See?"

Sponge Bob leans in, his eyes
scanning the dense text filled with
scientific terms. He nods, trying
to appear engaged, though he has
no clue what he's looking at.
"Wow, Plankton," he says, his
voice filled with forced enthusiasm.
"That's... really interesting."

Plankton's smile widens, his
hands flapping in excitement.
"Yes," he says, his voice a
cheerful monotone. "Good book."

Sponge Bob nods, still
confused but not wanting to
rain on his friend's parade. "Well, I'm
glad you're enjoying it," he says,
his voice warm.

Plankton's hands stop moving
momentarily. "Thank you," he says,
his voice sincere. "You are best
friend." He leans in closer, his
antennas quivering with excitement.

Sponge Bob's eyes widen in surprise
as he feels a sudden wave of warmth
and affection from Plankton, something
that's never been present in their
usually antagonistic friendship.

"What's going on, Plankton?" he asks,
his voice filled with curiosity.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Plankton's smile doesn't waver.
"Sponge Bob," he says, his voice
still monotone. "You are good.
You make Plankton happy."

"What's happened to make you 
so affectionate, Plankton?"

Sponge Bob's question hangs in the
air, his curiosity piqued by the
unexpected warmth from his
usually adversarial friend.

Plankton's response is a
repetitive giggle, his hands
resuming their flapping. "No bad,"
he says, his voice cheerful. "Good
day." He pats the bed next to him.
"Sit, Sponge Bob. Read book."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen,
his spongy body frozen in place.
"I don't think I can read that,
Plankton," he says, his voice
filled with uncertainty. "It's
really complicated."

Plankton nods, his smile
remaining constant. "It's okay,"
he says, his voice soothing. "You
try." He pushes the book closer
to Sponge Bob, his hand
guiding him to the page.

Sponge Bob hesitates, his
thumb flipping through the pages.
The words are a blur of symbols
and numbers, his mind struggling
to make sense of them. "But,
Plankton, I don't understand any
of this," he admits, his voice
filled with frustration.

Plankton's hand stops him, his
eye wide with excitement. "Doesn't
matter," he says, his voice
cheerful. "You are here. Best
friend."

Sponge Bob's confusion turns
to concern. "But Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "You're
not acting like yourself."

Plankton's smile fades slightly,
his hands stilling. "Self,"
he repeats, his voice contemplative.
He looks at Sponge Bob, his
eye searching his friend's
face for understanding.

Sponge Bob's expression is one
of confusion and concern. "Is
this a joke?" he asks, his
voice gentle.

Plankton's smile falters for a
moment before growing wider. "No joke,"
he says, his voice a singsong.
"Happy." He pats the bed again,
his hand a silent invitation.

Sponge Bob's eyes fill with
compassion. He sits down beside
his friend. "Plankton," he starts, his
voice tentative. "Is everything
ok?"

Plankton nods vigorously,
his hands flapping with
excitement. "Everything is
good," he says, his voice a
monotone cheer. "Best day."

Sponge Bob's gaze lingers on
his friend, searching for any
sign of distress. "But,
Plankton," he says, his voice
filled with uncertainty. "You're
not usually like this."

Plankton's smile never
fades. "Don't know," he says, his
voice calm. "But now, happy."

Sponge Bob's heart clenches, his
fears for his friend's well-being
growing stronger. "But what
about your schemes?" he asks,
his voice hopeful.

Plankton's eye blinks, the
thought of his usual plans
of world domination momentarily
forgotten. "Schemes?" he repeats,
his voice confused.

Sponge Bob nods. "Yeah, you
know, your plans to steal the Krabby
Patty secret formula," he says, his
tone light.

Plankton's smile falters, his
hands stopping their flapping. "Krabby Patty?"
he asks, his voice distant. "No want
Krabby Patty. Happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes widen, his
spongy mind racing. "You don't want
to steal the formula?" he asks, his
voice incredulous, now really
suspicious.

Plankton shakes his head, his
antennas swaying slightly. "No,"
he says, his voice still monotone.
"Only happy."

Sponge Bob's eyes are filled
with confusion, but he can't
ignore the genuine smile on
his friend's face. "Okay, Plankton,"
he says, his voice gentle. "If
you're happy, then I'm happy
for you."

Plankton's eye lit up, his
hands flapping with excitement.
"Thank you," he says, his voice
filled with gratitude. "Best
friend." 

new karen and the autistic journey confusedcore vi

SHELF IMPROVEMENT vi
(Autistic author)

Karen rummaged through 
the game drawer, her 
hands shaking slightly. 
She pulled out a game 
of memory matching, 
thinking the simple task 
might help him focus. She 
placed it on the coffee 
table in front of them, 
spreading the cards out.

"It's your turn," she 
said, her voice calm.

Plankton nodded. 
He stared at the cards, 
his eye flickering 
from one to the next. 
Karen watched. Would 
he be able to play? Would 
he understand the 
simplicity of matching 
pictures?

He reached out with 
his tiny hand, paused, 
gaze focused on 
a card with a picture 
of a fish. Then, with a 
quick movement, he 
flipped it over. The card 
was a match. "Fish," he 
whispered, a smile 
creeping onto his lips.

Karen felt a weight 
lift from her chest. 
He had done it, he had 
understood the game. 
Her eyes filled with 
tears as she matched 
the next card. "Good job, 
Plankton," she said, 
trying to keep her 
voice steady. "You 
found the match."

He nodded, his antennae 
twitching with excitement. 
"Fish," he said again, his 
smile growing wider. 
"Fish, Karen."

Karen felt a warmth 
spread through her, 
seeing a glimpse of the 
Plankton she knew, the one 
who loved puzzles and 
challenges. "Yes, 
Plankton, you're doing 
great."

Suddenly, their son
Chip came home 
from a camp trip.

The door slammed, 
and Plankton
shot up. His eye
widened in fear. Karen 
quickly placed her hand 
on his back, trying 
to soothe him.

"It's okay, 
Plankton," she 
whispered. 
"It's just Chip 
coming 
home."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he 
processed the 
information. 
"Chip," he murmured, 
his voice quavering. 
"Home."

Chip sees his dad
but doesn't know
of the acquired
Autism. "Dad!" He
yelled excitedly,
running to him with
a tight embrace of a
hug. But it proves to
be too much for Plankton.

The sudden jolt 
of noise and 
movement sent Plankton
into a spiral of 
overstimulation. His 
body convulsed, and he 
shook, his 
tiny form wracked with 
seizures as Karen watched 
helplessly as Chip only held
Plankton tighter.

"Chip, no!" she 
screamed, her voice 
breaking. She jumped 
up from the couch. "Gently, 
gentle!"

But it was too 
late. Plankton's body 
was a blur of spasms, 
his eye rolled back. 
Karen knew this
autistic response; this 
is sensory overload.

"Chip, let go!" Karen 
shouted, her voice 
desperate. But Chip, 
not understanding 
his father's condition, 
only held on tighter. 
"Dad, are you okay?" But
Plankton's body continued 
to convulse violently, 
his tiny limbs flailing. 
Karen's mind raced, 
recalling her research 
on autism and its 
sometimes intense 
physical responses. 
She had to act fast.

Gently but firmly, 
she pried Chip's arms 
from Plankton's trembling 
body and lowered 
his father to the 
floor. "Chip, sweetie, 
I need you to step back," 
she instructed, her voice 
shaking.

Chip's eyes were 
wide with fear. "Dad.." he 
stuttered, trying to reach
for Plankton.

"Chip, please," 
Karen pleaded, her 
voice tight. "Just go to 
your room for a bit.
I need to take care of 
Dad."

With a tearful 
nod, Chip stepped back, 
his screen never leaving 
his father's convulsing 
body. Karen turned her attention 
back to Plankton.

"Shh," she soothed, 
placing a hand 
on his shoulder. "It's 
okay, it's okay." Her voice 
was a gentle lullaby, 
trying to anchor him 
in the chaos. But Plankton's 
body continued to 
shake from the lingering
sensation of Chip's touch.
Karen knew she had to 
move quickly. She 
grabbed a pillow from 
the couch and placed it 
beneath his head, trying 
to reduce the risk of 
injury.

The seizure lasted 
a few more seconds, 
his antennae quivering 
wildly. Then, just as 
suddenly as it had 
begun, it started to
gradually fade. Plankton's 
body went limp, his 
breaths shallow and 
quick.

"It's okay," she 
whispered, her voice 
shaky with relief. "You're 
okay."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched, and his eye 
flitted open. He looked 
up at Karen, confusion 
and fear etched on 
his face. "Karen?" he 
murmured, his voice 
weak.

"I'm here," she said 
soothingly, stroking his 
back. "You had a 
reaction to Chip, 
Plankton. It's okay now."

His antennae stilled 
for a moment as he 
focused on her voice. 
"Chip," he repeated, 
his gaze distant. "Too 
much."

Karen nodded. "I know, 
Plankton. I'll explain to 
Chip. He didn't mean 
to scare you." She 
could hear Chip's 
sobs from his room, the 
sound piercing the 
silence of the living 
room.

Plankton's antennae 
moved slightly. "Chip," 
he murmured. "Not mad."

Karen felt a knot 
loosen in her chest. 
"No, Plankton," she 
whispered. "Chip's not 
mad, honey. He loves 
you, just like I do."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he 
processed her words. 
"Love," he murmured, 
his gaze finding hers. 
"Karen loves Plankton.
Chip loves Plankton."

Karen nodded, 
swiping at her tears. 
"Yes, we both love 
you so much," she said, 
her voice thick with 
emotion. "We're going 
to help you through this."

Plankton's eye searched 
her face, his expression 
unreadable. "Help," he 
whispered. "Karen helps."

Karen's chest tightened 
with the weight of 
his trust. She knew this 
was just the beginning, 
that their lives had 
shifted in a way she had 
never anticipated. But she 
was determined to be 
his rock, to navigate 
this new reality with 
patience and love.

new shelf improvement neurodivergentcore vi

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM vi

(Autistic author)

Sponge Bob's heart 
swells with compassion. 
"It's ok, Plankton," he 
says, his voice gentle. "We 
don't have to play anymore."

Plankton's antennas 
drop, and he nods slowly. 
"No fish," he repeats, 
his voice a sigh of 
relief.

Sponge Bob's hand 
freezes in mid-air, 
his eyes searching 
Plankton's face for 
any sign of anger or 
disappointment. But all 
he sees is a glimmer of 
understanding in his 
friend's eye.

"Thank Sponge 
Bob for being patient."
Plankton says to him.

Sponge Bob nods, his 
eyes still filled with 
concern. "I'll be patient, 
Plankton," he promises. "Can
I ask how you hit your head?"

Plankton's antennas 
lift slightly. "Pan," he 
murmurs, his voice 
barely above a whisper. 
"Fry pan, Mr. Krabs. Only
Karen and SpongeBob know."

Sponge Bob's eyes 
widen with shock. "What?!"
he exclaims. "Mr. Krabs 
hurt you?"

Plankton nods, his antennas 
still low. "Pan," he repeats, 
his voice shaking. "Pan," he 
says again, his voice 
softer. "Krabs hit on head."
Sponge Bob's anger 
towards Mr. Krabs is 
immediate and intense. 
"I can't believe he'd do 
that to you," he says, 
his voice low and 
teary.

"Mr. Krabs did to protect
the krabby patty." 
Karen interjects quickly, 
sensing the tension. 
"He doesn't know how
badly he hurt Plankton."

Sponge Bob's eyes narrow, 
his thoughts racing. He can't
believe Mr. Krabs could 
do something like that, even 
in the heat of the moment.

"I'll talk to Mr. Krabs," 
he says firmly, his voice 
laced with determination. 
"He needs to know what..."

"No!"

The sharpness of Plankton's 
voice cuts through the 
air like a knife, his 
antennas shooting up in 
alarm. "Mr. Krabs no," he 
says, his eye wide with fear. 
"No tell."

Sponge Bob's anger 
fades slightly, replaced 
by confusion. "Why not?" 
he asks, his voice 
gentle. "He needs to know 
so he can understand.."

Plankton's antennas 
quiver anxiously. "Krabs 
not know," he whispers, his 
eye pleading with Sponge 
Bob. "Safe here."

Sponge Bob's 
confusion deepens. "But 
Plankton, if Mr. Krabs 
doesn't know, how will he 
make it up to you?"
Plankton's antennas 
droop, his eye darting 
back and forth between 
Karen and Sponge Bob. "No 
make up," he murmurs. "Just 
no satisfaction for Krabs."
Sponge Bob's mind 
spins with the implications. 
He knows Mr. Krabs 
would never hurt 
anyone that much 
intentionally, even Plankton;
but the thought of his 
boss not knowing the 
extent of his actions 
troubles him.
"I won't tell him," 
Sponge Bob says, his voice 
soft with reassurance.
But of course, Mr. Krabs
comes in. "What in the
name of Neptune are
ye doing? I gave ye the
day off yesterday!"
"The Krusty Krab is closed on
Sunday, and it's Sunday today."
SpongeBob reminds his boss.
"Oh, right." Mr. Krabs looks
at Plankton and his eyes narrow.
"What's going on here?" he asks,
suspicion heavy in his voice.
Plankton's antennas droop even
lower, and he looks down at the
floor.
Plankton speaks first. "Go 
fish," he whispers, his 
eye darting up to meet 
Mr. Krabs'. Sponge Bob steps in 
quickly, trying to cover 
for his friend. "We were 
just playing a game," he 
says, forcing a smile.
Mr. Krabs eyes them 
both skeptically.
"Well, I hope it wasn't 
about stealing me secret 
formular," he says, his 
claws tapping 
nervously.
"No, Mr. Krabs," Sponge 
Bob says quickly, "just a 
friendly game."
Plankton's antennas 
twitch slightly at the 
mention of the Krabby 
Patty formula, but he 
remains silent.
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
narrow further.
"What's wrong with 
you, Plankton?" he 
asks, his voice filled 
with concern and a 
touch of irritation.
"You're acting strangely
quiet even for you."
Plankton's antennas 
quiver.
Sponge Bob's heart 
paces. He doesn't want 
to betray Plankton's trust.
"It's nothing," Plankton 
says, his voice 
forced. "Just a little 
game, Krabs wanna play."
"Fine I'll play, but I got my
eye on ye, Plankton."
Mr. Krabs says, his tone 
still suspicious as he 
sits down to join them. 
Sponge Bob's eyes dart to 
Karen, who gives a 
nod of understanding. 
They'll keep the secret and
hope Mr. Krabs doesn't figure
it out.

"Let's play Uno!" Sponge
Bob says, getting out the new
card game, dealing the cards.
Plankton's antennas 
perk up at the mention 
of a new game, and he 
eagerly takes his cards. 
Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
plays along, eyeing Plankton 
carefully.
Then, it happens.
Mr. Krabs slaps a card 
down on the pile and 
excitedly yells, "Uno!"
Plankton's antennas shoot 
straight up, and his eye 
widen with sensory 
overload.
Sponge Bob's concerned, 
but Mr. Krabs 
is too busy gloating to 
notice. "Yee-haw!" he 
crows. "I win again!"
Plankton's antennas 
quiver as he tries to 
process the sudden 
loudness and change in 
the atmosphere. 
Mr. Krabs looks at him, 
his expression puzzled.
"What's the matter, 
Plankton?" he asks, 
his voice laced with 
disdain. "Lost your 
competitive spirit?"
Sponge Bob's eyes widen.
"Plankton's just 
excited, Mr. Krabs," he 
says quickly. "Isn't that right, 
Plankton?"
Plankton's antennas 
wave erratically, and 
his voice is a mix of 
fear and confusion. 
"Yes, Krabs," he stammers, 
his eye darting around 
the room. "Uno. Fish. Yes."
Mr. Krabs looks at him 
oddly but shrugs it off, 
his attention already 
returning to the game. 
"Alright, let's keep playing," 
he says, dealing out 
more cards.
But Plankton's mind is elsewhere, 
his antennas twitching with 
the effort to keep up.
"Fish," he murmurs to 
himself, trying to find 
a familiar 
word. His hands 
shake as he holds 
his cards, the 
world around him a 
cacophony of sensory 
overload.
Sponge Bob notices 
Plankton's distress and 
quickly changes the 
topic. "Hey, Mr. Krabs, 
have you ever played 
Chess?"
Mr. Krabs' eyes 
light up. "Chess? The 
game of kings and 
conquers!" he exclaims. 
"I'd love a round!"
SpongeBob gets
the chess game.

The chess pieces are set 
up, and Mr. Krabs 
begins to play, his 
claws clacking against 
the board as he moves 
his pieces. Plankton 
watches, his antennas 
still, his eye 
focused.
"Your move, Plankton," 
Mr. Krabs says, his 
claws tapping the 
edge of the board 
impatiently.

But Plankton doesn't 
move. He just sits there, 
staring at the 
chessboard, his cards 
forgotten in his hand. 
"What's with you?" 
Mr. Krabs asks, 
his voice filled with 
exasperation. "You're 
taking forever!"

Sponge Bob's heart 
skips a beat. He knows 
he can't let Mr. Krabs 
see how much Plankton's 
been affected by the 
accident. "It's ok 
Mr. Krabs," he says 
quickly. "Plankton's just 
thinking of his next 
move."

Mr. Krabs grumbles but 
doesn't push the issue. 
He's too focused on 
his own strategy, his 
claws moving pieces with 
calculated precision.
But Plankton remains 
frozen, his gaze 
unwavering on the 
board. His antennas 
twitch slightly, a 
sign of his racing 
thoughts.

After several moments of 
silence, Mr. Krabs 
finally snaps. "Plankton,
it's your turn!" he says, 
his patience wearing 
thin.

Plankton's antennas 
twitch, and his eye 
flits to the board. 
"Fish?" he asks, his 
voice unsure.
Mr. Krabs stares at 
Plankton, his eyes 
narrowing. "What do 
fish have to do with 
chess?" he asks, 
confusion etched 
deeply on his face.

Sponge Bob's heart 
sinks as he sees the 
puzzlement in Mr. 
Krabs' eyes. He 
quickly jumps in. "Oh, 
Plankton was just 
thinking out loud," he 
says, trying to 
lighten the mood.

Mr. Krabs grunts, 
but his suspicion 
doesn't fade. "You've 
always been a weird 
little fellow, Plankton, but 
this is something else," 
he says, his tone a mix 
of curiosity and 
exasperation.

Sponge Bob's heart 
thumps in his chest 
as he tries to 
diverge the conversation. 
"Why don't we talk 
about something else?" 
he suggests, his eyes 
darting back to the 
chessboard.

Mr. Krabs' gaze 
remains on Plankton, 
his eyes narrowed. 
But Plankton's antennas 
remain still, his 
expression vacant.
"Fish," he murmurs, 
his voice distant.

Mr. Krabs' patience 
thins to a thread. 
"Fish?" he repeats, his 
confusion palpable. 
"What's going on with 
you, Plankton?"

Plankton's antennas 
wobble, his eye
still fixated on the 
board. "Fish," he says 
again, his voice 
uncertain.

Mr. Krabs leans 
forward, his eyes 
studying Plankton 
closely. "You okay, 
tiny fry?" he asks, 
hinting concern 
despite the 
sarcasm.

Plankton's antennas 
quiver slightly. "Fish," 
he says, his voice 
barely above a 
whisper. Sponge Bob's 
heart clenches at the 
word, understanding 
now that it's not just 
a game for Plankton; it's 
his way of trying to 
make sense of the 
world around him.

Mr. Krabs, however, 
simply sighs and shakes 
his head. "You always 
have to make everything 
so complicated," he 
mumbles, his voice 
tired. "Why can't you just 
play the game like 
everyone else?" He yells
tipping the board over to
where the chess pieces
fall to the ground by Plankton.

Plankton's antennas 
shiver at the sound, and 
his eye dart to the 
upset board, his 
expression one of deep 
distress. "No fish," he 
whispers, his voice 
breaking.
Mr. Krabs' eyes widen, 
his suspicion growing. 
"What's going on with 
you?" he asks again.

"Fish, fish, fish!" 

new a journey to autism gamefic vi

GREAT CHIP vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his face etched with lines
of fatigue. "It's not that I don't
want your affection," he said,
his voice hoarse. "I just need it
in a way that doesn't make me feel...
like I'm in a minefield."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his mind racing to understand.
"How do you mean?" he asked,
his curiosity genuine.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae twitching as he searched
for the right words. "It's like...
sometimes, a simple touch can feel
like an electric shock," he began,
his voice strained. "Or like I'm being
smothered by a heavy blanket of sound."

Chip's eyes widened, trying to
comprehend. "But you've always
hugged mom," he said, his voice
filled with confusion.

Plankton's antennae drooped slightly.
"It's different with your mother,"
he explained, his voice a little
less strained. "She knows me,
she knows my limits. And she's...
patient." He paused, his eye
flickering with something
resembling sadness. "But others,
it's..."

Chip leaned in, his curiosity
piqued. "What about others?"
he asked gently.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his expression tightening.
"With others, it's... unpredictable,"
he said, his voice a mix of
frustration and resignation.
"Some days I can handle a pat
on the back, and others, it's like
being stabbed."

Chip's eyes widened, his hand
instinctively moving to his chest.
"It's that intense?" he whispered.

Plankton nodded, his antennae
waving slightly. "Some days are
worse than others," he said, his voice
soft. "But when it's bad, it feels like
I'm being bombarded from all sides.
It's...overwhelming."

Chip's brow furrowed as he
tried to imagine the intensity
his dad described. "What can I do
to make sure I don't hurt you?"
he asked, his voice earnest.

Plankton's antennae perked up
slightly, his eye searching Chip's
face. "Just be mindful," he said,
his voice softer than before. "Watch
for my cues. If I look overwhelmed,
if I flinch, just...give me space."

Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving his dad's. "What are
the cues?" he asked, eager to learn.
"How do I know when you're in that
'minefield'?"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye searching for the right words.
"Well, my antennae might twitch a lot,
I might get really quiet, or I might
get louder. It's different
every time."

Chip nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's face.
"So, if you're in that 'minefield',
I should just...?"

"You can be there,"
Plankton finished for him,
his antennae still. "But not too close.
Make sure to get your mother."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with the new information.
He'd always known his dad
was special, but this was
a new kind of understanding.

"What about sounds?" he asked,
his voice tentative. "What noises
set you off?"

Plankton sighed, his antennae
twitching slightly. "It's not just
about the loudness," he began,
his eye searching the ceiling
as if for an answer. "It's more about
the pitch, the suddenness. Like when
you scratch or drop something.."

Chip's eyes grew wide with
realization. "Oh," he murmured.
"So, it's like a surprise attack?"

Plankton's antennae nodded.
"Exactly," he said, his voice
sounding a bit less strained.
"But it's not just about the
sounds themselves. It's about
how my brain interprets them."

Chip leaned in, his eyes
filled with curiosity.
"But how did you get it, Dad?"
he asked, his voice soft.
"Was it from something you caught
or something that happened?"

Plankton's antennae waved
in frustration. "It's not like that,"
he said, his voice sharp. "I was born
with it. It's just the way
my brain is developed, and it's not
like getting a cold!" His eye
was intense, his voice rising.

Chip's eyes widened, taking
in his father's outburst.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae dropping slightly.

"I know you didn't mean it like that,"
he said, his voice softer. "But it's
important to understand that it's
not something I can just get over.
It's a part of how I am."

Chip nodded, feeling the weight
of his father's words. "I'm sorry,"
he said, his voice barely audible. "I..."

Plankton's antennae waved gently,
his eye softening. "It's okay," he said.
"I know you didn't mean to upset me.
It's just...it's a lot to explain."

Chip nodded, feeling a pang
of guilt. He knew his dad
wasn't mad at him, but it was
still hard to see him so upset.

Plankton's eye searched his son's
face, the anger slowly fading
into something softer. "Look," he said,
his voice low. "I know it's a lot to take in,
but I need you to know that I l-love you."

Chip felt a tear slide down
his cheek. "I love you too, Dad,"
he managed to say, his voice
choking with emotion. "But I don't
want you to be in pain."

Plankton's antennae waved gently,
his expression a mix of love and
sorrow. "I know," he said. "And that's why
we're talking about this. So you can
understand, so you know."

Chip sniffled, trying to hold back
his tears. "But why didn't you tell
me sooner?" he asked, his voice
small.

Plankton's antennae drooped,
his face etched with regret.
"I was afraid," he admitted.
"Afraid that you'd think
I was broken. That you'd...
not love me the same. And
I don't usually like to talk
about it to much."

Chip felt his heart ache.
"Dad," he said, his voice
steady despite his emotions.
"I could never think of you
as broken. You're the smartest
person I know. And you're
my hero."

Plankton's antennae perked up
slightly at the words, his eye
filling with warmth. "But you don't
see me like that when I'm...
in that state," he said, his voice
barely a whisper. "You stared at me like I'm
to be feared."

Chip's eyes widened, a look
of horror crossing his face. "Dad, no!"
he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to!"

Plankton's antennae drooped,
his expression one of defeat.
"It's okay, Chip," he said, his voice
resigned. "It's hard to explain. It's not
like I can control it."

Chip nodded, his mind racing
with questions and fears. He knew
his dad wasn't broken, but he wished
there was something he could do to ease
his pain. "What happens when
you're in that state?" he asked, his voice
barely above a whisper.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye closed as he tried to
explain. "It's like my brain's in a
whirlwind, and I can't get out,"
he said. "Everything's spinning,
and I can't focus on anything."

"But why do you get so upset
when it happens?" he pressed.

Plankton took a deep breath,
his antennae stilling. "Because
I don't know what's happening,"
he said, his voice strained. "And when
it's over, I don't remember."

Chip's eyes searched his dad's,
his heart breaking for him. "But
why don't you remember?"

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye opening slightly. "It's like
waking up from a deep sleep,"
he murmured. "I know I've been
somewhere, but the details are
always fuzzy."

Chip nodded, trying to imagine
his dad's world. "What do you see?"
he asked, his voice filled with awe.

Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye focusing on a spot on the wall.
"It's like...colors and shapes,"
he said, his voice distant. "They're all
swirling around, so fast that I can't
make sense of them."

Chip's eyes grew wide with
wonder. "Is it like a kaleidoscope?"
he asked, his voice filled with
awe.

Plankton's antennae twitched slightly,
his eye opening a bit wider. "In a way,"
he murmured. "But it's more...
dis..."

The door to the room creaked open,
interrupting his thought. Karen stepped in,
her eyes darting between Chip and Plankton.
The tension in the air was palpable,
but she offered a small smile of encouragement.
"Chip, Plankton; how long have you been up?"

Chip glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
"A while, Mom," he said, his voice thick
with the weight of their conversation.

new great chip learncore vi

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY vi
(Autistic author)

Plankton's sobs grew softer in Karen's embrace, his 
tiny body trembling with the weight of his emotions. 
"I-it's okay," Karen whispered, stroking his antennae 
gently. "You can like jellyfish all you want, sweetheart."

Sponge Bob watched from a distance, his heart heavy. 
He had never seen Plankton like this, vulnerable and hurt. 
He knew the two of them had their differences, but this 
was different.

Plankton's sobs grew quieter, but the pain didn't leave 
his eye. Karen held him tight, filled with a fiery 
determination. "Plankton," she whispered soothingly. 
"You don't have to change who you are because of this."

He pulled away slightly, his antennae drooping as he looked 
at her. "But what if jellyfish are all Plankton good for?" he 
murmured, his voice still monotone but filled with a depth 
of emotion that tugged at Karen's heartstrings.

"Plankton, you're more than just jellyfish," Karen said, voice 
firm yet gentle. "You're a smart, resourceful, and determined 
little creature. You've always been so much more than that."

The room was still, the only sound was Plankton's sniffs. 
His antennae drooped, and he looked up at her, his single 
eye red and puffy from crying. "But Karen," he whispered, his 
voice monotone yet filled with emotion, "it's all Plankton know 
now."

Karen's eyes shone with empathy. "That's not true, darling," she 
said, her voice soothing. "You're capable of so much more. We 
just have to figure out how to navigate this new world together."

Sponge Bob hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. "Is there 
anything I can do to help?" he offered.

Karen nodded, her tentacles tightening around Plankton. "Could 
you be with him while I admonish Patrick?"

"Of course," Sponge Bob said, moving closer to Plankton.

Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he nodded.

"I'll be right outside," Karen said, her voice gentle.

Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze focused on Plankton's small 
trembling form. "I've got him," he said, his eyes filled with 
understanding and a newfound respect for the tiny creature 
before him.

As Karen left to talk to Patrick 
Sponge Bob sat down beside 
Plankton, his own heart aching 
for his friend's pain. He knew 
that Plankton was going through 
a difficult time, and he wanted to 
be there for him.

Meanwhile, outside the Chum Bucket, Karen found Patrick 
still standing there, his expression a mix of confusion and 
amusement. "Patrick," she began, her voice sharp, "You need 
to understand something."

Patrick looked at her with his usual vacant stare. "What's up, Karen?"

"You have to understand, Patrick," she began, her voice tight 
with tension. "Plankton's... he's different now."

Patrick's smile faded as he met Karen's stern gaze. "Different?"

Karen sighed, trying to find the words. "Plankton's had an... accident," 
she said. "It's changed him."

Patrick's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean, changed?"

Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain 
the complex situation in a way that would make sense to 
someone like Patrick. "Plankton's had a... a bump on the noggin," 
she said, her tentacles gesturing to her own head. "It's affected 
the way he thinks, the way he sees the world."

Patrick's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa, that's heavy, Karen," he 
said, his tone more serious than it had been in a long time. "Is he ok?"

"Well, he's alive," Karen said, her voice tight with frustration. "But 
he's not the same, Patrick. He's... different."

Patrick's smile faded as he took in her words, his eyes finally 
showing a glimmer of understanding. "What happened?" he 
asked, his tone serious for once.

"It's complicated, Patrick," Karen said. "But the important thing is
he's a new version of himself. So you can choose to be nice to him 
or just leave."

Patrick's face fell, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. "But 
I didn't know, Karen," he protested, his voice small. "How was I 
supposed to know?"

"It's not about knowing, Patrick," Karen said, her voice firm. "It's about 
being a good friend. And if you can't do that, then maybe it's time for 
you to rethink what friendship really means."

Patrick's expression grew contemplative. "But Karen," he 
began, his voice tentative, "what if Plankton's... you know, not 
right in the head anymore?"

"Patrick, that's not funny," she snapped. "This isn't a game. 
This is real life. And Plankton's life has changed in ways 
you can't even begin to understand."

Patrick looked down at his feet, his usual jovial expression 
replaced by one of contemplation. "I didn't mean to be a jerk," 
he mumbled.

"I know you didn't mean to," Karen said, her tone 
softening slightly. "But you need to be more considerate."

Patrick nodded, his cheeks flushing. "I'll be nicer," he 
promised, his eyes darting to the Chum Bucket door.

"Good," Karen said firmly, then turned back to the Chum Bucket. 
She opened the door to find Plankton still on the floor, clutching 
the jellyfish book. His antennae perked up as she entered.

Sponge Bob looked up, his expression a mix of sadness and 
determination. "I think he's okay."

Plankton sniffled, his antennae drooping. "Jellyfish," he 
murmured, his voice a monotone whisper.

Karen's expression softened as she saw the pain in his eye. "It's 
okay, Plankton," she said, her tentacles reaching out to comfort 
him. "You don't have to be anything other than who you are."

Sponge Bob nodded in agreement. "You're still the same Plankton 
we know and love." 

new a life of diversity jellycore vi

୭₊˚🎀 i am going to curse all of you guys ✿ ·˚ ₊

new i am going to curse all of you guys

please dont post gross stuff on here!! kids who are young like probably 9 year olds are just trying to find cute combos. spread the word (≧ヮ≦) also people who are spreading the word, please do not put curse words. its the same example for kids with the gross things but with curse words. thanks love<3 bye!!(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

🇮🇻🇻🇮🇮

new viii sevener xviii iv eighteen 7 8

8ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☾

new march eight viii month mars march 1 coquette

THE LIFE OF UNITY ii
(Autistic author; make sure to read A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i - x first!)

Kevin scoffs. "Yeah, right," he says, voice 
dripping with disdain. Kevin 
snorts. "So jellyfish are smarter 
than you? You're saying you're like a jelly
fish; Brainless and just floating around?"

Plankton's antennae stiffen, taking on edge. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, "Jellyfish have nerve nets. 
Complex behaviors. 
Brainless? Not brainless. Different."

Kevin's eyes narrow, his grin fading into a sneer. 
"So, what you're saying is 
that you're like a jellyfish?" he taunts. 
"Just with no real purpose?"

The silence that follows is thick with tension. 
Plankton's antennae quiver. "Jellyfish," he murmurs, 
eye flashing, "have purpose. Plankton has purpose."

Kevin snickers, unaware of 
the impact of his words. 
"Sure, Plankton," he says, his 
voice dripping with sarcasm. 
"Your purpose is to annoy me
I guess."

Plankton's antennae stiffen. "Purpose," 
he murmurs, his one eye narrowing. 
"Annoying Kevin... not Plankton's purpose
you don't understand."

Kevin's sneer turns into a full-blown laugh. 
"Understand what?" he asks, his 
voice dripping with disbelief. "That you 
think jellyfish are your friends? That 
you're obsessed with them because 
you're just like them?"

Plankton's antennae quiver 
with a mix of anger 
and sadness, his monotone 
voice tight. "Jellyfish. Different."

Kevin's laughter echoes through the 
jellyfish fields, his ignorance fueling 
the flames of Plankton's anger. "Oh
come on," he says. "You're just mad 
because you can't outsmart a jellyfish."

Plankton's antennae quiver violently, his 
monotone voice filled with a 
rare emotion: insecurity. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, "you don't know what 
you're saying."

But Kevin's laughter doesn't cease, eyes 
sparkling with mischief. 
"What, are you going to get all sensitive 
on me now?" he asks, his voice 
filled with mock concern. "Is Plankton thinking 
with his 'jellyfish brain'?"

Plankton's antennae droop, the barb of Kevin's 
words hitting too close to home. 
"It's not funny," Plankton murmurs, 
antennae drooping.

SpongeBob steps 
forward, fists 
clenched. "Kevin, that's 
not cool," he says 
firmly. "You don't know 
what you're talking about."

Kevin's laughter falters, his smirk fading. 
"What do you mean?" he asks, his 
voice defensive. "It's just a joke."

"No," Plankton murmurs, his antennae drooping 
further. "Not funny."

Kevin's sneer fades, his expression shifting 
to confusion. "What's your 
problem, Plankton?" he asks, his 
voice tinged with annoyance.

"Kevin," Sponge Bob says, his voice a mix 
of concern and reprimand. "That's 
not nice. Plankton's interest in jellyfish 
is special to him."

But Kevin's sneer only deepens. "Oh, I 
get it," he says, his voice dripping 
with condescension. "You're all playing 
along with his little game. Well, I'm 
not. Jellyfish are just mindless blobs. 
And if you're so obsessed with them
Plankton, maybe that's all you are, too."

Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye blinking rapidly. 

But Kevin, fueled by his own ignorance, continues 
to laugh, his words 
cutting deeper. "What's the 
matter, Plankton?" he sneers. 
"Can't take a 
little ribbing?"

Plankton's antennae quiver with each insult, his
monotone voice strained. 
"Kevin," he murmurs, his one eye wide with hurt. 
"Not a game."

Kevin's laughter echoes 
through the jellyfish fields, 
his eyes gleaming 
with cruel amusement. "Oh, I see," he 
says, his voice dripping with 
sarcasm. "You're just to sensitive 
for a little teasing."

But Plankton's antennae quiver with a 
mix of anger and sadness, his 
monotone voice tight. "Jellyfish... complex," 
he murmurs, his eye flashing 
with determination. "Not brainless. Not like 
your jokes."

"What's the matter?" Kevin asks, his smirk 
growing. "Can't handle the truth?"

"Truth?" Plankton's antennae quiver with emotion. 
"Jellyfish," he murmurs, his 
monotone voice filled with a rare passion. 
"Jellyfish... beautiful. Complex."

Kevin's eyes narrow, his laughter fading. "Beautiful?" 
he scoffs. "They're 
just jellyfish, Plankton. They don't have feelings. 
They don't have brains. 
Just like you."

Plankton's antennae quiver.

But Kevin's smirk only widens, his 
laughter bouncing 
off the surrounding 
coral, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You
can't talk without 
getting all worked up. What kind of brainless 
blob are you?"

Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone 
voice strained. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, "you don't understand."

"Understand what?" Kevin sneers, eyes gleaming with malicious 
amusement. "That jellyfish are just mindless blobs of jelly? That you're 
just like them?"

Plankton's antennae droop. "Kevin," he 
murmurs, "you don't know."

"Know what?" Kevin's laughter is cruel, his 
eyes sparkling with mischief. 
"That jellyfish are just mindless animals 
and you're obsessed with them 
because you're just a brainless creature 
who can't get a life?"

Plankton's antennae droop even further, his 
one eye blinking 
rapidly. "Not mindless."

Kevin's laughter turns into a cackle. "Oh, so you 
think you're better than 
jellyfish now?" he asks, his voice dripping 
with sarcasm. "Maybe if you 
had a brain, you could actually catch one of those 
Krabby Patties you're 
always after! Maybe if you had a brain, you'd realize THAT 
YOU'LL NEVER 
BE MORE THAN A TINY, BRAINLESS BOTTOM FEEDER!"

The words hit Plankton like a tidal wave, antennae drooping 
even further.

"Kevin," Plankton murmurs, his monotone voice thick 
with emotion, "you don't know."

new the life of unity jellyfishcore ii

Any moment now...
Are you sure this is what you want?
(Scoff) Oh spare me your spin, you tablet tabloid.
If you want to psychoanalyze someone, don't look at me-

Look at them! It's so pathetic,
How they run to fetch their sticks…
Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic,
At least I know other tricks!

Look at me and all you'll see is the debris of some defective outcast,
A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) little iconoclast,
But I won't live in the past.

(I almost won this game once, you know.)
But.

History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory,
So reality is changed in the edit when they spin the story,
And we choose, to feel this pain,
And we lose, more than we gain...

But I will BREAK this cycle,
Of mistakes, unlike all,
Of these SNAKES whom I call to condemn!

If I can't win the prize,
I'll play this last reprisal!
Just to bring their lies all to an end… -Ack!

You need regeneration.
Unfortunately, I don't have much faith in that process.
Of course not.
Why "of course not?".
You believe yourself to be incapable of starting over, in more ways than one.
I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back?

"Clear the slate, start again",
Are you hearing how preposterous that sounds?
How do you not comprehend that for someone with my MONSTROUS BACKGROUND,
the whole slate has fallen apart!

Taco that is not true.
There are other ways to-

IT’S TOO LATE-

It's not too late,

FOR ME TO RESTART!

But it's not I, its they,
(Let us talk about it when your),
Who deign to play this game, so,
(head is not so clouded. You're no),
Cruel & inhumane, base & uncouth,
(menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?)
(Please think this through)

I think they're too afraid to,
(Feeling double-crossed is part of),
Bear the bed they've made,
(Dealing with a loss, yes, but the),
Can't bring themselves to face the awful truth.
(Healing is a process, that's the truth)

So I'm turning up the heat to "sauté",
I've a beef to get grilled,
But I fully guarantee today that all the beans that get spilled,
Won't be mine,
No I'm fine,

I-

Shhhh...
Now it's time...

new ii inanimate insanity osc

⣟⣯⢿⡹⣏⠿⣭⠯⡽⣩⢏⡝⢮⡙⢮⡙⣎⠳⡙⢎⠳⡍⢞⣡⠛⣬⠳⡩⢞⣡⠛⡬⢓⡭⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠀
⡿⣼⢳⡻⣜⠻⣔⢫⠖⡱⢊⡜⡡⡙⢢⠑⡌⠱⢉⠌⡱⢈⠒⠤⠉⡄⠣⠑⠌⠤⢉⠔⢃⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⠀⠄⠀⠄
⡿⣜⢧⡛⣬⠳⣌⠣⢎⠡⢃⡐⠡⠐⠁⠂⠌⠐⠀⠂⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠀⠁⠈⠀⠂⠠⠈⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡦⠜⠄⠢⠀
⡟⡼⢣⡝⢤⠓⡄⢃⠂⠌⡀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠈⠢⠠⠍⠂
⢯⡝⣣⠚⡤⢃⠌⡐⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠈⠃
⡗⢮⡅⢫⠐⢂⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢫⢐⠇⢄⠃⢀⣿⣀⣤⣤⣤⣠⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠂⠑⠀⠈⠀⠂
⣝⡲⢌⠣⡘⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⣱⢻⢠⡐⣴⣾⣿⣿⢿⣿⢽⡻⣳⣳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢀⣴⣾⣻⣞⡧⡽
⢮⡱⢊⡱⢀⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢡⠃⠈⡤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣯⢿⣹⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣜⣿⣿⣯⣷⢯⣷⢶
⢧⣃⠧⡐⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⢺⣀⣀⣇⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⡳⣌⢒⠡⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣱⣬⣭⡭⢶⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣾⠿⢻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⡳⡌⢎⠰⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠋⠀⠀⠌⠸⣭⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡽⠛⠀⠀⠁⢋⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢧⡙⣌⠢⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⡄⠩⢌⢂⡐⠀⣈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠘⣽⣿⣿⣿
⣇⠳⡄⢃⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣎⣮⣤⡄⠠⠈⠁⠂⠢⡄⢁⠀⢨⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿
⣎⣷⣿⡾⣆⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢫⣵⣚⣿⣿⣧⣀⠄⡀⠀⠈⢂⠠⡘⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⡄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢏⣡⢛⣿⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⢰⣻⣿
⣯⠶⣏⠷⣧⢖⡩⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⡨⠐⢋⡻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⢀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠱⡘⢬⣿⣿⣿⣿⢒⡛⠂⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠁⠘⢿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⠯⣿
⣯⢟⣼⣳⣽⣿⢿⣷⣿⣶⣶⠔⠠⢁⠙⠻⣾⣿⡿⣿⣏⢯⣳⣱⣌⡆⠀⠈⠳⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⠄⡀⠀⢐⣡⡣⣌⠀⠠⣄⠔⠀⠀⠸⣬⣛⣿⣿⣿⣝⢣⢀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⢹⣿
⣟⣮⣳⣽⣿⣽⢷⣳⣿⣿⢯⡘⢄⠂⠄⢀⠀⢈⠛⠒⠋⠸⠷⣹⣾⣿⣷⣦⣄⠠⢻⣻⣿⣿⣠⠃⠀⣔⡮⢳⡌⡘⣎⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠻⠰⠉⠏⡞⣻⢿⣷⣄⣄⠀⠂⡝
⣟⡶⣿⣿⣽⣿⣷⣿⢿⣿⡧⡜⠬⢌⢰⠎⠬⠒⠈⠡⠀⠀⢦⣹⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡉⠱⣺⡥⢀⣪⡯⣵⡿⣐⣿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡴⠈
⡿⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⡁⠄⠹⣿⣱⣯⣗⣈⢰⣷⣷⡠⢀⠈⡀⠀⠀⠻⣯⡿⢿⣻⣷⣟⠿⢔⠀⣺⡋⣹⣟⡾⣿⡙⠋⠙⢺⡯⢀⣎⠀⠀⢰⣄⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡷⣾⣿⢿⣭⡙⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⡼⣅⠆⠹⡿⣿⣿⠛⢿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣆⠉⢲⠇⠀⠈⠹⠶⡂⠝⠻⠁⠀⣴⣿⣰⣿⢷⡾⡟⣡⠂⡀⠈⢳⣿⣿⡷⢶⣾⣿⣿⢢⣴⡀⠑⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⢈⠙⠿⠓⠀
⣿⣿⣿⡿⣾⣿⡷⣜⣞⡷⢟⡀⠀⠱⡀⠻⣿⣿⣷⠉⠚⠰⢢⢐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣜⣡⢸⣿⣿⡿⠯⣰⣷⢀⡁⠤⣴⠔⠉⠐⠀⠉⢟⣻⣷⡞⠃⠔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣟⣽⣿⣿⢻⣯⢟⡔⣢⠙⣧⢄⡘⢄⠈⠻⢯⣷⣦⣸⢫⣌⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣞⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠓⣸⣿⡿⢷⣻⠏⠁⠘⢆⡀⡀⢂⠀⠻⣿⣱⣠⡀⡖⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠌
⣿⢷⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⠷⢿⣿⣆⠷⡘⢧⡜⢪⢗⡀⠉⢻⣿⡟⢋⡡⡌⢀⣀⣴⡾⣛⣽⣾⢻⢶⣿⡇⣱⣿⡟⣵⣿⣡⣾⣆⡀⠀⢣⡀⠀⡑⡀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡗⠐⠀⡀⠀⠀⣠⢖⢣⣝
⣯⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⢯⣗⢦⢩⢿⣯⣙⢎⠹⡁⠎⡱⡀⣹⢡⣒⣿⣽⣿⢟⡯⣾⣵⣿⠿⣭⢯⣾⠡⣼⣿⢟⡾⣿⣃⡀⠈⠻⣷⡈⢅⡳⢆⠈⠀⠂⠀⡼⠋⢠⡴⣾⣤⠖⣯⢱⣫⣾⢫
⡷⡿⣏⣟⠾⣟⣿⣿⣎⢧⢳⡹⢗⠮⡑⡓⡎⡔⢸⣿⣿⣿⣯⣟⣮⣟⣿⢿⣛⣭⣷⣿⣿⣿⢴⣿⢋⠋⢸⡷⣿⣇⠢⠑⡙⢿⣄⠐⠒⢄⠀⠀⢲⣶⡾⣟⡽⣳⢬⣛⣴⣿⠻⣌⣷
⣿⡷⢯⣿⣫⣟⡾⠽⢻⣮⣧⣹⢦⡷⣼⣟⢽⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣻⢮⣷⣿⢯⣷⣿⣿⣛⠿⣩⣻⣝⠁⡲⢀⢸⠠⢽⡿⠱⣂⡄⢡⡈⢀⣴⡎⡴⣧⣾⣿⢻⡽⣛⣼⣳⢿⣙⣦⣿⠿⣟
⣿⣟⣷⣭⡟⣬⢒⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢏⣵⣿⣿⣟⡷⣟⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣾⣿⣿⣛⢻⣫⢘⡀⢹⠜⠀⠁⢜⣼⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠟⣩⣾⣿⣻⣞⢯⣳⣻⡾⣏⣷⣿⡿⣏⣳⣼
⣿⣷⣾⡿⣜⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣋⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠈⠉⢹⣵⡎⣵⠋⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣟⠗⣵⣿⣿⣿⣳⢯⡼⢯⣾⢯⣿⡿⣿⣷⣿⣿⠟⠻
⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡡⣿⣷⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣴⣿⣿⣿⣟⣧⣻⢮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣽⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⡀⢸⣿⠓⣽⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣫⢿⣼⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢨⣓⣷⡿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣳⢯⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠸⣶⡽⢷⣿⣿⡻⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣷⣻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⢿⣷⣿⣷⢾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⢧⡏⡖⡌⢂⠙⢢⡄⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⢭⣚⡆⢒⠉⠙⣾⣜⢣⡀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡃⢳⠠⠤⠛⢯⣽⡂
⡳⢎⡵⣎⠰⢈⠀⠱⡄⠀⢻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣶⡐⢶⡉⠐⡆⠉⢹⣳⣜⢪⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠈⢿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠜⠩⣆⠃⢠⠀⠙⢿
⡝⣎⠲⣙⠦⡁⢂⠀⠹⣄⠂⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣥⠊⢵⣂⠀⡖⠀⠘⢮⣻⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢯⡂⠣⣦⠈⠀⡀⠘
⡟⣬⠓⡌⢶⡁⠆⠀⠀⠘⡄⢸⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡭⣗⡀⢞⡡⡐⠄⠄⠈⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⠀⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣈⣽⡄⠈⠝⢌⢀⠀
⡝⣦⠛⡌⢆⡿⢠⠁⠀⠈⣧⠖⣿⣿⣥⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣞⣧⢖⠨⠔⢂⠄⠀⠺⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠘⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢜⣿⡤⡉⠜⠡⠀
⡻⣔⠫⡜⢂⡿⣀⠂⠀⠀⢱⠈⣼⣿⣿⡖⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣾⣅⡙⠀⠙⠦⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⣿⣿⣧⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⣗⡀⠀⠀
⢷⣩⠓⣌⣹⡷⠄⢂⠀⠀⢸⡈⠊⣿⣿⣿⣖⡱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠷⠦⠠⠐⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣦⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠽⣤⠀
⡧⣇⢏⠤⣻⣿⢌⠠⠀⢠⣿⣅⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣷⡰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉
⣳⢭⣚⣾⣿⡿⣈⠐⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⡓⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣳⢮⣿⣿⣿⡓⠄⡈⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⠀⢀⣾⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⣀⣠⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣾
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A LIFE OF DIVERSITY ii
(Autistic author)

The drive back 
to the Chum 
Bucket was quiet, 
the only sound the 
hum of the car engine 
and the occasional 
splash of a jellyfish 
passing by. Karen 
gripped the steering 
wheel tightly, her 
knuckles white with 
tension. She glanced 
over at Plankton in the 
passenger seat, his eye 
glazed over and staring 
out the window.

"You ok?" she asked 
tentatively.

Plankton nodded, his gaze 
still fixed outside the car window.

"Everything looks the same, but 
feeling... different."

"You're going to be ok," she said. 
"We'll get through this."

By the time Karen pulls up in the 
driveway, Plankton had fallen asleep, his 
head lolling against the car window. 
She gently lifts him out of the car and 
carries him into their bedroom, laying 
him down with care. As she watches 
him sleep, she whispers, "We'll get through 
this."

The next day dawns with the promise of a 
new challenge. Karen wakes up to the 
sight of Plankton, obsessing with the pattern 
of the floor tiles.

"You ok?" Karen asked, voice soft.

Plankton looked up, his 
gaze slightly unfocused. 
"The floor," he said, his 
voice still quiet.

"What, the floor?" Karen asked.

"The floor," Plankton repeated.

"What about it?" Karen asked.

Plankton's gaze remained fixed 
on the tiles. "Plankton not same, 
Plankton different," he murmured.

Karen sat down beside him. "How 
are you feeling?" 

"Plankton feel... weird," he said, antennae 
drooping slightly. "Things to loud. Things 
to bright." He paused, looking at her with 
a flicker of his old mischief. "But Plankton 
still love Krabby Patty."

Karen couldn't help but chuckle through tears. 
"I know you do, sweetie," she said, her voice 
warm with love. "But maybe it's time we focus 
on something else for a while."

Plankton nodded slowly, gaze still on the floor. 
"Plankton... try," he murmured, fidgeting nervously.

"Do you want for breakfast, Plankton?"

Plankton's eye didn't leave the floor.

Karen tries asking again. "Does Plankton wanna eat?"

Plankton nods, his gaze finally shifting from the floor 
to meet hers. "Hungry," he said, his voice monotone 
and detached.

Karen sighs and heads to the kitchen. She could 
feel the weight of the new reality settling on her 
shoulders, but she was determined to make things 
work.

As she flipped through the recipe book, Plankton's 
voice, distant yet clear, floated through the air. 
"Plankton... Plankton different," he said to himself, 
gaze still locked onto the floor. Karen knew he was 
trying to process his new sense of self.

"Plankton still smart," he murmured, as if reassuring 
himself. "But Plankton... not same." He paused, tiny body 
trembling slightly. "Plankton think to loud. Plankton hear 
to much." The world had become a symphony of 
overwhelming stimuli, each sound and light a crescendo 
that pounded against his newfound sensitivity.

Karen looked up from her cooking with empathy. "It's ok 
Plankton," she said gently. "We'll learn to adapt. Maybe 
we can make some changes around here to help you 
feel more comfortable."

Plankton nodded, but doubt remained. "Plankton... 
not know," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. 
"What if Plankton mess up?"

Karen set the frying pan aside and knelt down 
beside him, taking his hands in hers. "You won't," 
she said firmly. "We'll face this together. I'll always 
be here to help you, no matter what."

Plankton nodded, his gaze finally shifting from the 
floor to meet hers. "Thank Karen," he said, voice 
a little clearer.

"The chumbalaya is ready." She says, serving him 
his favorite chum dish.

Plankton looks up from the floor, his gaze lingering 
on the plate before him. "Plankton eat now?" he asks, 
his voice still distant.

"Yes, sweetie," Karen says with a smile, pushing the 
plate closer to him. "Eat your breakfast."

"Eat breakfast," Plankton parrots back, his tone flat. 
He picks up a spoon and stares at it, his hand 
shaking slightly. The simple task of bringing it to 
his mouth seems daunting under the weight of his 
new reality.

Karen's smile falters a little 
but she keeps the conversation 
going. "It's a beautiful day out
side, Plankton. Would 
you like to go for a walk?"

"Walk outside," Plankton repeats
echoing the monotone rhythm 
of hers. He stands up, his 
movements stiff and deliberate 
as if he's not quite sure of his 
body's new limitations.

"Oh I meant after finishing breakfast," 
Karen says.

"Walk after breakfast," Plankton echoes.

Karen nods encouragingly. "Yes, after 
you eat." She watches as he carefully 
brings the spoon to his mouth, his 
movements tentative and slow. Each 
bite is a victory, a declaration of normalcy 
in a world that had suddenly become any
thing but.

"Good boy," she says, voice filled with pride. 
Plankton looks up, his eye searching hers. 
"Good boy," he repeats, his voice a mirror of 
hers, but the words don't quite fit. Karen 
noticed how he just repeated the phrase she's 
said. It's called echolalia, a trait often seen in 
those with autism, and it's something they're 
going to have to navigate together. She 
decides to keep her words positive and 
encouraging, hoping it'll help him feel more 
at ease. "Yes, let's go for a walk," she confirms.

They step outside into the vibrant world of Bikini 
Bottom, and they start their slow stroll down the 
boardwalk.

The sun was shining, casting a warm glow over the 
coral reefs and the colorful fish swimming by. The 
smell of the ocean was a soothing balm to Karen's 
frayed nerves, and she hoped it would have the same 
effect on Plankton. He walked beside her, his steps 
halting and unsure, his antennae twitching at every 
new sound.

As they approached the boardwalk, they saw a familiar 
figure in the distance. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her 
voice a mix of excitement and trepidation, "it's SpongeBob."

Plankton's antennae shot up, and his eye widened. "Sponge... 
Bob," he murmured, recognizing him.

Karen took a deep breath and tightened her grip 
on Plankton's hand. She knew SpongeBob had 
a heart of gold, but she also knew he could be 
potentially overwhelming.

As they approached, Sponge Bob spotted them 
and waved enthusiastically. "Hi, Karen! Hi, Plankton!" 
His voice was a welcome sound in the quiet morning 
and Karen braced herself for whatever would come next.

"Hi, Sponge Bob," she says.

Sponge Bob's face lit up. "Oh boy, Plankton! What's shakin'?"

Plankton stiffened, antennae quivering as he tried to process 
the sudden influx of sensory input. "Sponge Bob," he said 
slowly, his voice measured and careful. "Plankton... walk."

Sponge Bob looked from Karen to Plankton, his expression 
growing concerned. "Is everything ok, Plankton?" he asked, 
eyes full of genuine care. "You seem a bit... off your game to
day."

Plankton stared at him, composing response.

"Walk," Plankton repeated. "Plankton walk."

Sponge Bob looked confused but nodded, his eyes filled with 
concern. "Ok Plankton," he said gently. "Would you like to walk 
with me?"

Plankton's antennae twitched 
and he nodded. "Walk with Sponge 
Bob," he agreed, his 
voice still monotone.

Sponge Bob took Plankton's 
other hand, and together, the 
three of them began their 
leisurely stroll 
along the boardwalk. 

new POV Karen a life of diversity plankarenbob ii

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣠⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠁⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠂⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣾⣷⠀⠀⢀⣿⣷⣿⢿⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⢀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠈⠋⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠙⠋⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡿⡏⠀⠀⠀
⢀⣀⣀⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣦⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⠤⢤⣤⡄
⠈⠉⠙⢉⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀
⠐⠚⠋⠍⢀⣬⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣥⣀⡀⠈⠀⠈⠛
⠀⠀⠴⡻⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠢⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠠⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⣢⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

new i latin alphabet ha dot art text art ascii art

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢞⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣀⣠⠞⠁⢸⢀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⣧⢀⠴⢃⠓⣌⠠⠙⢦⡀⣾⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣉⣻⡆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣸⣿⠄⢣⡉⠖⡄⢓⢅⠂⡙⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠐⡤⢀⢤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⣀⢀⠠⣊⣼⣿⠘⣄⠚⢤⠉⡖⡨⢑⣄⢿⣇⠀⣀⢀⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡘⣰⣿⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⢤⣿⡿⠿⢟⠡⣊⠤⣉⠆⢣⠔⡡⢣⠄⡙⢿⢿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠘⣤⣾⠟⠁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⠴⣿⡧⢉⠆⡱⡐⢢⠡⠚⡄⢎⡑⢢⠑⣌⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⢤⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⡔⣿⣇⠣⣘⠡⠜⡡⢊⠕⡨⢂⠜⣠⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣼⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡌⣿⣇⠒⢤⡉⣒⠡⢃⠜⡠⣃⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢔⣡⣾⠿⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⡧⢉⠆⠴⡁⢎⠰⣨⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⣇⠣⣘⠡⡘⣤⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣑⣾⡿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡌⣿⡧⠑⡄⣣⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠛⣄⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠇⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡘⣿⣇⣣⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⣠⠙⣄⠓⣅⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⠱⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⢡⡘⠤⡩⢐⢣⡐⠓⣅⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⢀⢼⣿⠆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢢⢙⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢊⣴⣿⠟⡡⢊⠖⣈⠖⡡⢃⠆⣉⠖⡨⢑⢆⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣠⠞⠁⢀⡴⢉⠼⣿⡃⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢊⣴⣿⠟⡡⢊⡔⢣⠘⡄⠎⡔⡡⠚⡄⢎⡑⢣⢌⠱⢆⠈⠳⣄⠀
⢾⣷⣶⣶⡁⡆⢇⢸⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢏⣿⡿⢁⠎⡁⢇⠸⣀⢉⢰⠉⡰⢁⠷⡈⢆⡸⢰⠈⠶⣈⣷⣶⣾⡷
⠀⠙⢷⣭⢟⣮⡰⢸⣿⡅⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⢲⣵⡿⡋⢆⡩⢒⡉⢆⠱⢂⠥⢊⠴⣁⠣⢂⡍⠢⠔⡡⢊⣴⡿⣯⡿⠋⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣶⡹⢮⣿⠆⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡶⠷⢾⣿⡏⢢⠱⢌⡰⢡⡘⢌⢒⡉⢆⣉⠒⠤⢃⠣⢌⠱⣈⣴⣿⣻⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣽⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⢠⡿⡑⢢⢃⠲⢄⠣⣘⠰⢊⠔⡊⢤⠙⡌⡌⠱⣈⡶⣟⣿⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⡅⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢹⣿⣤⣤⣤⡾⠗⣈⠦⡑⢪⢄⡓⠤⠓⡌⣒⡉⠦⡑⠰⣈⣵⡾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣢⣼⣿⠟⣉⣍⠩⢔⠣⣌⢢⢑⠢⣌⠘⡌⢓⡘⢤⡘⢤⡁⣧⣿⢯⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢒⣾⣛⣛⠛⠛⠛⢛⣿⠃⣶⣟⣛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣮⣦⣼⡾⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣋⣠⡾⠛⠛⠛⠛⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢊⣴⣿⠟⣻⡟⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⢡⠙⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢚⣤⣿⠟⡡⢺⣿⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⢄⠣⣸⡿⠁⠀⢀⣾⠛⡟⣻⣿⡟⠀⠀⢠⡿⠛⠛⠛⣿⠃⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢘⣰⣿⠟⣡⠚⢄⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣿⠃⡜⢠⣿⠇⠀⠀⣸⡟⣤⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡆⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢄⣱⣾⡿⢧⡘⡄⢃⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⣾⡇⢸⢈⣼⡏⠀⠀⢰⣿⣾⣟⡿⣻⠇⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠆⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⣡⣾⠟⠙⢿⣳⡝⢮⣰⡿⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⡄⢣⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⡿⠋⢰⡟⠀⠀⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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new ii iv l dot art text art ascii art

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) 

"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

LOOKING FOR PEOPLE WHO R INTERESTED IN OBJECT SHOWS.. IF U LIKE OBJECT SHOWS PLS BE MY FRIEND!! btw im kinda awkward so </3 user is nickloon on discord🤑🤑

new ii bfdi inanimate insanity bfdia tpot osc object show cfmot itft objectified

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

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

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

KAREN AND THE TEETHIES iv

The nurse finishes up and
turns to Karen with a gentle smile.
"He'll be waking up soon," she
says. "Why don't you talk to him?
Sometimes hearing a familiar voice
can help bring them around
better."

Karen nods, leaning in.
"You did so good," she says,
her voice filled with love. "It's
almost over." Plankton's snores
remain consistent, his mouth
slightly open as he drools onto
the chair. She reaches over
and carefully wipes it away with
a tissue. The room is quiet
except for the soft beeps of
the monitors and the sound of
Plankton's deep, even breaths.
The assistant begins to remove
the I.V. from Plankton's arm,
his hand steady despite the
tiny vein he's working with.

The nurse stands by, ready
with a cup of water and a
comfortable chair for him to sit
in when he wakes. Karen's eyes
follow her every move, eager
for the moment she can take him
home.

The minutes tick by, the only
sound in the room the soft
hum of the surgical lights
and the occasional snore from
Plankton. His drool forms a
tiny puddle on the chair, and
Karen dabs it away with a
tissue. His breathing is deep
and steady, the anesthesia
keeping him in a peaceful slumber.

Dr. Finnegan checks the
monitors one last time before
nodding to the nurse. "Due to
the numbing medication we
administered into his mouth,
Karen, Plankton probably won't
immediately feel his mouth or
talk fluently, not to mention the
normal confusion from anesthesia."

The nurse starts to lower the
chair into a more upright position.
Plankton's snores become less
snuffly, more like a soft purr.

"Okay, Karen," Dr. Finnegan
says, "You can start talking to
him now. It'll help him come
around." Karen nods, leaning in
closer. "Plankton," she whispers,
her voice filled with warmth, "it's
almost over. You did so well."

Plankton's snoring morphs into
a gentle snuffle as his head
lolls on the chair. His drool forms
a tiny stream down his chin, and
Karen wipes it away with a tissue,
trying not to laugh at the sight.
The nurse smiles at her, patting
his hand. "He's just about ready."

The chair slowly reclines
back, and Plankton's snores
change pitch again, his mouth
opening slightly more, revealing his
swollen gums and the freshly
stitched sockets. Karen's heart
swells with love and concern.
This is her husband, her rock,
currently a ragdoll in the
hands of anesthesia.

The nurse puts down her tools
and gently shakes Plankton's
shoulder. "Mr. Plankton, it's time
to wake up," she says in a
soothing voice. Karen squeezes his hand
and whispers, "You can do it,
babe. It's almost over."

Plankton's snores begin to
soften, turning into small
moans as he stirs in the chair.

Karen's voice grows
slightly louder, "Plankton,
wake up, you're okay."

The nurse nods, her hand
still on his shoulder. "Come
on, Mr. Plankton," she says,
her voice gentle. "Time to 
wake up now."

Plankton's snores taper off
into quiet, shallow breaths,
his mouth still slightly open.
A string of saliva stretches
between his bottom lip and the
chair, and Karen quickly
wipes it away with the tissue.

His eyelid flutters open,
his gaze unfocused and glazed.
He blinks slowly, looking
around the room as if trying
to piece together where he is.
Karen's eyes are on him, a
mixture of love and concern,
as she smiles down at him, and he
looks at her with a confused
expression.

"Welcome back," she says
softly. His mouth moves, but a
sound comes out, being a
slightly slurred mumble that
sounds like "Mmph?"

The nurse laughs gently. "It's
normal for the mouth to be
numb. You just had your
wisdom teeth out."

Plankton's eye widens a
little, and he tries to speak
again, "Wheah...?"

The nurse chuckles. "Your
mouth is still numb, don't worry."

Karen takes the cue and
reassures him, "You're at the
dentist, honey. You just had
your wisdom teeth removed."
Plankton blinks again, his eye
slowly focusing on her face.
He then looks at the nurse with
confused suspicion. His eye
widens a bit more, looking at
his arm where the I.V. had been,
now just a small bandage.

The nurse nods. "Yes, you're
all done. We're just waiting
for you to wake up fully before
we let you go ho-"

Plankton interrupts with a
slurred, "Huh?" His tongue
doesn't quite cooperate, and he
ends up drooling a bit more.
Karen laughs, the tension in
the room dissipating. "You
heard her, you're okay," she says,
patting his hand.

But Plankton's not quite
convinced. His eye narrows as
his mind fights the fog of
the anesthesia. "Wha... wha...
youw nee thoo do my teethies!
Youw shupposht to taketh them 
out!"

The nurse laughs lightly, a
kindness in her eyes. "Don't
worry, Mr. Plankton, we did.
You're all done. Dr. Finnegan
took them out."

Plankton's gaze shifts to
Dr. Finnegan with curiosity.
"Who's 'Dr. Finny-gwan'?" he
slurs, his voice thick with
confusion.

Karen laughs softly, "It's
Dr. Finnegan, sweetie. He's
the dentist. He's the one who
just took your teeth out."

Plankton's unfocused eye
swivels towards Dr. Finnegan,
his expression one of disbelief.
"Y-you're not... 'Dr. Finny-gwan'?"
he stammers, the words
sliding out of his mouth like
molasses.

The dentist chuckles, his
face appearing over Karen's
shoulder. "It's okay, Plankton,"
he says, his voice calm. "I'm
right here, see?"

Plankton blinks heavily, his
eye darting between the nurse
and Dr. Finnegan, trying to make
sense of the situation. "bu’...
my teethies," he mumbles, his
hand rising to tentatively touch
his swollen cheeks.

The nurse's smile never
fades as she says, "Yes, Dr.
Finnegan performed the
surgery. You're all set."

But Plankton's not so sure.
He looks at her hand on his
shoulder, the same one that
was so gentle when he was
unconscious. "You... youwre
not... a... nentis," he
asks, his words thick with
drowsiness.

The nurse laughs gently, her
patience unwavering. "No,
Mr. Plankton, I'm not. I'm
just here to help you wake
up. Dr. Finnegan is the one
who did the surgery." She
gestures to the dentist, who
smiles back at Plankton.

But Plankton's mind is
still swimming in anesthesia.
"Thent... then wha... who
dat?" he slurs, pointing a
shaky finger at the figure
behind the surgical mask.

The nurse laughs gently,
not offended by his confusion.
"I'm just here to assist Dr.
Finnegan," she explains, her voice
soft and soothing. "I didn't
do the surgery. He did."

Plankton's eye squints
suspiciously at her, his hand
still hovering over his cheek.
"Buth... youw... you haz... hands..."
he mumbles.

The nurse's smile
doesn't falter. "Yes, I do.
But I promise you, it was
Dr. Finnegan who performed
the surgery."

Plankton's gaze swings to
Dr. Finnegan again, his
expression a mix of confusion
and accusation. "Den...
den who... who ish... ish..."
his voice trails off as he tries
to form coherent words, but
his mouth isn't cooperating.

The dentist laughs, a
deep, hearty sound that fills
the room. "It's okay, Plankton.
You're just a little out of it
right now." He reaches out to
give Plankton's shoulder a gentle
squeeze. "Let's get you into the
recovery chair."

Karen helps to lift him
up, his body feeling like a rag
doll in her arms. He leans
heavily on her, his legs
shaky and unsteady. The nurse
supports his other side as
they guide him to the chair.

"Whathish ish...?" he mumbles,
his eye glazed and unfocused,
his hand feeling along the chair
as if trying to understand
what it is.

"It's your chair, Plankton,"
Karen says with a smile,
helping him to sit upright.

Plankton's gaze travels
slowly to the chair.
"Chair?" he slurs, his voice
barely a whisper. He looks back
at Karen, then at the nurse,
his eye wide with bewilderment.
"Whath... whath do I do wiff
thish... chair?"

The nurse and Karen both
chuckle, the tension of the
surgery lifting slightly. "You
just sit down, sweetie," Karen
says, her voice soothing. "Let's
get you comfortable."

Plankton looks at the chair
with a mix of suspicion and
exhaustion. "Buth... I don't
know how to siht," he slurs,
his mouth barely moving. His hand
grips the armrest as if it's a
life preserver.

Karen laughs softly,
supporting him as he sits.
"You've got this," she says,
adjusting his posture. "Just
let yourself lean back."

Plankton's eyelid flaps
weakly. "Buth... buth how do
youw siht?" he repeats, his
words slurring into each
other. His head lolls back,
and Karen and the nurse share a
look of amusement.

The nurse gently pushes
his head back. "Just
and relax, Mr. Plankton," she
instructs. "We've got you."

new KAREN AND THE TEETHIES karen and the teethies ivcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family hotelcore mmph

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 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

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

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. 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.

new adaptable family consciouscore chipcore

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 16

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 17

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 18

Finally, they reach
their home, Karen
turning the car 
off with a sigh 
of relief. Chip 
watches as she 
carefully opens the 
car door, her 
movements slow 
and deliberate.

Plankton stirs 
slightly, his 
antennas twitching.
"Dad?" Chip says, 
his voice gentle.
Plankton's eye opens.

Home. The 
word echoes in 
his mind as 
his senses slowly 
recalibrate to the 
familiar surroundings. 
"You're okay," 
Chip says. 
"You had a 
seizure, but you're 
okay now."

Plankton blinks 
slowly, taking in 
his son's face. 
Home. Yes, this 
is where he 
belongs.

Karen helped them
both unpack. And
then Plankton went
onto his own bed.
"Hey Chip, come
sit," Plankton says,
patting the bed.

So Chip sits 
carefully, his 
heart racing.

Plankton's antennae 
quiver slightly as 
his eye searches 
Chip's. "I'm... sorry," 
he says, his voice 
weak. "I don't know 
why I had a seizure
but I'm okay now. So
uhm, do you want to... 
talk?"

Chip nods, his 
heart pounding in 
his chest. He's 
always known his 
dad was different, 
but seeing him 
like this, so vulnerable 
and open, it's 
both terrifying and 
comforting. "Sure," he 
says, his voice small.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch. "I'm... I'm 
glad we went to 
the science fair," 
he says, his voice 
no longer slurred. "I
know it was hard 
for you to see me 
like that." His antennae 
droop slightly, 
his one eye looking 
up at Chip with 
apology.

Chip's eyes 
fill with tears. "Dad, 
you don't have to 
apologize," he says, 
his voice cracking. 
"I'm just happy 
you're okay! I 
love you.."

Plankton's antennae 
perk up at the 
word "love," his 
eye focusing on 
Chip's face. "I-I 
lo-ove you too, bud," 
he says, his voice 
stronger. "I'm 
sorry if I couldn't 
show it properly."

Chip wipes his 
tears. "It's okay," 
he says. "I know 
you do."

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "I'm 
not always good 
at it, though," he 
admits, his voice 
laced with regret. 
"But I try, Chip. 
I really... I just want 
you to know that."

Chip nods, his 
throat tight. "I do 
know, Dad," he 
says. "And I'm 
proud of you, 
too." His words 
hang in the air 
like a promise.

Plankton's eye 
met Chip's with 
intensity. "Why do 
you say that?" He 
asks, genuine 
curiosity in his 
voice.

"Well, because you 
always try so hard," 
Chip responds, his 
words earnest. "You 
help me with my 
homework, and you 
always want to 
be there for me. But 
I also know it's hard 
for you." He pauses, 
his mind racing with 
questions he's held 
back for so long. "Why 
do you sometimes 
repeat words?"

Plankton's antennae 
twitch with thought. 
"It's called echolalia," 
he says. "It's when 
I hear something and 
my brain just... repeats 
it. It helps me to
understand better. 
And sometimes, it's 
because I'm nervous."

Chip nods, 
his curiosity 
growing. "But why 
do you get so 
upset when I touch 
you sometimes?" He asks, 
his voice tentative.
Plankton sighs, his 
antennas drooping. "It's 
because I have 
sensory issues," he 
explains. "Some 
touches feel good, 
but others... they're 
just too much. It's like 
my body's on fire, but 
I don't know how to 
tell it to stop."

Chip's eyes 
widen in 
understanding. "So 
it's not just that you 
don't like me 
touching you," he says, 
his voice hopeful.
"It's just that 
sometimes, it's too 
much for you?"

Plankton nods, 
his antennae 
relaxing a bit. "Yeah," 
he says. "It's 
not that I don't 
love you, Chip. It's 
just that sometimes, 
my body gets 
overwhelmed."

Chip's hand 
trembles slightly. 
"But Mom seems
to be the best at
it, when it comes
to touching?"

Plankton nods. "It's
because she's been
with me for so 
long, she's learned 
what I like and 
don't like. And she
does it gently," he 
explains. "She knows 
how to make it feel 
right. She knows my 
limits."

"But what about 
when you don't want 
anyone to touch 
you at all?" Chip 
asks, his eyes 
searching.

Plankton sighs. 
"That's when I'm 
overstimulated," he 
explains. "It's like 
everything's too bright, 
too loud, too much. And 
then, even the softest 
touch feels like it's 
going to break me." His 
eye blinks slowly. "I
might end up hurting 
people's feelings without 
meaning to."

Chip nods. "But why 
did you get upset when 
I just want to help?"
He asks, his voice 
tiny.

Plankton's antennae 
twitch with consideration. 
"Sometimes, even 
the best intentions 
can be too much," he 
says. "My brain gets 
overwhelmed, and I 
can't process what's 
happening. It's like... it's 
like you're speaking 
another language and 
I'm trying to keep up, 
but my brain just 
can't. And then I 
don't know how to tell 
you to stop without 
sounding mean." "So, it's 
not that you don't 
want my help," Chip 
says, his voice 
thoughtful. "It's just 
that sometimes, you 
need to be left alone?"

Plankton nods. "Yeah, 
buddy," he says. "But 
don't think I don't 
appreciate it. It's 
just... I need a little 
extra space to figure 
things out."

Chip nods, 
his eyes never 
leaving his dad's. 
"What about when 
you get really sad 
or really happy?" He 
asks. "Why do you...
stim? And why don't 
you like it when I
notice?"

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly as 
he thinks. "Stimming 
is like my brain's 
way of... letting off 
steam," he explains. 
"It helps me 
regulate my 
emotions. And when 
you point it out, it's 
like... it interrupts 
that process. That,
and I don't like to 
admit that I'm 
different sometimes," 
he adds, his voice 
softening.

"But you are, Dad," 
Chip says, his 
hand reaching out to 
his father's. "And 
that's what makes 
you special." But
Plankton leans away
from his touch.

"It's okay," Chip 
quickly says, 
his hand retreating. 
"I just want to 
know more." He 
swallows hard. "What 
about... when you 
have those meltdowns?"

Plankton's antennae 
still, his eye 
focusing on Chip. "Those 
are... tough," he 
says. "They're like... 
my brain's way of 
telling me that 
I've had too much 
of something. Too 
much noise, too 
much light, too much 
of everything." His voice 
cracks. "And I... I 
can't always control 
it. And if I don't get 
anything to help me, it's 
like... I get stuck. And 
then I just... I just 
need to let it all out."

Chip nods, his 
heart pounding in 
his chest. "But why 
do you get mad at me 
when I want to help?" 
He asks, his voice 
shaking slightly.

Plankton's antennae 
wave slightly. "It's not 
that I'm mad at you, 
Chip," he says, his 
voice filled with 
sincerity. "It's just... 
sometimes, I don't know 
how to accept help. I 
get scared. I've had 
so many people in my 
life who didn't 
understand me, who 
thought I was just being 
difficult or strange." His 
eye blinks rapidly. "But 
you... I guess even though
you mean well, I just
get flustered when you 
see me like that, or I
can feel rushed to 
explain."

Chip nods, his 
understanding deepening. 
"But I want to learn 
more, Dad." His hand 
trembles as it hovers 
over Plankton's arm. "Is 
this okay?" He asks, 
his eyes searching 
his father's for 
permission.

Plankton looks at 
Chip's outstretched 
hand, then up into his 
eyes, and nods slightly. 
"Just... just a 
little," he says, his 
voice barely above 
a whisper. Chip's 
fingers touch Plankton's 
arm, gentle and 
tentative.

The sensation 
doesn't overwhelm 
Plankton this time. 
"Thank you, Chip," 
he says, his eye 
softening.

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𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family seizurecore chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family seizurecore chip

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new adaptable family bikinibottomcore post

𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 22

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢠⠾⢡⣴⣖⢫⠘⣷⣾⣿⣶⣿⣽⢳⢻⣾⣿⣿⣶⣿⣽⣟⣮⢿⣿⣿⣮⣯⣷⡲⣝⣿⣅⡦⡙⣧⠨⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⣞⢃⣿⣿⣿⡹⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡜⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡸⢸⣿⣿⣖⠸⣃⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⣯⠘⠿⡿⢟⣴⣯⣛⠿⠿⠿⠿⣯⣵⣧⣝⣻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣵⣿⣝⡻⠿⡿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣻⣿⣿⡇⣹⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⡾⢡⣾⣝⣲⣹⣶⣿⣿⣶⣿⣭⣝⢷⢹⣷⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣭⣽⡳⡝⣿⣿⣿⣶⣭⣭⣗⡾⡝⣿⣍⢤⡙⣦⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢼⢡⣿⣿⣿⠿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⡇⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣸⣿⣷⡵⢘⡇⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠐⡞⢸⣿⣿⣿⢦⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣌⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢄⣏⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢄⣻⣿⣷⡇⡗⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⣸⠝⣂⣙⣛⢵⡾⣛⣴⣏⢭⢭⣭⣝⡲⣿⡿⣛⣴⣾⣍⡭⡭⢭⣥⣚⢿⣿⢟⣢⣽⣩⠭⣭⣭⣑⡻⣷⣽⢋⡡⠷⣄⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⡼⠏⣼⣿⣷⡎⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣽⡞⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⢷⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡽⣎⣿⣶⣽⢣⠻⡄⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡟⢰⣿⣿⣿⢧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢺⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢫⢹⣿⣿⡟⡈⡷⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡏⢾⣿⣿⣿⢎⡞⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣰⡜⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠮⣰⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡮⠘⣿⣿⣿⡇⣳⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣰⠟⡈⣙⡯⢵⣿⠿⣓⣮⣍⠭⢭⣍⣛⡶⢾⣿⡿⣓⣶⣭⣫⠭⠭⣭⣝⣲⠿⣿⣿⢞⣩⣭⡛⢟⣛⣛⣹⡾⣿⣭⠿⢛⡁⢷⡄⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢸⡍⣼⣿⣶⣝⡧⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⡝⡏⣏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⢷⡽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣯⡻⣎⣷⣿⣶⣽⣆⢻⠄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣯⢰⣿⣿⣿⡏⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⠇⠟⠛⢉⣀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⣸⣿⣿⣿⣼⢸⠆⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⣯⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢱⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢅⣧⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣉⣀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣜⢠⢿⣿⣿⣿⢨⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⡷⡌⠻⣿⠟⣣⣿⠿⣮⣙⡛⣛⣛⣛⣿⠋⠛⠻⠛⠓⣯⣝⣛⢛⣻⣛⣿⠻⠿⠟⠛⠟⠛⠛⢻⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢛⣭⣿⣮⡻⠟⡋⢼⣁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠡⣼⠃⣾⣿⣯⡝⡞⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡾⠿⠉⣉⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⢿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣯⡿⠟⢋⠀⠀⠀⢘⠛⠿⣷⣿⣿⣯⣟⢶⡝⣷⣷⣿⣝⣦⢛⠆⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠂⣵⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠈⢁⣴⣾⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣿⣷⣦⠙⠿⠿⠿⢋⣴⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⣼⣿⣷⣦⠉⠁⠈⠉⠁⠉⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠈⡧⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⡏⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⠩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⠃⣾⣿⣧⠘⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⣠⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⣶⣿⣿⣿⠻⢸⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢃⣘⠻⢿⣿⣫⣶⣝⡻⠿⢿⣿⣷⣤⣙⠛⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⣋⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣙⠛⠻⠿⠿⠟⠛⣋⣤⣾⣿⣿⡿⢿⣻⣶⣙⢿⡿⢛⣀⠄⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⡿⢰⣦⣖⢮⣻⢏⣽⣾⣿⣧⣴⣒⣻⡿⢯⣝⢶⡷⣫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣒⣒⣞⡿⢯⣽⡻⣶⡟⣸⣿⣿⣯⣑⣳⡾⢾⣭⡻⣿⢯⣧⣖⢶⡜⣧⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⡃⣿⣿⣿⡇⡋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡽⡎⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣎⢿⣸⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⡼⣿⣿⣿⣧⡇⣯⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⡁⣿⣿⣿⡇⡅⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⣼⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢼⢢⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠏⢿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢷⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⣥⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠁⣀⣀⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠉⠙⠛⠿⣾⣼⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⢼⡺⣿⣿⣿⡏⣼⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⡾⢡⣌⣭⣛⢿⣿⢶⣯⣭⡙⣛⣛⣛⣿⠀⢤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣶⣦⣀⠈⠙⠷⣭⣛⡻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⣫⣵⣾⡿⡎⣛⣁⠺⣅⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⢸⠃⣿⣿⣿⡜⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣯⣟⢷⡽⣟⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣿⣿⣓⠾⣭⢢⣄⣽⣿⣿⣿⣭⣿⣽⣿⡳⣮⣻⣽⣿⣶⣯⢇⢻⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠘⠃⣿⣿⣿⡇⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⣧⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⠘⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣷⠈⡙⠛⢋⠀⠰⢦⣌⠛⠿⣷⣦⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡗⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢉⣿⣿⠿⢋⣥⠐⠃⠈⡉⠉⠄⢚⣽
⣿⣧⠐⠰⡤⣄⠂⠀⠈⠛⢦⣈⠻⢷⣭⣛⣻⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣛⣵⣶⣝⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣢⣮⣻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⠼⠋⠁⠀⠁⠀⣀⢤⢲⠀⠌⠀⣼⣿
⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⡜⡟⢷⣦⡄⠀⠛⠷⣦⠘⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⠶⣶⣿⢿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣶⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣷⣶⠟⣷⣶⣶⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⣤⡶⢿⡷⡞⡞⠀⡜⢰⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡔⠀⠝⣜⢣⠞⡜⢦⣄⠀⠈⠻⣦⣌⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣝⣧⢿⣱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣽⡳⡞⣿⢏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢋⠅⠀⠀⣀⢴⡚⡵⣊⢧⠓⡜⠀⣐⢀⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡷⢀⠘⡌⡎⡝⣎⡳⣌⠻⣤⡀⠀⡙⢷⣦⣘⠻⢿⣿⣿⢿⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⢸⣾⣿⣿⠿⢋⣡⠞⠁⠀⣠⢞⡱⢎⡵⢣⡝⢢⣋⠆⠐⡀⣼⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠂⢸⠱⡸⢥⣓⢎⠷⣢⠝⣦⠀⢀⠙⢿⣷⣤⡉⠛⣬⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⣾⠿⢋⣡⣶⡟⠁⠀⣰⢺⡱⢎⡵⢫⡜⡇⢮⠱⡌⠀⠰⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢁⠀⢇⢣⠳⡜⢮⣙⡖⣫⢖⡫⣆⡀⠄⠛⠿⢿⣷⣤⡙⠳⣭⣛⡻⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⢠⣶⣿⡿⠃⠀⣠⠞⡥⢧⣹⢚⣜⡣⡝⡜⡢⢏⠆⢈⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠂⢨⢃⠧⣙⢧⡚⡼⡱⢮⡱⢎⡵⢢⠀⢈⠻⣶⡝⣿⣶⣤⡙⠿⣿⣧⣬⣶⡒⠒⡠⢤⣝⢿⣿⠋⠀⢀⡞⣥⢛⡜⢧⢎⡳⢬⠳⣍⠲⡱⡩⠀⠠⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⠀⡏⡜⢬⢲⡙⢶⡙⡶⣩⠳⣜⢭⢫⡄⠀⠘⢿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣶⡌⡙⠛⣡⣤⣿⣿⣷⣻⡎⠁⠀⣰⢏⡜⢦⡛⡜⣧⢚⠵⣋⠷⣈⠧⡱⡁⠀⠇⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠈⡀⠸⣌⢣⠎⣝⡲⣝⢲⡍⣳⢚⣬⠳⣜⢣⡐⠀⠹⡯⣵⣶⣷⣶⣴⣶⣾⣶⣷⣾⢹⠏⠀⢀⡾⡱⢎⡼⢣⡝⠳⣌⡚⡼⣡⠳⣡⠞⣱⠀⠡⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠠⠐⡬⡒⢭⢲⡱⢎⡳⡜⡰⢋⠶⣹⠬⣇⢳⣄⠠⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡍⠛⢻⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣰⢋⠶⣙⡞⣜⢣⠚⣕⠢⡕⣣⢇⡣⢕⡚⡴⠀⠂⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠐⠀⢧⡙⢆⡣⢝⢮⡱⢎⡱⢍⡲⢅⡻⣌⡳⡜⢦⡀⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⢀⡼⣡⡛⡼⢣⠞⡤⢋⡵⢊⡵⢡⡓⡎⡜⢆⡓⠆⢀⡁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠁⢰⣉⠞⡸⠜⣦⡙⢦⡙⢦⠱⢎⢲⢡⢳⡙⣮⠐⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⡀⢷⣡⢛⡜⣡⠞⣌⠳⣌⢣⠜⣡⡛⠴⣉⠞⡬⠁⡀⠂⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢁⠘⡤⣋⠵⡩⢖⡙⢦⡙⢆⡫⢜⡢⢋⢦⡙⢦⡉⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⠄⡻⢤⠓⡜⡤⢋⡴⢓⠬⢎⡚⢥⡹⢌⢣⠞⣸⠀⠄⠱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠠⠀⡳⢌⡖⡍⢮⡙⢦⡙⢬⢒⡣⡱⢋⠦⡙⢦⢄⡛⣛⡛⡛⠛⠛⠛⣛⡛⣛⠰⣉⠶⡙⡜⣌⠳⣌⠣⢞⡡⢞⡡⠞⣌⢣⡚⢥⠀⠂⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⢀⡄⠀⠂⡕⡣⡜⡌⠧⡜⣢⢙⠦⢣⡱⣑⠫⡜⣱⢊⠦⢣⡱⢍⡳⡄⠀⣰⢣⡝⢢⡝⡰⢣⡙⢴⢊⡵⢌⡹⢢⠕⣎⠲⣍⠲⡅⠞⡬⢀⠂⢠⡄⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢠⣾⣧⠀⠁⢸⠱⣘⡜⡱⣊⢕⣊⠮⣑⠲⣉⠶⣉⠦⣍⢚⠥⣚⢌⢳⡙⢶⡩⢖⡩⠖⣬⢑⡣⡙⣆⢣⡜⢪⣑⠣⢞⡰⢃⡎⡕⢎⡙⡖⢀⠂⣸⣿⣆⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠄⢁⠀⣇⢣⡜⡱⡌⠶⣘⠲⣉⠧⡱⢚⡤⠳⡌⡎⣕⠪⡜⡢⢝⡲⡙⣆⢣⠝⡤⢣⡑⢧⡘⣆⢚⢥⢊⡵⢊⡼⢱⡘⡬⢣⡙⡆⠠⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠈⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠂⢘⠦⡜⡱⡸⣑⢎⡱⡱⢊⡕⡣⡜⢥⠓⡼⢰⡙⡴⡙⢆⡳⣉⠦⣍⢚⡌⢧⡙⢦⡑⢎⠎⣆⠫⡔⢫⠔⣣⠜⣡⢓⡬⠁⢀⠃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠘⣿
⣿⣇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢁⠘⡲⣡⢓⡱⡌⢖⣡⠓⣍⠲⣱⠸⣡⢋⠖⣣⠜⢦⡙⡜⣰⠱⢪⠔⡫⢜⢢⡙⢦⡙⢬⠓⡬⢣⢹⡘⣜⠢⡝⢢⢣⠜⠀⠢⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⢀⣿
⣿⣿⣀⠀⠙⠻⠿⠿⠿⠇⠠⠀⢱⠢⣍⠲⣉⠮⡔⢫⢌⡓⢦⡙⣤⠫⡜⢢⠝⡢⠵⣉⢆⠏⡥⢛⡔⣋⠦⡙⢦⡙⢆⡛⡔⣋⠦⣱⢊⠵⣊⢇⢣⠎⢀⠁⠸⠟⠛⠛⠉⠀⣀⣾⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠐⠈⡳⢌⡣⢓⡜⡸⢥⠚⣜⠢⣕⠢⢇⠭⣃⠞⣡⠳⣉⠮⡜⣡⠳⣘⠴⣩⠱⢦⡙⡜⠴⣉⠖⡱⢦⠩⢖⡡⢎⢣⠁⡀⢀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠐⡀⠱⢣⣑⠫⠴⣉⠶⣉⠦⣋⠴⣋⢬⠓⡬⢃⣇⢣⠣⢞⡰⢃⣇⠣⢞⡰⢍⡆⢳⡘⡣⢍⣚⠱⣊⠝⣢⠝⣌⠃⠀⡌⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠠⠀⠳⣌⠣⢏⢆⡳⢌⠳⣌⠳⣌⠲⣙⠬⢣⠜⣢⠛⣤⠓⡍⢦⡙⢆⡓⢎⡜⢥⠚⡥⢋⡴⢋⡴⢋⡴⢩⡜⠀⠡⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠡⠀⢎⡱⢋⢦⠱⣊⠳⣌⠳⣌⠳⣌⢣⢋⡼⢡⢋⡴⡙⡜⡢⢝⡸⢌⡣⡜⢪⣑⢣⡍⢲⣉⠖⣩⠒⡵⠀⢠⢃⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠡⠀⢣⢋⢆⢏⠴⣋⠴⢣⡌⠳⡌⢎⡱⣌⢣⢣⢒⡍⢖⡩⢖⡱⢊⡵⣘⠣⡜⢢⡚⢥⠪⣜⢡⠏⠀⢤⢁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠡⢀⠘⠬⢎⡲⡑⢮⠱⣘⢣⠹⣌⡱⢌⡖⢣⣃⠞⡬⣑⠮⡔⢫⢔⡡⢏⡜⡱⣌⢣⡓⠌⠁⢠⡼⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡴⢄⠠⠁⠣⢝⠢⢏⡜⣌⠳⡰⡱⢊⡼⢡⠎⣜⠲⣡⠞⡌⡇⠮⡜⠲⢬⡱⠜⠂⢁⣀⢞⣩⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣕⠀⠂⠀⢉⠊⠒⠬⢣⠵⣑⢫⠔⣣⠹⢤⣋⠴⣉⠶⣉⠷⠘⠙⡀⠠⠀⢂⢈⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢘⠠⠁⣦⠤⣄⣐⡀⠂⠌⠠⠉⠄⡉⠐⡈⠡⢈⠐⠀⣀⣈⡤⣴⢪⠁⢂⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠰⠀⠣⡏⡗⠬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⡹⢥⣏⡼⣒⠏⠀⡌⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡑⠤⠀⡍⢈⠛⢛⠛⠿⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠻⠇⠻⢙⠊⠤⡁⢄⠢⠕⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣥⣌⣀⡉⠀⣑⣒⣰⣂⣒⣡⠈⢡⣊⣈⣤⣥⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

new inanimate insanity ii steve cobs dot art text art ascii art

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢸⡇⢸⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣸⠁⢸⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⢸⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡟⠘⣿⡄⢸⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⠹⣷⣸⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⢰⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠀⠁⠈⠉⠝⢿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡋⠉⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣄⠀⡀⡇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⢿⠇⣧⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⡀⠀⣀⣠⣀⣀⠀⢸⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡿⠒⣟⠿⠀⠰⣿⢿⣿⡅⢐⣿⣿⣿⣯⠌⢸⡿⠫⢽⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠉⣷⠀⣿⡏⠹⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠏⠙⠀⠀⠈⠙⠉⠀⠀⣏⠻⠄⠀⠀⣼⡿⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠃⢠⡇⠀⣿⣧⡀⠛⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⢶⣤⣠⣼⣶⣤⠀⣈⣽⠇⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⢿⠀⠹⣿⠃⠀⢿⣧⡻⠀⢸⢿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣉⣀⣀⡀⠀⠠⣿⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⢬⣧⣴⡟⠀⠄⠈⢻⣷⣤⡄⢘
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠈⣧⠀⠀⠒⢋⣉⠭⠽⠋⢁⡄⣰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⣿⠿⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡝⣷⠆
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠋⠙⠳⡞⢻⣯⣼⣇⣿⣀⣠⣴⡾⠉⠰⠃⢻⠳⣶⣆⠁⢀⣀⣀⣴⣾⣼⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣿⣿⣷⣿⠁⠀⠀⠠⠆⠀⠀⠈⣷⣮⠓
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⡏⠉⣠⣀⡆⠀⠀⢸⡄⠙⢿⣟⠛⠛⠛⠉⢱⣯⡿⠟⢛⣷⣿⣦⣴⣿⣯⣿⠶⣿⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣦⣶⡤⢬⡟⢳
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠓⠀⠀⣠⣞⣿⠿⠛⢾⣇⡼⢃⣴⠃⠋⠀⠓⠒⠈⡇⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⠶⠴⠟⢹⡇⠀⠈⠛⢧⠻⣯⣤⠟⠀⠀⠘⠀⠉⠉⡉⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣶
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠆⠀⠀⣰⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠸⢯⣴⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⠀⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢰⢿⢷⡀⠀⠀⠈⢠⣠⠗⠶⠤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠉⣷⣍⣀⠀⠀⠁⢸⣯
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠾⠋⠶⠶⠶⢣⡏⠀⠀⡄⠆⢀⡾⠃⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⢀⡀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢸⠻⠗⠀⣀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣤⣾⡿⠻⠗⣄⠀⢸⣿⣟⠁⠀⡄⢸⠋
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⡾⠟⠀⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⡛⡁⣀⣤⣶⢞⡻⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣎⡀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⢙⡄⠀⠀⣄⠙⣿⠃⢶⣀⡈⢳⡾⠟⠀⣀⣠⣅⠈⠁
⠀⢀⣀⣴⠛⠋⠀⠐⠀⠀⣠⣿⠃⠀⠀⣭⣿⡟⠉⠛⡼⢇⡈⠀⢶⡄⢀⠶⠋⠀⠀⠀⣷⡄⠈⣷⡌⣰⠲⠤⢴⡇⠀⣠⠟⠻⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠈⠳⣤⠘⣿⡻⣿⠐⣾⣁⢰⣧⣀⣤
⢀⣿⠏⠀⢀⣴⡴⠃⠀⣰⡿⠁⠀⣠⣾⡿⠣⠃⢀⡼⠓⠋⢷⡀⠠⢧⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⢰⡿⠻⡅⠀⠴⠛⠁⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠠⣀⠈⢳⣾⡇⠀⢹⢿⣿⠀⠈⢻⣿⠆⢈⢽
⣾⡏⠀⠁⣸⠏⠄⠀⡀⣿⣀⡴⠞⣿⠏⠀⢀⣴⠸⡿⡇⠀⢸⣷⣄⠂⠀⠀⢀⣀⢀⡀⢹⡷⣾⠀⠀⣧⠠⢤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⠂⢈⡀⠈⠳⠄⢿⠙⠰⣸⣾⠋⣷⠀⠈⠙⢦⡔⠿
⣿⡇⢠⣶⡏⠀⠀⠀⡇⡟⠋⢠⡾⠋⠀⠀⣼⣿⡄⢻⡅⠀⠞⣻⡟⣦⡤⠀⠈⠉⢉⣠⣾⠁⠙⠀⢈⣿⠆⠈⡅⠀⠀⡀⢀⡤⠀⠀⢹⠎⣠⠀⠘⣧⠰⣿⡿⣄⢙⢧⡀⠀⠀⠙⠂
⡿⣷⠸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⣤⡴⠛⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⢳⡜⣧⢨⡿⠋⠁⠀⠙⢦⠀⠀⠋⠀⢼⡀⣸⢀⡟⠁⠀⠀⢹⠄⠈⢙⢿⣄⡀⠀⣾⣤⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⣿⠃⠘⣿⠎⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⢸⣧⡀⢀⠰⠄⣀⣀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢾⣿⢡⢸⡇⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣦⠚⠢⠞⡳⣿⣿⡁⣝⢒⣦⡇⠀⡀⡞⢀⡼⠋⢲⡟⠃⠀⠀⣄⠈⣿⢿⡀⠀⠘⣮⡀⠙⣦⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠙⠷⣦⣽⣶⣶⣿⣶⣶⠟⠶⠦⠈⣾⣿⢏⡼⣷⣤⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠳⣄⣦⠀⡟⠻⠹⣿⡙⠂⢰⡾⠿⠟⠋⠀⣀⣾⠃⠀⠀⣴⡷⡀⢹⡆⣽⠀⢠⠈⠻⣼⣹⣿⡄
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⢿⣭⣿⡿⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⠃⢻⣿⡃⢀⣐⣠⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣾⡇⣿⣦⡶⠿⢠⣾⡿⠚⠒⠙⠲⠄⠈⣿⡀⠀⢰⢹⠁⠃⣸⣿⠿⢰⠸⠀⢰⣼⡇⢻⣷
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⠛⣽⣿⠏⣸⣧⠖⢺⡏⣷⡟⢻⣿⣿⡿⠀⠐⠆⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣠⠞⠁⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢰⣿⡁⠀⠈⣿⣤⠀⣿⣿⢿⣿⢢⡀⠈⡇⡆⠸⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢿⢰⣿⡇⠀⢸⡇⢠⡦⡼⠀⠙⠂⠀⢤⣤⣶⠿⡇⣿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⡆⠀⠈⠛⢃⡀⢸⣿⠿⣅⠀⡽⢻⣠⣿⣟⣦⣾⠀⣿⣧⡟⡓⠀⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡾⣸⣇⠙⢀⣼⣳⣯⡄⠙⠀⠀⠀⢠⢿⣰⠃⠀⣵⣏⢸⣬⠄⠀⢀⠀⠀⢠⡴⣯⠞⢻⡇⢠⡿⢀⠀⣸⣿⣿⠿⠋⢡⣆⣿⡸⢧⠇⠀⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡀⠈⠛⢷⡏⠀⠙⣩⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⠀⣼⡏⠈⠓⠿⠀⠀⣈⣦⡴⠫⠞⠁⠀⣿⡄⠸⣧⢘⣷⢿⣿⠇⠀⣴⡾⠟⠛⢃⡌⠇⠀⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⡉⠳⢤⣌⠉⠁⠀⣠⡤⠶⠖⢀⣾⣟⡟⠀⠛⣵⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠙⠁⠁⠀⣀⠀⢰⣿⣇⡀⣿⣛⣿⣿⣏⠀⠴⣻⠞⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⢸⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠉⡆⠀⠈⢧⡰⠎⠀⠀⣀⡴⠏⣼⣿⡀⠂⠀⣿⠀⠀⢠⣠⡄⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⢛⡇⠀⢸⠙⡿⣿⣿⡝⠣⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⡀⣠⣧⢤⡤⣤⡤⢴⣾⡿⠕⠓⠃⡏⢋⡍⢁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⠘⢠⣄⣠⣀⣸⣇⡄⣸⠂⡇⣿⡗⣠⣤⠙⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠰⠁⣿⣇⢸⣏⣉⣉⣽⡯⠄⢄⣈⡀⣧⢎⠶⣫⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠀⠀⣈⣴⣯⣿⡏⣰⠟⢀⢀⣿⣾⡟⠿⠋⠀⠐⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⣼⢳⡇⢰⣿⠋⠀⡇⠇⣾⠱⢦⠀⣯⣛⡶⠋⢾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⢀⡴⢋⡟⠉⣹⡟⠁⡰⣻⣾⣿⢁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣿⣟
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⢸⡁⣟⡇⢸⣿⡇⠀⣷⣆⣻⣿⣼⠀⣟⣋⣤⣤⣤⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣖⣻⠞⠋⠁⢰⡟⢀⡼⠉⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡋
⠶⠶⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠁⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠻⠦⢼⣿⣥⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠨⢿⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠳⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢀⠀⢸⡇⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⢀⣀⢀⣤⣤⣾⣧⣤⣤⣀⣄⡀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⡞⣀⣠⠟⣾⣧⣤⡄⠀⠀⣷⣾⡇⠀
⢀⣠⡆⢀⣰⠋⢀⣶⣶⣚⣵⣶⣁⣴⣞⣴⣶⣣⣴⣾⣴⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣾⣿⣶⣿⣷⡿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⢻⣟⡛⢛⣗⡛⣿⣛⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⠸⠿⣗⠀
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣻⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣿⣷⣤⠀⢹⡄
⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⠛⠛⠛⢛⠛⠟⠛⠛⠿⠫⠛⠉⠉⠛⠛⠉⠛⠛⠛⠉⠋⠙⠋⠉⠁⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠉⠙⠉⢉⠇⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣷⡶⠟⠀
⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡂⠒⠏⠀⢈⠈⠁⠀⢀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢤⣄⣔⠃⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠲⠀⢡⡄⣹⣿⡿⠘⠑⡿⠿⠿⠶⢂

new nn ii nnnn dot art text art ascii art

3️

new three cardinal iii

｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆~ℓιℓℓу~⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

new haber three iii

⊹₊⟡⋆🍎🎀⋆˙⟡

new inanimate insanity object shows ii bfdi battle for dream island apple bow

PLUSH ONE ii
(By NeuroFabulous)

"What's your favorite thing to do?"
Karen continues, her voice gentle.
He looks around the room, his gaze
finally settling on the metal container,
his project before the accident.
"Fix," he says, his hands 
moving in small, repetitive
gestures. "Invent. Invent," he murmurs.
It's a start.

The paramedics nod, jotting down
their observations. "It seems like
his long-term memory is intact,"
the first one murmurs to the other.
"Okay, Plankton, we're all done here;
we'll be heading on out."

Karen nods, her grip on Plankton's hand
tightening as she watches them leave,
their boots echoing down the hall.
The door clicks shut, and suddenly
the room feels much emptier, the
silence suffocating. She looks back
at her husband. She's never
dealt with someone with severe autism,
let alone the man she loves. She takes
a deep breath. "Come on," she says,
her voice a gentle coax. "Let's sit up."
With surprising ease, he allows her
to help him into a sitting position.

He looks at her,
his gaze warm and affectionate. "Karen,"
he says, his voice gentle.
It's the first time he's called her by
name since the accident, and it fills
her with a hope so profound it hurts.

They sit there for a while, Karen
stroking his arm, Plankton's eye
closed as he leans into her touch.
He seems to find comfort in her
presence, and she in his. She whispers
softly, "I love you, Plankton."

He opens his eye, a ghost of a smile
playing on his lips. "Love... Karen,"
he echoes. "You, I... I lo-ove you
Karen."

It's not eloquent, but it's enough.
It's more than enough. Karen feels
tears sting her screen as she leans in
and kisses his forehead. "I love you
too, Plankton."

His hand, stiff and unpracticed,
moves to hers, tracing the outline
of her palm. The simple gesture
speaks volumes, a silent promise
that they'll navigate this new world
together.

Karen's eyes well up, a smile
forcing its way through the tears.
"You're going to be okay," she whispers,
trying to tell herself as much
as him. Plankton nods, his gaze
on their joined hands.

He starts to fiddle with her fingers,
his touch tentative but earnest.
It's a simple gesture, but it speaks
volumes. He's trying, and she loves
him for it. The world outside feels
muted as they sit together, sharing
this quiet moment of understanding.

Their bond, though altered by his
new condition, remains strong. Karen
can see it in the way he looks at her,
his eye searching hers for comfort.
And she's there, offering it in spades.
"We'll get through this," she says,
her voice steady "We'll figure it out."

Plankton nods, his hand still tracing
the lines of her palm. His movements
are methodical, almost ritualistic.
It's clear that touch is a way to connect, in
a world that's suddenly become more
confusing. Karen runs her thumb
over the back of his hand.

He looks up at her, his gaze intense,
his eye searching hers for reassurance.
Karen smiles through the tears. "We're in
this together," she whispers, leaning
in to pat his shoulder.

But the second her hand makes
contact, he flinches away, his
body taut with discomfort. It's a stark
reminder of the sensory challenges
he now faces.

"I'm sorry," Karen says quickly,
retracting her hand. She's read
about sensory issues in autism,
but experiencing it firsthand is
overwhelming. She's eager to
learn what will soothe him, what
will help him navigate this new
reality without causing him discomfort.

"It's ok" Plankton mumbles, his
hands moving in a soothing
motion over the blanket.

Karen's determined 
to learn.
"What do you 
need, honey?" she asks,
her voice gentle.

Plankton's hand stops 
its erratic movement. 
He looks at her, 
his expression 
unreadable. "Karen," he 
whispers.

Her eyes fill with 
hope, clutching onto 
his words like a 
lifeline. "What do
you need, Plankton?"
she asks again, her 
tone soft and patient.

He turns his head 
slightly, his gaze 
fixed on the couch. Karen
gently guides him to the
couch, placing a pillow
under his head. She grabs
his favorite blanket, and 
drapes it over him.

He stiffens for a moment, 
then relaxes into the softness.
His hands resume their
repetitive stroking, this 
time on the fabric. Karen 
notices his eye is drawn 
to the patterns, and she
wonders if the visual
stimulation helps him 
focus.

Gently, she sits beside 
him, keeping a 
respectful distance.

Karen's mind is a storm
of thoughts and questions,
but she forces herself to
be present, to be patient.

Plankton's hand continues to
move over the blanket.
He's in his own world, yet
she's eager to understand it.

new plush one neurodivergentcore ii

TRUTH AND NAIL iii

 Karen felt his weight
shifting, his body swaying
towards sleep again.
“Stay with me, Plankton,”
she murmured, her voice
a gentle prod to keep
his consciousness afloat.

He blinked, his eye
trying to focus on her face.
“Wha...?” he mumbled,
his words trailing off
like a forgotten melody.

Karen's tightened.
“You’re okay, Plankton,”
she whispered, her voice
a gentle caress in the
stillness of the room.
“You’re just tired from
the surgery, that’s all.”

But even as she
spoke, Plankton’s head
lolled to the side,
his mouth open slightly,
drooling. Karen reached over
and wiped it away, her
fingers coming back wet.

"It's normal
for them to nod off
like this," the nurse assured
Karen with a kind smile. “Let’s 
walk to your car..”

But as they shuffled
along, Plankton’s knees
buckled, and he slumped
against Karen, his mouth
falling open in a deep snore.
Her arms tightened around
his waist, her strength
supporting his sudden
weakness.

"Wha...?" Plankton mumbled,
his eye fluttering open,
his mind trying to catch up
with his surroundings.
"You okay?" Karen asked.

His head bobbed slightly,
nodding in sleepy agreement.
But as they shuffled closer
to the exit, his knees
buckled again, and he
was out cold.

Karen's grip tightened,
keeping him from collapsing.
The nurse chuckled softly,
"It's okay, Mrs. Plankton.
This happens a lot after
the anesthesia. Wake
up, Mr. Plankton.."

But Plankton's snores
only grew louder, his head
lolling onto Karen's shoulder.
Her laugh was a gentle
sigh as she looked at
his peaceful face, marred
only by the occasional
dribble of saliva.

"Come on, love," Karen
whispered, her voice a soft
nudge. "Let's get you to the car."
With the nurse's help, they
managed to make him 
stir in his sleep.

Plankton's eye cracked
open, his gaze unfocused
and glazed. "Karen?"
he murmured, his voice a
slurred whisper.

Her eyes searched his,
the love in them a beacon
in the starkness of the
hospital corridor. "You're okay,
sweetie," she said, her voice
a gentle reminder.

But Plankton's response
was a snore, his head
lolling forward again.
Karen's grip tightened,
his weight leaning heavily
on her. "Wake up, Plankton,"
she whispered, her voice a
caress in the air.

The nurse chuckled.
"It's just the anesthesia,"
she assured Karen. "Let's
get him to the car."
Plankton's eye
snapped open, his mind
fighting to wake up.

But each step was a
battle against the fog.
Karen's arms wrapped
around him, her grip
firm and loving. His legs
threatened to give out,
his knees like jelly,
but she held him upright.

"Come on, darling,"
she cooed, her voice a
beacon through the
haze. "Almost there."

They made it to the
car, Plankton's snores
filling the quiet
of the parking lot.
The nurse opened the
back door, and Karen
managed to get him
sitting upright, his head
lolling to one side.

"Wha...?" he mumbled,
his eye opening a crack.
"We're going home," Karen
soothed, her voice a soft
song. She fastened the
seatbelt around him,
his limbs heavy and
uncooperative.

As she drove, Plankton
fought to keep his eye
open, his head drooping
forward before jerking
back up with a snort.

"You okay back there?"
Karen called over her
shoulder, her eyes on the
road.

A faint snore was
his only reply, his
head lolling against
the headrest. She chuckled,
a mix of concern and
affection, her screen
flitting to the rearview
mirror. His mouth was
still open, a string of
drool connecting his
bottom lip to his chin.

Karen reached back,
carefully wiping it away
with a tissue. Plankton's
face twitched in his
sleep, but he remained
oblivious to her touch.
The car's gentle hum
lulled him further, his
snores punctuating
the silence of the drive.

new truth and nail sleepycore iii

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣄⣀⡠⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣇⢠⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠄⢀⡟⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠈⣏⠀⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⡂⢸⣄⡀⠀⠁⠀⠀⢹⣾⣅⡄⠈⠀⣀⣤⢿⢐⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣷⡞⣛⣼⣿⣟⠻⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠐⠃⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢄⠘⣹⣿⡿⠋⠤⠀⠈⠉⠀⠰⡌⠻⣿⡟⡝⢸⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⡄⠈⠿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⢀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠁⣬⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠰⠀⢦⣀⠩⠭⠁⣰⣷⠀⡤⠀⠠⣛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⢏⣴⡇⢀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠷⠄⠒⠛⠁⠀⠀⡀⠀⢻⣷⡝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⠿⠆⠀⠀⠚⠻⢿⣤⣄⣀⣠⠈⠛⠛⠋⠌⢸⣿⣿⠘⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣾⡇⠀⣾⣿⣿⡎⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠩⠇⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠙⠃⢀⣄⣦⣶⣻⣿⣿⣇⠈⢦⣀⠀⠀⢀⣢⣶⣿⣿⡿⠁⣸⣿⣿⣿⣟⣳⣮⠙⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⡿⠿⠗⡀⢛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣏⣼⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣭⣛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣫⣠⣠⣶⣤⡅⠋⣄⢿⢟⢹⣖⣉⢁⣀⡉⠛⠟⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢻⡪⠴⡡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣱⣷⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⣜⣢⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣼⣿⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⣿⣯⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣡⣿⣿⣿⡘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣿⣟⣿⣆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣧⣀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⢇⢋⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⢿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡿⡞⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⡸⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡛⠿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⡇⡂⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣶⣶⣶⣶⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠇⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡸⣿⣿⣿
⠒⠒⠒⢢⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢹⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⢸⠷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢭⣙⣛
⣀⣀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⡌⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⡄⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡞⣛⣿
⠉⠉⢘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡞⢱⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⢈⣈
⠀⠐⠷⣯⣐⡭⢛⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡹⣿⣿⣿⡇⠰⠸⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣛⠭⢝⣒⣭⡜⣿
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠶⣮⣄⣊⠭⠽⠱⢂⣤⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣝⣿⡿⡀⡀⠀⠫⠽⣒⣭⣵⣶⠿⠛⡋⢩⣶⣿
⣤⣤⡤⢈⡰⢲⣤⠀⠉⠉⠛⠉⠈⠉⠛⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣣⠠⣷⠀⠀⠙⠋⠉⠀⣠⣶⣶⣥⡎⣿⣿
⠈⠁⠣⠈⢀⣵⠉⢠⡐⣤⡆⠈⠠⢛⠁⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⡇⠐⠃⠀⣤⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⠿⠛
⣿⣦⡃⢰⣿⣡⠟⢘⣴⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⣷⠂⠄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⢰⣶
⣽⣿⡇⢸⢾⣿⡷⡾⡿⢋⡷⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⠀⠁⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠐⢘
⣿⣿⡯⢰⣼⣿⢏⣾⢀⡠⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⡏
⣿⣿⡿⡸⣿⢫⣎⣰⠸⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣾⣧
⣿⣿⡀⠂⢿⠻⣶⣥⠖⢈⡇⠀⠀⠀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⡏
⣿⡏⠀⠀⠰⢖⠅⣠⢊⡎⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⠇⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡇⠀⢠⣅
⢿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠻⣪⣥⠿⠁⢧⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⠁⠀⣶⣹⣿⣿⣿⡟⡀⠀⠘⠆
⣺⡟⠀⠂⠀⠀⣱⠏⢑⡬⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢨⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠣⠄⠄⢀⠄
⣾⣿⣧⠄⠠⠀⠀⣆⣿⣾⢺⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⣿⠀⢰⣧⢿⣿⣯⠋⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀
⢾⣿⡇⠣⠀⠀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠿⢿⡇⠋⠀⠛⢿⣧⡑⢻⠀⠀⢀⡐⠠⠎
⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⡂⠄⠀⢻⣿⣾⣿⣆⣀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣷⠉⠁⣀⠀⠀⢤⣤⣅⠃⠀⠀⠘⢫⣾⣧
⣿⣧⠠⡘⠟⠇⠀⠀⠈⢿⢻⣹⣃⣿⣿⣆⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣠⡘⣿⣟⣦⠀⠙⠀⡠⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿
⣽⣷⡀⡕⠀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣏⣸⡈⠻⡟⠇⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣥⣾⣿⣷⠹⣿⡟⣧⠀⠀⠀⣤⢀⠀⠀⠸⡿
⠻⢿⡆⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣷⠀⡐⠟⢁⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣫⣶⣷⠹⡿⢡⠀⠀⠪⠹⢀⠀⠀⠀⠑

new hh prince ii dot art text art ascii art

NEW REALITY iii
(Autistic author)

"You know, Plankton," she starts,
trying to keep the conversation
going, "you've always been so
clever with your inventions. Maybe
this is just your brain working in
overdrive, processing everything
faster than ever before."

He nods, his eyes still glued
to the fan. "Fast," he agrees,
his hand moving in the same
repetitive motion. "Like fan."

Karen tries to keep her voice
even as she sits beside him.
"You're right," she says, smiling.
"It is fast."

Plankton's hand stops moving
for a moment, then resumes the
wave-like motion. "Fast," he
agrees, his eye never leaving
the fan's rotation.

Karen watches him, her mind racing.
Could it be that he's just really
focused on the fan? Maybe his
brain is working differently now,
focusing on details that she's
always missed. She tries to find
comfort in this explanation, but
the emptiness in his gaze
unsettles her. She reaches for his
arm, hoping to ground him, to bring
his attention back to her. But
his hand jerks away, his movements
quick and erratic.

"Plankton, honey, are you okay?"
she asks, her voice tight with worry.
His eye flicks to her for a brief
moment before returning to
the fan. "Karen," he says, his tone
flat and emotionless. "Water. Thanks."

He takes another sip, his hand
shaking slightly as he sets the
glass down. Karen's heart clenches,
wishing she could take his pain away.
Maybe he's just overwhelmed, she tells
herself. Maybe all this spinning is a
way for him to calm down, to make
sense of the world again.

"Plankton," she says softly, placing
a hand on his shoulder. "Look at me."
He does, his eye meeting hers with a
flicker of something she can't quite
place. "You know, you can tell me
anything."

He nods, his gaze flicking back
to the fan. "Tell Karen," he repeats,
his voice a monotone echo.

Karen's mind is racing, but
she keeps her tone calm. "Plankton,
sweetie, what do you mean?"

He points to the fan again. "Fan.
Spin. Like." His words come out
slowly, as if he's trying to piece
together a puzzle.

Karen nods, her heart racing. "Yes,
the fan spins. It's like when you
tell me your grand plans for the
Krabby Patty formula," she says, trying
to draw him back into their shared
world. But Plankton's eye doesn't
even flicker at the mention of his
lifelong obsession.

Instead, he starts to rock slightly,
his hand moving back and forth in
the same pattern. "Spin. Fan," he
mumbles, his voice a distant echo.

Karen tries to ignore the fear
creeping into her voice. "Plankton,
what's going on? Why are you
doing this?"

Plankton's hand stops moving
for a moment, then starts again.
"Fan," he murmurs. "Spin."

Karen's mind is racing, but she tries
to stay calm. "It's okay, Plankton,"
she says soothingly, her hand still
on his shoulder. "The fan is spinning.
It's a simple machine, doing what
it's meant to do."

He nods, his gaze still locked on
the fan's blades. "Spin. Yes." His
voice is flat. Karen
swallows hard, trying to find the right
words. Maybe if she can get him to
focus on something else, he'll snap out of
this strange behavior. "LOOK AT ME!" 
She grabs his wrists..
Startled, Plankton's eye darts to hers,
his pupil wide with shock. "Karen?"
he asks, his voice tinged with anger.
"Karen scaring Plankton." He says,
his eye welling up with tears as he
starts crying.

Karen's heart shatters, she didn't mean to
scare him, she just wanted to get through to
his old self. "I'm sorry," she whispers,
pulling him into a tight hug. "It's okay."

Plankton's sobs are muffled against
her chest, his body stiff and unyielding.
Her eyes fill with tears as she tries
to soothe him, rubbing his back in
small, gentle circles. "It's okay," she repeats,
desperation lacing her words. "You're okay."

He pulls away 
slightly, looking up
at her.

"Karen, sad," he
says, his voice still
flat. "Why Karen sad?"

Karen sniffs, wiping
away her tears. "I'm just...
worried about you."

Plankton's eye widens, his
expression unchanged. "Worry?"
he questions, as if tasting
the word.

Karen nods, her heart heavy.
"Yes, worry. It's when someone
cares about you and is concerned
about your well-being."

Plankton nods, but his gaze
slides back to the fan. "Fan spin,"
he says, his voice monotonous.

Karen sighs, trying to redirect
his focus. "Plankton, let's talk about
something else. Like, what do
you want to do today?"

He blinks, his hand still
waving. "Do today?" he echoes.
"Fan spin."

Karen's stomach drops.
Maybe he's just fixated on the fan,
but something in his voice sends
a shiver down her spine. "Plankton,"
she says softly, her hand still on
his back. "I know you're not feeling
like yourself right now, but can you
try to focus on me for one minute?"
"One minute, sixty seconds,"
Plankton murmurs, his hand
continuing its rhythmic dance.

"Yes, that's right," Karen encourages,
despite the sinking feeling in her chest.
"Can you tell me what you see?"
Plankton looks at her, his expression
still eerily blank. "See Karen," he says,
his voice devoid of warmth. "See bed. See wall."

Karen's eyes widen as realization hits her.
He's not just fixated on the fan; he's taking
everything she says literally. "Plankton,
I'm not sad about the fan spinning. I'm sad
because you're not acting like you."
He looks at her, then at the fan, then back at her.
"Fan spin," he repeats, his eye searching
hers for understanding.

"No, no, Plankton," she says, her voice
gentle but firm. "I'm sad because you're
not okay." She takes a deep breath.
"You're not you."

He nods, his hand still moving.
"Plankton okay," he insists. 
"Karen sad."

Karen's heart breaks a little more.
"I know you think you're okay,"
she says, her voice trembling.
"But you're acting differently,
sweetie. You're not the same."
She decided to scan his brain.
The brain scan results come back,
and Karen stares. There it is,
stark and clear: acquired Autism
It's not something they can reverse.

new new reality Karen the Computer iii

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iii
(By NeuroFabulous)


Plankton feels a
wave of self-consciousness
crash over him. He's always
been different, and now
his son is seeing him at
his most vulnerable.
He doesn't look at
Chip, focusing instead on the
ceiling above.

Chip stares at him, his
face a mix of confusion
and concern. "Dad, are 
you o..."

But Plankton snaps, cutting
his son off with a harsh
tone that slices through
the tension in the room.
"The show's over, Chip; you
can leave now!"

Chip's eyes widen in shock,
his screen flushing with a
mixture of embarrassment
and hurt. He had never
seen his father like this
before. Karen intervenes gently.

"Chip, your dad's just tired.
Why don't you go play in
your room for a bit?"
Her voice was calm, but
there was a firmness that
Chip knew meant business.

He nodded, feeling the weight
of the situation settle on his
small shoulders. As he turned to leave,
his gaze caught the sadness
in his father's eye, a look
that seemed to apologize
without words.

The door clicked shut
behind him, and the silence
was deafening. Chip sat on
his bed, his mind racing with
thoughts about his father.

He knew Plankton was different,
but seeing him like that... it was
like looking at a robot that
suddenly turned off. It was
scary, but also fascinating.
He had so many questions,
but his mother's words echoed
in his mind: "Give him some space."
He'd have to be extra careful
around his dad from now on.

Back in their own room,
Karen sat beside Plankton,
still stroking his arm.
"I'm sorry, Plankton," she murmured.
"I know it's hard for you."

His eye searched hers,
filled with a quiet desperation.
"It's not your fault," he rasped,
his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's just... sometimes it's too much."

Karen's gaze softened, and
she leaned in to press a gentle
kiss to his forehead. "I know,"
she whispered, her thumb
continuing its soothing
motion on his arm. "We'll get
through it together."

Plankton's antennae
twitched again, and he took
a shaky breath. "I'm sorry,"
he murmured, his voice
still hoarse from his
self-imposed silence. "I know
it's scary for you, for Chip."

Karen's eyes remained
on his, filled with love and
understanding. "You have
nothing to apologize for,"
she said firmly. "You're doing
the best you can."

Plankton managed a
weak smile, his body slowly
starting to uncoil from the tight
knot it had formed during
his shutdown. Karen's gentle
touch was like a warm blanket,
wrapping him in a cocoon of
comfort.

"Thank you, Karen," he
whispered, his voice still
shaky. "I'm just so tired."

Karen nodded, her hand
never leaving his arm.
"You've had a long day,"
she said, her voice a soothing
balm. "Why don't you rest
a bit?"

Plankton nodded, his
energy depleted. He
managed to get himself into
a lying position, the bed
creaking beneath him. Karen
pulled the covers over him,
tucking him in.

Her voice was a lullaby
in the quiet room. "Close
your eye, Plankton. Take
deep breaths. I'm here."
Her hand remained on his
arm, her thumb tracing
the same comforting pattern.

Plankton's breaths grew
even, his body slowly
relaxing into the mattress.
The tightness in his chest
eased with each exhale, and
his antennae drooped slightly
as he succumbed to his body's
needs for rest. Karen watched
over him, her screen never
straying from his face.

"Rest, love," she whispered,
the words carrying a gentle
lilt of reassurance. She knew
the battle he faced every day,
how hard he tried to fit into
a world that didn't quite
understand him. She felt a
surge of admiration for his
strength and resilience.

new chip on the shoulders Chip Plankton II iii

CHIP IN MY BOX iii
(Autistic author)

"What's in the box?"
Chip asks again, his voice
steadier than he feels.

Plankton's eye bulges, his
fists tighten around the
box. "You're going to
make me show you?"
He snarls, his voice low and
dangerous.

Chip nods, his curiosity
now a raging inferno that
overpowers his fear.
"Yes," he whispers, his voice
shaking.

The room seems to hold
its breath as Plankton's grip
on the box tightens. His knuckles
turn white with the effort of
not flinging it open, of not
revealing whatever dark secret
it holds. Chip's heart thunders
in his chest, his eyes never
leaving the box.

"Fine," Plankton growls, his
voice low and dangerous. "If you
have to know, I'll show you."
He opens the box, and the
tension in the room snaps
like a rubber band.

Chip leans in, his heart racing
with a mix of excitement and
apprehension. Inside, there's a
variety of sensory apparatus, and a few
other odds and ends.

"It's... it's just stuff," he
stammers, not quite grasping
why his dad had reacted so
strongly. Plankton's chest
heaves, his face red with anger.
"It's not just stuff!" he yells,
slamming the box shut. "It's
private, it's mine, it's none
of your business!"

Chip's eyes water, the
sting of his father's words
cutting deep. He's never seen
his dad like this, so out
of control. He takes another
step back, his curiosity
now overshadowed by fear.

"Dad," he whispers, his voice
barely audible. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"You just what?" Plankton's
tone is like ice. "You just
have to know everything, don't you?
You can't leave well enough alone!"
He stands, the box clutched in his
hand, the knuckles still white.

Chip's eyes dart to the
closed box, then back to
his father's furious face.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, his
voice small. "I just wanted to
help." But his apology seems
to fall on deaf ears.

Plankton's anger is a living,
breathing thing in the room,
swirling around them like a
tornado of unspoken words.
"You don't help," he spits out.
"You never do. You just make
things worse." His eye bore
into Chip's, the accusation
stinging like a slap.

Chip's bottom lip quivers
as he tries to understand
his father's fury. His eyes
flit to the sensory box,
now closed with a finality
that feels like the slamming
of a door. "But why can't I
help?" he whispers, his voice
tiny in the face of Plankton's
wrath.

Plankton's eye narrows,
his voice a low growl. "You
don't know what you're asking."
He turns away, his shoulders
hunched, the weight of his
secret heavy on his shoulders.

Chip feels his cheeks
wet with unshed tears, but he
can't stop. "What don't I know?"
He asks, his voice trembling.
"What's so bad about the box?"

Plankton whips around, his
face a twisted mask of anger
and pain. "It's not about the
box, you little brat!" he yells.
"It's about respecting my
space!" He slams the box
down on the table, causing
the contents to rattle. "You
never think before you act,
always poking your nose where
it doesn't belong!"

Chip's eyes widen, the
realization dawning that
his curiosity has crossed
a line. He takes a tentative
step back, his voice shaking.
"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't
mean to-"

"Mean to what?" Plankton
interrupts, his voice a
whip crack in the tense silence.
"Mean to invade my privacy?
Mean to make me feel like
a freak?" His hand slams
on the table, the box jumping
under the impact.

Chip's eyes widen with
understanding, and his
stomach drops. He hadn't
meant to make his dad feel
that way. "No, I..."
he starts, but Plankton
doesn't let him finish.

"Just go to your room!"
Plankton's voice is a thunderous
wave, crashing over Chip's
apology. "You've done enough
damage for one day."

The hurt in Chip's eyes
deepens, but his curiosity
doesn't waver. He goes
to open the box..

"What could be so bad?"
Chip asks, his voice
smaller now, his hand
trembling as he reaches
for the box's latch.

Plankton's eye widens
in horror, his anger a
volcano about to erupt.
"Chip, no!" Karen's
voice is a desperate
plea, but her son's need
to know is too strong.

The box's latch clicks
open, and Chip's hand
freezes in mid-air as
his eyes land on the
contents within: a collection
of small, seemingly random
objects, each with a specific
purpose to soothe and
comfort Plankton in his
moments of distress.

Plankton's anger boils over,
his face reddening as he
watches his son's curiosity
expose his most private
weakness. "You had to see
for yourself, didn't you?" he says,
his voice low and venomous.

Chip's hand hovering over
the open box, the sensory
items laid bare before him.
He looks up, his eyes wide
with a mix of fear and
understanding. "Dad, I'm
sorry," he whispers, his voice
shaking.

But Plankton's anger is a
tidal wave that can't be held
back. "You're always sorry,"
he snarls, his eye flashing
with a rage that makes Chip's
heart pound in his chest.
"But it's never enough, is it?"
He grabs the box, his hand
shaking with the force of his
emotions.

Chip's curiosity turns to
regret as he sees the pain
his questions have caused.
He takes a step back, his
hands up in a defensive
posture. "I didn't me—"
But Plankton isn't listening,
his rage a living entity in
the room. "Get out!"
He roars, his voice shaking
the walls. "I don't want to
see you right now!"
Tears spill down Chip's
cheeks as Karen intervenes.

"Chip, go to your room,"
she says, her voice shaking
but firm. Plankton's
anger is a storm that's
been brewing for too long,
and she's afraid of where
this could lead.

Chip nods, his eyes never
leaving the box. He feels a
heavy weight in his chest,
his curiosity now a burden.
Slowly, he turns and heads
upstairs, his feet dragging.

Karen watches him go,
her heart aching. She turns
to Plankton, her eyes
pleading. "Honey, maybe we
should talk to him," she says,
her voice shaky. But Plankton's
glare silences her.

He slams the box shut
and storms out of the
room, leaving Karen alone
with her racing thoughts.
Should they have told Chip
earlier? Would it have
made a difference?

new chip in my box chip plankton ii iii

TOOTH AFTERNOON iii

Karen chuckled. Despite his current
state, she was just happy
he was out of pain. She sat
back in her chair, watching him
sleep and planning their quiet
afternoon at home. Ice cream,
his favorite blanket, and a
marathon of their favorite show.

The doctor returned, his
expression one of understanding.
“He’ll be out of it for a
little while longer. But we can
discharge him now if you’re
ready to take him home,” he said,
his voice a calm assurance.

Karen nodded, her smile
tired but still present. “Thank
you, doctor. I think we’re ready,”
she replied, her voice a soft
acknowledgment of the journey
that had only just begun.

The doctor gave her a nod
of understanding, his gaze
softening. “Alright, let’s get
you both home. I’ll go grab the
gauze for his mouth,” he
said, turning to leave the room.

Karen nodded, her eyes
still on Plankton’s sleeping
form. She felt a mix of
relief and exhaustion wash
over her. The surgery was over,
but the real challenge was just
beginning: navigating Plankton’s
recovery.

The doctor returned with
a small bag of supplies and
instructions. “Make sure he
doesn’t chew on anything too
hard, and keep the gauze in to
soak up the bleeding. He’ll be
on a soft diet for a few days.
Lots of rest, and no strenuous
activities, okay?” he said, his voice
kind and professional. “Now let’s 
get some gauze in.”

Karen watched as the doctor
carefully placed the gauze in
Plankton’s mouth.
Would he wake up? Would he
panic? But Plankton remained
asleep, his breathing steady.
The nurse offered a gentle pat
on the shoulder. “You’re a trooper,
Mr. Plankton,” she said, her voice
a soft whisper of encouragement.

The doctor turned to Karen,
his expression a blend of
pride and fatigue. “You’ve
both done well today. He’s ready
to go home, but make sure to
follow the instructions I gave
you. No chewing, no crunchy
foods, and keep that gauze in place.
Call us if you have any
concerns, okay?”

Karen nodded, her smile
grateful. “Thank you, doctor.
We really appreciate it,” she
said, her voice a soft echo of
the beeps that surrounded them.

With a gentle touch, Karen
shook Plankton’s shoulder.
“Wake up, Plankton. Time to go
home,” she whispered, her voice
a soothing lullaby to rouse him
from his anesthesia-induced slumber.

Plankton’s eye cracked open,
his gaze unfocused. “Whathapennin’?”
he mumbled, his tongue a thick
obstacle in his mouth.

Karen’s smile was a warm
reassurance. “It’s time to go
home, sweetie. The surgery’s all
over,” she whispered, her voice
like a gentle breeze.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his thoughts a tangled mess.
“Home?” he murmured, his mouth
moving awkwardly around the
gauze.

Karen nodded, her smile a
beacon in the sterile room.
“Yes, Plankton. We’re going
home now. The doctor says
you can go if you’re feeling okay,”
she said, her voice a gentle
reminder of the world waiting
outside.

Plankton’s eye searched hers,
his thoughts slowly coming into
focus. “Home?” he repeated,
his voice still thick with sleep.

Karen nodded, her smile a warm
embrace. “Yes, we’re going home.
The surgery is done, and the doctor
says you’re okay to leave. Can you
stand up for me?” she asked, her
tone a gentle coax.

Plankton’s body moved with the
sluggishness of a marionette.
He pushed himself up, his legs wobbly
like gelatin. Karen helped him to
his feet, her arm a sturdy pillar
under his. The room spun, and
his eye searched for a focal
point. “Wheh…” he murmured,
his mind a foggy mess.

Karen’s grip was firm, her voice
steady. “Take it slow, Plankton.
You’re ok, just a bit wobbly.
We’re going home now,” she said,
guiding him towards the door.

Plankton’s steps were shaky, his
legs unsure beneath him. The
world outside the recovery room
was a blur of faces and colors,
but Karen’s was the only one
that made sense. She led him
to the car, her arm a warm
security around his waist.

The cool air hit him like a
wave, his skin prickling as
his mind swam with the sudden
shift from the clinical calm
of the dentist’s office to the
bustling chaos of the parking lot.
“Walk with me, love,” Karen said,
her voice a gentle guide in the
storm of his disorientation.

Plankton’s feet shuffled
forward, his movements mechanical
as Karen led him to their car.
The brightness of the afternoon
sun was a stark contrast to
the sterile fluorescence of the
recovery room, making him squint.
He felt like a newborn fawn,
his legs wobbly and unsteady.

With Karen’s guidance, Plankton
managed to get into the passenger
seat, his body sinking into the
softness with a sigh of relief.
The car door clicked shut,
sealing them into a cocoon of
quiet comfort. Karen climbed
behind the wheel, her movements
efficient and familiar as she
adjusted the mirrors and started
the engine. The world outside
their bubble grew fuzzier as
they drove away from the
dental clinic, the hum of the tires
lulling Plankton into a
semi-lucid state.

He leaned his head against
the cool window, watching the
trees and buildings blur past.
“Wheh...awe we...going?” he slurred,
his voice a sleepy echo.

Karen’s smile was a warm
comfort. “Home, Plankton. We’re
going home so you can rest
and heal. You’ve had a big
day, haven’t you?” she said, her
voice a gentle reminder of the
journey behind them.

Plankton’s nod was a sleepy
affirmation. “Yeah...big...day,” he
mumbled, his eye drooping
closed again, his head
lolled to the side.

“So, sweetie, what’s the first
thing you want to do when we
get home?” she asked, her voice
a gentle prod to keep him
engaged.

Plankton’s mouth moved
slowly, his thoughts a thick
sludge. “Ish...cweam?”

Karen’s laugh was a soft
symphony. “Ice cream, yes. As
soon as we get home and you’re
comfortable, you can have all
the ice cream you want. I’ve got
your favorite flavor waiting for
you in the freezer,” she said, her
voice a sweet promise.

Plankton’s eye lit up with
the mention of ice cream, a
tiny spark of excitement in the
sea of confusion. “Fishy...flaver?”
he mumbled, his mouth still
numb.

Karen chuckled, her voice
warm and loving. “Chocolate,
Plankton. Your favorite chocolate
chip cookie dough. I know you’ll
love it,” she assured him. She was ready to
play nurse, chef, and entertainer
all rolled into one.

Plankton’s head lolled
to the side, the gauze in his
mouth a stark white against
his pale cheek. His eye
flits open and closed, the world
a mosaic of colors and shapes
as they drove.

new tooth afternoon tripcore iii

PLUSH ONE iii
(By NeuroFabulous)

Karen watches him, his hands
stroking the fabric.
She reaches out tentatively,
touching his arm with the
back of her hand. He flinches,
his hand freezing mid-stroke.

Her eyes fill with regret,
but she doesn't pull away.
Instead, she lets her hand hover
for a moment before slowly
drawing it back. Plankton's gaze
flips to hers, his pupil wide with
surprise. He stares at her, then
back at her hand.

"It's okay," she murmurs, her
fingers hovering above his arm
once more. This time, he doesn't
flinch. Encouraged, she lightly
traces his skin, mimicking the
movement he'd made with her palm.

He watches her, his expression
neutral. Then, ever so slightly,
his hand relaxes its grip on the
blanket. It's as if he's giving
his consent for the contact.
Karen's eyes well up with tears.
This is the first real interaction
they've had since the accident.

She strokes his arm, her touch
light and cautious. He seems to
enjoy it, his body slowly unwinding
from the tension. It's a dance,
learning his new boundaries,
his new language of touch.

"What do you like?" Karen asks,
her voice soft. "What feels good?"
Her eyes are on his, watching for
any flicker of response. Plankton
looks at her, his gaze unreadable,
and then his hand moves to cover
hers on his arm. It's a gesture
so simple, yet so profound, that
it takes her breath away.

His skin is warm, his touch gentle.
He seems to be communicating
without words, and she's desperate
to understand. "Is this okay?"
she whispers, her hand stilling.
He nods, his eye never leaving hers.

Plankton's movements are
precise, deliberate. He's not
the same man she knew, but he's
still her Plankton. She can see
the love in his gaze, the trust
in his touch. It's a new way of
interacting, but she's willing to
learn.

As they sit together, Karen
notices how Plankton's eye darts
around the room, focusing on
specific items before moving on.
It's as if he's cataloging everything,
trying to make sense of his
surroundings. She decides to try
to engage him with his environment,
hoping to spark some familiarity.

"Look, Plankton," she says, pointing
to a framed photo on the wall.
"It's us. Do you remember?"
He looks over, his gaze lingering
on the picture for a moment.
"Karen," he murmurs, his voice
soft. "Us."

"Yes, that's us. Do you recall?"
His eye darts back to the photo.
"Yes, Karen; July 31, 1999."

The exactitude of the date
stuns her. It's a memory she'd
thought lost to time. "How do
you remember that?" she asks,
a smile playing on her screen despite
the fear that lingers in her.

His gaze doesn't leave the photo.
"Special day," he murmurs. "Day
married. Karen and Plankton."

Karen's eyes widen. His memory
for dates and specifics seems to
have sharpened, a trait not uncommon
in those with autism. It's a stark
contrast to the man who often forgot
the day of the week unless it was
a Krabby Patty special by the Chum Bucket.

"You remembered our wedding day,"
she says, her voice filled with amazement.
"That's incredible, Plankton."

He nods, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Happy," he murmurs. "Karen happy."

Karen's eyes well up 
with tears as she nods.
"Yes, we were happy," 
she whispers. "We still are."

Plankton's hand moves
to hers, his grip firm 
but gentle. "Karen," he says, 
his voice a declaration of
his presence, his acknowledgment
of her. It's a moment of profound
connection that transcends words.

Her screen swells with hope. 
They're finding a way to communicate.

"Do you want to watch TV?" Karen asks,
keeping her voice calm and steady.
Plankton nods, his eye still on the photo.
She grabs the remote and turns it on.
The flickering light from the screen
illuminates his face, the blue hue
of the plasma waves washing over them. But
the program is to loud, and Plankton's body
tenses up.

"Too loud?" she asks, reading his expression.
He nods, his eye never leaving the screen.
She quickly turns it off.

In the darkness, Karen's mind races.
They'd need to make adjustments,
little by little.

Plankton's gaze remains fixed
on the spot where the TV was,
his eye searching for the pattern
of light that was there moments ago.
Karen takes a deep breath, her hand
still resting in his. "It's okay," she
whispers. "We'll find something else."

She tries humming, starting with a soft
lullaby that fills the room, and she
watches his expression, looking for
any sign of comfort. His eye flickers
closed, and his body relaxes, the tension
in his fingers loosening their grip
on hers.

Encouraged, Karen 
continues, her
voice low and soothing. 
Plankton's breathing
evens out, and she can 
feel his hand
start to relax in hers as he's
lulled to a calmness by the 
predictability of the
song's melody. It's a small 
victory, but one that fills her
with hope. She decides to
try speaking again, her words
carefully chosen.

"Plankton, sweetheart, 
can you tell me
what you're thinking about?"
He doesn't respond, his eye
still closed. 
"Plankton," Karen whispers.
Plankton's breathing remains
steady, his hand relaxing further
in hers as she notices him sleepily
squeezing her fingers. It's a gentle
reminder that he's still there,
that he's listening.

"Karen," he says, his eye
sleepily fluttering, "I love
you Karen, I love yo..."

Plankton's voice trails off
as he drifts off to sleep, his 
head lolling onto her shoulder
with a snore. Karen's eyes 
brim with unshed tears, but 
she's smiling. The love in 
his voice was unmistakable. She 
sits there, holding him.

The room is quiet except 
for his snores and the 
occasional squeak of the couch. 
Karen's mind is racing with 
thoughts, planning for their 
future. How will they live with
his new autism? What will 
change? What will stay the same?

As Plankton sleeps, she 
notices the way his hand 
still clutches hers, a silent 
plea for comfort. She 
understands that their world
has changed, but she's 
determined to adapt. 
The quietude of the room
is pierced only by the 
steady rhythm of his 
snores and the distant 
hum of the city outside.

The TV remains off, the
colors of the room muted.
Karen knows that bright lights 
and loud noises can 
overwhelm him now. She'll
have to learn to live with
the quiet, to appreciate the 
small moments of joy that 
can be found in the 
simplicity of their new life.

Her eyes scan the room, 
taking in the clutter of 
their shared life. The 
unfinished inventions, the 
half-eaten Krabby Patties, 
the dusty knick-knacks that 
once held so much meaning.
Everything seems different 
now, filtered through the lens
of Plankton's altered reality.

Karen makes a mental note
to create a sensory-friendly 
space for him, a sanctuary
where he can retreat from
the chaos of the world. But
right now it's getting late, and
they're both tired. She needs
to carry him to their room.

With a gentle sigh, she shifts
his weight and stands up,
his arm draped over her.
Plankton's body is limp, his 
snores a comforting sound 
in the quiet room. She walks
carefully, avoiding any noise
that might startle him awake.

In their bedroom, Karen lowers
Plankton onto his bed and covers
him with the blanket.

He's still snoring, and she watches him
for a moment, committing the sight
of him to memory. This is their new
normal, and she's scared but ready to
face it. Karen reaches over to kiss him
on the forehead, her hand lingering there,
feeling the warmth of his skin.

"I'll figure it out," she whispers,
wiping at her tears with the back of
her hand. "We'll make it work."

new plush one learncore iii

SHELF IMPROVEMENT viii
(Autistic author)

The next day, Karen got
up out of bed. Plankton's
still asleep. She wondered
how she's to wake him with
his new sensory sensitivities.

Gently, she opened 
the blinds, letting in 
the soft morning light. 
The room was peaceful, 
the silence only broken by 
the steady hum of 
his breathing. She took 
a moment to just watch 
his sleeping form, the 
covers rising and falling 
with each breath.

Karen approached the 
bed, careful not to wake 
him. Plankton's antennae 
twitched slightly as 
she reached out to 
stroke his forehead. 
He mumbled something 
unintelligible in his 
sleep, and she 
smiled sadly.

"Good morning, 
Plankton," she whispered, 
keeping her voice 
soft. His eye fluttered 
open, and he blinked 
at her, his gaze 
slightly unfocused.

"Karen," he mumbled, 
his voice groggy.

"How are you 
feeling?" she asked, 
concern etched on her 
screen.

Plankton blinked a few 
times, his antennae 
slowly raising. "Tired," he 
finally said, his voice 
raspy.

"It's okay," Karen 
soothed, sitting on the 
edge of the bed. "We'll 
take it easy today. I told
Chip about your new
neurodisability.."

Plankton's antennae 
twitched slightly as he 
took in her words. "Chip 
knowing?" he murmured, 
his eye searching hers.

"Yes, sweetie," Karen 
nodded. "We talked about 
how we need to be 
gentler with you now."

Plankton's antennae 
stilled, his gaze 
unreadable. Then, slowly, 
his eye found hers. "Thank... 
you?" he whispered, the 
words a gentle caress.

Karen felt a tear 
roll down her screen. 
"Of course," she said, 
smiling softly. "We're 
in this together." It's
the first time since the
accident that he used
an actual pronoun.

Plankton's antennae 
quivered as he 
absorbed her words. 
"Together," he echoed, 
his voice gaining 
strength. Karen 
wiped her screen, trying 
not to let her emotions 
overwhelm them as Chip
came into their room.

"Morning, Dad," Chip 
said, his voice 
tentative. He had 
spent the night 
thinking about his 
father's condition, 
his young mind racing 
with questions.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched, and he offered 
a small smile. "Chip," he 
mumbled.

Chip cautiously 
approached the bed, 
his eyes wide with 
concern. "You okay, Dad?"

Plankton nodded, 
his antennae still. 
"Chip," he murmured. 
"Chip loves Plankton."

Chip climbed 
up onto the bed, 
his movements slow 
and deliberate. "I love 
you too, Dad," he said, 
his voice trembling as
he crawled closer to 
Plankton.

Plankton's antennae 
flinched as Chip approached, 
his body tensing 
instinctively. Karen had 
explained about personal 
space the night before, 
but she wasn't sure if 
he'd remember.

"Chip," she said 
softly, placing a 
hand on her son's 
shoulder. "Let's 
not get too close 
just yet, okay?"

Chip nodded, his 
screen a picture of 
understanding. He 
sat at the edge of the 
bed, giving Plankton 
enough space. Karen 
could see the effort 
it took for him to 
control his instincts.

Plankton's antennae 
twitched as he took 
in the new dynamics, 
his eye flicking between 
Karen and Chip. "Space," 
he murmured, his voice 
still weak. "I need... 
space."

Karen nodded, 
swallowing hard. "Of 
course, Plankton. We'll 
make sure to give you 
your space." She reached 
for Chip's hand, giving it 
a gentle squeeze. "Remember, 
buddy, let's not 
overwhelm Dad."

Chip nodded, 
his eyes serious. 
He slowly slid off the 
bed, his movements 
careful. But as he 
stood up, his elbow 
accidentally brushed 
against Plankton's 
arm. The reaction was 
instant.

Plankton's antennae 
shot up, his 
body jerking away 
from the touch. "No!" he 
yelped, his eye 
widening in discomfort. 
Karen lurched 
as she saw Plankton's 
expression. She had 
tried to prepare Chip, 
but it was clear that 
their new reality was 
going to be a learning 
experience for them all.

Chip's screen filled 
with tears. "I'm 
sorry, Dad," he whispered.

Karen's seeing her son's 
upset face. "It's okay, 
Chip," she said quickly. 
"It's an accident. Let's 
give Dad some more 
space, okay?"

But Plankton's 
expression had 
shifted. His antennae 
were vibrating rapidly, 
his eye flashing with 
anger. "Too much," he 
snapped, his voice 
harsher than Karen had 
ever heard it. "Chip, too 
much!"

Chip's eyes 
watered, and he took 
a step back, 
his hand hovering. "I'm 
sorry, Dad," he stuttered, 
his voice barely above 
a whisper.

Plankton's antennae 
whipped around, his 
whole body vibrating 
with agitation. "Out!" he 
bellowed, the word 
exploding from his 
tiny body. "Chip, go out!"

Chip's eyes grew 
large with shock. He had 
never heard his dad 
speak to him like that 
before. His shoulders 
slumped, and he 
turned to leave, his 
steps slow and heavy. 
Karen watched 
her son retreat.

"Plankton," she began, 
her voice shaky. "It's 
okay, he didn't mean..."

But Plankton's 
anger was palpable. 
"No!" he shouted, his 
eye flashing. "Chip, no 
more!" His voice was 
loud, a stark contrast 
to the gentle whispers 
of their previous 
interactions.

Chip hovers by the door.
"Dad, I di-"

"OUT!" Plankton's 
shout reverberated through 
the room, cutting him 
off mid-sentence. His 
body was rigid with 
tension, his antennae 
quivering angrily. Karen felt 
a pang of fear and sadness 
seeing her husband like 
this. But Chip wants to
reconcile with his father.

Chip looked back, 
his eyes brimming with 
unshed tears. "Dad, ca--"

"OUT!" Plankton's voice 
was a thunderclap in the 
stillness of the room. 
Chip flinched, his 
small body visibly trembling.

"Dad," 
Chip tried again, his 
voice shaking. "Can't
you li—"

"OUT!" Plankton 
shouted, his antennae 
whipping around like 
tiny storm clouds. 
Karen saw the fear in 
Chip and knew 
she had to intervene.

"Chip, go to your 
room," she said firmly, 
trying to keep the 
emotion out of her 
voice. "Let's give Dad 
some time to calm down."

Chip nodded. 
With one last 
longing glance at 
Plankton, he left 
the room, the door 
clicking softly behind 
him.

new shelf improvement neurodisability viii

CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS viii
(By NeuroFabulous)


Karen's gaze searched
both of their faces,
seeing the tentative
connection forming.
"Why don't we let Daddy
rest now?" she suggested
softly, her eyes on Chip. "It's
getting to be bedtime. You
head to bed, Chip." she said
gently.

Chip nodded, his hand
still hovering over Plankton's.
He knew his father needed
his space, especially after
such an ordeal. "Goodnight,
Dad," he whispered, his voice
filled with a mix of
fear and love.

Plankton's antennae
twitched slightly, his eye
still focused on Chip.
"Goodnight, buddy,"
he murmured, his voice
exhausted. "I-I-I-I… 
lo-ove y-you."

The words hung in the
air, a declaration of
his feelings despite
his condition. Chip felt
his heart swell with
a mix of emotion, his hand
falling to his side.
"I love you too, Dad,"
he whispered back, his voice
trembling slightly.

The next morning, Karen
hears a ding vibrate on
her phone, waking her.

She sits up and looks
over at Plankton, who's
still sleeping. She smiles 
softly at the sight of her
snoring husband, his antennae
twitching slightly with each
breath.

Gently, she slides out of
bed, careful not to disturb
his rest. She grabs her
phone, checking the text.

Her heart skips a beat
at the sight of the
message: "Plankton: Dental
Appointment to discuss his
latest x-ray. We open in 1
hour." It was from Plankton's
dental office.

Karen sighed, setting
her phone on the nightstand.
"Plankton, love," she whispered,
carefully shaking his
shoulder. "Wake up, we have
a dental appointment."

Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly, his eye opening.
He took a moment to
process the information, his
brain slowly coming online.
"Dentist?" he murmured, his voice
still thick with sleep.

Karen nodded, her voice
steady. "Yes, honey. We need
to talk to the dentist about
your latest x-ray."

Plankton's antennae
twitched.

Karen knew that
dental appointments were a
particularly tough challenge
for Plankton due to his
sensory sensitivities.

With a sigh, Plankton
nodded, his antennae drooping.

Karen could feel the tension
in the room, so she took
Plankton's hand, giving it
a gentle squeeze. "I'll call
Sandy" she said, her voice
calm. "She'll look after Chip."

Plankton nodded, his
antennas still twitching
nervously. "Thank you,"
he murmured, his voice
barely audible.

Karen quickly dials
Sandy's phone number.

The phone rings,
a distant melody in
the quiet room.
Plankton's antennae
twitched with every ring,
his nervousness palpable.

"Sandy, it's Karen,"
Karen's voice was a
comforting balm over
the line. "Could you
possibly watch Chip today?
We've got a dental appointment
for Plankton, and it's...
sudden, I know."

Sandy's voice came through
the speaker, warm and
understanding. "Of course, Karen.
Right now? I'll be heading on over!"

Karen breathed a sigh of
relief. "Thank you so much,
Sandy," she whispered, then
hanging up. She went to
Chip's room.

The light from the hallway
spilled into his room, casting
long shadows across the
floor. Chip stirred in his bed,
his eyes blinking open sleepily.
"Huh?" he mumbled.

Karen's smile was gentle
as she leaned over him.
"Hey, buddy," she whispered.
"Sandy's here to watch you
while I take Daddy to a
dentist appointment."

Chip's eyes widened,
his mind still foggy with sleep.
"Dentist?" he repeated, sitting up.

"Don't worry, Chip," Karen
assured him, her voice soft.
"You can stay here with
Sandy. She'll take good care
of you."

The sound of the doorbell
rang through the house, a
sharp, piercing noise that
made Plankton's antennae
twitch. Karen's eyes darted to
his face, but his expression
remained stoic. She knew
his hearing was sensitive,
but she didn't have time to
fuss over it now.

"It's just Sandy," she assured
Plankton with a smile, patting
his hand before heading
to the door. "It'll be okay,
honey."

The door opened, and
Sandy's cheerful face 
appeared. "Howdy,
Karen!" she chirped, her eyes
scanning the room.

"Hi, Sandy! I don't know how
long we'll be gone but I can
keep you updated. It's to
review an x-ray from Plankton's
last x-ray they said they'd keep
an eye on, and they notified us
to come in today."

Sandy nodded, her smile
warm and reassuring.
"Don't worry, I've got this.
I'll keep Chip busy and
entertained," she promised.
"But he can also sleep in.."

Karen's eyes searched
Plankton's, his antennae
twitching slightly.
"It's okay, love," she murmured,
squeezing his hand. "We'll be
going now."

Plankton nodded, his antennae
drooping. Karen knew he was scared,
but she also knew he'd get through it.
"Come on," she whispered, her voice
soothing. "Let's go to the car."

new chip on the shoulders shockfic viii

CHIP IN MY BOX viii
(Autistic author)


The room is quiet as they wait for
Plankton to stir. Chip's mind
is racing.

Suddenly, Plankton's body
twitches, a small movement
under the velvet shroud.
Karen's hand flies to her mouth,
her eyes wide with anticipation.
Her heart is a wild animal in
her chest, thumping against
her ribs as she watches her
husband slowly come back to
them.

Under the curtain, Plankton's
eye opens slightly, the pupil
dilated with confusion. His
limbs move sluggishly, his mind
trying to make sense of the
world that's rushing back in.

Karen's hand reaches out to
his, her eyes brimming with
relief and fear. "It's okay,"
she whispers, her voice a gentle
breeze in the quiet room. "You're safe."

"Wh... wha... whale...?" Plankton's voice
slurs, his eye flickering behind
the velvet curtain. 
Karen's grip on her son's hand
tightens as she watches her
husband struggle to find his
footing in the murky waters
of consciousness.

"It's okay," she whispers, her
voice a lifeline in the storm
of his confusion. "You're home,
you're safe."

Plankton's eye blinks, his
brain trying to piece together
the shards of reality. "Whale?"
He mumbles again, his voice
slurred with sleep.

Karen's heart squeezes, her
hand still in Plankton's, her voice
even softer now. "No, honey,
it's not a whale," she says,
forcing a gentle laugh. "It's
me, Karen. You're at home."
Her words are a soft
caress, a beacon in the fog
of his sensory overload.

Chip watches, his eyes
wide with fear and hope.
He wants to call out, to tell
his dad everything's okay,
but he remembers Dr. Kelp's
instructions. He stays quiet,
his hand tightening around the
new fidgets, his knuckles
white with tension.

Plankton's mumbling becomes
more pronounced, his eye
darting around under the velvet
cover, as if searching for
something he can't quite see. 
"Bubble...box," he murmurs,
his voice a distant echo.

Karen's heart races, her mind
racing to keep up with his
scattered thoughts. She knows
his brain is trying to make
sense of the world, to find
the familiar in the chaos. "A box is here,"
she whispers, her voice soothing.
"It's new, and right beside you."

Her words seem to resonate
somewhere in the fog of
Plankton's mind. His hand
twitches, reaching out. Chip's
breath hitches as he sees
his father's hand hover over
the new box of sensory
items.

"Bubblebox," Plankton murmurs,
his voice a soft breeze through
the room. The words are
meaningless, but the tone
conveys a desperate search.
Karen's eyes fill with tears as
she nods. "It's here," she whispers,
guiding his hand to the box.

His fingers graze the velvet
curtain, his movements clumsy
and unsure. Chip watches, his
heart in his throat, as his
father's hand trembles over the
box's edge. "Bubba," Plankton
says, his voice a whisper
of confusion.

Karen's eyes are glued to
his face, her heart breaking
at his distress. She tries
to think of something to
say, to bring him back to
them fully. But she knows
better than to push too hard.

Plankton's eye blinks rapidly,
his hand fumbling with the
box's contents. "Fishy," he
mumbles, his voice a
disjointed symphony of
half-thoughts. "Fishy, fishy."
Karen's heart squeezes.

He's talking to his mind,
she knows, to the jumble of
thoughts that have overtaken
his reality. The words are
nonsense, a random assortment
of sounds.

"Fishy?" He murmurs again,
his hand patting the floor.
"Fishy, bubblebox." His voice
trails off, lost in the fog
of his own thoughts.

Karen's heart is racing,
her mind trying to decode
his ramblings. She knows
his mind is searching, trying
to find the safety net of
his sensory world. "Yes, honey,"
she whispers, her voice a
soothing lullaby. "You're okay."

Plankton's eye rolls
back into his head, his
body going slack again.
The silence in the room is
deafening, a stark contrast
to the tumult inside her.
Karen's hand is a tremor
against his, willing him
back to reality. Chip watches,
his own thoughts racing, as
his mother's eyes dart to
Dr. Kelp for guidance.

The doctor's tentacles
move with a quiet
assurance, placing more
items around Plankton. "It's
normal," he whispers, his
voice a lifeline in the
storm of their fear. "His
mind is trying to find
his bearings."

"Where's," he mumbles, his
voice a distant whisper.
"So... many... Karen..."
His antennae twitch erratically,
his hand flailing in the
air as if trying to catch
invisible orbs. Karen's
heart is in her throat, her
eyes brimming with tears
as she watches his struggle.

"I'm here," she says, her
voice a soft caress, reaching
for his hand. "You're safe."
Her eyes plead with Dr. Kelp,
desperation etched in her
features. The doctor nods
reassuringly, his tentacles
moving with a gentle rhythm.
"We're home."

Plankton's eye moves
beneath the velvet, searching
for familiarity. "Home?"
He whispers, his voice
scratchy from disuse. "Where
am I?" The fear in his tone
makes Karen's heart ache.

"You're home, Plankton,"
she whispers back, her voice
soothing. "You're safe."
Her words are a gentle
reminder, a beacon in the
storm of his senses.

new chip in my box chip plankton ii viii

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY viii
(By NeuroFabulous)

Chip's heart ached, his
guilt a physical presence in his
chest. He knew he had hurt his
father, and he desperately wanted
to take it back. "I know I don't
understand, Dad," he said, his voice
quivering. "But I want to learn.
I want to be there for you. You're
special..."

Plankton's antennas perked up slightly
at the word 'special'. It was a term
he had heard before, but it didn't
always come with the warmth and
sincerity that filled Chip's voice.

"You don't know 
what that means,"
he said, his voice 
low and defensive.

Chip felt his heart sink
even further, his stomach
twisting into knots. "Huh?"

Plankton's voice grew louder,
his antennas shooting up.
"You think because I'm 'special',
you can just treat me like a toddler?"
He threw the pillow across
the room, his anger palpable.
"I'm not some kind of science
project, Chip!"

The room grew tense as Chip
swallowed his words, his eyes wide.
He had never seen his dad so upset.
"Dad," he began, his voice trembling.
"I didn't mean it like that.
I just want to—"

"Don't," Plankton snapped,
his antennas pointing sharply at
the ceiling. "You think you can fix me
with your little experiments?"
His words were like a slap in the face,
but Chip knew better than to let
his own anger flare up.

He took a deep breath, trying
to calm the storm inside him.
"I just want to help," he said, his
voice barely above a whisper.
"I want to be ther-"

"I don't need your help!"
Plankton's outburst echoed
through the room, his antennas
quivering with emotion. "I don't need
anyone to 'fix' me, especially not
you!" His voice was raw, each
word a dagger to Chip's soul.

Chip took a step back, his
eyes wide with hurt and confusion.
"But Dad, I just wa-"

"Don't," Plankton said, his voice
sharp and final. "Just don't."

Chip felt his throat tighten, his
words stuck in his mouth.
He had never seen his father like
this, so raw and exposed. The silence
was suffocating, each second that
passed feeling like an eternity.

Plankton's chest heaved with the
effort of containing his emotions.
His antennas were a blur of movement,
indicating his internal turmoil.
Karen watched from the doorway,
her heart breaking for both her husband
and her son, feeling torn between
comforting them and giving them
space.

"I know," Chip
said, his voice 
small. "But I'm 
tr-"

Plankton's antennas shot
up, cutting him off. "You think
you know?" His voice was laced
with bitterness. "You have no
idea what it's like to be me.."

Chip felt his heart sink further,
his mind racing. "I'm sorry,"
he offered, his voice small.
"But I do know that you're more
than just your autism. You're
my dad, and I love you."

Plankton's antennas remained
stiff, his eye unblinking.
"Love," he spat out the word
like it was a foreign object.
"You don't know what that
word means either, do you?"

Karen stepped forward,
her voice a soothing balm.
"Plankton, sweetheart, let's not
do this," she pleaded. "Chip's
just trying to—"

"I know what he's
trying to do!" Plankton
shouted, his antennas jerking
erratically. "He's trying to make
me feel less than, like I'm so—"

"Dad, no," Chip said, his voice
shaking. "That's not what I'm
doing. I just want us to be
closer, like you and Mom.."

Plankton's antennas quivered,
his body tensing. "Don't bring her
into this," he warned. "You don't
understand her either." His words
were like a slap, but Chip knew
his father wasn't in control of his
emotions.

"I do, Dad," Chip
managed to say, 
his voice filled with
determination. "I 
see how much
you both love each 
other, and I just
want to be a part of th-"

"Don't you dare!" Plankton's
voice was a roar, his antennas
thrashing in agitation. "You
don't get to use your mother
as an excuse for your ignorance!"

The room vibrated with tension,
each word a blow to Chip's heart.
He felt tears prickling his eyes
but blinked them back, trying to
maintain some semblance of calm.
"I'm not using her, Dad," he
said, his voice shaking. "I just
want to know how to be close to you
the way Mom..."

Plankton's antennas shot
up in a gesture of disbelief.
"The way your mother is with me?"
his voice was thick with anger.
"You think you can just mimic that?"
He stood up, his whole body
shaking with emotion.

Chip felt his heart drop, his
words coming out in a rush. "No,
Dad," he said, his voice trembling.
"I just want to connect with you."
He took a step towards his
father, his hand outstretched,
but Plankton took a step back,
his antennas bristling.

"I don't like your connecting,"
Plankton said, his voice cold.
"I need you to leave me alone."
His antennas waved erratically,
a clear sign of his distress.

Chip took another tentative step
forward, reaching out again..

Plankton flinched, his antennas
waving wildly. "I said no!" he
shouted, his voice cracking. "I can't
do this right now!" His eye darted around
the room, seeking an escape from the
overwhelming emotions.

Chip's eyes filled with tears, but
he knew pushing would only make
things worse. He took a step back,
his arms falling to his sides. "Ok,"
he whispered, his voice tight with
unshed emotion.

new a plankton family story NeuroFabulous viii

PLUSH ONE viii
(By NeuroFabulous)

Karen's mind races 
with questions,
but she knows 
better than to 
ask now.

She watches
Plankton closely,
his body slowly
unwinding. His
eye opens slightly,
his gaze flicking to
his plushie.

"Plankton," she says,
keeping her voice
steady, "Would you
like to sit with me?"

He considers her offer,
his antennae twitching
nervously. Then, with
a shaky nod, he crawls
across the floor, his
body still tense, and sits
by her side, the plushie
still clutched in one hand.

Karen swells with
relief, the air in the room
finally feeling a bit less
suffocating. She keeps her
movements slow and
deliberate, not wanting to
startle him.

Plankton sits next to her,
his antennae still twitching.

The man she loves is
trying, and it's all she can ask.

Plankton sits next to her,
his antennae twitching, a
constant reminder of the
world he now navigates. She
reaches out tentatively, her
hand hovering near his.

"Would you like me to hold your
hand?" she asks, her voice
barely above a whisper. He looks
at her hand, then at her, his
eye swiveling in consideration.

For a moment, Karen thinks
he might reject her offer, but
slowly, his hand reaches
out and wraps around hers.
It's a tentative gesture.

His grip is firm, but not too tight,
his antennae quivering as he tries
to process the sudden
contact. She holds her breath,
afraid to disturb the fragile peace
they've found.

Karen's mind races, trying to
recall everything she's read
about autism, about how
touch can be both a source of
comfort and of pain. She
remembers the importance of
consent, of letting the person with
autism lead the way.

So she sits, her hand in his,
and waits. The room is still,
the only sound the distant
hum of the city outside their
window. Plankton's breaths are
steady now, his grip on the
plushie loosening. His antennae
are still, no longer searching
the air for threats.

Karen's eyes are locked
on their intertwined hands,
the warmth of his palm a
comfort she hadn't realized
she'd missed. "You're doing
so well," she whispers, her voice
as gentle as his only response is
a twitch of his antennae. His eye
flicks to hers, a silent question.

"It's okay," she says, her smile
reassuring. "We're just sitting
together."

Plankton nods slightly, his eye
still focused on their joined hands.
He then repeats her words, his voice
a mirror of her own. "Okay, sitting
together."

The phrase echoes. It's called
echolalic palilalia, a common trait
in those with autism, where words
are repeated.

Karen nods with love. "Yes,"
she says. "Sitting together."

Plankton's antennae
twitch slightly, a hint of
a smile playing.

It's a small victory,
but a victory nonetheless.

new plush one comfortfic viii

🥄 x .𖥔💜🕯 ݁˖

new candle silver spoon iii OBJECTSHOW

join my dc server if you into object shows!!
https://discord.gg/jQ4Vzv2Q
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new osc discord ii bfdi lots kfc moss thanos cfmot

TRUTH AND NAIL ii

The nurse returned.
"How's he doing?" she
asked, checking the monitors.
"Just woke up briefly,"
Karen said, her voice a whisper.
"He's still pretty out of it."

The nurse nodded, jotting
notes on a clipboard. "That's
normal," she said. "The
anesthesia takes some time
to wear off completely. You
can take him home now."

"But he's still..."

The nurse nodded,
her voice firm but gentle.
"It's normal. He'll
be groggy for a bit,
but he's stable enough."

With her help, Karen
managed to rouse Plankton
to a semi-conscious state.
He blinked at her, his eye
unfocused and glazed over.
"Tek me…” Karen nodded,
smiling at his attempt
to form coherent words.
"Yes, sweetie. We're gonna go.."

He sat up with a start,
his body moving before
his mind caught up, the
world tilting and spinning
around him. Karen's hand
was quick to steady him,
her voice a gentle
reminder of where he was.
"Easy," she said, her voice
like a soft pillow for
his pounding head. "You're
okay."

Plankton blinked, his eye
trying to focus on her screen.
"Wha...wha...wha...?"
he stuttered, the words
fighting to escape his
numb mouth.

Karen's smile grew wider,
seeing the confusion in his
glassy gaze. "It's okay, honey,"
she cooed, her voice a balm
to his bewilderment. "You're
just coming out of the
anesthesia."

He then notices the
nurse standing by.

"Nurse?" he croaks,
his voice hoarse and
his tongue thick in
his mouth. "Nurse?"
he tries again, his voice
a bit stronger.

The nurse looks over,
seeing his struggle to
make sense of his
surroundings. She smiles,
"You're okay, Mr. Plankton.
You had a little surgery."
Her words are clear,
but they hit him like
a foggy echo.

"Sur...surg...teef?" he
slurs, his mouth feeling
like it's filled with
cotton balls.

"Yes, you had your
wisdom teeth removed,"
Karen says, her voice a
soothing melody in the
white noise of the
recovery room.

“Who’s there?” Plankton's 
voice was a faint rasp. The 
nurse and Karen exchanged 
a knowing glance. He was 
coming around more, but still 
not fully with it.

“It’s me, Plankton,” Karen 
whispered, leaning closer. Her 
screen swam into view, a beacon 
of familiarity in the sea of 
white. He squinted, trying to
focus. “Karen?” he mumbled, his 
throat dry and raw.

“Yes, it’s me,” she 
repeated, her voice a gentle 
lullaby. “You’re okay, you 
just had your wisdom teeth out.
You’re still a little sleepy 
from the surgery.”

Plankton's hand reached 
up to his face, feeling the 
swollen jaw and the 
cottony numbness. “Teef?” he 
managed to murmur, his voice 
a gravelly shadow of its usual 
self. The word felt strange
and foreign in his mouth.

“Wisdom teeth, darling,” Karen 
reminded him, her tone 
soothing as a warm blanket. 
“They took them out to stop
your pain.”

“Buh, buth Karen 
haz aww the teefs?”
Plankton's slurred words
hang in the air, a question
mark painted on his
confused expression.
Karen laughs lightly with
amusement. "No, sweetie.
Let’s get you standing up."

With the nurse’s help,
Karen eases Plankton to
his feet. The world
swims around him, a blur
of white walls and the
steady beeping of machines.
He tries to stand on legs
that feel like jelly.

"Easy, darling," Karen
says, her arm around him,
supporting his weight.
"Take it slow."

The nurse nods, guiding
his elbow. "Just a few
steps to the chair."

Plankton's legs wobble
like a newborn deer's,
his feet shuffling
along the cold floor.
"Tek me ho...ho...home?"
he slurs, the words
like molasses escaping
his mouth.

"Soon, baby," Karen
soothes, her arm tightening
around him. She can feel
his confusion like a
heavy fog in the air,
but she's determined
to be his compass
in this disoriented state.

Plankton's eye darts
around the room,
trying to make sense of
the shapes and sounds.
"Wha...wha...where...?"
he stammers, his mouth
still not fully cooperating.
The nurse smiles kindly,
"You're in the recovery
area. You had a little
procedure to take out
some teeth, remember?"

Karen helps him into
a chair, his body moving
slowly as if through
molasses. His gaze
flits to her, his mind
still groggy. "Tee...th?"
he mumbles, his tongue
sluggish in his mouth.

Karen nods, her smile
warm and comforting.
"Wisdom teeth, darling.
They're gone."

“Wav...wav...Karen?” 
Plankton’s voice
was a faint echo.
“How will I eath?”
The words were jumbled,
his speech a slur.

“Soft foods for now, love.
We’ll manage, don’t worry,”
she said, her voice
like a lullaby.

Plankton's head
nodded slightly,
his eyelid heavy.
“Than...thank...you...”
he slurred, his speech
still a puzzle of sounds
as they walk down the
corridor.
 

new truth and nail sleepicore ii

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